#if nothing else this past half a week has made me acutely aware of how much.......i slouch | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mintmatcha · 3 years

Note

I want giggly cuddly sex with tadashi 🥺 where there’s no power dynamic just us two having a good time and wanting to make the other feel good :((

I combined these two little ditties into a fic!!! I hope you don’t mind!!!

CW: established relationship, praise, sex, fluff/smut.

yamaguchi x reader

(reader has a vagina- no pronouns or gendered language used)

first time

It's one of the pitfalls of a new relationship; everything the other person does is endearing.

"I'm just saying, it's weird that the fourth movie is so good!" Yamaguchi digs his hand into the bowl on your lap, picking through the entire bowl to scrape at the popcorn kernels. He tosses the bits into his mouth and chews thoughtfully, cracking through each kernel loudly, before pausing to suck the excess salt off of his fingers.

God, if anyone else did that, you'd probably be disgusted, or at the very least annoyed, but there's something about Yamaguchi that makes it unbearably endearing. Maybe it's the little shoulder dance he does every time he takes a bite. Maybe it's the way your heart skips a beat when his tongue swipes over his knuckle, catching a bit butter. "Name another series that has a good fourth movie. You can't. Scream 4 is one of a kind."

He does it again, crunching through the kernels happily, tongue peeking out once again to wipe across his fingertips.

God, you wished he would lick you like that.

"Tadashi, you're gonna break a tooth." you chide, even as you sink further into his lap. There was plenty of space on the couch, but you had somehow migrated to his lap sometime during the previous movie. The arm around your shoulder tightens, pulling you into a kiss on the cheek. It's greasy with butter residue, but somehow it still makes your heart flutter.

Fuck. Only 3 months into the relationship and you were wrapped around his finger, watching movies that you didn’t have any interest in. Any little annoyance was forgotten as soon as he flashed you that freckled smile. Every little nuance you discovered made you fall deeper into .... like.

Not love. Like. You weren't ready to admit to the 'love' word quite yet, but it was getting closer. You had been 'in like' with Yamaguchi since shortly after he moved into the cubicle next to yours. Maybe it had been the way he always remembered to grab you an extra sugar packet for your coffee, or the way he laughed at whatever podcast he was listening to that day, or the way he silently procrastinated at the end of the day so you could walk to bus together: whatever it was that won you over didn’t matter, what did matter was that Yamaguchi made you feel happier than anyone else. It felt natural to be with him, to be held by him, to be ‘liked’ by him.

...Your only complaint was the pacing. One of the best and worst things about the two of you was that you were both polite, constantly dancing around unsaid boundaries, trying overly hard to respect each other, avoiding any situation that could possibly make the other one uncomfortable. Which meant your physical relationship was nothing more than the occasional kiss.

Honestly, you were beginning to think he didn't want to. His hands never wandered, his texts never turned dirty, and you certainly never initiated anything. It felt like there was never an opportunity to start anything; even now, sitting on his lap while wearing a sweatshirt he had left at your apartment weeks ago, it felt wrong to interrupt a wholesome moment.

Not that you didn't want to. God. You wanted to.

"You know, I don't think anyone's ever worn my hoodie before." he comments, eyes never leaving the television. He’s enthralled with this stupid movie, even though he had seen it 'dozens of times.'

"Really? I’ve been wearing it as a shirt. " you grab at the fabric, "Do you want me to take it off? "

"Yeah, sure." he responds blankly, attention still glued to the movie. Then, he seemingly realizes what he said, face immediately erupting into a furious blush. He's quick to separate for you, almost spilling the entire bowl on the ground. You mirror him, unsure if you should laugh at his panic or cringe. "No! Do not take your shirt off! I do not want that!"

"Tadashi. Calm down." You laugh, even as disappointment settles in the back of your throat. Does... does he really not want to see you undressed? Is this why you guys having had sex yet? Did he just see you as a friend? For his comfort and not your own, you inch farther away, back against the opposite arm as him. "It's fine, I get it."

"No, I-" he takes a moment to settle himself, "You look phenomenal with my hoodie on, I just, I don't want you to take your shirt off unless you want to, because it’s totally something I want. I think about it-" he pauses mid sentence, ears burning so red that his freckles seem to disappear, " I mean, if- I'm not like that- if you're not ready- that's not why I invited you over. I'm not expecting anything."

He gives a nervous chuckle, widening the distance between the two of you more. You let his words sit, only the sound of the movie in the air.

"So." you begin slowly. "You think about me without a shirt on?"

“I mean, of course.” He is acutely aware of the edge of the couch, his body teetering at the brink, but he bares it. "Can I tell you something? You can't laugh at me. Or think I'm a pervert."

"I can't promise that. Are you, like.... sniffing my underwear or something?" you joke, a grin sneaking across your face.

He snorts and shakes his head almost violently.

"Okay, no! Now the real thing doesn't sound as pervy." he adjusts only slightly, his shoulders unbunching themselves. Most of the tension in the air has melted away. That's what was so great about Yamaguchi; even when things turned awkward, they quickly returned to normal. "Do you remember that time Yakki split that water all over you?"

You roll your eyes at the memory. "Of course."

"And you had that little white blouse on?" he swallows, "My productivity at work dropped about 50% that day. It was so bad that the boss scolded me."

"Yeah, because you were too busy worrying about me catching a cold!" you say, "You even gave me your jacket!"

"No, I gave you my jacket because your shirt was see-through.” he admits, “My productivity dropped because all I could think about was how I wanted to take you and that little see-through shirt into the storage closet."

Oh God. This is it. This is the opportunity.

You lean forward with a tilt of your head, the gapping neck of the shirt falling forward past your collarbone. His eyes are glued to the neckline, tracing over the hint of skin, silently begging for more. You tuck your knees up under you and begin to crawl, only half convinced that this is sexy. The closer you get, the more he can see down your shirt. His breath hitches slightly at the sight, but he doesn't dare to look away.

"Oh? What were you thinking about doing to me in that storage closet?" Yamaguchi lets his legs fall apart and, hesitantly, you place a hand between his knees, fingertips grazing the grey cotton of his sweatpants. The band of his bright red underwear peeks out from under his shirt and, without thinking, you trace over it with a pad of your finger. At the touch, he leans forward, lips tickling the shell of your ear as he speaks. Your heart is thrumming in your eardrum, so hard you can barely hear what he's saying.

"First, I would have ripped that wet little shirt off, button by button." he chuckles, reaching to tuck a tendril of hair behind your ear. Your pussy clenches at the low rumble of his voice, so hard you feel like your stomach is cramping. "Then, I-"

A scream cuts through the room. The both of you jump forward into each other, knocking your skull against his jaw. Almost in unison, you both reel back: you clutching your ear, him clutching his lip. The bowl spills across your laps, scattering popcorn all over the couch and floor as you both frantically search for the source of the noise. The dramatic music of the movie drums through you as some damsel in distress is running across the screen, screaming for help.

One beat. Two beats.

Then, you laugh. It's one from the belly, that makes your gut ache from effort. You're trying to reach for Yamaguchi, make sure he's okay, but your eyes are watering, and your whole body shaking. He's giggling too, still covering his lip.

"The movie scared me!" you explain through tears. He nods in agreement, gesturing to the mess across his lap, including a huge butter stain across his crotch. It's not a funny moment, not when both of you are aching, but an intangible something has you both snorting and sobbing through giggles. The moment is way too long, way past the point of any humor, but Yamaguchi's snickering feeds into yours.

Finally, Yamaguchi manages to collect himself, scrunching his lips into a straight line. The corners of his mouth twitch upwards and you dissolve into giggles once again.

"I want to fuck you so bad right now." he breathes. His directness surprises you. "But not on top of the popcorn."

You pull a deep breath, trying to center yourself. "We could move?"

"My roommate is going to kill me when he comes home to this mess." he says, but he stands anyway. You follow and his hand finds the small of your back, pulling you into him softly. He presses a kiss against your lips, warm and gentle, and then pulls back with a grimace.

"I think you bruised me.” he touches his lower lip gingerly, as if testing it.

“I’m sorry, we don’t-” he silences you with another kiss and now you can feel the swollen corner of his mouth, gritted slightly with salt. He clutches on to your top as he steps backwards, dragging you along with him so the kiss doesn’t break. Each step is rocky and unsure (you barely miss colliding into the wall) but you stay embraced, your hands clutching into his dark locks, partially to keep your balance as blindly follow. His hands trace up under your shirt, thumbs digging into the soft of your hips, pulling you flush against him, forcing you deeper and deeper into him until-

“Oh, shit.” he breaks away suddenly, pushing you back slightly. “I- my room- I need you to stay here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My room’s a mess, I really didn’t expect that you would- that we-” he shakes his head. “Gimme 30 seconds- please. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

You don’t object as he scuttles away, clicking the door firmly closed behind him. You can hear the muffled sounds of drawers slamming and objects being tossed about as you wait. It feels like you have been standing there, starting at the generic art hanging in the hall, for ages. It’s much longer than 30 seconds, but not quite the eternity it feels like.

The door creaks open and your favorite freckled face peeks out. “Hi.”

“Hi.” you repeat. Somehow, every amount of tension had returned in the scant amount of time you had been apart. Both of you knew what you wanted to do, but, the knowledge seemed heavy. It was an explored territory, sleeping with someone new. No matter what your past relationships were, each new experience with a new person (especially a new person you CARE about) brought its own pitfalls and challenges. It seems so serious, so scary, until you tear your eyes away from the floor and actually look your boyfriend in the eyes.

"Did you just brush your teeth?" you reach out and brush a little bit of white foam from the corner of his mouth with your thumb. He leans into your palm with a smile.

"I didn't want to taste like popcorn." he says and you can't help but laugh as he leads you into the room. It’s his brand of organized chaos; there’s clothes peeking out from the closet, miscellaneous knick knacks on the nightstand (including a still foamy toothbrush) and half hung posters across the walls. . You break away to sit on the bed, tracing over the pattern of the bedspread.

“I like this.” you comment, “Very nice.”

He nods, frozen in the doorway. Slowly, he reaches up to the lightswitch and flicks the light off. The darkness feels heavy with anticipation and worry as he pads around to the other side of the bed. He feels it too, you decide, as you watch his adam’s apple bob in the low light, this insane mixture of pressure and excitement.

For Yamaguchi, it’s the thoughts that usually plague his mind at night that grate away his confidence. The dreams of your skin between his fingers, your taste on his lips, are so close to reality, but he can't bring himself to make the first move. Even in the low light, he can see the curve of your waist, slowly contracting with every exhale. His own breathing matches your pace and, for some odd reason, that realization makes his chest burn with longing.

"I'm not expecting anything. If you don't want to." he reiterates as he lies down. How pathetic, he thinks. He really wasn't expecting anything, but, god, was he thinking about it. He'd been thinking about it since the first time he had seen you from across the If he could just reach out, just grab your collar and pull you to him, he could finally-

"Tadashi." his skin jumps at the sound of your voice and the sound of you shuffling, laying across the mattress. It's enough to knock him out of his thoughts and back into reality. He swallows back the tightness in his throat as he inches closer to you, his knees brushing against yours. He feels the gravity of the mattress shift as you shuffle closer and closer, until you're within inches of him. You're almost face to face now, close enough that he can feel the way your breathing picks up as his hand finds your shoulder. You hum at the contact; he's warm. Even through the thick cotton, his skin is unusually hot against you.

"You're like a little space heater." you whisper. Yamaguchi blinks, thinking, before his lips peel into a smile.

"Is that a good thing?" He doesn't wait for an answer. He squeezes gently and you let him pull you forward, nose pressed against nose, hip against hip. His own shoulders shake with a silent laugh and you can't help but join him. It's something about the novelty of the situation, the joy in doing something new, breaking an unspoken boundary, that makes you laugh. You both dissolve into giggles, shifting closer and closer until you're laughing in each other's arms, fully pressed against each other. Even through your sweatpants you can feel the suggestion of his cock pressed against you, heavy against his thigh.

" ’Dashi." you whisper into the thin space between you.

"I- Yeah?" he lets out a shaking breath. You take his hand and guide it to your chest, his fingers immediately cupping the flesh, massaging the flesh with a surprisingly steady touch. The way he sucks in air, fast, surprised, and hungry, sends heat pooling to your core.

"There's no popcorn here." you joke, "If you wanna fuck me."

It's enough to break through his anxiety and he's against you again, this time with no laughter to keep your lips apart. His mouth finds yours, hungrily catching your lower lip between his teeth, tugging it ever so slowly. The sharpness makes you gasp and he uses the opportunity to kiss you deeper, tongue against yours. He tastes like his brand of toothpaste- soft and sweet mint. It's unexpectedly hungry, unexpectedly rough.

The kiss doesn't break as he rolls over on to you, pressing your back into the down of his bed. His heart is already racing, battering against his ribs, as he continues tugging and teasing your breast, but he can't find it in himself to slow down. His free hand pushes up the hem of your shirt (his hoodie) to expose your chest. The kiss ends as he pulls away, forcing the short in-between your teeth, holding it up to give him free reign of your body. His head dips to join his hand, breath hot against your nipple. The cloth muffles your moan, but not enough to hide it from your lover.

He pauses, mouth open and tongue lulled out of his mouth, gazing up at you through his eyelashes. "Is this okay?" he's not touching you, but you can feel the low vibrations of his whisper against your skin.

"Yes, please." you whine through the sweatshirt, wrapping your hands into his hair. "Please, Please."

His tongue traces over your nipple delicately before he pulls back, just far enough to watch it pebble under his touch. He returns to work, clamping down and sucking, leaving the dull pain of a blossoming bruise behind. Your hips rut up into nothing, looking for any sort of friction.

He continues like this, leaving scattered marks across your skin as he worships you. Yamaguchi seems so content, just learning the scape of your body, but the building tension in your core is wearing thin.

Trailing touches down his body, you slipped your hands under the band of his sweatpants, gripping him through his boxers. Yamaguchi breaks, resting his forehead against your collar bone with a swallowed groan, as your fingers trace around the crown of his cock. Unwilling, he bucks into your light touch, dragging his length through your grasp. You tighten your fingers as he continues fucking himself against your palm, his own hands drifting to grasp your hips, pushing down your shorts just a fingers-length. Finger pads traced against the newly exposed skin, dipping lower and lower until tracing over the lace of your underwear.

"Wow." he breathes, lifting his head up to press a kiss against your chin. "Lift your hips for me, beautiful."

You comply, letting him peel off your shorts and underwear in one pull. The cool night air made you shiver, but his warm hands soon returned to explore the newly exposed skin.

"Oh, you're so..." his hand dips in between your legs, dragging a digit through your folds. The sound of your slick against his fingers makes his cock pulse in your grasp. He leaves his thought unfinished as he starts circling your clit with a steady touch. The pressure sends you keening, hips rolling into his touch eagerly, but he remains steady, patient.

He's building you up embarrassingly fast, leaving you sweaty and panting under his touch. Just as your legs start shaking, your body right on the brink, he withdraws. His tongue darts out to wipe away your fluids from his hand and he groans at the taste, eyes fluttering.

"I'm sorry, beautiful. You can't cum until I'm inside you." he whispers, sitting up to peel off his shirt. Clusters of freckles dapple his shoulders and it's all you can watch as he scrambles away to the nightstand drawer. He returns a moment later, eager tearing through the tin foil packet with his teeth.

"Tadashi! Be careful!" you scold as you throw the blankets aside.

"It's not ripped!" he says, grabbing the bunched up shorts from the crook of your knee and tugging it completely off, dragging you a couple inches down the mattress with them. He tosses them aside as he pulls off his own; even though you just had your hand around it, the sight of his cock makes you anxious. It's thick, much thicker than you anticipated, and around leaking, a bead of precum catching at little light in the room.

As he begins rolling the condom on, you peel off your top and Yamaguchi's mouth falls open, eyes darting around the entirety of your body.

"Holy. You-" he sighs happily. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen." He surges forward, pressing you down into the mattress once again. His mouth is against yours, swallowing your whines. His hands are at the small of you back again. but now it's about but pure. He's forcefully angling your hips back and forth against his cock, dragging your clit against his spongy head and spreading your wetness against the plastic film.

"I can't believe I get to fuck you." he says in between kisses. Yamaguchi continues to fuck your folds, his calm pace finally losing it's rhythm. "I can't believe I get to play with this perfect pussy. Can't wait to see you cum around my cock." With a trembling hand, he reaches down and presses his tip against your entrance, hesitating before sinking just the head inside you. The pop of his cockhead entering your cunt makes both of you gasp in unison- and another wave of giggles over takes the both of you. As he dips down onto his elbows, eyes screwed shut, he doesn't make a move for a long moment, the only sound in the room is his steady breathing.

"I'm sorry, I'm just-." he presses a kiss against your neck, another laugh bubbling up, "You just- ah, you're so pretty. I can't believe this is real."

Your hand catches his jaw, pulling his face up into yours. Your thumb traces over his cheek, tracing over the subtle dimpling of his pock marks. The freckles scattered across his cheeks, the crinkle at the corners of his eyes as he smiles- he's the beautiful one here. At your touch, he pushes further into you, steadily feeding your tight whole inch by inch, watching the way your mouth gapes and twists at the pressure. Once he's fully seated in you, he pauses, watching your chest move with each breath.

"Dashi," you whine, hooking your ankles together around his waist, "You're so thick."

"I know, you're doing such a good job." he presses a kiss against your forehead as he begins rolling his hips against you. Each thrust is rough, your hips angled up for him to sink his full length into you. "Keep being good for me, baby."

With an unexpected strength, he tugs you closer, lifting your hips off the bed. Each stroke is steady, pumping his entire length in and out of you at a tantalizingly slow pace. His name falls out of your mouth like a prayer, begging for more, but he doesn’t oblige. It stays sinfully slow, building you up in a controlled burn. Each kiss, highlighted by the mingling of your hot breaths, is further raking the coals.

“Is my pretty baby gonna cum for me? Look how great you’re taking me.” he groans. He’s praising you blindly now, neither of you sure of exactly what he’s saying, all of his attention focused on grinding into you.

Your back arches further, and you’re seeing stars as he fucks you just right. You can barely keep your vision focused on him, those grey eyes clouded with concentration Your orgasm knocks the breath out of your lungs and you come undone with a strangled laugh, fisting the sheets desperately. The way you clench down around him makes his hips finally stutter, a hiss escaping his gritted teeth. Your chest is filled with a flurry of emotions as you sling your arms around his shoulders, unable to wipe away the goofy grin in your face.

A few more snaps of his hips has him melting into you as he cums. He tucks his head under your jaw with a hum, dropping you on to the mattress. His hands find their way back to your chest, giving you a final squeeze.

"Fuck." he whispers into the soft of your neck as he withdraws. He's quick to peel off the condom and tie to off, discarding it off the side of the bed. Yamaguchi rolls onto his back, holding his arms open expectantly. "You're so hot when you laugh, you know that?"

Curling into his arms, finding some sort of gross comfort in his sweaty warmth, you can't help but suppress another giggle.

"Hey, be careful. Keep laughing and we'll have to do that again." he grips your jaw, tilting your face towards him to capture you in a kiss. "Don't test me; I'll fuck you so hard you'll need a standing desk on Monday."

"Oh yeah?" you tease, your hand tracing down his chest, connecting his freckles. "Prove it."

"Oh, I will, come here-"

The distant sound of a door slamming catches your attention. "Yamaguchi, what the fuck?" a familiar voice echoes through the apartment.

Yamaguchi shoots up, frantically searching for his pants in the sheets. "Fuck, I forgot about the popcorn!"

#yamaguchi x reader #yamaguchi hc #yamaguchi #yamaguchi tadashi #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #karasuno #mint's musings

2K notes · View notes

whumpzone · 3 years

Text

Tomas and Rowe - Part 16

in which everyone has a bad time. except kasia. he's having fun

Masterpost

taglist: @sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @misspelledwitch @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk @cupcakes-and-pain @frankieswhump @ihaventwritteninsolong @mybrokenlittletoy @kiretto-laorentze @morelikepainsley @lavmars @tears-and-lilies @whump-me-all-night-long @newbornwhumperfly @itaina-anta @whump-it @haro-whumps @simplygrimly @alex-ember @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @mnmlover2002 @jordanstrophe @princessofonward @xmonster-under-the-bed @as-a-matter-of-whump @5boys1house @crystalrainwing @starnight-whump @chifechi @unicornscotty @penny-for-your-whump @getyourwhumphere @likeit-or-whumpit @jasm0307 @lightdrinker @hurting-fictional-people @captainseconds @glamrockgregory @justbreakonme @downrivergirl914 @cdragontogacotar @whumps-up @vaguelyhumanvoid @kim-poce @kween-pinescales

CW: pet whump, dehumanisation, force feeding, stress positions, references to mouth whump and burns

Rowe took to repeating the affirmations every day, whispering them past the newly empty gaps in his gums. When he did them, he could forget for a little while that he was going to die in his cell. At least he could die as something. He wouldn’t let Kasia turn him into an empty husk.

I have worth.

I don’t deserve pain.

I’m a person.

He was careful, of course, to lock them away when Kasia visited. He tried not to associate them with pain; he said them every day when he woke up, not when he was freshly hurting. He didn’t want to ever, ever, say them in front of Kasia.

He knew if he did it would just get him another beating, but they were his. They were precious. They were a relic of Master that Kasia couldn’t corrupt.

He just had to keep his stupid mouth shut when it mattered.

For the first time since his arrival here, Rowe spent a whole day alone. The hours ticked by as he started to see shapes in the floor, and wondered if Kasia would ever return. Was this it? Had he got bored already? Would Rowe be left to die and rot after less than a week, his capture so recent he could still feel Master’s hands in his?

In reality it only meant that when Kasia did come back the next day, Rowe despised himself for the brief flash of relief. The man he was at the mercy of had returned to torture him another day.

Kasia had brought more chains, and restraints, always in his duffle bag, and Rowe had quickly learnt to shrink away at the mere sight of it. Rowe stayed curled up on the floor as he entered, eyeing him like a kicked dog.

“Did you miss me, pup?”

“Please,” he replied hoarsely. “Please give me f-food. Please.”

Rowe would never have dared beg with his first Master. But he had always known that he would be fed, eventually, once he had learnt his lesson. And of course, he’d never needed to beg Master Tomas. But here, there weren’t any rules. Nothing was guaranteed. So fuck it, he might as well try to prolong his life.

“Today’s your lucky day. I actually brought something. You’ll have to earn it, though. No getting on my fucking nerves, yeah?”

You’re the one who chooses to come here, Rowe thought despairingly.

“Okay, okay, just please-“

“Didn’t you just hear me?” Kasia kicked him in the stomach and Rowe moaned. He nodded, wincing as the burns on his neck pressed together.

“Arms up, come on.”

. . .

Tomas had made it from the shower to the downstairs sofa, and he was content with that. Not proud, no, proud would imply he was happy with himself in some way, but at least he wasn’t completely catatonic today. Luca had texted saying to answer the door if it rang, and a part of Tomas still wanted to impress him, despite it all. So he had showered and brushed the last of the blood from his hair. God, how many days had it been?

A small movement on the floor caught his eye. A spider, out of reach, too far to feasibly get him. He felt acutely aware of his own apathy then, as instead of shrieking or running away, he just stared.

The chance of the spider hurting him was practically zero. And yet he was still afraid. Afraid of it crawling over his skin, afraid that it might come near him in the night when he was asleep and vulnerable, and although he knew deep down that it wouldn’t, there was always the possibility of it deciding to run up his leg at any given moment. Even being near it made him afraid.

He thought of Rowe. He felt like he understood something. He sighed.

Luca arrived not half an hour later, banging on the door and shouting for Tomas as if nothing was wrong.

“Hey! It’s me- don’t leave me outside on this cold night. I’m only an orphan boy.”

Tomas pulled the door open. He couldn’t smile, but seeing Luca felt like the weight in his stomach was lifted slightly.

“It’s not cold. And you’re not an orphan.”

“I am happy to see you, though,” Luca said calmly. He was holding a basket, its contents hidden under a teatowel. “I brought you a pull-yourself-together hamper. Some ready meals, dry shampoo, fruit, and stuff. And the teatowel. ‘Cause why not.”

Already Tomas could feel Luca’s warmth seeping into him. He put a hand over his mouth and nodded. “Than- thanks, thank you, you know you don’t owe me anything-“

“I know, handsome lad. But the thought of Rowe being kidnapped is- god, it’s awful. Don’t worry, I’m here of my own free will. Sometimes you just need someone else in the house.”

Tomas let him inside, feeling guilty about the mess, then feeling guilty because he was the one who allowed it to accumulate.

“Let’s open a window,” Luca suggested, and Tomas sloped over. “Want me to get that spider?”

He shook his head, trying uselessly to hide his face. “It’s fine, it’s fine, you can let it stay, I’m sorry I don’t know why I’m-“

His own voice cracking cut him off but he pressed on.

“I’m fine, I really am.”

“You’re not. It’s okay.”

“Just- how- how the fuck did I let this happen. How did I not, I mean, I trusted him this whole- whole time and now it’s all gone wrong and-“

He sat heavily on the floor, leaning his face into the side of the sofa, not blinking, not seeing. He breathed out and time seemed to slow.

Luca’s hand rested on his shoulder, a gentle pressure to his fingers.

“What’s done is done. You can’t help Rowe by falling apart, and you definitely can’t help yourself like that either. It’s, ah, it’s hard. It’s really hard. But you can collapse and cry and disintegrate when Rowe is back, I promise. Do you know where Kasia lives?”

Tomas nodded. “I haven’t even thought about that. I can’t believe myself.”

“Hey, no falling apart okay?” Luca’s tone was firm, and it made Tomas pull his head up, to look at him. His hair, braided in two chunky plaits, hung asymmetrically, one past his collarbone and one down his back. His eyeliner was winged like the letter V, drawn out in a point that came sharply back over his eyelid. Pretty. “That’s good to know, though. You could catch him on his way in or out, try to strike up a deal, I don’t know. I’ve not exactly had any experience with kidnappings either.”

“Yeah, it’s fucking stupid isn’t it. This whole situation is stupid. Fuck.”

Luca just looked at him, a sad smile ghosting over his face.

“I just can’t stop thinking about all the things that might be happening,” Tomas confessed. “He’s unhinged, he really is. He’s sick. And he’s got Rowe and the police don’t care, no one cares.”

“I care. You care.”

Tomas didn’t reply and the words hung over them. Two people caring wasn’t much. But, he supposed, it was better than nothing.

. . .

Rowe’s arms would dislocate, they would they absolutely would, Kasia was setting him up to dislocate both his god damn shoulders or arms or whatever. Rowe could hardly tell where the pain was located, it felt like it was everywhere, burning through his like a fire burns a taut string.

The food- dog food, but still edible, still something- sat before him, emptied on the floor, and from where Rowe knelt he should’ve been able to lean and eat easily. But Kasia had his arms bound and tied to the bars of the cage door, pulling them back and turning any movement into agony. Not only was he bent out of shape, but the burns along his shoulders were irritated awfully. He was sure his skin would burst open any second.

It had been twenty minutes at most, and already he was exhausted. Sweat rolled down him, dripping off his nose. He could hardly breathe.

Kasia’s heavy boot pressed down on the crown of his head, and his moan quickly became a scream of pain.

“No, no please!”

“I thought you were hungry. I’m helping.”

The pressure doubled, forcing Rowe’s face closer to the dog food, until he was close enough to open his mouth and take a bite. Disgust flooded him, and it only increased when he chewed. He swallowed past the collar, his throat pressing uncomfortably against it, and oh god, it felt so good, it was food in his belly, he was thankful for it despite everything. Kasia seemed satisfied and released his boot, sending Rowe’s head springing back to relieve the pressure on his shoulders. The skin near his burns had ripped and were bleeding, but nothing was dislocated.

“You’re definitely still hungry. How about another bite?”

Before Rowe could speak, Kasia had grabbed a fistful of hair, shoving him down, the sudden pull on his arms a thousand times worse than before, worse than anything, the pain was clouding his mind and he couldn’t think of anything but the barest, most built-in responses.

He screamed.

Spit flew from his mouth. Kasia kept pressing, his fingers curling tighter together, and the burning on Rowe’s scalp joined the rest of his body. His fingers were surely purple with how hard Kasia had tied them. Rowe had lost all feeling beyond his wrists.

“Please!”

Kasia ignored him.

“Please, st-stop, please M-M-Master Tomas help me-“

“He’s not fucking coming you stupid dog,” Kasia growled and pulled Rowe’s face all the way down, cracking his chin against the concrete, a deep shooting pain through his face and remaining teeth. He moaned. More skin tore along his shoulders. “No one’s coming to save you.”

A kick sent him lurching to the side, twisting his body until he was sprawled with his back to the floor, staring up at his bound hands, which were a mixture of blue and purple and were not moving at all.

He turned his head to see Kasia grabbing a fistful of the dog food from the floor and stepping over him.

“Mouth open.” Rowe complied and Kasia smiled mockingly. “Good boy.”

The dog food was shoved in, packing against the walls of his mouth, Kasia’s fingers prodding his gums, and it took everything not to vomit. His stomach heaved but nothing came. All he could do was be a good boy, and eat.

“Tomas isn’t your Master. He’s not coming.”

Present tense, thought Rowe as his eyes watered from the taste. He’s not dead.

. . .

Tomas couldn’t stop his legs from shaking as he stood on Kasia’s street, his hands tucked under his armpits for warmth. Yeah, the shaking was definitely just from the cold. Sure.

By the time Kasia appeared, it was night. He stalked down the street, stumbling slightly, and Tomas realised he was drunk. If he hadn’t had a reason to be there, he would have walked away right now, and fast.

When Kasia got close enough, Tomas stepped out of the shadows, forcing Kasia to stop and fix him with a glare.

“Give him back.”

“Or what?” he asked flatly, as if this meeting was no surprise. “Hah, you look like shit Tomas.”

“Give him fucking back, what do you want for him, money? You’re torturing a human being you sick fuck.”

“I’m having some fun with a Pet,” Kasia smiled. “And if you start whining like this I will just kill him.”

Tomas stiffened. “You wouldn’t.”

“You so sure about that?”

“Let him go.”

“No,” Kasia pushed him once and Tomas stumbled back, hitting a wall. He blinked and Kasia’s face was pressed up in front of his. He stank of booze and cigarettes. “Fuck off or I’ll kill him. I’ll hurt him worse to make up for this, too.”

“No, fuck no just leave him fucking alone-“

Kasia swung once, but mercifully something made him miss. Carelessness, the alcohol, perhaps just the assumption that Tomas was too pathetic to move out of the way. His fist cracked against the wall and as he shouted in pain Tomas considered kicking him between the legs, spitting on him, whatever. But Rowe’s life was at stake so, like the coward he was, he ran into the night, Kasia shouting taunts behind him.

Luca looked up when he pushed through the door, panting. He’d run the entire way. Luca stayed silent; the look on Tomas’s face was telling enough.

“I’m a fucking failure,” he whispered, and started to cry.

#whump #pet whump #whump fic #dehumanisation #tomas and rowe #mine #enjoy!#i hope this is a satisfying chapter #will tungle tag people in this? who knows

202 notes · View notes

imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 16 | S.R.)

Summary: Reader is trying to go back to her old life, which includes the life she led before she met Spencer. Category: Angst. Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader Content Warning: Drug mention, addiction, jealousy, arguing, death mention Word Count: 9.3k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

“Don’t wear that tie, wear the other one.”

Spencer turned to look at me curiously, his little grin the first signal that he saw right through me. “Why?” He asked, taking off the tie he’d only just finished putting on to swap it for the other one hanging in my closet.

It’d been a week since Spencer all but moved into my room, refusing to leave my side for even a second longer than necessary. Aside from the freshly healing bullet wounds, it had been one of the best weeks of my life.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged, trying and failing to hide my smile. “I just wanted to watch you take it off.”

My boyfriend pointed an accusing finger at me as he approached the bed, using it to poke my nose before retreating. “You, my dear, are a troublemaker. I’m going to be late.”

It was hard to believe that life could resume so quickly for everyone else when it felt like I was still on my knees on the cold tile floor of the bank. I tried not to think about it, acutely aware of the terrible things that could happen when PTSD was left unchecked.

I wanted to think about nice things, instead. Like how cute my boyfriend was, acting like it was my fault he’d be late while he took his time tying his tie over and over again. He’d say it was because it wasn’t perfect, but we both knew he didn’t care about that. He just didn’t want to leave yet.

“If you’re going to be late Dr. Reid, it’s because you refused to get out of bed until I gave you a kiss for every hour you’ll be gone today.” I reminded him, joy filling my chest at the small combination of a smile and a pout I received in response.

“You still owe me two.”

“Do I?” I responded, reaching out to grab his hand and pull him back to my place on the bed. “Then please, let me remedy that.”

Not wanting me to move any more than I already had, he quickly came down to place a chaste kiss on my lips. But I didn’t let it end there, holding onto the newly secured tie and tugging him closer.

Now it might be my fault, I thought, but I didn’t care. With one hand on the bed to steady himself and the other carefully caressing my cheek, he put all of his love into one little kiss. I felt like I was going to explode with the pent up desire that had accompanied being with him for so long without being able to show him how much I loved him in a physical way.

He insisted that he didn’t need sex, that it didn’t matter to him, but it mattered to me! I didn’t have a way with words like he did, and while he was content with curling up by my side, it left me wanting more.

The doctor kept telling me it would be soon, that the time will have passed quickly in hindsight. I didn’t understand half of what he said— he was just trying to get me to accept the narcotics in hopes that I wouldn’t end up back in his hospital.

I was doing it again. I was thinking about things I didn’t need to think about instead of the way Spencer bit down on my bottom lip when he paused to let me breathe. The smell of his cologne filled my lungs and I remembered how much I used to miss it. I’d stopped appreciating it when it was around me all the time.

It wasn’t until his phone rang that he left completely, tearing himself away from me like he wouldn’t be able to stop himself any other way.

“Hello?”

There were only a few reasons they would be calling him right now, and I didn’t like any of them.

“Oh… Alright.”

It was that exact tone, that terrified, pitiful grumble that told me what I needed to know. He had to go somewhere, and he wouldn’t be back today. He’d retreated from me, turning his back to me like I wouldn’t be able to tell what was happening just because I couldn’t see his face.

His voice was hushed. “Hotch, are you sure that I…”

The hopelessness hurt. I wanted him to go back to work; I knew he needed to. But it was so hard to let him go.

“Understood. I’ll be there soon.”

“How many more kisses do I owe you now?” I asked with a nervous laugh, fiddling with the sheets between my fingers.

“I don’t know.”

“Uh oh. I don’t like that voice.” I tried to keep my tone playful, but it wasn’t enough.

“I have to travel.”

The fact that he wasn’t looking at me made me more anxious than the fact he was now grabbing all the clothes he had in the closet and dropping them in the suitcase.

“Where to?”

Spencer paused, staring at the floor so that he could see me from his peripherals. He was torturing himself by forcing himself to see my reaction, but he wasn’t strong enough to look directly at me.

“Alaska.”

“Oh... wow.” I didn’t know how to respond, my body freezing as I tried to conceptualize just how far away that was. Far enough away that in maps of the United States, they had a separate area designated for it since it couldn’t fit.

It was too far, that’s all I knew.

“Hey, that’s fine! I can still call you.” My voice sounded foreign and the hopefulness was poorly performed. I wasn’t sure calling would be enough, but it apparently didn’t even matter.

“Not really. They don’t have service out there. Garcia is coming with us.” His packing got angrier, no matter how hard he tried to hide it from me.

“It’ll be fine, Spencer.”

His hands, unable to find any more clothing to grab, found purchase in his hair instead, running through them roughly. “What if something happens?” He asked as he finally turned to face me with a seriousness that was unbecoming.

“Nothing is going to happen. I have tons of friends who can help me. I’m just going to be sitting here on my ass all day watching bad TV.”

I gestured to the television that my friends had been nice enough to set up in my room, sighing as Spencer sulked in the other corner. It took a few waves of the hand, but eventually he dragged himself back to my side. Opening my arms to him, I took him in when his head dropped against my shoulder once more.

“I-I’m not ready to leave you yet.” The vulnerability shook in his voice, and I could feel the insistence in his grip denting my pillow.

“Well, too bad, superman.” I teased, pulling him away enough that I could show him my smile, hoping that it would be enough to calm his mounting fears. “You’ve got lives to save.”

He looked at me, his eyes still welling with tears despite the smile he now wore. He took my hand and heldit against his cheek. He closed his eyes; taking a deep breath, he mumbled, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make me fall more in love with you every single day.”

I had to laugh, and I cursed him for it. It hurt so badly to laugh still, but the look on his face was worth it. No matter what, Spencer Reid had to be a romantic, and I loved him for it. It was so very much unlike me.

“Don’t get all sappy on me now, old man.” I chastised him lightly, “You’re going to be late.”

He wasn’t done yet, though, that protective glimmer in his eyes returning with a vengeance. He held tighter to my hand and bit his lip.

“Promise me you’ll be safe. Don’t do anything you aren’t supposed to. Please.”

It sounded like a beg, a desperation that I wasn’t used to. Up until now, it always felt like I was the one who was seeking more information and assurance. But now he sat before me, practically broken at the thought of not seeing me for a few days, pleading for me to take my own life seriously.

I hated the attention, but couldn’t tell him that. He wouldn’t understand; it would only make him worry more.

“I promise.”

He didn’t believe me, but he accepted my answer, anyway. Lunging forward, his lips crashed into mine without any reservations. I laughed into the kiss, tangling my hands in his hair so that he’d have to fix it again before he could leave me.

It was only funny until I remembered how long it might be until I see him again. I held onto him, deepening the kiss just to drag it out. He was also looking for an excuse, still refusing to part all the way when our lungs had nothing left.

“I love you… so much.” He whispered, resting his forehead against mine for a moment longer.

“I love you, too.”

I’d said it so many times in the past few weeks, but the words still felt new on my tongue. I wanted to say them more, to shower him in my affection, but I didn’t know how. Love was just another language he was fluent in, and I decidedly wasn’t. All I could do was wait for him to translate the thoughts to me whenever I got lost.

“I’m going to try to set up something so I can talk to you, okay? I can’t promise it’ll work but I’m going to try. You remember what I said about the last time I couldn’t reach you.”

Memories of papers scattered on the floor ran through my mind. I could practically feel his hand wrapped around my neck for the first time, holding my life in his hand because I’d trusted him to keep me safe. The vision of waking up in his bed, only to have him lower himself below the sheets, pressing kisses down my stomach.

Things had been so different then. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Those thoughts were suffocating and overwhelming and painful, and I shoved them back into the deepest recesses of my mind. It was too early to be emotional.

I took a deep breath, patting Spencer’s cheek with a soft palm before I summoned all the sarcasm I could in my voice. “I’ll always be with you in your heart,” I joked, smiling as he cringed at the sound.

“I mean it, little girl. If you don’t take care of yourself, you’re in for it when I get back.”

Feigning shock and a gasp, I brought my hand to my chest just in time for him to step away from me. The absence of him was colder than it should have been. At least he appeared to be in better spirits, and I wanted to keep it going.

“Dr. Reid, has that ever worked to make me not do something?”

Spencer shook his head with a chuckle, grabbing the rest of his things with more pep in his step. The closer he got to the door, the harder my heart beat. It was deafening and mind numbing in its volume.

Was this how love was supposed to feel? Or had I just grown so spoiled and accustomed to him being here, that I was being entirely selfish? I would no doubt have days to think about it.

He returned to me one more time, running his hand gently through my hair and granting me one more soft, serene kiss in the pale morning light.

“Take care of yourself.” He whispered, the begging bleeding back into his voice. “For me.”

“I will.” I promised before closing my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see him leave. I still heard him hesitate at the door, and I felt his eyes linger on me for a few seconds longer. But then the door clicked shut, and I was alone again.

—————————————————

Nine days. I’d been gone for nine days. It might as well have been a lifetime, because that’s exactly what it felt like. Even worse, I was only able to call (y/n) a whopping three times, each one shorter than the last. We’d only talked for a total of 14 minutes and 29 seconds. And considering that nine days is 12960 minutes, that’s a pretty abysmal fraction.

But it didn’t matter, because as soon as that stupid jet landed in Virginia, I was on my way back to her. Thankfully it was still a normal hour and the sun was still out, albeit quickly setting.

She wasn’t answering my calls, and I tried not to think too much of it. During our last call, she’d told me that she started a new medication that made her sleepy. In fact, our conversation had been so short in part because she fell asleep halfway through the call.

I didn’t mind though, listening to the soft sound of her breathing until the signal went dead again. I’d played the audio over and over again in my head to help me sleep that night, knowing that she was hours away but still dreaming with me.

I was so ready to see her again, that I’d barely knocked on her door before the keys were already in the knob. I didn’t want to wait, I didn’t want to spend another second longer than necessary before I could see her.

But before I could turn the handle, the door swung open and away from my hand.

There were a few people I’d expected to see; (y/n), her roommate, or possibly one of the other female friends the girls had mentioned that I’d yet to see. Unfortunately, it was the one face that hadn’t ever crossed my mind that appeared.

On the other side of the threshold was the man I’d only seen in pictures. To be more specific, one picture, months ago, sent to me from (y/n)’s phone in an attempt to keep her from answering my call.

I recognized him immediately, but realized I’d never actually heard his name.

We stood there for a long time, staring at the other with the utmost hostility in our eyes and postures. I hated the fact that I felt the need to compete with him, but found myself acting out of instinct. I just hoped that he wasn’t as smart or perceptive as her, and wouldn’t notice the insecurity and jealousy that immediately emerged.

“So you must be the cop.” He drawled, leaning against the doorframe to prevent my entry. The action alone pissed me off, but I bit my tongue in the hopes I could deescalate the situation, despite how much I didn’t want to. There were many things I wanted to say to him, but only a few words came out.

“I’m not a cop.”

“Yeah, she said you’d say that.” He chuckled, rubbing his chin as he recalled a memory of her. I wanted to wipe the smirk off his face.

“That makes sense. It shouldn’t be a surprise, considering it’s not my job.” I stated matter-of-factly, trying to remind myself that the two of them were friends. She’d known him for a long time, and he probably felt just as possessive of her as I did.

The only difference was that I had a reason to believe she was mine.

“Let me guess, your sense of humor is her favorite trait.” The sarcasm dripped from his tongue. Normally I’d say that was my role, but right now all that I had to spit back was venom.

Retrieving my key from the door, I contemplated barreling past him to get to her quicker, but realized he was probably hoping to provoke that exact kind of reaction.

“You’re funny.” My face steeled and my fists clenched in my pockets, I peered around his head to the empty hallway behind him. “Where is she?”

“Sleeping.” That stupid smirk was back, his eyes trailing after my every movement, waiting for me to snap. When I didn’t, he escalated his antics further.

“I was about to go join her.” He said, licking his lips and standing up in an attempt to match my height.

But it wasn’t size or age that distinguished the two of us. It was our priorities. Because while he was here, trying to prove himself to me, all I could see was a young boy standing in the way of me seeing her again.

“No need. I’m here now.” I took a step forward, unsurprised to find that he didn’t immediately move out of my way.

He narrowed his eyes, grasping at straws to try and prolong this interaction. I couldn’t understand why, really. He couldn’t honestly believe I’d try to start a fight with him or leave, could he?

“Does she know you were planning on coming by?”

“Why does it matter to you?” I responded with a bored tone, staring him down until I saw his stance falter. It wouldn’t take much longer of this standoff for him to finally recede far enough into the apartment that I could just ignore him.

“Just wondering.” He mumbled, finally taking a step backwards and to the side so that I could enter. He shut the door behind me, but clearly wasn’t done with the conversation.

“Figured she wouldn’t have asked me to come spend the night with her if she knew you were coming. So she must not have expected for you to show up.”

I turned around to face him, knowing that I was playing into his games but unable to resist the temptation.

“She told me you got jealous last time. I would hate for you two to fight again if you found us in bed together. That would be so upsetting for her.”

“Well, you’re off the hook. No miscommunication. No worries at all.” It was times like these that I was grateful for my training, because it was the only thing keeping me from lunging at the boy and slamming him against the wall. I knew he could see it in my eyes.

He clearly had an idea of me in his head, one that was honestly probably pretty accurate. He wanted me to lose control and show that side of me, to prove that he was the better man. But he wasn’t. He’d had several years with her now to prove himself, and she’d still chosen me.

She chose me— that’s all I needed to remember.

“What if I want to stay?” He teased.

“We’ll let her decide.”

That was the first thing I’d said that struck a nerve in him. He resumed his previous stance with his back straight and arms crossed over his chest. “You’re a bit full of yourself for a dude who’s never here.” He spat, puffing his chest. The longer the bravado continued, the less intimidating it became. “You barely even know her.”

I was transported back to when (y/n) and I first started dating, when Morgan had accused me of the very same thing over lunch. My heart wrenched in my chest, because so much of me knew that it was still true.

She’d only just started to share information with me about her past, and still she spoke in vague generalities and half-thoughts. There was so much she hid from me, and I just… let her. I let her hide from me because I was scared that if I pressed her, she would leave.

At least, that’s what I’d thought. But each time someone pointed out how little I knew her, I was forced to consider the possibility that she was keeping me away for a deeper reason.

“I know all the parts of her that she doesn’t want to show you.” He taunted, sensing my anxieties that were clearly written across my face.

“Are you done? I’d like to go see her now.”

He didn’t respond, shaking his head. But I only got a few steps before I heard his voice again, this time louder and angrier.

“Doesn’t it bother you? Knowing that I’m here, in bed with your girlfriend while you’re on the opposite side of the country, not even answering her calls?” He remained rooted in his position at the end of the hall.

I lost the battle of keeping my eyes on her door, ripping them away so that I could turn to face him. My breathing got heavy and my hands finally left my pockets. “No, it doesn’t bother me,” I said, my voice falling quieter instead of growing, “You want to know why?”

The grimace on his face was the only answer I needed. I brought a finger to my own chest, not trusting myself to touch him. I barely knew this guy, and I wasn’t about to start a fight with one of (y/n)’s oldest friends to prove my manhood, especially if that was exactly what he wanted.

“I’m not worried because I trust her.” I practically whispered to him, “And even if I had some reason not to, I’m not intimidated by you.”

A fire appeared in his eyes, the desire to bite back stifled by the knowledge that there was nothing he could say to make me doubt her. He’d already tried and failed every time so far.

“I don’t care what parts of her you think I haven’t seen. Because I get to have the parts of her you wish you could. And she gave them to me willingly and without regret. Over and over again.”

There was so much more I wanted to say, but I was thankfully cut off by the hoarse, familiar voice in the backroom.

“Spencer?” She called, groggy yet excited. There was no way she could hear me from the room, which told me that she’d probably just woken up to my texts and hoped I was here. It told us both that when she woke up, the first person she thought to call was me.

“Yeah.” I said, a soft, genuine smile crossing my cheeks at the thought of her. “Like I said… I’m not worried.”

He didn’t follow me then, staying in the hallway to stew in his anger over the fact that this hadn’t gone at all how he’d planned. But I couldn’t think about him any longer, because as soon as I turned into her room, my heart melted.

She was sprawled out on her bed, hugging a body pillow like her life depended on it. Her hair was a beautiful disaster across her pillow, and the blanket had fallen far enough to see that she was swamped in the same Caltech sweatshirt she wore every time I was gone.

“Hey little girl.”

She slowly shimmied her way up the pillows, clearly surprised at my appearance despite having called me in. With half shut eyes, she spoke through a yawn, “What’re you doing here? You look like you haven’t slept in a week!”

“I missed you.” I admitted quietly, finally bridging the gap between us and climbing onto her bed on top of the covers. I couldn’t even bother taking off my blazer or my shoes; I needed to be close to her now, without any other unnecessary delay.

Despite curling up against me immediately, she still found a way to whine. “You better not have skipped out on anything for me. We know I’m not doing anything worthwhile in here.”

I leaned down to kiss her forehead, my hands holding her against me so that I could breathe in the familiar scent of her hair and perfume. “I strongly disagree.” I sighed, happy to hear her hum and giggle at the way my breath tickled her face.

I didn’t even hear the door open, but she tilted her head away from me to see her friend. I stayed where I was, not wanting to take my eyes off of her again for as long as I didn’t have to.

“I’m gonna head out. Let me know if you need me again.” He said, his voice full of repressed anger and sadness that I understood but didn’t particularly care about right now.

“Thanks for coming! I’ll probably see you next week; I’ll text you!” She chirped, waving to the man who’d already left.

His absence eased away the last remaining bit of tension in my shoulders, allowing me to bury myself in her neck while she continued to laugh. I heard the soft sounds of the tv for the first time and mumbled into her skin.

“What are you watching?”

“Just a sitcom. You wouldn’t be interested.”

She sounded... defensive, if not a little ashamed for her choice in shows. I had to laugh, realizing that she was still unaware of the shows my mom and I used to watch when I was a kid. The asinine, cheesy soap operas that taught me the dorky, awkward way to love that she constantly mocked me for.

I would save that piece of information for later, though, and instead, I chose to show her my own interest in the things she loved, or in the very least found comforting. “What’s it about?”

Apparently, it was the right question to ask. Over the course of the next thirty minutes she tried to condense the entire nine season series of The Office into one barely coherent rant. Eventually, she realized that I wasn’t following along as closely as she’d hoped, and just decided to start the show over.

I didn’t mind. She chastised me a few times for not paying close enough attention after catching me monitoring her reactions more than the show itself. But eventually she fell asleep on my chest, still murmuring about Jim and Pam until the words were just gibberish.

Without her commentary, I was forced to pay attention so that when she undoubtedly woke up and quizzed me, I wouldn’t just be repeating words I’d heard in the background. Somewhat unsurprisingly, I found myself swept up in the romantic storyline of her two favorite characters. So caught up, in fact, that when she woke up, it took me a moment to notice.

“What did I miss?” She grumbled, trying to force her eyes open while she turned to see the tv that displayed the immediate results of a very poorly timed love confession. “Oh, Casino Night.” Her voice was nostalgic and a bit solemn while she spoke. “This is one of my favorite episodes.”

“Why? It’s so sad.”

Without looking up at me, she pondered the question. It was obvious she’d never really thought to question why she was drawn to it. Her answer didn’t provide any comfort or explanation.

“I guess I relate to it. Loving someone like that.” She shrugged before turning back to rest her head against me. She’d said it so easily, like it wasn’t something jarring for me to hear. I realized then that she’d never told me about her past relationships. In fact, I didn’t even know if any existed.

She sensed the anxieties that were building and brought a hand to my cheek to reroute my gaze to her. “What’s wrong?”

“You… You never really talk to me about your life.” My voice was so pathetic, the pout on my lips so childish in its sadness. Because although I told myself I was only upset she hadn’t told me about it, another part of me was also jealous at the idea that anyone else ever got to hold her.

And what a stupid thought that was, to be jealous of men who didn’t get to keep her. I should have been hoping that she had people who loved her and held her and made her happy, not wishing none had existed.

“What are you talking about? We talk about it all the time.” She chuckled, clearly unaware of my inner debate and turmoil.

“I mean your life before me.” I clarified, taking her hand into mine and watching as she carefully wound our fingers together.

“Oh, well… Who cares? It’s in the past.”

She was using that voice that warned me that she was about to try and change the subject. She hadn’t meant to get this conversation started, and now it was quickly getting away from her. But I wasn’t ready to drop it—especially now that I was aware of a huge, life altering event that she’d managed to keep hidden until now.

“I care. If it’s important to you, it matters to me.” It didn’t seem to reassure her, a lopsided smile covering her cheeks before she tried to maneuver away from the topic again.

“What time is it? Shouldn’t you be going to sleep?”

I held up the small notepad that rested on her nightstand, displaying the several timestamps that I could tell were meant to signal the last time she’d taken painkillers. “I was waiting so I could offer you medicine.”

“Ugh, yes please.” She groaned, moving herself off me so that I could grab the bottles beside her bed.

But there was something I’d noticed before, which only became more obvious once I picked them up. I looked past the orange plastic, my mind straining to count the number of pills inside. The date didn’t match the amount.

“Did you fill the narcotics?”

She didn’t answer.

“Is that why he was here?”

“No.” She responded swiftly, shaking her head and rubbing her temples.

The mention of him brought out feelings that I’d almost forgotten, and with those feelings came stupid worries and questions. “...Why was he here?” I mumbled, turning the pill bottles in my hand like I didn’t already have them memorized.

“Are you jealous?” She teased, poking her tongue out at me. It worked to turn my pout into an awkward half-smile, but I was still sulking.

“Would he have really stayed in the bed with you?”

“What? No!” She shouted, sitting up fast enough that she winced, her hand grabbing her stomach but still talking through clenched teeth. “Did he say that?!”

Her reaction alone made me laugh, easing the tension and reminding me it was stupid to worry about it in the first place. “He might have implied it.” My hands started to sort through her tangled hair, gently arranging it back to its rightful place.

“Ugh, he’s such a fucking dick.” She grumbled, wiping her face to try and get rid of the sudden anger.

Meanwhile, I was once again distracted. It was obvious in the way she struggled to keep her eyes open and preventing her hands from turning to fists. She was in way too much pain for my comfort, and it was partially my fault for getting her riled up over something so silly.

But she hadn’t told me she filled the narcotics, and she didn’t tell me where they were. I needed to respect that, if only because I was scared that it might make her doubt me. When she turned to look me in the eyes, I held her cheek that fit so perfectly in the palm of my hand.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me where they are. I understand.”

“No, it’s fine. I trust you, Spencer. It’s…” The troubled look shifted to a shaky smile. “They’re in my bedside table. I don’t think I can get them myself.”

I tried not to look excited by the reveal in case she misinterpreted my happiness. It wasn’t the drugs I cared about – it was the fact she trusted me with the fact that they existed. That was enough to carry me through any cravings that popped up. They were few, but like always, they were there.

I funneled those feelings into my caretaking, grabbing her a water bottle and helping her ease back down onto the pillow after she’d down the pills. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, listening to soft sound of the theme song in the background.

Just as I shifted my focus back to the TV, she brought me back to her with a tiny whisper.

“You have nothing to be jealous of.”

I looked down to see she still had closed eyes, now accompanied with a genuine smile. I laughed at the sight, and her eyelids fluttered open at the sound. She narrowed her eyes into a suspicious glare.

“Yeah, I... may or may not have said that.” I admitted, wiggling my fingers between hers.

“Tsk tsk tsk. Very cocky, Dr. Reid.” She chastised, squeezing my hand tighter and bringing it up to her chest. I could feel her heart beating softly against us, her chest slowly rising and falling as she started to try to drift off again.

“What else did you guys talk about?”

“Nothing that matters. Let’s go to sleep.”

It was a suggestion that didn’t need to be made, because she was basically already asleep by the time she replied, “Okay. I love you.”

“Sweet dreams, little girl.”

—————————————————

The best part of the week was waiting for the chance to spend two uninterrupted days with (y/n). But this time it was different; when I left her house this morning, she told me she wanted some time to herself.

I tried to ignore the fifty alarm bells that rang in my head, convincing myself that she just needed a break from entertaining me. We all needed alone time sometimes, right?

No, that was a lie. I didn’t ever need a break from her, and it worried me that she needed one from me. Was I stressing her out? Were there more secrets she was keeping from me? It had to be something heavy if she didn’t want me to know, but that’s exactly the time she would need me most, right?

It was times like this when I wished that I had more experience with relationships; I was panicking and I didn’t want to ask anyone for help. I didn’t want to. I was scared that they might tell me the wrong thing, or the right thing. I was worried they might talk some sense into me and tell me that waiting outside my girlfriend’s apartment was creepy, stalkerish behavior.

I knew it was. I tried to justify it with a present that I was going to leave on her doorstep and leave. But when I got to her place, a dread filled me. I shouldn’t have come. She deserved her privacy and my trust. She’d earned it, and it wasn’t right for me to doubt her.

So, I turned my car back on and prepared to leave. But before I could, I saw her. Alone.

We’d talked about it before, and she’d promised me she wouldn’t go anywhere alone. The risks were too high – not just that she might fall or get stranded, but that something could go seriously wrong. Her stitches could tear, or she could overexert herself. She could get into a car crash and no one would know about her already existing internal damage.

She wasn’t supposed to go anywhere alone. She’d promised me. But there she was, climbing into her car after suspiciously glancing around. Her car left so quickly, I barely had time to think about the ethics of following her. After a few seconds of wrestling with myself, I decided to just do it and worry about the consequences later.

I’d admit it to her later, when she was safe and sound. Maybe it would be good, too, to see that she was fine without me. I just wished she’d told me so I could come to her aid if she needed me to.

After nearly twenty minutes of driving, I still had no idea where she was going. I was a little surprised she hadn’t noticed me yet, which just goes to show she probably shouldn’t have been driving.

Actually, was she on narcotics?

My mind was spinning, my hands shaking when she finally pulled into a small, unfamiliar cemetery parking lot off the side of the road.

For all her paranoia leading up to this point, she didn’t check the other cars in the lot when she got out. Instead, she put her hand on her stomach and slowly made her way through the gate, hobbling off into the field.

And then I felt terrible for so many reasons. I selfishly felt awful that she didn’t want to bring me here. It hurt that I was violating her trust like this, but it hurt worse to know she was going through it alone.

Leaning back in my seat, I let out a shaky breath and closed my eyes, trying to calm down the emotional disaster of my mind. I didn’t need to follow her, I thought. She would come back in a little while, and I could watch her get back in her car. She would make it home, and I could call her and ask her how her day was. Maybe she’d even tell me herself.

God, I was such an idiot. I shouldn’t have come, but now I was here, and I couldn’t leave, either. This was the time she was most likely to be in danger, since the cemetery was relatively empty.

Just as that thought occurred to me, another car pulled in. it wouldn’t have mattered much to me, but the thing that followed caught my attention.

The woman inside the car climbed out and made a beeline to (y/n)’s car, peering into the windows and taking photos of the license plate. At first, I did nothing, trying to keep track of everything that was happening, noting the unfamiliar woman’s license plate number in turn.

But then she took off in the same direction my girlfriend had left in, and I realized that I couldn’t just wait here. This woman clearly knew her, and from the looks of it, it was not going to be a friendly encounter.

This is why, I thought. This is why I made her promise.

I couldn’t just run out after her yet, so I followed as closely as I could without being clearly visible, relying on sounds, instead. But what I heard was somehow even more distressing than when I could see.

“What are you doing here?! You aren’t allowed to be here!” A scratchy, unfamiliar voice rang through the air. Even if I didn’t already know, her tone alone told me that a fight was about to follow.

I bit down on my tongue, trusting that (y/n) could handle herself. She’d done it before me, and she could do it now. The only thing worse than revealing my presence would be doing it while also discrediting her.

“Mrs. Loughton! I can explain!”

At least I finally had a name for the face, but that was about as far as my thoughts went before they turned to red. Because the only thing I could hear after that was the sound of skin against skin, and the gentle thud of someone hitting the ground.

“Get the hell out of here, you bitch!” The woman screeched, and by the time I came into view, I saw my girlfriend on her hands and knees, holding the very visible red mark on her face. Neither of them saw me, too caught up in each other to notice.

It was the panic on her face, the way she lifted both hands to cover her head when the woman grabbed a fistful of her hair that broke my silence.

“Hey! Get away from her!” I shouted, running over to the two women. Mrs. Loughton released (y/n)’s hair, causing her to drop back onto her hands and knees while she looked up at me with an angry, frazzled stare.

“Spencer?!”

“Who the hell are you?” The woman spat, redirecting her anger towards me. I much preferred it this way.

“I’m a law enforcement agent, and you just assaulted someone.”

“Assault? Ha!” She laughed, talking over me as if she’d heard the speech a million times before. I got the impression this wasn’t the first time the two have had a showdown. “That’s funny, considering.”

“Spencer, please leave.” The fear overtook any other emotion, and the tears welled so quickly in her eyes it hurt my chest. I couldn’t leave. There was no way I could leave her on her knees in front of this woman.

“Let me guess, are you one of her dad’s friends?” She sneered, but all I could hear was (y/n) continuing to plead.

“Spencer. Go away.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I couldn’t breathe, my chest heaving with unbridled rage, confusion, and something else I couldn’t even place.

“Oh I bet you are one of his friends. Always protecting her. You’re all a bunch of pathetic, power-hungry lowlifes.”

(Y/n) stood up now, neither of us paying any attention to the raving woman while I tried to help her up. “Please, I want to leave.” She pleaded, grabbing my hand so tightly that it trembled.

“Are you a murderer, too?”

“What are you talking about?!” I snapped, my arms wrapping possessively around (y/n) like I could shield her from everything that was happening. But I couldn’t, and I heard her soft sobs while she pulled on my shirt, now wet with her tears.

“That stupid, selfish little bitch knows exactly what she did, and she knows that she’s not allowed anywhere near here!” Her face was red, her arms waving and tears sprouting in her eyes while she ran out of breath. Then, deathly quiet, she pursed her lips and tried to bite her tongue. But she couldn’t, the words bursting through when she saw the way I held (y/n).

“If you really are a law enforcement agent, then get her the fuck out of here! She’s not allowed on this property!”

“She hasn’t done anything!”

It was the wrong thing to say, and she let me know swiftly and with full force.

“She’s the reason my son is dead!” She shrieked, stepping towards me with an accusing finger in my face. “It was her friends, her drugs, her horrible decisions and now my baby is gone!”

I hated this part. Because as much as I loved (y/n), it was impossible not to hear the absolute devastation in this woman’s voice. And the longer she talked, the more I understood what was happening. Not enough to argue back, but enough to feel sympathy for them both.

More than anything, I wanted to protect (y/n), but I didn’t know how. I held her tighter, trying to show her that she was safe. I’m afraid it had the opposite effect, and she started to fight my embrace.

“It should have been her! She should follow in her father’s footsteps and do the world a favor and...” She cut herself off, knowing the weight of her words and contemplating them a moment longer before making her decision. “And just fucking disappear!”

The shock of it all caused my arms to loosen – just barely. It was enough, though, and before I knew it (y/n) had burst from my arms, taking off at full speed through the headstones.

“(Y/n)!” I choked, going to run after her, but I was stopped one final time.

“Yeah, get the hell out of here.” The woman behind me softly sobbed, trembling as the fight left her. “Go protect her like you always do. They always do.”

I couldn’t stay on the thought; I’d have to come back to it later, because there were more pressing concerns for me than a stranger who’d just hurt the woman I loved. So I turned around and booked it after her just as she slipped through the gate and disappeared into the cover of the woods around the cemetery.

Naturally, she couldn’t stay on the level, manicured grass. My heart was pounding not just at the energy exerted to follow her, but from all the different things that could go wrong. She could fall, she could run into something, she could get lost.

But luckily, even the adrenaline couldn’t stop the pain in her stomach, and she’d barely gotten anywhere before I caught up to her. I loosely caught her wrist, pulling her gently back to me before she nearly collapsed in my arms.

“(Y/n), where do you think you’re going? You can’t be running like this! Especially not here; it’s way too dangerous!” I said through my labored breaths. Then we stopped, and she protested at my touch.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked calmer now, lifting her back onto her feet. “Did she hurt you?” When I went to lift her shirt to inspect her wound, she brought her hand down in a hard slap.

“Stop, Spencer! Just fucking stop! Don’t touch me! Get away from me!”

The venom dripped from her tongue and burned my skin, my hands jumping back away from her as I took a step back. All the negative emotions that I’d just watched her go through were growing and morphing into a painful anger, and it was all aimed at me.

I deserved it.

“Why the fuck are you even here?! I told you I wanted to be alone today, a-and now you’re what, y-you’re following me?!”

I wished I could just shut up, but the words flowed out of me like I had any right to be angry with her over a promise that didn’t even seem to matter anymore. “And it’s a good thing I did. That woman could have seriously hurt you!”

“Who cares!”

“I do!” My voice strained at the volume I used to match hers. Our angry shouting disrupted the wildlife and broke through the sounds of cars traveling on the highway on the other side of the trees. “You might not care about what happens to you, (y/n), but it matters to me!”

“Why the fuck are you yelling at me?!” And then the sniffles turned to outright sobs, her whole body shaking, her hands cradling her face while she struggled under the weight of everything that had happened so quickly.

I shouldn’t have come here, but I was glad I had. I wished none of this had happened. I just wanted to hold her, but she stepped away when I got closer, defensively covering her head. My heart shattered at the thought of her being scared of me.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I said genuinely, my voice still breaking, but now at an acceptable volume. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be yelling, I-I just… I got scared. I thought you were going to get hurt again and I—“

“Sometimes I’m going to get hurt, Spencer. I can’t put my life on hold for your comfort. I’m only twenty years old. I’m not ready to be a housewife waiting at home for you!” She was quick, stumbling over her words and waving her arms between us in the hopes it would force me to keep my distance.

I didn’t want to hurt her, I never wanted that. And right now, it was very obvious that’s exactly what I was doing. “Of course. I want you to have a life, but you…”

Her hand was back on her stomach, and the action caused a sudden panic that overwhelmed the logic and sense. “You were shot!” I cried, “You almost died in my arms! I thought I was going to lose you, forever.”

She couldn’t reply yet, her lungs too busy trying to take in hungry breaths without irritating the hardly healed skin.

I clenched my eyes shut, unable to look at it any longer. “It’s been barely a month, (y/n). A-And you’re already sneaking around behind my back and putting yourself in danger and I don’t know how I’m supposed to just turn a blind eye to that.”

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” She panted; the words hardly audible. Her skin was damp with sweat from the pain that was obviously written all over her.

This time, when I stepped closer, she couldn’t move away. I didn’t hold her yet, opting instead to place one hand on her hip and the other on the side of her face. She sighed, resting her head against my hand. She said she didn’t want to talk to me, but the way she closed her eyes and her heartrate immediately calmed down with the simplest touch told me that she wanted nothing more than for me to pick her up and take her home.

“I know you’re trying to distract me from whatever the hell just happened out there, but you don’t have to do that.” I whispered, gently wiping away her tears with my thumb. “If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to.”

“Oh, you’re just going to let it go?” I couldn’t decide what was more simultaneously heartbreaking and adorable, her pauses to sniffle, or the way she pouted as she spoke. “You aren’t going to ask me every night until you get an answer?”

“If that’s what it takes for you to trust me again, then yes. I’ll let it go.” I reassured her. She took the answer with an immense amount of relief, leaning forward to rest all of her body weight against me. I tried to stop her from falling too far or too hard, hoping to ease the pain that was already wrecking her.

But she didn’t even seem to notice, rubbing her face against my shirt and further soaking it with tears. I just wanted her to be okay, and I wished I could do it faster. For now, all I could do was pet the back of her head, rocking just a bit to the side in a soothing manner.

We stayed like that for a long time, and I occasionally pressed a kiss to her forehead, whispering soft apologies to her and telling her that I loved her, no matter what. Eventually, she responded, her voice filled with guilt and shame again.

“I was going to tell you eventually.”

“I believe you.” I immediately responded, pulling her back to look at me to know that I was telling her the truth. “I love you. You know that, right?”

She gave the tiniest, saddest nod back.

“I would never try to hurt you.” I promised, earning a slanted smile. I mirrored it back to her, which made her laugh.

The sounds of the highway paired with the rustling of the leaves, and the two of us shared a quiet moment of understanding. Because I knew I shouldn’t have come, but I was glad I was there, and she felt very much the same.

“I’d like to go home, please.”

“Okay.” I agreed, taking her hand and maneuvering the woods that didn’t seem nearly as dangerous when her hand was in mine. “Let’s go home.”

—————————————————

“Hotch, I need to ask you for a favor.”

The man didn’t even look up from his desk, and I could tell from his posture that he wasn’t in the mood for the conversation he expected to follow. I couldn’t blame him; I hadn’t been the easiest employee to have for the past couple of weeks.

“Reid, we’ve talked about this. You either have to come back completely or—“

“No, sorry, this… isn’t about that.” I corrected, trying to ease the tension before it got any worse. Unfortunately, he still seemed combative, although there was now a guilt mixed in the frustration.

“I need to talk to you about (y/n)’s father.” I clarified, my voice breaking mid-sentence. I cleared my throat, trying to make eye contact despite the nerves gnawing at the little self-esteem I had.

But after a brief moment of thought, Hotch waved me forward, gesturing to the seat in front of him. He shoved the papers to the side and I wondered what it was he was working so hard on. I had a feeling it had to do with her, but I wasn’t going to ask.

“Does she know you’re asking me about this?”

It was the first question, and although I fully expected him to ask it, I still choked on an answer. He sighed deeply, his hands folding on his desk. He wasn’t able to look at me, either.

“Reid…”

“I-I’m really worried about her.” I needed him to hear the desperation in my voice, to feel just how scared I really was. I didn’t want to come running to him for every little thing involving her — he’d already done so much for her just fending off the prosecutors.

I knew we were both tired, but I could see it in his eyes and hear it in his tone when he talked about her that she meant something to him, too. Even if it wasn’t nearly as much, he’d known her when she was a kid.

Well, I guess to Hotch, she still was. I hated to exploit that knowledge, but I needed answers now. Before something else went horribly wrong. So I broke into a rant, my hands running through my hair and down my legs as I tried to prevent them from turning to fists at the memory.

“The other day she did something and she got into a physical altercation with another woman a-and she told (y/n) that she should follow her father’s footsteps and…” The word caught in my throat. He narrowed his eyes, and I suspected he already knew what I was about to say.

“Disappear.”

Across from the desk, he tensed, bowing his head to look at the files lining the surface in front of him. Every single one of them contained a plethora of information about someone’s family. Someone’s everything.

“What did she mean, Hotch?”

“Reid, the information in that file is not only classified, it’s extremely personal. I’m sure she doesn’t know all the details herself. I think it’s best for you to hear it from her.” He explained it so robotically, I could tell he didn’t want to be saying it. The way his jaw clenched told me that there was a lot he wished he could discuss about whatever the hell happened.

It must be a lonely way to live, I thought. And then I thought of her, carrying the weight of uncertainty on top of whatever Hotch held. She was strong, but she was young. She had been even younger then, and she wouldn’t have had the one man who’d taught her to survive to teach her how to handle what came next.

I wrung my hands together. I didn’t mean to be manipulative, but tears stung at my eyes. They were real, and they were persuasive.

“I just need to know that she’s safe.” I begged. “But your reaction isn’t telling me that at all. In fact, it’s telling me the exact opposite.”

Now that I’d started, the words wouldn’t stop.

“If my girlfriend is in danger, I need to know. It’s not like I care about the mission or whatever her father was wrapped up in — I-I just want to know what happened to him. This woman knew, so apparently it’s not that classified!”

My voice grew in volume, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I could feel his face morph into a scowl even as I clenched my eyes tightly shut. There was so much I hated about this, but nothing more than knowing that despite everything I’ve done, I still couldn’t reach out to her and help her when she needed me.

I was still failing her, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

“Reid, stop.”

Hotch must have been able to read my mind, because something inside of him also snapped, the tension releasing from his shoulders and his jaw. I wondered if it was because he trusted me not to give it away, or if it was because he trusted her.

Either way, he spoke, his voice low and hushed.

“I need you to understand that what I’m about to tell you has never been confirmed, and should not be shared outside of this room. Even with her.”

Sitting up with a straight back and a heavy swallow, I nodded.

“I understand.”

—————————————————

| Part 17 |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds self insert #reid series #reid x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spence reid #spencer reid angst #angst #h2m

1K notes · View notes

dixie12 · 3 years

Text

secret!sub!jonny, and pat finally finds out!

Jonny is acting weird. Like, really weird. They won the cup less than three weeks ago- Jonny should barely be sober, should be reaping the rewards of captaining the team to a second cup: free drinks, the admiration of the entire city, and the bevy of subs quite literally throwing themselves at his feet whenever he steps out of his front door. And sure, Jonny had seemed to enjoy it all for the first week or so, going out with the guys, letting them douse him in champagne, giving throaty victory speeches at the parade and chugging beers that adoring fans tossed at him.

But the fun seemed to melt away pretty quickly after that, with Jonny getting tense and twitchy. He’d still go out with the team, probably because he knew Pat would physically drag him out if he tried to bow out this early in the celebrations. But he was distant, constantly checking his phone, eyes taking on a faraway look that was almost familiar to Pat, though he couldn’t figure out why. And despite the gorgeous men and women who approached Jonny every night, Pat didn’t think he’d picked up even once.

It was one thing to hold off during the playoffs; Jonny was big on focusing and not being distracted, and “not wasting unnecessary energy, Pat.” Sure, planning a scene could take a little work sometimes, which Pat never minded, even during playoffs, but he understood that Jonny had always felt differently about that. But it was the off-season now, and they had weeks until they needed to start thinking about upping their training or even going to the convention. Now was the time to indulge. Pat certainly was; day-drinking, golf and baseball games during the hot summer days, a different sub in his bed most nights.

Jonny had never really talked about his hook-ups in the locker room, not the way some guys did, visceral play-by-plays of all the paces they put their subs through, but Pat had always assumed he was just a gentleman, didn’t want to kiss and tell. Or, well, spank and tell, or whatever. But he’d never have predicted that Jonny would turn celibate when his popularity in the city had never been higher. Last night, an actual Playboy model, one who Pat recognized immediately, spent close to an hour hitting on Jonny, standing close, looking up at him adoringly through her lashes, stroking his shoulders and snuggling herself under his arm whenever Jonny moved. Instead of taking her up on the incredibly obvious come-on, Jonny looked even more awkward than usual. Pat watched as Jonny shifted himself away from her, putting distance between them, angling his body away from hers, eyes wary and back rigid. The girl gave it her all but finally realized it wasn’t going to happen tonight, walking away from Jonny in her four-inch heels and showing off an ass that nearly made Patrick cry with envy.

Even from across the bar, Pat could see how tightly Jonny’s jaw was clenched, the tension radiating from his body. Pat watched as Jonny threw back the rest of his drink and turned, walking right past their table and out of the bar. He didn’t even throw a glance in their direction, heading straight into the street. Pat exchanged confused looks with the rest of the guys, but no one seemed to have an answer for Jonny’s behavior. Pat pulled out his phone, looking for a text from Jonny to at least say he was heading out. He had a lot of offers to party, and text threads with most of the team that just amounted to them texting “we won the cup!!!” back and forth every day, but nothing from Jonny. Pat sent him a quick “everything ok, man?” but then let himself be distracted by the boys.

In the morning, well, afternoon, to be honest, when Pat woke up, he still hadn’t heard anything from Jonny, and seriously, that was enough. Whatever was going on with him was getting worse instead of better, and Pat was sick of it. He had nothing on his schedule for the day, and he decided that he was going to drag the truth out of Jonny one way or another. He usually texted Jonny to let him know he was coming over, but at this point, he was worried Jon might actually throw the deadbolt on him. No, the element of surprise was definitely what he needed.

He thought about bringing food as a peace offering, but if Jon was already feeling off for whatever reason, he probably wouldn’t appreciate the gesture. Providing like that was something that doms did for their subs, and while Pat and Jonny didn’t really let that stop them most of the time, Pat didn’t want to start things off on the wrong foot. Better to make sure Jonny felt comfortable in his own space before Pat started digging for answers.

Pat walked the few blocks to Jonny’s apartment, rolling over possibilities in his mind on the way. Jonny definitely wasn’t seeing anyone, so relationship trouble wasn’t on the list. He’d just seen Jonny’s family when they were in town for the parade, and they were all doing great, his parents enjoying their retirement and David back in school studying sports management. They shared the same agent, and Jonny had been on fire during the playoffs, so their contracts shouldn’t be a concern, either. By the time Pat arrived at Jonny’s apartment, he was no closer to an answer than when he started, but starting to worry even more. If it wasn’t something obvious, but it was still stressing Jonny out this badly, maybe it was serious. Could Jonny be sick? A wave of horror washed over Pat as he remembered a few hard hits Jonny had taken over the six weeks of playoff hockey. Maybe the concussion was back? He hurried in the front door of Jonny’s building, unable to wait any longer.

Jon’s doorman waved at him, asking if Pat wanted him to call up to Jon, but Pat shook his head, grateful when the doorman just nodded and pointed towards the elevator bank. Pat had to stop himself from pacing back and forth in the small space, focused on taking a few deep breaths, fighting his growing sense of panic.

He barely waited for the doors to open before he was off, half-jogging down the hallway to Jonny’s apartment. He grabbed his keyring, flipped to Jonny’s and unlocked the door, giving a quick knock as he walked in.

Jonny was sitting on his couch, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees, head hanging between them. He looked… fragile, almost, like he was struggling to hold himself together. Small, in a way that Jonny never was.

“Hey, man,” Pat started, and Jonny’s head bolted upright, clearly surprised. Jonny’s apparent shock made Pat even more uncomfortable; a dom should never be caught by surprise like that in his own space, should always be acutely aware of his surroundings, ready to defend them at a moment’s notice. Admittedly, Jonny’s high-rise, protected as it was by a 24/7 security desk and locked door, wasn’t exactly vulnerable, but Jon’s inattention still made Pat’s skin crawl with unease.

“Pat,” Jonny said, looking away quickly, and that, too, was unusual, the lack of eye contact a startling departure for Jonny. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting company,” he continued, and his voice was quiet, projected towards the floor rather than Pat.

Pat was at a loss for words, unsure of what to say and unsettled at Jon’s behavior. He waited for Jonny to fill the silence, but Jon didn’t say anything else, didn’t even get up to offer Pat a bro-hug or a drink, just kept hanging his head, fidgeting with his hands so much that Pat longed to go over to him, grasp Jonny’s hands in his own and settle him down. He shook his head once, trying to get a handle on himself. Doms didn’t need “settling down,” not from other doms, at least, and Pat didn’t know where the urge had come from. Jonny just wasn’t acting much like a dom right now, and it was messing with Pat.

The silence hung in the air for a few more moments, and then Jonny visibly gathered himself, taking a deep breath and looking up at Pat.

“Sorry, man,” he said, voice flat but sounding a little more like himself. He gestured down at his phone and continued “just got a text from Dan. His grandfather died, and he has to go to France for a few weeks, handle the estate.” His voice trailed off at the end, eyes taking on that same familiar look Pat had been noticing recently. Pat waited for more of an explanation, but none came. He knew that Dan was Jonny’s childhood best friend, that they usually hung out when Jonny went back to the Peg over the summer, but he had no idea why his grandfather’s death was hitting Jonny so hard.

“Sucks, man. You guys were close, then?” Pat guessed, unable to come up with another reason why Jonny seemed so upset.

“No. I’d never actually met him, he moved back to France like thirty years ago.”

Pat was even more confused now, but he kept his mouth shut, waiting for an explanation. Jon’s shoulders hunched down even further, like he didn’t have the strength to hold himself up anymore.

“I just... usually, Dan and I..” Jonny was struggling, words forced out a few at a time, breath coming more quickly, “we.. he.. He helps me out,” Jonny finished, and his voice broke on the last word. He turned to look at Pat, then, and he looked impossibly young, expression crumpled and miserable. His eyes were wide and lost, filling with tears, and Pat saw fear there. Fear that he knew he would never see from a dom, but that his hindbrain recognized right away.

Later, he was so incredibly thankful that he moved on instinct, ignoring six years of etiquette, decorum and careful boundaries. Ignoring all of it in his haste to get his hands on Jonny. At the time, it felt impossible to do anything else. He was at Jonnys’s side in just a few steps, dropping onto the couch next to him, cupping the back of his neck with one hand and pulling Jonny down into his chest. Soothe, his mind insisted. Make it better. Make him safe. And Pat did, holding Jonny close, stroking his hair with one hand while the other rubbed circles on his back.

“It’s ok, baby, I’ve got you,” Pat whispered. He didn’t know what exactly he was expecting, for Jonny to fight him, maybe, jerk away and ask what the fuck Pat thought he was doing. Pat felt the strong muscles of Jonny’s back tense under his hand for just a few seconds before his entire body melted, letting Pat take his weight.

Pat kept them there, pet names and praise falling easily from his lips, as he felt the world snap into place. It almost made sense, now. Jonny rarely picked up, never talked about his hook-ups. He flushed red in the locker room sometimes, and darted his gaze away when reporters complimented him. He was unusually touchy with his family, letting his mother muss his hair and kiss his forehead, letting David push him around. Taken together like that, and stripping away the underlying assumption that Jonny had to be a dom, it painted a pretty clear picture of what Jonny had desperately been trying to hide all of these years.

Fuck.

A sub. Jonny was a sub. A sub who was desperate for a kind touch and a sweet word right now. Pat remembered that strange phone call from last summer, when Jonny sounded so fucked out, calling him ‘Patrick’ before Dan took the phone away, and the last piece slotted into place. Dan must be Jonny’s dom, or at least a dom that Jonny felt comfortable submitting to, probably the only one. It explained why he always disappeared to Winnipeg right after the season, virtually unreachable for a week. And it explained why Jonny was so upset that Dan would be out of the country. Pat figured Jonny had been getting by on sheer determination, willing himself to just make it back to Winnipeg where he could finally let go, finally be himself, and finding out today that that wouldn’t happen must have broken him.

Shit, judging by how easily Jonny was accepting his touch, he probably hadn’t submitted for close to a year now. Pat couldn’t imagine getting up every day, making it through four brutal rounds of the Stanley Cup playoffs, playing his heart out and leaving it all on the ice the way that Jonny had done while fighting down the instinct and desire to submit. Never being able to let go the way his body would have been demanding, yearning for. Never being able to let his guard down for an instant, always vigilant against people finding out. Pat was filled with pride at Jonny’s strength, but there was an unfamiliar feeling of shame, as well. Unfamiliar, but not unknown, and Pat recognized it as the feeling he got when he’d let his sub down. When someone had put their complete trust in him and he was found undeserving of it. Jonny wasn’t his sub, but Pat still felt responsible for him now. He knew Jonny better than anyone, and he’d been blind to this secret that seemed so obvious now.

Jonny stirred against his chest, and Pat stroked a hand under his chin, tilted his head up to look at him. Jon’s pupils were blown wide, eyes glassy, cheeks a rosy, delicious pink. Pat had never seen a sub look more beautiful in his submission.

He wanted Jonny to get whatever he needed out of this, knew it was what was right for Jon’s physical and mental wellbeing to let him stay in subspace, but the couch was getting uncomfortable. He looked around for a kneeler for Jon before realizing that there weren’t any. Weren’t any accessories, actually- no cushions, no cuffs strewn around, no paddles or crops, and his heart broke again at what Jonny was depriving himself of for hockey. For the team. For Pat.

Pat reached behind him, hands grabbing for a pillow from the back of the couch. He found one, dropping it on the floor, and nudged Jonny gently. Jon’s eyes opened slowly, eyelids fluttering like he was dragging them against a heavy weight, and his breathing was slow and deep. His brow creased as he looked up at Pat.

“Patrick?” he asked, and that one word came out in such a honey-sweet reverent tone that Pat knew immediately he never wanted to hear anyone else say it again.

“Yea, baby, I’m right here. Just want you to be comfortable,” Pat answered, gesturing down at the pillow at his feet.

“Is,” Jonny cleared his throat, “is this ok?”

“Sweetheart, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

#secret!sub!jonny #1988 #blackhawks fic #jonny needs to let go #pat is there to catch him #pat finds out

43 notes · View notes

fluffleforce-mysdrym · 3 years

Text

Steadfast - October Writing Prompt

Thank you to @toastvogel for suggesting Chyrus. He is the best paragon <3

..................

The Archon sits on no throne, but even without one, many kyrian often see her as a more distant figure. It is understandable. Even if she wasn’t a god, she is the leader of the realm. By her will is Bastion maintained, and by her hand are the ascended directed. There is more work that goes into doing even those two dealings than most will ever know, and she does so much more than that. It is a wonder she ever has time to address any of her subjects.

In that way, Chyrus can’t help but wonder—hope, really—whether she is at least somewhat protected from some of what is happening right now. She is not at the temples, watching their brethren fall before each other’s blades. She can feel the realm wither around her, in spite of her will, but she cannot see how that crushes the spirits of those relying on her unwavering resolve. She is spared their doubts.

Until those doubts become too powerful.

And then she is blindsided with the betrayal.

Because most anyone else could have seen something like this coming. Perhaps not on such a grand scale, but there were signs, clear as the skies over Bastion.

Chyrus frowns as the sound of a broken chime reaches his ears. With a quick inspection, he finds the culprit underfoot, half crushed under his large toes. Kneeling, he picks them up gingerly, the lute-like chimes tiny in his palm, and the ring they used to hang on broken.

It’s hard to imagine what could have damaged it so. Someone getting thrown into it and their weapon catching it just right? Or had one of their many attackers been so overcome with rage that the sound of the gentle instrument filled them with such animosity that they wanted to make sure they would never play again?

There has been so much heartache in Bastion throughout the eons.

Bastion’s pride is its noble cause, but perhaps it is because he does not cling to such emotion that Chyrus has always been able to see the melancholic undercurrent. The broken hearts sent back to Oribos to be judged anew because they could not relinquish the memories of their mortal lives has always been there. Friends and students alike have ‘fallen short’ over the years. He wonders where they’ve gone, sometimes—those he remembers.

And there are those who have done as was required of them, who sometimes quietly peruse their old memories, watching the foreign stories play out with a quiet resignation that their sacrifice was for the greater good. Still, sacrifices are nothing if they are not mourned from time to time.

As Chyrus peers around to see if there are any other pieces of the little chimes to be gathered—to be given to someone with smaller hands who needs so desperately something to focus on other than the present—the sound of large wings grow closer.

He catches the last bit of pipe beneath his foot as Thenios lands, unintentionally scattering the debris left in the forsworn’s latest attack with his great wings.

Chyrus offers him a word of greeting before picking up the chime. It wouldn’t do to forget it, and even though there was no proof of it, Chyrus has often felt like little objects could have a feel to them. They could know when they are broken and appreciate when they are repaired.

It’s a notion Visephone smiles to think of, and one that Xandria will mull over before irritably asking questions that have no answers. Simple things that cannot be done in front of their charges, but are held precious in those fleeting moments when the paragons are alone together.

This is not going to be such a moment, Chyrus can tell, if only by the thin line of Thenios’ lips.

That doesn’t stop Chyrus from giving him a simple smile himself. “What brings you all the way out here?”

Thenios stands tall and firm, armor shining in Bastion’s radiance.

That in itself makes Chyrus’ heart hurt. Thenios does not don his armor for any occasion.

Or he didn’t. Not before the forsworn, before Devos’ betrayal. Though he would never voice it, Chyrus often suspects that Devos fall from grace affected Thenios the most severely of them all, hitting him harder than even the Archon.

How often had the two visited each other’s temples in casual attire to sprawl out together and read. Thenios usually brought the scrolls and books, and Devos was always pleased to see whatever it was that he had for her. She’d once told him he could make even the driest, most technical of reports sound fascinating.

Chyrus can still remember finding them curled up together, feathers fluffed up as they read through something that wasn’t work related, and how Xandria had hounded them about how adorable they were for weeks after, insisting to Visephone that she had missed something absolutely precious.

When it was just them, of course. When they have those fleeting moments where they can simply be people instead of unyielding leaders.

Thenios hasn’t taken his armor off since Devos’ death.

The paragon motions for Chyrus to follow him, and they both take flight, soaring out into the fields where they will not be overheard.

Their feet have barely touched into the soft grasses when Thenios begins to speak, unable to contain himself any longer. His voice is a mix of its usual matter-of-fact tone used to inspire confidence among his aspirants and something else, something almost accusatory. “The Maw Walker has recovered some records for me. Salvaging what the forsworn are so hasty to destroy in their hunt for whatever they think matters more.”

“We are fortunate to have such help—”

“They brought me this.”

There is nothing particularly noteworthy about the record in Thenios’ palm, but Chyrus knows what it will be before it plays. Funny that he was just remembering this aspirant as he surveyed the damage to his temple. She had been close to ascension when she fell. She came to him, telling him that the path had taken everything from her, made her into someone she didn’t recognize.

She had been the latest in a long line of those who were not meant for the path after all.

Chyrus listens to his own disembodied voice recount the incident and remembers musing about whether there was another way for those within Bastion, a way that didn’t require a complete abandonment of the past.

The reasons for the path’s current route were valid, of course. No good came from ferrymen who judged the souls they collected.

It was a hard path, but it was one that had served them well for almost all of eternity. And if it weren’t for the lack of judgment in Oribos…

Chyrus makes no offer to take the record from Thenios, more than a little sure that if he did try, it would be denied him. Instead, he waits for Thenios to make whatever point he is there for. A chiding perhaps that such a thing was left where aspirants could find it?

“Did she ever talk to you?”

The question is a surprise, a reminder that Chyrus cannot predict everything his fellow paragon will think or do, and it hangs between them.

“No,” Chyrus finally replies. The word feels cruel somehow in its succinctness. “The first—and only—time I heard of Devos’ dissatisfaction with the path was when she told us of Uther’s injury.”

Thenios flinches at her name. No armor can protect him from his memories, and Chyrus has been worried about what will happen to him. Forgetting their fallen brethren will be nigh impossible. Their paths were far too entwined and to take her away would leave him with so much emptiness…

Chyrus has already lost so many, his heart breaks at the mere of thought of who else may fall, of who might be left a shell of their former selves because of hearbreak they can’t overcome.

“She told me.” Thenios voice cracks at the last word. He is quiet a moment before clearing his throat, his composure regained. “I told her to be careful the sort of thing she said.” His chin inclines, gaze skyward. “I did not think…I did not know that you had wondered about this very thing.”

“Haven’t we all?” Chyrus offers gently. None of them are above doubts, after all. He reaches out and lightly places a hand on Thenios’ arm, a connection his friend so clearly needs. The action startles Thenios out of his thoughts.

“If I’d listened…if I had let her talk…hadn’t let her feel so—” Thenios curls his fingers around the record, practically crushing it in his hand as he lowers it to his side, fist shaking. “How could she have… the Jailer.”

His voice cracks again, and this time he stops talking, a tremor in his jaw as he clenches it.

With a quick step, Chyrus reaches out and wraps Thenios in a hug, ignoring the way the bits of armor poke into his bare arms. There is hesitation, and then Thenios grips Chyrus back, clinging to him like a drowning man in a stormy sea.

There is not enough time. There may never be, but here, now, Chyrus is acutely aware of how damaged his friend is and how there are people who need both of them to be unbreakable pillars.

It is cruel that he can offer Thenios so little of his time. Chyrus makes himself a silent vow that he will be there for his friend, to properly mourn what they have lost when things are finally set right.

When Thenios pulls away, a shiver runs through his feathers and for a moment, Chyrus thinks he may take his helm off.

Instead, he takes Chyrus’ hand, surprised to find the tiny bits of broken chimes already there as he places the record among them. “I would hate the forsworn to get this and think you would be a good target to convert.”

Chyrus chooses not to point out that they have already tried. “Thank you, my friend.”

Thenios turns away and then pauses, looking back at him. “If you need someone to listen to your doubts…”

Chyrus wants to tell him that Devos’ fall is not his fault, but there is no way for words to reach, much less ease, the guilt there. Instead, he gives Thenios a nod and a gentle smile. “Of course.”

Thenios attempts something like a goodbye, but when he can’t trust his voice to hold steady, he instead dismisses himself without ceremony. Chyrus does not insult him by watching his retreat, instead turning his attention back to his temple.

There is much to be done.

#world of warcraft #chyrus #my boi #thenios #devos #thenios x devos #kyrian #Chyrus and Thenios are bros #the best bros

15 notes · View notes

hopeshoodie · 3 years

Text

Rarepair Sunday- Hopeisol

I meant to post this yesterday but petered out towards the end (how on brand is that). But here’s a fluffy little fic about Hope and Marisol going on a double date with this week’s rairpair- Bobby and Noah.

Words: ~2500

Warnings: None, maybe slight angst and mention of doing the nasty but not at all descriptions of it

When she walked into the kitchen, rummaging through her purse on the counter, Noah couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows. He exhaled out his teeth, whistling slightly. Hope looked up, a cheeky grin spreading across her face as she stepped back, forgetting the quest to find her keys.

She gestured down at herself, posing with her hips and flipping newly installed box braids over her shoulder, “How do I look?”

“Stunning.” He said without thinking. And it was true. The closest he’d seen to her going this all out was at the villa prom, but even that was a shadow of the visage standing in front of him now. The new hair style that she’d spent the better part of the day in the salon getting struck a balance between startlingly different but radiant, her expertly applied makeup sharpened her jaw and eyes flawlessly, the rich jewel tones of her body con dress made her skin glow in the low light of the apartment. But more than the look, there was a lightness in her eyes and smile. The tension that normally stiffened her shoulders had vanished, and she appeared more relaxed than he’d ever seen her.

She threw her head back with a laugh at his comment, “do you think so?”. She moved in between several poses, turning to fully show off the look and gracefully moving her arms. He couldn’t help but smile, watching her playfully lean and posture. Before he said anything else, her focus snapped to Noah, sprawled out on the couch. She walked over slowly, lips pursed in silent thought.

Hope hesitated before quietly, tentatively offering “And you look…”

Sensing her judgement he sat up, brushing the wrinkles of his dress pants away and straightening his tie. He offered her a beleaguered smile, “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“It’s fine, you look great.” She bent slightly and loosened the knot of her tie, pulling it into the proper shape then tightening it again. “I just… Do you own more than one suit?”

“What do you mean?! This is a new shirt, and tie! I picked it out specifically for this-”

“There’s no way that’s new.”

“It is!”

“If it’s new, then you have at least two of the exact same. Noah, how many navy button downs do you own?”

He blushed, looking down at himself. She offered him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before turning back to her purse. As she walked away, she quipped over her shoulder, “at least you’re not wearing a vest.”

“I look good in a vest!” He called back.

“Who looks good in a vest?” Marisol walked out of the bedroom, holding the keys that Hope was still rummaging around for. Hope spun around and her face lit up.

“Noah, allegedly.”

Marisol smiled and pressed the keys into Hope’s palm, leaning in and kissing her cheek lightly. “Aw. Are you teasing him?” Then she raised her voice so Noah could hear without looking away from Hope, “I think you look nice in vests.”

Noah’s response was lost in the fumbling of their lips, fingers seeking each other out to interlace. When she pulled away, Hope murmured, “you look beautiful.” Marisol offered her a coquettish smile before releasing her hands, “I know.” Hope’s jaw dropped and she swatted at her girlfriend, “I know” she mimicked.

“I do know! It took an hour and a half to look this good, babes,” Marisol retorted.

“Speaking of which,” Hope turned back towards the living room, “have you heard anything from him?”

“Radio silence.” Noah called back.

Marisol frowned, “I just checked the flight tracker, it said he’s still on time.”

“I knew I should’ve scheduled the reservation for later.”

Marisol slid a comforting hand around Hope’s waist, rubbing her skin gently with her thumb, “don’t go into damage control yet. We don’t know for sure either way.” Hope leaned into her hand, but didn’t say anything. After a bit, Marisol turned back to Noah, sensing she needed to take control.

“Well the plane’s still landing at 6:00, so we might as well assume everything’s fine. I’m sure you’ll get a text during the drive. Let’s just get going.”

Noah nodded silently, a look in his eyes that meant he wasn’t sharing his concerns. But he still stood up, grabbing his coat off the back of the sofa. Hope smiled tightly and grabbed her purse.

“We’re gonna have a great time. Come on.” Marisol kissed Hope lightly again, then walked over to Noah. She pulled at his tie, trying to get the knot to lay flatter than it was. Noah swallowed a laugh and glanced conspiratorially over at Hope, who rolled her eyes through a smile.

The drive to the airport was quiet. Noah sat in the backseat, scrolling through his phone, and the ladies held hands up front as Hope drove. Periodically, Noah would share a news story or joke from his timeline, and they would all collectively chuckle at it. The silence that had previously been terse and anxious morphed into a comfortable, content silence.

It took another 45 minutes for them to park, go through security, and find the right gate. Noah had gotten progressively quieter, lips turned slightly downwards as they waited outside of the gate. Hope gently held his forearm, “it’ll be fine, babes.”

Noah nodded, not speaking the fact that they were all acutely aware of. It’d been five months since they’d last seen each other, the longest stretch of time they’d gone since they started dating. While they both agreed long-distance would be doable while he looked for a new job, the separation was wearing on them.

As the door opened and people started meandering through, the coil in Noah’s throat rose higher. Both Marisol and Hope gently patted and held him, sensing his anxiety. He almost brushed them off, feeling like a child, but instead he remained frozen in place, staring at the doorway.

Like it was nothing, suddenly he appeared. Frumpled shirt halfway unbuttoned, eschew, massive headphones perched around the back of his head, smile brighter than the pastel orange of his slacks. He immediately locked eyes on Noah and squeezed past the woman in front of him, running to them. Without thinking, Bobby launched himself at Noah, wrapping his arms around Noah’s neck and pulling his legs up around him as well. Noah lurched back but caught him intuitively, pulling him up into a long kiss. He had to let Bobby down earlier than he’d normally- the backpack strapped to the shorter man weighed nearly as much as Bobby did.

Bobby grinned up at him, “hey.” Noah couldn’t help himself from smiling, giddiness making his cheeks flush and eyes squint. “You were supposed to text me when you landed.”

Easing back onto his own feet, Bobby flushed, “yeah, sorry. They didn’t have ports- my phone’s completely dead.”

Noah nodded gently, “but you’re here.”

Marisol cleared her throat, and the couple glanced over at her. “Bobby, what are you wearing?”

“What do you mean, I’m-”

Hope’s face fell and Marisol cut in before she had a chance to react, “Hope made a reservation for dinner at 7. You were supposed to wear your suit on the plane… Is it in your backpack?” She disdainfully glanced at it, not relishing the wrinkles being crammed in a pack would cause.

Bobby’s face fell too, “Shit- I totally forgot-”

Hope started to match Marisol’s agitation, but instead of frustration, tears began welling in the back of her throat. “It has a dress code, Bobby-”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Noah tried to sooth them, “we’ll just swing back to your place. I have an extra shirt, and I’m sure Bobby has some more understated pants-” Bobby visible cringed, shooting a look at Noah.

Marisol nodded, using Hope’s distress to launch from anger into problem solving mode. “If we leave now we’ll have time to run back, it’s fine. Let’s do that, come on.” She gently pulled Hope into moving.

Bobby rested his head on Noah’s shoulder as they drove back, playing with his hands. They giggled between themselves, and Hope tried desperately to swallow her irritation and just be happy for them. It was good to see Bobby.

Noah always seemed to be more comfortable around him too, chatting much more and openly laughing. That was the thing that convinced her Bobby and Noah were a good couple, or at least a better couple than she and Noah ever would be. When she was with Noah, he was just as sweet and considerate as ever, but it always felt like she had to guess what he wanted. Like there was some barrier, like he was speaking a language a little too fluently for her to understand. There was no need for it either, she tried desperately to communicate with him. At times, it’d felt like he willingly stonewalled her instead of just saying what he wanted, just to be difficult. Just to be frustrating. Therapy had made Hope realize that she’d done the same, in part, focusing on little conflicts instead of addressing her underlying insecurities about the relationship.

But it still hurt some, to see how vibrant Noah became when Bobby whispered in his ear. Not that she wanted him still. But Hope had a hard time letting go, taking the L. Noah had been something she wanted so deeply, and couldn’t make work no matter how hard she tried. Maybe that was the problem, Noah’s love was a thing she wanted. With Marisol, it wasn’t like that.

Hope didn’t want, didn’t demand, Marisol’s love more than she wanted the dumb memes sent to her phone sporadically throughout the day. Than she wanted the slow and soft mornings waking up to the smell of coffee and her tender hands. More than she wanted to wrap herself in Marisol’s affection and never let go.

A relationship with Marisol was work, true, but it felt like Marisol wanted to work for it in a way Noah was never willing to. And that remained a slight bitterness in Hope’s friendship with Noah. No matter how much they’d put the show behind them, Hope couldn’t forget how in love she’d been with him. How angry she’d been. The show’s reruns made her cringe, but also caused a dull ache in her chest. Reconnecting with Marisol had dulled that ache to nearly nothing, but seeing Bobby and Noah carrying on as if Noah was never hers caused it to flare up again.

Glancing at Marisol from the road dissolved that twinge of resentment into shame. Here she was, angry that her friend had found romance in the exact same way she had, when the love of her life was quietly humming along to the radio next to her. It’s not as if Noah realizing his crush on Bobby after the show was any more disloyal than her and Marisol’s friendship growing into more with time. As much as she tried to rationalize it away, there was still a hint of frustration. Marisol quelled it but sliding a hand into Hope’s lap and gently squeezing her thigh, but Hope had to force herself to stop glancing in the rearview mirror anyways.

When they got to the apartment, Noah pulled Bobby into the guest bedroom to some side eye from Marisol. Hope sat tersely at the kitchen counter, and Marisol slid behind her, gently rubbing her shoulders.

“Don’t let it ruin your whole night babes, we’ll still make the reservation.”

Hope huffed, recognizing it was more than that but taking the out provided, “I spent so much time planning it all out. I made the reservation two months ago-”

Marisol kissed her shoulder, then her neck, whispering, “I know. We all appreciate how much time and effort you put into planning everything.”

“I just want this to be a good weekend. They haven’t see each other in forever and-”

“And they’re already really happy with each other. You can’t make yourself responsible for their relationship success, darling.”

“I’m not-” she snapped, letting out a breath when Marisol raised an eyebrow condescendingly. Without conceding, Hope sighly loudly and nodded.

The sat like that for awhile, Marisol gently running her nails across Hope’s back and Hope vacantly staring out the kitchen window. After a considerable bit, Marisol went to the bedroom door, intending to knock. She raced back with a smug grin, and blurted out in a hushed voice, “they’re shagging!”

“What?!”

“Absolutely. They are 100% going at it-”

“Are you kidding me.” Hope pushed up away from the table, spinning on her heels. Marisol caught her arm and pulled her back.

“Oh babe, come on. Don’t interrupt-”

“Our reservation started five minutes ago and you want me to-”

“They haven’t seen each other in awhile-”

“They literally just had to wait four more hours!”

“As if you haven’t been late to a meeting because we were getting a little indecent.”

“That’s not remotely the same thing,” Hope glowered at her girlfriend, and Marisol just laughed, pulling her into a tight hug and kissing her forehead.

Hope huffed again, and stomped over to the living room, dropping into the loveseat. “Fine. I won’t interrupt. I won’t urge anyone to hurry or worry about a schedule or plan anything. We’ll see how much fun everyone has when everyone just says ‘it’ll work out’ and never puts in any effort to make it work out.”

Marisol watched her storm away, then waited until she was finished. Against her better judgement, she offered, “I said I appreciated your effort.” Which earned her a sour glare. She shrugged, then turned and disappeared into the main bedroom. Hope turned on the tv and attempted to care about the cooking competition that came on. After twenty more minutes, she called in and cancelled the reservation.

Nearly an hour later, the guest bedroom door pushed open. A flushed Noah stepped out, his clothes obviously straightened but the knot of his tie sloppily done again, followed by Bobby. Bobby had put on one of Noah’s shirt, apparent from the looseness and bunching of a shirt that was far too big for him and the signature navy pattern that only Noah and newly graduated business majors would pick out. The boys had so intelligently paired the shirt Bobby was currently swimming in with a pair of khakis.

Hope turned, most of her irritation haven softened with some alone time. She barked a laugh, partially in genuine humor and partially in disbelief. “You’re going to wear that to a five star restaurant?”

Bobby blushed and Noah looked down at him. “I thought we managed to cobble a look together.”

“No tie?”

“I only brought one.” Noah raised a hand to start pulling his own off, before Hope shook her head, “It doesn’t matter. They only hold reservations for a half hour after they’re booked for.”

“I’m sorry, Hope-”

“As you should be.” Marisol walked out of the hall, she strode past Bobby and Noah, sparing a withering glance at Bobby and snorting her amusement. Without saying anything else, she opened the door and disappeared into the apartment hallway. Hope watched her go in confusion, then turned back to the boys.

“It’s fine.” Her voice softened. It was fine, really. At the end of the day, they were all together, and happy. That should be enough.

“It’s not my fault I’m so incredibly irresistible-” Bobby quipped, and Noah looked away while Hope grimaced, “gross.”

“Bobby, don’t-”

“No it’s not even true,” Hope cut in, grinning, “you look like a 9 year old trying on dad’s shirt for the first time, and you want to brag about being irresistible?”

“I make it work, lass.” Bobby pulled the back of the shirt tight, trying to give himself an hourglass figure, and posed. Hope stuck her tongue out, and he winked in return.

The door pushed open again and Marisol shoved her way through, arms full of plastic bags. Hope shook her head in confusion before rushing over to help carry things.

“When did you-”

“I know Bobby doesn’t mind, but Noah do you like pho? It’s a trick question, I already ordered it. But still.”

Noah smiled, “yeah, I’ll eat some pho-”

“Fantastic, to the terrace!”

Hope trailed behind Marisol as she led through the open screen door onto their small patio. Setting the bag of takeout down on the coffee table, she couldn’t smother her excitement.

“Babes, when did you do all this?”

“Just now.”

Marisol had toted blankets and pillows from their bedroom out to the patio furniture, and carried their TV out as well. Four three wick candles were sat on the ground, waving in the breeze, and Marisol had strung multi colored christmas lights they had in storage along the railing.

“I didn’t hear you,” Hope said, eyes twinkling as Marisol leaned in and kissed her temple.

“Yeah, and it was a pain to try to carry that thing down the stairs and out the door silently. Thank god for your lack of awareness.”

“Sod off,” Hope whispered, wrapping her arms around Marisol’s neck and kissing her deeply.

After the food was opened and everyone got settled, some movie was turned on. Hope couldn’t remember what they’d played for the life of her. But she did remember one specific moment. One warm, contented moment. Wrapped in Marisol’s arms, nestled into her side. Hope had glanced over at the boys, who’d pushed two patio chairs together and were spooning, Noah’s legs hanging off the chairs at the knee. The air rustled across her face and the sounds of the city far below harmonized with the movie audio. Hope could’ve gotten lost in Marisol’s breathing, in the comfort and safety of her arms. But she made a salient mental note not to lose that moment.

#litg #hope/marisol #my fics #my fic

16 notes · View notes

bellakitse · 4 years

Note

Hey! I love your writing and i was wondering if you would write a prompt for tarlos? I saw it and immediately thought of them. “I’m your lock screen?!” - “You weren’t supposed to see that.” thank you either way!!!

Lock screen, Home screen, and Everything in-between

“TK, am I your lock screen?” Carlos asks, grin still in place, it’s both warm and amused at once.

A picture leads to a confession.

Written for Lone Star Week Day 6 - Romance

TK Strand is in the middle of a boring shift; he knows that boring is good in his line of work; it means no one’s life or property is in danger. Firefighters are always grateful for dull days. Knowing this doesn’t change the fact that he’s bored out of his mind though. He’s been on shift for the last seven hours with another five to go, and they’ve only had one real call today that ended almost as soon as it started.

He and the rest of the crew clean around the station and detail the trucks until they gleam. Marjan, realizing he’s restless, dares him to a plank challenge where she proceeds to kick his ass. He’s fit, but there’s a very good chance Marjan is Wonder Woman. He annoys Judd into another game of foosball, only to be called a cheater again by the Texan, who’s really just a sore loser. Now, still bored, but with nothing to do, he sits on one of the couches in the common room, scrolling through his phone while Judd sits across from him reading a book. Paul fusses around in the kitchen while Marjan and Mateo play some racing game on the PlayStation.

“Take that probie!” Marjan crows triumphantly.

TK looks up just in time to see Marjan cross the finish line in the game. Shaking his head, a smile tugs at his mouth as she gloats in the probie’s face. Mateo looks back at her with reluctant affection.

He goes back to his phone, his thumb swiping up to unlock it when a weight presses behind his left shoulder.

“Hey, sweetheart,” says a familiar voice that makes his insides jump pleasantly.

He tips his head back to find his boyfriend Carlos smiling down at him, his eyes warm the way they always seem to be when they’re on him. It makes his heart skip a beat, and he has to remind himself not to act like a teenager with a crush.

“Hey you,” he greets back with a smile of his own, his reminder not really working if how big his smile feels is any indication. “What brings you by?”

“I was dropping something off for Michelle, saw that all the trucks were here and figured I’d come upstairs and – ” Carlos stops mid-sentence as something else catches his attention.

“And?” TK prompts when Carlos doesn’t continue; he frowns, confused by the broad smile taking over Carlos’ face.

“TK, am I your lock screen?” Carlos asks, grin still in place, it’s both warm and amused at once.

“What – ” TK looks down to find that his thumb is still on his phone, causing the lock screen to light up. The picture on his screen is indeed Carlos, his eyes closed with a beautiful wide smile on his face showing off his perfect pearly whites. He remembers taking the picture when Carlos was mid-laugh.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he blurts out loudly, slapping his hand over his screen.

He cringes as Judd slowly lowers his book, while Marjan and Mateo pause their game. All three look over at them with amused smiles on their faces. He’s sure if he turns around to look in the kitchen, he’ll find that Paul has stopped what he’s doing to watch them too.

“TK – “ Carlos starts softly. He can hear the gentleness in his voice but also the humor, and he feels his face grow hot at his tone, along with the grins on his crew’s faces.

Not really looking at anyone, he shoots up out of the couch. “I gotta go,” he gets out, his face growing hotter when his voice cracks.

“Where? You’re on shift!” Judd calls out to him, but TK isn’t listening, not when his sole focus is to get away from everyone’s amused looks as they watch him leave.

He turns the corner and heads for the dorm rooms. He knows his reaction is downright childish, but now that he’s started, he wants to commit to the behavior, hide under his blanket until his face isn’t so red, and he can erase from his memory the look on his crew’s faces. He finds a half-asleep Buttercup on his bed; the big mutt opens an eye to look at him. Proving how sensitive he is to TK, the second he sits down, Buttercup shifts over to rest his head on his lap, looking up at him with sleepy soulful eyes.

“Thanks, buddy,” he says softly, running his hand over the top of the dog’s head. He hears footsteps, but doesn’t bother to look up from petting the Bernese on his lap; he already knows who it is.

Carlos sits down next to him; he doesn’t say anything; instead, he just waits silently in that supportive way of his until TK is ready to speak.

“I overreacted to you seeing your picture on my phone,” he says quietly, looking up from Buttercup to Carlos. He takes in the gentle, concerned look on his face and feels something shift inside. “I don’t even know why.”

“Maybe because it feels like revealing something you weren’t ready for me to know?” Carlos questions, still tender and understanding like always.

TK thinks about the statement for a moment and finds truth in it. Carlos knowing that his picture is his lock screen, feels oddly intimate. It leaves him acutely aware of how vulnerable he is with him.

He gives Carlos a small nod. “People have always said I wear my heart on my sleeve,” he starts quietly, biting down on his lip before continuing. “And all it’s gotten me is my heart stomped on.”

“And now it makes you gun-shy to be so exposed,” Carlos answers just as softly. TK feels a wave of affection as he hears no judgment in Carlos’ voice, only empathy.

“It’s not that I want to hide my feelings from you,” TK says quickly, needing Carlos to know that. He doesn’t want his past failures to ruin the good thing he has with Carlos today. “I want you to know I care about you. I hope you know that.”

Carlos answers him with a beautiful smile, his arm coming around TK’s shoulder, giving him a soft pull into his space. TK goes willingly, tucking his face into Carlos’ neck as he gives him a sideways hug. He shifts to get closer to Carlos, and Buttercup makes a grumbling noise from where he rests his head on TK’s lap. He smiles when Carlos’ hand joins his, petting the large dog until he closes his eyes again.

“I know you care about me,” Carlos assures him. “Since we made our relationship official, I haven’t once questioned it.”

TK lets out a relieved sigh. “Good, you need to tell me right away if I ever do something that changes that. I can be self-involved sometimes, but I never want to hurt you because I’m being a clueless dick.”

He feels Carlos shake a little as he laughs. “I promise to tell you if you’re being a dick, Ty.”

TK snorts softly at the teasing. He tilts his head back, pressing his lips against the underside of Carlos’ jaw.

They stay quiet for a moment as TK enjoys Carlos’ embrace. “Can I show you something?” Carlos asks quietly after a moment.

“Mmhmm,” he mumbles, mellowed out from being in his boyfriend’s arms.

He lifts his head from his shoulder when Carlos pulls his phone out, playing with it nervously.

“Okay – so don’t judge me,” Carlos starts, and TK raises an eyebrow at the shy smile he sees on his face. A moment later, he understands why. Carlos’ lock screen is a sleepy TK, and TK remembers the moment Carlos took the picture. It was a few weeks ago when he came over to his place after being on shift for three days, more asleep than awake.

“I’m your lock screen,” he says quietly, going warm to the tip of his toes.

“Not just my lock screen,” Carlos confesses, wrinkling his nose adorably as his cheeks turn pink. He enters his passcode, and TK can see what he means. He’s Carlos’ home screen too; only this time, it’s a picture of them together. One that TK took one afternoon when they were goofing around. Carlos’ face is half-hidden in TK’s shoulder while he smiles at the camera.

“I’m your home screen,” he whispers, letting out a small laugh, he feels so happy he could burst.

“Yes,” Carlos says with a smile of his own, his face is still pink, but his smile is full and pleased. “And if you look at my camera roll, you’ll call me a stalker from the sheer amount of pictures I have of your face.”

TK laughs gleefully, his eyes going a little wet.

Carlos shakes his head at his enjoyment, his lips curved upward. “I just wanted you to know that I feel the same way.”

TK nods, understanding what Carlos is trying to say. He’s grateful for this beautiful man that somehow, despite their less than great start, cares about him – loves him.

Suddenly he’s not as scared anymore, and he takes his phone out, opening his camera.

“What are you doing?” Carlos asks even as he grins, pulling him closer.

“You have a picture of us as your home screen,” TK answers, lifting his phone in front of them. “I need one too.”

Carlos lets out a soft laugh before he smiles as he turns to look at the camera, and TK takes a moment to look at him. He’s so head over heels in love he can’t think straight.

“Carlos?” he murmurs, his lips a breath away from Carlos’ cheek.

“Yeah?” Carlos asks, not looking away from the camera.

TK grins, his heart pounding hard under his chest from how sure he is. “I love you.”

Carlos’ gasp and the sound of the picture taken happen simultaneously. The result is a picture TK will have on his phone for years to come, showing it every time he talks about the love of his life.

#911 lone star #911lonestarweek #911lsweek #tarlos #tarlos fic #911 lone star fic #tk x carlos #anon #ask #my writing #Anonymous

160 notes · View notes

utterlyinevitable · 4 years

Text

The Conference (Part 5)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Paring: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Word Count: 2.9k Rating: T+ Warning: Some cursing Summary: Rebecca reminisces about the night she finally pushed Ethan away.

Author’s Note: ngl the last part with the ryan arc was 100% self indulgent. it was also the first thing i wrote and built the series around. have ya ever had a friend/lover/someone you never got a proper goodbye with and carried with you everything you wish you’d said? yeah. that’s what that was. it also is the perfect contrast to mc x ethan’s relationship.

Taglist: @ohchoices @dulceghernandez @aylamwrites @binny1985 @ramseysno1rookie @interobanginyourmom @queencarb @imactuallytheceoofthecompany @rookiefromedenbrook @eramsey28 @choicesficwriterscreations @heauxplesslydevoted @schnitzelbutterfingers @purpledragonturtles @ramseyandrys @ermidc @mrsdrakewalkerblog

________________________________________

I finally walked into the foreign and dimly lit tavern after wasting the beginning hours of my day off scrolling through Bumble, scouring the app for a good distraction. Eventually I found one - a legal assistant named Cameron. He was cute and his choice of profession gave me the feeling he could carry an intelligent conversation with minimal sexual advances. His tone was friendly enough and a little awkward at times but harmless. We messaged back and forth for like an hour and a half before agreeing to a date across town.

I made sure to put on my best face, watching youtube tutorials for the perfect date night eye to accompany my black cap sleeved maxi dress - you know that one with the high slit. A little bit of sultry but not enough to give him the assumption he could take me home.

I’d never been to The Happenstance tavern before. Hell, I barely had any time to explore parts of the city that weren’t directly surrounding Edenbrook. I was pumped with adrenaline for my first actual date in god knows how long. Thus for once in my life I was fifteen minutes early and decided to sit at the bar to calm my nerves.

I’m meeting a stranger I’ve had half a conversation with an hour ago! In a part of the city I’ve never been to! What am I doing!?

I didn’t even have a chance to flag down the bartender before my name was called over my shoulder.

“Rebecca,” my name fell expertly off his lips and I turned towards the velvety voice fully thinking my date was nervous enough to arrive early too.

There he was, only a footfall away. My eyes quickly and involuntarily trailed over him. His slate gray slimming slacks elongating his legs and outlining the curvature of his manhood, a navy blue polo tucked in with the two top buttons undone and form fitting to hide the taut muscles underneath but accentuating the uncertain look in his eyes.

The hair stood at the back of my neck and I swear goosebumps coated my skin.

Nope. No. Nope!

Immediately I turned right back around on my stool.

Not happening!

“What are you doing here?” he asked, taking the empty seat and motioning to the bartender for two more of whatever he had earlier.

I had been ignoring Ethan, as best I could given our close workplace dynamic. We’d only talk about patients and pertinent information to the caseload. No hello’s, how are yous or see you tomorrows. Nope. Those little accolades were reserved for friends - someone you actually give a damn about.

It had been nearly twelve weeks since we spent that last night of heated passion in my apartment; 12 weeks since I thought it was the start of something new, the start of us. As surely as he promised me we would make a future work, he took it all right back. Running all the way to the fucking Amazon. But I forgave him the moment he came back and our eyes locked in the beer garden of Donohue’s. I trusted him above all else - his reason for leaving was probably justified. Oh how wrong I was. I kissed him and he - he did nothing. He reset us without my knowledge. He made the executive decision for my heart.

That was the final straw.

He couldn’t keep toying with me and my emotions. No. No more push and pull. That’s not a lover that’s… that’s... I’m not quite sure what that was but it certainly isn’t the actions of a respected partner. He knew where I stood and I needed to take my own stand - to continue living my life as if I never experienced him.

I chose to push him away.

To move on from chasing the notion of wholly and completely loving The Ethan Ramsey. Finally.

“If you must know, I have a date,” I said with the most nonchalant malice I could muster.

There was a thick and uncomfortable silence taking up the small foot of space between our seats.

I was staring dead ahead at the bottles meticulously placed behind the bar but out the corner of my eye I could see Ethan’s eyes fell from me to the two tumblers now sitting in front of us.

I reached out for my drink, letting the cold glass soothe my boiling blood. “At least someone wants to date me.” I muttered it mostly to myself, but secretly hoping the words would hit him where it hurts the most.

Take the hint and leave, Ethan.

His voice was even and the words melted off his tongue like butter, “It has nothing to do with want, you know that.” It was a truth he came to know.

My eyes now fixated on the decorative mirror behind the bar as I took a drag of the scotch, hoping to take a peek at how my words affected him. With a thick roll of my eyes I shrugged, “Want, can’t, what’s the difference?”

“The difference is your professional development and our jobs,” his voice was straight as he repeated his same rationale over and over again. “Once you’re an attending -”

That’s a new additive. What -?

The last words took me by surprise. He’d never added them into the mix of rejections before - he never added a glimmer of hope into the mix before…

Don’t let him suck you back in, Bec.

I shook my head dismissively to myself. “You’ll find other excuses to push me away.” I brought the liquid to my lips as I took a moment to let myself turn enough to see his full body language. He was at the edge of his seat, body angled towards me, one arm leaning on the bar and the other tightly gripping his thigh, his scotch untouched and forgotten. An onlooker would assume he was a casual man but to me he looked distraught; the careful ridges in his daily features had fallen.

Good.

My glass hovered just above my lips and I could feel the heat from Ethan’s gaze boring into my cheek. With a little bit of courage and a sly smirk I added, “Either way you’ve made your choice and I'm moving on, don’t worry.”

I checked the time on my phone, downed the rest of the scotch in my glass and slipped off the stool gathering my things into my bag, preparing to head to the back where I agreed to meet Cameron at a reserved table.

My feet fled all of two steps before there was pressure on my forearm grounding me back towards the bar. I whipped around to finally see him face to face, my heels bringing me to his level.

We were close. Much too close. In the simplest of movements his body could be flush against mine.

Stop, Rebecca, don't go there. Don’t think about it - don’t think about his lips or…

I was acutely aware of his firm yet gentle hold. His shoulders once stiff and rigid fell with vulnerability. His soft and supple lips were parted and begging to be bitten.

Pull yourself together, woman!

“Rookie,” his grip on the back of my arm tightened, lighting every nerve in my body on fire. “Rebecca,” he breathed, “Please.” Ethan’s stormy blue eyes were pleading, conveying all he wished he had the strength to say.

I tried to coax it out of him, “Say it.”

“I -”

Even now. Even with me visibly moving to put us in the past like he instructed and the shattered heart he must have had, he doesn’t have the balls to tell me.

If he can’t say it he can’t have me.

“Say it and I’ll stop,” I taunted. “I’ll squash this right now.”

Our eyes locked in showdown. Enraged brown overtaking conflicted icy blue. Standing my ground with a tightened jaw I internally gave him just three seconds before I pulled away once and for all.

Three...

His grip on my arm loosened.

Two...

His eyes squeezed closed and he shook his head.

O-

I was being pulled towards the exit by my hand.

“Lets go,” Ethan said gruffly as he laced out fingers together in a tight hold.

My heart fluttered, Good enough.

I wish I was stronger. God, do I wish I was strong enough to pull away from the black hole that is Ethan Ramsey but I couldn’t. His gravitational pull was too strong. I was and will forever be sucked in. I had a probably perfectly nice boy waiting for me in the other room with a promise of mutual affection. And what did I do?

I got into Ethan’s car.

On the drive we sat in silence, Ethan’s hand never freeing mine except to start the car. The purple and pink evening Boston sky passed by the window. I smiled at the people out the window who were still going about their day and, for the first time in months, I was content. Content with my feelings that never seemed to fade away no matter how hard I tried. Content that he feels the same way. Content that this is an actionable promise that we can be something.

I noticed Edenbrook pass in the distance. My eyebrows furrowed as I realized we were getting further from his apartment complex. The other all-too-familiar street now coming into view.

“Ethan, what the fuck. You’re taking me home?”

He said nothing.

“I thought…” I trailed off, mentally chastising myself for thinking he’d actually give in and let ourselves be happy. I huffed, “So I can’t have fun and I can’t have you. That seems fair…” I tried to free my hand but he held onto me tighter.

A few moments of time passed in the dead silence of his car. Ethan was focused on the road ahead and I was trapped in limbo. Again.

“Are you gonna say anything?” I bit, clearly needing an explanation for this round of betrayal.

He opened his mouth slightly but nothing came out. My unencumbered rage started bubbling over like an active volcano.

WHAT THE FUCK!!!

“Let me out, Ethan.” I said sternly and yanked my hand out of his. His hand now left palm up on the center console as he kept driving.

And he wasn’t slowing down.

I rose my voice through gritted teeth, “Let me out of the fucking car right now.”

Still the side streets passed behind us at a steady pace. Surely he was ignoring me.

My red hot anger reached my ears when I yelled, “Doctor! Ramsey!”

Ethan jumped bringing both hands securely on the steering wheel. Within thirty seconds he pulled the car over. Panic set in and I needed to use all my strength to control my breathing.

Not again. He’s not doing this to me again.

As soon as the car stopped at the curb I unbuckled my seat-belt.

Still staring out the windshield and white knuckles gripping the wheel he begged, “Please let me get you home safely.”

I scoffed, “I can take care of myself.”

What the fuck does he want from me?

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed, “I know.”

I looked over at him completely dumbfounded. If we weren’t going to be anything he should just let me move the hell on.

“I’m not your responsibility,” I said honestly through my rage as I moved to get out of the car. “I know deep down you want to help but you’re not. You’re making things worse.” I looked over at him. His fingers left his nose and he started to sit up straighter at my words. “You - You…”

I wanted to tell him he’s broken my heart over and over again. I wanted to tell him how much I missed him and that if he just promised me we’d give us a proper try I’d forgive him. But I didn’t, because saying those words out loud wouldn’t change a thing. Everything with Ethan was inevitably complicated.

He looked over at me for the first time since the tavern. The whites of his eyes were starting to go red and my chest began to ache at the sight. He shakily asked, “I… what?”

Why do you keep doing this to yourself?

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” Furiously I pulled the door handle and jumped out of the car as best as my dress would allow. The air in the car was suffocating.

Behind me I heard the car shut off and a loud slam of the door. There were two beeps alerting me that Ethan did indeed leave his car in the no parking zone. Heavy footfalls caught up to me on the sidewalk accompanied by the uneven huffs of breath from the brisk jog.

“Let me walk with you. Please.”

We were only a 10 minutes walk away from my place. As mad as I was at Ethan for the false pretenses, I was angrier at myself for falling for it. For letting him have me unconditionally. The thought of going through this same old cycle with him again and again made me nauseous.

I can’t do this anymore.

“Stop,” we both ceased our movements at my definitive tone. Turning to Ethan I saw the storm brewing within. Frankly, I didn’t give a damn. “You’re not listening to me.”

His eyes widened like that of a scolded child.

My next words were frank and to the point, “I cannot do this anymore. You cannot turn up and pretend you care when it’s convenient for you.”

“I do -”

“No.” I shook my head. “You’re self-serving,” the words fell quickly off my expert lips. “Choose me or lose me, Ramsey. You don’t get both.”

I paused my rant for a brief second expecting the rebuttal that never came.

“I’m confused enough as it is,” I continued. “Jus - Just get back in your car and find me when you figure your shit out.” I bit my lip before harshly saying, “I’ll be fine without you.”

There on the narrow street on a Tuesday evening in Boston my chest tightened as I took one final look at the man I once trusted above all else. His hair windswept, cheeks flush, shoulders slumped in defeat and...

His hand twitched at his side beginning to reach out for mine. But I was quicker on my heels, turning around and storming off.

The last thing I heard as I sauntered off with a heavy heart was the unlocking of a car.

“Hey, I thought you had a date tonight?” Sienna asked from the kitchen when she saw me cross the threshold of our apartment.

“It didn’t happen,” I said flatly.

“Oh no!” My dearest friend started moving around the kitchen, pulling out all the comfort food we had on tap - a pint of ice cream, cookies she had made earlier that evening, a bag of popcorn - all because she thought I was stood up.

“I…” Fuck, how do I tell her? “didn’t make it.”

Sienna stopped in her tracks and her light brown eyes looked up in confusion, “Huh?”

I shouldn’t feel guilty but I do. Sienna’s the only person who would understand, she did catch him sneaking out of my room that last morning. She’s also the only person whose opinion matters most to me. My stomach tied in knots as I sighed, “Ethan…”

“What!” she practically shouted. Luckily the others were in their rooms for the night otherwise it would have been a very awkward conversation between us. Having to tell Aurora about Ethan is another certain kind of hell I’d rather not deal with any time soon.

“He was at the bar,” I began to explain in complete exasperation. “Of course he was at the bar, of all the bars in Boston he had to choose this one tonight.” I threw my hands in the air for dramatic effect. The irony isn’t lost on me; I agreed to The Happenstance because I knew I wouldn’t run into anyone I know and yet the one person I absolutely never would have wanted to see was already there. “He stopped me before I could meet the guy.”

There was a hopeful gleam in Sienna’s eyes, “And?”

“And he had the audacity to drive me home.” I made a ‘here I am’ motion with my arms.

“That’s it?” she pouted, obviously wanting this story to have a happy ending.

I leaned my arms on the counter and rested my head in my hands, trying to rub the evening out of my eyes and the weight of what I’d said finally sinking in.

“I told him to leave me alone until he got his shit straight. I’m done with him,” my voice cracked at the end and I hoped Sienna didn’t hear it.

If she did, she didn’t let on because her next question was, “Then… why don’t you call that guy and tell him something came up at the hospital?”

Why wasn’t I going to call Cameron? Well for starters I was embarrassed for standing him up - no fake medical emergency could blow that over. I also never wanted to set foot in another bar again - Ethan can set claim to every bar in the state for all I care. I don’t want to see him outside of work ever again.

If you don’t want anything to do with him why do you feel so guilty?

With a weighted sigh I said, “I think I’m just gonna go to bed.”

And that’s the story of how I pushed the man I loved away.

___________________

A/N: becca is literally the most unreliable narrator, she’s so problematic 😔 also sorry for this chapter, it’s not the best thing i’ve written :/ fun fact: this scene started out as a one shot called ‘good enough’

comment/reblog bc i need the validation

#had mc stand up my actual husband #soz lover #lol #open heart #open heart fanfic #choices open heart #choices fanfic #choices oph2 #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey #oph #oph ff #ff

97 notes · View notes

flightfoot · 4 years

Text

Dragon Falls Ch. 1

AO3/FFN

The village was on fire.

Big surprise, right? This only happened oh, every week or so since he was born.

Not that he’d ever gotten to see it before.

Perk of being the Chief’s son; getting to live in a big fancy house.

Downside of being the Chief’s son; his father actually being able to afford good enough locks and to order villagers to guard the house to make sure he couldn’t leave.

He understood, he really did. His mother had been snatched by a dragon last year. It was hard to blame him for being a little… protective.

But he HAD to show Father he could protect himself! Could make the village proud.

Could handle dragons on his own.

Most young vikings started training to combat dragons once they turned thirteen, in dragon slaying class.

Father had forbidden him from doing so, saying it was too dangerous.

“But somehow it’s not too dangerous for anyone ELSE’S kid,” he grumbled to Alya whenever he managed to sneak over to her (or she snuck over to him, which was more common. She could be as sneaky as a fox when she wanted to be.)

“No one else has Mr. Stick-Up-His-Butt for a parent,” she said, vaguely gesturing in the direction his father had gone in.

But this dragon raid, his main bodyguard, Gorilla, had needed to leave to help the rest of the village.

Which meant he could finally put his plan into action.

Grabbing a staff he’d been training with privately (well as best he could, without a formal teacher), he set out to help protect the village.

Ok so maybe “plan” was overselling it a bit. He just thought if he could get out there he could prove himself, and then maybe, just maybe, Father would back off and let him train with the other kids.

But he hadn’t banked on the amount of chaos going on around him.

People screamed, stuff collapsed, sheeps bleated.

Admittedly that last one was normal.

And the previous two things weren’t exactly unusual either.

Screaming while charging dragons was different though.

DRAGONS!

For a moment he was stunned.

They came in all sorts of shapes, sizes, and colors. Some the size of a house cat, others as big of a house, some long and lanky, some short and stout.

He’d seen pictures of course and the occasional dragon here and there when a raid first started, but never so many at once - he was always sequestered inside by this point.

Then a passing dragon whapped him in the face with its tail while chasing after one of his neighbors.

Maaaaybe best to NOT stay still gawking in the middle of a battle.

Ok so, he needed to find a dragon to fight.

He looked from side to side.

There were a lot of dragons, but most of them were pretty well occupied already.

And also running.

Or flying.

Hard to catch a flier.

Seriously there were plenty of dragons, why was this so-

His thought was cut off by a fire blast, which he barely managed to avoid in time.

Then a lightning… ball? He didn’t know lightning could even DO that. But that’s what it looked like. That one he was forced to drop to the ground to avoid.

Couldn’t dodge the water blast though.

He spluttered, drying his eyes as he scrambled to his feet.

And finally got a good look at the dragon that’d attacked him.

Its ruby red scales glimmered in the firelight. Not that it was entirely red - a stripe of black curled around its body, gold scales lining it, accentuating the contrast.

He stopped breathing.

It eyed him carefully, its pupils drawn into tight slits. Slowly, the dragon approached, waving its tail from side to side.

He was suddenly acutely aware that he was a small fourteen-year-old with no formal combat training going up against a DRAGON, a creature which even the most experienced vikings struggled - and usually failed - to subdue.

It crouched.

He tensed.

It sprang.

He barely got out of the way in time, the fire blast setting the plank above his head ablaze.

(There was always new construction going on in the village, what with all the fires.)

The structure creaked.

If he didn’t move quickly, the whole thing might collapse on him!

...Waaaait.

“You want me?” he smirked at the dragon. “Come and get me.”

He took off, just skirting the edges of the flaming partially constructed house.

The dragon loped after him.

Unfortunately, it was faster than him.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to get very far.

Just as it caught up to him, a blast readying in its throat, he turned around, smirked-

Then hit the structure at just the right point to send it careening onto the dragon.

It crashed down, sending smoke and debris anywhere.

A girl shrieked in pain.

He looked around wildly, trying to locate the viking in question so he could get her to safety-

And then realized it was coming from the dragon.

He blinked.

He hadn’t realized dragons could sound so human.

The rubble moved.

...That wasn’t good.

The dragon burst out, running headlong into the forest, breathing heavily, eyes closed.

While there were no visible puncture wounds from what he could see (not a huge surprise, dragon scales were tough as hell; it took a LOT to break through their hide), it was holding its wings awkwardly and seemed a bit dazed.

He followed it into the forest.

----------

Yep, the dragon was definitely dazed.

It’d begun stumbling around more and more, to the point it looked like the average viking after having too many drinks, crashing through bushes and into the occasional tree, which didn’t exactly help. While it didn’t notice the branches and thorns scraping past it, each time its wings were jostled it let out that unsettlingly human yelp.

And then it stumbled over a small cliff.

It fell heavily to the ground-

And then-

Nothing.

Feeling his way around (thankfully the moon was nearly full, but it still wasn’t exactly bright outside, especially in a forest), he came to an opening.

A red mound of scales lay on the ground in the clearing, not moving.

Was- was it dead?

He expected to feel jubilation, or at least satisfaction. He’d killed one of the beasts who’d plagued his village for decades after all, and maybe with this, his father would see that he didn’t need quite as much protection.

Instead he just felt sick.

Slowly, carefully, he approached.

It looked a lot smaller when not threatening him; its torso was only three feet long, its tail adding about two and a half more feet to its body length.

The tail twitched.

Ok, maybe time to back away-

It opened its eyes.

They looked different from how they had before. Maybe because of the low light?

But… something about it, the way it looked at him, made him think it was more than that.

It whined softly.

He- he should kill it here, before it could recover. Or- or lead the villagers to it so they could take care of it.

He didn’t move.

Dragons were terrifying creatures, pests that stole their sheep, their livelihood, and delighted in hunting humans if they couldn’t get their preferred meal. That’s what he’d been told, by his neighbors, by his friends (though they were mostly parroting what their friends and teachers had told them) and his father.

But his mother had always been a little softer towards them, questioning why they were so fixated on sheep when there was other prey to hunt that didn’t come with a side order of axes-to-the-face, and generally being less gung-ho about hunting them down than everyone else.

And right now, something inside him was screaming that if he led to this creature’s death, it’d be the worst mistake he ever made.

He couldn’t do much for it injurywise - he wouldn’t even know where to begin. He wasn’t exactly a vet or a doctor and all its injuries appeared to be internal anyway, except for its wing injuries.

The wings themselves appeared to be mostly intact, but the wing JOINT-

He winced.

One of the wings was off at a strange angle, seeming to have been wrenched out of place.

That… may actually be something he could help with. He’d seen limbs put back into position before.

He may not be the ideal person to try it, but it was either him or no one. The vet would be more likely to kill the dragon than to try to get it flying again.

Moving to its side, he carefully positioned himself behind it, grabbed the joint firmly, and pulled.

A scream ripped through the forest.

The dragon flailed wildly, looking all around.

And then spied him.

It gave him an icy stare.

It rolled around, trying to get to its feet-

And fell over.

Slowly he backed away.

It narrowed its eyes, but didn’t pursue.

When he was out of view, he ran.

He may not be willing to kill the dragon, but that didn’t mean he wanted to stay and potentially become dragon chow.

Still, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing back.

#Dragon Falls #Adrigami #Adrimi #ml fanfic #Miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #kagami tsurugi #HTTYD AU

25 notes · View notes

miraculouslycool · 4 years

Link

Author’s Note:

1. This does happen after Miracle Queen. 2. Lukanette and Adrigami are mentioned, but not canon. This story is fully love square. 3. They're aged up in this. Everything in the show happened as it is, except they are 18 here. 4. Ladybug and Chat Noir have been heroes for three years.

Summary:

Marinette Dupain Cheng is the guardian of the Miracle Box. One would normally consider it a huge honor. And it was, only Marinette wished she was one under different circumstances, one which didn't involve her being the reason her mentor lost his memories, one where she wasn't looking behind her back everytime she guarded the box, one where she wasn't pushing everyone away, including the one person she could still hold on to - Chat Noir.

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

Ladybug's heart was pounding with fear.

"M-miraculous Ladybug." She said, her whole body shaking as she threw her Lucky Charm - a spade - into the air.

The red ladybugs flew around, cleansing everything the last Akuma had damaged. And evaporated.

A moment later, Chat Noir stood in front of her, after having gotten incapacitated during the battle.

"Whew. That was a toughie." He was grinning.

He was grinning. He was acting like she just hadn't seen him die for no reason , and like she hadn't been fighting by herself for the past half hour.

"Pound it!" He raised his fist, not noticing the inner turmoil she was experiencing.

"Are you serious right now?!" She yelled in his face.

He visibly flinched, his jaw dropping a little, but he didn't drop his fist.

"You go and throw yourself at the villain without thinking and you just come up to me and act like nothing HAPPENED?!" She shouted.

"Ladybug, wait, I-"

She didn't want to listen to whatever explanation he was going to give. She didn't have time for any of this. She had been telling him since the beginning of time to not get himself killed, and he NEVER listened to her.

A month into her being a guardian, and it had only gotten worse.

"Just forget it!" She wrung her hands, glaring at him. "I have to go." Her voice grew smaller and more pitiful and she swung away, leaving a dumbstruck Chat Noir still holding up his fist for her to bump.

-----------

"What is going on with her??" Adrien asked out loud as he landed in his room.

"Girls. You know how they are." Plagg made a beeline for his cheese.

"No, Plagg. Not Ladybug." Adrien said defensively. "Look, she's been really irritable and distracted over the past month. We barely patrol together, we don't talk as much as we used to, she's getting more snappy at me for making harmless jokes whether it is during the battle or not, it's gotten so bad we've actually stopped talking and directing each other while fighting." Adrien pointed out, holding his head. "Nowadays it feels like we just finish our parts of a group project than work together."

"Give her a break!! She literally just got a huge responsibility handed out to her!" Plagg said. "It's only been three weeks since Fu left. No wonder she's mad and snappy. Those kwamis are quite the delight." He added sarcastically.

"I've tried to talk to her about it, you know." Adrien mumbled. "I've tried asking how things are going. She just changes the subject or yells at me for not focusing."

"To be fair, you ask those things when you are supposed to be fighting." Plagg said.

"When else do I get to talk to her??" Adrien snapped. "She ignores me during patrols other than to order me around. Atleast I haven't changed like she has."

Plagg continue chewing his cheese as Adrien stared at his feet in silence.

"Maybe....maybe she needs some distraction." Adrien said suddenly.

"Distraction?? Don't tell me you're going to ask her on a date!"

"And what if I am?"

"She!! Doesn't!! Love!! You!!"

"No, this is different. I'm only going to ask her to that ball the Mayor is holding in honor of Ladybug and Chat Noir being around for three years. This is just for a change in environment. Nothing else."

"I'm not sure she'll see it that way...." Plagg said nervously.

"No, Plagg, this is perfect!" Adrien said, perking up. "She just needs a little bit of fun after the stress she's been through. It will definitely help." He grew more hopeful. "I'm asking her tonight."

Plagg groaned. Where was Tikki when he needed her?

---------

Ladybug paced the rooftops, muttering to herself.

She had been extremely short with Chat Noir over the few weeks, and she knew it.

Maybe he shouldn't have been so reckless, but he also didn't deserve to get yelled for it.

When he came over, she was going to explain herself and be on her way.

If he came, that is.

They had been doing separate patrols, and that was mostly because it was peaceful that way. She could catch up on some fresh air for a while before going back to finding a way to deal with the Miracle box.

And her homework.

And her three projects.

And her unfinished designs.

She dropped down on the roof to sit there, her head spinning.

Alya had come over today to rave about Ladybug's new battle, and Marinette had managed to throw the Miracle box into her closet out of her sight just in time.

And that was not the only instance.

The girls had been hanging out with her a lot, and she couldn't fault them for that, according to them, they were helping her get over Adrien, who she had given up on pursuing. They thought her fragile moods, her temper, the eye bags were from heartbreak.

Well, they weren't completely wrong. Trying to get over Adrien had hurt. It had hurt even more to watch him laugh and smile with Kagami. She didn't know what their relationship was like, exactly, but she didn't want to find out.

She didn't speak to them unless she was spoken to by either of them, and she managed to get through those conversations without breaking a nerve. All one had to was smile and nod.

Sometimes she wished Adrien was an insufferable jerk, instead of the kind, sweet, amazing guy he was. It would make it so much easier for her to avoid him, to hate him, to laugh at herself for having ever liked him.

All Adrien had to do was smile at her kindly, ask her how her day went, and she was a goner.

"Ladybug?"

She looked up at the voice calling out to her.

"Chat Noir?" She echoed.

He was standing behind her, looking straight ahead at the sunset, instead of her.

"Nice view, huh?"

She followed his line of sight. The sun was setting, leaving behind the sky with gorgeous pink-orange hues.

Any other day, she would have agreed. Today she realised she hadn't really bothered to look.

"Are you okay?" Chat Noir asked her, when she didn't answer.

Ladybug didn't know the answer to that question.

Many people asked her that question. Adrien, Alya, Nino, Kagami, Luka....she could nod and say yes, she indeed was fine.

Chat Noir asked her that question too. And yet, she couldn't answer him.

She really didn't have time to.

He sat down next to her, making her acutely aware that she hadn't answered or acknowledged him.

"So..." He cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you this morning." She interrupted him.

"Oh. Oh, right. Yeah." He cleared his throat. "This morning...happened."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "And?"

"It's fine. Really." He shook his head. "No harm done."

"Good." Ladybug nodded. "I'm glad."

"Yeah." He said.

"Yeah." She repeated.

And thus, the first proper conversation they had in weeks, began.

"So...have you heard that the mayor is holding a ball for our three year anniversary?" He began awkwardly.

"Yes, I have. Kind of impossible not to, because his daughter is going about raging on social media on how she's going to upstage me with her designer clothing." She said bitterly.

He chuckled a little at that. Well, she supposed it was sort of funny.

"She won't have to worry, though. I'm not going to be there to 'upstage' her."

"Yeah, I mean - wait what?" Chat Noir froze.

"I'm not going." Ladybug repeated.

"Why- why not?" Chat Noir sputtered. "We've gone there the last two years."

"Yeah? I don't want to go this year." Ladybug rested her chin underneath her palm. "Go without me, if you want to. Say I got sick or something."

"Ladybug..." Chat Noir said in a low voice. "I know things are hard right now, but that doesn't mean you have to shut yourself away from everyone."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is it really that hard for you to believe that I just don't want to go? What good will even come out of it? Chloe's just going to throw a fit and throw both of us out anyway."

"Believe it or not, even Chloe can't do that. The mayor is kind of obligated to do it. The only reason he's doing it, despite his daughter being disgraced is because there will be public protests if he doesn't."

Ladybug was getting more annoyed by the minute. "I don't want to go, Chat Noir. Drop it."

"Why not? What's wrong with having a bit of fun once in a while? It will do you some good, especially with everything that's going on." He hadn't meant to be harsh, but he was getting fed up too.

"Don't you dare patronize me." Ladybug snapped, getting up and staring him down. "And fun? Fun?? We can't have fun!! We have a job to do here! I can't go to parties and waste time like you!"

"Like 'me' ?" He growled.

She had hit a nerve, and she hadn't meant to, but she couldn't change what she said.

"You actually think I'm asking you to go because I want to slack off??" He got up as well, brushing off the dust from his suit.

"What's wrong with having a bit of fun once in a while?" She quoted him. "Hey, you're the one who said it."

"I was only asking because I thought it would get you to chill out for a while!" He shot back.

"Chill out?? What do you mean 'chill out'?" She asked, affronted.

"I can't even have a decent conversation with you these days without getting scared that you are going to blow up!" He accused, jabbing a finger in her direction. "No matter what I do or say you find a way to turn it into a shouting match!! I can't even invite you to a ball without getting yelled at, excuse me for thinking about both our sakes-"

"What do you expect me to do other than yell?! You are always joking around and punning at the most inappropriate times!! You get yourself killed -"

"I get myself killed so that YOU don't!!"

"I don't care!! It doesn't change the fact that you die and I'm left to pick up the pieces by myself!!" She shouted, and Chat recoiled, like he had been slapped.

She let out a tiny sniffle, it wasn't loud, but it was significant enough for him to notice the first crack in the walls she had built up.

"Ladybug-"

"And that's not all! How can you expect me to have a smile on my face when everything is crumbling around me?! My best friend nearly caught me holding the box today!! My parents and friends are worried about me and I can't tell them anything!"

"What about me, then?" He said, his voice at a normal level again. "Yeah, you can't tell them anything, but you won't tell me."

"I - you -" Ladybug stammered, but he had a point too. And she realised it.

"I'm just trying to make sure that we aren't broken too." Chat muttered. "I try to talk to you, you avoid the subject, you vent out your frustrations, cool, I'm ok with that too, I try to help you ignore things and help you catch a break, I get yelled at. This....is there an end to this? Will we ever go back to the people we were before?"

Ladybug breathed heavily, the energy she used up to scream taking its toll on her.

"Face it. We've changed. The situation has changed."

"I haven't." He said quietly. "I still want to help you. I just wish you don't cast me off when I am only trying to help. It's not making matters easier for either of us."

Ladybug didn't answer.

If she did let him in....he would have to suffer through the consequences too. For her mistake.

And if she let him in, she would have to let go of the wall she built for herself.

And she didn't want to let that go. Stepping out of her comfort zone, the zone with her responsibilities, and her stupid feelings for her crush and her mistakes into whatever was there outside of it....

She was fine on her own. She became a guardian on her own, and she could get through it on her own. Even if that meant being alone.

"We should..." Her voice broke for second there. "We should really stick to helping each other out only during battles. And leave the rest of the other person's business to themselves."

Chat Noir stilled. "What?"

"Don't give me that look. We're superheroes. It's our job. I'm a guardian. That's MY job. I can handle it on my own. I can't tell or do much with you anyway without jeopardizing my identity."

His brows underneath the mask scowled heavily. "So what you are saying is...you don't trust me enough to tell me things?"

"I don't HAVE to tell you anything." She narrowed her eyes.

"Yeah, just enough to keep me at arm's length, just like everyone else in your civilian life, I presume." He snarled.

"Don't give me that, okay?? I'm going through enough! This isn't about you!" Ladybug snapped.

Chat glared at her coldly for a while, trying to find a way to reply and one-up her, so she'd realise that he wasn't always going to put up with being pushed around.

"Fine." He said, bitterly, turning his back on her. "We'll see each other during the next Akuma. Whenever that is."

"Really? You're giving me the cold shoulder now?" She said disdainfully. "I told you, this. isn't. personal!"

"Too bad." He scoffed. "It is to me." He extended his staff.

"Fine, leave then! Go on, continue being childish!" She said angrily.

"Good night, Ladybug." He called her by her full name, which was what he was using to address her for quite a while, just to rub it in even more. He didn't say anything more. She wasn't worth it. He leaped off the roof in the direction of his home.

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

The kwamis of creation and destruction spent that night tucking in their sobbing, distraught owners to sleep.

#miraculous ladybug #her light to his darkness #my fics #ladybug #chat noir #ladynoir #adrien #marinette #adrienette #lila salt

41 notes · View notes

kittinoir · 4 years

Text

Echoes of You Ch. 17

Read on Ao3

Her heart pounds in her ears, echoing the sound of her footsteps on cobblestone. She forces herself not to run, even as panic and adrenaline urge her to hurry, hurry, but she knows nothing will draw his attention like a mouse scurrying for cover.

That is, if he even knows who she is.

She can’t be sure, but that monster, that thing, cornered her too close to home for her to rest easy. Her ribs still ache from how it surprised her. It’s terrifying, because it shouldn’t hurt, but in the end her bruised ribs are what spurred her to leave her house so late. They are a testament to her nemesis’ strength, an unavoidable truth that he is stronger than her and he will not rest and until he’s ripped her earrings from her ears and a name from her lips.

If it were anyone else, she might have been able to withstand the storm.

But love has made her reckless and desperate to change her fate. It may not be enough. As she passes through shadow after shadow she racks her mind for any other answer, any other hope. She wishes she could ask for advice, but she’s already relinquished her companion, hidden her away. Besides, she knows if she puts those earrings back on she won’t be able to take them off a second time. The plan is in motion; any disruption now could mean disaster. She can not hesitate. She won’t.

She stumbles to a stop as the mansion comes into view.

She hadn’t thought out this part. She pulls her hood closer around her face. Even so, it might be enough - but it has to be, or this is all for nothing.

As she watches, a figure appears outside the stone wall, half in shadow, like her. A glint of blonde hair catches the light off a streetlamp and she can’t believe her luck, though it’s been her domain for more than a year now. It makes sense; he should just be coming off patrol now. It’s careless to detransform on the street like he must have, but she knows how strict his father can be. She’s had three weeks to get used to the idea, but she still can’t quite reconcile it. If anything, though, his appearance out here on the street is proof. How else could he flout his iron-clad schedule?

This is it. The beginning of the end of everything. She has to stop him now, before he disappears inside the gate and she can convince herself she tried.

‘Adrien!’

She sees him stop, sets him turn as she she hurries across the street, stepping into shadow with him. She should tell him. It’s what every fibre of her being is screaming at her to do. Tell him, and figure out a new plan together.

But she knows he won’t let her follow through on her plan, and she knows she’ll let him stop her, because she would give anything for a different answer. In that moment, she commits to her course of action. She can do this for Paris. She can do this for him.

‘What - ’

‘I don’t have time,’ she cuts him off. She has to do this, now, before he realizes what she’s doing. ‘I… I wrote everything down in the tablet. Give the earrings to Chloe Bourgeois. I know it doesn’t make sense right now, but trust me on this. There’s good in her, and… I’m sorry. I’m sorry. If love were enough, I’d still be here. But it’s not, and this is the only way I can… I’m sorry. Goodbye…Adrien…”

She stretches up on her toes and kisses his cheek, the barest feathering of her lips on his skin. As she does, she shoves the box and the tablet into his arms, hard enough to make him stumble back. Then she runs.

She runs until she is sure he isn’t following her, until she is sure he would have gone inside, until she is fairly certain there is no going back. And then she gives it all up.

‘I, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, former Ladybug and guardian of Paris, hereby relinquish the Miracle Box and name Adrien Agreste the new guardian.’

Marinette groaned as her eyes popped open. They felt dry, and she blinked a few times as she reached for her phone to check the time. The display read 2:35 am. She let the phone drop as she twisted into a more comfortable position, but between the moon shining through her skylight and the flickering, fading images of her nightmare, her body had decided she was awake.

“Fine,” she grumbled, flipping the covers back. She climbed down to her room and flicked on the lights, careful to roll her chair silently across her floor as she settled down by her dress. Extra cash for extra fabric was all well and good, but it also meant extra hemming. Given the design, it all had to be done by hand. And that meant hours of extra work.

As Marinette threaded her needle, she couldn’t help but glance at her open window and the plate she’d left there. She knew what she’d see before she looked, but she couldn’t stop hope from springing up anyway. It frayed into frustration and embarrassment as she took in the untouched plate. She’d spent the better part of a year and a half chasing after Adrien, and as soon as she started to even think of someone else, they…

Well, they broke her heart.

It had been like that for over two weeks now. At first she’d thought Chat Noir just hadn’t had the time until four nights ago when she’d seen his silhouette bounding across the Notre Dame on patrol. He hadn’t even paused. Not that he had, to, she’d reminded herself. They barely knew each other, hadn’t made any promises.

So why did it sting so much?

“It doesn’t matter,” Marinette reminded herself as she took up the hem. “It was just a silly little crush. It wasn’t even real. It just makes things easier, really.”

Besides, it wasn’t his fault if she imagined something that wasn’t there. And anyway, Alya was always swearing up and down that Chat Noir was in love with Ladybug. When she’d shown Marinette the pictures, she’d had to agree with her friend. Even if it wasn’t obvious to the super heroine, it was obvious to her.

“Ughhhh!” Marinette jabbed the needle into the mannequin and leaned back, covering her eyes with the palms of her hands. “Why? Why am I such a disaster?!”

“I don’t think you’re a disaster.”

Marinette sat up so fast she almost fell off her chair. “You! What are you doing here?”

Chat Noir cocked an eyebrow as he slowly bit down on a macaron. “I thought I had a standing invitation? Or did I misread the open window and plate of goodies? Though I feel I should warn you, as far as keeping people out goes, that only officially works on vampires.”

Marinette bit her lip, taking a chocolate chip cookie from the plate when he offered it. “I thought you weren’t coming by anymore,” she admitted. “Not that you have to, or that I want you to; you can do what you want, it doesn’t bother me, it’s fine, I’m fine.”

Those impossibly green eyes darted to the ground, then back up to her face as his smile faltered.

“I was…afraid to come here,” he admitted, setting the plate down.

“Afraid?” She knew the heroes were just people, but she’d never imagined Chat Noir afraid of anything. “Afraid of what?

“Not ‘of what’,” he said, twisting on the sill so his legs were dangling into her room. “For you.”

The words sent a chill skittering down Marinette’s spine. “For me?”

He nodded. “Hawkmoth has been… no.” He ran a hand through his blonde hair in frustration. “You know the senti-monsters that have been popping up the past three weeks?”

Marinette nodded. “One attacked Alya and Nino.”

“One also attacked Chloe Bourgeois,” Chat Noir said. “I think Hawkmoth is trying to hunt down Ladybug.” All members of Paris’ super hero team.

“But why?” Marinette asked with a shiver. “You guys always show up when there’s an akuma, why would he be…”

“Because that’s not Ladybug.”

The precipice yawned in front of Marinette. This time it felt like the ground crumbled under her feet, and she was falling, falling, falling.

“What do you mean?”

Chat Noir dropped into her room, pacing silently on the floor. “It’s…complicated. But Ladybug gave up being Ladybug and gave the earrings to someone else in order to protect someone. I think Hawkmoth knows that, and I think he’s hunting her down by attacking members of our team, trying to find a weak point.”

Marinette flexed her fingers, trying to work some warmth back into them. “And…what does that have to do with me?”

“Don’t you get it, Marinette?” Chat Noir dropped to a knee in front of her, snatching up her hands as though he could convey the urgency of his fear through touch alone. “You’re part of that team. No one but me knows you’re Multimouse. And if I lead one of the monsters to your door… I would never forgive myself if something happened to you because of me. Not after everything…”

Marinette leaned forward and cupped Chat Noir’s cheek, running a thumb along his cheekbone. “It’s ok,” she said softly, wanting more than anything to ease the burden he must be feeling. “I’m ok. I understand.”

“I have to ask you something,” he said, “Even though I have no right, I…”

“You’re my friend,” Marinette said with a small smile. “You have every right. Ask me.”

He squeezed her hands once, then let go. “I don’t want you to wear a Miraculous again,” he said softly, unable to meet her eyes as he spoke. “It’s not about your skill. You’re one of the best team mates we have, and I can see why my Lady chose you, but…”

I’m afraid for you.

“Chat Noir.” She waited until he met her eyes again. “If the roles were reversed - if it were me out there everyday, fighting to protect Paris, and I asked you not to help, would you?”

Pain flashed across his face but he answered honestly. “No. Not if I could. But it’s different, Marinette. You don’t even know me.”

“I do,” she promised, pulling him to his feet as she stood. This close she could feel the warmth of his body next to hers. She was acutely aware of the few inches separating them. “I know you’re brave, and selfless, and kind. I know you’re funny, but you also use jokes because you’re afraid. You take on too much and you don’t like to ask for help, and when you love someone, it’s with your whole heart. I would guess the only thing I don’t know about you, Kitty, is your name.”

“How do you do that?” he whispered, searching her face.

“Do what?” Marinette asked. She tilted her head back, her heart skipping as Chat Noir laced his fingers with hers.

“See through everything,” he murmured, “See me.”

“Almost everything…” she said, reaching up to trace the edge of his mask. “Just lucky I guess.”

His lips crashed into hers, one arm around her waist, the other in her hair as he pulled her in, like he’d thought of nothing else for days. Marinette wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tighter. Tingles raced over her skin. She couldn’t get a breath in, but she didn’t care. She tangled her fingers in his hair and heard him moan in response. She liked it. She wanted to hear more.

But he abruptly broke away from her, falling back against the window. Cold rushed in where his body had been pressed against hers moments ago.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, but he ran his tongue over his lips like he could still taste her on them. “I was supposed to be making sure you were safe, not endangering you more. I shouldn’t have… I should go.”

“Don’t.” The sound broke from Marinette before she could stop it. “I…I know things are complicated. I don’t expect anything, but please. Don’t go. Don’t disappear on me.”

“I would never do that,” Chat Noir said. He straightened as though he would reach for her again, but seemed to think better of the idea. “I just…don’t want to be the reason you get hurt.”

“I understand,” Marinette said. She took one step, then another, until she was standing in front of him again. “I’m asking you to trust me. Do you?”

“More than anyone else,” he said softly. “Stay safe?”

“I’ll do my very best,” Marinette promised, “Though you should know I’m the clumsiest person in the whole city, so you’re kind of asking a lot.”

She leaned in, slower this time, giving him time to stop her if he wanted to.

Instead he tilted his face, meeting her half way in a kiss that was much more gentle than their first, a tentative beginning. She broke away after a moment, but instead he just leaned his forehead against hers, eyes closed, as though trapped in her gravity.

“Good night, Marinette.” He placed a soft kiss on her forehead, the faintest brush of his lips against her skin. “Sweet dreams.”

He pulled away again and disappeared through her window into the night. Marinette watched him go as long as she could until his shadow finally disappeared from view. She placed a hand over her heart as she turned back to her room and flicked off the light, suddenly exhausted, but paused to trace a finger over her lips.

So much, she thought, for things being easier.

#echoes #echoes of you #miraculous ladybug #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #writing #fic #it really do be like this #also the last part #was #an #accident #marichat

9 notes · View notes

slasherscream · 5 years

Note

What about You can taste what your soulmate eats AU with Jennifer check with a fem!reader? I love your blog btw! X

[ soulmate prompts. ] oh this would be a bad time-

You lived much of your life peacefully and without withstanding or battling obvious signs of your soulmate and their tastes and cravings.

Whoever they were they had unobtrusive tastes. You’d heard and even witnessed a few horror stories yourself. Soulmates where one is a vegan and the other isn’t. Someone likes spicy food and the other can’t handle black pepper you were glad all your shared experiences thus far had been mild.

Just little moments scattered throughout your day and your life that reminded you that somewhere out in the world you had a soulmate. Someone meant for you.

So at times when you’d be sitting alone and then taste a salad and then thirty minutes after that taste some fries and a cherry coke (like they were trying to be good and then gave up very quickly); or it being late at night and then tasting well-buttered popcorn; or the sweet taste of different flavored lollipops throughout the day? You loved those little moments.

This all changed one day all too suddenly. One night minding your own business and the next? Violently throwing up.

That taste the phantom taste and texture in your mouth was horrible. So repulsive you threw up continually the entire time your soulmate consumed it with gusto because it just didn’t stop coming. By the end of the ordeal you were whining and gasping pitifully.

You’ve had busted lips before you know what blood tasted like but this was horrible. Blood and ….and meat like you’d never tasted it before but completely raw. After brushing your teeth aggressively about a hundred times you went to bed that night miserable. The taste didn’t falter for an instant until your soulmate apparently brushed their own teeth for bed late into the night. The taste of mint sat heavy on your tongue after the metallic bite of blood.

You got out of bed the next morning wary. Your soulmate had a cup of orange juice but nothing else. You nervously tried to enjoy some eggs and bacon but found yourself not in the mood for meat at the moment, even well cooked.

For a few weeks everything was fine although you noticed a distinct lack of taste and sensation being broadcasted from your soulmate since that…incident.

On one hand you were profoundly relived and on the other you were incredibly worried. The only thing reassuring you that they were still alive was the occasional flicker of sweetness from the lollipops they apparently still enjoyed while they gave up on food totally. You were worried to say the least.

Half tempted to eat more just to remind them ‘hey! you need food, asshole! and also i care about you even though i’ve never met you’ but you resisted the urge and went about your normal way.

They’d had moments before where they wouldn’t eat much and then they’d suddenly go back to their regular habits. You assumed this was one of those times. One day you would like to express all the concern they’d made you feel during those times to their face and also give them a hug after you were done chewing them out.

You regretted all the worry you felt when you’re at school and suddenly you taste it again. You throw up in the middle of class. You get to go home early but it’s not that great of a consolation prize.

This happens quite a few more times and it effectively makes you lose your appetite. Days without them eating anything substantial and then….. then blood and raw meat and-

And you’re starting to feel weird. Weird about the whole damn thing. What are they eating? What’s changed about them? You just know instinctively that something has gone totally and horribly wrong.

It’s not a close friend or family member that notices there’s something wrong with you. It’s actually just a girl you eat lunch with every day, Needy Lesnicki. A vague friendly face you wave to in a crowd but have never met with outside of school even though you’ve always liked her and she’s always liked you that’s highschool for you.

“Are you okay?” she asks putting a hand over yours as you stare down at your lunch but don’t move to eat it. You’re tearing up before you know what’s going on and quicker than that you’re crying into her shoulder and jabbering on about the unsettling change of palate your soulmate is putting you both through.

At some point in the conversation she goes tense where she was holding you so gently and comfortingly. She doesn’t move until she’s properly soothed you but when you do finally pull away from one another she’s looking unusually pale. She rushes off with some vague excuse and you assume you freaked her out.

The next day your skin feels like it’s on fire. You’re feeling watched…hunted, even.

Needy runs up to you with ginger candies explaining they’re good for queasiness even though she looks fidgety the whole time she offers them. You’re grateful for any bit of relief though- constantly trying to chase away phantom taste and knowing that if your soulmate is consistent you have another bit of suffering coming your way any day now.

You pop a few candies into your mouth at once, the strong taste a minute relief from your unpleasant and all too recent memories. You hear a gasp from behind you and see Needy staring over your shoulder.

Behind you is the queen of the school and Needy’s best friend, Jennifer Check, and she looks like she’s seen a ghost. A second later she shoulder checks you and snatches up a protesting Needy, dragging her down the hall and away from you.

So that was weird.

Weirder? A week comes and goes and the rancid taste of blood hasn’t come yet. No tastes at all, actually. Which is great! Except now you’re super worried again and rush to Needy’s house in a panic late at night because she’s the only one you’ve told about the whole situation.

When you get there her Mom let’s you upstairs and you find Needy on her bed petting the hair of a Jennifer that looks even more miserable than you feel. You don’t know her like you know Needy but you sit right beside Needy on the bed and temporarily forget how worried you are about your soulmate, replaced with worry for the queen bee of the school.

When you ask what’s wrong you get a biting reply of “must be my period” which is directly at odds with how she reaches for your hand gently (yet impatiently) and places it on her exposed midriff. Her skin feels clammy and cold. You mimic Needy and rub her in soothing circles like she so obviously (and strangely) wants you to.

You forgot what you came to tell Needy or what you were so worried about.

You remember when you wake up the next morning squished against Jennifer on Needy’s full size bed. You register this and then register Needy and Jennifer having an argument like you’ve never seen before.

“She’s miserable, Jen!” and “Oh she’s miserable? Bite me, Lesnicki. I’m fucking miserable. Fucking starving to death just because they’ve got a light stomach.” followed by Needy full on screaming.

It’s at this point you interrupt by sitting up. Jennifer’s arms fall from around you like she hadn’t wanted to get caught holding you in the first place. Needy standing in front of her bed, puffed up with anger like you couldn’t imagine she was capable of but also looking sorry they woke you with their little…..spat.

“Sleeping beauty has finally awoken.” Jennifer gets up from the bed, shoving past Needy and throwing you one glance over the shoulder you can’t pick apart before she slams the bedroom door on her way out. She leaves silence in her wake. She looked even worse than she did last night.

“Are you guys okay?” is what you want to ask before Needy interrupts you, “I have to tell you something that’s super shitty since it seems Jennifer won’t.”

So she tells you.

And if you thought you were horrified at just the taste of what your soulmate has been eating you’re fucking shell shocked by the knowledge of what it’s actually been all along. Ignorance is bliss. You’ve been hoping they were on some weird diet kick. Not demonic, man eating succubus shit.

Jennifer falls off the face of the earth and not even Needy can find her for close to three days. Knowing what she is you can’t be too worried about her…she’s the most dangerous thing lurking around the streets..and yet you are worried about her. Demon or not she’s still your soulmate.

It’s not a relief when she gives into her instinct and kills again but knowing she’s okay- knowing she has to do this to survive?- it makes the blood less bitter.

She appears outside you bedroom window an hour after the taste has faded. She’s covered from head to toe in gore and looks… absolutely beautiful. Breathtaking and predatory as she knocks on the window with such a confidence you have to laugh.

You are understandably hesitant to open the window to the girl covered in blood who you know is capable of killing you very violently. She pulls back her hand and you jump from your bed because you realize she fully intends to break the window if you don’t just let her in the easy way.

“Hey there soulmate. Got a toothbrush I can borrow?” She smirks, teeth sparkling white beneath all the blood and looking deceptively human.

She uses your bathroom and doesn’t come out until she’s completely clean while also complaining about the scented soaps that you had available for her use. You’re going to have to acknowledge every elephant in the room.

“You weren’t always like this."

"Yeah no shit.” Jennifer collapses onto your bed, eyes closed, as if she doesn’t have a care in the world but she’s acutely aware of you, whether you know that or not.

“What happened?"

"Does it matter? I am what I am.” She says it like it’s a challenge. Like she wants something from you but hell if you know what. “You gonna stand all the way over there all night? I’m not leaving so you might as well get comfortable."

You take the hint and come to sit beside her on the bed. You want to touch her again but you’re pretty sure the other night was a fluke of how bad she was feeling. This time she seems to be radiating heat like a small camp fire. You wonder how it would feel to hold her at night when it’s cold outside. Who needs a romantic fireplace when she’s probably got the fires of hell burning inside her or something. You groan and collapse right next to her.

"I’m sorry.” She says after a long time. Then the room drifts back into silence. She knows you heard her and even if you didn’t she’s not one to apologize at all - let alone twice.

“For what?” You ask even though you’re pretty sure you already know why.

“For …. I’m sorry you get the shittiest part of this deal.”

“Soulmate deal or demon deal?"

"I tried to …. not eat. But it was literally like starving myself to death. Figured an alive soulmate is worth more than a dead one.” She says the last part quietly as if she’s trying to convince herself the statement is true. You always knew that objectively Jennifer was a person despite being popular and pretty and perfect. All human beings have insecurities and every other normal thing that makes people, people. It’s another thing to see her insecure. Or as close to it as she’ll let herself get.

Boldly you reach across the space and take her hand, “An alive soulmate is worth more than a dead one. I wouldn’t want you to starve for me even though this is seriously fucked."

"Good. I wasn’t planning on trying again.” She turns on her side so she’s facing you and you mimic her instantaneously, without a second thought. You’re still holding hands. Despite her harsh words her eyes are soft and tell a different story.

“We’ll figure something out.” Now you sound like the one trying to convince yourself.

A pause and then you’re flipped onto your back, Jennifer hovering over you, still damp hair tickling across your collarbone as she leans in close, “Yeah. We will.” and then her lips are on yours in the most heart-stopping kiss you’ve ever had. It’s also distracting.

You don’t notice the sharp drag of her nails against your back in the middle of it. The cuts heal almost instantly. She smiles into the kiss and tells herself things will be better this way.

#jennifer check x reader #jennifer check imagine #slasher x reader #horror insert #monster gf x reader #these type of soulmates i always wonder how they actually find each other adjkl #like yeah i tasted that pepperoni and sardine pizza you had yesterday you bastard #but how does that help me find you adjkl #demon powers and needy meddling for the win #anon...your mind #do you get the lowkey poly vibes from this because i just cannot separate them #i have to learn to make these shorter adjkl #im sorry jen is a 1 pos and her solution to you being disgusted at being turned into a proxy hannibal lecter #is to scrtach you and turn you into a semi-demon so you'll like the taste #she's a motherfucker and we stan

366 notes · View notes

revisionaryhistory · 4 years

Text

Three Days ~ 32

Catch up on AO3

~*~Sebastian~*~

The train was pretty crowded with people commuting into the city. I can't imagine spending three hours going back and forth to work every day. But right now, I thought an hour and a half with headphones sounded ideal. Processing didn't feel like the right word. I usually think of processing as something you do to deal with a negative or incorporate some insight you just had. Emma certainly wasn't a negative. But I guess process is the right word. A lot had happened in the last four days.

About fifteen minutes out of town my text alert went off. Emma sent me a picture of her in her classroom in front of a bunch of words. I doubt her pointing at baby, boy, and blue was accidental. I sent back the first thought that came to my mind, "Damn."

Next thing I knew I was at my station. I had not processed shit. I'd sat staring at her picture while my music played. Maybe that was processing?

I ducked into a shop to buy a bottle of water before hitting the gym. I was the last to arrive. I was going to get shit for this.

"Mr. Stan, glad you could join us."

Len looked at Don," Leave him alone. He slept in."

"I've been up since five-thirty, but thanks for the support." I dropped my bag close to the wall, "Got a train back from Beacon at seven."

Jackson crinkled up his face, "What's in Beacon?"

"Parents moved there. I was helping them unpack."

I must have smiled or something because Brad jumped on me, "I don't think that’s all you were doing."

I could feel my cheeks turning red. I joined them stretching out. "I did meet a woman"

There was a chorus of, "Oh yeah", from the four other men.

"Don't be like that," I admonished. "I haven't had a real date in forever."

George laughed, "We know. You'd given up."

I laughed too. I'd forgotten about that conversation. It had been George's twentieth anniversary and I'd commented I'd given up getting a date, forget about getting married. "I guess I was too hasty with giving up."

Len put his hands behind his head and thrust his hips, "If you're rusty and need some tips just let me know."

I covered my eyes with my hands, "Thanks, but I’m doing fine."

Hours later I walked into my apartment. Fuck, was I tired. Hadn't gotten much sleep the last couple of days. I smiled thinking about why. Checking out the picture on my phone again, I headed upstairs to shower. I wanted her face. I asked for a closer picture, put my phone on the charger, and hit the shower. Still wet, I fell face down on my bed and was out, not waking up until my manager called. We were going to have dinner tonight. I hung up and I saw I had a text. I closed my eyes and said, “Please."

The look on Emma's face in the picture was sweet with a touch of sexy. Her smile showed off her single dimple, but the slight quirk of her lip was like she had a secret. If I kept thinking about that I was going to get hard.

I was surprised when she responded to my text. It was a short conversation. I like how she'd brought up skipping past the when is it ok to call or text part. I suck at that shit. I think everyone does except assholes who like games. I don't have the time or inclination to figure out if I’ve waited long enough to contact someone. What happens is I'm waiting for the appropriate time, something happens, and I’m outside the window. Which, oddly enough, is exactly what happened with me trying to kiss Emma.

While I say I suck at this shit, I don't suck at all of it. Honestly, I'm a good date. I'm attentive and can be romantic. I like romance. I like how Emma and I started. The touching and talking were refreshing. It was like time stopped. There was nothing but she and I getting to know each other. I know that's not completely true. There were bumps and anxious moments, but that's part of it, part of life. I like how I felt as we maneuvered the bumps. I didn't feel alone. Feeling anxious feels alone. It feels like stuck in your head and you don't want to let the thoughts turn into words because it makes it real. If you don't say it out loud it’s not real. Good and bad with that. If it's not real, it's not real, but if you don't say it out loud no one can help. That’s a double-edged sword too. People think they're helping when they flood you with reasons you shouldn't feel how you do. If only anxiety disappeared with logic. Some people understand, some even know how to help. Then some people use it against you. I’ve known all three types. Even fell in love with the worst type.

The point of all that is to say Emma made it better. Without a pause she did the thing, said the thing, to make it better. By itself, not such a big deal, but when you combine it with everything else. She's smart, beautiful, fun, articulate, kind, sexy, and she makes me feel good. I feel like I've hit some kind of fucking jackpot.

There is an assumption that being famous is a sex buffet. Yes and no. Do you get offered anything you want and a few things you don't? Yes. I got talked into going with several of the Marvel guys to Vegas. I'd heard the stories. There were places one could have no strings sex and little to no risk of anyone talking. I'm not talking about brothels. I mean clubs frequented by locals who knew how to keep secrets. More than one of the guys had "usuals". There is money involved, but it's for discretion, not sex. Yeah, I know. I don't see the difference either. I went, but wound up out of my mind drunk with the faithfully married men. Wasn’t for me. Honestly, I got laid much more in college and the early years. Because once people knew who I was and the offers started I never knew if they wanted me, a story, a name crossed off their "to do" list, a photo op, or were a gold digger. Not that I had any money back then. When you’re shooting somewhere you're not running around fucking locals because you’re busy. And tired. I get up about two hours before call time, so I'm a human being before I get to set. What I'm saying is it's complicated and not easy. A buffet would be easy.

I'm more of a serial monogamist. I like relationships. I like being part of a couple. There are dry spells. There are dates with sex. And there are dry spells. Most recently there's been a friend with benefits. She picked today to call. After the texts with Emma, but before dinner with my manager. We haven't seen each other in, I don't remember exactly, three or four months. It's been a while. Dry spell. Thankfully, this arrangement was not complicated so when I told her I was seeing someone she was happy for me.

The dinner meeting with my manager, Emily, went well. I stayed focused despite the little part of my brain that stayed acutely aware of the time. Volleyball practice was over at nine. Theoretically. It’s a bar league and timing might be loose. She has work in the morning. Probably won't be too late. I should probably stop thinking. If she can't talk she won't answer. Just like all day today when we texted when we could. You know, like functional adults.

Sebastian ~ You home?

Emma ~ Yep

I hit call and waited to hear her voice. "No, no, no."

Click.

Not what I was expecting. I pulled my phone away from my ear and looked at it like it was a foreign object. FaceTime popped up. Oh, okay. I answered and her face filled my screen, "Hey."

Emma smiled, "I'd much rather see you than only hear you."

"This is better." Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was without makeup. She looked like the day we met. "You're beautiful."

"Thank you." She laid her head to the side and shrugged her shoulders, "Why'd you think I wanted FaceTime?"

I pulled my eyebrows down and pursed my lips, "So I could tell you I think you're beautiful?"

Emma shook her head with a grin, "Because I wanted to see your handsome face."

"Thank you." I inclined my head slightly. "How was practice?"

"Brutal." She laughed. "Sand absolutely everywhere. I miss gym floors and shoes. A lot of drills and some three on three."

"Keep going." I liked listening to her talk. She went into more detail while I listened and watched her facial expressions. She was animated with small movements that brought her words to life. I was especially aware of the quirk of her mouth. I was missing her hands and how they talked as much as her words.

"And how was your morning at the gym?"

I raised a hand, palm up, "Didn't you see my Instagram post?"

"As a matter of fact, I did." I had posted a picture of the group with me lying face down. "You looked tired."

"It was a heavy weight day." I entertained her with some of the day’s antics. The comradery made it less exhausting. We worked hard and we laughed often. "I took a nap before dinner with Emily."

"How'd that go?"

"Good." I nodded. "We've worked together for over twenty years now. I start filming in Rome end of July."

"That will be warm."

"Yeah, it will be. June will be the longest I've been home for a long time."

"Lucky for me."

"When's school out?" I was making plans. Pretty global and unstructured, but plan.

"We have through next week to finish up with work. Then it's fun and games. Celebrations of art and music to show off the projects we've worked on but haven’t sent home. Then there’s a day of outside athletic stuff. Relays, three-legged races, carrying eggs, tug of war. All sorts of things to celebrate sending our fifth graders away and the others flying up a grade. All three weeks away. School ends on Wednesday. Closing ceremony for staff Thursday. Then Friday I am going home to Alpharetta for a few days. then back to do some curriculum work."

"I thought it was summers off." I was a little disappointed. I, like many, assumed teachers were really off during the summer. This wasn’t working with my as yet unmade plans.

"Depends on what’s going on. The last winter we had so many kids out with flu and an ice storm closed school. We decided we wanted to have options like video lessons on YouTube or Google Classroom. Right before school started, we got our curriculum cleaned up. Figuring out what are the necessary things we need to make sure we teach. Then over the school year we've been recording lessons. After faculty meetings, we’ve spent time organizing them. This summer we just have to finalize and work with IT do develop the web site."

"Wow, sounds like a huge undertaking."

"It has been, but it will be so helpful if a student is out for them to be able to see the lesson that goes along with their makeup work."

"Are all the grades doing this?"

"Eventually. First and third did this year. We’ll help them to learn from our mistakes."

I got an idea, "Does that mean I can watch videos of you teaching?"

She laughed, "If I enroll you in my class. You'd want to watch that?"

"Maybe. I mean you like watching me do my job."

"Ah, Sebastian. Leveraging a movie to be able to see me teach.”

"I'm not going to promise I'll be in class every day. Never was. But I'd like to see what you do? Someday you'll go on set with me and see how boring most of it is." What did I just say? I’m not shooting anything for almost two months. How very optimistic of me.

"Well, there's an offer I can't refuse."

Good answer. "I've got a photo shoot in a couple of weeks. I think it’s the same week you're going home."

"Ooo, where are you going?" Her face lit up with excitement.

"Toronto. It's promo stuff for the film festival."

"I feel like I should know what you have showing there."

I wanted to reach out and wipe away the annoyed curve of her lips. There was no way she could know unless she was poking around the internet. I liked that she wasn't. "I'll catch you up. It’s a love triangle kind of thing. I'm the bad choice." I told her about filming, how much was improv, and the basic plot. She asked questions to clarify and I enjoyed explaining. I never felt like I was being interviewed. Emma wanted to learn about me.

With the conversation, I'd lost track of time. Again. When I glanced at the clock it was much later than I'd thought. I ran my fingers through my hair, "It's like our first date all over again. Talking for hours."

She smiled, "Its a theme for us. I hate to, but I need to go to bed."

"Believe it or not I’d planned on watching the time, so we could both get some sleep. I, at least, took to a nap." We shared a smile, "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"OK. Good night, Sebastian."

"Night, Emma" She disappeared from my screen and I wasn't very happy. I wanted to keep talking, to keep seeing her expressions. Her green eyes weren't as vibrant on FaceTime, but my memory could fill in the details.

Wednesday was text free and my phone rang at three-thirty. "The children were horrible today."

The exasperated look on her face made me smile, "Could it be their teacher was extra tired today?"

She huffed out a breath, "It’s possible.” Her lips turned to a smile, "Wouldn't change a thing."

"What do horrible children do?"

"Tommy used his folders as frisbees. Annabelle and Brooklyn gave each other tattoos during recess with Sharpies. No one could sit still for lessons or story time. And finally, Marta threw up all over the table and we had to evacuate the room until the custodian got it cleaned up. Room smelled like vomit and Glade the rest of the day."

I had been cringing since the tattoos. "Sorry about the definitely bad day."

Emma nodded, "What did you do today?"

Not much. "Um, long run this morning. Lighter weights today. More core and flexibility. Picked up some Thai food on the way home. Took a shower. Then I started reading a book on female spy units. You called. Now, I’m mostly trying to figure out a way to climb through the internet so I can kiss you. We've still got some catching up to do.”

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #fanfiction

5 notes · View notes

starkerisendgame · 5 years

Note

A Rom Howney prompt: Tom sneaks into the set late at night to rehearse while everyone's asleep in their trailers, but doesn't bother to change out of his pajamas. Robert has the same idea and sneaks in, and sees him. Tom's pajamas are short boxers and a v-neck.

I really like the idea of sneaky, late-night practices! I hope I captured what you were looking for! I wasn’t sure if you were looking for fluff or smut but based on ‘short boxers’ I threw a little smut into this ;) I hope you enjoy!

PSA that I know next to nothing about movie sets, the way the MCU works BTS or the inner workings of Homecoming, which is the film I’m basing this on. Largely because we get like 5 minutes of Tony+Peter in Civil War and Infinity War, and even less of them in Endgame. It made the most sense to me to have this set at Homecoming.

It was a little known fact that Tom developed something of a little insomnia, during filming. There were nights when the sheer exhaustion won out and he would drag himself off set, collapsing face-down into his bed and sleeping straight through to his next alarm, but then of course, there were plenty of nights like tonight.

Spiderman: Homecoming is well in swing (pun unintended, but totally awesome) and it’s been the Marvel career Tom has been dreaming of since he was old enough to read the comics and watch the animations. Some days, he isn’t even sure that this isn’t all some twisted dream, or that he hasn’t hit his head and this is his perfect coma world.

Well. Not quite perfect, since it’s around three in the morning and he had yet to actually manage any sleep. The past week had been spent filming the scenes for the ferry sequence, and it had been exhausting to say the least. Tom had bruises in places bruises had no business being, and every muscle continuously reminded him of the fact he was doing the majority of his own stunts.

This is a frequent night-time routine, tossing and turning in his bed or sitting at the little kitchenette in his trailer, pouring over the script and stressing about the next day of filming. He knew he shouldn’t, knew that the directors had no issues with his performances so far, but.

Maybe it’s the legacy he’s fulfilling. The latest face in a long saga, but quite possibly the one filling the biggest shoes. He’s in the MCU’s biggest league, working alongside their most iconic actors and characters. Maybe it’s the fact that one such iconic presence is Robert Downey Jr. Maybe it’s the constant doubt of his acting, of what he must look like alongside people like Chris Hemsworth and Jeremy Renner.

The Avengers non-withstanding, all of his co-stars are already the faces behind several iconic roles. Already have successful, recognisable, established careers behind their belt. And, sure. Tom isn’t exactly baby-faced when it came to acting, but he was certainly no Sherlock Holmes or Human Torch.

Maybe it’s just the fact that he’s working 7/7 days a week, often from one day straight into the next, filming at all hours and repeating the same scenes over and over until there’s 20 different takes to splice up and choose from. Whatever the underlying issue, it had resulted in countless sleepless nights.

However, he’d also developed a coping mechanism. Or, rather a productive way of passing the hours. With a deep sigh, he rolled over and heaved himself off the bed, tidying his pillow before he ambled across the trailer, reaching for the drawer he kept the scripts within. The night was relatively warm, L.A’s August heat enough that all Tom had worn to bed was his boxers and a thin, worn v-neck he wasn’t entirely aware he’d packed.

The script was one of several copies, the one that Watts had advised they would be attempting first in the morning. It was time for the turning point in Peter’s story; the rooftop scene. Tom shivered at the mere thought, the script fluttering in his grip for a moment before he relaxed, moving back to the edge of his bed.

It wasn’t that he put off his scenes with Robert, per se. It was just…He had a tendency to nudge them aside, throw himself into his lone scenes and his stunts. The idea of working with Robert made his heart drop, and flutter the whole way down. Robert was talented, intuitive, devastatingly handsome. It gave Tom a little bit of a complex, filming with him. And practising? Fuck.

That had to be done around others, or Tom felt he couldn’t be held responsible for what he might do. The way that Robert was just so Tony without even trying. The effortless, animated way he threw himself into character, never breaking it even when Tom messed up or he decided to ad-lib. The way Robert’s hair curled in the mornings, soft and dark before the makeup crew dived at it with product.

Christ. The way Robert looked in a suit and Tony’s signature shades. The way his voice dipped and husked when Tony Stark bossed Peter around. It all merged into one big Thing that steadily grew until Tom couldn’t ignore it. Until even his co-stars had noticed how he changed around the older man.

Chris (”when Hems is around, just shout for Cevans”) had taken him aside, during the filming of Civil War. All sootied up and dressed as the good Captain, grinning soft and broad at Tom as he told him not to worry. Don’t get so starstruck. Robert is just a man and you’re doing great. You’re doing awesome. Tom had promptly left to go bang his head against a wall, but had tried to keep his raging crush and complex under control.

Now, without Chris’ soft, knowing looks to guilt him into behaving, Tom wasn’t all that sure he wouldn’t do something stupid when filming. He already took too many liberties; touching when he could, ad-libbing into developing the mentor-mentee relationship Watts wanted to present (baiting the fans, Tom knew. Homecoming was Peter-Tony bait, and it would be ripped apart in the future).

So he avoided practising with Robert as much as he could, utilising his sleepless nights by wandering the set in the dark hours, practising his lines to the empty air and bracing himself for how good Robert would look in the coming hours, the way his voice would sound, the way whatever $4,000 suit he had on would shape his body.

Tom shook his head, biting his lip to bring himself back to the present as he reached for a pair of ankle socks, tugging them on before slipping his feet into the sneakers at the side of his bed. They were in Los Angeles, the set having been sculpted over the past month to resemble a building rooftop. Tom wondered if the fans knew just how much of the MCU was CGI and clever building work.

He debating redressing, but it was unlikely that even the set-up crew would be there this early, and so he settled upon grabbing a zip-up hoodie, large and baggy and probably someone else’s. It was soft and grey and was missing the strings, but it came down to his thighs and was warm, and he draped it over his arm as he scooped up his keys and a water bottle, pushing his door open.

It was still pitch black, and he used his phone as a torch, folded script tucked into his pocket as he crept past the line of other trailers. Robert’s was by far the biggest, and was three spaces across from Tom’s, dark and shut down as the man no doubt slumbered away peacefully.

Tom envied him, just a little. And was acutely aware that it was ridiculous he also envied the bed Robert was draped on. The sheets wrapped around his body. Shaking his head at himself, he tip-toed onward, past the rows of trailers and the craft area, moving until he reached the large, open space of the set. It was essentially like a boxing ring, a giant square platform with one edge cut away to allow for a small set of steps leading onto it.

In the morning, there would be a single, green-screen colour step there, where Robert would stand whilst pretending to hover as Iron Man, and where he would step down in reaction to Peter’s outburst, revealing himself. For now, the little half-cube was empty, quiet. Tom fumbled around in the darkness until he found the switch for the dim safety lights, wincing as they came on.

He waited, practically holding his breath; but nobody stirred, the set far enough away that the light didn’t reach the trailers. He let out a heavy exhale and approached, setting his hoodie and his bottle down and pulling the script from his pocket. He knew why the scene had to happen, but it still always made something in his chest cinch to read it.

How those words devastated everything within Peter. How the trust and the love and the feelings, carefully sculpted for Tony over years of admiration and then being approached crumbled, nothing but rubble in his chest. Losing the two things that were possibly the most prominent driving forces, Aunt May aside.

Tom shook himself off, psyched himself up as he paced the cube, slipping inch by inch into Peter’s mind. It wasn’t all that hard; they shared their similarities, their behaviours. Tom supposed that was part of why being Peter came so easily, so naturally. He let himself sink into the mindset, pacing and coaxing himself into the right state.

“I did good. I know I did good. I saved those people. I did my best. He’s gotta believe me now. He has to” he breathed to himself, shaking his head as the set fell away into a rooftop on a sunny day, the high-up air chilly at his cheeks, the knowledge that Tony would come to him forcing him to keep moving, restless. So much was riding on this. Practically his entire future. Maybe.

The roar of thrusters, the ripple of disturbance in the air. The prickle at his senses as Tony approached. It didn’t escape Tom, the nature behind the fact they had Tony stop above Peter, suited and booted. It was a physical representation of the power dynamic, the relationship. The nature of the scene.

Robert’s voice, as clear as bells in his mind, with all that Tony Stark flare, the way he’d bounce from sentence to sentence. The rigid power behind each word. He could feel his lower lip wobble a little, brows pulling as he tried to bring himself to ask.

“Is everyone okay?”.

He stopped, mulling it over. Peter was scared, but also angry. He tried again, defiantly this time. It didn’t feel quite as right as being meek, soft where Tony was jagged, so he repeated it the way he had before. Peter wasn’t in that place yet, where he would challenge Tony Stark. Where he would slowly find his feet and push back, instead of relenting.

In truth, Tom liked it this way. It felt right, backing down where Robert pressed, looking away instead of holding his gaze. And perhaps that was Tom, bleeding into the character. Perhaps it was just a nod to Robert’s talents. Tom shifted, tugged his boxers down a little where they had ridden up. They were little more than girls’ boxers, short and tight at the thighs. He had several pairs to wear under the CGI and the actual spandex suit.

The anger at Tony’s next words, more hurt than genuine rage. He’d helped. He’d been there when Tony hadn’t. Was pretty sure Tony was only there because Peter had been. “No thanks to me?” More force. More courage. But still hurt, still scared. Tony was supposed to support him. Teach him. Not…This.

He tried that sentence a few times, varied the levels of anger, of pain. Watts wanted this part to be an outburst, the hurt and rage bubbling over, the tipping point to where Tony would make that crushing choice to take it all away. He stood on the edge of the structure, looked out over the city he’d chosen to protect. Let Tony’s words run through his head.

He twisted in anger, explosive this time as he spat the words out, stopped. Too much anger didn’t seem like Peter. Soft, bubbly Peter. So he softened it a little on the next run before taking a water break, consulting his script again. If he was a little more alert, a little less invested, he might’ve heard the soft, deliberately careful footsteps. Might have noticed the figure taking the same path he had, some half an hour ago.

As it was, he turned away again, moving to the next line. It was the last sentence he always stumbled over. If you even cared, you’d actually be here. God, how much pain was in that. How much anger. Every way he tried it was good, but almost never enough. He hated it, hated saying it. Hated that this was part of their journey, although he understood and respected it.

He mulled it over, wandering the structure for a few rounds before he settled, went through the line before it. Psyched himself up, let his body tremble with it, the words fighting to be free until -

“If you even cared, you’d actually be here!”

“I am, kiddo”.

Tom nearly threw himself off the short ledge he’d been balancing on, stifling his shriek with his hand as he whipped around. There, near where Tom had dumped his things, was Robert. Robert, who’s hair was messy-rumpled from sleep, clad in nothing but a soft pair of sweatpants and a thin wifebeater. Robert, who grinned at him lazily, dazzlingly from where he leaned against a lighting beam, arms folded, hips cocked.

“Great minds really do think alike” the older actor drawled, smile turning soft as he pushed upright, moving with a natural, easy saunter towards the podium. It was then that the tepid air on his thighs reminded Tom of his state of dress and he flushed, shifting nervously on the spot.

“Did I wake you?” He asked, chewing at his lip as he looked past Robert, towards his hoodie. How would it look, if he danced around him, skirted his advance to reach it? He stayed put for the moment, watched the way Robert gracefully ascended the steps. In response, the actor shook his head, hair softly flopping against his temple at the action.

“Nah, Tommy. You and I share this; I sneak in practise when I can’t sleep, too” Robert admitted, his voice raspy with sleep as he slowly ambled the cube, looking around. Tom took the distraction as an opportunity to stare. The wifebeater clung to Robert’s toned form, exposed thick biceps and broad shoulders. His sweatpants were low on his hips, snug at the thighs and calves.

“Oh. Right, ‘course. D’you…I can go? If you want to practise alone” he offered, toeing the edge of the set as he stepped carefully along, inching towards modest cover. Robert twirled on the spot, casting him an amused, sideways glance.

“Seeing as the scene we both planned on rehearsing is one we have together, and we’re now here together…” Robert responded, voice amused and perhaps a little teasing. Tom could see his point. Though they’d rehearsed this briefly together, it was never in full and always surrounded by other people, feeling the script rather than actually acting it. Tom’s fault, admittedly. He couldn’t help the half-chub this scene incited.

“What, you want a private opportunity to laugh at how shit I am?” He tossed back, but it was easy banter, broken by a smile as he continued his way forwards. Salvation to his exposed skin was so close, that of course Robert’s gaze followed his aim, and the man cocked a brow, easy and confident as he leaned back a little, head cocking. It was the exact sort of mannerism Tony Stark would have, and it spun Tom’s head a little.

“Shy?” The man grinned, almost a baring of his teeth as he turned on the spot, following Tom’s path. Tom snorted, but stopped, turning to face Robert. The man had seen him drowned like a rat and half naked already. Plus, whilst fully covering, Spiderman’s suit didn’t exactly leave much to the imagination.

“Maybe I’m just a sweet prairie girl, never been around a man such as yourself before, Mister. And my, how unholy it is of me, to flaunt such skin before your modest person” he drawled, thick and high as he fluttered his lashes. Robert’s laughter was quiet but genuine, cheeks bunched and shoulders shaking. It was the kind that crinkled the corner of his eyes, and Tom didn’t even try to fight the warmth that spread across his chest in response.

“Sweet, maybe. The rest I call bullshit on” Robert shot back, beginning to stroll the set. “So. Since you have an allergy to properly rehearsing with me, I consider this the perfect opportunity to get a little practise in before we do it on camera” Robert divulged, eyes twinkling as he looked across at Tom. And, fuck. Of course Robert was smart enough to have also noticed.

Tom sniffed delicately, allowing his voice to slip into Peter’s pitched, boyish voice. The accent and the little vocal quirks came as easily to him now as breathing. “Oh, I don’t know. Does the mighty Mr. Stark actually have time for me, now?” He asked, spinning to fully face Robert, who straightened, meeting the change fluidly.

A brow arched, slow and deliberate. The tip of his head challenging as he took a predatory step forwards. “Curb that attitude, kid. I’m right here”. Tom had to repress a shiver, dropping Peter’s persona to rub his palms down his thighs, looking away with a smile. The dim lighting did nothing to take away from Tony’s portrayal, the shadows accentuating Robert’s impressive figure, shading his eyes and sculpting his form in place of a fancy outfit.

“I don’t mean to. Avoid you, y’know? I just…” He trailed off. How did you explain all of the factors in this? Where would he even start? Was it even possible to admit you had a crush on your recently divorced co-star, double your age?

“Hey, I get it, kiddo. I do. Acting isn’t as straight-arrow as everyone thinks and being famous doesn’t mean you stop being a person” Robert tossed back, soft and so breakingly gentle. Tom nodded, accepting that as an easy out before he gathered his wits and turned away from his hoodie. No point in assuming modesty now. Robert had seen enough.

“Okay. Let’s do it” he agreed, hopping from the ledge to shake himself into some semblance of professional. Perhaps this was for the best, anyway. Tom was a professional, after-all. Had an actual job to do, and letting his personal life affect it would do nothing for his career, his working life. Not this personal issue, anyway.

They chatted idly for a brief moment, working out where Tom was at with the scene, discussing lightly the emotions, the reasons, the dynamic. Robert was on the same wave-length, saddened by the interaction but understanding it as a pivotal point in Peter’s life. Tony Stark’s actions on this rooftop were paramount in the making of Spiderman. Of Peter Parker.

“Start from the beginning. I liked what I saw when you were loning it” Robert coaxed, backing away to give Tom space. They slipped easily into the roles, Robert clapping his hands quietly in lieu of a flying suit approaching and Tom running through his lines the way he had before, presenting his interpretations to Robert, who met them easily with Tony’s confidence, his bluntness.

The flatness of his tone, the easy, brutal dismissal in ‘no thanks to you’ struck Tom to the core, knocking him out of Peter for a moment. Robert waited patiently through the slip up, as liquid in being Tony Stark as water flowed. It was easy, almost painfully so. The smooth words, the way Robert held himself even whilst pretending to be in the Iron suit. It was powerful, oozing the higher-up dynamic Tony played off against Peter’s meeker, softer one.

And then.

“I wanna do the caring line. I feel like that’s the electric point in this scene. I think that’s where it all really becomes a live wire” Robert cut through their breathing pause, Tom nearly inhaling his water instead of wallowing it. Fuck. That scene. It ached enough just pretending. Actually doing it with Robert? Tom angled his body away, desperately willing down the almost automatic spike of arousal.

“How does it feel to you? To Peter?” Robert continued, running a hand through his hair to tidy it as Tom tried to get himself back under control. They’d been running through the whole no thanks to you sequence for a while, and Tom’s hands were shaky, his throat tight with Peter’s betrayed anger. Robert had looked impressed each time, gaze dark, retaliating in kind with Tony’s attitude.

“Uh. Well it’s…Peter. I mean, he’s hurt. And he’s angry. But he’s not…Aggressive. Aggressive isn’t him” he shrugged, rubbed at his thighs again. It was true. Peter was determined, stubborn, ready to fight the good fight. But he wasn’t aggressive. He wasn’t like Steve, lie Tony, like Thor. Even angry, it was just his voice, just hurt little words.

“Tony is…A big part of his life. And he’s lost all the men in his life that he’s looked up to. His Dad, his Uncle, and now Tony. He’s drowning in human emotions and he’s probably drowning under his senses, too” Tom added, thoughtful. It was something Marvel had seemed to forget, despite their dramatic displays with the other Toby’s Spiderman and Andrew’s Amazing Spiderman.

Peter Parker had heightened senses too. And although they were touching on his strength and skills in Homecoming, Marvel didn’t seem all that interested in portraying Spiderman as they had before. Or giving him much depth, despite planning several stand-alone movies. Robert was looking thoughtfully across at him, head tipped and one of those soft, lopsided smiles curving his mouth.

“That just Peter, or are you projecting?” Robert asked, and Tom huffed, shot him the middle finger with a slow roll of his eyes.

“Oh, fuck you, Robert Downey Stark. As if you aren’t basically this universe’s Tony” he pointed out, but he was unable to stop a grin. Robert shrugged, shameless. His answering grin was bright, broad. There were people like Chris Evans, who despite portraying Steve Rogers perfectly, shared only minimal similarities. Then there were people like Robert and Chris Pratt, who were basically their characters, without the powers.

“Alright, alright. Hackles down. Come on, sweetheart. This scene and we can hit our beds before Watts wakes us up for that ‘sweet spot morning sunshine’“ Robert beamed, turning away to place himself where he had been stood before, shaking out his shoulders before he cocked his head. “Are you cold, by the way? Little pyjamas like that. You can get your hoodie, if you want”.

It was meant to be caring. Except there was something in Robert’s eyes like a challenge, a tilt to his smile that was almost daring Tom to actually move for his hoodie. Instead, he shot the same look back and moved, walked the edge of the set before he leapt down, approached. It was easy, to sink straight back into Peter. Easier still to watch the way Robert’s jaw ticked, his gaze dark.

“None of this would’ve happened if you had just listened to me, Mr. Stark. If you even cared, you’d actually be here!” Tom seethed, voice cracking over the words, helpless to his emotions. He threw his hands up accusingly, advancing towards where Robert stood, where the suit would hover above him, intimidating and impenetrable.

And Robert was flexing his arms, gaze thunderous, pinning Tom down with his eyes as he stepped closer, spine straight. Immediately, Tom jerked back a step, eyes wide, chest heaving. He was.

“Again” Robert suddenly, breaking from the steely gaze, the ultimate power raidating from him, even without the suit, the sharply styled features. Tom looked away, took a few steps to re-centre himself. He knew the drill. They would try it, over and over, different ways each time until they found the one.

He shifted, tossed a glare across his shoulder. “None of this -” He pointed across to the side. “Would have happened if you had just listened to me. If you even cared, you’d be here”. He advanced as he spoke, gesturing wildly, gaze fixed on the suit. It was easy, with the suit. With those inhuman, glowing eyes. He couldn’t do this to Mr. Stark’s face. His voice wavered over the words, tears building in his eyes. All he wanted was to be good. To be like Tony. To prove something, be worth something.

And then…Tony, stepping forwards like a wall of sheer power. Pressing into his space, forcing Peter to step back, to soften. Tom knew he was projecting in the way he glanced off, baring the side of hi throat briefly. “Again. Last line” Robert commanded in much the way Tony would say I did listen, kid.

Tom shifted, threw his gaze back up, shoulders tensing and advancing where Robert stepped back. “If you even cared, Mr. Stark, you’d be here”. It was rasped, hurt and angry, his body a live wire as Robert stepped forwards again, towered over him. Robert wasn’t the tallest of actors, but Tom was shorter still, to Robert’s jaw.

He shifted, heart stuttering, backed away against the advance of Robert’s presence, immediately giving in. He tipped his head, glanced away, felt all the fight melt from his bones. Tony did that, effortlessly.

“I did listen, kid. You think I didn’t? Who’d you think called the FBI, huh? Me. I did. Again”. The last word was Robert, stepping off again. Tom’s heart pounded in his chest, palms scrubbing at his thighs. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could do this. It got harder, each time. Worse, to be mindful of covering his half-hard dick. The worst thing about this scene was it was one of those types that sunk into reality, blurring the lines.

This time, Robert didn’t back away as much, forced the scene so that Tom advancing brought them almost toe-to-toe. Tom ran the lines again, palms pressing against his thighs as he gasped the words out, eyes blazing. Robert flexed again, code for the stepping-out-of-the-suit moment, except when he pressed forwards, he almost knocked into Tom, forcing him to skitter backwards, desperate to relent.

“I - Mr. Stark” He choked out, gaze falling to the floor, body almost sinking downwards. It was impossible that Robert hadn’t caught that, and the man interrupted, another forceful again that almost had Tom sobbing, shifting to use his thigh to deflect from where he was getting harder.

Robert stepped off enough to let Tom straighten fully again, but leaving barely any breathing room. Tom forced the line out once more, chest heaving as he pressed. Robert retaliated, pressing in, except this time he didn’t stop when Tom scrambled to back down, pressing further until Tom’s legs shook, Robert invading his space, pressing, towering above as Tom caved, sinking to one knee, head turned away.

He could hear Robert’s heavy exhale, could see the way the man shifted, dark navy sweatpants moving against his thigh. Tom’s fingers dug into his own, whole body trembling. This wasn’t the scene, this wasn’t the way it went, but fuck it if he couldn’t have stopped it. It was too much, he was too exhausted to fight it, to separate Tony’s power from Robert’s. The dynamic, the names.

“Tom” Robert’s voice was soft, his body shifting as the older man sunk down, hands coming into Tom’s field of vision. He forced himself to breathe out, exhale long as shaky as Robert’s hands came to his cheeks, cupping his jaw gently to lift his head. The man looked…Soft. Revered. Concerned. “Hey, shortstack” he coaxed, smiling warmly as Tom looked up, forced himself to relax.

“You did good, kiddo. Really. That was intense” Robert murmured, ran his hand across the soft hair at Tom’s temple before he moved to grasp his arms, pulling him to his feet. “Didn’t expect you to play it that way”. And there was something teasing but genuine in his voice. No way Robert didn’t know that was Tom, not Peter.

“Fuck off, I’m tired. And you play Tony too well” Tom shot back, forcing himself to release his thigh, pulling from Robert’s grip to head for his water. Robert had the familiar scent of aftershave, minty and fresh. It was strong, as always, but not overpowering, not too much. Tom drank water until his tummy ached and then ducked, scooping up his hoodie, sipping it on. A protective barrier. Another layer.

“Language, you little shit” Robert threw back, grinning as he approached. He looped an arm over Tom’s shoulders, drew him in. “For real, though. That…Wasn’t Peter”. The look he shot across the space between them was meaningful, though still light. Tom looked away, shoulders hunching. How was he supposed to explain that? Fuck, it would take hours.

“Imagine the hysteria if that was the actual scene” Robert suddeny murmured, voice lilted, a deliberate break in the tension. Tom couldn’t help snorting a giggle, hunching over again, but in amusement this time, trying to stifle his laughter.

“We’re professional actors, Rob. Not porn stars” he reminded his co-star, soft and sated as he broke away, stooping for his things. They still had maybe two or three hours before they had to get up, and he felt loose enough that sleep was a real possibility. Robert shot him a wounded look.

“Are you trying to say porn stars aren’t professional actors?” He asked, voice tinged with false hurt. Tom rolled his eyes and they begun the walk back to the trailer in companionable, quiet banter. Robert presenting his case that porn stars are as much professional actors as himself and Tom, and Tom trying to argue the differences in their methods, their expectations without setting his cheeks on fire.

Robert walked him all the way to his trailer, leaning casually against the side as Tom fumbled for his keys. His eyes are getting heavy, body craving nothing but the comfort and warmth of his bed. Tom supposed it was akin to a soft sub-fall. “Get some rest, darling” Robert advised, voice soft, sweatpants lopsided on his hips as he shifted, pushed away.

“Oh, and. Nice undies. Very minimalist” Robert winked, throwing the remark over his shoulder as he headed for his own trailer, a deliberate saunter in his steps. Tom nearly stabbed his key through the door, twisting to stare open-mouthed as the older man retreated.

They nailed the scene dynamic on the first shoot. Watts and Fordson stared, astounded from their seats as the two broke apart, taking a breather. It was perfect. The right amount of push and give, of hurt and angry. It was exactly what the script demanded.

“I liked it better when you were on your knees” Robert had remarked, casual and quiet in his ear as they leaned forwards watching it on the screen. And if that’s where they ended up several hours later, Tom on his knees, Robert’s hands tucked down into his tight, short little boxers. Well.

That was their business.

#Prompt Fills #Fanfic #Fan Fic #Rom Howney #Starker #IronSpider #Robert Downey Jr/Tom Holland #Tom Holland/Robert Downey Jr #Tom/Robert #Tom Holland x Robert Downey Jr #Robert Downey Jr x Tom Holland #Rom Howney Fic #Rom Howney Fanfic #Rom Howney Prompt

187 notes · View notes

calpalirwin · 4 years

Text

Choices

Summary: Ashton Irwin thought he had everything he needed in life in the form of his daughter. Funny the difference a choice can make.

A/N: I have 7 completed chapters of this baby to share with y’all. Two chapters today because I probably won’t post fic stuff tomorrow. Y’all ready for more Nashton?! Of course you are! What a silly question, Bri, we’re always ready.

Content: Nothing too crazy/out of the norm.

Word Count: 2.7K

And away, and away we go!

Chapter 2

“Oh, c’mon Cal. It’s Sunday night,” I said into the phone.

“Just come out with me, Ash. I met this girl. She has friends. It’s just a small hang. Nothing major.”

“A small hang actually makes it worse, Cal. That means I’d have to interact with people.”

“Good! Less chance of you moping in the corner all night. Get dressed. We’re doing this.”

“I don’t mope…”

“Yes, you do. Look, can’t Lauren watch Cass for the night? She watched her last week.”

I rolled my eyes. “Alright,” I caved. “If Lauren’s free to watch Cass I’ll go. But only for a bit.”

“Wait, for real? Alright!”

About an hour later, we pulled up in front of a house. Music poured out from the back yard and I could hear noise of conversations, laughter, and the splashing of the pool. “You ready?” Calum asked me as we walked up.

I adjusted my hat on my head and let out my breath. “I guess.”

He turned to go towards a girl who was waving at us and smiling. “Have some fun for once, yeah?”

I looked around, watching him go off with some girl. I spotted where the drinks were and made my way over to see what they had: cheap beer, tequila, and water. I groaned and settled for a water. It was probably best if I didn’t drink anyhow.

I maneuvered through the crowd, trying not to spill my drink or theirs as people brushed past me without a care in the world. I took a deep drink from the water. “Mmm, shit! Sorry,” I quickly said as I almost collided with a girl.

“Ash?” Nic asked, clearly surprised to see me.

“Hey,” I said, trying to hide my own surprise. “Wanna drink?”

“I’m good,” she said, holding up her own water.

I half-smiled, “Cool.” I rocked back and forth on the heels of my feet trying to figure out what to say. I’d been avoiding her in the halls at home, trying to push her from my mind as best I could. But, every time I tried to sleep I just remembered the way her lips had brushed my cheek, and how badly I wanted to feel her lips on my skin again. Nic didn’t need to become attached to someone like me. I knew I was too busy to give her the kind of attention a girl like her deserved. And she was building a life for herself. She needed someone who was building a life for himself too, not some guy raising a kid. That didn’t stop me from wanting her though.

“Hey… um… you left your jacket,” she told me.

“Oh, is that where it is? Cool.”

“Yeah… um… is everything okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh… cuz you seem a little…”

“Nah, just busy. Sorry.”

“Okay… Well, it was good seeing you, Ash.” She smiled and walked off to find her friends.

I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose, cursing myself. “Whoa, who was that?” Calum asked, appearing by my side.

“Just some girl.”

“Some girl… isn’t that the girl from the bar?”

“Yeah.”

“Go talk to her! Make something happen!”

“Cal… she’s… I’m… it’s…”

“What?”

“She deserves someone better than me, okay?”

“So?”

“So, I can’t do that to her. I’m not gonna waste her time when I have literally nothing to give her.”

“Ash. For once in your life, stop doubting yourself. You have more to offer her than anyone else here. And more than that, you’re actually a damned good guy. Go. Go!”

I sighed, took another drink, and walked over to Nic. “Hey,” I said, interjecting myself in their conversation. “Can I talk to you?”

“Yeah, sure,” she smiled and followed me to a quieter part of the house. I was acutely aware of the eyes on us and the jealousy. “So, what’s up?”

“I… uh… I was wondering if you… uh…. wantedtogooutsometime?” I rushed.

“Go out? With you?”

“Yeah…”

“Sure. I’d love to.”

“Great. How’s Friday? Or whichever day works best for you.”

“How about now?” she asked coyly.

I nodded my head fast. “That works.” Then, “Did you want to get out of here? Maybe get some real drinks?”

“Yeah, sure. Are we walking?”

I laughed at the joke, “I actually drove this time, so we can take my truck if you want.”

“Awesome. Let me just tell the girls I’m leaving.”

Yeah, I gotta tell my friend, too. Meet you out front in five?” She nodded then walked back to her friends while I scanned the crowd for Calum. “Hey, Cal. I’m leaving.”

“What? Ash…”

“It’s not like that. I got a date.”

“What? Ash!”

“Yeah, so you're good?”

“Yeah, I’ll find a way home. Have fun on your date!”

I laughed as I made my way out of the house and found Nic on the porch. “Ready?” I asked, offering her my arm.

She wrapped her arm around mine, our fingers brushing together as we interlaced them. “Yeah,” she smiled. “You know, you had me worried there for a minute. I thought I had scared you away.”

“Nah, I don’t scare easy,” I told her as I opened the door for her. We let go of each other as she got in the front seat. I gently closed the door before making my way into the driver’s seat, saying a silent prayer that I had left Cassidy’s car seat with Lauren.

“Can I ask what happened then? I mean, it’s okay if you don’t like me. Or aren’t interested in me that way or whatever.”

“No. I like you, Nic. It has nothing to do with you. I’m just…”

“Just what?”

“Alright… I’ll just put this out here and you can make your choice. I’m not good enough for you. You’re a girl who clearly has a bright future ahead of you. And I… well… I’m just… I have a five year old.”

“What?”

“I’m a single dad. I have sole custody over my daughter. So, if you’re looking for something serious, I’m probably not the guy to get serious with. That’s all.”

“And are you looking for something serious?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure what I want. But I know that I like you. And I’m willing to see where that goes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay, I’m also willing to see where this goes.”

I smiled and started driving. “So, tell me about yourself. I don’t know much about you besides your name and that you moved here for grad school.”

She let out a small laugh. “Well, I’m Nic. It’s short for Nicole. I grew up in Atlanta. I went to college there. Moved here for grad school. I needed a chance of pace.”

“Nicole… Pretty. What are you going to school for?”

“Rehabilitation medicine.”

“Wow… so like sports injuries and stuff?”

“Hopefully.”

“So, do you like sports?”

“Sort of. My dad’s more of a fan than I am. But I know enough, I guess.”

“So are you more into baseball or football?”

“Both, I guess. Football is easier to follow for me, but baseball’s more exciting.”

“Well, yeah, it’s easy to follow a team that only plays 1 game a week.”

She laughed, “That’s why I like it.”

I laughed too. “That’s cool though. So, you’re an Atlanta fan?”

“Yep,” she nodded. “And you’re a…” she looked at my hat which was my Seattle Mariners cap. “Seattle fan. Go figure.”

“I could say the same, Miss Atlanta,” I teased.

In a swift motion, she took my hat off my head, flipped it frontwards and placed it on her own. She flipped down the visor and stared at her reflection, posing here and there. “Hmm… the blue’s kinda nice.”

I looked over at her, my hat low on her head. “Looks good on you,” I told her.

“Oh, now you ruined it! I can’t look good in a Seattle hat!” She laughed loudly as she handed me back my hat. I quickly flipped it backwards and slid it on. “There, much better. Although, you look good without the hat, too.”

“Yeah?” I looked at my reflection in the rearview mirror. I looked like I always did. I took off my hat and ran my hand through my hair, giving it a ruffled, “rolled out of bed” look. I shrugged. To me, hat or no hat, I looked like I always had.

“So are you just one of those guys that always looks good?”

I laughed, “I guess. Going from a high school athlete to the police academy to keeping up with a five year old will do that to a guy.”

“Well, you look amazing.”

I laughed again, feeling my cheeks turn red. “Thanks. You look amazing too. Stunning, really.”

“Well, it’s hard to help with rehab if I’m not in shape myself. Plus I was a dancer.”

“Dancer?”

“Yeah, I was on my high school and college dance teams. Did cheer and gymnastics too.”

“Wow… that’s actually really hot,” I admitted. “So what do you do for fun? Like in your downtime?”

She shrugged. “Typical stuff. Read, watch TV, listen to music. Nothing weird or super cool I guess. Why? Do you have a cool or weird hobby?”

“Kinda? I play music.”

“Like instruments? What kind?”

“Little bit of everything. Mostly guitar and drums though.”

“That’s cooler than what I do.”

“Oh, c’mon. There’s gotta be something cool you do.”

“I mean, I draw.”

“See? That’s cool! Just doodles or…?”

“Doodles mostly.”

“Very cool,” I said as I pulled my truck onto a gravel road and stopped. I shut off my engine, but left the radio playing. “This is my favorite place,” I admitted, not really sure why I was telling her that or why I took her here.

“It’s beautiful,” she admired, staring out the windshield towards Puget Sound, the sun starting to sink into the horizon.

“I like to come here when the world gets a little too fast for me. I come here and time seems to slow down.” Again, I had no idea why I was telling her these things.

“I can see why you would. I mean, yeah Atlanta is a city, but it’s still a southern town. So there’s stillness to it. Here? Well, everything seems so busy.”

I shrugged. “It’s home. Well, actually my mom and I moved here from Australia. But I was two, so I consider here home.”

“Australia?!”

I laughed. “Yup. But, like I said. I consider here to be home. Well, Monroe’s home.”

“Is Monroe far from here?”

I shook my head. “Bout a half hour drive.”

“And your mom’s still in Monroe?”

I nodded. “Yep. She’s still in the same house with my stepdad and little brother. Harry’s still in high school.”

“And your sister?”

“Lauren’s in Tacoma for college. So, she’s close too.”

“Are you close with your family?”

I nodded again, “Yeah, they help me a lot with raising Cass. My sister’s babysitting her now.”

“And Cass is your daughter? What’s that like? Being a single dad?”

“Hard,” I laughed. “Very hard. Her mom’s not in the picture, so it was hard both losing her and dealing with that on top of trying to raise a newborn. It was like hitting the jackpot on the worst possible luck.”

“That sounds rough, I’m sorry.” Her hand reached out to gently squeeze mine.

I shrugged, “It’s alright. I love being a dad. Just gets lonely sometimes.”

“You’re telling me you haven’t used the hot single dad thing to your advantage?”

I shook my head, “Not that girls haven’t shown interest, or that I haven’t been interested. It’s just hard to maintain anything real when I have to balance being a dad. And I’m not a one-night-stand kind of guy.”

“Maybe you just haven’t found the right girl.”

I shrugged. “It’s possible. But, from my experience, girls dig the hot single dad vibe until the phone rings and I have to break our dates because Cass got sick or had a nightmare. As if I could choose when and when not to be a dad. But Cass is priority number one; and they all think it’s cute until it’s not. It’s cute to be the devoted father until it ruins date night. Then it’s an inconvenience.”

“Well that’s their loss. Like you’re an adult. It’s both stupid and selfish to think that the world doesn’t exist outside the two people sharing the relationship. Outside priorities being what they are, I just want the guy to be loyal.” In the fading light, I could see her face blush red, as she ducked her head and bit her lip.

I felt my heart pick up a little speed in my chest and my own face flush. My next few choices were either going to be the best choices of my life or the worst mistake of my life. I took a breath and bet on it being the former. I gently cupped her chin in my hand, lifting her face to look at mine. “I can be loyal,” I breathed.

“Can you?” came the small murmured question as she looked deep in my eyes.

“Mhm,” I told her before kissing her. It was one of those kisses that started out soft, but turned fierce. With one hand still holding her chin, my other hand wrapped around her back, pulling her into my lap. With her straddling me, I reach for my shirt, tugging it over my head and tossing it to the side with my hat. Her fingers went up to run themselves through my hair before they traced paths across my shoulders and back. I shuddered at her touch, a touch so familiar and that made me hungry for more. It made me painfully aware of how long it had been since I had been with a woman, and how much I had missed this. One of my hands reached up her shirt to undo her bra and the other hand fiddled with the button on her jeans.

“Mmm… Ash… wait…” she said, pulling back, breathing hard.

“Everything okay?” I asked, pulling her back to me.

“I’m… I’m not ready,” she blurted, pushing herself off my lap. She bit her lip while she waited for my mind to catch up.

“Oh…” I looked at her face, half-scared that she had ruined whatever we were building, and probably half-scared she had almost hooked up with me in my truck. “It’s fine,” I told her.

“Really? It’s not because I’m a virgin or anything. Like I’ve had sex. I just… we… I’m not ready to do this with someone I barely know. Sex means something to me.”

“That’s fine,” I told her, pulling her towards me. “I like you for you, Nic. We don’t have to do anything we don’t both feel 100 percent comfortable with.”

“Really?” This time, there wasn’t as much fear in her voice as there was surprise.

“Yes,” I told her again, kissing her. “Honest. I’m fine.”

“Sorry…”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” In truth, I was a little glad she had stopped us. I was clearly more willing to put myself out there than I had been until today. But, I still wasn’t sure if I was ready for what came with having sex with someone, especially since the last time had left me with a broken heart and a daughter. I reached for my shirt and pulled it back on before fiddling with the radio. The music pumping through my speakers was the only sound as we watched the sun fade into the night. She scooted over the bench seat and rested her head on my shoulder. I wrapped my arm around her and kissed the top of her head, breathing in her smell. “So, you dance, right?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she answered.

“Dance with me,” I told her, opening my door and getting out. “C’mon,” I coaxed, holding my hand out for her.

She giggled and got out of the truck, taking my hand. I spun her in a circle before pulling her close and started swaying us side to side. She let out another giggle, “You’re ridiculous, y’know that? And you can’t dance.”

“All I have to do is spin you in circles,” I pointed out.

“There’s more to it than that,” she laughed.

“You’re the dancer,” I conceded. Then, “Just dance with me,” I begged, pulling her close. In the headlights of my truck, underneath the stars, we danced and sang along with the radio.

~~~

@goeatsomelife @flameraine @cashtonasff5sos @here-for-the-uproars @cxddlyash @1-irwin-94 @baldcalum @sparkling-chaos @tea4sykes @youngblood199456 @5-seconds-of-obsession

#choices #chapter 2 #in the original version of this the dad could not dance at all #ashton irwin #ashton irwin fic #dad!ash #cop!ash #nashton!#galcal irwin

26 notes · View notes