#apparently he brought his daughters along so they can see the city they were born in I'm gonna perish

[gilliebee]

they sorted the lucic pregame interview into the bruins video section plzzzz ;-;

#bruins lb #alright bruinsblr operation smuggle looch back home is a GO #apparently he brought his daughters along so they can see the city they were born in I'm gonna perish #I assume they sorted it there bc the interviewers basically just asked about how it felt being back in boston #I'm so ;----;

[sunflovverharry]

Driving Home for Christmas

a/n: hii! i wanted to make this a super cute dad!h during christmas fic so i hope you enjoy! this fic is a part of @goldenbluesuit ´s christmas song fic challenge which i’m honored to be a part of! It's the first fic challenge I’ve entered and I’ve been nervous to post something along with all these other amazing writers, but I'm excited to post this little piece centered in the dad universe. Happy reading, and remember to read the rest of the entries as well (which I’ve read some these past two weeks and they’re fab!) <3

pairing: dad!h + y/n

warnings: none! just a cute dad!h piece

word count: 3.8k

Harry was loading the trunk of their Audi, putting all their packed suitcases and bags of presents in there. The car was smack full as this year they had another addition to their family, waiting patiently for her mum to feed her before they left the city. It was snowing heavily and Anne made sure they knew they didn’t have to drive up today with the weather making the roads worse than usual. Y/n also told him a hundred times it was his decision as he was the one driving. Harry didn’t budge though, telling his mum they would definitely be there by tonight.

This year's Christmas celebrations were being spent in Cheshire with Harry’s family seeing as they were with her family in Nottingham last year. They’ve found it works best this way rather than splitting it up to go both places every year. After four years together and buying a house at the start of this year, y/n thinks this might be the last Christmas spent out of their own home. They have their two cats (Nellie and Sunny) and having their first child it might be time to start celebrating the holiday at their own house.

«Babe, did you remember to pack the board games?» Harry heard his girlfriend ask from the threshold where they had hung a mistletoe and had Harry not been busy trying to make everything fit, he definitely would’ve turned around, ran up to her and gave her a big smack on the lips. He settled for giving her a thumbs up not swirling around as he was too busy trying to figure out how he could make most of their things fit in the trunk, thinking it was just like a game of tetris. While Harry had been doing the heavy lifting and packing; y/n had put a cute Christmas onesie on the still tiny body of their daughter, definitely small for her age but she was eating like her daddy so where the weight went they had no idea.

Olive was a generally happy, cuddly baby who more often than not reached for her dad over her mum. It didn’t bother y/n that she was a daddy’s girl, knowing how much Harry loves children and now that he has his own he’s all over her. She finds the two cuddled together on the sofa, their bed or the armchair in her nursery at least a couple times a day. Her phone is now overflowing with photos of the two and she’s hoping to put together a photo album for Harry’s birthday filled with them - knowing he’d cherish it forever.

Half an hour later they were pulling out of the driveway. Harry had checked multiple times that all the lights were out, the doors were locked and the alarm system was functioning properly. Olive was smiling as she sat still in her car seat behind y/n. She had wondered if sitting in the back with her daughter would be better, but decided against it. If she got fussy they’d stop at a gas station and she’d move to the back.

The couple was tremendously excited to bring along their little bundle of happiness and get to show her off to all of Harry’s family and friends. Of course, his family have seen her when she was a newborn but living quite far away most of them only get to see them once or twice a year. It’ll change the dynamic of how they celebrate the holidays for sure, but it's a positive change. Anne will spoil her rotten, just like she does to y/n when they visit - making her tea whenever she wants some, washing their dirty laundry (which y/n didn’t care that her mother-in-law saw her underwear cause she didn’t bring anything too scandalous) and heading to the shops when they needed even the smallest thing. Really, y/n thought she was too kind for her own good. At the same time though, y/n always did play a good host when Anne visited them - spoiling her with the comfiest bed sheets, making the food for every meal, not wanting her to lift a finger as if she was the queen.

Olive was eight months - a fairly active one at that - and loves to crawl everywhere, especially to follow her mum or dad around the lower floor of their (way too big) house for only the three (five) of them. Since the pair hadn’t brought Olive with them for such a long drive, the longest being an hour, they were anxious to find out how she’d react to being confined over a longer period of time.

Half an hour in and Olive was babbling away to the teddy bear in her arms (she got it from her nephews when she was born and has been attached to it since) as Harry and y/n talked about how excited they were for their daughter to explore her daddy´s hometown and how his whole family and friends would fall in love with Olive even more. With their little girl just starting to sleep all through the night in her own room, Anne wanted to make sure she got her own room at her nana's too, so apparently she’s cleaned the office and made it into a makeshift nursery for her granddaughter.

Y/n doesn’t know who’s more excited to see all the familiar faces, the family that’s become not only important to her in the last four years, but now also to their baby. The last time they visited Cheshire, y/n was barely two months pregnant and as tough as it was to keep it hidden from Anne for another month, they managed to keep it to the two of them (with just a handful of slip-ups). They were sure Anne knew they were having a baby with the small smirks she gave y/n and harry when she didn’t want the wine - Harry keeping to non-alcoholics in solidarity with her - which was unregular for her, normally jumping on the thought of having a glass or two after a long day.

“You know mum won’t give her up after she gets her hands on her right as we walk through the front door? Might want to hop in the back and get your fix before we get there.” Harry let out a chuckle with y/n joining in knowing just how true his words were. Anne was a godsend of a grandmother, taking Olive in her arms doting over her until she’ll start crying for her daddy. Though everyone gives her all the attention she could wish for, no one could ever do what Harry can. He’s her favorite, no matter how much I wish I could be.

Another half hour later and we were making our first stop at a local gas station in Aylesbury. We were about a third of the way in, but the weather was getting harsher with the snow falling harder and the wind picking up just a little bit. While Harry filled the car up with gas and made sure Olive didn’t start fussing, y/n went inside to get a couple snacky items for the three of them and a filled up cup of coffee for her boyfriend. Coming out of the station she could see Harry in the back with his love bug, bringing her out of the car seat as her cute little wails haltered. She was due for a feed, so they found a secluded space to park so no one would stare at her while breastfeeding their daughter.

Sitting in the front passenger seat with her daughter attached to her nipple with her baby daddy sitting in the driver's seat next to her they spent the next twenty minutes singing along to the Christmas songs playing one after the other on the radio.

Y/n had always loved this time of year - the snow, the songs (which - admittedly - she listened to throughout the entire year), the decorations, the joy and cheer. With y/n and Harry moving in together a month before Christmas, only half a year after they first began dating, they had a mutual understanding for how they would go all out with lights, trees and decorations both on the inside and outside. Though their house was gated with a high fence along the perimeter of their entire land. The trees lining the driveway all the way from the gate to where the gravel road extends into two, one leading to the garage and the other to the front door, were now lit up with strings of light going through them. It was only the beginning to their decorations, but it couldn’t be seen from the gate. More lights were lit along the house, windows were accentuated by red tape creating squares with spray along it, making it seem like snow on the glass. Though there aren’t tons of colourful lights, outside at least, the inside is littered with different colours, shining and sparkling along the staircases, mantels, dressers, counters and tables.

Olive felt like there was something new to look at, touch and be amazed by in every room of their house. As the clock sets seven in the morning, like clockwork, Harry hears Olive’s wails for him to get her out of the crib so she can move around. He kisses y/n’s forehead as he lets her sleep for another half hour to an hour like every morning before pulling on a pair of boxers and some pajama pants if it’s cold to get his daughter from her nursery across the hall.

The two of them were like two giggling girlfriends when they finally saw each other for the first time that day, not being able to keep their smiles from their similar lips. Walking downstairs Olive points at the garland wrapping the staircase and every time she sees it, a small sound of surprise and excitement exit her puckered lips. Harry talks to her about how good her mama is at decorating their house and how good it looks good for Christmas (he only helped her put up decorations, following her direct orders). Y/n had a certain way she liked to decorate and with this being the first Christmas in their house she wanted everything to look perfect.

Coming into the kitchen after turning the dimmed lights on low to have some lighting in the morning dark they had a little shimmy along the floor. Olive babbled along with Harry’s singing and mumbling to her explaining how the buttons on the walls turned on the different lights. She probably didn’t understand or care about the lights, but the two continued singing and talking about nonsense along the way. In the kitchen, Harry made her a bottle she demanded having before getting started on the omelette he makes for him and y/n every morning he’s home without fail.

When they finally got back on the road the snow was coming down heavily and the only thing they could see were the lines of cars in front of them on the M40 pushing the break every few seconds before accelerating again moving only a couple meters before breaking again. Y/n didn’t have a lot of patience in traffic - or in general - and quickly became annoyed making Harry laugh at her telling her to calm down (she wasn’t even the one who had to drive through this horrible weather). This lasted for another forty-five minutes before the snow let up just a little bit and the cars seemed to roll along the road like normal.

“I didn’t think driving home for Christmas would take this long. At least, I hoped it wouldn’t.” They’d been on the road since nine thirty this morning and now, two and a half hours later, they still have at least another two hours left until they’re at Anne’s. It wasn’t unusual for y/n to call Anne’s home, having stayed there for weeks at a time during the almost five years her and Harry have known each other. Harry isn’t unknown to calling y/n’s parents’ house his home either.

“I know. Wish it didn’t have to take this long and I’m sure little Ollie is going to get antsy soon. If the weather continues like this and we don’t have to take more than one more break, I think we’ll be there within three hours, but if we run into traffic, we might have to take more stops along the way.” Harry wanted to move along quickly to get to his mum’s before Olive’s nap time around three, if she didn’t end up sleeping in the car. We knew when we decided to drive in the morning that Olive would probably stay up the whole way, too engrossed with the cars and lights along the way to ever be able to fall asleep.

“You know what we should do to keep her happy for another half hour at least?” Y/n turned to look at Harry with a smile grazing her lips. “Play some Christmas music! She loves when we sing and dance around the house.” Playing the memories of hearing Olive’s belly laughter through the house while Harry and her danced in circles around her like another pair of idiots.

Putting on the same Christmas song list they’ve played since making it together all those years ago, the first song coming on shuffle being Santa Claus is Coming to Town. The noise was at a comfortable volume so they could still hear Olive if she started fussing though it’s unlikely and for it to not be too disturbing for Harry’s driving. With Olive seated with her back to them she couldn’t see her mummy dancing in her seat while they sang along to song after song, but she heard her parents’ voices singing out to the songs she’s heard oh so many times before.

“This is accurate, huh?” Harry snickered as Driving Home for Christmas began playing through the speakers.

“You don’t say.” It was one of their favorite songs and it fit the scene they were in, driving home for Christmas, excited to see their family, singing along the slowly getting better traffic. Looking around at the cars next to them, most of them looked to be families also driving home to be with their families for this year's holiday celebrations.

The rest of the drive was filled with more singing, two more stops for Harry to give his baby some cuddles and walking around one of the local Tesco’s they stopped at to get some more drinks and snacks. Olive was waving at everyone walking past us and talking all kinds of gibberish. While y/n grabbed the snacks, Harry had Olive walking along the aisles in between his feet while holding her little hands in his following her around the store.

A quarter to three they finally made it to Anne’s home, reversing into the driveway so they could get their baggage inside easier later in the day. Y/n saw Anne open the front door in the rearview mirror when Harry was pulling in the last meters. There was a bright smile on her face when we got out of the car. The snow had laid thick on the ground up north and the slick ice underneath made it harder to walk without having to make sure every step was carefully thought out.

Just minutes later Olive was already crawling with her little legs all over her grandma’s home, interested in anything and everything she could get her chubby hands on not seeming to be tired at all. They decided to forgo her nap and hope for an early night, which isn’t likely with everything going on around her. Anne was on granny duties right away telling the pair to sit down and relax with the tea she had prepared while she took care of the baby. There was no doubt she loved the attention from the person she might not remember from this summer but quickly became attached to, almost as much as she is to her daddy.

Harry found his place on the sofa, head in y/n’s lap and feet hanging over the armrest demanding her fingers curling through his locks. It wasn’t surprising to her that he was tired from driving the entirety of the way in traffic and tightly packed snow at times. Sure, if needed he could have stayed awake, but with his mum taking care of his little love he didn’t care much, falling asleep to his other love combing her fingers through his hair. It didn’t happen too often that they could have a cuddle in the middle of the day - just the two of them - with Olive needing their attention at all hours of the day so when the opportunity arose he wasn’t going to turn it down. He admits, though this is nice as well, that a naked cuddle in bed would definitely top laying on the sofa with his mum and daughter running around them. Maybe tonight, he thinks, as he finally falls asleep to the sound of Olive’s giggles.

As nighttime inched closer and Olive’s bedtime was passing them in the chatter and laughter, y/n told Harry to get their things from the car while she nurses Olive before getting her ready for bed. While they took care of their daughter, Anne made a nice spread of cheese and crackers for them to indulge tonight while catching up on everything that’s been going on in their lives since the last time she visited them in London.

Harry found Olive’s bag first, choosing a pair of christmassy pajamas from the mountain of clothes they had brought for her. Y/n walked upstairs to the nursery Anne had set up, seeing Harry already unpacking her bags into the cute vintage turquoise chiffonier Anne had bought from a neighbour only a couple weeks ago immediately falling in love with it.

«Would you like to have a cuddle with daddy before bed, Ollie?» Y/n firmly believed her daughter needed the nightly cuddle from Harry, just like she does, to fall asleep. She was already reaching out for him with her nimble hands waiting for him to take her in for a snuggle in his arms. There was no armchair in the makeshift nursery like they had purchased for Olive’s nursery back home where they always sat but Harry made it work. Anything for a cuddle with his baby growing way too quick for his liking.

It was no secret Harry loved babies and that only heightened when he had his own baby. With how good Olive is and how lush it’s been having a baby around and it not be just the two of them, he had thought about what it would be like with another baby around. Another little love for them to have, give Olive a sister or brother to play with. He hadn’t said anything to y/n about the thoughts he’d been having, not knowing if she'd agree with him. It’s been eight months and when they had talked about it before they agreed on a maximum of two years between their children.

Only a couple hours later they headed to bed themselves, ready for a good night's sleep before another long day tomorrow. Harry had been debating with himself whether he was going to mention babies to y/n or not - ultimately ended up with yes, he would mention it. Now they were finally alone with y/n resting her head on Harry’s pillow, her fingers delicately drawing patterns on his chest.

“I have something I’d like to discuss with you.” Harry’s voice wasn’t much louder than a whisper, not wanting to ruin the calmness around them. He wasn’t nervous so to say, but he felt his pulse quicken the tiniest bit at the thought of getting turned down. Y/n turned her head to watch Harry as he pulled her in as close as he could without suffocating her.

“It’s been lovely having Olive, right? Seems like it was meant to be to have a baby and during the holidays it’s been so fun watching her so interested in everything.” Y/n murmured her answer. She had loved having a little one to care for and to fill their days with joy over the last eight months.

“Well, with how well it’s been going with her, I was thinking we could talk about having another little one? Maybe discuss it a bit. What do you say, let's make Ollie a big sister?”

“I think we might be well on the way to making her a sister, bub.” Harry turned his head at lightning speed hearing her words, not knowing if he heard her quite right. His open mouth and big round eyes weren’t something she saw often combined as she wasn’t always the best at surprising him, but this time she was sure her secret had come as a big shock. It wasn’t as if they had been trying for a baby either, only forgetting a condom a handful times when they were too in the moment to care for it.

She found out only a week ago, thinking she could keep it to herself until Christmas day. It wasn’t difficult to hide it from him, not struggling with morning sickness and only craving sweets as if she was on her period. Knowing they had agreed on the number of children they wanted - four - she wasn’t scared of him reacting badly.

“You’re not joking, right?” Harry smashed his lips onto his girlfriends when she shook her head - no, i’m not joking - kissing her slow and long, showing her just how happy he was. They spent the night talking about how thrilled and excited they were to expand their family with more children and how great of a sister Olive would be. Baby names were flying between them, agreeing to never naming one of their babies after a city, but rather continuing naming them something more unique than Chloe or Adam.

The rest of the holiday spent up north with Harry’s family was relaxing and lovely all around. Playing board games, exploring the city with Olive (who was way too fascinated by all the snow), family dinner parties and having fun with friends they didn’t get to see all too often. Olive was wiped out after opening her presents on Christmas morning and spending all her energy on all the toys she got and the paper ripping she played with (more than the toys to be honest).

This year had been special for the family and Christmas was just the same. Olive was lively and it made y/n and Harry exhausted with everything going on, but they wouldn’t change it for the world. After all, Olive was their little girl and soon there would be another little love in their family. Trying to keep the pregnancy from their family and friends was easier this time around as she could blame not drinking alcohol on her breastfeeding and decided they would keep it hidden from everyone until the last possible minute.

#gbsxmaschallenge #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles drabble #harry styles fiction #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #fic challenge #harry styles x oc #harry styles x yn #writing

[writingsfromhome]

Nuclear Family I

A/N: As requested (accidentally deleted the ask soz) a Dad!Harry where you visit him with your daughter and you live together as a family even though the reality is far from it. But for the sake of your kid you put up with it. The next part gets better promise!

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

--------

“Charlie don’t get too far,” I call out to my three year old. She gives me a disappointed look but I return one of my own and she drags her feet back to me.

Sometimes it felt like it had always been just me and Charlotte and other times it was hard to believe it would be almost four years since I’d had her. The moment she was born-two weeks early-on a rainy August day, I knew I made the right choice to keep her.

“When are we getting on the airplane?” my daughter pouts. She reminded me so much of her father with her bold eyes framed by her lowered brows. I remember when I held her for the first time in my arms and she blinked up at me, her big eyes were a dewy field reflecting her father. It was then that it hit me that no matter where he and I were on earth-we were still somehow connected. And since I was still in love with him then, it hurt. But I learned soon to pour my love into Charlotte and focus on raising her the best I could.

“We’ll be boarding soon." I pick her up and hold her on my knees to keep her from running off again. This was my first time travelling with her-her father generally came down to LA a few times a year to visit her so we never had the need to make the trip. This time, for her fourth birthday, we’d decided to go to London and stay there for the month. And since I was my own boss, I could take my work anywhere.

“I want to see daddy,” Charlie whines.

"We will babe,” I try to soothe her.

“Daddy” was Harry Styles, the Harry Styles. We met through a friend over six years ago when he was in LA. Up until meeting him, it felt like I was living a grey version of my life. Our chemistry was explosive and our connection instant--colouring my world a vibrant hue. We were in love-so in love I moved to London a few months later to be with him and it was going perfectly until I got pregnant. We agreed to keep the baby-it was a no brainer, but as the months went by and the reality sunk in, our relationship took a hit. Suddenly we were arguing about insignificant things, Harry stayed out late with friends or in the studio and wasn’t as supportive as he should have been, and I wasn’t happy. When I brought up the separation Harry looked almost relieved-which hurt. When I brought up moving back to LA he was enraged, but after a few days he agreed. Now, our Charlie saw him a few times a year when he lived in LA and she would stay with him. Our interactions were limited to picking her up and as I’d heard it Harry had a steady girlfriend for the past year. Despite all that, I still loved him. What we had was unlike anything I’d felt, seen, or read about before. I knew he'd felt it too, the music he released spoke the words he never said. But the ugliness of the last few months of our relationship always kept me from remaining wistful. Harry didn’t want commitement. He only had room in his heart for our daughter and I was fine with that.

We were staying around the corner from Harry’s at an air bnb for convenience. Ever since having Charlotte, I hadn’t been outside of the US so this was exciting yet daunting. The idea of seeing London again, all my old friends, and Harry gave me a rush of mixed emotions.

The landing and locating of our luggage had a few bumps and a minor tantrum but our taxi takes us to the flat where we are met with the hostess.

“There’s been a terrible mistake,” she wrings her hands as we stand in the heat of the summer afternoon.

“What kind of mistake?” My heart drops and there’s a tugging on my dress. Charlotte demands to be picked up.

“We accidentally booked another couple to the flat.” The woman responds.

“What?” If I wasn’t this tired, I would be shouting. “How can you make a mistake like that? I booked this well in advance!”

“I understand,” the woman says. “Your booking must have been accidentally cancelled and I-the couple is fine with sharing the flat-”

“I have a small child with me as you can see,” I cut her off not going into detail why our privacy was extremely important. “I’m not living with two strangers when I secured the place for all of August. This is bullshit,” I spit out, forgetting Charlie could hear me. This trip was not going how it should be. “I’m contacting air bnb and-”

My rant is cut short when my phone vibrates. Harry.

“Hi,” I answer.

“Daddy!” Charlotte yells into my ear. I hush her with a glance and try to listen to what Harry was saying.

“-landed? I was trying to reach you where are you?”

I sigh and give the woman a dirty look. “We’ve just arrived at the bnb and apparently there’s been a ‘mistake’ and it’s double booked so now I don’t know where-”

“Shit, stay with me,” comes Harry's steady voice.

“I couldn’t,” comes my own, slightly less steady voice. Staying with Harry would be bad for me. It would only stir old emotions back up and make it harder to leave once again. I just knew it.

“I’m right around the corner Y/N. Just stay until you find another place at least.”

I couldn’t argue with that. I agree and order an Uber, giving the woman a piece of my mind before I go.

Charlotte had fallen asleep on my shoulder in the midst of all of it so I struggle with the child, our luggage, and my phone when I reach Harry's.

“I’ll be right down,” he says. My stomach is suddenly doing sommersaults and I can barely feel my legs. I saw Harry near Christmas! Why was I suddenly so nervous?

“Hey,” Harry enters the lobby in a black shirt and jeans and his glasses sit atop his mess of hair. “You look lovely Y/N, but that’s nothing new.”

Harry's grin is like a crack in the ice surrounding us and I give him a quick hug hello.

“Let me get that.” He grabs the luggage and we wait for the elevator again.

“She fell asleep,” Harry brushes our daughter’s hands and she shifts on my shoulder.

“She’s been doing that since the ride,” I say. “I think jet lag is already doing her in.”

Harry smiles at her and the tenderness in his gaze holds me captive. It was a while since I saw Harry look like that.

Harry gets the luggage onto the lift and I follow him in. The mirrored interior reflects the glimpses he takes of me but I stay staring forward, not wanting to give in.

“Won’t your girlfriend mind?” I ask Harry when we enter his flat. “That we’re staying with you.”

“About that,” Harry scratches his nose. “I’m sure she’ll understand. We should talk though…about the trip.”

“Of course, let me just put Charlotte to bed.” Harry points out the spare room and I can tell Charlie will like it here with the amount of stuffed animals Harry's decorated the bed with. She was spoiled.

“So you can stay as long as you want here,” Harry begins. “Or if you want to find someplace else I understand. Whatever you feel comfortable with.”

He holds my gaze as he talks and I nod along. It was all very proper and polite, almost as if we’d never had anything more than a friendly relationship.

“What’s your schedule like?” I ask. “I know we already figured things out but if I’m staying for a few days here will I be in the way of anything?”

“I’m filming in a few days, I took a lot of time off the next couple weeks for Charlie but that’s it. Then I'm in the studio after that." Harry scratches the back of his head. “Just make yourself at home don’t worry what I’ve got to do.”

“I don’t want to get in the way. I know we didn’t plan for this,” I flush. Harry reaches over and squeezes my shoulder.

“I want you to feel comfortable, love...”

I’m suddenly 21 and Harry and I are on one of our first dates at a bar. He holds onto my hand and tells me he really likes me. He asks me if we wanted to take our relationship past the dating stage. I’m giddy and drunk on love and kiss him yes.

“Mom?” A small voice calls out.

“Yes!” I jump up and shake the memories off, rushing to the spare room. Charlotte sits up in bed with a frown on her grumpy face. “I’m right here babe.” I scoop her up and she holds onto me, already holding a stuffed koala in the other hand.

“So you’ve met Mr. Blake.” Harry walks into the room and points to the koala.

And just like that Charlotte is jumping into her dad’s arms and bubbling with laughter, explaining how his real name is Oreo. My heart squeezes watching the two interact. Charlie is more awake than before the plane ride as she continues with her endless chatter. Harey is wide-eyed and drinking in everything she says. She says something funny and he throws his head back laughing, kissing the side of her head while she giggles. Seeing them two made my heart full.

“Momma I’m hungry,” Charlie says abruptly.

“You must be,” I look at the time. “It’s been a while since we ate.”

“Let’s have an early dinner out,” Harry suggests.

“That’s not necessary-” I try to say but Charlie cuts me off with a big cheer and soon Harry joins in and he’s off with her riding his back with her hands clasped tightly around his neck. I would never win with those two together so I find my wallet and join them.

“I didn’t realise how much I needed this,” Harry says on our walk to the restaurant. It was a ten minute walk Harry wanted to take, reassuring me that we wouldn't be bothered. Charlotte holds her dad’s hand and stares in wonder at the new city around her. “I can’t believe you-she-Charlie hasn’t ever been down here.”

“She was so excited to finally see where her Dad lives,” I laugh at the image of her bouncing off the walls in happiness.

“I think the weirdest thing for me is that my baby has an American accent,” Harry comments.

“I never thought about that!” I laugh. “At least she won’t be saying things like crisps and the loo!”

“Oi that’s offensive,” Harry jokes. “My english is just as good as yours mate!”

“Now you sound Australian!” I tease.

Harry laughs and bumps his shoulder into mine.

“Australia has kangaroos,” Charlotte comments randomly.

“We’ve got a clever one,” Harry winks at me. “They’ve got massive spiders too.” Harry says to our daughter but little does he know she actively picked up spiders.

Charlie starts jumping like a kangaroo and soon Harry picks her up and sits her on his shoulder where she shouts to anybody who listens that she was on top of the world.

“I always tell people she’s got that energy from her dad,” I tell Harry quietly. There a shine to his eyes as he looks to Charlie and she looks down at him and shouts it louder.

“My mum and dad were thinking of coming around this weekend to see her,” Hadry suddenly says.

“That would be nice for her. To see her family,” I say.

“I mean you’d be there too?” Harry says.

“Oh, right.” My mouth dries at the thought of having to see his family. They were a great bunch but the way Harry and I ended things so abruptly was an uncomfortable reminder. “I’ll try to make it.”

“Charlie can have some sort of a normal family dinner,” Harry jokes.

“Both parents and grandparents? That would make her trip actually.” I say with a little bit of sadness. Charlotte wouldn’t grow up with both parents like Harry and I had the privlege of and that hurt me thinking about it.

“I wish she could have that all the time,” Harry sighs. He glances over at me as he says it and there’s something unspoken. But Charlie grabs a fistful of his hair and he has to get her down in her drunken power.

The restaurant is cozy and Charlie talks a mile a minute with the attention of both her parents. Every so often when she says something ridiculous or something related to an old inside joke from years past, Harry will glance over at me with a smile. It’s a secret language between us, and I swear I even feel his hand brush my own but I chalk it up to accidents. Harry had a girlfriend, he had no business doing that with me.

It gets more confusing later that night. Harry had plans to go out at 8 and Charlie falls asleep by half past 7. Being in LA time, I stay snuggled in the couch, watching a random movie Harry recommended. My eyes drift shut halfway but I’m awoken by a bang. My eyes squint in the dark as my hand feels for my phone. 1:47AM the bright display reads.

“Sorry,” comes a voice. The lights flick on and Harry stands dishevelled in the clothes he went out in. “I was trying to keep quiet I di'know you were sleeping!”

He was drunk-whispering which meant his voice was only slightly lower than normal. He stumbles towards me and falls onto the sofa, yanking his shoes off with a great deal of effort.

“Were you sleeping?” He asks me up close.

“I guess so,” I respond. “Did you have a good time?”

A part of me feels awash with sadness, the dull and familiar ache settling into my chest. Another part of me is angry at myself for still being in love with a man who could not love me the same way.

“It would have been nice if you came,” Harry reaches out and twists a strand of my hair. “Are you naturally a brunette?”

“I am,” I say gently. “You should drink water before bed.”

“No-no don’t start taking care of me!” Harry puts a pillow on his lap. “I’m supposed to be taking care of my girls. But I’m doing a shite job I guess.”

He stifles his laugh. I try to stifle the pang in my chest when he says 'my girls’ because it meant nothing more than just words. I couldn’t afford to read into these things. But when Harry switches the pillow to my lap and lays his head down, all self-control gets chucked out he door.

“It’s been so long since we talked,” Harry tries to whisper again. He reaches out to touch my hair again, his fingers lingering on my face before lowering to his side again.

“You came to LA a lot,” in my statement is also an accusation. He never came in to my apartment or asked me to go out.

“You never invited me in,” Harry says quietly.

“Surely I did?” I tell him.

“No,” his reply is almost a sigh. I realise maybe I didn’t make it so explicit.

“My mistake,” I admit. “But you know you were always welcomes.” I trace the bridge of his nose.

“I know,” Harry says with a boyish smile. “I was slightly nervous when we were on your terf. I didn’t ask either-you’re right.”

Involuntarily I brush my fingers through Harry's hair. Instantly, his body relaxes with a sigh as he closes his eyes. So I remove my hand immediately and nudge him.

“I should go to bed,” I wait for him to clumsily get up. We walk to the stairs together where Harry wishes me goodnight. He leans foward and misses my forehead by an inch, kissing my eyebrow instead.

“Night,” I back away into the spare where Charlotte sleeps, rubbing my eyebrow. In bed, I try to sort through my feelings. My eyes land on the sleeping body next to me and I pull her into me. She was all I needed, I try to remind myself. I was only here for her. Harry and I were never getting together again.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #dad!harry #fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #writingsfromhome #idk lol

[blkmxrvel]

Haven’t Forgotten My Way Home (21)-[CONVERTED]

Pairing: Kara Zor-El x Female!Reader

Summary: In the D/s society of National City, men and women abandoned by their Dom/mes or otherwise deemed unfit for life “outside” end up at the Mount Overland House for Orphaned Submissives. It is here that Kara Zor-El finds Y/N Hastings, broken and fearful from mistreatment at the hands of her former Dom. Can Kara coax Y/N back into the world that once so terrified her, and show her the true meaning of care and submission?

Warnings: Domestic Violence (Flashbacks, Mentions and Descriptions), Misogyny, Domination/Submission.

A/N: Hi, everyone! I know it’s been an EXTREMELY long time and I apologize for that. Life got in the way. But I won’t be giving up on posting this! I’m going to be posting chapters 21-28 daily over the next week, as i’ve already had them converted. As for the last 3, they should be up in rapid succession. Thanks for not giving up on me lol, love you guys and enjoy!

Kara liked the freedom of living on her own. She liked being able to leave her clothes lying around if she wanted to – which she didn’t. She liked being able to have dessert first sometimes – which she did, frequently. And she liked being able to decorate her house the way she wanted to, stay up as late as she wanted, play her music as loud as she wanted and sing along with anything and everything, even the television commercials.

Which she didn’t do.

Not often, anyway.

But every now and then… sometimes it was nice for Kara just to go home. To the place she was born, where she was raised. The place where Kara Sophia Zor-El first discovered just who, exactly, she was.

David Zor-El threw open the door and immediately wrapped his arms around Kara, pulling the girl inside. “I’m not letting you go,” he said, hugging her tightly. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Kara rolled her eyes and carefully disengaged herself from him, returning the hug nonetheless. “Thanksgiving was just three days ago, Daddy,” she said happily. “I don’t think that constitutes forever.”

“It does in Daddy-time,” he said, then looked past Kara, above her head. “And who’s this?”

Kara half-turned, extending her hand with a smile to the Y/H/C-haired, nervous submissive hovering just behind her. Y/N took it and offered her own, albeit smaller, smile. “This is Y/N, Daddy. She’s… my friend. I told you, remember?”

Y/N looked at Kara’s dad shyly, but didn’t say anything, and Kara squeezed her hand...

“That you did, that you did,” David said, stepping over to study Y/N, looking warmly at her. “But you failed to mention that she’s beautiful, Kara. It almost hurts to look at her; it’s like staring at the sun with no sunglasses.”

“Daddy, stop, you’re embarrassing her,” Kara said, lightly punching him in the arm. “And you’re going to make Dad jealous.”

“Yes, stop, my boy,” Randy said, coming into the living room and standing beside his husband. “You’re giving me a complex.”

“He forgets I only have eyes for him,” David said to Y/N, who rewarded him with a grin and a blush. “This is Kara’s friend, Y/N, Sir.”

It was only now that Kara was grown and out of the house that her fathers were more comfortable with their dynamic in front of her. As a child she’d known it existed, because it was the way things were. But her fathers were intensely private, and so their dynamic was often revealed in more subtle ways to their daughter. It was through her fathers that Kara learned a dynamic could be established with just a single word. The raise of an eyebrow. The fact that her Daddy was always the one who made dinner and that Dad was the one she had to ask about a raise in her allowance.

The full force of her fathers’ dynamic, and their love, had become apparent when Randy had gotten sick. Used to Randy making the rules, David had nevertheless become the rock of the family, holding his Sir and Kara together as he cared for the man he loved. Their rules had all but gotten thrown out of the window, and it was interesting to see, if only for a short time, the dynamic shift, in a way. Randy had had difficulty giving up some of his control, especially since that was even out of his control. And it was Randy who had the biggest problem with Kara giving up the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts to help take care of him, but David was the one who voiced it, resulting in the biggest argument Kara had ever had with her fathers.

Every now and then they would bring up NYADA, but it was very easy for Kara to push away that conversation by telling them that she had work to do in National City, and that if she didn’t do it, no one else would. Kara knew that her fathers were proud of her, but she also knew that there was sadness that she hadn’t yet realized her dream, and probably no small amount of guilt from Randy. Kara had repeatedly told him that she didn’t blame him, and she didn’t, but she knew neither of her fathers would be truly happy until she was in New York.

Randy regarded Y/N seriously before smiling just as warmly at her, even as his eyebrow rose at Kara. She felt herself flush and shrugged slightly; her father was always able to see right through her.

“Welcome to our home, Y/N,” Randy said, stepping back and leading the girls more fully into the house. “Do you want anything to drink, something to eat?”

Kara watched Y/N carefully, then practically beamed as Y/N said, “I wouldn’t mind a drink if it’s not too much trouble, Mr. Zor-El.”

Y/N’s eyes were wide and inquisitive, almost like a child’s, as she took in her surroundings. The Zor-El house was small, smaller than Kara’s even, but it was comfortable and it was clear that, unlike Y/N’s childhood home, Kara was sure, that people lived and loved there. Everywhere in the house was evidence of a happy family: from the pictures of Kara and her fathers on the wall, to Kara’s numerous singing awards as a child, and both Randy and David’s work accomplishments. David was chief of staff at a hospital outside of the city, and Randy’s skill as an accountant kept him in high demand at tax season. Kara was proud of her fathers, and proud to be their daughter.

“Please, call me Randy,” he said, before tipping his chin at his submissive, who quickly went to the kitchen to fetch drinks. “And as gushing as my David is, he’s also right. You’re absolutely beautiful.”

They sat on the couch with Y/N close to Kara, who briefly touched Y/N’s knee reassuringly. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Randy, who seemed to have been staring at his daughter ever since he’d entered the room. She felt exposed under his gaze; she knew he could read her like an open libretto, and that he’d no doubt start asking her questions as soon as they were alone, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for that, at all. She didn’t have to answer to her fathers when it came to her personal life, Kara knew, but she also knew that they were used to her tendency to leap without a parachute.

“Thank you, Mr.- Randy,” Y/N said softly, losing some of the tension in her muscles as David brought her a drink and handed it to her with a smile. “It’s really nice to meet both of you.”

“Speaking of meeting,” David said, snuggling up to his Sir on the couch, “How did you and Kara meet?”

“Oh, I-I, um…”

“Through work,” Kara said, gently squeezing Y/N’s knee. “I saw her across the room, said hello, started talking—“

“Wouldn’t shut up…”

Kara blinked, looking at Y/N, who smirked at her.

David grinned. “That’s our Kara,” he said. “She’ll talk your ear off if you’d let her.”

“Oh, I’m sure the ears are just the first things to go.”

Kara gaped and as David and Randy laughed, Y/N leaned into her to whisper.

“No rules outside the house, Miss Kara.”

“Might have to rethink that,” Kara muttered in return, but she wasn’t annoyed. No, the reaction she was having at Y/N’s smart little moment of defiance was… inspiring a completely different reaction in her. She coughed and took a sip of her drink to distract herself from thinking about it.

… Was this why Lena liked it so much when Sam was a brat?

But it was dangerous, too, this game Y/N was playing with her, in front of her fathers. Kara had told her before the visit that they would have to be careful.

“Are you ashamed of me?” Y/N had asked her, and the question had cut Kara to the core.

“Of course not,” she’d hastened to reassure the girl. “But little one, I don’t want to jump into this too quickly, and you know why it’s important not too many people know about us right now.”

“Because you’re still scared,” Y/N had said, and Kara hadn’t been sure she had an argument against that.

But there would be no way she could be ashamed of Y/N. It had been a week since they’d made steps towards setting up their dynamic, and slowly but surely both she and Y/N were making progress in discovering what they both liked, and what neither of them wanted. Kara was quickly learning that Y/N craved instruction almost as much as she craved reassurance. It was a delicate balance, for Kara to tell Y/N things like “go get this,” or “bring me that,” and have it be within the context of their relationship and not just her being overbearing or controlling. But Y/N seemed to be thriving with it, and even Nia had remarked that Y/N acted much happier than she had before. Kara had declined to give Nia a reason for it.

For herself, Kara was discovering that one of her favorite things was just to cuddle with Y/N at the end of the day. She’d been worried about having Y/N on her knees so much, but it didn’t matter if she insisted Y/N sit next to her on the couch; inevitably Kara would find that Y/N had slipped to her knees at her feet, and her head was resting either on Kara’s lap or against her side. And Kara would just hold her, stroking her hair, and watch for that quiet look of contentment to appear on Y/N’s face.

That was the one thing that Lena had repeatedly stressed to Kara during her training: watching was a necessity. Watch for happiness, for pleasure. But more than that, watch for any sign of hurt, any sign of discomfort, any sign of loneliness. And it didn’t matter if Y/N was curled up to her or stuck with her nose in the corner, Kara wouldn’t stop watching, guarding against any misstep, terrified to make a mistake. Because for Kara it was a huge thing, finally having a submissive.

And having one that had been completely broken before, at the hands of another? Delicate wasn’t a word Kara would use to describe Y/N, but it was the only way she knew to treat the girl. There was a danger in that, too, Kara knew, though she didn’t think Y/N would ever be one to take advantage of it.

Even if she was a brat.

But her fathers were asking Y/N more questions, much like Alex had that first time, and Kara quickly turned her attention back to them. She was content just to sit and listen to Y/N’s voice as the young woman described everything from her parents to things she liked to do in her spare time… describing anything but how she and Kara had really met, how she had been promised to an abusive boy at the age of 16, the fact that she had ended up at Mt. Overland House.

And as much as Kara remained ever watchful of Y/N, even as they sat there with her fathers, she knew that Y/N was also watching, watching the interactions of Randy and David. It was only the second time she’d seen the way a positive relationship worked, and Kara thought it was cute, the way her eyes were wide and taking everything in. And there was a lot to see; Kara’s fathers, while not outwardly affectionate like Alex and Maggie, were very much in love. It was evident in the way they looked at each other, in the way David refilled his Sir’s drink without even being asked, in the way that Randy offered his hand to help David off the couch. Kara had giggled quietly to herself when Y/N’s mouth had dropped open a little, the first time Randy had said “thank you” to his submissive for bringing him something.

“I’ll be right back,” Kara said, when she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket for the third time that evening. She was worried that it might be something for work; even though she had prescribed hours during the day, she was always technically “on-call” at night, and she knew all it would take is one case like Y/N’s, and she’d be out the door and on her way to Mt. Overland House.

But she furrowed her brow when she saw that the calls were not from work, but from Alex, and she hadn’t left a voicemail.

“Huh,” she said quietly to herself, just as Y/N slipped into the kitchen.

“Everything all right, Miss—“ Y/N caught herself and cleared her throat. “Everything all right, Kara?”

“I hope so,” Kara said. “Alex’s been trying to reach me, I’ll have to call her in a little bit and make sure nothing’s happened with Maggie.” As much as she loved her best friend it was always in the back of Kara’s mind that she’d get a call like this, that Maggie had done something to hurt herself, or worse, Alex. She knew Maggie was working hard to escape the demons of her past, but she also knew how easy it was for the demons to catch up.

She turned back to Y/N, and, noting that her fathers were talking together in the living room, reached out to cup her waist, pulling Y/N to her. She kissed her gently, and then whispered, “You’re being an absolute brat right now. I can’t believe you told them I snore louder than Theo when I’m napping!”

Y/N giggled, a blush spreading over her cheeks as she tucked her head on Kara’s shoulder. “But you can’t put me in the corner here,” she teased. “Remember your rule? The only place you’re Miss Kara is in your home.”

Kara rolled her eyes, running her hand through Y/N’s hair. “Am I only Miss Kara at my house, though?” she asked softly.

Y/N shook her head, her breath tickling Kara’s neck, and Kara shivered. “No. You’re my Miss Kara no matter where we are.”

She didn’t know why that made her arms tighten around Y/N, but it did, and Kara gently kissed the top of Y/N’s head. “Then maybe we ought to reconsider that rule.”

Y/N pulled herself up and met Kara’s eyes. “I could be okay with that,” she said, and her gaze was steady, clear.

“Even if it means you’re going straight to the corner when we get back, my little obnoxious one?” Kara said with a grin.

Y/N smiled, flushing an even deeper shade of pink. “Even if it means that, Miss Kara.”

From behind them Kara heard her father clear his throat, and she and Y/N jumped apart. Randy smiled at them both, though it was strained even as he politely said to Y/N, “David is breaking out the family photo albums, I imagine you might want to see them?”

“I- yes,” Y/N said, seeming reluctant to leave Kara. “I want to see just how cute… Kara was as a baby.”

Kara groaned and covered her face with her palm, shaking her head, as Y/N headed into the living room. She grinned at Randy. “Photo albums are things you show girlfriends, Dad.”

“Which is maybe why David wants to bring them out, Sophie,” Randy said, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest.

Kara sighed.

“Want to tell me where you really met Y/N?”

She should’ve known that Randy would see everything, from the way she looked at Y/N to the little touches they’d both shared, here and there throughout their conversation with Kara’s dads. For Kara it was the casual affection that was easy with Y/N, for Y/N it was the constant need for reassurance but also, Kara was beginning to learn, the desperate need for her. Kara should’ve known that something like that wouldn’t be easy to hide.

“I did tell you. We met at work. I just didn’t tell you… that she lived at Mt. Overland House.”

Randy shook his head. “Mt. Overland House? Kara…”

“I know, Dad, all right?” Kara snapped, and then took a deep breath, moving to stand next to her father. “I know.”

Randy slipped his arm around his daughter’s shoulders and hugged her close. “So some jackass was mean to her, then. It’s a shame; she’s clearly an amazing young woman.”

Kara smiled to herself, nodding. “She’s not perfect, but she’s the closest to it I think I’ve found. With the exception of yours truly.”

“Is she good to you?”

“I don’t think that you and daddy could choose anyone better for me, if you were into that sort of thing.”

Kara spilled it all, then, hoisting herself up onto the counter like she used to do when she was little and she’d watch her Daddy cook while her Dad sat at the table poring over his work. How Y/N had grown up, how her claim had been arranged. Her dad made all the right gestures, all the right sounds of anger and indignation as Kara described Y/N’s abuse at the hands of James, and how she had ended up at Mt. Overland House that fateful night. She could hear Y/N laughing in the living room, no doubt giggling at the picture of two year old Kara in the bathtub with a soap beard and a plastic microphone in her hand, and it made Kara tear up.

She’d had so much happiness in her life, despite her father’s illness and the lack of NYADA. And even though Y/N had had her grandfather, she deserved so much more…

“Is she submitting to you?”

Kara hesitated. “Yes.”

“Are you being good to her?”

“Dad!” Kara said indignantly, and Randy held up his hands.

“I love you,” he said, “and you’re my daughter. I know you’ve seen the way your father and I act with each other, and I know Lena trained you well. But I also feel just a little protective towards that young lady in the living room, and just as much as you deserve someone to be amazing with you, she does too. Maybe even more after everything that’s been done to her, Sophie.”

Kara nodded and hopped off the counter to lean against her father, who automatically wrapped his arms around her. “I try,” she confessed. “I really care about her, Dad, and I-I want to be good for her.”

“Do you love her?”

“I think… I’m starting to.”

“But you’re scared.”

Kara shrugged. “Everyone seems to know me better than I know myself.”

“I’d be scared if I was you,” Randy said, “And all David and I had to contend with were his parents thinking he should be with a woman instead of your old dad, here.”

Kara nodded again, remembering how her Daddy’s parents had never met her, never made the effort to contact her or her father. She thought they were somewhere off in California now, but she couldn’t be sure. Daddy didn’t like to talk about them.

“But I also know that if Y/N deserves anybody, she deserves my sweet, compassionate, occasionally loud and very opinionated Kara Sophia.” Randy cupped Kara’s head in his hands and kissed her forehead.

“I always knew you’d make a good mistress,” Randy said, then tilted his head. “Is that an awkward thing for a father to say to his daughter?”

“Very,” Kara declared, laughing, then hugged her father fiercely. “But thank you, Dad.”

“Why didn’t you want to tell us?” Randy asked. “You’ve never hidden anything from us before.”

“I know,” Kara said, feeling guilty. “But it’s just… work, and I’m trying to be careful for Y/N.”

“You haven’t technically done anything wrong, Sophie,” her dad said, and Kara shrugged again.

“She wants me to go to New York,” she said suddenly.

“In that case, how soon can we make her a part of the family?”

“I-is everything okay?”

Kara moved to once again reassure Y/N, who was standing in the doorway looking like a deer in the headlights with one corner of her cardigan twisted in her hand, but Randy beat his daughter to it as he asked Y/N, “Y/N, would you mind if I hugged you?”

She paused, giving Kara a strange look, but when Kara smiled, Y/N nodded. Randy hugged her quickly, gently, before drawing away and holding her at arm’s length.

“You’re a beautiful young woman, and you deserve to be happy,” he said seriously, then looked back at Kara. “I hope you two take care of each other.”

“He knows?” Y/N asked when Randy left for the living room, and Kara could tell his subtle warning about taking care of his daughter wasn’t lost on her.

“He knows, little one,” Kara said; when she took a deep, shaky breath Y/N came to her immediately, wrapping her arms around Kara and holding her close. Kara closed her eyes, absorbing Y/N’s comfort, her strength, before reopening them and smiling faintly at her.

“And surprisingly, he’s okay with it. I think as long as I’m happy, and you’re taking care of me, and I’m taking care of you…”

“Good,” Y/N said, and surprised Kara by kissing her, deeply, right there in her fathers’ kitchen. It left Kara feeling dizzy, and she had to put her hand back on the counter to brace herself. Y/N’s own eyes widened, and Kara saw her swallow hard.

“W-wow,” was all Y/N said, and Kara grinned a little.

“Wow is right,” she agreed, trying to force out all of the images that had rushed into her head with the ferocity of Y/N’s kiss. Images that involved a bed, restraints, and the two of them, very, very naked…

“Do you want to go back into the living room?” Y/N asked. “I think your dads have more pictures they want to show me.” She stuck her tongue out at Kara.

“You are definitely going into the corner when we get home,” Kara said, and thought that the living room was the last place she wanted to be at that moment. The bedroom would be much nicer… Her phone vibrated again.

Kara looked down at it. Alex.

“Let me just answer this, little one,” she said, “Then we’ll go back so that I can be humiliated some more.”

She pressed the button on her phone. “Alex?”

“Maggie,” she said.

Kara furrowed her brow. “Maggie? What’s going on, why are you using Alex’s phone?

“Well… let’s see, how do I say this? Ma’am’s, uh, terrified to talk to you right now, Ma’am.”

Now Kara was even more confused. “Terrified to talk to me? Why? Put her on the phone, Maggie.”

“Can’t do that, Ma’am, she’s working on a case right now. That’s kind of why I’m calling.”

Alex had been promoted to Advocate within SETS, a liaison of sorts between Dominants and their submissives or former submissives. She wasn’t a lawyer or a counselor, but she did act to ensure that her clients received the fairest treatment under the law and the government. Her promotion was to defense advocate, helping to defend those who were accused of abusing or mistreating their partners, a decision that Kara had found distasteful, and she’d told her so.

“It pays more,” Alex had said honestly, “And you know as well as I do that sometimes the ones getting accused aren’t at fault. Look at Maggie.”

“I’m not really sure why you have to call to tell me about Alex’s case? Y/N and I are my dads’, and we’re kind of busy right n—“

“I know,” Maggie interrupted, and Kara would’ve been angry at being interrupted, if she’d given her a chance to, but instead she kept speaking. “And that’s also kind of why I’m calling, because Ma’am has a new case, it starts next week, and I really think you need to know about it. And you should also know that she’s really, really sorry.”

“Sorry?” Kara said, exasperated. “Why on earth does Alex need to be sorry?”

“Because she’s defending James.”

#madi converts #kara danvers #kara danvers x reader #supergirl #supergirl x reader #kara zor el #kara zor el x reader #HFMWH

[mollymauk-teafleak]

The Problem with Magic Markers

Soooo Critical Role campaign 2 just ended, I've got major brain rot over it and my wonderful gf gave me a wonderful idea for a fic so! This happened! A gift to @spiky-lesbian who came up with this adorable concept and is just generally an all round wonderful person who deserves the world. Also huge thanks to my ever patient, ever helpful beta reader @minky-for-short

If you liked it too, please reblog and leave a comment over on Ao3!

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Mollymauk is so proud of Caleb in so many ways and, now they have their lovely lives with their wonderful children, he finds more reasons to be every day.

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Mollymauk Tealeaf had learned many things since he’d become a parent, now five years ago. A short amount of time, he’d used to think, but plenty of time to obtain a lot of knowledge you never thought you were ever going to need in your life.

Like how sandwiches cut into triangles were disgusting but sandwiches cut into squares could be eaten by the hundreds. Like how to make a bath appealing to a toddler with the liberal addition of bubble bath and a willingness to get absolutely soaked playing Sharks with them. Like how a scraped knee and bumped forehead could be cured with his cuddles and kisses alone, like how a promise from him that everything was going to be okay was enough to make it so.

And how silence was very, very worrying.

So when Mollymauk walked past his son and daughter’s room and heard only silence, when he knew for a fact they were in there, he stopped dead. He put any thoughts of getting to go and spend some time with his sewing kit out of his mind. Because he’d been a parent long enough to know that something was up, two five year olds weren’t that silent unless some game was afoot, something they didn’t want their parents to know about. Which meant he should probably at least poke his nose in.

So he knocked lightly on their door, the one covered in whichever drawings they were most proud of that week and a hand painted sign Jester had made for them the day they were born, prettily proclaiming ‘Trinket and Una’s Room!’ amongst a flock of miniature unicorns.

“Sweetlings?” he called gently, “Mind if I come in?”

There was a sudden scrabbling from behind the door and he heard a muffled grunt from Una before Trinket answered hurriedly, “Um...yes! Okay daddy!”

Raising a curious eyebrow, Molly pushed the door back, disturbing the usual scattering of toys left on the floor like the aftermath of a felt based battle. Although it did seem like there was more mess than usual…

Trinket stood in the middle of the room between their two little beds, his backpack at his feet and an expression of perfect innocence on his face that was just a little too polished to be anything but an act. Molly had to admit he’d probably learned that from him.

“Well hello there, little man,” he leaned in the doorway, smiling crookedly, “What game are we playing today?”

Trinket shuffled his feet, “Um...packing?”

“That sounds like a fun game,” Molly’s gentle concern upgraded to full blown wariness, “And where’s your sister?”

Trinket turned a deeper shade of purple, looking down at his fidgety feet that were poking more holes in his innocence by the second, “Um...she...um…”

Which was the point Una helpfully chose to poke her little head out of the backpack, dark eyes blinking curiously and ears flapping, trilling, “Here daddy!”

Trinket flushed guiltily, frowning at her, “Una! I said you had to stay shh!”

Molly took a breath, wandering over to sit down on Trinket’s bed. As his eyes swept around the room, he noted a great deal more chaos in the room. Almost like someone had been going through the toy box and the drawers and bookshelves, hurriedly pulling things out, making quick decisions about what to abandon and what to stuff into a little blue, dinosaur patterned backpack. Molly supposed he should at least be grateful that Trinket saw his sister as worth taking.

“Why don’t you talk to me, babies?” he offered gently.

Trinket swallowed, eyes darting around nervously before the last of the fight went out of his narrow little shoulders and he mumbled, “Daddy...can I tell you a secret?”

Molly had to smile. This was almost a running joke between the three of them, his kids running up excitedly to tell him they had a secret for him before whispering into his ear about some apparently very cool bug they’d seen or that Uncle Caddy had snuck them an extra cookie or that he was the best daddy ever. He loved being brought into their world where everything was brighter and more exciting and there was fun to be found in the smallest things. And where everything was felt so much more keenly.

“Of course you can, sweetling,” he murmured gently, patting the bed beside him, “You can always tell me secrets. Whatever it is, I promise we can make it better together.”

As Una rolled out of the backpack, apparently unconcerned and rather enjoying herself, Trinket clambered up beside him and stood so he could whisper into his ear. Molly tucked his purple curls behind one ear, smiling encouragingly.

Voice already trembling, Trinket leaned in and murmured, “I messed up Papa’s coat.”

Molly absorbed that in silence, feeling his son’s anxious red eyes on him. He leaned back, keeping his face carefully neutral before taking a long, deep breath through his nose, marshalling his thoughts.

“Trinket, I’m not going to lie to you here. We might be in trouble.”

His opinion didn’t change when he actually saw the coat. The coat his husband had been wearing as long as he’d known him and refused to be regularly seen without, no matter how many attempts Molly had made to buy him a newer, less ragged, less musty smelling version. It was more a comfort blanket than just clothing, stained and scorched from numerous spells and spills, old leather worn shiny from overuse. He hadn’t said so in so many words but it didn’t take a genius to guess that Caleb had worn it since before he came to the city. Which meant it had probably come from his parents. And though it was old and faded and stained today, it must have been new when he got it, a costly garment for people like the Ermendruds. The sort of gift that would only be given if your only son was leaving home to join the Academy and wanted to show him how proud you were.

A lot of Caleb’s life was like that. Even as his husband, Molly found himself having to piece things together from passing comments and turns of phrase, things that dulled his love’s eyes and tightened his jaw. Molly had about a quilt and a half’s worth of assumptions and semi-finished anecdotes by this point, telling of a sad and fractured timeline.

But he knew enough to see what the coat meant to Caleb and the place it held in his husband’s black and white, yes or no, yours and mine way of thinking.

The coat that now had a minor gallery’s worth of doodles and drawings scribbled in magic marker across the sleeves and all the way down the back. And if he wasn’t comfortable with Molly washing the thing, he wasn’t going to be okay with this.

Trinket had been fretfully watching his daddy since he’d first pulled the coat out from where he’d guiltily stashed it under his bed. As Molly’s mutely horrified silence dragged on, he only became more and more anguished until he was barely in tears, wringing his tail between his pudgy fists.

“I only wanted to make it pretty,” he whimpered, “Papa will hate me. I won’t be his special boy any more.”

Molly looked up at him, reaching out and putting his hand on Trinket’s shoulder, “Oh sweetling, your papa loves you a lot, you know this isn’t going to change that.”

But he couldn’t stop thinking about the times he’d picked up a pen from Caleb’s desk without thinking much of it, doodling with it until he’d looked up to see his husband gaping at him in scandalised horror. Or the times he’d stolen sips from Caleb’s drink when they were at the cafe, the same way he’d do to any of his friends, but Caleb would frown if he caught him, unable to understand why Molly was taking his coffee?

It was just part of the way his brain functioned, the rules it spat out after absorbing years of poverty and trauma, along with some different wiring that had simply occurred naturally. Mollymauk had learned a long time ago how to fondly work with these Caleb-isms, making concessions where it was best to and encouraging his wizard to gentle the restrictions his brain built when he needed to. It was like tending some kind of creeping vine in a garden, the way he saw it. Sometimes things needed moving aside so it could flourish and sometimes it needed pruning so it didn’t strangle the flowers around it. Caleb had been as brave as Mollymauk could have wished in managing his idiosyncrasies and sometimes he just had to sit back and admire how different the Caleb he lived with today was from the anxious, mumbling wizard he’d first met.

But how much patience he’d be able to muster when it was one of his favourite things in the world, Molly couldn’t say. But he wasn’t looking forward to telling him about it.

“Should I go?” Trinket’s lower lip wobbled, glancing back at his half packed bag, which Una was back inside, the front half this time as she munched away on some snack he must have stashed in there.

“Absolutely not, your papa would never want that,” Molly squeezed his shoulder gently, “We’re going to put the coat in to soak so we can get all this ink out and then we’re going to find him and I’ll tell him what’s happened. But you need to be the one who says sorry, okay?”

Trinket nodded frantically, still clinging onto his tail for comfort, “I am sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

“I know, buddy,” Molly drew him close and hugged him tight, hating to see him so upset, “But we’ll be laughing about this before long, you’ll see.”

Maybe if he said it confidently enough, he’d start to believe it too.

Caleb wasn’t hard to find for a number of reasons. For one, their apartment was very small and there were only a handful of rooms to look in. But more importantly, it was late afternoon on a day where Caleb didn’t have any reason to go down to the Academy and fulfill his duties as an adjunct professor and when his bookshop was closed, as it was once a week. Which meant there was only one place he would be, in his half of their spare room, either playing one of his video games or reading.

Molly wasn’t quite sure what they’d do when one of their kids decided they wanted their own room and were tired of sharing, meaning Caleb would have to store his books and he’d have to store his sewing somewhere else. Or if they had another kid. He’d been toying with that idea in the back of his mind lately.

Maybe best not to float that idea with Caleb right after this.

Mollymauk could feel Trinket in his arms, his offer to pick him up and carry him having been immediately, breathlessly accepted. He could sense him getting more tense, more anxious, growing heavier against him as Molly knocked lightly on the door.

“Ja, come in,” Caleb’s response was immediate, not even needing to ask who it was or having to pause over whether he wanted to see them.

When Molly went in, Caleb was in the old, ratty wingback chair they’d liberated from some sidewalk when they’d first moved in, Molly announcing teasingly that a future professor needed some grand leather throne from which to smoke a pipe and pontificate. Caleb had blushed and rolled his eyes, not even believing back then that one day he would get the job he’d always dreamed of having, thinking trauma and past hurts had stolen it from him.

So now Molly always got a small flush of pride when he saw his Caleb sitting in that chair.

His hair was getting a little longer these days, it’s auburn tangles pulled into a small knot at the crown of his head so it wouldn’t fall in his eyes. His beard was growing a little thicker too, more than the usual rusty shadow that dusted his jawline. Molly absolutely was not going to be complaining about any of that, he liked his husband looking a little more rough around the edges like when they’d first met.

As soon as he saw them, Molly with Trinket balanced on one hip, Caleb’s face lit up with a smile. His smiles had been rare once upon a time but now just the sight of his family was enough.

“Hello,” he set the book he’d been reading to one side, already expecting Trinket to want to sit on his lap like always, “How are my loves?”

Near Molly’s ear, Trinket whimpered mournfully and pressed his face against his daddy’s neck. It was more than an ache to listen to, Trinket idolised his papa, following him around whenever he could, listening devotedly as he explained his work even when it wandered far off the track that his little mind could understand. Molly had no doubt the attempt to brighten up his coat had been a genuine attempt to make him smile and he couldn’t imagine how much it was hurting his little boy, to think he’d upset the man he looked up to more than anyone.

Caleb’s smile dulled a little, seeing Trinket hesitate, immediately realising they weren’t here for playtime, “What’s wrong?”

Molly exhaled slowly, carefully keeping his voice calm and level, “It’s okay babe, Trinket just...did something he wants to apologise for.”

“Oh?” Caleb frowned a little, eyes still fixed on Trinket, arms still open.

Molly opened his mouth, ready to do the hard part but before he could, Trinket bolted upright and tearfully burst out, “I wanted to make your coat pretty because you always like my pictures and I thought you could take them everywhere not just in your pockets but I made a mess and I’m so sorry papa! I’m really sorry!”

For a moment both of his parents were a little stunned, not quite sure what to say as his rambles tapered off into spluttery sobs. Molly warily glanced at Caleb, looking for any change in his blank, closed off expression, any flicker of discomfort, even anger.

After a few beats, ones that felt longer than usual, Caleb only nodded, getting to his feet. Gently, he reached over and put a gentle hand on his son’s face, catching some of the tears dribbling down his cheek on his thumb.

“Little Kätzchen, it’s alright,” he murmured softly, “Please don’t cry.”

Trinket sniffled, blinking blearily, “You’re not angry? Don’t want me to go away?”

Caleb’s eyebrows shot up in alarm, “No! Oh, Trinkie, absolutely not. I’d never want that.”

“But…” Trinket’s eyes were wide, hopeful, wanting to take this relief being offered but hesitant to, “It’s your favourite thing in the whole wide world…”

Caleb chuckled quietly, his smile back with all it’s warmth as he leaned in and kissed his forehead.

“Kätzchen, you and your sister are my favourite thing in the whole wide world.”

Molly nearly yelped in panic as he felt the weight of Trinket suddenly leave his arms before realising his son had thrown himself at Caleb, locking his arms around him tightly. He didn’t doubt for a moment that his husband would catch him, only smiling fondly as he gathered Trinket close and buried his face in his hair.

“It’s all okay,” Caleb whispered against the rust red curls he’d given their son, “It’s okay, little one.”

Molly let them have their moment, letting Trinket cry the last of his tears out happily against his papa’s chest, hanging back and feeling his heart thudding warmly against his ribs. Eventually he was their beaming, bright little boy again, if a little damp, wriggling down from Caleb’s arms determinedly after one last little kiss against his papa’s cheek.

“I’m gonna make you a sorry card. The best sorry card ever,” he promised Caleb, already toddling towards the door, “It’s gonna have glitter.”

“Wow, that kid is definitely my son,” Molly observed wryly once his little lavender tail had disappeared around the corner.

“Then you can clean up the mess he’s definitely about to make,” Caleb chuckled, moving into his husband’s arms.

“Hey,” Molly kissed the crown of his head gently, “Well done. I know that must have been hard for you and...I’m really proud of you.”

He couldn’t see it but he could hear the coy smile in his voice, “Well...I meant what I said. Some coat is never going to be more important to me than my kids.”

Molly smiled knowingly, “I know baby….but you know, if you want to scream into that cushion for a little while, that’s okay too?”

There was a short pause before he felt Caleb’s shoulders drop in relief.

“Thank you, Katze…”

“Is it done yet?”

Molly had to fight a smile. He’d explained to Caleb that soaking his coat would take exactly thirty minutes, knowing his husband fixated on time easily, but still he asked every five minutes on the dot. He’d expected nothing less.

“Not just yet, babe,” he repeated, as he had all of those other times, looking up from the laundry they’d been folding so Caleb would have an excuse to hover anxiously in the laundry room, over the tub of hot soapy water and a little rubbing alcohol his coat was submerged in, “Soon though.”

Caleb gave a small grunt, poking a finger into the water curiously like it was some potion he was working over. After a moment, before Molly could turn back to folding the clothes, he frowned.

“This sleeve isn’t in the water…”

Molly’s smile turned crooked, coming over and putting a hand on Caleb’s before he could move the one sleeve into the tub, “I thought maybe you’d want to look at it...decide if you want to keep that one.”

Caleb blinked, not understanding until he turned it a little and saw the drawing his Trinket had chosen to adorn the sleeve with. It was done in bright red, standing clearly against the dark fabric, unmistakable a child’s drawing. There were four figures there, two taller and two smaller. The first had a set of horns drawn a little too large for it’s head, as well as a tail. The second had a long scarf and a scrawled head of shoulder length hair. The next was much smaller, with another set of horns and a tail but the same scribbled hair. And the last was tiny, with voluminous ears and spikes on the end of it’s fingers. All of them had immense smiles and held hands, a lopsided love heart hovering above them.

As the other scribbles and swirls turned into formless ink in the water, Caleb held this one like it was the most precious thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“Yeah,” he murmured, smiling softly, “I think this one can stay.”

#critical role #modern au #caleb widogast #mollymauk tealeaf #widomauk #una #trinket #please reblog and comment!

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Ransom Drysdale Must Die (Chapter One)

Summary: Ransom Drysdale is a serial cheater. The only way to get him to pay for what he’s done is for him to die. Or at least be extremely humiliated. As long as you don’t fall for him.

Pairings: Eventual Ransom Drysdale x black!reader, Ransom Drysdale x Multiple OC’s

Warnings: Swearing. Eventual smut.

(Author’s Note: I was watching John Tucker must die and it made me think of my favorite sweater wearing murder daddy.)

Tags: @night-of-the-living-shred​

Word Count: 2.0k

It's not that you were invisible. You preferred to think of it as keeping a low profile. Growing up, you didn't really have a choice but to keep things to yourself. What was the point of trusting people if all you were going to do was leave? You couldn't make friends or keep them if you'd be moving in another four to six months anyway. Not that it was your choice.

It started at a really young age. Technically before you were even born. Your mom had been a teen parent. Your dad didn't stick around which was all you knew about him. It didn't take long for you to get used to the myriad of men walking in and out of your life. Then you got used to seeing your mom, your only constant, getting treated like garbage over and over and over.

She never had an issue with dating. It was them sticking around that was apparently tricky. The problem is that when it would happen the same thing always happened. She'd binge on chocolate. Use you as a shoulder to cry on. Then you'd be moving to flee into the next city. It was kind of fucked up.

While she cried over the hundredth guy your nose was either buried in a book or painting which had been your only escape. You never wanted to judge your mom. She didn't deserve to always have her heartbroken. But, you also didn't deserve having a mom that wanted to pack up at the first sign of trouble. She didn't seem to get that.

As an adult, you promised yourself that you would find one place and stick to it. It might have hurt your mom a little to watch you go, but she understood that you had to go away for college and stuff. Which is how you ended up in Boston. You kind of remember living in Boston once back in the day. You liked the winters surprisingly and the way the trees looked in the fall. You remembered being happy which is why it sucked so much to leave.

You’d gotten your degree, but finding a job had been difficult. Which is how you ended up working at this country club. Though you could live without all the snobby rich people being total assholes, at least they tipped well. You mostly waitress in the clubhouse where it was usually the older crowd and the families that sucked up to them for the inheritance.

It was also how you first noticed him. Hugh Ransom Drysdale. From the moment you laid eyes on him you could tell he was dangerous. Just like those men, your mother would fall for that would inevitably break her heart. That same air of arrogance hanging over him like a cloud, except much better looking with a trust fund to go along with it.

He insisted everyone in the clubhouse call him Hugh. Which according to everyone is what he insists the help call him. God, he's a fucking asshole.

You remember the first time you talked to him. He was so enchanting. It was annoying. He was like Gaston come to life. Just as handsome, just as charming, just as scummy. Sure he made those white polos he wore to play golf look like he'd just stepped off a shoot for GQ. His gaze was enough to make any woman swoon. Even you as much as you hated to admit it.

It'd been one of the few times you'd worked at the bar. Someone had called out and being the new girl you were told to take their spot. "Sweetheart, be useful and get me a bourbon," he'd said in this rude tone.

"Not even a please?" You muttered under your breath as you turned your back to get a glass.

"What was that?" He asked, with a quirk in his eyebrow.

You kissed your teeth before turning back to him,  "Excuse me?" You plastered a sweet smile on your face.

"You got something to say? Say it." He challenged.

You shook your head. "I didn't... I didn't say anything."

He chuckled. "Okay, lo-"

Your jaw dropped as you put your hand on your chest. "Oh my god, Sir, if you're already drunk I can't serve you. You'd be a liability."

"That's a big word. Did they teach you that in community college?" The glare in his eye was intense and you couldn't help it as a smile spread across your face.

"Actually I think I learned it from where you get your trust fund."

You were surprised when he laughed. But, not that little sarcastic chuckle. Like an actual laugh. "Usually I'd call the manager over and enjoy them firing you in front of me, but lucky for you I'm in a good mood and kind of enjoying this. Now get me my bourbon."

"One bourbon coming up." You shrugged.

You talked with him for the rest of your shift surprisingly. The conversation going from hostile to surprisingly pleasant. He’d told you about some issue he’d been having with his grandfather that he hadn’t told the rest of his family he laughed at the idea of them finding out. Said he couldn’t wait to see the look on their faces when they found out everything was going to the nurse.

It was the trashy rich people drama that you craved.

“I know there’s gonna be a lot of bullshit when they find out they aren’t getting that house,” he’d scoffed, looking up at you from his drink.

“I’d be pissed too,” you replied. “I’m sure that house looks like a museum. I’d love to see it.”

“It’s insane.” He nodded. “Imagine like a horror museum with one of those escape rooms.”

You laughed. “So like plastic spiders? Cobwebs? Ghosts!” What a turn around this had been from the initial conversation the two of you were having.

“Not at all,” he said laughing. “It’s more like everything he’s ever thought for his novels, he just adds to his home. Like he needs the visualization. He has a secret window and a chair with knives. It’s insane.”

“That actually sounds pretty cool. Your grandpa sounds like a pretty cool guy, you must admire him a lot.”

“I mean... yeah, but I’d never tell him that.”

“Why not?” You asked with a chuckle.

“It’s complicated,” he answered, before bringing his glass up to his lips. “Like, I love him, but....”

“No. I get it.” Of course, you did. Your mom was a complicated figure in your life, but you could never not love her.

“I’ve done a lot of shit.” He shrugged. “So, I think it’s mutual.”

“At least his house sounds interesting. Like a work of art. I’m kind of a sucker for art.”

“Do you paint? Draw? Doodle on an iPad.” The way he smiled up at you, you would have never guessed that he was the giant asshole everyone made him out to be. There was this softness there even if it was hiding under his arrogant exterior.

You chuckled. “I paint. Though I do partake in the doodling on iPads.”

“I’d love to see your work sometime,” he said. “Do you sell?”

“I haven’t,” you replied. “But, I’m open to it. I guess. I’d show you now, but I’m not allowed to have my phone on the floor.”

“Oh so I’m not worth risking being fired for, I get it,” he joked, shaking his head as if he was offended.

You laughed, tilting your head back. “I know right. I’m already risking it by even talking to you. Harrington is so strict.”

There was this squint on his face as he kind of looked you up and down. It felt like he was studying you and it made you feel like you were under a microscope. “You’ve got a cute laugh you know that?”

No. Don’t give in. You had to tell yourself. You didn’t want to get involved with anyone you’d have to workaround. Besides, it was Ransom Drysdale. You’d just seen him with a woman yesterday. “Thank you,” you brushed him off. “Can I get you another drink?”

He sighed, checking the time on his phone. “As much as I’d love to stay and chat. I have to get going. Maybe I’ll stop by soon so we can talk again. Maybe show me some of your work?”

“Sure.”

He’d left you a forty dollar tip. You were not expecting that.

You’d left work that night feeling pretty good. Not that you were expecting him to fall in love with you or anything. Or for anything to happen at all. It was just a nice encounter with the guy everyone was obsessed with here. Besides you promised yourself you’d never, ever fall into the same trap as Mom had.

It’s not that you didn’t date. You were picky, though. The few relationships you’d had were okay, but you didn’t want to get hurt so you never wanted to get in too deeply.

Then the next day you had come to work, he’d walked in with Marissa on his arm. That stopped any and all thoughts you may have had. It was during that lull between when they'd stopped serving breakfast and brought out the lunch menus. You weren’t surprised that a man like Hugh Ransom Drysdale would be dating a woman like Marissa Clermont. She was exactly the type of woman men like him go for. You know a model IT girl type of deal.

It wasn’t just because he’d been dating Marissa. Of course not. It was because the day before you he’d just come in with Amber Taylor. The daughter of a retired Boston Celtics player. Also, a beautiful woman (also a model you think) who clearly didn’t know her boyfriend was two-timing her.

“Fascinating isn’t it?” Your co-worker, Britt, interrupted your thoughts as she’d come back from taking their drink order. Her arms were crossed as she tried to not make it too obvious that was she looking over at them. “He comes in here with different women and none of them have any idea.”

You frowned as you saw him whispering in her ear, making her giggle, probably telling her the same thing he told Amber just yesterday. “Yeah, I see that,” you replied. “How does he get away with it?”

“Ladies! Back to work!” Harrington, your manager, barked towards the both of you which made the both of you scurry off before she even had the chance to answer. You didn’t even get to talk to her because her shift was over soon then you were off the next day. You weren’t even sure why you cared so much.

When you got back to work it was during that lull time. Ransom was there of course with a different woman. Chloe Daniels. A blonde that had been the sole heir to her husband’s entire fortune no matter how much his ex wife or adult children tried to fight it. You were happy you got to witness the drama for that.

“He messes around with girls that don’t talk to each other,” Britt was finally able to explain. “So, they never find out. At least, that’s what the story around here is.”

“Wow he has a whole system worked out...” you crinkle your nose. Ugh what a fucking pig.  Just like your mother and those douchebags she dated.

“I mean, I kind of get it,” Britt said. “He’s hot. I might put up with being treated like trash for that much. Hell, I’ve put up being treated like trash for much less.”

You held in the laugh you wanted to let out as you could see Harrington lurking around, waiting to say something to the two of you. He never missed his chance to give out orders.

For as long as the couple sat through you couldn’t stop staring. Britt was right. It was fascinating.

#ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey x you #ransom x y/n #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x black!reader #ransom drysdale x poc!reader #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans x black!reader

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter eleven: the end of the world

The next morning was a cold, gray, and soggy one, but Sam had no intention on returning to Louie's apartment for another round that day: she had already packed her things in the back seat and she nestled down in the front seat with her arms folded across her chest and the lapels of her jacket pulled up to her ears. She had no hood or something to cover her head but she wished for one. She didn't want to be seen. Louie himself meanwhile, locked the door behind him and he headed down the steps. She looked on at him as he rounded the front end of the car and opened the door. She sighed through her nose as he climbed into the front seat.

“You okay?” he asked her in a low voice, and she nodded her head.

“Look��I was thinking about this last night before I fell asleep, too,” he started, “neither of us mean to inflame or kick up any old wounds with anyone. We're just—fooling around, messing around, you know?”

She gazed out the window right as he said that. She had nothing to say to that.

“If either of us made you uncomfortable—and I can tell we did—we didn't mean to. I didn't mean to, and I know Alex didn't mean to, either. And for that, I want to personally apologize to you for it.”

Sam never moved from her spot in the seat next to him. She couldn't hardly stop thinking about any of what went down the night before, such that it almost brought a tear to her eye.

“Also—I, uh—” he stammered and then he cleared his throat, “—hate to tell you this, but I'm kinda out of money.”

She turned her attention over to him and frowned.

“What do you mean you're out of money?” she demanded.

“I'm out of money,” he repeated, “well, for now anyway. Remember what I said yesterday, I had enough for breakfast and a cab?”

“Oh, right, right.” She hesitated. “So what's this mean?”

“Well, I have a full tank of fuel to start with,” he stated, to which she frowned and scoffed at that.

“Louie, we're not driving back to Elsinore from here—it's too far.” She was scorn.

“But the train already left, though,” he pointed out. “It's kind of overkill to fly on down to Elsinore, too.”

She sighed through her nose again.

“Don't really feel like driving through the valley, either,” he added.

“Yeah, it's boring as hell,” she said in a soft voice.

“Boring as hell and still hot as fuck, too,” he said, “at least here we have a bit of leeway with the San Francisco fog. Seven hours of nothin'.” He paused for a second. “We could take the coast.”

“That's longer, though,” she pointed out.

“Nicer, though,” he insisted.

“True. It's way nicer, actually.”

“Bet you've missed the Pacific Coast, too,” he said.

“I have—it's one of the many things I haven't been able to do like at all. Especially when I was growing up out here.”

“Really?” Louie was genuinely taken aback by that.

“Yeah.”

“Well, let's—” He set his hand on the ignition key and turned it. “Let's.”

Sam strapped herself in and Louie shook his head of hair about a bit.

“One thing I really wanted to do with Zelda,” he started again as he pulled on the parking lever, “when we were together was go on a road trip with her somewhere. I always considered driving from Providence down to some place like D.C., or go all the way down to like West Virginia. The two of us on a trip together and just hanging out together.”

“What kept you from doing it?” she asked him.

“Touring and making albums—and dealing with record company horse shit in her case—and in my case it was living a double life. There was no way I could do it, not with my other life in full swing.”

They pulled ahead and began up the block, around the cemetery and towards the block on the other side.

“So—I haven't really taken the Pacific Coast Highway much from my place so just kind of—like—bear with me here,” he sputtered.

“It's okay, it's okay.”

Louie glanced over at her at one point as they rolled up to a stoplight.

“You know—and I'm being perfectly honest with you here, Sam—I'm a little intimidated by you,” he confessed.

“You?” she asked him.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I dunno,” he replied with a shake of his head, “but there's just something about you that completely intimidates me. Like it's hard for me to maintain composure when I'm near you.”

“There's no reason to be, though,” she promised him.

“But I feel it anyways, though. It could be because you made a bold move in moving across the country and back again, but I can't really say for sure.”

“Funny you say that 'cause you did that,” she pointed out.

“True. But see, you weren't living a double life like I was.”

“I mean, I kinda am now,” she assured him.

“How so?”

“Joey doesn't know about Bill. He also doesn't know that I'm hanging out with you guys, either. For the record, Bill doesn't know that I'm hanging out with you guys, either. It's like a triangle of sorts with me come to think of it.”

“A delta,” said Louie.

“A delta?”

“Yeah. You know the Greek letter delta?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah!”

“Apparently in the realm of science, it's symbolic of change. Like change in temperature or heat.”

“How do you know that?”

“I dunno if she's shown you this but Morgan—you know, Morgan from the Cherry Suicides—has this old chemistry textbook back at her place. She found it in the garbage believe it or not.”

“Something wrong about that,” Sam declared.

“Oh, yeah. Unless it's actually trash, books do not belong in the trash. But yeah, she found it and I just happened to prop it open one day, and I read a tidbit in a chapter about equations at one point.”

“Huh. Bill has a bunch of old books at his place—mostly old literature, but it's worth a peek, though. I keep meaning to crack them open but I'm not sure where to begin.”

The light turned green and Louie lunged ahead on the street. The clouds hung even lower over them as he merged lanes and they headed for the 880 Freeway. To the right of them was the stretch of gray waters that made up the very Bay itself.

“If you ever come back up here this way,” he started again, “you know you're in a car on the P.C.H., you've got to cross the Golden Gate Bridge at some point. There's just—something majestic about it, even if you've lived here your whole life like the five of us. Well, four of us, anyway, unless Chuck was telling a fib about where he was born. This will take us right by Santa Clara and down to the interchange in San Jose, which'll in turn take us all the way down the coastline to the City of Angels.”

Sam nodded her head and she peered out the windshield to the gray overhead. To think that the assumption with the California coast was all bright sunshine and infinite beaches: it made her laugh the more in which she thought about it.

“What's even the deal with him, anyway?” Louie asked her out of the blue.

“Who, Bill?” She looked over at him with her eyebrows knitted together and he took a glimpse over at her.

“Yeah.”

“Well,” she began, “I mean, you were sitting right there when I called Chuck and told him what was going on.”

“Pff, how could I forget? But what I'm asking is—is there like a time limit with him? Like you signed a marriage contract plus a prenup but surely someone over at the school has to figure that out at some point because it's totally illegal. Setting you up like that and forcing you into something that you had no desire to get into and then threatening a whole bunch of bullshit with you like locking you in your room and forbidding you from going out and visiting people.”

“Well, when I first came out here and I spoke to Marla over the phone—you know, she's been trying to get a job and she finally did with Belinda up in Albany. But she went to the school and she told them that he was still on the payroll. He got fired, Louie, but there was some weird glitch of some sort so he still got paid and he got paid a lot of money, too. So he was able to afford that large house and care for his daughters, such that he enlisted them in a private school.”

“So he loses his paycheck, he's fucked, basically,” he followed along.

“Yeah. Unless he got something to help him out when we weren't looking, he's probably got to pull the girls out of school and sell the house.”

“And what happens to you if and when that happens?” he asked her.

“I—” She froze. Louie glanced over at her with his eyebrows raised. “I—don't know. Oh, wait!” She snapped her fingers.

“What's that?”

“My mom's moving down to the Southland soon. Where exactly is another question, though. She might be going out to Catalina or she might be going to San Pedro, I dunno.”

“Or you can go back to Joey,” he pointed out. “You know, make things easier on your mom. It's another cross country, for sure, but I feel it'd be more beneficial to take that risk again and go with him rather than put extra pressure on your mom like that. But that's my opinion, though. You do whatever you want.”

“There should be a way to null it, too,” she added.

“Yeah, being in a car with another dude,” he joked, and that brought a laugh out of her.

Within time, signs for the interchange came into their view and Louie took the next exit which looped around and met up with the Pacific Coast Highway. Right as they matched up with the pavement, the clouds over them swirled about like the old feathers or the wisps of paint mixed into the wash for a watercolor project. She looked out to the low hills off to the right, all of them different shades of green and yellow. All of them still that rich green despite the late summer. All of them still rich dark green despite the yellow dead grass everywhere. The clouds overhead beckoned rain but at the same time waned away from the coast line.

Such a strange position to be in as was the state of California, but that pocket there, the hills that followed her and Louie all along the highway on that lengthy seven hour drive, reminded her of that special place.

The quiet place. The spot that she and Charlie had found together and the place where she and Joey visited during their final days together.

“This is almost like the precious part of California,” she noted aloud.

“Nah, the eastern Sierra is the precious part of California in my opinion,” he said. “There's something lonely and ancient about the eastern Sierra Nevadas.”

“This whole area here reminds me of a place that Charlie and I found together when they were making the Stormtroopers of Death album,” she followed up.

“Really?”

“It was like this little nook in the trees down the street from the studio,” she explained as she returned her attention to him. “We called it 'the quiet place' because you go in there and it's like completely untouched in comparison to everything else. You walk down the street and you have to duck underneath the trees as you're going in there.”

“Sounds like something you keep a secret,” he remarked.

“I told Joey about it, though,” she told him. “I imagine upstate being covered in places like that.”

“Places you go to that no one else knows about,” he followed along. “This part of California and the eastern Sierra is like that, too. Lots of nooks and crannies and what have you. Like there's a place outside of Salinas—I'll have to show it to you when we get there. It's closer to Monterey Bay, though, which means we'll have to leave this highway, though.”

“It's okay—it'll get us over to the ocean.”

“The ocean makes everything better,” he remarked.

The highway took them down past Morgan Hill and then Gilroy: at one point the road turned towards Monterey Bay; off in the distance loomed those cold dark gray waters that seemed to stretch on forever. The view enlarged as they came closer and closer to the next turn off and the 156: Louie told her it would take them to Highway 1, which would in turn take them to the place he had in mind. At that point, the clouds increased and everything grew dark despite it being almost ten o'clock in the morning.

“While we're over here, you don't mind spending a little money for breakfast, do you?” he asked her at one point.

“Not at all. I was just gonna ask you if you're hungry at all.”

He showed her a grin in response, and then he pointed out the windshield to the next sign up ahead: the town of Castroville as well as the turn off to Highway 1.

“So anyway, this place—it's over by the Salinas River, which eventually heads out to the ocean,” he explained. “When I first met Zelda, and I was waffling on if I wanted to go with her or stay with my concurrent girlfriend and our baby, I always came here. It always helped me clear my head to drive down here when the baby fell asleep and Zelda was back in Rhode Island. I remember staying down here for a full afternoon once. Like I didn't get back home until well after the sun went down. Needless to say, I almost got in trouble for that.”

She laughed at that, and he gave his long smooth hair a little toss back from his face and the side of his neck.

“And the highway will take us all the way down the coastline, too. Take us down to Big Sur and all around the coast, all the way down to San Simeon and Cambria, and then Morro Bay, and then that'll take us over to San Luis Obispo and that's where we meet up with 101 again.”

“And that'll take us all the way back to L.A., too.”

He nodded his head at that, and then Sam cleared her throat.

“I don't think I get Alex,” she confessed.

“A lot of people don't,” he assured her with a straight face.

“It's funny, he said the exact same thing to me,” she recalled. “Word for word.”

“Well, because it's true! A lot of people don't get Alex. That kid is a bundle of contradictions, many of which are not for the faint of heart. I've only known him for a few years but can confirm that, though. And what's mind blowing to me is he's completely aware of it, too. I remember the first time I got into an in-depth conversation with him a few years ago when Testament first formed and we were still Legacy. Sam, I never had such a worse headache.”

“Well, like. For example, when we were in Germany and he and I spent a whole day together—”

“And he missed the train?” he finished for her. “Chuck told me.”

“Yeah, he missed the train and he got upset with me when I tried to grab his attention and get him to come onboard. Then the fireball happened and he realized the error of his ways and we patched it up. And then, you know last night, he opened up the wound over Cliff with me.”

“The fireball happened and what exactly did he do there?”

“I put my arms around him and held him close to me,” she explained. “Wept like a baby right into my chest.”

“He probably liked to feel your chest,” he pointed out.

“What makes you think that?”

“Sam—he's nineteen, soon to be twenty. When I was nineteen, that was all I ever thought about were touching and feeling boobs and clits. We're horny bastards at that age, and I would imagine that he is especially, too. Alex is bit of a nerd—it's the whole thing about how girls don't really talk to nerds.”

“But he's a guitar player, though. I would imagine the girls getting all hot and bothered to guitar players.”

“Not Alex and not our crowds, no. He's like the thinking man's guitarist. I'm sure you've seen him before a television.”

“Oh, yeah, he's all over news reports whenever they come on. Well, I was with you guys in Boston and he and Greg were right before the TV in the room there.”

“Oh, yeah, that's right! But still—at the end of the day, even with his large brain and social scientist parents, he's still a guy. And he probably wanted to feel something soft and warm and comfy.” Louie glimpsed over at her. “You said he was scared, right?”

“Yeah. It was right when that big fireball went up. He just—came over to me and burst into tears at the sight of it. I held him so close to me and I let him weep into my chest.”

“Well—if you see him next time, really pay attention to his behavior towards you,” he advised her. “If he's actually sincere with you, then it's probably because he's confused and his inexperience is showing. If not, like if he gets close to you again, then don't bother with him for a second longer.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I'm saying is he either wants you for you or he's using you,” he explained. “I wish I could tell you more about it, but I'm not Alex, though. I can only tell you what I know from being in between two women for a couple of years.” He shook his hair again and then raked his fingers through one side: outside, the signs for Castroville emerged from the scraggly shrubs on either side of the road.

“I imagine him being soft and sweet, though,” he confessed in a low voice, such that it took her aback to hear that.

“Is—there something about him that you see with him?” she sputtered out as she took a glimpse over at him with a bewildered look on her face. Louie bowed his head and cleared his throat.

“Let me ask you a question,” he said as he leaned his head closer to her.

“Okay.”

“Does it bother you at all—” She could tell that he chose his words with care. “—when a guy finds another guy attractive and it's obvious he's not gay at all?”

She opened her mouth to say something to that, but no sound came out.

“Take as much time as you need to answer that, too,” he assured her, “—I asked Zelda this once and she really had to think about it.”

She thought of all the times that she made art while in class, and she thought of the time that she drew Marla in her journal. It wasn't until she really got to know Marla as well as Belinda when she began to see them as a couple of beautiful women. Indeed, as she thought about their willingness to help her out even while she had posted up out on the West Coast, the more she wondered if the whole thing extended further than their smooth New Yorker skin. Further than Marla's colorful hair and further than Belinda's soft doll like features. There was something more to Alex, much like there was something more to Louie in the seat there next to her, and there had to be something more to herself as well. More to them all, and the fact that she and Louie both had a quiet place, a place where they went that fell on blind eyes, was enough to give her a clue.

The hidden spots and everything in between. It was only the beginning.

And thus it only made sense to her to realize that it resided with everyone, including Alex himself.

“No,” she replied after a long while. “No, it doesn't bother me at all.”

“Okay,” Louie proclaimed as they rolled into Castroville. “Sometimes I look at Alex and I think, 'god, he's a really beautiful boy. I imagine being the perfect cuddler, like he must be adept to snuggling and feeling soft underneath a bunch of blankets.' Not necessarily sexy, although he does have a nice chest and thighs.”

“Nice arms, too,” she said in a soft voice.

“Yeah, he's got those really lanky strong guitar player arms.”

“Hey, you've got nice arms, too, Lewis,” she declared.

“Drummer arms.” He shook his right elbow about: his muscles were tight and sinewy.

“Reminds me of Joey's arms,” she said.

“Oh, yeah, that's right! He's a drummer, too.”

“Drummer and a hockey player.”

Louie took the first exit off into that small town and Sam volunteered to buy the both of them cups of coffee and a couple of scones for themselves: she took a chocolate one where he took a peach one for himself.

Within time, they climbed back into the car and Louie guided her over to the spot in question, right down by the Salinas River and where it widened out before it reached the ocean in small narrow fashion. It was there that the shades of yellow that followed them out of the Bay Area returned to that rich dark green that reminded her of New York. The space in the forest outside of the studio where she and Charlie ventured to together, and then she and Joey visited under a blanket of pure white snow.

“We all have a quiet place,” she declared.

“We really do,” Louie said as he sipped on his coffee.

“We all have a house and a home, even if it isn't physical,” she said.

“Yeah, we all have an attic. We all have secrets. We all have things that we show to everyone.”

“We all have things that we've buried—skeletons in the closet,” she muttered.

“And we all have a quiet place,” he added with a raise of his eyebrows.

He took the next right turn, one that brought them down the Salinas River and away from civilization. All the while, the ponderosa pines stretched high up into the sky around them, all up into those low dark swirling clouds that enveloped them in a blanket of coziness. Soon, the pavement gave way to gravel and broken pieces of pavement itself; and every so often, Sam spotted a series of shrubs all over the places, shrubs with little light pink and pearly white flowers.

“The rhododendrons are still in bloom I see,” Louie remarked.

“I don't think I've actually seen those before,” she confessed; the whole scenery made her think of the hole in the wall back in Ithaca. “They only grow here on the coast and in northern Nevada, we have all manner of pines and trees but nothing like this, though. Nothing as delicate and fluffy as those, though.”

“You guys get oleanders down in the Southland. I've seen those a number of times, they're quite lovely.”

“Oh, yeah. Only drawback with oleanders is they grow like weeds down there. Which is absolutely amazing to me because they're very poisonous.”

“At least it's not strychnine,” he told her. “Strychnine or—better yet deadly nightshade.” And Joey entered her mind right as that final word left his lips. “I don't even know if strychnine grows out here,” he continued.

“Yeah, I don't know, either...” Her voice trailed off at that. She thought about Joey and what he was doing right at that moment. They were still touring over in Europe and they were about to drop their brand new album in the meantime as well. If nothing else when she got back to Lake Elsinore, she had to pick up a copy of that.

She would have to search about for that familiar lettering: she knew it when she saw it.

“There should be a garden somewhere,” he continued, “one full of poison plants.”

“The most dangerous garden in the world,” she declared.

“We should literally call it that.”

“'We'?”

“'They', I should say,” he corrected himself; before them, the little road led to that wide part of the river. Big lush ponderosas as well as oak trees with large wide green leaves the size of dinner plates and tall narrow trees with high canopies surrounded them.

“I was just gonna say—do you really wanna go there, Louie?”

“Unless you wanna.” He tugged on the parking lever and switched off the car. “I ain't gonna do it unless you want to do it.”

“We gotta be careful, though,” she pointed out.

“Oh, absolutely. That's something that's just not for the faint of heart. The quintessential declaration of 'you can look but don't touch'. Might wanna throw in a 'for the love of god' in there, too. 'You can look but for the love of god, do not touch.'”

“'Welcome to Shelley and Clemente's poison garden,'” she declared with a gesture of her hand, “the most dangerous garden on Earth. We've got everything from strychnine to belladonna to oleanders to—whatever else we can find. Have it all together under one umbrella. You and me—we could retire off the profits.”

“You think people would actually pay money to see that?” he asked her, stunned.

“Yeah. People pay money to see the weirdest shit, Louie.”

“Case in point!” He gestured to himself.

“You guys aren't weird,” she assured him.

“Yes, we are. We're as weird as weird can possibly be.” He sipped on his coffee a bit more and then he unbuckled his seat belt. “Anyways, this is where I come to clear my head. I call this place 'the end of the world' 'cause it's far removed away from anything. It's only ten miles back to Castroville but—still.”

They both climbed out of there in unison; Sam peered up to the gray sky overhead and she took in the smell of the salt as it filtered in through the trees before them. The Salinas River flowed right next to the small stretch of gravel and partially collapsed pavement.

“This is like the perfect place for a poison garden,” she told him as he led her to the soft dark river bank.

“Oh, yeah, this lush soil here. Look up the plants and see what kind of environment they thrive in.”

“I do know oleanders like heat,” she told him, “it's why they're everywhere in the L.A. area and in the south, too.”

“Have a special greenhouse for those guys,” he continued as he held his cup of coffee close to his chest. “Kinda clean up the pavement behind us a bit so—Skolnick can drive around on it on his—golf—cart.”

“Shelley and Clemente's poison garden—featuring Alex Skolnick's golf cart.” She laughed at that and he laughed with her.

“Can you imagine Alex on a golf cart?” he asked her, and then he held out his arms, “'oh! Oh god! Oh god here we go!'” And he lowered his voice to where he almost matched Alex's tone.

“Four wheelin' on a golf cart,” she laughed some more.

“Hey, Alex! Take it easy, little man!” Louie lowered his voice to a near whisper. “There's stuff in here that'll kill you faster than you can say your middle name!” He shook his head and chuckled some more, and then he took another sip of his coffee.

“So what's the quiet place like?” he asked her as they neared the river's edge.

“In upstate?”

“Yeah.”

“It's about like this, without the river, of course. There was another spot that Joey and I went to when Stormtroopers were in Ithaca a few summers ago—right by the water's edge at the one lake—one of the Finger Lakes that's there. It kind of reminds me of that, like I'm getting the same feeling as that.”

They stopped at the water's edge and Sam leaned out a little bit for a view beyond the trees. The stretch of rich black and gray that was the Pacific Ocean, a mere stone's throw up ahead of them. Even though Louie had a different opinion, Sam couldn't help but feel that there was something prehistoric about this part of the river; something precious and untouched.

“Sometimes, when it's a bit sunnier out,” he started again, “I'll kneel down to the waters here and search around for insects and rocks and stuff. There's a lot of bizarre life here that's endemic only to this part of the river and as far as I know, the whole state.”

“Kind of like a 'keep it forever' sort of thing,” she noted.

“Exactly, right. Keep this whole place hidden away from the world so as to protect it from everything and everyone. Eastern Sierra is the same way. Exact same way.” He sipped on his coffee once again.

“C'mon, I think it's gonna rain—I feel it.”

They returned to the car and sure enough, as Louie fired it up again and they made a turn back at the dead end and proceeded back up the pavement, the first large drops of rain pattered on the roof and the windshield. It would be some time before they reached the Highway 1 once again, but once they did, Sam wondered as to how far they could go without seeing another sliver of civilization between Monterey Bay and the next spot on the coast.

To the left of them stood the high sea cliffs in all their withered and eroded glory, strong and high over their heads, much stronger and higher than the buildings back in New York City or Los Angeles or even San Francisco itself. To the right stood the ocean: the gray and black waters that went on forever into the horizon. Empty and cold, and cradled by the clouds over them. Everything gray and black.

Every so often, Sam peered down to the waves down below as they crashed on the rocks. She looked to the left once again: every so often in the cliffs, a minute ponderosa jutted out from the cracks as if it gasped for the fresh oceanic air. The coast line seemed to stretch on for infinity before them. She glanced over at Louie and the serene expression on his face.

He was her drummer in that moment.

She turned her attention back out to the ocean beyond them as they went around a corner. Maybe it was the lack of anything discernible on the cliffs or the fact that the ocean appearead so endless beyond them, but something about all of this made her squirm in her seat.

Louie's occasional peers down to the gages behind the steering wheel didn't help, either.

An eternity in such a small pocket of the coastline. They really were at the end of the world.

A sign emerged on the side of the road but she had no idea what it read.

“We probably should've stopped for gas in Castroville,” he told her at one point.

“Why, are we low?” she asked him as her heart skipped a beat.

“Sorta. I hope. I don't really know the economy on this thing—I don't really pay attention to that sort of thing.”

They rounded another corner and Louie drummed his fingers on the steering wheel: that time they had a full view of the ocean. The grand view of the waves as they welcomed her to the end of the world, and they were about to run out of gas as far as she knew right then.

Another sign emerged from behind the guard rail and that time she saw that they were ten miles from the central part of the coast.

“Mother fucker!” he spat under his breath.

“It's okay—we're almost to San Simeon,” she told him.

“Yeah, I know—I'm still kicking myself, though. We'll probably gonna coast there the rate we're going at right at the moment.”

“Seriously?” she demanded, shocked.

“Yeah!”

She closed her eyes and she thought of Joey over in Europe. The only thing that seemed worse than losing Cliff to a bus accident that was far beyond her control was her being stranded on the Central California coast and not being able to tell anyone. But then again, they were close to the next piece of civilization.

“As long as we don't drive into the ocean, I think we'll be fine,” she told him.

“We don't drive into a—poison garden,” he muttered as they went around yet another bend in the road: the cliffs soon began to lower away to the sight of more ponderosas and scraggly shrubs.

“There's no poison gardens here,” she assured him.

“You sure? 'Cause like—there's a bend here—and another here—it's like this.”

They rounded a corner as it wound around the coastline: the road dipped inward into a gentle curve and they doubled back to the next crevice in the landscape.

“Sit—” He pointed to the left. “—down—” He pointed to the right. “—sit—down—sit—down—poison garden.” He pointed straight ahead at that last part and she chuckled at that.

Sure enough, the car sputtered a bit right outside of San Simeon: Hearst Castle rose up off in the distance but they had no time to visit right at that moment.

“Told ya we'd have to coast,” he told her as he guided the car to the gas station right there at the edge of town. The engine sputtered again and died right as they coasted into the first spot near the driveway. He let out a low whistle and leaned back in his seat.

“That was close,” she remarked.

“Yeah, I'll say,” he breathed, and then he turned his attention to her. “A twenty'll get us to the heart of Lost Angles and it'll get me up the Grapevine and into the Central Valley.”

“You're not gonna hang out there with me?”

“I can't,” he told her. “We're supposed to make a new album ourselves.”

“Oh, yeah, that's right!” She handed him a twenty dollar bill, followed by another which would ensure him a ride back home to the Bay Area.

Once they were filled up, they returned to the road.

“I don't know if Hearst Castle is even open,” Louie confessed.

“I don't, either. It's getting kind of late in the day, too.”

“Yeah, exactly!”

Some more coastline and they found their way down into Solvang and then San Luis Obispo where they were met with the Pacific Coast Highway yet again, and they moved away from the end of the world. So much that she wanted to show to Joey. And so much that she wished Cliff could see again, especially that one stretch of the highway where everything felt so finite and endless at the same time.

They wound their way through the low foothills and yet another unknown pocket of California, until they skirted the outside of Santa Barbara followed by Carpinteria.

The waves down below thrashed even more as they wound along the cliffs towards Ventura. At that point, the sky began to darken with the setting sun on the other side of the blanket of clouds overhead.

“Part of me wants to go down to the beaches here,” Louie confessed to her. “Like—take a walk on one of the beaches here. Yet another thing I wanted to do with Zelda when we were together.”

“We don't have towels, though,” she pointed out.

“And it's cold, too!”

“Right!”

The highway led them into Camarillo and then the heart of Los Angeles, where it ended and became the 210. At that point, night was about to fall over them, and the feeling of dread washed over Sam herself. She knew that Bill would be furious by the mere sight of her walking through that front door without any sort of explanation.

Louie drove them down to Corona and then the hills which cradled Lake Elsinore away from the rest of the region. The clouds had finally dissipated and gave way to a violet and orange sky overhead. Such a great length of time to be in that car with him and a part of her wished they had more time.

More time together. More time to relish over the idea of the poison garden.

But that time was all they had right then and there, much like that stretch of highway that overlooked the ocean.

She guided him to the house by the lake and within time, she recognized the neighborhood in question.

He pulled up to the curb and she sighed through her nose at the realization. Her head spun a bit from having driven such a great distance but at least they could come to a stop on a steady piece of ground. She looked on at the house, with its windows dark and the shades pulled despite the fact that it wasn't that late in the evening.

“Do you need any help?” he offered her, to which she shook her head. Instead, she sighed through her nose again and she climbed out to fetch her things out of the back seat. She decided to give her mother a ring later that night when Bill and the girls had gone to bed, that is if they already did. She hoisted her overnight bag over her shoulder and she held her purse close to her body as she reached the driver's side window. He rolled it down so she could speak to him one last time.

“Louie?”

He leaned closer to the window with his eyebrows raised.

“Thank you,” she said to him in a soft voice, and he showed her a sweet smile.

“It's my pleasure,” he told her with a wink. “Poison garden.”

“Poison garden,” she echoed him with a smile on her face.

“Also—”

She stopped and he gestured for her to come on closer to him.

“Don't worry, I'll—I'll talk to him,” he vowed to her.

“Who?”

“You know. The little man.”

“Oh, him!” She stopped right in her tracks. “What for?”

“Just to see if he's alright. One thing I've noticed about him when he fucks up something—he's real hard on himself. So if it's kinda messed between the two of you, I'll check in on him. I'll check in on him anyways.”

“Good plan,” she told him. “You be safe going back up, alright?”

“You be safe, too. Poison garden!”

Sam stepped away from the car and she turned back to the house, still in one place. Louie drove away right then and he disappeared around the corner. Another seven hours and he'd be back up there. She returned to the front door of the house and she opened it with ease. Silence.

She knew that he wouldn't do it. Sam shook her head and she bowed upstairs to her room.

#fanfic #fanfiction #chapter 11 #book four #souls of black #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #testament fanfic #testament band #testament #louie clemente #oc tag #long reads #friendship #also on ao3 #also on wattpad #slice of life #writing #text

[mariamermaid]

Full of Surprises

JJ Maybank x fem reader

Summary: As JJ´s 18th birthday is right around the corner, you take it upon yourself to give him a worthy present…

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: does not follow plot of the show, mentions of blood

A/N: I recently watch OBX and totally loved it! Should I open request for the show?

 Heart of Gold and full of surprises, at least that´s what JJ always said about you. You came into the group of Pogue´s lastly, but you bonded quickly. Your parents were divorced and after living with your mother for several years, you had decided to move to your father´s since your mother was planning on marrying again. You didn´t get along with her new boyfriend, well fiancé, and with his two younger children, you felt like not having a place in the family anymore. More fights erupted and after long arguments, your mother finally agreed. Your father was born and raised in the Outer Banks, knew every inch and every stone and when you finally set foot on the island, you fell in love with it as well. Your father was one of the few middle-class man on the island, enough money on hand to live, have a small house and offer some peace.

It was Kiara who then brought you into the group and when you offered some homemade lemonade with sandwiches and freshly baked cookies, they all made some room for you in their hearts. Close to Miami, where you grew up, you were a city girl, but you enjoyed the island so much more and so did the people there. Most pogues, who had been living there for their entire life, where almost relieved to find you as your father´s daughter. They welcomed you with open arms and gave you a new home.

“Excited for tomorrow?” JJ tore you away from your thoughts and sat down next to you, his feet dangling in the water as well. You chuckled. “It´s your birthday, are you excited?”

“Well, technically my birthday is on Saturday, tomorrow just starts the party”, he replied and you playfully hit his shoulder. John B was driving the boat to the Chateau, also known as his home. Kie and Pope sat in the back, talking about who knew what exactly. JJ´s laughter died down as he became more serious, a rare sight on him. He shrugged. “It´s just a birthday, nothin´ gonna change.” “Eighteen, JJ! It´s a number to celebrate, legal to leave home and shit!”

You always imagined him being ecstatic about this day, the day where he could leave his shitty home and his shittier dad behind. Apparently, you were wrong. Your brows furrowed as you watched his blue eyes travel across the horizon of the swamps. “Where would I go?” He asked mindlessly and it almost broke your heart seeing him that way. It was rare when he showed his weak and vulnerable sides, but you would always be there for him. John B noticed how his friend became around you, how he let his façade slip, at least for some time. He hadn´t talked to him about it, but he knew Kie had begun to notice as well.

“Where would I wanna go without you?”

You arrived at the Chateau, and you cursed John B for not taking a wrong turn, not that he would ever do so by accident. The topic broke off with JJ, but you knew it wasn´t over yet. At a later point you would ask again, and again and again, until he would tell you the truth.

Sometimes it drove the group insane how hardheaded you were, especially when it collided with JJ´s stubbornness, however, your points were usually better and smarter. JJ would also never admit that he sometimes picked small fights with you, just to see you heated in the topic.

There wasn´t a single thing you couldn´t do, at least that´s how it seemed. You were an ace in school, especially languages, biology and psychology. The worst part? You didn´t even study half as much as Pope did. JJ and John B often made bets, who would get the higher score. You had a diving license and once, you made an entire dress for Kiara from total scratch, while being high. It looked absolutely amazing. You picked locks in under 40 seconds and baked the best cookies on the island. Together with JJ you had taken apart the engine of a car, and build it back together. You could open beer bottles with your teeth or a lip gloss and once at a party, you won an arm-wrestle against Rafe Cameron. To add to all of that, you worked part time as a waitress and not once, you forgot an order. You gave Kie all of her piercings and you stitched up both John B and JJ several times with needle and threat. You knew all the words to slim shady and every single song from any Disney movie.

If there was something you couldn´t do, you were at least down to learn it and work hard for it. It was one of the reasons why everyone in the group loved you so much, you always had an idea for an boring day or a solution to the newest problem. It was John B, who called you on the Friday afternoon to discuss a new problem, a few hours before JJ´s party would begin.

“This better be important JB, the lightning in your bathroom is terrible to do my make up in!” You exclaimed when entering his house, your backpack with the essentials for the party hanging over your shoulder. He was sitting at the kitchen table, blood running down his arm. Your backpack fell to the ground as you started quickly inspecting the wound. A branch was sticking in it.

“Why is there a branch sticking in you?” You asked while hurrying through the house to find the first aid kit. “I fell.” You saw how he scratched the back of his neck, an awkward silence following. You kneeled down again next to him, getting ready to pull the branch out. “You fell?”

“Yeah.”

“Doing what exactly?”

“Climbing-“ While he talked, you pulled the branch out and pressed down a disinfecting towel. “Sneaking out”, he corrected himself as he noticed your eyes twitching. You could always tell a lie. “From where?” “I… uhm… I don´t-“, he hissed in pain as you made the first stitch.

“From a girl´s house.” Finally, he had your attention and you raised your eyebrow while continuing to stitch. “A girl´s house? Who?” You wore now a grin and noticed how your friend began smiling as well. “John B? Pogue´s don´t lie to each other! Whose the girl?”

“Promise me not to tell the others, at least not for now.”

“Pinky promise.” “Sarah.” You almost pocked the needle in the wrong place and let out a small scream. “Sarah Cameron?!” “Yes, psht now!” You had just finished your work and while taking a last look on the wound, you leaned back and eyed John B. “So, that´s why you been smiling so lost in the past weeks!” 

“You´re not angry?” “They´re many kooks I don´t like, but Sarah? She´s a sweetheart, she sometimes comes to study when I work.” He sighed relieved and pushed his hair back. “I wish the rest would react as chill as you.” You chuckled. “Good luck telling them.”

“I was hoping you´d help me.” “Your girlfriend, not mine, Johny Boy.”

You pulled out two beers from the fridge and began eyeing the outfits you had brought with you. It didn´t help that the party would start soon, you would just get ready there. “What´s up with JJ by the way?” You asked as you held the red top in front of the mirror. “I was actually hoping you knew.” 

“Me?”

“C´mon, Y/n, he tells you everything! From what he had for breakfast to stories from his childhood, I didn´t even know about!” You hit his shoulder while making your way around the table again. “Oh, I would wear the dress, JJ loves it on you!” You sighed and took the ultramarine dress, changing in the bathroom, door slightly opened. “Okay so what? JJ and I talk a lot, what about it? I still don´t know what´s wrong! Yesterday he didn´t seem excited for his birthday at all!”

Leaving the bathroom changed into the dark blue wrap around dress you started fumbling around with your hair. John B shrugged; he was still leaning on the table. “I guess it´s about his dad.”

You let out a heavy sigh. “But that problem is gonna go away, he´s 18, allowed to legally leave home!” “And where should he go? JJ is too proud to move in with me or you, he thinks he´s a burden…” 

“He is not a burden! Do you know how often I already asked him to move in?” John B chuckled. “When you wear this dress, he´ll be ready to move into your bed.” You threw the shirt you had worn before against his head. Luckily, he didn´t see how you blushed and quickly changed the topic back again. “Whatever he thinks, I have the moving problem solved! Just wait for his present.” You explained with a proud smile, John B furrowed his brows. “What exactly are you giving him, Y/n?” Kie and Pope had JJ´s present discussed, but you had decided against the custom surfboard and wanted to give him something else. “It´ll be a surprise.” “You can´t even tell us!” “That´s what it makes it a surprise.” He gave you the puppy eyes, but you had your make-up bag in your hand and closed the bathroom door behind you. “You´ll see, John B.”

“Always full of surprises.”

 When JJ arrived at the beach, everything was already ready. Kie and Pope had set up fairy lights and brought snacks. A few blankets were spread on the ground, since more pogues would be joining soon. Together with John B you heaved the keg of beer, which was the last thing missing. The second you set down the heavy keg, JJ approached. A huge smile spread on his lips. He wore a light shirt, opened at the front and a cap on his head, looking surfer boy good as always.

“Ready for your party?” Kie asked him as she gave him a hug. Pope looked at his watch. “Three hours left till midnight, till you´re 18!” JJ scratched his back, his eyes looking through the circle of friends. “All that matters that you´re all here with me”, he explained. Laughing you joined for a group hug. “It´s gonna be an amazing evening, promise!” John B exclaimed and you looked over JJ, a certain sadness still hiding behind his striking blue eyes. Within the next hour, more people came. Just before midnight, the group of teenagers outlined  about 30 or 40. You were just talking to some friends from school, when an arm slung around your shoulder. You didn´t even have to look up to find JJ, his cologne and the smell of liquor and smoke was unmistakable. He seemed a good amount of drunk and so did you. Soft music played in the background and JJ pulled you on the dancefloor. You giggled as your hands crossed behind his neck. “You know, I don´t need a present, right?” He finally spoke up and you grinned. “Man, you should´ve told us earlier!”

He let out a laugh. You knew JJ often felt uncomfortable when people made efforts just for him. “Trust me, you´ll love their present.” His brows furrowed at your comment and he slowed down the dancing. “Their?” You nodded slowly, avoiding his glance. “I can´t give you your present until tomorrow.” JJ still seemed confused and you both sat down on a thick branch from a fallen over palm tree. “What have you planned again, Y/n?” He asked smirking, but you shook your head. 

“A surprise.”

Suddenly John B approached, a little staggering from side to side, well a lot. “DUDE it´s twelve o´clock!” With that he pulled his best friend back on his feet and you followed the two, as John B led JJ to Pope and Kie, who held up the present proudly. From the form it was easy to tell that it was a surfboard, but the three had it customized by themselves. The had drawn the five people of your group as silhouettes surfing on the wave in front of the island. It looked amazing. “Happy Birthday!” They all grinned and Kie and you started singing, while JJ looked amazed at the board. “Guys! You didn´t have to!” “Yes, we did!” Kie immediately exclaimed. JJ eyes met yours and you shrugged. “Sorry you still have to wait.” John B sighed next to you. “She doesn´t even want to tell us, can you believe her, JJ?” JJ remained quiet, his eyes lingering on you. “Full of surprises.”

You woke up the next morning, snuggled next to JJ on John B´s couch. Your head still hurt a little, but after downing a glass of water and freshening up in the bathroom, you felt more awake. You barely remembered how you ended up on the couch, but it slowly came back to you. You had tried to bring JJ to sleep, but he was too clingy and made you stay. At that thought, you blushed. Glancing down on him, as you sat back on the couch. He still slept peacefully. Carefully you shook his shoulder and his eyes fluttered open, he started smiling.

“Mornin´.” “Hungover?” He shrugged and you offered him a glass of water as well. “I´ll wake up the other´s.” He groaned. “Why can´t we just stay here?” You threw a shirt, or whatever it was at him. “Your present!”

“LEFT TURN!” You screamed while John B hit the brakes, taking a sharp turn. “Jeez Y/n, next time you drive! Where are going anyway?” JJ, Kie and Pope were seated in the back, they all looked a little ill after you coordinated John B with absolute last-minute directions.  “STOP, we´re here!” You suddenly announced. It had only taken a 10-minute drive from the chateau, but now you were… In the middle of nowhere. You jumped out the van firstly, opening the back door for JJ and the rest. John B took a look around in the mean-time. “Where are we exactly?” Kie asked now as well. A few trees stood around, the water was near, but there was nothing really. You grinned from ear to ear. “You guys see where the water starts? And the post behind the van?” You asked excited and they all nodded confused. Especially JJ watched you slightly concerned. Then you pulled a few sheets of paper and presented them even more proud. JJ took them from you, and while he read them, you watched as his eyes widened. “You´re joking, right?!”

You shook your head. “Nope, this land is officially yours!” JJ let out a short laugh, and looked around again. “It belongs to me?!” “YES!” He couldn´t hold it in anymore and embraced you tightly, spinning you around in the air. “Y/n you´re crazy!”

Pope had taken the papers and nodded approving. Kie and John B laughed surprised. “Now you just need a roof to sleep under!” JB added. You grinned while JJ just didn´t let you go. He looked straight at you, his eyes not once tearing away. “Actually, there is this caravan at the junkyard, it´s in pretty good condition, could use some re-modeling. I think you could get it for a good deal?”

“You´re unbelievable”, JJ breathed again. You shrugged. “I thought you needed a good place to stay, what better than your own place?” He shook his head and just then, you realized how close he was to tearing up. “How can I ever thank you?” He asked whispering, his eyes still watery. “Just let me crash from time to time?” “You can move in with me, if you wanted to! I could live with you for the rest of my life!” JJ exclaimed before even realizing what he said, the group went quiet. You could watch from the corner of your eye, how Kie pulled Pope and John B away from the two of you. Rather awkwardly, you left the hug and JJ scratched the back of his neck.

“I didn´t mean… I didn´t… I... uhm…” JJ started rumbling. “Why not?” You blurted out and he looked up from the ground even more confused. He let out a chuckle. “I´ve known you for like forever and yet you surprise me.” You smirked and stepped a little closer to him.

“Would that surprise you?” You asked quietly and leaned on your tip toes to press your lips softly against his. JJ immediately leaned in and with both hands cupping your face, he held you closer and deepened the kiss. “This is by far the best birthday present.”

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj mayback x reader #rudy pankow #outer banks #obx #mariamermaidimagine

[adikospodcast]

EP. 1: PROCNE AND PHILOMELA [TRANSCRIPT]

hello everyone and welcome to adikos, a true crime podcast! my name is arete, i'm your host, and today i wanted to talk to you about a true crime case that has always really shocked me ever since i first heard of it: you might know it already, since it received a massive amount of coverage when it first happened, especially because of how extremely disturbing and really heartbreaking this whole case is. you may have guessed from the title that i am talking about the case of procne and philomela, which you may also know as the case of tereus or the case of itys, depending on whose account of the story is being referenced, basically.

now this story, as i already mentioned, is particularly disturbing and violent, even for this being a true crime channel, so i just wanted to give a quick trigger warning before we start that this case does center around issues of sexual assault and violence, physical mutilation and cannibalism, so you might want to click off if understandably you don't feel like listening to all that. on the other hand, if you just want to hear all about the story of procne and philomela, let's get started!

like i said, this case was extremely popular and famous when it first broke, and there are some conflicting reports on what exactly happened and when: all my sources will be linked down below, and i will do my best to try to make sense of the events that happened and to mention when certain information just overlaps or contradicts each other.

now, all that being said, who were procne and philomela? they were born in athens to pandion, who was the fifth king of the polis, and his wife zeuxippe: they were respectively the eldest and the second eldest children, procne was a few years older than philomela, and they had two younger brothers who were twins; we have erechtheus, who would become the successor to pandion's throne, and butes. we don't really know much about the sisters' early life, but the one thing that we know for sure is that the two were absolutely inseparable: they really loved each other more than anyone else, and when their family was interviewed after the events that unfolded, their brother butes claimed that they had always been ride or die for each other, and they often even got to the point of getting themselves in trouble if they could avoid the other being punished when they were kids. i think this is a really weird thing in a sibling relationship; it's really common for kids, especially for sisters, to just argue and disagree with each other, and i know i often have fights with my sisters, but apparently procne and philomela's relationship really had none of that: their family really emphasized the degree to which they loved each other and cared for each other, and they even said in a few interviews that they always got along and could understand each other at a glance without saying a word, which in retrospect, to me, is just quite grim, honestly.

so, when the girls were in their teenage years, war broke out between athens, so pandion's city, and thebes, which was then ruled by king labdacus: thebes was an incredibly strong city, militarly speaking, and pandion had to enlist the help of tereus, who was the king of thracia, to defeat it. this move would prove to be extremely worth it: thereus's aid was absolutely invaluable in defeating the theban army, and pandion promised him his firstborn daughter as a wife, as both a thanks and as a way to bond the two cities together, so thracia and athens, with this political marriage. now, by all accounts, this wedding was absolutely grandiose, and the whole of thracia got to celebrate alongside their king and their new queen; however, there is one source, which may just be a rumor, that states that on their wedding night procne was looking out the window of their bedroom, when she saw this really off-putting owl, which at the time was considered a bad omen for the marriage, but she sort of paid no mind to it and she just got a servant to shoo it away, and i think in retrospect this may have been a warning sign of what the whole marriage was really going to come to.

soon after the wedding, procne became pregnant with her first son, itys: she and her husband were obviously really overjoyed at the news, as was the whole kingdom to hear that an heir had been secured to the throne, and when little itys was born, both his parents were instantly in love with him. baby itys was just very clingy with his mother, but he also really loved spending time with his dad, and when he grew a little bit older the two of them really loved to eat together and share meals with each other, which again, in retrospect is definitely chilling, if you can sense my foreboding here.

procne and tereus's marriage was a really happy one for the first five years: they had a son, they had a palace, they had a house in the woods all to themselves, they had everything they could have wanted, but still, procne really missed her sister: after all they had spent their entire lives together, but she'd had to just up and abandon her and leave to go to a whole another kingdom! now, obviously this is a fate that all girls must go through eventually, when we do get married, but it's still a really heartbreaking thing to go through, and as someone whose older sister got married and had to move to akragas, i can definitely sympathize with both procne and philomela.

so, after five years spent without seeing her sister, procne finally caved, and she asked her husband if she could be brought there to thracia to just spend some time together as sisters: thereus agreed, and he was going to have to visit athens nonetheless to talk to pandion, so he just set sail and headed to the city. once he actually got to pandion and had an audience with him, he relayed his daughter's wishes to him, so that procne really deeply wished for philomela to come visit her; he also assured pandion that his daughter's visit would be really brief and there would be no overstaying, obviously philomela was the only daughter left to care for pandion, so he really held on to her and was really hesitant to give her up to thereus. as he was pleading though, philomela came downstairs, she had overheard what was happening, what they were talking about, and obviously she was really overjoyed at the idea of going to thracia and seeing her sister, so she started pleading with her father to let her go with tereus. now, at the time it had been five years since thereus and philomela had seen each other for the last time, and obviously philomela was still unmarried, she was still a virgin, but she had still grown and blossomed into a beautiful young woman, and as soon as tereus put his eyes on her he immediately fell in lust with her, and started trying to concoct and think of ways he could seduce her.

so, pandion was finally convinced to send philomela away to thracia, and his last words were, to her and to tereus, to send his beloved daughter back as soon as possible, and to treat her with a father's love, which wasn't exactly how tereus ended up treating philomela, unfortunately. so, she boarded the ship on the harbor of piraeus, alongside some of the guards sent by her father to look after her, and obviously she was really happy to be seeing her sister again, but she had also never really traveled before outside of athens, so this journey really was exciting for her and something really new all the way around; however, what she didn't know was that that would be the last time seeing athens and her father, and that this journey would really spell doom for her and her entire life.

during the time spent on the ship, the servants did note that tereus was a bit quieter and a bit more reserved than he usually was, but they just chalked it up to the awkward nature of being in the ship with his wife's sister: they didn't really know each other that well, after all they had only seen each other once five years ago, so there was not much intimacy between them at all; in reality, however, we can infer that he was probably thinking about his next move in trying to get his hands on philomela, as creepy as that may sound, unfortunately.

now, at some point during the journey tereus probably had the guards killed and tossed into the sea, so they wouldn't just interfere with his plans: they have been reported missing in that time frame, and no bodies were ever recovered. it's actually unclear whether philomela was aware of this, if she simply thought they had maybe had an accident and drowned, or something of sorts, all the sources i looked at just sort of brushed over what the guards' involvement and role was in this story and what happened to them. what we do know is that tereus and philomela did eventually land, and he escorted her to the house in the woods that tereus and procne had together. now, before this moment philomela didn't really suspect anything, she was still really impatient about seeing her sister, but as soon as she walked into this large, empty house in the middle of the woods and tereus closed the door behind her, she felt this sinking sense of dread in her stomach.

and she tried calling her sister's name a few times, obviously she was expecting to see her there to greet her, but she hadn't shown up, so she called for her; but the house remained absolutely dead silent, aside from the echo of her voice, so she turned around to tereus and she asked him where her sister was, she thought she was going to be there to see her, what had happened? and there are different sources that say different things about what tereus said to philomela: some say he told her that procne was dead, others say he just said she wouldn't be there to greet her, but the one thing that we know for sure is that in that moment tereus shoved philomela to the ground and he forced himself on her, he assaulted her, he raped her right then and there. she begged him to stop, obviously, she pleaded him to think of his wife, think of her father, think of her virginity, but it was all in vain; and she later recounted just looking up in horror and seeing the wicked grin on his face, and just being absolutely paralyzed by fear, not being able to do anything but scream and cry and call for help, help that would unfortunately never come for poor philomela.

so, once he got off of her, she covered herself up, she tried to fix herself up, and she started cursing at him: obviously she was absolutely furious with his actions, she was screaming, she defied him to kill her, and she swore to him that she would go around and tell everyone in detail all that he had done to her, and she didn't care about keeping her modesty, keeping her virginity intact, she just wanted everyone to know what a pig thereus was really was; and obviously she was right to say these things, she was extremely angry and she had a reason to be, but this behavior, the way she was challenging him, the way she was defying him, actually made tereus's blood absolutely boil in a fury and he grabbed this dagger, and philomela thought he was going to slit her throat and just kill her right then and there, but he actually took her tongue from his m- from her mouth, he sliced it clean off from the root, and then he tossed it on the ground, and he forced himself on her again and again, and she was still bleeding from her tongue; and then he just got up, he cleaned himself of her blood, and he left her alone, just agonizing in the house on the floor, and to me this is absolutely horrific, i cannot imagine what poor philomela was thinking in that moment, she must have been really in such mental and physical pain it's unbelievable to me.

now, one source states that once tereus left the house in the woods, he went back to the palace to meet with procne, and he told her that her sister had died, which absolutely destroyed poor procne, of course: she wept, she ripped her hair out, she just mourned so hard and for as much as a whole year for the loss of her sister, but without knowing that her sister was actually alive and being held captive not so far away from her. now if this source is actually accurate, it would mean that philomela was imprisoned, was being held captive and brutalized in the forest by tereus, for an entire year, and possibly also thinking that her sister was dead or had not cared for her, which to me is just really heartbreaking to think about.

fortunately for her, philomela had kept the sharp wits she had always had, and she figured out a plan to tell her sister where she was and what had happened to her: in the forest house there was a loom, obviously this house was a fully furnished house for the king and the queen, so a loom was expected to be there, and she used this loom to weave a cloak and embroider onto it the terrible tortures that tereus had put her through, which was actually the primary source from which all the original case coverings and reportings were able to discover what had happened during the captivity of poor philomela, since she wasn't there to speak for herself.

now, it's actually unclear how the cloak was delivered to procne: some sources say that she [philomela] begged a woman to do it and the woman took pity on her, but some say she bribed a guard to do it, others even say that philomela was held captive with the one of procne's friends there to surveil- to surveil her and the friend actually delivered the cloak to procne; this is a really muddled case for a case that is so famous and so widely covered; but the crux of the matter is, philomela got the embroidered cloak to her sister, and as soon as procne opened the package and saw the contents of the embroidery, the terrible acts that were being described on it, she became absolutely livid, and she began making a plan to get her sister back.

now, we don't know for sure how procne managed to get her sister back, but one source does allege that she may have used the occasion of the bacchic celebrations for dionysus to her advantage, and she may have dressed like a maenad and snuck out of the palace to get to the house in the woods, just undisturbed, unnoticed, surrounded by other women dressed as maenads and going in the woods to celebrate. she may have then dressed her sister also like a maenad, so she could pass her off as one of them, and just brought her back into the palace without them being noticed, and i can't even begin to imagine just how touching this reunion between the sisters must have been: like, already, being away from the sister you love for so long is incredibly painful, but then add to that the tragedy of thinking she had actually died without you being there of all things, and then actually discovering that she had been held captive by your own husband all this time! it really is unbelievable to me what pain they must have endured, and also how ecstatic they must have been to be together again. unfortunately, this joy they both felt would not last for long.

procne had always been a very passionate woman, ever since she was a young girl, and her first thought, aside from being happy that she had her sister back of course, went to revenge: she immediately began plotting a way to get back at tereus, make him suffer just the way that she and her sister had suffered, and while she proposed to stab him in the guts, or set him on fire, or torture him any other way that would make him feel the pain they had felt, she was interrupted by her young son itys, who came running into the room to greet his mother back. now, he was a very lively child by now, he had turned five years old, and as soon as procne saw him running towards her with his arms open to hug her, like any five-year-old would do with his mother, she had this chilling thought of: "wow you look so much like your father". and in this moment she was blinded by her rage and her revenge fantasies, and she was less than lucid, and she saw her child as the perfect weapon to really make her husband pay for what he had done; now, of course this doesn't mean that what she did next was in any way right, i don't mean to justify procne, but i think it does give us a way to contextualize her mindset, and what was going on in her head at the time of what happened next.

when itys came up to his mother and hugged her, calling to her "mom, mom, i missed you so much", she took a dagger and stabbed him in the back. some sources say only procne was involved in the murder and philomela was just a bystander, while others claimed that philomela actually slit the child's throat so he would be in less pain and he would die faster, but the fact of the matter was still that procne had killed her poor child and was left with his corpse. now, how she decided to deal with it is really hard to stomach, so if you don't feel like hearing about the details i do encourage you to skip forward a bit, but with the dagger she had she cut off itys's head and gave that to philomela, and then she cut up his body into smaller pieces and had them sent to the kitchens; in the kitchens she had some of the meat boiled, some other she had it roasted on a grill, and then she set up this special dinner for tereus with her son's corpse, her son's remains, her son's flesh.

now, she called on tereus and she explained it to him that this was an important tradition in athens's culture, which was a meal reserved only for the husband, and only to be eaten alone by the husband and king. so tereus sat down, and he fell for this, he sat down and he ate his son's flesh boiled and roasted, and you know what i said earlier, about him and itys enjoying having meals together, sharing food? well, that macabre dinner was so good and so tasty to tereus that he had to call on his son to share that pleasure of eating that food with him, and it was only then that procne, who had been watching him eat diligently, actually revealed to him that the son he was calling for was in his stomach now; and in that moment philomela, like she was waiting for her cue, rushed into the room, shoved the decapitated head of itys in tereus's face, it was still dripping blood on his chiton; and that really gave tereus, whose mouth was still full with his son's flesh, the chilling and absolutely terrifying realization of what he had done, and what his wife had done to him in turn.

the two sisters just took off running before tereus even had time to begin to react, and they left the palace and they disappeared in the surrounding woods; they were never seen again, and all the sources i looked at allege that the sisters were turned into a swallow and a nightingale, but there does seem to be a bit of confusion as to which sister turned into which bird: now, some say that procne became the swallow and philomela the nightingale, as she was finally able to sing again after she had lost her voice, while others say philomela became the swallow and procne the nightingale, and she is singing a song of mourning for the child that she has killed, but what is the crux of the matter is that all sources basically point to these sisters turning into those two specific birds.

tereus, after he got after the initial shock, ran after them, extremely furious, extremely enraged, and he was also turned into a bird; specifically into a hoopoe, it appears, but again, a different source states he was turned into a vulture? and there seems to be a lot of confusion as to which birds everyone got turned into, which personally leads me to believe that this was just a bit of exaggeration that just got spread around with no real basis for it. now, there are some cases where the meddling of the gods and other supernatural forces is proven, it is real, it is confirmed, and it is also sometimes crucial to the case: think of, i don't know, the case of medea – which i would like to also cover in the future on this channel – but in this case i think it really is just some exaggeration that got spread around by all the sources.

so, this was the case of procne and philomela! i'd love to hear what you guys think of this, i think this is a really tricky case to approach, because it is, to me at least, such a clear example of how righteous anger and righteous wrath as someone who has wronged us can end up, unfortunately, being misplaced on others: in my opinion, at least, procne and philomela were absolutely right to want to punish tereus, but because they had no power to do anything to him, he was the husband, the man, the king, he was so much more powerful than either of them could ever become, they decided to instead redirect their anger at the one thing that would hurt him more than anything, his innocent child with no blood on his hands and no way to save himself, no way to protect himself, and in the process of getting their revenge they stained their own hands of innocent blood. again, i'm not trying to justify anyone involved in this case, obviously procne's actions are absolutely unjustifiable, but i do hope to just bring some light to the possible motives and thought processes behind her actions, just so we can better understand how someone does end up committing such horrible and heinous crimes as what procne did.

i hope you guys enjoyed today's episode! let me know what you thought of this case, and if you have any suggestions, or really any cases you would like to hear me talk about; always remember that every tragedy is born of man's hubris, and i will see you guys next time!

#podcast #tagamemnon #true crime #greek mythology #myth retelling #transcripts #procne and philomela #procne #philomela #itys #tereus

[imanativeofswlondondahling]

Becoming A Stark (4) Peter Parker X Stark! FemReader

A/N: So this is the longest chapter I’ve written for this so far! And it’s one of my favorites. Also my mom surprised me with a Nintendo Switch to make up for the fact that I haven’t been allowed to leave the house since March so I’m hoping to get another chapter of this out this weekend but there’s also Animal Crossing now so.......... As always let me know your thoughts on this or if you want to be tagged whenever I post a new chapter!

Word Count:  8346

Warnings: Mention of drug and alcohol abuse, swearing I think

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Master List

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” Tony’s voice is painted with the smile he wears as Pepper walks into the living room.

“You saw me two days ago.”

“Two days too long.” He says before kissing her cheek. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

“That’s because this is just a stop. I’m not staying. I’m picking up Y/N.”

“You’re taking Y/N…?” He trails off in confusion.

“We’re going to get mani/pedis, do some back to school clothes shopping, and maybe get dinner. I want to get to know your daughter better.”

“She seems fine with hanging out with everyone except me.” Tony says dejectedly. 

“You’re an acquired taste.” Pepper teases before placing a quick kiss on his lips. “Give her time. She hasn’t had even a week of having a father yet.” 

“What time will you be back?” He asks, already knowing that he’ll have to fill his afternoon by himself.

“Six or seven maybe?” Tony glances at the Stark Phone that he’s actually started carrying with him now that it’s more personal. Natasha had snapped a picture of Y/N at, apparently, your favorite place in the whole city, which looks like a big book store. You’re not even looking at the camera, you’re carrying a ton of books and yet reaching for another one, but you’re smiling which is more than he can say for the past few days. When Natasha sent it to him, he immediately made it his background and lock screen. It may not have been a week, but you’re definitely becoming his world. “I’m going to see if she’s ready to go.”

You take one last look in the mirror, trying to decide if this is the outfit you want to be seen out in the world with famous Pepper Potts. Maybe you should change and dress up, but you’d rather be comfortable if you’re being honest. So instead of a dress or a romper, you’re in a pair of ripped denim shorts, a Rolling Stones t-shirt that you found at a thrift store a few months ago for so cheap but it’s in such good condition, and tie dyed high tops. You had thrown your hair into a ponytail with a red scrunchy only because the humidity was too much today. There’s a knock on the door. “Come in.” Jerk It Out by Caesars is playing over JARVIS, but he turns it down as Pepper walks into your room. You are in the middle of putting on the heart shaped pendant that Nana had given you for your thirteenth birthday as Pepper stands across your room.

“You ready to head out?” You glance back at the mirror once more time as you see Pepper in a red cocktail length dress.

“Do I need to dress up?” You ask, suddenly worried that your shorts and t-shirt won’t cut it in Pepper’s world.

“Honestly no. I probably should change. I came from a business lunch at this overly posh restaurant. If you’re good waiting like five minutes, I’ll go change.”

“Yeah I’ll be fine.” You grab a bag from your pile of bags, throw your wallet, a testing kit and then wander down to the kitchen to grab some low snacks.

“Rolling Stones?” Tony asks in mock surprise. “Couldn’t wear something like AC/DC or Black Sabbath? Have some taste if you’re really my daughter.”

“If you’re having doubts, I’ll go home to Nana and Pops.” You say as you throw the applesauce pouches in your purse.

“Nope. Not happening. I’ll forgive your subpar music taste, but we’ll get working on music education soon.” You just roll your eyes. You weren’t going to admit to him that you already listen to AC/DC a good chunk of the time and when in the right mood you listened to Black Sabbath.

“Y/N Miss Potts wants to know if you want her to grab you a pair of sandals for your pedicure.” JARVIS asks.

“I’ll grab a pair.” Turning to make your way back up the stairs, you walk back into your room. Grabbing the first pair of sandals you see. As you walk out your door, you see Pepper walking towards you in a loose white top, denim shorts, and a pair of sandals. “That’s the most laid back I think I’ve ever seen you.” 

“That’s because you see me coming from SI most of the time and I have to dress up for that. But we’re going for comfy and casual now.” She smiles at you. “Did your dad see your shirt?”

“And give me crap for my subpar music taste? Yeah.”

“I had a feeling he might.” 

“That’s why he’s not invited.” Pepper laughs.

“It’s not because we’re going shopping and for mani/pedis which he would be miserable at anyway?”

“That too. But still, if he hates on the Stones, he’s not invited.” Pepper lets out another laugh as the two of you walk back into the kitchen. 

“What joke did I miss out on this time?” Tony asks.

“You had to be there.” You say instead of explaining. 

“It’s nothing.” Pepper says, leaning over to place a kiss on his lips. 

“I can’t tell if you’re corrupting her or the other way around.” Tony says as the two of you walk towards the elevator. “Maybe I should come along for supervision.”

“Bye Tony.” Pepper says, rolling her eyes before telling JARVIS to take them down to the garage. “So where do you normally go for back to school shopping?”

“Well we never had a ton of money, so Nana and I usually hit up the thrift stores. But I find great deals like this,” You motion to your shirt. “Four bucks and it’s basically brand new. Well as brand new as an old shirt can be.”

“Where are your favorite shops?” 

“We’d go to Buffalo Exchange if we were looking for more like dresses and stuff. Like that one I wore to dinner I got at the Buffalo Exchange on the lower East Side. But there’s also a handful of good mom and pop thrift shops in Queens and Brooklyn if you’d rather head over that way. Bayside Thrift Shop is a good one in Queens or there’s Out of the Closet in Brooklyn.”

“Which one do you have better luck at?” Pepper asks as they walk to where Happy is waiting for them.

“I’ve always had great luck at Bayside.”

“So lets start there and then we can head to Buffalo Exchange before mani/pedis.” Pepper suggests. 

“Where are we heading?” Happy asks as you and Pepper slide into the backseat. 

“Bayside Thrift Shop in Queens.” Pepper turns to you. “Want to put some music on while we drive over?”

“Really?” 

“Nothing you put on can be worse than what Tony puts on when he’s in a bad mood.” She says with a smile. 

“Um ok. JARVIS can you play my June playlist?” You ask before he can list that you have a playlist called Tony Stark Can Rot. For some reason you feel like she wouldn’t like that as much.

“Certainly Y/N.” The first notes of Sweet Child O’ Mine by Guns N’ Roses start to play and you relax into the seat. If you had headphones in, it would feel like all the times that you, Betty, and Astrid had gone between Queens and the main island during the summer. The biggest difference was you weren’t crammed into the humid subway car and sitting to your right was your dad’s girlfriend, who was the farthest from the evil stepmother character from the thousands of books you read growing up. In fact, she is sweet and kind, someone you could find yourself loving easily. 

You turn your head towards the window and focus on the passing sights of NYC as you head towards the area you had lived your whole life. You could point out the hospital you had been born at if you turned down the right streets. If you went up a few blocks you would pass your elementary school, your middle school, and the school you’d be starting at in a little over a week. Your whole life up until a few days ago centered on this area of New York. That bodega was the first one you had been able to run to on your own and that’s the street you take to go the back way to Betty’s old apartment. “Missing home?” Pepper asks, seeing you staring out the window with longing.

“This place is all I knew for the longest time. I spent more time in Queens than I did in Manhattan.” You say with a shrug, not wanting to sound ungrateful, but you miss home. 

“You’ve gone through a lot this week. It’s ok to miss it.” Pepper’s hand rests on yours and gives it a little squeeze. “Queens can always be home, even if you’re living in Midtown.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever give Queens up.”

“Even when I’m in Malibu, I miss New York like crazy. It’s definitely home.” You listen to what Pepper’s saying as Happy turns the familiar path to head towards your favorite thrift store. He pulls into a lot across the way from the thrift store before getting out to open the door for you and Pepper. “Now, will you show me your favorite thrift shop?” Pepper asks.

“Easily. This place is meant to be shared.” You can’t help but smile as the three of you cross the street.

“What do you like the best about Bayside?”

“They tend to have a lot of graphic tees. Both of like the band variety but also just like sassy variety. And I could live in tees if I didn’t have to wear other clothes sometimes.” You admit as you open the door and hear the familiar chime. You see Anita at the counter as you walk in.

“Y/N! We thought we were going to miss you for back to school shopping.”

“Never! I have to come to Bayside.” You say, being completely honest.

“Where’s your Nana?”

“I brought my… Pepper this time.” You say motioning to your dad’s girlfriend, but not knowing how to introduce her.

“Well any friend of Y/N is a friend of ours. We thought you might be coming by, so I set a few things aside that you might be interested in.” Anita reaches behind the counter and pulls a stack of about four t-shirts out. Pepper watches as your face lights up. “We just got them in.” You lift the top couple up to look at the bottom couple. 

“These are awesome!” The black and grey shirts look similar to things that Tony would wear, but Pepper keeps that to herself. 

“I’ve got them. You keep looking.” Happy says as he takes the shirts from your hands.

“Happy, I can carry them-”

“It’s clothes, they’re not heavy. I’ve got it.” 

“Thank you Happy.” Pepper trails a couple steps behind you as you finger through the shirts handing. The first to get pulled off the rack is a Nirvana shirt with a yellow smiley face on it. Then a blue tie dyed Pink Floyd 1973 tour shirt follows it. 

“That’s one your dad can’t even try to say he was at. Three year olds weren’t allowed.” You roll your eyes, but you can’t help but smile at Pepper’s comment. You find another more classic looking Pink Floyd shirt hanging on the rack a few shirts back that you add to your pile. 

“If I had been wearing that would he have said I had better music choices?”

“Probably. He’s just judgmental when it comes to music.”

“The Stones are classics!” You argue as your hands run through the racks to fall on a Sweet Child O’ Mine Shirt. “Oh this one is a winner.” It has a faded look to it and you love that in your shirts.

“Definitely so.” Pepper takes it from the rack and hands it to Happy. “To be fair to all your tastes, I think this one is needed though,” she says pulling another Rolling Stones shirt from the rack and you smile at it.

“They are my favorite.”

“Tony would die if he heard that.” You shrug. “Wanna try these on?” Pepper motions towards the pile that Happy is holding.

“Sure.” But then an Eagles Hotel California Tour 1977 shirt catches your eye. “One more for the road.” You say before snagging the shirt. You try on the shirts you had found before getting to the stack that Anita had put aside for you. You look at the four finally. The first was a grey Pink Floyd 1972 Carnegie Hall T-shirt?! Holy shit! Your mind might explode. Then there’s a black Aerosmith shirt with a boombox with wings that says ‘Let the Music Do The Talking’ which is such a big mood. Underneath that one there’s a black Nirvana Unplugged in NYC shirt which you have been looking for forever since you love that album. And last but not least there’s a classic looking Guns N’ Roses printed on black shirt in a gold font. Anita knows you well. Four of your favorite bands and to be honest four of your new favorite shirts. So far all of the shirts fit pretty well, or even fall on the large side which is how you like your t-shirts. 

Pepper knocks on the fitting room door. “I found a couple things I think you’d like Y/N.” You open the door wearing the Guns N’ Roses shirt. “Oh I like that one.”

“Really?” You’re surprised that Pepper would be into band shirts.

“You think I could date your father and not be into what he considers some of the greatest musicians of our time?” Pepper smiles at you. “But also gold is just a good color for you and your skin tone.”

“I’m not going to be Iron Man at any point.”

“Wouldn’t want you to be. However I did grab these shirts because I think your dad’s reactions will be worth it.” You look at them and laugh. 

“He’ll never let me leave the tower wearing them.”

“So wear them around the tower to bug him.” You close the door and try on the two shirts. The first is a tank top that you probably never would have looked at had all of this not happened. But Pepper was right. Tony would react to it, hopefully. Across the black fabric printed in white the shirt reads ‘I’m A Female’. Then in pink it reads ‘Fe = Iron, Male = Man” before finishing in white ‘Therefore I Am Iron Man’. You open the door to show Pepper.

“If I walked into the kitchen one day wearing this telling him I was going on a run, how much of a heart attack would I give him?” Pepper doesn’t have a chance to answer before Happy does.

“He will lock you in the tower. And possibly never let you leave.” Happy states, knowing how protective Tony is even after only knowing this kid for a few days. 

“Worth it.” You and Pepper say with a teasing grin.

“Can I take a picture? That might be my favorite shirt so far.” Pepper asks. You nod and then, shocking even yourself, you throw your hand out in the standard Iron Man pose and Pepper snaps the photo. “I love it.” You smile and turn back into the dressing room before the flush takes over your face at the affection from your dad’s girlfriend. You shake your head, pushing the thoughts that want to invade your mind out of your head as you lift the last shirt up to change into it. 

This one is grey and in white letters say ‘Screw Your “Lab Safety” I Want Superpowers”. Your dad was going to hate it for sure, knowing so many scientifically modified people. But you love it. Plus it’s so comfy. You roll the sleeves a bit and then open the door to show Pepper and Happy.

“He’s going to hate that one as well.” Happy says the moment he sees it.

“Or he’ll laugh and say show it to Steve.” Pepper says, cocking her head to one side. “Either way, we’re getting it.” In your head you know you shouldn’t buy all the shirts that you tried on, but even if you let Pepper pay for the two that she found, the remaining ones should only come up to about thirty dollars, and you think you have that much in your wallet. You collect all the clothes in the dressing room, which Happy immediately takes from you, and you follow Pepper and him towards check out when your eyes fall on the most beautiful jean jacket you’ve ever seen. 

It was a medium wash jacket, that had been loved just enough that it was no longer stiff. It had some wear and tear in some spots, but it was loose enough that it would sit perfectly on you. You have to try it on. Pepper sees you debating about the jacket, but can’t figure out why you’re debating. “It’s a gorgeous jacket. Try it on.” You take it off the hanger, gently as if it was a child instead of a jacket, and slip it over your shoulders. Rolling the cuffs up a couple times so it didn’t hang over your hands you look down at the jacket, loving that it hits an inch or two below where your shorts do. “Now that is how a jean jacket should fit.” Pepper says, smiling that you found something you clearly loved on this trip. You slide it off your shoulders and the price catches your eyes. Yes, thrifting can be great, but the jacket is still fifty dollars even at the thrift store. You don’t have that much. 

“I don’t need it.” You say, not wanting to bring up that you can’t afford it even if you did need it.

“I’m not taking no for an answer on that. A jacket that looks that perfect on you has to come home with you.” She places her hands gently on it and lifts it from your hands. 

“Pepper, really I don’t-”

“Tony can afford it and it needs a good home.” Then it hits you, Pepper’s not going to make- no let you pay for any of this.

“You found many things today.” Anita says looking at the pile Happy and Pepper had made on the counter. “This is going to look the best on you.” She places a hand on the jacket that Pepper had added. 

“She pulls it off like no one else.” Pepper agrees. Anita and Pepper chat about the weather and honestly you’re not sure what else because you just watch as the number climbs. You’ve been coming here for years and never seen the number go that high. Your heart falls into your gut when the jacket gets added. Looking in your purse, you know you have about forty dollars to your name and that wouldn’t cover even half of that right now. But Pepper hands over a black card, similar to the one that Natasha used the other day, and doesn’t even stop the conversation. It’s like this money thing doesn’t even bother her. But it definitely bothers you. Anita puts the clothes into a cloth bag and hands it to you. 

“Thanks Anita.” You smile at her, but you don’t know when you’ll be back. All you’ll remember now is feeling uncomfortable for spending Tony’s money here. Happy opens the door and you follow Pepper out of the shop. Pepper is trying to make small talk but notices you looking nowhere but the ground. She takes the bag from you and hands it to Happy. 

“Can you put this in the car?” 

“But-”

“Five minutes?” She says. And technically, Pepper is his boss, so Happy nods.

“I’ll be right across the street.” She smiles as he walks across the street. 

“So wanna talk about it?” She asks, bumping shoulders with you.

“Talk about what?”

“Why the ground is so interesting?” Pepper takes a pause trying to give you a chance to speak. “Or maybe about why you went so quiet in one of your favorite places?” Normally, you’d just keep it to yourself but for some reason, you don’t think Pepper will judge you.

“We, uh didn’t have a ton of money growing up. Whatever money we did have went to making sure we could afford rent and my insulin and making sure that there was food on the table. So once I was about eleven, some of the other people in our building would let me run errands for them or watch their younger kids and they would pay me some pocket money for doing it. And that pocket money I saved in a jar throughout the year so that once I could go back to school shopping and twice a year I could buy Nana and Pops something nice from Christmas and their birthdays. We didn’t really celebrate many holidays, but the ones we did we celebrated really small. Santa would bring me clothes while my friends would get touchpads and toys and I didn’t question it because I knew that while their families didn’t have to worry about whether or not you were going to have to choose between buying medicine you needed to live or putting food on the table.

But Nana and Pops tried to make it so I didn’t feel that. So when I got the chance to go to The Strand or Bayside, it wasn’t picking everything that caught your eye because I was the one paying for it. So I would buy one or two books or shirts because I couldn’t afford to spend all that money if I wanted to buy Christmas presents too.” You play with Queenie’s tubing, not wanting to look Pepper in the eyes as you continue. “But in the past three days, Natasha, Tony, you, whoever, have made it clear that Tony’s made of money and that he’s fine with spending it on books, phones, clothes, whatever he or anyone else wants. But there are people out there that aren’t that fortunate. 

The money that Natasha spent buying me books the other day could have paid for my Nana’s medicine for a month. Or how much you just spent on clothing for me could have bought me clothing for the whole school year and bought Nana and Pops Christmas presents. Hell I looked up how much my new phone cost Tony and it could have paid for four months of insulin. That’s sixteen vials. But more importantly that’s nearly 1500 dollars. And I bet if I lost it, he would have a new one waiting for me.” Pepper lets you continue the rant, and doesn’t let you know that he added more upgrades to your phone than the baseline one that does indeed cost as much as your medicine does. But what she would rather talk about is why does your insulin cost that much? “You guys might not care about money, but it makes me sick every time that you drop this money on me. I’m not worth it.”

“First of all, you are definitely worth it and so much more. Tony has money just wasting away in the bank and likes to waste it on the people he loves. That means he’s going to drop money on you. But coming from the lifestyle you grew up in, it’s going to take some getting used to. Plus in his mind, he has fourteen years of Christmas presents and birthdays to make up for.” Pepper watches as your eyes go wide and knows that this might be the wrong thing to say. “But Tony is also up for doing things for charity. So maybe you can come up with an initiative that he can throw money towards for you. Like maybe fighting to lower the cost of insulin for others? Because while it’s not a problem now for you to afford it, why should it cost so much for others? Tony would definitely like to fight that. And that is something that SI can also get behind as well.” You look up for the first time since finding the jean jacket back in the shop.

“Really? SI would get behind something like that?” You ask, not understanding why a tech company would get behind something like the cost of insulin.

“Tony wants to look into manufacturing things to make diabetics' lives easier, which I told him he needs to talk to you about before doing anything. But your name is part of the company. You’re a Stark now. So anything that SI does, takes an interest in what you have an interest in. So yes, the cost of insulin is something that SI will fight for too. Help me do some research on who to support and we can start the battle as one of your first introductions to the world as Tony’s daughter?” You nod, knowing this is something you’ve always wanted to help with but never had the power to do anything about. 

“Thank you.” You say, before doing something without thinking- you throw your arms around her. Her arms wrap around you, but she’s not sure what she’s being thanked for. 

“What for?”

“Listening. Being here. Being human?” You say, joking about the last one, but it feels right.

“Of course. I don’t know how to be anything else.” She says and pulls on your ponytail a bit. “Now you want to show us around your neighborhood a bit before we head back to Manhattan?”

“You want to see it?” You ask, surprised that Pepper wants to see Queens.

“It’s part of what makes you you, so yes.” Happy finishes crossing the street to be back with the two of you.

“There’s a really great coffee shop up this way. Or if we go down this way there’s an amazing sandwich shop called Delmar’s. Oh and Pops goes to play chess at this park down that way.” You point out three different ways. 

“Coffee sounds like a plan.” Pepper says. You drop your arms, not wanting to hold on to her longer than you’re allowed to but Pepper keeps an arm around your shoulder as you walk towards the coffee shop you love. It was always a treat when you got to go, but the smell alone was something you had missed. They make all their syrups from scratch and you could spend all day there reading if you were allowed. 

As you walk, you point out the book shop where you sold the books you were done with to make some extra money, the apartment building that you, Nana, and Pops lived until there was a rat infestation, and the bodega that you used to go to to stock up on low supplies. You wave to some people that you know by face alone and smile at the feeling of being home. It feels nice to share this world with Pepper, and almost makes you wish Tony was here to show him what home feels like to you. It’s not throwing money around on things you don’t need. It’s the feeling of the sun on your skin as you walk around the streets you’ve known all your life.

At the coffee shop, Pepper buys you and Happy coffee, yours iced and his hot, as well as an iced tea for herself. “So I was thinking, we could go to Buffalo Exchange to try and find you some bottoms to go with the shirts we found for you, or maybe a dress or two? That way you have some clothes until the rest of your stuff gets moved from Queens?” You don’t say anything, but you know she’s right. You only have a few more sets of outfits and half of them aren’t appropriate for school. You force yourself to take a sip of your coffee as you nod your head. “We don’t have to Y/N. We can hold off.”

“No, we should. I don’t have that much stuff left at the tower and some of it is more wear at home type stuff.”

“Do you want to make a stop at your Nana and Pops house and get some more stuff?” Pepper asks.

“Can I?” You miss your Nana and Pops so much it hurts.

“Of course. Tony isn’t trying to keep you from them. And we’re already in the area.” You can’t stop the grin from exploding on your face. You know that Nana and Pops won’t have much more baggage you can put stuff in though so you turn to Marcie, who’s working at the counter. 

“Hey Marcie, do you guys have any boxes that you haven’t broken down yet?”

“Actually yeah. We got shipments in this morning of some stuff. What size are you looking for?”

“Big enough to put some clothes and stuff in.”

“Ah moving apartments again?” Marcie had helped you with boxes when the rat situation happened. “Rats again?”

“Not rats, but something like that.” You say with a teasing smile. She walks to the back and grabs the couple bigger ones.

“Will these work?”

“Those are perfect!”

“You can have them on the condition that you still come and get coffee occasionally.”

“Deal! I’m going to go to MSST so I’ll still come by!”

“Then the boxes are all yours.” She hands them to you and Happy offers to take them from you. Marcie looks at him with confusion but you wave it off.

“Thanks Marcie!” You say before returning to the table where Pepper sits.

“I’ll bring the car up,” Happy says. “Be back in five minutes.” 

“Thanks Happy.” Pepper says as Happy takes the boxes with him as he leaves the shop.

“You seem to know all the people at your favorite shops.” Pepper comments.

“New York is more like a small town when you think about it. We all go to the same businesses over and over again. Why shouldn’t we know the people who’s shops we frequent?” You shrug. “Plus Marcie is the best person to get boxes from when you have to move buildings. Then you don’t have to pay for them.” Pepper and you both drink your cold beverages as you sit waiting for Happy. 

“Have you ever traveled anywhere?” Pepper asks, wanting to get to know you better. You shake your head.

“I’ve uh never left New York. We never really had the money.” You glance out the window. “I don’t even have a state ID, much less a passport.”

“Well we can get you an ID sweetheart, that’s easy. And knowing your dad, he’ll want to get you a passport since deciding to take last minute trips is one of his favorite things. But if you could go anywhere, where would you want to go?”

“You’re not going to like plan a trip, right? Because you’ve spent plenty-”

“Y/N, I just want to get to know you. Now if Tony asks you, I would answer on the bet that he wants to take you wherever you answer.” 

“The kid in me wants to say Disney World because who doesn’t want to go. But I think the actual answer would be the Grand Canyon. I’ve always wanted to see if it’s as big as it looks in pictures. And the third choice would be London. So many writers lived there and I want to see what inspires them to write the way they do.” You look back at your coffee. “I’m not the best at picking just one place.”

“Never said you had too.” Pepper says, trying to catch your eyes. “I think all three are wonderful ideas. Maybe we should go there, but leave Tony at home to finish the deadlines he never touches.” You look up at her with surprised eyes. “Ok, maybe he can finish them before the trips and then come along because if I steal his kid for that long, I’ll never hear the end of it. He might take my job away for stealing you for that long, if it didn’t mean he would have to start doing work again.”

“Really?”

“You’re all he talks about these days. And I don’t see that stopping anytime soon. He’s not someone that’s easy to get to know. And I would say he’s definitely an acquired taste, but once he’s in your corner, having Tony Stark have your back is sometimes greater than having Iron Man. I hope you get to learn that. Because I know he desperately wants to show you how much he already loves you.”

“But he barely knows me.”

“There’s this thing about being a parent, so I’ve heard, where you love your kid so much from the moment they enter your life. That’s how he feels, and how he’s felt about you since the moment he saw you for the first time. Every night since you entered his life he said to me ‘God Pep, I didn’t know I could love a kid so much.’ And I don’t see that stopping anytime soon.”

“But I’ve kind of treated him like garbage?”

“And you think you’re the first teenager to ever say things to their parents like that? You have a better excuse than most though. Most aren’t thrust into having parents as late into life as you were, but you’re dealing with a lot. Most people also aren’t dealing with having Tony as a father. I give you props for that alone.”

“You’re the one dating him.”

“Yes but that’s different.” Happy pulls up outside the coffee shop. “Come on. We have all the time in the world to debate who has it worse in regards to Tony.” Pepper teases you. You turn and wave to Marcie.

“Bye Marcie!”

“Good luck with the move!” She waves before returning to the order she’s in the middle of taking. You follow Pepper towards the car and climb into the backseat. Happy drives you towards the apartment he had taken-picked you up from less than a week from. 

“Would you feel more comfortable if I stay in the car?” Pepper asks as you pull up and Happy puts the car in park. If it was Tony, yes. But you like Pepper. You want her to see the place that you think of as home so you shake your head. 

“Plus I want you to meet my Nana and Pops.” You swing the door open before Happy even has a chance to open the door for you. You’re too excited to see Nana and Pops. Usually you would just run up the six flights of stairs to the apartment, but you’re not going to subject Pepper and Happy to that just because you don’t want to wait for the slow elevator. So instead you bounce on the balls of your feet as you wait for the elevator. If not for your fear of elevators dropping, you would have continued bouncing the rest of the way up. But finally, finally, the elevator arrives and you count the three doors as you pass towards home. It’s weird to not have your key so you knock on the door. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” You hear your Pops voice and you could almost cry. He opens the door and you don’t wait a moment before flying into his arms. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He pulls you away to say something, probably like ‘there’s no way you’re my granddaughter. You’ve gotten too big,’ but you push against his arms to wrap your arms around him again. “I’m right here. Not going anywhere. I got you.”

“Who’s at the door Lou?” Your Nana calls and it sounds just like coming home now.

“It’s me Nana.” You say even though the sound is muffled by your Pops’ chest. 

“Is that you babydoll? What are you doing here?” Your Nana rounds the corner and then you're out of your Pops’ arms and into her’s.

“We’re sorry to just surprise you. But we were in the area and Y/N has been missing you.”

“Never apologize for bringing her ho- to visit.” Your Pops voice is a little rougher than normal. “You must be Pepper Potts.”

“Yes, nice to meet you. And this is Happy, or um Harold Hogan, our head of security.” In the back of your mind you place the fact that Happy’s real name is Harold of all things, but right now you’re too focused on the fact that you’re home. “Y/N also needs to get a few more clothes and things so Happy has some boxes for her to put some stuff in.”

“That’s fine. She’s always welcome to come and get things. This may not be as fancy as where she lives now, but it will never stop being her home.” Pops voice rings out and Pepper can feel that he’s not welcoming them in like he welcomes you. 

“Pepper, will you come help me get the stuff in my room?” You ask. You know Pops probably isn’t happy with the way things are working out either, but leaving Happy, he can at least go over the security plan or something. Leaving Pepper seems just mean after how nice she’s been to you today.

“Sure honey.” Pepper smiles at you. She follows you down the hallway to the door where your name is printed in block letters on a piece of computer paper. “I like this.”

“Thanks, Betty made it for me.” You pull it off the door. “Do you think I can hang it on my door at the Tower?” Pepper nods.

“If you want to, I don’t see why you can’t.” You open the door and Pepper follows you into the room that is about a quarter of the size of your room at the Tower, yet feels more at home than the Tower. “So what is coming with this time?” Pepper knows that at least with most of the books and if you want any of the furniture, they are going to have to get a few men to move it. 

“I’m thinking mostly clothing and maybe some of my books. Not all of them, but at least a few of them. Oh and there’s a blanket I’ve been missing.” You walk over to the dresser in the corner and open the bottom two drawers, which are filled with mostly distressed jeans and shorts. “All of these.” You say with a laugh.

“How about I work on putting those in this box while you get the blanket and pick out some books?” Pepper suggests. You shrug, it sounds like a good enough plan. Walking over to your shelf, you have to stop yourself from calling out to JARVIS to ask him to put on music and instead pull your phone and put on your playlist instead. Have you really gotten that used to living at the tower? Before you can get to the shelf, you spy the quilt you want sticking out from the under bed boxes. 

You pull it out and hold it close. Part of you wants to unwrap it and drape it around your shoulders, but you know that you’d be wasting precious time doing that. So instead you trace your fingers over the different triangles of fabric. Pepper looks up and sees what you’re looking at. “Is this the blanket you were missing?” You nod and she comes to take a seat next to you on the twin bed that you grew up in. “It’s beautiful. Was it handmade?” Pepper asks, but doesn’t make a move to touch it since it’s clearly special to you.

“My, uh, mom made it.” With everything that has happened in the last week, Pepper hasn’t actually heard anything about your mom besides Tony talking about how your mom was a one night stand. “She was in a recovery program the first three months after I was born to try and get her recovered. Alcohol and drugs. Part of her recovery was making this quilt. Something to focus on as she went through withdrawal. It’s part of the reason I was placed with my grandparents. I was born two and a half months early and addicted to crack. So she wasn’t that fit of a parent. But they hoped that with rehab she would get better and come home. It, um, didn’t work like they hoped. She relapsed and they found her on the streets six months later dead of an overdose.” You don’t look up as you trace your favorite triangle, the peach colored one. “This is the only thing I have of her. I’d like to think she made it for me, but I think I know deep down, she only made it because the program made her.”

“She would have been lucky to know you.” Pepper says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“But she didn’t so…” You trail off. “But I have Nana and Pops. And I have Tony now. And I guess you and the Avengers too.”

“You got bonus family galore.” Pepper holds you close. “I got you and I’m not letting go.” She whispers into your hair as she places a kiss there.

“Thanks Pepper.” You lean into her side, before placing the quilt into the box at your feet. “I’m glad you got me.” You admit. 

It doesn’t take much longer to pack up the clothes and books you want from the room you love. There’s still other things you’ll need to come back for, but you can do that another day. You have the things you need to get you through at least the beginning of school. Before you know it, Happy is taking the boxes down to the car and you’re wrapped up in your grandparents’ arms once again. “You’re welcome anytime babygirl. You have your key for that reason.” Your Nana says into your hair. 

“I know Nana.”

“And if you need a break, you come on over. Being Stark’s daughter isn’t the end all be all.” Pops’ voice is aimed more at Pepper than at you, but you nod. 

“I know Pop.” You kiss both their cheeks. “I love you both. So much.”

“We love you too babygirl. Always have, always will.” Your Nana runs a hand through your hair. “Get going. You probably have big fancy plans for the day.”

“Still the same girl you know.” You say as you walk towards where Pepper stands. You follow her towards the door, but take one more look at your grandparents before you both start making your way downstairs. As you get outside, Pepper looks at you.

“Do you want to do more thrifting and mani/pedis or you want to call it a day? You still have next weekend? We can always do more back to school stuff then.”

“Do you mind if we don’t? I’m kind of exhausted.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I did. Plus we can order food to the Tower and maybe watch a movie or something instead. Calm night instead.”

“That sounds awesome.” You say as Happy starts the drive back to the Tower. Going back to Manhattan took a little longer than normal, just because of the time of day. You scroll through social media, trying to take in your last day as Y/N Y/L/N. Tomorrow the news breaks about you being Tony’s daughter, so you’ll take the calm before the storm. Pepper is reading over things on her own phone, probably SI stuff if you had to guess. “Pepper?”

“Mmm-hmm?” She answers as she scrolls.

“Will the explosion from the news tomorrow be bad?” You ask before adding. “Like you dealt with when Tony announced he was Iron Man. Will this be that bad you think?” Pepper puts down her phone and looks at you.

“I don’t think this will be bad news. I think there will be questions, but that’s why SI has been putting together a lot of press packets for different situations. If the press tries to spin it in different ways, we will be ready. The most important thing we have stated in all of this, is that while Tony didn’t know about you until recently, he is very happy to be your father and he is doing everything in his power to provide the best home for you.” Pepper pauses looking for signs from you on which way you were feeling. “For now, how you feel about everything is going to stay silent because of your age and such, but eventually, if you feel up for it, we’d love to publish something about you and your dad together.”

“Why about me?”

“Because the public will want to know, but also because you are one day possibly going to be a face of SI. If that’s the path you wish to take. Again this isn’t a decision you have to make anytime soon. Right now, the focus is keeping you out of the press as much as possible.” Happy pulls into the garage as Pepper says all of this. “But I think the public is just going to be interested in learning about who you are because you are an extension of Tony and they like knowing about him.”

“I can understand that. But I don’t even feel like I know him all that well yet.”

“You will in time. I promise.” Pepper says as she walks with you towards the elevator you had left only a few hours earlier. You had grabbed the clothes from Bayside, but Happy said he would get the boxes and take them to your room for you. Upon arriving to the living room, Tony is surprisingly waiting for you and Pepper.

“My two favorite ladies, back already.”

“Finished early. Figured we could do a night in instead.” Pepper explains as Tony gives her a kiss on the cheek.

“Did you have a good day kiddo?” Tony looks towards you and you nod before turning to Pepper.

“Thanks Pepper.” You say before giving her a quick hug. “I had a lot of fun today.” 

“Of course. I had fun with you too.” Pepper’s arms wrap around you, squeezing you back. And for a moment you can’t help but wonder if this is what it feels like to have a mom. Yours was out of your life moments after you were born. You let yourself relax in her arms for a moment before you feel Tony’s eyes on the two of you. 

“Uh, I should go put these things away.” You pull away from Pepper and make your way towards your room, canvas bags in tow without saying anything to Tony.

“It’s not fair Pep.”

“What?”

“She hugs you.” Tony whines as he plops down on the couch. “All she does for me is make playlists called Tony Stark Can Rot. How is that fair?”

“Now how would you know what her playlists are called?”

“I asked JARVIS to play some of her music so I could know more about her since she refuses to hang out with me. He asked which playlist and started listing them. To be fair it has some great music on it. But still, I would never make a playlist called Y/N Stark Can Rot.”

“You don’t name your playlists.” Pepper points out.

“Not the point.”

“The point is you're jealous that she’s closing herself off to you.”

“Maybe I am. She’s my kid. I want to know her. I want to do everything for her and with her. But everything I try backfires.”

“So don’t try so hard.” Tony’s brows pull together as he looks up at Pepper. “You suggested her friends coming over for dinner and that worked really well.”

“Yeah worked really well in that she told me about a teacher that hated her enough to throw scissors at her.”

“She also acknowledged that you’re going to be here for her from now on. That’s a success. So try doing small things like that. Don’t make huge gestures. Don’t you dare buy her a gigantic bunny. Try to let her get to know you. And don’t try to buy your way into her life. She hates that.”

“You literally took her shopping today.”

“We went thrifting.”

“What? All of that needs to be washed immediately!” Tony starts freaking out.

“This right here?” Pepper motions towards him, “This is the kind of reaction that will push her farther away. She loves thrift shops. She told me and we went to her favorite ones to look for clothes. She opened up about her life before us Tony. That picture on your phone. That’s a moment she shared with Natasha. You need to give her a moment to open up to you.” Tony notices Happy walking by with a couple of boxes. 

“What all did you buy her today?” 

“We stopped by her grandparents’ house so she could pick up some more stuff. She mentioned she was getting low on some stuff.” Pepper motions towards what Happy is carrying. “She really misses them. I think we need to give her time to see them too.”

“I’m not keeping her from them.”

“I’m not saying you are. I’m saying I think we should schedule times so she doesn’t feel that way. Also I told her that SI would start a charity fund to fight the cost of insulin.”

“Not against that but why?”

“She was feeling really uncomfortable about how comfortable we all spend on a day to day, based on her background with money.” Pepper says, not really explaining.

“That tells me less than nothing.”

“It’s her story to share. You’ll have to wait until she wants to share it with you.” Pepper kisses his cheek. “But you have an amazing kid.”

“I know that. I just want to know her like all of you know her.” Tony says frustrated. 

“Give her time.”

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[musedblues]

Born To Love You [Part: 4]

summary: When Gwilym ropes you into a lie, the truth becomes painfully obvious. When Joe makes things harder, there’s no telling if he even has a clue.

a/n: Have I mentioned how much I love you lot? Because it's true! I do! 💖 Here is chapter 4 in all 'er glory. Feedback/ predictions/ and thoughts of any kind are always intensely appreciated of course! Stay well darlings 💞

w/c: 5k

Part 5

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"Hello, my darling, my dear!" A familiar lilt floated past the door of your rented flat. Gwilym's mother was here.

You weren't entirely surprised to see her, she usually found some excuse to visit her son on whatever film set he used to occupy his time through the years. But she was terrible at surprises, and always let you know when she was planning on popping round. So why hadn't you heard from Mrs. Lee till now?

Before you had time to ask or even greet her properly, her arms were wrapped around your shoulders like a vice. Gwil's mother had always loved you- the first night you met, she assigned you a designated spot at the family dinner table. She never questioned your situation with her son. She always went out of her way to invite you to holiday parties and spontaneous family gatherings. And the times you had to miss out for one reason or another, and Gwil still brought Olive along, he'd bring her back to you with a message from his mother; how she'd missed you.

"What are you doing here?" You laughed into the woman's hair. Before Mrs. Lee answered, as you pulled away from the embrace, you noticed the look on Gwilym's face. You could tell there was something he'd been waiting longer than a couple of minutes to say.

"I invited her to stay for the weekend." Gwil grinned, sauntering closer to greet his mother with warm grandeur. To both of you, Gwil's mother's presence in the Airbnb was like a breath of fresh air. Olive was perhaps the most pleased of all, clamoring with laughter toward Mrs. Lee. She scooped up your daughter in a big hug and went on explaining her surprise visit...

"There's a show here in the city on Monday. I'm meeting some coworkers there, we've been planning for months! Anyway, I called Gwil to ask him to lunch and he doubled the offer! I'll be glad to watch Olive for a night, but before you leave we have to catch up."

"Leave? Where are we going?" You turned to Gwil as everyone settled further into the room. He seemed to already be waiting to tell you what he'd had up his sleeve.

"Lucy planned a party, tomorrow night. Rented a place to stay and everything."

"Oh...oh no-" You'd nearly forgotten. It was Joe's birthday.

"And I knew you'd try and get out of it. So, mum will stay here with Olive and when we get back on Sunday I'll blow my paycheck on taking her to a big fancy dinner as thanks." Gwil looked to his mother as she eased onto the sofa with a smile and a shrug, unopposed to being pampered.

"Gwilym!" You worried, trying to contain your panic but make yourself clear all the same. "I don't think I should go." You implored.

"It would be stranger if you didn't, don't you think?" Gwilym looked to you with a raised brow, his firm voice stirring the worry in your gut.

"Why are you two so on edge?" Mrs. Lee piped up from the sofa, where she sat unbothered by Olive yanking at the necklaces layered across her chest.

Neither of you could lie to her. So you and Gwil heaved a matching sigh and spun to sit on opposite sides of the room. And just like when James demanded to know what was up, Gwil took initiative in telling the story you'd been engulfed in for a while now- sparing a few details about arguments and longing gazes. His mother listened, showing little to no favor for which side she might have been on; hardly giving a single sign this situation shocked the woman to any degree.

"So, tomorrow is Joe's birthday. And we'll spend all night together in the thick of it." Gwilym rose a hand your way, almost like he was asking you what to do next. But he'd already planned everything out, hadn't he?

"Well," Gwilym's mother straightened. "That's the best time to work things out, without Olive around. Surely you can sit your friends down and explain things like adults, right?" She pointed a look to Gwil, one you imagined sent a chill down his spine as a boy, and maybe even still now.

"Right." He looked from her to you. And you knew he wasn't done scheming. You knew you were stuck between the promise you made to Lucy to be prepared to party, and whatever Gwil was up to now.

///

"Mama?" Olive grabbed the hem of your shirt in her fists as you flung your purse over your shoulder. Somehow, it sucked even harder every new time you had to leave her behind. She'd mastered the art of puppy dog eyes, her tears pooling, her lip quivering.

You promised her that you'd be back before she knew it. That she was in safe, fun-loving hands. But when the girl looked to Gwil who was toting your overnight bag to the front door, she was done for. Not even his excitable transaction of Olive's beloved one red-eyed bat stopped her tears.

And even though it felt impossible to walk out the door to the sound of her pleading cries, you knew she'd be okay. You wondered of your fate, though.

You left the rented car at the flat for Mrs. Lee, whose stories over homemade dinner and chatter over morning coffee lifted your spirits tenfold. Her excitement for spending a little more time doing just the same when you got back would likely keep you from drowning in your own worried thoughts. Off you went, all the while...

Lucy had rented some cottage in the hills. Apparently, she'd overheard Joe muttering about wanting to spend some time in the countryside before the production came to an end. The usual lot of you were invited to come ready to spend a night of fun, a night to celebrate Joe. He deserved that and more. But you certainly weren't worthy or prepared to join in such a celebration.

While your uber headed out of the city, you and Gwilym talked about how hard it was to leave Olive, how you couldn't wait for her to be a little older, easier to sneak in on the action. How you wished she'd stay small all the same. How Gwil stayed with you and your roommates the first week you brought Olive home, and how he hated to leave by the end of then. About the first day you left her with Gwilym when you went back to work, and how it seemed so easy because you knew how happy Gwilym was and that everything was fine.

As the forests of trees grew denser along the roadside, the ride became coated in a silence you mistook for shared reminiscence. But then Gwilym spoke up with a question you hadn't expected.

"If... if I hadn't roped you into being 'Mrs. Lee'..." He hesitated, almost afraid to ask. You, afraid to wonder.

"If I wasn't around when you met Joe..."

"If you weren't around, I wouldn't have met any of your lovely friends, honey." You gave your fake husband's hand a squeeze hoping he would take a hint.

By then, the uber was creeping up a gravel path to a cottage in the midst of pines and maples. The dull blue sky framed the quaint old home made up of worn brick and curtain shielded windows. Near the tri-colored brick chimney, Ben was stood smoking. His eyes (even from your view behind the tinted car window) somehow greener than the leaves that threatened to envelop your shelter for the evening.

Your conversation with Gwilym was officially cast aside, but you didn't miss his somber smile. The fact he felt for you muted the ache of adoration you felt for Joe at the mention of his name. You shook all those thoughts away on your clamor to solid ground.

Ben greeted the pair of you cheerily and led the way inside. No one else had made it yet. Ben said you and Gwilym were lucky to be early enough to choose the best room in the house. There were enough for everyone, around tight paint chipped corners. If you had to be locked in with everyone for an evening, at least it got to be in such a charming little space.

You and Gwil wordlessly abandoned your things on a small quilt covered bed and went to find Ben in the kitchen, proudly setting out all the liquor he managed to bring along. Rami and Lucy were in charge of bringing Joe, and a boatload of snacks. Gwilym must have been in charge of bringing you.

You knew it was important not to let a single crack split between your bond tonight, with no baby to hide behind. It wasn't hard to seem content, settling into a big comfy sofa as there three of you waited around. Beams of grey sun shot through the massive windows on the doors that lead outback. As you lost yourself to admiring the space, the others burst in.

Rami and Lucy carried a comical amount of bags in after Joe who was clearly ready to party. You couldn't help but laugh, out of all the ways he could have celebrated, he was delighted to stick himself in the middle of nowhere with the same group of people he was always stuck with anyway.

And just like that, you were all back together again like you'd been forever, like an afterschool special. It was easy to mix yourself in, just as easy as it might have been to stay in a far off corner. No one could focus on one thing long while they scattered off to explore the floor plan. After everyone had their share of admiring the nooks and crannies of the home, the fun began.

In the garden past the rickety steps of the porch, there was a tattered net already set up. Near the shed, Gwilym found a trunk full of dirty old sporting goods, and a tarnished blue volleyball was the only thing sturdy enough to play with. You teamed up and went wild like kids, like you all had at the play place outside Ben's favorite cafe. Except now you all relied on each other to play the same honest game.

Morale drifted from teasing banter to grunting curses as your scores were tied. You spiked the ball and won the first game. Celebration hardly lasted as chatter of a second round was on the rise. But when Lucy trodded of to catch her breath, you quickly decided to join her, riding your winning high.

She motioned you inside, making a b-line for the kitchen while the sun turned the world golden. Lucy appointed you to help her start making dinner as the boys continued playing volleyball to the death.

As their shouting at each other rattled the kitchen windows, Lucy unveiled ingredients for a homemade pizza. She'd heard Joe craving it the week before, and tonight was all about him.

"You're good at this." You pointed out, helping her set out ingredients along the counter space that wasn't crowded with booze.

"What?" Lucy laughed, cheeks still flushed from running around out back. Hair still windblown. Still so flawless. And kind, to top it off.

"Going out of your way to make people feel like they belong." You made clear. When you met, she'd gifted you the perfect handbag. Now she planned out Joe's birthday evening like her own, plotting for things he brought up in passing- things he probably hadn't realized anyone might have heard at all.

"I guess it's my love language or whatever." Lucy shrugged, moving about the kitchen. "My uncle married a hopelessly out of touch woman when I was thirteen. She heard I liked to read. So, for every holiday or birthday, this woman would alway buy me those dreadful penny novels from the market. The kind that are basically porn about pirates and vampires," Lucy laughed, and you did too. Those novels were definitely guilty pleasures. Who would think to gift them? Let alone to a teenaged girl who was probably just as wise beyond her years back then, too.

"I vowed to be a better gift-giver. But... I did always read those books." Lucy snorted a laugh. As you helped chop veggies and mix spices, she told you all the horrifically cheesy one liners from the novels she never wanted.

Soon your laughter drowned out the boys shouts from outside, and Ben rushed to join the party. He cranked music and danced around the kitchen while you prepared dinner, mixing drinks to test out the bevy of alcohol he’d purchased.

Rami joined in, while Joe and Gwil shared some kind of chat in the living room. You could see them past the wave of Rami's hand as he told a story. And no matter what they might have been talking about, the way Joe and Gwil kept stealing glances in your direction made your nerves stand on end. Luckily, you had enough vodka to stir up a different, much more manageable buzz.

It was picture-perfect organized chaos. You felt like you had back when you moved in with James and Andy, when they would throw parties just to celebrate random Saturdays. Back when you only knew Gwilym as the guy from down the road with a nice house and a pretty face. He still had those things, but now there was so much more that made up the tall man you willingly wrote your future off too. You missed Olive. But you knew she was happy and safe, and so were you. You took another shot to prove so.

"Come now." Lucy wheezed, a glass of wine and three shots of whiskey deep. She was still quoting the best of the worst lines she could remember from all those horrible romance novels she'd been gifted.  "You're fighting your feelings for this man with all the strength of the Confederate Army."

"I'm sorry, what?" Joe gasped a laugh as he passed by, freezing in place. You and Lucy laughed too hard to explain why on earth she'd just said that. And when she caught her breath, Lucy only quoted something else,

"He tore open her blouse like a Publisher’s Clearing House letter."

"That's not real." You pointed, the ache in your gut finally from laughing too hard.

"Whatever you two are having, I'd like some." Joe decided, reaching past you to grab the bottle at your side. His arm brushing against your waist would have been enough to send you into a total blackout, but he just had to look right at you, too. As Joe grabbed the liquor and Lucy kept laughing, you noted that time seemed to stop; even on your second glass of rum. All because Joe dared to look right at you, like he so often did, like no one else ever had before.

Another drink, you decided. It had worked so far, and everyone else was on the quick path to getting wasted before dinner was finished cooking. Luckily, the smell of fresh sauce alerted everyone to gather around and conduct themselves to share a meal together.

The homemade pizza was better than you expected, and your hopes had grown very high as you helped make it. Everyone was in agreeance, scattered about the living room, paper plates in their laps, music still blasting from Ben's phone somewhere in the kitchen. But no one was happier than Joe. He raved over Lucy's thoughtfulness, and over the very tasty dinner that resulted. Rami poured everyone another drink as Ben insisted it was time for Joe to open his presents.

You all raced to collect the gifts you brought and made a very big deal out of making Joe take his time unveiling each. What more did you have to do than make an event out of every last minute together? To make sure Joe realized just how dearly he was cared for?

Ben had gotten Joe tickets to a rugby game, and some of his favorite English chocolates- Joe broke off pieces to share with every one of you. Lucy and Rami gave him an expensive-looking box of tea, alongside a clay mug decorated with stamps of delicate-looking dinosaurs.

Gwil got him a portable record player and said it was from the both of you. Gwil had taken notice that Joe was buying a bunch of vinyl on days off, and leaving the discs to collect in his suitcase for when he got back to New York. But he wouldn't be going home for a while still, so it seemed fitting to offer Joe a way to fill his drab Airbnb with some music until then. The auburn-haired lad lit up, and gave a heartfelt thanks to his extremely generous friends, insisting that an allnighter in this comfortable cottage was already more than enough.

"Oh wait, there's one last thing." You gave Gwil a sly smirk as you stood to pass a sealed envelope to Joe. Everyone leaned in close while Joe curiously unveiled a powder blue card with the words happy birthday simply scrawled on the front. It was blank inside, besides the harsh scribbles of crayon that Olive spent a long time jabbing into the paper. The 'drawing' was meant to be her birthday wish. You and Gwil singed your names at the bottom in pen, but you wrote Olive's name in the same pink crayon to match her efforts. You missed her.

"That is the cutest shit I've ever fucking seen." Ben cursed. It was your idea. Joe looked like he wanted to cry, but he only cracked up laughing for a very charming moment. Then he hugged you and Gwilym at the same time, repeating his thanks over and over again.

///

The drinks kept coming as night fell. You got tired of mixing your vodka and just went for it, because it really did kind of taste like blueberries. You all took turns in the only bathroom with a shower and eventually, Rami had roped everyone into some kind of drunk history type storytelling session.

Ben took a turn, jumping to his feet, anxious to tell the story of Frankenstein. The only problem being that he was hammered, and his efforts in recounting the details were hazy. So he started over from the beginning...

"Okay, pay attention everybody. Now," Ben slurred, spinning in the middle of the room to face where you sat on the opposite end of the sofa from Gwilym.

"So like, you and Gwil are Mary and Percy." Ben pointed. Gwilym looked your way as if he'd just realized you were on the other side of the couch. "And uh, Joe can be Byron! Everyone wants to sleep with him... I think," Ben decided, hazily looking back to you. "Okay so just pretend you really want to for the sake of this story. It's very important-"

"Why can't Lucy and Rami be the Shelleys?" You blurted out in wonder, uncomfortable with this drunken imaginary scenario. Gwil rolled his eyes and reached for his drink.

"Because you're the married lot," Ben pointed. Gwilym honest to God nearly choked on his liquor.

"Oh yeah. Hey, why don't you guys wear rings?" Rami pipped up from across the way, gesturing between you and Gwil.

"You don't wanna know the answer to that." Gwil chuckled. Three shots of vodka and four glasses of rum were no excuse to be so flippant. You shot the guy a glare, hardly caring if anyone else saw the warning in your eye so long as Gwilym did.

"Moving on, who will you be, Ben?" Gwyilm conducted everyone's attention to the man in the middle of the room. Ben propped one foot on the coffee table, swaying in place as he declared,

"I'm the bloody doctor!"

As the blonde stumbled through his story, Lucy passed out in Rami's arms. Joe seemed to be the only one laughing along with Ben, as his narrative progressed. Every time Ben pointed to you and Gwil, the tension between the pair of you boiled dangerous fiercer. Warning looks meant to keep each other quite turned into something darker, glares more bittered than pitying.

When Ben lost his place long enough for silence to fall over the lot of you, Rami carried Lucy down the hall, shouting pleasant goodnights to the rest of the gang. You decided it was a sign, and stood to call it a night as well. Ben moved slowly to collect empty bottles while Joe started to collect his thoughtful gifts.

"I hope you've had a happy birthday, mate." Ben smiled to Joe before the blonde moved to help Gwil pick up a few of the discarded plates and cups. Joe was gathering his mess of presents, stalling to admire the card you thought to give him.

"Thank you for this." Joe grinned in your direction, scanning the card again, and opening it to examine the scribbles of crayon meant to be Olive's well wishes. The man with fossils for eyes beamed like a fool and you couldn't help but do the same; moving by his side to glance over the scratched greeting from your daughter, to Joe.

"You guys made one cute kid," Ben spoke up across the room. You blinked up, catching Gwilym's nod of appreciation toward Ben. "Do you think you'll ever have any more?" He wondered, casually.

You gave an automatic, tipsy shrug, not opposed to the idea, just not with Gwil of course. But they didn't need to know that. 

"No, actually." Gwil glared at you, like he was upset you weren’t playing along or keeping a low enough profile. Like he hadn't been just as dangerously close to giving yourselves away.

"Are you guys alright?" Ben timidly wondered after a beat. Gwil just clenched his jaw shut and spun around toward the kitchen to finish cleaning up. You didn't know the answer to Ben's question, either.

So you hurried after Gwilym, your vision blurred, but your intention clear as day. You found him throwing his rubbish out with a sigh.

"Why are you acting like this?" You hissed, stepping close so no one else could hear.

"Blame it on the rum, dear." Gwilym shrugged but shot you a look that let you know he knew exactly what he was doing. He turned further into the room as you shot back,

"Drunk isn't a synonym for stupid. You should know to keep your mouth shut, you're the one who started this."

"Then shouldn't I end it?"

"It will never end!" You'd always be trading school pick-ups and planning birthday parties together. You knew Gwilym knew that.

"But this has to end. You won't tell, and you won't let me tell, so we're gonna break up the old fashioned way, got it?"

"What are you talking about?" You wondered, exhausted.  

"I don't want to be married to you anymore! If I had a ring I would throw it on the ground." He spoke, loud and clear enough to get you to see a little straighter.

"Gwilym, what the fuck?" You let out a stunned laugh. You knew what he must have meant, but the tone of his voice and the look in his eye hit you right where it hurt most. You weren't married, but you might as well have been. Gwilym agreed with that sentiment through laughter most of the time. Because he was your friend. But it suddenly seemed like he didn't want to be anything at all, with you.

The thick silence was back when Joe sauntered into the kitchen like he might have been breaking the rules. You couldn't be sure if he'd heard or not, but when you turned away from Gwilym's glare, you saw Joe stood looking at you like his heart was broken.

You made yourself turn from his troubled gaze, turning out of the kitchen.

Gwilym was reluctantly hot on your trail, offering a hurried goodnight to his friend before meeting where you'd run off to. The bedroom was suffocatingly small, when Gwilym shut the both of you in, it felt like the walls were closing in.

"I get that this is fucked. We're fucked. But no one was around to hear that, Gwil. We've always been on the same team."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean... I just..." Gwil deflated as you floated onto the side of the little bed in the corner.

"Just what?" You worried, bracing for impact, preparing for this night to end on the sour note that rang in your ears now.

"I thought by shutting you out... pushing you away, that... God, it sounds dumb to say out loud. I'm just sick of watching you pretend. You deserve so much better, y/n." Gwilym explained, heavy eyes screwing shut in frustration.

"Well don't fucking do that! You're all I've got." You plead in a sorry whimper. You knew that Gwilym was drunk. And you knew he felt bad for what he said and was trying to make it better, now, by hanging his head before you.

Why did this keep happening? There wasn't anything to say anymore, was there? How about the truth, for a change?

"I think I must love him." You gave a sad little shrug, eyes fixed on the wall ahead of you. "And I'm really afraid that it won't matter if we 'break up' or not."

Gwil made his way to where you sat, slumping to join your side. He wrapped a sorry arm around your shoulder and you leaned in. There was a dangerous rumble of tears bubbling far below your surface, distant enough to curse away.

"We should get some sleep." Gwilym gently moved you to lay back till your head hit the pillow. You watched on as he relaxed at your side without a second thought. Hardly a courtesy, just a routine. It brought you a faint glow of comfort either way.

"Thanks, Gwil." You hoped he registered your tone, and all the things you were grateful for in the moment. You laid in silence as Gwil drifted off at your side. Even if you wanted to close your eyes you couldn't, not with the way your mind raced.

"I'll always be here for you, ya know?" Gwilym mumbled from his sleepy state, eye closed. "I'm sorry for what I said."

You hummed after a beat, watching him sleep. Still, you just kept staring up at the ceiling while your fake husband drifted off at your side. Try as you might, you couldn't keep your eyes shut.

Once the patterns on the wall stopped spinning, you made a very quiet escape, padding out into the hall as softly as you could.

The cottage was dark and quiet, save for the fire still flickering in the chimney from the living room. You were drawn to it like a moth, but you stalled in the shadows at the edge of the light cast among the furniture. Someone else was up. Actually, it looked like Joe had never gone to bed.

"Couldn't sleep?" Joe asked quietly, noting your presence. He was standing near the large fog-covered picture windows, slowly shuffling toward the middle of the room. Your feet moved in the same direction, as you shrugged in indecision.

"What about you?" You wondered, meeting Joe in the middle of the living area. He looked at you for a beat before easing to the floor, where he crossed his legs and leaned against the sofa behind him.

"My parents called. I miss them." Joe admitted softly. You decided to sit next to him, but not too close. You brought your knees to your chest and admired how Joe's profile looked illuminated by flickering firelight. You hummed in understanding, and Joe took that as the sign to say more. He started talking about New York and his tenth birthday- one he spent in the mountains of the desert. He was disappointed to find out it was still chilly there, this time of year. Then he asked you why you were still awake- like he knew there was more to the story.

And too much time passed while you wracked your brain for an excuse that didn't point in the direction of the truth. Why was it so easy to be with Gwilym, but so hard to act like you wanted to be? Joe lowered his eyes and after a while of quiet, he spoke up again...

"I wish we met differently."

"I don't. You didn't say anything wrong, then." You snapped a little too quickly. He couldn't possibly take that moment away from you. It was all you had. And even though you should have known better than to allude to that fact that you clung to Joe’s fist words to you, it was probably obvious you did, anyway.

"I wouldn't change what I said." Joe pointed quietly, yet assured. It was as if the flames flickering before you jumped into your belly when Joe's eyes locked onto yours, again. Holy shit pull it together. You knew if you didn't leave the room very soon that you would make a royal fool of yourself.

"Happy birthday. I should head back." You sighed reluctantly, stretching your legs in front of you, wishing Joe might stop you from going. And then he did speak up again, but he didn't say what you wanted to hear...

"Sweet dreams, Mrs. Lee."

"Please don't call me that." You replied without thinking. Because you were still a little buzzed. Because you couldn't think around Joe anyway. You registered his slowly twisting expression as if he was wondering why you seemed so upset. As if, maybe, he knew...

"It's far too proper. We're friends right?" You lamented in a pathetic hurry, feeling a pit open in your chest all the while. Joe focused on you, and you knew he could tell you were grasping at straws. As you held your breath and Joe's gaze, you noticed a look in his eye, as if he were making a decision.

"Yeah... we're friends, y/n." Joe softly expressed. The leather sofa quietly crunched as Joe stood and turned toward the dark hallway.

"Goodnight." His voice sounded heavy, even as it floated away from you. You were left against the sofa with a broken heart and a killer headache.

///

The next afternoon, you watched Joe turn his head away from you on his way down the rickety porch steps, sullen. You tried to pass the moment off as a hurry, when you noticed Lucy and Rami practically jogging out of the place to catch the shared ride. Tomorrow was another early day on set. No more time to waste.

But then your heart was practically shattered when Joe offered you a pitiful one-armed hug and a flat generic farewell before disappearing in the back of an uber with his friends. Lucy and Rami both had time for a few parting sentiments. Joe hadn't even really looked at you all morning. He was even a little distant from Gwilym as they shared a brief goodbye.

Ben shared your uber back into London, and ten minutes into your hour-long commute, the sweet guy asked if you were feeling alright.

"Too much to drink." You passed off the easy excuse and couldn't help but rest your head on Gwilym's shoulder. You wanted comfort. You knew he would give it to you, no questions asked, just like always.

He'd woken up last night when you came back to the tiny bed feeling much worse than you had before leaving there. You didn't know it, but Gwilym heard Joe tell you goodnight before you came back into the room. Since then Gwil was aching to know what happened- if anything. Something had to have by the way he monitored Joe's rushed goodbyes today and your sulking. If Ben would just, put headphones in, or something...

But you were perfectly content leaning against Gwilym and letting your stare gloss over. You started to convince yourself things were supposed to be this way. You tried to focus on heading back to Olive and Gwil's mother, the fun you were likely to have with the kind woman while she was still in town. But then she'd leave, and you'd be back to simply convincing yourself, like now. Ben caught your sulking stare, and you caught him studying you. The blonde's gaze lingered on you as if he knew something was very wrong... as if he knew you were lying. But what about, this time?

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

taglist: @sonic-volcano @imtheinvisiblequeen @redspecialty @itscale @stardust-killer-queen @joemazzelo @dancetohotspace @kiwi-hardy @joeneslee @borhapqueen92 @im-an-adult-ish @johndeaconshands @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @beepbeephardy @slutforbritdick @joemazzmatazz @almightygwil  @sadhwstudent​ @freakibanana 

#joe mazzello #joe mazello x reader #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello imagine #gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee fanfic #gwilym lee imagine

[soranihimawari]

Shatter

A story in several parts:

tw: reader chan’s sibling is a toxic force to be reckoned with; officers mentioned in later parts (civil servants for young adults); mentions of accidents and scarring [both emotional and physical]; young adult 18+ for strong and suggestive language 

word count: 6.8 K

tagging @oikawa-obvs​ @m0nstergeneration20xx​ @smolbludandelions

the characters and other tie in works: 

seijoh 4: oikawa, iwazumi, hanamaki, mattsun

spin off of the Running at 6a.m. feat. hanamaki and his s/o [plus s/o family]

Throughout this story, mattsun & q learn how important the actions of others does not define a set path.

Next >>

I.

“If I get one you like, you can have it,” you say with a wide smile. You still remember the third day of the last month of the year. You were nearly on the cusp of being eighteen within a few short weeks. You had heard a few weeks prior that one of your friends from middle school had moved to across town once her relatives agreed to taking her in during the summer leading into your respectful third years. Recently your were surprised your friend was so openly affectionate toward a certain strawberry blonde. You  would tease her saying that she was insane for having him wake her up at six in the morning during one of your late night voice calls.

“Well, Makki-kun is part of our school’s volleyball team,” she says. You sigh because your friend is right. “Besides aren’t you still interested in getting your hands a little dirty? I’m in serious need of my right hand mechanic to give me a hand running a few diagnostics…”

“I’ll clear it with Naka-one,” you say. “You know how much my sister worries.”

“Says the woman with the muscle memory of a saint,” your friend’s voice is singing sweetly into the receiver. “Besides, I think I can’t keep hiding my best friend away from those giants.”

“I suppose you’re right. Meet me at the station on Saturday, ok?”

“You got it. I can finally prove to Makki-kun’s friends that I do have other friends.”

II:

[Saturday//Ice Cream & Journals\\]

Winter was no joke as she briskly shared her wind across the neighborhood you found yourself visiting. You had arrived not too early in the mid-afternoon; you had an overnight Hershel bag with your various journalistic tools stacked in according to importance. You were a designer by instinctual honing skills whereas your friend was a hands on mechanical genius in her spare time. The two of you used to race up and down the hills of your childhood streets. Your drive to inspire others was something your sister had maintained with a skilled hand, but you were defiant against the dainty life she was grooming you to try to emulate. The argument reaches its pinnacle the night before you were supposed to be leaving to visit your friend:

“Your hobby is just that! A hobby! You can’t keep losing more hours of sleep over a career our parents didn’t think suitable for a teenager like you!”

Your markers container was the closest thing to your sister’s hands and instead of strangling you, she knocks over the matte boxes you so ideally spent hours recataloging. You say nothing, that is until those hands of hers reach for the journals you kept your portfolios of car designs is in her hands. 

“Don’t!” was the last word you were able to yell before the sounds of tearing roars into your eardrums. You are left alone collecting the shreds of your dreams on to the kitchen table. Your sister was as mad as a hatter, but you were too. If her madness only saw the way you clung to the last bit of your individuality like it was a godsend. 

So in the morning, you send a message to your friend who meets you at the train terminal. She dons sunglasses and extends a pastel jacket to you; the jacket has your nickname stitched on it with the sigil of a craftsman:

“I got your message. Man, you sister is really fucked up,” she says. 

“I know,” you retort. 

“You even cut your hair into a more asymmetrical cut. It looks good on you Q.”

Q is for Quantum. Your parent who birthed you chose that perhaps having born two daughters roughly seven years apart was not the best idea, but alas, here you were still wandering the corner of the outskirts of a city close to the palisades your host lives in.

The mod scarf you brought with you is wrapped around your neck in a double knot. The rest of your winter attire is kept simple in the various hues of indigo and splashes of cerulean pearls. Your best friend, you notice, is a bit more tan than before, but her ever present pizazz shines through like it always does. Women can be anything they set their minds to so long as they have the right know-how. 

“I have the guys meeting us up at the ice cream parlour not too far from here,” she says stifling an amused laugh when you scrunch your nose in a slight snarl. “What? You did want to meet the person I’m dating after all. And not to worry, this is only a small gathering.”

Your snarl subsides only to remain as neutral as possible. You nod as your friend rounds the corner of a children’s park across from the ice cream parlour bells chime when the door is pulled open by other patrons.

“Thank you,” you and your friend say walking through the open door which automatically closes behind you both. Your eyes are averted for a moment toward the glowing holographic menu cards above the cashier. The ice cream parlor is paired with an adjoining coffee bar as you take a look around. Your friend has a nickname too and the moment you hear a subtly calm voice call out to her, you realize you recognize the voice (from the photos she sends you, you know their names only as ichigo no kori, cinefile, pretty boy, and…) 

“Oh look, they’re all on time for once,” your friend says as she takes the lead with you close behind. When you reach the table, you unwrap your scarf from your neck.

“Makki, your girlfriend brought a friend,” the cinefile says. His winter attire is typically laid back as far as you could see; he donned a hoodie under his jean jacket and matching slacks. The person to his left, is the pretty boy. Apparently he was the aforementioned princely type who was more popular and it clicks in your brain why: Seijoh has a reputation for being a powerhouse. Then your eyes shift to the strawberry ice haired neighbor you were told so much about from several text conversations you had had. 

“The chisana josei has a right to bring whomever she likes, Iwazumi,” the baritone voice is curious as he eyes you quietly. 

“Of course she does,” your friend winks at you. You hear her whisper a play nice to you as she takes her place at the table next to her beau. You roll your eyes after your friend sits down, you shake your head like an etch and sketch. New slate for the weekend. I’m just here for a few days to give my sister a few days of quiet. Your consciousness rumbles.

“She’s awfully quiet,” the prince chuckles when you make a face. “Is it because she thinks I'm handsome?”

“Oh my god, the world doesn't revolve around you Oikawa,” the one named Iwazumi says through gritted teeth.

“Boys, boys, you’re both pretty, but remember Makki is dating me,” your friend reminds them and her boyfriend smirks. “Have a seat Q, before you actually start growing roots. Mattsun, be a dear and make some room for my best friend will ya?”

“I prefer to stand,” you said with a shrug. “If you want to flip for it, go right ahead.”

“You sure? I mean, Mattsun does make a pretty decent chair...” your friend’s voice trails off when she sees your gloved hand open and close. 

“That’s easy for you to say to an old friend,” you say when you take off your backpack when you hand it to her. “You’re not the one who was kicked out of the house again, so please excuse me if I decline the invitation for now.”

The conversation moves on after Makki challenges Iwazumi to another arm wrestling match while Oikawa heads to the counter to order a round of hot cocoa because it had already been sanctioned it was his turn to pay. Your friend converses at the end of the table with you and Mattsun together trying to act as a buffer between the most withdrawn people in the group. 

“Mattsun, did you know that Q is an excellent designer? She helped me forge the gas tank for the bike I use,” your friend sings your praises. How does she know what to say to push your buttons like that? Mattsun is apathetic, yet upon closer inspection of his softened features, he reminds you of an older cat. One who has both a playful and mischievous personality and your imagination wonders how fast you’d fall for him not knowing he was wondering the same thing. The middle blocker keeps a neutral expression as he stands up to help Oikawa with the drink carriers with the mugs. After a rocky start, you realize that the group is not so bad. You were now a group of six third years and you liked the odds of having a small unit composed of your best friend and her reverse harem. They walk with you two all the way back to their respective blocks and when Iwazumi along with Oikawa branch off, you are left with your best friend, Makki, and Mattsun in your company

“Six in the morning again?” your friend sighs. Her breath is caught in the chill air when he kisses her temple. You see how smitten they are for each other and while you had just survived an hour into the prolonged sabbatical, you wonder if you would eventually get a shot.

“We may have lost the game chisana josei, but at this point, I think it’s just Oikawa wanting to make sure we’re still sharp.”

“If you say so, but I’m not going to be joining you. It’s too cold,” she teases. “Q’s here to hang with me.”

“I’m sure I can find something to do for the meantime tomorrow,” you answer. “I don’t want to inconvenie--”

“She can run with me,” Mattsun speaks up, scratching his cheek. He had this quiet charm about him. The offer throws you off course for a little bit in the afternoon sun. 

“What do you think, Q? You up for a little excursion tomorrow?”

“Sure. It couldn’t hurt. You trust these two.Techinically dating one, but that’s besides the point.” The two of you laugh before realizing you set up a first date right under your nose. 

“Careful with this one Mattsun,” your friend teases, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. Your bag is now carried on one of your shoulders after you leave the cafe. “Q is really one of a kind. A gem if you will. See you guys tomorrow morning. If it’s snowing, we’re both staying indoors and you two can run together…”

It didn’t snow the following morning.

--House Hours--

You heard movie nights were a tradition, so you had tagged along with your host for the weekend away from home. The first day you had arrived, you had hot cocoa with her ‘reverse harem’ as she would like to call it followed by having dinner with her aunt and uncle; the following morning and true to their words, both Makki and Mattsun picked you two up for the daily morning run which ended with your friend getting another piggyback ride from her boyfriend (and you wonder why she fakes it from time to time, but it’s worth the way Makki’s ears burn a scarlet hue), yet you keep a steady pace much to the other party’s delight; the rest of the second day was filled with you trying to piece back together the shredded blueprints your sister ripped in front of your face. You look at the scraps tossed on the floor of the spare bedroom you were staying in and when the aunt of your best friend walks in to ask you a question, she doesn’t proceed with it since your sniffling kicked in her maternal mode: you explain to her you allow yourself to feel horribly for about five to ten minutes daily and you move on about your day, however after this particularly rudeness your sister had showcased, you needed more time before you were able to head back to your suburb. Her niece had explained the situation already a few days prior to your train arriving, but to see the damaging effects it had on you, her aunt calmed you down with some sage advice:

“Your faith is shaken, but you still believe. Give ‘em hell kiddo. I got you,” she says pulling you into a side hug. “Now, shall we make some tea? I think you deserve a break.”

Your friend came back from running an errand to the store because she wanted to buy a few more strips of tape as well as another set of trail mix with the granola clusters you like. See, you were invited at the request of the benevolent prince to his home to indulge in a movie night. “Makki said we’re going to start off the movie night at Oiks’ place with whatever you want to watch. It was Mattsun’s idea too apparently,” your friend says, handing you a hair elastic. 

“Can you ask them if Oikawa is ok with playing ‘His Girl Friday’?”

“Sure thing.”

You two had dressed in similar fashions lately due to the steady drop in temperature.A lot of muted royal colors were your in your wheelhouse of clothes you had brought with you, so tonight it was forest green tweed pants layered with a peasant belted sweater dress. Your host had snapped a photo of you getting ready and she nearly choked back a laugh when you scold her for sending it to her boyfriend. 

“You look stellar,” she says when she brushes her hair back into a loose ponytail. 

“Do I though? When was the last time you saw the scars the fiberglass left on my shoulder, chise?”

“Seventh grade,” she answers. “Scars or not, you’re still my best friend. Even if you just made a portmanteau of the harem’s nickname for me.”

You bop your head and laugh. “I suppose you’re right… we should get going, yeah?”

Oikawa house, 19:32

You walk side by side with your friend after she mentions it was her turn to bring the snacks. You divide the work explaining that you know what they need more than you do. Although all dreams must end, your life was not some hallmark film. Sometimes the hardest thing and the right ones are the same, your subconscious reminds you to be more freeing of your worries.

“Let go have some fun,” you mumble. You reach the counter with your friend ahead of you. She had the usual assortment of candy to mix into the popcorn, she noticed you have new pens and a crossword puzzle. 

“Crossword puzzles in ink was always something I wanted to try,” your voice is confident. “Besides, didn’t you say the boys were providing the food?”

When the final tally was tabulated, you leave the store together and head north at the next intersection, you two walk reminiscing your play days together.

“Oh! Your mother was so angry,” you friend says laughing about the time you stole one of her baking sheets to go sledding. “Wasn’t she going to use that pan for the crescents at the holiday party?”

“Yeah, she was. Haha,” your laugh is a foreign sound. However it is a sound you don’t often make anymore. 

“You miss her too,” you friend says as she stops in front of a modern home. 

“What child doesn’t?” You ask looking up at the sky. 

The constellations twinkle a tarnished image of a family who prided themselves in raising functional perfected youths and while your sister doted on your parents every whim, you rebelled. The rebellion sparked many fears for your family; a tomboy with a high marks should not get into scuffles on the school yard. Such a fiery spirit could only be doused for so long. You were allowed to keep your hobby of drawing because it’s what calms you the doctors mentioned. Ever since the first cold snap when you lost your mother (you were a child in the seat behind her solving a crossword in pencil) in a hit and run, the last embers of creativity sparked a carnal desire to be free. Yet here you were seven years later with a sister so emotionally damaged who in her toxic mindset didn’t understand that for you, art and designing (like the paint job you oversaw before your childhood neighbor moved across town) for automotive purposes was your way to find balance. The girl who moved across town to be close to family had a stronger support system, but after hearing what her aunt had to say it suddenly makes sense, so when she calls you out from your trance, you remember you are always evolving: keep moving. One step at a time. 

“Oikawa’s place is this one? Wow he really is a prince with a castle,” you joke in the front walkway. 

“I know right? I know he’s one of the top setters in the prefecture, but with all those interviews he does, it helps, haha. Mind holding this real quick?”

The small convenience store bag is passed to you to hold for a moment while your friend knocks thrice times. 

On the inside the boys were talking amongst themselves. It had been three days since you arrived for your holiday, and each morning after your first night, you woke up at six to run with half of the team (Makki, Mattsun, you, and your host). 

“Q is really good at keeping up with us,” Mattsun says. There is a moment where he notices his friends stop talking. They figure it out and tease the tallest middle blocker like he was discovering a crush for the very first time. 

“Oh~ is our little Mattsukawa finally growing up?” Oikawa cooed. Luckily Iwazumi’s shuts him up saying to get the door. 

Makki sends Mattsun a text and judging by his best friend’s face, Makki confirms his disposition. Iwazumi mentions he’d be heading to the couch in the living room to create more space for the girls and Oikawa. 

“Chisana mentioned you wanted to watch ‘His Girl Friday,’ so it’s already queued up.”

“Yeah, it’s really well written. Thank you,” you carry on the conversation as naturally as Oikawa points out the half bathroom in case you need it out of anything you can have your friend show you where things are since this wasn’t the first time everyone’s been over since the school year has started. 

“No problem. Ah! Here we are,” Oikawa’s arm extends outward to showcase the kitchen area where the rest of group was. Makki greeted your friend first and you wave politely. You say a quick hello to Iwazumi and you know if you could hear a stare, you would when you greet Mattsun last. 

“Greeted him last, huh?” you friend muses. 

“You greeted your strawberry first,” you argue back. 

“I don’t mind,” Mattsun says, his voice is hauntingly rich like the darkened wood finish on the tables outside. He leans in a little toward you before he stands he whispers in your ear, “you look pretty.” Your mood changed slightly as you hear his compliment. Then you remember the company you are in front of.

“We’ll go on ahead,” Makki suggests as he grabs the bowl of popcorn he separated for your friend to dump all the candies in. You nod when your friend silently slides you both kit-kat minis for luck.

“I heard you,” you say softly before you tap the back of the middle blocker’s hand. “C’mon, let’s not keep our friends waiting.”

Mattsun doesn’t give you the opportunity to remove you hand because he turns his palm up and you run your fingers barely ghosting over his future line from palm reading; you both hold a conversation behind curious eyes. 

“Leave them alone, they’ll be alright,” your friend says in a lower tone. 

Makki backs up the sentiment his girlfriend states with a stern glare at both Oikawa and Iwazumi, as one of them clicks the console control and the opening credits start to play. 

And just once, you remember what your scars mean: it’s kind of fun to do the impossible. You eat the KitKat your friend left behind as you walk away from the kitchen and sit next to Iwazumi. Mattsun observes this and decides to take matters into his own hands literally. He walks toward Oikawa’s den area, he chooses to sit on the floor in front of you like a guard dog throughout the rest of the film. The film wraps up while the next film was being chosen. When the conversation goes on much longer than expected, you can excuse yourself for a moment back to the kitchen to pick up your crossword puzzle; you cross back to the other side of the den’s layout to sit down where you were earlier. Your pen is in your hand (youyou had tucked into the bag) as you begin to solve the first puzzle. 

“I’m just saying horror movies are great,” Oikawa said. “Sci fi too.”

“Then it shouldn’t be that hard to choose,” you quip without looking up from your booklet. Your pen moves diligently as you flip over to the next page. To be quite honest, you aren’t really paying that much attention to notice Iwazumi and Mattsun switched places. 

“Twilight Zome collection it is!” Oikawa exclaimed. He pressed play. 

The evening draws to a close once you see that almost everyone had taken short catnaps around each other. You questioned whether or not the boys slept, but at least one or two of your company stayed awake.You close the crossword puzzles when Mattsun turns his head to look at you; you quirk an eyebrow at him You two were the only ones awake during this round of animated featurettes, so when Mattsun reaches for one of your hands he forces you forward a little too much, but you stop yourself from toppling over. You whisper something to him, causing him to make room for you on the floor; when you are sitting next to him, you lean into the side of his arm comfortably. 

“My my, someone is affectionate today,” you tease. 

“You don’t make it any easier,” he whispers in low tones to you. 

“I suppose that is true. Is this ok? I mean, your face is more impressionable now than before,” you call him out on the subtle changes of his features. 

“Is it? I haven’t noticed. My running partner is improving,” he tells this to you when you hold his hand in yours again. Neither of you want to let go.

“I think this is the beginning of something new,” you say calmly. “I’m still healing,you know.”

Instead of an answer, he shows you his understanding through squeezing your hand in a gentle manner: ‘you don’t need to run; you’re fine as you are.’ 

A couple minutes go by before you nod off. Mattsukawa was about to ask you a question, but chuckles lightly to himself that his question would be saved for another time. To him you are much more than a casual acquaintance of his best friend’s girlfriend. You’re shaping up to be someone he likes to know more of; you gravitate towards each other and now perhaps he realizes the appeal of having someone be a constant in life. There are many people who take the time to learn everything about the person they are crushing on, yet you and him are laid back enough to balance out your friends’ personality. You on the other hand are learning to forgive yourself one day at a time, but it’s the first time someone else is willing to wait for you. How long, you don’t know, and yet here was this casual acquaintance from your  best friends new neighborhood willing to wait for you to feel better about yourself. Mattsukawa tells you how he wants to hang out with you tomorrow; just the two of you. You were lucid enough to agree. 

Next >>

#mattsukawa issei x reader mini series #this is part 1 and 2 #⌚️queued #tw: toxic sibling behavior #tw: strong language and violence #tw:mental health and learning to deal with trauma #angst to fluff mattsun x reader #🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #🌻sora scribbles #🌻.txt

[just-dreaming-marvel]

ONE HUNDRED SEVENTEEN - CHATS AT DAWN

LEGACY: A Tony Stark Daughter Story

MASTERLIST

< previous

Word Count: 1,890ish

Summary: Steve calls Bailey to ask something of her. Tony and Bailey chat about what ifs.

Over the next two years, Nat and Steve still kept in secret contact with me. I would met up with them, separately, each time I came into the city. I even started to use the Stark Industry resources to help Nat the best I could without Tony finding out. Pepper found out about me helping Nat and has always known about Steve. But she understands that I’ll open up when I’m ready, and when I feel Tony is ready. It did hurt me a bit that the two didn’t fight very hard to see Tony or contact him themselves. It hurt that they didn’t want to keep in touch with their friend. 

With the help of the nano bots, the past two years have been vision and nightmare free. It’s been nice. Morgan’s growing up so fast. She’s so smart and definitely a daddy’s girl, something we have in common. We still do pranks together at night. Sometimes we even sneak outside so that we can look at the stars. Whenever possible, Morgan and I are stuck at the hip. I love to feel everyone’s emotions when we’re together. Especially those nights when Tony, Morgan, and I play around in the forts we build. Everyone is so happy, at peace. It’s a happiness that I’ve only felt a few times, and I’m really glad that we finally get to experience it more. Especially Tony. He deserves it more than anyone. 

Early one morning, I had been up all night working on some Stark Industries paperwork in Tony’s office. I needed to finish it or I’d have to go into the city for a week and I really didn’t want to. I was stopped from my rush to finish by a phone call. It was Steve. I did think that he was a little crazy for calling at the crack of dawn, but it was whatever and I was excited to hear his voice. I could feel his nervousness as soon as I answered the phone call.

“I can feel your nervousness from over the phone, Steve,” I got straight to the point. “What do you want?”

“Damn it,” he muttered. “I really was trying to hide it. I really don’t want to have to ask you to—“

“Steve. Get on with it.”

“Do you remember Scott Lang?”

“Yes, Ant-Man. He’s on the list of those who disappeared. What about him?”

“Well, he didn’t exactly disappear.”

I sat up straighter. “What are you talking about Steve?” 

“He showed up at the compound earlier this morning. Apparently, he was trapped in the quantum realm.”

“The quantum realm?”

“Yeah. Have you heard of it?”

“It’s basically a microscopic universe. You have to be extremely small to get there. How did he get stuck?”

“He went in right before the snap. He had people who were suppose to get him out, but—“

“They turned into ash before they could.” I put my head in my hand and began to rub my forehead. “Let me guess… he somehow left the quantum realm to find out that it’s been five years but to him it was a few hours?”

“Correct.”

“Why exactly did you call at the break of dawn to tell me this? Yay! You found someone who didn’t turn to ash when we thought they did. That doesn’t help those who did.”

“We have an idea.”

“I don’t know if I want to hear it.”

“We think that we can use the quantum realm to go back in time and take the stones. Then reverse what’s been done.”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. I knew exactly where this was headed. I didn’t need to read anyone’s mind to figure it out. “And you need my Dad and I to help build this… ‘time machine’.”  I sighed. “I was really hoping that you were calling just to check up on me…”

“I’m sorry, darling, I really am. But you two are the only ones who could pull something like this off.”

“We left that life behind, Steve. I’m already doing the best I can without him finding out. And, honestly, I really don’t want to do anymore than what I’m already doing. The hero thing is in our past.”

“Bailey. We could bring them back. Peter, Bucky, Sam, Wanda. Everyone.”

“But at what cost, Steve? We don’t know what the repercussions could be!” I began to get louder. I quickly went outside to the dock before I could wake anyone up. “No one has ever done this before.”

“You two are the only ones with the brains and technology to test it and figure out if it’s possible.”

I let out a heavy sigh. “I really wish that you were calling me and asking for something else. Anything else, Steve.” I looked back at the house.

“I know, B. But this could be a second chance.”

“You want me to try to convince Tony, don’t you?”

Steve hesitated for a few seconds, basically giving me the answer. “I’m getting ready to come up to the house right now with Natasha and Scott. I know that he’ll probably not say yes at first, but I need you there for after we leave.”

“If you’re coming up, he still can’t know about us. Especially after what you’re going to ask of him.”

“I know.”

“He’s not going to be happy… He promised Pep, me… Morgan. He promised he was done and he’s actually following through… He also won’t be happy that the only reason you’re coming is to ask this of him.”

“I’m sorry B. I really am. But we could get our frien— our family back. The universe back… What’s the point of being the Avengers if we don’t try?”

“We did try, Steve. All of us and we lost… What if… Steve… What if we go back in time and it changes what’s happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like…” I took a deep breath. “Like I was never rescued from HYDRA, any one of those times. Or that Morgan was never born.” A few tears began running down my face. “What if my family never became a family?”

“I won’t let that happen. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Cap.”

“I’m still going to promise you this.”

“I can’t lose them.”

“I won’t let that happen. You’re not going to lose anyone. Even me. I promise.”

I quickly took another deep breath and wiped the tears from my face. “Text me when you’re close.” And I hung up.

I threw my phone down on the dock and buried my head in my hands. Unfortunately, I was just put in the middle of something that I really didn’t want to be in. Something that could possibly screw up my relationship with Tony and our family life. I sighed as I sat down on the edge of the dock, putting my feet in the water. The sun had risen, and it was beautiful. One of my favorite parts of living lakeside, the sun rises. I just wish I got to appreciate them more. I heard the house door open and close, then not long after footsteps coming up the dock. I moved over a little to allow Tony to sit next to me. He sat down and we both stared across the lake for a few minutes before either one of us talking. 

“What are you doing up so early?” Tony asked, finally breaking the silence.

“I was working on paperwork,” I answered. “Then I decided I need some fresh air and I wanted to watch the sun rise.”

Tony nodded in response before speaking up again. “Were you up all night?”

“Yeah,” I yawned. “I really needed to get some stuff done so that I can have a week off from going to the city.”

“Makes sense.”

“What are you doing up?”

“I woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep.” He shrugged. “I looked out the window and saw you out here. So I thought I’d join.”

I simply nodded in response. We sat in silent for a few minutes before it was my turn to break it. “Do you— Uhhh… Never mind.” I quickly shook my head.

“No, tell me what’s on your mind, kiddo. You know that I’m always here for you.”

I nodded at looked at the water before hesitantly asking my question. “Do you ever wish that you could go back and change… something?” Tony looked at me with a confused yet concerned look. “Like, if you could, would you go back and change the way you left it with your parents? Or creating Ultron?”

“What’s got you thinking about this?”

“It’s nothing. Never mind. Just forget I said anything. I should—“ I went to stand up but Tony quickly grabbed my arm and kept me seated on the dock.

“At one point, yes. Yes I would have— I did, want to go back and change how I left it with my parents. And Ultron? I don’t think I could have changed anything besides just not creating him. But I don’t think like that anymore. I can’t afford to.”

“Yeah.” I nodded along. “I guess you’re right.”

“There’s only two things that I would go back and change.” I looked over and curiously lifted an eyebrow. “One being, if I could go back and change something, trying harder to stop Thanos… The second, it would probably be finding you sooner. Or at least adopting you sooner.”

“What?” I quietly said.

“I know that you see the way Pepper and I, especially me, act around Morgan. I know you wonder about how life would have been if your parents had never given you up or if I had always been there, and I know that you get a little jealous. And that’s okay, she has the childhood you were never allowed to have… So if I could go back, the only thing that I would change was saving you and bringing you into my life sooner.” Tony looked over at me and I could see a few tears gathering in his eyes. It was causing me to tear up as well. 

“Because I wonder too,” Tony continued, “about how raising you all the way would have been. And I get mad sometimes, that I wasn’t given that opportunity and that your birth parents wasted their opportunity. But then I look at you, and the amazing woman you have become, and I realize that I had a part in that. It makes me so proud to be your father. No matter how much time we missed together. It really doesn’t matter because it got us here.” Tony reached over and took my hand in his. He never really gets like this. But this was much needed, much wanted. “So, actually, now that I’ve really thought about it and said it out loud, no. No, I wouldn’t change a thing. Our past has made us stronger, brought us closer together. I would never change how we got here.” He let go of my hand, wrapped his arm around me, and then pulled me into his side. “I love you so much, B.” He kissed the side of my head. I wrapped both of my arms around him. “I am so proud of you.” 

“I love you too, Dad.”

next >

#avengers #avengers fanfiction #avengers age of ultron #age of ultron #avengers infinity war #infinity war #avengers endgame #endgame #captain marvel #Captain America civil war #civil war #Spiderman homecoming #captain america #iron man #Tony stark #Steve rogers #Tony stark fanfiction #Steve Rogers fanfiction #Tony stark x oc #Steve Rogers x oc #iron man x oc #Captain America x oc #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #fanfiction #avengers x reader #the avengers x reader #pepper potts

[jesatria]

Fic: Simple Pleasures, Chap 8

Title: Simple Pleasures Fandom: Kushiel’s Legacy Characters: Isidore d’Aiglemort, Anne Livet Pairings: Isidore/Anne Word Count: 4,888 Rating: NC-17 Summary: The story of Isidore d’Aiglemort & the gardener’s daughter of Lombelon. WIP. Disclaimer: I do not own Kushiel’s Legacy. This is only for fun & no profit is being made from it.

Previous Chapters:

1. The Visit

2. Desire

3. The Harvest Festival

4. Triumph

5. Gifts

6. The Eagle Unbound

7. Lighting the Candle

Chapter 8: The Longest NIght

           Winter came early and hard. The snows fell earlier in the City than they were usually wont to do and fever soon broke out. It made me glad that I was not planning to pass the Longest Night there. Poets soon took to calling it the Bitterest Winter. Mayhap others felt the bitterness; I did not. Quite the opposite. Things were proceeding according to my plan. Yes, the King had rejected my bid for Ysandre’s hand and Ysandre herself refused to speak against her grandfather’s decision. It was a setback, but not a serious one. I had other plans.

           I was in high spirits when I arrived at Lombelon a few days before the Longest Night. In truth I’d been flying high since Baudoin’s death, as if a weight had been lifted from me. That combined with Anne’s agreement to become my consort, sufficed to keep me in a fine mood since the summer. Then there was her unexpected revelation that she’d lit the candle to Eisheth. I soon realized, however, that I liked the idea of having a child with her. I was past thirty now—it was high time I got myself an heir. Whether I ever married or not, children born of an officially-recognized consort were counted as legitimate.

           A fresh dusting of snow covered the ground when I arrived at Lombelon. Anne stood in her usual place of greeting outside the door, the fur-lined cloak I’d given her wrapped tightly around her. As I rode closer, I could see she was positively glowing with excitement. I all but leapt off my horse and rushed over to her. “I’ve some wonderful news,” she said after we exchanged the usual greetings, “I’m with child.”

           My eyes went wide. “You’re certain?”

           “Quite certain.”

           I swept her into my arms and kissed her fervently. “That is wonderful news indeed!” Somehow the possibility of fatherhood had failed to register with me yet; this brought the reality home. I was going to be a father. Anne and I were going to have a child. It was happening, truly happening. The prospect was intimidating, yes, but only a little. The entirely foreign territory of parenthood was not such a wild land when I had Anne to travel it beside me.

           “Would you carry me over the threshold as if I were your wife?” Anne’s teasing voice jolted me out of my thoughts. I did as she suggested and set her down just inside the doorway. It was only a casual remark, but it got me thinking, imagining myself as King with Anne and our child beside me. The thought of tossing all political considerations aside to follow Blessed Elua’s precepts was a very appealing one. I resolved to think on it again later, once I had the prize I sought. For now, I would continue with my plan to name Anne my official consort. ‘Twas a pity it would have to wait until I had the throne. I simply did not have the time to see to it before then, not when I had so many other preparations to make.

           It was immediately apparent that the Longest Night was nigh upon us. The great hall was decorated with wreaths and evergreen boughs, embellished here and there with red, white, and silver ribbons. Such decorations were common for the Longest Night, but I could see how they would have a particular significance in L’Agnace as a reminder that there was life yet in the earth and green things would return. “I see you’ve noticed the decorations,” Anne remarked, drawing my attention back to her.

           “Yes. They’re quite festive. Your doing?”

           “Oh no, we always decorate the great hall like this for the Longest Night,” she explained. “I like the greenery. I’d keep it there all winter if I could.”

           “How very L’Agnacite of you.”

           “Seeing evergreens always cheers me in winter,” she replied. Anne hated winter, a sentiment which seemed rather common in L’Agnace. I recalled hearing Ghislain de Somerville complain about it while attending winter functions at the Palace. I found it hard to relate, as winter has always been my favorite season. Still, I did the best I could to comfort Anne when the cold weather began to wear on her. I’d have my work cut out for me convincing her to ever spend the winter with me in Camlach. She wouldn’t like the cold, but she was L’Agnacite and would see the beauty of the land.

           “I’ll need to take you to the Midwinter Masque at the Palace sometime,” I said. “It’s somewhat to see at least once.”

           She smiled. “I think I’d enjoy that.”

           “The decorations are always quite stunning, the food excellent, the costumes beautiful. The only spectacle I can think of to match it would be the Midwinter Masque at the Night Court.”

           Anne’s eyebrows rose. “The Night Court has its own masque?”

           I nodded. “Cereus House hosts it every year, and all thirteen houses attend. It’s harder to get an invitation there than to the Palace masque.”

           “Have you ever been?”

           “Twice, both with Prince Baudoin.” The first time had been the year he played the Sun Prince. None of us had known about that beforehand, only that Baudoin had a surprise he couldn’t wait to share. In retrospect I’m surprised he did not just tell us, considering how he boasted of his mother’s plans so carelessly. Parts of that night are somewhat of a blur in my memory, as I’d been more than a little drunk, though not as drunk as Baudoin. I’d been stuck holding him as he staggered into Cereus House, so drunk he could barely walk. That was somewhat I didn’t miss in the least, carting Baudoin around when he was blind, stinking drunk.

           “When was that?” Anne asked.

           “The first was around ten years ago. I was just shy of turning twenty.” It seemed longer ago than that. “Baudoin and I were still good friends then.” The thought didn’t sting as much as it might have months ago.

           She was silent for a moment and I thought she might ask me about Baudoin, but she didn’t. “Which of the two masques do you prefer?”

           That was somewhat I never considered before; I had to think on it. “Well, it’s difficult to match the sheer decadence and debauchery of the Night Court. You can certainly get it at the Palace too, but no one does debauchery quite like the Night Court does. Their masque has a tendency to turn into an orgy before the night is over.”

           Anne giggled. “Decadent indeed. I imagine the Palace masque is more restrained.”

           “Yes, to a certain extent. I’ve never seen it become an orgy, but that isn’t to say there aren’t plenty of couples carrying on in semi-private niches.”

           She laid a hand on my arm. “Those are fêtes worth attending, it seems.”

           “Next year you’ll attend the Palace masque with me.” Next year I’d be King of Terre d’Ange if all went according to plan.

           “I would like that very much.”

           The days leading up to the Longest Night passed quickly, as all days spent with Anne had an unfortunate tendency to do. It snowed a handful of times, ensuring the grounds were covered in a blanket of white for the Longest Night. I’ve always felt the day lacks a certain something when there is no snow on the ground. Once the pathways were cleared, Anne and I spent some time walking outside. The air was brisk with winter’s chill, but not so cold as to be frigid. I was pleased to see Anne wearing the fur-lined cloak I’d given her, along with a new pair of sturdy boots and warm gloves.

           “It really is beautiful, the snow,” she commented as we walked through the gardens. The snow had rendered them a foreign landscape, with the only points of familiarity being the evergreen trees and shrubs. “For all that I complain about it, it is beautiful.”

           “It is. I’ve always thought there was somewhat peaceful about it when everything is covered in white after a storm, like a blanket for the sleeping land,” I said, feeling unusually poetic. I suppose my contentment in the moment brought it on.

           “My father used to say somewhat similar. When I’d feel sad because all the plants died as the seasons changed, he’d tell me that many of them were only sleeping in the earth and would return again in the spring,” said Anne. I was glad to see her speaking of her father with no trace of sadness in her voice. It was nearly a year since his death and she’d seen fit to confide in me whenever the grief was especially strong. I wished I’d known Gerard Livet better so I could share her grief. My own father had died not so very long ago, and it had been a sudden thing. He’d neglected to call for a chirurgeon after being wounded in a border skirmish and the wound took septic. Maslin d’Aiglemort was nothing if not stubborn to a fault. I’d been with him when it happened and was not expecting to find myself as Duc d’Aiglemort before I was thirty.

           I took her gloved hand in mine and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Do you think your father would approve of what has passed between us?”

           She grinned. “If you mean would he approve of me getting with child by you, he would. He knew how happy you make me and so he approved of us.”

           “I do wish he was here to see the birth of his grandchild. He and your mother both,” I said gently.

           “So do I. What of your family? What will they think of us and our child?”

           “Well their opinions hardly matter, not when I am the head of the House. I doubt any of my cousins will say a word against you.” A small smile came to my lips. “My father, were he here, would doubtless be pleased I fathered a child.”

           “Indeed.”

           “Are you concerned my family will not be welcoming to you?” I inquired.

           “The thought crossed my mind once or twice.”

           “You shouldn’t trouble yourself over it. I don’t expect you’ll need to see them often.”

           Her hand relaxed a little in mine. “I know I’ve been worrying about all of this too much, it’s only that… I fear I won’t fit into your world,” she admitted. At my confused expression, she added, “The parts of your life without me in them.”

           I was silent for a moment, taken aback by her words. I’d never thought of it that way, at least not consciously, but it was true enough. There were things Anne did not know and could not know. If things went wrong and my plans were exposed, suspicion might fall on her. That could not happen. By keeping her ignorant of my plans, I protected her. She would not end up like Marc and Bernadette de Trevalion, exiled for their knowledge of Lyonette’s plot. Still, it hurt to keep these secrets from Anne. “That distinction won’t matter once you’re my consort, Anne. You will learn to feel at home in my ‘world’ as you put it over time.”

           “I do hope you’re right.” She squeezed my hand. “To think next year we might attend the Palace’s Midwinter Masque together.”

           Next year she’d be consort to the King of Terre d’Ange if my plan succeeded. “Indeed we will.”

 **

           The Longest Night dawned clear and cold, just the sort of weather I liked. Since Anne and I would be counted as a household once she was my consort, we thought to dress according to a theme for the masque. I would be attired as winter while Anne would be summer. It was her idea and I had to own it was a good one. She had some specific ideas for the costumes, which I relayed to my tailor and seamstress. That surprised me a bit, for I’d never seen Anne to express much in the way of opinions on clothing. I hardly ever gave much thought to it myself, so I was glad to have someone else take charge of it.

           We were both quite satisfied with the end results. For my part, I wore a deep forest green doublet and breeches, the shade of pine trees in the depths of winter, accented with silver. My first inclination was to wear all white, but Anne quipped that I was like to blend in with the snow given my coloring. The forest green brocade with silver embroidery was meant to evoke a pine tree with snow in its branches. To complete the costume, I wore a crown fashioned of pine boughs accented here and there with red berries.

           Anne loved her costume. “I’ve never worn anything so fine,” she said, running her hands over the silk of her gown. It was the color of honey, with a pattern of fruit and flowers on the bodice and along the hem. Her crown was of flowers and green leaves fashioned from silk. Doubtless she could name all of them; I couldn’t.

           I secured a cloak of white velvet around my shoulders with a silver pin. Anne left off admiring her gown to look me over. “You look like a winter spirit come from the heart of the forest. The dark green really does suit your coloring.”

           “I didn’t know you paid attention to such things,” I replied, raising an eyebrow.

           “Neither did I. I never had much cause to pay attention to such things until now.”

           Our costumes were complete with domino masks, mine silver and hers gold. Once they were in place, I held out an arm. Anne took it and together we made our way down to the great hall. Most of the household was already there and they stopped what they were doing to watch us walk down the stairs together, Anne’s hand on my arm. Gasps and whispers could be heard here and there—I daresay we made an impressive pair. “Do they know you’re with child?” I inquired.

           “Yes, I imagine so. Word spreads quickly at a small estate such as this.” It was a bit uncomfortable that the household knew, if not exactly surprising. No doubt it was a thrilling bit of gossip.

           The decorations I’d noted when I arrived were only the beginning. More had been added since then and the great hall looked entirely unlike I’d ever seen it before. I’d attended several celebrations at Lombelon over the last few years, but none of them had taken place in the great hall. L’Agnacites loved the land and with it came a fondness for outdoor celebrations. But not even they would pass the Longest Night outside. A pair of long tables had been set up on opposite sides of the hall, with ample space in between them for dancing. A fire roared in the large fireplace, keeping the room pleasantly warm. As Anne and I approached the table nearer the fireplace, folk in the crowd paused to bow or curtsy. I knew nearly all of them by name now. There was Thèrese, the head of the kitchen who’d made Camaeline dishes for me. There was Marcel, Anne’s friend and lover before—and also a bit after—she met me. If he had any lingering resentment toward me, he didn’t show it. My men were there as well, casually mingling with the residents of Lombelon. Those among them who regularly accompanied me on my visits had gotten to know the folk of Lombelon and felt at ease attending a fête such as this.

           Anne and I took our seats at the center of the table nearest the fireplace. There was nothing like a formal seating arrangement—the higher-ranked members of the household sat closest to us while the rest took what seats were available. The table was laden with a fine selection of dishes. Anne took the time to point out a few of note. “I made sure some of your Camaeline dishes were included,” she informed me.

           “Let us see if the other cooks did as good a job preparing them as you did,” I replied as I helped myself to slices of quiche and tarte flambée.

           What followed was a Midwinter Masque quite unlike any I’d ever attended. To compare it to the masques at the Palace or Cereus House was as pointless as comparing a rabbit to a swan. They were entirely different experiences, for all that they are both Midwinter Masques. Suffice it to say that the food was quite delicious and I enjoyed the company greatly. Joie flowed freely, along with L’Agnacite wine and the pear brandy no visit to Lombelon would be complete without. I drank a bit more than was my usual want. Anne on the other hand contented herself with a single glass of joie owing to her condition.

           When the meal was over, instruments were fetched and several folk left their seats to begin playing. Others moved to the open space between the tables and began to dance. Anne and I watched in comfortable silence for a few minutes. These were not the formal court dances I knew. No, they were the same sort of country dances I’d seen at other celebrations I’d attended at Lombelon. In all likelihood they were traditional L’Agnacite country dances. Each province had its own traditional dances entirely separate from the formal dances found at court. I was well-versed in the Camaeline ones and had more than a passing acquaintance with the Kusheline ones as well. Eventually the lively music gave way to a slower tune. I looked at Anne. “Would you care for a dance?”

           “Dance? With you?”

           “Of course.”

           She blushed a little. “I don’t know anything of formal court dances.”

           “Then we’ll start with somewhat simple.” I stood and offered her an arm. “I’ll lead and all you need do is follow.”

           She laid a hesitant hand on my arm. “As you wish.”

           Together we walked out to the center of the room. Several of the other dancers halted what they were doing to stare at us. Those nearest us moved out of the way to give us space. I took Anne’s hand in mine and laid a hand on her waist. “Put your other hand on my arm,” I instructed, “and try your best to follow me and not step on my feet.”

           She smiled. “I think I can manage that.” The musicians took up their instruments and our dance began. I kept it simple, leading Anne across the floor. She was able to keep pace with me without any difficulties. It made me think of how well-matched we were in bed, how attuned we were to each other. As we danced, the crowd around us seemed to disappear until Anne might’ve been the only one there. Her mask completely failed to hide the love that was plain on her face. I could lose myself in the depths of those hazel eyes.

           “You’re a good dancer,” she murmured. “I wouldn’t have guessed it.”

           I raised an eyebrow. “Not even with all those times you’ve watched my sword practice?”

           “Well, that isn’t dancing exactly.”

           “It’s not so very different from it. The footwork is important.” It wasn’t the first time someone had complemented my dancing. The Shahrizai were surprised to find me a passing good dancer when I arrived to foster among them. More recently Ysandre de la Courcel had praised my dancing skills while dancing with me at a fête. Anne and I danced to several more songs until the hour grew late. “That’s certainly a good start,” I remarked once we’d returned to our seats. “It shouldn’t take you long to learn courtly dances.”

           “I suspect not with such a good teacher.”

           We were interrupted by the doors of the great hall opening wide to admit the Winter Queen. She looked much the same as other Winter Queens I’d seen, dressed as she was in a ragged cloak and hobbling along with her staff. “Our Winter Queen wears the same costume every year,” Anne remarked. “Same thing with the Sun Prince. All we do is make alterations as needed.”

           The lights were extinguished. The doors opened once again to admit the Sun Prince. He tapped the Winter Queen on the shoulder with his spear. She cast off her cloak and the lights were restored. The new year had begun. “Were you ever the Winter Queen?”

           “Yes. More than once. What about you? Were you the Sun Prince?”

           “Of course. Once the year before I went to the Shahrizai and once the year after.”

           Anne lifted a hand to stroke my hair gently. “You must��ve made a fine Sun Prince with your beautiful hair.”

           Elua, I loved it when she called my hair beautiful. It was my one vanity. I avoided tying it back specifically so I could show it to its best advantage. “Yes, I suppose I did.”

           After the appearance of the Sun Prince, the celebration began to wind down. Many people left the hall to retire for the night. We had no obligation to stay for the rest of the masque and thus made our exit. With the whole staff enjoying the masque, a fire hadn’t already been laid in my bedchamber. I saw to it quickly, then removed my mask and crown. After wearing them for hours, it was a relief to take them off. Anne did the same with hers and a moment later we sat together on the bed. A bottle of joie and two glasses stood on the bedside table. I hadn’t requested it. “Your doing?”

           Anne nodded. “I thought we might enjoy some in private.” She uncorked the bottle and filled both glasses. “Joy to you on the Longest Night, Isidore.”

           I raised the glass. “All the same to you, Anne. Joy.” I drained the glass in one go. Never let it be said I didn’t learn anything during my association with Prince Baudoin. I took a brief moment to savior the icy bite of the joie. I would easily name it my favorite liqueur if asked. There’s somewhat in it that always reminds me of Camlach, as if it retained some memory of the high places where the snowdrops grew. I set the glass on the table and looked at Anne. She sipped the last of the joie and placed her empty glass beside mine. I kissed her then, tasting the joie on her lips. She returned the kiss with equal ardor and we drank deeply from each other. Our costumes were soon a pile on the floor.

           We savored each other that night. I must’ve kissed and stroked every part of her and she did the same to me. Somewhat about the simple fact that she was carrying my child made me even more aroused that I usually was. She was not showing yet—it was too early for that—but I couldn’t help stroking her stomach more than was my usual wont. Anne told me she’d already spoken with the local priestess of Eisheth, who guessed our child would be born in early summer. With luck the impending Skaldi invasion would be over by then and I could return to Lombelon to attend the birth.

           I pulled her closer to me until I could feel the entirety of her pressed tight against me. She had exactly the sort of richly-curved figure prized in Camlach for the promise of warmth on the coldest winter nights. I laid a hand on her arse and buried another in her hair as if I could keep her from harm if I held her close enough. My mind was too active from the excitement of the day for me to fall asleep easily. Even after Anne fell asleep I lay awake, my thoughts turning to our child. I tried to imagine what the mingling of my blood with Anne’s would produce. Would our child be more Camaeline or L’Agnacite? Camaeline, I was fairly certain. I was of one of the purest Camaeline bloodlines, after all. But mayhap there’d be a love for gardens in there. A son with my hair and somewhat of Anne in his face. Or mayhap a daughter, but in truth I was more excited by the idea of a son. It made no practical difference—a daughter could inherit as well as a son. We are a civilized people, after all. A son, though—a son I could teach to wield a sword, draw a bow, lead the Allies of Camlach in battle, as my father had taught me the entirety of Camael’s Arts.

           With that pleasant thought, I finally drifted off to sleep.

 **

           With the Longest Night now passed, my natality was soon upon us. I did not generally want a big fuss made of it, a preference formed after years of the Shahrizai and Baudoin insisting on throwing fêtes for the occasion. This year I was determined to spend the day with Anne. The only thing that disrupted our time together was a message from Melisande, and I quickly dispatched several of my men-at-arms to carry out her request. I had to wonder if she knew about Anne and me. All the local folk did. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if Melisande did as well.

           When the day of my natality came, thoughts of Melisande’s request vanished entirely from my mind at the prospect of spending the day with Anne. She insisted on marking the occasion, and I was happy to go along with it. She spent a portion of her time in the kitchen, preparing a special dinner. It consisted of Camaeline dishes, some which I specifically requested. To be able to enjoy some comforts of home while also spending time with Anne was the best birthday gift I could’ve hoped for.

           Anne had other gifts for me. “You really did not need to do this,” I said as I followed her into the bedchamber.

           “I know. But I wanted to anyway.” She gestured to one of the armchairs by the fireplace, where she’d laid out my gifts. A pair of shirts were draped over the arms of the chair, with a smaller square of cloth resting between them.

           “You made me shirts. But how…?”

           “I might’ve… borrowed one of your shirts while you were last here so I could get your measurements,” she admitted. “I know they’re not as fine as what you usually wear…”

           “They’re just perfect. Thank you, Anne.” The shirts were fairly plain, with little in the way of embellishment on the collars and cuffs. Not that I don’t wear shirts with lace trim on occasion, but it is not my preference. My eyes then shifted to the square of cloth lying on the seat of the chair. It was a handkerchief. A closer look revealed she’d embroidered it. That took me aback for a moment—I hadn’t known Anne had such skill in embroidery. She’d stitched a pair of silver eagles in opposite corners, with pear blossoms at their feet.

           “I copied them from the eagles on your standard,” said Anne.

           “It’s quite a good likeness.”

           “I wanted to give you a lover’s token you might take with you when you ride off to war again.”

           Her words fell heavily between us. I’d not spoken of the coming Skaldi invasion to her at all during this visit. Better not to speak of it at all than dwell on what I had to keep hidden from her. I steered the conversation away from the impending invasion. “A very thoughtful gift. I’ll be sure to keep it with me.”

           “I’m so pleased you like it.” Anne smiled. “I’ve been quite busy with sewing lately, for I mean to make a quilt for our child.”

           “Really? I’ve not seen you doing anything of that sort since I’ve been here.”

           “That’s because I’ve been too busy spending time with you.”

           I sat on the bed. “Well, you can rest assured our child will have all the blankets he could possibly want.”

           She raised an eyebrow. “He?”

           “Or she,” I added. “I’ve been thinking I’d like to have a son. The idea of teaching him to wield a sword really appeals to me.”

           “Could you not teach a daughter?”

           I considered her question a moment before answering. “I could, yes. Camaeline women are taught to defend themselves should they be attacked, but they don’t fight on the battlefield.” I met Anne’s eyes. “You know I wouldn’t love any daughter of ours any less.”

           “I’m glad to hear it,” she replied, amused, “and in case you were wondering I have no particular preference for a son or daughter.”

 **

           I spent most of the winter at Lombelon. Business did call me away from time-to-time, but for the most part I was able to spend much of my time with Anne. There was a sense of urgency in it as winter began to loosen its icy grip on the land. When the days grew warm enough that I judged the nearest pass to be open, I left for Camlach.

           It was a difficult parting, the most difficult we’d had thus far.

           Soon I would be at war.

 Notes

I’ve been writing Kushielfic for 10 years, & this is the 1st time I’ve actually managed to post a Longest Night scene on the Longest Night. Enjoy, & joy to you on this Longest Night!

#kushiel's legacy #simple pleasures #jesatriafic #isidore d'aiglemort #anne livet

[chenle-dressed-in-black]

baldrs, neos, and kangs~  pt.1

     NCT mafia au with my own oc named Kang Sooyoung, who is a young girl born into one of the coldest mafias of them all. She’s trying to live on her own and cut ties with her family, but with everyone either looking out for her or waiting to kill her, it’s a lot harder than it sounds. 

     relevant people in this story who will appear a lot (every nct member appears at some point): johnny suh, dong sicheng, nakamoto yuta, and kim doyoung

warnings: language

word count: 1.6k

m.list

series m.list

     Sooyoung picks up her phone each time it rings, which is admittedly a bad habit she should start working on. “Hello?” 

     Her cousin, Gwen, mouths a question at her. Who is it? She’s sprawled across her purple velvet, four-poster bed. Her bare feet hang off the side of the bed lazily. She looks like she doesn’t have a care in the world, so nothing new there.

     “Are you even home?” It’s Sicheng, but Sooyoung should’ve expected that. “You’re not, are you?”

     He sounds irritated, which puzzles her. Gwen makes a face at her across the room. Sooyoung’s confused silence is enough to propel Sicheng into an exasperated explanation. “We’re going to the new Chinese restaurant tonight. You promised we could.” 

     “Oh.” She feels like shit. Gwen shakes her head and theatrically puts her hands on her forehead in feigned disapproval, but not surprise. Her thick, wavy hair doesn’t move with the gesture. “I completely—”

     “You forgot.” Sicheng steals the words right out of her mouth flatly. “You’re with your cousin, who’s having an emotional breakdown, so it completely slipped your mind. You’re really sorry, but we can do it another night next week.” 

     Sooyoung frowns, but she’s hopeful. “We can?”

     “No,” he deadpans. “I’m going home next week like I do every year the first week of spring.” 

     Gwen gracefully stands up, walking over to her cousin, who’s standing in the middle of the room on a plush fake-animal rug. Holding out her hand for the phone, she waits until a reluctant Sooyoung gives it over. Gwen takes a deep breath. “It’s not Sooyoung’s fault my boyfriend dumped me, Sicheng,” she says in a perfectly calm, sultry voice. “You know she’ll make it up to you.” 

     There’s a huff. “I know you’re family, but I don’t understand why Sooyoung is the one who has to solve all of your problems.” 

     “I’ll let that slide, lover boy.” Sooyoung’s eyes goes wide at that comment, but Gwen just shrugs her off. “I’m giving the phone back to the nice Kang now.”

     Sooyoung claws at the phone, shoving it back up to her ear. “I promise we’ll find another time. I’m not blowing you off.” 

     “Okay.” He’s clearly impartial at best and deeply upset at the worst. “Whatever you say. Gwendolyn should learn how to solve problems herself. She’s supposed to be the one who looks after you.” 

     Sicheng is gone before she can say anything. Sooyoung tosses the phone onto a plush chair, flopping down onto her cousin’s bed. She screams into the blanket. This marks the third time she has postponed the restaurant outing with him. Neither time before was intentional. The first time, Gwen came down with the stomach flu while her parents were off doing a black-market bypass surgery in Indonesia, so there was no one else but Sooyoung to take care of her. When Sicheng heard, he offered to bring soup and stay to help, but Gwen said she would rather die than let that boy see her with sweat matting her long black waves to her forehead and laugh at her with his dyed hair and evil eyes. 

     They don’t get along well. Obviously. Anyway, the excuse Gwen used to keep Sooyoung in the clear this time was the same as last time. Except she was the one who dumped her terrible boyfriend. That didn’t stop her from sobbing into Sooyoung’s shoulder all night, though. 

     Now, the third time around, Gwen’s not-so-ex-boyfriend cut ties with her again. Trouble and bad consequences are stray dogs she shouldn’t have fed. They follow her everywhere. Sooyoung was honestly not completely sure what was happening between Gwen and Yuta. She dumped him, but then he showed up at her apartment in sobs and begged for one more chance. She agreed, of course. Gwen’s parents reached out to Sooyoung immediately, urging her to convince their reckless daughter to leave that troublesome Neo boy once and for all. So, Yuta ended things with her again, apparently. She isn’t sure how Gwen and Yuta can even keep up. 

     It’s also Wednesday, which means that Sooyoung cannot go to her apartment. Sicheng knows everything about her, but not this. “No wonder he hates me,” says Gwen wistfully. “I’d hate me to if I were him. Me and my relationship problems are such a cock-blocker.” 

     “He was really upset.” Sooyoung sighs. “I feel bad.”

     “Of course he’s upset. The love of his life keeps ditching him for her rash cousin. And Sicheng has to spend his week being told he’s a coward for not killing more people.” 

     “I wish you wouldn’t make a joke out of his feelings. It’s really not fair,” replies Sooyoung. “I’m not what most people would call , ‘emotionally available.’”

     Gwen snaps her fingers. “But you should be, because we both know that Johnny left to go all Neo City. He’s not coming back, sweetie. I love you, but it’s the truth.” 

     “We don’t know if that’s what happened,” she says weakly, because she knows that is exactly what happened. 

     “You need to let him go.” Gwen puts a gentle hand on Sooyoung’s shaking shoulder. “The way Sicheng has. Johnny’s ignoring the most wonderful girl he’ll ever know and ditching the most annoying best friend he ever had. I’ll tell you what’s going on: Johnny Suh is an asshole.”

     While she makes self-destructive choices in her own personal life, she is extremely gifted at advising others. Right now, Sooyoung is being reprobated by the offender. “You’re one to talk about letting go.”

     Gwen drops her brown hand, returning it to her side as her expression goes cold. “At least I’m not delusional.” She’s staring hard at her cousin, black eyes afire. “I’m trying to help, but you wanna deflect everything to me.” 

     “Maybe someone should!” Sooyoung, who never yells, is screaming at the top of her lungs. “All you do is tell me to get over Johnny, but you’re still sleeping with Yuta!” 

     “If you don’t truly let him go soon,” says Gwen slowly, “I fear how much he will hurt you, in the end. Look what he’s done to you already. I can’t even blame him for this anymore; it’s just you.”

     The way she stays so collected after being insulted makes Sooyoung want to scream even louder. Does nothing bother you? That’s what she wishes she could yell, but suddenly she feels afraid that she won’t be able to control whatever comes out of her mouth if it opens again. She’s taken aback by herself. Before she can think once about it, Sooyoung is spinning on her heels and running out of the apartment. 

     Once she is gone, Gwendolyn stands in the middle of her bedroom for a long time without moving an inch. She’s stunned, frankly. That didn’t seem like Sooyoung at all. If anything, the person she who just screamed at her reminds her of Hyeyoung. And, for god’s sake, that is not a good thing. A buzzing sound yanks her out of her thoughts, sending her over to the nightstand. Her eyes take over her face. It’s Hyeyoung who’s calling her, which only has one explanation: somebody died. 

     “What happened?”

     But Gwen isn’t the one who asks, which worries her more, for some reason. She’s already looking for shoes. “What are you talking about?”

     “She’s not homeless, is she?” Hyeyoung inquires manically. “No way, because you’d let her stay with you. So what’s going on?” 

     Having secured a pair of combat boots, Gwen is tearing through her messy walk-in in search of her favorite leather coat. “That’s a great question. Here’s another one: why the hell did you call me?” 

     “I miss you, too, cousin.” 

     Gwen’s heading for the door now. “Answer the question.”

     “Sooyoung passed out in the middle of the street.” There’s accusation in her voice that Gwen doesn’t like one bit. “It looked like she was having a hard night and I’m betting you know why.” 

     “Where did you take her?” asks a jogging Gwen. “. . . Unless you left her there.” 

     “Of course I didn’t!” cries Hyeyoung. “I brought her home, obviously.”

     As she is about to reach a taxi, she cannot resist. “You mean your parents’ house?” 

     “Where else? That’s Sooyoung’s home! You need to watch out before—”

     With a carefree laugh, Gwen says, “Don’t threaten me, darling.” 

     She hangs up before Hyeyoung can scream into the phone like a death-metal vocalist. Someone is calling her name behind her; she spins. “Sicheng?” 

     He stops running once he’s caught up to her. “I need to talk to Sooyoung.”

     The taxi has already been taken by another passenger and it speeds by. Gwen’s heading toward another with him on her tail. “She’s not here.” 

     “Was she lying earlier?” he asks, his nose wrinkling in confusion. “But I heard your voice on the phone.” 

     And he trusts Sooyoung, but Sicheng doesn’t need to speak for either of them to know that. “We got into a fight and she left.”     

     “Is she at her apartment? I really need to see her.”

     Gwen is unphased by his urgency, since she matches it. “She’s at my aunt and uncle’s. Apparently she fainted in the street. I’m going to see her right now; this is all my fault.” 

     Sicheng, who does not commonly pass up a free opportunity to make a jab at the contentious girl, only asks: “Can I come with you?” 

     Opening the backseat of a taxi, Gwen shrugs. “I can’t stop you.” She scoots over to make room for him. After a few minutes, she clears her throat. “I need you to promise me something, though.” 

     Sicheng nods for her to continue.

     “As soon as we know she’s okay, you have to help me get her out of there. Hopefully before she wakes up; Sooyoung is gonna freak the fuck out if she sees her family. I don’t know how much she’s told you about what happened—”

     “Sooyoung didn’t tell me anything about why she left.”

     “Trust me on this,” Gwen pleads. “The faster she’s out, the better.”

     “Okay,” he declares, meeting her eyes. “I’ll help you.” 

series m.list

#nct #nct mafia #nct au #nct mafia au #dong sicheng #johnny suh #kpop #kpop au #kpop mafia au #oc #kpop oc #kpop mafia oc

[hadestownmodern]

Disowned

I’m in my young Demeter feelings again WHOOPS

-Danielle

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

            Demeter wakes with a start, her body shooting up out of bed. Her wild, untamed curls frame her pretty round face in disarray, and she shivers as her sweat-laden body hits the fresh air. It’s early, she can tell by the angle of the moon through her curtains, the times she’d woken in the same sort of state so many times before. Her rounded belly brings her comfort, but not enough; in the silence of her home she’s suddenly aware of just how big she is, how soon she’ll be welcoming a new life into the world.

            Alone.

            The word is unforgiving, relentlessly taunts her. It hangs over her head as she fights off the guilt of it all, the memory of slamming doors and shouting, of her mother’s tirade as she’d thrown the last of her things out the door of the quaint brownstone she’d grown up in. In these lonely nighttime hours it’s all she can hear; whore, useless, stupid…they’re the last words her mother had spoken before the click of the lock. Nineteen year-old Demeter had collapsed on the stone steps, looking around the neighborhood where she’d faced her life head-on. She and her mother had cried over her father there after he’d left them. She’d had her first kiss here, her first heartbreak. Her best friend had carried her here after a different kind of grief when she’d been betrayed by a clique of girls who’d been jealous of her big, bright eyes and infectious smile.

            This porch had been full of heartbreak. That rainy day hadn’t been much different.

            “Get out-get out of my house right now!” Her mother screamed, slammed her hand on the kitchen counter. Demeter flinched, one hand over her flat stomach, and flew from her seat. “What made you think that this was a good idea…before marriage? Before love?”

            “I do love him, mom, just not in that way. He’s a good guy. I think you’d like him.”

            “A good guy. Is he going to support you?!” She scoffs, whirling around the kitchen and tossing things onto the counter; a school photograph, a postcard from a school trip…all things that belonged to Demeter. The young girl does not move, watches as the pile grows larger. Her mother flies around the house as she shouts, tossing things into the kitchen with resounding thuds. “A good guy wouldn’t do this, Demeter. He wouldn’t. A good guy would marry you. A nice big ring…”

            “Marriage isn’t all there is, and,”

            “-Marriage is all there is when you’re nineteen and decide it’s a good idea to get pregnant. I should have never let you move out to that damn farm, your nana’s been filling your head with ideas since you were born.”

            “Nana had nothing to do with this.” Her voice is fierce. Even in her lithe stature Demeter is intimidating, fire coursing through her veins and searing her dainty features. Her mother stops then, stands the room’s length away from her and stares. The silence between them is palpable, mother and daughter, and Demeter holds her gaze steady and proud as her mother lingers over her unchanged stomach. “You know that nana loves us both, and even with dad,”

            “-Your father has no right to be mentioned in this conversation. And neither does his mother. She’s not alive anymore, Demeter, I don’t think you understand that. She can’t coddle you anymore. She can’t protect you.”

            “I’ll protect myself.”

“You’re not ready.”

“She left me the house!”

“That doesn’t mean you’re ready.”

“I’ll protect myself-and my baby.”

            “There’s still time, we can find a nice family who deserves this baby.”

            “And I don’t?!” This time it’s Demeter who loses her patience, irritation seeping into the usual smooth, evened tone of her voice. She throws her hands in the air, shaking her head at her mother as she simply nods back, a silent agreement. It’s all she needs to see to bring tears to her eyes, to break down the last wall blocking her vulnerability. She’d worked herself up in the car, had made up speeches and wordings that had brought along happiness she truly could only dream about. A relentless optimist; that’s what her mother had called her.

            A relentless optimist had sunken on the concrete steps, cried as the rain soaked through the old duffel bag her mother had shoved her entire childhood in. She had let herself take one last look; the quiet street amongst a busy city, the way each sidewalk paved its way to landmark locations she’d no longer see. By the time she got on the bus home, watched the city pass her by, Demeter looked like a new woman, all red eyes and sunken posture. She’d lugged her past with her, thrown it on the floor of the little farmhouse. She’d fallen asleep with both hands cradling her little baby bump in defiance-protection.

            She’s alone.

            The dream-living through her own harsh reality again-sends her into a state of rapid breathing and sudden panic. Seeing her mother again, the opulent house and the jewels around her neck, the trust fund money she liked to throw around to try and make Demeter happy…she squeezes her eyes shut tight in frustration, hoping to blink the image away. The days of the city are over; the ritzy private school, girls in matching uniforms who treated friendship like the stock market. Here, Demeter is happy. Here, she is able to breathe.

            Here, Demeter is alone.

            She runs ragged lines of footsteps around the tiny main room; living room, kitchen, rocking chair by the window and back again. She puts a kettle on with shaking hands and watches the fire of the stove for a minute, transfixed. Her dream had set a sort of numbness into her bones, leaving herself to feel like a child again, young and naïve. Too optimistic, too relentless, too impulsive, too kind; Demeter shakes the words away, runs her hair through long curls and attempts to jostle away the pit in her heart.

            Leaning against the wall, she holds her phone in shaking hands, slowly dialing the number that had been written on a messily torn strip of a paper bag. The voice on the other end is confused, groggy as he answers. It takes Demeter a moment to collect her own thoughts, to deliver them without choking on nerves or tears.

            “I don’t know why I’m calling.” She sounds young through her deepened alto, weaving her fingers in and out of the telephone cord. She lets out a dry, throaty sort of laughter. “I guess…I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, T. I don’t. I’m a baby, and I’m alone out here,”

            “Alone?” She can hear his trademark expression through the lift in his voice, his widened eyes and sideways smile. “You’ve got me.”

            It’s not presented as an offer, but as a fact. Theo lets her linger in the silence, listens to her unsteady breathing and the whirring of a kettle in the background. When the whistling grows louder, the phone drops and her footsteps are quick, clattering and brushing and her voice as she speaks to herself. The ragged nature of her voice has only increased when she comes back to the phone.

            “I know that I have you.” She chokes the words out, taps her fingers against the wall. “I have to go-uh-thank you, Theo.”

            Demeter sits in her big chair by the window, feet curled up as close as she can muster with the changed nature of her body. Her big nightshirt catches as her belly, which she cradles between her hands. Sleep is nothing short of a fantasy at this point, where her thoughts are filled with her mother’s stern eyes, her disappointment. The city had been kind to her for brief flashes of time; walking through the park as a child, hands in her mother and father’s. She liked sharing milkshakes with her friends, the freedom of public transit. But she hated the crowds, the people, the incessant talk of buying things that weren’t needed, spending unearned money on useless trinkets and fast fashion.

            She’d always followed her heart. She’d followed her heart to this house, with its old construction and its need for several paint jobs, the big, weedy garden her nana had tried so hard to keep up with her old age. She’d learned everything, sucked up all the knowledge she could before she’d had to say goodbye to the one person who’d supported her unwaveringly. Now, in her place of sanctuary, in the chair her nana had occupied every night, Demeter feels betrayed by her own memories.

            A knock on the door pulls her from her thoughts, and she turns her gaze toward the door to see Theo standing there, the nighttime darkness a backlight to his tall frame. He’s dressed in mismatched clothes, a pair of moss colored cargo shorts and a mustard yellow shirt,  one white sock and one yellow. He lets himself in, kicks his shoes off at the door and moves to stand in front of her. He takes her in; big shirt and curled up posture dwarfing her appearance, long hair a shield around her face. She looks up at him, the slightest quirk of her eyebrow as she takes a breath.

            “You were crying.” He says it simply, matter-of-fact. Demeter knows that she can’t hide from him, not when he can see the puffiness of her eyes, the forgotten cup of now lukewarm water and lemon on the side-table. New tears prick at the edge of her eyes, sting at the skin that has been rubbed raw from her sleeve, the back of her hand. She nods, looking out the window at the falling moon. “Do you…want to talk about it?”

            “It’s my mother.” She spits out the last word with disdain, frustration. “Did you know that you can just…throw your child out when they do something you don’t like? Because apparently, you can. And you can do it without feeling a damn thing.”

            Theo opens his mouth, hovers on a thought and then closes it again. She’s stiff in her chair, biting her lip and weaving her fingers through the holes on the chunkily knit blanket in her lap. These are mannerisms he hasn’t seen before, quirks so unfitting on this walking embodiment of sunshine and mischievous fun. It’s eerie, in a way, and he has to take pause to let her sink in her own feelings, to linger in the silence while her eyes search past the landscape outside, glossed over with an expression she attempts so desperately to hide.

            He lowers himself onto the low table in front of the sofa, one large hand on her knee. He keeps himself silent, runs his thumb along her knee, watches her hand trace careful, protective circles over her baby bump. Theo wonders in an instant how one person can look so vulnerable and yet so mature, so hardened by protectiveness.

            “She really threw me out.” Demeter’s voice is near a whisper, a whimper. She pulls the blanket closer to her chin. When she turns her head to face him, Theo’s breath catches in his throat. The depths of her sadness are written across every inch of her face-the wrinkle at the corners of her chapped lips, the redness of her eyes, the little strands of hair falling over her cheeks without the usual flustered brushing away. “She took all my stuff-threw all my stuff…put it in this big bag and locked the door behind me. Can you believe that? Said I was stupid. Talked about money, houses, rings…” She scoffs, shakes her head and uses the corner of her blanket to wiper her tears away. Then her voice dips again, quiets. It’s eerie, the even tone of it, and Theo has to lean forward to hear her as her face hardens.

            “She told me I don’t deserve this baby.”

            “You deserve this baby.”

            “But what if I don’t?” It’s not a retaliation to the stern tone of his voice, the way she answers him so suddenly. Demeter can barely think straight, her mother’s eyes still fresh in her dream’s memory, the disappointment behind them. It’s worse than being caught in her wild ways in high school, worse than her father leaving, worse than her own mounting fear of giving birth. Disappointment weighs heavy on her heart having grown up in a household where guilt was used as a bargaining tool. Now, it consumes her.

            “You have more passion for this baby than I’ve ever seen-more passion for everything. If you come across a problem you don’t just sit, you solve it. And it’s not the kind of fix that’s temporary. When  you go to do something, everyone knows you won’t stop until it’s done right, and it’s done proud.”

            He squeezes her knee as she relaxes a bit, sinking into the couch. The thin line of her lips has softened just slightly, just enough for Theo to take it as a cue to continue.

            “Demeter, you know this is how it was meant to be. When you believe in something, the world believes in it too. You mom….she’s in a different world. She doesn’t see you the way the rest of the world gets to see you. She wants you to be something you’re not and she can’t handle the fact that money couldn’t buy you the way it bought her.”

            He grabs her hands then, holds them over the blanket.

            “You asked me to help you have this baby weeks after we met. Not months, not years, weeks. And I agreed. Do you know why?” She shakes her head, and he lets out a laugh. “Maybe because I’m crazy-that thought crossed my mind a few times. But that’s just one thing. I agreed to do this because I couldn’t say no. I knew you-your energy, your light, your heart. I knew that you believed in this, and I knew in my heart that you could do it-I still know. I believe in you without a question.”

            “Theo…” She shapes his name but can not get her voice to come out, softened by his hands in hers, the way he leans his long body over and captures her with his honesty. She scoots over then, attempts to make room for him on the armchair. Although it is big it barely fits his tall, muscular frame. Demeter sacrifices her piece of the couch to curl herself into his lap instead, resting her weary body against his chest. With this comfort her eyes begin to drift shut, her breathing evening as she revels in the warmth of her blanket and his body against hers. Before she falls asleep, he can hear her soft whisper. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

#hadestownmodern #young demeter #demeter and bee man #bee man #Theo #he has a name I just don't use it WHOOPS #danielle writes