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pascalpanic · 3 years

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Benny’s Girl (Prequel to Before The Next Teardrop Falls)

Inspo: Jessie’s Girl by Rick Springfield

Pairings: Benny Miller x f!Reader, later Frankie Morales x f!Reader (in Before The Next Teardrop Falls)

Summary: Benny’s new girlfriend is everything Catfish wants and more. Too bad it’s his best friend’s girl.

W/C: <4k

Warnings: language, sexual content, pining ohhh my word pining.

A/N: HI FRIENDS <3 I absolutely loved Before The Next Teardrop Falls and I LOVE writing pining, especially with my Frankie baby, so I decided to make a prequel to it! This fic is based on Jessie’s Girl by Rick Springfield, which I absolutely ADORE. you can read this as a stand alone or you can read it as a prequel, I think either one works well!!

Sometimes, a spark seems to appear where one never existed. It’s common enough; it’s the reason most relationships fizzle out before they can become something explosive and fiery. One thinks that the dynamite is going to explode and take off in a bright shower of colors, when in reality the lighter never truly lit the wick.

That’s what happened between you and Benny Miller. You’d loved the guy, really, but not in the way you thought. You still do. It’s just that the both of you were lonely people seeking something more than your past had given you. The two of you were hopeless romantics. Maybe that’s what started the relationship.

You’d met in a way typical for the younger Miller brother. You’d been at a bar with some friends who were desperate to get you laid. The same could be said for Benny, who was there not with his brothers-in-arms but the man he’d defeated in the ring that night. Nick and Benny were good enough friends, close enough that losing to the other was rarely a sore spot.

He’d spotted you across the bar, thought your laughing face was beautiful and your smile as you locked him was magnetic, drawing him to you before he could stop himself. Natural attraction. You introduced yourself. He told you his name was Benny. You asked why his hands were taped, he explained that he was a professional fighter, you’d made some snarky joke and you ended up talking for the rest of the night. One of your friends left with Nick. You and Benny stayed until the bartender shouted that it was the last call. You wrote your number on his taped palm and he saved it.

You went on two bar dates before he decided he needed to introduce you to his best friends. They were like brothers to him, they knew everything about him and he knew them inside and out. You went to the same bar as you’d met at, and you met the men he’d served with in his Special Ops days.

Santiago, known as Pope for some godforsaken reason, was a charmer. He’d kissed your hand after shaking it, complimenting you and making small talk, finding connections and building on them. You’d laughed at the man’s joking advances, and flirted right back. Benny squirmed lightly, but you kissed his cheek and assured him you were just playing along.

William, Will, Ironhead, was Benny’s older brother. He’d given you a warm clap on the back and shook your hand, telling you that you were brave for putting up with the rascally guy. You had to admit, it was fitting. It was clear that they’re brothers: they had the same furrow to their brow, their blue eyes widened in reaction to anything, they had a similar habit of tipping their head back to laugh when something was especially funny.

Frankie Morales, Catfish, was the last one you met and most definitely your favorite. He was quieter than the other guys, sat back while the other men made the noise. He was the punching bag, taking the brunt of the hyperbolized jokes- how Catfish hadn’t slept with a woman in 10 years, how he was the loud one of the group, how he was the one you had to look out for when he was drunk. You knew none of them could be true. He had a sweet smile and gave you a nod when you introduced yourself. He and Pope had some kind of banter between the two of them, albeit a banter you couldn’t understand as someone who didn’t speak Spanish.

Throughout the night, you found yourself more drawn to Frankie. He had a beautiful laugh, would pull his ball cap down a little lower when someone made a joke about him. He was the one who’d expose a lie Benny or Santiago took. He nursed one beer while the other men got rowdy, and you’d done the same. It seemed that the two of you found kindred spirits in each other over the course of the night, while Benny and Will and Santi smacked each other around and took an obnoxious amount of trips to the bathroom.

When it was time to head out, you’d hugged each of the men goodbye. It was already clear that you fit in just like one of them, even if you didn’t have the past experience that bonded the men. You hugged Frankie last. He was the best hugger; he wasn’t ridiculously ripped like Benny, firm and awkward like Will, or flirtatious like Santiago. He was strong but soft. The man was definitely a hugger, you could tell, and it was comforting for the brief moment or two you were in his arms.

Frankie put his cap on your head teasingly, covering your eyes, then stole it back and gave you a pat on the back. “Ben’s a wild one. Good luck with him,” he teased and walked off. You had to admit, his ass had a nice curve to it as he walked off to his beat-up truck. “Call me if he does anything stupid and I’ll beat his ass for you,” he called over his shoulder, prompting Benny to flip him off and put an arm around you. He simply laughed and got in his car.

Frankie became your favorite of the group. The two of you are the ones teasing each other exclusively and sitting quietly while the other men get crazy. Frankie tries sips of the cocktails you order, excitedly making grabby hands when the bartender sets it down. He always lets you steal some of the food he orders when you’re at the bar longer than normal. He shares your affinity for classic rock and when the bar blasts AC/DC, it’s Frankie who screams the lyrics to Thunderstruck with you while the others cover their ears. Santiago joins in sometimes too, but the country-loving Miller brothers never quite know all of the words like Catfish does.

At some point in the few month relationship, you earn your nickname of Queenie. It’s from teasing Santiago, and the one who bestows the title upon you is Will, the most stoic of the group. It’s an honor, you tell them all, laughing. You call the shots, and everyone follows. Even though Benny is your lover, Frankie is your second-in-command.

When Frankie does allow himself to get drunk, he’s the most fun of the group. He’s extra lovey, telling the men how much he appreciates them. He tells stories the other men won’t about their Special Ops days, about the stupid things Will did when they were abroad. He’s shamelessly goofy and funny and falls all over the men. You even convince him to do karaoke with you once.

Benny is an overgrown class clown, but he won’t do karaoke, no matter how hard you begged him, called him baby and pressed soft kisses to his face. He wouldn’t budge. Tonight was a rare night that Frankie drank more than one round. “I’ll do it!” He shouts excitedly, eyes lighting up. “Ooh, c’mon, it’ll be fun. We’ll be so good at it.”

You, unfortunately, were not good at it, but you had the time of your life with Frankie. On that barely-raised platform, the two of you sang Don’t Go Breakin’ My Heart, completely out of tune and out of sync. You were giggling the whole time, especially at Frankie’s falsetto on the little “woo-hoo”s.

The two of you tumbled back to the table after, you giggling and falling into Benny’s arms. “Did you like it?” You cooed, sitting on his lap.

Benny laughed genuinely, pressing a kiss to your face. “Sure did. That was fantastic. Maybe you’ll have to sing just for me sometime, huh?” He teases.

Frankie sits alone on his barstool at the end and downs the rest of his beer. He flashes you a quick smile when your eyes meet his and he retires early for the night.

You and Benny had sex a couple of times. He was good at it, good enough. You enjoyed the way his lips moulded to yours, the way his thrusts were quick and fast and properly angled. From a technical standpoint, he should’ve been perfect. It was all you wanted, but there was no real connection behind it. The moans that trailed from your lips were small and soft, and the louder ones were never genuine. He always made you orgasm, at least, but it was slow and dull, the kind you’d wring from yourself with just two fingers.

The two of you had fun together. You went to the county fair, you got boisterous and drunk at bars, you did everything two twentysomethings are expected to do in a relationship. After every date, you had a small sad smile on your face as you got in your bed and distracted yourself with something on your phone. Something about it wasn’t right: you didn’t connect soulfully, in some mystical and spiritual way where one can read the other’s mind, in the way that movies and books and legendary romances felt some kind of supernatural force that pulled the strings and led them closer. It wasn’t what you needed, but it was what you wanted, and so you hung on a little longer.

Benny felt the same, but he was too afraid to disrupt the balance. He’d rather be mediocrely happy than alone again. He liked having a girl to squeeze water into his mouth and wipe his sweat after a fight, someone to slide his dick into while her lips met his skin. He didn’t want to lose that, even if he was slowly realizing that he just wanted a friendship with you.

You hung out with him and the other men more. You realized that he wasn’t your boyfriend around them, more of a sibling, teasing and nudging. There was no affection, no romance, just the playful aspect of him. That was fine, you told yourself, until you realized that it wasn’t, it couldn’t be.

By principle, Frankie is not and refuses to be a jealous man. That changed when you came into the picture.

Something about you is absolutely magnetic to him, more than the way Benny was drawn to you across the bar. Sure, he’s been attracted to many girls, but he wants you. He yearns for you. He makes a joke at the table and it doesn’t make anyone but you laugh, but he doesn’t give a shit that Benny and Will and Santiago don’t find it funny, because he gets to watch the way your eyes glimmer and your mouth falls open and your chest heaves with the beautiful ring of your laughter.

He loves that you hug goodbye, because he gets to pretend for a moment that you’re his and he is yours, that he can press his lips to your soft skin and call you his girl. But you’re Benny’s girl, and he’s okay to live like that. He’d rather have you as a friend than not have you at all. Even if he dreams about you at night, even if you live in his head on repeat, saying his name. Frankie, baby, I want you, I want you…

One night, in his sleep, the sound of those words echoed through his head. He’s never heard you say them, but his unconscious brain assembled them like a beautifully haunting jigsaw puzzle that made all of his blood run south.

Dream-you is standing in the doorway to his bedroom, wearing just his t-shirt. Dream-you smirks, walks closer, climbs over Frankie and presses her lips to his and her tongue delves into his mouth. She lies down onto him and grinds her hips to his and laughs and laughs and he presses his face into the curve of her- your- neck, smelling your perfume and grinding his hips back against dream-you’s. “All I want is you, Frankie,” dream-you mumbles and bites his lower lip. He shivers and dream-you coos his name, lines herself over his aching member and just before she slides down, he wakes up to a dark and lonely bedroom with a half-hard dick.

You and Benny joined the gang the next night out. He couldn’t meet your eyes. He listened as you fussed over Benny, heard you call him baby and steal his beer with a giggle.

“What the fuck has gotten into you, Fish?” Santiago asked when you’re in the bathroom.

Frankie shook his head. He pulled his cap lower and finished his beer, then poured another from the pitcher on the bar. “Slept like shit last night.”

You’ve decided that it needs to end, so you asked Benny to meet him at your favorite bar. He agreed, and wanted to invite the boys, until you asked that it be just the two of you. It hurts that he has a glimmer of hope that you’re about to end things. If you don’t, he will.

You walk in with an apologetic smile, sitting across from him. “Hey, how was your day?” You ask in a soft voice. You’re unconsciously trying to prepare yourself to let him down gently.

He shrugs a little. “Uneventful. Yours?”

“The same. Listen, Benny…” you start and trail off, looking away.

He takes one of your hands and looks at you, his eyes understanding. “Hey. I think I know what this is about.” He reads the sadness in your eyes like a book. “We need to be done. I get that. I agree.”

Your face finds a soft smile as you look back at him. “Really?” You ask.

“Yeah. I have something to ask.”

“Shoot.”

He takes your hand and presses it to his lips softly. “Will you no longer be my girlfriend and just go back to being my friend?” He asks.

You nod excitedly, laughing. “Oh my god, yes, Benny. I’d love to no longer be your girlfriend.”

The both of you laugh at the irony in your words, and he sets your hand down. “Thank God.”

Later that night, Will, Frankie, and Santiago find their way to the bar. Of course they do. They come over to your booth, sliding in and pretending to love up on Benny. “Oh, are we interrupting a date?” Santiago asks with a fake pout.

You chuckle and look at Benny. He gives you a small smile and a nod. “Actually, no. No more dates between Benny and I. We’re over,” you say and breathe a sigh of relief.

Frankie’s blood runs cold. He must be dreaming for him to hear this. It’s only ever in those dreams that he hears the words he wants the most fall from your lips, words like these. Words that indicate you’re no longer Benny’s girl. “You two seemed so happy,” he murmurs in confusion.

Benny senses it all clicking. Frankie has liked you all along. He’s smarter than the gang gives him credit for. He can read his friends easily, and Frankie is the easiest of all of them to understand, with those big brown eyes that give everything away. It’s gotta be, he thinks. You probably don’t like him back, as anything more than a friend, but Frankie is in deep shit now for you. He nods, looking at Fish and shrugging. “We just didn’t work. We’re still gonna be friends though. She’s one of us, isn’t she?”

The men all cheer in agreement and it calms your frantically beating heart. The worst is over now. And goddamn, does Frankie look cuddly tonight in that flannel, you think to yourself. You slouch down against him two beers later and discover that yes, he’s as comfortable as he looks.

You’ve been single for a year now. Benny still texts with you daily, as do the other men. He sends you shitty Facebook memes that seem more like a dad would post. You realize that it’s for the best that you and Benny are over, with a chuckle. You can be much more honest.

It pains you to realize it, but you’re crushing hard on your ex’s best friend. Frankie Morales is everything you need and want and desire. His big arms wrap you in a hug every time the two of you say goodbye, and every time it feels like it lasts a millisecond longer. That neither of you want to let go.

Frankie feels the same, even though you don’t know it. He has that haunting dream once a week, the one where you kiss his neck and call him baby and it makes him yearn every night at 2:00 in the morning, staring at your Instagram page and thinking he should text you and see if you’re up. Not as a hookup, not anything like that. He just wants to talk to you.

You tease Frankie about his chronic insomnia. How he sends you random texts late at night. “Have you considered melatonin?” You ask.

“I have weird dreams. It’s not the falling asleep, it’s the waking up,” he admits, looking in the opposite direction of your face.

Some days, Frankie thinks you feel the same. He notices the way your eyes linger on his face, the way you always sit next to him in a booth. The way your phone’s lockscreen is a photo of the two of you being stupid at some function. You’ve become best friends, Frankie has to admit, but sometimes he thinks there could be more. But then you say something offhanded and he has to throw the notion away.

One night at the bar, when it’s just the men and you’re nowhere to be seen, Frankie takes Benny and guides him into the bathroom. His blonde brow furrows in confusion as he looks at Frankie. “Yeah, Fish?”

His hands rub together nervously and he looks down, before fidgeting with his cap and looking Benny in the eye. “You and Queenie… that’s all in the past, right? There’s nothing between the two of you?”

A smirk finds his face. “I knew it, Frank! I knew it from the night her and I broke up.”

He frowns. “Is that why?” He asks hurriedly. “Oh shit, I didn’t break the two of you up, did I? Jesus, Ben, I’m-”

“No, you dumb fuck,” he laughs and shakes his head. “I just saw the way you looked at her after it happened. Crazy in love. You totally are.

Frankie’s face turns red and he takes off his hat to adjust his hair. “Do you think she might like me too?” he asks, quietly. As if you could hear him somehow.

Benny nods, excitement in those bright blue eyes. “Hell yeah she does, Fish! You’re her fucking phone lockscreen. Girls don’t just do that.”

“I don’t know, man, we’re best friends. That might not mean shit.”

The blonde puts his hands on the brunette’s shoulders. “Listen to me, Frankie. I’ve known you’re into her for like a year now. I know she likes you too. It’s time, you gotta ask her out.”

“Really?” He asks, brown eyes widening. “I don’t think so. That could fuck everything up,” he says, the anxiety in his voice.

“Trust me,” Benny nods. “It won’t.”

Frankie’s grinning ear to ear. “Alright. Tomorrow night, I’ll ask her to meet us here, but it’ll be just me. I’ll ask her out, how does that sound?”

“That sounds fuckin’ amazing, man!” Benny exclaims. “I’m happy for you. She’s a great girl and you’re a great guy.”

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” he asks, wringing his cap in his hands.

He nods. “Go for it, Fish.”

- Frankie never gets the chance.

The next night you float into the bar, absolutely on cloud nine. You’re grinning ear to ear and it only widens when you see Frankie, rushing over and hopping on the stool. “Hey Fish,” you coo and kiss his cheek.

Frankie’s stunned. “Hey. How was your day?” He asks hesitantly, looking at how flustered and happy you look.

“So good,” you laugh. “I actually got asked out. Like, on a date. This really sweet guy, friend of a coworker. His name is Sam.”

Frankie’s sure you can hear the crack that echoes inside his ribcage. His heart splits in two and to hide a quivering lip, he raises his glass to his lips and takes a swig of his beer.

You continue to talk about him, noticing his silence. “How was yours?” You ask, frowning a little at how tense he is. You rest a hand on his upper arm.

Frankie does his best not to flinch from your touch. “Not great,” he chuckles and clears his throat. “I kinda fucked something up.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you pout and stroke his arm softly. “Can I help you with it? Do you need to talk about it?”

He shakes his head quickly, standing from his stool. “No, just a personal thing. Hey, I’m gonna run and piss, the other guys will be here soon. Order something, it’s on me.”

Frankie’s gone into the bathroom before you can even process it. You frown a little but the smile returns as you order the drink and think about Sam.

Frankie locks himself in a stall and texts the other men.

D-SQUAD 🚁

Frankie: mission aborted. You guys need to come to the bar now so I don’t look like a chump.

Benny: what happened?

Frankie: a guy asked her out today. she’s taken now I guess

He stares at his phone and sends one last text.

Frankie: and don’t you dare mention it to her. make her tell you first.

He slides his phone in his pocket and leans against the wall of the bathroom stall, letting out a deep sigh. This is all shit. He’s a coward, and he should’ve done something sooner.

He finally returns and sits next to you on a barstool. There’s a smile on his face that you’d notice was plastered if your mind wasn’t so wrapped up in your day. “So. Tell me about him. I’m happy for you, you know that?”

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie catfish morales x reader #catfish morales #catfish morales x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #benny miller #benny miller x reader #garrett hedlund #santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #pascalpanic

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aching-tummies · 3 years

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Quiet in the Library!

I think I lived out a kink-scenario again completely on accident today (note, this was written a couple of days before posting due to a busy schedule).

My area is currently experiencing an unprecedented heat wave. We're normally a colder climate so built-in AC units are not a thing in our area. Older houses come with ways to heat one's house, but nothing to cool it down because our climate is normally either cold or freezing. On my day off from work I decided that I wanted to go out somewhere with AC to kill time. I had some stuff I needed to work on and some things I needed to print off so I made plans to head to a public library and work/chill for a couple of hours.

I discussed my plan with family members. Some family members are going through medical treatments and stuff, so the entire household has been wary of going outside and potentially bringing germs and other stuff back home with them. I'd be going out for "recreational" purposes. We have a printer at home but it is only connected to someone else's desktop...so if I absolutely had to print something off I'd have to hop onto that computer...which I have done in the past...so the library trip was more for the idea of spending a couple of hours in a building with AC going. I wanted to let family know of my plans so that they wouldn't plan for me to be at home...and also offered the idea of someone tagging along with me if they wanted to beat the heat in the library too.

Turns out someone else was toying with the idea of going on a grocery run but they were on the fence because of the heat wave. I suggested that I'd tag along with them on the grocery trip, help them carry items and all, and then they could drop me off at the library and save me one trip on transit...I'd take transit home when I was ready. With that plan, I suggested that we eat breakfast at home because I had plans to buy lunch outside while on my library trip and I did not want to have to buy or eat two fast-food meals in one day. This was all discussed the night before my day off, fyi.

Plan made, upon waking up we worked together to put breakfast on the table. Unfortunately, my first task upon waking was to chug some ice-cold water out of the fridge. It was hot and I was sweating not even 10 minutes after waking up. The shock of cold water so soon after waking gave me cramps. Imagine how you'd react to being rudely woken up by someone dumping a bucket of ice-water on you...yeah, that's exactly how my stomach reacted. I hid in my room, doubled over with cramps, and left the rest of breakfast prep to family members.

Something went wrong with breakfast, apparently, that resulted in half of the food being inedible so I ended up eating about three mouthfuls of food and leaving the rest for other family members. The spoiled breakfast put other family in a bad mood so they reneged on our plans. Timing-wise, it resulted in a mad dash to the bus stop for me after swallowing my third mouthful of food because I had decided I'd be in the library today. The little food I had eaten was only barely enough to whet my appetite and my stomach was grumbling and snarling for more by the time I reached the bus stop. I rubbed my tummy a little to try to calm it because part of it was still griping over the ice-wakening.

When I got to the area with the library, I had a choice to make: walk further in the heat, by-pass the library, to find food at a nearby food-court first...or hit the library as intended, spend a few hours there, and then search for food hours later. The heat made my decision for me...looking for food first would have resulted in double the amount of walking in the heat because I'd be bypassing the library only to return to it after getting food. My stomach had calmed down on the bus ride (thanks to some discreet tummy rubs) and was no longer grumbling at me.

I hunkered down in the library with my earbuds in. It's been over a year since I set foot in a library due to the pandemic shutting them down for in-person services. I missed this. My favorite thing to do in the summer in previous years was to bring my laptop to a library and enjoy the ambience and the air-conditioning. It doesn't cost anything but transit fare so I did this often before the pandemic hit. I was enjoying myself. I felt a little self-conscious though because people that walked by my table gave me strange looks...and I don't know why. I had my mask on, other people at other tables were doing the same as I--had their laptops out and were working on Word-Processing documents. I'm at the age where I can totally blend in as a post-secondary student...so I couldn't fathom why I was getting strange looks and I kept on checking if my hair was out of place or if I had something on my clothes.

When I wrapped up my work, I shut down my computer and pulled by earbuds out...that's when I realized that the rumbling I felt throughout my three hours at the library was not due to my music being too loud. The grumbles had come back with a vengeance and apparently had been going for at least two and a half hours. Something about tables always seems to act as an echo chamber for stomach growls and these ones were audible...so...yeah...my best guess as to why people were giving me odd looks: my tummy was growling and they heard it.

To add to my embarrassment, a stunningly attractive person was in the table behind me. There was no way he didn't hear my growling tummy. I packed up, printed off my stuff, and left the library in a rush in order to spare myself further embarrassment.

Onto food. I stopped by a nearby convenience store to hunt for drinks. Pro-tip when eating at a food court or going to the movies or something: drinks and snacks are cheaper if you get them from a grocer or a convenience store or something than if you were to get them at the food court or theatre. I know, it's bad to do that to a theatre, but most of the people I know working in theatres tell me that they don't mind if you bring outside food as long as you don't leave evidence...don't throw out your own wrappers and zipper bags in their trash bins and don't leave bottled drinks and stuff lying around. You shouldn't do that sort of thing if you bought concessions at the theatre either...but yeah.

The convenience store here almost always has a "3 for $5" sale on drinks...it's just a matter of which brand/flavors are on sale when I go. I lucked out and it was on 500mL bottles of lemonade that day...so I trudged over to the food court carrying 1.5 litres of drinks. I was hungry and it was hot, so I ended up buying some of those premade sushi platters. It wasn't a big one...8 pieces or so. I bought a small bento box as well that basically just had some meat on top of the rice and a side of vegetables. I was hungry, so I was sure that this amount of food was alright for me to finish in one sitting. In previous trips I'd bought a 2-item large bento and the same sushi platter...I'd be able to finish the bento and maybe eat 2 of the rolls before being full in previous trips, so I was sure that what I had bought would fit comfortably in my stomach.

I forgot to factor in thirst. It was a hot day and all, so I ended up drinking more lemonade than I otherwise would have. I drank 2 of the bottles during my meal...so an entire litre of drink went into my stomach along with the food. By the end of my meal all that was left on my plate was one roll from the sushi platter. I brought it to my lips but my stomach definitely didn't want it and it was too hard to swallow.

My gut was packed. The litre of lemonade (as well as about half a cup worth of water from a waterbottle) filled up my tummy and brought me to 'stuffed' rather than simply 'full', The food alone would have comfortably brought me to 'full' as I usually only have my waterbottle with me for meals so I don't drink too much.

I was wearing a loose button-up shirt over top of a camisole and pants that day. The clothes were very flattering and highlighted my slimmer waist. I've got a higher BMI than is considered normal/healthy...but my figure is basically on the bigger end of average rather than into full blown obese territory...and most of my fat distribution goes toward my bust, arms, and thighs so my stomach was flat in those clothes. Not after lunch, that's for sure.

My stuffed tummy was aching, stretched and fit to bursting. The glut of food and drink had rounded out my stomach and I was immensely glad for the loose button-up hiding the evidence. I sat at the table for a while, unwilling and unable to stand up because my stomach felt so heavy and there was pressure at the base of my esophagus from all the food. I was terrified that I'd throw up if I moved and jostled my tummy. I spent a few minutes discreetly rubbing my tummy under the table as I flipped through headlines on my phone. I wasn't paying attention to my phone, mentally begging my stomach to start digesting so that I could finally move.

When I finally got up, I opted to walk around the mall for a bit in hopes of coaxing faster digestion. My stomach churned and sloshed the whole time. Surprisingly, there wasn't really any gas in my guts. It was all liquid and solid food. The rice must have absorbed some of the liquid because everything felt like it had swelled up inside of my belly. The stretch was intense. Thanks to my clothes, I felt like some of those "surprise inspection" fanarts I've seen floating around. If I had a partner and a discreet/private setting, I wouldn't have minded playing out a "surprise inspection" scenario. I was alone in public and terribly shy and embarrassed about my tummy though. If anyone tried to press their palm into my tummy at that moment I'm sure I would have been embarrassed and that I would have thrown up from all of the pressure in and on my tummy. I was stuffed to the point it hurt--my stomach felt like it was on the verge of a rupture.

#stomach kink #tummy growls #stomach growls #stomach ache #stuffing #tummy ache #hunger kink

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shoutaaizawas · 3 years

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↳ fluffvember → day seven ❝care❞

shinsou x reader

summary: shinsou has insomnia and you want to help word count: 1.3k

It all started with one comment. You had been cuddling with your boyfriend on the couch, curled up on his lap with your head resting on his chest as you watched TV.

“Sometimes I resent you for how easily you fall asleep,” Shinsou said. You lifted your head off his chest to look at him. You knew he wasn’t serious but it still made you feel bad. You knew how hard of a time he had when it came to sleeping.

“Baby-” You started but he cut you off.

“I’m just kidding, I don’t resent you.” He said, brushing your hair behind your ear. “But I do wish I could fall asleep like you, I think I’ve only gotten a few hours of sleep in the past couple of days.”

“’Toshi.” You scolded. “Why didn’t you tell me anything?”

You tended to be a heavy sleeper and you fell asleep quickly so it wasn’t surprising that you had not realized that your boyfriend had not been sleeping.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s not your problem.” He said.

“If it has to do with you, it is my problem. You’re my problem.” You said before pausing. “Okay, well that didn’t sound right but you’re always here for me when I need it, I want to be there for you.”

“Thank you, it does mean a lot.” He said, patting your head.

This is how you ended up on a mission to help your boyfriend get the best sleep he’s ever had. Or in the very least a solid amount of sleep. This required a shopping trip.

Chamomile tea, lavender essential oil, and bath salts were the basis of your plan but you had some ideas for extra help.

Once you were home you were just in time for dinner, which Shinsou had made. He was quite the cook and you preferred his cooking over most options.

“Hey, what did you get?” He asked. You had only told him that you were going shopping, no other details.

“It’s a surprise.” You told him helping him plate dinner.

“Okay…” He said. You knew he was curious but he wouldn’t push it.

Dinner went like normal, talking about whatever came to mind while they ate. Once they were done you stopped Shinsou before he could grab the dishes.

“Wait here a second.” You said.

You ran to the bathroom drawing a bath, you poured in some of the lavender body wash you got along with the bath salts. You returned to Shinsou.

“Okay, I started a bath for you.” You told him.

“A bath?” He questioned.

“Yeah, for you.” You told him. “Go.”

“What is this?” He asked.

“You’re going to sleep not just good but your gonna have amazing sleep. So get in that tub.” You told him.

“Whatever you say.” He said still looking a bit confused.

Once he was gone you were quick to throw the blanket you got today into the dryer, you had thrown it in the wash before you sat down for dinner, along with his bedclothes. After that, you washed the dishes and tidied up the kitchen. Then you went to the bedroom turning on the new light you got. It was one of those night lights that projected stars on the ceiling. You set up your speaker to play some relaxing quiet music before making the best in the most inviting way possible.

Before you went to the bathroom you turned the kettle on to boil some water for the tea. Once that was done you found Shinsou in the bath sitting there surrounded by bubbles.

“Enjoying yourself?” You asked.

“I think so. I’m not really a bath person but this is nice.” He said.

You sat down on the ground beside the tub.

“Let me wash your hair for you.” You said.

“Okay.” He said.

It was relaxing for you to wash his hair so you could only assume it was nice for him too. Lathering the soap you worked it into his purple locks of hair. His eyes drifted shut and his neck relaxed in your hands. Once you had rinsed out the conditioner he was so relaxed you felt bad stopping.

“I take it you enjoyed that?” You teased.

“Maybe a little bit.” He replied.

“Well, when your ready dry off, and I’ll grab you bedclothes for you.” You said patting him on the head before standing.

Grabbing the stuff out of the dryer you put the warm blanket on the bed and went to the bathroom to give him his bedclothes. After that, you went to the kitchen to finish making the chamomile tea. By the time you returned to your bedroom Shinsou was standing there looking around at everything you had ready.

“You really did all this?” He asked looking at the stars projected on the ceiling and the bed that currently had the covers pulled back with all of the pillows fluffed and the new fuzzy blanket laid across.

“Of course, I told you your gonna have an amazing night of sleep and I don’t do half-measures.” You said.

Shinsou looked at you, his eyes soft as he stepped towards you. He grabbed you by the hips pulling you close to him.

“I love you so much.” He said pressing a slow kiss against your lips.

“I love you too.” You returned. “Now, take this tea and get in bed.”

Shinsou laughed taking the warm mug of tea and doing as you said. Once you turned off all the lights and made sure the door was locked you joined him, climbing into bed.

You snuggled up next to Shinsou watching as he drank the tea. You hoped he would be able to fall asleep. You were determined to stay up until he was sound asleep. You promised yourself you wouldn’t pass out the second you cuddled together like you normally did.

Once he was done with the tea he put it aside before pulling the covers up.

“Here,” You said pulling him into your arms. “Put your head on my chest.”

Hopefully switching up from how you normally fell asleep would help you to keep from falling asleep quickly. Shinsou places his head on your chest, wrapping his arms around you. Your hands easily found his hair and you gently ran your fingers through it in hopes to get him to fall asleep.

“Good night, baby.” You said in hushed words. “Sleep well.”

“Thank you for this.” He said looking up at you. “Good night.”

Time passed and you were sure with his slow breaths that he was asleep.

“Hitoshi?” You whispered.

“Hmm?” He said opening his eyes to look at you.

“Oh, I thought you were asleep.” You said.

“It’s okay, you can go to sleep.” He said.

“No, not until you’re asleep.” You said.

Shinsou looked at you but knew better than to protest. You would do what you thought you needed to and he wouldn’t stop you. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t do what he could to make things work.

Silence took over the room again and his breathing slowed. You waited a little longer before calling his name out again. This time you received no reply. A big smile covered your face and you closed your eyes, ready to sleep now that your goal had been achieved.

Once your breathing slower Shinsou opened his eyes to make sure you were really asleep. You were so good to him, everything you did was so thoughtful. A part of him felt guilty for teasing you about falling asleep east. He didn’t resent you. Okay, maybe he was a little jealous.

Carefully he rolled over, pulling you onto his chest and wrapping his arms around you. His hand ran up and down your back as you moved a bit, nuzzling into his chest making small noises.

“I love you, you’re too good for me.” He said quietly.

At the end of the day even if he couldn’t fall asleep having you asleep on his chest was the next best thing. He appreciated your efforts and while he felt relaxed the best thing that helped him fall asleep was having your asleep on his chest.

taglist: @shinaus @tsuki-akibara13 @kirishima-manliness @ct-5445

#shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou #bnha x reader #mha #bnha #mha x reader

358 notes · View notes

queenofimagines · 3 years

Text

Request: “Hi! Can you do a request where the piggies are at a beach party and the kooks show up and one of them tries to drug you but JJ notices you acting weird around the kooks and takes you back to the chateau and takes care of you? I know it’s weird but I love angst mixed with fluff and ur a really good writer I feel like you can do it! ❤️❤️”

Warnings: Unconsensual drug use

Notes: None

The party is in full swing. With multiple kegs stationed around the beach for everyone and the various drugs that you were sure the kooks brought being graciously distributed, you had no doubt that tonight would be a banger. Oddly enough this party wasn’t planned by you or any of your friends. A kook, one of Rafe’s friends or cousins or something, had decided to throw this party to “promote business”, which you could only guess meant that the illegal substances being passed around were courtesy of him. Since your arrival, numerous people had come up to you offering to share whatever it was they were smoking or taking, but neither you nor the rest of the pogues were very keen on harder drugs. The most that the Pogues had ever really done was weed, and even then you had only smoked once, disliking the tickle in the back of your throat when you smoked. JJ had often suggested edibles but you had heard they were sometimes unpredictable and decided early on to stay away from them. Your friends were very much respectful of your decision and even went so far as to step in when they saw someone peer pressuring you. The amount of times JJ had physically stepped between you and whoever it was trying to coerce you to just try whatever they had was astounding, especially since JJ was basically an advocate for bad behavior. It was just such an instance that landed you where you were now.

JJ was in front of you, shoving the boy that had been a little too pushy when convincing you to try the cocaine he’d bought from Rafe. The boy was harmless, you could tell just by looking at him, but JJ was about ready to rock his shit, so you quickly got in the middle of the two, gently coaxing JJ to back down with the promise of a dance instead. Time seemed to fly by as you and JJ drank one cup of beer after another, both of you beginning to feel the affects early on in the night. After being crashed into by a young girl you didn’t recognize, your beer spilling on your white tank top as the teen profusely apologized, you quickly left to get another beer after telling your accidental assailant not to worry and to keep partying. JJ quickly began to dance with her, both keeping distance as they danced.

With how crowded the area on the beach that had been designated as the dance floor had been, you were surprised to see so many people hanging out near the kegs. The group was so packed you could barely even see the keg, let alone get to it. You tried as politely and unobtrusively as possible to weave your way towards the keg when a heavy hand fell on your shoulder.

“Need some help?” Turning around it was yet another face you didn’t recognize, although you would have to admit he did look a little familiar, at least in the sense that he dressed and held himself in the same manner that many other kooks did. He flashed you a smile, holding out his hand for your cup.

“Oh uh... Yeah thanks.” You replied, handing him your cup. The boy grabbed your cup and made his way through the crowd with ease, filling your cup before making his way back to you. You briefly lost sight of him when someone bumped into you, saying a quick sorry before moving on.

“I haven’t seen you around here before.” He said, still holding your cup.

“Ah, well, I don’t make it up to Figure 8 very often.” You replied awkwardly, waiting for him to hand you your drink.

“Makes sense, I’d definitely remember someone as hot as you.” He said, eying your chest. You felt uncomfortable, quickly realizing that the beer you had spilled on yourself earlier had made your shirt see through and the boy was now blatantly ogling your boobs. The once seemingly unsuspecting boy had now seemed like a sleaze as he made no effort to hide the once over he gave you, even moving to the side n an attempt to get a look at your ass.

“Okay, well I’ll just take my drink and get going.” You said, desperate to get out of the situation. He handed you your drink with a smirk, the complete opposite reaction that you normally would have expected when blowing a guy off.

“See you around.” Was all he said as you turned back to the dance floor to find JJ. When you finally spotted his mop of blonde hair nestled in a dark bandana, you practically ran to him, still feeling the boy’s eyes on you. When you reached him you found all of your friends together, all dancing and drinking and all in all just having a good time. You instantly felt safer and began to dance with them, drinking and laughing along to whatever they were saying, though if you were being honest you couldn’t really tell anymore. As time went on and your cup slowly emptied, you felt like your body was becoming heavy. You found it hard to focus, trying to spot your friends but finding that all the faces surrounding you were unfamiliar. You then felt a hand gently cup your waist, instantly thinking it was JJ, you leaned into the person, only to find the the cologne was much to expensive to be the one JJ usually wore. You looked up and saw the blurred face of the boy who had helped you before, an unsettling smile slinking onto his face at the state you were in. The boy slowly began to lead you away from the crowd. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew this was a bad idea, but you were much to out of it to put any of your thought together as the boy led you to a more secluded part of the beach.

JJ had noticed you were gone before anyone else had, he figured you must have paired off with someone but when he took a headcount of the Pogues, he realized everyone was still here. He knew you would never let yourself be alone in a sea of strangers in such an inebriated state but as he looked around her couldn’t find you anywhere. His eyes almost skipped over the retreating figure in the distance, but when he took a closer look he realized it was you after you looked back towards him, a confused expression gracing your features. JJ wasn’t sure if the guy you were with was your friend, most people on the island were friendly with you and often hung out with you at these parties, but as you stumbled in the direction the unknown boy was leading you, he felt like something was off. At first he brushed it off, turning back to his friends and trying to dance along to the music, but as time went he felt more and more uneasy, finally deciding to follow you just in case something was wrong. When JJ looked jack to where you had been, you were gone. Panic slowly rose in him as he ran to try and find you. It didn’t take long as JJ had found that you were one of the most easiest people to spot, his eyes always finding you wherever he went if you so happened to be there too. a group of boys were surrounding you, all of them talking to each other and attempting to keep you upright. JJ knew that you would never agree to that many people touching you, especially if you didn’t know them.

“Hey!” He called, quickly walking towards the group of boys.

“Hey! What’s up man?” One boy asked, stepping in front of you.

“What’s going on?” JJ asked, deciding not to answer the boy’s greeting.

“Oh nothing.”

“Nothing? Really?” JJ peered behind the boy to get a look at you. He knew something was wrong and his one goal was to get you out of this as safely as possible. No violence, a mantra that you seemed to repeat to him every time he was about to get into a fight, just like you would be saying now if you could.

“She doesn’t look alright.” JJ said flatly.

“She’s fine.”

“You alright, sweetheart?” JJ asked you. You couldn't answer, barely able to. register much of what was happening around you.

“I said, she’s fine.” The boy insisted.

“Look man, she’s obviously not alright, and you fuckers obviously aren’t from around here. Let her go and I’ll see to it that none of you get arrested for assaulting an unconscious girl.”

“And what makes you so sure we will get arrested?”

“What makes you so sure you won’t?” JJ knew the kind of guys these were. They weren’t from around here and he was sure they weren’t privy to the way the Outer Banks worked. JJ knew that if they did decide to keep going, nothing would happen to them, in which case he wouldn’t heed your no violence policy, but he also knew that if he played the role just right, maybe the boys would think he was the sone of an important official or something. And he was right.

The boy in front of JJ hesitated before calling for his friends, all of them quickly leaving, but not before shoving you towards JJ. You stumbled into him, holding on to his shirt for dear life as you swayed on your feet.

“JJ?” You asked.

“I’m right here, sweetheart.”

“I don’t feel very good. I’m tired.”

“It’s okay, you’re okay. Let’s just get you back to the Chateau and you can have a nice long sleep, okay?” You nodded your head in agreement. JJ began walking towards the Chateau before picking you up bridal style after realizing you could barely walk. The he arrived, he laid you down on the bed that John B had lend him. JJ debated on whether or not he should switch your shirt out for one of his, ultimately deciding to do so, thinking about how gross you’d feel if you woke up with spilled bear still on you. He threw your shirt into a hamper and left to get you a glass of water for the morning. When JJ was done, he stood next to you, gazing down at your peaceful face and reflecting on how odd this whole situation was. You were the one that always made sure everyone else was safe at these parties and here you were, drugged, JJ was sure. He was just relieved that he got to you in time.

JJ turned to leave, when your voice gently disturbed the silence.

“Where are you going?” You asked.

“I’m going to sleep on the couch, I'll be right here.” You shook your head, unceremoniously slapping your arm down next to you.

“Jus’ sleep ‘ere” You slurred. JJ hesitated before slipping under the covers where you immediately curled into his side and fell asleep. JJ softly threaded his fingers through your hair, thinking about how tonight could have gone very differently. He almost cried at the thought of you getting hurt, even moe so at the thought that if he hadn’t been there to stop it from happening, no one else would have. That night JJ promised himself that no matter what, he’d always look out for you the same way you looked out for him.

214 notes · View notes

jawritter · 4 years

Text

I Hurt Too

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Warnings: Implied smut, domestic violence? Angry Dean, Hurt!Dean, Jealous!Dean, Language, hurt feelings, angst, some fluff. Multiple view points.

Word Count: 6136

Request: hi there! I have seen loads of fics and one shots where Dean is sleeping around/having a one night stand and the reader gets jealous and upset, but I was wondering if I could request one with the other way around? or maybe one where they sleep around equally? as smutty, fluffy, or angst as you want!!

A/N: This fic is beta’d by the lovely @deanwanddamons! Thanks so much hun! As always please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this one!

Want More? Check out my Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

Dean’s POV:

The concert floor of the bunker was cold under Dean’s feet as he swung his legs off of the bed, and placed his feet gingerly on the floor. He was being very mindful of the injury to his knees that he got during the last hunt. It protested with every movement, and being in his forties now, it seemed he didn’t heal up as quickly as he used to.

Standing with a deep growl, Dean stretched the muscles that protested against his movements, his eyes wandering over the empty liquor bottle that was sitting on his nightstand. He let out a long sigh, and picked up the bottle, throwing it in the trash can by the door as he hobbled his way out of his room, and towards the kitchen in search of coffee.

Dean’s feet dragging along the empty hallways of the Bunker seemed to echo more than they usually did in the morning. Sammy had either still been asleep, as it was really, really early; or he was already on his run. Y/N must have still been out with a conquest from the night before, because he’d been up most of the night, and she still hadn’t made it home by the time he finally drank enough to pass out, and ignore the throbbing pain in his knee.

As he made his way closer to her room, he couldn’t stop himself from pushing the door open just a little, and peeking inside to see if she’d actually came home, or if she was still out with whatever bar room wonder she let take her home last night that wasn’t him.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her body covered up in the pile of covers that she always kept on her bed. Her back was to the door, and the easy rise and fall of the covers told him she was still fast asleep, so he shut the door quietly behind him, and continued his way towards the kitchen.

Normally he would have been right there with her at the bar last night. It had been a successful hunt, other than his busted knee, and that was due to his own clumsiness, and nothing really to do with a monster. He knew the stairs were rotten, and that he should have been taking them slower than he was, but Sammy was out running him, and that looked bad. He didn’t want to look weak in front of Y/N, so he rushed up the stairs, and as he got to the middle of the old rotten staircase, it had given way under his weight, sending his leg through the wood, and pulling his knee pretty good.

His adrenaline was high at the time, chasing the Werewolf through the old abandoned house, so he hadn’t really paid the injury much attention. He just jerked it out of the hole he’d fallen through, and continued his chase. Ultimately, Sam had successfully killed the Werewolf before he got there.

Three hours into the drive back to the Bunker though, he felt it, and by the time he’d gotten home and put Baby in park, he could hardly put any weight on it.

Y/N fussed over him as he hobbled his way to his room, but Dean wanted nothing more than to get his jeans off, and put on a pair of loose sweats. Again, he refused to show how hurt he actually was in an attempt not to look weak, even though she could clearly see him limping.

She’d offered to stay back at the Bunker last night, and binge watch Dr. Sexy with him instead of going out to the local watering hole, but Dean had told her to go ahead and go. He didn’t want to hold her back from having a good time by making her stay here with him.

After about an hour of bickering, she had agreed to let him stay behind, and she went out on her own.

He wanted to just get drunk, and pass out, but his mind wouldn’t let him do that right away, and getting drunk enough to black out wasn’t as easy as it used to be for him. So instead, he lay there alone in his dark room, picturing things he wished he wasn’t.

Some strangers hands on the body he wanted more than anything to hold against his. Some random sinking into her in a way that he wished only he was allowed to do. His mouth on hers as their bodies moved together.

Would she moan for him? Would he be able to give her what she needed? Would he hold her when it was all over, the way Dean wanted so badly to do, but was never able to shove down his own stubbornness, and tell her how he felt. Instead, he justified his actions by saying, “she’s safer not knowing how I feel,” or “they can’t hurt because of me, if no one knows,” but deep down he felt like his heart was being ripped out every time he saw her on someone else’s arm.

Dean poured his coffee, and sat down at the table in the kitchen with a huff, running his fingers through his hair, and pulling the short strands hard enough to feel the sting in an attempt to pull the images that were threatening to invade his mind out before they could hurt him further. The only thing he knew to do at this point in order to save his sanity was to push her away. Maybe if he did that, then it wouldn’t hurt so bad.

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

Your POV: Two weeks later

You dry your hair roughly before throwing the towel into the hamper by the door, and pull it into a messy bun as you make your way towards the kitchen in search of coffee. It was early, and Dean wouldn’t be up for probably another hour. You were sure Sam was out on his morning run, and he had mentioned something last night about going on a supply run before the next case.

You’d all been working non stop for weeks. Local cases. Things that normally would be overlooked, but Dean was insistent on staying busy. You didn’t know why, but Dean had been acting really strange since he’d hurt his knee on that hunt in Wichita Falls.

It had started when he’d refused to speak to you all day the next day. Then it progressively got worse, and now he walked around acting like you didn’t exist, going as far as to hand Sam his rabbit food last night, but not even handing you your burger, just getting his food out of the bag, then throwing it on the table for you to find for yourself.

He wasn’t even communicating with you during hunts, which made things that much more difficult and dangerous. When you finally got back to the Bunker this morning, you were well planning to go blow off some steam, and get away from this new Dean that you were learning you didn’t like so much.

At first it had really hurt that Dean had started to treat you so badly. You had always liked Dean more than just a “big brother” or friend, the way you saw Sam. The two of you were close at one time.

You didn’t know what had caused the switch. You’d gone over and over it in your head, but you couldn't figure out what you had done to him in order to turn him against you. There wasn’t a chance in hell you’d get him to actually tell you what you had done wrong. So you thought at first it would pass, not get worse.

Making your way over to your dresser you pull out a simple black tank top, and a short denim skirt. It wasn’t like you were planning to ‘keep them on all night’, you just wanted them to catch the attention you needed in order to get what you desired tonight, and they had never failed you yet.

Before you could even turn around to grab your hair brush off the desk in your room, you hear a curse, and a fumbling noise behind you before your door closes. Furrowing your brow in confusion, you walk over to the door, and open it, seeing Dean’s back retreating to his room, before his door slams with enough force to knock dust down from the ceiling.

Looking down at your feet you see a busted whiskey glass, and a good amount of amber liquid still on the floor. Your eyes evert back to the door that Dean had just disappeared behind, and then down to the mess..

You must have left the door open when you had come into the room, but why would Dean be so upset if he saw you about to get ready to go out? Hell, he does it as much as you. The whole motel knew his name was Dean Fucking Winchester thanks to the whore he’d brought back last night, and her impressive vocal range.

Grabbing the discarded towel you’d just used to dry your hair, you clean up the mess caused by the spilled liquor, your mind still wondering just what you had done so fucking wrong.

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

Four hours later you tried to close the heavy door to the Bunker as quietly as you could as you snuck back inside. Sure, it was past midnight, but you also knew that Dean could be somewhat of a night owl, and you really didn’t want to have a run in with him coming home from yet another one night stand. Especially after whatever the fuck happened outside your bedroom door before you left tonight.

You had wanted to confront him, ask him if something was wrong, but the way he’d been treating you kept you at bay and you just decided to go on about your business, and leave Dean to whatever brooding he was doing.

The Bunker was dark, all but the kitchen light that seemed to stay on all the time, and a weak light that illuminated from the map table in the war room as you descended the stairs. You spilled your shoes off at the top of the iron staircase in order to make your footsteps lighter as you went.

You didn’t see the man sitting at the table in the dark library until he spoke just as you made your way to the mouth of the hallway, and when you heard his voice you nearly had a mini heart attack.

“You’re home early,” Dean said, flipping the lamp on, revealing himself in the back corner of the library.

“Fuck Dean! You scared the shit out of me,” you hissed, turning on your heels to face him fully.

Dean rose from his seat and staggered a little, grabbing the table for support as he swayed slightly on his feet. You had only seen Dean that drunk once. It was the night he’d been cured from being a Demon. After Sam had gone to bed, the two you stayed up all night long drinking because you were too afraid to leave him alone. It was close to five in the morning before he’d finally passed out.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he made his way closer to you, using the tables as support.

“Dean, you need to go sleep that off,” you tell him, taking a tentative step closer to him. You didn’t know what was bothering Dean exactly, but whatever it was it must be big for him to let himself go this way.

“Fuck you.You don’t get to tell me what to do. I didn’t tell you not to go fuck that loser bartender again tonight did I? Fuck no, but you whored yourself up, and marched that perky little ass of your right into his car to do God knows what. I never knew you were so fucking easy Y/N.”

His words cut deep. Dean had never spoken to you like that, and the fact that the first thing he’d said to you in days was an insult was a huge kick in the gut. Taking a step back from him, you turn to head towards your room. You hadn’t gotten very far before Dean caught up with you, grabbing your arm and spinning you around, pressing your back against the wall harshly.

“I wasn’t fucking done with you,” Dean snarled, and you slapped him hard across the face. Tears burned in your eyes at his hurtful behavior not only tonight, but over the last two weeks .

“What’s your fucking problem Dean? What have I done to you that’s offended you so much? For weeks now you’ve been a douche to me, and I have no idea what I’ve done to you!” you yell at him, all thoughts of not waking up Sam gone right out of the window.

“What’s my fucking problem? Maybe it’s you. Spreading your legs for every Tom, Dick, and Harry that pays you a little attention,” Dean said, coming closer to you and shoving you backwards, his words getting louder and louder with each step he took.

Sam burst out of his bedroom door as soon as he heard the two of you, jumping in between you and Dean to stop his brother, who was so mad that he was honestly frightening.

“What the fuck is the problem!” Sam bellowed at the two of you.

“She’s the fucking problem,” Dean said, pointing an unsteady finger at you accusingly. “She thinks it’s okay to jump in bed with every fucking ass hole in Lebanon after every fucking hunt like she’s getting fucking paid for it!”

“Fuck you Winchester! You do the same fucking shit! You have no room to judge me for what I do with my free time because I sure as fuck haven’t judged you!” you scream at him, tears slipping down your face and a heaviness pooling deep in your chest.

“Excuse me? I’ve been with one woman in months compared to your six fucking men in a month!” Dean said, trying to sidestep his brother, but Sam’s long arms shot out and stopped him before he could move towards you. “Do you not care that one night one of these assholes can knock you up? Kill you, before you can get away from them? Hunting monsters, and fighting off perverts are two different fucking things Y/N!”

“Don’t act like you're all concerned about me Dean! Nice fucking double standards. You think because I’m a woman that I can’t handle myself, and that I’m a whore for doing the same exact shit you do!”

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” he roared, making even Sam jump as he tried to hold his brother back. Dean’s face was red, his glossy eyes wide and dilated with anger. You had never seen Dean so angry, and you even took a hurried step back, stumbling into the library as Dean shoved Sam to the side and marched towards you. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE BUNKER! IF YOU CARE SO FUCKING LITTLE ABOUT YOURSELF, THEN YOU CAN GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, BECAUSE I CAN’T WATCH YOU FALL IN BED WITH ONE MORE ASS HOLE!!!”

“DEAN!” Sam yelled, crossing the floor and grabbing his arm as you sank into the chair behind you hiccuping a sob as Dean towered over you.

Sam reached out and grabbed Dean, throwing him against the wall with a hard shove. “Get your ass to your room, and sleep it off! Now! Y/N, you stay right the fuck there!” Sam said as he shoved the very livid eldest Winchester towards his room, making sure he was in there before coming back to find you still sitting in the same seat, to shocked and heartbroken to move.

You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself as if it could hold you together, when all you wanted to do was fall apart. You never thought Dean would talk to you that way. Sure, he’d been pushing you away and being an ass for the last couple of weeks, but you never dreamed that he hated you. You never knew that he thought you no better than a whore. Now you had lost the only home you’d ever known since your Uncle Bobby had passed away.

You were shaking slightly when Sam pulled up a chair across from you, and sat down with a flop.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked, reaching out and placing a large hand over your knee. You flinch at the contact. Only God knows what the hell Dean would do if he came in here and saw that.

“Not really Sam, I’ll get my shit packed,” you said, attempting to stand up, but Sam's hand coming down heavy on your shoulder stopped you.

“No you're not. He’s just druck, and jealous, Y/N. When he sobers up in the morning he’s going to feel horrible about the way he treated you tonight…”

“How the fuck can you know that Sam, he seemed pretty sure. Hell, a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts right? He seemed pretty sure in his decision, and I doubt he will regret a word of it. Besides, that did not sound ‘jealous’ to me one bit. He sounded disgusted, and angry,” you cut in. stopping Sam from defending Dean again.

“Y/N, I know my brother better than he knows himself most of the time. He’s not angry. He’s hurting, and he’s jealous. He’s been crazy about you from the moment you moved in here, and you won't even give him the time of day.”

You scoffed at Sam, rolling your eyes as you wiped the tears from your face harshly. Your heart felt like it just wanted to stop beating, and you really didn’t feel like being led on by Sam, and given false hope that Dean had feelings for you at all that weren’t discussed just so you would stay.

“Sam, your brother does not like me. Period. How could he be jealous, or hurt, just because I do the same thing I’ve seen him do for years.”

Sam ran his hands through his hair and let out a long sigh.

“You really don’t see it do you? Think about it Y/N, other than that one blonde a week ago, when was the last time you saw him take a girl home? That was the first one since you moved in almost four months ago.”

You search your brain, trying to remember. You hadn’t been paying that much attention. You thought because of all he’d been through he was just going through a dry spell, and when you heard him and that girl, you assumed he was getting back to his usual self.

Sure, you hated to see Dean with other women, but you weren’t dumb enough to ever think that you would even be on his radar.

“The only reason he brought that girl back to the hotel was because he got upset when he saw you with that bouncer who was about 10 years younger than him. It hurt his ego. He’d been buying you drinks all night, he’d even paid for a separate hotel room separate because he thought, just maybe you’d see how much he was into you, and go home with him.”

You look at Sam, your head full of doubt. Dean’s words were still ringing loudly in your head, and you wanted nothing more than to get away from here so that you could cry it out.

“Just let him sober up. If things are still tense in the morning, then you can take off to Jody’s for a few days. I know she wouldn’t mind, but if you are gone when he sobers up, and remembers what the fuck he did to you it’s gonna crush him.”

You let out a deep breath as you looked around the still dark Bunker with a heavy feeling in your chest. Your body started to feel exhausted as the adrenaline from your fight with Dean started to wane. You knew it was late, and if you left right now you’d never even make it to a hotel room. You were just that tired. You weren’t in the right mindset to drive, so you nodded your head in agreement. Walking to your room with your feet dragging, you fell face down your bed, and let the tears flow freely as your heart shattered into a thousand pieces. Dean’s voice still louder than Sam’s in your head.

You had been in love with him since you were 16 years old.You even patterned your life after his. He was your hero. The man all girls dreamed about, and he hated you, and it was all your fault.

You were so upset that you didn’t hear Dean sobbing into his pillow in his room as you passed to head to yours, or see Sam go and sit outside of his brother’s door with his back to it, listening to his older brother, his rock, his best friend fall apart, all because he was too stubborn, and too hurt to tell the woman he was so deeply in love with just how he felt.

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Dean’s POV:

Dean rolled around in his bed with a groan, taking a deep breath through his nose in an effort to stave off the wave of nausea that seemed to hit him as soon as he woke up this morning. He could still taste the liquor, and the scent of it seemed to be seeping out of his every pore, making his weak stomach churn in protest.

He struggled to remember the last time he’d gotten that drunk, and honestly it was all a bit foggy. It made his head hurt, so he stopped thinking, and pulled himself sluggishly to his feet.stopping for only a moment to lean against his door.

Physically he felt like shit, but emotionally he was a wreck, worse than he’d been even with his mom had died, worse than he’d been when he lost John. His actions last night played over and over in front of his face like a broken record, and he didn’t want to face that fact that he’d run you out, and hurt you. The look on your face was stuck in his mind. Tears streaming down your face, complete with utter terror of what he might do to you.

He didn’t realize what he was doing until Sam locked him in his room. It was like he was acting on autopilot and he couldn’t stop. All the bottled up emotions came rolling to the surface, and he never thought he’d snap like that. He’d never forgive himself.

Stumbling to the small sink in his room, he looked at himself in the mirror for the first time in days. His eyes were puffy and red with dark circles. His complexion was paler than he’d ever seen it, even when he had the mark. His cheeks even looked a little sunk in. Had he lost weight? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten . He’d been too busy drinking.

Dean splashed his face with water, rubbing harshly as if he could wipe away what he’d done, even though he knew he never could. When he could stand up without holding onto something, he made his way slowly towards the kitchen, hoping if he could eat something and keep it down then the sick feeling would go away and he could figure out what he needed to do to fix what he’d broken. If he couldn’t fix it, well then it was time to check out, because he couldn’t live knowing he’d hurt you.

He was thinking a big game there, cause he knew he’d never be able to leave Sammy behind, but the hurt was that deep, and he’d be lying if he said he knew how to deal with this in a healthy way, and there was always the possibility that he drank himself to death. He was pretty sure he was on his way to doing just that.

As soon as his feet hit the kitchen floor, and he looked up he saw you and Sam sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in your hands. For just a moment no one spoke, and no one moved. You wouldn’t even look him in the eye this morning, instead becoming very interested in your coffee cup.

Dean mumbled something that was meant to sound like ‘sorry’, but came out as just an incoherent noise as he turned on his heels to head back to his room, and give you space. The relief he felt that you were still here somehow diminished as soon as he saw the hurt look on your face.

“Dean, wait up a second,” Sam said, standing up from the table, and making his way towards Dean who even though he’d stopped in the hallway, he’d been unable to turn around and face you again.

“Come on Dean, we all need to have a talk about…”

“We don’t need to talk about shit Sam! I was a fucking asshole, and now Y/N can’t even look me in the eye! What is there left to talk about? This is my fucking fault!”

Sam had no argument there, and he knew it, so Dean shrugged away from his brother’s hand that was resting on his shoulder, and made his way to his room to start drinking again, because that’s all he seemed to be able to do right anymore.

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Your POV:

It was all you could do to stand rooted to the floor as you watched Dean stumble back down the hallway towards his room. You’d cried so much last night and this morning that you had nothing else left in you to cry. You didn’t think your heart could break more than it already was, but here you were, trying to catch your breath as Dean disappeared into his room, slamming the door behind him.

Sam turned to you, and let out a long sigh,shrugging and shaking his head before finally making eye contact with you.

“I can’t do this. The two of you are gonna have to work this out for yourselves. I know what he did last night was hurtful, and borderline abusive, but if you can’t see he’s hurting then you're blind. I can’t make you talk to him, but I can tell you that if you let this fester then it’s just gonna get worse and worse. Dean thrives on self loathing. You know it’s not just something he can forget. He’s gonna torture himself until there is nothing left.”

Sam brushed past you and into the kitchen without even giving you a chance to make your argument. Which at this point there was really no argument to make. You saw it yourself first hand just now. Dean looked terrible, and not just hung over. He’d cried so much that his eyes were almost swollen shut, and you had only seen Dean cry a handful of times.

You stood there for a long time staring in the direction of Dean's room before your feet finally started to move. With every step you took towards his door, your hands were starting to shake, and your stomach twisted nervously.

There were several ways this could go. He could either slam the door in your face, ask you to leave, ignore you, or attack you. After last night you weren’t so sure about the last one, but he was sober this time. Hopefully that was just a drunken mistake meant to scare you, and that's all.

When you reached his door, you took a shaky breath already regretting the decision to talk to Dean, and you hadn’t even knocked on the door yet.

You hadn’t realized how much you cared about Dean until what happened between you last night. It was always just something you shoved down, and refused to acknowledge. Now it was all you could see. You had been in love with him from the moment he’d popped out of the backseat of what at the time was John Winchester’s Impala when you 16 years old.

You reached up to knock on the door, but before your hand could even make contact with it you heard the distinct sound of glass shattering. Panic twisted in your gut, overriding the nerves, and you shoved the door open to Dean’s room, your hunter instincts screaming something was horribly wrong, and you had to get to Dean.

When you saw him he was standing at the sink, surrounded by glass, watching the blood drip from his still clenched fist. His jaw was set in a hard line, and his eyes were distant as if he didn’t even really feel it.

“Dean,” you breathed out, and he turned to you slowly, looking at you, then down at the mess on the floor as well as his hand.

“Y/N, I… I’m sorry. I…” Dean bent down in an attempt to pick up the shattered glass , but you made your way over to him and stopped him, gently grabbing his hand and looking at the heavily bleeding wound. He didn’t stop you, just stood there with his eyes searching your face.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. I’ll text Sam, and he can clean up the glass while I stitch up your hand and get this glass out of your knuckles.”

He didn’t fight you as you led him to the infirmary, and sat him down in one of the chairs. He never even flinched as you took tweezers to his knuckles to pull out the glass, or when you sterilized the wound before stitching up the large cut on the back of his hand. His eyes stayed on your face as you worked, and you could feel him watching you, but you had to concentrate on his hand in order to not hurt him further as you wrapped it carefully.

When you went to stand up to put away the medical supplies, Dean caught your hand with his good one, stopping you in your tracks as he stood to his feet in front of you.

His movements were slow. Like if he moved too fast he’d scare you. For some reason, even though a normal person would have been terrified after his behavior last night, you weren’t even remotely afraid of him.

You’d faced evil. You’d face monsters. He was none of that.

“Y/N, I know it probably doesn’t mean anything after the way I treated you last night, but I’m sorry. I let my emotions get in the way. I was drunk. I don’t know why I pushed you, but I should have never laid a hand on you. I just… It hurt so much knowing you were out with another guy like always, and that I would never be good enough for you, and… I’m sorry. I’ll mind my own business from now on.”

Dean turned to leave, but you grabbed his uninjured hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“Dean, stop running from me. You don’t get to say something like that, and then walk away, and go hide, or drink yourself to death! Who the fuck said you weren’t good enough for me? Cause that’s bullshit! Dean, if any one of us isn’t good enough it’s me! You’re a fucking hero! I’m just another hunter riding off the Winchesters. I probably should have left a long time ago. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were even remotely interested in me. If I’d have known I would have never gone out with any of those other losers.”

Dean froze on the spot, his green eyes piercing your own like they could see into your soul. You knew Dean, you’d known Dean for years, and you knew if anyone was going to move first it had to be you. There was a time before he’d gone to Hell, become a fucking knight of hell, spent time in purgitory, and had person after person ripped away from him that he would have made the first move, but Dean was different. That cocky Winchester that strutted into Bobby’s house all those years ago for the first time, flirting with everyone that claimed to be a woman, died a long time ago, and you knew this was your only opportunity. If you fucked this up, there would be no other chance with him.

In a bold move that you were pretty sure if you had to do it twice you’d never have made it, you close the distance between the two of you, your lips meeting his as you stand on your tiptoes to reach him. At first he stood there in a state of shock. It didn’t take him long to slip his good arm around you, pulling you closer to him, and deepening the kiss.

When the two of you finally broke away, you grabbed Dean by the hand and led him to your room. You text Sam when you got there, and asked him if he could clean up the glass in Dean’s room, letting him know you have him taken care of before slipping you both inside, and locking the door.

Dean guided the two of you over to the bed, and you both moved under the covers in the dark room. The only light is the dim light that's shining on your bedside table from the old lamp.

Sliding closer to him, you let Dean slip his arms around you before his lips find yours again in a kiss that almost feels scared. You brush your hands through his tousled hair as you wait for him to relax.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Deans said, his eyes searching you for any hint of hesitation.

This was a line the two of you had never crossed, and uncharted territory in the line of work the two of you did was a scary thing when it comes to people you care about. So much could happen. There were so many liabilities, but you couldn’t live without him, and he obviously had gotten to the point where he couldn’t live without you. So here you were.

“I’m scared too Dean, but I’m willing to try,” you tell him, placing your hand on the side of his face, and he leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment as he gathers his emotions. Trying to make sense of it all.

No, you weren’t supposed to have this, no, you weren’t supposed to have a happily ever after. This life was a bitch, and you were both far from perfect. Some of the shit you’d seen had affected you greatly, more than you even wanted to admit to yourself. You couldn’t even imagine the scars that Dean carried that no one could see. He’d gone through, and lost so much more than you even know about. People tend to forget even the people that save the world hurt too.

The hurt you’d caused each other wouldn’t fade away overnight. It would take years of building trust again, and it would take time just being together, if you had that, you’d take whatever you had.In this life, tomorrow was definitely never promised.

Tonight though, a little bit of the loneliness disappeared as clothes started to hit the floor.As his mouth explored your own, before tentatively wondering it’s way over your body. As your hands explored his body, running over every visible mark on his skin, leaving little goose bumps in their wake. As he slid himself inside of you, two marred and twisted souls became one. . That piece of the puzzled you’d been missing all your life finally fitting together.

The moving, pressing, touching, the rise and fall as your bodies drove each other slowly towards what can only be described as pure ecstasy, something you’d ever experienced with anyone you’d ever been with, because there was love there, where before there was nothing but a void. Two scared and wounded hearts beat as one for the first time. It was going to be a slow, and careful thing. Fragile. As you fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms, you were confident if you died right then in that moment, it was as close to heaven as you’d ever get. You’d get there together,however long you had, because now there was nothing left in the way. He was yours, and you were his, and that’s the way it was always going to be.

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Forever Tags: @deanmonandnegansbitch @hayleeharling @flamencodiva @coldmuffinbanditshoe @rain-dance-goblin @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl @love-jackles-37-blog @miraclesoflove @waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester smut #dean winchester one shot #dean x reader #dean x you #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn one shot #hurt!dean #jealous!dean #angry!dean #angst #jawritter #jensen ackles #x reader inserts

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nasaty · 3 years

Text

Vieux Carré

Shouta Aizawa x (she/her) reader. Angst, fluff, and smut! This is a choose your own ending! There are three separate endings and a few choices. 15 part series.

Ch. 9

“Shit-“

You heard a small sound from the kitchen as you opened your eyes. It must’ve been late morning, and Shouta was no longer in your bed. For a second you were concerned that he just left, but you saw some of his clothes from last night over on the chair.

You got up and tiptoed to the kitchen to see what the sound was. Shouta was mopping up a spill with a paper towel. He had been making breakfast; coffee, eggs and toast, you didn’t have much more in your apartment to work with. He looked up at you when he noticed you entered.

“Good morning, princess.” He smiled brightly. “I uh… attempted breakfast. Hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it is! Thank you!” You wipe down the counter where the coffee had spilled and he went back to cooking.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked. He usually looked so exhausted, you were hoping he actually got some sleep, despite the bit of coffee you both drank.

“Actually, yeah. It’s honestly been a long time since I’ve slept that well. How about you?”

“Same, Hah.” You latched onto his arm as he was stirring. “Wait, don’t you have to work today? I completely forgot! Are you going to be late?”

“I called in today. Still have patrol in the evening though. Thought this was a good of a time as any to take a break, maybe spend some more time with you if you’d like.” The warmth in your cheeks spread through your face.

“After last night you still want to be around me more? I thought you’d be sick of me by now.”

“Absolutely not. I don’t just ditch people I care about.” He said earnestly.

“Awww, you’re sweet,” you kissed his arm.

“It’s just rational, I think.” He said as he smiled.

You spent the morning eating the breakfast he had made. Somehow everything tasted better even though it was all the same stuff you usually had. After a few hours, you both decided you would go walk around town a bit and check it out, and maybe get a bite to eat later when you were ready. You offered him a shower before yours, and said you’d swing by his place for a change of clothes.

Once you were both ready, he drove you over to his house. The inside of his car was surprisingly spotless and empty, the only amenities being a phone charger and a cat bobblehead on the dashboard. You pulled up at his place, started to get out of the car, and he came to open your door.

“Okay please don’t take this the wrong way, but you CANNOT come inside it is a whole disaster in there I haven’t had time to clean in WEEKS. Please just stay here I’ll be right back.”

“I can help clean if you need help…” you offered.

“That’s nice, kitten, but please no. I’ll just be a minute I’m sorry.”

You fake pouted and agreed to stay in the car. He was in and out in a few minutes and came out with a v-neck sweater on and black jeans, hair still pulled back. You wondered how anyone could look so good in everything.

“You miss me?” He said when he opened the door to the car.

“Entirely.” You could smell his cologne much more now and thought it was cute that he’d put a little more on for you.

You made your way over to the shopping district downtown and walked by a few shops, casually talking about anything and everything.

“Shouta, somehow I haven’t asked you this yet,” you blurted.

“Hmm?”

“What is your quirk?”

“Ah. Um….Here let me demonstrate.” He looked around at people on the street and spotted a guy washing windows.

“See that guy over there who’s spouting water out of his hand?” He pointed in the persons direction. “Just watch.”

You looked up at him as his dark eyes started to glow in shades of red and yellow. His hair slipped out of his hair tie and started floating, and he caught the hair tie behind his back, knowing it would fall. You looked back at the person washing windows, and they were looking at their hand confused, giving it a couple taps as if it had gotten plugged or something. Shouta blinked and his hair fell, and the person squirted water into their face.

“Oh shit…heh…I didn’t mean to do that.” He said, laughing at the guy and putting his hair back up.

“Oh wow….so you make people’s quirks stop working?”

“Only while I’m looking at them, yeah. If I blink it stops though.”

“That is amazing. And then you do all that other stuff without using a quirk?? Damn that’s incredible.” He blushed. It had a while since he’d explained his quirk to someone and you looked excited and intrigued.

“Can you do that to me? I wanna know what it feels like.”

“Hah, yeah, just don’t make it too obvious since you know…unauthorized quirk usage-“

“Is illegal blah blah yeah I know.” You tease.

He walked you down the street trying to find something you could manipulate. Shouta stopped outside of a plant nursery.

“Okay try and get that plant to grow.” He commanded. You focused on making it grow slowly enough that people wouldn’t really notice, but fast enough so you could both tell. It started growing, and as Shouta’s hair raised into the air again, the plant reverted back to its smaller size.

“Oh wow,” he said.

“What?”

“Your quirk is interesting. You don’t have to keep it going to keep the plant at its fuller size, do you?”

“Ah, no not really. Once I make it grow to the desired amount and turn my quirk off, it settles there, and vice versa. It’s kind of like rewinding and fast-forwarding. Then it’ll act as normal once I stop.”

His jaw dropped.

“That’s amazing….Y/n. You know what? You have to work here. This job would be perfect for you.” He knew you weren’t interested in staying a bartender much longer but didn’t know where you would go.

“Wouldn’t it just be cheating if I used my quirk to grow the flowers though?”

“Absolutely not! Think about it. You could make so many beautiful flowers and I bet they’d let you experiment and try to cross pollinate. You’d be able to make your own plants! That would be incredible.”

“It’s…not a bad idea…”

“Come onnnnnn.” He dragged you into the shop. The store manager greeted you as you walked in.

“Do you guys use quirk working licenses here?” He asked the manager.

“We do yeah, we have one employee that can create some sort of sunlight, and another with water.” They elaborated.

“You need someone that can speed up plant growth?” He asked, stepping to the side and pointing to you. The manager turned their head in confusion. You held your hand out to the plant next to you and made it grow a few inches, then stopped.

The manager was impressed. They went to the back and grabbed some application papers and the forms to apply for a quirk working license. They said if you were interested to fill them out and get back to them, as to not pressure you into working there. You filled a few minutes of small talk with them and then left with the papers in your bag.

“….thank you, Shouta.”

“For what?”

“I just…never would’ve done that myself. I appreciate you believing in me.”

He turned to you and gave you a kiss on your forehead. “That’s what I’m here for, kitten.”

Go to Ch. 10

#aizawa fanfiction #aizawa x female reader #bnha aizawa #bnha #mha #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa fluff #shouta aizawa #aizawa smut #aizawa angst #aizawa slow burn

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werezmastarbucks · 3 years

Text

xenia

honeymoon masterlist

word count: 2851

warnings: mentions of parental abuse

music: damsel in distress by neck deep, beautiful stranger by halsey

You did shots that night.

Xenia has been one of the stops on your ridiculously meticulous search through Ohio. One mention that one of Kai’s grandmothers might be buried here somewhere, and that she was a siphoner, too, which is a rare, and you stopped in Xenia, digging up every inch of the earth.

In fact, at some point, as you lived on in this weird world, systematic search has grown into a kind of manic entertainment.

You took everything to extremes. Searching for the grave, that might have answers and magical solutions, you basically unearthed the whole cemetery, because Kai said that maybe somebody wanted to hide his nana’s body, because she was a shameful accident, being a siphoner and all that. And that random guess got stuck in your heads, turning you into paranoid diggers. Really, you were just keeping yourselves busy. Doing the things you would never normally do in your usual life. Why would you walk around a town, digging the ground randomly, and putting so much effort in it? After a couple of days of incredible stamina fueled work, Xenia looked like it’s been ravaged by gigantic moles. Then Parker remembered. She has never been to Xenia, she lived, and died in Cincinnati.

And that’s why you were doing shots.

You invented a reverse never have I ever game which was called nobody has ever. The point was to think of all the things other people never did for you, and the luckier one had to drink, but obviously, pretty soon the game turned dark.

You found this nice house on the Creek Green Street that overlooked an old alley with a post office that must have been about sevety years old. You wondered how it survived the tornado.

The kitchen was big, and the table, square and made of very thick, nice looking wood, consumed the soft golden lights of the evening. Although your shoulders were hurting you almost to the point of whining, since no matter how many days you dug, your body wouldn’t get stronger, you made a salad. Kai cooked up a myriad of snacks, and they were all piling up on the table in a colorful, tasty mess. It felt like you were both drunk from work and the absurdity of your chore even before you opened up the bottle.

“Nobody has ever”, he said, narrowing his eyes, “hit me in the throat with a tennis ball”.

You shook your head slowly. The shots rested on the table. You were leaning against the table, one foot under you, and listened to music and your joints singing the mournful song of pain. Kai was rubbing his chin musingly. Days in Xenia were very warm - unlike in all other towns. That was amazing to you. Without the people, and the hurry, you could concentrate on the world itself and actually found every location had its own smell, temperature, color. Once you got out, you’d never be the same.

“Nobody has ever cut my hair while I was sleeping”.

Kai nodded responsibly and downed his shot. You raised your brows.

“Oh, I was way too agitated, and never liked scissors near my face. Mom always cut my hair while I was asleep. I was ugly when I was little. One more reason”, he shrugged, “to be hating on lil Malachai”.

You hummed.

“Nobody has ever said they loved me”, he continued, gravely.

Air got stuck in your throat.

You swayed in your place.

“Come on. Not ever?”

“Nah”.

You took your shot and thought, who actually said that to you, except your mother. People usually said it in a friendly way. You couldn’t count how many times Elena said she loved you, and it didn’t mean much at the end of the day.

“Not even in a casual way, like, oh my god, you like Metallica, too? I love you!”

Kai chuckled.

“I don’t like Metallica”.

“Jesus. Okay. You wanna go hardcore. Nobody has ever chose me over everything and everybody else”, you offered.

Kai smirked and took his shot, and then reached for the bottle again.

“How? How come? And they never said they love you? Who?”

“I have learnt to manipulate people into choosing me over everything else. That’s how I keep sane, ha”, he noted. You frowned.

“Who was it?”

He looked at you with surprise.

“You. You chose me over everything else in your life when you decided to spend an eternity here with me. That was pretty nice of you. Cheers”, and he drunk again, forgetting he had already done his shot. You could feel the blood flowing to your face.

“I did it because I thought Damon would stop. I didn’t expect him to send me here”.

Kai shrugged, as if saying, it wasn’t really his problem Damon was a piece of shit.

“And why did you mainpulate me into it?”

Bold of him to assume he had manipulated you into liking him, but his way of thinking is different.

“Because I like you. I wanted you to stick with me. You’re the only person who doesn’t make me feel like a burden”, he replied with a lot of importance. He was a little tipsy.

You sighed heavily.

“Nobody has ever buried me under the ground in a drain pipe”, he ogled.

“Mm-hmm”.

He grinned as you drank.

“By the way, after that, when I made a scene (because I was sixteen) about Damon not killing the love of his life over me, Katherine called me a delusional teenager. God I hate that bitch”.

“Katherine Pierce never infuriated me because I never met her”, he put it.

“It’s not your turn”, but you drank anyway, “Nobody has ever called me an abomination”.

He saluted you with his shot.

“Nobody has ever made me his door boy”.

Shot.

“Nobody has ever took away my natural right of being the leader of my coven”.

Shot.

Your right shoulder stang you with annoying pain, and you glanced at the clock. Midnight would come in a couple of minutes. You always started drinking just before midnight because the change of the day brought you back to sobriety, and you could go on and drink the same amount again without feeling bad in the morning.

As the midnight struck, you suddenly found yourself sitting so close to Kai your foreheads were touching.

You both straightened up and looked at the time. He stretched his neck.

“Were we drunk-confessing our mutual respect for each other?” you asked.

“Think so”, he pulled a bowl of salad to himself and started eating, without forgetting to fill the shots again.

“Happy birthday”.

You clincked your tiny glasses together, and the game went on.

“Nobody has ever cooked for me”, he said.

You downed your shot thinking about how fabulous it is, to have your own chef who is also in love with you.

At the same second, you wondered if he has ever thought about poisoning you, just for the sake of it.

“I have hard time believing it. You’ve made it to twenty-two, which meant your parents cooked for you”.

“We had lots of kids in the house. We always had to eat all together”, Kai shook his head, “if you were late to the table, you had to starve. Besides, I started cooking for myself pretty early”.

“Okay. Nobody has ever locked me up in the basement”.

He was so good at this game, taking his losing drinks like a champ, like a very diligent student. As his adam’s apple went down, you gasped.

“Oh, wait. Spit it out! Spit it out. I recalled. I’ve been locked up in basements plenty of times, it was just... more like... a dungeon”.

“In the Salvatore house?” he asked, displeased.

“Yeah. And once, in the Lockwood mansion. Damon was raging then. We got stuck and...”

“Whatever”.

You licked your lips and shut up, seeing the familiar irritated spark in his eyes. Kai hated Damon at this point; for sending him away; for being not his type of person; but most importantly, for the fact you still lingered on the memories of him.

Gradually, you started running out of ideas, drunk again, and it was barely past one in the morning.

Kai at least was constantly eating, while you just drank, so you now had a hard time focusing on one thing, your thoughts drifting apart like ripples on the water. You looked at his white wrists, his knees hopping lightly as he bounced to the music, and tried to think of something.

“Nobody has ever... ever...” you puffed. Kai smiled. “Ever stood over me at night, watching me sleep”.

“Yes, I have”.

You didn’t get it at first.

“What?”

“I have”, he repeated.

“Oh, you mean... of course, I mean, back in the outer world”.

He nodded, like it was just a tiny misunderstanding about the size of a cheesburger he’s ordering.

“Oh, yeah, yeah. I was in your house at night before we got here”.

“What?!” you snapped.

All your body moved you towards him to slap him on the head, but out of instinct, the unkillable, fundamental instinct that kicked in when he was around, you took his head, let your palms slide down to his neck, as you hugged him.

“Kai, why would you do that?”

“I don’t know, I just wanted to see what you look like when you’re not around me”, he said simply. You could feel his mouth moving against your hair close to your ear. “What you look like when you stare at yourself in the mirror. What you do when nobody’s watching”.

You shut your eyes with embarrassment, your brain trying to recall all the things you did alone back in your house one hundred years ago.

“Oh god...”

“What you smell like when you’re just out of shower. You know, stuff like that”.

“God, this is so embarrassing”.

He laughed out with amusement.

You pulled away and took his head, covering his ears with your plams. His face swayed in front of you a little, as you muttered,

“You have to promise me something, Parker”.

“Okay”, he said carefully.

He could’ve said, of course! because you knew him. You knew how he pretends to be this enthusiastic person. Who is only serving you. But he was real right then, at that moment, looking you in your drunk eye, really considering what you’re about to ask. He could’ve said of course! and not mean it. But he said okay, ruffling up like a ferret, and you loved him at that moment.

“Once we get out, don’t stalk other girls”.

His face moved with laughter he contained inside.

“Why would I do that?”

You thought of that wretched universe full of good-looking girls, and all their different shapes and colors, the way they smell and how gracious they are, and felt scared of losing him for the first time.

“They’re all so pretty, and I... just don’t. Do whatever you can to...”

“You don’t think you’re pretty?” he asked in his are you dumb tone. “You’re a solid eight”.

You have lived enough to feel all kinds of wonders when intoxicated. You’ve sang, blacked out, stumbled, yelled, fought and slept when drunk, and now the very logical reaction followed, which you have also experienced many times.

You started sobbing.

“Eight”, you put your hand to your face, cradling yourself, and consoling yourself immediately.

Kai’s face went almost pale with shock. Then he started giggling uncontrollably, reaching his arms for you.

“I’m joking! Hey, I’m joking”.

He couldn’t start laughing.

“What are you upset about? I’m just fooling with you”.

“I’ve always been an eight!” you cried out, suddenly.

“For your information, eight is fantastic!”

“Katherine has always been a ten”, you finished solemnly, drowning in the pleasure of digging into your deepest wells of insecurity.

Kai froze.

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking about Damon right now. I swear to fuck, I’ll break your neck”.

You tilted your head miserably, letting the tears stream down your face in a dramatic fashion.

“Aaaahhh”.

“Y/N...”

“Damon has made me think that I’m a fool for ever thinking somebody can be into me”, you said quietly. You could feel his hand on the base of your neck. As your hot tears dripped down, heating the perfume on your skin, his grab tightened lightly. He didn’t know how to hold tenderly, it was always half-clutching with Kai. With time, you came to realize it was so reassuring you felt the safest when his hands were around your throat. Whether it was playful or menacing depended on his mood.

“Let me rain on your self-pitying parade”, he murmured, “okay? My parents made me think I didn’t deserve to breathe even. Pretty natural, don’t you think? Everyone has their right to have air in their lungs”.

You looked at him. Kai was being serious. You wiped your cheek with the back of your hand, and his face softened a little.

“But my dad decided I wasn’t worth even that”.

“What are you saying?”

“Once I was sitting in the bath, when I was about five. That was the time you start getting your magic and learn how to control it. That was the time the whole coven found out I don’t have it. That Jo is useless, too, because I’m a siphoner. So one night, when I was in the bath”, he repeated, like he was trying to hypnotize you, “he came in, and...” he looked away, blinking several times. “I remember, he was wearing this dark green shirt. Green is the color of the coven. He held my head under water”.

There was a short break between two songs, and when the next one came in, blasting sounds, you shivered uncomfortably.

“He decided he’d spare himself and everybody else the headache. That’s why I don’t like water much and barely ever go near it. And now you taught me how to swim”.

“How did you survive?” you whispered.

“My mom barged in and pulled him away. I don’t know how she knew. Maybe it was her motherly instinct. She used to have that one for me long time ago”.

The tears welled up on you, pressure pushing on the sides of your skull. You took him, kissing his face, kissing his mouth, as Kai leaned in, quiet, and just let you dote on him. You held him tight, trying to kiss the memories out, begging him to forget.

“I’m okay. Hey, I’m fine. It was a long time ago, and he’s dead. And I’m alive. And I have you”.

You were so drunk, falling apart at the seams like a badly sewn jacket, that he had to hold you so that you didn’t fall off the chair. Hangover was guaranteed.

“Let’s just go... let’s go to bed”, you whispered, your face against his. “You can do whatever you want”.

Kai smiled. His eyes glinted in a familiar way. This kitchen, the house, it all grew on you. The way he held you, you didn’t even know if your feet touched the floor.

“Whatever I want?” he asked.

“Whatever you want”, you echoed.

He put your body onto the couch, and you could feel he moves your limbs a little, and then the weight of his body was next to you.

Fifteen minutes later, you pulled the covers down, and turned towards the light, and saw the TV shining through the blackness of the room.

Kai was watching Lethal Weapon on VHS and cuddling against you.

You inhaled, feeling he room spinning. The light stang your eyes, so you rolled back away and pressed your face into him, into the darkness.

The next time you woke up it was already dark.

You moved a little just to know where you are, and indicated his arms around you. Comfort settled down immediately, but the insane temperatures of his dozing body was too much, so you tried to kick the cover down to your feet. Kai lifted one of his arms unwillingly. It was still deep dark outside the window, and the old post office must have been standing there in complete fright.

“How many parts have you watched?”

“Three”, he said sleepily. You considered whether you were thirsty enough to try and go to the kitchen. Decided it wasn’t worth it. Your face felt a bit swollen with tears, but you felt comfortably tired. You wouldn’t leave this couch even if somebody lit it on fire.

“It’s not true, by the way”, he said.

“Huh?”

“My dad never tried to drown me”.

You rolled your eyes without opening them up.

“Wha...”

“I made it up, I was just trying to make you feel better”.

“You moron. You unbelievable moron, you...”

“You really have to stop calling me names, it hurts”.

“Douchebag. Why... Kai, you told me you weren’t a liar”.

He did something resembling a shrug. You felt his knee between yours, and slid your arm onto his back.

“You made me a liar. You’re changing me”, he mumbled, “I’m changing here with you. I can feel it”.

#kai parker #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #vampire diaries imagine #vampire diaries #tvd imagine

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noodlyfun-blog · 3 years

Text

Mystics and Malice

I have new stars that fly above me. They’re bright; the brightest is green like Gugo’s hair. They form no constellation but make a foundation. I sit in a tall tower, surrounded by lightning on the top floor. Nothing is keeping me inside but I like looking out into the distance. Way off is a visible island, the sea is no longer infinite and dark, over it I can see the old stars of my dreams. Odd that they sit over land now when they used to just rest over sea. Primary color is a deep blue, blue like the oceans.

The tall Viera, illuminated in a dull orange by candles, sighed deeply and closed her diary. She hadn't been keeping up with her dreams as she had wanted and knew she had forgotten some details; but dreams are temporary like these days spent in a city. Alaria took one last look around her makeshift tent; her tea kettle resting over a small fire, a couple empty chairs across from her, a small table with only an assortment of odds and ends resting atop, and a depressingly empty jar next to her that simply read ‘Tips’. It was a rough night outside the tent with rain falling in sheets and thus it was a bad night for customers. The woman stuffed her diary back in her bag and replaced it with a single night-blue teacup. She'd at least enjoy a sip of hot tea before making her way through the cold night for the ship.

Alaria had just lifted the hot kettle when a pair stumbled their way into the Viera's tent. She couldn't make out too many details of the two as they both had their own drenched cloaks wrapped tightly around their faces. Neither had a tail nor discernable ears. They were neither very small nor very tall. Neither seemed to acknowledge the Viera at the other side of the table, their wide eyes darting in every direction and to each other. Alaria couldn't tell if they were shivering from the cold or trembling in fear. She decided that it must be both.

"Welcome my dear new friends. Please have yourself a seat." The two jumped in surprise when Alaria spoke in her sagely, mysterious witch tone as they realized they weren't alone.

"You're both in luck as I was about to read my leaves. Come grab yourself a seat and share a cup of tea with me." The two were hesitant and just stared at the Viera with wide, fear-filled eyes but she got a better glimpse of their faces. They both had gray eyes and the same nose, clearly siblings, maybe twins. The Viera smiled at them while placing the kettle on the table. "Come now, it's very warm."

The promise of warmth loosened the two up and they tentatively stepped deeper into the tent, eyeing the flap they entered warily as they sat. Alaria rose to her feet and blew out all the candles except one and extinguished her little stove taking the fairly lit tent into a barely illuminated haven. She returned to her chair to see the pair more at ease with the lights dimmed.

The Viera returned to her chair and pulled out two more tea cups. She filled all three cups with hot water before opening a jar with loose tea leaves. She sprinkled a fair amount into each cup.

"Now while those are heating up, how about you tell me your names my new friends? Mine is Alaria, reader of the stars and teller of the moon." She spoke barely above a whisper with a sing-song seer voice. The two removed the cloaks from their head to reveal dirty but young faces, they both had to be a few years younger than Alaria. One sported some face around the face that barely passed for a beard and the other had a ring through their nostrils and long, red hair.

"I'm Erryl and this is my brother Philipe" said the one with the piercing with a soft voice. Philip looked upset at being introduced. Alaria paid him little mind and motioned at the cups.

"Erryl and Philipe, how wonderful for the stars to guide you to me tonight." She lowered her head slightly. "Now I want you two to think of a question that you need answered. Feel with all your being and concentrate on it as you drink your tea. And please don't drain your cup entirely, try to leave a thumbful."

Alaria studied the two from behind her own cup as they drank their tea. Philipe seemed relieved to just have something warm, but his eyes barely left his sibling and the tent flap. Erryl mouthed a silent prayer as they brought the drink to their lips and drank with their eyes tightly closed. The pair had some mud caked on their faces, probably from hiding. What clothes she could spot under their cloaks were barely better than rags. The two were also thin. She frowned that she didn't have any snacks to offer.

The Viera’s long green ear tilted toward the sound of boots splashing in the streets outside. She couldn’t make out how many pairs of boots were running out there nor the shouts being muffled by the rain and the tent. Erryl opened their eyes and Philipe tried to crouch lower into his chair at the sound outside but thankfully the boots seemed to run right past Alaria’s little tent.

"That should be enough tea for now." Alaria said to the pair as she pulled a couple spoons from her bag. The two turned their attention back to the Viera just as she had hoped and she handed them both a spoon. "Now swirl those leaves in your cups. And remember to concentrate. We want to make sure you get an answer."

Philipe half-heartedly turned his spoon in the cup, paying much more attention to the outside of the tent. Erryl had returned their full attention to theirs and swirled and swirled, the spoon occasionally clinking the edge of the glass. Alaria watched them but began putting a few items in her bag. Normally there would be some expected theatrics as she tried to cultivate a mode, but tonight was not the night for it. Instead she spent a minute gathering whatever was in reach until finally telling them "Stop. That should be good."

Alaria rose to her feet and leaned in behind Erryl, placing a hand on their shoulder for comfort, to gaze into the cup. They watched as the leaves settled into place; Philipe's leg began to twitch. The leaves danced and danced as Philipe’s leg bounced faster and faster and the rain dropped harder and harder. But as the leaves finally settled into their place, Alaria gave a big “hmmm” and squeezed Erryl’s shoulder.

“Ahh a wing.” She said tracing the outline of a wing with her fingers. Erryl leaned in more closely and even Philipe calmed down to watch.

“What does the wing mean?” Erryl asked softly.

“It means you need to find your freedom. You are caged; held down by some oppressor.” Alaria says barely above a whisper. Both siblings’ eyes dart first to each other and then the Viera.“You may be crushed from a danger unless you find your own wings and fly to your own freedom.”

“The Hikari Family wants to kill my brother!” Erryl blurted at the Viera; her voice cracking with a plea.

“Quiet Erryl! We can’t trust anyone!” Philipe interjected, his voice strained.

“You heard her though! We need to run!”

“What do you think we’re doing?!”

“Please! You have to help us. We have nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. Please!” Alaria saw tears forming in Erryl’s eyes. Their brother looked absolutely exasperated. She pulled Erryl in for a quick hug.

“My dear new friend, you were guided into my tent tonight.” Alaria gave her most reassuring smile to both of them. The pair shared an uncertain look with each other as the Viera grabbed her bag. "I have a ship docked right now and we go back a-sea in two nights time. You can hide there and then we can get you out of the city."

“And you’d help us just like that?! Erryl! We can’t trust this woman! There’s no reason for her aid us, no reason for her to not sell us for some gil!” Philipe pleaded with his sibling. Meanwhile, Alaria had already begun stuffing her bag with some of her things.

“Philipe. If she were to turn us in, she would have already. She’s done nothing but kindness for us.” Erryl reasoned.

“Listen to your sibling Phil. I can tell that neither of you are armed so you’ll want to stick close.” The Viera had made it to the flap of her tent and opened it. “Come on then. Let’s open your wings and fly out of this city, hm?”

With a resigned sigh, Philipe relented to following their new guide out of the city. Alaria prayed her tent wouldn’t be moved by morning so she could collect it; she had grown rather fond of its ugly purple cloth. It was a long and harsh trek with bitingly cold winds and sharp downpour of icy rain as the three wove their way through backstreets and alleyways. The Viera kept an open ear and cautious eye to avoid any armed looking guard on their hike. Unfortunately for the trio, the cold rain made for empty cobblestone streets which meant no hiding in crowds. Fortunately though, the weather made the street lanterns nearly ineffective; their orange glows dimmed or dead in the winds.

No crowds meant slower movement as to not be seen. They had to have been sneaking their way for at least a bell in this miserable weather before finally spotting the docks across a bridge. Alaria ducked behind a box as the other two hid behind some barrels; one guard stood stoically in the middle of the bridge with his back toward the group. They could try and find another way across and into the docks but Erryl and Philipe were waning with each step. It was clear to Alaria that they were exhausted and needed rest.

There was only one clear solution Alaria sighed. She motioned for the others to stay down as she stood straight up. A small line of purple aether began to swirl around the Viera’s right wrist. She summoned all her anger toward those who would oppress and the line of aether became a pool encompassing her wrist. She invoked all the loathing she had for herself and the pool of aether swallowed her entire arm. She called forth the malice toward Her and the aether shot from her arm. Alaria glared at this man as her violet aether shocked through his body. He crumpled there and the Viera strolled toward his body. Maybe he was still alive but it didn’t matter to her as she rolled his limp form into the black waters below. She beckoned the siblings and they continued along.

Finally they had made it. Only Boone stood guard but his was a giant with an axe; only the foolhardy would dare tempt him. He grunted as the trio made their way aboard.

#ffxiv rp #FFXIV #alaria moone #Roleplaying Alaria FFXIV

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shortprince-cos · 4 years

Text

Patton Angst Fic Because I Can't Stop

Summary: Patton decides to run...a little experiment.

Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort.

Ship: Platonic or Romantic LAMP, your choice.

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, exhaustion, crying, not eating, breaking down a door, loneliness. Tell me if I need to add anything else!

~~~~~

Patton was tired.

That was more of an understatement. He woke up at 6:00 every morning to make breakfast for all of the sides. Most of them ate a little differently, so it required a lot of work to get all of the meals perfect.

Everyone took their meals back to their rooms to eat. An occasional thanks was given, but most meals were lonely, with only Patton eating at the dinner table.

Patton didn't mind.

After eating breakfast, Patton would clean the house. He did this every day. He probably didn't need to clean the whole house every day, but he wanted to. He wanted it to be perfect.

He would take a 'break' at noon, just in time for lunch. Making all the sides different lunches every day took a lot of work, but it was worth his family being happy.

...They never thanked him. Or sat with him during lunch.

But they appreciated him! They just didn't show it very often!

Patton didn't mind.

Believe it or not, Patton did take breaks. He went to check on everyone during the day, just wondering if they needed anything. Sometimes they would ask for water, or some kind of help, but more often than not, they dismissed Patton, saying they were 'too busy for distractions'.

Patton didn't mind.

He returned to cleaning after lunch. That usually lasted until 5:00. Patton would spend at least an hour working on the perfect dinner, one that everyone would enjoy! Dinner was usually the time when the whole family could get together and just talk about their day, or whatever they wanted really! It was when everyone was done with their work, and they could just spend time together!

...More recently, no one even came to get food. Patton wasted an hour making perfect meals, only to eat a fraction, and have to throw the rest away when it goes bad.

Patton...did mind. But he always acted like he didn't.

Patton stressed cleaned and cooked every day. No one knew that it was because of stress, but they never talked to him anyway, so it wasn't their fault.

Sometimes things got too overwhelming. The amount of work he had to do for Thomas, even though it was very little, it weighed heavily on him. Trying to fix everyone else's problems, but ignoring his own.

It was better to ignore those problems anyway, it's not like he had anyone to help him with them. Not like he helped the others.

Constantly worrying about the right decisions. Not just his decisions, everyone else's too. All of these things were torture, but they were worth it.

Were they worth it? No one thanked him. They barely even talked to him. It almost seemed like they were ignoring him after the last video. They only talked if they needed something, or they were in a video. Movie nights were long forgotten, the last one probably before the courtroom. After that, everyone was on edge, and started spending more time alone.

Patton lay in his bed, thinking about all of this. He rarely even fell asleep in his bed, most of his sleep was on the couch, when he couldn't keep his eyes open at 3:00 in the morning. He only went to his bed if he needed to think, and boy was he thinking.

'Was any of this worth it? They must acknowledge some of the things I do. Right?'

Patton was finally breaking down from the pressure. Actually realizing what was happening to his family- to him.

'Maybe I should test it. If they notice, I'll come right back, no harm done. If they don't notice...maybe I wouldn't be in the way anymore.'

Patton decided to run an experiment. He would stay in his room until someone noticed he wasn't there. He was sick and tired of being left alone, so he'll finally see if they actually cared or not.

Hopefully they would notice immediately. If they didn't notice in the first week...Patton wasn't sure if he would be around for the second.

---

Logan woke up at 8:00am precisely, as he always does. He quickly got up, showered, got dressed, brushed his teeth and hair, and tied his tie before going downstairs.

Logan didn't see any breakfast today, or any Patton for that matter. It was...odd, but Logan didn't think too much of it.

'He must have taken a day off. Usually he would tell us, but he must have forgotten.' Logan thought. Oh well, that meant Logan wouldn't have many distractions today.

Logan started brewing some coffee. Should he have breakfast? Of course it's 'The most important meal of the day!' as Patton would say. Was Logan going to have it? No. He usually wasn't hungry in the morning anyway, and he only ate it for Patton.

"Coffee instead of Crofter's? Who are you, and what have you done with Logan?" Logan turned to see Virgil coming down the stairs in his pajamas with his hoodie on top. His sarcastic joke making Logan chuckle a bit.

"Well, Patton left me with an option today." Logan explained while pouring his coffee into a mug that said '#1 Teacher!'.

"Patton isn't making us eat breakfast today? We can have whatever?" Virgil's face widened with a bit of surprise, but he looked more excited than anything.

"It seems he has taken a day off. Coffee?" Logan offered Virgil his mug, Virgil quickly accepted and drank it black.

"Patton took a day off? I'm shocked. Like, actually shocked. That never happens."

"I am 'shook' as well."

"Never say that again."

"Did I say it wrong? Is that not the meaning?"

"No, it was right, but it was super embarrassing and cringy. I have no idea why we taught you these things, it was obviously a mistake."

---

Logan's day went by normally- well almost. Patton never knocked on his door, and Logan never heard the vacuum running. He...missed it? He had no idea if that statement was correct, but he knew that working was a little harder without the white noise of the vacuum running from downstairs.

Why Patton vacuumed the entire house every day was a mystery to Logan. He certainly didn't need to. But the noise in the background was always comforting for some reason.

Logan didn't take any breaks today. He forgot to eat lunch, and by the time he was done with his work, it was 9:48pm. Oops. Guess he should probably eat something.

Logan made his way downstairs, surprised when Patton wasn't there. Logan also didn't understand why Patton slept on the couch most of the time, but whatever figuratively floats his boat, Logan supposed. It was odd not seeing him all day though.

Logan only ate Crofter's on some toast for dinner before going back upstairs at 10:13pm to go to bed.

He got to his bedroom door and hesitated. He glanced to Patton's door, debating something in his mind.

'Should I see if he's alright?' Logan thought. 'No, I'm just overreacting. All he did was take a day off, there's no need to worry.'

No need to worry.

---

It was two days later, and Virgil was worrying a bit. He hadn't seen Patton for awhile, and while he was happy he wasn't being helicopter-parented, he couldn't help but wonder where he was.

Despite being upset with him for accepting Jan-Deceit, Virgil wanted to just break into his room and find out what was happening, but as always, his anxiety stopped him.

"Logan?" He decided to ask Logan if he was being irrational or not.

"Yes Virgil?" Logan responded, not looking up from his book or moving from his spot on the couch.

"It may be just me, but, I'm worried about Patton." That got Logan's attention.

"Well, it certainly isn't just you. I have to admit I am a bit troubled for him as well. However, it has only been three days, I don't think we should jump to any conclusions. Besides, if Patton wanted to see us, he would. He might just want some time alone right now, especially after the last video we did." Logan explained. This calmed Virgil down a bit.

"Right." Virgil cringed, remembering the events of the episode he missed. "Ok, thanks Logan."

"No problem, Virgil." Logan smiled at Virgil before returning to his book.

Virgil sighed and plopped down next to Logan on the couch. He didn't really want to go back to his anxiety-inducing room after he just calmed down.

The two sat in silence the rest of the day.

---

Roman had just gotten back from his adventure in the imagination. He had been gone since...the video, but now he was ready to face everyone again! Saving an imaginary town full of imaginary people sure does boost your confidence!

But it was time to actually confront his problems. Like Patton and De-Janus. It still felt weird to say his actual name.

Roman emerged from his room for the first time in at least a week. The halls were empty. That's not normal. But were any of them 'normal' after the newest video? Not really.

Roman cautiously made his way down the steps to find Logan sitting at the table, and Virgil sitting on top of the couch.

They both kind of looked awful. Logan had bags under his unconcentrated eyes, his mind clearly wandering from his book while he fidgeted with his necktie.

Virgil...looked like Virgil, except he looked really tense and his brows were furrowed with worry.

"Well, I'd certainly hoped for a more enthusiastic response to my late arrival." Roman called attention to himself at the bottom of the stairs.

"Roman!" Virgil immediately shot up from the couch and ran over to hug Roman, which was...strange.

"Roman, where have you been?! You've been gone for three weeks!" Logan scolded while walking over to Virgil and Roman.

"Jeez, L. I just got back and I'm already getting yelled at?" Roman complained. "Wait, three weeks? No, that- that can't be right. I've only been gone a couple days."

"Well, clearly your calculations are wrong."

Virgil suddenly pulled away from Roman, choosing to shove him instead.

"Hey- what-?!"

"Do you have any idea how worried I was about you and Patton?! You've been gone for so long, I thought something had happened, but Logan told me not to worry, but then I started worrying more because what if we should have been worried and something did happen to you and we didn't know because we weren't worr-"

"Virgil!" Roman grabbed Virgil's shoulders to get his attention. "Calm down time, I'm fine. But, why are you worried about Patton? Where is he?"

"We assume he's in his room, but we haven't seen him for about seven days, three hours, fifteen minutes, and thirty-three seconds." Logan explained casually.

"And you haven't checked on him, why?"

"Logan says he's probably just taken the week off, or something..." Virgil quietly mumbled.

"Ok...that is very weird though. I mean, has Patton ever taken time off? Like, since we've known him?" Roman questioned Logan.

"Well, no. But I suspect Deceit has told him that he should take some time off, given the point of the last episode." Logan explained while Roman cringed at the thought of the last time he saw Patton.

Virgil groaned as well.

"Something wrong, Roman? Virgil?"

"Nothing..." The two quietly moaned in unison.

"Very well, if you two are so bothered by Patton's absence, I suppose we could go check on him." Logan offered while gesturing upstairs.

"Logan, you've been fidgeting with your tie throughout this entire conversation, and you expect us to believe you aren't worried?" Virgil accused while Logan very clearly stopped toying with his necktie.

Logan cleared his throat, his face turning slightly pinker. "Well- uh- lets just go."

And so the three of them journeyed up to Patton's light blue door, hoping to find their friend perfectly fine.

"Should we knock?" Virgil asked.

"Yes, if he doesn't respond, then we'll go in." Logan said in his 'I don't have feelings, but I'll comfort you anyway' voice.

Roman knocked three times and awaited an answer.

Nothing.

Roman knocked louder this time.

Nothing.

"Patton?" Roman tried opening the door, but alas, it's locked.

"Should we-" Virgil started before Roman kicked the door in surprisingly fast.

"ROMAN, YOU SHOULD HAVE WARNED ME FIRST!" Virgil exclaimed before looking into Patton's room.

"Empty." Logan stated the obvious.

Everyone slowly walked into the lifeless room.

"Wait." Virgil said quietly.

Well, almost lifeless.

Virgil slowly walked over to Patton's bed, which now everyone could see had a small figure hiding under the covers.

"Patton?" Virgil whispers as he kneels down next to the bed.

Suddenly a little Patton face comes out from under the comforter. "Yeah?" He asks in a small, meek voice.

"We were worried about you, are you alright?" Logan questioned as he walked over to where Patton was on the bed.

"Oh, so now you're worried." Patton replied with an attitude that he never had before.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Virgil tried his best to not let anger seep through his voice.

"Nothing, apparently." Patton buried himself in the blanket again, leaving the other sides confused.

"Yikes, he really has been spending too much time with Janus." Roman stated, which made something in Patton snap.

Patton immediately pulled the covers off and sat up angrily. "No! No, I haven't, because he's afraid you guys will hate him even more if he talks to me! And none of you guys ever come out of your rooms anymore because you're all mad at me! No one ever even acknowledges me anymore! I'm just so-so a-alone!" At this point Patton had hot tears rolling down his face while he gasped for more air.

"I-I know you guys need t-time, but...I can't do it anymore, I just c-can't."

"P-Patton-" Virgil started before Patton started laughing- wait, laughing?

"Its funny, right? How-how I can take all the time in the world to work through my issues, but the moment you guys need time..." Patton slumped in exhaustion. "God, I'm so selfish. I can't even last two weeks without you guys."

"Maybe, but we shouldn't have ignored you. We should have talked about it instead of ignoring it." Virgil said. "Instead of ignoring you."

"N-No. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm j-just overreacting, is all." Patton wiped away his tears even though new ones kept forming. "I-I'm fine."

"You're clearly not fine, Patton." Logan put his hands on Patton's. "You've apparently been sulking in your room all week. When did you even intend on coming out?"

"But Logan," Patton's face lit up. Oh no. "We came out years ago!"

Three different groans rang out in the bedroom.

"Patton, you know very well what I meant." Patton's face fell quicker than it rose.

"I-I know...Roman, when did you get back?"

Roman's face got a little happier. "Just today-"

"Patton." Logan interrupted, squeezing Patton's hand a little more. "You didn't answer my question."

Patton looked between the three of them before looking towards the floor and mumbling something indecipherable.

"Uh- what was that, Pat?" Virgil asked cautiously.

Patton quickly looked back up to meet Virgil's eyes. "I wasn't going to!" He exclaimed.

Everyone's faces were quickly filled with shock and disbelief.

Roman moved to sit next to Patton as well. "W-What? You were just going to stay in your room forever?" Patton only shook his head. "Then, what-?"

"No." Virgil suddenly interrupted, the shock never leaving his face. "Patton, tell me you weren't going to-" Virgil raised his hand to cover his mouth.

"Spit it out, Virge!" Roman exclaimed.

"It seems Patton was going to d-" Logan stopped in disbelief. "excuse me- duck out. R-Right?"

Roman gasped. "Patton, that's not true is it? It can't be true."

Patton started sobbing. Well, there was his answer.

Virgil shot up from where he was kneeling and quickly pounced on Patton, giving him a giant hug that was probably long overdue.

Logan and Roman looked at each other before joining the hug pile too.

Eventually they had to stop, considering Patton had to breathe sometime, so they all climbed off of each other.

Patton still had a few tears streaming down his face. "I'm-I'm sor-"

"Don't you dare apologize for feeling like that. Just don't." Virgil scolded quickly.

"Well, then you guys can't apologize either!" Patton claimed.

"Yes we can!" All three said in unison, which made Patton giggle a bit.

"Well, that's not fair." Patton complained with a small smile on his face.

"Alright, alright." Logan attracted everyone's attention. "Now that we have that sorted, maybe we should relax and try to de-stress for awhile, hm?"

"Sounds super!" Roman exclaimed before picking up a giggling Patton in a bridal style hold.

As Logan and Virgil exited the room, Roman leaned down and whispered to Patton.

"I'm sorry about the video. I shouldn't have overreacted like that. I know you're trying your best."

"Well, I'm sorry too-"

"Ah bupbupbup!" Roman booped Patton's nose playfully. "I thought we said you couldn't apologize anymore today!"

Patton only giggled more in response.

Soon enough all four of them were on the couch watching an array of Disney movies, the earlier events drifting from their minds.

~~~~~

Y'all wanted a stupid title, so there ya go! This fic was super self indulgent, so that's why it is the way it is.

If you ever feel alone or like life isn't worth it anymore, I highly suggest getting some help from a professional. Please don't shut yourself in away from people who care about you, because that will only make things worse. Remember, if you're gone, there's always someone who will miss you, even if it doesn't feel like there is.

General Taglist: @decadentscissorsapricotdeputy @resident-trash-goblin @thefingergunsgirl @theantisocialghost @foreverfangirlalways @emo--nightmaree @moxy--sanders101 @quinnthequeer @gattonero17 @trashno0dle @tranquil-space-ninja @wellhellothere09 @lugooble @sander-crossing @disney-princess-patton @obsessedalli @hi-its-tutty Ask if you would like to be added or removed!

Reblogs are appreciated! 💖

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #kawaiikat54 fic #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #ts patton #ts logan #ts virgil #ts roman #patton angst #sanders sides angst #tw suicidal thoughts

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lokidiabolus · 3 years

Text

Last Resort - Chapter 2

Fandom: The Maze Runner

Pairing: Thomas x Newt

Warnings: ex boyfriends, AU

Summary: Three years after breaking up with Thomas, Newt finally thought the past of hating each other was behind them, until Thomas asked him for a favour - pretend they got back together for a week while staying at his parents’ home. Because it was an absolutely dumb idea, Newt was inclined to refuse, but then found himself in the house he used to visit when he was in love and happy and the bitter reality of only pretending for people he always liked made him miserable. But it was nothing against dealing with Thomas himself for a week straight and trying not to fall back in love that hurt them both.

Or: Prompt ch. 192 with added spice. Or something. I just needed to write for a while :’)

Can be found on Ao3.

Notes: I think I never did so much rewriting like I did with this chapter. I'm still not satisfied with it, but I swear my brain just can't come up with anything else. Scrapped like 6 pages asdfjslfjslfjsdl. Now it's short :c

Anyway, guess I just wanted a bit of Thomas' insight for it. He's complicated lol. Or maybe not really, just trying to keep up. Don't we all though lol.

Oh and @izzymultifan (actually remembered)

Unbetad!

EDIT: (17. 5. 2021) I edited the ending with a lil continuation of the scene I previously deleted, because I thought it was unnecessary, but then I returned to it after few days and thought it should stay. It's not very long but I guess it's kinda important.

***

Thomas woke up disoriented, thirsty and definitely not rested enough, like when his alarm goes off on a workday and he only slept for four hours. But here was no alarm, no work, just him waking up with a flinch and realizing he wasn’t in his flat, and he wasn’t alone either.

The blond hair right in his face immediately pushed him into realization he was holding onto Newt like he was his lifeline, one hand under the shirt on his belly, other on his chest clutching the fabric, and an unmistakable morning hello tenting his pants, digging right into Newt’s backside. In retrospect there wasn’t much worse Thomas could have done to him, except maybe having a hand down his pants (which admittedly he used to do sometimes when they were together, but then again, that situation definitely didn’t scream murder like it would now).

In a sleepy confusion that hazed his just-woken-up-brain he searched the foggy memory on how this situation came to be, no matter how familiar it felt to him. Newt made himself pretty clear about sleeping together, so the sudden closeness – well, more like an absolute merge, unless he’d slip in – no, no dirty thoughts, bad Thomas, bad – didn’t make much sense.

The night came back to him embarrassingly slow – he got drunk because for some reason his dad decided to decimate his super precious whiskey, even though normally he hoarded it like a dragon his gold. He could only think of Newt being the incentive, drinking the whiskey so fast in his dad’s eyes, while Thomas downed it all to save him from barfing (Newt’s alcohol tolerance never existed in the first place, he disliked about any kind of it, and as far as Thomas remembered he got drunk only once with vodka mixed with orange juice on Aris’ wedding, because he could barely taste the vodka in it until it was too late). Then the world started spinning, Newt dragged him to his room somehow… which sounded farfetched, so maybe dad helped, he drew blank around that area honestly, probably because he stood up and all the alcohol began circulating faster. Then they talked… probably, and then Thomas fell asleep, since that’s all he could recall.

And now his hard-on was trying to get some, and he held Newt against himself with sheer ferocity of an obsessive hugger off his meds and the realization dawned on him like tons of bricks. Was he going to wake him up if he let go? Newt always woke up at the slightest noise before, there was no way of going to pee at night without getting back to the blond blinking owlishly at him, asking what happened. Was this Newt he barely knew anymore still the same? Still twitchy and light sleeper and grumpy and slow to rise when getting up?

Thomas didn’t have much choice anyway, did he. He just had to let go either way, and preferably remove his hips from Newt’s back and act like it was no biggie to be hard when in bed with his ex. He slowly untangled his hand from the front of Newt’s shirt and retreated from under the shirt as well with the other hand and managed to roll onto his back without Newt visibly stirring, which was a success. Unless he pretended to be asleep to avoid talking to Thomas about pushing into him like a horny teenager, which also worked.

Not like he hadn’t been doing that in the last month of their relationship anyway, just... ignoring the problem until it went away (a problem named Thomas) and well, ultimately it succeeded. It would work now too, and Thomas refused to poke the wasp nest this early in the morning – judging from the clock at 8:04 – and just went with the flow.

Need coffee, he thought unhappily when the headache set in. And water. Maybe some alone time in a bathroom first.

Newt didn’t stir until Thomas slinked out of the bedroom, which was a complete lie.

***

“Dad, just drop it,” Thomas repeated for fourth time when his dad couldn’t stop haggling him about his childlike alcohol tolerance the moment he appeared in the kitchen, asking for black coffee. He couldn’t tell him he drank Newt’s portions and without that argument nothing would sound plausible anyway, so he just dodged it with an increasing headache. Newt got up about half an hour later and didn’t speak a word to him – Thomas would even say he avoided his eyes several times, which meant he was absolutely awake in the morning to witness all of Thomas’ struggle to even exist around him peacefully. Which he couldn’t for years, really, so this only proved it.

It was fine. Thomas learned how to deal with it, despite taking him two years to come in terms of being hated by a person he loved since he was 17. Well, everything around the breakup took a lot from him, but he dealt with all eventually, right? He could finally look Newt in the eye without having all the incoherent anger and frustration pile up and he could talk to him fine as well unless they breached one of the thousand forbidden topics. Like them. Like family. Like love. Like sleeping. Like breathing, existing and fucking just trying to live.

Anyway. All dealt with, of course. No hard feelings.

(Lots of them.)

“You dealt with the drunkard just fine, right Newt?” his dad chattered towards the blond, patting him on his back and Newt forced a smile and a nod. Thomas saw this particular expression too often to not recognize it and huffed while sitting down at the counter with his own coffee.

He was used to being a bad guy anyway, no matter how much of the blame he genuinely deserved. They both knew he didn’t get drunk because he wanted to get wasted enough to drop unconscious on a spot and Newt would be a hypocrite to badmouth him when he was pouring all his whiskey to Thomas’ glass with thankful expression yesterday. But then again, not even he could tell Thomas’ dad about it, so they just had to have this unspoken oh yes, Thomas is a real piece of work as always.

Which sort of sucked. But Thomas couldn’t care less what his dad thought about his alcohol tolerance, it wasn’t like he threw up everywhere or broke mum’s precious bowls set (again). Not that he expected Newt to defend him anyhow, but he could at least say nooo, he was fine, he just fell asleep or something. Not that it surprised him he didn’t, but…

“He used to drink majority of guys from my work under the table and now look at him,” his dad delivered his fifth Thomas can’t drink for shit jab. He sure loved to milk that. “At least he has you to look after him, huh.”

Thomas stared at Newt’s back with mild annoyance the more the blond refused to elaborate on anything, just smiling at his dad while making himself a cup of coffee, and then Thomas’s eyes suddenly fell on the nape of Newt’s neck with a vicious, red mark near the hairline, and his whole body seized up like he got paralyzed.

A hickey? Since when? From who? What? Wait, was Newt already dating somebody else?

Saying already like three years were short amount of time… Thomas mentally scolded himself and his body raised up on its own volition, like being pulled in by some invisible force towards the blond. He had no clue if it were a twisted need for revenge or vindication or just him being unable to come in terms of not being told or warned, or maybe all of it together, he just couldn’t stop and plastered himself all over Newt’s back, trapping him between his body and the counter, circling his thin waist like a vine (he got thinner for sure).

“Of course I have you, don’t I,” he purred into Newt’s ear, loud enough for his dad to hear perfectly, and felt how Newt’s whole body froze, his hand mid-stir of the coffee. Thomas could see how his Adam’s apple bobbed when he gulped. “Looking after me when I get hammered into unconsciousness.”

“Yeah.” Newt’s voice sounded small, and Thomas wanted to bite down at that red, angry place on his nape like an animal. His dad probably wouldn’t appreciate it, but his ego sure would. He let his hands slide lower, to Newt’s hips, grabbing a handful, and the habitual movement made him restless. He did it zillion times during the time they were together. He did less, he did more, naked, clothed, lying, standing up, in whatever situation, touching Newt was his privilege.

And some fucking horny prick just took it?

Just marked his boyfriend – ex-boyfriend, Thomas, ex-boyfriend for three years, pull yourself together, you’re not 17 anymore – like a property and he didn’t even fucking notice?

Newt’s breath hitched and the spoon he was holding dropped into the coffee, splashing the black liquid around it, dribbling down the drawers under, making the blond curse under his breath.

“Sorry,” he immediately said towards Thomas’ dad who was handing him a cloth to wipe it with, and started squirming. “Thomas, leggo. Can’t reach.”

“Don’t wanna,” Thomas refused, squeezing Newt even tighter. “I’m hangover and miserable and you’re supposed to take care of me.”

Thomas’ dad snorted but took the hint and retreated while calling at his wife the boys are being rowdy again, Anna! And the kitchen fell back into silence, except of their breathing, with Thomas plastered against Newt’s back like he wanted to topple him over (he sort of did).

“Do you enjoy being a bloody prick?” Newt finally broke the spell, pawing at Thomas’ hands to get them off, his voice an angry whisper. “What’s your deal, for fuck’s sake!”

“Hangover,” Thomas huffed, not letting go and to be completely honest, Newt wasn’t really trying as much, just slapping his hands half-heartedly. “Could’ve at least said I didn’t give you any trouble, I covered for you the whole night.”

“You gave me loads of it!” Newt started wiggling, and Thomas had to fight the urge to just bite down, mark any piece of skin available, to make the restlessness go away. “You were heavy as fuck, I had to carry you all the way to your room!”

“Yeah, and?” Thomas grabbed him lower, and Newt pinched his hand in revenge, which finally made him let go with sharp breath.

“Fuck you,” the blond barked at him with fiery eyes. “I don’t know what you are trying to prove but groping me is not on the bloody table, get it?!”

“Mhm,” Thomas rubbed the place Newt pinched him at. “Sure. No fun allowed, got it.”

“Fuck off!”

Thomas hated how Newt turned away and the hickey was so visible it made his insides churn. He used to talk about his problems a lot these past few years, so he could finally let go of whatever was holding him in place, unable to forget, and he thought he reached that point, that he was free.

Looking at Newt marked by another man… no. He was not. Still stuck, still the same.

Still angry and miserable.

Still… there.

***

The fact Newt refused to talk to him completely was an understatement. Thomas blamed his unsteady approach on the alcohol, because what else he could blame it on – his own feelings? He sodealt with those already, there was nothing that would make him see red.

Except of a hickey on his ex-boyfriend’s neck, that would do it. Apparently.

But still – it was the hangover that made him stupid, right. If he’d be completely sober and not aching anywhere and his mind clear, he would just… shrug at it. It was Newt’s business who he slept with or not, or who he let bite his nape like a dog (some young fucking idiot who thought hickeys are still sexy? Stupid shit).

Not Thomas’. Not anymore.

The more he tried to push it away from his mind, the more his mind pushed back, just pointing it out loudly every time he glanced towards the blond sitting on the couch in the living room, bundled in a fluffy blanket, fiddling with his phone.

He was fiddling with his phone a lot actually. Texting somebody?

The guy who left the mark?

Thomas felt the irrational anger seep into his consciousness again and he forced it back down with a frown. He knew asking Newt to help him to get his parents off his back wasn’t exactly a great idea (asking ex to be your bf again for a show just screamed trouble), but at the same time asking anybody else just felt… wrong.

Thomas had to admit he’d be able to go along with this only with Minho, probably. Because Minho was a born actor, he’d be able to breeze though this with ease and Thomas’ parents would like him for sure, because, well, everybody liked Minho, honestly.

Asking Teresa or Brenda was just… desperate. Because other than them it would be Newt and getting back together with Newt… well. Thomas could tell from the moment he saw him getting into his car in front of Newt’s workplace it was going to be tough for both of them.

Not much of a surprise so far climbing Mt. Everest would be easier than keeping his chaotic feelings under control.

“You need some fresh air,” his vision of Newt got obstructed by his mum in a frilly apron she wore unironically and he looked up to her with half-lidded eyes.

“I think I need chicken soup, actually,” he offered in response, because dragging himself through the snow outside now sounded like a death penalty.

“Air first,” she insisted, adamant, and turned towards Newt like an executioner. “Right, Newt? A walk would do him good.”

Newt looked at Thomas and Thomas just knew. He was doomed. Newt was going to betray him like Scar did with Mufasa and he’d enjoy it, he could see the glint in his eyes, just shining there, spelling revenge in big, neon letters.

Please, he mouthed at the blond in desperation and Newt tilted his head to the side and then his mouth curled up.

“Sure, that’s a great idea, Anna,” he signed the death certificate without an ounce of shame and relished in it.

Fuck you, Thomas mouthed again, and Newt sent him a condescending smile. Fuck him especially.

***

“You’re unusually quiet,” his mum casually pointed out like she didn’t just drag him out to cold ass weather while holding a knife (butter one, but that’s what made it scarier), despite his very vocal (or vocal sort of, too loud and his brain wanted out of his skull) protests.

“Hungover,” he reminded her bitterly. The snow under their feet crunched sharply and the noise was tearing his brain to pieces, like walking on a broken glass and he had no idea how much longer he’d be able to act like it wasn’t killing him.

“Well, it was nice of you to cover for him,” Anna shrugged like she didn’t just blew their cover with a killer one liner and Thomas probably shouldn’t have been as surprised. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen him drink.”

“That’s cuz he can’t drink for shit,” he mumbled with a frown. “Did dad notice?”

“No,” she shook her head. “He was too busy boasting about the partnership. It’s been some time since I’ve seen him so happy, you know how he hoards the whiskey otherwise.”

“Yeah, cheapskate,” Thomas snorted, and the noise sliced his brain painfully, like an instant karma.

“Think he was happy about Newt being back too,” she hit the nail on the head a bit too close to home and Thomas hated how his stomach lurched at it. “Well, you know him.”

“Sure is happy for not getting any grandkids,” he just grumbled and Anna patted him on his back.

“We still have Hannah,” she reminded him sweetly. “Maybe one day she’ll feel like having kids and force you to babysit for her two times a week.”

“Me? You’re going to be the grandparents, it’s your obligation to babysit!” The idea of taking care of Hannah’s kids made him scared for life, and they didn’t even exist yet.

“Pretty sure Newt wouldn’t mind,” she chirped happily, and Thomas loathed how right she probably was. Newt never really showed any kind of real interest in having kids or anything, but he never minded babysit for his own sister, and generally all the kids liked him.

Not that thinking about that had any merit anyway, since they split up with a point of no return. Maybe Newt already planned kids with the new person who left the distasteful hickey on his nape, or the person who he kept texting, and the more Thomas thought about it, the more his chest burned.

“Cherish him a bit more, would you,” she poked his arm. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you have some beef between you. Had an argument before coming here?”

Why the fuck is she so perceptive?

“A bit,” he answered quietly. “No biggie.”

“Set things right,” she plainly ordered him like he was ten again and had do her bidding. “I don’t want another sad Christmas.”

There isn’t going to be any Christmas for us, he wanted to tell her, but kept his mouth shut. At this rate, there wasn’t going to be anything for them, at all.

I really need some sleep.

***

Not very often did the morning come so peacefully, like a gentle spring washing over tired soul, leaving it invigorated. Thomas basked in the pleasantness of it, a quiet, warm and relaxed moment where he slowly woke up from a dream into reality still welcoming and soft like he never left the fantasy realm.

He took a deep breath, stretching, slowly coming to realize of contours of another body pressed into him, and under his hands and around his legs and under his chin. The soft blond hair came to view when he opened his eyes, with Newt draped around him needily, and his heart melted.

The first night in their flat. Their home. A place that only belonged to them, these walls and floors, and small kitchen and big windows, for them together. It came true, finally, inevitably, for Thomas to have Newt all for himself, to share his mornings, his evenings, his life with him. Nothing else could make him happier.

“You already up?” came a sleepy rumble from Newt’s chest, the hands holding Thomas’ waist slowly moved up, to his back, pushing them even closer together.

“Just woke up,” Thomas kissed the top of the blond strands, his own hands traveling over Newt’s back, right onto his butt, kneading it.

“Mmmm.” Approving sound doubled his endeavour and then Newt was slowly grinding to him, lazily, his lips stretched in a smile, reaching to pamper Thomas’ neck with small kisses. “This sure is nice, huh.”

“Love it,” Thomas agreed with the sentiment while grabbing Newt’s thigh and hiking it up over his hip. The blond softly moaned at the contact and Thomas pushed more into it, completely awake and needy and allowed. There was nobody that could hear them, scold them or gasp in shock like a puritan at them making out – just them, two lovers in their home, free to make love any time they wanted.

And Thomas wanted too much.

***

He never stopped wanting.

He woke to his room bathing in shadows, with the blanket twisted between his legs, his headache still present, even though in weaker state than in the morning, and his body wasn’t any less sluggish. The walk with his mum didn’t help him much, just added to his misery with freezing cold and nagging reality he couldn’t play this game any longer, which made him feel empty and unhappy.

He didn’t feel this unhappy in a while, it usually only came back when he heard of Newt about a year after the breakup. Every time his ex came back to his life, even when somebody only mentioned him in a passing conversation, Thomas’ chest set off that painful pang in it, like a trigger just waiting to be pressed, and he fell back into hollow kind of depression.

He got rid of it, somehow. He built walls around himself, he locked all of his twisted personality traits and pushiness and hateful behaviour away, he spent years searching for more he could fix, for all that made Newt unhappy with him, what made him leave Thomas after seven years without really talking about it.

He thought he managed to become a better person. He believed he could change the way he acted. He hoped if he ever talked to Newt again, at any point of their lives, he would be at least able to show him he wasn’t that ungrateful, lousy boyfriend anymore, that they could at least be friends. Somehow. Just talk normally. Just… exist in the same room without… Newt making that anguished face, like it hurt him still.

Thomas tried. But failed. Maybe it was just recurring theme of his life – to touch something wonderful, to taste true happiness, just to fuck it all up and lose it.

Maybe he was just obsessive. Suffocating.

Maybe making mistakes were rooted too deep in him to get rid of.

Maybe… it was simply impossible.

***

Newt was playing games with Hannah in the living room when Thomas came back down. Hannah made fun of him for sleeping all day like an old guy and his mum said something about hoping he didn’t catch a cold and gave him a bowl of chicken soup.

The strange, unattached feeling stayed with him since he woke up, and only doubled when he saw Newt’s neck marked by some fucker on display. His stomach churned at the implication there was this unknown guy waiting for Newt to come back home, who kept impatiently sending him texts that made Newt frown and smile in turns, like he just slowly sunk back into the problem they never resolved. Thomas felt disgusted with himself, and angry, and, when it came to it, immensely tired.

“Oh, you have the whole week free?” his mum asked suddenly, breaking Thomas’ bubble of trying to eat the soup like a mental case of lobotomy, and he realized there had been a conversation going in meantime and he didn’t catch any of it. Newt wasn’t playing the game anymore, though Hannah still furiously pressed buttons on her controller, and instead of it sat on the couch, turned towards Thomas’ mum at the table.

“Yeah, thought getting out of the city might do me good,” he answered her with a soft smile and the idea of another week like this sent Thomas into desperate mode. Even though it was him who forced Newt to take whole week off, because… he only had bad ideas, obviously.

“But there’s bit of a rush now, right?” he entered the conversation impulsively and Newt glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “At work. Christmas and all that being close.”

“Yeah, it’s… a bit hectic,” the blond admitted, making Thomas’ mum go aww. “There’s lots of people taking vacations they didn’t spend yet, so we usually work crunch time.”

“Yeah, kind of same,” Thomas added. It wasn’t really a lie. But not the truth either. “And I know I said a week, but I’ve got some texts from work already, thought of going back tomorrow instead.”

Newt stared at him with an evident confusion, but Thomas knew at this rate they were going to crash and burn again if they stayed, and he didn’t want that. He couldn’t even trust himself to keep it civil when his blood boiled like in a bull taunted with red flag.

Except the red flag was an unknown nobody on the other side of the line of Newt’s phone.

And bed.

“Uh,” came from the blond. “No, wait. What? You…”

“We can visit again during Christmas,” Thomas offered a big fat lie, he almost bit his tongue at it. Christmas were a taboo, he knew mentioning it were already risky, but it gave him an out with his mum, so that worked at least. “When it’s calmer.”

“When is what calmer?” Newt still stared, Thomas said almost disbelieving, and he just prayed for him to play along and not act like he knew nothing about it.

“Work,” he answered stiffly. Too stiffly, he realized, since Newt’s eyes narrowed.

“Uh oh,” he heard Hannah interject, which meant he already failed in the mission to make this believable. Fuck.

“I need a smoke,” the blond announced instead of reacting and stood up sharply. Then shot Thomas a badly masked glare. “Keep me company?”

He wanted to say no but couldn’t when his whole family watched them like during tennis match. So he just nodded and followed Newt outside of the house while feeling like slapping himself.

***

“Care to explain or am I supposed to guess.”

The cigarette was lit, its fiery tip shone bright in the darkness of the porch once the automatic light shut itself because they weren’t moving like they rooted in the wooden floor. Newt was wearing his coat and Thomas only stood there in the long-sleeved shirt, which in retrospect was probably a mistake.

“I did explain,” Thomas said. “Just thought about work-,”

“No, you didn’t,” Newt stopped him immediately while crossing one of his arms on his chest while other held the cigarette like a weapon. “You said a week, so I took a week off. I’m not bloody leaving now. It’s my vacation.”

“I also said three days would probably be enough,” Thomas asserted. “And they are. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“Why?” the blond demanded. “It’s not like I suffer here. I like this place. What’s your problem?”

That kind of question had no easy answer and Thomas held Newt’s eyes only for few seconds, before looking away.

“Am I the problem?” came another question, even sharper. “You just can’t stand me anymore, so you want to leave?”

“You know that’s bullshit,” Thomas scoffed. “Since when did I ever-,”

“No, I don’t know!” Newt interrupted him with raised voice and Thomas flinched. “I don’t bloody know anything about you anymore! You brought me here and expected what? War? Did you want us to fail?”

“Why would I want us to fail?” Thomas’ eyes widened in a shock. “What kind of fucked up logic would that be?!”

“I don’t know!” Newt barked. The cigarette he was holding was slowly fading away, the ash falling everywhere how he moved his hand. “But something’s up since this morning, so obviously you’re lying about work and I want to know why!”

Well, finding out his ex-boyfriend had a lover, or a sex friend or whatever the other person was definitely served as a wake-up call. Thomas couldn’t overlook it – he thought he’d be fine with anything, it had been years, but one fucking hickey and some fleeting texts and he just had the rising urge to tear the walls he built down and get angry and make Newt inevitably miserable, which he despised.

He fucking loathed it. And himself. And everything around him.

“Why did you even agree to come here?” he couldn’t help but demand. “Why did you even bother playing this stupid game when you have somebody home? You trying to make him jealous or it’s just your thing?”

Accusing – stupid Thomas, fucking idiot, just talk normally, what’s wrong with you – as always.

“What?” Newt’s eyes shot up, wide in honest surprise. His cheeks were red from the cold, or maybe embarrassment, Thomas didn’t know. “What are you talking about?”

“About that hickey on your neck?” Thomas pointed towards the incriminated spot and Newt’s whole body went rigid.

“A hickey…?” Newt’s free hand was touching the place now, his voice shocked. “You… ugh.”

“Look, it’s not my business, clearly,” Thomas rubbed his eyes tiredly, desperately trying to make an excuse for his own consciousness why he couldn’t look at Newt. “But obviously it’s causing you trouble with him, so. As I said. Three days are fine, we can leave now. Go back home. Forget about this.”

And forget about me trying to corner you, and me getting hard in the bed with you this morning, and me sounding jealous and lame, and me… just for being me.

“Are you fucking with me?” Newt’s voice sounded disbelieving. “Are you bloody serious right now? A hickey from some random guy appeared over night here? That’s what you’re saying?”

Overnight…?

“Overnight?” he asked a little dumbly, which forced him to look Newt in the eyes, where he saw hell unleashed. It made his throat squeeze almost hard enough to suffocate him.

“You think I just popped back home for a quickie, then back to your bed in the morning like a bloody Cinderella?” the blond seethed, the cigarette in his hand morphing into a protentional weapon of choice. “Where did that even came for, for fuck’s sake? You’d been seeing me for two days, never noticed anything, and then suddenly your Esmeralda syndrome got cured or what?”

“But-,”

“You bloody drunk fucker,” Newt took a step towards him and Thomas found himself hitting the entrance door with his back, when he automatically tried to back out. “Should have known your bird brain won’t remember anything.”

The realization hit Thomas like tons of bricks right in his face, able to cause heavy concussion if it were real.

“I did this?!”

“No, the bloody sucker behind you, who the fuck do you think?!” Newt’s voice was harsh, but Thomas could only hear the bare fact he made a hickey of size of Texas on his ex-boyfriend’s nape while spending the next day being jealous… of himself.

“What the fuck,” he breathed out with an ugly relief flooding his veins, which was all sorts of wrong. Being relieved over attacking his ex at night definitely did not count as a good point in anybody’s book. “What the fuck.”

“Calmer now?” Newt sighed in exasperation and Thomas couldn’t say he was. It just opened door to another set of bad he had to deal with.

“I attacked you when drunk?” he asked quietly, and Newt blinked in surprise.

“Attacked?” he repeated and then barked out a laugh. “No, you really didn’t. You were drunk out of your mind, for fuck’s sake.”

“I see.”

“Didn’t think it left anything,” the blond sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if in memory, which was kind of hot – no Thomas, it was not hot, but embarrassing, shut up -. “I mean you just munched on me a little, then fell back asleep. No harm done.”

“You made a fuss about us sleeping in one bed but it’s no biggie when I leave a hickey?” Thomas couldn’t help but laugh a little and Newt’s face showed signs of hesitation.

“Look…” he tried after a moment, the cigarette in his hand nearly gone. “I… don’t know, you were just sleeping while holding me, it doesn’t mean anything-,”

“And that’s fine with you?” It was Thomas’ turn to interrupt him, and Newt looked a little lost for a moment.

“I suppose that’s fine with me, yeah,” he admitted slowly.

Thomas looked at his shoes, taking in a deep breath. He couldn’t deny the knot forming in his belly over the day already started easing off, for purely selfish reasons he had, but at the same time his head became even a bigger mess than before.

“So what does it mean?” he asked after a while. “I’m trying to do the right thing here, I thought… you’d rather leave than stay with me longer, after today, but…”

“I want to stay,” Newt answered immediately. “Unless you really don’t want me here. Then no, of course. I had the same problem the first day, feeling all kinds of weird and jumpy. I guess I just sort of dealt with it. Stepped out of my comfort zone and all that.”

“Sorry you had to.”

It wasn’t like Thomas wanted Newt to change anyhow by doing this favour for him. But he’d also be a hypocrite if he didn’t admit he wished Newt to feel good here. With him. Selfishly, hopelessly. Like before, like they were okay. Like they still… liked each other. At least a little.

He knew that kind of hope was self-destructive and harmful, but he didn’t stop loving this man three years ago, after going through an immensely rough patch, so he wouldn’t stop loving him now for no reason either.

“No need to be sorry,” Newt interrupted his thoughts with much softer tone than Thomas expected. “I mean even despite it’s you, you didn’t really do anything bad yet.”

“Wow,” Thomas snorted. “Way to ruin the mood, boyfriend.”

“I try,” Newt grinned, and it seemed like the tense mood dissipated and they both relaxed enough to breathe easier. Thomas possibly wouldn’t even notice he had been so strung up until now, if the huge boulder of irrational fear of fucking up didn’t fall off his shoulders with a bang.

“And just for the record,” Newt added while finally inhaling the last puff from the already burned-out cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. “I noticed you digging into me in the morning.”

“Of course you did…” Thomas banged the back of his head against door in utter shame. “Because universe hates me, and you had to fucking wake up.”

“Yeah, well,” Newt let out a small shrug. “I got hard at night, if it makes you feel any better. Let’s call it even.”

“What.”

“Had a real nice dream,” the blond casually announced like he was ordering pie with no filling and Thomas was a stupefied cashier at Costa Cafe. “Woke up with you being handsy with me. Tried to scramble away, cue for you to make the hickey and fall back asleep.”

“Uh.”

“1:1, right?” The sly smile Newt’s mouth produced did things to Thomas’ underbelly and before he even caught himself, he automatically reached out and grabbed Newt’s side.

Fuck.

“Pretty lousy score,” he just said – bad Thomas, stop making a pass at your ex -, “That’s no match whatsoever.”

Newt glanced at his hand resting on his waist and then back to Thomas with a thoughtful hum.

“I’m not that good at sports,” he just said, looking back into Thomas’ eyes. “But you might be onto something.”

Thomas took a deep breath and risked the second hand grabbing other side of Newt’s waist, pulling him closer. The layers of clothing made him dissatisfied, no matter how cold it was and how his skin already felt like ice, he just wanted to get under the coat and the sweater and the shirt and make Newt react somehow. The blond just silently watched him, let him do whatever he wanted, and somehow it felt like a test and Thomas was scared of failing it.

“That’s it?” Newt broke the tense silence around them when Thomas just stood there, holding him.

“Thinking,” the brunet mumbled with a frown.

“About?”

“How to touch you without it being classified as groping,” he moved his hands a little lower as an experiment, getting no reaction. “Since it’s off the table.”

“Pfff.”

He hesitated, then gingerly let go of one side and reached for the zipper lodged under Newt’s chin, keeping the coat closed like a fortress. His hand barely cooperated with how frozen it was, but Newt still didn’t stop him and that encouraged him unfairly.

“Newt.”

“Yeah?” the blond’s voice was quiet and close to his face.

“What’s with all the texting?” He kept holding the zippier between his fingers like he couldn’t decide, and Newt made a soft huh? noise in the back of his throat.

“You were on your phone the whole day,” Thomas lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “Is there somebody…?”

A sigh. Thomas let go of the zipper.

“That’s Alby,” came a reply and if Thomas wasn’t already propped against the door, he’d take a step back. There was nowhere to run now, so he just let go of the blond completely, nodding.

“He’s my partner,” another string of words Thomas comprehended but wished he didn’t. “A bit demanding one.”

“Sounds like it,” he just commented, staring at his feet until Newt’s shoes came into view as well when he stepped closer.

Seriously testing me. That’s-

“A bit cruel,” he breathed out with a puff of white smoke and Newt pushed further and pressed his mouth against Thomas’. His cold lips lingered for a moment before parting, their breaths mingling, and Thomas’ heart fought really hard to get out of his chest and run away. The proximity was non-existent, Newt stood so close their chests were touching, and his eyes were so dark, and pupils blown wide Thomas got easily lost in them.

He always did. Nothing had changed.

“You look cold,” Newt whispered to his lips, hovering so close their mouths gently touched when they took a breath.

“Freezing,” Thomas answered in daze, holding back only by a miracle. He wanted to reach out and pull the blond man flush against him, to grind into him, to kiss him so deep his toes would curl, and he’d buck up, he just wanted so much it made him suffer.

“Alby’s my colleague,” Newt dropped quietly. “Funnily… you weren’t wrong about work being in a rush now. He’s struggling a little. Wanted to know my opinion.”

A colleague. And nothing else?

“Nothing else,” Newt answered like he could read his mind and then sagged against Thomas’ body like the energy just left him, resting his head on Thomas’ shoulder.

“I thought I can handle being this close to you,” he heard him mumbling into his shirt. “But the more I am, the less I can fight it.”

“I thought I can handle you dating somebody else,” Thomas added to it while letting his head fall back against the door with a dull thud. “But obviously not. It’s scary. I don’t want to fuck it up again.”

“Yeah,” Newt agreed with him. “Me neither.”

He wasn’t sure if this had been some sort of consensus they reached, or just a fling that happened because they were both lonely, but Thomas didn’t want to let go – even though he should have, logically, to protect them both. The pain they caused to each other three years ago was still there and festering under their skins, but the more Newt was pressed into him, breathing softly, the more Thomas noticed his reason slowly creeped away, like a thief in the night disappearing with loot.

But he wanted. For fuck’s sake how he wanted to just hold him close and promise him love and eternal happiness, and the scary part was he couldn’t promise shit. His love was real, but not unconditional, happiness was fleeting and simply relying on both of them and the rest of the world deciding whatever to fuck them up or not.

But…

“I give up,” he mumbled, weary to the bone. At Newt’s soft hm? he just sighed. “It’s fucking cold.”

The blond barked out a laugh, but nodded and let go of him, immediately taking all the warmth away.

“Then shall we assure them we’re not breaking up again?” he nodded towards the door and without waiting for Thomas’ reply he already reached for the handle. “Or not leaving tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” the brunet conceded. “Hannah’s going to be milking this for the rest of the week…”

“Serves you right,” Newt laughed quietly while opening the door and Thomas kept the answer to himself.

We’re not breaking up again rang in his head like a bell, deafening his reason even further. Newt didn’t protest when he reached for his hand on their way inside, and he wondered if his heart was ready for another trial.

He ignored the uncertainty and took a leap of faith.

#newtmas #tmr #the last resort series #the maze runner #izzymultifan #edit 17. 5. 2021

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whatareyousearchingfordean · 4 years

Text

Happiness Begins

Part 22

Chapter Summary: Jared and his little sister finally find their middle ground, just in time for her to head back home to Austin.

Warnings: Language, angst

Word Count: 1.9K+

Author’s Note: It’s looking like I’ve finally nailed down the number of parts for this bad boy. It’s looking like we will have 25 parts. That means this is almost done. I can’t believe that the finish line is finally in view. Thanks to everyone who has been on this wild ride with me. I appreciate you more than you know. xo Alex.

Catch up with the series masterlist and check out Alexandra’s Library for more works by yours truly.

The soft yet persistent pounding in her head pulled Y/n back into consciousness. It took a moment for her to get her bearings, but she was quick to realise that she was in fact in her bed in Jared’s apartment. She couldn’t believe how stupid she had been last night, jetting off on her own and drinking her own weight in alcohol. Hell, she couldn’t even tell you how she had gotten home last night. She was still in the jeans and blouse she had left in, though her shoes were gone, and someone had tucked her under the blankets.

With a groan, she pulled away the warm comforter and sat up. There was a bottle of aspirin on her bedside table, along with a sports drink. Greedily, she dumped more pills than necessary into her palm and chugged as much of the drink as her stomach could handle. Once she was sure it wouldn’t all come back up, she stood from her bed and stripped herself of the clothing that smelled as though she had doused herself in whiskey, which wasn’t entirely inaccurate, before hopping into a scalding hot shower.

Y/n let the heat of the water burn away the night before, taking with it everything that had happened in the past few months and sending it down the drain. This would be where she starts over. Last night she drank and cried away the pain. Now, she took the next step forward, to new beginnings, to success she could only ever dream of. She was growing from this if it was the last thing she did.

When the water finally ran cold, she pulled herself from the shower, and wrapped her hair atop her head in a towel. Once she was dressed, she figured there was no more time she could waste. She had to face her brother.

Jared was sitting on the couch as she entered the living room. His legs were crossed and he had one arm slung over the back of the couch. He sat up straight when he saw her, his hands finding the remote to shut off the television in haste.

Y/n fidgeted with the hem of her shirt before finally just biting the bullet. “How did I get home last night?” She asked, her voice low.

“Jensen got a call from the bartender and since he was closer, he picked you up and brought you home.” Jared folded his hands in front of him as he leaned his elbows on his knees.

“Oh,”

“Yeah.” Jared nodded, not looking at his sister.

“So, um, I only have one week left until I head home.” Y/n folded the corner of her lips under her teeth as she tried to find the right words. “I’ve found an Airbnb that I’m gonna stay in until it’s time to go home.”

Jared’s head shot up at her confession, hurt crossing his features. “You don’t have to do that, you are always welcome to stay here.”

“I just… I need some space to breathe, time to think. So much has happened in such a short amount of time and everything is just so frazzled in my brain right now. I need to start over.” Y/n tried to explain to her brother why her moving out of his apartment was the best thing for her.

“Are you saying you can’t be near me right now?”

“I’m saying I can’t be near anybody right now. I’ve got to collect my thoughts and try to figure out how to pick up the broken pieces of my life.” Her voice rose and she had to take a breath to collect herself. Getting angry would serve no one.

“Okay,” Jared relented. “You know I never meant to hurt you, right? I was just trying to protect you.”

“I know. I just don’t understand why you thought you needed to protect me from Jensen.” Y/n pushed herself away from where she was leaning against the wall and moved to sit across from Jared on the coffee table.

“Well, he did hurt you, didn’t he?” Jared was serious, and his expression fanned that fire in her belly. She wanted to yell then, to tell Jared that it was his fault that Jensen hurt her, that if he just could have been happy for them, none of this would have happened. But she didn’t. It wouldn’t solve anything. Her brother and her were finally talking and she could tell they both wanted to patch things up. They both were beginning to recognize their mistakes in all of this. After all, that’s what Jensen wanted for her in the first place, to give her her brother back. There was no way she was going to let this hole in her chest or the numbness in her mind be for nothing. It was the last thing she would do for the man she loved.

“Yeah, I guess he did.”

“I love you, smalls. I am sorry.” Jared pulled her into a crushing hug, his arms comfortingly tight around her torso. Y/n nuzzled her face into his shoulder as she tried to hide the quiver in her voice.

“Me too, Jare.”

****

If she thought things on set were awkward before, it had nothing on her last week. At least before, she had someone else to lean on in the beginning. This time, she was on her own. The three of them were standing in their own corners of the ring. Sure, she and Jared had made up, for the most part, but it was going to take some time for things to go back to normal. Forgiveness isn’t a light switch that you can just flip on and off, it takes real work. Right now, she was just thankful that they had the chance to start.

Nothing could have prepared her for the pain of staring Jensen in the face everyday and acting like everything was fine. It was far from it. Not to mention, the memories from that night he brought her home are still pretty fuzzy, and not knowing the full story was embarrassing enough in of itself without the added tension.

On her last day, the crew had baked her favorite pie to bid her goodbye. There was a small celebration at lunch, and everyone was there. Everyone but Jensen. She wasn’t sure why she expected him to be there. Maybe a part of her was hoping that he would just be there to keep up the facade. After all, people were suspicious of his absence. Jared and his sister blew it off, giving the others a lame excuse. Neither of them even bothered to care if anyone believed it. Frankly, at this point it didn’t matter either way. She was too tired to hold up any more pretenses. She was too tired to pretend like everything was okay when it wasn’t.

****

Y/n stopped as she stepped off her plane, allowing the Texas sun to bathe her in a warmth she so desperately had missed. Normally this time of year, she would be in warmer clothes, but after Vancouver, there was nothing more that she wanted to feel than the Texas sun on her skin. Hell, she just wanted to feel in general. This was her chance to truly start over, to dedicate her life to something again. Starting with her company.

Y/n didn’t even bother wasting anytime, ordering her Uber to take her to the office. The work day was nearly over, but there was something pulling her back there. She couldn’t explain it, whether it was the work, or the people, or maybe just something familiar. It didn’t matter to her though, Et Cetera was her safe place.

“Y/n!” Abby jumped from her seat behind her desk as Y/n pushed open the doors to the offices. Y/n let go of her bags and opened her arm to hug the woman. “You are never allowed to leave again.”

“That won’t be a problem, girly.” Y/n squeezed her tight before letting her go. She wiped away a tear she hadn’t realised escaped her before composing herself. “Tell me, how is everybody?”

“Everybody is great, honestly. Things are not the same without you around. We’ve truly missed seeing your face everyday.”

“Good, that’s good.” The smile that graced her lips was weak. She felt guilty now, being back in her office. After putting her everything into this business, she couldn’t even remember why she had taken Jared’s offer in the first place. Maybe she would feel different if things hadn’t fallen apart, but she would never know. All that she could do was try her best to make it up to her coworkers. “I have some emails I need to respond to and a few other things to catch up on before Monday. You guys have a good weekend and I’ll catch up with you on Monday.”

“Sure, yeah.” Abby nodded her understanding. The women parted with one more hug, both heading to do their respective work.

Y/n smiled to herself, once again finding her office just as she left it, thriving plants and all. This time the sentiment tugged a little stronger on her heart. She had thought that stepping off that plane was grounding for her, but it was nothing compared to sitting behind her desk again. The sense of pride and accomplishment that came with knowing that this little business was something she created and nurtured into a nationally recognized company was incomprehensible.

It was also for this reason that what she did came easily to her. Even the business aspect, from the beginning was something that she never exactly struggled with. But she guessed when you have a passion for something, everything else just tends to fall into place. She had many blessings to count in her thirty odd years on earth, and this was just one more to add to the list.

It didn’t take her long to do what she had needed, but long enough for the rest of the office to clear out. Abby had informed her as the rest of them had walked out. That had been about half an hour ago. It was time she left for the evening as well. What wasn’t done could wait for the weekend.

She locked down her computer and grabbed some papers to take with her after she ordered an Uber to take her home. Flipping switches as she walked back out into the lobby, she froze as her office door swung shut behind her. The main door to the offices was sitting ajar, light from foyer that led to the elevator flooding into the now dark lobby.

Y/n had been sure she had heard the door close as they left, but now was questioning that memory. She was quick to shake off the uneasiness in her stomach, remembering that sometimes the door doesn’t latch properly and that was one of the reasons that they tended to just keep it propped open during the day. Whoever went out last must not have actually pulled it tight. It was an honest mistake and she figured she would just send out a reminder email to check it behind you when you leave at night.

With one last glance around the lobby, Y/n set the alarm and headed off to return to her home, a new glint of hope for the future in her eyes.

Part 23

Forevers: @spn-impala @22sarah08 @turtlepad @callmekda @chaldei @hobby27 @cowboysnwinchesters @tranquility-or-chaos @pikabootoyouchu @dawnie1988 @grease222 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @polina-93 @clarinette07 @moonlight-babeh @suckerforfanfic @witandnargles @sleepylunarwolf @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @geeksareunique @akshi8278 @superfanficnatural @malfoysqueen14 @deanwanddamons

Et Cetera: @jbbarnesgirl @hillface89 @arses21434 @thevelvetseries @sslater34 @mrsirishboru @smoothdogsgirl @spnfamily-j2 @encounterthepast @facadeformyrealblog @supernatural-bellawinchester @screechingartisancashbailiff @rebeccathefangirl @squirrelnotsam @heartinmyhead1 @1d-killed-me @samsgirl93 @deans-baby-momma @deanmonandnegansbitch @woodworthti666 @supraveng @onethirstyunicorn @heartsaved @know2grow @littlewhiterose @surprisinglysarah @stoneyggirl @carryon-doctor-lock @thebookisbtr @youaremyfiveever @kalesrebellion @lilulo-12 @winchester-fantasies @vicmc624 @supernatural3002 @winchester-writes @maralisa124 @therollingstoners @parinarain

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themanicmagician · 4 years

Text

Shipwrecked [3/4]

[AO3]

Summary: When Redd’s boat crashes upon the shore of Bastion Island, Tom reluctantly takes him in while he recovers. Tom despises Redd for his past deceit, but when he has no choice but to spend time with him, Tom is reminded why he fell in love with the wily fox in the first place.

“What is this supposed to be?”

Tom eyed the frilly cocktail Redd had pushed into his hand. It was a swirl of blue and seafoam green, complete with a tiny toothpick umbrella spearing a pineapple wedge.

“Vacation Juice.”

“But we’re not on a—”

“It’s just a name. You’ll like it, trust me.”

Tom took a small sip. It tasted like pears. Very, very sugary pears. He couldn’t even taste the alcohol. As he took a second, larger sip, Redd said: “Told you you’d like it.”

Tom rolled his eyes, not gracing Redd with a response. He swallowed another mouthful of the “juice” as he glanced around the bar. It wasn’t one of their typical haunts. Drinking out in the city was always expensive, so they tended towards establishments with long, generous happy hours, and cheap brews to go along with. The bar they were in now—Tom had already forgotten the name—was a touch fancier. The drinks were all cocktails with themed names. The drinks were served in small portions, and the prices were obscene, but they were celebrating, after all. They could splurge, just a little, just tonight.

The bar was miraculously uncrowded. Tom and Redd had even managed to secure a corner table all for themselves. The lighting was dim, intimate. They were surrounded mostly by other couples, each pair focused on each other rather than a game on TV.

This was Tom’s third drink in under an hour, and he was getting to that pleasant, loose phase of drunkenness. He watched Redd swallow, observed the slow bob of his throat as he drank. He was struck by a bolt of desire. He wanted to trace the movement with his tongue. Tom shifted on his stool.

Redd’s cell phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket. His cool demeanor slipped, his eyes widened in alarm.

“It’s the landlord for the building!” He told Tom before he hurriedly took the call. “Hi! Phil, how’s it going? No, no it’s not a bad time at all.”

Redd hunched down, pressing the phone close to his ear to listen over the booming music.

“...Really? Oh—Oh no, that’s not a problem at all.”

Redd’s expression twisted briefly in distress. Tom’s stomach lurched with sudden, strong anxiety. What was the landlord saying? It was maddening, only being able to hear half of the conversation. He leaned closer, but could barely hear the tinny voice coming from Redd’s phone.

“Of course. I’ll get it to you tonight. Yes. You too. Ciao.”

Redd hung up, and sighed. When he didn’t immediately launch into an explanation, Tom blurted: “Well?”

Redd combed a paw through the fur on his head with agitation. It made his sleek fur stick up at odd angles, but Redd didn’t seem to notice, or care.

“The landlord, he got another offer on the store. Says if we still want it we’ll have to pay the first six months—up front.”

Tom swallowed, throat suddenly dry. He downed the rest of his Vacation Juice.

“I have some money put away, but not nearly enough for all that time.” Redd frowned. “But if I don’t get it to him tonight, we lose the place.”

“Well, how much is six months’ rent?”

“Everything included—all the fees, insurance, utilities and everything—it’ll be 200,000 bells. And I already went and spent most of my money getting us the stock. I can’t get a refund now.” He laughed, the sound sharp and bitter. “We’ll have all this furniture and nowhere to put it.”

“How much do you need?”

“Tom, I couldn’t—”

“Redd. We’re partners, right? How much do you need?”

The fox shifted on his stool.

“...It’s too much to ask of you.” Redd mumbled, eventually.

“Redd.”

“Fine, fine. I only have about 15k bells left in my account right now.”

Tom brought out his own phone. It took a few clumsy tries for him to unlock it. He had just enough in his account to cover the remainder, built up from the months of pitching and selling ideas to businesses. This would drain nearly all of Tom’s savings, but it was an investment. It was worth it. Besides, they’d make it up and then some when their store opened.

“I can transfer it over right now.” Tom smiled. “Though I’m afraid we’ll have to switch to ramen and tap water for a while.”

“I could kiss you.” Redd said.

“What’s stopping you?”

After a sloppy kiss that tasted of pears and apples, Tom drained his account for the deposit. Redd called Phil back to confirm the transfer was a success. Once the landlord confirmed, Redd pulled Tom from the bar, hand in hand. They couldn’t really afford to buy more fancy cocktails, but there was a full bottle of sake at home, calling their name.

~*~

Tom awoke with a thunderous headache. He groaned, pinching two fingers to the ridge of his nose. He warily opened his eyes a few centimeters, then slammed them shut again. Nausea churned in his gut. He took a moment to just lay there, and prayed for his insides to stop revolting. How much had they had to drink last night? It was a blur. Tom had been feeling buzzed already from the cocktails and then the sake had gone and punched straight holes through his memory. He remembered snatches of moments, of sensations. Raking his paws through Redd’s fur, feeling the corded muscles beneath as they shifted. The sweet taste of Redd’s mouth on his, the triumph of finally marking up that exposed throat. The way that Redd, always so perfect and composed, became a stuttering, breathy mess as they made love. Then, a whole lot of nothing.

“Redd?” Tom moaned feebly. The fox handled his liquor a thousand times better than he did. He could entreat his partner to get up and fetch him some water. He flailed out blindly, reaching, but his hand encountered no fox.

Tom opened his eyes again, with heavy reluctance. He was alone in the bed. He swept his paw over the sheets. They were cool.

Tom spilled clumsily over the side of the bed to reach his pants, which were in a crumpled heap on the bedroom floor. He rooted around in his pockets until he found his phone. The time blared at him, like a condemnation: 10:05 a.m. For someone that normally got up for the day at 6, it was sacrilege.

Standing upright was a mistake. Dizziness and nausea slammed into him immediately. He barely made it to the bathroom before he was puking. He hadn’t really had much to eat yesterday, so all that came up was stringy bile. He flushed the mess down and rested his head for a minute against the cool bathroom cabinet.

He was surprised Redd hadn’t come to investigate, considering the amount of noise Tom was making.

“Redd?” He croaked.

There was no reply.

Tom sat for a moment more, until he was certain he wouldn’t neat the toilet again. He levered himself upright, bracing himself on the sink.

He shuffled out of the bathroom, and went into the area comprised of their kitchenette and living room. Redd was still nowhere to be found. And there was something...off. It took him a moment, and then he realized: Redd’s stuff was missing. His artwork that’d been scattered around, his books, they were gone. Tom checked their bedroom. Tom’s things were neatly folded in the drawers, but there was an empty gap where Redd’s clothes had once been.

Had something happened to Redd? Heart pounding with confusion and fear, he dialed Redd’s number. The call went straight to voicemail. He called again; same result.

After the beep, he left a message, his voice audibly shaky. “H-Hey, it’s Tom. Call me when you get this, alright? Let me know you’re okay.”

Tom returned to the living room, and paced anxiously until his attention was caught by a white envelope. It was resting on the floor, by the front door. Someone must have slipped it underneath.

The envelope was addressed to Redd, but Tom broke the seal anyway, hoping whatever was inside would provide answers.

Inside was a final eviction notice.

According to it, Redd was three months past due on rent, and had until the end of the week to move out his stuff before it was thrown out by management.

Tom was breathing fast, now. It felt like the walls were closing in on him. This didn’t make sense. Redd had afforded this apartment for years before Tom had moved in. And as soon as Tom began making money he contributed half of the rent. He gave the bells over to Redd and assumed he’d take care of it. Redd had money before they’d poured most of their shared earnings into their store, so why—?

The eviction notice was starting to crumple in his shaking grip. He set it aside on the kitchen island.

He needed to find Redd. He needed to talk to him. There was probably some simple explanation for all of this that Tom just couldn’t see right now. Redd would explain, would tease him for getting all worked up about nothing. Or, or maybe this had been premeditated. Maybe he’d taken Tom’s money for months and then—

Tom yanked on his pants, and a shirt, and dashed out of the apartment. Redd wasn’t home, but there was one other place he might be at this hour.

Tom ran to their store. Animals gave him odd looks as he passed them, but he paid them no attention. He wasn’t built for running, especially not over long distances. He was soon panting and wheezing, sweat slicking his shirt to his back, but he didn’t slow. The walking sign switched to a red hand but Tom kept running, ignoring the resultant yells and curses spat at him from nearby cars as they were forced to swerve around him.

He reached the store at last—and his heart dropped to his stomach. The entire area was roped off. There were large heavy construction machines, including a crane with a wrecking ball at the end of it.

Tom ducked under the tape and tried to run inside, but was grabbed by one of the construction workers.

“Hey, hey!” The bulldog barked. “You crazy? You can’t go in there, they’re about to bust it down.”

“That’s my store!” Tom yelled. “What are you doing, that’s my property!”

“This place has been foreclosed on for over a year now.” The worker replied, bewildered. “It’s been slated for demolition. Gonna squeeze another high-rise in there.”

“But—But—”

The key in his pocket was freshly cut. If the place had been abandoned, it would’ve been relatively simple for Redd to install a new lock on the place. To add a layer of credibility to the entire request, to allow Tom to hope.

Tom was no longer resisting, so the bulldog released his grip on Tom’s shirt.

“You should step back, kid. It’s going to get real dusty here in a minute.”

He threw one last perplexed look at Tom before he rejoined his crew members.

Tom retreated behind the tape, and watched as the wrecking ball swung out, and smashed the front of the building inwards. His eyes watered, then, but not from the resultant dust.

~*~

He didn’t return to the apartment. He didn’t want anything they’d shared, or that would remind him of Redd.

He walked to the train station in a daze, only pausing to chuck his apartment and store keys in the trash.

Tom didn’t have much remaining in his account, but Redd had at least left him enough to purchase a one-way ticket back to his hometown. The train was the same make and model as the one that’d brought him here, six months ago.

Tom sat at a free window seat, and rested his cheek against the window. The glass was a bit smudged and sticky, likely from a child’s hands, but Tom left his head where it was.

The train came alive with a jolt. Soon the skyscrapers gave way to houses. Gradually, the houses became further and further spaced out, and the forest grew denser. He drank in the sight of green foliage greedily, like a man given water after days in the desert. He hadn’t realized, until now, how much he hated the gray of steel, the tan of concrete, the black of asphalt.

The train stopped intermittently. Tom did not pay attention to the conductor’s voice over the loudspeaker, as his was the very last stop on the line.

“Hey, do you mind if I sit next to you?”

It took half a moment for Tom to recognize that he was being spoken to. He pulled his gaze sluggishly away from the window. A blue and white cat stood there, smiling down at him, seemingly unperturbed by Tom’s dour mood. Tom shrugged, not really caring what the cat did. He slid into the seat beside Tom.

“I’m Rover.” He beamed. Tom wanted to grab him by the shoulders, shake him, scream that it wasn’t fair, how dare he smile like that when Tom had been through hell.

“...Tom.” He admitted, eventually, in the expectant silence.

“Pleasure. So, where you headed?”

“Home.”

He understood it now. He wasn’t meant for city life, for a place that cradled you when you could provide it value, then dropped you into the dirt after.

“Took a day trip to the city, eh?”

Tom grunted.

“What a place! Fun to visit now and again, but I’d never live there, personally.”

“Me neither.” Tom agreed.

Rover filled the trip with largely one-sided chatter until he hopped off, three stops before Tom’s.

“Safe travels, friend! I’m sure we’ll meet again someday.”

Tom mustered up a wave for him.

The train pulled into its final station a little after noon. Hardly anyone was left on the train. As Tom left the station, he passed a few elderly couples, some younger animals psyching themselves up for a nature hike.

There weren’t cabs this far out, so Tom walked. It reminded him somewhat of his first day in the city, fraught as it was with exhaustion and confusion as he plodded down street after street. At least this time he walked with certainty. Starved of entertainment as a child, he’d explore the entire town enough times he could navigate it blind.

He wasn’t surprised to discover nothing had changed here. He hadn’t been gone that long, all told, and change came at a glacial pace in his hometown. There were the same trees, unchanging storefronts. Though he supposed there was perhaps a bit more peeling paint on the general store sign than the last time he’d seen it. The store had been owned by Gran Bluebell since before Tom was a kit. It was no great shock she didn’t bother with touching up the hard to reach sign at her age.

People recognized him. Welcomed him. Assumed he was just here for a visit. Tom smiled at them, and exchanged pleasantries but no meaningful information on his side. Humiliation burned his face like a hot brand. He could hardly admit to himself that he’d failed, let alone to them. They’d sympathize, express their condolences—but past their commiserating veneer would be a sick kind of satisfaction. I knew you’d never make it out there. You thought you were better than us? Smarter? We’re all stuck here in this town for a reason.

Had the city soured his optimistic, rosy view of others? Perhaps it had. Could he truly be blamed, though? With pessimism, you expected the worst out of others. You could never be disappointed, only pleasantly surprised.

At length, Tom reached his destination. It was a house on the end of the row. One story, cream-colored. The doorbell had stopped working years ago, so Tom rapped on the door. He heard the shuffle of feet over wood, and then the door creaked open.

Sable’s eyes widened. She shut the door again to unhook the chain lock, and then threw it wide open. Tom could see a slice of the kitchen from his current vantage point. Mabel was strapped into her highchair, gleefully smashing peas into paste on the tray in front of her, babbling nonsense. Label was peering at him with large, dark eyes, half-hidden behind the frayed couch.

“Tom, what are you doing here?” Sable swept a critical eye over him, noting his lack of luggage.

Tom saw telltale signs of strain in his friend’s features. The circles beneath her eyes, the unkemptness of her quills, the stains, fresh and old on her apron. He shouldn’t bother her with his problems. But he didn’t have anywhere else to go.

“Tom?”

She cupped his chin, lifted his head up so he met her gaze.

“What happened?”

Tom broke. He surged forward, wrapping Sable in a tight embrace. Sable hesitated only the briefest moment before she encircled her arms around him, stroking his back soothingly.

“Sable,” He choked out.

“It’s okay now.” Her tone was soothing and soft. “Let it out.”

He buried his head in her shoulder, and wept.

~*~

Tom was rooted in place. Redd was gone, again. Without a trace, without a word.

He was being stupid. He was overreacting. Where could Redd go, really? The island wasn’t that large.

He knew this, logically, and yet his heart was pounding like a drum, his paws, clammy. He couldn’t help the irrational fear that history was repeating itself.

He managed to break through the panic which had seized him to return downstairs. He entered the Cranny. Timmy and Tommy swiveled away from their conversation with Fang.

“Have you seen Redd?” Tom blurted.

The twins shook their heads in unison, but the old wolf scrunched up his forehead in thought.

“The little red fella?” Fang rumbled. Tom nodded. “Think I saw him on my way in. Headed northwards, cha-chomp.”

“Should we look too?”

“...too?”

“No, boys. Mind the shop. I’ll find him.”

Tom waited until he was out of sight of anyone inside the store before he broke into a jog. He crossed over the bridge that connected the main swatch of Bastion to the smaller crescent of land to the north. Alex had left most of this land to the wilds. There was a grove of multicolored hyacinths, encircled by pear trees. Bastion’s lighthouse was posted on the edge of the water. There was no other sign of civilization out here—save for Flurry’s house.

Tom hurried up to the house, and was about to knock when the door swung open. Redd was exiting, a new book tucked under his arm. Flurry was behind him, wringing her tiny paws.

“You’re sure I can’t carry it for you?” She fretted.

“The book weighs more than you do. I can handle it, no problem.”

Redd was facing Flurry; he hadn’t seen Tom yet. He was speaking in that tone of voice, the same one he’d had with the boys, before Tom interrupted. Something soft, kind.

Then Redd turned to see Tom, and the gentle look on his face vanished, replaced by something charming and fake.

“Come to escort me home? How gentlemanly of you, Mr. Nook.” Redd batted his eyelashes obnoxiously. Flurry giggled.

Tom gave a short nod to the hamster before she shut the door. Tom waited until they were in the hyacinth field, far enough away from Flurry’s house, to speak.

“You can’t just—just leave without telling me.”

Redd snorted. “I’m not one of your adopted kiddos.” A thought seemed to occur to him, and with some annoyance, he added, “What, you can’t trust me to be on my own, is that it? Think I’m always up to no good?”

“You’re hurt and you don’t know the island. You can’t just go off on your own.”

“Please, Tom. Don’t bother with all this. You don’t care about me, you’ve made that perfectly clear.”

“That’s not what I—you’re so—!” Tom clamped his mouth shut. He took a deep breath, which didn’t do as much to calm him as he would have liked. “I’m sorry. I overreacted. You were just gone, and I panicked.”

Tom was surprised as that seemed to set Redd off. “Oh, panicked, did you? How do you think I felt when you left New Leaf, without telling me? I had to hear it from Chadder—Chadder, of all people!—that you’ve just run off to some deserted island, on your own. There are tarantulas out here, Tom. Tarantulas!”

“And scorpions,” Tom added, helpfully. Redd glowered at him. “I was expanding my business into travel. Not that you’d know anything about innovation.”

“You learned all you know from me!”

“Hardly!” Tom scoffed. “I taught myself everything after you stole from me. My first shop was made out of scrap metal and wood from the dump, and look at me now. Whereas you, Redd,” He jabbed the fox in the chest. “You just jump from one scam to the next, and don’t care who you hurt in the process.”

Redd flinched back. “I’m not. I’m not like that anymore. I—look. I might have. Lied. Before.”

“You’ll have to be more specific.” Tom said, waspishly.

“Guess I deserve that one.” Redd shifted his weight uneasily. “I’m talking about the art. It is real, like I said. Spent almost every bell I got to acquire it all. But I wasn’t planning to scam anyone with it. I wasn’t going to go island to island to sell people replicas. I just wanted to come here. Where you are.”

Tom’s ire drained, supplanted by confusion. He said nothing, and Redd took that as permission to continue.

“I was going to swing by once a week. Give a new piece of art to that human kid every time, because I know Blabbers—”

“Blathers.”

“—would want them all displayed in his museum. And over time, you’d get used to seeing me around. And there’d be no stories about fakes for you to hear. And maybe you’d…” Redd sighed. He looked up at Tom with an earnestness the raccoon had never seen from him before. “I scammed a lot of guys before you. A lot of them were like you—new to the city, hopelessly clueless, grateful for any scrap of guidance. But you were different. I...I do regret what happened between us. What I did to you. It still haunts me.”

“So why did you?” Tom asked, softly. “You know that I loved you.”

Redd’s face twisted in anguish. “I did know. I hate myself every day for ruining what we had. And the worst part is I can’t tell you why I did it. A part of me, a big part of me, didn’t want to. But it was what I’d always done. I didn’t grow up in a nice place, or in a nice home. I learned how to con, how to lie and cheat and survive. I learned how to take care of myself, because no one else was going to. And then you came along, and you didn’t want to use me, and you were clever, and wanted us to be partners, equals. You thought I could be that for you, that I could be up at as high a level as you are, and, and it scared me. It made me think that maybe I didn’t have to be that way anymore. I didn’t have to trick anyone ever again. But when it came down to it, I couldn’t change. I couldn’t make the leap. I fell into old habits, because they were secure, because I knew I could rely on the results. I knew I’d hurt you, but I did it anyway. Because I didn’t trust you, and I didn’t trust myself.”

Tom felt as if his heart was breaking again, but in a different way. Redd’s confession was a raw, sad thing.

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I know I don’t deserve it. But I’m a selfish bastard, and I...I still want you in my life. In whatever way you’ll have me.”

There was a long silence between them. The hyacinths swayed gently around them in the cool sea breeze.

Redd had hurt Tom deeply. On one level, Tom did forgive him. Redd had suffered the consequences of his actions. He’d gained money, but he’d lost Tom’s affections, lost the chance for an honest living. On another level, Tom could not open his heart fully to the fox again. Redd claimed that he had changed, and he certainly seemed repentant. But they would remain only acquaintances, perhaps friends, at the most. He simply could not trust Redd to the extent he had in the past, and he doubted he ever would.

“What book did Flurry give you?”

“What? Oh.” Redd blinked. He checked the title. “Bark Antony and Kleopawtra.”

“Perhaps you could read it aloud to the kids, tonight. They’d like that.”

A tentative smile spread slowly across Redd’s face.

He accepted the olive branch.

“Fine, but you’re voicing Bark Antony.”

The pair of them returned to the Cranny, walking shoulder to shoulder.

#reddnook #tom nook #redd #ac #animal crossing #animal crossing: new horizons #my fic #also you know flurry was eavesdropping on that drama #with binoculars

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delirious-and-slightly-murderous · 3 years

Note

Oh friend you've so many exciting WIPs but please tell me about The Color of Corn and The Nightmare Before Christmas!! 💕✨

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

Wow okay so, first The Nightmare before Christmas. This one is kinda a 2x1. As it happens with some of my WIPs when I have 2 stories from the same idea I just put them in the same file. And whichever picks my interest most wins and gets written. (If I do write it that is😅). So first is a pretty standar TNBC AU because well, Jack Skellington Andrés, that's why. Here's the snippet:

The wind howled as it collided with the cold stone of the tower.

Martín shivered despite not being cold. He felt queasy and anxious, he hoped he had calculated the dose of deadly nightshade right, he didn't want a repeat of last time.

He took his bag and balanced himself on the edge of the window, looking down at the darkness below. He wouldn't die, he couldn't but the doctor had been nice enough to make him capable of feeling pain. And it hurt, it hurt like nothing else did.

He clutched his basket tighter and took a deep breath, thinking of a crooked smile and the moon reflecting on pearly white teeth. He needed to go out, to be free for at least a while. And seeing Andrés was worth the couple minutes of debilitating pain.

He closed his eyes and let go.

The impact with the ground was hard and painful. His mind whited out, scrambling his thoughts. All he was capable of was an incoherent tidal wave of 'hurts, hurts, HURTS, holly Satan's undies, it hurtsssss!'

Slowly, after an eternity of fire that stretched into the space of a minute, he became increasingly aware of himself. Everything burned and he felt all over the place. He opened his eyes to confirm and yes it was going to take a while.

Thankfully one of his arms has stayed attached, which would make it all easier. He put his other arm back in place, and started the long and tedious process of retightening his seams and putting everything back in place.

By the time he was done, the pain had subsided into a dull all encompassing ache that he could push to the back of his consciousness. He checked his limbs one last time and started walking towards the town center. His body heavy and aching but his heart light and fit to burst.

He didn't notice his nose and left nipple lying half visible at the bottom of the tower.

(So yes that's part of it, it's a work in very slow progress🥴)

And then the other idea is basically a cracky Christmas fic.

So the premise is that it's post mint (and maybe post bank too, idk), and the banda plus Martín are all living in the monastery or something. It's the day before Christmas and Martín's longing for Andrés gets so bad while watching him ignoring Martín and flirting with the women that he wishes he could have a life without Andrés and those pesky feelings of his and proceeds to get black out drunk.

So next morning he wakes up and at first everything is normal and then bam! Andrés is nowhere to be seen, he is apparently married to SERGIO and they have KIDS! While all the rest is pretty much the same, he's still a criminal mastermind.

So he's trying to figure out what the hell's going on and how to wake up from this nightmare when Christmas day comes around. And his husband's estranged brother shows up. His raging libertine and homosexual diva of a brother shows up. A brother Martín apparently HATES with all his heart.

Oh and said brother, Andrés by the way if you had any doubts, not only shows up in the most mind boggling and gayest outfit, he doesn't come alone. He's accompanied by his two (2) boyfriends! A tall, tall and stoic man who goes by Marsella and a twink named Aníbal (who by the way one of his and Sergio's 'kids' can't stop flirting with).

This is Martín's worst nightmare. He wants to wake up right now. Or possibly die, he's not picky.

Here's the snippet:

Martín was going crazy. That was the only possible explanation. He had finally drank too much wine and he was currently lying in some hospital bed in an ethylic coma. No other way around it.

Waking after getting so drunk to find himself in bed with Sergio was not at all what Martín had expected. And while he started silently panicking and trying to remember at which point of last night's drunken debauchery he had decided to pay Sergio a visit, the other man had woken up and smiled at him.

Martín's brain had short circuited when Sergio, SERGIO, Andrés' nerdy librarian of a brother had kissed him. He had kissed him and pushed his very impressive morning wood (and who the fuck knew Sergio was so well endowed, Martín would be horny if it wasn't you know, Sergio) against him while simultaneously slipping a hand into the back of his pants and between his ass cheeks.

Martín had become so impossibly rigid it felt like he would snap like a guitar string. When he was once again capable of movement, he had Sergio's tongue halfway down his throat and an insistent pointer finger pushing against his clamped up asshole.

He had scrambled out of bed so hastily that he had almost cracked his skull open on the bedposts. Not saying anything before running to the bathroom like a soul out of hell.

Hours later after the weirdest breakfast of his life where he finds out he and Sergio are apparently married and Andrés is nowhere in the picture, here he is. He went to sleep in the hopes of just actually waking up.

But apparently the universe is laughing at his misery.

Because an undeterminded amount of time later, something wakes him and he immediately knows he's still trapped in this nightmare. He stays relaxed and doesn't open his eyes, hoping whatever it was that woke him will just go away.

"¡Papi!"

Martín's breath dies inside his chest. Now there are a number of things wrong with what he just heard. First 'Papi' is not a word he often hears. If he does hear it, it normally comes from his own mouth in a much breathier tone while in the middle of much more interesting activities. And secondly if for whatever reason he somehow changed his preferences and it's his current partner calling him that, well it sure as hell wouldn't be in a female voice.

His hysteric internal monologue is interrupted by another, this time distinctly male voice.

"Papi, wake up."

That's when he notices that he knows those voices, they are familiar. He wonders what he did to deserve ending up in a hell like this. He would greatly prefer the stereotypical flames and eternal torture over this any day. He feels sick and holds back his nausea.

Finally he opens his eyes to come face to face with Tokio and Denver looking down at him.

"Hola papi, what a grumpy face, sorry for waking you. Papá said not to do it, but aren't you going to say hi to your kids?"

This time Martín doesn't hold back anything.

As he is expelling what feels like his whole stomach, he's distantly glad that he managed to be spectacularly sick all over Tokio's ugly shirt.

(I've really got no excuse for this😅)

And finally the Color of Corn is a thingy I talked about here.

But you can have another snippet, this one goes immediately after the other one:

The sun is burning and ruthless. The air is wet and heavy, oppressing. The dense sheen of sweat covering his skin doesn't help with the stifling atmosphere, making him feel sticky and disgusting. Finally when his uncle decides to make a pause and rest, they've worked about half of the field. Martín feels ready to throw himself into a lake of freezing water, letting it consume him, dragging him down to the bottom like a dead carcass. He lost his shirt a while ago. He couldn't take the uncomfortable feeling of cloth rubbing against drenched skin anymore. He goes to sit at the back of the tractor, wincing at the touch of the scorching metal. Relaxing slightly as he eats soggy jam sandwiches and warm beer.

"You know you can go right?" His uncle asks, sitting beside him and looking at the horizon with dead and glassy eyes. "There is nothing stopping you from taking your things and fucking off. You aren't a kid anymore."

Martín stares at him thoughtfully, then he directs his glance to the faraway line where the sky meets the earth. There is nothing to see, just miles and miles of golden corn as far as the eyes can reach. Truth is Martín doesn't know how to answer. Logically he knows this, he is aware of it and has thought of leaving more than once. He's thought exactly that, taking his things and leaving. But he also knows he is never going to do it. He is utterly incapable of it. He doesn't know what he would do. His whole life all he's known is his little town in the middle of nowhere Argentina, and the golden shine of corn. And, even if he doesn't like to admit it, if he ever left he would be completely lost. As far as he can remember corn has always been present. His constant omnipresent companion. Want it or not, it's his life and always will be.

"Yes I know,'' comes his absentminded answer.

His uncle stares at him for a minute. His tired eyes seemingly looking for something.

"What happened to that friend of yours, Andrés was it?"

"What with him?" He says sharply, his tongue cutting, mimicking the exact feeling that name evoques.

"You two used to be attached at the hip and now it's been a while since I last saw him."

Martín has been trying to forget all about that. If he's being honest, he's not doing a great job of it. But Martín has never been terribly honest, not even with himself, and he's not going to start now, so he enjoys telling himself he is forgetting.

"That's because he's going back to Spain. Haven't seen him since he told me."

"Well, he's been calling you, did you know?" His uncle scratches at his beard. "You should call him back."

"I don't want to talk about this." That's not a lie, Martín really does not want to talk about Andrés, especially not with his uncle.

"You are aware both phones are connected right?"

Martín becomes rigid. "He's getting married."

"I can respect limits, but don't fool yourself like that." The older man shrugs and gets up to keep working.

Martín feels angry. His uncle doesn't understand. Couldn't possibly understand. Life is easy for a man like him. He wants to tell him to go to hell.

When finally his anger dies down, choked and overwhelmed by the infernal heat, Martín almost laughs at the recognition of his anger towards his uncle for what it truly is. The anger and spite of an immature kid when confronted with the ugly truth.

Martín knows that he's lying to himself. He just doesn't know about what.

When night falls, they go back to the farmhouse. His uncle goes straight to bed but Martín cannot fall asleep. He's bored of himself and his own mind. He goes out and lies down in one of the cornfields, feeling gravity press down on his chest. He falls asleep imagining the sea of corn rocking him gently.

Everything is dark, there isn't a single noise, not even from insects. The corn is still, not moving one bit, consumed by the darkness.

(I'm really proud of this one😊.)

So that's it. Wow this got long. Hope you liked it and thank you for asking friend.

🥰

(P.S: Did my ask reach you? I'm severely traumatised now😑)

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