#i meant to do this ages ago but got hung up on some of the questions. which i just didn't answer djgjghdh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hrryshoney · 4 months

Text

you got the antidote

gynecologist!matty healy x reader

A/N: did somebody say continuation? pt. 1, hope u guys enjoy again. so happy that yall find this Man as appealing as me! ty to everyone who bounced ideas w me bc u probs made this part 10x better😋 and again, don’t like it then don’t read it. p.s. there’s a scene where reader is texting! Bold is matty. Italics is reader.

warnings: smut 18+, p in v unprotected sex, inappropriate actions in a doctors office, loss of virginity, size kink (so, reader being implied as smaller), corruption kink, use of Y/N, taboo topics/power imbalance (doctor/patient), fingering, oral (f receiving), light choking, light spanking, dom and sub dynamics, problematic age gap maybe (reader is 22/23, matty is 29/30), dirty talk, lots more lol etc..

It was 6:00 pm on a Wednesday, and you were getting ready for sleep. Well, not sleep exactly, but you were going to shower and get in bed. You had gotten back from class about an hour ago now, and after having a light dinner all you wanted to do was have your ‘everything shower’ and relax.

Then, your phone pinged with a text message. You walked over to your nightstand to see who it was, assuming it would be one of your friends, or even your partner on a project for one of your classes. You were confused, though, to see a text from an unknown number.

It was even more confusing that they were speaking like they knew you.

Unknown - Today 6:04 PM

Come by the office? Need to discuss some things.

You furrow your eyebrows, trying to remember who this could be. Or, if this text was even meant for you. You could ignore it, but something in your gut told you not to. You decided on sending a simple text back.

sorry, i think you’ve got the wrong number!

You clicked your phone off, throwing it on your bed and walking into your bathroom. You turned the water on, turning it to the hottest setting and letting the bathroom steam. Hearing your phone ping again from the other room, you sighed inwardly and hung your head. Stepping out of the bathroom, you went to check your phone again. This time, there were two messages.

Unknown

Don’t think so.

This is Y/N, correct?

You felt your heart drop to your stomach, gripping the phone in your hand tighter. Okay, who the fuck was this? And, why did they know your name? However dumb it sounded, you were going to ask them just that.

who is this?

and why do you know my name, lol

Even though this was the number one way to get yourself killed in a horror movie, you gave the stranger the benefit of the doubt. You saw the 3 dots appear on your screen, and decided to wait. When the text came through, you felt immediate relief.

Unknown

Sorry, Princess.

This is Matty.

You found yourself smiling at your phone, now. Of course, why wouldn’t it be Matty. But then it struck you that your gynecologist was not only texting you, but calling you princess. And you never gave out your number.

doctor healy lol!

how’d you get my number?

Files, and all that.

You giggled, and decided to put his name in your phone as ‘Doctor Healy’. Swiping back to your chat to respond.

ahh, not very professional

Why not stir the pot? You were bored, and it was a bleak and boring Wednesday. You had nothing better to be doing, really. You walked into the bathroom to shut the shower’s tap, it could wait. You showered yesterday, and you wanted to talk to Matty.

I think that’s the least unprofessional thing you have to worry about, Princess.

Your heartbeat sped up slightly. You jumped into your bed, rolling on your stomach and pulling the cold comforter around you. All the responses you could think of were poor, so you settled for a lame one in the end.

don’t call me thatt

“princess”

Unfortunately for you, Matty’s response was almost immediate.

Perhaps ‘brat’ is more fitting, then?

Are you coming to the office?

Embarrassment surged through you, and you dropped your phone to put your face in your hands. Despite the fact that he couldn’t see you, he was still having an effect on you. And you know you shouldn’t be having these thoughts about him.

yes, sure

what for?

Just wanna go over some of your stats.

Your eyes widened, and as if he could see you through the screen, Matty sent you another text for clarification.

Don’t worry, though. Everything’s alright.

okay, great!

It’s only me here, rest of the staff went home. Just park out front and come in, door’s open.

You hearted his message and decided to change your clothes before you went. You thought it was a little strange that Matty would have you come in after everyone had left, but you supposed he knew what he was doing.

Since you figured you would be coming home right after, you decided to forgo a bra. You threw an oversized sweatshirt on over your head. Changing your jeans out for leggings. You slipped on your sneakers and laced them up.

You took the elevator down from your apartment to the lobby, quickly walking to your car that was parked in the parking garage. Luckily for you, it was still daylight outside.

The drive was quiet and quick, you unplugged your phone from the aux and parked out front of the offices. When you walked to the glass double doors and pulled them open, there was no resistant, just as Matty had said.

The lights were on, but the office was barren. It was that same sterile smell and harsh, bright lights from the day of your first appointment. Goosebumps raised on your arms from the slight chill of the space, and you walked towards the open door of one of the examination rooms.

You could hear faint whistling and typing coming from it, confirming your suspicions that it was the one Matty resided in. You made your way to the doorframe, knocking twice on it to alert him of your presence.

Matty’s head immediately shot up from the computer screen, dark brown eyes meeting yours. “Y/N,” He called out once he saw you, a grin on his face. “Come here, then.” He rolled his chair out from under his desk, coming to a stop in the middle of the room.

You walked toward him hesitantly, still nervous and unfamiliar. But, with that smile on his face, how could you ever be nervous. He stood up once you got in front of him, the height difference now visible. You smiled back at him.

“So… what was it you wanted to go over? I know you said it wasn’t urgent, but I was a little jittery about it on the way.” You rambled, picking at the skin on your finger nails. His smile was beginning to look more and more like a smirk as you held his gaze apprehensively.

“Ah, yes. Just one thing I wanted to take a closer look at. Feels like I didn’t get the whole point of view before.” His hand came to rest gently on your shoulder, reassuringly stroking the spot with his thumb. “And, I thought it would be best if I saw you again privately, so I could spend as much time on you as needed.” His pupils almost got larger then, hand slipping down to cradle your elbow.

You felt your body heating up. Giggling, you blindly agreed with his reasoning. “Whatever you see fit, Doctor Healy. What do you need me to do?” You asked him honestly, bouncing back and forth on the balls of your feet. The way he was staring at you made you restless.

He cleared his throat, an attempt to snap himself out of the daze. His eyes dragged up and down your body noticeably, “Would you mind removing your jumper?” He asked, eyes glued to the piece of fabric.

You swallowed thickly, now flustered at the choice you had made earlier in your room. “I- Well, I don’t really have on, um, a bra underneath?” The statement came out as more of a question, and the way his mouth went slightly agape had you fumbling to explain yourself.

“Sorry! I’m sorry if that’s unprofessional, Doctor. I just- I hadn’t realized you would be examining me. I thought this was more of a paperwork thing.” You smiled awkwardly, hoping to ease the tension. His hands twitched by his side, one coming to pull slightly at the front of his trousers.

His chuckle was enough to make you shiver. “It’s nothing to apologize about, really. Just makes my job easier. Are you comfortable to remove it, still?” You whispered your agreement, pulling the sweatshirt over your head with both your hands. Once it was off, you laid it on the examination table, turning to face Matty again.

His gaze was unwavering on your chest, the distance between you two seeming even shorter now. “I can touch you?” Matty asked, breathless. But with your nod, he was shaking his head.

“Come on, Princess. Need your words. Should know this one by now.” His eyes almost gleamed.

“Right, sorry. Yes. You can touch me, Doctor.”

You can almost feel the heat radiating off his body before he touches you. And then, Matty’s hands immediately landed on your hips, tracing them up your body. He started to walk closer to the examination table, backing you up until your heels hit the foot of it. First, his hands were on your bare shoulders. Then, you were being abruptly spun around so your thighs hit the table.

His hand rested on your stomach, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Gonna start your appointment now, okay? Let me know if you need a break.” His fingertips never halted, now playing with one of your breasts. He tweaked your nipple and you let out a gasp.

“Sorry, Princess.“ You can hear the smirk in his voice, and you know he’s not sorry at all. He walks his hands up to your bare neck, letting his hand softly lay in place. You let out a squeak when his fingers suddenly squeeze either side of your neck.

Keeping his hand on your neck, the other comes to grab roughly at your hip. “Small, could do anything to you.” His fingernail trails the rest of your neck, going down the valley of your breasts. Suddenly, both his hands disappear from your body. Before you can whine and beg him for more, you feel his palm flatten on your back.

There’s a slight push, and he’s clearly giving you an out. You give into his strength, bending at the hip over the examination table. “Can I take off your pants?” Matty’s bent above you, leaving a trail of kisses down your bare spine.

Your nod is almost instant, only hindered by the way your cheek was pushed against the table. You can’t help pressing your thighs together. “Please, Doctor Healy.” You feel his hands fiddling with the waistband of your leggings.

“Gotta bend you over and inspect you.” He mumbles, and you don’t think you were meant to hear it. Matty is pulling the leggings down your thighs torturously slow. Once your pants pool at your ankles, you hear him take two steps back. He’s staring at your white panties, and you hear him click his tongue twice.

Matty presses the growing bulge in his trousers right on top of the growing mess in your panties. He leans down once again, a hand on the back of your neck as he whispers in your ear. “Gonna take a look at your little cunt now, okay baby?”

You moan out a noise that sounds somewhat like a yes, and it’s good enough for him. Matty pulls away, pressing a thumb atop the wet spot that has now stains your underwear. “Naughty girl.” He chuckles, and you feel yourself clench around nothing.

Suddenly, you hear a loud tearing sound. You feel the shock when you realize it was Matty ripping your panties from behind, the elastic snapping back on your skin. You gasp feeling the cold air hit your cunt, and the dull sound of your ripped underwear hitting the floor.

Matty runs his fingers down your body, outlining your pussy. “Spread yourself for me.” It’s a demand, and your throat runs dry at the tone of his voice. You bring your two hands back from your side to grab your inner thighs, spreading yourself open for Matty.

Matty’s middle finger prods at your hole, circling it. Your incessant moans making him laugh. “Quiet for me, checking to make sure everything’s okay.” The tip of Matty’s finger slips inside you, stretching you out. As soon as you moan, he’s pulling his finger out again. Teasing.

“Doctor- Matty. Please, please.”

His fingers travel up and down your slit, feeling you out. Your wetness is dripping on his fingers, and you can't help the whines escaping your mouth. Matty makes a noise in the back of his throat, pushing his middle finger into you again. "Feel good?" Matty's voice is a deeper tone than usual, chestnut colored eyes now an almost black.

You moan in confirmation and wiggle your hips, "Another please?" Feeling the constant stretch from his fingers is too good. His unoccupied hand comes to lay flat on your lower back. "Need it, Doctor." You'd beg if he asked, and if he didn't, too. A wet gasp tore through your throat when his thumb came to circle your clit from behind.

"Stay still and I'll make it better, okay? Whiny little girl." Matty says, tone all amusement. In your state, you don't really find it that funny. It's all okay though, when he slides his ring finger into you.

Now, both his fingers are moving in and out of your cunt at a steady pace. The friction is so good, and you can hear the wet sounds your pussy is making. You’d have half the mind to be embarrassed, but you don’t have the energy for your cheeks to start burning.

You can’t stop babbling for him, mostly nonsense. Matty can make out that most of it is you begging, though. He curls his fingers inside of you, plunging his fingers even deeper. “Such a good girl for me. So agreeable, just let me do anything? Yeah, you would. Bent over like a good pet and taking my fingers. Made you into a little slut, huh?”

“Oh my God.” You manage to choke out in between the moans that are shaking your body. You feel yourself get even wetter for him. “Doctor, please. Yes.” You’re shaking your head so hard that you know it’ll hurt later. Matty grabs a fistful of your hair to lift your head up slightly, fingers never stopping.

“Fucking like that? Like being called a slut? Can feel how you clench around me, s’pathetic.” Matty curls his fingers inside you, speeding up his pace even more. He takes his fingers out of you completely. Before you can protest, his hand comes down to slap your cunt. Three quick taps that have your mouth hanging open in silence, and then he slips his fingers back inside of you.

Matty’s hand lets go of your hair, slinking it around your front to rub tight circles on your clit. “Come on, princess. Cum for me, cum for your Doctor.” And when he pinches your clit, you’re gone. You squeeze your eyes shut so tight that you see white behind the lids. Loud moans are pouring out of your mouth and your torso is writing against the table.

His fingers never cease their movements, working you through your orgasm. Once you come down from it, you feel overstimulated. “Too much, Matty.” He slips his fingers out, and you turn your head in time to see him put his fingers in his mouth to taste you.

Matty licks his fingers and holds eye contact, smirking when he’s done. “You taste fucking sweet.” He takes a step closer, and your lips part. Matty slips his two fingers in your mouth, then. His grin goes even wider when you immediately close your lips around his fingers and suck.

“Good girl, don’t you taste good?” He’s chuckling when you nod your head around his fingers, agreeing. He pulls them out of your mouth with a pop, and he moves backwards to his original position.

“Need it right from the source.” He mumbles, and that’s when you see him sinking to his knees. You automatically shove your face down onto the table again, your muscles tense in anticipation. He trails his fingers down your thighs teasingly as he does.

“Been dying for this, you know that? Need to taste you.” His hands hook to the front of your legs, limiting your movement. Your upper body is still bent across the examination table.

He pries your legs apart even further, fingertips gripping hard on your thighs. “Please, Doctor. Do something.” Your whines are met with a chuckle, causing you to bury your cheek further down onto the cold surface. The noise you make is loud when you feel a firm hand come to slap your ass once.

“I’ll decide what you get. I know what’s best for you, Princess. Don’t fuckin’ forget it.” Without warning, he pushes his face into your cunt. His warm tongue licks a long stripe up your folds, and you scream out in pleasure. He moves his tongue down to your clit, flicking it in rhythm. His fingers trail to your hole for a minute again, but they’re gone as soon as they came.

You jolt in oversensitivity when Matty takes his mouth off you, just staring at your pussy. You try to close your legs, but the strain of his large hand against your thighs remind you that you can’t. He blows cold air onto your cunt, and then spits onto your hole.

You clench, and Matty laughs. “Doctor Healy, I-I can’t.” Instantly, his tongue is being shoved inside you. Licking the mess he’s made, and fucking his tongue in and out of you.

“You can and you will. Don’t be a brat.” He speaks against you, and the vibrations of his words just make you moan more. “Just a pleasure drunk whore, and you’re trying to deprive me of this?” His lips purse around your clit, sucking hard.

You’re shaking your head, and your hands raise behind you, tugging slightly at his hair. It’s a poor attempt to push his mouth away from your over sensitive nerves. One of his hands comes up to grab both your wrists, pinning them behind your back.

“Let me eat.” He pins you down even harder, and the feeling is sending you over the edge, and you clench your thighs the best you can.

“Matty.. Fuck. Doctor, please. I’m gonna cum, need to.” Your whole body tenses and you feel yourself teetering on the edge. The slightest thing could set you off, and Matty knows this.

His hand comes up to spank your ass again, and he speaks as he licks over your clit. “Let go, you’re so good. Letting me prep you, stretch you out for me.” And that’s what does you in for the second time of the night.

You cum in Matty’s mouth, and he is working you with his tongue the whole time. One of your hands is gripping the side of the table, trying to ground you in some sense. “Fuck! Thank you, thank you.” Senseless curses and strings of the same words are all you can get out of your mouth.

When you come down from the high, Matty is rubbing your back gently. “Good girl, baby. Did so good for me.” He says it so softly, you almost can’t believe this was the same man who made you cum twice in a row just a second ago.

You turn to prop yourself up on your back, feeling a bit tired from all that just took place. Matty’s smiling at you, but there’s a dusting of pink across his cheeks. His eyes practically black. You look down to his trousers, bulge straining against the zipper.

“Does that hurt, Doctor Healy? I can help you.” Your eyes are wide, and you want to return the favor. Last time he made you feel good, he didn’t get to cum either. It’s only fair.

“Don’t have to, could take care of myself if you’re too worn out. Know it would be your first… and I understand if you want to save that. Make it special.” He’s trying to be polite, be a gentleman. Though, it’s not very gentlemanly when his hand goes to palm himself. You shake your head.

“No, I want to. I wanna give myself to you. And, I can go again, you’re not that good.” Of course, that last bit was a lie. You roll your eyes teasingly, but Matty’s pupils dilate. He steps closer to the table.

“Not that good, baby? Don’t eat your words.” He grabs your wrist and places it on top of the tent in his pants, moving your hand up and down. “Wanna be inside you so bad.” Your head rolls back at his words, desperately needing to feel him in you.

Your fingers work at the zipper of his pants, and before you can look up to gain his consent he’s undoing them himself. He drops his trousers, stepping out of them. Your eyes are glued to his black Calvin’s. Matty is big, and you haven’t even see him yet. There’s spots of precum on his boxers, and you commend him for having the strength of not cumming in his pants.

You pull at the hem of his shirt. He’s got his lab coat on, and you need both items off. You feel so bare before him, he needs to catch up. He gets the message, and quickly takes his coat off. It falls to the floor with a clink.

Then, his button up underneath. He loosened his tie earlier, and quickly pulls it off his neck to discard of. Matty undoes the buttons of his shirts with such diligence, and your mind can’t help but wander to how experienced Doctor Healy really is.

When he shrugs his shirt off, you feel like drooling. The black ink covering his body is truly mouthwatering, and his abs aren’t helping the situation. You bring a hand to trace the tattoo on his hip, but when your eyes trail down to his boxers again, your mind is back on track.

Your hands find his waistband, looking up at him with wide eyes. He nods encouragingly, mouth hung open slightly. As you peel his boxers off, you fight the urge to squeeze your thighs together. This is all so erotic.

Matty’s cock springs free from his underwear, and he is big. His cock is pretty, long and thick. The tip now a slight red from being pressed against his zipper. You run your hand along him, pumping him twice. The moans that come out of his mouth are throaty.

He’s heavy in your hand, and all you want is for him to be inside you. Matty notices your dazed expression and can’t help but smirk. “How do you want me to take you?” His hands rub circles on the exposed skin of your hips.

You think for a moment, before ultimately deciding. “Think if I bent over again, it’d be the most comfortable.” Matty audibly moans at that and throws his head back. You giggle, getting into position.

Matty brings himself behind you, letting his dick run through your wetness. “Got you nice and ready for me, I could slip right in you.” He taps the tip of his cock against your folds. You moan at the weight of it.

Matty’s hard cock prods at your hole, and he’s moving himself through your arousal. The noises coming out of your mouth never cease, and neither does Matty’s dirty mouth. “Don’t know if I’ll fit inside you, baby.” And you can hear the faux pout in his voice without having to turn.

“No, please! Please, Doctor. I can take it.” Your chest is heaving, and your throat feels scratchy from the constant noises falling from your lips. Matty just laughs, clearly enjoying the state you’re in.

Your head feels fuzzy, and you try to clench your jaw to bring you back. Matty sees this and soothes a hand down your back. “Know you can. Always an eager whore for me, baby.”

Matty slides his cock in you, putting only the tip inside and then pulling out. You whine out, please and more being the only coherent words. You feel delirious, and his teases don’t make it better. You’ve been aching for him. “Matty, please.”

“I’ll give you what you need, don’t worry that pretty little head.” He hums, rubbing your back again. You feel him rub himself through your folds again, the head of his cock bumping against your clit. It has you arching your back unintentionally.

Then, just when you think you can feel the yearning in your spine, Matty is thrusting into you. It’s half his cock, and you feel stuffed full. You scream out, hearing his reassuring shushes behind the blood that’s rushed to your head.

“Good girl for me, so fucking tight. Made you cum twice and your cunts still gripping me like this? Should keep you in bed all fuckin’ day and train you.” He grunts out, jaw clenching and head rolling back. He taps your ass twice lightly, and you know what’s coming.

Matty thrusts into you again, and your whole body jolts forward. He stays put, but you can feel the bruising grip he’s got on your hips. You’ve never felt so full, so whole, and it’s almost all too much.

Matty’s finally, fully, inside you, and you feel like you can’t breathe. “Made for me, princess. Weren’t you? To just be my little plaything.” He’s still, waiting for your instruction on when to move. He’s so big, it’s all too much.

“You- oh my god, Doctor.” It’s the only reply you can get out, and you unintentionally clench around him. You feel a quick but sharp slap to your backside, making you moan even louder.

“Be a good girl for me, c’mon.” He takes a fistful of your hair, bringing your head up so he can place a kiss on your cheek. He turns your head even more, wrapping his other hand around your throat and kissing your lips.

“P-please move. You’re so big.” You’re in an arousal induced daze, feeling yourself dripping down your thighs. You squirm, hoping that will get him to move out of you. You don’t get very far though, because Matty is bringing his hand back to your hip and holding you in place.

As your back is to his chest, you turn far enough to see the smirk on his lips. He pulls out of you, and you let a gasp fall from your own. “Yeah? Big enough for you, Princess? Know nobody’s taken you before, gotta make it good for you.” Matty punctuates his question by thrusting back into you, hard. He grabs a handful of your tits, pinching your nipple.

You know it’s a rhetorical question, but you’re too drunk off him. Nonsensically nodding your head and babbling. He’s set a rhythm with his hips now, and it’s nothing like you felt before.

The room is filled with sounds of skin slapping together, and you can hear just how wet you are. Matty’s pace is unrelenting, his groans never ceasing. You think you could break the examination table.

His cock is moving in and out of you, every thrust of his hips brining you closer to the edge. You’re overstimulated from coming twice earlier, and you feel your orgasm building.

Matty is two steps ahead of you. When he feels your pussy clenching around him, he knows he’s right. “Gonna cum for me again, baby? So I can fill this slutty fucking pussy? Not an innocent little virgin anymore.” He coos, and goes even faster, bringing a hand under you to your clit and rubbing tight circles.

The pleasure is too much, and you feel your legs about to give out. The prospect of Matty coming inside you excited you too much, and you can’t stop thinking about it. “Please, Doctor Healy. Can I? I need it so bad.” You don’t know why you’re begging for your release, but you want him to grant it to you.

His fingers speed up, still pounding you into the table. “Perfect fucking cunt, so tight and warm f’me. My little fucktoy, right? Cum, let go.” And if his words didn’t do you in, when he moves to pinch your clit certainly has you.

You come with a scream, vision going white and your body turning hot. Matty’s hips are still moving, and he’s fucking you through your orgasm. When you come down from your high, the moans are still spilling out of your mouth.

Matty is moaning, to the point of whimpers. You feel his dick twitching inside of you, and you know he’s about to cum. “Please, Doctor. Cum inside me, I need it.”

Matty’s eyes roll back in his head at your words, and his jaw is agape. He thrusts inside you twice more, until he finally falters. “Fuck me. I’m coming. Gonna fill this cunt up, stuff you full.”

Matty spills inside of you, and you feel the warmth immediately. He slumps over, now bent on top of you in your position. He’s kissing down your spine, and rubbing your shoulders all whilst inside of you.

After a minute, he alerts you. “Gonna pull out, now. This might hurt a little. I’m sorry, Princess.” And it does, but you only wince a little.

As you lay there, you notice Matty looks mesmerized. Then you see he’s staring at his cum that’s now dripping out of you, down your thighs. When you catch him, a light blush dusts his cheeks and he’s quick to defend himself.

“What? I’m a simple man, s’hot.” You just giggle and nod, brushing him off. You turn to lie on your back on the table, propping your legs up. You knew you’d be sore tomorrow.

“Thank you, Matty. Was so good. I’m so happy that you were my first.” You say airily, with not much thought. You were just saying what you felt. And Matty’s grin was worth it.

“Always. Let me get a towel. Gonna clean you up and drive you home.”

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

Note

AITA for not telling my partners I'm a system?

💚🐻

To preface this, I don't use Tumblr and I'm using my partner's account, so I would rather ask this anonymously. Forgive any non-tumblr-isms 😅.

This happened a while ago, but to be honest I can't let this go. I feel so horrible about it despite being reassured and I figured Tumblr, who has a lot of systems/people with DID/OSDD, would be able to give me an unbiased (as much as I can give an unbiased account, anyway) answer.

I, (24M), am a system with one headmate, P, (??). (Neither of us are sure how old he is, since it seems to change on the day). I don't want to get into exactly how I got him, but I believe the term for what we are is "traumagenic"? Sorry, again, I'm not really familiar with everything.

Anyway, I've had him since I was 8, and he's been... well, a real pain in the ass, to be frank. I understand now that he's a defender by nature and was trying to protect us, but when you get expelled from middle school for several physical attacks and almost get sent to juvie you start to resent the guy a bit. He's a bit like a sleeping bear, except if the sleeping bear had one eye open and killed you before you could hurt him.

Back when I got out of my abuser's house and went no contact at age 20, I moved in with my current partners, Bonfire (24M) and Greenhouse (25NB) (names changed for privacy, obviously.) At the time I didn't know them, but they were looking for another roommate and I desperately needed somewhere to live.

So I moved in with just the clothes on my back and my wallet (bad move, I know, but I didn't have anything anyway). I didn't care to interact with them all that much, not wanting P to get defensive and attack them for no reason, but they just kept pushing and eventually I relented and hung out with them some.

"Some" turned to "often," and then "often" turned into "sleeping-in-their-bed-and-sharing-our-clothes." At that point I was too far into it and embarrassed to admit I'd been hiding a whole other person from them in my mind. I wasn't sure if they'd even like me after, what with P's history of violence.

...so I never told them. I did my best to forget about anything that ever happened and tried to just enjoy the future I'd always wanted for myself. Bonfire and Greenhouse are lovely people and I was finally, maybe just a little happy. I'd never been a happy person and I was content to bask in it for as long as I was able.

This, of course, backfired immensely. P and I didn't have the best relationship at the time, with both of us wanting to do very extreme things to get away from the other. He wanted to kick me out and be by himself in my body, and I wanted to kill myself to be rid of him. We've since reconciled and made strides in accepting ourself for who we are- it hasn't been easy by any means, but that isn't the point.

I recognize now that he was afraid of being hurt again, not wanting to get out of that survival mindset in case Greenhouse and Bonfire turned out to be super-secret mega abusers taking advantage of our trust, but I also know what he did after was wrong.

He got physical with Bonfire, screaming at him and threatening to kill him if he got any closer. I don't have any memory of this happening, so some details may be incorrect, and I apologize for that. Bonfire, not knowing that P was not, in fact, me, (coupled with the fact that he's a fucking idiot (meant with affection)), he got closer and tried to talk me (him) down. P punched him in the face and broke his nose, after which he ran out of the house and left me to "wake up" a few miles away curled up under a tree.

P left me a note a few days later that said he didn't mean to break his (Bonfire's) nose, but that he was lucky he hadn't done worse. This, in P speak, is probably the most sincere apology I could get at the time.

To try and keep this as short as possible, I'll summarize what happened next. I told Bonfire and Greenhouse about P because at that point the cat was basically out of the bag. They said they'd wished I'd told them sooner, and that they were a little uncomfortable being in the same house as "the lean, mean, stabbing machine" (- Bonfire) but that they were willing to help me manage him if I promised to tell them everything I knew about how he worked.

I did, and it's been years since then, and now P and I are, as stated before, closer than ever. I recently asked my partners whether or not they were still upset with me for not telling them, and they just said that they weren't entitled to my medical history and trauma (which, yeah, but he did break Bonfire's nose) and that they didn't care because, "hey, we basically got a free dog out of it" (- Bonfire), and "we made a promise to love you, including all the less-than-savory parts." (- Greenhouse).

Sweet, yes, but I think I might be TA because, um, P LITERALLY BROKE BONFIRE'S NOSE AND THREATENED TO KILL HIM? AND IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN PREVENTED IF I HAD TOLD THEM?

TL;DR: I didn't tell my partners about my headmate that's prone to violence and he did violence on them and I feel bad.

AITA?

(P says hi, by the way, and he also wants me to tell you that he isn't like this anymore and much prefers soft blankets and eating fruit to breaking his family's noses.)

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw

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mondaymelon · 6 months

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𖥔 ݁ ˖⩇⩇:⩇𝟣.𖥔 ݁ ˖

⤷ a halloween event hosted by @mondaymelon !!

taglist: @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @silaswritesthings, @neigesprincess, @mintydump, @kaeffeinee !!

“...That’s the briefing. Any questions?” Sango uncrossed her arms, glancing up from the paper she was reading off of. It was a chilly evening at the Bantan Sango Detective Agency, and you regretted not bringing an extra layer of clothing with you to work.

You sighed, your exhale turning white in the frosty air. The sky had already blended black, tiny pin pricks of bright stars resembling white paint scattered on a midnight canvas hung like a dusty backdrop. The days had been growing colder of late, and the maple leaves that loosely clung to the trees now blanketed the cobblestone streets. “Typical of you to hand me over to some tiring task right before the festival… that other guy, genius detective Shikanoin Heizou, why not ask him instead and spare me the trouble?”

The brunette’s expression grew strained. “You know I don’t talk to him anymore. Besides, he quit a long time ago. He works for the Tenryou commission now, and I hear that quite the skilled man. Wherever he is, he always finds a way to boast about him, I suppose…” Her voice trailed off with an exasperated groan. “It doesn’t matter. Are you going to take the job or not?”

“Do I really have a choice?” Judging by her scammer-like smile, you already knew the answer before you asked the question.

“Nope.” And just like that, she thrusted the manila folder of information into your arms, several pieces of paper flying out of it in the process. “Have fun, I’ll see you at the Halloween Festival later!” She sprinted away before you could even get in another word.

As expected. Sango was rather stone-faced, yet she only grew more and more animated as you got to know her. You didn’t know exactly what happened between her and that redhead detective, but you weren’t one to pry for details the other wasn’t willing to provide. Besides, you still had Ryuuji to pester for help… not. He had long since gone home for a weekend vacation.

“This is why I’m miserable.” You shook your head, reluctantly glancing through the information in the files given.

[ 48 missing people.

No attacks on children. Prime targets seem to be young adults regardless of gender.

Only three bodies have been retrieved.

Bodies are drained of blood. Puncture wounds in neck. Inscriptions on body...

Last event was Oct 24. Tanaka Oda, aged 24. Inferred to have gone missing at night. Had gambling problems but otherwise was a clean slate. ]

“Shit, this sounds like something from a legend… couldn’t these just be wild animal attacks?” You examined the photos, spotting the sunken eyes and dry flesh. “Ah, but unless it was an 8 foot tall bat… and the runes. How the fuck would a bat write? The work of a cult, maybe? Human sacrifice has been a thing before, and that would certainly explain the markings on the corpses, would it not…?” You didn’t have enough evidence to come to conclusions now, nor the sufficient amount of sleep. You had never exactly been the most intelligent, which made you question why Sango had even assigned this case to you in the first place. To give it to the least capable detective in the workforce must’ve meant that it must be an insignificant mystery, right? Then it’d only be a while until all the threads came unraveled. That, at the very least, provided you with a sense of comfort.

That sensation was a fleeting one, shattered by the shrill cry of a woman in the distance. High-pitched. Terrified. You snapped your head up, hastily shoving the evidence in your arm and sprinting towards the sound. It happened again, a broken cry piercing through the misty night. Smoky tendrils swirled in the air and curled around your ankles.

Where had the civilians gone? There wasn't a soul in sight. There were no lights in the windows. Food stands were left unattended as smoke rose from their stoves.

You pulled out into a clearing. There she was. She couldn't have been more than twenty years of age, her paper-white skin contrasting with the pink on her cheeks. Her kimono was strewn, creased as if someone had grabbed her with force. You could see the blood seeping from the bite wound on her neck. Her skin was icy cold. Her pulse had gone dead.

No. Not a wild animal.

This... A word, one spoken in storybooks, flashed in your mind.

There wasn't time to dwell on it. You could feel your heart pounding against your ribcage. There was someone. In the alleyway. They had seen everything.

"Huk...!"

He made a sound, then his body crumpled to the ground.

His inanimate corpse glowed with a sinister energy. Lines of foreign words circling around his arms and chest blazed forth, shining a deep red against the black night. A tongue you couldn't comprehend. A forgotten, ancient language that had long since been buried.

His body gave a spasm, shaking. It was as if he was a doll, and his joints creaked and groaned as they bent in upon themselves. Where his heart should have resided instead was a crystal-cut ruby, quivering in the open air. His eyes bulged, and then they were no longer there, bursting into a fountain of red. Then, he stilled.

He didn't move again.

Silence. Suffocating. There was something building in the back of your throat. You could taste the bitter bile on your tongue.

"F...Fuck."

Two bodies, cruelly bent and misshapen. The woman in the clearing, the blood pooling from her wounds growing cold. Her face was an almost ashen gray, and her dead marble eyes stared blankly into the sky. What was there to look at?

Then, the man. Twisted arms hung morbidly from his frame. His bloody, mangled sockets lay bare as they gazed at nothing at all. His bloodied body slowly dissipated as ashes in the wind. It was the smell of iron.

You exhaled a shallow breath. You could feel the tremble of your hands as you held them over your mouth. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshit. You wanted to scream, cry. You shouldn't. You couldn't.

Droplets of crimson lay scattered on the ground. A trail of blood.

Blackened remains of the cursed. A trail of his ashes.

ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛʀɪᴀʟ.

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ohtobeleah · 2 years

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Chaos // Bradley Bradshaw

Chapter Five: B-Rad

Summary: After the death of your father and some time spent with Rooster, you find it in yourself to keep pushing. But stealing an F-18 to run a course you weren’t permitted to has its consequences.

Warnings: Bradley Bradshaw x reader fluff. SMUT! Female receiving. Ex Rooster ex reader.

Word Count: 7k

Author Note: literally my favourite chapter by far. Falling a little behind schedule though so we might end up with seven chapters. Not the original six.

“Bradley—“ Rooster knew how you were feeling first hand. He lost his father at a young age—so young you could only remember the vaguest memory of Goose. He lost his mother—not so long ago either. You would always remember Carole for her kindness, her heart, her love for you as a daughter that never wavered even if you and Rooster were a million miles apart. “Come in, I wish the reunion fell under better circumstances.” Your mother Sarah welcomed the aviator she’d watched grow up into the man he was today into her home. Still in his ceremonial uniform. Only a few hours after the funeral, only an hour after the wake had ended.

A warm embrace consumed her for a moment before Rooster pulled away, looking around your childhood home that held so many memories—albeit the home itself had been extended and renovated a time or two. The memories were all there. Rooster swore if he held his breath and closed his eyes he could still hear your infectious childhood laugh.

“I couldn’t tell you where my daughter is even if I wanted to, I haven’t heard from her since we got back from the wake.” Sarah, your mother and the woman Rooster had confided in many times throughout his life, sighed as she stalled in the kitchen. Meals upon meals, flower arrangements and cards of many condolences and sympathies scattered the kitchen island. Overwhelming her. “She’s not doing well, Maverick told me what happened—“

“Admiral Beau isn’t one for timing, is he Mrs.K?” Rooster acknowledged the saddened widow as he took his dress hat off. Staring out into the backyard– Rooster saw slightest movement coming from inside the treehouse Tom had made you well over sixteen years ago. “I think I know where she is, do you mind if I—?” Rooster gestured to the treehouse outside as your mother scoffed out a small chuckle.

“Be my guest honey.” Rooster was quick to kiss your mother on the cheek, bending over to match her height before making his way outside. Birds sang in the garden as he climbed the wooden stairs. To his surprise they were still as stable as they were the day Tom and Pete had built it for you. True craftsmanship.

“Chaos, it’s me—“ Roosted cooed as he looked through the little window, sliding the clear plastic across that was meant to mimic glass to pop his head in. You didn’t answer as you sat curled up on one of the old bean bag chairs. Your Pajamas on, hair damp from the shower you had cried long and hard in after you got home. “Y/n—“

“Go home flyboy can’t you read?” Rooster could hear in your voice how much you had been crying. If anything you needed to blow your nose. “Sign says no boys allowed.” Rooster took his head out of the window, looking to where you’d hung the No boys sign up across the front door.

With a single toss over the balcony, the sign landed on the grass below as Rooster ducked his head slightly as he made his way inside. As a kid he remembered this treehouse being a castle, maybe it still was. You’d both grown up since then—there was definitely less space to play teapaties now. But if you asked? He’d be blue.

“What sign?” Rooster sat beside you. “I don’t see a sign.” chuckling softly as you picked your head up. Eyes swollen from tears cried long and hard.

“Hi—“ You cooed softly.

“Hey Chaos.” Rooster cooed back as he gently nestled in, his back against the bean bag you sat in, your arm draping over his shoulder to keep him close as he drew unidentifiable objects into the palm of your hand.

“Really living up to the call sign aren’t I?” You shook your head softly. Rooster took in all the photos you still had hung around the treehouse from your childhood and teenage years.

“Yeah well, can’t say you don’t suit it that’s for sure.” Silence fell as Rooster continued to draw unidentifiable objects into your forearm. “Mav told me what happened—“

“Ah well, you know what they say Bradshaw—“ you paused for a moment as you stood up, kicking Roosters legs apart softly before you came to sit between them. Your back against his chest as you pulled up the blanket that had been working to keep you warm on the bean bag. “You win some, you lose some.”

“I can only imagine what you must be feeling right now.” Admiral Beau sat behind his desk after having requested you see him in his office before the funeral. “Take some time, whatever you need.”

“I appreciate that sir, but there's no time, I just wanna get this over and done with so I can focus on the mission, sir.”

“Unfortunately Lieutenant Kazansky, you will not be continuing on with this detachment effectively immediately.” Your heart sank. Still holding your position you raised a questioning brow.

“Sir–?”

“You and I both know that after you stunt with Lieutenant Seresin the only thing keeping you here was your old man.”

“Sir with all due respect i believe i–”

“Save it, Lieutenant, my decision is final.”

“I believe im one of the few who could actually achieve the mission directives sir and i know you know that–”

“That may be true Chaos, but all you've managed to do in your time here is assault another Lieutenant, fraternise with your co-worker and destroy a multi million dollar F-18!”

“Sir–”

“That is all, Lieutenant, you are dismissed.”

“Are you telling me in full confidence right now that Lieutenant Y/n Chaos Kazansky is gonna take being dropped from the program?” You let you head rest against Roosters chest. You had nothing left to give. Nothing left to fight with. “That’s not like you?”

“Rooster—I literally just buried my dad. The last thing I care about right now is flying some suicidal mission for Admirals who don’t give a damn if we make it home safe or not.”

“Since when do you let people tell you what to do?” Rooster never picked you as the type of person that would join the Navy, purely based on the fact you hated being told what to do. But—he’d never been more proud of everything you’d managed to achieve. Even if you’d just been kicked out for recklessness.

“This is the navy Rooster—they’re called orders for a reason, I don’t like them anymore then you do but that’s the way it is—I’m grounded.” You let your head fall into his chest as Rooster let his chin rest on top of your head. His arms strung around your shoulders.

“Can I be honest with you real quick?” It wasn’t that Rooster wasn’t being serious before, but as he asked you, the tone in his voice got a little heavier. More serious.

“Yeah—“ I mean hey why not right? Expecting another catastrophe you held your breath. Hope for the best, expect the worst they always said.

“And I wanna preface this by letting you know this is coming from the part of me that admires you as a pilot.” Rooster paused for a moment as he took his chin off the top of your head. His arms unwinding from around your shoulders as you turned around to face him. Sitting back on your knees between Roosters legs. “But you’re the only person I’d wanna fly this mission with, simply because you don’t think—you just do.” There was a part of you that was quick to take that as an insult, but deep down? You knew that was as good as any compliment Rooster could ever give you.

“Love when you talk dirty to me, keep going.” You couldn’t help but to smile, the way Rooster looked at you with so much love, so much admiration in his eyes. The women of his dreams.

“Only someone as reckless and as dangerous as you could fly this mission successfully—sure, maybe Hangman’s stupid enough to go balls to the wall but you? You calculate the risk and go for it anyway.” Shaking your head softly, you bit your bottom lip. Stopping it from quivering under the Immense pressure of your fragile emotions. Tears welling in your eyes.

“This is all very flattering, Rooster, really, but I can’t do anything about it now. I’ve already been dismissed from the program.”

“Your dad wouldn’t have taken no for an answer?” God Rooster hit you with that one didn’t he. “C’mon Y/n, you’re Chaos fucking Kazanksy for crying out loud. You didn’t get your call sign from taking L’s and backseats. You got it from pissing off Admirals, why stop now?” Rooster questioned, trying to egg you on. He knew you weren’t the type of person to take things lying down. This was no exception. He knew you just needed a push in the right direction.

You didn’t respond, you let Rooster's words rattle around in your head. You wanted to play tough, do all this on your own. Be an independent woman who didn’t need anyone—but after finally letting your dad go? Losing the one man who never let you down ever? You felt lost, exposed, exhausted. Giving in, you fell back into Rooster's arms, crying as you let your sobs echo throughout the treehouse you and Rooster held so many childhood memories in.

With wide eyes, Rooster instantly took you in, your arms wrapping around his midsection as he held you back. Rocking you softly side to side as he just let you cry. Not saying a word—Rooster knew you just needed to flush it out. Because even Superwoman sometimes needed Superman's soul.

“I've got you–” whispering softly, Rooster did his very best to comfort you. All he could do was hold you close. “I've got you Y/n.” There was no clock to watch the seconds, the minutes, what could have been hours pass by as Bradley Bradshaw sat there with you crying in his arms. The sound of your heartbreak tearing a part of his heart out. But there came a point where your sobs were a little less violent, your grip became a little less intense around his waist, and sure enough, you’d cried yourself to exhaustion. Passing out in the comforting embrace of the love of your life, your best friend.

Rooster knew that you couldn't stay up in the treehouse all night, the sun was beginning to set, the temperature started to slowly drop, enough to the point he could feel you shivering slightly under the warmth of the blanket. Deciding that he would do the only thing he really could do besides leaving you there. Gently, and ever so slowly, as delicately as he possibly could– Rooster slid himself out from behind you. Bending over, Rooster groaned softly as he tried not to strain his back. Picking you up bridal style– if you heard him? He’d be honest, it wasn't about how heavy you were. It was purely technique based.

He hadn’t thought this through very well. Because getting you off the floor of the treehouse was only part one, part two included getting you out the door. Rooster had to not so gracefully duck to avoid a nasty whack to the forehead. Although you and himself had grown over the years–the treehouse had remained the same. Which included a small door frame that had pen marks and permanent marker lines that marked how tall you were both getting. Dates and times spanning the years you'd both known each other.

Rooster had to pause for a moment before making his descent down the seven or eight wooden stairs that lined the side of the treehouse. Your head lulled against his chest as he cradled you in his arms. Sighing, Rooster took one step at a time.

“Oh, my heart.” Your mother cooed as she held her hand over her heart from her seat in the living room. Pete had stopped by to again let his condolences be known to the grieving widow. A friend. A beloved family member. “Pete, turn around.” Taking a sip of the tea Sarah had prepared for him, Pete Mitchell turned his head to see Bradley Bradshaw trotting down the stairs of the treehouse he had once pushed you down. “Isn't that just–pure.”

“Not something I thought I'd ever see, but sure, we can go with pure if you like.” Maverick teased as Rooster used his boot clad foot to pry open the glass sliding door. Turning sideways to crab walk you inside. Huffing a gentle sigh as he did so. His eyes meeting Mavericks. “You right here Rooster?”

“She knocked herself out, I just didn't wanna leave her up there alone.” Rooster explained as his eyes fell to your mother. “She was pretty upset.”

“I thought she would be.” Your mother nodded. “Um, you can probably just dump her in her room?” You and your mother just had that type of relationship, easy going, a little dark humor based. relaxed. “If you wanna stay the night Rooster there should be a box in the top of the cupboard with a bunch of stuff you left around the place over the years.”

“Thanks Mrs.K–” Rooster didn't really acknowledge the question, but nevertheless he appreciated the offer. “You say something to Admiral Beau?” Rooster tilted his chin upwards as he asked Maverick the pretty intense question. “Or–”

“I had a few choice words, but at the end of the day I can only do so much.” Rooster nodded. Accepting the reality of the situation unfolding around him. Heading off down towards where your old childhood bedroom was. “Bradley?” Maverick called out as Rooster turned around to face him, his arms about to pop out of their sockets if he didnt put you down sooner rather than later. “She's tough, she’ll figure everything out.”

“I know she will.” Rooster didn't hesitate to agree as you softly moaned against his chest. Shit he really had to put you down before he dropped you, his arms numbing at the sensation of being bent too long, holding pressure too long. “I know she will.”

In another life—there would have been a time where Bradley Bradshaw would have slipped in behind you with ease. His arms pulling you close to him as he got comfortable between the sheets and the fluffy covers of your bedspread. But like I said—in another life.

Rooster placed you down as gently and as carefully as he could, watching as you instantly in your sleeping state took to your new environment. Comforting, all consuming.

With a drawn out sigh—Rooster stepped away from the side of your bed. Rubbing his palm down his face as he fought every urge he had to stay. Wondering over to where the cupboard was, Rooster didn’t wanna pry into the past all that much. He knew that although the good most certainly weighed out the bad, there were definitely landmines scattered. He didn’t want to be the latest victim of his own stupidity. But nevertheless, Rooster saw the box your mother had told him about. A clear plastic box with a hand written label scotch taped to the lid. The nickname evoked a chuckle that came from the very depths of Roosters soul. Clear as day he read the nickname you knew he hated, knew he wouldn’t let anyone else call him ever. An abbreviation so atrocious it took him his entire junior year of high school begging and pleading with you to stop calling him that.

Head hadn’t heard it in years—but reading it? Seeing it written in your writing kinda made him miss it. Grade a Stockholm syndrome.

Holding the box before he dropped it carefully to the end of your bed, being cautious not to wake you—Rooster ran his fingers over the nickname written in bold:

B-Rad’s Stuff.

There was an old t-shirt he’d sworn he’d lost back in senior year—it smelt of you as he held it to his nose. Rooster wondered how many nights you’d dawned it when he wasn’t around. Pictures of moments passed were scattered throughout the box. Old birthday cards he’d written you, dried and pressed petals of what Rooster could only assume would have been from a bunch or roses he’d given you were thrown in absentmindedly.

But amongst the clothes that surely wouldn’t fit his physique now, Rooster pulled out a pair of sweatpants he’d remembered he’d left behind at your place the last time he’d ever so stupidly broken off your relationship, an old Naval Accademy shirt that was balled up in the box would have to do. A snug fit—sure, but he’d make it work.

Although Rooster couldn’t find it in himself to lay beside you, not knowing where he stood with you, he simply took a pillow from the other side of your bed, laid it down on the ground beside you—and decided that’s where he would stay.

He was there—just in case you needed him, but Rooster made sure to stay far enough away in case you woke up and decided you didn’t need him.

But let’s face it? It wasn’t a case of whether you needed Bradley Bradshaw or not. The fact of the matter was you simply—

Wanted him.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Four in the morning was a peaceful time. The world had not yet begun but it was getting close. The stillness of your childhood bedroom was like any other. Frozen in time. You weren’t sure how you got here, nor were you sure when the tears had actually stopped—but you knew enough to know that you had a criminally dry mouth. Tossing the covers aside with a groan you threw your legs over the side of the bed. Your heel connecting with something hard.

“Ow—!” Rooster hissed as he jolted awake from the sudden heel to the back of the head he’d coped.

“Shit—!” Your eyes widened as you scurried off your bed, dodging where Rooster had been laying as he sat up to meet you. Rubbing the back of his head. “What are you doing down here?” Crouching down in front of him you frowned curiously. “Hang on? Did you, did you carry me to bed?”

“Well I wasn’t gonna leave you up there a sobbing mess was I?” Rooster chuckled as he stopped rubbing the back of his head. Yawning— he moved to rub his eyes. “What time is it?” You didn’t respond, you simply smiled a soft smirk as you reached for Rooster's hand.

“Time to come to bed.”

“What? No I can’t—“ Rooster hesitated as you dragged him to his feet. Standing before him in the darkness of your childhood bedroom. “Y/n—“

“I’m one hundred percent sure that the bed would be more comfortable than the carpet—“ Noticing the clothes Rooster had changed into. The content of the plastic box still haphazardly scattered beside him. “B-Rad.”

“Oh you just had to go there didn’t you?” There wasn’t much distance between the two of you. Barley any at all as you stood before Rooster and he stood before you. Surrounded in darkness—only the slightest bit of light peering in from your window. The patio solar lights working overtime. “You know I hate when you call me that.”

“Yeah, but you always let me anyway.” Reminding Rooster you enjoyed the closeness a little too much—allowing Rooster to duck his head slightly, his face closer to yours. Lips ever so close—almost close enough to just capture with yours. “We aren’t gonna do this again.” You smirked, teasing Rooster as your fingers played with his. “I’m still holding a grudge—“

“I told you, you’re it.” Rooster cooed as his breath fanned across your face, hot. “What’s a guy gotta do? Beg?” Rooster let his forehead rest against yours as you thought about your next move.

There were a lot of things Bradley Bradshaw was good at, commitment clearly not being something on that list. But getting you off? That was in the top five.

“That’s exactly what I’m gonna make you do.” Smirking, you pushed Rooster back so his legs hit the back of your bed frame. Guiding him down by his shoulder as you stood between his legs, his hands instinctively on your hips. “Beg—“

“Chaos, you can’t be serious?” Rooster questioned as you reached for the bottom of your shirt, lifting it up and over your head before discarding it across the room. Standing before Rooster as his eyes fell to your exposed chest. Stunned into absolute silence.

“Tell me how much you love me—“ It wasn’t that you needed a definitive answer, you just wanted to hear Rooster say it. Regardless if he truly meant it. That might seem fucked beyond belief—but you didn’t know any other way. “Beg me to be yours, Bradley.” With a gentle shove to the shoulder you had Rooster on his back. Making with hairs you shed your sweats, completely and wholeheartedly exposed.

Rooster couldn’t believe his eyes as his knee rested between your bare thighs. Watching with hooded eyes as you stood waiting for him to say something—anything.

“Never have I ever felt so stupid for leaving you.” It was an administration of guilt more than anything else. “But I’ve never stopped loving you—not for a second.”

“Keep going.” You crawled onto the bed beside where Rooster laid sprawled out. “Or else I’m putting my clothes back on.” With a gulp, Rooster nodded softly. Following your every command.

“I’m a coward.” You liked that one a lot. Sending a leg over his waist you mounted Rooster with ease. “I’m scared of just how much I love you—“ Moving closer to where Rooster's face was with every sentence he spoke, he knew exactly what he’d be doing for the next however long it took him to get you where you needed to go. “So I run thinking just maybe I’ll figure something out but I never do and I always fucking regret leaving you.”

“Start begging Lieutenant Bradshaw before I change my mind.” Sitting on his chest so close he could almost taste you, Rooster begged.

“Take me back—“

“Why should I?” You were quick to ask as you hovered just above his chest, slowly creeping forward.

“Because I’ll never leave you again.”

“I don’t believe you.” You sighed dramatically as you backed away slightly—Roosters hands coming to stop you by your ass. Pulling you back closer as you hovered his Nirvana over his chest.

“One more chance, that's it. One—“ Rooster pleaded. “I’ll give you my last name just to prove it baby.” That got you a little too good. “I’ll follow you to the moon and back, heaven or hell, I’ll be yours.” You were so close to just letting him have it. But Rooster hadn’t worked hard enough to gain your trust. “Please Y/n—“

“Prove it?” You teased. With a jolt, Rooster had you down on his face in a matter of seconds. Devouring everything you gave him. “Ohhh fuck—!” Throwing your head back so fast you swore you gave yourself whiplash. “Bradley! Jesus—oh my go—“ You couldn’t finish what you were saying, hell you couldn’t breathe as Rooster lapped away at your core, so tender yet so fierce. He needed to prove he could get you to your high, already drunk of the power you had over him.

“Feels so fucking good Rooster don’t you dare stop.” You couldn’t help but to moan as you saw Roost looked up at you for a brief moment as you looked down. “Don’t stop.”

“Now who’s begging? Rooster teased playfully—the response he got from you came in the form of a tight tug on his hair. Sending painful yet oh so pleasurable shockwaves through his body. Hissing against your core as you moved your hips in small circles. Grinding down on Rooster’s face as he sucked and lapped at all the right places.

“Yes—just like that!” It felt otherworldly. The way Rooster was giving you everything he had to offer, his tongue flicking against your sensitive bundle of nerves as his lips worked to create an almost vacuum seal like sensation. The pressure immense. The feeling sensational. “Rooster—fuck!”

He wanted to hear you cum for him, that was all that was Rooster's mind as he felt your sweet nectar dripping down his chin, down his neck. The way he didn’t mind straining himself in order to hear you cry those blissful moans into the early morning darkness. He was committed to you, to getting you to your high and making sure that when you got there he’d ride it out with you.

“Please—Rooster, im—“ You had to collect your thoughts as the feeling of a tsunami started to form. “I’m gonna cum—“ Roosters hands came up from where they had been resting gently against the small of your back to reach up for your breast. Squeezing and playing with your sensitive buds. Knowing it would give you just a little extra push. “Oh my god—oh shit shit shit shit—“ There had never been a more perfect place to sit.

“Come for me Chaos.” There was a small part of Rooster that thought you were spiralling out of control. He wondered for a brief moment if this was what you truly wanted, if this would backfire. Was it taking advantage of your poor lack of judgement if you came onto him? What if after all the endorphins had left your body would you want him to stay? “Cum for me baby—let me taste you.”

Electricity. That’s what you would describe it as as your hands cupped Roosters cupping your breast. With a wide jaw and an angelic moan, Rooster had your thighs shaking on either side of your face. Completely buried in your core, pulsing rapidly as he sucked and lapped away at you. Steadying you above him as your orgasm washed over you—hitting you just as hard as a semi trailer would.

“Ohhhhhhh fuckkk—“ You cried out into the darkness. Rooster drank you up, his chin completely saturated with your nectar. Sweet and perfect. “Rooster—“ Sighing dramatically you fell to your side. Eyes closed as your body relaxed. Rooster was quick to sit up, meeting you in the middle of your bed.

“Want me to stay?” It was the way you instantly nodded in response that had Rooster connecting his lips with yours. Tasting yourself you pulled him down on top of you. His hands instantly roaming your body. “Chaos—“

“Just go with it.” You threw caution into the wind yet again for Bradley Bradshaw. Knowing that if he was going to break your heart again it would truly be the death of you. Would you ever learn your lesson?

Falling asleep around six thirty in the morning, wrapped in each other’s arms. Rooster knew he wouldn't let you go again. This was it for him. You were it. You had a power of him. Falling asleep content that the moment he had a chance to he’d ask you to marry him.

Without a shadow of a doubt.

It felt like minutes, but as Rooster reached across to pull you close he was met with an empty bed. Questioning whatever reality he had somehow transported from, he swore blind you were just with him a second ago.

Sitting up dumbfounded—Rooster's eyes landed on the small post it note stuck to his uniform, wrapping the sheet around his waist, Rooster padded across the room to see what you had written. He couldn’t say he was shocked—but still, he was concerned slightly.

“I know what I have to do, see you back in Fightertown B-Rad.”

****~****~****~****~****~

Rooster hadnt heard from you all morning. His few text messages and handful of calls had gone unread, unnoticed, unanswered. He knew he should be focused a little more on the presentation going on before him. But his mind was still stuck on you, the way you tasted, the way you felt. They way Rooster knew you were one inconvenience away from completely breaking down.

“Unfortunately due to circumstances out of our current control, Lieutenant Kazansky won't be continuing on with this detachment.” Maverick addressed the class who looked just as saddened to hear you had been dismissed then what you did when Admiral Beau pulled the plug. “And it pains me to say, as of today there are new mission parameters.” Pete Mitchell had fought tooth and nail to keep the parameters in place. But Admiral Beau admitent things had to change. “Time to target is now four minutes.” Maverick wasn't enjoying this, he almost walked out the moment he was told. But he couldnt leave his pilots. He felt a personal responsibility to see this out.

“You’ll be entering the valley at reduced speed, not to exceed four hundred and twenty knots.”

“Sir, won't that be giving their planes time to intercept?” Bob interjected as he looked around at his fellow pilots. Wishing you were sitting with them. Knowing if you were there you would have been the first to call bullshit.

“Well Lieutenant, you have a fighting chance against enemy aircraft. What are the odds of surviving a head on collision with a mountain?” Admiral Beau was quick to chim in as he stepped up next to Maverick. Taking over with a stirn voice as the graphic course behind him changed. “You’ll be attacking the target at a higher altitude– level with the north wall, it will be a little harder to keep your laser on target but you will avoid the high G climb out.”

“We’ll be sitting ducks for enemy milles.” Fanboy sighed. The automated map behind where Maverick and Admiral Beau stood began to beep. The class confused as the two men turned around just as stunned.

“Who the hell is that?” Admiral Beau looked at Maverick with fire in his eyes. Maverick shrugged his shoulders, unaware of what you had planned. Watching on just as confused as he looked down at his list of attendance. Everyone was here and accounted for– except maybe……

“Chaos to range control, entering Point Alpha.” You explained as you clipped your mask on, swinging around with speed to where the check point was marked. “Confirm, green range.”

“There’s no way—“ Rooster sat a little straighter in his chair, balling his first as he egged you on silently. His girl. “No fucking way.”

“Did you know about this!?” Bon whisper shouted as he turned to face Rooster from the chair in front. “This is crazy even for her!”

“I swear to you she didn’t mention it—“ Rooster widened his eyes as he smirked wildily. “This is the first I'm hearing about this too.” He knew there was a reason you didn't tell him. That reason being he was free of all consequences if things went south. Rooster couldn't be dragged into the mess your stunt would surely cause. He’d be free to thrive in his career. “She’s insane.”

“Uh, Chaos, this is range control–uh green range is confirmed, I don't see an event scheduled for you ma'am?” The entire class moved to the edge of their seats as they watched your tracker progress on the flight projector. The little camcorder in your cockpit live streaming your face, your cockpit, your overall being.

“Yeah well, I'm going anyway.” You confirmed. Shrugging it off because you had already gotten this far–may as well finish it right? Taking a deep breath in because this may be your last flight in an F-18. This could get you dishonourably discharged. “Kazansky is a go.”

“Nice–” Phoenix whispered under her breath as she watched in utter bewilderment.

“Setting time to target, two minutes and fifteen second.” The timer that read four minutes changed instantly before the class.

“Bull, two fifteen? That's impossible.” Hangman hissed, sure he wanted you here but he knew that two fifteen was pushing it, even for you. He knew what it was like to have something to prove, but this? This was chaotic at best. “She won’t make that.”

“Shut up before I decide to make you.” Rooster came to your defence quicker than ever before. Pointing a stern finger Hangman’s way as his elbow rested on his arm chair. “What don’t you understand here? Chaos is the best of all of us, if anyone can do two fifteen it would be her.”

“I understand she was kicked from the program, Bradshaw, so this literally impossible stunt of hers will have her ass kicked out of the Navy quicker than you can say dishonourably discharged.” Rooster knew Hangman was right. This wasn't going to end well for you. Turning his attention back to you, Rooster softened as he watched you back your final decision. He couldn't help but to wonder if he’d pushed you to do this. But when Rooster had said don't take this lying down he didn't know his words translated into stealing a goddamn F-18.

“Final attack point, Chaos is inbound.” Throttling forward, you increased your speed. Inverting down as you punched it. Giving it your absolute all as you increased your speed as fast as you could physically handle. Starting strong with every intention of finishing strong.

You didn't know you were crying until you felt the tears streaming down your face. You hoped this was something your dad would have done if he were in your shoes. There was never going to be a day where you made commander, never going to be a day you ranked higher than captain at best.

At this point you were tired, sick of running as fast as you could. Always wondering if you would have gotten where you were today quicker if you were a man. Why did you get kicked out of the program for fraternisation but Rooster hadn't been? Why did you get kicked out for assaulting another lieutenant but Hangman wasn't even written up for pulling your papers. None of it sat right with you–especially the part where the moment your dad had passed Admiral Beau took it as the perfect opportunity to dismiss you. Knowing there was no one left to stop him.

With your mind running wild with enough emotional trauma and baggage to fuel your determination to complete this course– you pushed that throttle so far forward to send your G’s climbing. Coming out of the turns into the straight away. This was the home stretch.

As the timer counted down the seconds, it was as if everyone watching you fly forgot how to breathe. With forty seconds left on the clock you approached the straight. At this point Bob grew nervous, standing from his seat as did Rooster. Eyes glued to your map. Fanboy clung to the head rest of the chair in front of him.

“Popping in three, two one–” Rooster stood from his seat the second he noticed the tears in your eyes, running his hands through his hair. There was nothing he could do for you but all he wanted to do was hold you. Watching as you inverted over the lip of the course guided mountain. Flipping over shorting after as the class watched you line your target up expertly. “Target acquired– confirming tone!” You reported as the class heard the high pitched tone echo through the room.

“Bombs away–” With just eight seconds remaining, you dropped your bombs, throlling up miliseconds later for the steep climb out. Rooster watched your G’s climb as your timer ran out. Only seconds remaining as his heart raced.

Bob was the next to jump from his seat in anticipation, watching as the bombs you dropped his dead centre where they needed to be.

“Bullseye holy shit!” Fanboy cheered. Rooster hid his smile behind his first. Of course you had done it, he never doubted it for a second.

“That's my girl–” Rooster whispered to himself. “Atta girl.” Reaching a total of 10 G’s with less than a second to spare. You’d done it.

“Damn–” Hangman smirked, nodding because you'd done it. Done what none of them had been able to do. Perhaps Rooster had been right all along, they should have packed their gear knowing you were here.

Settling into your seat as you chuckled, you shook your head in utter disbelief. You’d actual fucking down it.

“Captain Michell” You radioed in. “I never got a chance to say it has been an honour to work under your guidance.” You sighed heavily. “Admiral Beau, if you’re there?” you paused for a second before removing your mask, holding it so your radio still picked up your voice. You just wanted everyone to see your smirk. Knowing that they couldn't say exactly what you were about to say.

“Eat my whole ass–”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“You have put me in a difficult position Lieutenant.” It wasn't a position you wanted to be in, but nevertheless? You had put yourself there regardless. Standing before Admiral Beau as he stood looking out the window towards the airfield. “On the one hand, you have demonstrated that this mission can be flown, perhaps the only way it can be survived.” You took the compliment, it was probably the only good thing that was going to come out of this. “On the other hand, you did it by stealing a multimillion dollar military aircraft and flying it in such a manner that it may never be airworthy again.”

“In my defence, sir– it wasn't all that hard to steal–perhaps upgrading the security around here should be something on your to do list.” You retaliated, knowing holding back wasn't going to change any decision that wasn't already made. With a heavy sigh, Admiral Beau ran his hand down his face.

“Iceman is no longer here to protect you.”

“Its Commander Kazanksy, sir–” With gritted teeth, you stood with your shoulders squared. Watching as Admiral Beau crossed the room. His eyes trained on you. Anger prevalent.

“I have everything I need to have you court marshalled and dishonourably discharged.” He hissed, letting the silence linger for a moment as he held that threat before you. “So what do I do? risk the lives of my pilots and perhaps the success of the mission? Or–risk my career by appointing you team leader.”

“Sir–?” You questioned as you stepped forward. A hand coming to cup your shoulder, pulling you back in line with a soft shuckle.

“I think the Admiral was asking a rhetorical question, Lieutenant,” Warlock smirked as he held you back. Nodding his way you stepped back in line.

Damn, that wasn't the outcome of your actions you were expecting, if anything it was some quinesentail underdog shit.

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Opening the door, you were met with Jake Seresin standing across the hall. Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Rolling your eyes—you made a quick exit down the hall. Hangman hot on your tail.

“You’re actually delusional if you thought that stunt was gonna get you anywhere—“ Hangman hissed as he caught up with you, walking directly beside you. Letting out a scoff you smirked, looking down at the ground you walked on. Finding comfort in the stable ground.

“Admiral Beau just gave me a death sentence, do you really think I give a damn if you think I’m some nepotism baby? At fault for Sam’s death? or fucking delusional?” Stopping in your tracks, Hangman looked at you confused. “I don't wanna lose it right now, because I’m tired of being psychotic—but I'm not getting through this.” Pausing, you cleared your throat. “I don’t get to come back from this one, Lieutenant.”

“Cyclone made you team lead did he?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I think I’d rather be discharged.”

“You told him to eat your ass though—“

“What happened!?” Turning, you saw Rooster racing towards you. His boots heavy against the floor as he came jogging up to you. Embracing you instantly. Warm and all consuming. Wrapping your arms around his torso as you were quick to hide your face in his chest. “What happened?”

“Little miss Chaos here is team lead—“ Hangman broke the news as Rooster pulled away to look at you, cupping your cheeks. “I mean I guess when you're the only one who’s crazy enough to pull that kinda stunt he didn’t really have a choice did he?”

“He made you team lead?” Panic in his eyes, Rooster begged you to say no. He didn’t want you going on this mission, not when he had a chance to fix things. “Y/n?”

“Captain Mitchell still has to choose my foxtrot teams—and my wingman.” Your voice too softly for it to even be heard by Hangman. “But I already told him not to choose you.” Rooster felt the knife you pressed into his heart as he stepped away.

“Oh damn—“ Hangman smirked as he watched on. He wished he had some popcorn handy.

“Why would you do that?” It wasn’t what Rooster asked that broke your heart, it was the way he asked. Defeated, broken, betrayed.

“Because I don’t think you’re ready, and I need to be able to put all my trust in my wingman.” It was the furthest thing from the truth as you held back tears. You didn’t think you had any more left to cry. But as it turns out you did. “It’s nothing personal—“

“Nothing personal!!?” It made you flinch the way Rooster raised his voice. “It’s nothing but personal!”

“Hey, easy—“ Jake reached out to place a hand on Rooster's shoulder. “Maverick still has final say.”

“You really are holding a grudge huh?” Beaming nothing but resentment for you, Rooster gritted his teeth. His jaw clenched as he stepped into your personal space, towering over you. “I thought I fucking loved you—turns out I just loved the person I thought I left behind.”

“Rooster—“ Reaching out, Rooster shrugged you off as he turned on his heels, walking away. Leaving you behind.

“You don’t mean any of that do you?” Hangman’s gaze remained on Rooster's back as he stood beside you. “You just don’t want him to be in danger—“

“You know, sometimes you can be really smart, Seresin.” You sighed as Rooster disappeared from your sight. “I wouldn’t trust any other person with my life, but I don’t want to die saving mine if things were to go wrong.”

“Could’ve just explained it you know?” Frowning you turned to Hangman. Shaking your head as you walked away.

“You managed three seconds.”

***~***~***~****~****~****~****~****~****~****~

Chaos Masterlist

Tags: @lyannaredbird @luckyladycreator2 @skagelynn @teacupdreams @the-winter-marvel33reblogs @mrsjaderogers @katieshook02 @thescarletknight2014 @justanothermagicalsara @4ngelicb4byy @percysaidnever @puriini @luckylexie @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @shrimping-for-all @fayethefairy @lonelywitchv2 @mizzzpink @unforgettwble @itzyogurl92 @lemoonandlestars @mulletmcghee @redqueeen99 @bucky-barmes @mak-32 @fivsecondsflat @loveless-simp @bradleysgirl

#bradley bradshaw x female reader #chaos // bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun hangman #top gun bob #top gun bradley bradshaw #top gun maverick imagine #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x y/n

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bunn-iiii · 8 months

Text

actually back on my Show Pony thoughts again

Why does the beloved queerest icon, Show Pony, not show up in the California comics? we see them for a few panels set in the past when they got the girl into the van and a few Polaroids here and there. The pictures indicate that the 'joys they hung around still remember them fondly, at least enough to have pictures of them around. But then why are they not around? Why do we not see them? Well a simple answer could just be they got ghosted but then why is no one talking about them? maybe it happened a while ago?

well I'm not simple so I came up with a whole fucking thing because show pony brain is complex and multifaceted

Show Pony was a teen 'crow. a crow that at first had no idea what the killjoys were like besides what the city told them. They were barely old enough to be working as a 'crow, accelerated by the fact that they graduated school early. BL/ind knew it would be more likely for a teen to escape the city to the Zones so they used them as an undercover spy.

Eventually wandering the Zones got them picked up by an old man in a wheelchair and his radio crew, they taught the undercover 'crow what it is like to be a killjoy. They dressed them in colorful clothes and put makeup on them, glitter and pink and blue covered them from head to toe.

In that moment, when they were named Show Pony, they knew that this was right. This was what they truly were. Not some drone for a giant corporation. A colorful, genderqueer, roller skating mailperson.

Through the next year they started to look less and less like the person they left the city as. Later, in the winter months, a new bright and shiney group of teen killjoys rolls around, Dr D took a liking to them as well as Show. They promised themself to never go back to being a scarecrow, they could never hurt these 'joys. The youngest was just few years younger than them, the oldest being their age.

When the girl appeared they cried, they thought about what would've happened if they had gone back to the city. So they made another promise, this time out loud, to protect the girl. She was something sacred, they could just tell. Show would help take care of her when not dropping off letters or running errands for Dr D, acting as a sort of babysitter for her. During this time Jet and Show started to grow a little closer, often the only ones in the diner while the others were fixing things or doing supply runs.

Then they have a firefight with Korse and the girl gets kidnapped. Show had been in a completely different Zone when it happened, only hearing the news from Dr D. They practically felt their whole word come crashing down when they heard what had gone down. They got back to the Radio Shack as quick as possible, seeing the trans am sitting outside.

only a few weeks later the Fab 4 decided to go after the girl and get her back, Show said they were going to go with but Dr D held them back. He told them he needed them there if things were to go all Costa Rica and they weren't able to get the girl out on their own.

Show sat at the radio on the table, it was a wave frequency that was meant to be kept open the entire time the Fab 4 were in the city so the radio crew could hear if things were to go wrong. They listened to the static and the sound of the four getting their weapons ready.

In the next few minutes everything went rusty. they were suddenly attacked jsut after getting the girl back. Show was quick to jump up and run out the door, dragging GoGo with them and hoping everyone else would follow. All of them quickly packed into the van, Show sitting right in front of the sliding door and getting ready to do anything possible to save the girl.

They already knew at this point that the likelihood any of the Fab four would survive was extremely low, they tried to make as much peace with it as they could in the moment.

When they finally pulled up to the building the girl and Jet was running out of Show jumped out, shooting at the 'crows that they used to work with. unbridled rage set into their bones as they saw the ghosted Jet splayed out across the trans am. They got the girl in the van and closed the door, GoGo driving them away as fast as possible.

when they finally stopped far enough away from the city, fairly close to the shack, the Girl jumped up and ran away. Show watched in absolute grief as she ran, they knew they couldn't stop her, not in this situation. At that moment the sound of a scarecrow car was heard.

Show looked around, terrified but not able to find the black car. That's when someone grabbed them and started pulling him away. Two people, two dracs holding their arms and dragging them to the white transport van. They looked for the radio crew, finding them looking at Show with disdain. Had they known? How did they find out?

Show would be reprogrammed into being a 'crow again and the events of the California comics would happen. Maybe they break free from the city, maybe they never remember who they were. But one thing is for sure, deep down in their mind still lays their Show Pony identity, hidden away and dormant.

#show pony #ttlotfk #danger days #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys danger days #jet star #dr death defying #doctor death defying #danger days headcanons #danger days hcs

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thelampisaflashlight · 8 months

Text

A Nightlight For Your Pride

[Lamb meets the usually confident Swiss in a time of weakness and doubt. Short read, but a wholesome one.] Below the cut.

"You're just... not really my type."

It shouldn't bother him, Swiss knows.

Most of the time he can let that sort of thing slide, cause, shit, if he was everyone's type he'd be up to his ears in warm bodies to cuddle, but he thought...

Swiss thumps the back of his head against the stone wall behind him, running a hand down his face as the other fiddles with the cigarette pinched between his fingers, unlit.

"I'm sorry if I led you on, that wasn't my intention."

He really thought...

"I don't mind hooking up, but dating's a no."

He was so fucking embarrassed.

"No, it's, it's fine." He'd said, "No worries."

Fine.

No worries.

"Dammit..." Swiss groans, sinking down into a squat.

He'd kind of walked off after that, after saying it was fine, and just... kept going.

Honestly, Swiss had only meant to take a short walk to clear his head, but now he's here; The old chapel on the other side of the woods past the lake.

It's a place he's maybe been once or twice before, but never alone, and certainly not this late in the afternoon.

"Haahhh... Man, why am I so hung up on this?" he mutters to himself, rummaging through his pockets for his lighter, "I didn't even like her that much, I just..."

What had he been thinking?

"Stupid."

They just got back from tour, he should be celebrating, not getting hung up over some girl.

Some pretty, smart, talented girl, who made his stomach feel all wiggly...

"We can still be friends though."

Swiss lets the cigarette hang in his mouth and go to ash.

"I don't think... that's possible." he mumbles, then asks the air, "Do you?"

"I have... no idea." a voice from somewhere above his head has Swiss scrambling away from the wall.

"Who's there?!" he shouts, panicked, "Who-"

"The nightshift." says a little ghoul as they hang over the top of the wall, horns glowing bright green in the fading light, "I did not mean to startle you, but there was not a good time to announce my presence."

"The nightsh-Oh. Oh, shit! How late is it?" Swiss asks, patting himself down for his phone, but coming up empty, "Shit..."

The ghoul on the wall slinks down and crouches on the ground in a very froglike pose, reaching into a pouch around their waist and withdrawing Swiss' phone from it, holding it out to him carefully.

"You dropped this by the lake."

"You've been, uh, you've been following me that long?" Swiss chuckles nervously, wondering how he hadn't noticed them before taking his phone back, "You... you could have said something sooner."

"Mn, you did not seem like you wanted to be bothered." the ghoul replies, long, pale tail sweeping through the leaves on the ground, the eerie glow coming off the spade casting yet more of that strange green light, "Normally, I would not follow someone so far. I do not like wandering too much, but it will be getting dark soon."

"Wait..." Swiss stares at the ghoul for a moment, tilting his head, "Wait, do I know you?"

"I do not think so?" they reply, mirroring the tilt, "You do not look familiar to me."

"No, no, I..."

Swiss bites the inside of his cheek, thinking back on a conversation he'd had with Dew ages ago now...

What was...

“There’s only one other ghoul from that incident that’s still in residence here, but they live in the dorms with the human clergy, and they’re honestly kind of weird.”

“How so?”

“Walks on all fours all the time, glows in the dark like a radioactive sleep paralysis demon, dislikes other ghouls …except for fucking Aeth for some reason…”

“Why do you sound so bitter about that, hm~?”

"You're... Satanas I never did learn your name, but, I heard about you from a friend." he says finally, "You live with the clergy, right?"

The ghoul nods.

"I did not know whether or not I should be worried that people speak of me." they muse, "Or flattered."

Radioactive sleep paralysis demon...

"Ehn, it's subjective..." Swiss lands on, "So you are...?"

"Lamb."

"Lamb, okay. Uh, I'm Swiss." he says, offering his hand to them, "Nice to meet you."

"Swiss like the cheese, or Swiss like the country?" Lamb asks, giving Swiss' hand a gentle pat instead of shaking it.

"Oh, it's, I guess like the country kind, but it's more like, Swiss Army Knife, 'cause I'm a multi-"

...dislikes other ghouls...

Swiss pauses, biting his lip.

"-talented individual." he grins, "So, Lamb, um, care to escort me back to the abbey? Since it looks like the sun's going to set soon, and, ya know, can't see very well in the dark."

Lamb nods.

"Stay close then."

The walk back to the abbey is cathartic if nothing else.

Watching Lamb weave through the tall grass on all fours is silly, but something about the way they pause and wait for him to catch up, or look back at him, or warn him of dips in the path makes Swiss' chest feel warm.

"...Possibly rude question, but... why do you walk like this?" Swiss asks as they make their way round the lake, which Lamb stops at to lap at the water there like some kind of predator mammal taking a break from the hunt to hydrate, "Is it comfortable?"

Lamb peers back at him and hums.

"It's not particularly uncomfortable." they say, moving back into a seated position, "Feels safer."

"Safer?"

Lamb shrugs, then raises up, albeit not very high, standing at their full height.

They're really quite small, maybe around Aurora's height, possibly a smidge taller, but it's hard to tell without the ghoulette around to compare them to.

"I wasn't saying that to make you feel like you needed to stand up-" Swiss frets.

The ghoul gives him a confused look and carries on walking towards the abbey, their tail flicking through the grass, now brighter than before.

"Why..." Swiss starts, but cuts himself off.

"You can ask questions." Lamb tells him, as if sensing his hesitation, their tone shifting to a gentler one that puts Swiss strangely at ease, "I don't mind."

Swiss considers this, catching up to walk beside them.

"Why does your tail... glow?"

Man, he sounds like a little kid.

"I don't really know." Lamb admits, "But Omega said it's not hazardous or really... uh, toxic or anything of the sort. Although, I would not touch it."

"Why not?"

Yeup, little kid.

"It can get on your skin and stain it."

Swiss blinks.

"Really?"

And just like that, he's reaching out and-

"...Hey, Aeth, do we have any of the good dish soap?"

His hands keep that unnatural glow for two whole hours despite Aether almost scrubbing off a full layer of Swiss' skin, but it fades eventually.

And when it does?

He misses it.

#lamp rambles #shitghosting #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band fanfic #ghost band oc #nameless ghoul oc

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lovethatmakingcoffee · 3 months

Text

Part 1

Forever

Sorry this took so long, Forever. This is a pro-Forever post so be quiet.

Not to be parasocial or anything… but…

So it seems that cancellation always wins. No matter what you have done, how bad it is or if it was even real. In Forever's situation, it was real, but the internet in pure predictable internet fashion hyped it up way more than it needed to be. From what we have honestly gathered from Forever predicament, is that he had tweets long ago that were involved primarily with a group of friends. Those tweets were disturbing and gross in nature and were directed at young girl(s) allegedly around the age of 14 to 16. There was an obvious upset from a third party who called him out on it and he apologized/resolved the situation 7 to 8 years ago.

So! We know that this was resolved 7 to 8 years ago. We know the girl(s) involved do not want to get involved and do not see themselves as victim(s). Because if they did and didn’t get justice for it 7 to 8 years ago, they would have seen this blow up or have heard about it from those who reached out in concern and have taken advantage of the social media mob that was going after him. Either take advantage in getting their justice that they must have always desired and for some reason never got or to perhaps get it widely known enough to tear him down in some sort of way or perhaps sue/get him arrested. And they could get him arrested if they wanted to. If the age of consent in Brazil is 14, then they could always get him on some other charges. It’s not that hard. There are always loopholes.

But they didn’t. They didn’t go after him, making me quickly realize that they do not see themselves as victims. They were not hurt in this situation and they would at least be in their early twenties by now and be able to realize with more life experience and awareness if they were hurt by something in their youth. Maybe they didn’t feel hurt at age 14, but in their early twenties they should be able to recognize if that situation was traumatic for them. But they haven’t said it was. It wasn’t traumatic. They don’t see themselves as victims so they aren’t. Even in their twenties they do not see that time in their life as something that was dangerous for them. And they don’t want to be involved and they don’t hate Forever.

I saw the response from one of the girls. The main girl it would appear. And would also appear that twitter has twisted her words in an uncreative way. What I understood is that when she said she got to know Forever closer than the other Minecraft youtubers and that they went ‘out’, meant that they went out to hang out, because earlier in her statement, she said that. That she ‘hung out’ with Forever. Then later said she ‘went out’ further on in the statement. From what I could gather, this ‘went out’ or ‘hanging out’ were of the fan meet and greets. She said she had family members and adults with her every time, telling us that she had adult supervision, like most teenagers would have when meeting an adult creator that they admire. She also gave the years of when she met him and to me this wouldn’t make sense if these were time periods when they were dating or hooking up. If it was one day or so every few years, then how does that even work if it’s dating or hooking up? Why wouldn’t she say that she met up with him for extended periods of time and not just a day or so out of a certain number of years? She also said she had more ‘proof’ of these claims, to me meaning that she had evidence of the exact dates and places but probably didn’t want to dox herself or something cause this is the internet she is addressing.

Also, also, if she meant that they were dating, why wouldn’t she just say that? That they ‘dated’, instead of ‘went out’ or ‘hung out.’ Some people who claim to be Portuguese said that the way she said it was supposed to be interpreted as intimate, but right now I am definitely taking everything every social media user says with a grain of salt. Especially since I have already encountered a few people who have claimed some very contradicting things which I will explain later. And I doubt since she didn’t want to be involved in the first place that she won’t reiterate what she meant since I understand her hesitation in making any statements on Twitter or other social media platforms. She may never clear up what she said, but she doesn’t have to and I don’t expect that of her. From what I could understand of what she stated, this is what she meant. That they were really just friends.

She is obviously not a professional and some of her words were left to interpretation. Making them vague and a tad unclear, but like I said, she’s not a professional. She won’t say things perfectly nor has a PR team to help her correct things. And if people go after her too for whatever reason, she doesn’t owe an explanation or an apology for anything or anybody. She didn’t even have to make a statement. In fact, demanding an apology on a victimless act seems all too entitled. And the idea of apology videos for something that has already been resolved is stupid.

And lastly, she asked not to attack Forever or others involved. And if she has resentment towards him, that would be a rather counter intuitive move. Cause she obviously appears to be a person who doesn’t want to be involved at all and if she wanted to be the victim, she could be. Hell, I would usually if not always side with the female victim if there was one. But she doesn’t see herself in that role so in turn I will not see her as a victim.

From what I could deduct about her announcement, she clearly seems to hold no ill will to Forever except for when he displayed a few texts in his video that they exchanged that looked to me like ‘greetings’ and ‘meet ups.’ They were pretty casual and yes, the man probably should have had gotten her permission on those first, but it’s not like they were nudes or sexting. Which is what I feared. They were simple conversation starters. But I understand her displeasure in them being put online, just out of the sheer anxiety she must be receiving with this sea of anonymous twitter freaks hounding her for information. So I get her hesitation about the messages, even if it was a smaller thing then I feared. And yes, Forever should have gotten her permission to post them if he hadn’t.

Though at this point, it doesn’t matter what Forever does because the internet already views him with rage-colored glasses. And it is difficult to shake that off. He could save a hundred orphans from a burning building tomorrow and the internet will find a way to view him negatively since they strictly see him in this light.

But going back to the girl, she clearly does not see herself as a victim. Meaning, that the 'lovely' internet has gone ahead and categorized the girls into the victim position even though the ‘victims’ themselves would disagree with that stance. And then the internet has so graciously put Forever in the 'abuser/groomer/bad guy' position even though there are technically no victims to speak of. There were girls but no victims. The girls say they weren’t victims, so why don’t we believe them? I swear, give it a week and the internet will cancel the girls next for their stances and beliefs on this, holy shit the irony.

And again, I reaffirm, she is at the age to publicly tear him apart if she wants to. She should be able to understand the full weight of the situation, yet she chooses not to cancel him and asks to please not attack him or others. And that she didn’t want their past to upend his career. It sounds stereotypical but also genuine. So I shall believe her when she says nothing happened between them. I believe both her and Forever when they say this.

Her and Forever were once and now at the same age, where a third party brought their attention to this situation, and both have agreed that this moment in their lives is not what the internet is making it out to be. That they we’re not in a pedo scenario.

But it was just too easy to put him in the pedo position. Him being a man and all. It was quite simple. And it was so easy to spark up the social media mob with key words like pedo, racist, transphobe, Nazi, blah blah blah. The internet likes to pick one if not usually all of those words when they are trying to cancel someone. And it appears, every time, that they are successful. No matter who the person is or what they have done. It is for the most part easy to cancel someone.

Everyone showed that twitter anti who leaked the tweets how easy it was. How easy it was to get someone you don’t like offline. And everyone was so focused on what the tweets had to say, that they didn’t question the twitter user’s intentions. Most would say they did it to uncover a pedophile and to give justice to the victims by allowing awareness of the pedo's crimes so everyone will know who he truly is and that he was secretly a bad guy all along! But the fun contradictions that takes that all apart, is that there aren’t any victims. None came up and clearly said they were the victim.

There was no justice. So no one was helped in this situation. These tweets didn’t help anyone and just hurt everyone involved. Everyone is saying that these tweets hurt them, that what Forever did hurt them. And that’s where I draw the line in the sand cause no, Forever didn’t hurt anyone. He didn’t hurt you or me or those girls. He said stupid shit in his early twenties that yeah if I had known him personally back then, I would have shattered his teeth in for being such a dumbass or ghosted his ass, but in the end, he didn’t hurt anyone. It was this random twitter user who hurt everyone. They exposed all of this that was resolved several years ago and hurt everyone by doing so. Forever, the girls who didn’t want to be exposed in any sense of the word or involved, the QSMP, you, and me.

So that leads me to ask why they did it? What were their actual intentions? No one seemed to really be asking this in the past couple of weeks. Why did they up-earth this information? Why post it now at the height of Forever's popularity when everyone online was saying how much they loved him and how he is the heart of the server and were begging for him to come back to the QSMP? Why did this anti go straight to social media instead of doing the right thing and reach out to those girls first and ask if they were ok and if they wanted this to happen? If they wanted this information to be leaked? But no, they selfishly went on twitter first and posted the leaked tweets. Not caring or considering how that would affect anyone or anything and just wanting to cause pain. And the internet gave them exactly what they wanted. They kicked Forever off the QSMP, got him labeled as a pedo, and hurt everybody. Which is honestly such bullshit.

When I saw what was happening, my first reaction to most bullshit isn’t sadness or grief, but anger. I was pissed when I saw the internet trying to cancel Forever. For multiple reasons. First and foremost because I thought it was so hypocritical that people were singing his praise and begging for him to return to the QSMP not hours prior, and then the second that stuff got leaked, everyone and I mean EVERYONE went like "oh it’s time to cancel Forever o clock." "I never liked him anyways" "he betrayed us!" "How could he do something so awful?" Which was honestly the fastest 180 I have ever seen in my whole life. They didn’t even question if these tweets were real and maybe they were generated by ai or photoshopped. They were so ready to cancel Forever before he even made his first vod addressing it. The internet left no breathing room.

And even when he made his first vod hours after, it was too late. It didn’t matter what he said or how he said it, he could have done anything at all, the internet already labeled him as guilty. They slammed his neck on the social media guillotine. I believe he could have done the most proper apology video known to man and it wouldn’t have mattered. He could have been calm, cool and collected as he professionally addressed the situation, but that wouldn’t have mattered either. He could have had actual physical evidence showing that he is not in fact a pedophile straight away and guess what? It-Wouldn’t-Have-Mattered! There were those who sparked this drama on purpose and were lying in wait for his video response to drop so they could angle it with him being the bad guy in some way.

The internet was ready to take him apart and choke him out. Mere minutes after the tweets were posted. And I agree, his vod addressing things was a bit hotheaded, but haven’t you all watched this guy for the past few months? He is hotheaded. And frankly, I would be pissed too if some rando online unearthed part of my life that I grew out of. Like- he is obviously not that guy anymore. He isn’t an incel weirdo, and I’m going to say it again and again: He is not a pedophile.

I mean, I hope Forever actually finds this guy and sues his ass. If not for himself then for other creators. It was said that this jerk was also targeting Pac and other members of the QSMP, so like- who wants this asshole around? He isn’t some whistleblower or anything, he was some anti who hated Forever and wanted him gone, and got what he wished for. And you know what? Just like how those girls could have sued or charged Forever through loopholes, ten bucks says Forever could do the same with this guy. Which go for it, my dude. That anti is going to go after someone else one day. Possibly more QSMP members. They could go after Phil or Quackity himself, posting something real or fake to get them canceled. If Forever wants to be the one who bites back, I encourage him to do so. Cause I wanna bite back. Let me at em. Let me at em.

But also, I must say I was disturbed by the internet's readiness to cancel someone so quickly. How gung-ho they were to dogpile him. And I do theorize many of these dog pilers were Forever antis who could have been in the know to fan the flames of this cancellation the moment these tweets were leaked. But that's just a theory I can’t prove. Though what also bothered me was how so many just stayed quiet. I assume in the fear of being labeled as a pedophile supporter. Afraid to say anything against the crowd less they are accused and labeled as a fellow pedophile or an idiot. But I couldn't care less. Feel free. Cancel me. I don’t have much to lose, nor could I care if you tried. I don’t have much going on anyway, so good luck.

But yes, I know there are those who agree with me, not everyone thinks Forever is a pedo. So Forever if you see this, know that there are those who see through this antis’ intentions/charade and will still gladly support you and your endeavors, some are just not so bold enough to speak up about it, but I am cause I'm rabid and pissed. I won't go on twitter too much because that place is a minefield and I think sustaining an argument on there is too hard and not worth it cause you have to post your argument bit by bit and I’m a working adult so I don’t have time for that. Nor will I pay premium anything. I give my money to no one.

But I have been speaking up on other platforms and my intention why? …Well, it’s because firstly this is dumb, and secondly this is wrong, and thirdly I had the worst year of my life in 2023. The people I thought I could trust turned out to be very bad people and whoopee, I got deported. It’s a long story but I will save you the details. But just so you know, the reason I will defend you with all my blood, sweat, and tears is because the QSMP was one of the few things that lightened up my day. And you were my favorite part of the QSMP and I think nobody did it like you.

You did such fascinating lore and you and your character were so interesting, I couldn't take my eyes off of you. Your avatar was so fun to draw and I'm not going to stop drawing your character because of this. You are haha funny Brazilian man, but you are also so much more than that. You are smart and creative. You have genuine heart when taking care of your friends and the eggs. And I hope you find happiness after this turmoil. I hope you can pick yourself back up again after this cancellation because you deserve way more than what these so called 'fans' have given you.

You have obviously grown into a fine respectable man ever since you posted those nasty tweets from several years ago and I am proud to see that you have changed. Not many people ever change and it is nice to see that you have done so for the better. That you recognized your mistakes, apologized all those years ago then improved yourself. I think that’s very commendable and not many are willing to put in the effort. It’s just a shame that the internet won’t let you change and grow up. Once something happens, they forever cement that into your personality when you are obviously so much more than your past faults. You are not that person anymore! But even though I have known you for only a short while, I can see that you are a good person with a good heart and if others can’t see that then so be it.

And since you have heart, well... I don’t know if I should say this next part, but I will so sorry if it’s true. But I think you warned your friends to unfollow you, didn't you? Or at least, there was a mutual discussion and agreement. So they wouldn't get caught in the crosshairs. And you told Quackity to remove you so the QSMP wouldn’t suffer. Or you both agreed that your removal was for the best. I at least theorize that’s what you did. I don’t know how well the other QSMP members have taken your tweets, I assume some are as mad at you as those twitter users, but I think statistically not all of them hate you. I have no way of proving it, but the only way I can tell is that yes, they quietly banned and unfollowed you. Yes, they removed you from QSMP but they haven’t made any videos going like "I hate Forever and this is why." It could be some sort of contractual thing on why they aren’t openly addressing their supposed disgust, but I sincerely think this is the case. And I don’t want your friends to be targeted too in case it is, but if it is I think it’s a bit of a shame. That if they actually disagree with the masses they won’t speak up and let you take the fall. Even if it’s per your request, it still seems awful and personally makes me sick. That everyone is just allowing for you to be labelled as a pedo. I mean- your girlfriend and family are being harassed and those female fans are being bothered. I just can’t fully see why the QSMP members would stay still at such disgusting behavior from the masses, especially if they disagree otherwise. I think it’s unfair and goes against everything that the QSMP represents. It’s supposed to represent people coming together and community, isn’t it? Right? Well what a lonesome community it has become.

Forever, this part of the message isn’t more so for you but for Quackity and co. Questioning if what I theorize is true, you are really going to let your friend take the fall for your server, reputation, and money?

Frankly, ouch.

But I get it. If this is Forever protecting everything you guys built together then I understand. Especially since it seemed more than just a cancellation on Forever and more like an attempted mass cancellation on the entire QSMP server and all of its members. Because just think, everyone. If they accepted Forever back into the fold and even made an argument saying everything I said or more, the internet would still tear them apart. Everything they worked for could possibly go down the drain, OR so QSMP and co may fear it would. I know there are others who have seen through the antis’ intentions, recognizing who Forever is as a person, and understood the QSMP's decision with removing him. But that doesn’t change the fact that this is entirely unfair, will hinder the QSMP because Imma be real, after taking everything that I already said into consideration and just looking at this now as a technical aspect of what makes up the QSMP, Forever was the one bringing up the best lore.

And I mean it. The eggs are cute and wholesome, and many creators have made some interesting lore with the shipping and plot, but Forever’s was just so compelling. Brunim and Philza, Ninho, the Presidency, the Happy Pill Arc, the Nether, the Infection, Eve. It was all so riveting that I was on the edge of my seat! I will claim without a shadow of a doubt that my man made the best content and I will stay firm on that judgment. And personally I think the QSMP will become lacking without his presence. And just the fact that they might have let him go over something that is wrong and they might have secretly disagreed with it if they weren’t so susceptible to the loud majority’s favor… ugh, it just stings.

Just knowing that my guy has grown and is kind and funny and that incel punk is not who he is anymore, yet he is still dragged by the past and accused of one of the worst things ever! With no ‘victims’ backing up that accusation! Is just plain fucking revolting!

AND lastly, letting go of Forever doesn’t stop the QSMP from being cancelled in the future. You all have just bought yourself more time until the inevitable. At this very moment, it would appear that a wave of different types of hate and negativity has washed over the QSMP, targeting tons of different members in different ways. None so impactful as Forever’s cancellation, but it could get that bad for others.

It has already been proven that there are people out there who will go through great lengths to get rid of one of the best members on your team. So they will individually attack every single member no matter who they are, bringing up past dirt or making something up. And then more successful cancellations will ensue. It doesn’t matter who it is, it could be Wilbur who was on tour all year, he will be an easy target cause he's a musician and attractive so it will be simple to accuse him of having relations with any number of female fans. Etoiles has been cancelled once already so he could easily be targeted again. They can even go after Quackity saying he met with a younger girl than Forever did, because woohoo the big outrage was that at least one of the fans was 14 years old and that is also the age of consent in Brazil. Meaning if he was a pedophile, he could get away with hooking up with this female fan since it would have been legal. And everyone online would be justifiably cancelling him for the ick factor alone. Cause I will speak on everyone’s behalf that is twisted and gross, Brazil. But guess what? Come on, guess? Guess what the age of consent is in Mexico? ~12~ So look out, Quackity. Because these cancellers will cancel you whether anything is real or not and so many will jump on that bandwagon alongside side them. So please. Do look out for yourself.

But what I am saying that it is so easy to unfairly cancel someone on social media. Any one of the QSMP members will be next and if more and more of you drop because of it or have to be removed because of it, then there will be no more QSMP members left. No more QSMP community. No one left to defend each other because everyone was busy defending themselves to 'protect' their friends from being dragged down with them. Even if you lose some viewership or a lot, you should stick together. Because that’s what the QSMP is all about. And you are a lot stronger in numbers than you are alone. You will get labeled as the pedo server or whatever by assholes, but at least you didn’t discard your friends over twitter masses that just frankly don’t matter.

Also, fyi, I think it’s statistically improbable for everyone on the QSMP to be creeps. Maybe one or two is believable. But everyone is a racist, transphobe, pedo, blah blah blah whatever? I press X to doubt. And even now. Even with the one being so strongly accused, I still don’t believe Forever is Pedo Monster. Not at all. Especially with everything I have pointed out today.

And speaking of the masses, I believe some of you think this and deep down some of you agree that what I have said is all true. Even if you feel hurt by it, I think you can sense that this was all too convenient and was very malicious from the start. And honestly, now that these trolls have been given a foot to stand on and power, things will most likely just get worse. Or maybe not, who knows! But I’m saying it’s highly likely.

Though to scold some of you who have been making contradictory statements, I read the tweet Forever liked and made a whole essay about it! If you really read it, he wasn’t liking it because the thread maker said that "young girls are mature for their age” so that means pedophile is okay. That’s not what they meant at all! In fact, that statement was completely taken out of context. The thread maker said there are studies arguing with that statement "young girls are mature for their age" and then the thread maker immediately noted "But that’s a damaging mindset." They did not agree with pedophilia and was taking a more calculative approach about why this situation was happening. And that’s why Forever liked it. Not because both him and the thread maker believed dating 14-year-old girls was ok. He's not that stupid. Just stupid people took it out of context to fan the flames and people took what they said at face value without reading the thread.

Here is the English version of said post that I translated with google translate-https://lovethatmakingcoffee.tumblr.com/post/739870595768090624/lumilla-lopes-ludylops-post-about-forever-in

And here is my deduction of said post if any of you have difficulty reading- https://lovethatmakingcoffee.tumblr.com/post/739017633425473536/and-then-she-said-that-type-of-mentality-hurts#notes

So to highlight this long-winded post, no I don’t think Forever is a pedophile, I don’t think there is a victim, and I do think that anti twitter user needs to face me in the front of an Arby’s so I can show them fist one and fist two.

I will not respond to any of the replies that will come from this post because I follow the number one rule of the internet and that is "To not feed the trolls".

And yes, if you do annoy me, I will block you. I could care less.

I will never delete any of my art that I made of Forever and have saved as much lore from with wiki as I could in case QSMP just wants to get rid of it one day. I also have seen lots of people get rid of or censor their Forever art, so like a panicking Greek fleeing from the burning Library of Alexandria, I am saving as much art as I can and keeping them on my phone. I don't know what I am going to do with it, but it won't be lost to deletion or censorship.

I won’t really be able to follow you, Forever, because I don’t speak Portuguese. But I hope wherever you venture to will be fun and you will be happy, you haha funny Brazilian man.

(I don’t think there was any other way I could have written this where I probably won’t get hate. This was long and took many days to write, and I CERTAINLY don’t have a PR team looking this over, so like Forever, no matter how perfect I respond, some troll will bite at my fingers. So yep.)

#If he somehow sees this... good #qsmp #quackity smp #forever #foreverplayerg #qsmpforever #discourse #I have a lot to say #this took me a long time to make

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rancidpancakebatter · 10 months

Text

Your Initials and Mine | Prt 2 - [P.P.]

Pairings: TASM!Bisexual!Peter Parker x GN!Reader

Prompt: "peter parker writes your initials next to his on the back of his skateboard, when he daydreams about you" Original Post | Personal Headcannon

Summary: Eyes are the window to the soul, but so is art. Peter's is bare before you if only you could translate it.

Word Count: 6.3k words

Content: Ben's Death, Swearing, Mentions of bruises (Peter needs to get better at dodging),

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A/N: Some fluffy, fluffy fluff for ya’ll.

Peter’s house felt very much like a home. It was a space that was well cared for but also lived in. If you looked closely, you could see scuff marks under the dining room table where the chairs slid in and out. You could see loose threads on the quilted throw over the couch. There were knicks and dents on the pots hanging in the kitchen. And notches in the wood door frame down the hall. Love oozes from each and every “imperfection.” The subtle smell of cinnamon was in the air, and heat radiated from the oven.

You followed Peter up the stairs to his room and saw many photos adorning the walls. You had spent hours staring at them before. Laughing at memories and tales May would share. She had once pulled out a few photo albums. There was a smile in each picture. A history filled with such joy, but also great tragedy.

That was a Sunday evening about two weeks ago. May was looking a little brighter during your visits. There was a rosiness to her cheeks now, and her hair was shinier. She was looking better. She brought out cookies while you talked and apologised for Peter’s absence, like she did every week. While catching up, she caught you staring at a picture on the coffee table. She reached for the frame, tracing over her husband’s silhouette with a small smile on her face.

“This was our first trip to Coney Island.” She spoke softly as if lost in the memory now- transported back to those many years ago.

“Ben used to take me on dates there all the time. He liked trying to win me prizes, and I liked the excuse to be so close on the rides.” She chuckles, a small tear escaping her eye. “We hadn’t been in years. Our bodies got older and our days got busier. But then Peter entered our lives.”

She pushes the photo towards you and points to the little boy on Ben’s shoulders. He looked small but full of joy. His hands wrapped around his uncle’s chin as if trying to hug him from high above. His hair is falling on his cotton candy-covered face- tufts of pink sticking to his cheek and dried sugar around his lips. His head tilted to rest on the older man’s head, but his mouth hung open, exclaiming in delight. The Ben in the photo looked the same, only with fewer wrinkles and salt-and-pepper hair.

“We decided to take him that summer; he had been living with us for a few months by then…This was his first smile with us.” Her eyes turn down as she pauses for a moment.

“Ben and I…we were so afraid that…we wouldn’t be enough— that we didn’t know what we were doing. We didn’t have as much money as his parents, we weren’t as smart, and we just…weren’t them. And we were so scared that we wouldn’t be able to give him all he needed.”

You reach for May’s hand, soft with age and always slightly cold. “You and Ben did a phenomenal job. Peter is a good boy; he’s brilliant. And he loves you so much.”

She gives you a polite squeeze before wiping at her face. You hand her a Kleenex and she offers you a teary-eyed smile. “He’s so young. He’s already lost his parents, and now Ben…I’m all he has.”

You felt rude, but you couldn’t help from asking, “Peter’s mentioned before that his- his parents kinda left him here. What happened? Why would they do that?”

May sighed. It was a tired sigh, one of true exhaustion.

"Technically,” She began, “they didn’t leave him here. They had an emergency business trip and dropped him off to stay here for a few days...but then their plane crashed."

You suddenly understood just what she meant before. Peter knew true tragedy. Your heart broke for him, but then you looked at his smile. Peter had lost much, but he has gained so many things that are just as beautiful. You felt your soul fill with an iron determination.

You squeezed May’s hand, “He has me too.”

She squeezes back, smiling- a look of gratitude etched into her eyes. After a moment, she admits that it’s been a long time since she’s gone through the photo albums, and she was scared to do it alone. You went through two with her that night, listening to stories and asking questions about faces you didn’t recognise. It was nice.

But upstairs was mostly uncharted territory. The pictures hung here were foreign. You were nervous, finally entering Peter’s space.

The aged-cream paint added a warmth to the space, though you couldn’t see much of it. There were pockets of the wall poking out between all the posters and pictures on the wall. You had seen some of Peter’s doodles, but if you had to guess, he preferred to display his art instead of trapping it between the pages of a bound journal. Peter is very humble, and you’re sure if you called what he had hung up “art,” he would scoff and tell you it wasn’t that good, but to you, it was art.

He could tell he liked to play around with mediums. You could see charcoal fingerprints staining pages of portraits and city landscapes. As well as coloured pencils and graphite. There was inkwork scattered about, adding pops of colour in the mix of blacks and greys. And you realised he wasn’t exaggerating before in his embarrassed defence, he truly did have a lot of drawings on his wall.

There was a mix of chaos and order to their hanging. For the most part, they were evenly spaced and displayed around the walls over his bed and dresser. But then there was his desk.

Peter was definitely a messy artist, turning chaos into beauty. There were notebooks sprawled across the wooden surface. Only a layer of polish protected the lumber below from splotches of paint- evidence of opting out from the pallet and just using the surface.

Impressions from the pencils haphazardly strew about were woven into the grain, forever a part of its story. There were scrapes and notches that you wanted to befriend. And it was all basking in a soft yellow glow from a single bulbed lamp, bent at the elbow in an awkward way that could only be to benefit a very specific angle he needed.

Your eyes drifted to the wall above the desk. There were layers and layers of drawings overlapping and tacked to the wall, almost as if he had never taken one down. Your eyes darted around wildly, unable to pinpoint just one to look at. You traced the lines as they blurred together like a less mind-melding optical illusion– still mindblowing to behold. It reminded you of an overgrown garden, the leaves and petals intermingling together to create one living, breathing thing. You wanted to carefully examine each one, to take them into your hands and care for each one.

Your eyes scanned from top to bottom trying to digest each one. You recognised some– the courtyard at school, the empire state building, May and Ben, his camera on his desk– but then you saw something you hadn’t really expected. Sure, you had both made jokes, and so had others, but you didn’t truly expect to be on his wall. And yet, here you were, locked in a game of blink with eyes that looked like yours.

They looked alight, as did the smile on your face. You looked excited. You vaguely remember Peter snapping a picture like that after he pointed out a bug he saw on the ground. You wondered if he used that as a reference.

You saw another, this time from your side profile. Your hand was in your hair and you were mid-laugh. This one seemed to move and breathe. You doubted he had a picture of that. You could count on one hand the number of times Peter had taken a picture of you, mostly because you always covered your face in embarrassment anytime his lens was directed towards you. And if you didn’t catch it beforehand, you would hear the shutter and scold him, slapping him in the arm. Peter often sketches when he talks to you, you just never imagined he would be drawing you.

These pictures were like looking into a mirror.

No, not quite.

This was different. In the mirror, you see your flaws and every hair out of place, but here, they were made beautiful. You were seeing through Peter’s eyes, peering at yourself through soft lines of graphite and charcoal. You felt delicate. You felt seen. But even when staring at yourself; you feel like you see Peter more.

This was his heart fully bared before you. Before you was all the pain and triumph, and all the things he felt were important enough to capture. You were almost overwhelmed by the thought.

Peter watched with bated breath as you spun around his room with a fist over his mouth. You were wearing an expression he had seen in the classroom when you were thinking hard. He’d always found it adorable, the way your face would scrunch as you would study your books, but now he found it terrifying. Most of the time, when people look at his work, they give him vague compliments, not really having the knowledge to truly comment on it. But you were different.

He didn’t know if you knew much about art, but he wouldn’t be surprised if you did. But more so, he just valued your opinion the most. Something about you was completely captivating. You were so sweet and kind- but also fierce and powerful. He didn’t think he was as cool as you, but he wanted you to think so.

He watched as you examined each piece, a small smile that rivalled the Mona Lisa etched into your face– like you held all the answers to the universe but refused to share them with him.

He felt his heart leap when your head lifted from the desk, and you now gaze upon “the wall.”

It started out very small. He would put his pictures up as a kid. Then he would sit at his desk and redraw the image, hanging that one up to do it all again until finally- he had a passable one. As his skills improved, he didn’t need to redraw as much, but it’s not like he had anywhere else to put them. They continued to grow and multiply, and he let it happen. Now it has become a scrapbook of sorts. Each piece is a snapshot of the stages of his life.

He knew exactly when you saw it. You were bent forward slightly over his desk, as close to the drawings as you could be without touching them. You were treating his room like a museum, your arms tucked behind your back as if you let them free- you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from reaching forward and tracing the pencil strokes. But then you froze. Your shoulders tensed ever so slightly under the razor-back tank top you were wearing. Then you slowly leaned away, standing straight, before tilting your head to the side.

You said nothing as you gazed at your portraits, and Peter wasn’t sure if he would be comforted by anything you had to say. He was terrified that- instead of feeling flattered- you would feel weirded out. Especially if you had seen the ones now buried under portraits of his Uncle Ben. He had been drawing him a lot, terrified that he was already forgetting his face.

He heard you sniffle and was shocked out of his spiralling thoughts. He took a tentative step forward to stand beside you, looking over your form as you hugged yourself.

“Are you okay?”

You wiped at your face, feeling your cheeks warm in embarrassment.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You gave Peter a smile, a genuine and full one, despite your wet eyes. “They’re beautiful.”

Peter scratched at the nape of his neck, ducking his head as if trying to dodge the compliment.

“Thanks,” he said barely above the wind.

“Really,” you insisted, “You should submit some of this. I’m sure you could win some ribbons or whatever they give you.”

He chuckled and you joined in.

A few more quiet moments passed as you took in everything you could, but then, Peter reminded you that you were here to study.

You both settle onto the bed, cross-legged, backs against the wall, and knees touching. Peter goes over some of the questions you have and tries to explain them in a way that makes sense to you. You can’t dedicate your full attention to his words though, because every way in which he moves feels like a dance, and you’re enamoured by the choreography. His pen twirled around his fingers with a speed and precision you’d never seen before. You can’t help but think he would make a great drummer. As he talks, you catch general concepts of what he’s saying, but the details are lost in the blur of his ballpoint pen.

His leg is also bouncing around. It is just as quick. Short little bounces creating little shock waves from his knee. The bed around you shook so quickly that it was almost like nothing was moving at all. The only evidence was your books slowly moving away, drifting further into the dip between your legs.

You feel almost like you’re being hypnotized. His gentle voice lulls you into a calm as he explains the difference between each of Henry’s wives, as his fingers drew you in. You honestly didn’t know how long you were entranced, but the spell was broken when he stood suddenly.

You looked at him confused and he let out an embarrassed chuckle before dropping his head.

“Sorry, I- uh. I’m sorry, I’m not very good at explaining this stuff. And I’m like, shaking you, or whatever.”

As he stood, his hand was scratching the back of his neck, and his pen continued to twirl at his side. Your heart gave a painful thump. It yearned for him. His smile. His joy. Before you knew what you were doing you were on your feet. Your hands reached for his, his pen awkwardly pressing against your palms. Words spilt from your mouth with a lack of any sophistication or grace.

“No, no, It’s not your fault. I just…spaced out a bit. I’m sorry. From what I did catch, you were doing an amazing job. I- would it help if you drew it out? Or we can do something else. Or I can-”

A small chuckle falls from his lips, and yours stop moving, too focused on his. His other hand has untangled from his hair and now sways at his side. He finally meets your eyes, and you think you may have stopped breathing entirely. His gaze was curious- as if he was trying to read your mind. You wondered what thoughts he was pulling forward.

“Okay.” You look at him confused, and his heart seizes because you're looking at him like that with your cute little frown and scrunched brows, and you’re still holding his hand from when you rushed to accommodate his buzzing nerves. After a failed attempt to calm his racing pulse, he expands on his one-word reply. “I think if we draw out a timeline that would be helpful- a good reference point for you.”

You nod your head in agreeance and feel your cheeks flush when he slowly withdraws his hand from yours. His hands were warm, but not soft like May’s. His hands were rough— cracked around the ridges— and they were firm, strong. You felt like they could hold up the world, but hoped he would never have to suffer the same penance of Atlas.

Peter sat back down and pulled a notebook that had been laying around into his lap. He tried explaining again, drawing little characters for each historical figure next to the line marking their significance. He would periodically quiz you on the person, seeing how much you knew, and you were both surprised by how much you had retained.

Once the timeline was complete you thanked Peter for his help. He of course brushed it off as nothing, but you knew it wasn’t. You insisted that you would help him with something, but he continued to insist that he didn’t need any. After your relentless persistence, you settled on working through some calculus practice problems in the textbook. The agreement was you would both solve the same five, then check them against the other, and then consult the answer key. Truthfully you weren’t very excited to do math on a Saturday afternoon, but you wanted to help Peter. You wanted to be there for him like you told May you would.

You were both scribbling away, occasionally nudging the other and making jokes about “keeping your eyes on your own paper.” It was nice. You weren’t sure how much time had passed before you threw your arms up and declared that you were finished.

“Great! What did you get for the first one?”

The confused pout returns to your features.

“You’re done?” You ask, almost sounding a little disappointed.

Peter nods and turns his paper to show you. The college rule is not well utilized. Peter had the notebook balancing on his knee at an angle but still elected to write top down, making the equations crooked when you looked at it. In the spaces between, he had doodled vines of pothos wrapping around the jumble of letters and numbers.

You were embarrassed that he could do all that before you even finished, but at least you got the same answers. You didn't remain bitter for long, melting when he flashed you that timid, tight-lipped smile.

“That’s really pretty,” you said, tracing your finger across the vines. “It would make a great tattoo.”

Peter’s brain short-circuited for a moment at the thought of his drawings of you becoming a part of your body.

“Really?” he asked with high brows.

“Yeah, it would make a really cool band.” Your fingers mapped a path along your forearm where you thought the ivy should bloom. “See?”

Peter couldn’t help but agree. He turned to his bag, riffling through it before finding the treasure he sought. He dramatically pulled out a Sharpie looking to you for permission. You placed your arm in his lap, and he gave you an award-winning grin as he uncapped it.

His hands were once again holding you, his touch gentle as he gingerly tilts your arm so he can begin drawing.

“If you hate it, we can wash it off.” he jokes before you feel the felt touch down on your arm.

It tickled a bit, and the ink was cold, but quite frankly you didn’t care. Not when Peter was bathed in the golden light of his lamp, the curve of his nose and the cut of his jaw glowing and eyes sparkling in the low light. This felt intimate, and your heart was racing the longer you looked at him. So you elected to look away, unsure your body could handle the feelings coursing through you.

You continued studying the wall in front of you, going over every sketch and memorising every line. After about five minutes, you noticed something sort of out of place. It looked more like blueprints than a drawing. You couldn’t really tell what it was from this far, unable to read the scrawl around the page, but it looked complex. Beside it, you saw what looked like rough drafts for an odd costume, and a bright yellow post-it note that read “SPANDEX!!!”

Before you could examine it much further you were distracted by a tickling feeling by your elbow.

“Try, not to move,” Peter said in a hushed whisper as he cradled your arm closer to his chest, almost as if he were hugging it. “I’m almost done.”

You apologised, laying your head against the wall, looking for shapes in the popcorn ceiling. Peter grew a smirk, feeling your pulse quickening under his touch. If he was honest, he was just as nervous, holding you this close. His mind raced at the thought that you wanted him to draw on you, that you were willing to let his fingers roam over your smooth skin.

He decided to change the design slightly, wanting to give you something unique and different– something he thought captured you better, how he felt about you better. He first traced where the vine would be, then added the leaves. When he was done, he tapped your arm to get your attention.

You turned your head and gasped when you finally saw it. The vine wrapped around your wrist like a wreath before branching off and spreading up your forearm. They bent and wove around each other, creating a bouquet of leaves. There were the Pothos leaves that he had drawn many times, and also some that looked reminiscent of Creeping Jenny’s.

But the leaves that caught your eye were the heart-shaped ones. You doubted Peter knew much about Dioscorea Bulbiferas or that Philodendron Hederaceums were one of your favourite plants. He drew hearts because he wanted to, and you melted at the thought.

Around the leaves, he drew clusters of stars– little hollow circles, crosses with spires connected like webbed flippers in the middle, and faux freckles– sprinkled across the expanse of your arm, filling the empty space.

“Do you like it?” Peter asked timidly.

“Like it?" You scoffed, "Peter, it’s amazing! Have you ever considered designing tattoos? Because you should. Seriously, this is fucking gorgeous.”

You continued to gush and Peter’s face continued to redden as your compliments continued to pour.

“I messed up here a little,” he says, humble as ever, as he twists your arm to show you where the line work got shaky by your elbow.

You didn’t realise how close you were sitting before, but now as your thighs are pressed against one another’s and his thumb is rubbing circles on the soft flesh on the inside of your arm, you can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed.

“Please,” you teased. “Even your small blemishes puts my art to shame.”

You thought the way he dodged eye contact was cute, especially with the soft blush spreading across his cheeks. But the way he looked at you, like you already had a home in his heart, made you feel bold.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, tucking your head into the crook of his neck, as you slid your fingers between his.

“Thank you,” you mumbled as your other hand traced the lines he had drawn.

You were delighted when you felt his head rest on yours, reciprocating the affection with a squeeze of your hand.

“Careful,” he warned. “You’re already my muse, you don’t want to be my favourite canvas too.”

You couldn’t imagine why that would be a problem and told him as such.

“Well, when I find a fun, new canvas," he explained, "I draw until I run out of room.”

You thought of his skateboards and his class notes and reallized he was right. But you also realised something else. You lifted your head, fixing your gaze on him, and felt yourself drowning in pools of hot cocoa.

“That works for me.”

You watched as his eyes darted around your face, this time with a look of disbelief but also reverence. Your faces were so close you could feel the shallow breaths leaving his nostrils. You could feel the heat radiating from his body. And you wanted more.

It seems you weren’t alone in that thought as Peter began to lean in. His nose nuzzled yours and your lips parted as your eyes fluttered shut. Peter had never seen anything as beautiful. You practically melted under his touch, and it was addicting. He wished then that he had the skill of Rembrandt or Caravaggio, so he could one day capture the vision before him.

He raised his hand (the one that wasn’t already preoccupied with holding yours) placing it on the side of your neck, and you shivered at the touch. That was enough “go ahead” for him.

He gently tugged you forward and pressed his lips to yours. You felt like you were flying. It was feather soft, almost non-existent. You worried if you opened your eyes, you would wake, only to find you were dreaming. It was a soft peck that didn’t last nearly long enough, and you felt your heart breaking as his face tilted, bringing his forehead closer but your lips unattached.

You were soon relieved when his lips crashed back into yours, now firm and determined. You let out a small moan, not expecting the fierceness of his kiss. It robbed you of coherent thought and stunted your ability to breathe properly. His lips worked against yours, and you realised something else: you only ever wanted to feel his touch.

You got lost in the moment, only coming back down to earth after he broke away again. He didn’t go far, resting his forehead on yours as you both worked to even your breathing. Your eyes remained closed, still afraid it was a dream.

You sit in the quiet for a moment, both of your brains running a million miles a minute. When you finally opened your eyes, Peter was gazing at you, irises swimming with something akin to love. Maybe adoration, or infatuation even. His thumb was rubbing circles on your jaw as he continued to hold your face.

“You’re beautiful,” He said through a smile.

You felt your blood rising at the compliment, and ducked your head back into his shoulder to hide. He laughed, his hand now resting on the back of your head, playing with your hair.

“You are!” he insisted, causing you to grumble something he couldn’t quite make out.

“What was that?” he teased.

You lifted your head just enough so your words weren’t muffled by the side of his neck.

“I said, ‘Shut up’.”

Peter laughed again because your words held no venom. He let you hide for a little longer, but his heart was beating so hard, and he couldn’t take it anymore. His hand moved from the base of your skull to the side of your face until you felt his fingers under your chin. He softly guided it upwards, and you let him, until you were drowning in his eyes again.

“Would it be too much,” he all but whispered, “If I asked you to be my beautiful girlfriend?”

A wide grin cracked across your face, and you nodded your head, unable to find the words to express how much you wanted that.

“Yeah?” he asked with a smile of his own.

You nodded your head again, but this time it was much more enthusiastic.

“Yes, Peter. I would love to be your girlfriend.”

His smile grew tenfold, and you felt like you could die. His face is so bright it could be the solution to solar energy.

He kisses you again, and this time it’s a bit awkward. Your lips don’t mould as well through your smiles, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. He breaks away for a moment and just looks at you. You feel vulnerable under his gaze. He was looking at you in the same way you were looking at his art. Then he smirked.

He was too quick to stop. He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up, throwing you on your back. You landed on the soft sheets, bouncing a bit. Peter then leaned over you to pepper your face with kisses. You giggled as he continued showering you in affection, occasionally trying to catch his lips, all while he made comments about your new title: “I’m kissing my girlfriend,” “Oh my god, you’re my girlfriend,” “Wow, you’re so pretty, and you’re my girlfriend.”

A few minutes passed like that before he collapsed, tucking his face into your neck like you had done to him before. When you rested a free hand across his back, he snuggled into you, throwing his leg across yours and hugging your waist tighter. You chuckled lightly, but it was an expression of joy rather than anything malicious.

You lay like that for a while, until Peter gets a notification on his phone. It’s kind of jarring, the way the tone rang out, and how he jumped up to snatch the device from above your head. The harsh blue light of his screen illuminated his face, shadows settling into the new frown lines appearing. It was an alarm, you realised. He sighed, hovering above you with a sad look on his face.

“I have to go.”

Your face fell, and you tried to not let too much disappointment seep through. “You’re not staying for dinner?”

Peter looked at you confused. “Are you?”

“Yeah, I have dinner with May every Saturday.”

Peter was silent for a moment, his face showing an emotion you weren’t familiar with. “You’re still doing that?”

“Yeah,” you reply weakly, afraid you had upset him but wanting to lighten the mood. “Why? Are you worried we’re talkin’ shit?

Your plan seemed to work because Peter chuckled at that, “Maybe so.”

“Well…You wouldn’t have to if you just joined us.”

Peter had only joined you for maybe three dinners. May always appologized for his absence, but what upset you more was the worry on her face she tried to hide. She never knew where her nephew was. He would leave and then sneak back in at night. Sometimes he remembered the errands she sent him on, but usually not. May had noticed the scrapes and bruises, just as you had. You both worried about Peter and however he was choosing to process his grief.

Peter wasn’t stupid. He knew he was hurting his Aunt with his behaviour. He was trying, he really was, but having a double life isn’t easy. He felt great adoration and gratitude for you, to know you cared for one of the most important people in his life, but guilt singed at the edges of his spirit. It was almost six- he really should be patrolling right now- but he looked into your eyes and couldn’t say no.

“Okay, I can stay ‘til eight,”

Peter watches as a small smile overtakes your face, but it’s sad at the corners, not quite reaching your eyes. He’s confused by this, as to why you’re not more excited. You bring a hand up to push his hair out of his eyes.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

It would have to do for now.

When May comes home, you rush downstairs to help her in the kitchen. She greets you with her momma bear hug and begins asking about your day as you wash the produce she set out on the counter. You're telling her all about it when Peter awkwardly trails in behind you.

“Oh, Peter!” She says, trying to stifle her excitement. Like if she let it show too much, then she might frighten him off. Or maybe she was scared to get her hopes up. “You’re still here. Are you staying for dinner?”

Peter decides to hug her first before he says anything. It warms your heart to see. There’s a soft smile that he gives her, one that says, “You’re my mom, and I love you.” And his hug carries the same message. May looks so small in his arms, a little woman with so much love for her boy.

“Yeah May, I’m staying for dinner,” he says, cheek resting on the crown of her head. They break away and May looks so very happy. “(Y/n) here convinced me.”

You try to hide your warm cheeks from May but she sees right through you.

“Thank you, Dear,” She says to you with a pointed smile before turning back to Peter, “Now go help her. She’s done more than enough helping in the kitchen over the last few weeks.”

Peter gives her a shocked but impressed “Yes, ma’am” at her display of sass. He joins you at the sink, and you try to keep the small water fight that erupted contained to the basin.

Dinner is finished, and You and Peter set the table. May Serves herself last, then sits to say grace. When she opens her eyes again, she gives a nod of her head, “Let’s eat.”

The beef stroganoff is so delicious. It’s buttery and creamy; it’s fresh and light. You tell her as such, and the kind, older woman shushes you, warning that if you keep complimenting her cooking like that, her head’s gonna get too big to get her shirt over.

You reach forward for your glass and May’s eyes light up.

“That’s beautiful,” She says pointing to your wrist. You look down and fall in love with the drawing all over again. You look to your side to see Peter smiling too. You decide to kill two birds with one stone.

“Thanks, May, my boyfriend drew that for me.”

You were still looking at Peter and watched his adam’s apple bob as his cheeks turned crimson. Before he could make any jokes, May stood from the table, clapping and cheering. She ran around the table and enveloped you and Peter in an awkward group hug from behind.

“Oh my goodness, finally!”

At that, Peter stuttered out a staggered “May!”

His guardian paid him no mind, “Seriously, he’s been gushing about you for ages.”

Peter buried his face in his hands, shaking his head back and forth like he was trying to block out anything happening right now. You, however, were relishing in his harmless embarrassment.

“Really? For ages?” You teased.

May caught on and smiled widely, “Yes, since your first day of school. He came home to Ben and me and told us all about this new girl he had met and how lovely she was.”

Peter was now banging his head against his crossed arms on the table. You felt like you might cry. Peter had noticed you even then? He was kind to you, sure- and definitely your first friend- but to talk to his parents about you? To already pick up on enough things to talk about? You felt lucky to be here, in this moment.

You reach your hand out to rest on his shoulder. Peter peeked at you over his elbow, scared to see your face. But instead of the disgust or fear he thought he might find, he saw a warm smile and glassy eyes.

“Well, that might be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Peter sat back up, trying to play off his embarrassment, “What can I say? I’m just a sweet guy.”

You shove him playfully, and he dramatically leans away, as if you had truly clocked him, but then rocks back like one of those blow-up punching bags that always came right back up and bumps your shoulder with his. Once back at equilibrium, he lays his palm out under the table for you to hold. You intertwine your fingers and can’t help the little skip in your heart when Peter rests his hand on your thigh.

You’ve made an assembly line in the kitchen. May is boxing things up while Peter washes and you dry and put away. May is ranting about this new girl who just started at her job and how entitled she was. It was nice to hear her talk about life again, not just the past. Peter washes the last dish, then tells you he’ll be right back.

It’s quiet in the kitchen, the water now silenced, and the conversation paused for Peter’s return. You can’t fight the smile that comes to your face every time your mind wanders to Peter, which is often. Every time you glance at your arm, there he is, pulled straight to the front of your mind. It takes all your willpower not to giggle every time. You’re sure you’ll be swinging your feet all night as you lay in bed trying to drift off to sleep.

“Thank you (Y/n),” May almost whispers from her spot against the stove, “for everything. We’re really lucky to know you.”

The sincerity of her statement floors you for a minute. “I feel the same about you guys. Thank you for having me.”

You share a look with May that makes you wanna hug her until her head pops off. You don’t think anything you do will be enough to tell this woman how much she means to you.

But the moment is ruined by Peter stomping down the stairs. Well some of them, you can tell he’s skipping a couple on his way down by the weird long pauses between his footfall. He’s got his layered jackets and shoes on, and his backpack is packed up. He picks up his skateboard against the wall and says, “I have to go.”

May turns away to wipe at the stove, you think it’s so Peter doesn’t have to see how sad she is when he leaves. Instead, she asks, “Can you get some eggs when you get back?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” He goes to rush out the door but stops. He slowly turns to you with a lopsided grin. His arms wrap around your waist and your cheeks warm knowing May is watching the whole display. She can see the puppy dog eyes and the way his fingers so expertly wrap around you. “See you later?”

“Not tonight, Mister.” May answers for you, “It’s late enough already.”

“Okay, Sheriff Parker,” he declares over your laughter. “So…I’ll text you?”

You pinch his cheek and give him a warning glare, “You better.”

He kisses you, and you lose your breath. His lips touched down on yours, and the rest of the world melted away, leaving only you and Peter. It wasn’t nearly long enough, but he broke away, sending a quiet “bye” through the doorway before closing it behind him. And just like that, he’s gone again. Wandering off into the night to collect more unexplainable wounds and stories you hoped, one day, he'd share with you.

Tag List: @andrews-lovr, @angeliquebones, @blooming-violets, @cherriescherriesred25, @heejinw0rld, @ilovemoonknight, @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy, @negasonic-teenage-asshole, @preciousbabypeter, @princesskittycatofmeowland, @purple-amaranthe, @raajali3, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,

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astarfornicks · 4 months

Text

The first and only chapter of a fic i never finished -

This was a long time ago and I haven’t written in ages |

When I stepped outside that night, the air carried a hint of rebellion and a taste of freedom that lingered on my tongue. I was begging for a night away—away from my brothers and their square rules. I dig running away. I really do. The nights I'm sleepless or the nights I'm sleepy; it doesn’t matter. It feels the same nonetheless.

“Hey, Dallas.” I said, “Toss me a weed, will you?”

Dallas always hung around the park those days. Probably because I was there about every night.

He sat under the same tree every time, too. It was a routine.

“Ver, man, go home. It’s about the hundredth damn time you’ve been out here. You got people waiting for you on the other side.” Dallas huffed.

“I never heard anybody but me say they liked it on the East side. Not even y’all. It’s like my break, Dal. It’s rough. Everywhere. Not as good as you’d think in the West.” I uttered. “I think it’s time you start believing me when I say I like it here.”

After an eternity, Dallas caved and passed me a smoke. These nights were only two things: disgusting and freeing. Say to tell the two things apart now, and I wouldn’t know what to tell you.

I continued, “It’s almost six. Have you been here this entire time?”

“Got a few minutes of sleep on that very bench you’re on. Damn raccoons can’t keep their hands off me, man.”

I took a puff, chuckling a bit. Dallas was the man. People knew him all over town, and he sure was what he lived up to. Rowdy, criminal, and last of all, charming.

“Now, you better get back, Ronnie. West side is gonna freak when they find out you’re not there, man. Even worse, if you’re here.” Dallas said, “You got school, too.”

“And how come you don’t?” I spat back.

“Hey, you know.”

“Right, you don’t wanna go, is that it? And I'm stuck there.” I said, lifting, then dropping my arm in defeat.

Dallas chuckled, “You don’t wanna be like me, trust me. Now get!”

I laughed, smiling afterwards and turning my back. “Alright, alright, Dallas. I’m going.” Flinging the cigarette behind me, I asked him one more thing.

“Tomorrow, here, late?”

“You’re really something, Ver. See you.”

That meant yes.

I walked back to the West side in the early sun, hoping that the mere shadows of the trees would hide me from the eyes of anyone passing or watching me from some window.

I thought back to Dallas Winston. Before I got to know him, he was just some no-good hoodlum, a real greaser in my eyes. He was no better than any other criminal I’d seen. But as I spent more time with him, I realized there was more to Dallas than met the eye. He had that wild and rebellious spirit, always up to some mischief or another. His past ran deep in him. In some way that I didn’t want to admit, I also admired him in some sort of sense. Sharp and cool; who wouldn’t?

Still half lost in thought, I snuck into my bedroom window through a tree. As I could finally sit on my plush bed, I thought about my future long and hard. I was a girl with all the breaks. Money in the bank, top grades in school, what more could a gal like me ask for? It seemed like my destiny was carved in stone, clear as day for all to see.

I still had my cigarette in my hand and was itching for a smoke. Stepping away, sticking my head out my bedroom window, I took a slow, thoughtful drag from my cigarette. It was a tough life in this town. I had friends, some enemies, some people I loved more than anything.

No one more than Tommy, though. Tommy was my kid brother, only one year younger than me but a whole lot smarter. Both socially and academically, I’d say. He was there for me always, through thick and thin. He was fun, serious mostly, but fun. Tommy kind of grounded me like that—telling me what to do and how to do it, where to go and who to be with. It's just what he’d do, worrying about me and all that stuff. Things that I didn’t usually do on my own.

I had one older brother, but he was busy at college and I only got to see him during breaks. He was the rowdy kind, almost like me—nothing like Tommy—but I never got along with him as well. Opposites attract, people say. I didn’t care about that sort of stuff until Tommy started yapping on about it. Then I believed it, cause that was one of the only times I’d listened.

I closed my eyes and imagined a life; a life that was perfect and the one that was expected of me. It was nice, no doubt about it. I would’ve never got out of my thoughts if I didn’t hear someone holler my name from the street.

“Ver! Veronica!” I heard, with a waving Sherri looking straight at me. I hid my weed, wishing more than anything she hadn’t seen it. I was ashamed of my habit, just ‘cause I was raised not to do stuff like that.

“Hi, Cherry.” I said back, cracking a smile. Cherry was one of my good girl-friends, one I could really talk to sometimes when I needed an ear. She got the types of things I said for the most part—the things about life being tough and the real things out there in the world.

She squinted at me and smiled for a second before walking away. It was finally about time I started to walk to my bathroom to get ready. I curled my hair, did my makeup, and I was off to school—one place I dreaded like a prisoner facing his cell.

………………………..

I sat bothered and bored for most of the school day. Sure, I got good grades, but I didn’t do anything other than what they asked of me. Besides, if my grades slipped, I’d probably die from my parents before anything ever got to me. And I really wasn’t itching to experience any of that. Not one bit.

I stepped out of school with my other girl-friends, which included Cherry and a few other girls. Cherry and I ran tight, even in a crowd. I had my arm around her and she was leaning her head on my shoulder as we walked. She must’ve been real worn.

“Cherry, how would you like to catch a movie with me later?” I asked her.

“Oh, Ver, I’m not sure. I’ve got a whole lot of homework and you know how my parents are. They’re always complainin’ and I can’t stand it anymore.” She went on and on about her parents, as she always did. They were nothing but difficult people, the sort that grated on your nerves and had no business raising children.

“I’ll do it for you, Cherry. It’s time for you to get out. You could use some time out of there. Nothing big.”

“No, no, Ver. I ought to do it myself—really. I’ll ask my parents, too. It’s a Friday anyways.”

I nodded as I hugged her and watched her walk to her car. She was real pretty, a head-turner, a chick that had all the boys trailing behind her. And I would’ve said I was happy for her if I didn’t know she was dating Bob: some stuck up, deranged boy who jumped innocent kids and didn’t even care. I remember how disappointed I was the day she told me about him. I knew his type, his gang, and the kids he beat on.

I strolled towards the back of the school, where I always parked my car. It was a real nice red Thunderbird. My parents got it for me for my 16th birthday, and I’d treasured it ever since.

The moment I was about to drive off, I caught a few footsteps running behind me.

“Hey, baby. Nice car you got there,” the voice called out, dripping with a mischievous charm that I recognized all too well. When you’re all on your lonesome and have nothing to do, you can talk to Dallas—sometimes. Problems start when anything’s different. I glanced over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of him leaning casually against my car, a devilish grin playing on his lips.

“Bye, Dallas.” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“No good Soc.” I heard him mutter. Every time I thought he got past the fact, I was proven wrong.

I drove off, more upset and irritated by the situation than I wanted to be. Dallas Winston was a wild spirit, untamed and unapologetic. The world was his playground, and he played by his own rules. There was something about his reckless abandon, a charm that even I couldn't deny, that pulled me in.

I remembered the first time I met him. Coincidentally, it was also the first time I’d snuck out— and what I thought would’ve been my last. That time, I didn’t travel anywhere off of my turf. It was really Dallas who was out of his territory, trying to vandalize some guy’s car. I sat on our park’s bench; the one on the West side, I mean. Dallas was no one I cared about. He was a nobody to me, a hoodlum, and I would’ve had no idea I’d ever run into him. Hell, I really didn’t even know what he looked like.

Not until I’d been startled by some loud ruckus nearby. It should’ve been my cue to leave, but I don’t listen— not to anyone, not to myself, either. He’d been beaten. I could recall it vividly—the bruises on his face, the casual ease with which he settled down beside me. He asked for a smoke; in return, I had asked him what happened. I sure wished I was spared the details. Boy, were they gruesome.

When he got up, I posed him one last question: his name.

“Dallas. Dallas Winston.”

I sat there, dumbfounded and stunned, like I had just seen a ghost. I felt a surprising mix of curiosity and caution about him from that point on. Some things about Dallas I knew— I didn’t know a lot, but he always striked me as someone that no one really knew anything about. He had a rough past, grew up in New York, first had gotten arrested at ten; I heard that from talking to him. I also knew Dallas Winston always got what he wanted— everyone knew that.

#dally winston #dallas winston #matt dillon #the outsiders 1983 #the outsiders #cherry valance #johnny cade #fluff #steve randle #sodapop curtis #ponyboy curtis #two bit mathews #darry curtis #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston x y/n

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nicohischierz · 1 year

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don’t come back: brandt clarke

thank you @1-800-iluvhockey for the idea ily 🫶

your brothers were upset when they found out you were going to university in california. luke because it would be the first time you would be separated for longer than a weekend. quinn because he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that his baby sister was growing up and jack because now there was no one for him to get information on you from.

jack’s reasoning caused a fight between the two of you as you claimed he had no right to control you. jack expected his brothers to agree, which they did, but they also knew how much it meant for you to be your own person. so they sided with you and told jack that he could see you whenever the devils were in town.

that was a year ago. now luke was starting his sophomore year at the university of michigan. jack was starting his fourth year in the league and quinn his fifth. you were incredibly proud of your brothers and they were proud of you.

you truly enjoyed being away from your siblings as it allowed you time to be yourself. no one was coming up to you to be your friend because you were quinn and jack hughes younger sister anymore, they wanted to be your friend because they liked you for you.

albeit being a bit homesick your first year alex and trevor made it easier as they both took turns inviting you to watch their games and then taking you out for dinner or just randomly popping up at your dorm. seeing as alex was your billet brother during his time at the ntdp you were closer to him and hung out with him more often than trevor.

“you do know that jack asks for a full detailed report on you every day right?” alex asked. the two of you were currently in your apartment as alex helped you get ready for your date. last year, you had many failed dates where the guy either stood you up or used you for your friends or your brothers.

you chuckled and turned to the older boy. “i know turcs. once over summer he left his phone open to his chat with you and trev and i saw your texts. thanks by the way for not mentioning my multiple failed dates,”

alex smiled before attacking you in a hug “i only mentioned the time you and quinton hung out because he wanted to know who the guy in your story was,” he defended. you knew all about that interaction. jack had texted you and your other brothers with every piece of information he could find on quinton and claimed he wasn’t good enough for you because he was canadian.

alex pulled away from the hug and helped adjust your dress and hair before looking at you one last time. “you look gorgeous y/n/n and i’m so glad jack isn’t here cause he would definitely try stop you from going out,” he murmured.

there was a silence in the room until the doorbell rang. you refused to tell alex who your date was which is why the boy had showed up at your apartment half an hour before you were meant to leave.

“clarkey?” alex asked as he noticed his teammate. your date, brandt clarke, was a la kings prospect from the 2021 draft. as you spent time with quinton you also grew close to some of the other canadian boys around the area like jordan spence and trevor’s roommates jamie drysdale and mason mctavish.

you’d spent a good chunk of time with them that you spent the first quarter of summer last year in canada with the chl boys. during that time you had to admit that they were slightly better than your brothers friends. and it was during that time that you met brandt.

seeing as you were the closest in age the two of you spent a lot of time together. brandt didn’t really know who you were but after asking around he couldn’t believe you were y/n hughes and you were standing in front of him. he’d seen you when jack and quinn were being drafted and he’d heard your interviews on luke and he admired the way you spoke about your family.

“hi alex, is y/n/n here? we’re supposed to go out together. unless i’ve got the date wrong then could you ask her to call me if she’s busy,” brandt rambled on. you thought it was adorable, especially considering the fact that he was turning red.

it was at that point that you grabbed your purse and headed to the door to greet brandt. “hi clarkey, you look good,” you complimented.

brandt was at a loss for words as he took in your appearance. he had never met someone as effortlessly breathtaking as you. “you look breathtaking,” he whispered. brandt then handed alex the flowers he bought for you before taking your hand.

your date with brandt may have been the first in person date you went on together but over year of knowing each other, the two of you had grown close. you had given him tips on what to do when he came to la and he listened whenever you ranted about a bad date or your brothers.

dating brandt was the best time of your life. you went with him to his first nhl game and watched all his away games on your tv. whenever he was in town the two of you would spend time in your apartment baking or curled up watching tv together.

one thing you loved about your boyfriend was that he never pushed you. if you were having a bad day he would hold you until you were ready to talk or he would give you the space you asked for. what you really loved was that he wasn’t like your brothers.

you were also grateful for alex during the time of your relationship. he would help you get away with staying with brandt and he would cover for you whenever your brothers saw something on you hanging out with your boyfriend.

“he wants me to got world juniors with him,” you announced walking into trevor and jamie’s house. it had become a regular thing for you to text the group of boys you were close with and demand they meet when you had a problem.

“clarkey?” “is that problem?” “yay, congratulations!” jamie, alex and trevor exclaimed. you ignored the three of them and flopped onto an empty couch and groaned. “the thing is luke’s playing too and that means jack and quinn are coming,” you explained.

the boys proved to be no help to your situation as you now sat by the glass in your boyfriends jersey as canada faced off against usa. brandt had flipped you a puck and blown you a kiss before continuing on with his warm ups. just to annoy one of his good friends brennan othmann followed brandt’s actions which earned a slight shove from your boyfriend.

throughout the tournament you managed to stay away from your brothers when you were with brandt. at first your boyfriend thought you were embarrassed of him but when you explained how overprotective they were he understood and helped you.

the game had started with the us leading by two points until canada came bacl and tied the game with adam then giving them the lead. you watched with bathed breathe anytime your brother had the puck, you could tell he was tired. but one incident during the game that made you giggle was when luke went for a hit on brandt but your boyfriend retaliated causing luke to fall.

after a loss to the usa your brothers had all texted asking if you were feeling any better. so maybe you lied to them and said you were sick in the morning so that you could sneak out to support your boyfriend. but your cover was blown the second you ran into brandt’s arms.

“i swear luke, she was sitting by the glass in a canada jersey,” you heard dylan duke. at the voice you stilled, your boyfriend felt you tense up and looked around to see what happened. and there he saw your family waking directly your way.

of course, your attempt to stay hidden was thrown away when brennan othmann came running down the hall screaming your name and picked you up. “look at you eh, finally supporting the right country,” otter teased.

your brothers all stopped talking and looked over at you and the jersey you were wearing. “you’ve got to be kidding me,” jack spat. brennan dropped you immediately and looked at your brothers before giving you an apologetic smile.

“what’s going on here y/n?” jack pressured. your mother tried interfering, alex had told her all about how your brothers made you feel. luke shook his head in disappointment and quinn just looked upset.

brandt just wrapped his arm around your waist. the action bringing you more comfort than anyone could imagine, you looked up at your boyfriend as he smiled at you. “this is my boyfriend brandt. we’ve been dating for five months,”

your boyfriend had already met your parents so they exchanged pleasantries. jack looked your boyfriend up and down before giving you an unimpressed face “you’re dating a hockey player,”

“yes jack, i’m dating a hockey player. yes, he’s canadian and yes, he does play for the onatrio reign with alex. what else do you want to know huh?” you shot back.

jack scoffed at brandt’s outstretched arm and turned his attention to your parents. “do you see what happened. i told you we shouldn’t let her go to california now she’s been there a year and she thinks she can run off with some hockey player she’s known for two months,” he stressed.

“i’ve known brandt since the summer jack. that trip i took to canada that’s when we met and we kept talking to each other until he mentioned being in la for training camp. jack he’s good to me,” you whispered the last part.

quinn hated the sad look on your face as you tried keeping your tears at bay. he watched as brandt kissed the top of your head as if he knew exactly how you felt. actually, during your whole interaction with jack, quinn noticed how brandt would do small things that seemed to calm you down.

“you’re too young to have a boyfriend y/n. so next semester you’re going to transfer to umich and you’re going to finish school with luke and his friends. that way we all know where you are and that you aren’t running off with people with unstable positions,” he poked at brandt and grabbed your arm.

however, you weren’t having it. you pulled your hand out of his grip and held onto brandt’s arms. “i am not letting you take me away from the one person i love,” you argued.

“fine. then don’t come to the lake house this summer. actually after this you don’t have to talk to me at all. i know you think i’m overprotective y/n so let me save you some trouble, i don’t want to talk to you anymore so don’t even try to contact me,” jack sneered before walking away.

quinn gave your shoulder a squeeze before running after his younger brother. ellen and jim had both chased after their middle son, the two parents speaking to him in a harsh tone as they berated him for his words. and luke gave you a hug before looking to brandt.

“look after her,”

when luke left, you turned to your boyfriend tears silently streaming down your face as he wrapped his arms around you.

now in front of him, brandt was looking at a little girl who had been banished from one of the people she looked up to.

#brandt clarke imagine #nicohischierz writes #barrie colts

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the12thnightproject · 3 months

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Chapter 41: Phone Home - Has Katsu gotten Aki to the future in time to save him?

Mitsuhide x OC; Hideyoshi x MC (Mai)

All Chapters Archived on Ao3

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

Please take me to the right Kyoto! To the right time. I hung on to Aki so tightly that I could imagine him groaning, though the sensory deprivation of the wormhole meant that any noise I heard was an auditory hallucination.

Then, slowly, I did hear sounds… sounds I hadn’t heard for seven years…

Cars…

Busses…

Honks…

The hum of electricity...

And the screaming of tourists who were shocked to see two people manifest in front of their eyes.

Modern Japan… it was familiar, but not really home. Not anymore.

Had I been alone I would have taken time to breathe it in, to readjust to the noise and the crowd and the people. But Aki needed immediate medical treatment, so I stepped forward and announced to the circle of freaked out tourists in my best 'I went to art school and this is the only job I am qualified for' voice. "Historical Reenactments. Daily at the Azuchi Castle Ruins."

The tourists all nodded sagely, as if they saw such stunts often. Once the initial crowd moved off, I took out the paper with Sasuke's phone number, and approached a girl about my age. "Excuse me. My phone battery just died." I waved Iekane's device at her as an explanation. "Can I borrow yours? I need to call my boss before I get marked late for my day job."

She bowed politely and handed over a phone about ten generations newer than the last one I had owned. It had a custom case with some K-Pop band on it. If I had never left this time, perhaps I would be a fan. But I had, and the band on the case, though all adorable, also looked impossibly young.

I almost felt like more of a fish out of water than I ever had in the Sengoku.

With any luck I was both in the right timeline and that my timeline’s Sasuke had the same phone number of the Sasuke I had just left. Mentally crossing my fingers, I entered the number and waited. While the phone continued to ring, I kept half my attention on Aki, who was slumped over on the bench. If Sasuke didn’t answer, I would need to try-

"Mikumo Sasuke." Sasuke's neutral tones directed towards what would be an unknown number.

"Sasuke. It's Katsuko." Not yet five minutes in modern Japan and I'd already reverted to the name of my childhood. "Katsu. I'm at Honno-ji."

I turned away from the girl and lowered my voice. "I've got Aki with me, and I need to get him to a hospital."

The quick-witted Sasuke didn’t ask questions. "We'll be right there."

"Thanks." He'd already hung up. I gave the phone back to the girl and repeated my thank you to her.

"No worries. Great costume. Looks really authentic." With a bow, she headed into the shrine.

Crouching next to Aki, I propped him up under my shoulder. "Don't you dare die on me now old man."

"I’ll do my best." The words were faint, and I could feel his fever radiating off him.

"I'm sure the hospital can fix you right up." I wasn't sure, but now that there was nothing to do but wait, I was babbling uselessly. Every once in a while, a concerned Samaritan would ask if Aki was ok, and I kept repeating that help was coming.

And eventually, a long shadow fell over both of us, and a familiar warm spiced voice said, "Sasuke didn’t tell me his friend was a forest Goddess."

Right. This Shingen hasn't met me.

I looked up at the modern version of the main I had just said goodbye to less than an hour (plus or minus 450 years) ago. The cargo pants, grey henley shirt and leather bomber jacket didn’t look out of place on him at all, although the barely healed surgical scar on his chest and flirtatious look he directed at me certainly did.

With my father half draped over me, it was not the time to go into that, so I introduced myself briefly, while Shingen helped Aki to his feet and propped himself under the uninjured shoulder. "Where is Sasuke?"

"Out front in his motorized palanquin." Shingen gave a little grunt as Aki dumped his entire weight on the taller man. Realizing that this Shingen was probably fresh out of the hospital himself, I hurried to Aki’s other side and carefully maneuvered myself around his wound.

Together we half carried Aki to the street, where an SUV was hovering near the bus stop. Leaving the motor idling, Sasuke leaped out. “Greetings and salutations, Katsu,” he said as he helped settle Aki across the back seat.

I don't remember much about the trek across town. Sasuke drove like a Yokai on acid, zipping through stoplights that turned red as we sped past. The streets blurred out the window, and now that the responsibility for Aki was divided up, the-time travel (and Sasuke’s driving) caught up to me.

Feeling vaguely sick to my stomach, I shut my eyes. No Mitsuhide to hold your hair if you barf here. Or put mint oil on – Weird… I could almost smell the mint.

Opening my eyes, I saw that Shingen was holding a tin of Mintia in front of me. "Try this. I keep them around just for these travels."

Ah. So Sasuke always drove like this. Good. To. Know. "Thanks." I popped a couple of the strong mints into my mouth, and indeed, it did help with the nausea, even when Sasuke whipped a turn so sharply that both Shingen and I grabbed onto the armrests for stability.

Thanks to Sasuke's University I. D., we managed to get Aki admitted through emergency services and by some miracle Aki's biometrics were already in the hospital system. The only real difficulty occurred when the admitting staff asked how he had managed to receive a gunshot wound, and why had it been allowed to go untreated for so long.

"I'm rather curious to know the answer to that myself." I heard Shingen tell Sasuke.

Yes, he would definitely want to know about the movement of battles in 1582 – he probably was even now wondering if Kasugayama had been under attack when I left that era.

To the doctors and nurses, I kept answering, "I don't know." Without any inside knowledge about present day Kyoto's crime scene, it would be hard to make up a good story. Any detail I created would be investigated by the police, "he only said he was attacked and robbed." I then drew on my now honed by Mitsuhide acting skills and put a sob into my voice. "Please, is my dad going to be ok?"

To my horror, I felt a real tear escape. Not completely acting. Unnerved by my tears, the hospital staff ended their interrogation and directed us to a family waiting area, while Aki was wheeled off to parts unknown in the bowels of the hospital.

Shingen liberated a box of tissues from the nurses’ station (by which I mean he flirted with the staff until they gave it to him) and set it on the table next to a seriously uncomfortable plastic chair.

Ok breathe. This is a University Hospital. It’s a top-rated trauma center. It will be fine. Breathe.

Once I had again composed myself, Sasuke, who had been typing on a tablet at warp speed, turned to me. "Are you interested in reading a library of protocols for treating gunshot wounds and blood poisoning?"

Timing, Sasuke. Timing.

I must have looked as appalled as I felt, for he hurried to add. "This is not from Dr Google, but actual medical journals... not that I've personally vetted them of course. I'm not a doctor I'm a physicist."

"That was funnier the first time you told it to me." Were we private enough to go into this here? There were other people in this room. Granted, they were likely dealing with their own issues, but...

"I do not recall making this joke in the past." Sasuke darted a quick look at the other people in the waiting room, then typed something into his tablet. My hypothesis seems too fantastical to mention.

I reached for the tablet. “May I?”

He nodded, so I began two finger typing a response. Ugh. I guess some skills you lose in seven years. Both Shingen and Sasuke leaned over me to watch my response form one letter at a time.

Aki shot in 1578. Took him through a wormhole to 1586 different timeline. You and that timeline’s Shingen helped me get him here.

“Holy crap on a cracker!” His exclamation, and the fact that he nearly shot out of his seat, earned us all dark looks from the others in the room. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Multiverses.”

I nodded. Hopefully that would satisfy him for now. At the moment, I didn’t have the mental capacity to explain more, either verbally, or on the tablet. Luckily, that set Sasuke off on another mad typing excursion, and Shingen, at least satisfied that he hadn’t missed an important battle, took another look at me, and offered to get some food. "What do you like to eat, Angel? The bistro in the lobby has very good pastry. I have tried it all.”

"Oh. Maybe just tea and soup." I had no urge to test a seven-years-in the- Sengoku digestive system on anything heavy (the shock to my intestines when I first arrived in 1575 had been a painful enough experience that I was in no hurry to repeat). Shingen nodded and made himself scarce.

With Sasuke still in mad scientist mode, I finally took a moment to glance through the paperwork I’d been given in intake and realized that Sasuke had pulled both academic and financial strings here.

"Thank you," I said to Sasuke when he had paused in his typing. "I don't know how I'll repay you--."

"It's not an issue." Sasuke gestured to his tablet. "You are making infinite contributions to my scientific knowledge." Wait until you get a look at this device. It was not the best location to show him that… not with all the witnesses about, let alone any closed circuit cameras that might be in the area.

Given my circumstances, I was going to have to rely on his charity for a day or so. While I did at least have the numbers and passcodes to Aki's accounts in that letter, without an I. D. I wouldn’t be able to access them. Granted, I could probably get a replacement for all my papers with a vague 'travelling, got robbed' excuse, but it wouldn't be immediate.

With those practicalities, and the trying-not-to-think-about-it concern over Aki circling in my mind, I gratefully accepted a comforting bowl of ramen when Shingen returned (also with a bag of pastry and a carrier containing three to-go cups). From the smell, it seemed like Sasuke was drinking a seriously dark roast coffee, which I guess also explained his typing speed. The smell reminded me of Francisco's office and for a moment I pictured myself back then all those weeks ago - when Francisco had offered Mitsuhide a cup of coff— and then an earlier memory superimposed over that one.

“You ought to be able to perform both at the same time.” Mitsuhide motioned me over to the writing desk, opened the drawer for like… three seconds… and then slammed it shut again. “What is in the drawer, brat?”—

My mental picture slid to when I searched Francisco's office to retrieve my letter. There... had been a gun in the drawer. I'd been so focused on Aki that it hadn't registered at the time. But it had not been in there when I was there last week (two weeks ago? Time flies when you’ve got wormholes). Sure, owning a gun would not be unusual for a Portuguese merchant. But I had never seen Francisco use a gun. Well… something just felt off.

Damn it. Not for the first time I wished Mitsuhide were around so that I could talk about this with him! (And wouldn't he tease me about it too!).

"Ms. Yamaoka?" A doctor entered the room with an electronic tablet in her hand. "I wanted to update you on your father's condition."

I jumped to my feet, aware that behind me, Shingen and Sasuke had done so as well, just to support me.

"We removed the bullet without any major complications." She hesitated and I realized that this was going to be one of those good news, bad news situation. "However, the infection at the site of the wound and the fever has put him at high risk for a cascading multi organ failure."

I felt a reassuring pat on my shoulder. Shingen. It was the pat of an authority figure to a subordinate, an 'I'm here to help if you want’ kind of thing, and I appreciated that he had dropped the flirtatious exterior. The slight clicking behind me suggested that Sasuke was already looking up all the potential treatments in the medical library. "We'll do everything we can to support his system, but to give the antibiotics a chance to work, we've put him into a medically induced coma." She paused, waiting for me to ask additional questions, but I had gotten the gist of it.

She handed me a few informative packets on their treatment and on patient family support options. The paperwork was a bit overwhelming, when all I wanted right now was, "Can I see him?"

The doctor frowned. "Visiting hours technically ended-"

Shingen edged closer to her. "Doctor. You are truly a Goddess of Healing. We're grateful for everything you do. All my young friend needs is a few minutes with her father, just to ease her mind."

Ha. Apparently that charisma could be deployed at will and with military precision. I was granted five minutes but warned that he wouldn't know I was there.

I was used to Aki seeming bigger than life, but now, hooked up to several machines, he looked drained and very old. As warned, he didn’t register my presence, so I simply sat and held his hand, as if that could be a conduit to transfer my energy to him.

When my time was up, I leaned over him and whispered, "Aki, if you don't recover, I am turning your spy network over to Takauji."

It was the smell of coffee that awoke me the following morning. I sat up on the futon and looked around the room, taking in details that I had been too tired to notice the night before. Sasuke's two-bedroom high rise condo was sleek and ultra-modern. Given how much of a history buff he was, I was surprised at how no-frills it was in terms of decor. It kind of seemed... not him.

In spite of the stark decor, it was comfortable, full of every imaginable convenience. I'd half slept through my first shower in seven years, then, with my hair still wet, I had fallen asleep almost instantly on the futon in the living room (both Sasuke and Shingen had offered to give up their bedrooms for me, but I had insisted that I would be fine on the futon for a few days).

Something clicked and beeped, and I finally located the smell of coffee as emanating from a complicated looking automatic espresso machine. It was the only visible appliance in the open kitchen. The thing beeped again, and, as if on cue Sasuke shuffled out of his room, hair flopping everywhere, glasses slightly askew, and made a beeline for the machine.

Recognizing a caffeine addict when I saw one, I waited for him to get a few sips into his system before engaging in conversation. "How in the world did you manage to survive in the Sengoku without coffee?"

"Indeed, it was one of the only thing I neglected to factor into my decision making when I initially went back in time. However the benefits of immersive historical and scientific research outweighed the inconvenience of the pre-Dutch explorer era." He finished his first coffee, poured another cup, then pulled an electric kettle out of some neat hidden cupboard, filled it with water, and plugged it in.

"Aki's friend Francisco had coffee - when we get back, I should connect the two of you.'' And also question Francisco about the gun. But that was something to worry about later. I had more pressing issues to deal with. “Did the hospital call with updates to Aki’s condition?” Sasuke had left his details with the hospital, since I was still without a phone.

Sasuke held up one finger, slipped back into his room at a much faster pace than he had left it, and returned with his phone. "No messages," He handed it to me. "I presume you want to call?"

He was correct in that, and once I had made it through the frustratingly complicated hospital voice system (yeesh, it was easier to get a message to someone in the Sengoku era than it was to get a live person on the phone) only to be told that Aki’s condition was unchanged, Sasuke had set out a bowl and whisk, and a packet of tea.

By the time I had prepared the tea, taking comfort in the fact that this at least had not changed from the Sengoku era, Shingen joined us. He had either slept in, or put on a kimono, and he looked a bit more like the Shingen I had met in 1586, although he was unhealthily thin; a condition that I imagined would change soon enough if he kept eating sweet pastry for breakfast.

Once we had all gathered our respective food and drink items to the table and taken a few bites to sate our hunger, Shingen asked again the question that I imagine had been nagging at him all night. "How did your father get shot?"

And so once again, I found myself explaining how and when I found Aki, but, not wanting him to question too much about 1586 (I was in no mind space to handle the awkwardness of explaining that his alternate was in love with an alternate version of me), I skipped right to the device, knowing that Sasuke would take over as soon as he saw it.

After explaining what Sasuke Mach 1586 had discovered about the thing so far, I turned it, and the letter he had written to himself over to him, and had the rare experience of seeing his face light up with scientific glee. "Holy crap on a cracker - it's a... I don't know what to call it."

"We were joking that it’s a mini-flux capacitor." Although who knows maybe that is what it was.

"Though I wouldn't dare question your scientific knowledge Sasuke," Shingen looked at the device warily. "I do not want you to accidentally transport us to yet another place in time."

"At the moment, it's coded to me, so we should be ok." Just to be extra safe, I folded my hands in my lap.

Sasuke scanned the letter to himself, making happy murmurs about science and multiverses. Then he set the letter down and sighed happily. “My day is complete. My alternate Sasuke has evidence of yet another alternate Sasuke.” He turned the device over and over in his hand.

“Yeah, according to Katsuko, there are at least four of us, so there are likely four of you too and-“

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

The device vibrated violently, let out an electronic beep, and a tiny green light began blinking.

"Sasuke... what did you do?" Shingen's voice had gotten ominously quiet. I glanced around the room, looking for that odd ripple I had seen each time the device activated, but at least on that end things were normal.

"I have not begun any actions that would cause it to activate," Sasuke set the thing down. "Whatever just initiated was automatic."

"Like a self-destruct program?" Yeesh. And I'd been carrying that thing in my kimono.

"Perhaps. Or a homing beacon."

The blinking light intensified in speed, let out another SQUEE.

Then the light went out and it silenced.

@bestbryn @selenacosmic @lyds323 @lorei-writes @tele86 @akitsuneswife

#10things #10 things I hate about Mitsuhide #Mitsuhide Monday #ikemen sengoku #fanfic #ikesen mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #ikesen sasuke #ikesen shingen #oc: katsuko #katsuverse

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sister-juniper · 7 months

Text

Execution (Terzo x Reader)

Very heavy angst!! Includes mentions of death

my ao3 my wattpad

☆ Word count: 1699 ☆

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

This past week has been one huge blur.

It started as normal. Terzo had called you in the morning like he always does while he is on tour. He wished you well and told you he was excited to see you when he arrived home. It was his final show of the tour, and you were ecstatic at the thought of seeing him again.

The thought of rushing into his arms, him kissing your lips again, hearing his sweet and sultry voice in your ear saying "I love you". You had missed it all so dearly, and you were so excited to have it back.

On that call, he had promised to take you out to your favorite restaurant once you returned. Terzo was such a romantic, always planning the best dates and pulling out all the shots to please you. There was never a dull moment between the two of you.

You had hung up the call like any other, but little did you know it would be the last time you two would have a pleasant conversation.

Later that night when Terzo was meant to play his show, you tuned in to the live stream which broadcasted the show to viewers who couldn't attend the ritual. You got yourself comfy in the two of yous shared bed with some snacks, and watched the ritual.

You smiled, you laughed at his little jokes, and you thirsted over his usual sexual behaviors. All are a part of the usual ritual-watching process. Everything was going as planned, as normal. This was until the very last song came along, Monstrance Clock.

Terzo did his monologue, and he sang the song, but near the end is when everything went wrong. He stepped on a platform on the stage and instructed the audience to continue singing, but just as he was about to speak again, two men pulled him off the platform and dragged him offstage.

You were sent into absolute hysteria.

The ghouls were confused, one ran after him. The audience screamed Terzo's title and you could hear their cries through the television screen. You stared at the TV with wide, confused eyes, wondering what on earth had just happened.

You screamed his name to try and do something, but of course, it was useless. Panicked tears streamed down your face as your eyes were fixed on the screen, waiting for what was next.

A few seconds later, a man you recognized, Papa Nihil, stumbled on stage with his cane. Everyone in the audience, including you, was shocked.

He croaked into the microphone "I am Papa Emeritus Zero, the fun is now over, and the dark ages have begun."

Just as you let out another scream, the live stream was cut off. Your hands were shaking, but you immediately reached for your phone to call Terzo for some sort of explanation. Maybe it was just part of the act? Maybe Terzo is actually okay?

You called his number, and it rang, but the call went to voicemail. You tried again, and again, and again, but each time it never went through. You kept getting sent to voicemail.

You screamed his name and hoped that would do something, but it didn't. More and more tears streamed down your face every time the calls didn't go through. You knew something bad was going to happen, or already had happened, and there was nothing you could do about it.

Throughout that week, you were never able to speak with Terzo. You had been persistently questioning Imperator throughout the week, only to be met with blank, useless answers. Terzo still had not returned, and he was supposed to return five days ago!

You were sitting in your shared quarters, still all by yourself, when a knock came at the door. You opened, and were met with Omega ghoul staring right back at you.

"Y/N, you need to come with me."

"Omega?? What is going on? Where is Terzo??"

He gave you a somber look and took your hand. He led you silently down the hallways of the Ministry. You kept questioning him, but he still did not answer. You prayed to Satan that by some miracle he was taking you to Terzo. Omega had red eyes too, it was obvious he had been crying as well. He clearly wasn't in control of this either.

The two of you reach a big set of doors and Omega leads you inside. You are met with the rest of the ghouls as well as Imperator, standing outside of another room inside of the bigger room.

"Go inside, Imperator was graceful enough to let you two have one final meeting" said Alpha. He too looked devastated.

You stared at him with wide eyes but just nodded, trying to process all of what he just said. You push open the other door and Omega closes it behind you.

There is another person in the room, and he sits up immediately at the sound of the door. It is Terzo.

He looks at you with teary, tired eyes, messed up paint, and his clothes are all wrinkled. He is sitting in a chair, but cannot move as his ankles and wrists are tied to it.

"Terzo?? Oh my satan what is going on?!" You shout as you rush towards him.

You sit on his lap, wrap your arms around him, and start sobbing. "What have they done to you?? What is happening??"

"T-Tesoro..."

You pull back from his shoulder and look at him in the eyes. He too has tears streaming down his face.

"I am so sorry, but this will be the last time we speak. We only have 10 minutes..."

"What do you mean Terzo?? What... I-I..."

"They are going to kill me, I can't do anything. I am so so sorry Y/N..."

"KILL YOU?? WHY???"

"Yes, mi amore... I am so sorry. They won't tell me why..."

Your body starts to shake again as you hug him as tight as possible. You sob hysterically into his shoulder. Terzo wants so badly to rub your back and hold you, but he can't. His arms are tied. He can only sit there and watch you lose yourself in front of him.

"I-I can't lose you Terzo.. I just can't... I thought we were going to get married!!" You yell while glancing at the engagement ring on your finger. He had proposed to you just before he left for the last leg of the tour.

"I know amore.. I know... I am so sorry..."

"I love you so much Terz... so so much.."

Terzo lets out a loud sob and you can feel his tears on your shoulder.

"Kiss me, kiss me because it will be the last time..." Terzo says through his cries

You pull back, look him deep in his eyes, and smash your lips against his for the final time. You put your hands on his face and kiss him as deeply as you can. You savor every last little piece of him, you want to remember the feeling of this kiss forever.

You pull back and look into his eyes again with tears blurring your vision. Just as you are about to lean in for another kiss, the door opens.

"Y/N, the time is up." Omega states

"What?? N-no... I can't leave him.."

Omega says nothing and just walks towards you.

"I love you so much" Terzo says for the final time. You scream a bloodcurdling scream as Omega rips you from Terzo's lap and drags you out of the room.

You kick and scream and try to break free from his grasp, but there is nothing you can do. You are dragged out of the room and the door shuts, locking Terzo inside once again.

You weren't able to sleep that night. The memories from the day haunted you. You just could not comprehend that he was going to be killed. You just couldn't believe it would be the last time you would see him.

Your screams and cries of anguish were heard all throughout the ministry. Nobody was angered at the noise though, everyone knew what was going on, and everyone besides Imperator and Nihil took pity on you.

Two days passed, and the congregation was called to an urgent assembly. There were whispers all about, many theories as to what this was, but you had a feeling that this was going to be it.

You tried to stay in your quarters, you couldn't bear to watch your lover be killed. You just wanted the last memory of him to be him lovingly kissing your lips, telling you he loved you.

However, a ghoul soon hunted you down and dragged you downstairs. You were going to be forced to watch.

He dragged you to a spot in the front, and ordered you to sit down. You had no choice but to obey his orders.

There were a few announcements all made by Imperator, you tried to tune them all out, but one couldn't help but catch your attention.

"Today we will be witnessing the execution of Papa Emeritus III"

This was it. This was the moment you had been dreading. He was going to be killed, what Terzo had told you was the truth, they were going to kill him.

You tried to scream, but you couldn't, you couldn't even cry. Your body was frozen in shock, it was frozen in agony.

You saw him again. Omega and Alpha dragged him to the podium, each ghoul holding one of his arms. They both had faces of sorrow and devastation. Both with red, tired, and teary eyes, just like you. You heard screams all around you, but you tuned them out. All you could focus on was Terzo.

Terzo looked at you from the podium, and you looked back. The two of you never broke eye contact, even as his head was laid on the block.

You could see tears trickling from his eyes, you could see his lips trembling. He wanted to reach his hand out towards you but he couldn't, they were tied behind his back.

You screamed his name over and over and tried to run after him, but a ghoul held you back.

You watched in horror as a sword was handed to Omega. The poor ghoul would be the executioner.

He lifted the sword, and you screamed Terzo's name one final time. Then it was all over. Terzo was dead, and there was nothing you could do.

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

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5eraphim · 1 year

Text

This is a continuation of this post, specifically the Spy vs Engineer section by @cuteghostwriter I believe the original post posited it was supposed to be Red Spy vs Blu Engineer, but I think for the sake of drama, let's suppose they are on the same side. If you liked this story please, please, please, please go follow cuteghostwriter too!!!! Their work is honestly why I got into Team Fortress 2 (like literally this specific post had me like “hm team fortress 2, that’s a name I haven’t heard in 10 years, wonder what that’s all about 🤔” in the first place and I treasure them and their work so much! <3

Characters: Spy and Engineer (Team Fortress 2)

Rating: T

Content Warnings: hurt/comfort, yandere, forced intimacy, depression, unhealthy relationship dynamics, angst

Word Count: 3k

(Song Inspo)

There was a knock at the door. You didn't respond in any way except by staring up at the ceiling over your bed. How long had that door been shut now, a few days; Had it already been a whole week? With the curtains permanently drawn around you, the door shut, a half-empty bottle of sleeping pills beside you, and Engie's old radio he'd loaned you ages ago playing in the corner of your room, time meant nothing anymore. Without your Engie, nothing meant anything anymore. In truth, you couldn't even remember how many days had passed since the tragic accident which claimed Engie's life.

You were told there was some miscalculation made, one of his sentry guns going out of control mid-repair in the middle of the night while he was at work in his shop, claiming his life. Everyone told you there was nothing to be done. No one was close enough at the time to make it there in time to save him. This did nothing to stop your grief or guilt over the matter, especially as you were the first to discover the carnage the following day. You hated yourself for not checking on him earlier or dragging him to bed, not knowing how to bring him back, everything.

Medic tried to console you, telling you he was certain Engie hadn't suffered long. This was all a tragic accident, everything you knew to be the truth but simply could not accept.

Since then, you'd been hiding away in your quarters, hardly leaving your room or even your bed. Engie was one of the most beloved members of the team, a friend to all, and you knew everyone needed time to mourn their comrade. Everyone knew you two were close and allowed you the time you needed to be alone. You received a bottle of mild sleeping pills from the Medic. With those in hand, you shut your door and turned your back on the rest of the world. The distress and grief of everything made it impossible to get out of bed, and it felt as though days were stretching by doing nothing to alleviate your misery. You watched with tired eyes as the door to your room slowly cracked open for the first time in days, as Spy cautiously peered in at you from the outside.

"May I come in?"

It had been so long since you had to interact with another, and you didn't know what to say, much less understand why he decided to check up on you now. In the dark, you nodded your head once, which was enough of an invitation for Spy, who you weren't even sure how he could see in the darkness of your quarters. He crept forward as silently as a cat, taking in the pitiful sight of your bedroom.

He continued, thankfully not turning on the bright overhead light but opting for the smaller bedside lamp. The illumination of the overhead light would've likely stung your eyes, and it was nice to remain in the low lighting just a bit longer. "Do you mind if I sit down?"

"I don't mind."

Your voice sounded dry and unused, and you weren't sure what Spy would be most disconcerted by. The weakness of your voice, the empty plastic water bottles scattered on the floor amid a few granola bar wrappers, or the smell of perspiration and stale air, which hung like a heavy fog in the room. Too numbed with apathy to feel any embarrassment of another catching you in such a state. Nothing trivial like that could compare to the agony that was your new life without your beloved.

"I came to check up on you. It has been days since I last saw you, and I wanted to ensure you were doing alright. I can only imagine what you're going through. I know how close you were."

"Thanks."

The one-word response was all you could think to say. After not interacting with another person for days, you'd lost your sense of communication and couldn't think of anything else to say as you stared blankly at the ceiling.

"I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me."

You wanted to be alone again but didn't have the resolve to tell him to leave outright. So instead, you figured if you told him nothing, he wouldn't worry. As though the state of your living quarters weren't a thinly-veiled cry for help.

"You're not alone, you know. We all loved our Engineer, and I know I'm-"

"Don't lie to me."

"Pardon?"

"I said don't fucking lie to me."

Spy opened his mouth to speak, his brow momentarily creasing in confusion, but you cut him off before he could say anything. Feeling suddenly angry, this was the first strong emotion you'd felt since discovering the slaughtered remains of your Engineer.

"Everyone knows you hated him! You-you were always terrible to Engie! I know how you mocked him- always looking down on him! So don't you dare lie to me and say you understand what I feel! You little snake!"

Spy looked shocked to hear this and even hurt. Of course, if it were anyone else, you'd never say this, but you were too caught up in the heat of the moment to stop yourself.

"You never respected him like we did- you don't care about anyone but yourself! You are the most self-absorbed person I've ever known! It should've been you who died that night! Hell, you'd probably kill him yourself if you could! You're always up late- why didn't you save him!"

Hot tears continued to roll down the sides of your face. You spoke through grit teeth between choked, pathetic-sounding sobs.

"But- I was up too, I should've been there- I knew he was working late, I could've prevented him… Oh God-"

It was impossible to continue your rant as you could not stop sobbing. You knew your words were harsh and didn't mean it, but you couldn't stop yourself. You were mad at the world for taking the man you loved more than anyone away, but most of all, you hated yourself for not being there to save him. You would do anything to get him back, give your own life for him, but none of that mattered. He was dead now, and you were the one stuck living with the guilt.

Sitting upright in bed, you curled your knees up to your chest, hugging yourself in a tight ball. You buried your face in your hands, only somewhat aware of the other man's arms around your shoulders, rolling soft little circles with fingertips against your flesh to try to soothe you. Then, practically shouting into your hands, you spoke again with a cry.

"It should've been me!"

"Shh, no, don't talk like that."

Spy drew a little closer, arms now fully wrapped around you, and he rested his head on top of yours. For a second, you tried to pull away and push Spy away from your body, but only for a moment. Then, as the emotions continued to pour out, you decided to give in and let him hold you close. As much as you hated him, it's been so long since you felt the comfort of another. You'd been hiding away and lurking in the shadows for so long, pushing everyone else out. You'd totally forgotten just how much you needed a little emotional support. Spy guided your head to rest on his lap, laying you back down on your side as he softly petted your head, your face still covered by your hands as you lay down.

"If our Engineer were here, he'd smack you for saying that, you know."

You knew he was just trying to lighten the mood, but all you could think about was how badly you wanted to see him again. Missing his smile, his touch, all of the beautiful things he made you feel, nothing but a memory now. Gone, in the past, and forever out of reach.

"There's so much I never got to tell him. I loved him- and I never got the chance to tell him, and now- God, now he's gone forever!"

He continued to hush your sobs softly, speaking with an emotional sincerity you'd never expect to come from someone like him.

"I know it hurts, but you know if he were here, he'd want you to take care of yourself. I know you were close, but our Engineer wouldn't want you to live in the past like this. You know he'd want to see you take care of yourself."

Even though you couldn't stop crying, you found his words soothing. You'd felt so lost and lonely for days to hear someone, anyone- tell you there was still hope felt comforting. You'd unconsciously been pushing down all hope to go on for so long. Hearing another person try so earnestly to console you like this felt so bizarre. So for a bit longer, you simply allowed Spy to hold you like this while you continued to sob until, little by little, you could feel your crying let up. All the emotional distress you'd bottled up since Engie died began to trickle out, and you could feel your crying soften.

"Spy, I miss him more than anything. I'm going to miss him forever."

"I know-"

"No Spy, I mean- I loved him! I loved him so much, and I never got to tell him!"

A fresh wave of self-loathing overtook you, as you were ashamed to remember how you were always too scared to tell him how you felt. You would do anything to get just one more day to tell him how you felt, but none of that mattered now that he was dead and gone. You felt so cowardly and gutless for never having the courage to tell him how you felt.

"I know. You need time to heal, but you can't do that alone in the dark like this."

You sat up from his lap, feeling his body sliding away from you slightly until he stood up, standing over the side of the bed.

"I'd stay with you here all night if you wanted, but it'd be best if you got out of this room. Just for tonight."

You rolled onto your back and looked up at him with bleary eyes. Likely you looked just as messy and unkempt as you felt, yet the way Spy looked down at you, it was as though you were the most lovely person he'd ever seen. "You can't get any better hiding all alone like this. Why don't you come back to my room with me, and I'll help clean you up?"

He cupped your face in his hands, brushing away your tears with his thumbs as he smiled warmly. You looked aside, you doubted you had the strength to take care of yourself, and you really didn't want him to go away. But selfishly, you wanted to continue sulking and ignore the world for a while longer, but you knew he was right. If Engie were here, he'd want to see you taking care of yourself. Yet, somehow it felt like a betrayal to let Spy, just about the only person on his team Engie despised, be the one to take care of you like this. What would he think of you if he could see you now? Sensing your hesitation, he continued.

"I know this is hard, but let me take care of everything. I want to do whatever I can to help."

Swallowing your hesitation, you nodded shakily and allowed the other man to help pull you from bed and onto your own two feet. Although, you were glad he was keeping an arm around your shoulders to hold you steady. Your legs felt weak and unsteady after laying down for so long, and you allowed yourself to give in entirely as Spy led you out of your room, quietly closing the door behind him as he led you toward his living space.

Spy's own room was just as well-kept and lush as you'd expected, though you were always too shy to accept his invitations up to his room before now. You followed as he led you to the bathroom connected to his own room.

"I can get you some fresh clothes, but let me help get you washed up first. Will you let me do that for you?"

Usually, you'd object to something like this. Not only were you plenty able to take care of yourself, but the idea of letting a man you worked with strip you down and take care of you like this felt a bit risque. But given the situation, you just nodded at him as he drew a bath, shedding his jacket and folding it up on the counter before turning to help you out of your clothes. No words were exchanged, feeling content to listen to the water running from the tap as your clothes were stripped away and carefully folded on the other side of the counter as he gingerly helped you into the tub.

You allowed your eyes to drift shut for a moment. Resting your head back and feeling the warm water slowly climb higher and higher around you. Spy hummed softly beside you, but his voice, the smell of the expensive soaps, his touch, and his presence all felt muted somehow, as though this were all some dream, and it was only a matter of time before you awoke back in your bed in week-old clothes drenched in the smell of sweat and stale air.

Every now and then, you would find your eyes fluttering open but not really focusing on everything in particular. You could see Spy's naked upper body over the lip of the tub, using a soft rag to rinse the suds from your body hair. In truth, you would've never assumed someone you once were so sure was nothing more than a selfish cynic to be capable of something so tender and intimate, but you couldn't help but find yourself relaxing more and more beside him the longer he worked. You also realized this was the first time you'd felt his touch without his gloves. His hands weren't nearly as calloused or knuckled as you expected and felt reassuring and gentle against your soft skin and scalp.

After a few more minutes of this, you were given a moment alone in the tub while he left to find you something to change into. While you didn't know if you were comfortable spending the night here, it was an improvement to another night locked away like a prisoner. While he was in the other room, you leaned forward enough to pull the stopper from the drain, standing up, letting the water roll off your naked body in little rivers and heavy drops. Then, doing your best not to trail too much water on the floor, you made your way to the closet, where towels were kept to dry the rest of the water from your skin.

You felt another set of arms wrapping around you, giving you a soft hug from behind before you realized he'd returned.

"I have some spare clothes for you on the bed. Come with me."

You didn't respond but followed wordlessly as he guided you from the bathroom back to his bedroom, the towel falling to your feet. Discarded upon soaking up the last of the water which clung to your body. Sitting on his bed, you pulled on a pair of flannel boxer shorts and an oversized undershirt.

"Rest here. Let me get the lights for us."

He kissed the top of your head before tucking you under the blankets like a small child, ensuring you were fully snug and comfortable under the blankets before briefly pulling away to shut off the lights. He shifted beside you, getting himself comfortable in bed, laying on his side right next to you, wrapping warm arms around you to totally envelope your body with his. Gently resting his forehead on the top of your still-damp scalp.

"Spy?"

"Hm?"

He continued to nuzzle his face into your hair as you spoke in a quiet, unsteady voice, still strained slightly from your earlier crying.

"I'm really sorry about what I said earlier. It shouldn't have been you, and I know you'd never leave Engie to die. You didn't deserve to hear that. And... I'm really sorry about all that."

He chuckled a little using his fingertips to rub little semicircles against your skin. "Don't worry about that now. You're forgiven."

Biting your lip a little, you couldn't help but feel an awful pit of guilt in your stomach. Spy was the only person to check on you in days, and you thanked him by wishing death upon him and yelling in his face. It was hard to ignore the prickling sensation of fresh tears, you didn't want to let him know you were crying again, but you could tell by the way his hold around you tightened a little that he already knew.

"It's alright. I'm here for you now. I'll always be here. I'll always love you. Now close your eyes and try to sleep."

Easier said than done, but you did your best to let your mind drift off to sleep again. But you couldn't help but feel so selfish. What right did you have to be loved like this? You couldn't protect the person you loved the most. You didn't deserve this. But the way Spy held you against his body, whispering sweet, comforting things to you, it was hard not to melt under his touch, so you did. Shutting your eyes forced yourself to slow your breathing, and listen to the sound of Spy's heart beating, the slow, hypnotic rhythm slowly causing you to drift deeper and deeper to slumber. The last thing you could remember before drifting off was Spy's gentle purring in your ear.

"You're all mine now. No one will take you away. Mine forever."

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tomtenadia · 1 year

Text

Second chances...

I don’t even remember how the idea of this fic came to more, but it’s a second chance Rowaelin. It was meant to be a short one shot... it turned out a monster of almost 6k words... and a bit of a rollercoaster. There is angst, but well.. as the title says...

CW: divorce, some hurt/comfort and a brief mention of a death (non MC I promise) I hope you will enjoy it.

Aelin walked around the living room collecting her stuff for work “Maya, are you ready? We need to go.” “I am coming, I am looking for my hockey bag.”

Aelin went to her daughter’s room and helped her find the bag. Maya was in a girls hockey team “Here it is. You are just as messy as me.”

Maya kissed her mother “thanks.”

The two left the house and went to the car “you got all your stuff at your dad’s?”

Maya nodded.

Aelin and Rowan were divorced. They had married at a very young age after they found out taht Aelin was pregnant. Rowan being the responsible one had offered to provide for her and thought that marriage was the best option. But they were young, Rowan twenty one and Aelin nineteen and the weight of responsibilities started to take a toll on them pretty quickly affecting as well their relationship. With the passing of time they came to the realisation that they had married for the wrong reason and slowly drifted apart, after each fight spread the abysm separating them even further. Until it was too much and the word divorce was mentioned. They agreed it was the best option especially for their daughter’s sake. So as little as two years later they had gone separate ways. Custody had been easy had agreed on sharing Maya equally.

And so they moved on with their lives, leaving behind that small parenthesis when they tried to be a family.

Aelin went to become a paediatric doctor whereas Rowan got hired by an engineering company and was now quite high in the company. They would see each other at school meeting or Maya’s games, but outside those engagements their interactions were minimal.

Maya knew better, though. When her parents were together she had studied their interactions. She saw them alone and together and only when they were with each other she could see happiness.

She was twelve and probably did not know much about love, but of one thing was sure, her parents, despite their stubbornness, still loved each other.

Her mission now, was to get her parents back together. Be a family again.

They eventually reached the school and Aelin leaned over to kiss her daughter “Dad will pick you up at practice tonight.”

Maya grabbed her stuff “Ok.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, mum.”

Maya left the car and Aelin watched her enter the school and sighed. A part of her hated when it was Rowan’s turn. A whole week without her daughter. She missed her and the house felt empty.

Rowan though, had the same right as her. And while she had been terrified when she discovered she was pregnant, he had been her rock. He held her and spent the afternoon whispering it’s all going to be okay over and over again. Tears threatened to spill. Absentmindedly she touched the necklace and brushed the ring that hung from it. It was her wedding ring. She had removed it from her finger but always carried it with her. She kept telling herself that they had done the right thing, that Maya’s welfare was the outmost important thing… but it was hard and sometimes she wondered whether it really had been the wisest choice.

She sighed once more and eventually drove to work.

Rowan had left work a bit early and arrived at the ice rink well before practice finished. He loved watching his daughter play even though it brought back memories of an alternate life from long ago. Maya was a forward and was actually really good at it. Both he and Aelin were big hockey fans and slowly had passed the passion onto her and when she was older and had begged her parents to join a team they had agreed to let her do it. He watched his daughter glide on the ice with incredible skill, pass the defence and score a goal. He whooped loudly, pride bursting out of him.

It was an hour later when they were back home, Maya had gone to get showered and changed and he was busy making dinner when she joined him in the kitchen “I am making mac and cheese tonight, I think you deserve it.”

Maya grinned and sat on the table “dad, I invited mum to Saturday’s game, it’s a big one and I want her there.”

Rowan turned “of course. She can always come.”

Maya nodded and accepted her plate with food and geared up for the question that she had been burning to ask for a while now. She stuffed her face with her dad’s amazing food then paused “Dad, why you and mum don’t live together like all the other parents?”

Rowan stared at his daughter with the fork half way to his mouth. They had sort of explained the situation to Maya when she was younger, but he was aware that she was growing up and that soon they’d have to explain to her what happened in more details. He knew Maya would have questions soon. It seemed that the moment was that evening and Rowan froze. Aelin should be there too because they had agreed to have the conversation with both of them present, to offer Maya a full picture. They had separated peacefully and both tried very hard never to complain about the other parent.

He placed the fork down and gathered his courage “Maya, your mum and I got married very young after we found out we were expecting you,” he started to explain. He wanted to make sure that Maya did not feel like she was the cause of their problems “We were so young and at the time we thought marriage was the answer, but then things got hard, we fought a lot, so we decided that it was better, for you, if we split up. Making sure you were happy was our priority.”

Maya was silent and Rowan worried.

“Do you still love mum?”

The question blindsided him. He just remained silent gathering his thoughts on something he had been pondering on for a while. Lately he and Aelin had been interacting more, exchanging texts even outside the normal communications. If something happened to him he realised that Aelin had become once more the first person he wanted to tell. But it was complicated. Then he sighed and thought about his wedding ring hiding in the coins compartment of his wallet. How could explain to her that a part of him regretted divorcing her mother and giving up so easily? But Maya had been their priority and they did not want her to grow up in a household with parents fighting all the time.

“Maya it’s complicated.”

His daughter stood abruptly and in her green eyes he saw her mother fierceness. She had hair as silver as his and the same green eyes, but his daughter was as fierce and strong as her mother “no it’s not. It’s a simple yes or no question.” Her voice rose a few notches “Hellas dad, do you think I am stupid? Do you really think I did not notice that all of a sudden you two are hanging out a lot more and that you find every excuse to be near her? Or the fact that you only really smile when you are with her? You stop being a grouch only with mum or me,” she blurted out. If they were too stupid to realise they were still in love, she was going to open their eyes “and do we want to talk about the fact that you still carry your wedding ring in your wallet? Sure but keep lying to yourself that you are not still in love with mum.”

“Maya, you are twelve, what do you know about love?”

Maya straightened her back “I might be twelve and young, but I can see that my parents are living a lie. Neither of you had a lasting relationship, a few dates and then stopped. Mum hasn’t dated in years and you too. Again, I might be young but I am not stupid.” And with that she stormed out of the door and Rowan heard her slam the door of her room.

He sat at the table speechless, definitely not expecting such a reaction from her. Maybe Maya was right… slowly he placed the food away. All of a sudden he wasn’t hungry anymore.

The day of the game eventually arrived and Rowan drove Maya to the ice rink. It was a home game against Perranth that was probably going to seal the championship and Maya’s team was in the lead. To great disappointment of Elide who was a crazy Perranth supporter.

He walked up the steps and reached his assigned seat. Aelin arrived ten minutes later and landed at his side while carrying a cup with coke and a box with nachos. He smiled. Aelin would never be at a hockey game without her portion of junk food.

“Still inhaling calories?”

“Sorry, Rowan, they finished the carrots.”

He laughed at their banter. Something that even after a decade had never left them.

In revenge he stole one of her nacho chips and Aelin turned to him outraged. Rowan roared with laughter at her expression. In that instant Maya’s words popped in his head. Aelin really was the only person who could make him laugh that freely. He hadn’t realised it until his twelve years old daughter pointed it out to him. After their fight they had a tense day, but Maya then dropped the subject and he was relieved. His emotion in too much turmoil to make sense of them.

“Uhm, Maya’s birthday is very soon. Can we do it at your place? You are the one with the garden and we want to invite a few friends.”

“Oh good, I wanted to ask you about that. My place is fine. You two ladies organise it and I will make sure the garden is all ready.”

“Thanks Ro, she is excited.”

He was about to reply but the horn sounded loudly and marked the start of the match.

The game finished with a victory for Orynth. Maya had scored three of the four goals and both Aelin and Rowan had been very proud parents and cheered loudly during the entire game. Now they were outside and were waiting for Maya to join them.

Their daughter arrived a good forty minutes later and Aelin ran to her and kissed her, shouting champions with deep pride. That game had sealed the championship and they had been crowned the winners for that season. They still had two games to go, but the victory was now sealed.

Aelin had the team’s jersey and the baseball cap and on top of that she had painted her cheeks in green and silver, the colours of the team. Rowan had just worn his jersey.

“Maya and I are going home…” he said quietly. Then took a deep breath “wanna join us for dinner? We can celebrate together.”

“Please, mum, please, please.”

Aelin stared at her daughter and did not have the courage to tell her that it was not a great idea.

“Of course, my love.” What could be the danger in it?”

Once outride the house Aelin paused for a second. Rowan lived in a big detached house. He had done well, they both had, but Rowan recently had been given a huge promotion and suddenly he was on really big bucks. She chuckled thinking about the small one bedroom flat they had rented after high school. At the time it was all they could afford with part time jobs and some help from their parents. She wondered where they would be if they had stayed together.

“You coming?” Maya’s question woke her up from her thoughts.

She stepped inside the house and joined him in the living room while Maya ran to her room to stash away her gear.

“I can see that the books are going wild now.”

“Maya’s mostly. She is just as obsessed as you and I will need to buy a new house soon just for her books,” he confessed with a fond smile “I am building her a library for her birthday and running out of ideas to keep it secret.”

Aelin looked at him and all of a sudden wanted to hug him. Of one thing she was certain: Rowan’s devotion to his daughter was never questioned. The judge had initially given full custody to her, but Aelin had asked to share it. She knew from day one that Rowan would have made a wonderful dad and she was not going to take that from him.

“That will be an amazing present, now my unicorn will look positively plebeian.” She joked, walking to the kitchen with him “I got her a meet and greet with her favourite hockey player at the next home game for the Stags. I had to grovel a bit with one of my colleague who has connection in the league and it costed me three weekends in a row as paediatrician on call at the A&E but she is worth it.”

Rowan moved towards the kitchen counter “she is. She is definitely not one of my regrets.”

Aelin was stunned and just stood there on the threshold “I assume I am your biggest regrets.” It was not meant to sound that harsh, but the words left her mouth before she could stop herself.

Rowan turned to her, his face sad all of a sudden “that is not what I meant.”

She scoffed “Sure, promising hockey player turns down an offer to play professional to spend time with his pregnant girlfriend.” Since high school had been a promising hockey player and once he graduated he had received an amazing offer from the Stags to join their team as a rookie. Two weeks later she had destroyed that dream by announcing that she was pregnant. Rowan had turned down the offer and two months later he proposed.

“Did I ever complain? I gave up my career willingly. You and our daughter were more important.”

“You were miserable,” she said through gritted teeth “I heard you complain to Lorcan that you hated your life.” She paused, “I was in the living room nursing Maya and I heard you. That night I almost left you.”

Rowan stared at Aelin in silence. He vaguely remembered that night. He had been exhausted and frustrated. “I had two jobs and both were horrible but paid the bills and rent and kept us fed.”

Aelin looked away“You could have been playing with the Stags as regular player by now. Be a star, have all the glory and women flocking to you.”

“It was my choice,” he shouted “Stop putting in my mouth words I never said. You and Maya were the only good thing in my life…”

Aelin grabbed her bag “I need to go.” Her voice broken by deep grief.

“Sure Aelin, run away…”

“Fuck you, Whitethorn,” she made a turn then stopped “tell Maya I love her and that I will see her for her birthday.”

Rowan stared at Aelin disappear through the door. When he lifted his eyes he spotted Maya on the doorstep. Her eyes red from crying.

They were too busy shouting at each other to realise she had been eavesdropping. They had promised to shield Maya from their disagreements. But as he stared at his daughter’s brokenhearted expression, he realised that for the first time in twelve years they had failed her.

Fuck.

Aelin sat in her car and let the tears flow. She cried until she was spent then drove to the one person that could offer her comfort and wisdom: her mother.

The drive took a good forty minutes and now she was standing in front of her childhood home.

A knock on the door and Evalin appeared a moment later “Aelin, my love.”

Aelin landed in her mother’s arms and let the tears come back. In Evalin’s arms she sobbed hard and let free all the frustration and pain in her heart.

Evalin guided her to the sofa and the two sat together “What happened?”

“I had a fight with Rowan.”

Evalin sighed and hugged her daughter.

“What was the fight about?”

“I think he still resents me for being the reason why he had to abandon his career as professional hockey player,” she confessed “he says no, but I know him. A part of him wishes he had chosen hockey over us.”

A deep sigh left Evalin. She had met Rowan after the confession tah Aelin was pregnant and never met a more dedicated and responsible twenty one years old. He had gone looking for a job right away, had asked for help in looking for a flat. He had taken in his stride his new role as a father from the very beginning. Not once had Evalin seen an ounce of regret in his face.

“What did he say?”

“That Maya was definitely not one of his regrets,” a loud sob “I am one of them, probably the biggest one. He regrets meeting me,” she hugged her mother tight “I bet he wishes he never asked me out.”

Evalin brushed her daughter’s head “You don’t know that. You don’t know what his hockey career would have brought him. Sports glory is not eternal. He might have ended up miserable. Now he is a very successful man, you both are…”

Her daughter shook her head stubbornly.

“Aelin…” Evalin’s finger lifted her chin and blue eyes met their copy “are you still in love with him?” She had suspected for a while, but the occasion to ask had never presented itself. Now it was the perfect time. For a long time Aelin was not much fussed about Rowan, but recently sje had seen changes in her daughter.

“No…” but as soon as the word left her mouth she hid her face in the crook of her mother’s neck.

“Do you want my real opinion of the sugarcoated version?”

“Real.”

Evalin pulled back and stared at her daughter in her eyes “You both gave up too easily.”

Aelin was silent at the confession.

“As soon as it got too hard, you just called it quits and got a divorce. You took the coward way out instead of fighting for your marriage.”

Aelin sighed “What marriage? We fought so much… that was not love… it was just to cover a mistake.”

“Your daughter was not a mistake,” Evalin’s tone had gone harsh all of a sudden. She adored her granddaughter. Early pregnancy or not Maya was the joy in her grandparents’ lives.

Heavy sobs shook Aelin’s body.

Evalin sighed once more “Aelin, darling, I have been married to your father for over forty years,” she started, grabbing Aelin’s hand in hers in an attempt to calm her “Some days I would gladly strangle him or when he really pisses me off I imagine creative ways to dispose of his body,” a chuckle left her lips “I crave the evenings, like tonight, when he has his meeting with his friends, so I can have a me night.” a pause to let the words sink in “but I love him just as much as when we started dating. Forty odd years with that grump and I would not have it any other way.”

Aelin was about to add something but Evalin stopped her “We fight, all couples do. There is no such thing as the perfect marriage, Aelin. But we do our best to overcome our problems and disagreements and avoid going to bed mad at each other.”

Aelin stood silent.

“You and Rowan did not fight for each other. And Rowan’s parents think the same.”

Aelin’s hand went to her necklace, feeling the presence of the ring under the fabric.

“Do you still love him?” Evalin asked once more.

Aelin did not answer and her mother shook her head, having her final answer “you need to tell him. You and Rowan need to have a chat.”

“He has long moved on.”

“Not according to what Maya has told me.”

Evalin smiled at the surprise in Aelin’s face.

“Oh yes, your daughter has been talking a lot with me and her other grandma. Last time he dated was a few years back and on that occasion it did not go past the first date.”

“There is no future for us. That door closed on the day we signed the divorce papers.”

Evalin took a deep sigh and pulled Aelin to her “Only death is permanent.” A caress on her face “You read a lot of romance novels. Ever heard about second chance romance?”

Aelin nodded weakly.

“You and Rowan can have it. You deserve it and Maya does it too.”

Blue eyes met her copy “how? Where do I start? I want…” another sob “I dated but no one was ever like him. He is my home…”

A huge grin spread on Evalin’s face. She had known that Aelin was still in love. Now with Maya’s help she had to push them to talk.

Aelin that night went home and once in bed composed a text message: I am sorry.

I’d never regret choosing you and Maya.

Saturday finally arrived and Rowan was nervous. After the text message a few nights before he had no other contact with Aelin. Maya had told him that her mum was definitely coming. He needed a moment with her, wanted to talk. Maya was right. Truth was, he never stopped caring about Aelin. She was his home. She was still the first person he texted after a hockey game to discuss the results.

Rowan had gone and had a chat with his parents and found out that they believed they had given up too easily. His dad told him that he should have convinced Aelin to try and overcome the problems together. He had been thinking about that conversation for a few days now. He had to talk to Aelin.

Rowan was so deep in his musings when Maya joined him in the kitchen “is my cake nice and full of chocolate?”

“It definitely meet yours and your mother’s standards.”

“She needs it.”

Rowan’s ears perked up “is she okay?”

Maya grinned internally at her father’s need to fuss “She is fine. She has just been working a lot and now for some reason she has three weekend shifts in a row in the A&E. She hasn’t done that in a long time.”

He smiled. He knew that Aelin had offered to cover the emergency room in exchange of Maya’s special present.

“Maybe they are short of doctors?”

Maya shrugged “Will you be nice to her? She is tired. No stress. It’s my birthday, I want my family all together happy.”

He pulled her to his chest “I don’t want to hurt her or you,” Maya hugged her father tight and could sense the pain in his words. He cared, he still did and had decided that he was going to make an effort to give his daughter another gift. A chance to have her family again.

Aelin was late. All the guests had arrived but she was not there yet. He kept checking his phone for a message but nothing. Fear started to grow in him that she had decided to bail. He looked at Maya and she shook her head. No news.

It was almost an hour later when the doorbell rang and he ran to the door like a desperate man.

He flung the door open and in front of him stood an Aelin who looked like a wreck. Instinct screamed at him to hug her but he restrained himself.

“Sorry I am late,” her flat tone was a shot through his heart. “A&E was hell tonight…”

“Come Ae, we have plenty of chocolate.”

She gave him a tight smile and followed him inside. Maya was in her arms a second later “You made it.”

“Sorry, darling… work was bad.”

The rest of the group welcomed her and Rowan announced that it was finally present time. He wanted to keep his for last. He had been working on it for a while. The room had been locked and he had told Maya that he was working on it and it was a mess and did not want her to go inside. Aelin gave her daughter her present after all their friends. Maya had screamed at the signed jersey and at the pass for two for the meet and greet. Seeing her daughter that happy washed away a bad shift at the hospital. Soon after Rowan took her to the door that had been locked for weeks. When he opened the door Maya gasped. The room was a library. Bookcases covered the walls, and they were quite full of her books. That’s where her father had stashed them. He hadn’t placed them in the attic while he worked on the living room.

“Dad…”

“This is yours Maya, a library, I made it for you. Happy birthday, baby.”

Maya was crying and hugging her father fiercely “I love you, dad.”

It was later on when all the guests had gone and the house tidied up that Rowan went looking for Aelin. Lysandra and Elide had helped him tidy up and had told her to stay in the living room and relax. Aelin though, was not where he expected her. He walked around the house until he noticed the door of the library slightly ajar. He took a step inside and found Aelin standing and looking at the books.

He stared at her in silence. Aelin was stunning. She was the most beautiful woman he had set eyes on. He had tried to forget her with other women, but no one ever made him feel like her. She was his soulmate and he had been an idiot to even think that she could be replaced. It had taken him ten years and his daughter to realise his mistake.

“Rowan?”

He shook his head at the sound of her voice. Aelin was looking at him and her eyes were puffy.

“Aelin…” he moved a step to her and that’s when she crashed into his arms. On instinct he hugged her and the feeling of her body against to his was like coming home after a long trip.

“Are you okay?”

In his arms she started crying and he held her tighter “I lost two kids tonight….” Her sobs intensified “a hit and run. They were on their bikes and someone just drove into them…” when she started shaking he moved a hand on her back, caressing gently while the other went to her head, stroking her hair in an attempt of comfort.

He always hated when Aelin was hurting. It made him physically sick.

“I love you…” he whispered very softly not afraid anymore of the truth that had been now clear as daylight “ I never stopped…” Aelin looked up and stared in his pine green eyes in disbelief “I have one big regret.”

She tried to pull back but he kept her close “I regret that I ever let you go, that I gave up easily when things got hard.” With the back of his hand he caressed her face while his thumb wiped her tears “it took a chat with our daughter to realise that I am still in love with you.”

Aelin stared at him stunned for what felt like an eternity “I… I tried to convince myself that you resented me because it was easier. It allowed me to keep my distance and ignore my feelings.” Her hand went to her neck and pulled out the necklace and showed him her wedding ring “I wear it all the time. You are always with me.”

Rowan chuckled and extracted his wallet from his back pocket. He opened the little compartments for the coins and extracted a silver band identical to Aelin’s.

“I want to try… I want our second chance…” she whispered while searching his gaze and the smile he gave her was the most stunning vision she ever saw. And when he nodded Aelin’s fears left her.

“Mala save me I missed you…” he grabbed her and pulled Aelin at his chest. She looked up at him through her blurred vision and then buried her face in the crook of his neck. She inhaled the scent of pine and snow that always made her feel at home.

Rowan had not realised how truly he had missed until she was in his arms once more. But never again. And when he looked down once againit was to slant his mouth on hers. His souls sang at the contact, recognising the part that had gone missing for too long. He kissed her and all the pieces fell back into place. He was complete once more.

Maya had gone downstairs to get some water when she heard voices in the library. Silently she flattened against the wall and listened. It was her parents and they were talking.

And when she heard her dad tell Aelin he loved her, Maya had to try very hard not to squeal. She knew it and took pride in having opened his eyes to his stupidity.

She stood and listened and when she peeked inside and saw them kissing she started crying in happiness.

6 months later.

While Maya was getting ready for the wedding she took a moment to think about the whirlwind that the previous six months had been. After the evening in the library, her parents had spent countless nights talking and dealing with the past. She knew they wanted to get everything out and not leave anything that might jeopardise the relationship again. She had given them space. A few times had organised a sleepover at Aidan’s and auntie Lys had been delighted in playing a part in getting her parents back together.

Until one night they took her aside and asked her if she was okay with Aelin moving to Rowan’s house. They had explained her that they finally were ready for their new life together. To be a family again. Maya had screamed in delight. Three months later Rowan proposed in their back garden that she had helped to decorate.

And now the big day had finally arrived and she was excited. They had gone for a very low key ceremony in their back garden and Alistair, her grandfather was going to officiate. Rhoe was going to walk Aelin down the aisle and she had been appointed maid of honour with auntie Lysandra and Elide as bridesmaid.

She walked down the grass and stopped to take her position and face her dad. He looked stunning and happy. Since he an her mum had reconciled, not a day has passed when he wasn’t smiling, or humming while cooking. They were both two brand new people. They had only needed a little push to finally face what had been in front of them.

Classical music filled the air and Aelin finally appeared at Rhoe’s arm. Maya did not miss the light in Rowan’s eyes when he saw her.

Aelin stopped in front of him and her father in law took the stage.

“Thank you every one for being here today at my son and Aelin’s wedding,” he started, scanning the crowd “Life doesn’t always offer second chances, but if you are offered one you better take it. Rowan and Aelin have chosen their family and today they are here, in front of us, to rekindle the promise that they had exchanged thirteen years ago.”

Alistair nodded and Rowan took Aelin’s hand “Fireheart, fate has allowed me to get to marry my soulmate a second time. I am a lucky man and I will treasure forever this moment. I also don’t want to spend another day apart from you,” he grabbed her hand “You and Maya are my dream, my perfect life and my everything. I love you. To whatever end.”

He heard Aelin sniffle and squeezed his hand in return “My buzzard, you entered my life on tip toes and slowly became a part of my own soul. For ten years I wandered in search for answers and a way to deal wit the past and the hole you left in my life.” She paused and looked at Maya “turns out our daughter was the key,” Aelin extended her hand and invited the girl to join them “I love you Rowan, there’s no way without you.”

Maya squealed and kissed her mum.

Alistair smiled at his granddaughter, then looked at Lorcan and took the rings. The same ones they used in their first marriage and never abandoned. They had just asked a jeweller to change the dates inside, but had wanted to keep the originals.

Rowan grabbed Aelin’s ring “Aelin with this ring I promise you to cherish you, to walk the path of life at your side. In health, in sickness, through bad and good days, to fight for us, until death do us part.” He placed the ring and Aelin got ready to do the same “Rowan, with this ring, accept my promise to share my life with you for good and for worse, through illness and health, to hold your hand in this journey together, till death do us part.”

Aelin placed the ring on his finger and stared in his eyes glistening with joy.

Maya grabbed both of her parents’ hands and turned to her grampa.

“Friends, family, please join me in sharing our love for Aelin and Rowan Whitethorn-Galathynius. I wish you all the happiness in the universe.” He patted Rowan’s shoulder “now come on, you have my permission to kiss her.”

Rowan’s arms sneaked behind her back and pulled her to his chest and kissed with all the love he had for the woman in his arms.

Later on, during a break in the festivities Aelin grabbed her husband and pulled him aside.

“Aelin, I don’t think this is the right time for a quickie.”

Her finger landed on his lips “you are insatiable.”

Rowan moved even closer “I have ten years to make up for.”

She giggled but pushed him back gently “I have something to tell you….”

He looked at his wife with a mix of nervousness “if you have changed your mind it’s too late.”

Aelin kissed him “No, I love you and being married to you feels right,” her hands carded in his long hair “I am pregnant, Rowan.”

The happiness that spread on his face was the most beautiful and precious sight.

“For real?”

Aelin nodded.

“I love you,” his hand landed on her still flat belly.

Rowan held his wife in his arms and together they slow danced at the sound of the music in the background.

No more fears, no more running. They were a family now.

He hugged Aelin closer and while inhaling the lavender scent of her hair he considered himself the luckiest man alive. He had a second chance, and with it the love of his life in his arms.

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