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#my sister my mom and i are all terrified of flying so we decided to do a road trip instead
asimpwithfreetime · 1 year
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What if the sickly born reader went behind her families back and bonded with an ikran and maybe got hurt in the process. What would they all do after finding this out?
I love the ideaaaa! Let’s do this!
Caught red handed (Yandere! Platonic! Sully family x sickly born! Sully! Reader). [ Our baby part 2 ]
General warnings: Yandere! Behavior, cursing, violence, all the yandere warnings you can imagine, guilt tripping.
Content warnings: English isn’t my first language and this hasn’t been proofread yet
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[ 3rd Person POV ]
Eclipse had fallen upon Pandora, the bioluminescent plants shone with their bright colors.
Y/n had planned this for a while. She felt tired of having her family always with her, treating her like a baby. The real baby was Tuk not her.
She sneaked around her house. Trying not to wake anyone up. She didn’t want to imagine how her family would react to this. She went towards the Ikran hive, determined on getting one. She didn’t want to always fly with Jake or with Neteyam.
She tried to be silent, some of the Ikran were sleeping and probably startling them wouldn’t be the best idea.
Walking around she found the one, it was a beautiful (your favorite color) tone. The Ikran was wide awake but unmoving, looking at her closely.
Soon he started running towards her, she had been chosen. This is something she hadn’t planned. The part were you have to fight the Ikran to be able to create a bond with it.
She rushed through the hive trying to avoid getting bitten. She jumped and squirmed. Once she didn’t move so fast and the sharp fangs from the Ikran pierced her thigh. “Shit!” She wailed. She felt pain go over her, but as the Ikran was moving his head, she formed the bond with it. “Ha, gotcha, bitch!” She laughed wholeheartedly while softly whining. She got on top of it and it took a few minutes to be able to have a connection with it.
She flew until dawn. “How am I going to hide this?” She thought to herself while looking at her leg and stoping her ikran close to the hive again. She went to her grandma’s, the Tsa’hìk would help her.
“You shouldn’t be here” her grandma hissed as she fixed Y/n’s leg. “Your mom will skin you, then skin me, then skin you again!”.
Y/n smiled softly at her grandmother. But suddenly, the tent flew open. “Y/n!” Neytiri’s voice sounded strong and terrifying.
Neytiri hissed at her daughter “where have you been? All of us were worried sick” she hollered when she saw the bandages on her leg. “Y/n!” Jake screamed too. He came in and scooped his baby in his arms, angrily.
“You shouldn’t have done that!” Jake said, looking at her. “What have you done!” He was really mad. It scared Y/n. “Dad, please don’t scream at me”.
Neytiri hissed “it is making me use all of my strength not to pluck your eyes out!”. Y/n shut her eyes close, a few tears sliding through her cheeks.
“She bonded with an ikran” the voice of the Tsa’hìk took both adults by surprise. “Grandmaaaa” Y/n whined.
“She did what!?!?” Neytiri hollered, Y/n retracted more into her dad’s arms, trying to hide her face on his neck. “We will talk later” Jake said, his voice dangerously low. Y/n shivered as Neytiri walked past them hollering blasphemies.
Once they got home Y/n whined. “Hey guys, where were yo-“ Neteyam cut himself mid-phrase when he saw his parents’ faces. “What happened?” Lo’ak asked.
“Your sister bonded with an ikran and hurt herself in the process” Jake said coldly. Neteyam’s and Lo’ak’s looks darkened as they heard that. Where was she trying to go? Did she try to escape? Would this all end?
Neteyam decided on taking a soft approach, seeing how scared his sister was. This would give him point with her and maybe she would come to him instead of taking an ikran. He could almost imagine how it would feel to have her undivided attention.
Once Jake put Y/n down on the floor, Neteyam went and hugged his sister. He didn’t say a thing, knowing full well that their dad could find a way to blame him. Y/n sniffled softly and tried to hide her face in Neteyam’s chest. Even though she was scared and the situation was not good, Neteyam felt satisfied seeing her reaction.
He knew she would always count on him.
Jake grunted and hissed before leaving the tent and talking outside with Neytiri. “I am so sorry! I just wanted to have an ikran like all of you” Y/n sniffled. Neteyam patted her hair. “Hush now, Y/n. I am here with you” his sweet tone and soft touches made her feel better.
Lo’ak hissed under his breath, muttering insults at hos brother before he got up and also hugged her. “We are here for you”. The girl was startled by the sudden voice behind her but she turned around a little bit to hug both her brothers.
“Y/n, are you okay?” Kiri appeared. “I heard mom and dad talking about you right now”. She went straight to her sister, pulling her in a hug and trying to calm her completely around. “The world out there is dangerous, they are so mad because you know how fragile you are! They don’t want to loose any of us.” Kiri explained, making Y/n’s behavior change.
She suddenly felt guilty of causing pain to her family. “I am so sorry” she started crying again. Kiri smiled at her brothers knowingly. Neteyam nodded while Lo’ak didn’t understand what was she doing.
Later on, all of them expressed their fear of loosing her, making Y/n feel more and more guilty. She wouldn’t plan on doing anything anytime soon, that’s for sure.
Jake and Neytiri, once they calmed down, saw what their kids had done and they were very proud. Neytiri still punished Y/n with doing more chores and Jake also guilt tripped her into feeling bad for what she had done.
Taglist: @maxinej
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gxthicwxrm · 2 years
Text
Steve Harrington Finds Out You Are Pregnant.
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Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem reader
Warning: pregnancy, angst, some cursing
Summary: Steve finds out his girlfriend is pregnant.
Word Count: 1,818 words
MINORS DNI! This is an 18+ account. You'll be blocked! 
Please don't translate or copy my work! You do not have my permission to copy or translate my work. Not Proofread. Feedback is always welcomed! Requests are open! Enjoy!
Masterlist
*not my gif*
You stare down at the stick in your head, your stomach feeling like an empty void, but also heavy like a massive rock rolling around. 
Positive.
Wetting your lips, you try to let yourself think about how this happened to you. Steve has always let you know about his big dreams with the house full of kids and white picket fence. Hell, hearing him so happy about it made you yearn to give him a child, just not barely out of high school. Currently, you are sitting on your brother's bed, waiting for him to come home from work. The thought of telling your mom without your brother terrified you more than you'd like to admit. 
Suddenly, the front door clicks open followed by it shutting again causing fear to wrap its hand around your throat, squeezing, choking you. The bedroom door swings open, revealing an exhausted Jonathan.
"Hey, what are you- Y/N, are you okay? Why are you crying? Was it Steve? I'll fucking-" At hearing the mention of Steve, who you still haven't told, you stop holding back all the tears that were waiting to fall,  like a dark cloud over Hawkins. A sob crashes through you as you feel your brother's arms wrap around you.  What surprises you, is two more sets of arms wrap around you as well. Looking up through blurry eyes, you see Will and El looking at you with the same worry as your older brother. 
"Oh damn. I didn't know you two would be home too. I'm sorry." You wipe the tears off your face as Will shakes his head. 
"Don't be sorry. What's wrong? Did Steve do anything?" El questions, hand resting on your shoulder as she sits beside you. Ever since your mom took El in, you two have become close as you were the only girls. She felt like you truly were her family and to you, she is the best little sister you could ever ask for. As you take the time to look at her now, you find yourself hoping she is never in this situation. 
"I don't know how to say this. But…" Pausing, you decide to just rip the bandaid right off. You toss the test that you kept hidden in your hand onto the bed between the four of you, and your three siblings all gasp. Will's hands fly to his mouth in shock, looking between you and Jonathan, gauging his older brother’s reaction.
"Huh?" El questions, barely knowing what the plastic stick in front of her is. Your older brother just stares at the test, stunned, with tears falling over his waterline. 
"I don't even know what to say." He continues to stare at the plastic between you. 
"Does…Does Steve know?" You shake your head. Not being able to gather the courage, you've been avoiding him for the last three days, terrified that you'd slip up and tell him but also unsure as to why you won't tell him.
"I've been trying to figure out how but I'm so scared, J." Tears coat your cheeks. Will moves behind you, hugging you and El as she was still by your side. 
"It's going to be okay. Steve loves you. He loves kids. It will be okay because if he changes his mind, we will never change ours. We love you so we love this baby too." Will confesses. Your heart melts at your younger brother's words leaving you speechless as you look between the three curious faces surrounding you, all filled with love despite their worry. 
“Yeah, I have to tell him today.”
“Do you want our help?” Will questions. 
“No, thank you and I love you guys but this is something I have to do myself.” They nod, understanding.
“Well, if you change your mind, we are always here for you.” Jonathan reassures you, El chiming in with a soft ‘yeah’.
"You got to tell Mom tho. We don't love you that much." Jonathan jokes while he and your siblings get up, deciding to give you some space to process.
“Okay, but let me decide when to tell her.” You reply.
“Okay, but you have to do it soon.” His voice is stern, his features sharp and serious. Nodding, you agree.
“Tomorrow. Okay?” He nods before you ‘shoo’ them out. Closing the door behind them, you let yourself slide down the cold door.
How were you going to tell Steve?
How will he react? Would he hate you? Does he even want kids? It was something you two have never talked about. The relationship between you and Steve was still fresh, you two have only been seeing each other for ten months, even though you have been best friends. You loved each other but were still so new, way too new for a baby. It felt like there was a gaping hole in your chest when you think about telling Steve. Deciding to tell Steve tomorrow, you move to your closet and grab your pajamas to take a shower before bed. 
---
Today was the day you were going to tell Steve that you were pregnant. Sitting in your car staring at the doors to Family Video, your boyfriend’s job. Instantly, you regret coming to the shop to tell him, fearing that it was the wrong time. As you entertain the idea of leaving and telling him after work when you see his floof of hair pop out from between the glass doors, waving at you. Sighing, you gather your purse, throwing the test into your bag as you get out of the car and drag yourself to Steve who holds the door open for you.
“Hey, baby girl. What are you doing here?” He asks, putting his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. 
“Just came to see you.” Pressing a kiss against your temple, he winks at you with a soft ‘oh’. Robin waves at you from the front desk as you and Steve make your way to the back.
“Hey, you got the store?” He asks Robin who nods silently, watching as her crush, Vickie walks into the store. Turning the corner, he gently pushes you against the wall, arms resting over your head with a smirk all over his gorgeous face.
 “So, You missed me, huh?” His voice is like velvet, smooth and sultry. Leaning over you, you felt dizzy and intoxicated with him, it almost made you forget why you came here.
“S-steve, we need to t-talk.” Stuttering, you stare at his feet, terrified. His smile drops as a confused look passes over his face like a dark cloud over a sunny sky, it makes your heart break seeing his mood change so drastically.
“What? Is everything okay? Has something happened? Are you okay?” Rambling, he throws out questions at you, anxious that you were hurt. Staring at him, you try to find the words but am unable to. 
“It’s okay, baby. Whatever it is, we will get through it, I promise.” His voice is soft and genuine, trying to get what was wrong with you. Tears fall down your cheeks at his words, unable to keep it to yourself any longer.
“I’m pregnant.” Whispering, you cry, falling into his chest. Shocked, Steve hesitates as you fall into him. Quickly snapping back, he wraps his arms around you, holding you as you cry. Processing what you said, it hits Steve.
He’s going to be a father.
A dad.
Joy lights up in his chest, spreading over his whole body. He never told you, but this was always his dream for you two. He has planned his future with you since the moment you said you loved him back. You were it for him and he knew it. Loving you was something he never questioned or doubted for the last two years he's had a crush on you. You matter the most to Steve and seeing you crushed like this killed him.
"Hey, hey. It's going to be okay. Whatever we decide, we got this." He whispers in your ear, brushing your hair out of your face. 
"I'm not leaving your side. If you want to keep this baby, I am here. If you want to look at our other options, I'll still be here. I love you." Wiping your tears away, he smiles down at you causing your tears to fade and a small smile of your own to form. 
"I love you too, Stevie. I'm sorry. I just. I was so scared you'd be mad at me or that you'd hate me." 
"What? That would never happen. I would never do that to you. You mean so much to me. And if you want this baby, they will mean so much to me too…..Do you want the baby?" Timidly, he asks, wide-eyed. Thinking about it, you allow the thought that you so desperately pushed away since you got that positive test. You knew.
"Yes, but only if you are there the way you say you will be, I would love to have this baby with you, Steve." You cup his face as a wide smile cracks through his anxious demeanor. 
"Oh my god. We are gonna do this. Holy shit, we are about to be parents!" Steve holds your shoulders, jumping up and down like a kid himself. Reaching for his shoulders, you hold him firmly 
"No, we are parents, Steve." Grabbing his hands you press them against your stomach, holding your belly. Then he kneels on his knees, leaning his head against you.
"We are." He says, humming against your tummy, fingers drawing patterns into your skin. As you look down on him, running your fingers through his luscious hair, you realize that this is all the baby needs. Yours and Steve's love and determination to make it work. 
Hearing the doorbell rings upfront, you look around the corner, Steve lost in his little world, hugging your stomach. Seeing Robin talking to a customer, you laugh loudly as something hits you. 
"You have to be there to tell my mom." Steve's face shoots up, eyes darting around your face to find any signs of a joke. Realizing you were joking, he stands up holding your face.
"Then you have to tell Robin." Your smile drops. Of course, Robin would love to be an amazing aunt, but Robin tends to ramble when she gets nervous, and babies make her nervous. With a sigh, you shrug.
"Fine. It'll still be easier than telling my mom." You laugh. Steve shakes his head and he leans in, connecting your lips. 
"I love you so much, baby," Steve says, leaning his forehead against yours, nose rubbing together. 
"I love you so much too, handsome. We got this."
"We do." He agrees, pulling you close.
You both were terrified, but together you can face anything thrown at you two.
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xxkitty13 · 1 month
Text
Circus Freaks
LA Buggy x Fem Reader
Dark themes, Mention of suicide (not towards reader)
Previous Chapters: Part 1, Part 8
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Previously: With the delivery of an invitation, Y/n's presence is needed at the Abask mansion. Dinner with the Abask men goes smoothly before a surprising proposal for marriage is announced. As it turns out, the Ti’s debt is one of the factors for the proposition. Now, Y/n must decide on her answer.
A/n: Information in this chapter refers back to Part 4
Part 9: Arising Tensions
Ruckus fills the ring of the circus tent. Props fly left and right as Buggy goes on a rampage. He throws everything in sight, the empty chests are thrown onto the bleachers, breaking at the force.
“Buggy! Calm down!”
“How do you expect me to stay calm when another man wants you?”
“Buggy please, just listen!”
He stops and snaps his head at her. “Will you except?”
Y/n stays quiet.
“I said, will you except?” his tone stern.
“I-I don’t want to, but. . .”
The pirate approaches her and harshly yanks her towards him. “But what?”
“It’s complicated Buggy. Trust me, I don’t want to marry Yasi.”
“Okay, whatever it is. . . we can just kill them and be done with this.”
“No! Buggy, we can’t kill them. Murder isn’t the answer.”
The pirate rolls his eyes. Everything would be solved if they could get rid of them.
“I need to speak to my sister and her parents.”
“Why’s that?”
“Yasi’s father is threatening their home with the marriage.”
“Damn bastard.”
Y/n goes to sit on the empty bleachers and Buggy follows after her. Her elbows press against her thighs, resting her face on her hands. “I don’t know what to do. The land they have has been passed down through generations. I wished they would have mentioned the debt to me. Even so, I’m pretty sure he’s been scheming this for a while.”
"I heard he gives out loans to the townspeople and makes it impossible to pay it back."
"Yeah, it's what he does. He also owns a lot of the farming land here; my adoptive parents are one of the few families that own property besides the Abasks." She pauses and takes a deep breath. "Yasi mentioned something to me earlier and it has been bothering me ever since."
Buggy raises his eyebrow at the statement. "What was it?"
"I think he's genuinely terrified of his father. He said someone will get hurt if we don't go along with Kija's plans."
"What?!" Buggy yells out. He begins to manically laugh before wheezing out loud. Cabaji, who silently stood at the whole scene, began to creep away. "Where do you think you're going?"
"Who, me?"
"Yes, dumbass. Who else? Geez." Buggy facepalms. “Well, that bastard has no idea who he’s dealing with.”
Y/n tilts her head in confusion. “Are you saying that you can go against the Abasks?”
“Darling, we are pirates. The sea is much tougher than that old prune.”
Cabaji cracks up at his captain’s words. “Y/n, do you really think we’re afraid of that man?” Buggy scoffs, a moment ago Cabaji was sneaking away.
“Well, it never occurred to me that they’re people who can stand up against him. He’s basically a tyrant on this island.”
"He won't be for long."
"Oh,"— Cabaji cuts—" Y/n, I have to show you this. "
Y/n's ears perk up. "What is it?"
The acrobat hesitantly takes out a folder from his stash bag. "Y/n. . . I didn't want to add more to your stress, but you have to know."
"What do you mean?" She walks to the pirate, her full attention set on the closed file. Carefully, she opens it, going through the numerous pages. One document in particular catches her eye.
“He killed my father. . ..”
Buggy’s ears perk at the word. “Who?”
She gulps in the silence that fills the ring.
"It was the mayor. . ."
Y/n's face scrunched in confusion. All this time, she was right. "I knew it!" she gleams in joy. Buggy and Cabaji tilt their heads, shocked to see her happy. "I knew he would never kill my mother!"
"Uh, what do you mean?"
Overrun by excitement, she trembles, barely managing her emotions. "It was said that my dad fatally shot my mom and then killed himself. This shows that it was all a lie," she shouts, waving the paper in the air.
"So, is he 15? The one from the other letters?" Buggy asks.
"I don't know, the letter is written to Kija and it is signed by the mayor. He just gives him a notice about the death, no other information is provided."
Buggy pondered on that. It seems too good to be true. "Cabaji, where did you find it?"
"It was in a safe from his office. I may have broken it, but that's not the problem at the moment."
"Great, very suspicious." He rolled his eyes. “And where exactly was it located at?”
“Behind a large painting.”
That is a very common hiding spot, maybe the old hag is dumb. Still, Buggy thought the letter was too convenient, but he didn’t want to ruin Y/n's joy.
“What do you plan to do?” he asks.
Her smile fades. What is she going to do? “I. . . don’t know. . .”
Buggy couldn’t help but feel sorry for the young woman, so naive. Luckily for her, he already has a diabolical plan in mind.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Huh?”
He rests his arm on her shoulder, giving her a smug look. “This whole situation is pissing me off. The marriage, Yasi, and now this.” He takes the paper from her hands and gives it to Cabaji.
“Leave it all to me. You no longer have to deal with the matter.”
“Are you talking about the marriage or. . ?”
“Like I said, leave it to me.” Buggy pecks her on the cheek and shoos her away. “Don’t you have to talk to your sister?”
She hesitantly walks away. “Uh yes, but-“
“Come on go. I have work to do.”
In defeat, she sighs. “Okay, just don’t kill anyone.”
Buggy crosses his fingers behind his back. “Mhm.” No promises. She squints her eyes at him before turning away and leaving the tent.
“So captain, what are you planning?” Cabaji asks.
“Get Mohji, looks like we have to speak to mayor once again. I guess our little talk didn’t work last time,” he chuckles darkly.
.°˖✧.°˖✧
“Wakey wakey sleeping beauty.”
Cold water splashes over the mayor’s face. Awakening in such a freight, he is incoherent, frantically looking around the darkness that fills his bedroom. He violently coughs out the water than he breathed in.
The lamp on his bedside table turns on, illuminating his view.
“Boo.”
He jumps back at the appearance of the deranged clown.
“What the hell?! What are you doing here?!”
The clown draws back, circling around his bed. The mayor grips his bedsheets, his eyes never leaving the man. He’s not alone either, two of his subordinates are with him. He remembers them well. Maniacs.
“W-what do you want? I thought we settled this on our last ordeal.”
Buggy moves his pointer finger in disapproval. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. . . that was then and this is now,”— he stops— “something else has popped up.”
“Whatever it is, you know I didn’t snitch to Kija,” he quickly states.
Buggy walks to the opposite side of the bed, sitting down on the nice cushion. “No, it’s nothing of that matter.” His hand reaches out to inside of his coat and pulls out a folded piece of paper. “Do you know what this is Mr. Dun? Or should I say 15?”
Mr. Dun eyes widen at the code name. He snatches the paper out of his hand. “Where did you get this?”
“That is none of your concern. What’s important is whether you’re 15 or not.”
“15? I don’t know what’s the meaning of this. Why do you care about Zimik anyway?”
Irritated by this, he grabs the mayor by the collar of his neck and pulls out a knife, pressing it against his skin. “I’m the one asking questions here. Did you or did you not kill Zimik?”
“No. I would never kill Zimik, he was a good friend of mine.”
Buggy lets go of his collar, annoyed by his response. “Tsk, you better not be lying to me. You know what will happen if you are,” he smirks, waving the blade over his face.
“N-no, please. . . you can’t release that information to the public.”
“So then answer my question.”
“I told you I’m not involved in Zimik’s death.”
“Are you sure? I’m pretty sure the town would be shocked to hear that you’re Kija’s little bitch.”
The mayor grits. “I’m telling you the truth. There is no evidence to pinpoint this at me.”
Buggy rolls his eyes. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Let’s go.” he waves for Mohji and Cabaji to exit the room. Leaving Mr. Dun in a petrified state.
“Shit.” He waits for time to pass before dialing his snail transponder. It rings for a while until someone picks up the line. “I’m sorry for calling this late, but this is urgent.”
“It better be important for waking me up this late.”
“It’s Buggy. He’s accusing me of Zimik’s death.”
“. . .”
The person doesn’t say word.
“Hello? This isn’t funny.”
“Where the hell did that clown get that information?”
“I don’t know, but he's threatening me again. I have a feeling it won't be long before he finds out I've been communicating with you.”
"Well then, I will have to put a stop to that clown. I found something very interesting about him, I am sure it will drive him away," the voice chuckles.
"What is it?"
"You'll find out soon enough." With that, the call ends. Mr. Dun angrily throws the snail transponder across the room. A cold sweat runs down his forehead, he feels cornered between two beasts. What will he do now?
.°˖✧.°˖✧
"Lyla! Are you home?"
The door swings open. "Y/n? What's with the urgency?"
Y/n enters inside of her sister’s home without saying a word. Lyla looks at her confused. “Hey what’s gotten into you? You don't barge into someone’s home you know.”
“I’m sorry. . . it’s just there’s a lot going on.”
“What do you mean? Come on take a seat,” she says pointing at her sofa, where the two take a seat.
“I just wanted to ask you something.”
“What is it?
“Did you know that we’re in debt?”
“Debt? What are you talking about?”
“Your parents. . . they owe a lot of money to Kija.”
Lyla’s eyes widen as she got up from her seat. “They owe who money?!” She tugs on her hair, pacing back and forth from her spot. “You’re lying. They wouldn’t be, right?”
Y/n sighs, “The man told me himself.”
“What?! When?!”
“It’s a long story. . .”
“Well, I want to hear every single detail, you better not hide anything from me.” Her voice stern.
Y/n looks around the room, avoiding eye contact with her sister. She wasn’t sure if she should tell her everything, but there’s no backing out. She takes a deep breath. “Yasi’s father wants me to marry his son,” she manages to spit out.
Lyla mouth drops wide open. “Oh my god. . . that’s ridiculous. What does that have to with anything?”
“You see, he’s using the marriage as a way to pay for their debt. . . I would be a method of payment.”
“What the fuck y/n?! You’re not money, you’re a human being. You can’t accept, we have to find another way.”
“Look, we need to speak to your parent’s first, but who knows when they’re coming back. I have a feeling Kija sent them away for this reason.”
Lyla slumps on the couch, running her hands through her hair. She sighs, “Do you know the amount of money they need? Maybe I can my husband for help.”
“I’m working on a plan as well.”
“What is it?”
“Uhh. . .”— Y/n fidgets her fingers— “It’s. . . rather complicated. . .”
“Come on, tell me. You know we don’t keep secrets from each other,” she says holding her hand. “We can’t let that bastard win.”
“Just promise to keep it secret.” Lyla nods, squeezing the palm of her hand. “I’m with the clown. . . he’s finding a way to solve our problem.”
“You’re with that clown?! That pirate?!” she yells in shock. “Girl, how long have you been with him?! Why haven’t you told me?”
Y/n covered her ears from her sister’s loud voice. She is angry and rightfully so. They never kept secretes from each other. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know what you’d say if I told you I’m dating a pirate.”
“Y/n a pirate? I know he’s a clown, but do you know the reputation they carry? They are not good people.”
“Y-you don’t know him. . .” her voice cracked.
“But do you know him? He’s only been here for a short time.”
This time Y/n froze. It is true. . . she knows nothing of him, but his circus act. Who is he truly? Her hands behind to shake and were immediately ceased by another pair of hands.
Lyla eyes softened as she sighed. “It’s okay, as long as he treats you right. It’s just. . . I never saw it coming.”
“Neither did I.” Y/n felt confused, she’s known about her partaking in the circus, what’s so different this time? Either way, she rather not argue with her.
“Well, I’m sure a pirate has their ways to bribe people. I think he’s just the guy to go against the Abasks. Still, I will talk to Walo about the situation; after all, he works for them.”
“I just hope everything works out. I’m not sure how long we have before they lose it all.”
Lyla goes to embrace Y/n, holding her tight in her arms. “Don’t worry, we won’t let him win.” She let’s go and grabs her shoulders, adding a bit pressure to them. “Just be careful. . . pirates are dangerous, I don’t want you getting hurt. I can’t tell you what to do, you’re an adult. You know what you’re doing, remember that.”
And all Y/n did was nod in agreement.
.°˖✧.°˖✧
Dusk hit the island as Y/n returned to the circus grounds. Buggy’s hoarse voice became louder at each step. She opened the tent and found herself in the middle of a commotion at the ring.
“What do you mean they saw you?!”
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know they were home.”
“Shit, can you fuckers do anything right?”
He tightened his fist around his throat and squeezed tightly. “Don’t fuck up again, we can’t let our act fall apart.” With one final squeeze her lets go. The man gasps out for air.
Y/n watched in horror. Has he’s always been this way?
“Buggy you almost killed him!”
“So?”— the pirate turns to face the voice— “Oh- darling, you’re back.”
“Um. . .”
He looks at her and back down at his subordinate.“Don’t worry about it. He’s fine. Besides, he was careless. We don’t want the attention on us while Kija is planning to have a wedding.”
Y/n only stared at Buggy.
Buggy huffed. “Baby, forget about it. Come on, it’s getting late, you should get some sleep.”
“Yeah. . .” she replied, walking away from the scene.
Dangerous. Should she be worried? No. . . Buggy wouldn’t hurt her. Well, he did tie her up that one time and destroyed her doll, but he’s changed. . . or so she thought. He’s a captain, he has to put his crew in order. That’s all it was, discipline.
She looks back at Buggy who dismissed the man. The large purple bruise marks cover his throat. She felt herself wince at the sight as she grabbed her own. The pirate has incredible strength, she’s felt it first-hand. Lyla is right, maybe she should be careful around these people. She takes one last look, as Buggy pulled out three blades from his coat and began his target practice. What is this plan he’s talking about? Whatever it is, she hopes no one loses their life.
.°˖✧.°˖✧
A/N: Okay, this took forever to write and it's kinda boring. I was really stuck on writing this for a while, but I think it should be easy from here on out.
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xxrainshadowsxx · 5 months
Text
Interpersonal Chapter 15
Oncie meets the family, Aurora continues to cause mischief, and there's a few more Big, Big Words.
“Wait, let me wake up,” he mutters, yawning and stretching. “Your family? Are they coming to visit or something?”
“No,” you sigh. You take a seat next to him and grab his hands, more for your own comfort than anything else. “I just got a call from my sister. My dad is in the hospital. He had a stroke and… well, they don’t think he has much longer than a week. I know this is really last minute, and that I’m disrupting your whole week, but if we could take your plane–”
“You don’t even have to ask,” he cuts you off. “Don’t worry about getting there, I’ll take care of it, alright? Let me make a few phone calls, why don’t you get some bags packed? What city are we flying into?”
You dive into his arms. “Thank you so much,” you whisper. “You don’t know how much this means to me.” You start getting choked up, so you bury your face in his chest, just needing him to hold you for a while.
He gives you all the time you need, slowly rubbing his hand up and down your back. “I’m here for you,” he murmurs. “Whatever you need, I’ll be here.”
You pull your head back to look at him. “You sure you want to come? I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Are you going to be okay with being away from work for up to a couple weeks?”
“That’s not important,” he brushes off. “The important question is, do you want me there?”
“Yes.” It’s the easiest answer you’ve ever given. Having him there to help be your strength… even the thought of it is unbelievably soothing. You didn’t just want him there, you felt like you needed him there. The thought of facing any ordeal without his help now was a terrifying unknown, a repelling thought. You didn’t even want to consider it.
After several minutes, you finally extricate yourself from his arms. “We really should get going,” you say, walking over to the dresser to start pulling out clothes. “You think we can fly in by tonight?”
“I’ll make it happen. What airport are we going to?” he asks, phone already in hand. You give him the name of the airport closest to your hometown as you continue gathering things together. Though he claims to be most comfortable in them, you decide not to take any of his suits. Besides the fact that you don’t really want him to be recognized, his mega-billionaire side and your hometown couldn’t coexist in your mind for some reason. You don’t want him to wear the façade he shows to the public around your family. You just want him to be himself.
At some point, he puts two suitcases on the bed and you hurriedly roll the clothes and toiletries into them. You’re a fairly quick packer, and by time he hangs up, you have nothing left to do but look around for any miscellaneous items you may have forgotten.
“Okay, I think we’re good,” you decide as you give the bedroom a final once-over. “What’s the schedule for flying?”
“I managed to fast-track it. We can leave in an hour,” he says. “Are you going to be okay with flying? I know you want to get out there fast, but I also know how much you hate planes.”
“It’ll be fine,” you insist. “Besides, you’ll be with me, right? This time I don’t have to stop myself from climbing into your lap if I need it.”
He raises one eyebrow at you. “While I’m definitely not complaining, I have to say, I wasn’t expecting you to flirt, given present circumstances.”
You shrug helplessly. “It’s my coping mechanism,” you sigh. “I use humor, or, with you, flirting apparently, to detract from all the negative thoughts. I have no idea what I’m feeling, so I just default to what’s most comfortable so I don’t self-destruct.”
“You don’t have to hide what you’re feeling around me,” he reminds you gently as he grabs the suitcases and takes them to the entryway while you wait for a car.
“I know,” you assure. “It’s not that. I literally just don’t know what I’m feeling. When my dad was in that accident that killed my mom, his personality changed. He doesn’t know who me or Aurora even are. To me, that was when my dad died. I mourned him then. I didn’t think him actually dying was going to have such an effect on me, but it is. It’s like losing him a second time.” Your mouth twists. You hate yourself a bit for what you’re about to admit, but if anyone will understand, it’s him. “And I hate this, I really hate this… but part of me is glad in a way. He’s not going to be in pain anymore, and he’ll be with my mom again, and I feel awful for even thinking that.” Your lower lip quivers again as you come dangerously close to crying.
He puts his hands on your shoulders. “Hey. Listen to me,” he urges, and reluctantly, you look into his eyes. “Everything you’re feeling is valid and none of it is bad. You’re in a terrible situation that I can’t even begin to imagine, and I’m so proud of how you’re handling it. You have to process your grief in your own way. And I’ll be here to help you the whole time,” he vows.
“And I am so grateful for that,” you murmur as a car pulls up. He holds the door open for you, so you take one of the suitcases. He tries to stop you from doing this, but you simply tell him “Please? I need to be doing something to keep myself from overthinking, even if it’s something this small. I just want to turn my mind off until we get there.” He relents, but you can tell it’s a struggle for him. It’s in his nature to take care of those he loves. It’s one of your favorite things about him, and you don’t ask him to give it up often, but right now it’s what you need.
You get yourselves and your luggage to the car quickly enough, and then you’re speeding to the airport. You give your phone to Onceler so he can text Aurora the flight details. By the time everything is squared away with her, you’ve reached the airport hangar.
You keep your eyes off the plane as you help to get the suitcases out of the car, but as a flight attendant comes to relieve you of your burden, you’re forced to confront the thing. Even wanting to get home as soon as possible doesn’t make the prospect of flying any more appealing.
“Hey. It’ll be okay," Onceler says as he comes up to stand next to you. “Just think of the last time we were on here, yeah?” You can’t help but laugh softly as you shake your head.
“You mean when you kissed me and then left like nothing had happened, which was really confusing by the way. Yeah, those were the good old days,” you say with a massive eye roll.
He wraps both his arms around your waist and kisses the back of your neck as you board the plane, so you can’t be too annoyed at him. Once you’re seated, you lay your head on his shoulder, and he’s positioned you both so that you can’t see out the window and further freak yourself out.
“That one kiss led to all of this,” he points out. “I was trying to figure out if you liked me, too. And if you want to make accusations of being confusing, that was you,” he teases, pressing his forehead to yours as the plane starts moving. You tense, but by now he’s learned how to keep you as calm as possible. He runs his hand up and down your arm and continues speaking in your ear. “You kissed me back but then you distanced yourself. I was thinking of giving up when I asked you to go driving with me.”
“Were you planning on fucking me that night?” you ask, both out of genuine curiosity and to keep him talking as the plane begins its ascent.
“Not initially,” he says slowly. “But I won’t deny that the thought did creep into my head pretty early that night. I wasn’t sure if that was going to mess up my chances of dating you though; I knew I wanted a relationship with you, but that was unfamiliar territory.”
You peek up at his face. That can’t be right. “There’s no way I’m your first girlfriend,” you say disbelievingly. 
“Not technically, no,” he shrugs. “I dated in high school, but not very seriously. Between then and you, it’s just been one night stands. Then you brought emotions into the picture and I didn’t know how to deal with it. You turned my whole world upside down.”
“Sorry for being such an inconvenience,” you tease. The plane seems to be at an acceptable height for you now; a glance out the window reveals that, sure enough, you’re in the clouds and shouldn’t have to deal with any severe jerking.
“You’re the best inconvenience that’s ever happened to me,” he promises, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I love you. That in and of itself is a miracle. And I wouldn’t change any of our decisions because they brought us together.” He gives you one more brief kiss, sending a warmth throughout your body, all the way down to your toes. “Now. How’d you want to spend the flight? Movies? Sleeping? Just talking?”
“Let’s go to the bedroom,” you decide after little consideration. “We were woken up pretty early. And I have a feeling we aren’t going to get much sleep over the next few days.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he agrees before leading you into the other room. You lay down next to him, drifting off into an uneasy sleep as you try not to think about what’s coming in just a few short hours….
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“What does Aurora look like?” Onceler asks as the two of you make your way through the airport several hours later. You’re both dressed casually and wearing sunglasses despite the evening having set in in an attempt to hide your faces, but you still see a few heads turn in your direction, causing your paranoia to flare up. You don’t want the press to bother you this week. Unfortunately, he sticks out in a crowd just based on his height alone. Someone’s bound to figure out it’s him. 
You force yourself to focus on his question instead of worrying if anyone recognizes him. “Um, she’s pretty tall, short hair, it’s just a little lighter than mine unless she’s dyed it. We’re not identical but you can tell we’re related.”
“I see her,” he mutters, and starts guiding you in the right direction. You crane your neck to try and see, but the throng of people is too thick. You trust his judgment, however; he stands a head above most everyone else.
Eventually, you get through enough people to find that it is indeed your sister he’s leading you towards. You seem to spot each other at the same time and close the gap quickly. You hug her tightly the second you can.
“You need to come home more often,” she admonishes gently before releasing you and taking her first look at Onceler. “Well shit,” she grumbles. “The pictures I’ve seen don’t do you justice at all. You’re tall as all fuck.”
“Um, thanks?” he guesses, looking to you for help, but you offer him nothing more than an apologetic shrug. If he wants to be with you, he’s going to have to learn to deal with Aurora on his own. She was part of the package.
“Oh, don’t be scared. I’m not going to bite today,” she teases, holding out her hand for him to shake it. Now it was your turn to be nonplussed. Aurora was never this nice. Granted, you’d never had a relationship serious enough to do a formal “meet-the-family” thing until now, but she’d met a couple before. And she’d never even pretended to be nice.
If either of them notice your expression, they don’t comment on it. “Come on,” Aurora says as she leads the way to the parking lot. “Dad was still conscious and able to talk when I left. He’s asking to see you.”
Now it was Onceler’s turn to quirk an eyebrow. “So… what am I expecting here?” he asks carefully. “I was under the impression he didn’t know who you two were. And I really don’t want to fuck anything up by saying or doing anything I’m not supposed to.”
You let Aurora take that question. She’s better equipped to answer it. “He doesn’t remember us, and every few days I have to remind him I’m his kid because he does forget, but when I told him his other daughter was coming to visit, he did say he wanted to see her. I mentioned you, too, but we’ll see if he remembers that.” By this point, you’ve reached the car and have loaded the suitcases into the trunk.
You get into the passenger’s side next to your sister while Onceler awkwardly clambers into the backseat. “Get comfortable, it’s a bit of a drive,” she informs him, looking highly amused at his attempts to get his long legs into a manageable position.
“Do you want me to get you gas?” he asks once the car starts moving, making you freeze. While probably an innocent sounding question to anyone else, you hadn’t gotten the chance to explain to Aurora how delicate the money situation was. You hoped this was a one time thing and that he wouldn’t try and do something like pay off your dad’s medical bills.
“Deal,” Aurora agrees easily enough before turning to you. “So, catch me up on everything I’ve missed since our last phone call.”
The rest of the car ride is spent in much more comfortable conversation. You hadn’t seen Aurora in person in nearly a year, and phone calls weren’t a substitute for the real thing. You talk about everything, from mundane things like work, to reminiscing about past stories, occasionally having to give Onceler context for some of those. She asks about your relationship, of course, but doesn’t treat it as though you’re dating one of the richest people in the country. It’s such a lovely return to normal that you nearly cry in relief.
Eventually, you pull up in the hospital parking lot. “We better hurry,” Aurora mutters. “There’s only a couple more visiting hours left.” She leads you through the sterile white halls that she seems to know a little too well. Soon enough, you stop outside a door. “I’ll go in first,” she murmurs. “Let him know you’re here, make sure he’s not too overwhelmed.” She slips through the door and you hear her soft voice, but you’re not able to make out any individual words. You settle instead for holding Onceler’s hand in a vice-like grip as your heart threatens to pound out of your chest.
But he's there next to you, strong and steady, a lifeline to cling to if you break. His presence is the only thing that enables you to step into the room.
Your father is lying on the cramped hospital bed, looking like he's aged twenty years instead of just one. He looks up groggily when you enter. "Who are you? Are you my other daughter?" He looks to Aurora, who nods in confirmation. He's only speaking out of one side of his mouth, so his words are extremely slurred, but you're able to just barely make them out.
"Yeah, I am. Hi Daddy," you whisper, taking a chair on the side of his bed. He frowns at you.
"I don't remember… I don't know…" he mumbles before glancing at a picture next to him. It's a family Christmas photo from when you were eleven. You were just hitting that awkward phase where you no longer looked like a child but the components that made up your adult face weren't quite there yet, but he seems to believe that you're the same person in the picture. "You grew up," he says with what you think is a smile.
"Yeah," you choke out, not trusting yourself to say any more out of fear you might burst into tears.
His gaze travels north to land on Onceler. "Who is this?" he asks uncertainly, looking to Aurora again, but you're the one who supplies an answer.
"Daddy this is Onceler. He's my boyfriend. He wanted to meet you," you explain carefully. Onceler nervously clears his throat.
"It's nice to meet you sir," he says, and you're suddenly hit with a strange urge to laugh. It was surreal to mesh the two sides of him together. Twenty-four hours ago you were at a party with the richest people of the country, all in his honor. And now he was meeting your family, and you knew him well enough by this point to know he was desperately hoping they approved of him.
Your dad studies him wearily. "You… treat her well. That's my daughter."
Onceler nods seriously. "Of course sir. I always make sure that I'm doing the best I can."
Even this short conversation seems to exhaust him, so he lays back in his bed, eyes mostly closed, but occasionally he'd open them and look around. The three of you sit in silence, not wanting to disturb him.
Eventually, a doctor knocks on the door. "Would I be able to speak with family for a moment?" he asks softly. Aurora stands immediately. You hasten to follow, but hesitate, looking back at Onceler.
"You go," he murmurs. "I'm not family. I'll stay here." You don't miss his darkened expression, but you'll have to wait to talk to him about it. You follow Aurora and the doctor into the hall.
"So I'm afraid the prognosis isn't good," the doctor says as gently as possible. "His brain is fighting a losing battle at this point. The injury he received a few years ago severely weakened him. That part of his brain has all but shut down, and the rest is following suit. We're not sure how much longer he'll be able to hang on, but I'm so sorry to tell you his brain can't recover from this."
You take a shuddering breath. Nothing he said was surprising, but that didn't make it any easier to hear. Aurora takes a deep breath herself but looks resigned. She's always been the stronger one out of the two of you. "So what's next?" she asks. "Do we just wait for him to pass? Do you recommend that he stays here?"
"We usually advise hospice care in these scenarios since it can be difficult to predict how long he actually has," the doctor answers. "We can work on moving him tomorrow if you want to make that decision. We also need to know if you want him placed on a DNR list."
"Yeah. At this point, make him a DNR," Aurora agrees before turning to you. "Are you comfortable with all of this? You have just as much say here as I do."
You take in yet another shaky breath. "Just make him comfortable," you whisper. "I don't want him to be in a bunch of pain."
The doctor nods. "Of course. Then we'll just do a little bit of follow up blood work tonight and plan on a hospice transfer tomorrow. We have one on our own campus." With one last apologetic smile, he walks off.
Aurora gives you a look. "It's nothing I wasn't prepared to hear," you sigh before hugging her quickly. "I'm glad I came though. I thought I'd already said goodbye, but I needed this closure."
"Yeah, and I'm glad you brought him," she grins. "Not only is he actually a really great support system for you, but now he has the chance to ask Dad for his permission to ask you to marry him."
You start choking on air. Aurora just watches you with amusement as you violently cough in an attempt to get your breath back. "That is not why he's here!" you sputter as soon as you manage to find your voice again.
"Oh, I'm not suggesting that was his only motive," she clarifies. "I'm just saying I'm willing to bet my life savings that as soon as we left the room, that's exactly what he did."
"He did not," you complain. "We're not at that point yet." Even as you say it, your stomach twists in a way you can't identify, so you decide to just ignore it for now.
"Well, humor me. Do you want to marry him?" Her tone was light enough, but her expression has gone deadly serious. You knew from experience that she was not going to let you off the hook until you gave her an honest answer.
That didn't mean you weren't going to try to get out of it. "I think it's a little early to even think about marriage," you huff, attempting nonchalance.
Aurora just snorts. "Please. I've been watching the way you look at him." Her eyes suddenly soften. "I don't know if I've ever seen two people more in love. You're enamored with him. And it seems like it's the healthy kind, because you clearly haven't lost yourself in him. So stop thinking and give me your gut-reaction answer. If he asked you right now, would you agree to marry him?"
"Yes." The word falls from your mouth before you're aware of what you're saying. When it does register, you nearly fall over; you have to grab a wall for support. "Oh fuck," you whisper before looking at Aurora. "Is now really the best time to be doing this? Dad's dying."
"And he can pass with the knowledge that he's giving his blessing to a man that's going to be good to you," she smiles. "I know you haven't seen it, but Dad's still in there. And this would make him thrilled."
You can't refute that, but still didn't think it was the best conversation to be having in the hospital hallway. You glance up and see a nurse coming with supplies for a blood draw, which gives you a perfect excuse to end said conversation. "Come on," you murmur, holding the door open for the nurse.
As you step back into the room, you can't help but notice that your dad is awake and that Onceler looks extremely happy about something. You're trying to convince yourself you're imagining things, but you make the mistake of looking at Aurora. Her smug expression clearly says 'I told you so.'
You barely resist the urge to stick your tongue out at her and instead turn back to your boyfriend, who's eyeing the nurse's instruments with a stark white face. When she pulls out a needle, he abruptly stands up and walks to the other side of the room.
Aurora, obviously, picks up on this immediately. "So is it the blood or the needles you don't like?" she snickers.
"Needles. Definitely the needles," he mutters as he focuses on the sink until you tell him it's safe. Aurora makes a sound of disgust in the back of her throat.
"If you can't handle a tiny little needle like that, how the hell are you going to handle it when she's getting a giant one threaded through her spine to give you a baby?"
After her needling earlier, that kind of comment from your sister doesn't faze you. You just sigh and offer her a glare. Onceler, on the other hand, was clearly unprepared; he flails so badly he hits his head on the small TV hanging from the ceiling, stammering incoherently, his face cherry red. Aurora looks between the two of you with narrowed eyes.
"Do not tell me you haven't talked about kids yet?" she asks incredulously. "You should probably have been on the same page about that before getting serious! Fucking idiots. This is why I don't bother with this shit."
She continues to mutter darkly under her breath until the clock hits nine a quarter of an hour later. "Bye Dad. We'll be back tomorrow," she says, before giving the two of you a meaningful look.
You don't need to be prodded. You take your father's hand. His eyes are closed again, so you're not sure if he's awake, but you still whisper a "Goodbye, Daddy," as Onceler puts his hand on your shoulder for support. Almost absentmindedly, you reach up to grab that hand before giving him a small smile as you leave the hospital. This really would have been so much harder without him.
The drive to your childhood home is swift and mostly silent. All three of you are exhausted. You also know your family's three bedroom rambler is a far cry from the luxury Onceler's gotten used to, but to his credit, he never says a word.
"You know where everything is," Aurora yawns. "I'll see you in the morning." She heads off into the master bedroom she's claimed as her own while you open the door across the hall to your old bedroom.
Aurora's converted it into a mix of a guest bedroom while still leaving vestiges of your youth. She's put in a queen bed that's only just long enough for Onceler, but she's also left up all your old volleyball awards. It's a stark contrast between your old life and the new one you've carved out for yourself.
Onceler doesn't say much until you both get into bed and you curl into his chest. "So that's what an actual family acts like?" he asks quietly.
You pull back just enough to look at him. "Just mine. And you're part of it now," you remind him firmly.
He gives you a grateful smile before looking nervous. "About what Aurora said at the hospital…" he starts.
"Later," you decide. "I don't have the capacity for that heavy of a conversation right now. And I don't think it's as big of a deal as she's making it out to be."
He visibly relaxes. "Okay. Sounds good. Let's just sleep then," he says, pressing his lips to your forehead. And with all the emotional turmoil of the past twenty-four hours, it doesn't take long for sleep to find you.
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You're awoken the next morning by Aurora coming into the room, wearing a grave expression. You immediately shake Onceler awake, and only when you're both conscious does Aurora say, "I got a call from the hospital. Dad had another stroke last night and slipped into a coma. And… he won't wake up. Ever. They want to know if we want to pull the plug."
You let out one choked sob, and Onceler immediately puts his arms around you. It takes several minutes before you're able to look up at your sister. The words stick in your throat. All you can do is nod.
And then the sobs come all at once. You bury your head in Onceler's chest and cling to his shoulders, needing this one pillar of support as so much comes crashing down.
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chidoroki · 6 months
Text
182 Days of TPN - Day 165
Chapter 165: "You Can Fly!"
(I've finally reached that point where those old chapter reviews of mine became consistent, so if there's some deja vu moments with stuff I say from here onwards then I apologize. Might not happen since those were done blindly while I have a perfectly good idea of what happens in the story now, but I'll look back at those posts just in case so I don't become a broken record.)
I find it so adorable that even after so many years, Isabella still thinks of Leslie.
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The hatred I feel for Sarah has grown immensely over the past couple months, so of course now I can't help but feel a bit giddy over her being shipped out. Peter eventually comes in with a comment stating that the farm made the decision based on who, between Isabella or Sarah, would be more beneficial to the farms, and with the impressive results Isabella has made during her time as caretaker, she was chosen as the obvious choice to keep around. And rightfully so. Thank heavens.
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I know this poor woman just wanted to be free from all this hell and while I certainly don't wish to see Isabella suffer under the farm's rules and restrictions anymore, I love her too much to just see her get killed off, so you gotta stick around for a couple more years to help out the kids honey. It'll be worth it.
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As much as I despise the man, I do like the intense shadow Peter gets across him during this panel. It really makes the sinister aura believable with how terrified Isabella looks, and for a woman who's been around death for so long and perfected a strong facade over the years to actually show some kind of fear, that's quite impressive he managed to make her feel that way.
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After all this time and now I'm just getting the feeling that Isabella was crying a bit sometime during that panel of her looking at her number and chip implant in the mirror back at GF. Anyways, I know it was intentional for her to look completely scared upon making this deal with Peter here, but I love that it's all just an act as we later find out in ch170. (also, not important but this is my post so it was gonna get mentioned anyway: absolutely thankful that the second season decided to keep Isabella's hair down during this scene. She may have made the deal with one of the GF demons instead of Peter, but I can forgive the anime for that because Isabella just looked so perfect.)
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Duh, everything this woman does is impressive. Sure, it's real bummer for those kids who had to be shipped out, but at least we learned during 181.7 that she did lower the frequency of the shipments so a fewer number of children were shipped out all together. It was a whole quality over quantity idea that worked out well so good for her. The less lives lost the better.
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I'm certainly repeating myself from somewhere, but the way Isabella was able to successfully rally all the other moms and sisters together in less than a day is just fantastic. Such a power move. I still geek out over it.
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Motherly instincts kicking back in (pfft, silly me, as if they ever left. that's genuine concern on her face). It's certainly a painful way to fix a finger but at least she helped!
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The switch from "mom" to "caretaker" happens so quick it could give someone whiplash. Honey, I know this is all part of a grand performance but I don't like when you openly treat your precious children as food!
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Still wondering how y'all managed to cross the giant cliff in order to sneak into headquarters but whatever works I guess. I'm certain they didn't just cross the bridge since security probably would've been alerted much sooner and I'm not gonna believe they arrived via random hot air balloons like the second season did. Regardless, it was quite a surprise to see Norman armed with a gun but very welcomed. Seeing him in the shelter jacket and pants is a good look for him too.
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Favorite panel/moment:
Oh to be lucky enough to receive a hug from such a beautiful woman.
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elibabayblog · 29 days
Text
Abusive
"Thomas I can't fucking help it!" You scream into his face.
"Yes you can, you don't want to." He says getting up pulling you back into his embrace.
"Thomas please don't do this I don't wanna do this now I just-" You mutter walking out his arms as your arms go flying everywhere.
"You just what y/n? Huh? You just what?" He says getting angrier towards you every passing moment.
"I want you out my face." You yell turning around.
"But y/n why?" He asks calming down just a little.
"Wouldn't you be jealous of my ex was all over me?"
"No I wouldn't because I know at the end of the day, you're with me."
"Well, you know what? Fu-"
Everything passed in slow-motion as his large hand bought itself up and struck you across the face. As you fell to the side he kicked and punched at you. You thought about fighting back but decided against it. You laid there as tears fell down your cheeks as the man you once thought could ever harm a fly is hurting you.
"Thomas please." Your voice cracking every so often.
He snapped out of his daze as he stepped back.
"What have I done?" He questioned himself.
His eyes watered as he backed up from you. But he stopped and looked at his hands before he saw something red below his hands. He looked down and saw blood. The speed of light couldn't beat the quickness of Tom turning around.
He watched as your uterus bled as you pulled yourself up with the support of the wall. He tried to walk towards you as you stumbled backwards trying to find your keys. He looks at his hands once more, before storming towards you and punching the side of your head.
- You wake up in the hospital, looking beside you to see your mom, sisters, and brothers.
"Mama?"
Her head pops up. He motions for your brother to go get the nurse. As you watch him walk out Thomas pops his head into the room.
"Get out." You say-blood boiling- angry.
"Darling please here me-"
"Get out Tom, my fucking baby could be dead because of that shit you decided to pull."
"What did he do?" Your older brother asked walking back into the room.
"Thomas do you wanna tell them, or should I?" You ask folding your arms.
"I'll tell them, this is my fault."
"You damn right it's your fault." You muttered.
"I hit her and I took my anger out on her when it was directed at myself, I hurt her something I promised never to do, to anyone not just her. I already know what I have coming, and-" he says turning to look at me, "you don't have to forgive me, I know damn well I wouldn't, I'll just be on my way." He says as he gets ready to walk out.
"Thomas!" You say as he stops buy doesn't turn around.
"Yes?" He asks sounding terrified of what you were going to say.
"I'm pregnant and the reason I was so mad was because I had heard a lot of your friends saying you were gonna leave me for someone else. I was scared Tom."
"Baby I'm so sorry, I wish I would've listened instead of cutting you off." He says turning towards you and coming to hug you.
"It's okay." You tell him letting that singular tear fall from your eye, as he wiped it from your face and bringing his lips towards yours.
"Never again." He says getting in the bed with you and cuddling you.
"Well after what has expired here, I guess we can forgive you, Tom, you are a good man. But you hit her one more I will put you seven feet under." Your mom tells him.
"He is a good person and all but that is my sister. You fuck with her, you also fuck with me, and I hate being fucked with. She saved you for now." Your older brother said.
"Okay damn bro, leave him alone-" you say pulling his head to your chest, "and leave." You say pointing to the door.
"Love you sissy." He says kissing your forehead.
"Fuck off bro, but I love yo stank ass too." You say shooing him away.
"Baby I have to say this again, I'm sorry." He says looking directly into your eyes.
"And for the last time, I understand just stop apologizing damn much Thomas." You say laughing and laying back into his chest.
"I love you and our unborn child." He says holding your stomach.
"We love you too daddy." You say looking up and into his eyes.
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unlifeira · 4 months
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Unauthorized Magicians Rewatch Drabbles
I decided I'd write drabbles for every episode of this rewatch, but I felt bad clogging up the fic channel on the discord server so I thought I'd make a masterpost instead.
AO3 series is here. Individual list under the cut. Further seasons will be added in reblogs.
Season One
1x01 - Unauthorised Magic
Title: Another World Rating: G Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 100 Summary:
“Where am I?” Quentin asks, though his heart’s already settled on an answer. The reply might’ve been far more devastating than it had any right to be, if he wasn’t so damn confused. “Upstate New York.”
1x02 - The Source of Magic
Title: Friends Rating: G Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 100 Summary:
“Join the party, sad sack. Hurry up,” Eliot says, watching Quentin walk up to them with slow steps. “It’s not like we have all day.” “We’re so drunk,” Margo tells him like it’s not obvious.
1x03 - Consequences of Advanced Spellcasting
Title: Sugar Rating: G Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 100 Summary:
Quentin gets it, okay? He really does. Coffee on its own is very bitter. Even after you add milk to it, it just doesn’t taste right. But this is too much.
1x04 - The World in the Walls
Title: That Stupid Song Rating: T Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 100 Summary:
There he is. “Quentin!” Quentin mumbles something and turns away, but Penny’s not having it. He refuses to keep listening to this stupid song because this asshole doesn’t know what mental wards are. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m talking to you.”
1x05 - Mendings, Major and Minor
Title: What We Can Rating: G Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 100 Summary:
“This is where I’ve been,” Quentin says softly, holding out the model aeroplane for Ted to take. None of this seems real — none of it can be — but how can Ted deny it when it’s right in front of him? “I’m a magician.”
1x06 - Impractical Applications
Title: Perfect Life Rating: T Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 100 Summary:
Kady sets down the tattoo gun and searches for the right words. “My mom died young. And… My dad is kind of embarrassing.” She smiles. “He wears Birkenstocks, and he sells weed. But he loves me no matter how much trouble I get in.” “That sounds nice,” Penny says. “Yeah,” Kady agrees. That’s the problem, isn’t it?
1x07 - The Mayakovsky Circumstance
Title: Forgive Me Rating: G Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 100 Summary:
“I’ll go mix some paste for the spell,” Penny tells her, and she grins. “A few minutes, we’re flying again.” Kady leans up to kiss him, to make her gratefulness clear. She watches him walk away after that, but it’s okay. They’ll see each other in a few minutes, and then— For the first time in a really long time, Kady has hope.
1x08 - The Strangled Heart
Title: Important Exceptions Rating: M Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence Words: 100 Summary:
“You know, I’ve never really seen you care about something,” Quentin says, a little thrown. Eliot sighs. “Things aren’t usually worth caring about.” “With some limited but very important exceptions.” “Very limited.”
1x09 - The Writing Room
Title: Beatrix Rating: M Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence Words: 100 Summary:
“Oh my God. Do you know what this is?” “A vaguely whimsical horror show?” Alice’s voice cracks when she says, “She did this. She really did this to the children. Plover’s sister, she tied them up and drugged them so they wouldn’t disturb her brother’s work.”
1x10 - Homecoming
Title: Broken Rating: T Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Words: 100 Summary:
“Can we really talk, baby?” Eliot asks. He’s terrified, after all these months, to finally tell somebody the truth. But he fucked up real bad today, and he doesn’t want to lose Margo. So. It’s time to tell the truth. “I think Professor Lipson could’ve been wrong about me. I think something might really be… broken.”
1x11 - Remedial Battle Magic
Title: Alone Rating: T Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 100 Summary:
Penny feels like hell, which to be fair is normal given he just had a heart attack. All he wants is to be left alone, but the Beast is in his head, Alice and Quentin keep coming to him like he doesn’t have his own problems to deal with, and now Sunderland is not letting him rest. When will people get the fucking hint?
1x12 - Thirty-Nine Graves
Title: Relief Rating: G Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 100 Summary:
“We did bring something of great and shining worth,” Julia says, and it takes everything Kady has not to roll her eyes. She encourages Julia to speak instead. And she does. “We brought you our faith.” But the guy doesn’t fall for it. “To be honest, I’m sensing more scepticism than faith here.”
1x13 - Have You Brought Me Little Cakes
Title: Quentin Coldwater Rating: T Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 100 Summary:
“I think you’re being kind of a whiny bitch!” “Q,” Julia says, always the voice of reason. “Maybe don’t insult—” “No,” he interrupts. Ember can do whatever he wants to him; he’s too angry to give a shit. “Does he care or not?”
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inknopewetrust · 3 years
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Manipulate Me
Summary: As Peter travels Europe as a normal kid, the world’s peril throws a wrench in his plans. With you by his side chaperoning the trip as an undercover S.H.I.E.L.D agent, the mysterious introduction of Quentin Beck leaves you breathless. 
Pairing: Quentin Beck/Mysterio x Fem!Reader 
Word Count: 2.8k
Warnings: None! 
A/N: Thanks so much for requesting this @mrs-blooooom​ ! I had a great time writing for Quentin Beck again. For context, reader is Peter’s older sister but also happens to be a shield agent (it was the easiest route of explanation as to why she would be meeting with Fury and Maria Hill). Requests are currently OPEN and you can check out who I write for in my request guidelines tagged in my bio. Thanks for reading! :) *gif not mine* I do not own any of the dialogue from the film. 
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“May-” 
“-And don’t forget the passports! Oh! The passports!” 
“May!” 
May stopped scrambling around the apartment only to find that you had the two passports already in your hand. The tired aunt pushed her disheveled hair out of her face, pushing her glasses back up her nose, and slowly calming down. It was fine... Peter had you, Peter had all his friends, Peter would be fine in Europe. 
“Everything is going to go fine. I’ll be with him at all times and if he decides to wander off and do his Spiderman stuff––well then I’ll just have to call in some Avengers to stop him.”  
“I trust that you’ll be able to keep him out of trouble if it comes down to it.” May picked up Peter’s suitcase off the floor and listened to his heavy footsteps draw down the hallway and into the living room where you had gathered with her. 
“All ready?” He asked with those inquisitively wide eyes that reminded you so much of your mom. May handed him the suitcase but not before capturing the boy in a tight hug. Her “motherly” instincts grew since she returned from the blip. It was strange without the two of them. You, stuck here in New York without a leader in either Fury or Tony and the remaining members of S.H.I.E.L.D, Avengers and then the developed Sword, were left to pick up the pieces and build a life without them. That was the most difficult part. 
“Promise me that you won’t get into any trouble?” May asked Peter who in reply rolled his eyes with a chuckle. 
“It’s just a school trip. Besides, Y/n is going to be there and I’m sure she’s told you a million times that she can keep me in check.” You smacked the side of his head but he just ignored you and turned to the door, opening it with a rough pull with his spider-y force. 
“We’ll see you in a few weeks, May!” 
If you were able to take back all the words you said and never go to Europe, you would ask Stephen Strange to reverse time. 
Venice was a mess. The water-creature-man-thing...? had erupted the small city into a chaotic terror with locals and terrified students trying to find cover. Peter was somewhere flying with webs while another hero whom you had never seen before was assisting him. After a few minutes of trying to guide a group of students to safety, you secured cover underneath an awning in front of a store. 
“Ms. Parker! What do we do!?” Flash was almost in tears from fear which you couldn’t help but judge. It was water? the kid survived Thanos’ snap so he could survive this. Not to mention Fury would have your ass if any of the kids died on your watch. 
Out of nowhere the ground started to fill up with water and cracking of concrete or bricks began echoing throughout the small courtyard you trapped them all in. The green man came swooshing in with a cloud of smoke, almost like an illusion, and stopped the water with the sheer force of his magical abilities. The creature reformed into what looked like a water man and the green man dodged the attack with made the sound of bricks tumbling increase in intensity. Suddenly, the tower to your right began crumbling and you pulled as many students as you could closer to the building you sought shelter next to. 
“Get back! Get back!” 
“Who is that guy!?” Jason, one of the students shouted out but you couldn’t answer the question because you didn’t know. 
“I don’t know, but he’s kicking that waters ass.” Brad voiced exactly what you would have said. 
The green man continued to fight the water as the tower crumbled beside you all and then, like the blink of an eye, the monster was gone and the water scattered, soaking your shoes with a safety that was much welcomed. The man landed to sounds of cheering from the students and locals that found themselves in the same spot as you. But something was different. 
Maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t see his face, or maybe the fact that you had never heard of this hero and you literally worked for the agency that worked with them all. Maybe he wasn’t from this world? Space? Another universe? You could have sworn that you heard of the idea of a multiverse. 
But maybe it was the fact that beneath all that smoke and mirrors that made up the helmet of the mysterious man, it felt as though when he looked around at his admiring fans, his eyes trained on you, staring through your soul with some feeling that wasn’t welcomed or unwanted either. Intrigue, that’s what it was. And when he flew off, everyone was left with a curiosity that sparked a great debate throughout the entire world. Who was this man? 
Well, the T.V. at the hotel identified him as Mysterio. Peter managed to make it back in one piece which you were able to celebrate in a brief moment outside before the voices of interested students and the television interrupted the moment. Betty and Ned were searching every website for some kind of clue but nothing other than what the news reported was to be taken as fact. It wasn’t aliens, it wasn’t witches, it was just another hero. 
So that was what you went with. That was until you opened your door to Fury sitting in a chair next to the window. 
“Oh my God!” You shrieked and Fury laughed, laughed, at you. 
“You scare too easy.” 
“What are you doing here? I thought you were in spa-” 
The slight reveal of a green hand made you shut up. "Fury” tilted his head with a slight “Ah, well.” 
“Is this about that Mysterio guy?” 
“We’ve got him at a site. Says he’s from another Earth and that these creatures destroyed his own and intend to destroy this one too.” 
“Another Earth? So, the multiverse.. it’s real?” 
“Fury” didn’t respond to that, but he simply rose and gestured over his shoulder to the window. 
“There is a car outside. Go and wait in it while I go get Peter. The big man told me I need to scare the kid.” You smiled at the thought as the man left to go retrieve your brother. 
You had been part of the world of superheroes far longer than Peter had. You had been there when Loki first attacked New York way back when and that seemed like so many years ago. With the blip, it seems like an entire eternity. Nick never let you in on his secrets of his relationship with Carol Danvers, but you had met the Skrulls when you went on a mission three months ago to visit Monica Rambeau in space. Unlike her, you weren’t blessed with some badass powers, though she didn’t always have them. 
Peter looked terrified walking out to the car and when he saw you inside, he breathed a sigh of relief that he wouldn’t be alone. The site of S.H.I.E.L.D in Italy wasn’t far from where you had all taken up residence for the last day or two, but it was secluded, down in the catacombs of old buildings that no one would suspect. It reminded Peter of a Mission Impossible movie that you had watched with him before the two of you left for Europe, he felt more like a spy than a superhero in that moment. 
As you walked behind the two down the long corridors of the abandoned treasure that was used as a make-shift S.H.I.E.L.D, you were surprised to see Maria at a computer, though now knowing about Fury, you were sure it wasn’t even her. The center of the room was filled with scattered agents who you weren’t familiar with and then a projection in the middle of the room, along with the man without the helmet. 
You weren’t one for fawning over men. Jesus, you worked with Thor sometimes and while you were aware of his Godly looks, you never gawked. But this man, he wasn’t a God, he was just naturally beautiful. Dark hair, blueish-gray eyes that surely did pierce your soul, and a stature of a man who knew how to carry himself with power in the world. It was like he walked out of your dreams and into reality. 
“This is Mr. Beck.” Fury introduced you and Peter to the man. Mr. Beck approached Peter with a small smile and held out his hand. Peter looked nervous but responded with his own shake. 
“Mysterio?” 
“What?” 
“It’s just what my friends were calling you.” 
“Well, you can call me Quentin. You handled yourself well out there today. I saw what you did with the tower. We could use someone like you on my world.” 
Peter looked puzzled but Quentin looked behind the boy to you. He held out his hand with another smile which you returned. Maybe there was a shock when you touched hands, but you were sure it was just your imagination. 
“Y/n Parker, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.” 
“It’s good to meet you, Y/n.” 
“Likewise.” 
Did time rush by faster when you were in the presence of someone you were obviously attracted to? Yes, because before you knew it, the night was over, and Fury was leading you and Peter back out to the car. Peter was absolutely smitten with Quentin and could hardly break conversation. The man gave the attention to Peter like Tony did. It was like life imitating itself in another time. Quentin reminded you so much of Tony. Smooth with words, handsome, gifted in almost an unfair way, and he took an interest in the last piece of close family you had. You wanted nothing more than for Peter to have a figure in his life to give him a positive purpose. With Tony gone, he’s struggled trying to find his niche again. 
“See you, kid.” Quentin looked disappointed but hopefully that his and Peter’s paths would cross again one day, even with Peter trying to avoid being identified by his class or the world. At some point, someone would figure it out if they hadn’t already. 
“Yeah, see you.” Peter said as he walked out, following Dimitri, who Fury ordered to keep Peter in check with you. You were more than capable of doing it yourself but for some reason, Fury felt the need to send another agent. 
“Good luck, Quentin.” You told him and he nodded his head, glancing at the holographic map of Venice next to him. 
“I fear I’ll need it. But I’m hopeful that the good luck will be for more than just winning this fight.”
Swoon. That’s what you did for the remainder of the night and into the early morning. You couldn’t sleep a wink after the revelations that Quentin relayed to you and Peter about the elementals. That worried you too. How in the world was Peter supposed to sit by while other heroes with indisposed and couldn’t help? Sam and Bucky were on their own missions, Carole and Monica were off, Stephen and Wanda were no use and Thor was off on his own adventures with that team of riff-raffs from space–you know, the one with the talking tree. 
But somewhere in all the jumble of thoughts, the scenery of the canal that had been a scene of something far different, calmed the noise. Enjoy the trip. This was the first time in years that you had traveled for something other than work and yet it was still filling every thought and moment. The thoughts were so loud and invasive that you didn’t register the person coming up to your right, ready to take the bag off your shoulders. You felt the tug and turned around, ready to punch the person but they dogged it, pulling it off your shoulder. It was a game of tug of war for the bag, but the person was strong. 
“Let go! I said let go!” You pulled as hard as you could, therefore the bag came flying back to you and its contents spread across the sidewalk. The person glanced at the wallet on the ground and then back at you before you both dove to the ground. They grabbed it first and you tackled them to the ground. Wrestling with grunts and yells, you hadn’t noticed the audience of one that rushed to help. A blast of green light shot the person off of you and you clutched the wallet to your chest tightly, trying to reel in your ragged breath. 
“I heard yelling from my hotel...” The hero started only to realize that it was you and with a turn of your head, you had realized it was him, Quentin. 
“Oh! Are you alright?” He extended a hand, which you readily took to stand. He then helped collect the scattered items and put them back in the now ripped bag before handing it back to you. 
“I’m fine. Thank you.” 
“It’s no problem.” There was a brief, awkward lull but you weren’t sure what else to say. 
“So, do you always wander around at night in a city you don’t know?” It was an icebreaker, a line that he knew would make you at least chuckle. 
“No... I just had a lot on my mind. What you told us in there–it’s a lot of information to retain.” 
“I’m sure an agent like you could handle it though.” You smiled bashfully at the compliment. Quentin gestured over his shoulder and shoved his hands in his pockets. You realized he wasn’t wearing his uniform anymore but just a pullover sweater and some dark jeans. How he shot the green light in the first place you didn’t know, but all heroes worked a little differently you suppose. 
“Would you like to take a walk? I promise I won’t try to steal your wallet.” 
“How do I know I can trust you?” The conversation was so light, and carefree that for the first time in a long time, you felt like a normal person. Quentin returned your cheeky smile and began walking. 
“I’m pretty sure a woman like you could figure out who trust and who not avoid. Isn’t that what they train you for? Agents?” 
“I suppose so, yes.” 
“Can I ask you something?” You asked Quentin and he looked at you with a nod of his head. 
“How did you know the elementals would turn up in our Earth?” 
“Intelligence. My wife, she had worked for our version of your agency. Before they came to destroy our city, one had already manifested itself in Mexico. It was as if there would be a pattern to follow. So when she passed, I used her intelligence to figure out where they might be, which led me here.” 
“I’m sorry for your loss.” 
“Thank you, it’s been some time now. She would be glad to see Peter helping me, and you helping out with the cause.” 
“Peter really took a liking to you. I could see it in the way he could barely contain himself.” You laughed, changing the heavy subject to one more light. 
“He’s a good kid. You’re related I assume?” 
“My little brother.” 
“You should be proud of him. He is doing a lot of good for the world. I just wish he was more confident in his abilities to realize identity protect isn’t everything.” 
Quentin was right, it wasn’t everything. But it was more than identity for Peter. It was also no Tony to lead the way, his want to be a normal kid, his need to have friends and well, MJ to like him. But neither of you would know what it was like to be a teen hero, that was a lot of unneeded pressure. 
“It seems that I brought you around full circle.” The sound of Quentin’s voice broke the silence and the realization that you were outside the barely standing hotel. You sighed and tugged the bag on your shoulder. 
“Thanks for saving the day, Mysterio.” 
“Anything to help protect Agent Parker.” 
If you hadn’t just met him a few hours ago, you would have asked him to come upstairs but that was far too forward for the world you created for yourself, so you extended your hand as he had earlier. 
“May our paths cross again.” 
He grasped your hand tightly and agreed. 
“Hopefully under better circumstances.” 
You watched then as he walked away, unaware of the man underneath the facade of Mysterio. How he already knew who you were, knew all your secrets, and was ready to manipulate you to take down the institution that denied him success so many years ago. 
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nuttynutcycle · 3 years
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I just discovered your blog, and I'm in LOVE with your writing! I'm completely obsessed with Familiar, so if it's not to much to ask, could you write a continuation? Thank you so much, your snippets and prompts are greatly appreciated!!
Familiar - Pt 2
First part here
On a scale of one to ten, this was either a -2 or a 12 on the good idea scale. Hero double-checked the address Villain had sent her before looking back at the tiny house. The paint was peeling, steps were rotting and that roof was definitely of the leaking sort. Somehow, she had expected Villain to live on the rich side of town.
When he had invited her over to work on their assignment, her thoughts had been torn between screaming trap and find some evidence. The second side won. If there wasn’t anything in there to prove who Villain really was… Well, she’d have to find another way of getting proof to show the authorities. She knocked and noted the cracked windows to her side. After a few seconds, Villain opened the door.
“Hey, I’m glad you could make it. Come on in.” He led her down the musty hall towards a suspiciously normal bedroom. “Thanks again for making the trek all the way over here. My mom hasn’t been doing too well recently, and I’m trying not to leave her alone for too long.”
“Of course, I get it.” Hero let her eyes trail over the spartan room. The only furniture was a bed and two chairs beside a fold-up table covered with books and scribblers. Funny, the number of times Villain escaped from her with stolen cash made her think he’d at least have better furniture. Or a safe to put the money in. Maybe it was hiding in the closet? Although in this neighbourhood, keeping money lying around might not be the brightest idea. “It’s good that you’re taking care of her.”
He nodded, avoiding her gaze and moving his stuff from the table to the floor. “Hopefully, this next surgery will be the one that works.”
“Yeah, it’s tough watching people you love go through painful things. My sister has a heart problem right now, and it’s terrifying to watch her energy come and go.” Shut up! Stop telling him personal things. “Yeah.” She finished lamely.
Their gazes locked in understanding. Hero was the first to break away. “Ready to start the pain?”
They worked on the assignment in silence for a while. Honestly, there was probably a special punishment designed for whoever invented assignments over ten pages long. This just wasn’t fair. Hero sat back, running a hand through her hair. “I think this is karma's way of punishing me for not reading the textbook.”
His lips quirked. “There’s a textbook for this class? That would’ve been helpful to know at the start of the semester.”
“Want to know how tired I was at the beginning of the semester? I can’t even remember choosing my classes,” she pulled a hand down her face. “I think I just closed my eyes and pointed at the screen.”
“You could have been in differential calculus. Or worse, accounting.”
“Or Phys Ed. Did you know our university has a course devoted to badminton?”
Villain laughed. “What a racket. To think, I could have spent time swinging my arm around and gotten credit for it.”
“But then you’d be missing out on the glories of this assignment.”
“And a friend.”
Oh nope. Big nope. Wait, Hero reconsidered. Were they friends?  They did chat after class and had studied a few times together, but that didn’t mean- wait. Huh. Time to deflect with awkward humour and process these feelings later. “I thought you saw me as a role model, but that’s cool too. I’ll just have to find a new lackey.”
“And here I thought you were friends with me for my brilliance and good looks.”
She felt her cheeks begin to burn. “Yep, it’s all for your looks. If you seduce our professor, then we don’t have to do this assignment anymore.”
Villain rubbed his chin. “I’ve never seduced a professor before. Would I have to wear a sweater vest?”
“And a tweed jacket. It’s the only way.” Her fingers twitched, and she was suddenly very aware of him. The light hitting his hair, the way his lips curled when he was amused… Bad, very bad. This is your official ABORT MISSION alert. Find some evidence on the dangerous criminal and get out of there. She cleared her throat. “I’m parched. Could I get some water?”
Villain nodded, standing and leaving the room. Hero leapt out of the chair the moment the door shut behind him.  Her eyes latched on the only place one could hide anything in the sparse room - the closet. She yanked it open, feeling her heart speed up at the sound of Villain opening a cupboard in the kitchen and turning on the tap.
The closet was small and impressively dull. Clothes and boxes littered the tiny  shelves, with no signs of the files or weapons she was looking for. A flap of a familiar fabric dangling from one of the top boxes caught her eye. Bingo. Hero gingerly reached to feel the consistency, making sure she wasn’t wrong before bringing the authorities in, and accidentally bumped an elbow against the side of the closet. The box plummeted from its precarious placement and met the ground with a thump. No! She scrambled to pick up the box and the spilled-out uniform when a movement behind made her pause.
Villain stood in the doorway, hand clenched around a glass of water. His eyes darted to the clothes on the ground. “What are you doing?” he asked quietly.
Hero’s throat went dry. She tightened her grip on the clothes and tried to look surprised. “S-something fell in your closet, so I opened it to check what it was.”
“Huh,” Villain said. “That’s unfortunate.”
He knelt, gently taking his outfit from her hands and placing it back in the box. “You weren’t supposed to see this.”
“Clearly.”  Hero swallowed and prepared to run if he attacked. Worst case scenario, she had beat him before and could do it again. Theoretically. “I didn’t mean to-“
“I know.” A familiar calculation crept across his face, making her hands shake. Villain sat across from her and blocked the only exit, placing the cup of water between them. She felt trapped against the closet.
“You know, if this had happened a month ago, I would have killed you without a second thought,” he said mildly. “Guess you’re lucky.”
A horrifying reminder that she was not dealing with her awkward classmate anymore. “What are you going to do instead?”
Villain shrugged, seeming far too calm for the situation. “I don’t know yet. Talk, I guess?”
“I won’t tell anyone.” Hero said, lying through her teeth.
“Unfortunately, I’m too old to believe the promises of others so easily.” He trailed his fingers through the thin carpet, tracing patterns through the material. “Even yours. The stakes are just too high.”
“What’s even worth all the stealing and destruction?” she asked quietly. “Why do you do it? “
The  fingers paused. “It started out as one job. My mom needed treatment, and we didn’t have the money to pay for it. Then one treatment turned into two.” He shook his head. “Before I knew it, I was on the city’s most-wanted list.”
Her shoulders tensed. “Will you stop when the treatments are finished?”
“There have been other benefits to criminal activity.” Villain ducked his head, cheeks turning pink. “Lots of amazing people to meet. I haven’t decided yet.”
She leaned against the wall beside the closet, feeling safer with something solid against her back. “I don’t know if meeting people through crime is worth a lifetime in jail.”
He gave a bitter laugh. “You’d be surprised.”
Hero picked up the forgotten water sitting between them and drank, if nothing else than for the excuse to avoid responding.
His fingers trailed larger patterns in the carpet. “I never wanted you to find out- this is one of the first friendships I’ve made since I started university. I don’t want to lose that. And I don’t want you getting hurt, but this does put me in a tight position. I won’t let you inform the authorities.”
Hero pressed her back further against the wall.
Villain took one look at her wide eyes and softened his tone. “Just don’t tell. If I get one inkling that you’re about to turn me in, then..." he sighed. "Please don’t make me choose between you and my mom.”
He would know it was her. Hero didn’t think she could after this. Or fight him, knowing it was for his mom’s medical bills. She pursed her lips, making a highly regrettable split-second decision. “Alright. But only on one condition: you stop once her treatments are done.”
He twitched. “I told you, I haven’t decided yet-”
“I’m making the decision for you.” She tried to sound more confident than she felt. "Deals are much easier to trust than promises.”
“No. I’d miss-” Villain stopped, clenching his jaw. “I can’t let certain people from that life go yet.”
Something clicked. The girl he liked was from his criminal life… Oh gosh, Hero probably knew her. The brunette villain from the southside? The redheaded weapons supplier? Stop getting distracted.
“I trust you. Give it up as soon as you can.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. “For me.” That was even worse. Was it possible to die from a foot in your mouth?
Villain relaxed his shoulders. “Yeah. It’s a deal.” He stuck out a hand and Hero grasped it, shaking firmly and ignoring the sinking feeling in her chest. So like, a 5 on the good idea scale.
@revrevrew-personal @spruceandpine @sailor-cat2 @literally-just-kirby @emerqlds @chaoticgoodandu @notsocharmingmagician @flying-paperboat @touchedbyanerdyotaku
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redgillan · 4 years
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Under Pastel Skies - 10
Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.
Word Count: 6,179
Warnings: nothing new
A/N: Hey it’s me, daddy! ...well apparently. I really gotta take a chill pill... these chapters are getting way too long. But anyway, I hope you enjoy it, my babies are soft and sensitive :’) Thank you for reading, I truly appreciate it!
Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.
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You looked around the bar while you sipped your drink, a 12 dollar grapefruit juice and club soda cocktail. There weren’t many people at one in the afternoon, mostly suits and wealthy tourists, though you half expected to find Natasha hiding in the back with a hat, a large pair of sunglasses and an unfolded newspaper.
From the rug to the chairs and armchairs, everything was either black or white. You ran your index finger over the intricate calligraphy on the back of your chair. It was a number: 5.
Turning back around, you glanced at the clock and mentally cursed yourself for always being so early. You hated being late, and arriving less than ten minutes early counted as late in your book. You were nervous to see Wanda after all this time.
You hadn’t been expecting her to stay at a hotel on the Upper East Side. You wondered how she could afford it, but decided it was none of your business.
“I had a feeling you’d be here already.” That familiar voice brought back fond childhood memories and other not so pleasant memories. “You’re always early.”
You didn’t move a muscle as Wanda took a seat next to you, number 6. She signalled the bartender and ordered a latte. Meanwhile you played with your straw, trying to subtly steal a glance at her.
“What did you do to your hair?” you asked with a grimace, turning your body toward her.
Without looking at you, she raised her brows in mild exasperation. “I dyed it.”
“It’s orange.”
“Okay,” she sighed. “I get it. You’re angry with me.”
“Oh,” you drawled out. “I’m well past angry. I was angry four years ago, now I just don’t care anymore.”
“You don’t care about me anymore?”
“No, and it’s not like you cared about me, or Scott, or Okoye.” You paused. “Or mom.”
Wanda had a shocked look on her face as she finally met your eyes. “That’s low. You have no idea-”
“No, you have no idea what it was like to live in that house after you all left. You have absolutely no idea,” you said, enunciating each word between your teeth, “because you weren’t there, because you left us –you left me. Six years, Wanda.”
She looked away and you saw her bottom lip quiver. She clenched her jaw and took a small sip of her latte. You instantly felt bad for snapping at her. You didn’t like confrontation. Hated arguing. You internalized. It was difficult for you to acknowledge that you had a right to express your feelings.
“I, uh,” Wanda said, then cleared her throat. “I knew you weren’t going to welcome me with open arms, and I know what I did was wrong, but I’d like us to be a family again. If it’s not too late.”
“It’s not too late,” you said with a small sigh. “But I’m not going to instantly forgive you just because you’re back.”
“I know.”
“What made you come back?”
She fiddled with her fingers in her lap and you noticed the ring on her fourth finger. It was a beautiful vintage-inspired ring made of black rhodium with an ornate cadenza halo in the centre.
A terrible thought occurred to you, making your stomach twist painfully. You didn’t know her at all. Not anymore. You had missed so much of your sister’s life. Or more accurately; she had cut you out of her life, and it was painful.
“I went to London,” Wanda said, unaware of your inner turmoil. “I saw Uncle Michael. He asked me if I was here to see mom, and I said, ‘No, mom’s in New York.’ And then he told me-” she tilted her head to look at you “-he told me mom was sick, that you and Okoye put her in a nursing home not far from his apartment. I didn’t believe him, so he took me to mom and she-” She paused, staring straight ahead as if she was caught in the memory
“She looked at you like she didn’t know you,” you said, knowing exactly where the story was going because it had happened to you too.
“Yeah,” Wanda breathed out, tears in her eyes. “I never felt so alone. They told her I was her daughter, but she didn’t recognize me. She kept asking Uncle Michael who I was, then she got mad because she was adamant she never had children.”
“I know,” you said sympathetically.
“I wanted to see you and apologize for not being the sister you deserve. For not being here when you needed me most.”
“Where were you all this time?” you asked, practically begged for an answer.
Her shoulders tensed and she straightened up in her seat. “Just travelling.”
“I know, I got your postcards.” You nodded toward the engagement ring on her finger. “I guess I should say congratulations.”
“Mhh,” she said running the pad of her thumb over the diamond. “It’s funny I never thought I’d fall in love and get married. I don’t need a man in my life to make me feel whole. Mom raised us alone, we’re independent and strong.” A small smile graced her lips. “But I found someone sweet and charming, someone who makes me feel safe and calm.”
“Are you writing your vows?”
“Har har,” she deadpanned, rolling her eyes, a faint smile on her lips. You’d missed her, missed your banter. “You haven’t changed.”
“If you say so,” you said in a sombre voice. You looked at the clock above the bar. “Listen, I have to go but I’m happy you found someone. I’d like to meet him one day. I bet he doesn’t know about your Baby Spice phase.”
You jumped off the bar stool and picked up your jacket. Wanda turned in her seat, catching your wrist as you looped your purse over your shoulder.
“Can you stay a little longer?” she asked, looking at you with pleading eyes. “Just a minute.”
“Okay.”
She let go of your wrist. “Scott’s been released last month. I talked to him on the phone and asked him to fly to New York. He should be here tomorrow. I also talked to Okoye, I asked her to come here. We have things to discuss. I know things will never be the same, not after Pietro, not after mom, but we can try. We’re still a family.”
“Great,” you replied. Your word came out with more force than you had intended, but you didn’t apologize. They were all coming back for Wanda but when your mother needed help, you were all alone.
“Yeah,” Wanda whispered, her eyes cast down. “I was thinking we could all meet up for dinner. Okoye’s bringing her boyfriend so if you... if you have a partner-”
“I’m single.”
“Oh, uh, you can bring Natasha if you want.”
“No, thanks.” You reached into your purse and pulled out one of your business cards. “Text me, okay? I really gotta go.”
She smiled as she read your card. “You’re an artist? Splotchy, I’m so proud of you!”
That damn nickname... “I still haven't found a gallery. Not many people want to represent an unknown artist but I’m not giving up.”
“You never give up,” Wanda said with a gentle smile. “That’s why I love you.”
You took a cab to Natasha’s apartment. It had been three weeks since Sam moved to D.C., and Nat was having a hard time finding a job in her field.
She didn’t want to find another sugar daddy. It seemed ridiculous since she was still carrying a massive torch for Sam. She had saved enough money to live on until she could find a job and a new place to live.
“I’m officially done,” she grumbled in lieu of a greeting. “Job hunting sucks. New York sucks. Life sucks.”
“Pretty bold statement.”
You entered the apartment and plopped down next to her on the sofa. With a groan, she wrestled out of her blouse and threw it on the floor, leaving her in a simple white spaghetti-strap shirt and a pair of black trousers.
“I hate wearing a suit.”
“You look good in them.”
“I know,” she cried out. “I hate wearing suits when it’s all for nothing. I’m not the boss, I’m no one. Just another doofus with a college degree standing here like-” she cupped her hands together, as if she was holding a bowl, and looked at you with a pout. “Please, sir, I want some more.”
“I don’t understand why you didn’t get the job,” you said, biting back a laugh. “I would hire you for that spot on Oliver Twist impression.”
She laughed. “I think I lost my fire. People used to be scared of me. Remember? I miss that.”
“You’re a psycho,” you snorted, using her shoulder as a pillow. “If it’s any consolation, Bucky’s terrified of you.”
“Good.”
“Hey!”
She pressed her cheek against the top of your head and sighed. You stayed in that position for a few more seconds before you told Natasha what had happened with Wanda. She offered to go with you to your family gathering but you insisted you wanted to go alone.
“I gotta go,” you said. “Bucky’s taking me to dinner.”
“Oh,” she cooed, “is he finally going to propose?”
“That’s very funny,” you deadpanned. “I was starting to feel cooped up in our apartment so we decided to go out. Have fun, y’know.”
“Our apartment,” Natasha repeated with a lopsided smirk before she burst into a fit of giggles.
“Whatever,” you grumbled, embarrassed.
“That’s cute.” She pinched your cheek and you batted her hand away. “You should talk to him.”
“Don’t start.”
“What? I’m just saying-”
“Natasha,” you cut her off. “Stop asking me to talk to him. It’s not going to happen, and it’s giving me so much anxiety. You couldn’t talk to Sam, what makes you think I can talk to Bucky?”
She looked at you for a long moment. “I know you love him.”
You pressed your lips into a thin line, considering. You had never really been in love before but falling in love with Bucky had been so easy. And it was particularly scary because you had never been in a relationship, only flings.
“I do,” you admitted quietly. Saying it out loud was both freeing and terrifying.
“Don’t lose him.”
You knew Natasha missed Sam, she’d told you about it, but she wasn’t the kind of woman who let others see her pain. She confided in you and her friend, Clint, but other than that she rarely shared her problems with others.
Her bony shoulder was digging uncomfortably into your cheek so you shifted and let your head rest against her chest. She started playing with your hair. “Have you heard from Sam?”
“Not since he left,” she replied, then glanced down at you. “Have you?”
She tried to sound casual so you played along and acted like you couldn’t hear her heart jackhammering in her chest. “He called the landline the other day. Bucky wasn’t home so I answered.”
“The landline?” Natasha repeated with a scoff. “Your husband is old.”
“He asked if you were okay,” you said, choosing to ignore her comment. “You should call him.”
She stayed quiet for so long, you began to worry. You tilted your head to look at her, she had a faraway look in her eyes. You didn’t want to break her trance but she was starting to scare you.
You booped her chin and almost immediately a soft smile touched her lips. She cleared her throat, then checked her watch.
“You should go, you’re going to be late.”
“It’s okay,” you said. You couldn’t leave, not when she looked so sad. You knew Bucky would understand. “We can order some pizza, binge watch something on Netflix and go out for ice cream later. Like we used to.”
She laughed softly. “That sounds amazing. I kinda want to be alone tonight though, and Bucky’s waiting for you. I’m fine, I promise.” She looked down at you with a kind smile. “Rain check?”    
“Absolutely.”
With a heavy heart, you left Natasha and started walking to the restaurant. The clouds above you were low and dark, masking the setting sun. You smiled, remembering the day you and Bucky went to the park.
You had wanted to go paint outside but you got caught in a rainstorm on the way home. As rain poured down on the both of you, you caught Bucky’s hand and tried to run to the nearest subway entrance but he didn’t budge.
He stayed in the middle of the street, still holding your hand, and grinned at you while people rushed around you. His hair was plastered to his head, little rivulets of water running down his nose. He smiled at you, bright and playful, and you almost melted on the spot.
What’s the rush, sweet angel?
When you got home, you both changed into dry clothes and sat in front of the fireplace with a bowl of soup. He looked adorable with his slightly damp hair, a few big curls flopping down onto his forehead. When you started sneezing, he adjusted the blanket around you.
The next day, you felt a little feverish and Bucky took care of you. He pressed his lips to your forehead, checking your temperature. Your mother used to do that too. You doubted the accuracy of that little test but you couldn’t care less. It felt incredibly comforting. They should teach it in med school.
Bucky was waiting for you in front of the restaurant. The weather was warmer now, and you were pleased to see that his maroon bomber jacket was back. It was a rerun of the night you had met him.
“Hey you,” he said, dropping a quick kiss on your cheek. “How did it go with Wanda?”
“Good, I guess. It could have been way worse.” You paused to look at him. “You okay? You look a little nervous. We don’t have to-”
“I’m okay,” he chuckled, smoothing his hand down his jacket, lightly patting his pocket. “Shall we?”
You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Promise me you’re not over-exerting yourself again.”
He stood in front of you, smiling kindly. “I promise.”
It had been a while since he had a panic attack, but they were always impressive and you couldn’t stand the thought of him trapped in his own mind, battling his demons alone.
You must have been silent too long because Bucky cupped the side of your face and said, “Thank you for taking care of me, angel. But I promise you, I’m fine. So what do you say? Wanna have dinner with me?”
You playfully rolled your eyes at him as he flashed you a cocky grin.
The restaurant was a quaint little place in Midtown with curved black leather booths lining the walls and simple cutlery. There were books everywhere, arranged neatly on the shelves along the walls. The place was well-lit, yet still cosy and calm.
Despite the hour, the restaurant wasn’t crowded. There was a couple, probably in their sixties, enjoying their meals together. Several people were eating alone, a book opened next to their plate, and a few others were browsing the shelves looking for something to read.
While you ate, you filled Bucky in on your conversation with Wanda. He didn’t interrupt you, he listened to you ramble on about how much you didn’t want to go to her reunion dinner.
“You can invite them over for dinner,” he said. You almost choked on your food. “Call me crazy but I think you’d feel more at ease if you were in a familiar environment.”
He had a point. You had no idea what that night had in store for you, and you definitely didn’t want to cause a scene in a restaurant. You weren’t one for airing your dirty laundry in public.
“I know that our... um, friendship is a little unconventional but I’d like to meet them.”
“Really? Wait,” you said, spotting a bit of tomato sauce on his chin. “You have something on your chin.” You reached over and used your napkin to wipe it away. “You eat like a wolf.”
“Mhh thanks.” He swallowed his mouthful of pasta and washed it down with a gulp of water. “To be honest with you, I’m a sucker for family reunions. I love watching people’s faces when they see someone they haven’t seen in a very long time.”
“I’m not sure it’ll be a happy one.”
“Well, then you could probably use some moral support,” he said. “And I’m curious if they ever gave you a silly nickname. Or maybe they’ll share some funny anecdotes.”
You stopped mid-bite and swallowed quickly, your eyes widening in fear. You couldn’t let that happen, Scott and Okoye would jump at the chance to tease you. “Oh, no, no, no! You are never meeting them.”
He laughed. “I bet you were a cute kid. I imagine you in some paint-stained overalls, hula hooping through the 90s, listening to the Spice Girls and watching Saturday morning cartoons with a bowl of cereal or a plate of pancakes.”
“You’re not too far off.” You grinned.
“You don’t have to make a decision right now,” he said in a more serious tone. “But think about it, okay?”
Inviting your siblings and their partners over for dinner was a bad idea. You could already picture their faces upon seeing Bucky. It would turn into an interrogation, and it would be absolutely unbearable.
But then again, you didn’t think you could endure the reunion without him.
The waiter came over to collect your dirty plates and asked if there would be anything else. He recited the dessert specialties and you ordered something that sounded both extravagant and mouth-watering.
“I have something for you,” Bucky broke the silence between you.
You responded with a curious yet playful frown and a tilt of your head. He glanced down at the table for a second as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a slim jewellery box.
He placed it on the table next to his glass and let his fingertips linger on the lid, caressing it slowly as he hesitated. Then with a smooth flick of his wrist, he slid the box across the table. Your eyes flickered between the box and Bucky’s worried expression.
Inside the box, nestled in cream velvet, was a gold artist’s palette pendant with a delicate chain. The pendant had two paint brushes sticking out of the palette and four tiny stones representing the colours waiting to be mixed; ruby, sapphire, emerald and topaz.
It was incredibly tiny, about the length of two staples, but it made the details even more impressive. You could tell it was an old piece. There were light signs of wear and the design reminded you of the 1930s. It looked full of stories from previous owners. A testimony of love, passion and devotion.
“Oh,” you gasped as if all the air had been punched out of you. Bucky straightened up and jerked forward in his seat, his eyes round with anticipation. “Oh,” you repeated dumbly, at a loss for words.
“I saw it in the window of an antique shop on the way here,” he said.
That was a lie.
He had spent weeks searching for the perfect charm. He had a very specific idea of what he wanted to buy. Until one day, he found it. It reminded him of you; delicate, discreet, irreplaceable.
“Bucky,” you sighed, spellbound. “It’s... it’s beautiful.”
“It reminded me of you.” He met your eyes, smiled, and extended his hand in your direction. “Can I?”
Without hesitation you removed the necklace from its box and gave it to Bucky. After living with him for about six months, you knew there was nothing he couldn’t do. Even fasten your necklace with one hand.
He stood up and rounded the table, sitting next to you on the booth. You turned, giving him your back as he slipped the necklace around your neck. You held the pendant in the little dip between your collarbones at the base of your throat and let the ends of the chain dangle down your back.
“I noticed you haven’t been painting a lot since-” Bucky trailed off. Since you had a meltdown in your studio, since you realized your art was not good enough. Since you realized your dreams were too big to accomplish.
You looked over your shoulder and watched him fumble with the spring ring clasp. You couldn’t see what he was doing but he seemed entirely focused on the task at hand.
“Inspiration is a fickle thing, it comes and goes,” he continued. “I worry about you. You put too much pressure on yourself visiting galleries and trying to match their vision. I want you to remember who you are. You’re an artist. Never doubt yourself or your skills.”
He secured the chain around your neck and adjusted the necklace so that the little palette fell nicely above the neckline of your sweater. You stared at him wide eyed and amazed, and he smiled tenderly at you.
“Thank you,” you said quietly. “I’ll never take it off.”
“My pleasure, angel.”
“I really love it but it’s too much,” you said as he returned to his seat. “I don’t want you to think I’m after your money. I’m so grateful for your help, you do so much for me already.”
“I know you’re not after my money, but it’s mine and I’ll spend it as I please. I know you like gifts with meaning. And all I want is to make you happy.”
“You want to make me happy?” you asked, dumbfounded.
“Of course, I do.”
It was a foreign concept to you, you could hardly comprehend it. He wasn’t your childhood best friend, he wasn’t your brother or your mother’s brother, and yet he wanted to be the one who put a smile on your face.
You weren’t used to random acts of kindness. You spent most of your life taking care of others, making sure they had everything they needed, you forgot what it was like to feel loved.
And it all became so much clearer.
You knew in your heart that your feelings for Bucky weren’t one sided. Not when he looked at you like that. Not when he touched you like you were the most precious thing in the world.
There was a mutual, yet silent, understanding between you. This is good. Let’s not make things complicated. Even though we both want to.  And you abided by that unspoken rule, not wanting to make things more complicated.
Your eyes were overflowing with tears. When a tear escaped, you felt it bounce on your cheekbone before it landed near your pendant. You rolled your eyes at yourself and smiled.
“Why am I always crying?” you said, laughing a little. “I’m not sad, I swear. These are happy tears.” Bucky’s smile was calm and sure. “Wait, I’m just gonna-” you trailed off, wiping the back of your hand under your nose with an embarrassed laugh.
“You’re beautiful.”
You lay in bed that night, replaying those three words in your head until you fell asleep.
It took you a couple of days to come to term with the realization that your feelings weren’t one sided. A little voice in your head tried to protect your heart, it said: Don’t get your hopes up. Remember what happened last time.
But that voice was quiet, almost too quiet to hear.
Against your better judgement, you agreed to invite your siblings over for dinner. All you had to do was call Wanda’s hotel and ask the hotel staff to pass along a message. Easy-peasy.
Well, in theory, because it turned out to be stressed depressed lemon zest.
There were things Bucky didn’t know about you and your family, things that you had intentionally kept from him. One of these things was your brother’s criminal record.
Bucky had asked you a few times what Scott did for a living and you always gave him the same rehearsed answer. “Scott has a master’s degree in electrical engineering but he’s between jobs at the moment.” It wasn’t a total lie but it wasn’t the whole truth either.
You finally decided to tell him everything.
Scott was a thief. Before Cassie was born, and thanks to his computer skills, he used to steal from criminals and give back to those they had stolen from. He promised his wife, Maggie, that he would stop after Cassie’s birth.
He took up a job at VistaCorp but noticed that the company was overcharging their customers. Thinking that it was a coding error, he fixed it before his boss, Geoff Zorick, ordered him to change it back. It made him realize that the company was intentionally overcharging their customers.
He was fired soon after. Maggie begged him not to get involved, she begged him to think of his family but Scott didn’t listen. He broke into the company’s headquarters, hacked their system and redistributed the stolen money. Then he broke into Zorick’s house, stole a bunch of stuff and drove Zorick’s car into the pool.
He got five years.
Bucky was a little shocked but he took these new revelations well.
“People make mistakes,” he said. “He paid for his mistake, and not seeing his little girl for five years is punishment enough.” He bumped his shoulder against yours and grinned. “He sounds like a chaotic Robin Hood. I can’t wait to meet him.”
You chuckled. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Nope.”
“So... you’re not going to hide your valuables in a closet somewhere?”
“I would but I’m not sure you’d like to be stuck in the closet all night.” You rolled your eyes and huffed, thinking he wasn’t taking you seriously. He laughed quietly. “The only valuable thing I own is the bookmark my niece made for me, everything else is meaningless. And I don’t judge people on their worst mistakes.”
“You sound like Natasha,” you chuckled lowly. “But I’m glad you think that way.”
“That being said, they have a lot of apologizing and making up to do. They left you all alone. It isn’t right.”
You squirmed in your seat. “Argh, I don’t know. It’s in the past now, I don’t want to dwell on it. We were all miserable back then, and I’m not exactly blameless here.”
Bucky gave you a puzzled look. “You took care of your mom when she was sick, you sold your childhood home. You found your mom a nursing home where she gets the best treatment possible. You put your dreams on hold to pay her hospital bills. You did everything you could.”
“No, that’s not true,” you replied, biting your bottom lip.
You tried to find the courage to say it out loud. It was something that ate away at your soul. Your biggest mistake.
“I should have known something was wrong with her,” you said, rushing the words out. “At first she started misplacing things like her car keys, her glasses or the remote. She always had a good excuse, like was tired or stressed, but I should have known.”
“I misplace my keys all the time, angel. Sometimes it doesn’t mean anything. You can’t blame yourself for that.”
“She’s my mom, I’ve known her all my life. I should have noticed something was wrong. If I had, maybe she’d still be with us, living in our old house.”
“C’mere,” he said, extending his arm toward you. You didn’t hesitate, you abandoned your seat on the sofa and wrapped your arms around him, your face buried in his chest. “I understand why you feel that way,” he said, stroking your hair. “But you did everything you could. You didn’t fail her. Alzheimer is... well it’s a sneaky disease. There are a lot of things we don’t understand. It’s unfair to blame yourself for something completely out of your control.”
“Maybe,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his shirt. “But it still hurts.”
“I know,” he cooed, his fingernails grazing your scalp. “I know, my angel.”
You stayed like that for some time, your cheek pressed against his shirt. You focused on the calm rhythm of his breathing and tried to match it. He gently ran his fingers up and down your back, calming you almost instantly.
You were terrified to see your siblings again. Despite Bucky’s reassuring words, a part of you still believed that you could have done more to help your mom, and you were afraid your siblings would feel the same.
“It’s going to be okay,” Bucky said, seemingly reading your thoughts. “I won’t let them belittle your efforts.”
The next day, you called Wanda’s hotel and left a message with the receptionist. Wanda called you back a few hours later, saying that she would love to have dinner at your place instead of going out.
She sounded surprised, and you could tell she had a lot of questions, but she knew she wasn’t in your good graces yet so she simply told you that she couldn’t wait to see your apartment and spend the evening with you.
Meanwhile Bucky was having some sort of nervous breakdown.
A few days before the party, he started to obsessively clean his apartment. Every single room had that distinctive lemony scent, his homemade disinfectant, except your room. It was still a line he refused to cross no matter how strong the urge might be.
He often had those spells but they usually didn’t last more than a few hours. You could see the tears in his eyes and the disgust on his face; grimaces that had been triggered by the realization that he still couldn’t control his need to constantly clean and tidy. His OCD had been dormant, not gone.
You knew it was hard for him to meet new people. He had offered to invite your siblings because he knew it would make you feel more at ease. He didn’t care about his own needs. This man was willing to endure anything for you. How could you not fall in love with him?
You let him clean. You knew from past experience that it wasn’t something he could control and getting involved usually did more harm than good. You made sure he knew you were there and that you were not judging him in any way.
He felt so physically and emotionally drained afterwards that you simply held him in your arms until he fell asleep.
On the day of the party, you were chopping dried apricots in the kitchen while Bucky was making sure the chicken pieces weren’t sticking to the bottom of the pan.
You had wanted to order dinner from the restaurant down the street, and Bucky wanted to cook. You told him that cooking a meal for seven people was pretty stressful but he simply shrugged.
“I can do it, angel.”
“I know but you don’t have to do it.”
“Yeah, I do,” he replied with a sad smile.
You remembered him telling you that his ex-girlfriend often babied him in front of her friends and that it always made him feel weak and pathetic. He wanted to prove himself. He wanted to prove that, even with only one arm, he was able to cook a meal for an entire family.
“Okay, fine,” you reluctantly agreed. “But you’re not doing this alone.” He opened his mouth to protest but you raised your hand and touched a finger to his lips. “You can’t change my mind. I’ll be your sous-chef, and that’s final.”
So you ended up cutting vegetables for him. He made two tagines, one with meat and one with vegetables, in case anyone had any allergies or dietary restrictions.
Once the kitchen was spotless, you both went to your rooms to get ready for the night. It didn’t take you long so you checked on the tagines and waited for Bucky. The smell of harissa and coriander wrapped around you like a comforting hug.
You stole a dinner roll and checked the time on your phone. Nearly seven. A wave of anxiety rolled through the pit of your stomach. You took a deep, calming breath and decided to go check on Bucky.
As you reached the top of the stairs, you heard a deep, frustrated groan followed by a whine. Stifling a giggle, you tiptoed down the hallway towards his bathroom.
“C’mon, stay put or I’ll cut you!”
“Do you often threaten your hair?” you asked, leaning against the door frame. He gasped and jerked away from the sink. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Is everything okay?”
“I can’t do anything with my hair,” he complained. “I’m this close to shave the whole damn thing.”
You pushed yourself off the door frame and moved toward him. “Mhh, why not. A buzz-cut would make you look super dangerous.”
“You think so?” he frowned.
“Yeah,” you replied enthusiastically as you perched yourself on the counter by the sink. “A buzz-cut and a beard. Now that’s a look.”
He ran his hand over the dark stubble on his cheeks. “I already have the beard.”
“You’re halfway there.” You watched him consider what you were offering. “You know what, never mind. Your hair is too pretty to cut.”
“I should cut it though. It’s getting too long, I can’t style it.”
“Oh, poor you with your thick, fluffy hair,” you teased.
“It’s a gift, and also a curse,” he sighed with a whimsical grimace.
You laughed. “Come here, I’ll help you tame the monster on your head.”
He chuckled as he stepped between your parted legs. You took the hair dryer and a comb from the counter and started working on his hair. Despite its messy appearance, the comb ran smoothly through the strands.
“I think we need a safe word tonight,” you said while you worked.
“A safe word?” he repeated, confused. “Why would we need one?”
“Just in case,” you replied with a shrug. “I love my siblings but they can be quite a handful. So if you’re tired or if you feel overwhelmed, you just say the word and I’ll politely ask them to leave.”
“All right. Same goes for you.” He made a face. “What’s the safe word?”
“I don’t know,” you said, your eyes focused on his hair. “Flamingo?” You pulled back to look at him. “I saw an amazing documentary about baby flamingos the other day. See? It works.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, laughing. “Flamingo it is.”
You picked up his hair gel and applied some to his hair.
“There you go,” you said, smoothing the hair over his temples before sliding your fingers down the sculpted curve of his cheekbones. “Ready to break some hearts.”
It was a joke, but your voice came out breathy and small. Bucky didn’t say a word. He pressed himself closer to you, and you resisted the urge to wrap your legs around him.
He rested his hand on your thigh, then slid it from your thigh to your waist and lingered there for a few seconds. He gazed into your eyes for a moment; careful, cautious. You cupped his face between your hands, feeling the bristle on his cheeks against your palms. It was rough against your sensitive skin.
He slid his hand up your side, fingers passing over your ribs, and you let out a gasping sigh as he rested his hand over your heart.
“Did I break your heart, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice low.
“Just cracked.”
He cupped the back of your neck and massaged lightly while he looked at you longingly. He continued to stare at you as you moved your hands to his chest, feeling the strong thud of his heart beneath your palm.
“I-uh,” he started, then licked his lips. “Angel, I-”
The intercom buzzed loudly, awakening the two of you from your trance. Bucky took a step back and closed his eyes. You were glad you were sitting, because your legs felt unusually weak.
“You ready?” he asked, breathless.
You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you nodded.
You followed Bucky to the kitchen and answered the intercom, giving Wanda the apartment number. Bucky busied himself setting the table, unable to look you in the eye. You didn’t know what to say.
Finally, he stopped moving around and faced you.
“Who am I tonight? Who do you want me to be?”
You had anticipated his question. After all it was a legitimate question to ask giving the nature of your relationship.
“Just you,” you told him. You were tired of lies and half-truths.
A knock at the door startled you.
You opened the door, your hands shaking uncontrollably. You couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of Wanda, Okoye and Scott standing in front of you, each with a bottle of wine. There were two men behind them, both looking extremely uncomfortable.
“Hey Splotchy, long time no see, right?”
Part 11
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supercorpkid · 3 years
Text
A normal day in the Luthor-Danvers house.
Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader
Word count: 1780.
“So then, I took my glasses off, and I swear it was not intentional, but my heat vision went off and I-I blew it right off of Lena’s hand. Man, she was pissed.” You smile and Jamie tries to hold a laughter and it comes out like a squeaky noise.
“Damn. Not a dull moment in the Karlena house.” She recovers herself and smiles to the ground while you consider what she just said.
“Karlena?” You furrow your brows, confused.
“Karlena, duh. Kara plus Lena.” She explains like you didn’t understand in the first place. That wasn’t the problem, you understood.
“What? Jamie, that’s terrible. We all know SuperCorp is like, a lot better.” You wave her off. “Besides, we do have dull moments. It’s not everyday we’re fighting aliens, destroying things or inventing things. Some days we just… Exist.”
“Oh, please. You three wouldn’t know what it’s like to just ‘exist’ if it hit you in the face.” Jamie crosses her legs and arms like she is trying to impose her thought. Sure, most of the times the things that happen with your family are not something people can relate to, but it’s not like you’re aliens… Wait. Nevermind.
“Excuse me.” You try to sound offended. “I admit we’ve been through a lot.”
“Mhm.” She strongly agrees with her head.
“But we’re still pretty much normal most of the time.”
“I think it’s cute you’re trying to convince me that, like I don’t know everything about you and your moms.” She gives a pretentious smile. “But if it will make you feel any better… Why don’t you tell me about the next ‘normal’ day you guys have?”
“Ok, mhm, sure.” You agree with your head taking this as a challenge. And you’re not one to back out from a challenge. “Next time we have a normal day, I’ll tell you all about it, and you’ll see we’re just another normal family.” As soon as your finish with the sentence, you see Maya coming at your direction and both of you just change the subject immediately.
“Hey cuties.” She says with a smile, and you push your bag to the side so you can make room for her on your lunch table. “You cool?”
You give her a nod, and a quick kiss, before looking at Jamie and thinking about the conversation. She wants normal? You will show her normal.
It is very annoying to you that it takes a whole week before you can declare one day as a normal one. And this is a normal day around your house, you know, one filled with dull moments:
“Kid, time to get up.” Kara knocks on your door serving, as always, as your wake-up call. You roll to the side, not getting up, wanting five more minutes.
And as always, five minutes later:
“Come on, babygirl. School. Let’s go.” Lena opens the door and you finally open your eyes.
“Nooo.” You complain, making Lena give you a soft smile in return.
“Yes, come on. It’s like this every day.” She doesn’t leave until you’re up on your feet despite all of your protests. “We’re leaving in 15.”
You do your entire shower-get dressed-brush teeth routine using your super speed, so you’re downstairs in less than five minutes.
“Hey, babyface.” Kara holds your face, when you’re passing through her, and she kisses your temple. “Had a good night?”
“Eh. It was decent.” You untangle yourself from her and go to the fridge. “We’re out of milk.”
“No, we’re not.” Lena’s voice comes from behind you. You turn around to look at her, all suit up. She has a maroon suit on, and her hair is tied up in a very tight ponytail. She looks very impressive which is normal for her. “Look carefully.”
“I did!” You answer and you see her coming to the fridge. She puts her hand inside and takes a carton of milk out.
“Milk, daughter. Daughter, milk.” She says ironically and you close the refrigerator door with a huff sound. “Eat fast, I have a meeting I can’t be late to.”
“You always have meetings.” You go to the table and sit next to Kara. “And you can never be late to any of them.” You pour cereal into a bowl, and then milk. “It’s like this every day.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, baby.” Kara states.
“It might not, but it does sustain me.” You open a big smile. You still eat fast, though.
Lena drives you to school. This whole driving with her started when Kara was still terrified to let you walk alone. Now, she’s a little less scared, but you kept getting ready on time, and Lena never said anything to make you believe she wants this to stop, so you just keep riding with her. Because having those 10 minutes in the car ride with her it’s good, even when you’re distracted.
“How’s school now that you’re back?” She asks while staring straight ahead, and when the answer doesn’t come, she looks back at you. She takes one hand out of the wheel, and pokes your cheek. “Hey! What’s more interesting in your phone than me?”
“You don’t want me to answer that.” You joke with a smile, and you hear a sarcastic ‘ha ha’ in return. “School is still there.”
“Baby…”
“I’m joking, jeez.” You put your phone away and pat her shoulder trying to calm her. “Everything is fine, mom. I got my grades back up, and everyone loves me now.”
“Yeah?”
“No, I’m just kidding again.” You laugh and she makes an annoyed sound that you decide to ignore. She stops the car in front of the school, and you see Jamie getting out of her mami’s momvan. “Well, gotta go. Thanks for the ride.” You kiss her cheek. “Love ya, have a great day!”
“You too, babygirl.” Lena smiles back at you, watching you getting out of the car. “Don’t break anything, I love you!”
You close the door and turn on your heels, rolling your eyes. If you had a dollar for every time Lena said ‘don’t break anything’, you would be the billionaire by now.
“Hey weirdo.” You catch up to Jamie.
“Hey dipshit.” She answers, putting her phone back in her pocket. “Did you do the chemistry homework? Can I copy?”
Oh, if you had a dollar for that too.
School goes on like it always does, and you can’t help but think that it really doesn’t matter that you have superpowers and a not-so-average intelligence. School is still school for everyone. Kids have pretty much the same problems, questions and indecisions. And you’re just another one in that sea of moody teenagers going from one class to the other.
It's great that you have a girlfriend now. And even if that still doesn’t feel like a normal thing in your life, you two have fallen into a routine very quickly. You see each other when you arrive at school, have a few classes together, have lunch with Jamie in the same table you’ve always seated on, and when the school is over you two steal some moments alone, before either of you have to go home. Today it’s no different.
You don’t go to L Corp. You have lots of homework and reading to do, and you also don’t have any idea for an invention, which is, surprise surprise, also very common for you. Jamie thinks you’re always flooding with ideas and that couldn’t be further from the truth. On your ordinary days, you work very hard and things still don’t go anywhere. So, you just go home and do your boring school activities.
“Hey, whatcha working on?” Kara asks, opening your bedroom door, hours after you sat down, and you look up from your books.
“Homework.” You take off your glasses feeling your vision blurry on the sides. Kara walks in and kisses the top of head.
“Why don’t you take a break, huh?” She asks, like she can see it on your face you’ve been here long enough, and you’re tired already. “Look what I've got you.” Kara gives you a donut and you smile at her.
“You know me so well.” You take it from her hands and eat fast. “Thanks, momma.”
“Come help us with dinner.” She asks and you look at your books deciding you’ve studied enough. You follow her to the kitchen where Lena is already cooking. “Look who I found nose buried in her books.”
“Oh, it’s our little nerd.” Lena chuckles and she kisses your temple when you’re close enough. “Did you clean your bedroom?”
“Mmm…” You haven’t, but you don’t want to tell her that. But then again, Kara was just inside your room, so you can’t exactly lie. You look at Kara for support and she shakes her head agreeing, like she’s giving you permission to say yes. “Mhm, yeah.”
“Ok.” Lena puts your hair behind your ear and smiles softly. “You can clean up after you help us with dinner.”
You huff while pouting, making both of them giggle at you.
“How did you know I was lying?”
“Oh, that part was actually really simple, because you see… I’m not an idiot.” She winks at you and you agree with your head. “Now, why don’t you help me?” Lena points at the top shelf. “Can you grab that bowl for me?”
“Why? You can’t reach it?” You joke, making Kara wheeze a laughter behind you, and it takes her a whole minute to recover from that. Even with Lena looking at her like she is going to commit murder if she doesn't stop.
“Don’t sass me.” It’s Lena’s response and you fly a little off the ground to grab what she asked for.
So, you all finish making dinner, and eating it, while talking about your days. And that includes Lena’s boring meetings with people who know way less than she knows, but still try to convince her that she’s wrong. Includes Kara’s interviewing various uninteresting people to the unexciting news piece that she’s writing. And your tedious classes, and uncreative ideas. The day is so dull, there wasn’t even any Supergirl emergency.
When dinner is done, and the kitchen is clean, they make their way to the couch, and you clean your bedroom using your super speed, so you can join them right after. The three of you just watch TV, and laugh, and exist.
If you’re being honest, you would trade all the kidnappings, assassination attempts, saving National City emergencies, to these dull days, easily. Because just existing next to them it’s so freaking good, you don’t need anything else.
Notes:
Thank you to my sister (not irl) @supercorpdaughter for this prompt :)
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limit-list · 4 years
Text
CONCEPT!! okay okay look but i wanna see a modern day zukka fic where zuko is a tattoo artist!! his uncle is a renowned tattoo artist, owns a parlor called the Jasmine Dragon, and zuko works for him there. his designs are absolutely killer, he studies a bunch of different styles (that i do not know the names of because i know nothing of tattoos and i’m too excited to do research), like the cool samoan ones and cartoon styles and he’s really good at photo realism, but his favorite is to just treat tattooing as any other art form and use his personal style.
zuko’s a growing name in the industry, and his uncle’s competitor shop is the Flying Bison (cause why not). the Flying Bison is just a couple streets over, and in it you can find aang (tattoo artist), katara (piercing person), suki (works the desk and manages everything for the owner, kyoshi), sokka (hangs out to bother katara when he isn’t in class at the law school), and toph (likes to hang out and make recommendations until people realize she’s blind and get really awkward. she works at the flower shop next door because we like tropes and flowers and tattoos just go together, okay??)
one day, suki is complaining about losing another customer to the Jasmine Dragon and katara is agreeing, and sokka is like “ehh they can’t be that great, the owner is some old guy!! i bet if i went and got a tattoo i could cause a big ol stink about it being awful and lose them some customers” and katara is like great idea you go do that and when it sucks aang can fix it!
sokka, who was joking in the first place, somehow ends up walking into the Jasmine Dragon and stopping just inside the door cause w o w that boy is hot. what the fuck why is he hiding in here when he should be a walking poster boy, those tattoos are nice.
(zuko has the burn on his face, long shaggy hair that he ties up in a bun when he’s working, a tattooed dragon that curls around his neck, a sleeve on his left arm that’s got some flames, some symbols, another dragon curled around his wrist, and on his right forearm he’s got a white lotus pai sho tile with writing around it)
(not relevant at the moment, but sokka has the moon between his shoulder blades, a boomerang on the side of his left wrist, the pattern from his mom’s betrothal necklace on his left shoulder, katara’s handwriting that says “hey loser” going up his right side, aang’s air symbol on his right shoulder, and appa on his lower back)
zuko catches sokka staring and blushes, obviously checking him out, before asking him if he needs any help. sokka’s like “yeah actually i’m here kinda as a representative of the Flying Bison, ya know, your rival. i’ve come to get a tattoo so that we can know that we’re better than you, but now that i’m here i’m kinda seeing that nothing could ever be better than you, oh fuck i just said that out loud”
...needless to say they’re both blushing now. that is, until zuko’s like “wait? you what?? what kind of guy wants to get a tattoo just to prove that you’re better than someone else???”
sokka’s like “uhhh actually i was joking when i suggested it but then my sister said i should do it and i can’t legally deny her anything so... here i am” and then they just kinda stand there in awkward silence. for a long while. somewhere between a minute and a century.
then zuko just kinda clears his throat and is like “so um where do you want it? what do you want?”
and sokka is like “???? i JUST told you i’m here to make you make me look bad and you’re just fine with it?”
and zuko just quirks his eyebrow and smirks and scoffs a bit and is like “i couldn’t make you look bad if i wanted to. and i wouldn’t let you make me look bad.”
which, the first part is CLEARLY flirting except the second part is so condescending and sokka has never been more attracted to someone since yue tattooed the moon on his back. sokka has never been known for his exceptional decision making skills. which might be why he decides to say “so about that tattoo. does me being attracted to you create a conflict of interest?”
and zuko blushes but the smirk turns into a grin and he goes “not unless you have an issue with me being interested in you too.” and sokka cannot believe he is LIVING THIS LIFE!!!!
they hammer out the details, set up an appointment for the next day. sokka goes home and refuses to tell katara anything except he’ll be getting a new tattoo tomorrow. zuko goes home and rants to his uncle about the boy from the Flying Bison that he definitely flirted the crap out of, is that a conflict and can i please tattoo this boy even tho he’s from our competitor shop? (iroh says yes of course, though he plans to send ty lee to check out the Flying Bison in retribution)
(unseen future: ty lee and suki start dating. iroh finds this hilarious)
sokka comes in the next day for his tattoo, asks zuko to do something like his dragons cause he thinks those look cool, but gives him free reign to do whatever else he wants. it takes forever, but when they’re done sokka has officially developed an actual crush on zuko beyond just his appearance. they’ve talked about their moms, hakoda and iroh, katara and the rest of the gaang, zuko’s development as a tattoo artist, and they’ve developed a comfortable silence as music plays lowly in the backround.
when sokka looks at the tattoo for the first time, he’s absolutely speechless. zuko’s added in koi fish around the moon, in a yin yang pattern, and between the moon and appa, he’s put the sun with a dragon curled around it, head resting on its tail at the bottom.
zuko’s watching him anxiously, terrified that he’ll hate it even though he’s tried to match the style that the moon was done in as much as possible. already he’s sputtering stuff like “it’s kind of too late if you don’t like it, you did tell me i could do whatever, did i overstep with the koi fish, oh my gosh here i’ll go get your money back—“ and sokka cuts him off by turning to look at him with affection just evident on his face and wtf who gave him permission to be that cute—
and then sokka is asking “hey, can i like kiss you or is that too much for the health guidelines?” and sokka’s honestly surprised that he could even ask that much, he loves these tattoos and if he doesn’t get to kiss this amazing boy soon—
and zuko is in shock apparently, but he snaps out of it with “okay let me get you wrapped up, oh god that sounds so bad, let me treat your tattoo and ring everything up and say all the precautionary health stuff that you already know so i can take my break and then we’ll see” and that’s what they do!!!
when zuko’s break is up, iroh exits into the back alley to find sokka has pushed zuko up against the wall and they’re making out, didn’t even notice iroh coming outside. of course, iroh is an embarrassing uncle and goes “ah zuko, i assume this is the competition?”
to which zuko draws back and thumps his head into sokka’s shoulder, not letting sokka back up more than an inch. “uncle go away i’m busy” “ah yes, i can see that. is this a new method of exchanging trade secrets?” “uncle.”
sokkas chuckling breathlessly as iroh hums and goes back inside. “trade secrets huh?”
(katara is infuriated that sokka loves his new tattoo, especially since it clearly shows that zuko’s an amazing tattoo artist. aang wants to meet him and learn from him like NOW, suki wants to recruit him, and toph thinks they’re dating. she isn’t wrong, but sokka bribes her to shut up so katara doesn’t find out)
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sarahlynnirl · 3 years
Text
Losing my best friend - Sugar Daddy culture is not empowering
I finally feel strong enough to talk about this and hopefully get some love, support, and reassurance from other women who agree that this is fucked up. I’ve never been “terfy on main” before so here goes. (TW child abuse + SA but no graphic descriptions of SA)
My mother is a narcissist who financially and emotionally abused my father and myself, with some additional physical abuse of me, for as long as I can remember. My dad made plenty of money but my mom controlled it all and made sure it didn’t go towards anything for me beyond the bare minimum required not to look obviously guilty of child abuse and neglect. I met Kiara (not her real name) when I was a junior in highschool and she was a freshman. Her mom was a single Korean woman doing her best to support Kiara and her 2 sisters while also running a Korean restaurant. My first jobs were a summer camp counselor and fitting room attendant at Forever 21. I would spend the last scraps of my paycheck making sure Kiara was able to order a full meal when our friends went out to dinner, buying her little gifts, and generally trying to keep us both as happy and healthy as possible.
When Kiara graduated highschool her mom drove her into Koreatown New Jersey, got her a room in the apartment of an acquaintance, and basically left her to fend for herself. Kiara spoke barely any Korean. She began working at a Korean salon where she met Ariana (not her real name). She had a NY cosmetology license, not an NJ one, while Ariana was an illegal immigrant from Korea so they were both overworked, underpaid, forced to work overtime, paid under minimum wage, and deprived of their tips. They couldn’t report or complain about this since they were both working illegally.
Kiara had to pay rent for the one room she occupied despite her land lady yelling at her, walking into her room while she slept, banning her from having friends over, and reporting to her mom if she spoke to a guy on the phone or a guy dropped her off. I was working at a restaurant in my college town on top of my classes and doing my best to keep surprising her with little gifts, but neither of us had enough disposable income to afford to visit each other. This was really difficult for me as she was my favorite person in the world and I was used to spending every second with her when we both lived in upstate NY. Ariana got them both to start using SeekingArrangement for one time meet ups with Sugar Daddies where they were paid anywhere from $200-2000 for sex. “The first time I ever did it I walked out of the hotel and just screamed because I was so disgusted and I was thinking about his wrinkly skin touching mine and all I wanted to do was get in the shower and scrub it off but I had $1000 cash in my hand for a couple hours of work which was so crazy and kinda made it all worth it ya know?” - Ariana to me
I was immediately skeptical and a little grossed out but Kiara genuinely seemed happier. She was buying new clothes for herself, ordering food to the apartment when she was hungry, and taking trips into NYC to have fun with Ariana and her friends. By the beginning of the summer of 2019, Kiara had found the Sugar Daddy who she would establish a long term agreement with and who ultimately ended up completely supporting her. I’m not going to say his name here but if people want to know it just ask, I am willing to share. He moved her into a much nicer much bigger apartment with Ariana as her roommate. He paid for me to fly up and visit her, and all of our activities during this vacation. I’m so sorry I’m so sorry I’m so sorry. I wish I shoved the money back in her hand before it was too late, I wish I worked harder and longer hours and got us an apartment in Florida and paid both of our rent. I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t listen to my instincts and allowed her to brush off my concerns. It was the most freedom we had ever had, I ran around NYC by myself while she was at work, and my ex took the bus to NJ from upstate NY and joined us for a few days. I feel so selfish but I also didn’t know how bad things would get.
One night Kiara and I went to NYC for dinner with her SD and she took the bus back to the apartment because she had to work early the next morning. It made sense for me to stay in the city because I was supposed to visit my friend at NYU the next morning. In the Uber to his apartment alone with him he was drunk and high and I very clearly looked scared shitless. At this point she was 19 (but she had looked that way since age 17 and I doubt he would have minded if she was lying about her age), I was 21 and he was 44. He seemed offended by my discomfort and was basically like “jeez relax I’m not gonna touch you, I really care about Kiara I think she’s so amazing, just go to the guest room and sleep, make a left to walk to NYU when you wake up.” I peaced the fuck out of there early the next morning.
After that summer Kiara and Ariana quit their jobs at the Korean salon and sugaring became their sole incomes. Ariana was still doing one time meet ups, not nearly as financially stable as Kiara, and got herself into a lot of credit card debt that to my knowledge she’s still in. At this point Kiara was flying down and staying with me in Florida so often that people at my college thought she went there too. I also wasn’t working at this point because college had gotten harder and my ex was fucking up my mental health real bad. He had given me a coke problem and Kiara sending me “grocery money” was enabling me to continue. I wasn’t honest with her about where all the money was going. During Halloween week we didn’t know that she couldn’t just snort molly (MDMA) with the frequency I was doing coke, she ODed, my guy best friend took us to the ER, it was so fucking scary, she got IV fluids for 2 hours and made a full recovery, she stopped doing molly, I kept doing coke. I’m so sorry :(
In November her SD paid for us to take a trip to Cancun Mexico. He was with us for the first part of the trip and this is where things started to get really bad. He tried to be my friend and act the way a boyfriend of my best friend who was my age would, but it was creepy and wrong and I was so uncomfortable. He asked about my drug use in a way that was gross and shamey and basically him seeing me as the “coke whore” stereotype...while continuing to buy me more coke. He also brought and gave us ecstasy pills. He asked really invasive questions about my relationship with my ex, why I stayed, my sex life, etc. It felt like an uncle asking me these questions, I did NOT wanna talk about any of this with him. But from what I did say it was very clear to someone with 44 years of life experience that I had an abusive mother, an addictive personality, and was in an unhealthy relationship. He offered to set me up with an SD friend of his looking for a sugar baby. I of course declined because I always knew this was a boundary I wasn’t willing to cross. No matter how bad my addictions got I would NOT give up that piece of myself in return for money.
In this part of Mexico, drugs that were only given with a prescription in the US were available over the counter. Kiara and I got a little box of 1mg Xanax with my money. My ex had given us Xanax a couple times in NY and we had fun with it, but at this point in time we did NOT have a problem with it. We had bought one bar, broken it in half, and each took half one night of Halloween week and called it “xanpires”, but this wasn’t something we were scripted or buying regularly from plugs. We went to dinner with her SD, we got up to go to the bathroom, and she immediately slipped and hit the ground. I was like woah did you take one of the xans and forget? Because we were supposed to tell each other if we were taking one so we could look out for each other. I was never mad at her! I never wanted money from her! I was just a little concerned, and once I determined that she was safe we thought it was kinda funny that she had taken a xan without realizing and started joking around about it. Her SD of course didn’t understand how a 19 year old and 21 year old girl joke with each other because he was a creepy old man, decided that we were “arguing”, and got up from the restaurant, walked across the street, bought a 90 count bottle of 2mg xans and gave it to me. This was honestly the most irresponsible way someone has ever treated me in my life, and this is coming from someone with an abusive and neglectful parent. Google “benzo withdrawal” if you’re not familiar with it.
We went to a different hotel, and Kiara and I both took xans and blacked out. I passed out on the guest bed, while Kiara was awake but in a conscious blackout. I woke up on the couch on the balcony (which was fine, it was comfy and I saw the sunrise over the beach. The gross part was that meant her SD had picked me up, put his hands on my body while I was unconscious and carried me out there). I remembered that at one point I had woken up, wanted to go to the bathroom or get something from inside, caught a glimpse of what I thought was them having sex, and went back outside. I mentioned it to Kiara and she had no memory of it whatsoever, she thought all she had done was gone to sleep. She was rightfully pissed the fuck off that her SD had taken advantage and done things with her while she was blacked, screamed at him, he gave us a half ass apology, and bought us more stuff (buying our silence). He finally flew home and we got to enjoy the trip with just each other, but I was careless with the dosage of a drug called tramadol, and I ODed with my head in her lap...I’m sorry. When I woke up I was hallucinating, hearing voices, crying hysterically and terrified. Kiara called my ex who asked how many mg I took, told us I was 100mg short of the amount that would require medical attention, made me laugh, and told me to go to sleep. I recognize how scary and unfair to her this was and I really do take responsibility for my actions. The day I was supposed to leave I did ecstasy, hooked up with a guy from Canada, and tried to skip my flight. She was mad because like yeah what the fuck. She got me on the flight, the ecstasy comedown hit, and there’s pictures of me crying in the airport because I hated when we fought.
I was supposed to stop in Miami, then fly back to my college town but while in Miami I texted my granny that I was “sad and really didn’t feel good and could she and my uncle visit me at the airport and bring my uncles dog?”. Her parenting instincts went off that something was very wrong, made me skip the flight, picked me up from the airport and took me to her house where I immediately threw up and ran an extremely high fever that night. She said it was one of the scariest nights of her life and she kept checking on me to see if I needed to go to the hospital. She drove me back to my college town where my guy best friend took me to the ER and it came out that Kiaras SD, in addition to giving me drugs, had also allowed me to drink Mexican tap water throughout the entire trip. I was treated for that + given chlamydia meds just in case since I’d had unprotected sex in a foreign country. I was fine, promised to do better, Kiara forgave me, things started to go back to normal. Except I had begun taking Xanax daily to deal with the anxiety of the illness...and she had a trip to Bali planned.
During that trip things managed to get even worse. She was there with her SD and another Korean friend and her SD was pressuring her and guilting her into sex, isolating her from her friend, going through her phone, and becoming extremely aggressive. She would call me crying and having panic attacks and I would walk out of class to try to comfort her over FaceTime. She did not have panic attacks before this trip. She begged to go home early because something was very wrong but he said it was a waste of money and kept her in Bali until the planned end of the trip. I think it was almost a month. She sent me a recording she secretly took of him screaming at her and her saying “don’t touch me, don’t grab me like that, leave me alone”. When she got back to the US I was begging her to stop. I was so worried for her safety. I said the money wasn’t worth it, we’ll get jobs, please just stop. I’m pretty sure he read those messages. We also had a suspicion that he had installed spyware on her phone but were never able to prove it. At this point I also reached out to my dad for help and his response was basically “I don’t care, not my problem, focus on school”. I reached out to my granny who absolutely cared, but her response was “I’m sorry but I can’t afford to support her, I have to focus on taking care of you, if she won’t stop this you’ll have to stop being friends with her”.
I went home to New York for winter break, suffered through my first round of Xanax withdrawal and was truly trying to get better but my ex manipulated his was back in my life and got me addicted again....but now this bottle of 90 had run out. I went back to my college town, got scripted, and was copping street bars when my script inevitably ran out early. What comes next is blurry for obvious reasons. We moved to the town in Florida my granny lived in and got an apartment together. The female friends she made in our town (my current home) she got most of them into sugaring and using SeekingArrangement. Things deteriorated super fast at this point. I was struggling hard, failing my online classes, and eventually got completely financially cut off by my parents. My granny was paying my half of the rent and my puppy’s vet bills but I was too embarrassed to admit I couldn’t afford groceries. Kiara was pressuring me hard to go on SeekingArrangement but I still refused. I would sit on the floor of the bathroom in a towel after I showered and just cry because the steam made me nauseous and dizzy since I wasn’t eating.
I met my current boyfriend and something just started to click: I didn’t wanna live like this anymore. The mom of a friend from this town who also refuses to sugar landed me an interview at the gym I currently work at, I fought for the job, and I got it. Now I knew I didn’t wanna be completely fucked up all the time anymore but I was still doing enough Xanax to keep me out of withdrawal. The 2mg that had blacked me out at the beginning were now just barely enough to keep me functional. Kiara and I were fighting frequently and bad by this time. She and her partner in sugaring, Mena (not her real name but pretty close to it, fuck this bitch fr) were expecting me to keep how they made their money a secret....from friends and guys that I saw every single day. They both very obviously did not work and were flexing new cars, designer clothes, and cash all over their social media. Kiara thought she could cover her ass by saying she dealt drugs but it was also obvious that she wasn’t putting the time into that to come up with the amount of money she had. The only one dealing drugs was me, and not enough to do anything flashy, just enough that in addition to my work money I was usually getting enough to eat. But there were still some times when the previous weeks paycheck had run out and I was having my first meal of the day at 3pm after someone had bought adderall from me. We had our serious serious fight where she threw my stuff in the lawn and I lived with my current boyfriend full time for about a couple weeks since my bedroom at my granny’s was getting refloored when this happened.
By January 20th he was concerned by my Xanax problem and wanted me to seriously try to stop. At the time I started tapering because I wanted the girlfriend title but I’m forever grateful for him giving me a reason, even if it was a shallow one, because I just needed to START. We tried to reconcile once, despite boyfriend and guy best friend begging me not to, and of course the same problems reappeared, we had another serious fight and haven’t spoken since.
Now the fog is clearing and today I’m 96 days clean of xanax, 16 days clean of all benzos, and 19 days clean of gabapentin (what was keeping me from having a seizure while quitting benzos). But it’s hard because being out of the fog means feeling all of my emotions, even the really bad ones. This past week I’ve been waking up and crying sitting in front of my mirror trying to put my makeup on for work and it just drips right off and I have to start over. She was my best friend for 8 years. My favorite person. My partner in life. I loved her more than anyone.
My boyfriend and guy best friend are pretty uncomfortable when they hear someone express an opinion of me that’s “Kiara’s side of the story” and I don’t correct it. Both of them saw exactly how bad it got near the very end and don’t get why I don’t defend myself more or tell people about her letting my dog eat dab (THC) wax while she was supposed to be watching her and having to be rushed to the animal hospital TWO separate times. (She’s a Pomeranian and the highly concentrated THC was super dangerous to her tiny little body). Yelling at me and giving me the silent treatment because less than 48 hours after my SA she expected me to drive her to a hair appointment in Miami and I woke up late and didn’t get her there on time with traffic. Me begging her to be there for me when it felt like everything was falling apart and I self harmed for the first time and her leaving me to go on a vacation to Orlando with a girl we didn’t even really like. Me not wanting to sleep in the apartment alone after my SA and her not letting me sleep in her bed anymore, her and Mena just dumping me at the neighbor’s so they could continue to sugar, party, and see guys our age at night (this sounds super awful but neighbors roommate —> current boyfriend. He kept me safe until I felt better, was really sweet and careful, and I was the one to make the first move). There’s more but I really don’t like talking about it, after the abuse she went through and I assume is still going through, I expect her to be pretty damaged and not have it in her to treat people right all the time. Not exposing every bad thing she’s ever done to all our mutual friends and acquaintances is kind of my last gift to her.
I also admit that sugaring wasn’t responsible for everything that went wrong. Loving an addict is difficult and exhausting and I went through it myself with my ex. I was also out bi and she was “probably straight, maybe a little bi-curious” in her words. But when she was drunk or on Xanax she’d kiss me first...we had done more than kiss but only during 3somes with a guy. I don’t know, I think I loved her more than I was supposed to and some of the stuff she’d say made me think she saw me in a way she really didn’t. When we first moved to this town I had a thing with a girl and expected it to be no big deal but things here were different than up north. I got called the d slur for the first time by someone who wasn’t joking. It was like getting slapped I was so shocked and hurt, I truly didn’t think that happened anymore. I think she saw what happened to me and kinda closed off that part of herself because she didn’t wanna experience that herself. She stopped making out with me at bars and parties after that and it made me sad and maybe a little jealous. But I really do blame her SD for basically “breaking her”, for handing me that first bottle of free Xanax, for a lot of other little things that I can’t possibly include because this is already way too long. This is my first time even saying this much. Feel free to add your own experiences or thoughts on this or anything you’d like. [I’m prepared to get death threats or called a SWERF or whatever but I don’t care, now that I started talking about this I’m not going to stop.]
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typical-simplelove · 3 years
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I'll Always Fly Back Home to You - 40s AU (R. Hintz)
Summary: With the threat of a Soviet Union invasion, the Hintz family moves to America to escape death and war. What happens when Roope moves in next door to you?
Series Masterlist
A/n: This is the fourth installment and one of the best things I've ever written, I believe. This fic exists in the same universe in the Jamie Oleksiak fic that comes later on. I hope you enjoy this!
Warnings: mentions of war, death, breaking up, the Soviet Union (?), suggestive photos
Word Count: 9.1k
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November 20, 1939
You could do this. Yeah, you could. All you had to do was bring a tray of cookies to the new neighbors next door. This was going to be simple, right? Introduce yourself, offer any help, give them the cookies, and welcome them to the neighborhood. You walk over to their house, and you instantly catch a whiff of something that smells amazing. You walk up the steps and knock on the door. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t the person who opened the door.
“Hi, my name is Yn, and I live next door,” you begin after overcoming the initial shock. “My mom is also the one who works for the agency you and your family used to come here.”
“Oh, hi Yn,” this boy tells you. He was really cute, you thought to yourself. “My name is --”
“Mrs. Yln, thank you so much for coming,” someone interrupts. “I was going to ring you up. Can you help us figure out how to use the oven?”
“Mom, this is her daughter, yn,” the boy who answered the door corrects. He gives you a smile and your face warms under his gaze.
“Oh you’re right. Yn, forgive me, please. Roope, welcome her in, please.”
So his name is Roope.
“Come on in?” Roope asks.
“Oh, sure. I made cookies for you guys as a welcome gift.”
“Thank you, so much,” Roope’s mother gushes. “I hate to ask, but do you know how to use the oven?”
“Maybe? I mean, I had to use the oven in order to bake these cookies.” You walk over to the oven and notice that it’s exactly like yours. You begin to explain how it works and strike up a conversation with Roope’s mother who tells you to call her Mrs. Hintz. You learned that the Hintz family immigrated from Finland because of the aggression of the Soviet Union. Most of the extended family was able to immigrate over and are now spread across the Dallas area.
You left about an hour after you arrived happy that your mother sent you to welcome the new family.
. . .
. . .
The next morning, you were walking out the door to go to the grocery store. It was a morning out of a novel. The sun was out shining and the temperature wasn’t too hot or too cold. It was absolutely perfect. There was dew sitting on the grass, and it seemed like a day full of potential. You walk out of your lawn and turn right; incidentally, you’d have to go past the Hintz house. You are about to pass their walkway when you hear someone call out to you.
“Yn,” you turn around and see Roope walking out the door towards you. You stop and smile and wait for him. “Where are you headed?”
“The grocery store, you?”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Go with her,” Roope’s mother yells from the door. “She knows where to go; you don’t.”
You smile and look at Roope. A soft blush is now covering his face; you laugh softly. “Do you want to come with me?”
“Is that okay? I have no idea where I’m going.”
You laugh at his comment. “Of course. It is my job as a neighbor to help you assimilate to the town best you can.”
Roope looks at you. “And I thought you wanted to be my first friend here.”
“I can do that as well, if you’d like.”
“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you in any way..”
“I doubt that being friends would inconvenience me, Roope.”
“You say that now, but, let me tell you, you might regret that sentence one day,” Roope says and winks at you. You feel the warmth reach your face as you look away bashfully. What was it with Roope?
. . .
In the days that followed your trip to the grocery store, a budding friendship blossomed. One day, you walked to your backyard to escape the rowdiness of your sisters and brothers. Sometimes, all you needed was to just leave for a bit.
You walk to the edge of your backyard where there is a giant tree that sits on both your family’s property and the Hintz property. You walk out and see Roope sitting under the tree. Opting not to bother him, you turn around and walk away. You thought that Roope didn’t see you; however, when he calls out to you, you know he saw you.
“You’re allowed to sit under the tree, too, yn,” Roope tells you as you sit.
“Yeah, I know,” you begin. “I just didn’t want to disturb you. I’m not sure why you’re sitting under the tree.”
“Well, don’t worry. You can sit. Why do you want to sit here?”
“Because you told me I could.”
Roope laughs. “That’s not what I meant.”
You smile at him. “Yeah, I knew that. No, I come out here at nights to get away from the loud and rowdy behavior of my family. Why are you out here?”
“Because you come out here often.”
You raise your eyebrow at him. “So, you notice when I sit out here?”
Roope blushes under your words and the sunset behind you. “My bedroom faces the tree here, and I always see you.”
“So, you decided to come and sit with me?”
“I can leave if you want.”
“No, Roope, I’m only teasing. You can stay.”
“Maybe we can make a habit out of this.”
“How so?” you question.
“This can be our escape. You can escape from your family, and I can escape from the prying eyes of my family.”
“Yeah? Let’s do that. I like that idea.”
Roope smiles at you. He was starting not to mind the move to the US.
. . .
December 1, 1939
“Hey, Roope?”
“Yes, Yn.”
“The other day, you said that you wanted to escape the prying eyes of your family. What did you mean by that?”
Roope sighed heavily and you instantly felt bad. “They aren’t sure if I’m happy here. I mean, I am. We are safe and alive which is more than many can say considering the invasion.”
“But it’s hard being new.”
Roope nods. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy with the friends I made, and you, but sometimes I miss where we lived.”
You nod. “So, that’s why you want an escape.”
“Mhm, but not the only reason.”
“What’s the other reason?” you ask inquisitively.
“Oh, it’s not a big deal. Don’t worry.” How was Roope supposed to tell you that his family wants him to ask you out but don’t realize that the two of you were just friends? He didn’t want anything else but a friendship with you. His family couldn’t understand that.
“Oh, okay. Well, is there anything I can do to help you with homesickness you’re feeling?”
Roope smiles at your concern. “Just be my friend?”
You smile at him. “That I can do.”
. . .
June 14, 1940
“Did you see?” you say to Roope as you walk up to him where he’s sitting under the tree.
“I mean, I can see what’s in front of me,” Roope teases.
“Haha very funny. No, did you see that the Germans are marching into Paris?” you sit down next to him and he puts an arm around you.
“Yeah, I saw that.”
“Are you worried?” you ask. Roope knows you well enough that you’re only asking because you’re worried and want reassurance.
“It depends. On the fate of the Parisians? Yeah, I’m terrified for them. On another war? I mean, it’s already started. What are you worried about?”
“Probably another war because that means that the people I love will be enlisting. You, my brothers, cousins, friends. It’s just worrisome.”
Roope begins stroking your arm in an attempt to try to calm your nerves. “Well, I promise you, that I’ll always find my way back home to you. Whether it be flying, driving, running, walking, or skating. I’ll be by your side.”
You look up at Roope and your eyes meet his. You always felt safe in his embrace and knew that he wasn’t lying. He’ll always find a way back home to you.
. . .
September 19, 1940 - the US Congress passes the Selective Service Act
“Well, I guess we can’t escape war, Roope. I mean, you knew that.”
“How so?”
“You are the same person that moved to the US from Finland because of the Soviet Union, right?” you joke lightly.
“Oh, right. Yeah. So, your brothers are enlisting?”
You nod. “Only the older ones. My younger brother is a bit too young, but he’ll be enlisting after his nineteenth birthday in a few months. What about you?”
“Not right now. They told me that I should wait until war was declared because I’m not a US-born citizen.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“Yeah, look, let’s forget about the worries of the world for right now, okay? My mother made some cookies, and I brought some out. Let’s just relax and live in our own bubble, okay?” Roope says to you as he offers you a cookie.
“Okay,” you nod and take a cookie that Roope is offering to you. “Oh, these are good.”
“I mean, they aren’t as good as the ones you made for us when we first moved in, but sure.”
“You remember those?” you ask comically.
“Of course I remember those! A pretty girl showing up at my doorstep offering us cookies? Kind of hard to forget. A pretty girl who is quite young that my mother mistakes as being the girl's mother? Even more memorable.”
You laugh audibly remembering the memory. “You know, I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t you.”
Roope gives you a look of mock offence. “What does that mean?”
“I wasn’t expecting someone my age; I was expecting a family with young children that I could babysit or watch not you and your family.”
“Do you wish I was younger?”
“Absolutely not. Who else would be my best friend?”
Roope smiles at you and pulls you into his embrace. Best friends forever, they said.
. . .
October 28, 1940 - the Italians invade Greece
On a normal October day, you always made sure to have a sweater on you in the event you grew chilly. However, today, you forgot. By the time you walked into the backyard, your arms were cold, and you wanted to turn around. You were running late to meet Roope, though. You decided that if you got sick, then it’d be fine.
“You’re late,” Roope tells you from across the backyard. If you didn’t know him so well, you would have thought he was mad. However, you knew better.
“Yeah, I know, sorry. My sister wanted to go to the cinema, and she picked a long movie.”
“How was it?” Roope asks you as you sit down.
“Pretty good, I liked it. If you want to go see it, I’d definitely go and see it with you.”
Roope smiles at you and wraps his arm around you but flinches the moment he touches you. “Yn, why is your arm so cold?”
“Oh, I’m cold; it’s fine, though.”
Roope immediately shakes his head and begins shrugging off his jacket for you. “Here.”
“Roope, no.”
“Yn, yes. You’re cold, and I’m not. Just take it.”
You look at him and see that there’s a red tint coating his cheeks. Huh, you wonder what that’s about. “Fine, but only because I’m cold.”
“Why else would you take my jacket?”
“I, okay, whatever,” you deflect. What were you supposed to say? Giving a girl your jacket was what boyfriends did not friends.
When you and Roope both said goodnight that night, you walked towards your house and were about to step inside when you realized you were still wearing his jacket. You were about to turn around but you hear Roope call out to you.
“Keep it, it looks better on you, anyways.”
You laugh. The coat sat on the hook in your bedroom; you looked at it each morning and smiled at the memory of your best friend.
. . .
April 13, 1941 - Japan and the Soviet Union sign a neutrality pact.
“How was your date last night?” you ask Roope when you’re both settled under the tree.
He shrugs.
“That’s it?”
“Yeah, I mean, she was nice. It was nice. I walked her home, but she told me that she didn’t want to see me again as on a date.”
“Oh, did you want me to talk to her?”
“No, that’s okay.”
“Do you think you know why she doesn’t want to see you again?”
“Not sure, probably something along the lines of there just isn’t a spark.”
“Did you want me to vouch for you? Tell her how amazing you are?”
Roope laughs. “No, don’t worry about it.” He wasn’t going to let you talk to her because she told Roope that it wasn’t fair for him to be dating other women when he was in love with you. Roope denied it, but as he walked home that night, he realized she was right. Roope was in love with you, his best friend. The first person he met when he moved to Dallas. He loved you. The one person who would probably only ever see him as a friend.
. . .
December 6, 1941
You were sitting under the tree reading a book while you waited for Roope one evening. It was a chilly evening, and you were starting to get cold. You contemplated going inside and getting a jacket, his jacket. However, when you saw Roope exit from his back porch, you decided against it. Anyways, the warmth that filled you by seeing your best friend made you forget about the cold.
“Hey,” you say to him as you close your book.
“Hey, ynn,” he says to you. “This is for you from my mom. She was going through some of her old stuff and found this. No one else wanted it, so I thought that you might like it.”
“Oh, wow, just giving me things your family doesn’t want anymore.”
Roope laughs at your teasing remark. “No, I didn’t know about it until before dinner, and mom asked if I wanted it. I obviously don’t but that doesn’t mean I don’t think you will.”
“What is it?” you ask, taking the box from his hands.
“Why don’t you just open it?”
“Wow, sassy. I wasn’t expecting that tonight.”
“Just open the box.”
“Fine,” you retort and open the box. You gasp and look at Roope. “I can’t take this.”
“Yes, you can. I think you will have a better use for it then the cabinet shelf in the basement.”
“But, it must have been so expensive. Don’t you want to keep it in the family?”
“You are family, yn.”
“I mean blood family, Roope,” you say. He has given you the most stunning teapot you have ever seen.
“If my mother wasn’t okay with me giving it to you, then she would’ve said something.”
“What about your aunts?”
“Same. They all think we’re going to get married one day, so what’s the point if it’s going to be back in our family again.”
You look up at Roope, and you have a weird feeling in your stomach that you can’t explain. Did you want to marry Roope? No, you were both just friends, right? “Well, too bad we aren’t going to be getting married.”
“Yeah, too bad.” You were surprised with the tone that Roope had in his voice. Was he feeling the same conflicting feelings you were?
“Well, thank your mother for me. This is beautiful.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it, Roope, thank you!”
“Of course, anything for you.” And, he’d do anything for you.
. . .
December 11th, 1941 - Germany and Italy declare war on the United States
After getting the teapot from Roope a few days ago, you decided to bring lemon squares to the Hintz household to thank them. You pack them into a tray and head out the door. You walk over to the Hintz house and knock on the door. Roope’s mother opens the door for you and wraps you into a large hug and begins to sob.
“Mrs. Hintz, are you okay?” you ask clearly knowing she isn’t.
“I’m not sure. Oh, come in, come in. Roope’s not here right now.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I’m here to see you, actually. I made lemon squares to thank you for the teapot. It’s beautiful, and I love it.”
“I’m glad, sweetheart.”
“Um, Mrs. Hintz?” you ask cautiously. She looks at you, and you know it’s safe for you to continue. “May I ask why you were crying?”
“Oh,” she says and the tears slowly start again. “Roope went to the navy offices to enlist. He’s going to war, and he’s going to be a navy pilot. You obviously knew that though because he tells you everything.”
The heat drains from your face. Roope was going off to war. You knew that eventually this would happen as your two older brothers went to bootcamp a few months ago and your younger brother’s number came up just yesterday. However, you weren’t expecting for Roope to be enlisting right away. It made sense, though, considering that the Soviets invaded his home. The one thing, though, that’s sticking out to you is that Mrs. Hintz thinks that you knew. This means that he definitely made the decision without talking to anyone, even you. “No, I didn’t know that, but he’s doing what he feels is best, right?”
“I know that, it’s just going to hurt when he leaves.”
You nod. “Did you want me to make some tea, and we can have the lemon squares I made?”
“Would that be okay?” she asks.
You smile. “More than okay.”
Roope enlisting is not your sadness to be felt. You were going to help his family in any way you could.
. . .
December 15th, 1941
“Do you miss home?” you asked Roope. Roope never not talked about his time back home, but he also wasn’t the most open about it. You never pried and you never asked for more. You were willing to just take as much information as he would give you.
“Like my bedroom?” Roope asks.
You laugh and Roope smiles at you. There was something about your laugh that made Roope melt. “No, like Finland.”
“Oh,” Roope’s smile fades and you instantly feel bad for bringing it up. “I miss some of the older extended family that couldn’t come with us and some friends, but I’m not sure about the rest of it.”
You nod. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m happy that you’re here.”
“You are the best thing that came out of my move to the States,” Roope tells you and you feel the warmth spread to your face. “Yn, I have something to tell you. You might not like what I have to say.”
You knew what he was talking about; his mother told you. “You’re joining the navy and are going to be a navy pilot.”
Roope sits up and looks at you. The two of you were laying down under the large tree in your backyard. “How did you know that?”
“Your mother told me.”
Roope laughs sarcastically and shakes his head. “Of course she did, when you brought the lemon squares?”
You nod. “She was crying when I went over, and she told me. Don’t be mad at her.”
“I’m not, don’t worry. Did you cry too?”
“No, I didn’t,” you say but your voice wobbles. Roope looks at you and puts his hands on your cheeks to catch any tears that might fall.
Roope smiles at you; he looks like he’s contemplating something. He looks down at your lips and you feel the warmth rush to your face again. “Can I kiss you, yn?”
You nod. “Yeah, please kiss me.”
He leans down and gently places his lips on yours. The kiss lasted for a few seconds, but it’s enough for you to know you don’t want to kiss anyone else ever again. When you both pull away, you stare into each other’s eyes, and you know you’ve made a tremendous shift in your relationship. No longer were you and Roope good friends. No, now you were two people who finally realized their feelings after a few years. You know that there was no one else for you, and you hoped that Roope felt the same.
“Can I kiss you again?” Roope eagerly asks. He wants nothing in the world except to kiss you again but doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries.
“Of course.”
He kisses you again, and you’re pretty sure you melt. How could just one touch make you so happy and giddy and excited at the same time? This time, the kiss is longer, and you both deepen the kiss not wanting to separate. You couldn’t be without him and he without you.
“About time,” your sister yells from the porch. You pull away from Roope and giggle.
“I guess so,” you say to Roope and he smiles back at you.
. . .
The days leading up to when Roope was set to go to bootcamp were spent together. You both tried to fit years of couple things into three days. It was hard. You both knew that navy pilots were one of the most dangerous positions in the military, and they might not make it home.
On the day that Roope was set to leave, he asked his family to go to the train station on their own so that you and him could walk together. How romantic, you thought, despite the circumstances.
“Do you promise to write to me?” Roope asks before he’s about to get on the train.
You smile. “Of course, silly. I’ll write to you all the time that you’ll ask me to stop.”
“I highly doubt that,” Roope tells you and kisses you. “Goodbye, my love.”
“Goodbye, Roope,” you tell him with tears in your eyes. “Fly back home to me?”
Roope smiles and kisses your forehead. “I’ll always fly back home to you.” He gives you one last kiss and picks up his bag and walks away. He turns around one last time to wave. His last thought is wondering if this’ll be the last time he sees your face.
. . .
Dear Roope,
This letter might take a while to get to you, but you knew that. Now that you’re overseas, it might take a bit for my letters to come to you. Let me tell you, though, just because they are further apart or might take some time doesn’t mean I’m going to stop. Why would I? Why would I ever stop writing to the man I love? I hope I’m not jumping to any conclusions by telling you I love you because I do. I think I always did. The minute you moved in next door, I think I fell for you. It just took some time for me to realize how I felt. Let’s be glad that we finally realized, right?
Did you know that my sister is getting married? She is settling down with her childhood sweetheart. Isn’t that so romantic? Can you imagine marrying your childhood sweetheart? I have a question. Feel free to ignore this question. Did you have someone you loved back home? Did you love her and think you’ll marry her? If you don’t want to answer, feel free not to. I’m just curious. You don’t often talk about your life before moving to the US, and I just want to know more. Care to share? Please? How about for the woman who loves you to pieces?
What's flying like? You don’t have to tell me where you’re flying over or anything like that. Just tell me, is it beautiful? Have you touched a cloud? Is the sun just absolutely beautiful? Is looking at the ground from the sky put everything in perspective?
Fly back home to me, right?
With love all the way from Dallas,
Yn
Dearest Yn,
Just know, I love every letter you write to me even if they are weeks apart. I don’t care. Any letter makes me so happy. Some of the other members in my company always make fun of me for having a girl I love, but I don’t care. Mail call is always the best part of my day because I get to hear from you. The anticipation I feel is unbelievable. And no, it’s not too presumptuous to tell me you love me because guess what? I love you, too! More than you could possibly know. The minute I laid my eyes on you, I knew you were special. Every time I saw you and we hung out, my heart always had this weird feeling. I thought it was just nerves of being in a new country or having a new friend. However, as the months went on and I got to know you, the feeling didn’t go away. It took for a war to be declared for me to make a move and tell you I loved you and not just in a best friend's way. I hope that’s not too presumptuous, but, then again, you did say it first.
Send my congratulations to your sister from me. That must be awfully romantic for childhood sweethearts to be falling in love and getting married. And now, to answer your question. Let me quote you first. You said “did you have someone you loved back home?” Let me tell you, you are that girl back home. Home is in Dallas now because it’s where my family is and where you are. You are that girl back home that I dream about marrying one day. I know that you mean in Finland, and, let me tell you, no, there was never anyone who I loved as much as I love you. You are the girl back home that I want to marry one day. As for stories from Finland, what do you want to know?
Flying is beautiful. To answer you questions: it’s absolutely beautiful (but not as much as you). No, I haven’t touched a cloud. Just so you know, I’m not sticking my hand outside the window or cockpit in order to do that. From that far up, the sun is still bright, so I’m not sure if it’s beautiful. I try not to stare at it. However, if you’re talking about the sun in my life, then it’s beautiful because you are the sun and center of my life. Looking at the ground truly does put it into perspective. It makes me realize how much I want to be with you when this hellish war is over.
I’ll always fly back home to you.
With love from the sky,
Roope.
Dear Roope,
I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Oh, you want me to say it again? Gladly. I love you, Roope Hintz, and I can’t wait to spend every single day with you after this war. Getting my letters is the best part of your day, huh? Maybe I should send more to boost your morale. (or maybe something a little bit more suggestive? Actually, no, my mother would kill me if I did that and considering I still live in her house, nope. Sorry.). I’m glad, though, that you have something to look forward to everyday. I can’t imagine what it must be like over there. If you want (and can) please do share. I want to hear about everything. You don’t even have to tell me about the combat or any of that stuff. How about what you do on your days off? Who are the men in your unit? Tell me all about any friends you made. I’m not sure where you are because, you know, classified and all, but tell me, have you been able to see any of the sights? How beautiful are they? I don’t care what you tell me; I just want to read about what you’re doing because I miss you so much. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t head to the backyard to wait for you. Everyday. Like clockwork. I go to where our backyards meet and wait. It always takes me a moment to realize that you’re not coming to meet me and it makes me sad. Just know that I think about you all the time.
My sister is grateful for your congratulations to her. She told me to tell you that she is expecting our wedding next and that you should get on it, Roope. I only laughed at her. I’m sure you have other things going on in your life, so don’t worry! A wedding can wait. All I want is that you one day promise to love me for all my life because I promise to love you all my life.
Finland. What do I want to know about your life in Finland? How about, what did your house look like? Is it anything like where your family lives now in Dallas? What did your bedroom look like? Is it similar to your room here? What did you do in your free time? I want to know it all, Roope. Everything there is to know.
Your words about me being the girl back home? Melted my heart. I reread them every night before I go to bed. I didn’t know you were such a romantic, Roope. I guess it takes a war for your true romantic side to come out. Well, you’re my guy overseas that I’m waiting for.
Flying sounds so beautiful. Maybe, one day, you could take me up with you? But for now, I just have to experience flying through your words.
Fly back home to me?
Love,
Yn
Dear Yn,
I’d write how much I love but then I’d be writing for all of time and we wouldn’t want that, right? If that were the case, then I’d never win this war and come home to you! Even then, I wouldn’t be able to ever spend time with you. Because you asked, let me tell you about some of the other pilots in my unit. My CO (commanding officer) is Tyler Seguin, and he’s great. Believe it or not, there are two other men who are also from Finland. They moved away at a young age so not as recently as me but still. Esa and Miro. It’s nice having people to talk to about Finland who have a slight inkling about what I’m talking about. There are other guys in my unit - Jamie Oleksiak, Denis Gurianov, Ben Bishop, and more. This unit is like a family, and I hope that they get to meet you one day. Actually, not Jamie Oleksiak. I feel like he has the charm and looks to take you away from me. However, he has a Red Cross worker that he’s absolutely in love with who wants nothing to do with him, so maybe not that much of a threat. On my days off, I normally just hang around the base. I often reread you letters to me and it almost makes up for me not being by your side each day. Sometimes I’ll venture into town and go for walks or to a local restaurant. Before you ask again, yes, I have seen some of the sights. I’ve seen some beautiful, grand buildings that are just so beautiful. I hope, one day, I can bring you back here to show you the beauty. There might be a war but the beauty and glamour are still there. Some of the palaces or mansions are just beautiful but not as much as you! Sometimes I’ll go for a walk and see a big tree and I will sit under it thinking you’re going to join me. Every day at the time we would normally meet, I always take a step outside, if possible, and just sit there thinking about you. Because of the time difference, it’s probably early afternoon for you but know that there is not a day that goes by without me thinking about you, darling. (Don’t feel the need to send me anything suggestive; I’d rather your parents not have a negative opinion of me one day if I am to be their son-in-law. We all know that I’ll be doing worse things to you once we get married. How else are babies made?)
You can tell your sister that a wedding can be arranged the minute she can get Hitler to surrender. If she can manage that, then I’ll marry you the minute I touch Dallas soil and can get you into my arms. Better yet! Why don’t I meet you at the church and we just get married right away?
My house in Finland was slightly smaller than my family’s house in Dallas. It wasn’t painted the vibrant yellow like in Dallas; it was a beige hue that was fairly bland. I far prefer the color of the house in Dallas because it’s the same color as your house and reminds me of you. Whenever I see something yellow, I always think of you. Most things in the world that I see go back to you. My bedroom in Finland? Pretty bland and similar to the one back in Dallas. When we made the trip, we only carried what we could so many of the posters or books I had stayed there. I did get to keep a few mementos; however, I’d rather fill a home with memories and mementos of you and our relationship. My free time? Same as before. I did play more hockey, however. There aren’t many frozen ponds in Dallas, but it’s okay. Playing on the road with the neighbors is fun! Maybe I should get you to play. What do you say?
My darling yn, you should know that I can be awfully romantic. I used to charm all the girls back in Finland. Actually, that’s a lie. You’re the only one. Maybe I should be more romantic. Just wait and see, my love, I’m going to be so romantic that you’re going to get sick of it! You’ll forever be the girl I’m going home to! When asked about if I have anyone back home, it’s always you. No one else. I guess my family, but you’re always first.
With love from the sky,
Roope
. . .
August 14, 1943
Roope took to the sky as normal one morning. Mail call was just before his scheduled time to fly, so he saved your letter for later. Flying over occupied France was always dangerous, and Roope’s CO told the unit to make sure that their wills were in check for the worst case scenario. The men were expecting the worst, so it’s only important they prepared for the worst.
After flying for twenty minutes, Nazi fighter pilots began shooting at Roope and his men. To his right, Roope’s wingman went down. He didn’t see a parachute which likely means he didn’t make it out. This really shocked Roope. He knew that there was a possibility that he might die or his friends. However, this was the first time that someone so close to Roope died. It could have easily been him.
Once he touched down, Roope headed to his barracks to read your letter. Only your letters could shake away the horrors of war.
Dearest Roope,
How are you, darling?
He read the first six words, and he instantly broke down. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t keep writing to you when he knew that he’d be dying next. It didn’t matter if he loved you more than anyone or anything in the world. It didn’t matter if he had been sending money back to his mother to put aside so that he can buy you a ring. None of it mattered if he died and you were heartbroken. Nothing mattered. Roope knew that he was going to be gone soon; it was part of the job being in the military but especially a pilot. There was only one thing he could do: he had to let you go.
Dear Yn,
It pains me to write this; however, just know that I love you. I’m doing this because I love you. I think that you should stop writing to me. I believe that it will be easier for you when I’m gone if we weren’t in contact. You should be out and having fun. You should be the young woman in your twenties doing things young women do. You should be going on dates, going out dancing, and not writing to a pilot whose life is short. It pains me to write this. Please, forgive me. I’m doing this because I love you. I love you so much that I want you to be happy when I’m gone. Please, I’m sorry. Forgive me.
With all my love,
Roope.
He sealed up the short letter into an envelope, wrote your address and put a stamp on it immediately. He knew that he would regret this later on, but he knew that it was for the best. He knew that you were going to write him one last letter asking him to change his mind. He wasn’t going to. Roope was doing this because he loved you. There was nothing else. He couldn’t fathom the idea that he might die in combat one day, and you’ll never move on because you dreamed of marrying him. He couldn’t. That would be so much worse than dying. He loved you so much that letting you go was what was for the best. Roope walked to the post office; he took a deep breath and gave the mail person his letter.
Now, he was awaiting your letter that would absolutely break his heart.
. . .
You received his letter three weeks after he sent it. You opened your mailbox and smiled widely to see it. You sat on the porch swing with your sister, heavily pregnant, sitting next to you. You carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. At first glance, the letter looked really small, but you didn’t think anything of it. He was fighting a war; it makes sense if his letters weren’t as long as yours.
You read the first line, and you felt the tears begin to fall down your face. Did he find someone else? Did he not love you anymore? Deciding to ignore your thoughts, you decide to continue to read.
No, this was so much worse than Roope finding someone else. This was the worst. No, he was telling you to stop writing to him.
You finish the letter and cry out. Your sister looks up next to you. She grabs the letter out of your hand and begins reading. She briefly skims it but understands the overall message. Roope wanted you to stop writing to him; he wanted you to stop talking to him. Roope was letting you go. Your sister wraps her arm around you and begins to console you. You brush her off, excuse yourself, and run to your bedroom. How could Roope do this to you? Does he not understand that it didn’t matter what happened? You would always love him no matter what? You instantly pull out a sheet of stationary and begin to write your reply. You knew that he asked you not to write to him, but you felt he should know the pain he was putting you through.
It took you four times to finally put words to paper.
Dear Roope,
I know that you asked me not to write to you, but I feel like you should know how much you are breaking my heart. I apologize that this paper is tear-stained. I was going to write it without the tear-stains, but I feel that you should be able to see firsthand the pain and heartbreak you’re putting me through because you are the cause of it. How could you feel that this is any better? Is this what you wanted? For me to be crying in my bedroom? Did you see me being okay with your letter? Am I supposed to be okay with the fact that you don’t care enough about how I feel? Just so you know, I love you more than anything in the world. So, tell me, how does me crying in my bedroom and getting over heartbreak equal what you wanted? You tell me you want me to stop writing to you and enjoy my evenings as a young woman. How am I supposed to do that when I’m sitting here with a broken heart? The idea of me going out tomorrow? No, nonexistent. You hurt me and I don’t want to do anything. Just the idea of being with someone else makes me sad and sick. Is this what you wanted? For me to be heartbroken?
Do you remember what you told me the day you left? You told me that you would always fly back home to me. Always. You added that always. What happened to that?
Let me say one last thing: who are you to tell me what I want? I think I am perfectly capable of knowing who or what I want.
Yn
You were angry now. How dare Roope assume he knows what you want? Why can’t he understand that you love him and would do anything for him? Why would he do this to you? You angrily seal up the letter and add a stamp. You set it on your dresser to be put in the mailbox the next morning. What were you going to do now? What do you do when the person who you love more than anything in the world doesn’t care for you anymore? What do you do when the person who you’ve been dreaming about marrying says he can’t give you the same thing? Why would he do this to you?
. . .
Roope isn’t surprised to see your letter. He knows you; he knows you well enough that you definitely gave him a piece of your mind. However, what he wasn’t expecting was to see a tear-stained letter. It immediately breaks his heart knowing that he is probably the cause of your tears. Roope can’t read the letter in front of his friends, so he walks into the barracks. They’d be disappointed in him. They’d tell Roope that he was being an idiot. He was head over heels hopelessly in love with you, so why would he ruin that?
Roope reads your letter and there are tears in his eyes. What hurt the most was the way you signed the letter. You just signed it “yn”. There was no “love” or “yours”. It was just your name. What was he expecting? He basically broke up with you; there was no reason for you to remind him of your love.
“Where did you run off to?” Esa says as he barges into the barracks. “Your girl send any suggestive photos for your pleasure?”
When Roope doesn’t answer, Esa gets nervous. Roope was always very smiley and happy after he got one of your letters. Esa takes the letter out of Roope’s hand and reads it. When he sees the stained writing and what it contains, Esa instantly knows why Roope is upset.
“You love her, so why did you do this to her?”
“Because I’m not going to be able to give her what she wants. She wants to marry me one day.”
“Isn’t that what you want?”
Roope nods. “I can’t marry her, though, if I’m dead.”
“Who says you’re going to die?”
“I think the fact that pilots have the highest death rate speaks for that.”
Esa sighs and sits on the bed next to Roope. “We’re in a war. We should be able to have our dreams right next to us, right? You shouldn’t have to give up everything. You’re giving up your twenties, happiness, and strength to fight a war you didn’t start. The one thing you should be able to have is your dream. The letter you wrote her? Ruined that dream. Why did you do it?”
“I don’t want her to love a man who is going to die one day. I don’t want her to dream and imagine what our wedding would look like. I don’t want her to dream about the life we will have together one day. That’s not true. I want her to dream about those things. However, I don’t want her to dream about those things if I can’t be there. I don’t want to get shot down only for her dream life not to be able to happen. More than anything in the world, I want her to be happy. I don’t think I can give her that if I die. I want to give her a life in which she can be happy.”
“Roope, from what I can tell, you made her sad and miserable.”
“If I end things with her now, then when I die, she’ll already have a mended heart and be able to move on.”
“I don’t think so.”
Roope looks up. “What?”
“Firstly, you keep talking as if you’re going to die tomorrow. There is no definite evidence that points to that. You know, she could always die in a car accident tomorrow, God forbid. Secondly, from this letter, she loves you and you broke her heart.”
A look of realization crosses Roope’s face. “Damn, you’re right. I ruined everything, didn’t I?”
“Maybe when you go home you can fix things?”
Roope nods. He only hopes that whenever this war ends you’ll still love him enough to give him a second chance.
. . .
September 13, 1945
A knock on your parent’s door has you shocked. You were sitting in the kitchen making a pie to bring over to the Hintz’s house. Despite not talking to Roope in two years, your family and the Hintz family were still close. You clean your hands on the dish rag and walk over to the door. You don’t take the time to check who it is before you open the door. When you see the person on the other side of the door, you gasp and slam the door in their face.
It was Roope.
The love of your life who told you two years ago that the two of you shouldn’t write to each other. He threw away years of love and friendship in one letter. However, it was rude to shut the door in his face, right? You open the door again carefully. Part of you is hoping he took the hint and walked away; however, the majority of you is hoping that he’s still there. Despite him breaking your heart, you still loved him with your entire heart and being. You doubted you would ever love anyone as much as you loved Roope.
So, you open the door. Thankfully, he’s still out there. “Hi, Roope.”
“Hi, Yn,” he says nervously. “Um, these are for you. Your favorites.”
You take the flowers he’s handing to you and smile. Of course he remembered. “Thank you. Why don’t you come in, and I’ll put them into water and a vase.”
Roope nods and follows you into the house.
“When did you get home?”
“Oh, um, just a few days ago,” Roope is confused at the friendliness of the way this conversation is going. He figured you would have some harsh words for him considering what he did to you.
“And you’re only stopping by to say hi now?” you tease.
“I mean, I’m not sure how much you hate me considering I broke your heart.”
“Oh, so we are addressing the elephant in the room, then.”
“Look, yn, I’m really sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted what’s best for you.”
“So, you broke my heart?”
“No, that’s not what I wanted to do.”
“Then what did you want to do.”
Roope sighs and looks at you. “I wanted your heart to get over me earlier, so that when I died, it wouldn’t hurt as much. I didn’t want you to dream of this life with me after the war only for it to be destroyed by me dying in combat.”
“What would have happened if you didn’t die?”
“Like before I wrote that letter or after?”
“Both, Roope.”
“Before? I would have flown back home to you as promised and married you. After? Well, this.”
“Oh yeah? And what’s this?”
“An apology tour?”
“A tour? Who else’s heart did you break?” you tease.
“My mother’s.”
You giggle softly. “What?”
“My mother was heartbroken to know what I did. She was so upset and sad that you wouldn’t be her daughter-in-law one day.”
“Oh.”
Roope isn’t sure how to take this. “If you’ll forgive me, yn, then that would make me so happy. I know it’s not me fixing what I did but it’s a start. Even if you don’t love me as much as I love you or at all, that’s okay. I just need you to forgive me.”
“If I forgive you, what comes next?” you add on.
Roope knows you well enough to know that this means that you’re leaning to forgiving him. “Well, I’d probably ask you out for dinner and then another and another and another and that pattern would continue. After a while, I hope, you’ll realize that I never stopped loving you and still want to marry you one day. When you finally realize that, I’ll ask you to marry me and we’ll live the life you always dreamed about.”
Roope’s words put tears in your eyes. He still loves you? He still wants to marry you? “I forgive you, Roope. I could never stay mad at you,” you say as you jump into his arms.
Roope smiles and wraps his arms around you. He strokes your back as you cry into his chest and softly kisses your forehead. When you finally stop crying, Roope decides to test the waters. “Does this mean I can take you out for dinner?”
You laugh. “Yes, Roope, you can take me out for dinner.”
“I did promise to always fly back home to you, yn.”
You smile. “And that you did.”
. . .
June 15, 1946
“Hey, step outside for a moment?” Roope whispers into your ear. You were sitting in your living room celebrating the birthday of your sister’s son. You nod and take Roope’s hand. After that day he came home and visited you, Roope has spent every single day since then showing you how sorry he is and reminding you everyday of his love for you. There was not a single day in which you doubted his love for you. Roope leads you out your back door and out to the tree in your backyard. When you walk out, you notice that there’s a blanket sitting on the grass underneath it and small lights hanging from the large branches.
“Roope, what’s this?” you ask.
“The last part of my apology tour.”
“Roope, we’ve gone over this verbatim. I forgive you; there is no need to keep trying to prove you’re sorry or love me.”
“You say that now but I think you’ll like this final part. Come sit?” Roope sits on the blankets and opens his arms so that you can join him. You do. You sit with your back to him and he wraps his arms around you. You can feel how fast his heart is beating on your back.
“Before you say anything, I need you to know, I am truly sorry for all of the heartbreak I put you through. That’s the one thing I will regret for the rest of my life. There is nothing I can do to ever make it up to you. However, I hope that marrying you will help me make it up to you.”
“You’re going to have to prop-- oh!” you’re interrupted when Roope places a small velvet box in your hand. “Roope.”
“When my parents told me we were moving to Dallas, I wasn’t sure if I’d like it. I knew why we were moving, but I didn’t want to. But then, you showed up on my doorstep with a plate of cookies in your hand and my life changed forever. My family knew before I did just how much I loved you. It took some time, but I wouldn’t change a single thing. Actually, I’d change the letter I wrote during the war but nothing else. I wouldn’t change the friendship we had and the meetings under this very tree. None of it. I only wish that we didn’t lose so many years together because of the war. Yes, I’ll admit, I ruined that a bit. We probably could be married by now and maybe have a little one of our own running around or you were close to giving birth to one. However, life happened the way it did.”
There were tears starting to form in your eyes. Roope releases his hold on you and guides you to stand up. You stand, and he goes down on one knee.
“Yn, there are no words to describe the love I have for you. Not a single one. However, I hope that if you let me be the happiest man on earth, it might give me enough time to find all the words. During the war, I was sending money to my mother to save for me to use to buy you a ring. That didn’t stop when I did what I did. I actually bought this ring the day before I went to see you. I felt that, though, despite my want to marry you right then and there, I knew we weren’t there yet. That doesn’t mean we aren’t there now.” Roope takes a deep breath. “Yn, will you marry me?”
“Yes, yes of course!” you tell him and Roope smiles.
“Yeah?”
“Absolutely!”
He gets up and places a kiss on your lips. It was salty from your tears but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Roope breaks away and places the ring on your hand.
“You did fly back home to me even if it took some time.”
“You never have to doubt it, yn,” Roope tells you as yours and his family cheers from the back porch. “No matter what, I’ll always fly back home to you.”
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harryhandstan · 3 years
Text
washed away in you
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I don’t have much to say except I appreciate your patience with me as I worked on this piece! I apologize again for all the confusion with posting and deleting and now reposting. This is the third part to my Dad!Harry series. Once again you don’t have to read those to understand this one, but I’ve linked them below in case you would like to revisit them. :)
Thank you to @taintedwonder for reading over part of this for me!
word count: 4.2k
needles tw // (small mention towards the end)
I Want Your Belly (part one) | Wonderful and Warm (part two) | writing tag | masterlist
y’all have already been so good to me but as always likes, rbs, and comments are welcome!!
//
Of all the weeks to be put on bed rest, it had to be the week that Harry started filming for his new movie role.
Technically you were on modified bed rest, which meant resting as much as possible but still moving around as necessary, but the phrase terrified Harry enough that he was doing whatever he could to keep you still. It hadn’t been an easy task, you were in your 8th month of pregnancy, quickly approaching your due date, and there still seemed to be a mountain of important things to get done before your son’s arrival.
It had only been two days since you’d started having what you thought were contractions. It had forced you and Harry to realize just how unprepared the two of you were when you had to rush out of the house at 2 a.m. with nothing packed for what could possibly be the night of your child’s appearance into the world. Just the two of you with disheveled hair and rumpled pajamas under the harsh lighting of the ER exam room. 8 hours of tests and scans and a visit from your doctor later, you returned home to fall back in bed and catch up on the sleep you had missed.
“Listen you’re both new to all this..I get it. But you’re putting too much stress on your body and that’s what caused this tonight. I know it’s hard but, take a week, relax, bed rest as much as possible. I’ll see you in my office again in a few days just to make sure everything is progressing along like we want. If there’s still too much stress on the baby, we may have to push your due date up a little earlier. But we don’t want to do that if we can avoid it.”
Currently you were in the nursery, where most of the last minute things to do remained. You were standing at the changing table, folding a set of onesies to be put away. Harry had been urging you for the past 10 minutes to sit down.
“Harry, I have been in bed all night, or as much of it as your son allowed me to be without kicking me in the ribs or pressing on my bladder. I just wanna get these folded and put away and I’ll be done.”
“Well you can at least sit while y’doing them. Or, let me finish ‘em.” His hands fall on your shoulders, gently guiding you towards the rocking chair in the corner. You gesture for him to bring the basket closer, “And why is he only my son when he’s causing you trouble?”
“Maybe cause it was your birthday treat that got us into this mess. Or because he already likes to tease us so much. Besides, you can’t do them, I have a system.”
“Yeah, a birthday treat planned by you. And I know the system, you showed me two days ago.”
“You knew the system, we changed it.”
“We? I’ve barely been home how’ve we..”
“I may have called your Mum again.” You shrug, propping your feet up on the small ottoman positioned in front of the chair, “She and I agreed it’s better this way.”
“You didn’t think it was important to notify me of this system you and y’new bestie have thought up?” He’s turned to lean his back against the changing table, arms folded across his chest. As much as he wants to be upset, he’s over the moon that you and Anne have become so much closer over the past few months. Between his mom and yours, plus your sister and his, he was thrilled to see you had so much support for days when he couldn’t be there. Anne had offered to fly out to spend the week with you, as did your mom, but you put them both off, promising you would need them more the few weeks after the birth.
“Been a little busy growing a human here, Harry. May have slipped my mind. I would’ve gotten around to it eventually.”
“Right, you can just tell me where everything goes then.” He’s already worked his way through folding the last of the pile, smiling proudly at you as you lean your head back and close your eyes, sinking further into the chair.
“Socks in the second drawer to the left, hats in the middle. If the onesies are newborn sized, they go to the right. Anything bigger than that gets tucked in the baskets by size there in the middle shelf of the closet, if you can find room.”
Between the two of your families and your group of mutual friends, you’d been given 4 baby showers over the past few months, combining with the items you and Harry had supplied for yourselves. People had been more than generous in helping stock the nursery for your little one.
“All done. How ‘bout some breakfast now?”
“You don’t have time. You have to be on set in less than an hour. I’ll make myself something in a bit. I may go back to sleep for a while, just got up to see you off and wanted to put those things away.”
“Always have time for you, angel,” He offers his hand to help you lift yourself up, “Maybe a smoothie?”
“Alright, if I let you make me a smoothie, will you take yours to go? Don’t want you to be late because of me.”
“Deal. But only if you let me tuck you back into bed before I go.”
“Deal.” You lean up slightly to accept the sweet kiss he offers before shuffling off to the kitchen together.
//
“Harry?”
“Hmm?”
“I’ve decided. You’re not allowed to look.”
You knew he wasn’t listening, trying to maybe, but not really. He sits across the room at the desk in the corner of your bedroom, glasses perched on the end of his nose, guitar in his lap, journal open in front of him. He’s in writing mode, something that usually takes you at least 30 minutes to coax him from and convince him to come to bed. Not that you ever wanted to interrupt his process, but tonight you’re feeling anxious about your impending delivery, dread slowing working its way through your body. 
It had been only a few days since your follow up appointment with your doctor. She had deemed you fit to come off bed rest, but urged you to continue to try to keep your stress level to a minimum as much as possible. Easier said than done, but you were finding small ways to relax yourself when you could; meditation, music, reading. But tonight you just wanted Harry for reassurance.
In your nightly scroll through one of your recent favorite mom-to-be blogs, you had come across an article on the difficulty of delivery. You appreciated moms who were brave enough to share their stories online and this person in particular had included a video. Despite your anxiety, you clicked to watch, curiosity overriding any fear rising in your chest. 
When he finally puts away the guitar and the journal and sheds his soft purple robe to swim up the bed to settle next to you, he asks, “Were y’sayin’ something earlier, m’love? Got lost there for a bit, m’sorry.”
His writing sessions were normally done in his office or the studio, but the past few weeks he’d preferred to do them here. Liked the idea of you trying to softly hum along to a new tune he was working through, occasionally offering your opinions about what you liked or didn’t. It was rare that you disliked anything, but he liked that you didn’t shy away from being honest with him. His favorite though? The sight of you, an open book, hand always resting on the side of your belly while you read. It was just as much a comfort for him to be near you these days as it was for you.
“Yeah. I’ve decided. You’re not allowed to look when I deliver this baby.”
His head rests on your thigh, only the side of his face visible as he looks up at you, but it’s enough to see the disappointment flash before he composes himself, not wanting to upset you.
“Alright. What d’you mean by that? Like..you don’t want me in the room or..”
“No, no, I want you in the room, that was never a question. You’re just not allowed to look when I’m pushing. I watched a video and I’m traumatized and I just..”
He sits up quickly, “You watched a birthing video? Without me?”
“Yeah, earlier when you were zoned out. You’ve never seen one?”
“Never been curious enough to watch one ‘til now. Not ‘til I thought of you having our babe. Show me the one you watched?”
You’re hesitant. Truly you’re touched he’s so curious and wants to share this experience with you, but right now the thought of him seeing your body change like that is scary. He senses your unease, almost reads your mind; he knows you so well.
“Babe, s’your body. If you really don’t want me t’look, then I won’t. Just..at least show me what you watched so I can see for myself what it’s like, what you’ll go through. S’all m’askin’ for now.”
“Okay, fine,” You pat the bed next to you and he scurries up to sit, his head on your shoulder while you navigate through your browser history to find the video. You start it, but your eyes stay focused on his face.
“Y’not gonna watch it again with me?”
“No,” You drape your arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer so you can rest your head on top of his, “I’d rather watch your reactions this time around.”
You’re curious to see how he reacts to certain parts; his little gasps and winces as the video progresses. When it ends, you’re not surprised to see tears have fallen down his face and made a small wet spot on the front of his t-shirt.
“Harry, you’re not upset with me, are you?”
“‘Course not, meant what I said earlier. If you really don’t want me t’look, then I won’t..but I don’t want you to think I’ll look at you any differently after. You’re givin’ me one of the greatest gifts anyone ever has, if anything I love you more than I ever thought I could. And that’s only gonna grow once our boy’s here.”
You run your hands through his hair, not sure what to say. You’ve never had a love this big, one that envelops you so fully. The past few months have shown you just how deeply he cares for you, and just how much your own heart could stretch to fill with your overwhelming love for Harry and now the baby growing inside you.      
He doesn’t take offense to your silence, just stills your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing each of your fingertips. He slumps further down the bed, head level with your stomach. He pokes it softly through your shirt. He doesn’t even have to ask anymore, you know what he wants and you’re glad to give in to him. You scoot down to rest your head on your pillow, pulling your shirt up and tucking the fabric under your breasts.
Instantly his head rests on your tummy, a hand reaching around to lay there on the other side of it, wrapping himself around you. You reach over and turn the lamp on your bedside table off, sleep drifting it’s way through your body and mind. You let one hand fall to his back, the other one joining his arm to wrap protectively around your belly.
“Harry?”
“Hmm?” 
“You can look. If you want.”
“Y’don’t have to decide tonight. We still have a little time to plan.”
“No. I don’t want to take any of this experience from you. The whole thing’s just a bit scary though.”
“I know it is, m’terrified too. But everything’s gonna be alright. I’m gonna be there for every second of it.” 
“I know you are. You’re the only thing that’s kept me sane through all this. You’ve been so good to me, H. Putting up with all my mood swings and late night cravings and whatever I needed.” 
“I haven’t had to ‘put up’ with anything. Just want to make you and bub as happy as y’both already make me.” He turns to kiss the side of your stomach before looking up at you, “Comfy? Am I squishin’ you?”
“No, it’s nice. Don’t see how you can be comfy though.” 
“I’ll move to my pillow in a bit. Just like being close to you and bub,” He yawns, “Goodnight, babe. Love you both so much.”
“We love you too, Harry. More than you’ll ever know.”
//  
Sleep had been pretty much non-existent in your third trimester. You were lucky if you got a few hours each night and cat naps throughout the day were rare. 
Tonight is no different. It’s 3 a.m and once you get up for your fifth trip to the bathroom, you know there’s no point in trying to get comfortable again. Harry will be up soon, and as much as he tries to stay quiet during his morning routine, he always found some way to unintentionally wake you. You couldn’t even sleep through his soft kisses to your forehead to say goodbye anymore.
Normally you take yourself down to the living room to find a mindless tv show or movie to carry you through your insomnia, but Harry also seemed to be infected with your curse of being a light sleeper these days. Most nights he would attempt to join you, sweet enough to not want you to be alone, stubborn enough to not listen each time you urged him to go back to bed. He always paid for it the day after though, dark circles under his eyes and nodding off to sleep throughout whatever he had scheduled. 
So in hopes that you wouldn’t wake him by leaving tonight, you reach for the remote to the bedroom tv, muting it so the noise won’t disturb him. You would almost be content enough to stare at him for the rest of the night. The sharp outline of his jaw, freckles scattered across his face that would rival the constellations in the sky, all softened by the moonlight illuminating his face perfectly. As much as you don’t want to wake him, you can’t help but reach out to run the back of your hand over the smooth skin of the man you admire so much. You adore the way even in his sleep he molds to your touch, soft snores and deep, even breaths never stopping as you move up to brush his curls away from his face. 
You almost make it through 20 minutes of a movie before his eyes flutter open. You know how much your false contractions from before weighed on him, alarm is quick to flood his face before he has a chance to take in his surroundings. 
You answer before he has a chance to let worry take over, “It’s alright. We’re okay. Just the usual..couldn’t sleep.”
He rubs his eyes to clear them, “What time s’it?”
“4:30.”
He squints slightly at the movie playing before chuckling, “How many times y’think you’ve watched this one? Know it’s been at least a dozen or so in the last month.”
“It’s my favorite. One of them, anyway. It’s always been soothing to me.”
“Bet you could quote the whole thing by now, even with it muted.”
You glance up at the tv and it only takes a second for you to pinpoint the exact part. You take his comment as a challenge, pushing yourself up out of your nest of pillows to rest your back against the headboard before quoting, “Faith is a bluebird you see from afar. It’s for real, and as sure as the first evening star. You can’t touch it, or buy it, or wrap it up tight. But it’s there just the same, making things turn out right.”
Your voice breaks as you say the last few words. Maybe it’s the combination of exhaustion and all the new fears and hormones running through your mind and body. Nostalgia of watching this when you were younger and now sharing it with your child when they are old enough touches your heart and you can’t stop the tears continuously streaming down your face.
“Baby,” He pushes himself up to rest next to you, tugging you until you're pressed close to his side, “Please don’t cry.”
“M’miserable, Harry. I’m as big as the moon and I can’t breathe and my feet always hurt and I’m just..ready for him to be here. Ready for him to be out so I can hold him and kiss him and put him in his own bed so I can rest in mine again.” 
You know you sound childish and whiny and somewhat ridiculous, but being so sleep deprived means all sense has left and so the words come spilling out, a jumbled mess you doubt he even understood.
“I know you are, love. Hate to see you so upset,” He kisses the top of your head, “Certainly as bright as the moon, but not as big. Your body’s as exactly as it should be. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but that’s only cause you’re tired. He’ll be here soon and we’ll have so many people here to help, yeah?”
All you can do is nod, you know he’s right and you know once you have a nap things won’t feel so overwhelming. You pull yourself away from him to wipe your face on your t-shirt. A smile stretches across your lips as the thought enters your mind, “If I’m as bright as the moon, you’re as golden as the sun.”
“Yeah?” He’s blushing now, looking down at his hands before his eyes dart up to meet yours, “Guess that makes bub our little star, huh?”
You giggle before shrugging, “Guess so.”
“By the way,” His hand rests on your thigh, “We gonna keep calling him bub or we gonna pick a name?” 
“Bub’s cute. Bub Styles.” You wrinkle your nose at the thought, “I just want it to be perfect for him, you know? I feel like I need to see his face before I just blindly pick a name. We could definitely narrow down some options though and see which one suits him best.”
“We’ll think of something special, eh? Somethin’ just f’him.”
“Yeah, we will,” You suck in a sharp intake of breath at a particularly hard kick from within your stomach. Harry’s head snaps to look over your face before looking down to where your hand lays on your belly.
“What’s wrong?” His eyes are wide, on edge as he waits for your answer.
“It’s fine he’s just..ah, being a little rowdy this morning.” You take his hand from your thigh and press it to where the kicks were landing, “Right here. Think that’s his butt, his head’s down here, and..ah, his feet are right about here. Can you feel him?”
His palm lays flat across the front of your belly, “S’amazing, never gets old. Bet it feels so..weird to you though.”
“At first, yeah, but got used to it pretty quickly. It’s comforting now, like he’s saying hello or contributing to our conversations when we talk.”
He puts his mouth almost right against your tummy, so close his breath tickles and you feel the vibrations when he speaks, “Take it easy on mumma, little one. Just a bit longer, yeah? Can’t wait to see ya face. Bet y’so handsome like daddy, just gotta be a lil’ more patient like mummy, alright?” 
“Think maybe he’s ready for his pre-breakfast snack?”
“Dunno..I’ll ask him though,” He bends again, “That why y’bein’ such a brat to mum, huh? Woke her up early cause you were hungry? Alright, daddy’ll make your usual.”
He kisses your stomach, before straightening to where he’s level with your face, “That sound good?”
Your “usual” was a bowl of what had been your biggest craving throughout your pregnancy; fruit. On nights like this when sleeplessness couldn’t be defeated, the two of you normally gave in pretty quickly and had breakfast together. On days when you were able to sleep through Harry’s departure, you would always wake to the bowl already prepared and ready for you. Oftentimes there would be a quickly scribbled note with the words “Love, H” stuck to the top or the side of the bowl, like you didn’t already know who had left it for you.
“You’re spoiling him already, Harry.”
He smacks a quick kiss to your cheek, pulling back just a second before diving back in to peck another one on your other cheek, “Tryin’ to spoil you too, angel.”
//
Contractions, real ones you were sure this time, had started 30 minutes ago. As much as Harry wanted to rush you out of the house in your pajamas, you had insisted on at least 5 minutes to change and pull your hair into a quick ponytail before gathering your bag and dashing down the stairs.
Just as Harry’s hand lands on the doorknob, you tug on the sleeve of his jacket, “Harry, stop for a second.”
“Why? Are you having one now?”
“Kiss me.”
“What?”
“This is one of our last moments before we become parents. I want you to slow down, take a deep breath, and kiss me.”
“You’re impossible, you know that? Active labor and you stop me for a kiss.” He rolls his eyes but you can see his shoulders drop, relaxing just enough to press his lips firmly against yours. You reach your hand up and around to the back of his neck, deepening it for a moment before drawing back to scan his face.
“Better?” Your hand continues to work through his hair, happy to watch his face relax slightly at your touch.
“Much. How are you so calm?”
“I don’t know, really. I thought I would be scared, and I am but..I’m ready. So ready to meet him.”
“Me too. Let’s go.” His hand falls to the small of you back, leading you out the door and to the car.
Once you arrive at the hospital, he doesn’t leave your side, not even when the nurse suggests he do so while you get your epidural. She agrees to let him stay, but makes him sit in a chair in front of you and sternly tells him not to look.
He holds both of your hands, squeezing them tightly as an attempt to distract you. He knows how much you hate needles, how the thought of this procedure alone had scared you almost as much as the idea of labor. You release a deep sigh of relief when they announce it’s done, and he helps you settle back into bed, tucking the blanket around you.
“So proud of you, baby. You’re already doing amazing.” 
Things progress much faster than you ever thought they would, and it’s only three hours before you’re ready to push. Harry’s there for every second of it, hand behind your back and small encouragements in your ear when you think you can’t go any further. 
“M’tired, H.” The room is full of people, your doctor and a set of nurses, but his focus stays on you; simply existing together in that moment. Small pieces of hair have come loose from your ponytail, clinging to the sweat now covering your forehead. He sweeps them away before resting his hand on your shoulder.
“I know y’are, lovie, but you’re so so close. Doin’ so incredible,” His smile is so wide, beaming at you when he leans closer, “Y’look gorgeous too, never seen you look more stunning than now.”
That has a laugh bursting from you, still breathless when you reply,  “You’re such a bad liar.”
“M’serious! Know better than to lie to you.” He winks just before working his arm around behind your back again, giving you the motivation you needed to keep going.
It’s not long before you hear what you’re certain is one of the best sounds you’ll ever hear, the sweet sound of your baby boy’s cry as he enters the world.
//
An hour later, both of you are still in awe of your little one, sleeping peaceful now in their dad’s strong arms. Harry’s wedged himself next to you in the hospital bed, long legs stretched in front of him. He keeps looking between where your head is propped on his shoulder and the baby.
He breaks the silence first, “Definitely think he has your hair. S’nice and soft.”
“Think it’ll be darker like yours though. Maybe he’ll have your eyes.” You reach over to run your finger along your baby’s nose.
He looks between you and the baby again, a prideful smile brightening his face. He smushes his lips against your temple, and you close your eyes as the feeling of adoration combined with the  exhaustion of the day washes over you. 
You hear him whisper just as you’re drifting to sleep, “My moon and star, together at last.”
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littlemrcaprisun · 3 years
Link
TW: brief mentions of miscarriage
(This is a rewrite of an old fic from a previous ship and I just changed the names and POV so if there are errors in that... well sorry.)
Despite all of the odds and challenges that face you, you both decide to go through with having a baby. It takes months to see results, whether it be the it just not working or it working and ending in heartbreak. You’re about to give up on the dream when the fifth pregnancy makes it past the first trimester and halfway through the second. You decide to tell your family and friends, well Alcina does. You only tell your parents and it goes over just as well as expected: poorly. Your parents still aren’t happy with the fact that their child left their husband, the rich doctor with the hefty salary, for another woman twice their age. While they have grown to love and accept Alcina, and your newfound sexuality, a baby announcement was the last thing they wanted to hear out of your mouth. You don't tell Alcina about their reaction for a long time, after all stress is the last thing she needs right now considering how this whole process has gone so far. What you can’t afford is stress risking this precious thing they’ve fought so hard to build. However, Alcina catches on quickly and confronts you about why you’ve been so quiet and reserved lately, especially where the baby is concerned.
“I’m just… I’m… processing.” You shrug after dinner one evening as Alcina helps you get ready for bed. Alcina furrows her brow and stops to turn to you.
“A-are you having regrets?” Alcina asks quietly, her hand flying to your belly immediately. You are barely showing but still enough to be noticeably pregnant and the palm of her hand wraps perfectly around the swell of your bump.
“Oh, no. God, no.” You look up to Alcina , fervently shaking your head. “Never.” You pull Alcina’s chin down to look into your eyes and you make sure Alcina can feel the sincerity burn through her eyes
“Then, please, tell me what’s really wrong.” Alcina carefully lowers both of you onto the bed, just to be precautious. Your belly barely protrudes through your hoodie as you lay back against the pillows, but it’s enough that Alcina can see it and she can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of her lips.
“It’s just my parents… they aren’t very supportive yet… of the baby, I mean.” You admit and sit up on the edge of the bed. You lean back and brace yourself on your hands and try to focus your energy into not crying. Alcina pulls you toward her until you are comfortable and she is lying between her legs, ear pressed to belly. You feel yourself relax almost instantly as she feels the warmth coming from you and the life growing inside you.
“I know your parents’ opinion means the entire world to you, but… I don’t know.” Alcina sighs. “I don’t think there’s anything I can say to make you feel better about it. We’ve just fought so hard to get to where we are now and I hate the thought that you might… that you might regret it.”
You lift your head and place a hand on Alcina’s cheek and another on your belly. “I don’t regret anything… I just wish this were easier.”
“So do I. I am terrified I am gonna wake up and this is all going to be over. I couldn’t take it if… if…” Alcina chokes on her words before she can finish her sentence. You try to comfort Alcina and tell her everything is going to be okay but she shakes her head, recomposes herself, and speaks again. “You are six months pregnant. You’re in the ‘safe zone,’ but I can’t let myself believe it’s real. I don’t want to know if it’s a boy or a girl, I don’t want to name it, I don’t want to build a nursery. I don’t want to accept that we’re going to have a baby because I don’t believe that we’re going to have a baby… I’m sorry this isn’t even relevant. It just kind of came out. I’m just so scared of losing this one too.”
———
“Cina... I’m having some regrets.” You whisper, your voice seeming to go on forever in the cool dark room. Alcina shifts next to you in bed and opens an eye.
“What’s wrong?” She asks and when she rolls over she feels the cool damp surface beneath her hip. Immediately, she jumps out of bed and flips on the light. You both cringe at the brightness but quickly adjust and the sight before you comes into focus. You are lying on your back, clutching your belly and your hip, the white sheet around you has turned grey from the water surrounding your bottom. “I-is it time?”
“I think so.” You nod, smiling widely. You’ve had a few contractions since your water broke and you didn’t find them to be that painful, however the ones that follow aren’t such a breeze. As Alcina is helping you out of the bed, so she can change the sheets, you have another contraction. You let out a quiet cry and lean over the side of the bed. “Time it, time it!” You yelp between heavy breaths. Alcina is quick to start counting before she can get your phone out to use the app the midwife recommended to both of you. Within a few minutes, you are back to normal and standing up right.
Alcina sets to work “birth-proofing” the bed by taking off the wet sheets, putting down new ones, placing waterproof shower curtains, then places not so new sheets over top of that. You, meanwhile, make your way out of the bedroom, down the hall, and to the guest room, where your mother, who had finally started to come around, has been camping out for the past four weeks in anticipation for the arrival of her first grandchild.
“Mom…” You whisper hesitantly, anxious about waking your mother up in the middle of the night despite the situation at hand. “Mama, my water broke.”
She doesn’t move and you panic for a moment, unsure of what to do, when you hear her mother’s voice. “Are you in labor?”
“I’m having contractions.” You bite your lip. “They’re about 30 minutes apart.” And with that your mother sits up and switches her bedside lamp on. She climbs out of bed and rushes over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist.
“What can I do for you, sunshine?”
“I’m okay for now, I just want to get back to bed before I have another contraction.” She helps you back down the hall towards the bedroom but before you can make it, you have to stop and brace yourself against the wall. “Fuck.” You curse as this contraction takes hold and all you can think about is counting how long it lasts. Your mother stands behind you and gently massages your upper back in an attempt to calm you. Alcina hurries out of your bedroom to your aide.
“Don’t worry I started the timer for this one.” Alcina leans against the wall next to you and runs her hand through your hair, but you stop her by grabbing her hand and squeezing. “You’re at 17 seconds, darling. You can do this.” Alcina assures you. 25 more seconds pass before you are able to relax again.
“When are we supposed to call the midwife?” Your mother asks.
“They told us when the contractions are about 5 minutes apart, so I think we have awhile.” Alcina explains and you huff.
“This is going to be a long night.” You murmur as you check the time on the wall clock. “It’s 2:10 am and this has already been going on for about 2 hours since my water first broke.”
“It took you a whole hour to wake me up?” Alcina furrows her brow.
“I didn’t want to wake you up. I wanted you to get as much sleep as possible before the chaos.” You shrug and Alcina kisses your forehead. “And I wanted to be sure too.”
Six hours pass and your contractions are still about 25-30 minutes apart but increasing in discomfort. You don't know if they’re actually increasing in pain or if you’re just getting worn down at this point. At 9:02am, they run a hot bath for you to soak in, to try to ease some of the discomfort. It only helps a little bit. You try sitting normally in the tub, then kneeling against the wall of it, then sitting on all fours, before ending up back in a normal sitting position.
Despite the amount of pain and stress you’re in, you remain fairly positive and bubbly, and even joke around with Alcina. Your mother decided to go back to sleep around 3:45, with some convincing from you, so she’d be ready when the baby actually decided to make an appearance. But at around 10:23 she knocks on the bathroom door and is let in by Alcina. She kisses the top of your head and hands Alcina a light breakfast for both of you.
“You gotta keep your strength up.” She smiles at both of you. “How are you doing, my sweet?”
You, resting her head against the side of the tub look up at her mother and smile weakly. “I’d be doing a lot better if this baby would come.” Just as you finish your sentence another contraction, one of the worst yet, comes on and you start to weep.
“I’m going to call Dani.”Alcina murmurs. The daughter of your girlfriend who had become more like a sister to you.
“Please!” You gasp, your voice a mixture of exhaustion and pain, tears rolling freely down your cheeks. Alcina sits behind you and wraps her arms around your shoulders, whispering words of encouragement into your ear. After about a minute and a half the contraction passes and you sigh. “I need to get out of here. I’m getting pruny and I’m tired. I want to rest.”
You get in a rough nap before the contractions interrupt your sleeping too much. When you wake though, you’re pleasantly surprised to see Dani sitting at the foot of her bed.
“Hey, Tiny.” Dani smiles. You smile softly and reach out for Dani’s hand. “How’s it going?”
“Oh you know, I’ve been in labor for…” You pause to check the clock and calculate the time. “13 hours with no pain medicine. I’m surviving.”
Alcina wants to give you and Dani some time together but when you have another contraction, once again, that’s seemingly worse than the last, she can’t help but run to your side. “Talk to me, darling. What’s going on?”
“They’re barely 10 minutes apart. I think this one is 7 minutes after the last one.” You spit out the words and cling to Alcina, digging your nails into her arm.
“I’m going to call the midwife as soon as this one passes.”
It takes the midwife, Janet, over 30 minutes to get to the castle from outside the village . It’s exactly 2:00 pm when Janet walks through the door. By that time, your contractions are less than 5 minutes apart and so intense you have to hold onto both Alcina and Dani. You’re sweating, crying a little bit, not nearly as bubbly as before, completely drained, but focused and still positive.
“Hey, sweetstuff.” Janet hums and she greets you, and you give her a soft smile. “I know you’re miserable so I’m gonna save the ‘how are you doing’ speech and get to it. First things first, can I check to see how dilated you are?”
Janet determines you are about 6 centimeters dilated and you arebeyond thrilled to be over halfway to the end. “So now we wait and we breathe and try to relax and keep drinking water. You are a trooper. I know I couldn’t do what you’re doing, but it is so worth it and so wonderful for you and your baby.” Janet’s warm and assuring tone makes you feel like maybe you didn’t make the wrong choice by going with a natural home birth and some of your regret fades.
You eventually go back to the tub, where you find kneeling against the side of it helps to relieve some of the pressure this time. Your contractions are closer together and they’re shorter, but they are worse than any pain that you’ve ever felt before. Each one makes you feel like you’re going to fall apart at the joints.
At around 4:30, the contractions are enough to make you cry and moan in pain constantly, and it is almost too much to bear for everyone witnessing their sweet little Tiny suffer so much. You’ve moved from kneeling against the tub to your bed. Your knees are planted on the floor, your chest is resting against the side of the mattress, your shoulders are curled in on yourself, and your head is pressed into the bed. You want to push so bad and every passing second the pressure continues to build. You feels like if you don’t push immediately you’re going to explode
“Alright, baby, you’re 8 centimeters dilated. We’re almost there.” Janet isn’t so calming anymore when she doesn’t say what you want to hear.
“How much longer?” You whimper.
Janet sighs. “I wish I could give you an answer. It could be 30 minutes, or it could be three hours. There’s no way to tell.”
You curse Janet for even mentioning three hours because sure enough with your luck it is another five hours before you’re fully dilated. By this point, you don't even know how you’re going to find the strength to push. It��s been almost 24 hours since your labor began and now you’re just getting to the point where you can start pushing. You’re still squatting next to the bed when Janet gives you the first instruction to push. You thought for hours that pushing would provide some kind of relief, but when the pressure worsens as you push you want to stop more than any other moment of the process.
An hour passes with barely any luck or movement from the baby and both you and Alcina start to get worried. Janet assures them that it’s normal and the delivery itself can take two to three hours, especially without any medication. You move to the bed and lay on your side with your leg towards your chest as far as they’ll go. This seems to do the trick and soon Janet is exclaiming that she feels a head.
The final, and 25th, hour of labor passes and soon the house fills with the most beautiful sound you've ever heard: the sound of your baby crying. Janet lays your baby in your arms and that first moment of skin-to-skin contact feels like heaven. You look down and the little face in your arms and start to openly sob, as does everyone else in the room.
“It’s a girl.” Janet smiles. You can’t pry her eyes away from her, from your daughters.
“Cina… we have a baby. We have a daughter.” You whisper. Alcina is a mess, with tears streaming down her face and trembling with soft sobs. After feeding her, Janet wants to give Alcina the skin-to-skin contact as well and kicks Dani and your mother out so the new mothers can have some privacy. Alcina holds him against her chest while you lie in bed next to her, resting and recovering. “What’re we going to name her?”
“Slowpoke because it took her so long to get here.” Alcina teases in a soft voice directed towards the now sleeping baby.
You smile and reach over to touch the baby’s cheek. “Honestly, not to be one of those moms, but what if we just named her what she is?”
“What’s that?” Alcina asks, raising a brow at you.
“A bearer of good news and hope..”
“My dear, I don’t think that’s a name.” Alcina chuckles a little.
“No, but Evangeline is.”
Alcina’s face twists into one of pure joy. “Evangeline Dimitrescu.” She nods. “That’ll do just fine.”
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