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pink-sparkly-witch · 6 months

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The One That Got Away - Chapter Thirteen

Warnings: tw: child abuse, tw: physical abuse, tw: mentions of fire, tw: minor character death, tw: funeral, insecurities, self-doubt, a little fluff.

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Female Reader

A/N: There are TRIGGER WARNINGS in this part - please heed these, and if you think you’ll be affected by any of them, please do not read.

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The fire in the abandoned warehouse had kept Dean and his crew out all night, only finally getting it under control as the sun broke out over the horizon. Arriving back at the firehouse, weary and covered in soot and sweat, Dean felt his insecurities take hold again.

“Captain, a word?” Bobby grumbled.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean replied, trying to keep his exhaustion out of his tone. “I’ll hang my gear up and be right in.”

Knocking on the door, Dean leaned against its frame and waited for permission to enter the Chief’s office. He couldn’t have stood up straight if he wanted to. His muscles were screaming at him from battling the warehouse inferno.

“Come in, and close the door behind you,” Bobby grunted, looking as tired as Dean felt.

“What’s up, Chief?” Dean said as he sat across the desk from his boss and mentor.

“Good job at the warehouse, Dean. You and your team did great tonight.” Bobby’s words of praise were scarce. His actions usually spoke louder than he did, so he meant it whenever he voiced how good of a job had been done.

“Thank you. I’ll pass that on to the crew. They’ll appreciate hearing that.”

“I also wanted to say that the paperwork can wait a while. The relief crew will have a lot of work to do to make the structure safe or have it condemned. It’s likely to roll into the next shift, so go home, eat, sleep, and come in tomorrow at some point and file your initial report,” Bobby said.

“Thanks, Chief. I’ll check in with everyone and make sure they’re good. A few bumps and scrapes happened in there, and I wanna make sure no one needs medical attention.”

“You’re a great captain, Dean, and it won’t be long until you’re sitting in this chair,” Bobby nodded his head to gesture at the seat he was sitting on. “And you’ll have my full backing.”

“Thanks, Bobby.” Dean shifted forward in his seat and sighed. “I hate to ask, but I haven’t heard from Y/N since we had our date the other night. Is she okay?”

The second the words were out of his mouth, and he saw Bobby’s face pale, he knew his insecurities were correct. He knew his second chance with her was over. He could feel it. She’d gone back to Chicago.

“She didn’t tell you?” Bobby’s voice was much softer than Dean had ever heard it before.

“Tell me what?” Dean asked, trying to stay calm and not let his emotions show.

“Danny passed away the night before last,” Bobby said solemnly.

Dean felt like the worst person in the world, questioning why she hadn’t called or contacted him when she was dealing with who knows what.

“She got a call from the hospice not long after you dropped her home. She went straight there and stayed with him until he died. I’m sorry, Dean. I thought you knew.”

“No, I had no idea,” Dean ran a hand down his face and huffed out a sigh. “How is she?” Before Bobby could answer, Dean’s phone chimed, and he pulled it from his pocket. “It’s Y/N.”

Y/N Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t reply sooner. My father passed away and I’ve been getting things arranged. I’ll call you in a couple of days when things calm down a little xx

Dean Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do or anything you need, call me xx

“You’ll be there for her, won’t you, son?” Bobby asked, and Dean didn’t hesitate with his answer.

“Of course. Whatever she needs. Anything. Everything. Always.”

“Thank you. You were always her go-to person. She always relied on you and trusted you. I doubt that’s changed, and I’m worried she’ll take it harder than we think,” Bobby cleared his throat to rid himself of the building emotion.

“Now go home, Captain. Get some rest and check in on our girl.

The call from the hospice came almost immediately after Y/N had read the goodnight text from Dean. She’d rushed straight there when they told her father wouldn’t last the night.

When she arrived, Y/N was ushered straight to his room, and as she saw her father for the first time in twelve years, she felt sorry for him. He was a shadow of the man she knew back then, looking years older than he was and much frailer than she could’ve ever imagined.

“Y/N?” her father’s hoarse voice made her heart stop, but she fought with everything she had not to flinch or show him any fear. She’d shown enough weakness to this man and would be damned if the last thing he saw was her fear.

He holds no power over you. Not anymore. Repeated over and over in her head like a mantra. When she believed it, she took a deep breath and stepped further into the room.

“I’m so sorry, pumpkin,” her father said, holding his hand out. “For everything.”

Y/N sat in the chair next to the bed and took his hand. She didn’t want to speak to him, so she remained silent. She knew she’d never forgive herself for letting her father die without a small piece of comfort. Even if he was a monster, no one deserved to die alone.

It was the same reason she’d come at all. She knew the guilt would haunt her for the rest of her life if she hadn’t been there and at least tried to get the closure she needed.

Neither spoke and as her father took his last shaky breath, Y/N silently accepted his apology and cried tears of relief that it was finally over. She could forget all about him and move on with her life.

“Y/N?” Bobby’s concerned voice answered her late-night call.

“He’s gone.”

The next few days went past in a blur. Y/N had organised the funeral, not bothering to pass around the details, knowing no one but she would attend. She’d also hired a company to clear out his house and lawyers to deal with everything else. It’d be a cold day in Hell before she’d step foot on the street she grew up on, never mind the house.

Once the lawyers had checked the house for paperwork and anything of value, the clearing company was instructed to get rid of everything. She’d already taken some of her mom’s jewellery when she left for Chicago; it was all she’d wanted, and that wouldn’t change now, so why trawl through it all?

Standing alone at the freshly dug grave, Y/N listened to the birds singing more than the minister's prayer. She’d lost any faith in a god when her father broke her arm for the third time.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

“Dean. Hey,” Y/N couldn’t hide her shock that he knew the date of the funeral, let alone came. “What are you doing here?”

“You have no idea what I had to do to find out when and where this was!” he chuckled softly. “I’m here for you and only you, Princess. Not him. We all are,” Dean said as he held his hand out for her to take if she wanted to. She did, weaving her fingers through his.

“We?” she asked as she squeezed his hand gently. Dean tilted his head to the side, indicating she should look behind her.

Turning, Y/N saw Bobby, Jody, John, and Mary hanging back by the trees. “You didn’t need to come,” Y/N smiled softly at the group before turning to face forwards again.

“We came for you,” Dean reiterated.

“I’m here for me, too. I wasn’t going to, but you know, closure.”

“How are you holding up?” Dean asked, his eyes on the dirt being thrown into the grave.

“Am I a terrible person if I say I’m good?”

“No.” Dean’s answer was instant. “I think it’s completely understandable. That man put you through hell, and now he’s gone. You can rest easy now, sweetheart.”

“He apologised,” Y/N said, and Dean stayed silent. He knew her, knew she wasn’t finished and was replaying the memory again before voicing it aloud.

“His last words, just as I got to him, were, ‘I’m so sorry, pumpkin. For everything.’ I wasn’t expecting it, and I didn’t expect to feel so much relief at hearing him say it, you know? It’s like the final validation that it wasn’t my fault.”

“C’mere,” Dean whispered, pulling her into a desperately needed and comforting hug.

Dean kissed her forehead as he pulled back slightly and smiled softly. “Are you ready to go, or do you need some time?”

“No, I think I’m good.” Y/N sighed deeply and turned her back on her parent’s graves, possibly, she thought, for the last time.

Her mom’s grave was a place Y/N went to a lot when she was a kid when she missed her mom or needed to get out of the house. Whenever she visited, she’d tell her everything about her life and what was going on, but she knew that now her father was resting next to her, it wouldn’t bring her the same kind of peace it once had.

Dean followed her home and insisted he stay with her for a few hours. She’d probably never admit it, but she was grateful for that. There were a lot of emotions swirling around her and wanting to be felt, and she didn’t know what was up and what was down with it all.

They ordered pizza and drank some beers, and Dean listened when she wanted to talk and stayed silent when she withdrew into her thoughts. He stayed close enough to place a comforting hand on her thigh or on her shoulder or take her hand, but not close enough that he smothered her.

Dean made sure she was okay before leaving her apartment later that night. If he was honest, he only left her because they both had early shifts the next day, and she insisted she was fine. He promised to call her in a few days to arrange their next date and made her promise to call him if she needed him, and reluctantly went home.

Y/N went back to work the day after the funeral, not feeling the need to take any more time off than necessary. She certainly wasn’t grieving, so there really wasn’t any point in taking bereavement leave from the hospital.

Everything felt surreal but in a good way. The last time she remembered sleeping so well was when she last slept in Dean’s arms. She felt lighter than ever, and the weight that used to lay heavily on her shoulders had lifted. It was strange to have become so used to the tension and the tightness in her body that she didn’t even know it was there. It felt like she’d lost 100 lbs, and it made her giddy.

When her shift was over, and she got her cell phone out of her locker, the number of texts waiting to be read filled her chest with warmth. And as Y/N read through all of her family and friends messages that were just checking in, she felt loved and cared for.

Coming home might have been the best decision she’d ever made.

Next Chapter >>

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#the one that got away #firefighter!dean winchester x reader #au dean winchester x reader #tw: child abuse #tw: alcoholism #tw: physical abuse #tw: verbal abuse #firefighter!dean winchester #dean winchester x reader

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writingreadinglurkingandsmirking · 10 months

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Is Your Secrets - Sarah Cameron x Reader

Dear Reader Duology: Part 1, Part 2

Summary: For 16 days Sarah has absolutely no explanation as to where you are. She knows, but not from you. And it's killing her. The uncertainty of what she's done to your relationship and where you both stand is killing her. And when you finally make it back home? You both have to face down the future of your relationship and what that will look like.

Word Count: 5.2k+

TWs/CWs: She/her pronouns used, adult/profane language, descriptions of relationship issues/relationship deterioration, mentions of hospice/a funeral (not extensive or central), making up from a relationship, not fully flushed out

Note: Lmaooooo I didn't feel like waitinggggggggg! Part 2 of the Sarah Cameron installment of the Dear Reader duology series I have going on here on Tumblr. Happy pride: go lesbians, go. Again, if I'm lucky I'll get Kie's out before pride month is over.

“What the hell? Where is my girlfriend?” Sarah demanded when JJ and Kiara emerged from the trees without you. Both had grim looks on their faces and Sarah had a spinning anxiety threatening to take out her legs. She watched as the couple exchanged a glance and her eyes hardened almost immediately into a glare. She folded her arms tightly across her chest. “This isn’t funny. Where is she?”

“She…had to leave, Sarah,” Kie said eventually.

“What?” Sarah asked.

“She’s having a family thing. It’s…bad,” JJ said.

“What the fuck are you talking about? No, she didn't, she would’ve told me,” Sarah said defensively.

“She just got the text, Sar. Right before she ran off,” Kie explained.

“No. She would’ve had me take her. What are you even saying?” she asked.

JJ went to reply but Kiara grabbed her boyfriend’s arm squeezing it, as if in warning. It didn’t go unnoticed by Sarah, but she didn’t get why. She shook her head and turned towards John B. He nodded encouragingly, smiling and patting her shoulder.

“Go call her and see what’s up,” he encouraged.

Offering him a smile of thanks she walked off, dialing your number within moments and holding it to her hair. It rang once…twice…a third time…a fourth time…then? It was sent to voicemail. Sarah bit her lip, immediately worried.

“Hey, baby? What’s up? Where did you go? Are you okay? Kie said you have a family thing going on,” she said, drumming her nails against her leg. “I’m worried. Call me back okay? Just let me know what you need so I can help you.”

She hung up and walked back over to her friends. “Did she answer?” Cleo asked.

“No,” Sarah said, shaking her head.

Cleo sighed and got up. “I’ll try to call her,” she assured Sarah before walking off.

“I’m sure she’s fine, Sarah,” Pope offered. “She just has to deal with her family stuff. You know she’s not just gonna run on you.”

Sarah turned her head over towards Cleo who glanced back in Sarah’s direction. She shook her head and lowered the phone. Obviously, you hadn’t answered, then. Sarah’s hands sat on her hips and she started drumming her fingers more insistently. She took out her phone after a few seconds of thought and started firing off a series of texts to you.

Hey, where did you go?? JJ and Kie said something’s wrong?? Why aren’t you answering??

I love you, baby. Just call me back please.

I just wanna know that you’re okay. You don’t even have to tell me what’s wrong.

I’m supposed to be there for you, peach.

For a moment, Sarah paused and looked up at her friends. “What did she say was wrong?” Sarah asked.

Again, Kie stopped JJ from speaking. “She didn’t say anything. She showed us the text she got,” Kie explained. “Her aunt’s collapsed. It looks like she’s…potentially not gonna make it this time…”

“Shit,” Sarah hissed before taking her phone out, trying to call you again. Again, you did not answer. She left another message. And with that, she started firing off another round of texts.

Kie just told me your aunt collapsed. Do you need me to get us over to the mainland tomorrow? Are you going on the last boat? Do you want me to come? What’s up? What do you need? I don’t want to overwhelm you I just know how hard this is.

So just tell me what you need, okay?

I love you. I wanna support you.

I can be there by the morning. Just say the word. You know I’d do anything for you, right?

Sarah made a final attempt to call. This time she didn’t bother to leave another voicemail when there was no answer. She looked over at Kie, face pleading for some answer that she knew well that her friend could not provide. Or would not even if she could do it. She looked back down at her phone, shaking her head, firing off a few more texts.

My love, you’re scaring me. I hate to think that you’re out there overwhelmed like this and that you’re alone.

Please talk to me, peach.

“Sarah,” Kie said cautiously. “She just texted me.”

Sarah’s eyes widened. She hated the sound of that and the nervous energy that filled her at that. “What did she say?” Sarah asked, worried.

Kie didn’t say anything, instead, she simply held the phone out for Sarah to read. So, Sarah had to read the text with her own two eyes. She had to come to terms with the fact that she saw that this was what you said. She had to acknowledge that this was what you meant.

Tell her not to come.

It felt like a ton of bricks had been dropped into her stomach and fell all the way to her feet. “Hey,” Pope said optimistically. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“Right,” John B said automatically, nodding in agreement. “Probably just gonna be crowded at the hospital with her aunt. Less to worry about. Nothing about you, Sarah. She’s crazy about you.”

Cleo and Kie exchanged a look and Kie swatted at JJ as he made a noise. “What, JJ?” Sarah asked, overly defensive immediately.

“Nothing, Sarah. Just try to understand that her aunt is dying. Of course, she doesn’t need to worry about you. But we should be worried about her, shouldn’t we?” he posed, voice dripping disdain even as he kept his face neutral.

Despite the urge to snap back at him, Sarah knew that it was largely just her anxiety tempting her towards it. She simply squeezed her hip with one hand and gripped her phone with the other. She offered a curt nod. “Yeah, you’re right,” she said. “I’m gonna head back though and see if she went to our apartment first.”

“Sarah…she didn’t,” Kie said, sounding like she hated even saying it. “She’s on the ferry already. Heading over. Just…give her a little space right now. She’ll reach out when she’s ready. Give her a break. It’s been…hard.”

“What are you saying? What has been hard?” Sarah asked, looking suspiciously at Kiara.

“Look, Sarah. Let’s take you home,” John B said, clapping her on the shoulder. “You are way too worried about this right now. You need to decompress. You’re not gonna do that here.”

Sarah offered him a scathing glare. “I need to know if my girlfriend's okay,” Sarah retorted.

“No, you need to listen to Kie and give your girlfriend a damn chance to get through this. And she wants to do it without you right now. And you need to respect that,” JJ said bluntly, ever willing to push her buttons regardless of how painful it might be to do so.

“And we’re done here,” Kie said with fake cheer, clapping JJ’s shoulder before beginning to bodily drag him away. She threw a final look back at Sarah and a last piece of advice. “Just give her a bit. She’ll be back when her family's stuff's set.”

Regardless of what Sarah wanted, she knew that she had no other choice. She knew that her friends were right, whether more softly presented like Kie or more harshly presented like JJ. So, when she went home again, to an empty bed that should’ve had you sleeping beside her, warm and safe, she was determined to be patient. You’d reach out when you needed her. And you did. You did need her. At least…she hoped you did. Suddenly, she felt swept over by a tidal wave of doubt as she sat alone in your shared apartment.

Sarah was not unaware that she hadn’t been the best version of herself with you for the past month. No, she was entirely aware that this was the worst girlfriend she’d ever been to you. And she hated herself for it. But she truly, truly felt like she had to. After all, as much as she often…hated her brother…hated everything about the way he acted and the person he portrayed himself to be…the last conversation they’d had together had left an impact. Something that she had no doubt he’d be delighted to know.

“You know, you’re a lot more like me than you’d like to admit, Sarah. A lot more like Dad. It’s about time that you stop lying to yourself that you’re some normal little good girl, isn’t it? We’re all adults now,” Rafe had sneered on their monthly call that both of them hated, yet neither seemed to be able to stop.

“You’re a crazy, possessive dick, Rafe,” she’d pointed out, with her teeth grit. “I’m nothing like you. And I’m not some selfish…clingy asshole like Dad, either.”

Rafe had chuckled on the other end of the phone and something about the sound had set her teeth on edge. “Oh that’s so sweet that you think so,” he had cooed sarcastically. “But you should take a look at the way you treat that little girlfriend of yours before you start running your mouth over who acts possessive and crazy…or selfish and clingy. You want that girl to be about you 24/7 and if she isn’t you got a problem with it.”

Sarah rolled her eyes at her brother. “Yeah, no. I don’t think it’s weird that I’m excited to be with my girlfriend actually. Some of us are emotionally mature and actually grew up and have partners that we love,” she had said, the words caustic and barbed.

“Ah, well, commitment’s overrated,” Rafe drawled down the line. Sarah had been furious to hear his smug amusement at her easily triggered anger at that moment. “I bet you don’t even realize how bad it is. You probably don’t go even five minutes without touching her if you’re in the same room.” He let out a hum that had Sarah’s hair standing on end. “You probably couldn’t even stop yourself if you tried. I feel bad for her, I do. I’m sure that your girlfriend hates it. Even if she’s too nice to say it to you.”

At that point, the conversation had devolved largely into her yelling at her brother to stop being such a jackass and grow up and a bunch of other childish and otherwise unhelpful things that only could be dragged out of her by her siblings. Even so, knowing that Rafe was an idiot and a loser and always wrong more or less, the words had haunted her. They stuck to her brain. And part of her knew that he was right. She was clingy. Some probably would call her obsessive. She did feel like she had to be touching you every moment that she could be—it helped her feel sane for God’s sake. And sure she hated when Kiara looked at you for too long even though it was more likely that you’d both run away and elope with a literal fish before even looking at each other that way. So maybe she was a bit possessive at times. But you were the best thing that had ever happened to her. So sue her. Of course she was.

At that moment, it struck her.

And damn it all to hell because Rafe was right and she was just a bit psychotic when it came to you.

And damn it all to a deeper part of hell because he was also probably right about you hating it.

She tried her best to dissuade herself from that being the truth. But, over the following days after that first conversation with her brother, she recognized it more. The pattern of borderline obsession with you. Not to an unhealthy degree, not really. But enough that she somehow felt like a part of her was missing when she didn’t get to touch you every ten minutes or so when you were with each other. And that scared her. It scared her a lot. She’d worked so hard through her late teenage years and into her early twenties to become strong and independent. And in the last two years with you, it had dismantled every wall she’d ever built. You felt too entwined with her; it was like she didn’t know where you ended and where she began.

Sarah would admit it: she got scared.

Sarah would admit it: she was a coward.

Sarah would admit it: she ran in every way but literally.

At the drop of a dime, despite the fact it almost felt like going through literal withdrawal at first, she started distancing herself from you. From her peach. From the sweetest and best thing that had ever entered her life. She told herself it was to give you space. It was to give you the freedom to choose to bridge that gap and make the connection with you both. That was a lie though. That was the lie that she told herself even as she pulled away as you tried to make contact, even as she ignored you and flaked on plans and lied about where she was. Because if there was one thing that Sarah couldn’t shake—not fully, at least—it was the ability to blow up things that were important to her when they got too serious. Sure, it had taken two years this time, but she still did it.

But, hey, consistency was key when it came to destroying your life, right?

Then, it felt like she couldn’t stop. She felt awful that first week and wanted to stop. Going into the second week she told herself every day she needed to cut the shit out. And going into the third week it was the same song and dance to. Every time she said it she vowed she would. Every vow she made to do better she completely threw away for fear that she could not name.

So, she was completely aware that she deserved the silence that she got from you. She’d earned it even. But, even so, it burned her. It pissed her off and it terrified her and she was terrified for you and it all turned her stomach into knots that she felt would never go away. And the days dragged on like this. One day into five. Five into nine. She felt like she was going absolutely insane. Not a word from you. Not to her at least. Kie would get an update every four days or so it seemed like. Sarah desperately tried to act like it didn’t bother her but it stung. Already she’d mentally returned herself to the place of I don’t deserve this in a last ploy to avoid the depth of fear and feelings surrounding all of this. And she stewed in that instead of moping around too much. She avoided people the first nine days of you being gone, but by then her friends had informed her quite plainly that if she didn’t voluntarily come out with her they’d actually kidnap her this time. So, she’d agreed.

That’s what brought Sarah out to dinner with her friends. It was nothing big. It was literally just at the Wreck. Even so, dragging her there felt like a trial from the devil himself for a moment there. She sat, tense and generally off from her normal self. Everyone politely seemed to be ignoring it, even as she snapped and complained far more than she’d ever done even before she’d met all of them. Everyone except JJ who seemed almost personally offended by Sarah’s literal existence today. So, she made it her personal mission to ignore him altogether.

“Hey, Kie, have you heard from her?” Sarah asked quietly as the conversation began splitting off after they’d all placed their orders.

“Nothing today, no,” Kiara denied, while JJ scoffed. “Jayj, stop.”

“No. Got something to say, Maybank?” Sarah asked flatly, practically itching to take her anger out on something at that moment.

JJ looked her over as if she were the least interesting thing he’d ever set eyes on then shook his head. “Nothing worth it,” he scoffed before taking a drink from the bottle in front of him.

Sarah raised a brow. “No. Do go on,” she insisted.

“You’re pissed that she’s gone, yeah?” JJ posed. “It’s been two weeks of her dealing with a family crisis that might as well have arrived outta nowhere, yeah?” He scoffed. “Not even two full weeks yet.”

“What’s your point?” Sarah asked, gritting her teeth.

“My point is that you start talking about how she’s been gone so long, and this, that the other. And you’re saying it all like you weren’t practically throwing her away the past month she was here. And yes I said throwing her away because some of the shit had long surpassed pushing her away,” JJ pointed out, voice acidic but truthful. “And you know damn well I’m right, here, Cameron. You do. The problem is that’s just the stuff you were doing in front of us. So I’m sure you were doing worse when y’all were alone. And all my love, of course, Sarah. But at the end of the day? If you’re being as shitty a girlfriend to her as I even think you’re being? I hope she doesn’t come back again. I hope she doesn’t answer you. And I hope you figure out what the fuck got you so flighty when you’ve been happily held down the past two years by a woman you like…are obsessed with.”

“Why don’t we all take a step back here,” Cleo suggested, stepping in front of Sarah. Sarah hadn’t even realized that she’d moved. “Before things get more heated.” Sarah’s glare didn’t move from JJ. Cleo squeezed her shoulder. “Come on. Sarah.”

After another moment, Sarah cut her eyes over toward Cleo. She scoffed and pulled roughly away from her friends. “Fuck you, JJ,” she snapped as she stormed over to the door.

“Sarah,” Kie called after her.

But, Sarah didn’t reply. Instead, she stormed her way home and stewed in her anger, sadness, and hurt. It was easy to be angry. Very easy. It was probably the strongest thing passed down through her family. It was easier to stay attached to the anger than it was to try and reckon with JJ’s words…his accusations. Yes, it was far easier considering the voice in the back of her head that informed her plainly and repeatedly just how right JJ had been. So, instead of facing that, she happily stuck to the anger she felt at your perceived abandonment of her. She’d lost a lot in her life. You knew that. And now, what? She was expected to be okay with losing you? When she loved you, her precious girlfriend, more than anything else? No matter what the back of her mind reminded her of—her poor treatment of you—she couldn’t think beyond the threat of losing you.

The cycle went on like that

Despite every instinct in her mind, Sarah called you. She knew damn well that you wouldn’t answer. But, she just had to hear your voice on the voicemail. Just for a moment. She let out a shaky sigh as she heard your voice, telling her that you were sorry for missing the call and that you’d call her back if she just left a message after the beep. Your voice was so light, you were so full of joy. Sarah longed to have that happiness coloring your tone again. She longed to be the reason you were that happy again. At the sound of the beep, Sarah paused, unable to hang up.

“Hey, peach,” she said, the words practically squeaking out of her mouth. “I know you’re busy. Everyone says that you’re dealing with the family stuff on the mainland. I know. I get that. I’m sorry. I just…I just needed to hear your voice with the voicemail. I love you. I’m sorry. Please…I know I don’t deserve it. And I know that…I don’t want to make this about me. But…just…when you come back…let me talk to you. Please. Let me fix things. I love you so much. I can…I can explain everything about how fucking awful I’ve been. And I promise that I’m not gonna make excuses. I just…you deserve to know.” She let out a shaking breath. “I love you. I miss you. I…I can’t wait to see you again, my love.”

After that, Sarah hung up again, practically flinging the phone away from her. She took a few deep breaths and wiped away tears from her face that she hadn’t even realized had fallen. She forced herself to muster all of her strength and stopped crying. She stopped letting herself feel the hulking weight of her upset and instead laid down in her bed. She curled up in a ball and didn’t let herself cry, but instead forced herself to sleep. It was much, much easier that way—less pain gripping at her throat threatening to pull her under the weight of her own sadness and crush her. So, sleeping it was.

Even so, the last thing on her mind as she drifted off to sleep was you.

Nine days turned quickly into sixteen. And suddenly, it had been half a damn month since Sarah had seen or spoken to her girlfriend. It was killing her. By then, her friends were making a much more concentrated effort to try and make her feel better. Even JJ by then was trying to give Sarah something to smile about and distract her from your conspicuous and extended absence from her life. The most recent attempt was today, with Kie and Cleo dragging her down to the beach with the guys to look for sea glass they could use to make some new jewelry for each other. There also was the side quest of meeting the new girl that John B had been getting to know and definitely getting to be smitten with.

But, hours later, when the sun was burning high, her pockets were full of sea glass and her shoes full of sand, the mission got thrown to the wayside. It had been great hanging out with everyone. For once she’d been wholly distracted. Hell, she’d even found herself getting along well with the new girl that John B was seeing—she was sweet, really. But none of that mattered when she saw you at the end of the beach, walking towards them. She froze like a statue, brain overwhelmed so completely that it shut off entirely.

Naturally, everyone’s attention turned in your direction when they noticed the near-comical freeze from Sarah. You simply gave a half-smile when you realized that your friends had spotted you. One of your hands was shoved into your pocket, the other held a bouquet of dahlias that could only have come from your family’s flower shop—the shop that had been closed for two weeks now, much to the disappointment of the island. Your eyes were downcast, protected by sunglasses against the midday rays. Sarah blinked once, twice, a third time. You were beautiful and perfect and terrible and she missed you and she hated you and she loved you more than anything in this world and she didn’t know how to feel anymore. So, quite simply, she decided not to think about it. To not feel like she had to know anything. She just acted.

Sarah’s feet carried her forward on instinct towards you, slowly at first. But then she was booking it across the sandy beach to you. She threw herself at you, arms wrapping around you in the tightest hug she’d maybe ever given you, practically shaking. You wrapped your arms firmly around her, holding her tightly against you, and let her bury her head in your neck for a moment. Even in doing so, you had the presence of mind to not crush the dahlias, intent on them being perfect when you actually handed them over to Sarah. The pair of you were silent for an extended moment, just holding each other with your eyes closed.

“Hi, baby,” you greeted her, sounding utterly exhausted. Somehow that broke Sarah’s heart even more.

“Hi, peach,” she replied, voice wavering. “I missed you. So much.”

“Missed you too, Sar,” you assured her. She pulled back and looked at you, stroking your face with one hand, the other wrapped around the back of your neck. “You okay, baby?”

“I’m sorry,” Sarah said, tearfully.

Your brow knit together. “Why?” you asked, looking—and feeling—genuinely confused.

“You’re the love of my life and I have been awful for the past month. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you hadn’t come back. You deserve so much better than I was giving you. And if you give me another chance then I promise you that I’ll do better. I love you so fucking much and I’m not ashamed of or embarrassed of you and you’re worth every ounce of effort and love that I give and I never ever, ever want you to doubt that,” Sarah declared. The words flowed from her mouth in a waterfall. “I’m sorry that I ever made you feel any differently. The love that I have for you…it isn’t…it shouldn’t be…it isn’t a secret.”

“Sar…baby…I was just dealing with hospice and the funeral the past few weeks,” you said, sounding tired, stroking her cheek in return. You sighed. “Yeah, you were out of it. You’re allowed to be.” You scoffed. “I just didn’t check in for two weeks, baby. That’s worse.”

Sarah shook her head in refusal. “No. You were dealing with your family, it’s not,” she declined. She saw you open your mouth and shook her head again. “And you needed to do it alone and I respect that and don’t feel any type of anger about it. I was just being awful because I was insecure and felt like I was too clingy. I should’ve been there for you.”

“Sar…stop,” you said, frowning seriously at her. “I didn’t want you to be there. I didn’t want anyone to be there. I was angry. I was upset. And I was stupid and wanted to handle it myself. That has nothing to do with you or our relationship, baby. I promise. Who cares if you dropped my fucking hand? This isn’t the music video for fucking All Too Well. You’re not Jake Gyllenhaal. This isn’t a Taylor Swift song, baby. This is real life. You’re allowed to be distant every once in a while. And I can tell you all about everything later. And I will. But we didn’t both need to go through it.” You blew out a sigh. “At least that’s how I felt when I was leaving. So it was what I maintained. I know that it hurt you…and for that I’m sorry. I’m not gonna do it again. I promise you that. And I also promise that I will tell you everything later.”

Despite her best effort, Sarah felt her bottom lip quivering. There was much that needed to be unpacked. Much that needed to be discussed. But, all Sarah could focus on at this moment was the stark relief that she felt. Her relationship wasn’t in danger. Her love for you wasn’t in question. She sagged against you, eyes wet with unshed tears, and looked at you with the ghost of a smile threatening to take over.

“You promise?” Sarah asked you quietly, needing the verbal confirmation.

You leaned forward and pressed a soft, sweet, lingering kiss to her lips. “I promise you. I’ll tell you everything. And you can tell me whatever you were saying you had to in your last voicemail. We’re gonna talk, Sarah. This isn’t the end of anything.” The words came out strong and assuring. “You are way more important to me than my own ego. Our relationship is more important to me than any fight we’d ever have. I love you, Sarah. And if I have been reminded of anything in the past few weeks? Life is way too goddamn short to waste time on this when I just want to love you.” You pressed another soft kiss to her lips that she tried to chase you down to continue. You smiled as you pulled away. “We can work it out later on, baby. Okay?”

Sarah nodded. “Okay,” she agreed softly, leaning her forehead against yours.

“For now I just want to be with you. Okay?” you posed.

“Okay,” she agreed, squeezing your hand in hers. Silently, you extended your hand, the dahlias—perfectly preserved due to your carefulness—being offered to Sarah in a silent apology. Sarah sniffled. “What do dahlias mean again?” She knew, of course. Dahlias were your favorite flower. She had them memorized as well as she had you memorized by now. But she just needed to be sure that you really, truly still felt the same way about her.

“Beauty, kindness, love…lifelong commitment…devotion,” you said softly, pressing tiny kisses to her lips between the last three. “And in this case? They’re just a plain old apology from me to you, Sarah Cameron.”

“They’re perfect,” Sarah said, looking down at the perfect blooms in her hand, wiping her tears away.

“No, that’s just you,” you denied. You smiled at her, soft and sweet. “I wanna hang out for a little while before I head back. Get the verbal lashings from Kie and Cleo out of the way. And JJ’s passive aggressiveness. Then…if…if you want…it can be just you and me tonight?” Sarah nodded eagerly and the pair of you started walking back towards your friends who had been watching the both of you without any shame in it. You glanced at them, eyes lingering on the girl you didn’t know. You turned towards Sarah, lowering your voice so only she’d have the possibility of hearing. “Who the hell is that?”

Sarah grinned at you, brightly. “Oh, that? That’s the girl John B’s been going out with,” she said lightly. You looked at her, eyes widening. She nodded, grin turning into a shameless smirk. “Yeah. I know. There’s a lot to catch you up on.”

“Debrief at home?” you asked quietly as you approached your friends.

“Debrief at home,” Sarah echoed in agreement, squeezing your hand, the weight that had been heavy on her heart largely melting away. She looked over at you as you approached, voice no longer quiet. “I love you, peach.”

“I love you too, Sar,” you said, bringing your entwined hands up to your lips so you could kiss her knuckles. You both ignored the catcalling coming from your friends. You rolled your eyes playfully at Sarah at their reaction. She did so back and you smiled slightly.

Yeah, the trouble could wait. At least for the night. Because you were right. All that mattered? You two had each other right here again. The rest of it? You’d figure it out along the way—doing it together. And that was all the both of you could hope for.

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eloquentreverie · 27 days

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Hello! Yes, I’m alive. I thought I would give an update on things. Tw: dying/talking about death.

Semi-Hiatus

So, basically my mental health has been shit. I can’t remember if I mentioned this in my last post but, my grandma is in hospice. She’s getting close to dying. All of my creativity is drained due to the depression. I’m still writing in small bursts but I honestly don’t think I have enough to post anything right now. I thought I could push through this when I came back from my last hiatus but I can’t.

All of this is to say that I’m going to be on an indefinite hiatus until further notice. Right now I just don’t have the energy to be on here. This isn’t goodbye but I’m definitely taking a break until I can sort out my life and learn to cope with things. I hope you guys can understand. I didn’t want my mutuals on here to think I just ghosted them.

#personal post.#hiatus.

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momcntum · 3 months

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GENERAL DESCRIPTION

Character Name: Seonho Jones

Gender Identity & Pronouns: Cis man, he/him

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Age & D.O.B.: 26 years old | February 28th, 1997

Nationality: American

Ethnicity/Race: Korean

Languages: English (fluent), Korean (fluent)

Hometown: Starlight Oaks, Washington, USA

Neighborhood: Downtown

Occupation: Uber driver, construction worker, bartender at blazing comets, dock worker, gig worker

How long have they been in Starlight Oaks? Local

Positive Traits: Buoyant, steadfast, generous, enthusiastic, humble

Negative Traits: Restless, escapist, stubborn, self-sacrificing, conflict avoidant

Faceclaim: Cha Eunwoo

APPEARANCE INFO

Height: 183 cm / 6’0”

Eye Color: Brown

Eye Sight: Poor, most often is wearing contacts

Hair: Black in hue, often dyed but currently is natural and growing long

Tattoos: Musical notes on his right ankle with ‘keep moving forward’ written next to it, an arrow heart on his chest with birthdates of his family inside, purple and burgundy forget-me-nots on his shoulderblades, Korean idiom across his spine which translates roughly to "at the end of hardship comes happiness" (고생 끝에 낙이 온다)

Piercings: ears (double lobe, double helix, snug, conch), left eyebrow

Build: broad-shouldered, muscular, toned

Style: street casual, comfortable wear, holey jeans, hoodies, multi-colored sweaters, a singular nice pair of khaki pants, wears a lot of durable clothes because he works so much but does look more stylish for events

PERSONALITY INFO

Zodiac: Pisces ☀ Scorpio ☾ Leo ↑

MBTI: ENFP - Campaigner

Moral Alignment: Neutral Good

Temperament: Sanguine

Vice: Pride

Virtue: Charity

Element: Earth

Schemata: The Server

Habits: Gesturing when speaking, pointing, wears mismatched socks, randomly bursts into song, nicotine addiction (vapes), in general poor self-care habits

Hobbies: Listening to music, writing music, producing music, dancing, sending memes, playing musical instruments, scrapbooking, papercrafting

Likes: Music, romantic comedies, socializing, sunflower seeds, sweets, humming, smiling, cuddling, tteokbokki, adult coloring books, thunderstorms, trying new things even if he’s bad at them

Dislikes: Conflict, waking up early, traffic, most academic things, balancing a checkbook / anything financial-related, folding clothes, humidity, being overheated, wasting food, feeling like he’s not doing enough

SNAPSHOT

• A product of who and where he's come from. With the face of the man who left, the work ethic and passion for music of the man who raised him, and the resilience and compassion of the woman who built his very foundation, Seonho is a survivor. He grew up poor, sometimes destitute and homeless and at best living paycheck to paycheck, and the foot of struggle and responsibility was against his neck at a young age.

• tw: brief mentions of death and illness The oldest of six with two full-blooded siblings and three half-siblings though to him there's no real distinction. The de facto head of his household since his mother was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer's when he was seventeen the literal head of his household since he was eighteen and his mother was sent to hospice. Emanates big brother energy.

• A happy-go-lucky guy despite his circumstances. Lover of warm hugs with honey eyes that are always crinkling under the weight of a smile. Compassionate and empathetic, sometimes to a fault. Always puts himself last. Would give someone the shirt off his back if asked.

• When he's not working, he's socializing. Rarely sleeps and works himself to the point of mental burnout. Lives off adrenaline, energy bars, red bull, and nicotine. Not very good at self-care.

• Is a little too used to the grind and as a result, his life has become a bit stagnant. He lives day to day rather than for the future. Gave up on his musician dreams of pursuing after his (step)dad passed when he was fifteen. Still writes from time to time when he's inspired. Can play pretty much any instrument, and has a soft spot for jazz (and the saxophone) since it was the genre that he was first introduced to.

FULL BIOGRAPHY

tw: mentions of homelessness, illness, abandonment and death (caused by brain aneurysm)

Seonho was born in Starlight Oaks as the eldest child to Seongmin Ryu and Mina Park who moved from Korea when Mina was pregnant with Seonho after she was disowned by her parents who disapproved of Seongmin. His biological father walked out on Seonho, his mother, and two of his younger sisters when he was five years old and Seonho has always believed that they were better off without him.

After being homeless and hopping through halfway houses after the abandonment, his mother remarried three years later and had three more children with Seonho’s stepfather, Jalen Jones, who would become the only father that Seonho acknowledged in his life. Jalen adopted the three eldest children upon his marriage to Mina and they all took on his last name.

Early on in his childhood, Seonho fell in love with music thanks to Jalen’s side-gig playing the saxophone in a jazz band. He had a talented ear for music, picking up musical instruments and mastering them with an ease, and his parents encouraged his passion as best they could, ensuring that they budgeted well enough to afford sending Seonho to his music lessons.

While performing at Pike Place Market in Seattle, he was scouted by a Korean entertainment agency at the age of thirteen. However, he was still a trainee when he flew back home and prematurely ended his contract due to his stepfather dying suddenly of a ruptured brain aneurysm as a result of overworking when Seonho was fifteen. When he returned home, Seonho ran away for a short period of time, thinking that the last thing his mother needed was another mouth to feed and not knowing how to properly cope. He lived on the streets and worked part time at a gas station where he was paid under the table with food and cigarettes, developing a nicotine addiction that he has yet to quit entirely though he now uses a vape pen.

Eventually, he returned home and as the oldest child, he assumed a great deal of responsibility in the household. While he wanted to drop out of school, his mother insisted that he stay enrolled and graduate. Seonho earned money any way that he could to help keep the household afloat, mowing lawns during the summer and working manual labor in the evenings. Sometimes, he would resort to not-so-legal methods if need be. His music became all the more dear to him, filling the gaping holes in his chest that were created from his dream continually slipping through his fingers. Listening to music became a way to escape, no matter how momentarily. He could never catch a break after that.

A year before Seonho graduated from high school, his mother was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s. After it came to the point that his mother could no longer properly take care of them or herself, she was admitted into a longterm care facility by order of the municipality.

At that point, Seonho was eighteen and filed for guardianship of his siblings who had been sent to foster care, which he would eventually be granted after a months' long battle with the courts. He also became the conservator of his mother’s well-being. Seonho insists that he provide for his family and ensure that each of his siblings focus on their studies, graduate from school, and are afforded opportunities that he did not have. Even if that means he has to work a slew of jobs in order to make ends meet. Even if that means he has to continually make personal sacrifices and stretch himself too thin.

CONNECTIONS

Non-playable characters of note: Mina Park-Jones (mother, in a hospice), Jalen Jones (step/adoptive father, deceased), Seongmin Ryu (biological father, absent), Sam (younger gender non-conforming sibling, age 17), Hana (younger sister, age 14), and Melody (younger sister, age 13)

Others to be announced!

WANTED CONNECTIONS

Two younger sisters with the same set of biological parents that are between the ages of twenty one and twenty five, will be posting a wanted connection later

Co-workers from any of his many jobs

People who he frequently picks up via Uber

People he annoys as he can be a Lot, very talkative and often overly friendly

Friends! A best friend, a ride-or-die, acquaintances, people he grew up with, people he is a positive influence on, etc.

Perhaps an ex or two at most, could have ended on good or bad terms.

Hookups. Seonho is more of a commitment guy as a terrible romantic, but he is indulgent from time to time as he is also a very busy man and most likely these would be one night stand situations unless he is close enough to someone to have a friend-with-benefits situation (singular) to address those needs.

Open to plotting! I am up for nearly everything.

#starlight.intro #♡ — development / headcanon #hi i swear i tried to keep this brief

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mlmxreader · 2 years

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Affection | Dewey Riley x m!reader

@satan-incarnate-666 asked: OHOHO IS THAT DEWEY RILEY I SEE???? MY BOY!!!

can i req dewey circa scream 1 x m!reader with like, a super cute first kiss that has reader reeling dewey in by sticking his hands in dewey's back pockets?ive always found that like super cute LMAO

summary: you and Dewey have been through a Hell of a lot together, but one night might just change the nature of your relationship.

tws: alcohol mention

Dewey spent a lot of time at your place, especially when you were home alone as neither of you had the luxury of moving out of your childhood homes yet, but it wasn't exactly a bad thing as you had both grown up together, even if you were a year younger; he went through everything with you, from school through to college and university, all the way through getting your first jobs together. He worked with the local police, while you took a job at the local hospice. You were proud of him, though, you had to admit; he had worked so hard on everything and even though people didn't always take him seriously, you always did; you always supported Dewey and made sure that he knew that you would never leave his side. It wasn't just that, though, there was so much more to it.

The long nights Dewey spent in your bed with you, comforting you after bad episodes, ones that made you shake and cry and beg for it to all stop; the nights when he would just lay there beside you while you talked for what seemed like years, only to be violently reminded of the quickness of hours when the sun came up and the birds started to sing. The nights when he would creep over just to cuddle you simply because he had missed your presence; phsyical affection almost constant. Hand holding and he would swing his hand a little when he walked beside you. Resting his head on your shoulder in the back of the car when on road trips with friends. Singing and dancing together in the kitchen. Little pats on the shoulder or the back when he walked past you. Small reminders that he did, in fact, love you.

His sister, Tatum, was out at a party with her boyfriend Stu and his best friend Billy and his girlfriend Sidney, when you went over to see Dewey; the door was unlocked, so you let yourself in, only to find him yawning and stretching, seemingly aching as he grabbed a beer from the fridge and leaned against the nearest counter. Music played faintly from the living room speaker, and when you looked at him, you frowned a little.

"Bad shift?"

"Nah," he shook his head. "Just tiring."

"You wanna talk about it?" You leaned against the counter opposite so effortlessly and so casually that Dewey almost wondered if he was just fooling himself.

But he shook his head, and dared to smile a little, sheepish. "I'm good... thanks."

In truth, some of the banter that the lads at work had poured upon him was weighing heavily on his shoulders; the way they teased him about not admitting his feelings for you, the way that they suggested that there was more going on between you just because he kept that photo on his desk. The one a member of your family had taken when he had come over for a family party, and you were hanging off of him, grinning as you wore his cap, his arm around you to keep you both steady and close. That was the night he had realised. The night he had realised that his feelings for you ran much different than just friends; the night he had realised that he wanted you to be his boyfriend but wasn't quite sure how to say it.

"Y'know," you hummed. "Maybe we ought to do what we used to do... chuck on a really bad film, get in bed and snuggle up, do the cold bed dance."

Dewey couldn't stop the grin that came to his features. The cold bed dance, of all things. "Really?"

"Yeah," you nodded. "I mean, why not? Your sister's not here, your parents are out... we've got the house to ourselves."

He drew a little closer, standing within arm's reach but not quite close enough that he could feel your breath on his skin, the tips of his ears and nose turning a light pink as he looked down at your lips for a moment. "I... maybe I should... maybe I should just go to bed."

"Before you do, there's, uh, there's something I should say," you started, "but I'm not really sure how to phrase it... so, would it be alright if I showed you?"

Dewey nodded, and when you put your hands in his back pockets, he froze, only to relax a little when you pulled him in real close and planted your lips on his, smiling when he kissed back so softly; his hands gripped the counter either side of you, doing his best to keep himself steady, but when you pulled away, he couldn't help but to giggle. Blushing furiously as he cleared his throat.

He couldn't even bring himself to speak, staring at you with that lovestruck puppy dog gaze, his brown eyes so full of it that it made you feel almost sick from the sweetness as you grinned and awkwardly looked away for a second.

"So, uh-"

"Ice cream?" He asked. "I, I mean, tomorrow - ice cream? For a date?"

You looked at him, smiling as you nodded. "Sure... if I can stay the night."

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

#mlem writes #dewey riley x reader #Dewey Riley imagine #Dewey Riley #scream fanfiction #scream fanfic #scream imagine #scream x reader #scream x you

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sniffanimal · 4 months

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vague tw that I'm talking about weird fears and triggers I have, I'm gonna try and not be detailed but listing them above the cut seems redundant so only read below if you want to read about weird upsetting things

notably death, pregnancy, and suicide are mentioned.

I have like 4 fears that are like to my core absolute terror fears and like 3 of them are the easiest things to never encounter and the last one is so unlikely but they're still like terrifying to me

one is freezing to death, specifically on a mountain. I hate hiking and rock climbing already, so I'm likely never going to climb a mountain in the first place, let alone an icy mountain. but I'm terrified of dying in the cold, especially from low oxygen/nitrogen poisoning.

similarly, I'm terrified of being far underwater, really more than a few feet underwater in general. I'm afraid of drowning, but also afraid of decompression and nitrogen poisoning. I don't like swimming in the first place so the odds of me like, scuba diving, are so slim. but I'm so scared

those two also combine to my fear of dying in the vacuum of space, which again is very easy to not do.

next, I'm VERY afraid of getting pregnant. this is relatively easy to avoid, using contraceptives and such, but stuff like the Handmaid's Tale is deep horror to me. the entire process of pregnancy makes me sick, I'm scared of not only like the social emotional repercussions of having a baby, that's also terrifying, but the medical biological process of developing a baby and giving live birth is skin crawlingly terrifying to me. I think it's similar to how most people feel about the idea of getting a parasite. part of the horror is the fact that my body is designed to do this, and that people all over love doing it and seek out doing it, and it's regarded as a general good. what if you woke up one day and everyone was telling you it's extremely good and normal to have tapeworms and that God will bless you with a tapeworm someday. horrifying.

the last one that I can think of is assisted suicide. my full opinion is just people have a right to make informed medical choices about their bodies and nothing further than that. but something very specific about assisted suicide like gives me the willies. idk what aspect of it is, maybe it's just my entire history of suicide prevention depression therapy repelling against the notion of it being the best option for someone, idk. hospice care also sorta freaks me out in general. I think I'm really just scared of death in its many forms, but that's anxiety, babe!

I find the fact that I'm watching Grey's anatomy, a show where death is probably the second biggest plot driving force behind sex, interesting. It's kind of like watching a horror movie you know will scare you, or looking at a picture of something fucked up out of morbid curiosity. it helps knowing it's a TV show and thus not real, so it's like a safe way to engage with this fear of death in a way.

#badger rants

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fitrahgolden · 8 months

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Should You Need Me: 2 - You were just thinking of me

[TW: Mention of cancer and resulting death.]

Anthony jogged up the stairs to Benedict's flat. He’d rushed over that evening after learning that Colin was there as well. He opened the door with an uncharacteristic flourish. "ABC, assemble! We're going out tonight, brothers.” He stopped short when he saw Benedict’s girlfriend. “Oh, hey, Sophie. Uh, feel free to join us."

Benedict, Sophie, and Colin all looked at each other, obviously in a silent conversation. Anthony didn't have the patience for whatever this was.

"Well? Come on, then. Get ready."

"Anthony…" Benedict started, exasperated.

Anthony shook his head dismissively. "Whatever it is, we'll talk about it on the way."

"But we aren't going anywhere, Ant. We're having a hang here." Colin said before taking a swig of his beer. "Come sit."

Anthony crossed his arms as he rolled his eyes. "No, Col. I'm not gonna 'come sit.' What is this?"

Benedict laughed. "It's called a night in. I hear tell it’s very popular with the post-uni crowd."

"Excuse me.” Colin feigned offence. “I'm only just post-uni, for the record. Check out this babyface."

"Feel free to join the one man pub crawl, then." Sophie looked over from the other side of Benedict.

"No, no. Don't kick me out. I take it back. I'm old. Ancient, really."

"You're really making me go out alone?" Anthony was getting restless. He needed to go out.

"No one's making you do anything. You're the one who makes all the decisions for us, remember? What with the whole two years of experience you have over me."

"Then I'm deciding this for you. You lot are coming with me. And, Ben, do you really want to have a contest over who’s had more experience taking care of this family between the two of us?" Anthony winced at saying it, and Ben winced at hearing it. Fuck, I really am an arsehole.

Sophie put a comforting hand on Benedict’s thigh and patted. "What's going on with you, Ant?" she asked gently, which confused Anthony. She was speaking as if something was actually wrong.

"Nothing's going on. Why?"

"You're going out a lot. Even for you. We're worried your dick is gonna fall off from overuse." Colin said, the second part earning a smack on the back of the head from Benedict, though they were both laughing.

"You know what? Fuck you guys." Anthony turned to leave.

"Anthony, stop. Really, please tell us what's going on. It's sort of starting to feel like… Well…"

"Just fucking say it, Ben."

"You haven't gone out this much since Dad."

Anthony’s jaw clenched as he blinked rapidly. Surely not.

"That's why we think something's going on." Colin said, uncharacteristically solemn.

Anthony stared at his brothers. "You've got to fucking kidding me. Especially you, Ben. Do you even realise what you're saying?"

Anthony's patience ran out as Benedict tried to find the words to respond.

"Well, this has been grand. Thanks for the intervention. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Anthony left Benedict's flat, ignoring his brothers' pleas for him to stay and talk. What a load of bollocks. There was no way Kate fucking Sharma was bringing him back down to the place he was after his father died. The very idea of it was an insult–to Edmund Bridgerton more than Anthony himself. No fucking way. In fact, it'd been two weeks since he met Kate at that first appointment. He was well over whatever that shit was. Now, he was just having fun, like he always did. Like normal. This was all normal. Kate Sharma who?

—

Appa had really liked Tom. Moreover, he had liked him for Kate. Before anyone else realised it, Appa knew Tom was in love with Kate.

Kate and Tom met in secondary school and hit it off pretty much immediately. Tom was kind and earnest. Kate made Tom laugh and they both loved school.

Kate's father, Maaran, was diagnosed with leukaemia when she was fifteen years old. From that point forward, Tom was always there for her, for her whole family, really. By Kate's eighteenth birthday, Maaran was receiving at-home hospice care. Her mother, Kaveri, had all but moved into his home with his second wife, Mary. The two women leaned on each other heavily during Maaran's last months, so Kate turned to Tom. He was her shoulder to cry on, her support when Kate practically became her little sister's primary caretaker. He was her person.

During one of the many afternoons Kate spent lying with her father in his hospice bed, she couldn't hold back the steady stream of silent tears as Maaran talked about the kind of future he envisioned for his eldest daughter. A future he wouldn't be a part of.

"Do you think you'll get married, Chellam?"

"I don't know, Appa."

"You're right. No one is good enough for you."

Kate wanted to laugh, but couldn't find it in her. "I don't… I really don't think I can get married without you there." She choked the words out.

Maaran clicked his tongue and pulled Kate closer to him. "Illai, Kathani. I'll be there. I'll be right here." He pointed to Kate's chest. "Right?"

"Right." A whisper was all Kate could manage. She grabbed her father's hand and interlaced their fingers before she put both their hands back over her heart. "You'll always be right here. I promise."

The two rested their heads together. After a while, Maaran chuckled to himself. "Tom will surely be heartbroken if you swear off marriage."

Kate's red, puffy eyes squinted in confusion. "What? Why would Tom care?"

Maaran shook his head. "Because that boy loves you."

"I love him, too. He's my best friend." Kate shrugged. She wasn't following.

"And you're his. That's never going to change. He also happens to be in love with you, though, Chellam."

Kate shook her head vigorously. "That's not true, Appa. Why… Did he tell you that?"

"No. He didn't have to."

"How do you know, then?"

Maaran's sigh was drawn out. "Kathani. You know how I love Amma but I'm in love with Mum?"

Kate nodded.

"Well, when Tom looks at you, it isn't like when I look at Amma. He looks at you the way I look at Mary."

Kate was at a complete loss for words. After a minute, Maaran ran his hand over his face.

"Don't… Ah, maybe I shouldn't have told you. I'm sorry, Chellam."

"No, it's OK, Appa." Kate rested her head against her father''s chest.

"Look at me, Kathani." Maaran cupped Kate's face as she complied. "It doesn't have to be him. It doesn't have to be anyone. But, just know, if he finally wakes up to how he feels about you, if you love him back, if you two want a life together… Know that I am certain you'll make something beautiful. Just… No matter what. Whether it’s marriage or moving away from home, or… I don’t know. Anything. Don't close yourself off to something you may want because I'm not going to be in your life in the same way we thought I would be, eh? Please."

—

When they were twenty-one, Tom asked Kate out on a date. She said yes. Three months later, he asked if they were boyfriend and girlfriend. She said yes. Three years later, Tom proposed. Kate said she wasn't ready. After two more years, Tom proposed again. That time, she said yes.

Kate's parents were best friends who got married without being in love. It probably seemed laughable to some that Kate admired her parents' marriage, considering Maaran and Kaveri were only married for five years, divorcing when Kate was three. But the way her parents explained it to her when she was older, the way she understood it now, she knew their marriage wasn't a failure. They loved each other and they loved Kate. She didn't care that it didn't look the way other people thought it should.

But Kate didn't tell Tom she wasn't in love with him. That was the big difference. She didn't think she had to tell him since she knew she and Tom would have a good marriage–a good life– regardless.

All this was going through Kate's mind as she inexplicably stared for far too long at her calendar, at the next appointment she had booked with Anthony. It was coming up in a month. No, it wasn’t an appointment with Anthony. It was an appointment at Bridgerton Formal. Maybe she'd be working with one of the seamstresses. Maybe she wouldn't see Anthony at all. And that'd be fine. Great, actually.

Kate was on the right path with Tom. A path to happiness.

Kate didn't need to be in love. She thought.

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