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#i want him to father my children so bad it's unreal
munku-collar · a month ago
You said to send cats stuff for your to talk about so:
Any Munku-dad headcanons?
Ahhh yessss! Munkustrap is a wonderful father!! He has lots of experience kitten rearing, and it’s something he really enjoys. He’s learned all he knows from the older queens in the tribe, because they took on the role for him and Tugger after Grizabella left, and they taught him well. He knows when to be stern, when to let things slide, and can stay calm enough most of the time to sort problems out. He still defers to their wisdom on occasion when there’s something even he can’t figure out, but for the most part, Munkustrap is a tom you would have no problem leaving your children with for long lengths of time, which is such a blessing for Demeter. 
Munk adores and cares for all the kittens in the Junkyard as often as he can, but even though he will deny it, Jemima is his favorite. She may not be his in blood, but she is in heart, and that’s a lot more important, he would say. Jemima was only about a week old when Demeter joined the Jellicles, and Demeter is the first to admit she’s not exactly sure what she’s doing most of the time. Jemima is her first kitten, and she didn’t have any siblings growing up, and her mother died years ago, so she didn’t have any guiding hands beyond instinct and intuition. And she does a good job, tries her best, asks for help when she needs it. She might ask too much, honestly, instead of trusting in herself. She worries often that she’s doing something wrong, that she’s not a good enough mother, but Munkustrap, and Jennyanydots and Jellylorum assure her she’s doing just fine.
Munk takes special joy in helping raise Jemima, especially since he and Demeter got together. It makes him happy to be able to help both of them, after hearing about what Demeter had been through, and he just, sort of fell in love with them both the moment he met them. Honestly, he took one look at the tiny kitten in her arms, said, “Is anyone going to father her?” and didn’t wait for an answer. He just felt this sense of responsibility different even from how he feels for the rest of the kittens and the tribe(because he does feel responsible for each and every one of them, and does everything he can to take care of them all.) And it’s great, because Jemima turns out to be a daddy’s girl too, 100% and always has been. They just have a really sweet and special connection, and spend lots of quality time together. Jemima loves her mother too, of course, but she’s undeniably closer to Munkustrap. Demeter points it out one day, and Munkustrap denies it at first, but in the end he admits it, and has a hard time hiding his proud smile. Demeter shakes her head fondly and rolls her eyes.
Munkustrap has taught several of the kittens in the yard important skills like pouncing and scenting for danger, what to eat and what not to eat, and the importance of communication. He’s an expert at breaking up squabbles too, whether it be with a simple phrase, or if he has to be a bit harsher, and raise his voice. Sometimes he’ll just pick up the arguing kitten closest to him and hold them up high, and refuse to put them down, and eventually the argument dissolves into giggles instead. He loves teaching them all little songs too, and encouraging creativity. He’s been there for first steps, first dances, and first songs. He beams with pride every time a new kitten decides to perform their first dance. It’s just entirely satisfying to him, seeing them achieve new things, watching them grow up. It makes him feel like he’s done something amazing, even though he’ll always downplay his involvement. 
And the kittens love him too, obviously. They’re always clinging to him, playing with his tail or asking to be held, fighting over the most coveted spot in the junkyard, which is right between his legs when he stands, and he rarely denies them. Honestly he hardly notices them half of the time. He’s that used to it. Grizabella was never really affectionate towards him and Tugger, except on rare occasions, and it’s something that still sort of bothers Munkustrap. He would never think of denying a kitten the chance to cuddle, of making them all aware of his love for them. 
Sometimes he gets exhausted dealing with them though, and needs to step away, take some time for himself. On the rare days Munkustrap is actually angry or in a bad mood, everyone knows to behave. Getting in serious trouble with Munkustrap is the last thing on anyone’s list. He’d never hurt anyone when angry, but he’s undeniably a little intimidating, thanks to his size, and it’s always startling to see someone who is often calm and affectionate feeling entirely the opposite. He retreats to his den or even his owner’s house in times like that, not wanting to put anyone off or scare them with his bad mood, but he always comes back recharged, in his usual demeanor, and things continue as normal.
In short, Munkustrap’s relationship with children is just one of the 90000 reasons he’s the world’s best man.  
26 notes · View notes
philliamwrites · a month ago
Text
One Fool’s Heart [Rank 5]
Fandom: Persona 5
Pairing: Akira / Reader, later: Akira / Akechi (one-sided)
Tags: #reader-insert, #implied/referenced past child abuse, #implied/referenced self-harm, #swearing, #unreliable narrator, #bisexual female character, #fem! reader, #bisexual akira kurusu, #reader is 23y, #reader is a student, #introducing a new arcana for plot’s sake, #unreal depictions of psychologists & psychiatrists, #references to depression, #humor, #slow burn, #persona 5 spoilers, #angst and hurt/comfort, #age difference #consenual underage romance, #eating disorder, #healing, #persona 3 easter eggs, #persona 4 easter eggs, #no persona 5 royal spoilers
Words: 9k
Summary: All you wanted was a nice part time job to scrape by. But if you had known how much of a smug sass-master Akira Kurusu would turn out to be, you’d have thought twice about agreeing to tutor him.
Notes: Rank 4 | Rank 6
[Rank 5]
     The first thing you remember about your father is that he loved to give piggy-back rides. Though in the pictures surfacing from a deep, black sea, it’s never quite clear if it’s you or your brother sitting on your dad’s shoulders, wagging tiny sticks at everything in your reach. Only the remembrance of summer with its humid air, the sweet smell of flowers and strawberries waiting on the veranda of your grandparent’s house in the countryside is palpable enough as evidence of some better time.
    Now, those days feel like a different life. This man sitting in front of you doesn’t look anything like someone who would grab children and swirl them around while making plane noises to charm giggles and laughs out of them. No, in front of you is someone powerful enough to stripe a person from everything important to them with only a couple of words in the prospect of good payment and reputation.
    You’re sitting at your tiny table, poking around the take-out your father has brought, now spread out in front of you. Background noises from the TV fill the silence. On the screen, a red haired girl is smiling into the camera, her straight back just as much of a statement as her next words. “… I don’t quite like The Phantom Thieves. In the end, people have to solve their problems on their own, I think.”
    The presenter hums approvingly. “And that was our royal princess, Rin Amamiya, on the newest development of the Phantom Thieves,” he says. “We will keep you updated on her upcoming entrance to the Shujin Academy as a first year.”
    The cutlery lands with a sharp sound on the table. When you look up, Dad is scowling at the TV. “What nonsense,” he says. “A group threatening our law system with their childish view of justice. It seems our media has too much latitude to cover a topic like that.”
    You shrug, shoving vegetables from one side on your plate to the other. Before that, thinking about the Phantom Thieves has always left a sour taste in your mouth. Now, the spite towards them is replaced by a feeling of fellowship if it means opposing your father, so you say, “It seems they do better than some people I know.”
    Heavy silence crawls like a beast, ready to pounce, and when you look up, Dad watches you with a strange expression. It’s close to how your mother would look if a cockroach would scurry around her kitchen floor.
    “Why are you not eating?” he asks instead of pressing your previous statement. There’s so much of you in this little act, you feel sick.
    “I’m not hungry.”
    “Should I have brought nigiri with eel instead?” he continues, a small smile stealing into his stern expression. “You’ve always liked that.”
    The sickness twists right into nausea as you drag your chair back, trying to get as much space between your bodies as possible.
    “No, it’s Kinoe,” you say, curling your hands into fists at his confused stare. “Kinoe likes eel.”
    “Ah, that’s right,” Dad says, not looking embarrassed in the slightest. “It’s always nice to remember the first time your brother had it.”
    “Oh yeah? Just like how nice it is to remember how you left him rotting in that hospital?”
    The little smile dies on his lips. Dad considers you with a scrutinising look, his eyes a steely mirror of your own.
    “I don’t understand what gives you that impression,” he says, his voice several notes deeper. “Kinoe is in that place because he needs help. And he will get it from skilled people capable of fixing him.”
    A shudder rips through your body. “He doesn’t need to be fixed ! What he needs is for you people to leave him alone and get him out of that … that prison!”
    “I think you do not understand,” Dad says, collected and dissociated like he’s talking about a distant relative. Maybe that’s really how he sees his son. “You worry too much, and that worry prevents you from seeing the big picture. It makes you weak, and more importantly, it makes you hold on to something that will drag you down.” Dad gets up. He looms over you, and you hate how it makes you feel like a little child that is scolded for supposedly wrongdoings. “Let it go. If you don’t let go of what will drag you down, you won’t come far in this world.”
    “I’m not—” You gasp for air, fighting the swelling tears piercing your eyes. “I won’t be like you.”
    “And you will see how much you will regret that later.”
    “Maybe you have stopped believing in him,” you say, rising in your seat, straightening your back to appear as confident as the girl from the news show. “But I won’t.”
    Dad watches you, and for a moment, you see the anger blazing in his eyes before it quickly settles. It doesn’t calm your heartbeat. You’ve learnt that anything he has planned for you that isn’t his loud, unleashed furry, will be worse.
    “So you won’t listen to reason. I give you a roof and a shelter. I give you a chance for education and prosperity. I ask of you one simple thing, and in return you question my ways and act like a child. If you stand against everything I hold high of value, then there is no need for me to give you what you so clearly despite. Your rent, your college tuition.” He raises an eyebrow in challenge at your shocked face.
    All air leaves your lungs. “You can’t— you can’t do that,” you stammer. “You can’t have bothchildren fail the family.”
    He must notice how you’re desperately clinging to whatever threads cross your mind. A pleased smile spreads on his lips as he goes to your couch where he’s left his suit jacket. “I can do as I please. I’m certain a lot of children would do anything to have the same opportunity you have, and your mother agrees.”
    This is the last strike your heart can take. Your voice breaks when you nearly sob, “Just what happened to you?”
    Dad looks from you to the TV screen where they’re broadcasting another report about a psychotic breakdown. He straightens his unwrinkled jacket and moves to the door.
    “This is your last chance,” he says, slipping into his shoes. “I don’t want to hear anything from you about your brother.”
    You stay silent, speechless in front of the giant abyss gaping in front of you, threatening to swallow you whole. Dad considers you a last time, his hand already on the doorhandle. “And call your mother from time to time. She’s upset there’s little she can tell her friends about your studies.” He doesn’t wait for a response, and only after the door closes behind him, you manage to come up with some sort of reaction. You remove your slipper and throw it at the door. “I HATE YOU!”
    No one answers. You take the other slipper and throw it as well, the second bang even louder. “YOU’RE A MONSTER!”
    Someone laughs behind you. A comedy is running, some people with painted faces dressed in animal costumes dance on the screen. Their joy only fuels your seething anger, the laid table with the take-away the only obstacle hindering you from punching the screen. So you kick the table instead and send the remaining food containers flying through the living room. It doesn’t stop there. Whatever gets in your hands ends up smashed against the walls or stomped. Before you can consider throwing your rice cooker against the TV, someone pounds on your door. A bolting fear strikes you. It’s Dad, ready to commit you to a hospital as well. Wiping your tears away, you arm yourself with a brush, ready to fight until the bitter end. Let’s see how he’ll like that to his face.
    But behind the door is just Iori, standing there with a corncob in his hand. Over his shoulder, you see the door to his apartment standing wide open.
    “Dude, are you okay?” he asks, his brows furrowed in worry. “It sounds like. Someone’s getting killed in there. Like. It’s really bad.”
    “Well, I certainly wish someone was dead,” you mumble, staring at him and hoping he’ll get the meaning and leaves you alone. Iori nods like he’s been part of the catastrophic dinner with your dad and gets why you’re so angry.
    “Sorry to hear that.” He tries to get a look over your shoulder. You get on your tiptoes.
    “Here, I hope that makes you happy.” His corncob is still warm as he pushes it in your hands. You look back up at him. “Why?”
    “Cuz when you’re upset, you’re hungry. And when you’re hungry, you get upset.” He taps a finger against his temple, grinning. “Simple math.”
    Despite all things, you take a bite. He’s even taken the effort to put butter on it, and something little as that manages to ease the hold of the clutches of despair clawing at your back.
    “Iori, what would I do without you.”
    His brilliant smile is blinding. “Yeah, man. Sometimes I wonder the same.”
    The next time Akira texts you, a couple of weeks have passed since his high tail. Since then, he’s cancelled most of your study sessions, each reason more vague than the previous until you’re convinced you won’t see him ever again. But then, finally, a message from him waits in your mail box, looking quite innocent and with proper grammar asking you to come around and help him for his upcoming finals. The lack of emojis and misspellings is the last evidence you needed to know your friendship is officially unrepairable. Speaking of unrepairable, throwing your furniture around wasn’t one of your brightest ideas and now you’re faced with additional expenses you don’t need with college tuition coming up, especially since you don’t know if your dad will keep his word or will let you have a first bitter taste of what will happen if you continue defying him. All in all, it certainly isn’t the best time to be you, and oh how much you wish you could shed your skin and become someone else.
    The cicadas are unbearably loud in this part of Yongen-Jaya. Vendors hide in the shadows of their shops, their eyes following you with caution, but lacking their usual predatory glint. Inside Leblanc, you’re the only customer. You find Akira in a booth hunched over the table. Something squirms in his arms, a desperate meow drifts in a single note through the cafe. A tiny white paw pushes against Akira’s cheek. Morgana is cradled in his arms, but happiness looks different. His tiny feet struggle as he tries to break free out of Akira’s vice grip.
    “Do I need to call the animal protection service?” you ask, sitting down and looking for Sojiro. Except for Akira, the cafe is empty.
    Morgana gives you affirmative cries. Akira looks up, sleepiness colouring his eyes darker, and lies his cheek on Morgana’s belly. “I give him food and a place to sleep. That’s the least he can do for me.”
    Morgana thinks otherwise as he chews on Akira’s temple stem. When he manages to wiggle free, Morgana jumps out of Akira’s arms, over the table and settles on your lap like he owns it, glaring at his owner across the table. To compensate for the trauma he’s experienced, you scratch Morgana behind his ears. When he starts purring, Akira gives him the look of utter betrayal.
    “So we’re going to make you ready for finals, huh,” you say, trying to make small talk. “I can’t believe six months are already over.”
    Akira doesn’t seem to want any of it. “Uh-huh,” he says, scrolling through his phone. You wait for the elaboration on that sound, but Akira remains quiet. With nothing left to say, you spread the materials on the table. Akira watches you like a predator on hunt.
    “You wanna go over some stuff from last time?” you offer, trying to look past the gleam on his glasses.
    Akira shakes his head. “Actually, we should wait a little more.”
    “Wait?” You stop reaching out to the papers in front of you. “Wait for what?”
    He hesitates the tiniest second, but it’s enough time. Behind you, the door opens and welcomes a gust of warm wind inside the room.
    “Hey Akira! We got the snacks!” an all to familiar voice announces, followed by multiple feet stomping into the cafe.
    “Ryuji, stop pushing!” Ann shoves him to the side like a bag of potatoes. Akira avoids your eyes as you turn around to greet his friends. Besides Ann and Ryuji, two other unfamiliar faces watch you with curious eyes.
    “Oh, you made her come!” Ann exclaims, clapping her hands in excitement.
    You look from them to Akira, then back to them. And back to Akira. A mischievous glint lights up his eyes, the breath hitching in his throat as he opens his mouth, then quickly presses his lips together when he notices you starring daggers at him. Seeing your murderous gaze, he seems to think twice before jumping on that innuendo and instead clears his throat.
    “Yeah,” he says, looking away from you. “Just as promised.”
    “Oh, really?” You swallow around the lump in your throat. “You guys wanted me to help you study?”
    “Hell yeah!” Ryuji slides right into the seat next to you, glaring at Morgana sprawled over your lap as if just by the will of his stare he’s able to switch their positions. “Akira didn’t want at first, but come on! Except for our school’s Prez, there’s no one who can teach us that stuff better than someone who’s been through it all, right?”
    You nod, the smile frozen on your face. Now that’s some news you could have gladly been spared today. No wonder Akira sounded so formal when he asked if you could come over. He must have really wanted to avoid you longer, were it not for his friends. And judging from what you now about him so far, he isn’t one to deny requests.
    “Yeah, that’s no problem at all,” you say, quickly filling the silence before your lack of response became suspicious. It’s strange Akira didn’t tell you about the others coming though. Maybe he’d feared you’d decline. Or charge extra. Which you totally will, now that you think about it.
    “Hello,” offers the other girl now sliding next to Akira. Her short brown hair curls around her jaw and falls over her forehead, just inches away from concerningly sharp, brown eyes. “Thank you so much for accepting us into your tutor schedule. I am Makoto Nijima.”
    “It’s no problem at all,” you say, scooting over to the wall so Ann can fit next to Ruyji. The other boy in this round of strange teenagers takes the free place beside Makoto. He exchanges very suspicious looks with Akira, then proceeds to stare at you for a solid minute. Ignoring it succeeds only so long, before you give him a small, awkward smile. “Hi there?”
    Makoto nudges him with her elbow.
    “Ah, yes. My apologies, I am Yusuke Kitagawa. And you must be the one Akira has mentioned so often,” he says, nodding like he’s met with a revelation. Shuffling comes from somewhere next to you, a leg brushes against yours. Yusuke jumps slightly and glares at Ryuji, swallowing a gasp of pain. These kids should really learn a thing or two about subtlety.
    “Anyyyway, how about we start?” Ann intervenes with her brilliant smile. “Looks like you’ve brought lots of material for us to go through!”
    And that’s how one of the most awkward 90 minutes of your life start. Everyone’s brought a little something from their classes which is fine until you’re looking at tasks from English and suffer through some serious PTSD, thinking back to your English finals and entrance exams. Luckily Ann comes to your rescue, and that’s how you get to know a little bit about everyone that day; that Ann’s half Finnish with a love for sweets that surpasses every child’s; that Yusuke likes to fill every blank space in his notebook with studies of hand drawings, glancing at Akira’s for reference; that Makoto is a junkie for brightly coloured sticky notes with a brain that is just beautiful to hear thinking; that Ryuji absentmindedly kneads his right knee whenever he’s struggling to come up with the solution to a task. The only slate remaining the same, filled with little to no facts, is Akira’s. He's still refusing to acknowledge you, his attention shifting smoothly between his friends and only turning to you if it's necessary. He knows how to keep conversations polite without ending on an awkward note, and seems somewhat relieved once you stop trying to talk to him. If that’s how he wants to play it, then so be it, but he’s underestimating you big time if he thinks you won’t confront him about that once you’re alone.
    “Maaan, I can’t do this,” Ryuji groans. He stretches and leans back, his pen long forgotten between textbooks, and takes up too much space between the three of you in a booth that’s meant for two people. Ann thinks the same and drills her elbow in his side.
    “Can’t you focus for at least five minutes? You’re disturbing everyone else,” she says, twirling long strands of golden hair around her finger.
    Ryuji gives her a nasty glare, rubbing his side. “I can’t work like that, man. I need some kind of motivation or else nothing’s gonna happen.”
    “Not failing your test should be motivation enough for you, shouldn’t it?” Makoto offers, not looking up from the sentence she’s writing down.
    Ryuji grumbles to himself, then perks up. “Oh, I got it! Fireworks! We should go and see the fireworks!”
    Several heads look up, their expressions varying from interested to doubting. Ryuji quickly continues now that he has everyone’s attention. “It’s on the 18th, after finals, and it’ll totally make up for all the anxiety and stress I’m going through right now. Plus, like … there’s another. Reason. Right. Akira?” he says, jerking his chin towards Makoto between every last word. It’s obvious there’s something he can’t say out loud, and Akira immediately picks up on it. Yusuke not so much.
    “Another reason?” he asks, abandoning his math equation. “Which is?”
    Ann’s forced smile is threatening to split her face in half. “Oh, you know, Yusuke! Celebrating that Makoto became one of our friends.”
    Whatever this is, its cringe is too painful to watch. For a brief moment, you consider calling them out; telling them that you know ‘friends’ stands for something completely different and you’re onto them.
    Yusuke, the sweet summer child, asks, looking at you, “I see, of course! Then please, would you come with us? Now that you’re also our friend, it would only be fair to invite you as well!”
    Several heads snap in his direction, the reactions going from a hissed “Yusuke” to a hushed “Take the hint, man”. Only Akira is looking at you, probably evaluating how much you’re interpreting from everyone’s reaction.
    Needless to say, it’s a lot. You can clearly see you’re unwanted, and even Morgana has sympathy with you as he rubs his chin on your bare thigh. Or maybe he just wants you to resume patting him.
    “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Akira finally offers, staring back down on his task like it needs his complete concentration. “She has enough to do for college. It would be bad if we stole more of her time, right?”
    “That’s not for you to decide,” you don’t snap at him because you like to think you have that much dignity. “Yeah,” you agree instead. “Deadlines coming up and stuff.”
    “Oh, that’s too bad,” Ann says, slightly wincing herself at the relief in her voice. “But maybe next time!”
    You’re pretty sure there won’t be a next time, but you nod nonetheless so they don’t feel bad about it.
    After the session, you join Ann and the rest when they leave Leblanc, seeing as there is no way to get a hold of Akira and talk to him in private with how he avoids you like the plague. Outside, the streets are much cooler. More people linger around the shops, drawn out of their homes and now more active in the evening hours. Your little group moves towards the underground station, and you’d really like to say how strange it is to hang out with those youngsters, but something about them all appears age-less, like they don’t follow basic laws of nature, defying the very notion that age is something that might differentiate people. That is until Ryuji sees the poster of the game Punch Ouch coming out soon and turns into a four year old, getting so excited he starts pulling at everyone’s clothes.
    “Why is he such an idiot,” Ann says beside you, wearing an exhausted expression. You sort of want to admit that it gives him a certain kind of charm, but Ann quickly continues, “By the way, thanks again for today! Now I finally get why Akira’s been on top of our class for so long.”
    “I think he’s a smart guy by default,” you say, but the compliment flatters you nonetheless, especially coming from Ann.
    “Oh, totally,” she agrees, quickly checking herself out in the reflection of a window. “Sometimes it feels like he’s soo much older than us.”
    “Akira certainly is very mature for his age,” Makoto joins in. One thing you’ve noticed is her unnervingly straight back and drawn back shoulders, a posture your mother surely would love to see on you as well. Thinking of her, you hunch even more. “I’m sure that whatever he’s planned for his future, it will work out in his favour.”
    “Not with that sassy attitude of his,” you mutter, but no one picks it up. Seriously, if you had known how much of a sass-master Akira turned out to be, you’d have thought twice about agreeing tutoring him. Not that it matters anymore. When you said your goodbyes earlier, he didn’t say anything when you missed out on telling him what to do for next sessions or that you’ll see each other next time. Seems like it’s time for you to look for a new job.
    “It’ll be the first time me going confident into exams,” Ann chirps, glancing briefly at Ryuji and Yusuke arguing about something. “Remind me to invite you to crêpe next time we meet!”
    “I think we should all think about little thank you gift,” Makoto agrees. “We wouldn’t want you to think Akira is surrounded by inconsiderate jerks.”
    You don’t quite follow how it matters what you think of them, but it’s certainly refreshing meeting someone so polite.
    “The only jerk we got around is Morgana,” Ryuji unhelpfully joins, earning an exasperated sigh from Ann that sounds like this isn’t the first time they're holding this kind of conversation. Instead of starting another argument though, she turns back to you and says, “But I was kind of surprised how at ease Morgana was around you. You must be hanging out a lot with them, right?”
    Multiple eyes wait for your answer, and somehow you feel no matter what you say, there isn’t a right one.
    “Sort of,” you drag out, pretending the colourful adverts hanging on the buildings need your full attention. “But like Akira said, I’ve been busy lately, so …”
    “The cat’s just friendly cause you’re a girl,” Ryuji clarifies, rolling his eyes. Ann kicks him. “But man, they’re both so lucky living above that cafe and all,” he continues. “I’d pay anything to have Boss make me some of his sick curry every day.”
    Yusuke mutters something that sounds like “as if you could appreciate the fine craftsmanship of that”. You just stop listening to whatever Ryuji snaps back.
    “By the way, does any of you know why he lives there?” you ask into the round. “Boss is what? A relative? Or just someone who took him in?”
    The kids grow quiet all of a sudden. They exchange those looks; looks that say more than words, looks only shared by people who are intimate with each other.
    Ryuji breaks the silence first. “Truth is, he got involved into some real stupid—”
    Makoto cuts him off with a sharp glare. “Ryuji.”
    “It would be best you ask him yourself,” Yusuke provides with a stern expression. “We are in no position to talk about his situation.”
    Situation he calls it. You don’t press further, respecting these kid’s loyalty. If you needed any further proof that Akira is surrounded by friends who really cherish him, this is certainly the selling argument. What still bothers you though is that chances are high Akira won’t tell you even if you ask him. Akira is an enigma you can’t solve because every time you think you have the solution for a part, it turns out it doesn’t fit at all and instead opens a dozen new riddles. It’s frustrating, and disheartening, but you stand firm to what you told Akira all those weeks ago. If he thinks he can get rid of you that easily, you’re up for the challenge to prove him wrong.
    “I need to get laid and you’re going to help me.”
    You look up from your essay, only a couple hundred words away from finishing it and going into a long overdue relaxing weekend. Whatever Kenji Tomochika sees in your face, it isn’t the reaction he’s expected because he immediately turns on his begging strategy and drapes himself over your table, covering your books with his body. Kenji is a nice guy. A little too eager to please, and what he lacks in theoretical understanding, he makes up with a lot of on point intuition that borders on scary. As a law senior, he’s already done with most of the obligatory part and now focuses on looking for a place to finish all his internships. With his natural flirty tendency, it’s a surprise he’s asking anybody for help. You’ve heard from a third party that he used to date a teacher back in high school, but you take them for what they are. Rumours.
    “Come oooon, I promise I’m gonna prepare all your presentation slides for the rest of this term,” he offers, blinking up at you.
    You ignore his pleading eyes. “No offence, but your slides tend to be the most useless I’ve ever seen.”
    “More like full offence,” Kenji mutters, leaning back. “It’s not like you have I any other plans for today evening. Right?”
    “Maybe I do.”
    “Narukami’s outta town. You don’t hang out with anyone else. I’m willing to spend some time with you out of the goodness of my heart. There’s literally no reason to decline.”
    You answer with the most blank expression you can muster, hoping Kenji fills it himself with a clear One reason is simply I don’t want to hang out with you. Kenji remains clueless.
    “Don’t tell me there’s no one else who wants to be your wingman,” you say.
    Kenji looks sheepishly away. “You’re the only one I trust.”
    What a smooth gremlin. Plus you’ve always been weak to dimples and oh boy, Kenji uses his like a sharp weapon cutting down your defences. It’d be great if someone could finally put a leash on him and stop him from flirting with everything that fancies two legs.
    “When and where?”
    Kenji’s eyes light up like a child’s. “I could kiss you.” You don’t miss his hand sneaking up to your thigh. “Actually, if you wanna—”
    “I’m going to chop off something very important to you if you don’t take your hands off,” you say, not looking away from your essay. Kenji gives a nervous little chuckle, but pulls his hand away with lightning-speed.
    So that is how you end up standing in front of Crossroads, a popular bar tugged away under a large office building in Shinjuku. Kenji is fashionably late, as always, but when he finally arrives ten minutes past your meeting time, you can’t stop the groan once he stands in front of you.
    “What are you wearing?”
    Kenji looks at his attire, tuxedo and tie looking sharp like they just came out of the cleaners. “Why, what’s wrong?”
    “We’re going to a bar, not to the Prime Minister’s wedding.”
    “You think the Prime Minister would invite me?!”
    You groan again, pushing him towards the door. “Just get inside.”
    The interior hasn’t changed much since your last visit a couple of months ago. Pinkish-red light throws black shadows into the corners of the room. Lots of patrons linger around, even though it’s barely 8. You can hear Lala’s smooth, deep voice rumbling through the air, the sweet smell of booze lingering everywhere. Undeniably, this establishment has class and all of a sudden you feel out of place and wished you were wearing something as fancy as Kenji, who seems to read your mind and gives you a smug jerk of his chin, celebrating his own attire.
    “Welcome to Crossroads,” someone greets you from behind the bar, and your legs freeze, succeeding in Kenji walking right into you. You can’t believe it. Behind the bar stands a lanky boy wearing an apron, thick black curls sticking in every direction. Motherfucker.
    “What are you doing here?” you ask Akira who blinks innocently at you like he’s never been anywhere else than in this bar. He’s scrubbing a glass, and nods at you like a cowboy who doesn’t want to hurt another cowboy.
    “Welcome,” he repeats. “What can I bring you?”
    So that’s the game he wants to play. Fine, you’re pretty good at ignoring people as well, so you pull Kenji towards the farthest seat away from the bar, ignoring his complains about how you’re putting wrinkles in his suit jacket. Unfortunately, he thwarts your brilliant plan by growing roots and remains right there in front of the bar stools.
    “Wait, let’s just sit down here and have the booze keep coming,” he says, and sits down right in front of Akira. You don’t miss how Kenji sneaks glances to the girl in a pink evening dress sitting two stools to his left. Akira considers you for two seconds, then moves to the far right, away from you. Kenji looks after him with apparent interest like a shark that’s scented blood from miles away.
    “You know him?” he asks the unavoidable, and now you’re feeling really petty, so you answer loud enough for Akira to hear, “Barely.”
    Kenji doesn’t look like he believes you. The girl in the pink dress sitting beside him doesn’t look like she believes you. Behind you, Akira coughs what suspiciously sounds like “Liar.” You refuse to acknowledge him, and Kenji thankfully doesn’t comment on it as well. Finally, Lala comes around and greets you, flipping ash in an ashtray next to the sink and looking astonishing as always in her beautiful kimono.
    “Why, if this isn’t Kenji. Nice of you to show your face again after all this time,” she greets him, then immediately turns to you. “And this your girlfriend?”
    “I wish,” Kenji says at the same time you throw back, “Heck no.”
    Lala doesn’t even blink. “Yes, you do seem too good for him.”
    When Kenji complains, she softly chucks the bottom of his chin with a loose fist and smiles, promising to serve you two drinks right away. She’s just everything you aspire to be.
    “Look at her, treating me like I’m a little kid,” Kenji mumbles, picking on his paper towel. His eyes quickly shift to the girl, before he picks himself up again and straightens his back. No time can mentally prepare you for what he’s planned to pick her up. “But back to what I was telling you! I’m currently working with pharmaceutical companies. They were looking for a prosecutor who’s got experience in that industry, and well,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. “There’s no one better than me.”
    Oh God, how often did you tell him that gloating about himself isn’t the best ice breaker. You say, “Great,” but it comes off too dry, so you clear your throat and try again with as much awe as you can stuff in your voice, “Grrreeaaat.” Kenji nods eagerly, and then starts rambling about some bad cases and some worse co-workers, and it becomes really hard to focus on what he says and react accordingly. At least the drinks Lala keeps serving are a nice consolation for the evening that you lose. You’re basically just slurping away your drink during Kenji’s frantic speech, when suddenly something hits the back of your head. When you turn around, a little nut clatters to the ground. Kenji looks over your shoulder, staring down at the little thing.
    “Woah, where did that come from?”
    You have a pretty good idea, and when you raise your eyes, there’s only one person in your sight. Akira whistles like it’s no one’s business, but he left the bowl with nuts and raisins close to him intentionally so you can see them. You take a deep breath. Maybe his hand slipped or something.
    “Okay, and so how did the case end?” you resume the conversation, squaring your shoulders so Akira can see they’re a wall separating you two. If Akira understands your idea, he answers by using nuts as bullets to tear it down. Another nut lands against the back of your head. Then another, then another. The fifth gets stuck in your hair. Carefully, Kenji points at it with his finger. “You got, uhm. You know, there’s—”
    Akira snorts and that’s when you snap. You jump to your feet, glaring at him. “What the heck is your problem?!”
    He whirls around and slams both hands on the counter. “What the heck is your problem?”
    “You can’t do that, I asked first!”
    “Well, I don’t want to answer!”
    “Kids, if you don’t settle down in three seconds, I will throw you out of my bar,” Lala chirps from the side, her glare sending chills down your spine. You stare at Akira. “I’ll meet you after your shift.”
    Akira gives a sharp nod. “Behind the vending machines at 11. And no kicking!” he yells after you like you’re elementary school kids after you slam some coins on the bar and stomp outside, ignoring Kenji calling your name. The cool evening air will surely calm you. The dozens visual stimulations will surely distract you before you come up with the best way to strangle Akira. If he thinks you’ll go easy on him for ignoring and then annoying you, he’s got something bad coming.
    Akira is waiting for you exactly where you planned, leaning against the wall with both hands stuffed in his pockets. Even from a distance, you can clearly see the tension in his shoulders, and you think, Good, he better be nervous about this. You raise your chin when you’re finally standing in front of him. Akira looks down at (on?) you, and immediately you feel your temper boil again.
    “Are you going to apologise or what?” you demand, putting both hands on your hips to underline how upset you are like a mom chiding her child. Immediately, your arms drop, but you stand firm. Akira cocks an eyebrow at you. “For what?”
    The coldness in his voice cuts you like a sharp shard of glass. It’s a new side of Akira you haven’t seen before, one you’re not willed to face without fighting back.
    “Oh, you know. For being a jerk?”
    Akira looks at you like you’re speaking a different language, like the very notionof him being connected to that word just doesn’t exist in his understanding of the world. He leans his head back against the wall, exposing the elegant curve of his neck. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Why are you such an ass?” you hiss, feeling your patience dissipate with every second. “I didn’t do anything to you, did I? Or is this your stupid idea of keeping me away because of Kaneshiro?”
    Akira’s eye twitches. He pushes himself off the wall, now looming over you. “This has nothing to do with Kaneshiro,” he hisses, voice gravely low. “You still shouldn’t say his name out loud where his thugs might hear you.”
    Okay, point taken. “So, why then? Did you just spontaneously decide you’re not interested in—” me you almost say, but quickly finish with “— being friends anymore?” If he says Yes, it will probably be the biggest friendship you’ll regret. Already you have poured too soon too much from yourself into it, and it will be difficult to pick up the pieces Akira might decide to throw away once he walks away from you.
    A shadow jumps over Akira’s face. For a second, he seems uncertain, but it quickly makes way to a frown. “I just thought you might want to spend more time with your boyfriend instead of wasting time on tutor hours.”
    You squint up at him, unsure if you’ve heard right. “Excuse me, what?”
    “You heard me quite clear,” Akira says, his tone back to freezing point save for a little tremor that betrays him.
    Since you can’t decide on either smacking or kicking him, you settle for a weak punch to his side, affectively damaging nothing at all. “You are. Really, really, really stupid … for someone who’s on top of his class.”
    Akira blinks. ”Did you just call me dumb.”
    “What boyfriend?” you almost shriek. “Who says I have a boyfriend?”
    “I—” Akira starts, then points at the crook of his neck. There’s nothing on his skin, so his argument falls flat, until he points at you and miraculously, you connect the dots. Both hands raise to your face as you bless Akira with one of your rare face palms.
    “Akira,” you say into the palm of your hands. “Why the fuck would you read something like that into a hickey.”
    Akira gives a half-gasp, and when you peak through your fingers, you see his dumbfounded expression. “It’s a hickey? Who else would give you one?”
    You don’t even understand why you have this kind of conversation. Why Akira caresabout something so personal. Feeling you’re already too deep down the rabbit hole, you decide it can’t get any worse.
    “Akira, there’s this thing called one-night stand,” you yell-whisper, and feel a tiny, smug satisfaction when all colour drains from his face. He opens his mouths, then closes it. The fight almost leaves his body, but doubles back. Akira hisses, “How was I supposed to know?”
    “Not at all!” you hiss back, just faintly acknowledging that you’re standing close enough to each other for your toes to touch. “Because there’s another thing you should learn a thing or two about and that’s privacy.”
    Akira looks ready to fight you for his honour and principles, and it takes a second or two before you realise he’s freaking sulking. You’re ready to hand him his ass, promising some direly needed lessons in basic human interaction which doesn’t include assuming about other people’s relationship status and acting like an asshole because of it, but suddenly you remember Makoto calling Akira mature for his age and God, how you wish you could save this moment via video and show her that no, Akira is a fucking brat who acts like a little kid who is denied playing with his favourite toy—and that makes you laugh and dissolve the tension inside you.
    Akira interprets it wrong, and you can see tiny red blotches on his face. It looks charming on his pale skin. “Oh, that’s rich. Yeah, keep laughing at me.”
    “I’m not—” you start, but don’t know how to finish. Eventually, you only come up with, “Akira, what are we doing here?”
    Akira gives you a scrutinising look. “We’re fighting, and no one’s winning. Which sucks because I like winning.”
    “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think anyone is happy with this.”
    Akira presses his mouth into a thin line, then relaxes, and just like that, the air leaves his lungs and he slumps back, defeated. It’s all you need to know everything is going to be okay.
    “Come on, I’m buying you a sandwich,” you say, tugging at the hem of his shirt.
    Akira follows reluctantly. “Why a sandwich.”
    “So you can be the idiot sandwich that you are.”
    Akira grunts, a barely passable laugh. It uncoils a tight knot in your stomach, allowing you to breathe easier.
    The good thing about any of the big districts in Tokyo is that most shops and stalls are still open past midnight. The streetfood is famous for its high price but amazing taste. You decide on okonomiyaki, and take a free bench in Toyama Park. Since it’s mostly couples strolling under the dim lanterns and dark trees, holding hands and leaning into each other, you leave an arm’s length between you and Akira out of politeness, and dig in.
    “It feels like we haven’t talked in ages,” Akira admits, chewing on his plastic spoon. You could tell him that yeah, it’s been almost a whole month, but you don’t want him to think you’re keeping tabs on how often you see each other.
    “Yeah, you look like you’ve grown again, bean sprout,” you say, dodging Akira’s foot trying to nudge yours.
    “Plus I’m getting a serious sense of déjà vu,” he continues. “Our last fight ended with me apologising as well, didn’t it?”
    “You want me to make a tally for that?” you offer smiling, but your words lack any bite.
    Akira manages a little smile. “I’m sorry. That makes it the third or fourth, counting each time I was a jerk to you.”
    “Forget about it. As long as it doesn’t happen again.”
    “Promise.”
    And you really believe him because it doesn’t seem far fetched that Akira is someone who treats promises like a holy oath. With the air cleared between you, but now tense, you really want to lay it to rest, and your brain provides a strange topic out of the dumpster that your memory sometimes is: “By the way, I heard The Phantom Thieves dealt with Kaneshiro. Pretty convenient, huh?”
    Akira’s head snaps up. “What?”
    You turn around. “What?”
    Akira looks like a dear caught in front of a car’s headlights. “I mean, you heard about that?”
    “It was basically everything everyone talked about, right? Hard not to hear about it."
    “Yeah.” Akira gives a strained laugh. “Convenient.”
    “You know, I gave them a lot of shit when they turned up, but lately, I’ve been wondering if they’re actually really doing something good for our society,” you admit, avoiding Akira’s eyes. He’s nice enough not to gloat about it, and asks quietly, “How come?”
    “Well, they’re just … they’re doing something?” you offer weakly. “It might be wrong how they do it. But so far, all their targets deserved it? They take down corrupt people, so … they must be good, right?” You hate the insecurity in your voice just as much as all those questions. Since your fight with your dad, you’ve been checking out the Phansite a lot more, trying to keep up with the news and comments. Especially the request section caught your interest, and more than once you caught yourself wondering if you should try it out yourself, asking them to change your Dad’s heart. But they wouldn’t notice your post, not with all the flooding messages coming in. At least that’s the convenient excuse you tell yourself.
    Occupied with all these questions, you only notice Akira talking to you when he lightly puts the tips of his fingers on your bare thigh.
    “They try to help,” he says, his fingers remaining on your skin even though you’re already paying attention to him. “But they would also not be doing what they do were it not for people like Madarame and Kaneshiro.”
    And Dad, you think grimly, looking down where Akira’s fingers slightly dip into your skin. He waits another second before finally pulling back, his back straight—a clear indicator that he’s preparing himself for something you won’t like.
    “Can I … uhm … ask how your brother is doing?”
    Your body tenses, but your brain luckily doesn’t answer with a counterattack immediately. Apparently, your heart has accepted Akira trying to creep inside.
    “He’s fine … I guess,” you mumble. Really talking about it is too early, especially since you’re still sorting out how to replace the broken furniture after the fallout with your dad. But it doesn’t leave you choking on raw emotions which is a good start. “After giving you shit for your behaviour last time, I guess I owe you an explanation, don’t I.”
    Akira slowly shakes his head, but it lacks determination.There’s never a good way to start talking about it, so you just set out to be done with it as fast as possible.
    “He’s in a psychiatric clinic. My parents think he’s a danger to himself and those around him, so they try to lock him away, but the only thing they care about is their reputation. You see, you can’t be anything but perfect, and to them depression is a sickness you can just … just carve out of you or something if you try hard enough. So they leave him there. They let the doctors do their work, but they don’t really do anything.” Your voice is barely audible now, just a remnant of breath left stuck somewhere inside you. “They don’t care about his wellbeing as well.”
    Just thinking about it flares the sharp agony of grief up in your chest—you feel as you imagined a fish caught on a hook might feel, twisting and turning to get away from the spike of pain driven into its flesh.
    Beside you, Akira ruffles his hair and mutters, “It all comes back to adults, huh.”
    Certainly not the reaction you expected. When you look over to Akira with confusion clearly in your eyes, he huffs a little sigh, and leans back against the bench, looking up into the treetops. A hand comes up to tug at his bangs, and you can’t help but wonder how his hair would feel between your fingers.
    “Originally, I’m from a little town called Yamato south from Tokyo,” he says. Your heart stumbles, not believing what’s about to happen. But before you can tell Akira he doesn’t need to feel pressured talking about himself, he drops the bomb. “And now I live here on probation.”
    Immediately, your back rises straighter. “Probation?” You exhale slowly, voice shaky as you try to joke. “Is this the moment you tell me you murdered someone?”
    And that’s how Akira tells you the story of someone trying to do the right thing, only for it to backfire like a high caliber cannon because of two horrendous adults, one suing, the other betraying him. The story leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, and even though you know how most cases like that go about, and how small justice stands for someone so young facing a powerful politician, you can’t help but protest. “Why didn’t you speak up?” you ask Akira like it could be that easy. “You did nothing wrong!”
    Akira doesn’t look at you, his expression somewhat impassive. “Why should I? They wouldn’t have believed me anyway. I was branded a delinquent, so I played the role.”
    “Still, it’s so wrong,” you say as if Akira doesn’t know it himself. “And what’s up with your parents, just going with it and sending you away?”
    Akira shrugs, but he’s started kneading the back of his neck, clearly not wanting to talk more about them.
    “So my parents suck, and your parents suck,” you conclude, kicking pebbles around like a petulant child. “The question is, what are we going to do about it?”
    “Hmmm.” Akira’s hand falls back to his side, resting on the bench with its open palm facing you. You really want to press your thumb inside and see if the skin is soft or calloused. “I don’t know about my parents, but I’m pretty sure something can be done about yours,” he says.
    “Oh, pfff. Yeah.” You roll your eyes. “What do you youngsters say? Only ‘until Hell freezes over?’”
    Akira raises an eyebrow.
    “You know, it’s impossible. With my parents. And did you actually now that Dante has Hell frozen in his work? Cause he had balls. And knew heat rises. So it makes perfect sense for the deepest part of Hell to be freaking ice cold,” you add, rambling on and on to ignore how light you feel after telling him about your family, and even more that he’s trusted you with a little honesty of himself. Maybe it’s the only way to cope. A little sadness for a little sadness.
    “So not so impossible after all,” Akira remarks, smiling to himself like he’s just solved a secret.
    “You can give me a call once you’ve figured something out,” you say, and then add with a grin, “country boy.”
    Akira groans. “Please don’t.”
    “Country roads, Take me home,” you start singing. Akira looks like he wants to strangle you. “To the place, I beLONG.”
    “Who’s behaving like an ass now,” Akira says, crumbling his leftover food paper back into a little ball. He throws it in the garbage bin a couple feet away from you, hitting bullseye. You whistle.
    “I gotta go back before Sojiro decides he won’t let me out at night,” Akira says, standing up and stretching his long limbs. “He may be nice to all my friends, but he’s going to hand me my ass if I don’t show my best side.”
    “I’m sure he just wants the best for you,” you say, standing up as well, stretching as well. Not looking at how the muscles in Akira’s arm strain when he pulls them high above his head.
    “Yeah,” Akira breathes, his face softening when he turns into the orange light of the lantern. “Probably.”
    “I want the best for you too, you know,” you mumble, poking his side with a loose fist. “So we’re going back to our regular schedule, and you can bet your ass I’m going to make you work on everything you’ve missed.”
    “Yeah,” Akira breathes again, this time smiling with his eyes as the skin around them crinkles slightly. “I’m looking forward to it.”
    It’s good to be back, to return to your routine of going to Leblanc and enjoy some good quality coffee while watching Akira work on tasks you’ve deliberately made a little harder just to test how much smarter he really is than he lets on. So far, he hasn’t disappointed you, but you get the feeling it’s because he’s agreed to play your little game for now. So you decided to change tactics today, entering Leblanc with a stride that speak volumes of what you consider to be your victory. Akira is already waiting for you, but he’s not alone. On top of him him, another boy is pretty much lying on him, one hand curled tight around Akira’s left wrist where Akira is holding something, the other propping his weight on the back of the seat. Akira is the first to notice you, and he stops his struggle against the other boy who uses that split moment of distraction to reclaim whatever Akira was holding in his hand, when he finally follows Akira’s eyes and looks at you and, wow, you think, that is Goro freaking Akechi jumping Akira’s bones.
    “You want me to come again once you’ve finished?” you ask. A quick glance to Sojiro for help tells you that he’s ignoring you all in favour of staying out of whatever bullshit Akira’s gotten himself into now. You could learn a lot from him.
    “This … this is not what it looks like,” Akechi quickly says, scrambling to his feet.
    “Honey, saying it like that makes it exactly look what it looked like,” Akira unhelpfully adds. Akechi throws him a quick nasty glare, then smooths the nonexistent creases out of his uniform and strides with as much dignity as he can maintain to the exit, giving you a bright, if forced smile. “If you excuse me.”
    You make room for his leave, slowly returning your gaze to Akira, who’s still half draped over the seat, and you try go ignore the stripe of skin showing where his shirt has shifted up.
    “You’re friends with the famous Junior Detective Prince?” you ask, closing the distance until you sit down opposite from him.
    Akira’s eyes wander to a spot above your head, then back to the notebook in front of him. “Something like that,” he says, and opens the notebook, signalling the end of this topic. Now that’s interesting, and totally none of your business, so you push it far away in your mind. Also, why doesn’t he call you Honey. Not that it matters. You hate pet names anyway.
    Just like you’ve expected, Akira needs a little more time to figure out the solution to the math equations, but he manages to come up with the right result using a completely different formula because apparently even the logics of mathematics succumb to Akira and act in this favour. No matter that, the sight of him think and fiddle with his pen, twirling it between his slender fingers and occasionally pushing the end against his lips is a good compensation for your loss this round. You just love looking at this hands, the very one Yusuke has used as reference to fill pages of his notebook, and you remember you read somewhere that beautiful hands are somewhat religious, worthy of worshipping. If this doesn’t speak Akira’s name, you don’t know what does.
    But you notice he’s working slower today than usual, mainly because he keeps looking at the door like he expects someone to come. Or maybe return, you realise, thinking back to how Akira’s free hand was splayed on the small of Akechis’ back.
    Oh, you think, looking at the faint red finger marks on Akira’s left wrist. Oh shit.
3 notes · View notes
ellewords · a month ago
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haikyuu boys + domestic family moments
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request from anon : hello my goddess, may i request domestic family moments with akaashi, oikawa, and kuroo ? idk maybe something cute like them being the perfect dads or maybe them hanging out with their wife and baby/child ? fem! reader would be preferred, but if gender neutral is easier you can go for it ! lots of love, you’re incredible :) <33
fic notes : timeskip!akaashi, oikawa, kuroo x f!reader, very small injury in akaashi’s, not anything graphic, just pure fluff, wc: ~0.5k each
from elle !  i screamed when i got this in my inbox, the speed in which ideas came to my mind for the three of them…unreal. def gave me baby fever for a hot moment hngg kinda went tender feral over these ;-; anyways, thank you for requesting + i hope you enjoy <33
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➹  akaashi k.
akaashi didn’t know how to act when his son ran to him crying one summer afternoon. his mind already racing through the worst case scenarios : had he gotten into a fight? was he hurt? oh god, who hurt him? 
his thoughts come to a screeching halt when he looks into his pleading, tear filled eyes, bottom lip formed into a pout and trembling.
akaashi kneels in front of him so he matched his height, holding his son’s face in his hands.
“hey, buddy. what’s wrong? why are you crying?” he asked, making sure to keep his voice calm and even so he doesn’t stress the boy out even further.
“i fell off my bike.” your son cried out, showing akaashi his left arm
akaashi lets out a sigh of relief, thankful that it wasn’t anything too serious. the cut on his arm wasn’t deep, barely even a graze, with practically little to no bleeding.
still, he knew that it must’ve hurt a lot. akaashi knew his son was supposed to be spending the afternoon playing with his friends — he must’ve felt a little embarrassed.
he was now more than grateful for all the time he spent on volleyball in his younger years as it had him carrying around a first aid kit everywhere and having to know how to use it.
there’s one in your home too — though you’ve barely ever used it — hidden in one of the bathroom cabinets.
“this is going to sting a little, okay?” akaashi spoke softly, waiting for your son to give him a little nod as a go signal. he then applies a disinfectant to the small scratch, mumbling an apology when he hears his son hiss in pain.
the last thing you expected when you come home from a day out with your friends is your husband applying first aid to your eight year old kid.
akaashi had insisted that you take the day off, spend some time on yourself. he apparently had everything under control, or so you thought.
“oh no, my angel! what’s happened to you?” you exclaimed, worry very clear in your eyes as you made your way over to them.
“he fell off his bike, it’s nothing too serious though.” your husband spoke, applying an iodine solution before covering it with a small adhesive gauze pad.
you let out a sigh of relief, turning to akaashi to tease him, “is this having everything under control, keiji?”
“mom, don’t get mad at dad. i’m better now, see?” your son spoke, showing off his arm, “all you have to do is kiss it better.”
you chuckle, giving him a very quick peck on the cheek before asking him if he’d like to continue playing with his friends or just stay home with the two of you. like most children do, he chose his friends.
you wait until your son was out of the room before lightly hitting akaashi’s shoulder, “really can’t get a break, huh?”
“you wound me, my love.” your husband pouted, feigning hurt before he places his hands on your waist, “it seems like i’m injured too…”
you shake your head, blushing as he pulls you closer, “want me to kiss you better, keiji?”
“yes, please.” akaashi murmured with a smile, lips already near yours. 
“mom, dad i forgot someth— ewww!”
➹   oikawa t. 
if there’s one thing you need to know about oikawa, it’s that he’s the biggest stage dad on the entire planet.
this little fact was unlocked the minute your daughter expressed interest in performing, particularly ballet.
enrolled her immediately in the best dance classes money could buy, bought the fanciest pointe shoes and the most expensive tutus maybe there were a few advantages to having a pro-athlete dad
he was just as nervous as your little girl the night before her very first recital. made sure that everyone knew not to contact him the night before and the day of the recital, will literally fight anyone who makes him miss it.
anyways, you and oikawa were currently moving the coffee table in your living room aside, pushing away most of the furniture to the walls as well. why were you doing this?
well, your daughter insisted that she perform for the two of you as practice before the big day :’)
“ah, my baby!” oikawa swooned, holding a hand over his heart as your daughter twirled around the living room to show off her costume for the following day, “you are the most adorable little girl, no one could compare.”
the music starts and you and oikawa’s jaws are on the floor. both of you just dropped her off and picked her up at practice, neither of you had any idea what exactly was going on in her classes. yeah, all the money you spent on ballet was definitely worth it.  
“look at her go,” oikawa whispers to you, though his eyes were glued on her as she moved about the limited space in your living room. despite the quietness in his voice, an excited kind of pride was evident in his tone, “we made her!”
you let out a chuckle, shaking your head at your husband, “yes, we did.”
“maybe we should make another one.” oikawa teased, gently elbowing your side.
you rolled your eyes, but your husband could see the flush on your face, “are you asking to sleep on the couch tonight?”
“baby, so mean.”
your daughter ends her practice performance with a grin, oikawa immediately leaping from his seat to pick her up and spin her around the room.
“you’re going to be amazing, my princess. the best dancer ever, mom and dad are already so proud of you.” 
he spends majority of the car ride to her performance hyping your little girl up, telling her how he didn’t have to watch the other kids to know that she was the best. 
oikawa really bought a brand new video camera to record the performance, and you bet he’s going to be bragging about it to anyone who’d listen. 
sends your daughter an encouraging thumbs up whenever their eyes would meet awe <3
oikawa definitely teared up a little when she took a bow and blew him a kiss + his claps and cheers were the loudest no doubt. the other parents were definitely giving him the side-eye throughout the entire thing, but he couldn’t really care less about them. 
“are you crying tooru?”
“no, i just have something in my eye. hey! don’t laugh at me hmph.”
“aw come on, you know i love you.”
“yeah yeah, i love you too.”
➹   kuroo t. 
it had been a particularly tiring day of work, all you wanted to do was relax and spend the rest of the day eating takeout and watching movies with your boys.
but with your luck, you went home to screaming coming from the dining room table. the voices definitely belonging to your twin sons and your husband, kuroo. yes, your household was absolute chaos all the time. 
“i’m telling you, dad, you have to add two to this side to balance out the equation!” the older of the twins pointed out, practically shoving the book in front of your husband’s face.  
your younger son shakes his head furiously, forcefully shoving his brother away, “and i’m saying that you have to add three on the other side next to hydrogen.”
“neither of you are correct and this book isn’t either because there’s a typo and that’s why we can’t figure it out.” kuroo groaned, hands practically pulling at his hair, frustration clearly lacing his words.  
part of you almost felt bad for leaving him alone with your two little demons as kuroo affectionately calls them as he sat in between them while they argued — you’re sure that you would receive complaints from your neighbors the following morning.
you’re just left there, standing in the doorway, wondering how you got so lucky (and unlucky at the same time). a smile graces your face as you watch your husband deal with the only two people as loud and argumentative as he was.
your eldest was the first to notice you, waving at you excitedly, inviting you to join them.
“what’s going on here?” you asked, smirking at your husband as he hit his head on the open textbook with a gentle thud.
“dad’s helping us study for our exam tomorrow!”
“mhmm.” you hummed, seeing the array of notebooks, highlighters, pens, and other study materials spread out across the wooden table, “how’s that working out for all of you?”
kuroo could only respond with a groan while your sons continuously poked and prodded at his shoulders.
“what subject is this?”
“chemistry!”
“oh, your dad loved that when we were in high school. this shouldn’t be that difficult.”
“this is different, why is this so difficult? they’re torturing our kids, babe!” your husband exclaimed, finally lifting his head from the textbook.
you shook your head at him, moving to stand behind your husband and rubbing his shoulders. kuroo leans his head on your arm, clearly tired.
looking at your sons, you could see the same kind of tiredness and frustration on their faces. 
in an attempt to raise their spirits, you promised to cook them anything they wanted for dinner for the next few days — no request too big or small — if they got through the reviewing + exams.
with kuroo and your sons being huge fans of your cooking, their motivation increased tenfold. 
the younger twin watches as his father breezed through different problem sets, “hey mom, did you know you married a nerd?”
kuroo huffed in fake offence, “hey! i brought you into this world, show me some respect.” 
“technically mom did that. mom brought us here.” the elder of your sons retorted.
“i did marry a nerd, huh?” you smiled, giving your husband a peck on the cheek, “wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“thanks, babe.”
“gross.”
“thanks, we hate it.”
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weelittleweasley · 2 months ago
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my girl (f.w.)
prompt: you always knew fred would be a great dad and every day he exceeds your expectations
pairing: dad! fred x mom! reader
warnings: pregnancy, hospitals, children (yes, children is a warning), mild language, suggestion and brief mention of sex, thunderstorm, fear of thunder/rain.
word count: 6.2k
author’s note: THIS BITCH SO LONG IM SO SORRY this is the last installment of the 60s writing challenge!! thank you to everyone who has tuned in!!
taglist: @rosaliepostsstuff @harrysweasleys @gcdricreads @lumos-barnes @whizboingies @lumosandnoxwriting @pxroxide-prinxcesss @c-t-h @lol-idk-oops @another-lonely-heart-blog​ @kaseyrose96-blog​ @hufflepuff5972 @valwritesx @parseltongueswriting @shilohpug @peachypotter @spacexcowgirl @paintballkid711 @vogueweasley​ @amourtentiaa @sweeterthansammy​ @gryffindcrghost​ @wand3ringr0s3​
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It was laughable; the way Fred stared at your large pregnant belly with eyes full of anticipation, hands placed on either sides of it, waiting for your child to kick at his hands. You giggled as he gently whispered to your protruding stomach, “Come on, little one. It’s your daddy. Give us a little kick, yeah?” Your stomach remained still as he lightly groaned, only making you laugh. “This child already likes keeping me on my wit’s end,” he grumbled before kissing your belly. “I’m just teasing,” he whispered again to the bump. “I love you so much.”
You brush your fingers through Fred’s hair, him sighing as you do. Fred had been so darling over the past nine months of your pregnancy. He found more staff for the joke shoppe to take over the early morning shifts and the night shifts so he could spend those hours taking care of you, helping around the house, and preparing for the baby’s arrival. You were always Fred’s number one priority, but that was set in stone after you became pregnant. He would literally drop anything if you even murmured that you needed something. Fred would wake up first and get your prenatal vitamins ready for you to drink with a large glass of water, he’d make breakfast, clean the kitchen, and only then would he wake you up. You had to admit, you could get used to living like this. But alas, you were past your due date and the baby was expected any day now.
“She loves you too, Freddie,” you tell him as you prop yourself up on your elbows, getting a better look at your husband who still rubs his hands over your stomach, searching for your unborn baby’s feet.
Fred looks up at you with questioning eyes. “She?” Fred could honestly care less about the sex of his child, as long as the baby was healthy. That’s all he could truly ask for. But secretly, deep down, Fred wanted a little girl, a princess. Someone who could be his princess since he had already found his queen.
You smiled with a shrug, “I have a feeling. I know it’s supposed to be a surprise, but when you know you know, don’t you?”
With that, against the skin of your stomach, pressed against Fred’s hand is two large kicks. Fred’s eyes widen as he sits up, feeling his child kick against his hands as the two of you laugh. Fred smiles wide and says, “Is that a sign?” he stares up at you with excited eyes as you cover your mouth laughing with glee. “Is that right, baby? A little girl?” he whispers to your belly, earning another two strong kicks as the two of you laugh out with delight. “A little princess and a strong one at that!” he cheers. “We’ve got a little football player on our hands, don’t we? Well, too bad, because your daddy is going to teach you all about quidditch.”
-------
The hospital room was quiet, no one daring to disturb the air that surrounded the newborn baby girl that was fast asleep on your chest. Her plump cheeks squished against your bare chest made you and Fred smile with delight. A healthy baby girl born after a brutally long labor, but it was all worth it. You softly kissed the top of her head, making her stir in her sleep. 
You looked over at Fred to see him, gently wipe tears from his eyes as he gazed upon your newborn daughter. In this room, he had everything he’d ever wanted. The sight of your husband looking so lovingly at your daughter made your heart swell as you felt hot tears prick up behind your eyes. Reaching out, you cupped Freddie’s cheek as brushed away with happy tears with your thumb. Freddie looked up at you with eyes so tender and a smile so warm, you giggled out a sob. “She’s perfect,” he quietly spoke to you as you nodded your head in agreement. 
She really was the most precious thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Her button nose and soft features rested upon her gentle skin, tufts of strawberry blonde hair poking out from the cap the hospital dressed her in. Her lips were pink and squished against your chest as small dreaming noises escaped now and again. Your darling little girl, your little flower.
“Daisy,” you spoke softly to Fred as you brushed your daughter’s cheek softly.
The two of you had spoke about what to name the baby for a while, a few names tossed around here and there, but none of them felt right. Until Daisy popped into your head.
Fred nodded his head with a happy smile, “Yeah.” In her sleep, the baby stirred at the sound of Fred’s voice, making him scoot impossibly closer to the hospital bed, leaning close to his daughter. “How do you like that, love bug?” he cooed at the sleeping baby on your chest. “Daisy,” he smiled to himself. “I love you so much. You’re going to give mommy a run for her money,” he joked, making you roll your eyes with a breathy chuckle. Fred looked up at you and placed a kiss to your forehead. “I can’t believe we made something as perfect as she is,” he shakes his head in disbelief. 
You smiled at your husband and sighed. The man before you was so perfect, helplessly in love with you and the child you created. Slowly, you peeled sleeping Daisy off of your chest and handed her over to an eager Fred, scooping her in his arms, cradling the baby close to his chest. Fred cooed down at his baby who slowly fluttered her eyes open, peering her dark eyes, that looked so like Fred’s, up at him. You laid back in the hospital bed, relaxing as you watched Fred murmur to Daisy, speaking gently and kissing her forehead and nose every now and again. As if you couldn’t fall more in love with Fred, watching him become a father was enough to make you fall in love fifty more times. 
Fred rose from the chair he was sat in and started walking around the hospital room, rocking the baby and talking to her about the life she was going to have. “Just wait until Uncle George gets his hands on you,” he whispered as you silently laughed. “Grandma Molly is going to spoil the hell out of you,” he shook his head for his eyes widened and he looked at you. “I shouldn’t curse in front of our baby, should I?” he asks as you shake your head. “Damn it,” he curses again as he winces. “I’ll stop now,” he huffs making you laugh as your eyes feel heavy. The long labor had you exhausted and you had been up with Daisy feeding her and watching her alongside Fred. “Darling,” Fred cooed at you, “get some rest, please. I’ve got Daisy and she’s not due for another feeding for some time. You need to get some rest,” he tells you, walking over to the bed, helping pull the sheets up to cover you as you look up at his handsome face. “I’ll take care of our baby. Don’t worry.”
With a teasing sleepy smile on your face, you say, “I don’t know how much I trust you with a newborn child.” Fred gives you a look, making you chuckle. “I’m kidding, love, I’m kidding.” Fred kisses your forehead, your nose, and then your lips gently, him rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “I love you.”
“I love you,” Fred speaks before placing another kiss to your lips softly. He sits himself in the chair again, Daisy looking sleepy again herself. He sighs before clearing his throat and gently starting to sing a melody that sounded all too familiar to you. “I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day,” he sings, making your heart flutter in your chest. “When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May,” his voice is soothing, the vibrations from his chest calming Daisy down and putting her in a sleepy trance. “I guess you’d say what can make me feel this way, my girl, talkin’ ‘bout my girl,” his deep voice sings the familiar love song.
Fred looks at you as you watch him with a small smile on your face, tears welling up in your eyes. He was singing your wedding song to your baby. It felt like a dream. Being married to the man you’ve always loved, seeing him cradle your beautiful baby girl in his arms, singing the song you would dance to as teenagers. It was unreal, but somehow, you were lucky enough to be living in it.
“I got so much honey, the bees envy me. I’ve got a sweeter song than the birds in the trees,” he continues to sing along, slowly putting both you and Daisy to sleep as you flutter your eyes closed, happy and safe.
-----------
The drive back from the hospital was slow. Fred insisting on not driving faster than twenty miles an hour even though the speed limit was thirty. This caused many cars on the road to change lanes and shoot Fred dirty looks. 
“Fred, honey, you can drive faster than this. She’s in a car seat, strapped in very well as you made sure of before we left the hospital, and the road is very clear considering everyone has driven around you,” you tell him from the passenger seat.
He shakes his head, “No way. I am remaining as safe as humanly possible. Can’t risk putting my little flower petal in harm’s way.”
But eventually, you arrived back to your house where your friends and family awaited your arrival patiently. You turned the keys in the lock and pushed the door open, Fred following closely behind you with Daisy in her carrier. “We’re home,” you sing song out at the bunches of people who awaited your arrival in your home.
Everyone rises from the couches and chairs in your home, big smiles on their faces when they see you, Fred, and Daisy enter the door. Molly gasps and covers her mouth, tears already welling up in her eyes as Fred sighs. “Ron! Mum is already crying, you owe me two galleon!” George calls out. “I call holding it first!” George calls out.
“It?” Ginny makes fun of her brother with a light chuckle as Ron cackles from the other side of the couch, earning a pillow toss in the face from George. “I reckon I should hold the baby first considering I am going to be the godmother, right, (Y/N)?” Ginny asks.
George lets out a laugh, “Hilarious, Ginny. Last time I checked it was my twin who had the baby. Surely, I will be the godparent and the first one to hold it.”
“Stop calling the baby it!” Ginny reprimands him. “The baby is a...wait, you never told us what the baby’s sex is,” Ginny looks to you and Fred as the two of you are too preoccupied laughing at the antics of the group already. You weren’t even home five minutes and there was already arguing. “So?”
You look to Fred, giving him the honor of announcing the baby’s sex. “Everyone will get a turn holding her,” he announces as Ginny cheers out in victory, Ron owing George another two galleons, as Molly and Hermione squeal in excitement. “But who ever holds her first needs to wash their hands. I don’t want any dirty paws on my perfect baby girl,” he coos into the carrier before you take off the buckle and scoop Daisy into your arms as she stretches in your arms.
Ginny and George both make a mad dash to the sink, pushing the other out of their ways, trying to wash their hands first. You shake your head with a chuckle, and look down at your baby girl who is fast asleep still, still too young to understand the chaos of a family she was born into. 
Molly laughs and speaks, “While those two battle of the soap, little do they know I already washed and sanitized my hands when I came in.” You laugh, knowing Molly Weasley came prepared to be the first one to hold her grandchild. 
“Wait,” Fred stops his mother before you can pass the baby over to her. He pulls a vile of hand sanitizer from his pocket and squirts two drops in his mother’s hands, just in case. You slap his arm. “What? Can’t be too safe,” he defends himself. After Molly rubs in the gel, she looks at her son, giving him a sarcastic look. “Alright, now you can hold her,” he speaks as Molly rolls her eyes as you gently place Daisy in her arms.
Molly looks down at the newest addition to the Weasley family and her lights light up. Arthur looks over her shoulder and smiles softly at the beautiful babe in Molly’s arms. “She’s just a doll, isn’t she?” Arthur whispers as Molly cradles your daughter in her arms.
George and Ginny race back into the living room only to find their mother holding Daisy instead of one of them. George groans as Ginny defeatedly flops on the couch. “Snooze you lose, children,” she teases with a smile and George mimics her before flopping on the couch next to Ginny and Harry. Molly looks back at you and Fred with a big smile. “Well done, you two,” she beams as Fred hugs you from behind, resting his chin on the top of your head. “She’s simply beautiful.”
“Thank you, Molly,” you smile. “So, do you lot want to know her name?” you ask the group, earning a symphony of yes’s and please’s. You look up at Fred who gives you an encouraging nod. With a gulp, you reveal, “Her name is Daisy.” Hermione smiles widely and claps her hands excitedly. “Daisy Ginevra Weasley,” you finish.
Ginny’s eyes widen in shock at the baby’s middle name. It was important to both you and Fred that you had a family name in there besides the surname. You were insistent on giving Daisy Ginny’s name as her middle name. Ginny played a big factor in why you and Fred got together and she was always there for you every step of your relationship. It only seemed right to name your child after her. “You...you named her after me?” Ginny asks in disbelief as you and Fred nod your heads. “Bloody hell,” she whispers with a smile, tears making her eyes glassy, but she pushes them down with a shake of her head. “I don’t know what to say. I...” Ginny searches for the words, but just ends up running over to you and embracing you and Fred in the tightest hug. 
You laugh and give her a squeeze before holding her face in your hands. “You’re my sister, Gin. It only made sense to name our first daughter after someone who means so much to the both of us,” you tell Ginny as she smiles, tears now spilling from her eyes. You wipe away the tears with your thumbs as Fred places a kiss to his sister’s forehead.
Ginny laughs before punching Fred’s arm teasingly. “Merlin, you lot have made me soft,” she wipes her tears with a sniffle, making you and Fred laugh. Molly walks over to her daughter and puts Daisy in her arms as Ginny gasps and holds the baby close to her chest. “Hello, little one,” she whispers as Fred holds you in his arms, smiling wide as he watches his little sister hold his daughter. The sight was enough to make you cry again. The person who had been so influential in you and Fred’s relationship was now holding your first born child. “Reckon you have quite a beautiful middle name, eh?” she laughs before taking a seat next to Harry on the couch.
“Georgina also has a nice ring to it. Daisy Georgina Weasley. It’s not too late, you know,” George tells you and Fred, making you laugh and Ginny give him a dirty look.
“Shut it, you wanker,” she whispers through gritted teeth. 
“Ah, ah, ah! No swearing in front of the baby!” George tsks his sister before looking at you and Fred. “You don’t want a godparent who swears in front of children, now do you?” he continues to push Ginny’s buttons as she rolls her eyes, but continues to coo at Daisy who peels her eyes open and peers up at Ginny.
Fred walks towards George who sits in the living room chair and speaks, “Funny you should mention that. (Y/N) and I have both gone back and forth about this for a long while. And we decided that if anything should happen to either of us, we would want you to raise Daisy, George.” George’s eyes widen in disbelief as he looks back and forth between you and Fred as you smile widely. It was a no brainer deciding who Daisy’s godparent would be. George was the first person to know when you were pregnant, he made sure the joke shoppe could function the same now with Fred as a dad, he baby proofed his flat months in advance for Daisy’s arrival. George would be a great uncle and godfather to your child. “What do you say, Georgie?” Fred asks.
George engulfs Fred in a massive bear hug, making your heart swell as Molly wrapped her arm around you, pulling you into her side. Today was surely one of the best days of your life, watching your family care for this new life with so much love and tenderness. George pulls away from Fred with tears in his eyes, clearing his throat, and speaking, “Of course. Yeah, ‘course I will. If anyone lays a finger on that child consider them dead meat.” Fred laughs and hugs his brother again, the two of them sharing a tender moment.
Ginny rises from the couch and with a smile, passes Daisy over to her godfather and uncle. George holds Daisy with utmost care and carefulness. He carefully sits down and smiles at the small baby in his arms. “Hey, peanut. I’m your Uncle Georgie,” he smiles down at Daisy who yawns and stretches in his arms, pushing off her hospital cap in the process to reveal her tufts of strawberry blonde hair. “Ah, the Weasley signature,” George laughs. “Sorry about that one, (Y/N),” he winks as you laugh, sitting on the couch with Ginny’s legs folded over your lap as she kisses your cheek. “Godric, she’s beautiful, Freddie,” George gushes. “You’re gonna be a heart breaker, kid. Just like your mum before she met your dear old dad. You know it took him three times before she finally said yes to go out with him?”
“Alright, no need to embarrass me in front of my three day old child,” Fred laughs, sitting on the arm of the chair.
The whole lot of you sits in the living room, quite still, watching Daisy as she gets passed around the room, each person interacting with her, cooing at her. When she gets passed around to Ron and Hermione, Ron huffs, “So, Ginny is her namesake, George is her godparent, does that make me the cool uncle?” 
With a laugh, you shake your head, “Absolutely. Every kid needs a cool uncle and aunt.”
Ron smiles, “Wicked.” 
Hermione coos at Daisy, Ron gently brushing her cheek with his forefinger as Daisy yawns widely. “You are a darling,” Hermione blushes to the baby before looking at Ron with pleading eyes.
“Oh, don’t give me that look. I have the daunting job of being cool uncle. Let me get that job done first before we get involved with something else,” he warns as Hermione laughs along with the rest of the group.
You look over to Fred who is already looking at you, love plaguing his eyes as you sigh happily. He smiles at you gently before mouthing an I love you, you reciprocating the action. Everything in this moment felt so right, so perfect.
----------
“You’re coming over for dinner on Wednesday, right?” Ginny confirms with you as Harry helps her into her coat, baby Lily on Ginny’s hip.
Everyone had come over for Sunday dinner at you and Fred’s house, like every other week. But as the years went by, the dinner guest list had changed and adapted to include more people. Harry and Ginny’s first child as well as Ron and Hermione’s first child became a part of the guest list along with Angelina as she was now engaged to George. It was always something to look forward to at the end of the weekend, having family over. Not to mention, Daisy was obsessed with her cousins. 
“Of course. I don’t think Daisy would let us miss it,” you tell Ginny as you kiss Harry and Ginny goodbye. “Dee! Come say goodbye Aunt Gin and Uncle Harry!” you call out to your daughter who is still running around with James, Albus, Rose, and Hugo. 
Daisy, now three years old, whines, “I don’t want to say goodbye, Mummy!” She stomps her foot in protest and folds her arms in protest. Daisy loved every moment she spent with her family which only made you and Fred happier. Family was so important to the two of you and the fact that her best friends where her cousins always warmed your hearts. 
You smiled at your daughter and replied, “I know, darling. But you’ll see everyone again on Wednesday when we visit Aunt Gin and Uncle Harry’s house.”
Ginny chimes in, “And when you come over, I’ll let you wear my quidditch gloves like last time. How does that sound?”
Daisy’s face lights up and she immediately runs over to Ginny and hugs her legs as Ginny scoops her up and peppers her face with kisses as Daisy laughs wildly. Daisy looked up to Ginny. She always told you and Fred how much she wanted to be like her and play quidditch and fly around on a broom and win all of the games. She even started to demand being called by her middle name and not her first name, but you compromised with Daisy Gin.
Ginny places Daisy back down before calling out, “Alright, Potters! Let’s get a move on. You boys both need a bath,” she huffs when she sees chocolate smeared over both of her boy’s faces as they giggle wildly, running to Harry as he scoops up Albus and sets him on his hip. “Maybe if Uncle Fred didn’t let you eat half of the sweets bin, you wouldn’t need a third bath today,” she speaks, ruffling her hands in James’ hair, giving Fred the stink eye.
“Cool uncles let their cool nephews eat a bit of chocolate now and again, isn’t that right, James?” Fred asks, James fist bumping him in response with a wide grin. 
The Potters leave the house with a final round of goodbyes and kisses before Ron and Hermione follow suit, putting on jackets. Hermione bundles Hugo up in his rain boots and rain coat as Rose appears at your feet. “Auntie (Y/N), can Daisy and I have a sleepover again?” she asks, batting her eyes at you with the most devious smile she could conjure up.
Ron rubs his face, “Sweet Merlin, Rose, you are trouble with a capital t.”
You laugh and give Rose a kiss on her forehead, “Of course we can. How about next week you can sleepover here and we can go pancakes in the morning like last time?” Rose’s eyes widen as she and Daisy squeal with excitement. 
“Come on, darling,” Hermione calls over to Rose, holding her hand out for Rose to take. “Thanks again, dinner was delicious, (Y/N),” Hermione kisses your cheek goodbye. 
“Don’t mention it,” you speak. “We’re still on for drinks with Luna on Friday, right?” you ask as she nods excitedly. “Brilliant. That means cool uncle and cool dad are in charge of the kids,” you beam before giving Ron and hug goodbye.
Ron laughs, “Coolest uncle. I’ve been promoted.” You chuckle before waving goodbye to Ron, Hermione, and the kids. This just left George and Angelina which was always the toughest part of the night.
George slips on his coat as Angelina follows, before he calls out. “Alright, my flower,” he speaks. “Hit me with your best one.” He holds out his arms as Daisy giggles, running into his arms and throws her arms around his neck as George picks her up and swings her around, making Daisy squeal. “Oh, Uncle Georgie loves you so much,” he kisses her cheeks before blowing fart noises in her neck, making her laugh even harder. “I’ve got a proposal for you, my darling. How about little Daisy here helps up open up the shop next Saturday? Teach her about the family business?” he tickles her sides as Daisy giggles, Angelina watching her fiancé lovingly as he entertains the child with ease. “What do you say, (Y/N)? Dad will be there to make sure Uncle George doesn’t corrupt the child,” he teases as you roll your eyes.
You sigh and look at your husband and brother in law. “Yeah, alright,” you comply as Daisy cheers while George spins her around in victory. “Only if that means Angie and I get to have a night out on Saturday.”
Angelina laughs in agreement. “Absolutely. And it’s you lot’s treat,” she adds as you smile before giving her a hug and kiss goodbye. “I’ll see you soon, (Y/N). Thank you again for dinner.”
You watch as George dances around with Daisy, her smiling widely. George was a brilliant uncle and godfather. He was always willing to drop anything when you or Fred needed some help with her. Not to mention, he never minded playing babysitter when you and Fred needed a night alone. 
Fred sighed, “Alright, Daisy Gin, time for a bath and bed. You’ve had a long day.”
“No!” she protests, wrapping her arms tighter around George’s neck, pressing her cheek against his as George laughs. 
Fred pretends to gasp, “What do you mean no?”
“Uncle Georgie stays with me!” she demands. “And Auntie Angie!” 
Fred’s heart swells at how much his young daughter loved his twin and his soon to be wife. “I know you want them to stay, my petal, but it’s time for bed. Besides, we’ll see Uncle George and Auntie Angie on Wednesday,” he tells your three year old as she pouts.
George speaks, “Hey, don’t be upset. That’s very soon. And besides, next time I see you, I’ll have a surprise...” This makes Daisy’s eyes light up with joy and clap her hands. “I’ll see you soon, okay? I love you bunches.”
“Love you,” Daisy smiles in her tiny voice as George places a kiss to her cheek, Angelina placing another kiss to her opposite cheek, making Daisy giggle. Daisy is handed off to Fred as the last couple leaves with another round of hugs and kisses.
“Get home safe! And be careful on the roads! It’s supposed to storm tonight!” Fred calls out as George and Angelina hop into their car with another wave. Fred closes the door with a sigh. Now it was just you, him, and Daisy. “Alright, you,” he teases Daisy who smiles. “I think it’s time for you to take a bath,” he scoops your daughter up into his arms, taking one of her bare feet in his hand, lifting it up to his nose. He feigns disgust. “Those stink, Daisy Gin!” he exclaims as Daisy giggles. “Mummy, we’ve got a 2342! Stinky feet!”
You gasp, “A 2342?!” Daisy laughs louder. “Get her in the bath! Stat!”
With that, Fred runs up the stairs and to the bathroom as Daisy shrieks with delight as you can’t help but chuckle. Even the simplest things Fred made fun. Each day with Fred as the father of your child was an adventure. He made the simple days extraordinary and the extraordinary days out of this world. He was the center of Daisy’s world; that baby girl loved her father more than anything. Sometimes it made you a little jealous, how much she adored Fred, but you couldn’t stay mad for too long. It was just so damned adorable how she stared up at Fred with so much idolization. 
From your bedroom, you could hear Fred and Daisy sing nursery rhymes in the bath, Fred doing silly voices which only made Daisy giggle. The sang, they counted, talked about animals, and colors. Each babbling conversation made your heart swell with love. 
“Mummy!” you hear Daisy call from her bedroom. 
“Coming, my peanut!” 
You walked down the hall and into Daisy’s room, decorated in white and yellow flowers on the walls with a bookcase filled with books and toys, and her small bed with sheets adorned with Holyhead Harpies sheets as per Daisy’s request. She sat on the bed, wrapped in her towel, waiting for you to change her into pajamas. It was your favorite part of the day.
You smiled at your daughter with freshly washed hair, wrapped in a green towel. “There’s my flower,” you smiled as Daisy kicked her legs excitedly. “What pajamas are we wearing tonight? Your Harpies pajamas are in the wash, but you have your daisy pajamas from Uncle Neville and your rainbow pajamas from Auntie Luna.” Daisy thinks for a moment before requesting her daisy pajamas from Neville. 
As you change your daughter into fresh pajamas, you listen to her babble about how much fun she had with her cousins and how she couldn’t wait for Wednesday. You smiled to yourself, still wondering how you were so lucky to get the sweetest, most darling little girl in the world as your daughter. You brushed her hair gently before plaiting her red hair that matched Fred’s into two pigtail plaits. Daisy smiled at herself in the mirror as you peppered her right cheek with kisses making her giggle. “I love you, Daisy Gin,” you tell her.
“I love you, Mummy,” she bats her eyelashes, looking up at you with those big chocolate brown eyes that so resembled Fred’s. All of Daisy reminded you of Fred. From her hair to her eyes to the way she spoke, it was all so Fred which only made you love your little tike more fiercely. 
You carried her back to bed, tucking her in her sheets before calling out for Fred. Within seconds, Fred appeared with a smile on his face. “Bedtime for my princess,” he smiles before kneeling next to you at her bedside. “Goodnight, my baby,” he kisses her forehead as Daisy closes her eyes with a smile.
“I’m not a baby!” she protests. “I’m a big girl! Like Auntie Ginny!” 
Fred smiles as you laugh. “Oh, pardon me! Goodnight, my big girl,” he corrects himself as you lean over and give your baby a kiss on the forehead. 
You run your finger through the loose strands of hair that are wispy around her face. “Sweet dreams, my girl,” you speak softly.
“Goodnight, Mummy,” she speaks sweetly, enough to make your heart burst. “Goodnight, Daddy,” she coos at Fred who smiles.
The two of you shut the lights and shut the door gently. You and Fred make your way into your bedroom, getting ready for bed yourselves. As Fred shuts the door behind him, you feel his arms wrap around your waist as you sigh. He presses a trial of kisses up your neck as you smile. “She’s getting so big,” you whine, turning around and facing Fred. He places a chaste kiss to your lips.
Fred sighs. It was true. Daisy was growing up way too fast for your liking. It was exciting, watching her become her own person. But at the same time, you loved her at this age. How small and confident she was. How she thought she was so in control. It was adorable. “I don’t like thinking about it too much,” he confesses. “But...” he trails off before starting to unbutton the buttons of your shirt. “We could prevent that...if we had another...” he suggests as you smirk. “It’s been nearly three years. Don’t you think we deserve another one?” he wiggles his eyebrows. “Another baby to keep Daisy company...”
You shake your head, “Fred Weasley, you are relentless.” You press a kiss to his lips and Fred deepens it, kissing you slowly and tenderly as you gently moan into his mouth. He smirks as he pushes the shirt you wear off your body. Quickly pulling away, you look at him. “Are you sure she’s asleep already? I don’t need our daughter walking in on a situation neither of us want to explain to a three year old,” you tell him.
Fred huffs before kissing you again, mumbling against your lips. “I’m sure.” You give him a knowing look as he groans, “Fine. I’ll lock the door. But you better get your ass in that bed.”
You giggle as Fred runs to the door, locking it as you crawl into the bed, a little too excited.
----------
A few hours later, you and Fred are fast asleep, Fred shirtless, arm draped around your torso as you wear his shirt to sleep. The sounds of rain hitting the window sound through the master bedroom, the occasional rumble of thunder here and there. To you and Fred, the rain always helped you sleep, but the youngest Weasley disagreed.
Slowly, the bedroom door creaked open further. She held onto her hippogriff plushie tightly, eyes full of worry. “Mummy?” she quietly asked into the room as you stirred in your sleep, slowly recognizing the voice. “Mummy? Daddy?” she called out again.
You woke up, sitting up straight to see your baby girl standing in the door way, fear in her eyes as she clung onto her plushie. Thunder rumbled outside as Daisy gasped, scared of the noise. “Daisy? Baby, what’s wrong, petal?” you asks, sleep laced in your voice.
She ran to the side of the bed as lightning flashed, you scooping her up in your arms as she held onto you tight, shivering lightly. Sadness coursed through your body as you realized your baby was afraid of the storm that was outside. “Aw, my flower,” you cooed as you rocked her back and forth, her sniffling into your chest. “It’s okay, my love,” you speak, kissing her head.
Fred rubs his eyes and realizing that his daughter was crying into his wife’s chest. Panic rises in Fred’s voice, “Is she alright? Do I need to call a Healer? Muggle doctor?” 
You shake your head no. “Our little Daisy Gin is afraid of the storm,” you whisper to Fred who nods his head. “It’s alright, baby. Mummy and Daddy are here,” you flip yourself around so Daisy can see her father. “See? We’re here, petal. Everything is alright.”
Daisy sniffles as she looks at Fred and gives him a timid wave. Fred smiles sadly at his princess and speaks, “Hello, flower. The rain woke you up, huh?” Daisy nods her head. “Bloody rain. Should I yell at the rain? And tell it to stop bothering us?” he asks, still groggy, but you can hear the smile in his voice.
Daisy giggles and nods her head as Fred rises from the bed and walks over to the window, opening it up mid-storm despite your protests. He sticks his head out of the window and screams out, “Hey! Rain! Go away!” 
Your daughter laughs madly in your arms as you can’t help but chuckle. Surely the neighbors think you have lost your minds. Fred shuts the window and climbs back into bed as you and Daisy’s laughter fades. However, the laughter is replaced with another shriek from Daisy as lightning strikes and thunder rumbles. She retreats further into your chest as you rub her back, kissing her head. 
An idea pops into Fred’s head as he opens his arms for Daisy to curl into. He clears his throat and starts, “I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day. When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May.” Your heart instantly melts at the sound of Fred singing to your daughter like he did the day she was born in the hospital three years ago. “I guess you’d say what can make me feel this way, my girl,” he sings as he looks to you to join him.
“Talkin’ ‘bout my girl,” you join Fred as the three of you lay in the bed, Daisy cuddled in between the two of you, her sniffles fading. You continue to sing until her eyes start to flutter close and her mouth emits small snores. Slowly, you fade out as she is soundly asleep. Fred brushes his little girl’s hair out of her face with a soft smile. You are too occupied looking at Fred and how he stares at your daughter, your heart racing. As if he couldn’t be a better dad.
Fred looks at you with a smile. “I love you,” you tell him with a small shake of your head. “I love you so much.”
“I love you so much more, my dear,” he speaks before placing a kiss on the tip of your nose. “You’re my world. The two of you complete me. My girls.”
With that, you and Fred cuddle up to your sleeping daughter, falling asleep to the sounds of the rain.
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astaroth1357 · 4 months ago
Text
Brothers React to a Demigod MC 
So, I've gotten some interest to do a Brothers follow-up to a previous request of mine (Undateables React to a Cute, Badass MC), however, I've thus far refused to write one. Honestly, this HC actually plays on a trope I personally dislike and had it not been a request I would have never done it to start with. I just can't see any reasonable way a non-magic human can beat a bunch of demons, I just can't, and that hinders my imagination quite a bit. …But someone who’s not so human? That I can get behind. Fair warning, I grew up with the Percy Jackson series so that’s going to paint quite a bit of how I see modern demigods. Ready for things to get super-ultra fanfic-y for a bit?
Intro:
The day to kidnap bring the exchange students to the Devildom has finally come and the demons have all gathered in the Council Room to open their portal to the human world. Really, things started without a hitch - the portal opened with and their future student dropped down out of it and landed on the floor… before they suddenly leapt up, pulled out a weapon, and lunged at them!
… This isn’t your normal human, it is?
Lucifer
Oh Devil, this couldn’t have been any farther than what they wanted… They were looking for a human and they managed to pull out a halfling! A divine halfling no less!! Why wasn’t this in their file?!
Look, Lucifer might not be on good terms with his father, but even he knows he had it better than any children of the pagan gods… The levels of petty vindictiveness that run through that bunch are literally the stuff of legends...
After he and Barbatos were able to restrain the MC before they hurt themselves or anyone else, Diavolo explained everything to them and gave them a pardon for attacking the Demon Prince on sight… After they identified themselves and their parentage, Lucifer knew they were in for some shit…
He and Diavolo had to iron out an apology letter to their godly parent for days just to keep from saying anything that could accidentally cause a second Troy or worse... It was a mess...
But on the bright side, the “human” came pre-prepared for fighting monsters and demons, which honestly took a bit of a load off his shoulders. That’s less responsibility for Mammon - and in his experience, the less responsibility Mammon has, the better things usually turn out.
… Though their ability to actually hold their own in a fight did make things complicated sometimes - like whenever he was their perceived opponent... 
He wasn’t expecting to have to manage a being that was actually capable of meeting him toe-to-toe on the battlefield and it did hinder his intimidation factor to some degree…It was hard to be threatening to someone who’s likely faced worse than you could ever offer.
In the end it probably worked out for the best, as a live exchange student is better for Diavolo than a dead one - but man did it get on his nerves until they made their pact together… Be scared of him, dammit!
Mammon
The first time he tried to threaten the human, they straight up pulled out a weapon and looked like they were ready to whip his ass!! Didn’t they know he wasn’t being serious?? 😫
He really didn’t know why he had to be on babysitting duty, anymore... This huma-er demigod could handle themselves just fine!
When he first ditched them with Levi, he later found out they managed to cleanly toss his brother over their head and make a break for it all by themselves! And Levi’s no pushover either!!
Later, he saw them getting ambushed on their way back from school and they soundly knocked out about five demons before he even caught up to them… and he’s, like, fast and stuff… 
Their strength is kind of unreal at times, but he could tell they were still far from a mindless killing machine. They were more or less a normal person, they had wants and dreams like anybody else, but they just happened to be a long stronger than the average mortals around them. 🤷‍♀️
After he eventually got to know them and a bit about how their life worked, he felt a little bad for them... Who wants to be hunted down just for being born?
After learning about their struggles, Mammon ended up resolving to help keep them safe (even if a part of him knew they didn’t need him that much).
I mean, if the whole world’s against you, then you can use all the help you can get... right?
Leviathan 
Levi found out exactly one thing about them within the first two minutes of meeting them… their reflexes were killer.
After Mammon ditched them on Day One, he tried to drag the human to his room to tell them his genius plan but they broke out of his grip and threw him flat on his back like was just second nature! 
He was stuck on the ground for a full minute, trying to process what just happened, while they ran off into the House all alone…
Did he just get tossed around… by a human?? Was he really that pathetic!?!
Finding out later that they were actually half-god certainly helped out his self-esteem because, man, if he had lost so easily to a human of all things... He might have just never left his room again…
Levi pretty much kept his distance from them until they finally made a pact together and then he discovered that the MC wasn’t so scary after all. If he’s being honest, being in the same house as a demigod was actually kind of cool...! 
Like, it was almost exactly the plot of the show: “Wait, I Thought I Was the Son of a Pagan God So What Am I Doing in a Christian Hell??” but their MC seemed to know a lot more about fighting than the protagonist of that show ever did…
Plus, because he never had to worry about their safety, he had even more excuse to never leave his room. Win-win!
Satan
A demigod, eh…? He had done plenty of research into human world mythologies in his spare time, frankly he thought the old gods had died out - but it seems they were still up and kicking… and making babies for whatever reason? Horny bastards...
Satan's original interest in the MC was purely academic. It’s not everyday that you get to meet someone of such a unique heritage and he fully intended to learn if all the legends about their greatness were true… and well...
He could say that the MC was certainly different than how he pictured humans being. He’d never met very many before, but from what he could gather they were a weak race that really got by on wit and persistence… However, nothing about the MC was weak.
Their aptitude for combat was surprisingly sharp, both in skill and reflexes. He had once blown up at them in anger and not only did they dodge his swipes but they got in a good few hits themselves with a nearby lamp… He never once thought a mortal could give him a black-eye but, somehow, they pulled it off. 🤷‍♀️
Combine their physical skill with what magical gifts were granted to them by their godly-half and they were a force to be reckoned with… Even Solomon seemed to hesitate and think more about his actions around them (which is saying something for a sorcerer of his strength).
It’d be fair to say a part of him grew to respect the MC long before they ever made their pact and that respect only grew afterwards. If he had to be bound to any master, human or otherwise, he’d rather it be one that he could right about consider an equal not only as a friend, but in strength as well.
Asmodeus 
A demigod…? Oooo, he hadn’t come across one of those since he bedded Aeneas all those centuries ago… Such a gorgeous man, got all his looks from his mother~! 🤭
Asmo was probably the most interested in their godly heritage, but it felt like he was treating them like a zoo exhibit for a while… Something pretty and new to look at, but not exactly someone he wanted to know personally...
He openly and readily admitted that watching their little demigod in action got him hot and bothered (or well, more hot and bothered than usual ) but it didn’t take him to see they weren’t interested at the time…
He decided that he just had to have a pact with them after they saved him from Henry 1.0! It was before he noticed the giant snake and he was lurching back to strike, but the human swept in to knock him out of the way. They probably could have made mince meat of the creature themselves if Levi weren’t begging for them to spare his former pet...
Post-pact Asmo treated them with a lot more respect… but also still fanboyed over their fighting skills hardcore. 
Like, their body had to be fit to keep up with all those monsters, right?? What was their training routine? Could he watch?? Oh please say he can watch!! He just can’t get enough of that fighter’s physique…! 😍
Beelzebub 
So… the human isn’t a human but only part human? And the other part is a god? Does that make them any sturdier than normal humans…? Call him curious…
Beel was probably one of the few brothers who was legitimately weary of the MC from the beginning… He can get a certain feel for a person pretty quickly and something about them just felt…frankly, kind of dangerous.
But they also intrigued him a little… Beel’s used to being one of the strongest demons in any room he walks into (not a boast, just a fact) so for him to get that feel from a mortal was pretty impressive. A part of him just wanted to test them… you know?
So. He did. He asked them to help him train his martial arts one day and even with his awareness, he was not expecting the results that he got.
The MC was strong. Very strong. They were not only able to keep up with him and dodge his blows, but they were able to predict his moves and counterattack in kind. They didn’t even need to tell him that they had actually been fighting for their life for years, he could tell. They had a skill you don’t get from practice matches...
After that point, the two would go to each other to train and keep their skills sharp… but also just to spar for fun. Their fighting styles made a pretty good match and they bonded pretty damn quick because of it. 
If anime tells us anything, when you find a good fight buddy, you stick with them. Even if one’s part god and the other is a demon. 🤷‍♀️ 
Belphegor 
A demigod is still human enough to hate, sorry MC. Not that he knew about their godly heritage at first…
Really, he should have been a little more suspicious of how easily they seemed to take to life in the Devildom... Weren’t demons supposed to scare humans? Why did they seem so comfortable down here...?
His confirmation only came when he tried to enact the final part of “Use the MC to Escape the Attic!” plan and take their life to seal the deal… but oh boy, was he outclassed real quick… 
The MC had already socked him in the jaw by the time he got his full demon form out and then they threw him across the room by the tail… the TAIL!! And it hurt like a bitch, too!! Even during the full blown fight that followed, he could tell they were holding back and it pissed him off something fierce...!
Why was the MC so strong?!? Humans weren’t supposed to be strong!!!
His brothers heard all the commotion and the Lilith confrontation ended up happening up in the attic between a somewhat beat-up Belphie and a barely-scratched MC. Had Beel not come to his defense on instinct, it might have turned out worse for him in all honesty… Something about that human just wasn’t right…
He only found out about their god-half after everything settled down and he promised not to try killing them again (not that anyone thought he could...) and that put some things into perspective. So the Lastborn Ruler of Hell isn’t as strong as one mortal demigod…? Ouch. Okay, fine then... Whatever...
He does think it’s too bad he missed them beating the crap out of the rest of his brothers, though (minus Beel)... That would have been fun to see. 😔
So I tried to keep this one God-parent neutral, but I’ve upgraded this to its own series! Check it out if you’re interested! 😊
Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes
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deepdonutkid · 4 months ago
Text
Tracing a shadow - part 2
Pairing: None
Requested: No
Word Count: 2822 words
Warnings: Drug use mentioned, underage drinking
Summary:  Michael getting drunk and sad about the death of his big sister Anna.
Author’s Note:  Maybe there is going to be a third part, where Anna lives... but I still not sure about this.
And virtual kisses and hugs for every like, reblog, comment or else! 
Do not repost my work
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A week was all it took for him to learn the truth. At first he was reluctant to ask, but after they had visited Polly’s new and suburban house, he knew that nobody else was home but Polly, the maid and him.
While waiting for the maid to bring the food, Polly said something that upset him. He looked just like his father and he didn’t know what to do with this piece of information. Should he be proud to look like the man who had beaten him? Michael bit his lip and stood silent. There were no words suitable for this situation.
Polly seemed to notice and explain how his biological father had died, smashed between the canal and the boot. Michael didn’t care about this. In fact he had already expected something similar. It was too quiet around the house. The presence of his father would have been noticeable.
He had no hard feelings about his death. The few memories about his father weren’t actually nice. So there was nothing to grieve about. And anyway, who said that he needed a father? Especially a father like this. Michael was almost a man and he survived this hell of a mess called his life all on his own.
But then after two days of staying at the house, he became jittery. There was a purpose for his arrival and he needed to fulfill it. Obviously, Anna wasn’t here, when Tommy did his research, maybe he didn’t just look for Michael but also for the long lost daughter of Elisabeth Gray. Or Polly knew something.
Well, this was speculated, but he wouldn’t give up and go, before he’d even tried. So he started looking around the house. Anything from her could be helpful.
Five days later, Michael went up to the house in the watery lane. There was something strange about this place and he hated every minute he had to spend there, but Polly was gone to work, so he could search unimpeded.
Soon he realized that his mother had vanished every evidence about her children around the house. It did hurt, but he could understand her. To lose custody was her lowest point. She told him something like this. At least she’d acknowledged that. This couldn’t heal his old scares, he knew, but it eased the pain. He told himself she changed for the better. Otherwise he wouldn’t have stayed.
The last room was their old chamber, Anna’s and his. He avoided going in there, but there was no way around it. Cold sweat ran down his back, when he stared at the door. Feeling the cold door handle in his hand made him gulp. His anxiety went through the roof.
Everything was still the same. He could tell that by first sight. In opposing corners were their beds. The bear figure from grandfather stood on the dresser. Anna loved playing with it. Being in this room was horrible for him. All the memories of her and his childhood rushed over him, crushed him to bits and pieces.
Suddenly he felt sick, almost like puking. He couldn’t be in this room anymore. Furthermore he was stupid to believe there was a hint about her whereabouts. Nobody was in there for years. Everything was dusted and it sort of looked like a shrine.
His feet took him out, faster than he could think. When the door was closed again, he was relieved. Without looking back, he hurried downstairs, mostly to get away from this nightmare, but also because he heard Polly entering the house.
‘Oh, you are here?’ she asked. Her eyes widened as she glared at him. Of course Polly expected him to be in the nice house with the ham and the maid and not here with his crumbled childhood memories.
Michael coughed slightly and nodded. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t find any good explanation for his behavior.  Then he fumbled his hands in his pockets and faced the floor. It was like she caught him, but with was exactly? It was not a crime going into what used to be his room.
With his new found courage he declared: ‘I was upstairs in my old chamber.’ He signed, peeked at the big clock right behind Polly and then back to her. ‘I mean… Anna’s and mine.’
Polly’s mimic was somewhere between hurt and thunderstruck. He caught her off-guard just by saying her name. This was no good sign at all. Michael got the impression there was something she kept from him. He was no child anymore and she from all the people should know that. If there was some secret about his sister, he needed to know.
‘Where is she anyway?’ he dug deeper, regardless of her feelings. The tears filled her eyes and gave him a scare. Her hands were covering her mouth, as she mumbled: ‘You really want to know this now?’
Again he nodded but with the stoic calm of a child that has already been broken. Now the sadness hit him too. The world lost its color while she explained it to him. His heart ached. He couldn’t stand hearing about her death.
Suddenly his body felt numb. Her words were muted as his world began to shatter. Michael closed his eyes, so he wouldn’t cry, but it didn’t matter as the tears found their way out anyway. There was nothing he could do about it. Everything felt just so useless. Why was he even here? And why did he wait so long to ask?
Polly stumbled into him, probably with the intention of a hug, but Michael refused. Without a blink he pushed her away. Everything seemed to hurt him now, even the simple touch. A tear rolled down and hit his shirt. ‘I need to be alone right now’, was the last thing he said before storming off.
He just couldn’t stand how Polly looked at him and to top it off she wanted to nurture him. That was the last thing he needed. Outside he first didn’t know where to go, but before he should make one more step in any direction, he wiped off the wetness from his cheeks.
His head tilted as he stared at the greyish sky of bad old Birmingham. Suddenly he knew which way to go. Michael made his plan. It arranged itself in his mind, piece by piece.
First he went straight to the Garrison. There he greeted Henry with a dull voice and asked for liquor, cigarettes and a matchbook. For Tommy, he said, knowingly that this request couldn’t be denied. He had learned already, that his family was somehow the unholy rulers of this rotten empire. It was not like he had something against that. Actually it was quite useful. Being Elisabeth Gray’s son had his benefits. Without a second ask the barkeeper put a whole bottle, three packages of cigarettes and some matches on the counter. The whole time Michael’s face stood bland. He took everything with him and left in silence.
Now his pace wasn’t confident as he headed towards the fields just at edge of town. He should know the way, but his memory was blurred. In his head played a scene of Anna and him running around a willow which stood near a creek. Actually he didn’t had a good reason to search for this spot, but something in his gut commanded him to.
Somehow he reached his destination. Michael wasn’t so sure this was the same tree his sister liked so much, but it didn’t really matter, as she wasn’t here to argue with him and she never would be. He just wanted to feel near her, but that was impossible, so he went with the next best thing.
As if his body lost the last bits of energy he slumped down. In the mud he sat, unsure with what he should start; crying, smoking or drinking. He had never done this stuff, but now he needed to. Everything ached and especially his throat was bone dry. So he went with the whiskey first. How much he hated the taste of it. The burning feeling in his chest expanded and the liquor left bitterness on his lips and tongue.
Just like he had a task list to do, he put the bottle away and fumbled in his jacket for the cigarettes. Michael hated smoking even more than drinking but he still remembered how Anna stole mum’s fags for the whole purpose of acting so adult. ‘Butt me.’, demanded a squeaky voice in his head. It was Anna crossing his mind again and again.
With shaky hands he tried to light his cigarette. Out here in the field it was too windy so he moved closer to the tree. It finally worked, but even the few drags made him cough terribly. He leaned against the bark and started to blubber. While he walked here, he could still stifle his feelings, but now they wrecked him.
Everything was pushing him down, more than ever. The sadness took him hostage. He was so up his mind, that he noticed the cigarette on his leg too late. Now there was not only a hole in his pants but also a burn on his skin. With all his might he slammed the cigarette butt in the grass next to him. He didn’t need those anyway.
Somehow he was sad and angry and full of doubts, too much to handle for him all on his own. He needed her now, but Anna was gone and she wouldn’t come back ever again. Michael knew that but he refused to accept this. How could she be dead when they made an oath to finally be reunited again? She swore it and now… He was here, but she was not.
He was unable to grasp it. Her death seemed so unreal and yet it did happen. Polly told him the truth, she wouldn’t have lied. If there had been any chance Anna was still alive, she would have told him so. But then again… how?
‘She tried coming back even after she was adopted by another family, so they took her around the globe, where she couldn’t run. There she died.’ That was Polly’s explanation, but it wasn’t enough for Michael. He needed to know how. It would haunt him over and over again, if he didn’t know the details. In his head he imagined every possible way it could have happened, which just made it worse.
Anna’s face kept messing with him. He still remembered her brown eyes, that daring grin, that could win everybody over and how her auburn brown hair framed her face. His sister had glowing skin from all the days she spent outdoors with grandpa. She had a captivating presence and she’d known how to use it. How easily she could charm people. This would apply to animals too. Anna had something bold to her and god, she feared nothing. Nobody could intimidate her. That’s what he treasured the most about her.
As a child he had so much to fear. He was scared about everything and anything, but Anna had protected him. His big sister was hero and he thought she was invincible. She put up a fight with Arthur, who was at that time already two heads taller than her, just because she wanted her cousins to take her seriously. And after that they did. She incited John to steal money from his parents, which ended horrible. Everything she did and everything she was astonishing. There just was something about her, something so light and mesmerizing. How could she have been bought to her knees by a simple disease? 
Now her light was out and Michael would never see it again. That insight hit him hard. His eyes were already red and swollen, but he couldn’t stop crying, even though he struggled for air. After all he still was a child and until now there was still something that hadn’t broken. This final piece shattered too and he would never be the same person. After all this pain he had been though, he thought in the end everything would work out for him and they would meet again. He still had the glimpse of hope, but that was gone, just like her.
Would she still look the same today? Or maybe she would have changed? Wore her hair short by now? Probably she would have been a blinder too. The flat cap with the razor blades would have suited her and she always had liked to mess with people, especially with Tommy. Anna laughed her ass off every time she successfully made Tommy mad. He fought a lot with her, but Michael liked to think, that his cousin still cared about her. 
Suddenly he had a clear picture in his mind how she would look by now and it fucked him up completely. She should have lived. He needed her. How could he survive without her? And even though he knew that she was dead, there still was a part in him, that didn’t want to believe this. But that was just denial, the first stage of grief.  Michael knew this, not that he could do something about this. Instead he just sat there and drank. He drowned so much whiskey despite the horrible taste, but it numbed the pain.
‘Why you?’ he sobbed: ‘You promised to come back. Why did you leave me alone?’ His sister wouldn’t hear his words, but he needed to say them.  ‘What happened? You said to me, you would come back and save me. You know what they did to me. To us and then you were gone. They shouldn’t have given you to this horrible family. We should be together.’ His voice was accusing, even though there were no judges or benches. A fire burned in his chest. He demanded answers, but he wouldn’t get any.
‘Why did they break us apart? We were better together- a team.’ Michael mumbled into the void. ‘I needed you and you needed me. Why? God, why? I just…’ The words kept blubber out of him. Now he cried even uglier. ‘I… I… I just… can’t… can’t believe that you… are gone… and how?’ Thinking about this made him crazy. His own thoughts choked him and he let it happen. ‘Were you all alone? And where did it happen? Did you have any friends? Did someone hold your hand when you had died? Were you scared? Did you cry? I don’t fucking know and it kills me.’
 Michael was drunk by now, but he didn’t feel any better. Actually it has gotten worse. The wind on the field was cold and he didn’t take his coat while rushing off. Now it was fucking freezing and he was all alone. The sky was getting darker and he could tell that the rain could start any time now, but he still hadn’t the power to move, not even an inch.
His tears had stopped and now he was just sad. God, he must have made a terrible impression, with the red face and the unkempt hair. While crying he had rubbed his face so much, that it hurt. While he sat here he ripped out some grass and watched it flowing in the wind. Downside to that was the grass all over him. Michael brushed it off his pants and then grabbed to bottle. When he drank it, he became so sick, he almost puked. In his anger he threw the bottle away.
There was nothing in him. The fire burned down and now it was just a pile of ashes. He felt empty and numb, which was relieving compared to the pain from before. It must have been hours, he had been sitting here. Michael was just tired, too tired to move a finger. Then everything got blurry and dark as his eyes closed.
When someone woke him up, much later that evening, he almost forgot where he was. ‘Fuck, you smell like schnapps. Pol is going to kill me!’ grumbled a familiar voice.
His head hurt like hell and Michael couldn’t think straight. The surroundings flickered before his eyes. He sounded so hoarse when he blurred out a ‘What?’
‘She sent everybody to look for you. She thought you went back to the other family.’ Explained John and hefted his cousin up. During this procedure Michael moaned like stubborn child. He didn’t want to go back and he certainly didn’t want to see Polly, but he didn’t have much of a choice. John dragged him back to the Watery Lane.
‘Did you really want to scoop?’ he asked. Michael didn’t know a lot about their world, but he already made the decision to stay. It was what Anna would have wanted.
‘No’ he replied: ‘Unfortunately… you guys have to bear me a little longer.’
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secndlife · 4 months ago
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pairing: jeonghan x reader
genre: fluff, suggestive, slice of life
summary: you go home with jeonghan after what it feels like the hundred wedding of the year. you’re tired. he isn’t. and he has one think on his mind. what is it called again? ah! love.
word count: 4.8k
warnings: slightly suggestive, but barely anything, really
song
series masterlist
You loved weddings. They were happy moments that deserved, almost begged to be cherished and enjoyed. But you were getting kinda tired at this point. For some reason, it felt like everyone around you and Jeonghan had decided to get married. Some long-term engagements decided to rise up and finally materialize into ceremonies. Some new relationships formed and decided not to lose any time, diving right into forever. 
The two of you skipped a couple of celebrations. Sometimes, Jeonghan was too tired from work, the small kids that called him Mr. Yoon draining almost all of his energy. Sometimes, you had a massive headache after writing for several hours about everything and nothing. Sometimes, all you wanted was to curl up against his chest, while his fingers danced around your back and you placed featherlight kisses by his jaw to make him giggle. 
But today was a ceremony you couldn’t afford to miss. You didn’t really want to miss it anyway. Wonwoo was getting married. Wonwoo, one of your closest, oldest friends, was finally getting married. And you honestly wouldn’t miss it for the world. While he was walking down the aisle, arm firmly linked to his mother’s, he looked at you and smiled. He was happy and it was written all over his face for everyone to see. Still, there were parts of it that were marked in some type of special ink that only you had the ability to see. It said he had never been happier. It also said a polite thank you; after all, you were the one who introduced him to Minhee. It said he knew you had found a similar and, at the same time, totally different type of love with the man beside you. And that he was happy for you too. You smiled back, eyes crafting a response just as beautiful and meaningful in the form of small, glossy tears. 
Usually, Jeonghan would tease you. It was not rare for you to cry at weddings, so he always nudged you jokingly before his thumb skillfully wiped your tears away. It was like he knew where the tears would roll down, being familiar with their path across your features. This time, though, he skipped the teasing. There was something different about Jeonghan today, you just couldn’t point it, at least not yet. Maybe later on, in bed, hips slamming against yours like motion waves, and eyes glowing as if they had never seen anything as mesmerizing, you’d be able to see it better.
After drying the stubborn tears, he placed a comforting hand by your waist, body moving closer to yours once you were facing the altar again. It felt like home, like his hands were made to be against your skin and nowhere else. He whispered by the shell of your ear, “I’ll look even more handsome when it's my turn.” You let out a small laugh and turned around to place a kiss by his warm, rosy cheek. 
Wonwoo took his place in full glory, red, dark hair contrasting against his skin. His tuxedo hugged his frame perfectly, and the smile placed on his lips made him look heavenly. His mom squeezed his shoulder before sitting down by his father, who looked at him proudly.
Not long after, the harpist announced Minhee's entrance. You quickly recognized the song as it was on the soundtrack of one of Wonwoo’s favorite movies, “Love, Actually”. You wondered who had chosen it, but most likely the bride. And probably out of a wish to surprise her lovestruck man.  
Through the course of their relationship, and by having a front row seat to his heart, you found out Wonwoo was incredibly cheesy. It was amusing seeing him like that. He was usually calm, rational, collected. Minhee made him throw almost all of that out of the window. It came with being in love, you guessed. You got chills running up your spine when you realized Jeonghan did that to you too. That didn't matter at that moment, though. You decided to focus on the breathtaking woman making her way towards your best friend to seal their love.  
Minhee was wearing a long sleeved dress, her arms covered in the finest of laces, crystals being carefully placed by some parts of it. She looked expensive, rare, delicate. It looked like her skin was glowing. The skirt opened up beautifully, the train following her as she walked. Her hair was cascading against her face, slightly curled, and a small tiara was placed by the top of her head. If someone told one of the children in the place she was a princess straight out of a movie, they’d had no choice but to believe. Not when she looked like that. 
Wonwoo’s smile got brighter at the vision of his soon-to-be wife. He recognized the song, too. Once Minhee reached her destiny, her father shook Wonwoo's hand in comfort and approval, and sat by his place. Your friend placed a soft, perhaps a bit too long, kiss by Minhee’s cheek and they both faced the man who would make it all, finally, official. 
You felt eyes on the back of your head, knowing all too well to whom they belonged. “What?” You said, voice low and eyes still facing forward.
Jeonghan smiled, grateful that you didn't turn back to face him. He was aware that his dark, mysterious eyes, would tell you more than they should at that moment. So he settled for a lie, “Nothing.”
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“Sorry they couldn't come,” you told Wonwoo while he sat by your side. The belongings of your friends were all spread out on the table while they had fun on the dance floor. Your parents were supposed to be there as well, but your father had some work activities he couldn't pass on. You looked around for a second, admiring the location. The couple chose a beautiful place to celebrate their wedding - a nice, classic hotel in Seoul. The walls of the ballroom reminded you of ancient, romantic paintings, the classic architecture highlighting the golden details. 
He nodded, “It's okay. You're representing them.” Your family liked Wonwoo a lot. When the two of you started dating early college years, they were kinda overjoyed. It was strange to look back at those times. You and Wonwoo as a couple seemed like a distant, almost unreal memory. It made no sense. You didn't even know how the two of you managed to date for almost a year. It wasn't bad back then. It was just… comfortable. But not in a good way. As if you're settling. Too comfortable. You discovered later on that you did love Wonwoo, just not like that. You weren't happy together. It was like the decision of trying it out came not from you and him, but from others who had their own agendas. Like it was made out of outside expectations and, sadly, lack of different, better options. Like it was almost out of fear of loneliness. But this was in the past, where it should be. Things turned out fine, anyway. 
Jeonghan was by your side, arm by the back of your chair and fingers dancing against your exposed skin. It was almost the end of summer now, so the weather was comfortable enough to wear a dress that showed your arms, something that your boyfriend was very much fond of. It was crazy how the smallest of his touches was able to pretty much set you on fire. He knew that you and Wonwoo had dated, and he also knew he had no reason to worry. Your friend had just gotten married to someone else, for fuck’s sake. Still, his grip always managed to, almost unnoticeable, get stronger whenever the youngest was around.
He wasn't jealous. Jeonghan wasn’t a jealous person. But it was as if, not so consciously, there was this fear of losing the best thing he ever had. So much that he needed to make sure he was being seen, to make sure that you saw nothing but him. Losing you would hurt like hell. It would hurt even more if he lost to someone that didn't even fit you. He fit you, though. Perfectly. And he knew you knew that. He knew you loved him. But he was only human, even if his looks were heavenly enough to say otherwise. So the fingers resting by the side of your arm were his way of showing his assertiveness without being an ass. He knew you knew that too. You just loved him too much to not allow him to do that. You knew he needed it. So you just let him, much like you let him steal your heart with no intentions on giving it back. Much like you’d always let him. 
Jeonghan lost track of your conversation with Wonwoo while he allowed his mind to slip away for a moment and his eyes to wonder. He was brought back to reality when you excused yourself to go to the restroom, your make-up asking for a much-needed retouch.
When you were out of sight, Jeonghan took that as his cue. “Can I ask you something?” He asked the youngest. 
Wonwoo nodded with a smile, “What, are you going to ask me about her?” He laughed softly. “You probably know more than I do at this point.”
He smiled at that. Maybe he didn't need to be afraid after all. Jeonghan shook his head, “I’m not really going to ask you about her." The red haired man furrowed his brows while the brunette exhaled. “I'm going to ask you how did you know it was time to propose.”   
“Oh.” It was all Wonwoo managed to say. The reaction was almost instinctive. 
Your boyfriend looked confused, “Shocked?”
He chucked, “Not really.” Wonwoo should've seen it coming. He did, actually. You and Jeonghan had been together for a little over two years now. And he knew this was your best relationship by far. The shock was much more on the question rather than on the upcoming proposal. Wonwoo didn't really expect Jeonghan to ask him about its timing. “Just wondering why is this a question for me and not your friends.” The two men had a nice relationship, they just weren't the closest. 
“Because you know her the best,” he stated, simply. It's not like he thought you'd say no. He just needed some reassurance he wasn't taking a step bigger than his legs. And who's better to provide him that than your best friend and ex-boyfriend?
Wonwoo took a sip of his drink, “The question isn't really about her, though.” Touché.
The older let out a small laugh, “I know.” Of course he knew. “It's just that—”
“Don't worry, you know it already.” When Wonwoo saw you coming through his peripheral, he calmly stood up. He placed a hand on Jeonghan’s shoulder, a genuine smile across his lips, “And I think she knows it too.”
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At that point, slower songs were being played. It was getting late, the party going on for a couple of hours now. You and Jeonghan were by the dance floor, his hand on your waist while he led you. Suddenly, you saw Wonwoo touch the man’s shoulder. “Mind if I step in for a bit?” He asked gently and pointed at Minhee with his head, “She's dancing with her friend, so might as well dance with mine too.”
You smiled while Jeonghan nodded, “Sure. I’ll go get a drink.” He shot a wink your way, “Don't miss me too much.” 
You giggled, taking Wonwoo's hand in yours while the other one rested by his shoulder. It felt different from Jeonghan, but you guessed it was only natural. They were different people with whom you now had different relationships, even if there was any common part in the past. 
The man in front of you looked at you fondly, “So.” You tried to understand the hidden meaning behind his tone, with no success. 
You furrowed your brows, “What?" Looked like he wanted to say something and just didn't know how.
“I’m really happy for you,” he said, after some thought. 
A giggled escaped your lips, “Isn't that supposed to be my line?” Wonwoo would always share everything with you, you learned with time. His happy moments were your happy moments too. 
He nodded, "Yes. But I just want you to know I’m happy for you too. Just as happy as you are for me.” It always amazed you how good Wonwoo was at speaking with his eyes. Sometimes, they spoke more than his lips. 
There was a foolish smile across your lips, “I know. Thank you.” 
It was his time to look confused. “For what? Breaking up with you years ago?” He joked.
You shook your head, chuckling at his comment. “That too.” He hummed. You blinked a couple of times before speaking again, “Did you ever wonder why we didn't work out?”
“Didn't really have to,” he shrugged. “It's not like we didn't know.” And he was right. Both of you, deep down, knew that it was just the safe choice. Neither of you wanted to be safe. Not like that. You wanted to be loved properly and you wanted him to be loved properly too. You both deserved more than that. You both deserved better. You deserved that love that sweeps you off your feet, that makes you crazy and that eases you at the same time. And you both had found it, only in different people. “Besides,” he continued, “it would never work. We were destined for other people already.” His smile was calm, confident. Like he had no doubt in his heart he belonged to Minhee, much like you belonged to Jeonghan. 
You smiled back, the same confidence in your gestures, “Yeah.”
He placed a kiss by your cheek, “It all worked out as it should.” You nodded, and he spoke again, “So, when will you be the bride?”
There was almost an unspoken agreement that you and Jeonghan would get married. Eventually. He knew he was the one to propose, and, at times, you found yourself wondering why he hadn't done it yet. There was no insecurity, though. Just curiosity. Just this crazy need of finally being able to call him your husband, even if your dynamic was pretty much like a married couple’s one. Just this feeling that forever would not be enough, but it would make a good start. And yes, fine, maybe some insecurity. Some irrational fear that he would find someone better, something better. Even if you knew he was well aware of the fact that you were, simply put, his person. Still, sometimes, late at night, when he was sound asleep and his breathing was as calm as his heart, you wondered if he ever thought of leaving. If he ever thought of someone else. If he had settled for you temporarily while nothing better came along. But you'd always wash the intrusive thoughts with a glass of water. And with resting your head on his chest, which always made him, unconsciously, pull you closer. And there, in his arms, you felt safe. You'd always feel safe around him.
“I don't know,” you said, truthfully. You thought of proposing to him once or twice. But Jeonghan made you promise that, about a year ago, at Taewoo’s wedding, since you were inviting him to move in, you’d have to leave the proposal for him. So you did. But this one part of you was kinda tired of waiting. Maybe that's why you felt like you were starting to get tired of weddings. Maybe you were just tired of weddings that weren’t yours. “I’m just waiting at this point.”
Wonwoo laughed, “I hope you won't wait long.”
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You removed your shoes right after you crossed the door, a content sigh escaping your lips. “I fucking hate heels.” 
Jeonghan laughed, closing the door behind him. “I know.” He dropped the keys by the small wooden table that kept the mail and the newspapers. There were about two more invitations there, the big envelopes making it quite clear as to what type of event they were for. 
“And I’m also starting to hate weddings,” you announced, placing your bag by the couch and sitting down on it. “Why did everyone suddenly decide to get married now?”
His eyebrows rose up. “You love weddings.” It wasn't a question. He plopped down next to you. “Can you please take your purse and put it in the right place?” 
He nagged and you ignored it. “I mean, I like them. But having to go to a different one almost every weekend is so—"
“Mundane?” He knew you thought of weddings as something rare, almost sacred. He knew that, somewhere deep down, the frequency of such events seemed to diminish their importance in your mind. 
You chuckled, “No, not that.” You rested your head back, thinking for some time, until you were ready to speak again. “Just… exhausting.” It also made you almost jealous, but this one you couldn't mention. 
He hummed, sitting by your side in silence for some time. You didn't notice, but there was this smile across his lips that, if you looked at it for long enough, you'd find out the four words he was dying to ask. But now, suddenly, he felt small. Jeonghan knew somewhere between all his thoughts of the future that he wanted, more than anything, to spend it with you. You were it for him. And now, it just seemed too silly not to ask you about it. You'd say yes, right? He knew you'd say yes. Well, at least until a couple of minutes ago. Now that you mentioned your lack of interest in weddings, he thought it might be worth reconsidering. Or maybe he should just fucking ask. No overthinking, no big gesture, just a question.
“I’ll go take a shower, ok?”
Maybe not now.
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The water felt warm against your skin, every single bit of your muscles feeling relaxed. Your mind went directly to the thought of Jeonghan proposing. More specifically, as to why he hasn't done it yet. You started wondering if the recent complaints after coming home from others’ celebrations had taken any effect on him. He'd always listened to them with an amused smile, nothing further. No indication of troubles or worries. 
Maybe that was not it. Maybe you read his kisses, his touches and his words wrong. Maybe you read it all wrong, and he wouldn't propose at all. Maybe the voices in your head you tried oh so hard to make go away were right. 
You shook your head. Stupid, stupid insecurities. He loved you. Jeonghan loved you and he always made sure to let you know about it. Even with little things, like the way he pinched your nose when you left your coat by the armchair. Or the way he cooked you breakfast when you were late before going to the school. Or the way he whispered how beautiful you were against your lips. There was love all over it and all over him. All over you too as he poured it there. He made sure not even a single bit of you was left without it and here you were, allowing some stupid concerns to doubt him. Stupid, stupid insecurities. 
Before you could think more, you felt his slender fingers against your waist. Nothing would ever feel as right as his touch. You smiled. “You didn’t mention joining me.”
“Missed you too much,” he hummed against your shoulder. You giggled while he placed his lips by the shell of your ear. “Really, really missed you.” Jeonghan pressed himself against you to fully convey the meaning of his words.
Another laugh escaped you, “How are you this hard? I left you 5 minutes ago and this was nowhere in sight.”
His fingers found yours, lacing them together. Nothing would ever feel as intimate as holding his hands. He gently nudged you away from the water and, at that moment, you thanked him for bothering you into finding a place with a bigger bathroom. Jeonghan pushed you against the glass. It didn't feel cold. It couldn't, not when he was right there, chest flushed and burning hot across your naked breasts.
His lips were by your neck. They felt like pure sin. Like love and lust and all that's in between. He made sure to leave some marks behind, almost as if he knew you needed a reminder of whom you belonged to. When Jeonghan’s lips found yours, they made sure to leave another indication of his feelings. It was barely a whisper. Yet, at the same time, it was like he was screaming from the top of his lungs. “I love you.” 
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You were sitting between Jeonghan’s legs in the living room, a soft pillow separating your bottom from the wooden floor. You were both in your pajamas. You settled for sweatpants and a random t-shirt, while Jeonghan had his blue striped matching set. It was a fun contrast to watch. He had a brush in hand, allowing it to gently flow through your hair. You always loved when he did this. It put you at ease. 
“I can't believe you got my hair wet at this hour,” you whined, pinching his leg. 
He chuckled, “It was worth it, wasn't it?”
Of course it was. Everything with him would always be worth it. Even waiting for a proposal you thought it might never come. You shook your head, “You’re something else.”
“Thank you,” he said, softly. 
You'd be fine with having this forever, even if there would be no proposal. Jeonghan was enough and he would always be enough. You didn't need a ring to prove a point or to make you feel loved. He was doing it more than enough already.
You tapped his thigh so he'd stop the brushing. “I’ll make us some tea.”
“Hmkay,” he said, placing a kiss at the top of your head. 
You stood up and went to the kitchen, leaving Jeonghan alone with his thoughts once again. He had to do it, right? He didn't really have to. But he wanted to. He wanted it so bad it felt like he might actually die if he doesn't pop the question sometime soon. Like there was this ticking bomb in his chest, threatening to explode if he didn't finally say those four words. 
He had no doubts by now, but he found small confirmations along the way. He found it in the way you stroked his hair before bed and in the way you always made his tea before yours. He found it in the way he felt when he was inside you and in the way you looked at him when you were about to cum. He found it in the way you showed him your tongue whenever he teased you about your food preferences and in the way you talked about him to your mom when you thought he wasn't listening. He found it in the way you vocalized you loved him and in the way you acted on your love. It was everywhere, in everything. 
Jeonghan placed a hand by the pocket in his shirt, the almost imperceptible feeling of metal against his fingers causing goosebumps to form all around him. He took his phone from the couch, putting on a song and making his way to the kitchen. 
This was it. His fate was lying in one question. In one person and in one feeling.
When he reached the room, you had two mugs in hand and a confused look across your features. “What's with the song?” You inquired. After a couple of seconds, you recognized it and giggled at his choice. You remembered watching “Crazy Rich Asians” with him one day and mentioning you wanted to walk down the aisle with “Can’t Help Falling In Love” playing. He asked the instrument and you said harp. He asked why this song and you said you didn't really know. He asked if he'd be the one waiting for you at the altar and you said you hoped so. 
Jeonghan smiled at you. It felt different somehow. You had seen this smile several times before, it was your smile. But there was something else now. “I want to slow dance,” he said, simply.
“What?” You were genuinely confused now, worried about the tea in your hands getting cold.
He took the drinks and placed them by the kitchen island, “C'mon now, the song will end soon.” For a moment, you stood there, frozen and somewhat intrigued. As usual, he took the lead, placing one of your hands by his shoulder and taking the other one in his. Jeonghan started swaying softly and you followed along. 
Not long after, he started speaking. “I thought a lot about this. About us and about you. About how I really couldn't help falling in love with you.” 
You smiled, staring at his eyes. You finally saw the message he kept trying to hide all day long. Your lips moved way too fast for you to stop it. “Are you gonna propose?” 
He ignored your question and kept speaking, “It's funny. I’ve been with many people and no one, ever, has made me feel like this. And I knew this from the moment I first laid my eyes on you back in Sowon’s wedding.” Your eyes sparkled at the memory. “There's something so magical about you. About the way you smile and the way you bring out the best in me. About the way you say you love me and the way you actually showed me what love is.” 
Jeonghan was feeling a lot of things at that moment, all of them that could be translated into four tiny letters put together. Ironically, he thought those four letters just weren't enough for this. For him. For you. 
His grip in your hand got tighter now, the fingers that rested by the small of your back moving anxiously. “There's just so much to say about you, to you, and I'm usually so good with words. But fuck,” a nervous laugh escaped him, “looks like I can barely form a sentence and the song will end soon. Fuck. Ok.” You eyed him carefully, tears starting to form by the corner of your eyes already. A strand of his hair fell on his face and you delicately placed it away, him instantly leaning against your touch. Your eyes were hot now, tears very evident despite your strong efforts. 
“I’m usually not a person of fear. And you make me feel quite fearless.” He smiled. “But, right now, if you ask me what scares me the most, it’s the possibility of not spending every single day of the rest of my life by your side.” 
“Oh my God.” You muttered. And then the waves in your eyes start. Quietly, lovingly. 
Jeonghan nodded and let out a giggle, “Oh my God indeed.” He placed the hand he was holding alongside your other one. “I know you're tired of weddings, but,” he took the ring out of his pocket, “I have this.” You stared at the object in his hand. It sparkled almost as much as your eyes. It had an emerald in the middle. You mentioned this to him once, how you liked emeralds because they meant protection, love and wisdom. He represented all that to you and, now, you saw you represented it to him as well. “Maybe you’ll consider another wedding then.” You sniffled, and he chuckled, “You know, our wedding.”
He was really doing it. He was doing it and doing it in the most Jeonghan way possible. And it all felt divine, marvelous. Like an unforgettable memory. It was like you were floating on clouds already. Like he was about to catch a star from the sky and place it in your finger.
“This is a promise. This is me promising to love you more every day, to nag and tease you constantly, to do everything in my power to make you happy. This is me promising to learn from you and to teach you all I can about everything. This is me promising to hold you whenever you're feeling blue and to make you feel colorful again. This is me promising to keep you safe and to share your burdens. This is me promising to, simply put, be your home.” He leaned in and placed a small peck by your lips. “All I’m asking is one small thing in return.”
You swallowed the happy tears that didn't manage to fall down just yet, “What is that?”
“How is it called again? Ah! Love.”
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a/n: oh my god!!!! i finished this. i really finished my first series. oh my god!!!!!! tbh i didn't really think i could do it. but wow..... i really did it. first, thank you to my friend, beta and everything in between, @yoongitalks​. thank you for always reading my works with a fresh pair of eyes and for all the help and encouragement. thank you @leannehuang​ for being one of my most present supporters, especially for this series. thank you for being invested in it almost as much as i was. thank you for your comments and your help along the way. i really really liked how this mini series turned out and, honestly, i’m kinda super proud of myself right now. i hope you guys will like it as well! feel free to send in your thoughts here and enjoy!! 
185 notes · View notes
some-scenarios-imagines · 5 months ago
So here’s my question, thorfinn and askladd are interested in Vinland for different reasons, askladd interested cause the hero Arthur headed there to heal, and thorfinn interested cause it’s a land of lush lands. Imagine if they come across a woman from the future(she doesn’t tell them she from the future, just that she is from Vinland) and anytime she talks about America (vinland) it’s sounds like an advanced civilization. (Super tall buildings made of metal and glass. Army with hundreds of thousands of strong soldiers, food of all kind able to get and make. Including thousands of spices. Hundreds of kinds of beer and wine, beautiful women) she seems very educated, so educated some of the things she talks about make no sense. (Physics, advanced maths).
Wow, I really get surprised how many people can come up to such interesting ideas! I was thinking about it for a while, so I decided to write what I was able to create. I am nor American, neither english is my mother tongue, BUT I did my best to write these imagines. Again, I wanna thank you for such an idea to accomplish. I hope you will like it!
Askeladd x future! Reader
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Askeladd
In a tavern
“ Young gal, how dare you to sit here alone that night so unprotected? You can end up being stolen or even worse...” The blonde man drank a pint of ale and exhaled looking at the young woman, she looked so strange to him. He has never seen such untimid women in his life. All in her nature was strange to him, alienlike. And these traits attracted him like a magnet.
“ I am Askeladd. Where are you from? Are you Brit?”
“ ( Name). No, actually, I am from... far away. America, do you know about it?” You nervously touched your hair, but kept a firm smile on your face. No, in those times with those men as him you couldn’t show any drop of fear. Not a bit.
“ Alas, I have no idea what you are talking about. What is it? Is it in Africa or...”
You interrupted him and replied “ A-me-ri-ca. It is across the ocean... like.. if you go to the west and..”
He was caught by surprise.
“ Vinland?”
“ Yes... uh, I think you call it like it”
“ How did you come here? No, what is it like?” He drank another pint. His sight was glued to you. You felt good, all the attention, so sheer and pure, of such a fine man, was all for you. You didn’t know why he was so curious, bur you filled your lungs with air and started speaking.
“ It is massive with cities”
“ Cities?”
“ Yes. There are a lot. From coast to coast. Our houses are tall and... we can get.. water anytime!”
“ How come?” His tipsy look sobered up in a second. Bloody hell, water anytime!
“ I don’t know. It is all about the canalization system”
“ Can.. Canalization system?”
You started showing the pipe shapes, he laughed at you because your gestures seemed to him reavealing and vulgar. You blushed and realised that you were speaking from a man from the 11th century and decided to switch the topic. What would interest a mercenary?
“ We have good medicine”
“ How good, (name)?”
“ Like, healers can help many people, childrrn don’t die. We live in warmth and...”
You how the look of curious changed to rage and confusion. At the moment you felt that your time, 21st century - is the best time to live. Now you sit with a fine man, but you couldn’t survive here for a day. You stopped talking, but he asked you again.
“ How good?”
“ No one dies, almost. But it is progressing, getting further..”
“ Was it the same way like about 30 years ago?”
“ I think so, it depends”
“ I don’t know wether your words are true or not. But if I had a chance to get to the place you are talking all this evening about-“
He seized his cup, looking into his turbid drink.
“ (Name), If it is real. I am glad to know this cruel world changed at least”
You averted your eyes. You touched something in him.
“ It didn’t, but it is another story to tell, Askeladd”
Askeladd’s voice changed. Stern and serious, he took your hand in his and look straightly into your eyes. You became numb. Ah!
“ (Name), if you stay here I will buy a place in the inn for you. Just tell me more about this A-me-ri-ca?”
Thorfinn x Future! Reader
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Iceland, at Thorfinn’s home
“ Woman, how can you walk like that? It is still snow outside! You could even die near our front door!” Ylva coated you with several wool blankets and you stick to the hot clay cup filled with fish broth. You don’t remember what happened to you: you just fell asleep and you woke up here, among the endless fields of snow and sharp mountains, just in your light T - shirt and shorts. And you have no idea how these people found you , but they saved you, fed you, gave you clothes and more. Gave you one more day to live.
“ I-I am s-sorry”
“It is ok, Ylva. You have children to put in bed. I will look after the guest.”
“ Thorfinn... put her in my bedding. Me and Ari will sleep with kids”
She whispered to him.
“ Don’t let happen what happened when our father was here...”
“ I won’t”
She nodded and went away, taking her kids in another room. You stayed on your place, sitting near the hearth. So warm...
The man, named himself as Thorfinn, sat in front of you. He seemed to be so indifferent to you, but he had just no idea to start a conversation with a woman who is such in a bad condition. You kept silent but he was near. After some time you felt better and you asked him, trying to sound as good as you could.
“ Where am I?”
He nodded, his brown eyes blistered with fire flames. He looked so handsome you thought, but his face and hands were covered with endless scars.
“ Iceland. In a village.”
“ I see... I am ( Name).”
“ Thorfinn. I am glad that my friend and I found you”
“ Yes”
You nodded and started looking around. Why is everything so old? What time of history.. is this?
“ Are you a warrior, Thorfinn?”
He sighed and looked somewhere far, somewhere his memories were. Far away”
“I used to be one. But all those stories are in the past. I am a merchant. A traveler as well.”
“ Where do you travel, Thorfinn?”
“ I traveled some places. Now I am aiming to sail to Vinland. It is in the west. They say these lands are lush and prosperous.”
“ Can it be.. uh? I am from this place, actually.”
“ Really? But.. is it true?”
He was marveled by your words. Surprisingly, he believed in your words without any shadow of doubt.
“ Tell me something about it, (Name). Сan people live here and never be afraid of hunger?”
You smiled again. These people think of such basic needs, and to have food for tomorrow is enpugh for them to feel safe.
“ Yes, they can. People even.. do other duties, there are little people who work in the farms, they earn their living another way.”
“ I see... is it that warm? Do you have snow like here?”
“ Oh, Thorfinn, Vinland is so wide, there are lands that have never felt snow on their soil, and there are territories which look like Iceland”
He opened his mouth.
“ But will there be any lands for my people to stay and have a good life?”
“ Yes, Thorfinn. It is so peaceful. We quarrell but in Amer- I mean Vinland, people of many ethnics live together at peace. And there are no slaves..”
“ It must be the safiest place to live, ( Name). But It sounds unreal, hm..”
You nodded tiringly. You got warm and now you just wanted to drown in the obvilion of sleep. Thorfinn saw it. He stood up and took your hand. How gentle he was to you. Now you saw him close. How gleamed his eyes, and how enthusiastic he was.
“ I want you to introduce to my friends tomorrow. One of them has been to Vinland. Will you go with me, (Name)?”
You whispered.
“ Yes, will..”
“ Then, all my thoughts of redemption were not in vain, I can fix all I had done”
You felt his heart bumping, his breath, he had something that worried him deeply. You put your effort and smiled again to him, for him.
“ Thorfinn, I promise you will.”
He brought you to your bedding. Finally, you had your sleep and it was the best sleep you had in your life.
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fangirlyah · 6 months ago
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✦ a friendship by letters - Edmund Pevensie x Reader
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summary: a friendship formed in childhood, a friendship that survived the riskiest adventures ... what will happen when they separate and their only contact is letters? word counter: 2,674
warnings: abandoned parents
according to the books the ages of the characters should be different, but in this one-shot their ages will be those agreed by wikipedia reasoning with the actors’ age in the year of recording of the second film (it is an approximation):
Peter - 20
Susan - 17
Edmund - 15/16
Lucy - 12
Prince Caspian - 26
digory kirke had raised you after being abandoned by your family. when world war II came to england, food was scarce. you were barely three when your parents took you to have a tea afternoon with your favorite uncle, but they never came back to pick you up. at first you didn’t understand, why had they abandoned you? people should not leave the people they love, that's what your fairytales said; but this wasn't a story, it was reality. 
digory took care to keep you safe and with everything you needed. the years went by and your parents had become a vague memory, you no longer had remorse for them; a three-year-old girl had seemed a nuisance to them at the time. 
when you turned eight, you got the first letter from them; they had started a new family, they had a pair of twins with blue heavenly eyes, they looked a lot like you. your little person wondered if they would see the resemblance and leave them too. despite the confusing news, that birthday was the best of your entire childhood, because an even better news had arrived. after all these years, you’d have some kids to be with. kirke had taken care of your education so you’d never had another friend than your uncle and the people who worked for him. the day the pevensies arrived was cloudy, a typical english day, with a small drizzle that would get wet from time to time.
they were well-dressed and with dubious faces, they were more confused to see a sweet girl waiting for them at the door of the cottage.
"hi, it’s nice to meet you!" you shook hands with them politely, despite your enthusiasm. 
"we didn’t know there would be more children" one of the children, with freckles on his pale cheeks, looked at you from top to bottom, it didn’t seem much older than you but he seemed to judge you with just a few words. 
"don’t be rude, edmund!" the other boy gently pushed his head, he looked like the oldest of them all.
the four of them were very nice, some more than others but they treated you well. you used to play in the big courtyards and take classes together. you had discovered each other’s personality shortly after your arrival; you were very observant. peter was the loudest talker, if it was a sports team he’d be the leader. but susan was not left behind, she was very smart and knew a lot about all the topics they talked about during meals. edmund didn’t talk much but he wasn’t quiet, of the four he was the most serious and acid but he wasn’t a bad kid. and finally lucy, she was a walking ray of sunshine, with that no further description was needed.
"why can’t we see the old man?" edmund was at your side as the two of you walked down the dirt road. the cook had ordered you to go in search of bread and milk. 
"his name isn't old man, his name is digory kirke…” as they moved on and crossed people, edmund was surprised as every redneck seemed to know you. 
"you said he raised you, how did he raise you if you never saw him?"
"yes I saw him, we spent all our time together...but now he’s busier than before"
"but...where are your parents?" edmund’s childish mind thought she was there for the same reason as them; perhaps, he wanted to think that her mother was a nurse and her father a soldier, that would be to have heroic parents. but your look got lost in the trees on your side as you didn’t answer, instead you said, 
"race to the store!"
that was your first interaction. thanks to that race your friendship was forged, after two weeks of them living in your house. 
your last interaction was the day they returned to finchley. the chaos continued, but was not enough to keep them away from home, so they had to leave. the four of them were on the cart thrown by a horse, ready to go to the train station; lucy greeted you, already sitting, fluttering her little hand. peter left you a kiss on the forehead and susan hugged you tight.
when edmund’s turn came, your eyes watered down, provoking ed to shed a tear. you had become best friends, everything that had happened in narnia had brought you together more than ever; you had grown up together, even though you then returned to your little child body.
"I packed you a book I found in the library, it’s about narnia," you whispered when you hugged him. "take good care of him" 
"with my life" so you saw them leave, as they greeted you waving their arms as you did the same.
time went by and years flew away. years when the only contact between you and the pevensies, especially edmund, was letters. letters that came and went every week, so they grew together but apart. 
when you turned 13, you started high school. your joy was so immense that the first thing you did was write to your great friend. 
‘my dearest edmund
 I have great news. this year I will start high school in a school. a real school! uncle took me yesterday to buy my supplies and uniform. is unreal! 
how are you, lucy, peter and susan? I miss them too, I miss you and narnia. how's school? is it tiring to live there? I hope not because my school is a boarding school too. I hope to see you soon 
y/n"
the letter arrived two days later in edmund’s school room. his heart exploded because of the great happiness it gave him, you would have other friends and you could live a normal teenage life. he immediately wrote you a letter expressing his joy. 
my dear y / n,
I also miss you more than you imagine and reading you so happy about your new school makes me want to run to hug you. I know I can't, I imagine it and I enjoy it just the same.
we are all fine, school is always the same. boring. but in the boarding school, I know that you will have fun and will make many friends.
i care about you
yours, edmund.
when you started school, the sending of letters began to be less frequent. the correspondence between the secondary schools was slow, which made it difficult to communicate. the letters took weeks to arrive, between two and three. on a saturday afternoon, he got his first letter of yours after weeks.
‘dear ed,
the mail sucks! all the letters I was sending you didn’t reach your school, I know because they were all returned to my address. I’m tired of this, I want to see you and go to narnia again... 
in other news, you remember I made two friends? well, they introduced me to roger. he’s very friendly and he always accompanies me to all the classes, but well...I’m happy to make friends. 
In a few days it’s the christmas ball and I’d like us to go together...i mean, the five of us. I know it’s not possible, but it’s a nice idea. 
tell me about yourself. 
with love, y/n!’
edmund still did not know why but, after reading the letter, an anger invaded him, he even thought he would explode. who was roger? would you go to the ball with roger? 
"I had it sorted" said peter, looking at him, while waiting for the train, edmund just rolled his eyes.
"since when do you get into fights, edmund?" lucy looked at him from across the bench. "since he received the letter from y/n the other day" said his bigger sister moving her eyebrows coquettishly.
"why don’t you shut up, susan?!"
"both of you shut up!" peter screamed when everything around him started to disappear.
out of nowhere, the four were inside a cave with access to the sea. an immense joy filled them, they were in narnia. at that time, while everyone was taking off their clothes, to dive into the transparent water, edmund just wanted to grab a paper and quill to tell you, but it was impossible. in fact, they were in a narnia 1300 years older. their kingdom had been invaded and the magic of it was dying faster and faster. edmund wanted you there, while he walked the meadows looking at the ruins of what was cair paravel. but you were in england.
"y/n are you ready for the ball tonight?" one of your friends was walking beside you on the streets of london. the teachers had let all the students go in search of their garments for the feast, the very day of the celebration. 
"not really, I have never been to a party so I’m a little nervous" 
"it’s easier than it looks" you were turning the corner when you thought you saw a shiny fur. "are you okay, y/n?” the girl next to you asked as she saw you looking for something with intensity. what you saw it looked like a lion, but it was impossible. lions in london? will be aslan?
"is that...I remembered that I must call my uncle to wish him a good christmas eve, yes that!... emm, you go ahead, I’ll go talk on the phone and catch you" so you retire at a fast pace, to see the lion enter a phone booth. of a push you entered the red booth, finding a small golden paper on the machine. 
'You know what numbers to dial’
it would be lying to say you were confused, the number 338 appeared in your mind immediately; it was your room number inside of cair paravel. when your fingers moved through the numbers, the machine began to tremble slightly, making all your surroundings become blurry. in the blink of an eye, you were standing in a meadow full of daisies. you were alone but far away you could see what seemed like a how, a shelter.
 without the need to ask anyone, you knew it. you were in Narnia, you felt it in your bones. It was different, but the aroma and familiarity did not go unnoticed.
the trees were not as you remembered them, they used to dance around you every time you made an appearance in the gardens but this time they stood still; they seemed asleep. your school uniform started to heat you up so as you moved along the green lawn you left your clothes in the way, until you were left with your blue skirt, which reached a little above the knee, your shoes and the white shirt. you felt at home, you had returned to your home; among your thoughts, the idea of the pevensie being there also reached your head and you wished that aslan would appear back to show you the way to them. but instead of aslan, a horse being ridden by a men appeared before you.
"I’m sorry, miss, but may I ask who you are?" a dark-haired boy got off his horse to stand in front of you, curiously. he had never seen you before, but he knew you weren’t a telmarine, or you would have bowed to him, and you weren’t a narnian because the sons of adam and eve who belonged to narnia, were the kings and queens and he already knew them. 
"my name is y/n, gentleman...and you are?"
"prince caspian, future telmarine king" telmarine? it sounded familiar to your ear, perhaps you had read it in some book of prophecies in your stay in narnia years ago; but it had been so long that no memory came to your mind. "you’re a daughter of eve, right?"
"I don’t have horse legs so I’m not a centaur" you said in a comedy voice that wasn’t funny enough for the prince to smile, so you stopped your laugh and continued to say "yes, I’m a daughter of eve."
"come with me then" the situation that edmund had gone through came to your mind, you didn’t know whether to trust the boy who claimed to be future king. despite your doubts, you didn’t have the courage to ask where he would take you and you decided to trust him, asking aslan to give you back your fighting skills if necessary; it’s been a long time since you’ve practiced, sword fighting was not a common hobby in finchley.
you skillfully climbed, to caspian’s surprise, to the white horse where he had come to you. the said prince took the reins and began to ride. they went up a high meadow, from there you could see the transparent waters several meters down. if the situation had been different, you would have run down to the sand to enjoy the water, but the uncertainty of where you were going did not leave you. surprisingly, you arrived very quickly at the place you had seen before. now from close up you could see that it was, aslan’s how. caspian didn’t kidnap you, he was a good man. so, thanking him you got off your horse and looked around as the prince walked into the how. edmund was busy looking at a map, but someone’s footsteps from behind distracted him.
"yes you take your time, we don’t need you to make war plans" the sarcastic voice, that so characterized ed, echoed through the shelter as it reached the outside causing you to freeze. it was a voice you were unfamiliar with but you had heard it before. your mind traveled to the last time you spoke on a pay phone with your best friend and recognized the voice. it was edmund, but he had grown up. he had obviously grown up, like you had. 
"I’m sorry, I found someone on the way..."
"with whom you could possibly have met in the middle of the wood-" edmund’s gaze moved towards the entrance of the place when he saw a delicate figure enter. those sweet traits that he remembered so much from his childhood were refined, elegant, but they kept that shred of innocence that he liked so much. that face that was so much expected to be found casually on the streets of london or finchley was in front of him, dressed in what looked like the remains of a school uniform and the astonished eyes absorbing all around her.
"y/n..." it was a whisper, but the echo of the how made it sound loud enough for you to hear. 
so you looked up meeting the person who had occupied your head since you were eight. the boy  you used to create scenarios with at night. the boy who was a little kid and now was a man in armor looking at you from the other side of the room. the boy you were afraid to see holding someone else’s hand. your mind failed to form a word because you were already running towards him, to wrap yourself in his body. his arms traveled to your waist swiftly as he lifted you from the ground and shoved his face up your neck, smelling your scent that he had so missed. one of your hands traveled to his hair caressing that darkness that you used to braid when you were just a kid. 
"hello ed" you whispered giving yourself permission to shed a tear. edmund felt that drop of water fall on his shirt, so he took you off his body to start leaving kisses all over your face, causing laughter in both. by that time, caspian had already retired, leaving you two alone.
"what are you doing here?" said edmund when he stopped kissing your face, but leaving his hands on your waist while you stroked his cheeks. 
"I have no idea, but I’m here! and I missed you so much that I don’t care!" 
"I missed you too, with all my heart" the boy’s eyes turned to your mouth and an urge to taste your soft lips flooded him. 
"do it" and he did it. what he was waiting for so long. at that time nothing didn’t matter, no war or anything. just the two of you. neither of you could put into words what you felt, but you two wanted to find out together. between kisses and caresses, you could decipher when that passionate love was born, that passion that was sealed with a reunion kiss.
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foreveradreamlover · 7 months ago
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amores que matan parte 1
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so yes, here it is. My first attempt at writing a semi-decent body of work. There will be a number of warnings so make sure to go through them before preceding. Enjoy! (I apologize in advance for the formatting, I use Tumblr on my phone 🥴) @lavenderhoney12 thank you for inspiring me to write this, I wouldn’t have wrote it at all without you 🤩💖
warnings: young naive reader, terrible Spanish and English translations, work has not been proofread, angst, hurt, power dynamics, future throuple between Miguel-Maria-Reader, possible dubious consent because of the power dynamic, possible dark undertones, talk of abortion and infedelity. Idk what else I’m missing but I’m sure I hit all the marks without giving it all away.
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Sometimes you wished you hadn’t met Felix and Maria. Your life would have been so much easier if you hadn’t crossed paths with them and fallen for both of them. And as you laid between them in their marital bed, you realized your life was going to get a lot more complicated now. You stared at the ceiling, feeling tears well up in your eyes. The guilt began to eat you up, the regret sank in.
You don’t belong here, you have no place here. There was no room for you in their marriage, no matter how spacious their bed was. A marriage is a commitment between two people, a third was not possible. You managed to hold in your sobs as you realized how royally fucked you were because you didn’t want to wake them up. You already felt terrible enough, you didn’t want them to make you feel even worse by trying to justify it.
But how did you get into this mess?
The events of the night before were hazy but as you wiped your tears it all became clear again.
You began yesterday morning like any other morning in the Felix household. It was your responsibility to wake up Abril and Miguelito, as you were the full time nanny, and get them ready for the day. It was the best job you ever had, honestly. You love those two like your own and they were great kids. After the kids were taken to school, you left a two weeks notice letter on Maria’s desk when you returned back to the house.
The rest of the day was anxiety inducing, you spent the majority of your time trying to steer clear from Maria but also trying to complete the chores like organizing Abril’s closet. Eventually, you couldn’t hide from her anymore when Maria managed to have Abril trick you into meeting outside by the pool.
“Gracias mi amor. (Thank you my love)” María smiled at Abril as the little girl practically dragged you outside, knowing that the plan had worked just as she predicted. “Ahora puedes jugar con tu hermanito. Pero no juegan aquí, necesito hablar con tu niñera. (You van go play with your brother now. But you cannot play here, I need to speak with your nanny)”
Abril nodded and before you could make up another excuse, Maria held up your letter.
“¿Qué chingados es esto? (What the fuck is this?)” Maria was never one to beat around the bush, it almost made you regret dropping the notice on Maria’s desk instead of Felix’s.
Felix at least would have accepted it and not confronted you about it. He knew you were replaceable. Maria on the other hand surprised you. At the most you expected a slight sadness but never anger.
“¿Lo leíste? (You read it?)” you cringed, watching Maria’s eyebrows furrow even deeper.
“¡Cómo no! (Of course!)” she noticed you taking a step back before reeling her anger back in, “Perdón, a la mejor estoy un poco confundida. Pense que estabas feliz aqui, cuidando a mis hijos. Fue hace unas pocas semanas cuando me dijiste que estabas la mas feliz que ha sentido en tu vida. ¿Qué cambió? Y no quiero mentiras, quiero la verdad. (Sorry, maybe I’m a bit confused. I thought you were happy here, taking care of my kids. It was just a few weeks ago when you told me that you were the happiest you have ever felt in your life. What changed? And I don’t want to hear your lies, I want the truth.)”
When she asked you that question, you felt your heart beat so fast that you swore even Maria could hear it. You looked at Maria’s face and you knew in that instant that no matter how hard you tried, you would never be able to lie to her. You cared too much about her to lie. Especially in her face when she’s asking for the truth. Even if the truth may scare her or make her despise you, she would have to respect it. She asked so you had to deliver.
You took a deep breath, feeling your eyes starting to water up and causing Maria to give a concerning look. She was about to walk closer to you when you lightly put you hand up to indicate her that you were fine.
“Yo - yo no sé cómo decir esto. Honestamente, no pensé que te lo diría, cara a cara pronto así. No estoy segura que puedo hacerlo. Es different pensarlo que decirlo. Creo que podría morir aquí antes de poder decirlo...(I—I don’t know how to say this. Honestly, I didn’t think I would say it, face to face this soon. I’m not sure if I can do it. It’s different thinking it than saying it aloud. I think I could die before I could say it)” Your voice wavered, Maria’s face suddenly blurry from the tears shedding from your eyes at an alarming rate.
It was like all the tears you had refused to shed for months had finally decided to come out now.
“Mija... puedes decirlo. No sé qué es lo que tienes dentro pero tienes que dejarlo salir. Puedo ver que está haciendo más daño solo por estar dentro de ti. Suéltalo, te vas a sentir mejor si lo hagas. (Honey, you can say it. I don’t know what it is inside you but you have to let it out. I can see that it’s doing more bad being inside of you. Let it go, you’ll feel better if you do that)”
You didn’t know how but those words gave you the last needed to push to finally say it.
“Maria, me gustas desmiasado. No tenía idea de que querer a alguien así podría doler tanto. Pensé que enamorarme de alguien sería hermoso como una rosa, pero las espinas me pellizcaron... Si hubiera sabido que enamorarme de ti me haría sentir así, me habría ido antes. Me quedé porque pensé que podría superarlo. Pero no puedo, así que es mejor que me vaya. Te ruego que me dejes ir. (María, I like you too much. I had no idea that liking someone would hurt so much. I thought falling in love with someone would be beautiful like a rose but the thorns pinched me. If I knew that loving you would make me feel this way, I would have left sooner. I stayed longer than I should have because I thought I would get over it. But I can’t, so it’s better if I leave. I beg you to let me leave.)” Your words came out slurred, you weren’t even sure if it was audible through the sobs.
You felt incredibly vulnerable, your vision unclear and your mind foggy. You hadn’t a clue where Maria stood or if she was even there. All you felt was your heart breaking each passing second you heard silence. You just poured out your heart of all the thoughts you harbored for months, did she know you were happy because you were in love with her? Your happiness was just a facade, it was the rose colored glasses that made you think this was love. Love couldn’t possibly feel this cruel and hurtful.
You were about to wipe your tears when you felt a pair of hands cup your face. The thumbs carefully wiped away your tears, allowing for some relief from the waterfalls pouring out of your eyes. You relished in their touch, not knowing how good it was just to be in contact with another person. You were truly touch starved and even their simple brush of your tears was enough to heal some of your deep-seated wounds you possessed. You were broken and it took one unattainable love to make you realize.
“Ya, ya. Suelta todo que tienes dentro de ti. Te vas a sentir mejor cuando todo esto se termine. (Now, now. Let go of everything inside you. You’ll feel much better when all of this is done.)” María whispered, pulling you closer to her and stroking your hair. You shuddered and felt like the tears would never be able to stop. Maria didn’t yell at you like expected, she pitied you. You honestly didn’t know what was worse. You got to be in Maria’s arms but for the wrong reasons.
You’re so stupid, you thought to yourself. You can’t compete with Felix, which you still had unrealized feelings for by the way. He’s the breadwinner and father to her children, you’re just a stupid nanny who fell in love with someone she couldn’t have.
Having your face buried in Maria’s shoulder only made you feel more in love with her in a fucked up away. Her compassion towards you made you fall harder. With this embrace, you could smell the expensive floral and sweet perfume and feel her in a way you could have only imagined before this exchange. It would have probably hurt you less if she pushed you off her and refused to see you again. At least then you would know to move on. This unexpected reaction from Maria has left you confused. This hug seemed too friendly for a simple embrace.
“¡Señora! (Mrs!)” fellow employee called out, a phone in her hand. “Habla Señor Felix! (Mr. Felix is calling!)”
And just like that, the things you thought you could only dream of crumbled as Maria took her hand out of your hair and sighed. Maria turned to the elderly woman, giving a weak smile, “Por favor dígale que no puedo atender el teléfono. Estoy un poco preocupada en este momento. (Please tell him I’m not able to come to the phone. I’m busy at the moment.)”
The older woman nodded, heading back inside as Maria pulled you back in for another warm hug. You tried to make words, feeling your lips tremble every time you attempted to say something. Your mouth felt dry and your head throbbed with pain. You weren’t sure if you would have any tears left after this episode, they were coming all at once.
“Creo que deberíamos entrar a la casa. Tu cara se siente caliente. (I think we should head inside. Your face feels hot.)” María pulled back to examine your face, a worried expression on her own face when she put the back of her hand on your forehead.
You nodded weakly, suddenly remembering you two were talking outside the whole time. You really hoped nobody heard walking by. The future was uncertain now. Maria neither accepted or rejected your two weeks notice and now that she knows that you loved her, the chances of her being comfortable around you were probably slim to none. You couldn’t blame her if she was uncomfortable with this situation, she was married and you worked for her. You also didn’t know if she even liked women.
You didn’t think you did either until you saw Maria for the first time.
Maria wrapped an arm around your shoulder as she lead the way into the house and to your bedroom. Your eyes kept steady to the ground, averting any possible eye contact with anyone who happened to be nearby. The whole walk to your bedroom was so eerie and tense that you wished nothing more than to disappear.
Maria helped you onto your bed and you accepted the comfort of the bed instantly because you had a feeling that the bed was going to be your only companion from now onwards. At least you got to hug her twice, you thought bitterly. To avoid any more conversation, you turned away from Maria and to the wall, hoping she would walk out and leave you be. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself but more so her anymore. You said enough and for that, you felt that you deserved to be excommunicated.
Instead, you felt her sit at the front of the bed.
“Siempre supe que me amabas. (I always knew you loved me)” She sighed loudly, hearing the instant relief washing over her. The fact shocked you, how did she know? When did she find out? Was it that obvious? The questions came faster than the possible answers and it was as if she knew what you thought because immediately after the short silence she said, “No me interrumpas. Has hablado bastante. Ahora es mi turno. (Don’t interrupt me. You’ve talked a lot already. It’s my turn now.)”
You kept quiet, looking at the wall to try to stop the thinking.
“Sé que te estás preguntando cómo lo supe. Creo que lo supe cuando me dijiste que eras feliz hace unas semanas. Sé cuando a alguien le gusta otra persona y lo vi en ti. Traté de no pensar en la posibilidad de que yo te gustara, no quería pensar eso porque no quería verte de manera extraña. También crecí en una casa muy religiosa ... Nunca le he dicho esto a nadie, ni siquiera a Miguel ... pero siempre supe que también me gustaban las chicas. Y por eso, me asusté cuando me dijiste que me amabas. Mi primer pensamiento fue rechazarte ... fingir que esto no sucedió y dejarte ir como pediste. Pero luego recordé cómo me sentí cuando mi mejor amiga me llamó lesbiana sucia...(I know you’re asking yourself how I knew. I found out when you told me you were happy a few weeks ago. I know when someone likes another person and I saw it on your face. I tried not to think about the possibility of you liking me, I didn’t want to view you weirdly. I also grew up in a religious household...I never told anyone this, not even Miguel but I knew from a young age that I also liked girls along with boys. That is why I was scared when you told me you loved me. My first thought was to deny what you said, to pretend it never happened and let you go like you asked. But I began to remember when my best friend called me a dirty lesbian...)” Maria’s voice wavered a bit before she cleared her throat to continue with her little story, “Recuerdo sentirme tan mal conmigo misma. Pensé que mis sentimientos eran repugnantes y eso me hizo dejar esos sentimientos a un lado. No fue hasta que llegaste cuando empecé a recordarlos. (I remember feeling terrible with myself. I thought my feelings were disgusting and that caused me to put my feelings to the side. It’s what until you came into my life that I began to remember them.)”
“M—María... ¿Porqué me estas diciendo esto? (Why are you telling me this?)” your voice cracked, turning to your other side to see her back was facing towards you. “No es necesario que me explique. No sé qué decir ... Has sido amable conmigo en los pocos meses que trabajo aquí. Realmente amo mi trabajo pero no entiendo el sentido de esta conversación. Estoy despedida ... al menos creo que estoy despedida. (You don’t need to explain to me all of this. I don’t know what to say. You’ve been so kind to me in the few months I’ve worked here. I really love my job but I don’t know why you’re telling me all this. I’m fired...at least I think I am fired.)”
Maria turned to you, her face streaming with tears, “No estas despedida. Te lo digo para que cuando empiece a besarte, no te sorprendas. (You are not fired. I am telling you all of this because when I start to kiss you, you won’t be surprised.)”
The words almost didn’t register fast enough as Maria leaned down to kiss you, slowly at first so it didn’t overwhelm you. Once it began to sink in, you kissed back eagerly. You didn’t know if you were dreaming or dead, everything seemed to happen so fast. Never in a million years did you think your feelings would be reciprocated.
Maria’s hand gripped the hair on the back of your head, intending to keep your face in place when she broke the messy kiss to peck at your neck. Even though you two only kissed once, it told you a lot about Maria. Things you suspected but never truly could have known until this moment.
Maria is domineering. She’s the one in control and you were the one to be controlled. You didn’t mind, you were taking anything you could get from her.
Maria was also playful, her free hand was playing with your necklace as she kissed around the exposed skin on you neck and upper chest.
But above all, she was passionate. You were so under her spell and past sanity that you didn’t notice when she unbuttoned your white shirt. Your face flushed as you looked down to see that she had taken off her own top, wondering if this was a signal to take off the rest of your clothes. You fumbled with your hands to reach your back to begin unhooking your bra when she stopped you.
“Creo que deberíamos continuar con los besos. Lo que queremos no puede suceder porque no tenemos suficiente tiempo. No pensé que me pondría cachonda tan rápido.” She smiled as she traced a finger along your collarbone, “Te ves tan hermosa sin camisa puesta, casi no puedo esperar para ver más. (We should continue with only kissing. What we want cannot happen because we don’t have enough time. I didn’t think I would get horny so fast. You look beautiful without a shirt on, I can hardly wait to see more of you).”
You blushed and leaned in to continue making out with her. Maria pulled you onto her lap to straddle her, her hand immediately grabbing your ass. You gave a surprised gasp, making Maria laugh in response. You both kiss each other, your lips feeling swollen when you parted. You pulled away, breathless and laid down on the bed.
“Esto se siente mal. Usted es mi patrona, cuido a los niños... eres una mujer casada. (This feels wrong. You’re my boss, I watch the kids...you’re a married woman).” You began to panic, sitting up instantly in fright when Maria placed her hand on your stomach to push you back down.
“Querida, tengo una pregunta y quiero una respuesta. (Darling, I have a question and I want an answer from you)” Maria turned to you and made sure you two shared eye contact, “Te gusta mi marido, ¿no? (You like my husband, don’t you?)”
You gave her a confused look. Did Maria know all? Had she been spying on you? How does she know that you like Miguel as well? I guess I’m not as secretive as I thought, you thought to yourself. But how can you answer her? What was the right answer? What did she want to hear?
“No no. ¡No pienses! No me gusta cuando haces eso. (No, no. Don’t think about it! I don’t like when you do that.)” Maria shook her head, “Quiero que me des una respuesta honesta. No quiero escuchar una mentira, quiero escuchar la verdad. Usted me puede decir. Realmente me gustaría saber. (I want you to give me an honest answer. I don’t want to hear a lie, I want to hear the truth. You can tell me. I would really like to know.)”
You felt your heart beat faster, suddenly feeling dizzy. You barely realized your dehydration from crying so much earlier.
“Bueno ... parece que ya sabes la respuesta. (Well...it sounds like you already know the answer to your question)” You bit your lip, wiping the slight precipitation on your upper lip.
“Me conoces bien. (You know me well)” Maria gave a wide grin, leaning down to kiss your forehead, “Quiero oírte decirlo. Quiero escucharlo de tus labios. Si no dices nada, haré que uses tus labios de otras formas. (I want to hear you say it. I want to hear it from your lips. If you don’t say anything, I will have you use your lips in other ways).”
Your eyes widened, “Para mí, eso suena maravilloso. (For me, that sounds wonderful)” Maria shot you an unamused expression, prompting you to finally confess, “Tu esposo también me gusta. Lo siento. No eres solo tú. También es él. Y me hace sentir aún más repugnante. (I like Miguel too. I’m sorry. It’s not just you. It’s him as well. And it makes me feel even more disgusting.)”
Maria wasn’t phased, deciding to lay down next to you finally and looking up at the ceiling, “Tuviste ojos en él desde que llegaste. Pensé que ustedes dos ya habrían dormido juntos antes de esto. Todo el mundo sabe que se acuesta con putas. Supongo que elegí no darme cuenta. Todo estuvo bien hasta que me encontré con esa puta que quedó embarazada de él. (You’ve has eyes on him since you’ve arrived. I thought you two would have already slept together by now. The whole word knows that Miguel sleeps with whores. I guess I chose to be ignorant to the fact. I was fine with pretending it wasn’t an issue until I found the whore he impregnated).”
You gasped but quickly regretting it. You had heard the rumors from other employees but didn’t think there was any truth to them.
“Le di dos opciones. La primera fue abortar al bebé y recibir algo de dinero como compensación por el trauma de perder a un hijo. La segunda era tener el bebé y recibir el dinero suficiente para salir de Guadalajara. Me vale madres que pasará con el bebé o ella, me costó mucho no matar a Miguel cuando me contó lo que pasó. Me avergonzó al hacerme hablar con ella en lugar de hablar con ella él mismo. Para abreviar la historia, eligió el aborto. Por mucho que odié a Miguel en ese momento, todavía amo a ese idiota. Sentí pena por esa mujer que pensó que a Miguel le importaría lo suficiente como para hablar con ella. Miguel apenas se preocupa por nuestros hijos, por eso tenemos una niñera. Le rompió el corazón y el mío al mismo tiempo. Qué hombre. (I gave her two options. The first was to abort the baby and receive money as compensation for the trauma of losing a baby. The second was to have the baby and get enough money to leave Guadalajara. I don’t give a fuck what happened with the baby or her, it took everything to not kill Miguel when he told me what happened. He embarrassed me when he made me talk to her instead of talking to her himself. To make a long story short, she chose the abortion. Although in that moment I hated Miguel, I still love that idiot. I felt terrible for the woman who thought Miguel cared enough to talk to her. Miguel barely cares about our children’s, that’s why we have you. He broke her heart and mine at the same time. What a guy.)”
The two of you laid silent, you looked at her and she up at the ceiling. You noticed a stray tear falling from her eye and you were quick to wipe it away.
“Lo peor de todo es que yo también la odiaba. No porque se acostó con él, sino porque quedó embarazada. ¿Por qué todas las putas quedan embarazadas? Solo pude tener dos hijos, quería uno o dos más. ¿es mucho para preguntar? Dolía sugerir el aborto, pero no soportaba que otra mujer tuviera a su hijo bastardo como recordatorio de su infedilidad. (The worst of all is that I hated her too. I didn’t hate her because she slept with him, but because she got pregnant. Why do all the whores get pregnant? I only had two, I wanted one or two more. That’s all. Is that too much to ask for? It hurt to suggest the abortion but I couldn’t stand another woman having his bastard child. That child would always be a reminder to me if his infidelity)” Maria’s eyes closed to stop the tears and even through non sexual ways, you learned more about Maria.
She was broken. As were you. She was just better at hiding it. You didn’t know what to say to make her feel better, you didn’t think you could cheer her up from admitting to forcing a woman getting an abortion. She needed to get this off her chest.
In your mind, you thought Maria was cruel for giving that woman an ultimatum. Maria may have said she had given the woman two options but it was obvious which one the young woman would take. Even if she was carrying the bastard child of Miguel, that baby deserved a chance to live. The baby did nothing wrong but be conceived. It wasn’t like Maria couldn’t have adopted it, she wanted more children. Maybe this child was the chance for her to have the third child she’s always wanted. What was the difference if the baby came from a different woman? Maria was going to be the mom all the same.
“Ahora sabes más sobre el tipo de hombre que es Félix. Es un lobo a la vista, obtiene lo que quiere. Siempre. Eres joven, amable, pero un poco ingenua, te comerá y te dejará sin nada. Te romperá el alma como si nada. Solo te lastimarás en el proceso. (Now you know what kind of man Felix is. He’s a wolf in plain sight, he gets what he wants. Always. You’re young, loving, but a bit naive. He will eat you up and leave you with nothing. He will break your soul like it was nothing. You’ll just hurt yourself in the process)” Maria stroked your hair, leaving a small kiss on your forehead as she shifted towards you.
You turned to her, cupping her face gently. You felt like you hadn’t been looking at her in the eyes enough so you made sure this time to make a point, “Te amo Maria y si lo que dices es cierto sobre Felix, no lo aceptaré. Solo quiero estar contigo, sea lo que sea que eso signifique. No quiero irme, quiero quedarme aquí y cuidar de los niños. Me preocupo por ellos. (I love you Maria and if what you say about Felix is true, I won’t accept him. I just want to be with you, whatever that entails. I don’t want to go, I want to stay here and take care of the kids. I care for them.)”
“Sé que has estado hablando de el amor todo este tiempo, pero ¿sabes siquiera qué es el amor en realidad? Sé que no has estado con nadie, eres apenas una adulta. ¿cómo sabes de lo que estás hablando? Puedes pensar que me amas, puedes pensar que amas a los niños, incluso puedes pensar que puedes cambiar a Miguel. (I know you’ve been talking about love this whole time but do you even know what real love is? I know you haven’t been with anyone, you’re barely an adult. How do you know what you’re talking about? You can think you love me, the kids, you may even think about being able to change Miguel)” she ran a finger over your bottom lip, smiling softly at how you slightly trembled from the sensation, “No sé si te estoy contando todas las cosas malas que tiene Félix para protegerte o para ser egoísta. No me gusta compartir. Eres tan preciosa que no merece ni siquiera tocar un solo cabello tuyo. Está mal querer tanto a alguien. Pero se siente tan bien. Finalmente entiendo a Félix y por qué se coje a mujeres que no son su esposa. (I don’t know if I’m telling you about Felix to project you or to be selfish. I don’t like to share. You’re just so precious that he doesn’t deserve to even touch a single hair on your head. I finally understand why Felix fucks other women who aren’t his wife.)”
You saw the passion in Maria’s eyes and that let you know that she meant what she was saying. She had reason to believe that maybe you weren’t really in love and that it was just lust. You didn’t want to believe it but with every passing moment, you couldn’t help but fall more deep than before. At first you felt terrible at the idea of betraying her marriage and being the home wrecker but how could you wreck a home that was already on its way to be demolished? Maria just wanted to be loved and you planned on doing just that.
You felt that it was the right time to lean in for another passionate kiss when you heard Miguelito pound on your door.
“¿Bebita, estas en tu cuarto? Necesito ayuda con mi tarea, por favor. Te prometo que no voy a dar lata. (*Nickname*, are you in there? I need help with my homework please. I promise I won’t be difficult.)” He whined, continuing to knock softly in the hopes that gig will respond back.
You smiled softly, instantly getting off the bed and freshening up. You had a job to do and you were momentarily sidetracked. “Si estoy aquí. Estaré allí en un momento. Espero que te mantengas fiel a tu promesa, cariño. (I am in here. I will be there in a second. I hope you can keep your promise, sweetheart)”
As you gave an apologetic glance to Maria, you quickly made yourself presentable and happily helped Miguelito with his homework. Anything to get your mind off of everything that had happened before he interrupted.
You were walking out when you saw Felix in the hallway, walking towards you. You tried your best to seem nonchalant in the hopes he would not stop you but right when you walked next to him, his hand gripped your arm tightly to get you to stop in your tracks.
“¿Sabes dónde está mi esposa? (Do you know where my wife is?”
And that’s it folks. For now. 😋 This series will be dialogue heavy so I apologize in advance. Thank you so much for reading!
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imagining-in-the-margins · 8 months ago
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Defining Family (Reid Request)
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Request(s):
(*SEE A/N) When Spencer was with Lila she got pregnant but never told him and had a daughter. She never knew who her father was. 18 years later, reader decides to find her father.
I know you aren’t continuing BBW, but if you do: Reader got pregnant, and somehow later they see each other and this little boy with brown curls runs to her and starts spitting facts.
A/N: Okay so, I heavily edited these requests. I honestly would have put them on the back burner (probably forever) if I hadn’t. That being said, I hope you still enjoy them! The first half is Spencer!POV,  the daughter is my friend @hyper-fxation​ ’s OC Aries, and Reader is her mother! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Fluff/Angst Content Warning: Word Count: 4.7K
MASTERLIST
——————  
Theoretically, my job should have prepared me for almost any stressful situation. Over 10 years of working for the FBI, I’d experienced some of the most distressing, painful, mind-numbing situations that a person could even begin to comprehend. I’d been beaten, drugged, and tortured to the point of literal cardiac arrest, but nothing could have prepared me for what happened the morning that a little girl knocked on the glass doors of the Behavioral Analysis Unit.
For all intents and purposes, it was a completely normal day. On some level I had heard there would be a group of middle schoolers from local schools coming to visit the headquarters, but I’d also been told that they wouldn’t be making their way through our offices. I distinctly remembered that because I would have come prepared, considering the last time I’d seriously interacted with children that age was when I was seven, and they'd had a tendency to shove me in lockers back then.
But when I heard the soft rap of tiny hands against the glass, I turned to find a a young girl staring straight through the room, her eyes landing on me with a curious tilt of her head. I turned to look behind me, sure that there must be a reason she looked straight at me instead of any of the other people wandering in the bullpen.
There was no one behind me, but luckily, there was someone closer to the door. JJ must have spotted the girl before she even knocked, because she swiftly made her way to the door. But as soon as the hinges swung open, the girl took a step forward under her arm.
“Is Dr. Reid here?” She asked.
… What?
JJ and I looked at each other, her implicitly asking me for permission while I desperately tried to beg her for help without actually vocalizing the sheer panic I felt inside. Because I definitely did not know this small child, and I had no idea what she could possibly want with me. And, as this job made me painfully aware, it was never a good sign when someone took an interest in me.
“... Yes, he is.”
Unfortunately, either my message went unheard, or JJ chose the pity and intrigue for a child over me. The girl looked pleased, albeit a bit nervous as she kept glancing at me, clearly aware of who I was but pretending not to for some reason. She was a bad liar, but most kids her age were. I know I was.
“May I speak with him?” She tried to lower her voice so that I wouldn’t hear, but my mind was so focused on the conversation taking place that it would have been impossible to turn it off.
“... with... Dr. Reid?” JJ clarified, also looking over to me just in time to see me turn back to my desk.
Something deep inside my gut, a feeling I’d never experienced before, warned me that trouble was coming. There was a vague familiarity and emotional response I couldn’t put a name to— something akin to an instinct. The only problem was that I had no idea why I was scared of a child. It wasn’t that she could physically hurt me, her stature significantly smaller than my own, but instead the feeling that she was about to open the Pandora’s Box that I wasn’t even aware I was carrying in my hand.
“That’s correct, ma’am.” She sounded so familiar, and so alien at the same time. Like the first time you see your childhood home after it’s been renovated for another family. Like walking back into your elementary school and seeing that it isn’t nearly as big as you remembered it being.
“Sure. Let’s… go talk to Dr. Reid.”
Something was off about this child, and JJ was leading her straight to my desk.
“Hey Spencer, you have a visitor.”
I sat up in my chair, spinning around to face the child that was so confidently staring me straight in the eyes, an odd smile stifled on her lips. “Hello!” I squeaked, cringing at the way my voice cracked between the two total syllables.
“Hello Dr. Reid. My name is Aries.”
It wasn’t what she said that caught me off guard, but the way she raised her hand in a half wave rather than reaching forward to shake my hand. As soon as the movement ended, she tucked her arms behind her back, her eyes finally averting to the ground as she swayed in place.
“Hi...” I muttered, too caught up in that unsettling feeling that had spread from my gut into my chest, buzzing with adrenaline that had no apparent purpose. There were only a few reasons I would react so strongly to something so seemingly insignificant, so I went out on a limb and asked the question that had been burning in my mind since the moment I saw her on the other side of the double doors.
“Have we met before?”
“No, we haven’t.” She nonchalantly explained, bringing a finger to her chin as she continued, “Although, I probably look at least a little familiar to you, considering your genes make up 50% of my DNA.”
Theoretically, my job should have prepared me for even the most shocking revelations. I’d witnessed the impossibility of what I perceived to be the afterlife and seen a dead friend come back to life months later. I had done so many things that should have been impossible, but… None of it felt more unreal than that moment.
“I’m sorry, what?” I asked with perfect clarity in my voice, not a single sign of a waver or pause. I wasn’t sure what overcame me, but something in me took charge and sought the information the rest of me desperately wanted to forget.
“50% of my DNA came from you, which means you’ll notice traits of mine similar to your own, or possibly from other family members.” She answered, gesturing her hand between us.
Just like I did.
“Are you...”
And then it made sense, my primitive mind meeting with my limbic system in the perfect storm to try and warn me of what was inevitably going to follow when I saw her.
“Am I saying that I’m your daughter? Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”
My first reaction was regrettable. Because even in the face of all the evidence I should have needed, I wanted to prove her wrong. I wanted it to be a mistake, for her to have found the wrong man. I looked into the eyes that looked too much like mine and wanted to find a way to make them belong to someone else.
“How old are you, Aries?”
“I’m twelve.” She didn’t seem fazed. If anything, she seemed impressed that I’d asked the correct question.
“Twelve...” I repeated. “Where are you from?”
The little one named Aries was beaming now, ready to help me come to the same conclusion she’d apparently worked so hard to reach. “I was born in Las Vegas, Nevada.”
I didn’t need to say anything. She saw it on my face immediately. There was simply no other logical reason why a little girl from Las Vegas, with my mannerisms and eyes, would wander into the BAU and declare herself my daughter.
She was telling the truth.
“I understand you’re at work now, and your job is very important.” She began, digging through her small purse hanging from her shoulder that looked more like my satchel the longer I stared. She was talking like this was an ordinary conversation, like she hadn’t turned my world upside down with this crushing information. “But if you don’t mind, Dr. Reid, I’d appreciate an opportunity to talk to you sometime. My mom’s stories aren’t the same.”
“Yeah. We can talk later, definitely.” I mumbled back, staring at a hand-folded envelope with my name scribbled across it in a chicken scratch I could read.
“Dr. Reid, I have one more request before I go.”
As much as I wanted this interaction to end so I could sort it out in my mind, I also really wanted her to stay. I just didn’t know if it was because I still wanted her to be wrong, or if I desperately wanted her to be right.
“What?” I’m still not sure what I expected her to say, but it wasn’t what she said.
“Don’t be mad at my mom.”
It was the normal progression of this conversation, which was definitely the furthest thing from normal. She was worried about me fighting with her mother.
The mother of my child. The child I hadn't known existed. The thoughts were so overwhelming that I couldn’t breathe, and I definitely couldn’t speak. Whether she meant to calm me down or distract me before I collapsed under the weight of my racing thoughts, she continued.
“She was really young when I was born. Even though she was an adult, they say our brains aren’t fully formed until we’re at least twenty five. Her prefrontal cortex still had a lot of maturing to do at nineteen, which is also probably responsible for the events that led to my conception, anyway.”
Laughing wasn’t an appropriate response, but I laughed, nonetheless. It was mortifying and strange to hear her talk about it so nonchalantly. It sounded exactly like the kind of inappropriate conversation I would have had with an adult at her age.
That made sense, I thought, considering she was my daughter. That alone kept me from trying to do the math to determine who her mother was. But then again, I didn’t need an eidetic memory to know who she was talking about.
I could never forget her mother. I just thought she’d forgotten about me, or at least wanted to.  
Aries, with an apparently uncanny ability to read my thoughts, gave a sympathetic smile as she laid her little hand on my knee. “If it’s any consolation, my mom really cares about you. She talked about you all the time. She still does.” She stopped to giggle and scoff, rolling her eyes and recalling memories I would never have. “It’s kind of why it was so easy to find you.”
I didn’t know if the fact that her mother spoke about me often made this situation better or worse. But I did know that Aries, and her little hand patting my knee in consolation, made me feel better, despite the whirlwind of information that came with her.
Within minutes, she’s carved space in my heart and taken residence with reckless abandon. She never even asked; she didn’t have to.
How was I supposed to learn this, to feel her presence and love her existence, just to let her... walk away? How was I supposed to let her go and return to the stack of papers that felt a lifetime away?
And how the fuck was I supposed to forgive her mother?
The girl in front of me must have seen it in my face, or heard it in the ragged exhale, because this time she nearly begged. “So... don’t be mad at her. Please.” She flashed me the textbook puppy dog eyes, the ones everyone had warned me would bring me to my knees one day.
They were right. I couldn’t say no to her. I couldn’t hate the person who'd made her. I couldn’t even be apathetic — without her mother, none of this would be real. I still couldn’t forgive her, not yet, maybe never. But I could promise Aries that I wouldn’t be angry with her mother.
Confused? Scared? Sad? Those were still fair game. Of course, I think Aries had known as much when she'd specified anger as the forbidden emotion.
“Okay.” I answered, hoping that she hadn’t suffered many memories of angry men in the time I wasn’t there to help protect her. I hoped that she had no bad memories at all, although I knew it was a naive thing to wish for. I just didn’t want any of them to also be my fault when I had no happy memories to offer her.
That was what I thought, anyway, but I was wrong. Because no sooner had the begrudging agreement left my tongue, than she was flashing a large, excited smile. It was our first memory, I realized, and I didn’t want it to be over yet.
“Thanks.” She said, turning to leave without so much as a handshake or a hug. It felt wrong.
I wasn’t sure what to ask to make her stay a little longer, but I had to do something before she disappeared forever.
“Can I ask you a question?” I blurted out, successfully winning her attention back.
She looked at me a bit suspiciously when she answered, “Sure.”
“Where is your mom?”
Her answer would have been interesting— I have no doubt about that. But she never got to tell me the answer, because fate interrupted our conversation in the form of a very frantic woman bursting through the doors of the BAU with an even more flustered security guard.
Over the chaos of a worried mother’s wailing, I heard Aries groan under her breath. “Shoot. She caught up way faster than I anticipated.”
I recognized her immediately, even though the twelve years had aged us both. I’d pictured how she must look a million times in my head, but once she was in front of me none of those imaginative versions seemed right. She somehow looked almost exactly the same as the last time I’d seen her, albeit more tired and better dressed than the late nineties had allowed us.
“Aries! What the hell do you think you—“ When her eyes landed on me beside her, or rather, our, daughter, her voice cut out with a violent choke.
“... Spencer?”
“(Y/n) ...” I mumbled back at an equally quiet volume. It was a wonder we could hear each other at all, although it made more sense considering the immediate, shocked silence that followed the consecutive spectacles.
The only person in the room that wasn’t shaken at all was Aries, who let out a long sigh of relief.
“Oh, good!” She said, “So I was right.”
Of all the places I could have been on a beautiful Tuesday morning, being stared down by the father of my child in an unclaimed office in the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit’s Headquarters  in Quantico, Virginia was so far down on the list, I couldn’t even tell you what number it was. All I knew was that it was only slightly above literal hell.
And then, with just one question, Spencer made it even worse.
“Is it true? Is she my daughter?”
I had to laugh at the question, considering it came from a man with an eidetic memory. Like he would be less likely to remember the last time we had sex before I disappeared off the face of the earth. That was a funny thought, until I realized it was possible. Maybe he'd wanted to forget. Maybe the man with the perfect mind had written me out of existence. Maybe he hated me that much.
“What do you think?” I asked, clearing my throat and stepping away from him to create more distance between us and lean against the wall in place of the emotional support I desperately needed.
This was not how I'd expected the day to go.
“I don’t know what to think, I... I just found out I’ve had a daughter for twelve years.” He responded. It was obvious that he was incredibly overwhelmed and even more angry— understandable responses that I definitely didn’t want to deal with.
“Yeah, you have.” I deadpanned through a yawn.
Spencer might have been offended by my unbothered disposition if he weren’t as clever as he was. It was one of the many times in my life I was unbelievably grateful for his mind. Because he saw me, half asleep against the wall while he had a nervous breakdown that I was fully responsible for, and he didn’t blame me for being tired.
“Is that why you just... left?” He asked instead, his eyes locked on mine in a remarkably uncharacteristic way, his eyebrows furrowed harsh and unforgiving.
“Yeah.” I didn’t know what else to say. It had been twelve years, and I still hadn’t found the words.
“You didn’t think I’d want to know? That I had a right to know?”
“Spencer, I was nineteen.” I tried to appeal, but he cut me off before I got far enough to make any sense.
“And I was twenty! What difference does that make?!”
As his voice raised, I realized it was the only time I’d ever heard it in such a register. It stole the breath from my lungs, my body shrinking against the wall as I was faced with the wrath that I could only blame myself for. In front of me I saw a man, the first and only man I’d ever loved, and I saw what I had done to him.
“She’s my daughter, (y/n)!”
His voice echoed in the room, and I think the sound shocked him, too, because we both just stared at each other for a long time, chests heaving with emotions that we’d kept bottled up for too long. They had to come out somehow, and I bit down on my cheeks to try and distract myself from the pain in my chest.
“I know, okay? I know. I wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you, but then it went by so fast.” I said, the fight leaving my body and being replaced with a crushing sadness. I couldn’t tell if that was worse, but I couldn’t help it, anyway. All I could do was pour my heart out and hope that it would be enough.
“It went by so fast, and before I knew it, she was walking and talking, and I-I got scared I waited too long and you would hate us for it.” My voice broke on every other word, my hand clutching my chest so that I could hold onto something. To convince myself that this was real. That I couldn’t just wake up.
I couldn’t make it better. It was always going to have to hurt.
“I’m sorry, Spencer. I didn’t want you to find out like this, either.” I croaked, finally looking up to see the hurt in his eyes. It wasn’t just the betrayal; it was the fact that he saw the tears in my eyes and still felt the pain I felt. He still felt bad for me, even though he really, really didn’t want to.
I wished he didn’t. It would make this easier.
“You’re a wonderful man and you both deserve better.” I said the thought because he also deserved to hear it. I said it and I watched the way his eyes went glassy and he refused to look way. I kept my eyes on him until I ran a tired hand over my even more exhausted face and continued with a laugh, “But I’m running on like 3 hours of sleep and our daughter just broke into a goddamn FBI unit, so I’m not exactly feeling very stable right now.”
For once in his life, Spencer Reid was quiet. He wasn’t just quiet by choice; I could see on his face that he didn’t have any words. His emotions were as clear to me as they always were, proudly on display even if he didn’t know it.
“You don’t have to try to feel bad for me.” I said, my voice full of resignation and pain. I couldn’t look at him anymore when I said, “I get it if you hate me.”
Of all the things he could have said to me, “I’m not mad at you” was the last thing I thought I would hear. I didn’t believe it at first, my heart wrenching in my chest and jumping through my throat. He saw my relief and sought to abate it; to bring me back down to where I ought to be. 

“I told Aries I wouldn’t be mad at you.” He explained. It only made the feelings more intense— both good and bad.
“God, she’s just like you.” I choked on the words I’d told her a million times. He’d never heard them before. And now that I’d seen the look on his face when he heard them, I was filled with the worst, most unbearable regret.
“Where are you living now?” He asked, clearing his throat to hide the crackle in his voice.
There was no easy way to say it. I just had to say it and hope that it wouldn’t be enough to make him change his mind about being mad.
“Fairfax.”
“You live here?” His voice strained just like his hand as he covered his face, rubbing his temples with frustration before he snapped his attention back to me. “My daughter’s been thirty minutes away from me? For how long?”
“We just moved here this year. I didn’t even know you were here.” I needed him to believe me. I was telling the truth. I’d never looked him up because I knew once I saw his face that I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. And now that I was here, I knew that I was right about how it would feel. I knew that I was wrong to have avoided it.
There was never any chance of me keeping Aries from her father, but if I’d at least had the decency to know where he was, I could have prevented this. Was it wrong for me to be glad it had happened, even when it was this painful?
“Apparently Aries knew, but…” I laughed at the thought, unable to piece together what point she had figured it out. She was too smart for me. She was too much like her father. “I guess I wasn’t as sneaky as I thought when I talked about you.”
While my heart had gotten to take a break, with happy memories flooding back into my mind, Spencer had no such place. From the look on his face, he hadn’t had a place like that in a long time. And now I was here, flaunting the one that should have always belonged to him, too. The one I took from him.
“Please...” He begged, taking a deep breath to hopefully steady his voice. We both knew it wouldn’t work, and when the first tear fell down his cheek, I realized that I was crying, too.
“Please understand how hard this is for me.” He humbly requested, like I could ever understand.
“I know.” I said, hoping that he heard the apology in the words, “I know this is the worst thing anyone’s probably ever done to you before, and I’m so sorry.” I hoped he heard the truth of it, the way that I’d carried the words for the twelve years I’d been away from him.
I hoped he felt the love that we’d carried with us and knew that just because he hadn't been there or known the love existed; it didn't mean that it wasn’t still his. That he couldn’t grab hold of it and keep it forever. I needed him to know that he would always have us, that our hearts still beat in tandem as a family despite the miles and years between us.
“But our daughter is here now.” I whispered, watching the way his mouth still wasn’t sure whether to smile or frown. “She’s here, and she really wants to know her father. So, if you can find a way to—“
“Do you think I don’t want to be her dad?” He asked with some strange mixture of incredulity and disgust at the implication. “Of course I do. It’s… It’s all that I want.”
I swallowed hard, taking a deep breath in and slowly blowing it out, hoping that it would carry away some of the pain with it. Every step forward, we left some of it behind. Every word we shared; I felt the future closing in on me. I felt the way that I wouldn’t have to lie to our daughter anymore.  
“Okay.” I said, looking up at him and seeing the man I loved so much once upon a time. I saw him and looked just the same. More. Happier then, I nodded at him. “Okay, then... let’s do it. Somehow.”
The few steps it took to close the gap between us felt so far. I put my hand out to him, knowing that it wasn’t really his thing but hoping he might make an exception for the mother of his child. There was a time we'd done much more than that, after all.
Spencer did make an exception, but not the one I thought I would get. He didn’t shake my hand. No, Spencer took just as many steps forward as I did. He stepped forward until we met in the middle and his arms wrapped around me so tightly that I thought I would never be able to breathe again. It wasn’t the force of his arms, but the power behind the action.
I stood there stunned for longer than I should have, feeling the way our hearts were still able to find each other through the layers of fabric. I felt our connection running through all the different circumstances that had brought us there like a pick in a lock. We just had to find the right combination of words before the door was open, and we could be alright again.
I just had to say it.
“I’m so sorry, Spencer.” Once I was able to control my arms again, they were around him just the same. My face was buried in him, my sobs probably ruining his jacket, but making something else new, instead.
I just had to be honest.
“I missed you so much.” I mumbled, my hands finding their way into his hair that looked so different but felt and smelled the same. The realization only made the words more real, and I clung onto him and prayed that he would understand. Cautious and quiet, I heard his truth whispered in my ear.  
“I-I… I missed you, too.”
The words broke me. I’d never liked the music they played in movies during scenes like this; they always felt so cheesy and forced, but I understood it then. I heard the music in our breath and the metronome of our hearts. And when Spencer spoke again, I thought about all the music we’d have to make up for.
“Thank you for raising my daughter all that time by yourself.” He spoke through sniffles. “That must have been really hard and I just... need you to know that you’ll never have to do it alone again.”
He always knew what to say to make it okay again. He still did.
“I’ll always be here. For both of you.” He promised, and I believed him.
Holding him tighter while I still could, I told him the words he deserved to hear twelve years ago.  
“Thank you for giving her to me.”
When I opened my eyes, still blurry and burning from twelve year old tears, I saw a sliver of light break through the crack in the door that continued to widen. Past the outline of Spencer’s shoulder, our daughter was just barely visible as she peeked around the door with a wicked grin. I laughed, because there was nothing else to do when your tiny twelve year old that had broken into the FBI just to humiliate you flashed you a thumbs up.
She really was just like him already. And then it hit me— that she would be able to learn directly from him now. I sighed, because there’s nothing else to do when you know you are so fucked, and you definitely deserve it.
And I smiled, because I absolutely could not wait to see where they took me.
I couldn’t wait to go there together.  
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crystallizedtime · 8 months ago
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Thank you, Lancelot
.Song to this is Citizen Soldier- Better Place (Linked down below)
and you’ll find lines of this song in the text i hope you like that idea C:
Pronouns: She/Her
Warnings:bad writing, kinda depressed thoughts/ reader, violence, angst, blood, murder/death, injury, regret, grieving a loss
Plot: Reader and her little sister “Leya” have to flee when the red paladins swamp over the village like a tornado. She gets injured and passes out, when she wakes up she has to leave, she comes to a safe place where she meets a familiar face.
Authors note: Please, please excuse my bad writing im completly new at writing and i look forward on getting a better typing style but for now thats all i can do. I hope its not too cringe and if you think it was alright you can spam my request box with weeping monk x reader! :)
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We thought we were save. At least for a moment. All the fey, those who lost their homes, friends, family, children, their entire life.
After the red paladins burned our village to the ground and our parents lost their lives through the paladins hands.
The irony smell of blood lingered in the air mixed with the smell of burning flesh and smoke. Everything was on fire as I held one hand over my mouth in the attempt to not breath in the toxic air surrounding us. My little sister tightly grabbed onto my dress as she buried her face into my side to shield her eyes from the terror before us, I absently pulled her to me as my eyes scanned for an escape, my right hand searched for hers and I grasped it tightly "Let's go, you have to run as fast as you can" I tried keeping my voice firm and steady I couldn't lose my countenance now, I had to keep it together, at least for her. And then the moment came, just a little possible path for our escape. Without hesitating or even spending a single thought I jumped out from under the roof while pulling Leya with me. We sprinted towards the forest. It was hard to keep your balance due to the roots that nestled between the grass, Leya tripped a few times but caught herself before falling. But as she tripped again I quickly turned my head to look at her, she stumbled but caught herself and then kept running, but as my gaze lingered on her I saw a red cloak in the corner of my eye and the realization hit me, a red paladin was coming for us, our escape was not unseen. A  electrifying shot of adrenaline shot trough my body making me run even faster but the tug of my sisters hand in mine had me turn my head towards her jet again "too fast - I can't keep up" she said in between ragged breathes the paladin got closer and closer and helplessness crept into my head 'There's gotta be a solution' I thought. I frantically looked around to spot anything that could help us but all there was, was trees, endless trees and before i could think any further  a forced came from behind having me and my sister topple to the ground. As soon as we hit the ground I quickly got up and pulled my sister up from the ground behind me, her right hand grabbed my dress from behind as she whimpered "Please don't do us any harm, we haven't done anything wrong, I swear!" he just smirked and it turned my gut upside down "The world needs to be cleansed of your folk" he spat before composing himself a bit "I'm bringing your souls salvation.... redemption" tears of hopelessness pricking in my eyes and my voice broke "You're murdering, killing people, children, burn their villages to the ground. You swipe out entire folks leaving nothing behind than chaos, terror and death.... And you still belive we are the ones who need redemption... Peacefully living in our villages.... I do not understand" he just smiled and slowly walked towards us and be backed away "You do not need to understand, only God can explain, he is the one who will judge your sins. He will wash out the evil inside your souls and give you peace" he raised his sword as time seemed to freeze for a second, what should i do? I won’t go down without a fight, i can’t let my sister die , not here, not now, not like that, as the moment passed all I could do was to lunge forward, my whole body collided with his as I tackled him to the ground hoping that he would drop his sword, as we had crashed to the ground he tried grabbing me and I lunged my hand towards his face feeling my nails tear his skin "Aaah!"he yelled out in pain before he swung his hand and knocked me with the hilt of his sword on the side of my head and my vision went black for a brief moment, I stumbled off him as he quickly jumped to his feet used to moment of my vulnerable state and buried the sword into my side. A gasp left my lips and my body felt numb for a moment. Leyas eyes widened panic spreading through her "NO!" she screamed as she ran towards me dropping on her knees and that wasn't the only thing dropping, tears streamed down her face onto her light blue dress. My vision was blurry and everything seemed slower, I shakily grabbed her hands and told her  "Leya run, don't look back and run, now!" she sobbed and shook her head "I won't leave you" the red paladin who was raging out of anger grabbed my sister on the back of her head and forcefully pulled her to her feet “No, please dont” my voice was nothing more than a quiet whisper, my eyes were too heavy i tried to resist the urge to close them but i couldn’t fight it as i got pulled into a black abyss, a death like sleep. Dear gods don’t save me, let me fall into the black abyss that is pulling me, inviting me, just save her... please.
A cold breeze stroked my face and my skin got covered in goosebumps, it was cold. Underneath my fingertips is could feel wet moss and dry leaves, my head was pounding and i had a bad stomach ache. As realisation hit me i jolted upwards and immediately clamped my hand over the wound on my side, bood came out like a stream. I frantically looked around my eyes not used to the dark and my vision still blurry “Leya?” as i turned my head sideways i saw her motionless body on the ground. Ignoring the pain i stumbled to my feet and dropped down besides her turning her around, she had a red dripping line on her neck, i cradled her in my arms hugging her close “Not you, please, gods, not her” it felt like someone had an iron grip around my throat, heart and chest  and the tears ran down like a waterfall. It felt like a dream, unreal, why did death take her, not me, she was a goddamn child, never did anyone wrong, she was all i had left, and its my fault that she’s dead. I could’ve saved her. I don’t know how lang i sat there just staring at her, the tears were gone,my soft hiccups were the only sound to be heard. It should have been me, laying on the ground, it should have been her to run away and find a safe place to stay, it should have been her, to live. After another moment i slowly got up my gaze still lingering on her, my heart felt like someone ripped it apart, like a heavy chain squeezes my chest together making it hard to breath “I failed you im sorry... im so sorry” i whispered into the night “You got ripped away, right trough my hands, and im left with this hell in my head”. The moon fought itself through the trees shining down on me and her, she looked so peaceful despise her violent death. I couldn’t bare looking at her longer. I turned her on her back and laid her hands on her stomach, now it looks like she was sleeping, a never ending peaceful sleep. There was so much i wanted to tell her. Now there’s nothing left to say, i had my chance but now it was too late.
I don´t know how long i’ve walked trough the never ending darkness of the forest, every step was a dread and the wound burned like fey fire. I stumbled against a tree with the feeling of the weight of the world on my shoulders i slided onto the ground while placing my hand on the ground besides me to keep myself up. I felt a sharp object digging into the palm of my hand, i grasped it and lifted it to my face to take a closer look, the swallowing darkness made it hard to see so i squinted my eyes as i saw a circle made out of twigs inside was a symbol...and that symbol meant “North” in a old fey language and for the first time i was glad i did pay attention to what my mother taught me even though i insisted to her i’ll never need that she always said “But if you do need it one time you will be glad to know it, and now pay attention and stop talking silly!” sweet memories that burned like a wildfire in my chest as i remember the days long gone.Gone, so much was gone, my family, my lovely mother, my brave father and my lovely sister... and Percival... he was like a brother....or even more than that... i hope he’s safe. What if he didn’t make it?´Then there would be no one left for me...there was Pym and Nimue but that simply wasn’t the same, but when thinking about it, nothing would be the same again, not even me, not after i lost all those who are dear to me, the place i grew up in, my home, so many friends who didn’t make it out of the deadly trap from the red paladins as they came and with the single snap of a finger nothing was the same anymore. Now every memory was haunting me, now that they are all gone and im here, they could never be replaced, i wish that i could turn back time take the wrongs and make them right, now it’s too late. Snapping into the present i wobbled to my feet and headed north. I kept walking and walking my conciousness slowly drifting away from me, and the wound kept bleeding drenching my clothes. At one point i had a strange foreign feeling in my chest, a good one, like a invisible pull, that feeling gave my mind a boost but my body didn’t correspond and i crashed to the floor and i felt all strength that was left leave my body, i felt hopeless, i did not want to get up. But the invisible thread made me try to get up just once again, it felt like i was so close, i couldn’t give up now. I walked a few steps as i heard rustling just meters before me, it didn’t sound human, it was heavier... a horse maybe?. I leaned against a tree and stopped breathing for a second, and just focused my eyes to where the sound was coming from, as a black horse appeared out from behind the thick forest slowly walking towards me and stopping in front of me “What are you doing here pretty boy?” I softly stroked his soft muzzle and then grabbed onto the mane while my other hand left the tree and quickly grabbed the cantle of the saddle, slowly stepped my foot in the stirrup and with the last bit of strength i pushed myself on the horse, the horse somehow knew where it should head so it turned around and walked the same way back where it came from. The slow rocking back and forth had my eyes fall shut and i lost conciousness.
As i woke up im immediately felt something softer underneath me, the room was rather warm and it gave me a peaceful, quiet and calm atmosphere. I opened my eyes and sat up before checking my surroundings i was in an infirmary. As a nurse picked up my movement she took a bowl and a cloth and came to my bed „Welcome back in the land of the living, for a moment i thought you went to the upside down, that's a really nasty and deep wound and i never had dealt with an injury like that“ she dabbed the cloth on my face, the cloth was cold as it slightly cooled my burning skin „You still have a fever and the wound inflamed, you need a lot of rest now“ she fluffed my pillow and motioned me to lay down wich i obeyed to „im going go get you something to eat, dont you dare to move a single finger“ she smirked at me with a sly smile.
„-why was she in the forest?Why was she injured, was ist bad?How did the horse know where she was? He's so smart! How did she look like?“ „There was blood everywhere ..i don't know how he knew she was there... she looked like the girl, y/n, you've talked about“ Percival felt like someone elbowed him in the stomach, his first impulse was to just start running to get to her as quickly as he could but he froze before he could take a single step `What if it's not her?` he couldn't bear to crash his hopes if it wasn't her so he composed himself before calmly saying „Let's go and see if shes better“ without waiting for the cloaked man he made his way towards the nursing room. Little did he know that Lancelot saw his euphoria for a moment before he restrained himself, before he turned his back a little glint of acerbity and fear glistened in his eyes. Y/N the girl who was like a sister, but more, the young boy did indeed saw her as a mother, he told Lancelot she was there, always. And he also knew that he was constantly was thinking about her wellbeing, not wanting to imagine if she didn’t make it, as even though he never met her, he hoped too the boy would reunite with her very soon. “When we walked trough the forest she always made flower crowns for me and her, and let me tell you what, she’s the prettiest girl in the world!” and he would lie if he would say that he didn’t wanted to see that for himself.
I put the empty bowl on the nightstand beside my bed as Neophora, the nurse, came back with fresh bandages „Let's change the bandages, can you sit alone or do you need help?“ i slowly pushed myself up but wasn't able to sit without leaning my back onto the headboard letting out a grunt of pain „Alright, dear don't hurt yourself, Venja can you help me for a second?“ she called over her shoulder to the left wing of the infirmary. A fairly young blonde girl rushed to us with quick steps, she goes around the bed onto the opposite side where the nurse stood „She can't sit up, just hold her while i change the bandages?“The girl just nodded and gently grabbed my shoulders and sat me up, i grasped the loose top and pushed it up right under my chest as the nurse unwrapped the old bandage, as she wanted to take away the last part of the bandage i took in a sharp breath of air „Ouch“ The nurse immediately stopped pulling and took a closer look „The wound fluids dried and now the bandage is stuck in the wound, oh dear“ Neophora stopped to think about what to do next as the blonde girl nodded from her to me, she grabbed my shoulders and the young girl went to get a bowl with water and a cloth, she gently wetted the stuck bandage and could easily remove it „What would i do without you Venja? Im getting old....the easiest things just slip out of my mind“ she blonde girl gently squeezed Neophoras shoulder and went back around the bed so that they could finish redressing my wound.The young girl put my pillow up against the headboard, she helped me so that i could comfortably sit back. „Thank you“ i smiled at her wich she shyly returned before heading back to other patients.
I closed my eyes for a moment, what i didn't noticed was the young boy who just entered the infirmary and froze in place as his gaze fell on me „Y/N?“ my eyes flew open and i met Percival gaze „Percival!?“ he started sprinting towards my bed and fell into my arms „I missed you so much i was so scared that you didn't make it“ he grasped my top and buried his head in my chest...just like Leya did- i quickly shook away that thought and fought the urge to set free tears „Are you alright? Im so glad you're safe, i wouldn't be able to forgive myself if i lost you too“ my voice broke mid- sentence as the boy lifted his gaze „loose....me...too?..Leya..-“ i just looked him in the eye and slowly shook my head and a few tears rolled down my face, this time he fell around my neck and hugged me tight „Im so sorry y/n i...i don't know what to say... those bastards, they will burn, they will all burn until the very last of those stupid scums“ „They will some day...“ they boy sat down at the edge on my bed not letting go of the embrace as a cloaked figure stepped behind Percival, as we both realized the presence we looked at him as Percival pointed at him „Y/n that’s Lancelot, Lancelot that's y/n“ the tall man that was wrapped in his cloak having the hood letting shadows fall on his face just gave a short nod „I see you're alive, im glad“ He gazed over her face taking in every detail and Percival did not lie she was indeed the most gorgeous girl he's ever seen „He was a scumbag at first, he was one of those red bastards, but then when they caught me and the blind, eyeless scumbag wanted to cut out my tongue Lancelot came in, slit that bastard's throat and cut me free, then we wanted to escape but they found out, he cut down one after one but then a whole bunch of them came at once, not the red paladins they were from the trinity guard, and then they knocked his swords out of his hands and they injured him pretty bad, then they wanted to kill him, i threw a big rock right in his face, boom! Then he got his sword back and killed them! I helped him up and on his horse and then we escaped... and then came here!“ amazed at how he hasn't passed out from not taking a single breath while telling his story and how brave he was i just stroked my thumbs over his cheeks „You have no idea how proud i am of you, Percival“ his eyes widened „Really!?“ i softly laughed „I am, you're the bravest person i've ever met, youre absolutely amazing“ The hooded man slowly pulled off his hood and said „I can only agree to that, i owe him my life, i wouldn't be here without his help“ gods.that.man.was.gorgeus.don'tdrool- „And he saved you too y/n... well his horse found you and brought you to him, and then he brought you here“ seeing as he stood close to my bed and Percival still cuddled up to me, i reached my hand out and took his in mine softly squeezing it „Thank you, Lancelot“
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* acerbity (sour, harsh bitterness that leaves you stunned)
3,1k Words
Im done. Im finally done. im sorry if this is trash or maybe its alright in the beginning but starts to slack towards the end. it took me rough about a week to write this because i didn’t have the time to just sit down and write for a few hours. This is my very first image so please bear with me. Also sorry if you find any grammar, spelling or logic mistakes, if you point them out i will gladly correct them :)
it’s currently 2:43 am so goodnight people im ded.
also.... part 2?
Until then...
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madbucker · 8 months ago
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Silhouettes | Daryl Dixon.
Eventual Daryl Dixon x female reader.
IV.
Season 1.
MASTERLIST.
Loosely based on the song We Will Become Silhouettes by The Postal Service.
Summary: Y/N follows Rick to Atlanta. They find a group willing to help them.
Warnings: language, gore stuff (twd style), mentions of death, mentions of domestic abuse. Will add more warnings depending on the chapter’s content. Let me know if you think it needs some other warning!
Word count: 3.6k.
Author’s note: First things first, I’m not a native English speaker, so bear with me! You can send me a message or an ask pointing out some mistakes so I can edit the post. Also, it will help me learn the language, so don’t hesitate! Had this in my drafts for a few days. I hope you like it! ♥
Gif’s not mine.
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“Morgan…” You couldn’t find the right words to express how grateful you were. You looked at Morgan and Duane with conflict showing in your eyes: you were happy and hopeful that you were going to find your sister in Atlanta, but you couldn’t ignore the anguish, the heartbreak of leaving them. Every second counted, and waiting a few more days could lower your chances of finding her alive, but those two had saved your life. What if leaving them lowered their chances of making it to safety? Even if you weren’t suited for survival, having someone else around could make a difference.
“Go, this is your chance. We’ll meet again, soon.” Morgan took over as if he knew how much you were feeling at the moment, embracing you not only with his arms but with his words.
Yeah, we’ll meet again, you thought. Your mind softened for a couple of seconds when you felt another set of arms hugging you tight from your side. You had only known them for a couple of weeks, but that was a lot when the world was the way it was. Weeks felt like a lifetime for you, and so it did for the men that had taken you in.
Men, because Duane was far from being a boy. It was sad, he deserved to live the rest of his childhood like you did, or like his father did. He had to, forcefully, become brave, strong, and even cold sometimes.
“We’ll meet again in Atlanta, or somewhere else, I don’t know, but we will.” You said as they let go of you. All you could do after that was forcing yourself to smile reassuringly.
“Now go and help Rick find his family too.”
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“You can't leave me here... Not like this. You can't, man. It's not human. Come on, don't do this!”
Merle’s voice was faint as you ran down the stairs with everyone else. Their names were blurry in your head, the adrenaline making you forget about everything but the fact that your life was hanging by a thread.
But Merle, oh, you would never forget his name.
He was the type of person you were afraid to run into, back when you were alone. You were glad Rick was there to put him in his place, even though that hadn’t shut him up. 
Finding other survivors had its downside, you guessed, but not all of it was bad.
They told you that they had a camp, that they had people. The blonde woman’s younger sister was one of them, and they said they had children, too. Maybe it was too good to be true, but since Atlanta was overrun by walkers, then that was the best you had.
Walkers, that’s what they’d named them: because that’s all they did, they were the empty carcasses of what used to be a beautifully complex human being. They just walked, and bit, and killed.
You feared your sister was one of those, roaming around the city. That thought hadn’t left your mind since you first realized how bad things had gotten there. What if she had gone to Atlanta, seeking shelter, but found her death instead? You knew you had to get out of the situation you were in before you made any decisions. The camp didn’t seem like a bad idea, you could stay there temporarily and visit the city a few more times until you found her. Maybe even bring back supplies to thank everyone for letting you stay. That was if you made it, survival was still something new, something you had to train for.
Safety in numbers felt like your best shot. 
You didn’t pay much attention to your surroundings until you got inside the loading dock, your eyes were fixed in what was in front of you. A walker could’ve gotten you from your sides and you wouldn’t have noticed until it was too late. You were lucky enough to get to safety.
So was T-Dog, who at last second caught up with you, right before you heard Rick banging on the door.
You sat next to the two women, hugging yourself with your trembling arms. You were agitated and couldn’t catch enough air to say what you knew everyone else wanted to say.
“Hey, T-Dog,” you moaned once you could stabilize your breath, “where’s Merle?” you almost barked the asshole’s name. He looked down to his knees.
“I dropped the damn key,” he growled, angry and ashamed.
“Well, shit.” You whispered, making sure nobody heard. Merle had it coming, that was clear, but T-Dog didn’t have to carry with the guilt of leaving a man to die just because he happened to be… the way he was.
“Best not to dwell on it. Merle got left behind. Nobody's gonna be sad he didn't come back... except, maybe, Daryl.” One of the men commented. You lifted your head and locked your eyes with his, your heart starting to beat faster once again. If for some reason Merle had someone who cared for him, then they had to love him. That was a difficult man, the one you had met back there… It must've taken a huge amount of patience and devotion to want him around for more than a few hours.
If he actually had someone who cared for him, you were completely fucked.
“Daryl?” you hesitated to ask, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer.
“His brother.”
The scenario was so beautiful it was truly unbelievable. You were stepping out of the dock when Rick’s drowned cry caught your attention. Looking forward, you saw a kid running to hug him, followed by a woman. You quickly figured out Rick had found his family, making your heart flutter. In the shithole you were in, you figured those things were a sight to be seen, something that didn’t happen every day, so you let yourself enjoy the view.
You knew Rick’s son was young, even younger than Duane, but seeing him there made you realize how fragile he was.
Innocent, scared, too little to live through those times. And for a second, you forgot that a few hours before you thought you had no purpose left. Not finding your sister, seeing how one of the biggest cities in the country had fallen… you had started to think that there was no use in trying so hard to survive when you had nobody left.
But there he was, Carl, and there were more kids in the camp. Maybe you could do more than just survive. Trying to help them live their lives with as little worry and concern as possible was better than giving up.
“Why on earth did you leave the apartment?!” A loud, high pitched scream echoed through the camp, and it didn’t take long for you to spot her, running to you.
Her. Mayra. Your sister.
When her body slammed into yours, you fell backward as you hugged her tight, trying not to let her go, as if she could slip away from your arms at any moment. You stayed on the ground trying to take in every detail you could. Her shaky breath, the way her hair felt on your skin, how her fingers were uncomfortably pressed between the ground and your shoulder blades. Her small cries as she tried to find the exact words to say.
“I was looking for you!”, at that point, you were sobbing, not even thinking about the people whose eyes wandered from Rick to you two.
“And I was about to go back home looking for you!” She cried, steadying her breath before standing back up. You followed her actions, your sight never leaving hers.
You weren’t sure how long it had been since it all started. Weeks, for sure. Months, too, although sometimes it felt like decades.
Suddenly, her eyes widened and she scanned her surroundings, fear creeping in her. She put both of her hands on your shoulders and lightly shook her head, still searching for something, you couldn’t guess what.
“Did he die?” She questioned firmly. You didn’t answer, had someone else gone to Atlanta that hadn’t made it? Someone who died before you found the group? She couldn’t be talking about… 
The entire world fell on top of you. You had just discovered your sister was alive and had also just found out you left someone she cared about behind. “Did Merle fucking die?!”
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The fire warmed your legs and the frog legs tasted so, so good. You hadn’t eaten anything freshly cooked in such a long time, it felt unreal. You were focused on your food and on Rick’s story, it was the first time you heard him talk in-depth about what had happened. He seemed happy, and the bags under his eyes were more subtle. His entire demeanor had changed.
“They found me…” your sister’s voice interrupted your trail of thoughts. You had a conversation pending; one that the both of you decided to ignore so you could enjoy the feeling of being back together, “... the Dixons, I mean. Merle didn’t want me around, Daryl didn’t either, but he was too kind to let it show. Thank God we found the group, like, a couple of days after I joined them.” Her eyes were lost in the flames as she spoke. She knew it hadn’t been your fault, there was no way you would leave him on purpose. “But I was about to die, Y/N. I felt the walker’s teeth on my skin, it tore the fabric on my shoulder. I just accepted it, didn’t fight back, didn’t try to escape.” She looked at you, and you realized that nothing meant shit anymore… life at that moment was constantly being on the verge of dying and knowing that the people you loved could die at any moment, too. Nothing could ever go back to what it used to be. “And, then, a freaking arrow went through the walker’s head. Clean, just like that, and it fell on top of me. I had never seen death in first person, you know. I had lost my friends after a dozen of those creeps came out of nowhere, but I didn’t see them die, I just heard the screams.”
She was your little sister, you hated to hear her that way, so hopeless and surrendering to death. 
“You’re safe now, these people know how to fight-” you stared, but she stopped you before you could finish.
“I know. But one of the men who saved my ass isn’t safe. Yes, he’s not the kindest, nicest, or most selfless man, but I owe him.” You knew that feeling too well. You owed Morgan and Duane, you owed Rick, and Glenn, and so many people. None of them had behaved the way Merle did, but not only Mayra owed him, you did too.
Nodding, you sighed and looked at her in the eyes, reassuring her you would do something to get him back, anything you could.
“Hey, Ed, you want to rethink that log?” Shane’s loud demand made you jump slightly. Your sister nudged you on your side with her elbow and signaled you to look at Ed. She had been suspicious about him and you both had talked about it a few hours back
“It’s cold, man.”
“Then join us or put it out, we don’t want to be seen…” you spoke, managing to sound as nice as you could. You didn’t want to start anything, but you knew how dangerous it could get. You had to avoid loud sounds and bright lights. But Ed, as expected, ignored you.
“Yeah, the cold doesn’t change the rules, does it? Keep our fires low, just embers so we can't be seen from a distance, right?” Shane continued.
“I said it's cold. You should mind your own business for once.” Ed’s answer has was harsh, you could tell he would be hard to deal with, but not everything could be perfect in such a numerous and diverse group. Everyone had different stories to tell, some of them were more tragic than others.
Shane got up and walked steadfastly towards Ed and his family’s fire, “Hey, Ed... Are you sure you want to have this conversation, man?”
“Go on. Pull the damn thing out. Go on!” Ed bossed and his wife pulled the log out of the fire almost immediately, not questioning his husband’s command. It was sad and frustrating, but knowing that stepping in could cause the wife and the little girl to get hurt forced you to stay in your place. Shane seemed to be handling the situation. He was like some sort of leader in the camp, and he had been around those people for so much longer than you, he knew what to do. At least that’s what you told yourself in an attempt to find comfort.
You saw how Shane spoke to Ed’s wife and their daughter, but you couldn’t hear what he said as the group had started a conversation to fill in the silence.
“Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon? He won't be happy to hear his brother was left behind.” The man -whose name you learned was Dale- questioned, deciding to talk about the elephant in the room. 
“I'll tell him. I dropped the key. It's on me.” T-Dog’s shameful tone showed up once again.
“I cuffed him. That makes it mine.” Rick followed. It couldn’t turn into a competition of who was brave enough, who was the most selfless, or who was willing to sacrifice themselves.
“We were all there, it’s not a competition, any of us could’ve done something-” You intervened, hoping you could bring into the conversation the fact that you were planning on going back, but Glenn interrupted you:
“I don't mean to bring race into this, but it might sound better coming from a white guy.” You hated it, but if Daryl was as bigoted as his brother, then Glenn was right.
“I did what I did. Hell if I'm gonna hide from him.” T-Dog stated, completely convinced of facing the consequences.
“And we keep on making a competition out of this. We all should be there and say whatever we have to say.” You said in a determined tone. You were all responsible, one way or another.
“Look, Y/N… maybe I can tell him?” Mayra whispered as the rest kept on debating who should speak up.
“I don’t know how it could help…” You said back. Yes, Mayra knew him better than you, but she hadn’t been involved, she didn’t have to.
She opened her mouth to protest, but T-Dog’s words captured your interest instantly:
“My point... Dixon's alive and he's still up there, handcuffed on that roof. That's on us.”
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When the fire was out and everyone got into their tents, including your sister, you still sat on the same log as before. The scenario felt strange, almost unknown to you: outside at night, under the cloudy night sky, and still not unsafe. It had been so long since you felt immortal and undefeatable, just like any other girl your age felt... like nothing could happen to you, not ever. You missed it. But beautiful as that night was, the imminent danger thickened the air.
You felt your eyes growing heavier each second. You were ready to go to sleep, so you got up and started to walk to the tent you and Mayra would share, but the sight of someone on the roof of Dale’s RV made you stop on your tracks.
Shane was keeping watch, and you wondered if he did it each night, or how had they arranged the shifts. He looked tired and the look on his face was anything but friendly.
“Hey, want to switch?” You asked approaching the stairs and climbing up, not waiting for an answer. Once you got off the stairs, your eyes wandered through the trees and landed up in the sky. If he kept watch every night, then you knew why. The view wasn’t mesmerizing, you had seen more beautiful countless times before, but the air up there was lighter, and the breeze, soothing. 
“Sorry ‘bout Ed today.” Shane ignored your question. You sat down next to the chair he was sitting in.
“Don’t be, he’ll pay for what he’s doing to his family someday. Soon, I hope.” You looked up and realized his eyes were lost somewhere in the horizon. He looked tired, and if you read more into it: defeated. “Go to sleep, I’ll stay. I want to.”
It came as a surprise to you: that was all he needed to hear. He didn’t protest, he got up, handed you the shotgun and left. You didn’t know if he would be able to get some sleep, at least he could try to.
But what you did know was that you weren’t suddenly concerned about the sleeping schedule of a man you had just met. You were desperately in need of being alone. Being around so many people was something you had only dreamt about, at least for the last weeks, and although you felt the luckiest you had ever felt, the safety you had found allowed you to put your feet back on the ground.
Everything had happened so fast. You almost died, and more than once. You met people, they saved you, you left one of them to die, you found out Mayra was alive and safe, Rick’s family was with her… and you still had to figure out how to break the news to Merle’s brother. 
You were going back to the city, too, as if everything that had happened wasn’t enough. You’d do it for your sister, and for the men who saved her, as questionable as they were.
And suddenly, it clicked.
The bag. The guns.
You had to remind Rick. It could save the group from an attack from walkers, or from other people. That way you knew somebody else would go back with you and you would actually have a shot of coming back alive, even if they despised Merle.
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“Merle! Merle! Get your ugly ass out here! I got us some squirrel! Let's stew 'em up.”
You had just finished hanging some of your clothes to dry when an unbothered and loud voice caught everyone’s attention. From their wide eyes, you could tell who had just gotten back. Merle’s brother, Daryl, sounded, moved, and acted just like him. It wasn’t just the accent, but his words, how his presence made everyone uncomfortable… you could tell they were expecting him to snap as soon as he found out. Behind him, Shane and Rick looked and nodded to each other. You approached them, determined to be a part of it even if hell broke loose.
“Your brother was a danger to us all, so I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal. He's still there.” Rick got to the point with no rambling.
“We locked the door, he’s safe from walkers.” You dared to look at him in the eyes, but regretting it as soon as he opened his mouth.
“Hold on. Let me process this. You're saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof and you left him there?!”
“Yeah.” Rick stepped in front of you, and without skipping a beat, Daryl attacked Rick, who shoved him off. 
You took a few steps back and spotted your sister, who was just getting out of the RV. Her eyes widened and her mouth hung open as soon as she realized what was happening: Daryl, Shane, T-Dog and Rick were yelling at each other. She stood in her place, everyone in the camp knew well not to intervene. Shane had Daryl on a chokehold as Rick explained to him that he wanted to have a calm discussion, which seemed to force Daryl to give in. Shane let go of him.
“What I did was not on a whim. Your brother does not work and play well with others.” Rick kept going. At that point, you guessed nothing could actually calm Dixon, he was still breathing heavily.
“It's not Rick's fault. I had the key. I dropped it.” T-Dog cut in.
“You couldn't pick it up?” Daryl snarled.
“Well, I dropped it in a drain.”
“If it's supposed to make me feel better, it don't.” 
“Hey, I told you, the door’s chained with a padlock. There’s no way walkers could get to him.” You repeated, trying your best to be concise and get to the point: Merle was still out there. 
“And who the fuck are you?” Daryl took a few steps forward and stared at you in the eyes. You weren’t scared, but it did take you by surprise. You stumbled back and raised your hands, putting them in between you.
“She’s my sister, Daryl!” Mayra’s shaky voice made him turn around. You couldn’t see his face, but hers was filled with heartbreak. She felt she had failed him, as if she had broken an unspoken promise. Daryl faced you again.
“Funny, huh? How I saved your sister but you left my brother to rot.” He growled. His voice low and irritated.
Your eyes jumped from Mayra to him. You straightened your body and took a deep breath. He was right. You felt miserable, and you couldn’t imagine how hard it was for Mayra, you knew you would have to do something as soon as she told you her story.
“I know, that’s why I’m going back there. With or without you.”
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mystic-shadows42 · 8 months ago
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The Wolf and Sheep
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Pairing: Ubbe x reader (series)
Warnings: Language and Violence
You felt Ubbe’s hand brush your hair back. He was always so gentle and soft when it came to you. That’s one of the reasons why you loved him.
You opened your eyes to see him already looking at you. He smiled making your heart flutter.
“What are you doing?”
“Admiring you.”
You huffed out a laugh. Your appearance in the morning was nowhere near worth admiring. It was still sweet of him to say.
“How did I get so lucky with you?”
“The gods wanted us to be together. You’re stuck with me now.” He said as he flashed his smile at you.
You laid your head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat.
“Are you still going hunting today?”
Ubbe brushed his fingers through your hair as he looked up at the ceiling. 
“Heard rumors there’s some sort of animal going through towns destroying everything. A catch like that is worth something.”
“Is it? What if you get hurt? I can’t begin to comprehend that.”
“The only reason why I’d risk it is for you. For your safety. Then once we catch this beast, think of all the stories we can tell our children. It’ll be a tradition. We’ll be old sitting around the fire watching as our family grows their own thinking we made such a thing happen.”
“That’s a pretty picture.” you hummed along with him. You looked up from his chest and captured his lips with yours while he was caught off guard.
He reciprocated the kiss molding his lips onto yours.
“When you come back we’ll have to work on creating our family.”
He smiled as you gave him a knowing look. You traced your finger on his chest loving how it sent shivers down his body at your touch.
Ubbe brought your hand up to his lips as he kissed it.
“There’s nothing more I want than to have a family with the woman I love. I’d be proud to father your children. I always dreamt of having a family and settling down. Now that’s all going to finally happen. Thanks to you.”
“You weren’t hard to lock down.”
Ubbe chuckled at your words. It was no secret that he had gotten around before but as soon as he locked eyes with you for the very first time he knew he was done for. He was done with his previous lifestyle.
You had him wrapped around your finger and he knew it too.
You patted his chest and started to gather his belongings that’ll he’ll need for his hunt.
“Do you have everything you need?”
Ubbe had a tendency to forget to take a lot of things when he goes hunting.
“Yes. Don’t worry, I’ll be home sooner than you think.”
“You’re not going alone right?”
“I’m going with my brothers and others who volunteered. Otherwise, it’d just be Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ivar. Who knows what they’d do without me there?”
“You’re right. Always the peacemaker.”
You kissed his lips briefly. “Be safe.”
“Always.”
You were about to go outside when Ubbe pulled you back.
“Do I get a kiss?”
You pecked his lips. 
“For protection.” You said as he stood there with his arms crossed waiting on you to attend to him.
Kiss. 
“May the gods watch over you.” 
Kiss.
“May you have luck on your journey.” 
Kiss. 
“May you come back to me.”
Kiss.
Ubbe cupped your face in his hands. “I’ll always come back to you. If we can’t find it before sundown then we’ll head back. It’s not worth it if we risk it all.”
“I thought you said it was, earlier?”
“If there’s a chance then yeah, but if its something that ends my life and keeps me from you, then no. Killing this thing is a bonus. You are the prize, my love. One I’d like to come back to.”
“Such a sweet talker.”
Ubbe kissed your lips synchronizing his mouth with yours. His lips were soft and his hands on your face were rough but gentle at the same time.
Ubbe was reluctant to let you go. He made this kiss last longer than the others.
When he finally pulled away he watched your reaction. He always enjoyed watching as your eyes were closed and your lips plump after he kisses you.
When you opened your eyes you couldn’t help but shy away from his gaze. He just had that effect on you. Every time.
“You better be off. Be safe my love.”
“Always.”
After Ubbe left you prayed to the gods that he and the others would return safe and that the beast would be brought down.
It brought you some peace of mind. Although, your mind never seemed to ease whenever Ubbe would leave. Even for simple trips. He would constantly plague your thoughts.
If wouldn’t have been so bad if it wasn’t getting dark already. You stared at Ubbe’s now cold food as you continued waiting. Everybody was indoors early since the stories of a beast had begun circling around Kattegat.
A sudden commotion brought a few on comers outside to investigate. You opened the door and saw people gathered in one area. You followed them to see what was happening.
A man stumbled onto the floor disheveled with blood all over his clothes.
You got closer and noticed he had gone with the hunting party that left earlier.
“There... was a beast,” he said out of breath.
“Where’s everybody else?”
He shook his head rapidly.
“We have to go out there for potential survivors.” A person spoke up.
“No way! I’m not going out there again.”
“Out of the way! Move! Get back!”
All the commotion brought more attention to the people wanting to know what was going on. There were a few more people coming from the woods headed in.
You tried to get a look to see what was happening but the crowd kept you in place increasing your frustration.
People in the crowd began to turn towards you and parted a path. It confused you but you made your way through nonetheless.
“Oh my,” you covered your hand over your mouth at the sight of Ubbe. He was covered in blood which seemed to be endless.
You didn’t know where it started and where it ended because there was so much blood. He was practically drenched in it.
The healer cut off his shirt and exposed his skin what was left of his skin. The crowd from behind clamored at the sight.
Some had to look away. It was a bloody mess. You didn’t know how Ubbe was still alive after such an attack. But yet he was still breathing. Faintly.
There were substantial gashes on his body. Where there was hardly any skin left.
“What animal could’ve done this?” You asked the healer.
“I don’t know but from the looks of it, it had to be of an incredible size to do this to a grown man.” The healer looked at you with remorseful eyes. “It’s best you say your goodbyes. He probably won’t make it through the night.”
You couldn’t fathom the possibility of losing Ubbe. It seemed unreal. Everything was fine this morning and now he was going to die.
Tears fell down your face blurring your sight of him. You wiped them away quickly and continued to stare at him.
This was the love of your life. No words could possibly do him justice for what he brought into your life.
You wanted to hold him but you were afraid to. Any wrong move on your part could possibly cause him pain or to bleed out even more.
“I love you, Ubbe. I love you so much. You’ve brought me more joy than you can imagine. Thank you, so much. Rest now.”
You kissed his forehead and brushed his hair back.
Tagged: @belovedcherry​ @lordsexmachine​ @lol-haha-joke​ @mariaenchanted​
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hqmia · 10 months ago
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         hiiii ( again ) legends ! !   💕  i lacked so much muse 4 lena so i decided to relive my og muse that some of you came to know aka my sexy mess of a woman mia  ! !   tbh i’m so excited to bring her back to life but it took me 230504303 years to write this long ass intro so if you actually take your precious time to read my mumbo jumbo i’d be ver the moon ??  crying ???  srsly i’ll love u 4ever if hit this with a like so i can slide in your dms for plots  💕  
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new york’s very own  MIA SANTIAGO  was spotted on broadway street in YEEZY 500 SNEAKERS . your resemblance to cindy kimberly is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your TWENTY SECOND  birthday bash . while living in nyc ,  you’ve been labeled as being DRAMATIC , but also  ENCHANTING . i guess being an  ARIES  explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be missed calls at 2am , laughter floating through a room , cherry red lips  .  ( cisfemale  &  she/her  )
BASICS! !  
FULL NAME : Mia Kristiyana Santiago NICKNAMES :  M ,  Mimi , Sugar ,  Baby ,  Princess Mia , whatever you want it to be tbh AGE : twenty-two DATE OF BIRTH : april 12th ZODIAC : aries BIRTHPLACE : barcelona , spain .  CURRENT RESIDENCE : manhattan , nyc .   SEXUAL ORIENTATION : bisexual / heteroromantic CURRENT RELATIONSHIP STATUS : who knows at this point   NATIONALITY : dual ( both american  &  spanish ) LANGUAGES SPOKEN : spanish (  fluent  ) , english ( fluent ) , indonesian ( basic )  OCCUPATION : instagram model / socialite  PARENTS : Victor Alfonso Santiago ( javier bardem fc , 54 )  &  Indah Prasetya-Santiago ( aishwarya rai fc , 41 ) SIBLINGS : none PETS : two cats named Freddie Purrcury  &   Madam Meow HEIGHT : 170cm WEIGHT : 124lbs EYE & HAIR COLOR : both dark brown  STYLE INSPO : kendall jenner, gigi hadid , hailey bieber , candice swanepoel, olivia culpo, elsa hosk, negin mirsalehi , cindy kimberly , francesca farago , chantel jeffries  MUSE INSPO : fran fine ( the nanny ), francesca farago ( too hot to handle ), kelly taylor ( 90210 ), stassi schroeder ( vanderpump rules ) ,  jackie buckhart ( that 70s show ) , lorelai gilmore ( gilmore girls ) , blanche devereaux ( the golden girls ) , phoebe halliwell ( charmed ) ,  marissa cooper ( the o.c. ),  elle woods ( legally blonde ),  cher horowitz ( clueless ) , rachel green ( friends ),  buffy summers ( buffy the vampire slayer ) ,  gabrielle solis ( desperate housewives ) POSITIVE TRAITS : adventurous , enchanting , valiant , passionate , energetic , affectionate , confident , optimistic , honest  NEGATIVE TRAITS : dramatic , stubborn ,  querulous ,  insecure , irresponsible , impatient , moody , impulsive , short-tempered  LIKES : dark coffee ,  red wine , rain showers , cinnamon latte , people who make her laugh , french fries , cuddling , honesty , attention , dancing , grand romantic gestures , music festivals , parties , exotic places , scented candles , 80s music , good sense of humor , loyalty , having her picture taken , the ocean , designer clothes , telenovelas    DISLIKES : being kept out of the loop or not knowing stuff ,  liars  &  cheaters ,  being bored , feeling weak or helpless , death  &  funerals ,  secrets ,   low quality pictures , arrogance ,  bad mannerism , poor sense of humor , bigotry , being ignored in any shape or form , anyone who bosses her around , receiving lectures , animal cruelty   AESTHETIC :  plumping lip gloss ,  strawberry lemonade , red bottoms , buying clothes without checking the price tag ,  heart shaped sunglasses , pigmented eyelids , bright smiles , festivals , getting lost in happy memories , setting off firecrackers at midnight , inside jokes , laughter floating through a room , cherry red lips , missed calls at 2am , ripped bralettes , hickey covered necks , bare feet in the mornings ,  diamonds ,  impulsive get away vacations , binge watching telenovelas
BACKGROUND  ! !   ( tw : crime , neglect , depression , suicide attempt ) 
♡   let’s start from the beginning shall we ??   victor alfonso santiago  ( aka mia’s father ) is  a successful spanish business mogul hailing originally from barcelona , spain .  the company he owned was passed down from generation to generation  &   tbh .... not many people know what does he  EXACTLY  do but everyone knows he has his fingers dipped in a lot of company shares , businesses , hotels , technology ...   but tbh it’s not really a secret that it’s just a cover up for the illegal things that go in the background ( money laundering , crime , etc ) basically he’s like robert de niro in the godfather aka a v powerful  &  feared man in the legitimate world . 
♡   mia’s mother , an indonesian supermodel turned socialite  &  philanthropist after marrying her father was always a very driven , but rarely commanding woman . she was always aware of her husband’s area of work but chose to turn a blink eye out of love/fear/respect . she always cared a lot about maintaining her social status  &  family image which explained her big circle of socialite friends . 
♡   as far as mia’s childhood goes .... well , it was bitter sweet .  on one hand she had a very strict , feared father figure who’s only form of affection was a pat on the back  &  a mother who was rarely at home as a result of quite publicly disliking children in general , especially her own . both her parents never gave her the care  &  love she so desperately wanted but were both very refined individuals when it came to public image which explained the act of a  ‘ great family ‘ . 
♡   tbh the santiago family has been on the fbi radar for years , which explained the sudden move to the states when mia was only seven at the time .  with her parents always away , mia was watched over by their trusted butler , hugo martinez , who always considered mia like his own since he practically raised her .  while he had a serious/intimidating exterior to everyone else due to his loyalty to the family , he was actually a very fatherly  &  loving person  &  to this day mia’s number one support system .  alongside him , there was also maria cabrera , the family’s cook ,  who has taken on a role of mia’s surrogate mother ever since she started working for the family  (  about ten years ago )   &   who , unlike her biological mother , was very caring  &  kind . 
♡   with the better part of early years spent home schooling due to the fact she was a insanely energetic  &  a menace of a kid  , mia was finally enrolled in a private school in new york after basically  begging  her father   &   ensuring she wouldn’t get herself in trouble .  what a  LIE  , bc’ the girl became notorious for having a talent of getting herself in it.  it was like she couldn’t help herself  -  suddenly the world was her oyster  &  mixed with the desire to get her father’s attention first  &  foremost , mia got herself involved in a lot of scandals before she even turned 18 .  from showing up to school drunk , having sex in the bathroom stall , skipping class , getting into a public verbal fight with her boyfriend to doing a striptease in front of the school principal  &  all students along with their parents !!  
♡   tbh mia was definitely a rebel growing up   &  kind of still is , but it was all a cover up to mask the fact she was incredibly lonely  &  insecure .  the fact both of her parents neglected her all her life left a huge impact on her , resulting in depression that she tried to mask with a bubbly personality  &  being the most funniest/charming/fun person in the crowd all because she couldn’t stand to be alone , which she felt more often than not despite being constantly surrounded by people . 
♡   as for her secret !!   when mia was 18  &  about to  ( miraculously )  graduate she learned that both of her parents weren’t gonna’ be in town for the ceremony .  it was something that most people would brush off but given her very fragile state of mind  &  the fact she was already struggling with a lot of things , that information was enough to get her off the edge .  so , as her final act of rebellion against her parents , she decided to pop an insane amount of pills  &  simply .... be done with it , y’know ??  unfortunately/fortunately , the butler found her  &  she was quickly taken to the hospital where her parents  ACTUALLY  showed up !!  ikr could you believe ??   but heh .... it wasn’t bc’ of what you think or what mia hoped it was for bc’ the minute she woke up she received stern looks , lectures  &  information she was getting shipped far away to some rehab felicity in the swiss alps .  ikr ..... some telenovela shit right here .  anyway , she was there for a good portion of 6 months while her parents made up a whole story to cover up the whole thing saying how she was away vacationing  &  partying her life away after receiving her hs diploma - something nobody even questoned to be false since ... i mean , it made sense that she’d do smth like that . 
♡   fast forward to today ,  she’s still living in nyc in her family’s penthouse on fifth avenue with hugo  &  maria , owns 2 cats aka her children   &  has pretty much became an instagram model + socialite .  like , what’s the point of having a career when you have money y’know ??  anyway she’s just having a time of her life rn tbh .  well , kind of , bc’ despite how great her life seems or how she portrays it , fact of the matter is her life isn’t all that happy . 
PERSONALITY! !
♡    a bit of a spoiled brat  &  almost a textbook stereotype of a rich girl with no real world problems !!  however , she’s also v v enchanting which explains her ability to charm her way out of any situation  &  make you swoon bc’ she makes you believe you’re special af .  tbh 10/10  she’ll either annoy the shit out of you  or  you’ll find her irresistibly adorable lmao . 
♡    given her spanish roots , she can also get hella’ dramatic just like her favorite characters in telenovelas , but inside she’s truly a good person with a good heart ok !!  she just has a flair for dramatics  n  behaving like a child , throwing fits  &  pouting  &  making puppy eyed faces whenever things don’t go her way .  
♡    hella hella  HELLA  flirtatious  to a point she doesn’t even realize the effect she has on other people but does she regret leading people on ??  hell , naw . give her all the attention . 
♡    loves to party , drink , do drugs , dance  &   kiss on the lips just like any other millennial these days but also wear mickey mouse pajamas while someone softly combs through her hair ??  she needs to grow up ik .  also kind of  LIVES  for summer  &  music festivals where she can just dress in glittery outfits  &   fall in love with a different person every night !!    
♡    huge romantic  &  loves being courted  &  going on dates but whenever things get  “ too serious “  she’s like  “ oh no but i was kidding , sorry bye !!  “  like girl can’t commit to one person to save her life lmao .  
♡    v fun to be around with bc she hates being bored  &  is impatient af  !!  can’t stand to be in one place for too long or god forbid to do nothing otherwise she’d legit scream sooooo catch her doing v dumb , impulsive decisions while bored like jumping on her father’s private jet to get those vanilla-filled croissants from the bakery in paris  or  snapping you a nude to get your reaction bc she’s bored at home  &  seeks validation ikgjddftgidtg . 
♡    but like ... her persona is a bit of a facade ??  kind of  ??   like yeah she’s friendly  &  energetic  &  always up for a good time but is she truly happy ??  probably not .  she doesn’t let this side of her come out that often  (  in fact , she’s taking anti-depressants for it )   bc’ then she’d have to talk about her crazy family  &  what they do for a living  &  what happened 4 years ago that made her disappear from the face of the earth  &  yeah ....   
♡    some cute headcanons ??   bc’ i have to ??  ok , so  !!   to this day loves watching telenovelas  &  she might cancel her plans with you to binge watch them  (  like rebelde , rubí ,  pasion de gavilanes , la reina del sur ... )  ,   doesn’t take criticism or lectures v well ??  ,  still cries like a baby when she’s watching something emotional like mufasa dying or miguel  &  mia breaking up ,  very childish  &  dumb at times but will also surprise you with some wisdom at the same time hehe ,  will react if someone offends her or her friends best believe she’ll throw a dramatic tenelovela shit in public  &  call you a  “  un desgraciado “  lmao  
PLOTS  ! !
gimme stereotypical best friends . the blair to her serena . thelma to her louise .  monica to her rachel  that shop together , gossip together , cry together  &  can’t go longer than a week without seeing each other !!  
best friends who harbor feelings for each other ??  like maybe they even ackowledged them but don’t do anything about it bc friendship is too precious  &  when one of them is finally ready to say  “ fuck it , let’s take the risk “  they see the other making out with someone else -  cue  ANGST .  
two socialites who are close friends  &  party  &  hook up with random people when they’re out but always end up going home together  &  having this super open friendship where they have no problem hooking up with each other  6/7 days of the week ?? 
tbh all i can ever think about is two toxic ass exes who really shouldn’t have anything to do with one another just showing up at the function with someone else on their arm only to make each other jealous . like hushed  “ why would you bring them ??  “   &  hot n heavy make outs in the closet while they’re hiding from their dates .... i just really love angst ok .  
also gimme caleb fuck buddies that everyone ships  &  one of them is in love with the other  while the other refuses to admit they have feelings too ??  nfnsofvn. 
 “  i loved you when we were kids but as we grew older we went out separate ways and it broke my heart now we haven’t spoken in years and you come knocking at my door because you’re lost in life and i’m the only person you know you can really turn to and i’m feeling so many emotions that i don’t even know what to do “  CUE SAD MUSIC !! 
a plot where mia uses them to make someone jealous but they don’t know  &  actually think it’s a  legit  relationship ??   then obvi they find out mia was just using them  &  y’know  :  drama .  
influencers or just social media models or w/e  that met online  &  became close friends who now do collabs , vlogs , travels together  &  that the fans ship bc they’re cute ??  
family friends !!   someone who could potentionally know  EVERYTHING  about her life n be there for her like pls !!  
someone who is her  HOME .  it doesn’t have to be potentially romantic just someone who makes her feel completely safe , warm  &  protected  ??    they can also just…talk, and make each other laugh  &   smile, because they feel comfortable enough in themselves  &   with each other to be vulnerable in that way ??  some fluff never hurt nobody .  
tbh exes she cheated on , exes that cheated on her ,  fwbs of all kinds , crushes ,  childhood friends , good / bad influence on her dumb ass would be good ,  frenemes , gossip queens n kings , party friends , enemies for whatever reason anything tbh !! 
i also have a tag   HERE     <33333 
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r10tp00f · 10 months ago
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Shame
You don’t need me to tell you how ashamed of myself I am. On the other hand, I’ve had occasion to wonder many times with many people in my life if the extent of my shame is something anyone besides Wendy, my therapist, has appreciated or understood. My shame about class and money is somewhere in, like, my top ten sources of shame? After fat shame and ugly shame and failure shame and crazy shame, so it’s fifth, maybe.
I think the first time I felt shame about money I was eight. Third grade. The trailer park we lived in, which was called McGarrity’s, for some reason never explained to me, was owned by a man named Frank Conger, who was the music teacher and chorus director at Soddy Elementary, where I went to school. The trailer itself we owned outright, because my mother and father, in what seems like some universe other than the one I inhabited with them, had bought it shortly after I was born, when they moved with infant-me from Graysville to Soddy. My father had always been a hardworking and very, even admirably high-functioning alcoholic, at least since my mother knew him; and my mother, once upon a time, wasn’t an alcoholic at all. 
When I was born in 1982, my father worked at Sequoyah Nuclear Plant in Soddy-Daisy (doing what I’m not sure, some sort of labor in the course of which he was up on a telephone pole and was struck by lightning, sometime before I was old enough to understand or remember). My mother worked at DeLong, a sewing factory in Dayton. They both had new 1980 Ford Mustangs (my mother’s was maroon with maroon plastic and red carpet interiors and a sort of maroon striped upholstery, as I very hazily and imagistically recall). We lived, the three of us, in a double-wide trailer in Graysville, mere miles from my mother’s sisters, Aunt Linda and Aunt Suzy, who lived in Dayton, and even fewer mere miles from the tiny trailer my mother’s mother, Mamaw Betty, and her mother, Mamaw Pat, lived in a few streets over from us in Graysville, too. I think the settlement money my father got from Sequoyah as a result of the lightning strike accident was how they purchased the trailer and the Mustangs, but I wouldn’t swear to it. My earliest memories are not from Graysville, but after we had moved to Soddy. I remember playing in bed with my mother at night, under a blue comforter with sort-of needlepoint, six-pointed stars, my mother and father lying side by side, the streetlight coming in from the window, the room otherwise dark, and my mother balancing me on her knees and raised hands, our fingers laced together. I couldn’t have been older than two. I remember sitting in a round plastic laundry basket in the middle of the living room floor while my mother folded the clean clothes on the couch and we watched TV. Probably her stories, Loving or All My Children. Later, I remember my sister being an infant (which would make me three) sitting on our loveseat in the living room in the dark of pre-dawn morning, Cassie beside me, both of us bundled up for winter, while my mother went outside to warm up her Mustang to drive Cassie and me to our Aunt June’s house, where we stayed while Momma worked. I remember one such morning in particular because the Mustang’s engine caught fire while my mother was warming it up and she raced in to call the fire department. I’m not sure what became of the Mustang, other than it was gone after that.
And of course my parents divorced when I was four and Cassie one and the three of us stayed in the trailer we owned after Daddy moved back home to live with his mother, my Mamaw Ruby. And when I was eight, after we had been living with my mother’s boyfriend for two years already and my mother’s descent into alcoholism and addiction with him was total, we had no phone and regularly went months without electricity and hot water. He had already broken one of the kitchen windows trying to get in after my mother had locked him out after he hit her once (they taped the window up with packing tape and duct tape and and cardboard, after). The hot water tank had busted and soaked through the carpet and underflooring in their bedroom, leaving a hole straight through to the ground a few feet below the trailer floor that they tried to cover with the board on which my mother’s talented friend Brenda had drawn and painted for me a Rainbow Brite mural for my birthday; it had hung on the wall over the toybox in Cassie’s and my room before they used it to try and cover the hole in their bedroom floor because it was winter and the bitter cold winter air coming through the hole was making it impossible for our one kerosene space heater to warm the trailer, as much as it ever did or could). We couldn’t pay any bill with any regularity, by then. And though the trailer was ours, or my mother’s, I suppose, the plot in the trailer park it was parked on wasn’t ours (I think the plot rental was maybe $80 a month, if my memory serves), and we owed Mr. Conger money as a result. One day in third grade, as we were leaving music class, he called for me to stay behind while the rest of the class went back to our classroom, and he asked me “When is your mother going to pay me the money she owes me?” When I said I didn’t know, he told me “Tell her I want my money.”
I think that was the first time I was ashamed about money.
I had many such occasions to come. Early in my therapeutic relationship with Wendy, 2012 or 2013 or maybe a bit later, in 2015, when I was talking about the shame I had about money, she pointed out that I had never had any opportunity to learn how to handle money responsibly or well, that I never had that behavior modeled for me by any adult who then taught me how to do it on my own. Every year between 2010 and 2014 I earned more money in a year than my mother ever had. Between 2010 and 2016 I worked a minimum of two jobs at any given time (at one point in 2012, I think it was, I worked four, teaching simultaneously at UB and D’youville, writing copy for a TA colleague’s husband’s stem cell research site, and scoring AP English Language exams—I think I earned about $29,000 that year, total? The most I’ve ever earned by far, and more than my mother ever has or will.)
I spent money freely during that time. I’m not sure what else I could reasonably have been expected to do, given my shortcomings and weaknesses and background. I was earning money and didn’t think I’d ever be in a position where I couldn’t earn money again. Even if I never earn more than this, I thought, I’ll earn at least this, and that’s plenty. So I spent what I earned. Clothes, shoes, music, concerts, books—many, many books. And gifts. I spent hundreds and hundreds of dollars on gifts and clothes for my nephew Tyler and my niece Zoey and my best friend Kate’s girls Sofi and Minah, and trips to see them all twice a year, going first to Tennessee then to Houston once every summer and once every winter. A handful of trips from Buffalo to Toronto to see Tori or Nigella or go to academic conferences. A couple of times for a long weekend, just for fun. A two-day trip to Boston once, partially subsidized by the UB English department, the rest out of pocket, to present at NEMLA, the second largest and most prestigious conference in the humanities. There was the trip to London, aided partially by a student loan, to see Tori introduce the fabulously, heart-achingly beautiful musical she had written, The Light Princess. (I’m ashamed of damn near every dime I ever spent on anything in my life that wasn’t food or rent or utilities, but I’m not ashamed of the London trip to see Tori or any of my three trips to Toronto to see Tori, either; and if The Light Princess ever plays on Broadway, I won’t be ashamed to sell whatever I’ve got to pay Broadway-musical money to see it there, too; I wouldn’t be alive if not for Tori.) I spent money on a couple of trips to New York City to see Pat and Jana, too, once when I was there with them to see the McQueen show at the Met(ropolitan Museum of Art) and once to see Nico Muhly’s Two Boys at the Met(ropolitan Opera). We’d have gone to see Silence! the Musical (the musical parody of The Silence of the Lambs) off-Broadway, too, if Pat wasn’t such a fucking snob. (He apologized the next year, after he had read notices making clear the show was a tongue-in-cheek exercise of campy, bad-taste parody, as I had tried to explain to him, instead of the earnest musical of accidental bad taste he assumed I was recommending. He couldn’t imagine a musical of any kind being in good taste. Such a snob. 
For someone who said he found me so fascinating and stimulating, he sure thought I was stupid. In part because he, having been raised in doorman-high rise Manhattan by his advertising executive father and downtown LA by his dilettante artist mother; having gone to Yale, his father’s alma mater, for undergrad; having taken the train from Penn Station to spend weekends at their summer house in Connecticut; thought I was some sort of amusing, borne-of-poverty hillbilly savant who, were I not born and raised so unfortunately poor and backwards, might have otherwise been an actual genius and not the forlornly downtrodden, unschooled, uncouth genius of otherwise unrealized potential he thought I was. It was not an accident that the painting he did, inspired, he said, by me and my work, was based on the linguistic connections between Dustin and dustbin—you know, what Brits call a garbage can. He used the word “receptacle,” as I recall, when he showed it to me in progress in his Brooklyn studio, and not just because I was an admitted and committed cumdump. I was so blinded at the time by his perverse fascination with me it didn’t even occur to me to say, “So what I represent to you and what, in this painting, my name represents of me to viewers, is semiotic varieties of garbage, Pat?” I’m not offended he was calling me garbage, I’m not even saying he’s wrong, but he might have considered the possibility I’d understand that’s what he was saying in the painting even as he avoided saying it to my face. But I digress.)
Or do I? Maybe not. Pat always vehemently insisted neither he nor his family were rich. His father regularly dined at the alumni-only Yale Club in Manhattan and they lived in a downtown New York Apartment with not only room for a grand piano but the actual grand piano itself (despite the fact no one in the family plays piano); its own private, lushly decorated elevator vestibule (for their actual apartment alone, not all the apartments in the building as a whole); a private, smaller-apartment-sized storage area on a lower floor; and an unobstructed view of the U.N. building mere blocks away. But Pat’s family weren’t wealthy. No. Maybe his grandfather had been wealthy, Pat allowed, but by the time he died and left Pat only a small trust fund—a pittance, really!—the rest of the McElnea’s weren’t wealthy. Maybe if I wasn’t so poor I could have seen that, I suppose. I could have had enough money to know what real money was and know Pat didn’t have real money, as he insisted.
I didn’t work all that hard to convince Pat of his privilege. I didn’t make a habit of parading the more ignominious and painful details of my itinerant, hotel room to hotel room, flophouse to flophouse, roaches-crawling-on-me-while-I-slept-on-the-Smith’s-floor-with-my-mother, ages eight-to-fourteen homeless childhood before Pat for his exotic delectation. I rolled my eyes a lot, and wondered what the hell I was doing sleeping in the guest room of a tastefully appointed Manhattan apartment while who knows what conversation was going on about me and my un-orthodonture-corrected teeth in the parlor as they entertained a few of his father and stepmother’s hoity-toity friends. 
But I knew what Pat didn’t know about his family’s wealth and thus, what Pat wouldn’t ever and possibly couldn’t ever know or understand about me. And eventually I felt like too much a freakish token in his almost comically snooty artist’s salon to subject myself to it anymore, and had to lose his and Jana’s friendship the way I had (for different reasons) lost Sara’s and Trent’s and Stefan’s and Elizabeth’s and would come to lose Kate’s. Because, in their various ways, I understood them better than they understood me.
Not because I’m such sensitive, intelligent hot stuff. It’s not a question of skill or talent or greater intellectual capacity. I’m not smarter or kinder or more talented, none of those things are true; they all were and are more capable than I am in what feel like countless ways. It’s a question of learned consciousness.
I won’t go on about it, because I know my academic bullshit is tiresome to normal people, but the concept, from W.E.B. DuBois, is called double consciousness. He coined the phrase regarding race, but it applies to any social or cultural abjection. Whether black people like it or not, their place in the world means they have to know far more about white people than white people can or will ever know about them. It’s a white world, they only live in it. So black people are able to understand the existence of white people and are conscious of that, just as they are conscious of the fact the reverse is not true. Black people understand what it is to be black and to be white. Double consciousness. It’s true of queers and straights, women/femmes and men—and the impoverished and everyone else. It’s not the result of a character flaw or malice on the part of every white person (or straight person, or man, or securely middle class or wealthy person); it’s a lived reality enforced by social structures and the way they prop up self-protecting, replicating circuits of power. 
If you’ve never been homeless, you don’t know what it’s like, and no one who has been homeless can adequately explain it to you. I understand what it would be like to be financially secure in the middle class because the world presents that reality to us more than any other, so everyone in our culture knows what that would be like. But no person who has never been so poor they were homeless knows what that’s like. It’s not a personal failing, only the way the world works.
When I was little, six or seven, Cassie three or four, before we had yet become homeless but when we were well on our way, we often had no food, despite the fact we were on food stamps. My mother and the man we lived with would take a portion of our food stamps and illegally sell them to mom-and-pop convenience store owners for cents on the dollar, in order to get cash to buy beer and drugs. So we never had enough food to make it through the month. I remember being off school during the summer, and Momma taking Cassie and me to the grocery store with her when we didn’t have any food or food stamps left. She would take us to the deli counter, and she’d get us styrofoam to-go containers, the sort with compartments, with mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, one bread roll, and a piece of fried chicken. She’d get the woman at the counter to put a PAID sticker on it, despite the fact she hadn’t paid (I don’t know how, my best guess is she offered to pay cash, at a later date, that the counter lady could pocket for herself), and we’d walk out of the store carrying them, because who is going to stop a six year old and a three year old and say “Hey, did you actually pay for that food?”
I don’t know how to tell you how that feels. Standing there ashamed, barefoot on the cold grocery store tile, knowing your mother is maybe begging, certainly stealing food because you don’t have any food left at home, and that if you tell anyone, they’ll take you away, and you don’t know if they’ll ever let you see your mother again. I had seen a made-for-TV movie with Sarah Jessica Parker playing a young, mentally ill, neglectful mother of four small children (as I recall). There was a scene where the oldest child, a girl my age at the time, fills an empty baby bottle with tap water and gives it to her little brother to stop him crying. She finds an open bag of potato chips and squeezes some water from the baby bottle onto a chip to soften it so he can eat it and won’t choke. She does it because there is no food and her mother is nowhere to be found. They are alone. Later in the movie, children’s services take them away from their mother and make plans to place the siblings in separate foster homes because no one will take them all together. They’re saved from being separated by a childless couple who own a farm, but they never get to go back to their mother. I remembered that movie. Watching it had made my stomach hurt in a way I hadn’t quite felt before, it made me cry, and I didn’t know why. But it taught me things. I knew if anyone found out about our lives Cassie and I would be taken away from Momma and we may never see her again, and I knew Daddy didn’t want us, and they might take Cassie away from me, too, and I couldn’t protect her anymore, and I’d be all alone, and that man would kill Momma without me there, and some man we didn’t know might touch Cassie if I wasn’t with her, and I couldn’t stop it.
I can describe it to you. I can’t tell you how it feels.
My mother used to call me lazy. I’m not sure why. Once we had a home again, except for the bout of severe depression my senior year when I didn’t clean my room once during a bleak stretch of months, no child had a cleaner room than I. From the time we became homeless when I was eight until we moved into a small house with Momma’s then-boyfriend David and got a washer and dryer when I was fifteen, the only reason we ever had clean clothes was because I urged her to take us to the laundromat so we could do laundry. From fourteen on, any time I was left alone in the house for any length of time, I cleaned it top to bottom (except my sister’s room). Goodness knows she never told me to practice my clarinet or learn my lines or do my homework or finish reading whatever I was reading. Or finish my college applications or practice for the Solo & Ensemble competition or prepare for the state tournament when I qualified in dramatic interpretation or revise my poem for the Young Southern Writers anthology. She never had to tell me those things, I did them on my own. So I don’t know where lazy came from with her. I mean, it worked, I’ve felt self-conscious about being lazy my entire post-teenage life. And everything I’ve ever done in the way of external recognition and achievement is because I’m desperately trying to make myself and my life valuable to others in ways I know it’s not, to prove a worth I wish I had but don’t and never did (and, at this advanced age, never will, which is a tough pill to swallow. If I could swallow it along with a cyanide capsule I guess I would.)
Some time ago—maybe months, but sometime in the last year—I was talking on the phone with a friend I’ve only ever known via the phone (what we were talking about I don’t recall), and the subject of my disability status, such as it is, came up, I think only by implication (I don’t think it was the topic at hand). He said to me, in reference to what I don’t remember, (I paraphrase as nearly as I recall) “not like you, you could go out and work if you had to.” A few times, when some habit of mine, predicated on my fear of going out in public and interacting with others, comes up, he’d sort of scoffed, laughed, said “Come on!” The last time, I think, was about taking out the garbage. I said I usually take it out at 3:00 or 4:00 in the morning, which is true, and he thought that was ridiculous, clearly. I’m not saying it isn’t. I know I’m ridiculous. The world’s least funny joke.
And I know other people would agree that, as he indirectly (probably so as not to hurt my big-dumb-baby feelings) suggested, I’m not that disabled, and others who know anything about my life now probably think so, too. Wendy doesn’t think so, I suppose, and my primary doctor Erin says she doesn’t. I assume when my previous doctor Lynn first told me she thought I should apply for disability and that she didn’t think I should be working that she didn’t think so. On some level people perceive my life, my inability to work and operate with some degree of productive normality in the world, to be, for all legitimate intents and purposes, malingering. I’m certainly not making my feelings up, or imagining them. My body does hurt the ways I’ve said it hurts, and I’m fucked in the head the ways I’ve admitted I’m fucked in the head, but the view that I’m making it all out to be worse than it really is and if I really want to I could get out and work and live like the counterfeit image of a somewhat normal person would be widely held if the details of my life were widely known. And I’m ashamed of that. I don’t know how to make it otherwise, but I understand they do, and that shames me.
Sometimes, when I’m trying to think how I could better communicate myself to others (Wendy told me not to say this, by the way, she said not to say what I’m about to say because making myself more vulnerable wouldn’t help, but she said so to try and protect me from the worst of my feelings, and I’m not good at helping in that goal, and I lost the thread of what she had gently encouraged me to say some time ago, anyway)—when I’m wondering what I could say or should say to make my life clearer to people, I think, should I tell them every time I cut myself? I don’t tell people every time I cut, because it’s humiliating, but should I? Should I tell them how I think about killing myself or otherwise dying every day of my life? How even if I sound like I feel okay, I don’t? How deep down I still think of dying as a relief? How, deep, deep down, I think that literally every man in the world (every doctor who’s a man, and every man nurse, and man Uber driver, and man grocery store employee, and man student, everyone who’s a man)—all men who have ever lived or will ever live would rape women and would hurt or kill me if they thought they could get away with it? All men, even Tyler, now that he’s a man and knows I’m a faggot? (I’m not saying my rational mind thinks it, or the part of it that’s rational, anyway. Just the part of me that knows we’re not entirely rational beings and people act in irrational ways based on irrational desires all the time.) Should I tell them how I hate myself for simultaneously feeling death would be a relief and men would kill me if they could, yet I live as locked away as possible so they can’t do what they want and what’s probably best for me?
But then I wonder what that would do. People might understand I’m even more fucked up than they knew, but the reasonable and responsible and practical part of them will still think, “You could go out and work if you had to.”
I know, what a freak.
I know it’s difficult for people to exercise any patience with me, given the fact I wasted fifteen years getting degrees any fucking idiot could have known weren’t practical or advisable in the long term, fifteen years being reckless and irresponsible and selfish and shortsighted and profligate and willfully stupid, fifteen years achieving only the most trifling and laughable outcomes to show for the pansy-ass, insubstantial work I did—My dissertation? Who gives a shit about my faggoty, labor-of-love dissertation?!—when people were doing actual work, working their asses off, making actual sacrifices, when here I sit on my obviously fucked but fundamentally malingering ass when I could go out and work if I really had to. I dunno, maybe I should have seen Lynn’s suggestion I apply for disability as a way to maybe get my messy life off her hands, at least for a while, and Wendy and Erin and Quinn and Ela’s kind reassurances as the best response they have to a fucking disaster like me on their caseload. However things end with me, I know it will be a relief to them to have me off their books, even if they’d never say so.
One Friday in July of 2016, I sat in Wendy’s office as I had nearly every Friday since the fall of 2010, and I broke down harder than I ever had before. For over an hour, I cried so hard I couldn’t speak. I’ve never cried so hard in my life. I had finished my Ph.D. I had no job to show for it. I had been homeless again from August of 2015 to March of 2016, and as of July I was renting a room in a rundown house with three straight men who stole food and money from me. I had no way to pay the next $500 I owed for each month renting that room. I was estranged from the best friends I ever had because I’m such a fuck-up and a freak. Sitting in that chair in Wendy’s office, I decided I needed to die. Or had to, anyway. No one and nowhere in the world would have me. I didn’t make sense anywhere in the world. I had nowhere to go. I had reached the limits of who I could be and what I could do. 
After an hour and a half, I stopped crying, and as I got up from the chair and moved to leave, and Wendy said “Take care,” as she always does when I’m leaving. But that time I was leaving for good, even if she didn’t know it. I said “I’m sorry I never got better. It wasn’t your fault.” 
At the top of the stairs, she called me back into her office. She asked me if I was planning to kill myself. She said it sounded to her like I was. I told her no, I wasn’t. The only lie I’ve ever told her. She told me if I were any other client, she would be admitting me for a psych. hold, she wouldn’t be letting me go away on my own, but she was only letting me go because she was afraid if she committed me I wouldn’t forgive her and it would irreparably harm our therapeutic relationship. I knew it was a terrible bind I placed her in. If I lived a thousand years I could never repay her.
The next Tuesday, I got a call from Angel Steele in the housing department at Evergreen. She said there was a place for me in the Lofts, which were opening in August. If I hadn’t received that call, I wouldn’t be here to write this. I wouldn’t be here at all.
When I received my disability designation in 2017, the letter said I was expected to improve. Wendy said she didn’t indicate that (can improve is a very different thing than will improve or even should improve), and I don’t think Lynn or anyone else who wrote in support of my disability application said so either. But the letter said so. It also said they would do a review of my claim after three years, in which time the improvement was expected to have taken place. I got the letter saying they were conducting my review in May 2019, but they’ve yet to send their inquiries to Wendy or Erin in order to conduct the review, and it’s been a year, so I don’t know what to expect or when. Wendy and Erin both said they intended to say I was still fully disabled, and Wendy said she intended to also make clear there was no evidence whatsoever that, regardless of what the initial disability letter said, it was ever the case that I was going to improve necessarily, or enough to alter my disability status, and she tried to reassure me: there’s no evidence whatsoever you have improved, even if they did expect you to. How pathetic a person I am, that what passes for encouragement and reassurance in the context of my life is don’t worry, no one who knows you thinks you’re any better.
But who knows what they’ll say. The chances they could revoke my status are high, I imagine. I’m 38. Or will be, on June 26th. I’m not supposed to be cripplingly debilitated by emotional instability and psychological disease, given what appear from the outside to be unfortunate but livable circumstances. Livable to someone fundamentally saner and a better person than I am, anyway. Someone should’ve told that disability judge I’d only disappoint him as I have everyone else.
If they take my disability status away, when they take it away, I’ve got nowhere to go. I don’t kid myself: as barely employable and barely functioning as I ever was, things have not gotten better or even maintained. They’re worse. I’m worse. I mean, in my mind. I recognize that others’ perceptions that I could go out and work if I had to is the assessment of a sane and hardworking person, but that’s not what I am. I’ll try whatever I can try, like I tried whatever I could before. I did what I could, my massive and devastating personal failings all too sadly withstanding. All those attempts ran out of steam on which my finally worthless efforts and the ultimately disgusting person I’ve become could float. Running on less than empty. That’s what happens given that the tank of the sorry person I am is a fucking collander in every conceivable way.
So I got a reprieve from what I understood to be true four years ago, July of 2016, sitting in Wendy’s office. It’s still true, even more true, and I know that reprieve is likely to be temporary, though my deficits are permanent, and will thus be terminal. A poz, homeless faggot becomes a corpse sooner rather than later, and this poz faggot would become a corpse rather sooner even than soon, all things considered. I know I will be homeless again, and I know then I will have to die.
That’s a lot to live with, as much as I can be said to be living.
Even someone as fucked as I am doesn’t look at my life through the telescope of money and the lens of necessary shelter and see, in the distance, home. I see, rather, the facts that indicate I probably won’t have a home for much longer. The facts that remind me I haven’t had a home for quite a lot of my life. And the conclusion that there are good reasons for that. Where, exactly, should a person like me expect to find shelter? My past and future homelessness, my current financial broke-ness, and my always already broken-ness militate against sheltering me. Nothing about me says to anyone, yes, you look a safe, sane, hardworking sort, come in and make yourself at home.
The first phrase of one of my very favorite books, in some ways most dear to me, Jim Grimsley’s Comfort & Joy is “To find a hiding place.” A few pages later, on the plane home—“home”—Dan thinks about Ford, “This is my hiding place.” But the thought seems wrong to him. Moments later, “Shelter, not hiding place. This wall of Ford was, would be shelter. That’s where the thought [had been] wrong.”
No wonder that book had my heart from the first word. Shelter in the love of a good man. Reading that book I thought, “Oh, this man understands some things about me.”
But. 
Neither he nor anyone else is under any obligation to make any sense of my money shame, my fear of homelessness, my failures generally, or to understand me as a person at all.
Talk about a position that doesn’t pay.
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glorifiedsnickersbar · 10 months ago
Text
Farthest North
Chapter 11 - The Second Meeting
Word count: 1260
     The second meeting had ended some time ago, but America was still in his seat. He stared at the empty space where Alaska had stood, dumbfounded. Not only was she one meeting closer to being a Country, but most everyone was agreeing that she should become one. Even U.N. himself mumbled something along the lines of 'thank goodness' when the vote was cast. America had no say, her being his State. This was her decision, and his vote may sway the whole of the congregation. He wanted to scream his say so badly though.
         "Absolutely not! It's a terrible world out here!"
He wanted to keep her safe from those who wanted her out of his protection. North Korea was already creating plans of his own to go against her, having heard something of three military bases already established on her land. 
     His head began to throb, forcing the man to lay it on the cool, polished wood of the desk. He stared at his faint reflection, swearing that he could see his 50 waver to 49, but he blinked, and it was gone. He wondered if this would cause his other States to revolt, claim independence, want out of some sort of unrealized abuse...
He was a good father, right?
He did his best with at least his 49 other States, right?
         "The States!"
     America burst from his seat, running out the door and through empty hallways, dashing down the stairs with his coat flying behind him as he tried to put it back on. He had left the States at home, not wanting to have to deal with vertigo and trying to find each one in their designated lands. The star clad patriot had made it a block from the meeting hall when he heard keys in his pocket, remembering he had driven there... no, bad idea in his state of mind. Instead he used his ring, despite the pounding headache equivalent to a gunshot roaring through his skull.
     Standing on the front porch, America slowly opened his door after unlocking it, peering into the foyer of his mansion. He saw little Virginia staring back.
         "Are you okay?" the young girl questioned, looking at her father curiously, and somewhat skeptically.
         "DAD HELP!"
America jumped as Tennessee latched onto his leg, her little hands like glue as she refused to let go in her panic.
         "What's the matter?" he looked at her with a panicked expression.
         "Texas is making flapjacks again!" she screeched, and the father rolled his eyes.
Oh dear.
         "Just because he burnt the last batch doesn't mean he's going to-"
         "Someone get the fire extinguisher!"
He heard Arkansas holler, and immediately protective father mode was activated as America limped down the hall into the kitchen, finding Texas spluttering on a stool as Georgia tried to fan the smoke out the kitchen window.
         "You guys, what did I say about cooking while I'm not here?" he questioned, "And without your apron?"
The five States look to their feet, even Tennessee as she let go of her father's leg.
     Three others came back into the kitchen, each with a fire extinguisher, freezing once they realized America was home. Mississippi set his tool down, while North and South Carolina held theirs until America sighed, shaking his head.
         "We just wanted to make you feel better..." Arkansas shuffled a foot, "you know... since... little sis is leaving and all."
The rest of them nodded with a whimpering of 'mm-hm', a symphony of apologetic children.
         "You guys-"
         "We found the oranges!" Louisiana, Alabama and Florida came with great big smiles at their victory, only to frown at the sight of the kitchen, and a very amused America.
         "Orange juice, Florida?" He chuckled, and the State nodded with a shrug and bashful smile, "Come here you guys," he opened his arms for a hug from his States, each running to him with big goofy smiles, mostly relieved that they weren't in trouble, "Thanks."
         "Anything for our pops!" Alabama grinned, earning a poke from America as they all giggled.
He wanted to share these moments with Alaska too... 
(*)
~.~
         "Isn't it exciting?" Japan bounced, "One more meeting, and you'll be a full fledged Country!"
Alaska remained sober as she nodded with a small smile, and Germany leaned in his seat to peer at the State.
         "Some-ting zhe matter?" he questioned, ignoring the drunken snoring of a very much so dead to the world Russia.
         "I just... wish I could be as excited as you guys," she gave a melancholic smile, "I feel no pain from it, but America..."
A solemn silence fell on the group, Canada breaking it as he sighed.
         "He'll be fine," the syrup loving Country assured, "in no time at all, we'll have to get a sixth seat so you can join our usual get-togethers."
Alaska's smile widened as she thanked the group, earning a loud and obnoxious 'velcome' from Russia as he looked up for the two seconds it took to say it. The group laughed, and Alaska agreed to take Russia to his house once they finished up their last conversation, Germany giving her a small 'thank you', since he didn't have to return the drunkard to his house once again. 
     Fishing through Russia's pocket, Alaska found his ring, and told him to think of his living room. Not the best tactic but she couldn't use his ring, neither could any other Country. The man sloppily threw it, and Alaska was glad he at least thought of his house, coming up to the front porch as she carried him like a sack of potatoes. She checked the door. Locked. Sighing, Alaska rummaged through her little brother's pockets, failing to find his house keys.
         "If only you were as trusting as Canada," she huffed, knowing he didn't lock his door at all.
         "Dhat's probably my fault."
She froze at the voice of USSR, a familiar, painful sound.
         "Father," she greeted curtly, and he nodded with a soft smile that put her on edge.
         "Best you come in before eidher of you catch cold," he warned, making Alaska huff.
         "Said the Country who always needed an extra parka when you visited."
         "Touche," he tipped his Ushanka, old and somewhat matted.
     Alaska dragged Russia in, setting him on the couch.
         "Risking anodher treasonous act for family?" he questioned with a sly expression, earning a sour one in return.
         "The second meeting was today," she announced, "As of an hour ago I am allowed to meet whomever I please without the possibility of a penalty from my Country."
The Eskimo fixed her parka before turning on her heel to walk out, only to be stopped by the slamming of the front door in her face.
         "Do not dhink I am blind," he growled, "dhese Countries see an innocent State. Have dhey seen your past?"
Alaska trembled, an old fear creeping back up into her spine as it prickled in remembrance of countless broken vodka bottles piercing her skin. She growled, hating this power he has over her while in truth he lost it all.
         "Dhey have seen vhat dhey are villing to see," the woman glared back, pushing her father out of the way before he could block the door completely, "I find Russia vith vun mark on his body," she held up a threatening finger, "I vill kill you myself."
And with that, she stormed off, flipping the hood of her parka over her head to keep out the biting wind that had grown.
--------------------
*These are/were the infamous Confederate States
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justahopelessssromantic · 11 months ago
Text
My Bad!
A/N: @mayans-girl I’m so sorry I lost your request as I stupidly deleted the post to resubmit it after I was having difficulties with the site. Regardless here it is for your request for another member hitting on you and Coco gets pissed. Thank you so much for the request I hope you enjoy and a big thank you to everyone for reading! ❤️
Also shout out to my twinnie @starrynite7114! Thank you so much for helping me brainstorm and work out the idea. You truly inspire and motivate me everyday! 💕
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*gif not mine*
Warming: Angst and some fluff
The music was thumping around the clubhouse as one of the famous Mayans MC parties was in full swing. The place was packed with members from charters all over who came by to celebrate Santo Padre’s charter’s rise to the top.
You had just split off from your Old Man to find yourself a drink leaving him to chat with Oscar from the Stockton charter. Weaving through the people you smiled at the familiar faces when your phone buzzed from the back pocket of your tight jeans. Slipping it out you stopped and leaned against the railing of the steps that led into the clubhouse making sure that you were off to the side and out of the way.
Your phone lit up with a new message from your half brother Miles. You haven't seen him in forever and tried your best to find him throughout the years with no such luck. The two of you had been seperated after the death of your father, thrust into the system to fend for yourselves. Now after so many years later he had found you and reached out.
You practically raised him growing up. Your mother's were no shows throughout your lives leaving you with your drunk of a father. You didn't blame them for leaving him but you did always resent them for leaving their children alone with that man. You did everything in your power to protect him from your father's rage, help him in his schooling, to keep him alive. You were the mother he never had and the mother you never got.
You smiled reading the message from him saying he couldn’t wait to see you again tomorrow. You were so excited and had a day full of events planned out for your reunion. Coco knew how important this meeting was for you and was even helping you make all the arrangements. He was just as excited to meet the brother he had only heard childhood tales about but most importantly he was happy for you to have your family back. Just like him you had had it rough. If anyone deserved some sliver of real family to hold on to it was you.
You sent back a quick ‘me too’ before slipping the phone back into its resting place. Whipping around the railing you bounded up the stairs and into the building in search of that drink you were after in the first place. The room was filled with people, it seemed as if literally every Mayan was here as the whole place was just bursting at the seams with men in the leather cuts and then on top of it you had the friends and families of members all there as well. You made your way through the cloud of smoke, past the table where Bishop and Taza were involved in a round of poker blowing them a kiss and sending them a wink before sliding up to the bar. You landed on a simple beer smiling and thanking Chucky before heading towards the back hoping to sneak out where it would certainly be a little less packed and quiet to catch some air.
Slipping in and out of the crowds rather smoothly, this wasn’t your first rodeo, you were just about to your destination when an unknown man from the Spokane charter who was leaning against the wall caught your attention.
“If I knew the woman in Santo Padre were as sexy as you I would have stopped by a long time ago,” He grinned bringing his lit cigarette up to his lips inhaling deeply before blowing the smoke out towards you as his eyes raked up and down your figure.
You rolled your eyes internally giving him a tight lips smile. One of the problems with big events such as these was that not everyone knew who you were. At least at the smaller gatherings it was well known that you were Coco’s Old Lady and he, your Old Man. You were just about to correct the man opening your mouth when he practically shushed you. Now you were pissed.
“Nah baby,” he purred, “Save that pretty little voice for all the screaming I’ll be having you doing tonight.”
You scrunched up your eyebrows looking to the ground as you gathered your thoughts. Bringing your head back up you tilted it slightly crossing your arms with your beer up, “Does that line ever work? Like do some girls actually respond well to that, to you?”
“Careful what you say bitch,” he snarled, pushing off the wall as you crushed his ego with your few words. Most men were the same as him, insecure and trying to make up for their tiny packages with tough guy acts. “Do you even know who I am?”
You scuffed snickering as you kept your gaze dead on his eyes not backing down as he got in your face, “Do you even know who I am?” You asked with just as much arrogance as him, “I’m Johnny Coco Cruz’s fucking Old Lady. Yeah the man who could put a bullet through your brain even in this crowded room without you even knowing what’s coming.” You smirked as you saw the realization and fear flash in his eyes before he recovered quickly. “You’re lucky he can’t kill one of his own,” you continued with a threatening tone, “Now I suggest you call it a night before that pretty little voice of yours gets you in any more trouble.” You took a swig of your beer all while remaining uncomfortable eye contact with him before spinning around and heading out the back door as you were intending on in the first place when that jackass so disrespectfully interrupted you.
You were staring at the screen of your phone, your now empty bottle sat on a pile of cinder blocks beside you as you scrolled through your feed more annoyed than anything now. You hated when drunk assholes hit on you but it was even worse when it was one of Coco's brothers even one from another charter.
Miles saw you standing there with your back turned to him. He chuckled to himself as he snuck up behind you. He knew you'd be here as he knew you were dating a member from the Santo Padre charter but he wanted to surprise you with his new cut. You were his rock growing. Everything you sacrificed for him wasn’t lost on him. More than anything he wanted to make you proud.
Sneaking behind you, the jumper cabled your sides just like he had when you were young. You helped jumping away from the shock causing your phone to slip from your grasp and onto the hard rocks beneath you. Bending over you cursed under your breath picking it up and dusting off the screen. Straightening up you whipped around expecting to find Coco fully ready to tear him a new one. Your mouth dropped as you found your not so little anymore younger brother, not Coco, standing there before you. He had changed so much throughout the years but you still recognized those dark eyes of his and could picture those chubby cheeks he had.
"Oh my God," you gasped out, "Miles?" You instinctively pulled him into your arms hugging him tight, "What the hell are you doing here?" You asked, pulling back just enough to give yourself a better look at the man he had become, "And what's this?" You asked, pulling at his cut, "You're prospecting?" You grinned meeting his eyes once more. You were so incredibly proud of him.
“Yeah, Spokane charter,” he replied proudly, “You look really good.”
“And you look so…. big,” you laughed still shocked by the sudden surprise.
“Well I’m not that eleven year old kid anymore.” He chuckled, taking you in just as much as you did him. The moment seemed so unreal, almost as if it was a dream.
“Shit I have to pee,” you said feeling all your drinks hit your bladder seemingly at once, “Don’t go anywhere. I will be right back.” You scurried off in the direction you came from stealing one more glance back to check that he really was there before heading into the door to find the bathroom.
Coco was shooting the shit with Angel, Gilly, Creeper and various members from all over as they had a smoke. The sky above was dark, almost back with the stars sparkling like diamonds as a cool breeze blessed them with some relief from the usually unbearable heat.
One of the men from the Yuma charter approached the group directing his words straight to Coco, “Hey man some fucker from the Spokane charter was hitting on your girl hard. Being real disrespectful. She shut him down but I thought you should know. So you can set him right.”
Coco threw his cigarette to the ground stomping it under his boot. Patting the man on the shoulder as he stomped past he thanked him ready to find that asshole with Angel, Creeper, and Gilly on his tail.
He made his way into the clubhouse asking around when someone pointed him in the direction of the back. He knew that was your favorite place to go to get some solace during hectic events such as this. From what it sounded like the man was out there with you ruining your peace and Coco wasn’t having that.
Busting through the door he met eyes with the prospect from the Spokane charter. He was leaning against the fence beer in hand. Now Coco was fuming. A fucking prospect had disrespected his Old Lady. The kid had a lot of learning to do but he couldn’t do it here, he had to take him to the ring, do it right and use him as an example for any other fucker who thought they could talk to his woman like that.
“Yo prospect! I heard you were saying some real nasty shit to my Old Lady,” Coco snarled, stepping down the steps slowly Angel and Creeper close behind as Gilly stayed by the door.
Miles looked at him confused. He had talked to a lot of women during the night but couldn’t recall flirting with a single one of them. He was mostly too busy being ordered around and given chores. “Look man I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think you have the wrong-”
“I suggest you stop talking,” Creeper interrupted him standing next to Coco, “You ain’t getting yourself out of this now.”
“Come on prospect,” Coco spat out, “We settle this in the fucking ring.” Gilly came down the steps meeting up with Creeper and taking the prospect with them towards the ring giving him no room to protest.
Coco looked over at Angel, “Find my girl. Let her know what’s up,” he requested of his best friend, “She’s not gonna wanna miss this,” he smirked. Giving each other a nod Coco set off in the direction of the cage ready to kick some ass.
“Yo (Y/N),” Angel called out, swaggering up to you exhaling a puff of smoke as you excited the clubhouse to the back expecting to find your brother, “I’ve been looking all over for you. If we don’t hurry we’re gonna fuckin’ miss it.”
“Miss what?”
“Coco’s getting in the ring. Gonna show that asshole who was hitting on you his place.”
That must have been where your brother went, to watch the fight. You grinned at Angel, happy someone had noticed and that the guy hadn’t listened to you hanging around despite your warning. “Well what the hell are we standing around here for then?”
Following his lead the two of you headed towards the ring. You loved the cage, your favorite part of these parties was watching the fights, and you especially loved watching your Old Man get in the ring. Something about watching him take out another, bare chested with his tats on full display, covered in sweat and blood really turned you on. To top it off he’d be giving that asshole a good beating. Let’s just say Coco was going to be a very lucky man tonight.
The sound of the crowds cheering got louder and your adrenaline was pumping as you approached the ring. Angel shoved his way past the people gathered around making a perfect path to get you to the best spot. The fight was in full swing, you had missed the first portion of it and were a little disappointed but once you saw Coco and he made eye contact with you briefly a grin on his face you forgot all about it.
“Fuck him up!” You screamed eating up every moment, the smile never leaving your face. You turned your attention to the other guy and that’s when your smile fell as your eyes went wide. Coco wasn’t fighting the guy who was hitting on you earlier. He was fighting your fucking brother.
From what you could see Coco was in the lead, looking a little better than Miles. The two men were circling each other, arms up, waiting for the other to strike first. Leaning up against the cage you grabbed onto the metal calling out to Coco. Against his better judgment he turned to look at you expecting to find your gorgeous smiling face but instead was met with your terrifying scowl.
“That’s not the guy,” You screamed at him over the noise. He furrowed his brow looking at you.
“What the hell do you mean?”
“That’s my fucking brother!”
Turning back to face his opponent he could now see the resemblance although it was too little too late. While he was distracted your brother took the opportunity swinging a brutal right hook to Coco’s jaw the moment he turned back around.
The crowd erupted in cheers and jeers. The men who had bet on Coco clearly disappointed in the events that played out before them.
You gasped watching him fall to the ground wincing along with him from the hit. He looked up making eye contact with you glaring as he rolled his jaw spitting out blood.
You grimaced giving him your best apologetic look as you yelled out, “My bad!”
That night you ended up starting your family plans early with you patching up both men in your living room. Letty was so kind to assist you working on Coco while you took care of Miles. You all chatted getting to know one another bonding over the events of the night. Thankfully there were no hard feelings all around from the misunderstanding.
“You got quite the fuckin’ right hook, hermano,” Coco complimented Miles as he held an ice pack to his jaw.
“Yeah he really did a number on you Coco,” Letty teased as she pulled out an alcohol wipe from the first aid kit.
“Hey I had the fight up until (Y/N) distracted me,” he chuckled smiling at you, “I guess I learned where your real loyalty lies.”
You shook your head laughing lightly as you began stitching up your brother, “Blood is blood,” you teased back playing along.
Miles chuckled along hissing as you stitched up the cut on his cheek, “Thanks man, you throw a mean one yourself.” He flinched away hissing some more as you reached the middle of the cut, “Clearly.”
“Stay still,” you scolded leaning in closer to get a better view.
“What do you say next time we take down that fucker together,” Coco suggested as
Letty dabbed at his face causing him to wince.
“Deal.” Miles grinned. He liked Coco. He was a good match for you and had seen first hand just how far he was willing to go in your defence. All he ever wanted for you was someone to defend you and take care of you like you had for him all those years.
“Excuse me but I think I handled him just fine,” you said interjecting on their plans. It had already been tried once and this is where it ended, with your brother and man beating each other to a pulp.
“Of course you did mami,” Coco smirked over at you as he lit a joint taking a drag and passing it to Miles, “But just imagine the damage the two of us could cause.” He said exhaling.
Rolling your eyes you finished the last stitch to your brother’s face before perching down by Coco on the ground and settling between his legs. He wrapped his arms around you resting his head on your shoulder. Miles passed the joint to Letty as she sat next to him. Leaning forward she completed the round passing it to you and then lounging back on the sofa. You took a hit yourself giving Coco another one as well.
The four of you spent the rest of the night sharing stories and catching up. The conversation flowed easily as most of the time you all had smiles on your face. This was your happy place, just hanging out with your family, whole once more. You snuggled closer into Coco feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath that tickled your neck as you listened to your brother and Letty discussing their favorite shows. Closing your eyes you relaxed enjoying the feeling of home.
Everything Tag List: @jad3djay @fairygardenss @carlaangel86 @briannab1234 @starrynite7114 @agirllovespasta @howaboutash @gemini0410 @naytraydr @knowles-morgan
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shawn-mendes-post · 11 months ago
Text
Not Ready
Request:  What if Shawn and reader are dating for a few years and they have a pregnancy scare and Shawn's scared and instead of taking he gets angry bc he's scared he'll miss things bc of his career or his career will end before he wants to and they fight and he sleeps on the couch bc she's angry and hurt but they make up bc they both can't sleep and eat ice-cream together in the kitchen Lol my request is long and very specific sorry.
@irespostthingsiwanttoseelater
A/n: I hope you like how it came out. I was nervous since this is my first request. I did change things a bit, but did try to follow what you requested. 
Content Warning: Slight language 
Word Count: 2,300
---
(Y/N) never thought she would be in this situation, worried sick out of her mind, not knowing how her boyfriend would react. She knew the two were still young and have upstanding careers that demanded a lot of attention. The two barely moved in together, despite dating for years. Neither was in a rush to get married and start a life, because of how busy they were.
There was nothing to do but tell Shawn; their lives would turn upside down. Sighing, she calls him, trying to get in control of her emotions, not wanting to deal with the issue alone. She wanted Shawn to come since it would impact him as well, hoping things will go well. Her hand rested on her stomach, queasy over the thought life could be growing in her.
"Hey, baby," his voice cheerful and love, which diminishes some of her courage to tell him. She loves him so much that she hoped nothing would break their relationship, not even this mistake. "Shawn, can you come over?" She asked, nervously biting her lower lip, tapping her finger against the table.
Silence filled the air between the two for what felt like hours to (Y/N) but was a few seconds. "Are you okay? Is something wrong? I will be right there, don't worry, everything will be okay," Shawn said, rapidly, running around to get the things he needed.
(Y/N) smiles faintly, knowing he is probably making a mess at his parent's home." It is better if I talk to you in person," she explained, not wanting to worry him more then he already was. She spoke to him a little more, calming him down before she could hang up.
---
Shawn was with his family, taking a break from his tour. He went to spend time with his family because (y/n) was feeling quite sick, so she stayed home. Shawn wanted to stay with her but insisted that he went with the promise of returning soon. Shawn knew he should have stayed home with his girlfriend, but he did miss his family at the same time.
Her calling him out of the blue worried him, knowing he would have returned soon. Shawn quickly left, rushing the goodbyes as he went to the car, driving recklessly. Shawn rushed home, entering to hear nothing, freaking him out more.
After searching the lower floor, he could not find his girlfriend, which scared him. He began to think of the different scenarios as to why she was not there. Shawn hesitantly walked up the stairs, thinking she would be in their bedroom.
---
After calling Shawn, (Y/N) was restless, wanting something to occupy her mind. All she could be thinking were ways of telling him the news, not knowing what to expect. She would drink water bottles as if she never had something to drink in years, knowing she would need to take the multiple tests.
Dark thoughts filled her mind, wavering her determination to tell him. She began to think of excuses to get out of telling hin, not wanting to scare him or make him change his mind about their relationship.
--- Shawn crept his way up the stairs, wondering what the reason she needed him was. The bedroom door was open a bit, letting Shawn walk in. His eyes laid on his beautiful girlfriend, who seemed lost in thought. He stepped closer towards the bed, gently getting on, scooting closer towards her. He envelops her in a hug, pulling her close to him.
"What is wrong, love?" He questioned, in a soft tone, not wanting to freak her out. (Y/N) starts to shake, whimpering at the thought of what his reaction will be. "I think I am pregnant," she blurted, not wanting to keep the issue to herself. She could not deny the idea of being pregnant anymore then she wanted.
The idea of being pregnant freaked her out more than she would tell anyone. A living being in her belly growing sounded so unreal. She never thought of having a family so young, especially not with a famous singer, who's gone for most of the years because of touring. She thought she would start having children in her mid-thirties, after becoming a renowned actress. She wanted enough money to take care of her children with the help of her husband. (Y/N) never thought she would be in her twenties, freaking out mentally with her boyfriend.
--- To say Shawn was shocked would be an understatement. He froze, thinking she was wrong. Shawn was not ready to be a father at all. Shawn might not even want kids; he did not know. Shawn began to think about his career and the idea of being putting things on hold. His music was everything for him, and the thought worried him.
"A-are you sure?" He asked, wearily, glancing at her belly as if it was dangerous being. Shawn watched her shake her head to his relief of her not being pregnant.
"I have missed my period, Shawn. I have been throwing up and can't keep down any food. I feel drained all day, not wanting to do anything" (y/n) explained, gently easing him into the idea. The possibility of her being pregnant with his child. Their child.
Shawn shakes his head, letting her go, getting frustrated with the predicament. "That does not mean you are pregnant. You can be overworked and stressed." He tries to explain to her, thinking logistics, denying the possibility of a baby. Shawn gets off the bed, pacing around, running his hands through his hair, a nervous habit. Muttering under his breath, realizing the changes his life will undergo if she is with child.  
--- Watching him panicked, made (y/n) realize it was a bad idea to tell him. (y/n) should have kept her mouth shut, but she thought he ought to know. "I still don't know, Shawn. I wanted you to be here while I took a couple of pregnancy tests," she said, getting up from the bed, placing a hand on his shoulder.
Shawn freaks out, moving away from her, sweat running down his forehead. "I can't be a father (y/n)." He spoke out, shaking his head frantically. "I am not ready. There is so much I still have to do, "Shawn told her, hoping she understood where he was going with this. Shawn stared at his girlfriend, not backing down for what he believed would be the right thing.
(Y/N) 's eyebrows furrowed, not understanding what he was talking about. Her eyes widened at the outrageous response her boyfriend told her. "I am not going to have an abortion, Shawn!" She yelled, getting angry at him.
She wraps her arms around her waist, trying to protect her belly, which may or may not have a fetus. (Y/N) thought he would be reluctant at first, he never thought he would request her to get rid of the baby. She stared into his brown eyes that did not have the natural shine in them, making her nervous—stepping back, not knowing what Shawn would do.
"Not an abortion. There are other options," Shawn huffs, getting angry at her for being inconsiderate to his work. He wanted her to understand his perspective and how a child would interfere in his work. "My work is important to me as acting is to you. I will not allow a kid to come between my dream. There is still more I thrive for, and a kid is not something I want," he blurted out, shaking violently.
(Y/N) could not believe what she was hearing; this was not her Shawn. This man was someone else, and she could not love him. "Shawn! I am scared shitless, and this is how you react? I am not ready for this myself. I also have a job that would put on hold because of a baby. I thought you would stick by my side through anything." She yelled, hating that they were fighting over something that might not even be real. He wanted to lash out before she also took a test, which leads her to believe he is not the man she should be in a relationship.
"Well, this is something I did not sign up for (y/n). I thought we were careful. I'm not ready, and I think I never will be ready for kids!" Shawn shouts, frowning at the thought of being stuck and the responsibilities of having kids.
"W-what?" (Y/N) asked, never knowing he might not want kids. The two never had a conversation about kids, but she assumed he would wish to at least two in the near future. She wanted kids, and this was heartbreaking to hear. If she had this information earlier in the relationship, she would not have bothered to get involved with him.
"I might not want kids. I spend countless hours working, or I am on tour. I mean for goodness sake we aren't even married or engaged. I don't even know if I want to be with you anymore!" Shawn yelled, confessing, knowing he did not mean it but was tired of this argument. Shawn watched as the tears that build up in her eyes were running down her cheeks as she sobs.
Shawn could only watch as she fell to her knees, not caring; he was watching her cry. He knew he should have kept his mouth shut and not tell her in this way.
"Oh my gosh, it is not the fact I might be pregnant. The reason is that you don't want to be with me. How did I not see this coming?" (y/n) asked in disbelief, feverishly wiping away the tears. She slaps his hand away when he attempts to help her. "Do not touch me. Leave, Shawn. I don't want anything to do with you!" She screamed, pointing to the bedroom door, not wanting to fight anymore. She was emotionally drained and wanted nothing more to go to sleep.
Shawn opened his mouth, realizing what he said in the heat of the moment, thinking back to how he hurt her.  He shuts it, nodding, thinking she needs her space from him. He hesitantly exits the room, glancing back just in case she stops hi, but she does not.
The empty corridor scared him, knowing he messed up in a way he might not be able to fix. He runs his hands through his brown locks, pulling at the ends, formulating a plan to apologize.
Shawn heads towards the living room, not wanting to do anything else because it was late. He stares at the ceiling, since it was already dark, and figured it would be wrong to take a jog. Shawns eyes trailed towards the couch, feeling like he would be sleeping for the next couple of days. Sighing, he felt uncomfortable at how things were between the two.
(Y/N) could not fall asleep in the soft bed, she shared with Shawn. Thoughts about the fight occupied her mind, wondering if things could have gone differently between the two. Sighing, she gets up, glancing at the nightstand, knowing the tests were in the drawer. She felt like enough time wasted as she headed towards the bathroom and needed to see the truth.
After five tests, she went towards the kitchen, believing Shawn left to go cool off. She was surprised to see the kitchen light was on and more surprised to see Shawn sitting down eating the tube of ice cream.
Shawn looks up; apologetic is reflected in his eyes as he frowns, patting the seat next to him, wanting to talk to her. (Y/N) takes the seat after getting a spoon, takes the tub to get some ice cream.  
"I am sorry, love. I should not have lashed out and said those awful things. I panicked, which was not the best thing to do. I should have listened to you and talk like a reasonable adult," he said, staring into her eyes.
" I am sorry too. I felt scared of your reaction and felt like it would break us up. I know we are young but look at my side. I would be the one growing fat. I am the one that would deal with the cravings, pains, mood swings. I would be the one carrying a life in my belly." She explained the changes she would face throughout the pregnancy.
"I should have realized it. I think you would look amazing with a growing belly, but not now." Shawn said, moving one hand to her belly, rubbing in small circular, "maybe in the future when we are more settled," he said softly, leaning over to kiss her on the lips tenderly. " I do love you and did not mean any mean comments when I yelled. I should never raise my voice. I promise I will never get mad at you again," he vowed, grabbing her hands and bring them to his lips.
"You better not, or else I will leave your ass," she said teasingly, moving back to eating the ice cream before giving him the tub. "Anyway, I am not pregnant. It was a false alarm, and now we have to be careful in the future. "
Shawn smiled, nodding his head as he kisses her again, realizing she still wants to be with him. "Of course, baby. I will treat you like the queen you are," he whispers, wanting to be with her more than ever. He thought of ways he could make things up to like he promised.  
"I love you," the two of them said in sync, smiling lovely at each other as they finished the ice cream tub before heading to bed. The two holding hands, never wanting to let go for fear of the other, leaving them.
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marinjente · 11 months ago
Text
What if?
So, I wrote this in about an hour. What if Arianna said yes to Gaetano? Takes places on their wedding day. Let me know if you want a part 2!
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As she was waiting behind the giant doors of the church, Arianna felt nauseous. She’d never felt so nervous and regretful in her entire life. Even when she was in prison for being in Bellezza when she wasn’t allowed to, she didn’t feel this bad. There came Rodolfo and he offered her his arm, with a small bow. She looked up at him and he nodded at her with a small sad smile on his face. There were so many things she wanted to say to her father, but she didn’t think she could open her mouth without throwing up.
The doors in front of them opened and revealed the church that was filled up with all their friends and family. All of them had come together to celebrate the ducal wedding. But she didn’t look at them. She couldn’t look at them and pretend to be happy. She only looked at the person standing in front of all those people, at the altar. The man that would soon be hers forever.
Gaetano smiled his famous smile at her and she felt only a little better. She looked past her fiancée now and saw the person she knew would be there but she still hoped wouldn’t have been. Was it wrong of her to think about how handsome her grooms best man looked? Was it wrong of her to think about how this day would’ve been if she’d have married him? Luciano noticed her staring at him and he too gave her the same sad smile Rodolfo had given her. She looked back at Gaetano and saw he was shifting his weight from one leg to another, which indicated how nervous he was. She felt sorry for him. It was her fault he had to go through all this.
She inwardly sighed when she reached the altar. This wasn’t how she’d always planned her wedding to go. She’d always told herself that she wouldn’t marry someone without love. She did love Gaetano, but just as a friend, not in a romantic sense. She’d only ever loved one person in that sense, and he stood behind her soon to be husband. The moment she said yes to Gaetano, she’d already known she shouldn’t have done it. They both were in love with someone else. Arianna only accepted his proposal out of anger and jealously, if she was entirely honest with herself. A few hours before Gaetano proposed, she’d seen the new Stravagante girl kiss Luciano and that was a sight that she would never be able to forget.
Suddenly, her legs gave in and she didn’t see the church anymore. She saw a bed. It was crystal clear it was her own bed, in the Duchessa’s master bedroom. There was someone in it. She heard voices quietly talking to each other. One voice belonged to a man, the other to a girl. She stepped a little closer to see who it were and gasped when she realised. Luciano sat there under the covers holding a small bundle in his arms. The baby in his arms, Arianna noticed, had Luciano’s features and was just starting to grow black baby curls. There was someone else lying next to him, with her head in his lap. The girl couldn’t be older than 5 or 4, and she had the most beautiful violet coloured eyes.
“And then, daddy? What next?”
Arianna’s heart skipped a beat when she heard that word. There was no doubt that these kids were hers and Luciano’s. It was hard to fight the tears, that threatened to fall down her cheeks.
“Then the door opened and 7 dwarfs were standing there.”
“They can’t, daddy. Dwarfs not real.”
“They are in my story.”
Arianna chuckled softly when she remembered Luciano telling her different ‘fairy tales’ as he called them. They were stories told to children and according to Luciano, they were very popular in his old world. She remained where she was; she didn’t want to interrupt such a pure moment.
“So the dwarfs asked who the girl was and Snow White explained everything. About the evil new queen and the king. She told about the hunter and how she had to run away. The dwarfs listened to every word she said and were really sorry for her.”
It was then that the bundle in Luciano’s arms started to cry. Luciano had everything under control though; he began bounding his son up and down while whispering things in his ear. It worked. After several moments the baby stopped crying and started giggling. Arianna’s heart leaped at these actions. It was like watching another universe, where she did marry the love of her life. It felt so unreal to her.
“Why the baby crying?” their daughter asked, almost in tears herself.
“Because she felt sorry for Snow White as well, maybe?”
This cheered the little girl up a bit, and she giggled as well. She then stopped giggling, only to yawn. Luciano poked his daughter in her side, drawing a laugh out of her.
“Someone’s a little tired.”
“I don’t want sleeping in my bed. Stay here?” she asked with a hopeful look on her face.
Luciano did like he had to think very hard over it. He tapped his chin with his pointer finger and looked at his little girl thoughtfully.
“We’ll have a staring contest! If you win, you can stay here. If I win, you sleep in your own bed.”
“Yes! I’m good at this!”
“3… 2… 1… Start.”
After about five seconds Arianna saw that Luciano purposely blinked.
“I win!” their daughter cheered happily.
“You did indeed, princes. You can sleep here tonight,” Luciano smiled at his daughter. That was when he noticed Arianna standing there. His smile got even bigger as he told his daughter: “Look, Emilia, your mommy decided to join us as well!”
Emilia’s smile was almost too big for her small face as she squealed at leapt herself at her mother. Arianna’s reflexes were luckily quick enough to catch her before she’d fall.
“Mommy! Daddy said I sleep with you!”
“Did he?” Arianna raised her eyebrows to Luciano, who spread his hand apolitically and grinned at her. He motioned her to come closer, so she carefully crawled into bed, Emilia still in her arms. She grinned like a fool when Luciano pecked her lips and tugged her in a little under the duvet. As she looked at her daughter again, she noticed that her Emilia was fast asleep. She lay her little girl down on the mattress and turned so she was facing her husband, who was also lying down. No words were spoken but the looks in their eyes said a thousand things. He saw wonder and love and even a little sadness. Or maybe it was guilt? he wondered. She saw nothing but love and admiration an concern, which made her heart race.
Just as she was about to lean in to kiss him again just to make sure everything was real, her surrounding faded and her head began to spin. She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, she looked right at Gaetano’s concerned face. She swallowed hard when she remembered her reality. She looked around, still a little dizzy, and saw Luciano standing there as well, who looked even more concerned than Gaetano and was quietly mumbling to Rodolfo.
“What happened?” she asked, to nobody in particular. Her mother stood bend over her, and Arianna now noticed her for the first time. Silvia answered her question.
“You fainted. Probably from the nerves. Drink this.” She held a glass of wine in front of her daughter. Arianna did as she was told. She sat up and while drinking her wine, she decided that she wouldn’t let this marriage get through. The alternative universe she’d just seen was the only one she wanted to grow old in. She couldn’t just give that up.
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