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mandelene · 3 years

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If you're still taking requests, can I have ℧ with Arthur please 👀

You sure can! 💕

The Tea Party and the Promise-Breaker

Word Count: 1690

“But you said you were gonna play tea party with us!”

“I know, darling, but I’m quite tired and—”

“You promised!” Amelia screeches.

Arthur swears he feels something in his skull rattle. He did promise, but that was before he worked three 16-hour shifts at the hospital and started to feel unwell. He woke up yesterday morning to a sore throat, but he refused to call out sick over something so trivial. Now, the sore throat is worse, his head hurts, his sinuses burn, and he can feel his nose beginning to run.

This is his first day off all week, and although he’d love to play with Amelia and Madeline, he simply doesn’t have the energy to entertain them. He wishes he could have a two-hour nap, but that won’t be possible since Francis is working until the early evening, which means Arthur is in charge of supervising their two six-year-olds for the day.

“You never want to play with us,” Amelia accuses him, sounding genuinely broken-hearted.

He knows it isn’t easy for the girls when he’s not home very often, and the last thing he wants is for them to think he doesn’t love or care about them—nothing could be farther from the truth.

“Okay, I’ll join the tea party,” he surrenders, overwhelmed by guilt. “Would you girls like me to set the kettle?”

“We’re gonna have imaginary tea, Dad,” Amelia explains, a little exasperated by how out of the loop he is. “But you can bring your own tea if you want…And bring cookies, too!”

“All right. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Yaaaaay!” Amelia cheers, jumping up and down several times before grabbing Madeline’s hand and dragging her toward her room. “Let’s get all of the toys, Maddie!”

When the girls are out of sight, Arthur releases a cough he’s been suppressing and buries it into the crook of his arm. A tea party won’t be too labor-intensive at least. He’d rather sit down and drink tea with the girls than have to run around with them in the yard.

He makes himself a large mug of tea with honey and lemon. Then, he grabs whatever leftover pastries are in the fridge—Francis is always baking something for the girls, it seems like. Thankfully, he finds some chocolate chip cookies as well as financiers. He sets them on a plate, gathers extra silverware and napkins for the girls, and makes his way back up the stairs, clearing his aching throat along the way.

When he arrives at Amelia’s room, the little children’s activity table that she normally keeps against the wall has been moved to the center of the room, along with two children’s chairs and two beanbag chairs.

Arthur doesn’t particularly like the seating arrangement, but he knows better than to complain. He places the treats, napkins, and his tea on the table and makes himself as comfortable as he can in one of the beanbag chairs, letting his weight sink into it with a sigh.

Amelia and Madeline have lined up their teddy bears and dolls around the room, and Madeline seems to have drawn a sign on a poster board that proudly says, “MADDIE AND AMELIA’S TEA PARTY.” The text is surrounded by doodles of flowers, teacups, and stars.

“What a beautiful sign, Madeline,” Arthur compliments her.

She sheepishly smiles and hugs her favorite teddy bear, Kumajirou, against her chest. “Thank you…Daddy, you didn’t wear your tie. You were suppose’ta dress up for the tea party.”

He looks down at his attire and frowns. Yes, perhaps flannel pajama bottoms, a black t-shirt, slippers, and his gray bathrobe weren’t a great stylistic choice. Both of the girls are wearing dresses and tights. “My apologies, ladies. I can change, if you’d like?”

“It’s okay. You just havta act like a gentleman,” Madeline instructs, and Arthur can’t help but smile at how endearing all of this is.

He should enjoy it while it lasts—the girls won’t be interested in having tea parties with him when they’re older. Although he’d rather be in bed, he’s glad he agreed to this.

“I’ll try to be on my best behavior,” he assures them before taking a sip of his tea.

“You havta stick your pinkie finger out,” Amelia reminds before pretending to pour tea for herself and Madeline from their children’s tea kettle and into plastic teacups.

Arthur puts his pinkie out and nods. “Ahh, how could I forget? So, tell me, has anything interesting been happening at school?”

Amelia immediately begins to talk about how some other girl in their class recently got a new bike, and how she feels awful that she’s six and a half years old and can’t ride a bike yet. “Will you teach me, Dad?”

“Of course, love. When summer comes we can think about it.”

“Promise?”

He’s learned his lesson about making promises. “We’ll see,” he says instead, ignoring the expression of disappointment on Amelia’s face. He takes a napkin from the table, excuses himself, and blows his nose softly, wincing at the ache in his sinuses…He’s feeling a bit feverish as well.

“Are you okay?” Madeline asks him, concerned.

“I’m just a bit under the weather,” he admits. “So, no hugging or kissing—I don’t watch you girls to catch this.”

Madeline doesn’t seem to be willing to let the subject go just yet. “Did you take medicine?”

“I will in a little while. Thank you, poppet.”

Amelia stands up and comes over to him to yank on his arm. “You havta go to bed, you’re sick. You always say we can’t play when we’re sick and havta rest, remember?”

Arthur feels his patience thinning, but having an excuse to lie down for a moment could be worth it.

“I can’t go to bed. I have to take care of you girls. It’ll be lunchtime soon, and I have to—”

“No, mister.”

“But I—”

“No buts!” Amelia scolds him, and for a second, he forgets who the adult in the room is.

He picks up his mug of tea and begrudgingly follows Amelia back to the master bedroom, where he obediently lies down on his and Francis’s bed, groaning when his sore muscles meet the memory foam mattress.

“We’ll take good care of you!” Amelia exclaims, exuberant.

Arthur’s not too sure he’s looking forward to this, but as the girls go and conspire out in the hallway, he allows himself to close his eyes for just a moment…Only a moment…He has to stay up to watch the girls…

The next time he opens his eyes, Amelia is poking a thermometer against his mouth, waking him from a very brief snooze.

“You’ve gotta take your temperature, Dad.”

Now that his body has had a taste of sleep, he feels absolutely exhausted. He takes the thermometer from her and puts it under his tongue, curious to see what the reading will be. When it beeps, he grimaces at the number taunting him. A hundred and two point seven. That’s thirty-nine degrees Celsius—enough to signal to him that this is probably more than a mere cold.

“Do you have a fever?” Madeline asks from the end of the bed, eyes shimmering.

“No,” he lies. “I’m fine, girls. It’s nothing to worry about…You should both return to the tea party. I’m going to rest here for a moment and—”

Amelia touches his forehead with her cold hand, and he shivers. “You need medicine.”

“I’m all right for now, girls. Really. Go back and play.”

To his surprise, the girls do leave, and he lets out a sigh of relief…That is, until he hears Amelia talking to someone over the house phone in the distance.

He jolts out of bed and dashes over to her, but it’s too late…

“Papa wants to talk to you,” she says, matter-of-fact.

Damn.

He takes the phone from her, feeling a growing pit of dread in his stomach. “Hello?”

“Arthur, why didn’t you tell me before I left the house this morning that you were feeling ill?”

“I’m fine, Francis.”

“I’ll be home in an hour.”

“You don’t—”

“See you then.”

And just like that, Francis hangs up.

Arthur puts the phone down and prepares his most intimidating scowl, ready to direct it at Amelia, but then she pulls on his arm again and says, “We can play tea party next time. Don’t worry. You’ll be all better soon.”

The scowl disappears and is replaced by a wistful smile. “Thank you, love. I’m sorry our plans have to be put on hold. I’ll make it up to you both, all right?”

The girls nod, and Arthur sends them off to finish the pastries that are still waiting for them in Amelia’s room. In the meantime, he finishes his tea and blows his nose again. He sucks on a cough drop and grits his teeth against the immense pressure in his sinuses. After seeing the color of his mucus, he’s willing to bet he has a sinus infection.

He leans against the headboard of the bed and falls asleep against his will.

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

“Come, mon amour—you’re going to have a sore neck and back if you stay like this. Lie down properly,” Francis coaxes him, bracing his head for him.

Arthur’s not sure how long he’s been asleep, but he lowers his head so that it’s on his pillow and lies flat on his back. “…You didn’t have to come home early.”

“I’m glad I did—you have a fever, and a high one at that,” Francis says, setting a damp hand towel on his feverish brow. “Did you really think you’d be able to tend to the girls when you’re like this? It’s dangerous. You should have told me.”

“…'m sorry,” Arthur mumbles, still incredibly tired. The towel on his head feels nice.

“You just wanted a reason to leave the tea party, didn’t you?” Francis jokes, brushing his hand against his warm cheek. “The girls told me about it.”

“Oh, of course. The next time I’m asked to play dress-up or ‘hair salon’ with them, I just may have to give myself bronchitis.”

Francis laughs and kisses the side of his head. “Conniving man.”

#hetalia #aph england #hws england #aph nyo america #aph nyo canada #hws nyo america #hws nyo canada #aph france #hws france #aph face family #hws face family #hurt comfort #sick arthur #drabbles

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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

'Till Death Do Us Part

Part 3 out of 13

When Alex has to bring Philip to work, he and Thomas discover that they both have something in common: they lost their love. They form an unexpected bond and connection about this that grows into something more.

A medium burn with parental feelings about Philip and flowers.

On AO3.

Ships: Jamilton

Warnings: grief and mentions of unhealthy coping, terminal illness and death.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 3: Virginian Spiderwort Means ‘Momentary Happiness’

“Eat lunch,” a sandwich along with a muffin and coffee was dropped on Alex’s desk, who jumped slightly in his seat and looked up.

“What?” he asked dumbly.

Thomas rolled his eyes: “You’ve been at it since six, I don’t even know why you were in that early that’s ridiculous, who comes in that early on a Thursday? And I haven’t seen you leave once. You need to eat, so eat, dumbass.”

“How do you know I started at six?”Alex asked.

“I didn’t, you send me an email around then, so I made a guess and you just confirmed it,” Thomas shrugged, ignoring Alex’s squawk, “Now eat.”

Alex picked up the lunch and started eating, while Thomas dropped into the chair opposite of him and watched him, sipping his own coffee.

“You’re just gonna sit there and watch me the entire time? Where is your lunch?”

“Already ate it and yes,” Thomas answered, “I know how this goes, you’ll come up with a good sentence and stop eating to write it down and then it’s a few hours later.”

Alex looked guilty and chastised, so he closed his laptop, which he had been staring at, and focused on Thomas: “So, how have you been?”

“That’s so awkward, I feel bad for us both,” Thomas cringed.

“Well, I’m sorry that I am not a great conversationalist,” Alex threw up his hands in defeat.

“According to Angie you are,” Thomas immediately regretted it, he didn’t want Alex to know he and Angelica talked about him.

“Yeah, but most of the time people I’m talking to aren’t you.” Fuck, was that too revealing? Did Thomas know he was struggling, because of stupid feelings?

“I’m sorry my face upsets you,” Thomas rolled his eyes, misinterpretingthe comment“Anyway, how did you get in so at six, I’m pretty sure schools don’t start that early. Where did you put Philip?”

“Oh, Pip is with Eliza and Maria for the week,” he said, “Eliza is so busy after the opening of the orphanage and they thought having a kid comfortable with them there would help the others get out of their shell and Pip had missed his Aunties. He’s staying till Wednesday.”

“And you decided that working abnormal amounts was smart when you got a bit of a break from your usual responsibilities?” Thomas judged, not so silently.

Alex grinned sheepishly and shrugged: “It’s what I do best, but I’m not being a complete dumbass, I leave a a somewhat normal time, I swear.”

“Hmmh.”

“I’m serious, I promised Angie I’d leave each day before six and she checks, it’s terrifying,” Alex shuddered and Thomas laughed: “Hear, hear.”

After that Alex quickly ate his lunch while they talked about the latest meeting, which lead to Alex complaining about Lee and Adams and how they could go fuck themselves.

When his lunch had completely disappeared, Thomas got up to leave. Before he could, however, Alex called out: “Hey, Thomas?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks again. For, you know, checking up on me,” he said awkwardly, “If you, like, ever need help or something, call me, okay?”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Thomas promised, not thinking the day he would take Alex up on it would come anytime soon.

He was wrong in that assessment, because that Monday he called Alex, hands shaking and eyes blurry.

“Thomas? What is it? I’m already at work.” Of course he was, it was only 6:15 in the morning, who wouldn’t be at work at that time.

“Can you-” a shuddery sigh that he hated, “Can you tell Wash- Washington that I’m not coming- coming in today?” he asked.

“God, Thomas, are you alright?” the worry was evident in Alex’s tone.

“Not really,” Thomas sounded small, “I didn’t want to bother you, but Jemmy is away and I normally can handle this stuff, but it was all unexpected and now I’m here on my fucking kitchen floor calling you. Fuck.”

“I’m coming to you.” Alex said.

“You don’t need to-”

“Yes, I do. Come on, I’m not leaving you like that. You’re getting a motherfucking patented Hamilton hug, live with it,” Alex told him, “I’ll be there as soon as I can, hang in there.”

“…Okay,” the line went dead.

Alex hurried to Washington’s office, for once grateful that the man liked to come in early on Monday’s to ‘kick off the week right’ or whatever.

“Come in.”

“Sir, I’m taking the day off,” Alex burst in, “Thomas is not coming in either, he just called me. I thought, I’d let you know.”

Washington looked surprised: “You and Thomas…?” he trailed off curiously.

“Nothing like that, sir,” sadly enough, he added mentally, “He helped me out in a rough spot and I’m returning the favor. We found we had something in common.”

“Well, then go. An honest man always returns his favors, son,” Washington shooed him out of the office.

“Not your son and thank you, sir,” Alex said gratefully, before rushing off.

The drive to Thomas’s, admittedly very impressive, house took about thirty minutes and Alex was out the car and on the driveway immediately as he practically ran to the door and knocked: “Hey, hey, Thomas. It’s me, open up.”

After a moment the door swung open, revealing a Thomas Alex had never seen before.

He was in sweatpants and a loose tank top, his eyes were red-rimmed and his hair a mess. But above all, he looked small, hunched in on himself and lacking the confidence and arrogance that usually clung to him like a second skin.

Alex didn’t waste a second gathering him up into his arms. It wasn’t as comforting as it could have been because Thomas was a fucking giant and therefore could not fit into Alex’s arms completely, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

Thomas clung to him tightly, chocked off sobs being ripped out of his chest as he cried.

They just stood there in the door opening. Alex couldn't really move Thomas around like the other had done him, so he just had to wait.

“Sorry,” Thomas said after a while, his voice raw as he broke away.

“No sorry, not today, okay?” Alex told him, “Now, why don’t we set you down on the couch, yeah? It’s more comfy and definitely better than the porch.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Thomas agreed and numbly walked over to a living room, Alex trailing behind him.

Thomas collapsed on the couch, looking like a miserable heap and Alex had to pause and think of a plan of attack. He’d been a Lieutenant Colonel, he could do this. First, he needed to know the situation.

He sat down next to Thomas: “Hey, dude, can you tell me what happened? You said it was unexpected, what hit you out of nowhere?”

“Phone,” Thomas gestured vaguely to the kitchen, then didn’t elaborate beyond a, “Got an email.”

Okay, not much information, but a lead.

Alex went to the kitchen, there was an uneaten bowl of soggy cereal on the counter and a phone on the floor. He threw the cereal away and toasted some bread before he picked up the phone and read the start of the email:

My dearest, Thomas

I hope the future finds you well. Yes, the future! I found this site in which you can write emails that will be send 10 years later, so I do hope you’re still using the same email address or this will be awkward.

You may be wondering why today? It’s not a particular date for us, but I’m writing you this email because I know I won’t be there when you read it.

I had another attack today, but you know that of course, though maybe you’ve forgotten all the attacks through the years. We’ve been doing this for over three years already and I know I have not been writing the dates down.

But none of that now, this was supposed to be a pick-you-up, because I love you, dearest.

Alex stopped reading, this was not for his eyes. He quickly did the math. Thomas had said she’d died seven years ago, this was written ten years ago, so they still had three years together at this point.

God, he couldn't imagine what it was like to know your lover was dying and you could do nothing to stop it, just prepare for the inevitable.

The toast popped out the toaster and Alex locked the phone, before putting the toast on a plate and getting a glass of water. He walked back to the living room and handed Thomas the food as he gently said: “Come on, you can’t be sad on an empty stomach.”

That got a small amused huff from the Virginian, which Alex counted as a win.

He ate slowly and in silence and Alex just waited for him to gather himself. This was not a date on where you expected the missing to hit, there were no fun rituals – like on a birthday – to keep or something to celebrate or commemorate.

Just sadness.

Sudden sadness.

Alex looked at Thomas, who softly chewed on his toast. He didn’t think dragging Thomas outside today would be good for him. He needed time to process the message, to think of what his late wife wanted him to know for when she wasn’t there.

He now regretted not reading the rest of the message, just so that he could have a grip on Thomas’s thoughts, but he knew it had been the right thing to do.

When the plate was empty and the glass gone, Alex announced: “Okay, we’re having a sad couch day, but you need to tell me how to operate your TV and where you keep blankets, because you need a blanket nest to be sad in, alright.”

Thomas blinked at him owlishly for a moment, then shook his head with muted amusement and whispered: “TV is just normal and there is a guestroom, second door upstairs, I keep the blankets there.”

“Good,” Alex got up, “Are you alright for a moment?”

The other only nodded. Alex didn’t like how quiet Thomas was. He might not be the loudest person, but there would always be a presence hanging around him that made him feel like the loudest person in the room and that was now completely gone.

Alex rushed through the house, dropping of the plate and glass in the kitchen and putting on the kettle, before taking the stairs two steps at a time.

At times like these he was happy he had top surgery, because catching your breath with a binder on fucking sucked and running overall was a bad idea.

The guest room was less extravagant than he’d expected. It was decked out for comfort and stylish, but it wasn’t over the top. Actually the whole house was more stylish than expensive just for the sake of being expensive, something Alex hadn’t realized before.

Of course, the only befores there had been were company parties that Thomas had offered to host wherein he showed off on purpose.

Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen pictures during those parties either.

He grabbed the blankets and some pillows from the guest room and went back downstairs carefully, he didn’t want to trip or drop the blankets, but he also just wanted to be nosy.

The walls were still void of pictures.

It tugged at Alex’s heart, his own walls had been bare before he’d met John and all his other friends and they’d filled it up over the years of happy moments, but Thomas had nothing. Though he didn’t have time to dwell on it now, he had more important matters to attend to.

Thomas was still in the same position he’d left him in, staring at the still turned off TV. Alex dropped the blankets on the floor, only scooping one out of the pile to drape over Thomas’s shoulders, before finishing the tea.

How strange, he mused as he made the tea, me and Thomas are neither tea drinkers, except on days like these, except with each other.

He walked back to Thomas and handed him the mug, relieved when the other took it gratefully and let the steam warm his face as he burrowed into the blanket slightly.

Alex was still concerned about the hunched over position, which was rich coming from him, he knew, but getting lost in work and fucking up your posture was different than getting lost in grief and fucking up your posture.

So, he gently pushed Thomas back into the pillow of the couch and Thomas went easily. For all the man could fight him on every little thing at work, he wasn’t putting up a fight now and Alex was glad for that fact, even if it was slightly disturbing.

Taking the blankets, he draped them over Thomas and himself after he’d grabbed the remote and put on a nature documentary.

Thomas gave him a bemused look and Alex was never more relieved that Thomas was judging him, anything was better than that empty look in those usually lively eyes.

“It’s soothing,” he shrugged, “and low effort.”

“Fair,” Thomas nodded, his voice hoarse and raw, making Alex regret not putting honey into his tea, because it sounded like it hurt.

They sat in silence as they watched a frog hop over a leaf while the narrator told them slightly horrifying facts about the creature in a monotone voice.

After about an hour of animal facts and nature relations, Thomas spoke up: “She asked me if I had any kids yet.”

Alex looked up, but didn’t speak, just let Thomas figure it out.

“We wanted kids, I think maybe me more than her to be honest, though she loved being an aunt,” he went on, “But with her condition, well, pregnancy was just too risky and when we knew just how serious it was… Neither of us wanted to make an adopted child go through losing a parent again, so we never had kids.”

He took a shuddery breath: “And then she asked if I had them, she hoped I found that and I don’t know-”

Tears were falling again and without thinking Alex pulled Thomas into his side and Thomas didn’t protest as he burrowed his head closer. He whispered: “I always knew she wanted me to move on from her, live a good life, but hearing it again after having time to process her being gone. It’s- it’s different.”

Alex just ran a soothing hand over Thomas’s back as he thought about that. After a second he slowly said: “Knowing and accepting are different things and sometimes one is harder than the other.”

Thomas mulled over his words, then said: “Well, I hate accepting.”

He didn’t tell Thomas that moving on was good, that it was healthy. Both of them knew that well enough, they must have heard it a thousand times from concerned friends. It was always meant well, but sometimes you just didn’t want to hear it, not in moments like these.

“She told me she had something to say to me, but she didn’t know what just yet and that she had to think about it and tell me when she figured it out, because she still had time,” Thomas broke the silence again.

“That- that must be hard to read,” Alex told him.

The other nodded into his side, then said: “I think I know what it is though…”

“Do you want to share?” Alex asked.

“Yeah, she- I never realized this, but she started telling me how I would do great things and I better have a picture of her with me so that she could see it. I keep her in my wallet. I always thought she meant in the world. Big responsibility to have on my shoulders, but I tried. For her.”

Thomas fiddled with the blanket, he wasn’t looking at Alex, but he seemed content to curl up in the shorter man’s side.

“But I’m suddenly startingto think that’s not what she meant,” the words sounded small and Alex’s chest constricted painfully. He didn’t know how he would react if something he’d believed about John for years would be ripped out from under him one day without warning.

“What do you think she meant?” he asked, trying to keep Thomas talking, maybe if he said it out loud it would make more sense than when it swirled around in his head.

“I- I think she meant that I would- ugh- it’s- you had to-”

“Take your time.”

“She was always telling me about the great things in life, but she loved The Lord of the Rings, those books and movieskept her company throughout all the hospital visits. Her favorite quote was: ‘Saruman believes it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that’s not what I found. I found it is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folks that keep the darkness at bay’,” he explained.

There was a moment of silence in which Thomas hesitated.

“It might be stupid, but I think she subconsciously absorbed that. That for her the great things were the small things,” Thomas said, “I once took her on a simple picnic and she said it was the greatest day of her life.”

Alex nodded along, he could already see where this was going, but he let Thomas set the pace of the conversation.

“I think she meant that I would get to do all the little things that made life great, have all the milestones we never got to have, but she phrased it in her own Martha-esque way,” there was a smile in his voice as he said that.

“Did she always have her own way of saying things?” Alex asked, hoping to keep whatever was bringing that smile to Thomas’s face going.

“Yeah,” a success, “she read a lot and she listened to a lot of music. She played guitar, wrote her own lyrics too. She was great with words, much better than me. I think she just consumed so many ways people expressed themselves through words that she had her own dialect. It was completely English, but just slightly different. It’s hard to explain.”

“I get it,” Alex assured him, “She sounds wonderful.”

“Oh, you would have liked her,” Thomas said, sounding strangely proud of that fact, “She took the time to make fun of my magenta suits in her email to me,” Alex snorted at that, “And you both take no shit and it’s easy to talk to you.”

Alex was shocked at that, no one told him he was easy to talk to. He had opinions and would let you know immediately, making you debate if you disagreed with him. Sure, he could be charming, but he made you think when you talked. It wasn’t easy.

He said nothing.

“Apparently she wrote it while I was next to her,” Thomas suddenly said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I was asleep in a chair. It was after one of her attacks, I think I remember this one, because it suddenly got way more serious after that, it was the heaviest we had in months,” his voice trailed off into a whisper, “We’d thought she was doing better.”

God, Alex couldn't imagine and that voice felt like a punch in the gut, his arm reflectively tightening around Thomas.

“Fuck, in the email she said she still has time,” Thomas breathed, “I know it was still a while after that before she- she died, but- God, it fucking hurts, Alex. We knew we didn’t have forever, but reaching thirty would have been fucking nice.”

There was that all familiar anger at what could have been if faith hadn’t decided to be so cruel. Alex knew it oh so well and just watched as Thomas clenched his fist, but didn’t get up. The anger drained out of him almost as quickly as it had come and his heaving breaths turned into sobs.

And if that wasn’t familiar as well.

Alex quickly brought up the other arm and pulled Thomas into a hug. They were cocooned in blankets and cuddling on the couch and it should be weird, but it just wasn’t.

It seemed Thomas was done talking now, because he stayed silent as the time dragged on. Once Alex realized he wasn’t going to talk, he started humming. Alex had never done well with quiet, though he didn’t mind that much, but he more thought it would nice for Thomas to have something other than his thoughts to focus on.

They sat there until their stomachs decided it really was time for lunch. Alex offered to make it so that Thomas could stay seated, but while Thomas gratefully accepted his offer to make lunch, he followed him into his kitchen and sat at the table.

His eyes fell on the phone that Alex had left on the counter when he had made them tea. His fingers twitched, but he didn’t move any further than that, conflicted look on his face. Alex let him figure it out on his own and just focused on making French toast.

In the end he picked up the phone and stared at it for a moment, before putting it down on the table, screen down.

He pushed the French toast around his plate for a while, Alex didn’t say a thing, just watched him patiently. If Thomas didn’t want to eat that would be bad, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world for just a day.

It might be bad for Alex to let Thomas indulge in bad habits, but he promised himself he would make sure it was a one of thing. He managed to make sure Philip ate and slept enough despite his own inability to take care of himself, he could do the same for Thomas.

Thomas ate a few bites, it was hard to pretend to care about food right now, but Alex had tried and he knew Martha would hate him neglecting himself.

God, Martha and her stupid- No, he couldn't think that, she meant so well, but it just hurt. She should have told him.

Though that might have been worse.

He looked at his phone again, uncertainty creeping in. Would Alex think it was a bad idea to read the email again? He just wanted to know if he hadn’t imagined it. He hadn’t really committed it to his memory like all her other writings through the tears, but he doubted he would be able to read it without crying all over again.

An idea suddenly came to mind. It was a stupid idea, but Alex had seen him suggest multiple stupid ideas so it wasn’t anything new.

“Can you read it to me?” the words were out before he even realized.

“What?”

“The email,” he clarified, “Can you read it to me?”

“You’d want that?” Alex seemed unsure and Thomas could feel the doubt creeping in.

He shook it off, he’d made up his mind: “Yes, I just want to know the whole thing, but I can’t really read it, because I’ll start crying, so you have to.”

Alex hesitated for a moment: “Alright, if you’re sure…”

“I am.” Thomas unlocked the phone and handed it to Alex, trying to ignore how his hand shook slightly.

After a deep breath, Alex started:

“My dearest, Thomas

You may be wondering why today? It’s not a particular date for us, but I’m writing you this email because I know I won’t be there when you read it.

But none of that now, this was supposed to be a pick-you-up, because I love you, dearest.

I know I tell you all the time, but maybe you haven’t heard this in a while by now, so I’m telling you again. I love you so incredibly much and you deserve all the love in the world and I hope you have someone to remind you.

It might seem strange for your wife to hope you have found love again, but I truly do hope you went on to live a happy life with people who love you and make you happy.

God, maybe you’ll have kids.

If you do, tell them that their Aunt Martha is watching over them from the stars. I promise to guide their little feet home to you safely and sing them lullabies when they’re having a nightmare, just a song between them and the moon.

I don’t want my passing to be the end for you. I have seen your soul and I know there is so much in store for you, I just can’t place my finger on what, but I still have time to figure it out and I’ll tell you when I do.

Now that I’m writing this, I honestly don’t know what to tell you. I thought I would have a hundred pages ready for you, but I don’t.

You know that moment when you have dinner with someone, but you’ve been with each other the whole day, so you can’t ask them how their day has been? It’s kind of like that.

I have seen you the entire day today and if I hadn’t I can tell you in person in a bit, but by the time you’re reading this, you’ve had time to make new memories without me and you can only tell them to my grave or my picture.

This is so morbid. Sorry, dearest.

I could take more time to think about what I want to write you, but I have this strong urge to finish it now. It’s almost like I’m running out of time. I am, in a way. But I still have tomorrow, the doctors said I’ll make it through the night with no problem and I’ll be discharged tomorrow. They say I have a good chance at a few more years and by God I hope they’re right.

It’s ironic how you’re asleep in an uncomfortable hospital chair by my side as I’m writing this.

You stress too much. It makes you look old. I know I’ve always joked about you being an old man, but you don’t have to make it a reality by aging from the stress.

I hope the creases by your eyes become more pronounced than the ones on your forehead. I hope so many things for you and I hate that I can never give you all the care you’ve given me.

You’re a good man, Thomas. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

I know you worry. You worry too much, just like the stress. Just promise me you won’t give in to all the doubt you create for yourself. Appearances aren’t everything, I know you care about style (the magenta suits are really taking it a bit too far, you are lucky I love you, you ridiculous man), but try comfort every once in a while as well, okay?

Now, I’m sounding like my mother, God this whole email has gotten out of hand…

Not that I had much of a plan to start with. I saw this and just had to write to you, to tell you how worthy you are and how much I wanted to have a forever with you.

It feels rude in a way to write you like this, you might have moved on, created a new life and I’m disrupting it from beyond, but I know you, Thomas, I know you so well that it hurts sometimes and I also know that you have a hard time letting go.

I hope you have that life we could never have.

I hope you’ve found a job that makes you happy, with a spouse that cares for you and a picket white fence that America tries to sell in every movie with a happy ending.

But I fear that you got stuck on us, on me.

And while I am flattered if that is the case (and not bitter if it isn’t, God I’m so happy for you if I’m wrong, dearest), then I want you to know it’s okay to move on, it’s okay to live.

God, this is one depressing sappy mess.

But we’re both kind of sappy depressing messes, aren’t we? You brought me flowers to the hospital today, you remembered my favorites are Virginian Spiderworts. Did you know they mean ‘momentary happiness’?

Momentary happiness, like I said: depressingly sappy.

I don’t know if I told you the meaning, but it is an interesting bouquet to bring to a hospital bed of someone terminally ill, you know? And I love you for it. Never change, Thomas, never change. Stay my sweet little dork, I beg you. If someone tries to change you, tell em no or I will come beat them up for you.

I will forever protect you, I promise.

I think this is good and if it isn’t you won’t really get to leave a review, so I’ll be safe either way. So, this is it, this is goodbye, for now at least. I still have the luxury of giving you a hug when you wake up and I’m gonna keep doing that till the end.

Stay strong, I love you,

Martha, your beloved wife”

In the end they were both crying and Alex was impressed with himself that he had managed to make it to the end. The email gave him more questions about Thomas, but he it wasn’t really the time to ask about his late wife’s protectiveness.

He cleared his throat after a moment and said: “Martha was amazing.”

That got him a surprised chuckle as Thomas’s breathing started to become more regular. He swallowed and agreed: “God, she was.”

“Tell me more about her,” Alex requested. He remembered how nice it had been to tell Thomas about John and he found himself curious about the woman that had enchanted Thomas.

“She was the most intelligent woman I’ve ever met, and I know Angelica,” Thomas started, Alex let out a small amused huff, “Martha- Martha was the kind of person you had to look at, you know? When she walked into a room, it got brighter.”

Thomas perked up considerably when talking about Martha. He was still slightly curled into himself on the kitchen chair, but he was at least making eye contact with Alex.

“I used to be overly anxious – still am, but I’m managing – and she was always there for me when I needed it. She was a spitfire, she talked when I couldn’t and stood up for me,” Thomas confessed, “I try to embody her when I need to make a presentation.”

Alex was taken aback by it: “I didn’t know you got anxious.”

“It’s better when arguing with you, I have to think too hard on how to counter you to think about stressing,” Thomas tossed out casually, immediately hoping that wasn’t too revealing, he’d already compared the man with Martha once today.

But Alex just smiled happily, though it seemed unconscious to Thomas’s eye.

“Martha never argued with me like you do, though,” Thomas mused trying to save himself, “She would just roll her eyes at me whenever I did something she found unnecessary.”

“Like what?” Alex raised a brow with amusement.

There was probably too much glee in the man’s eyes for the question to be innocent, but Thomas didn’t care: “Well there was one time a lady stopped me on the street and she asked if I did a lot of desk work, which I did, so I said yes. Then she asked me if it made my back hurt-”

“Naturally also yes,” Alex nodded.

“Indeed, so then she asked me if she could touch me and at this point I’m scared, but too far in to say no,” Thomas tells him, “So she just put her hand on my back and starts praying.”

“She blessed you?” Alex sounded delighted and disbelieving.

“Yes and I did not want to be there. So, I was sending Martha ‘come help me, please’-looks, but she just shook her head and watched me. I think she would have stepped in, if she didn’t think it hilarious,” Thomas rolled his eyes fondly, “She always asked me if I felt blessed whenever we visited a church afterwards.”

“That is hilarious,” Alex giggled at the story and Thomas felt a strange sort of pride that he made Alex giggle like that. He’d heard the other laugh before, but never giggle. It was a light sound that eased some of the pain in Thomas’s chest.

He smiled at Alex and admitted: “Maybe in hindsight it was.”

There was a natural pause in their conversation, until Alex asked: “How are you feeling?”

Thomas thought about it for a moment. The ache he’d felt in his chest when he had seen the email that morning had dulled. It was still sharper than on most days, but it didn’t feel as overwhelming and never ending as it had done.

“Better,” he answered honestly.

“That’s good to hear,” Alex said, “Do you want to go back to the couch and watch a movie? This time I’ll even let you pick.”

“Sure,” Thomas agreed easily.

“Great, do you have popcorn or something?” Alex asked, already moving around in his kitchen to check the cabinets, not even waiting for an answer.

“Upper left,” Thomas said after a while of watching Alex struggle to find it.

Alex looked up to the shelf, then back at Thomas, before he huffed: “This is just discrimination against short people.”

Thomas laughed, before getting up to grab the popcorn.

They stayed on the couch for the rest of the day, Thomas leaning into Alex’s side, neither of them caring.

For dinner Thomas made Mac-’N-Cheese and they ate while having a passionate discussion about whether the characters in the horror movie they’d watched had made the right decisions.

When Alex said he was going home, Thomas felt kind of sad about it.

“Goodbye, Alex. I- Thank you. For coming. You didn’t have to do that, but it was nice, so thanks,” he said awkwardly.

“Hey, anytime,” Alex smiled, “Besides, it was the least I could after what you did for me and-” he hesitated, “and you’re actually not that bad of a company now I know you better, so-” he shrugged, “did it with pleasure.”

Thomas smiled, it was genuine and crinkled his eyes in the way Martha had adored. He didn’t know Alex melted at the sight too.

“You’re not that bad either, Alex,” he said softly.

“Well, I see you at work,” Alex cleared his throat and stepped away then he looked back and added, “Don’t come in if you’re feeling shitty tomorrow, okay.”

“I won’t,” and Thomas found it wasn’t a lie.

Again, this is not a guide on how to deal with grief, for the love of god don’t take advise from fics. I have tried my best to make it not shit and somewhat accurate, but I can promise nothing.

I debated posting the letter separate of the fic, but it’s important to the fic and the chapter title, so I kept it like this even if it’s a bit clunky. I only decided here to make the flowers important and I thought it very descriptive of their realtions, since both knew it would end sooner than later, no matter how happy they got to be during their time together.

Also, the blessing thing actually happened to me, slightly different, but it happened. And no, I do not feel blessed and yes it was awkward and none of my friends came to my rescue.

#RR writing #tw: grief #Hamilton #Hamilton AU #alexander hamilton #thomas jefferson #george washington #Martha Wayles Jefferson mentioned #Jamilton #'Till Death Do Us Part #'Till Death Do Us Part Part 3 #'Till Death Do Us Part AU

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Y'all Don't Even Care About Me (Biadore) - Whiskey Neat

A/N: I’m finally back! It’s been a while since I’ve written but I got struck with some random inspiration recently and this fic is the product of that. I also wrote out a whole outline for another fic today so hopefully that one will be coming soon. But yeah, here’s more Biadore angst *pretends to be shocked* I went a bit dialogue crazy in this one but I think it came together okay. Enjoy!

Summary: Adore gets caught up in her own head and Bianca expresses her feelings.

Things felt different since their conversation earlier. Adore had gone off about one of her exes yet again, which led to an even deeper discussion about how she felt that no one loved or cared about her.

The irony of it all was that she was having this conversation with the ONE person who had always been there for her no matter what.

There were countless examples of how well Bianca Del Rio treated her:

Who lent her money when she was running short? Bianca.

Who stood by her side no matter how much trouble her bad decisions put her in? Bianca.

Who held her hair back when she was feeling sick? Bianca.

But somehow Adore always ended up complaining that no one cared, and quite honestly, Bianca was sick of it. It was difficult hearing those words fall from the younger queen’s lips, as if all the things Bianca had done didn’t matter to Adore at all.

Deep down, Bianca knew Adore didn’t have ill intention when she seemingly overlooked her love and kindness. Adore often spoke from emotion rather than logic, resulting in her saying things she didn’t truly mean. Some days Bianca could look past it, other days it bothered her quite a bit…and today was one of those days.

She decided to make Adore aware of how disrespected she felt when she said those things. Adore denied ever overlooking her, leading to an exchange of heated words which resulted in the two not speaking for the rest of the afternoon.

*later that evening*

“Willow, can you help me make a design for my dress?” Adore asked hesitantly, hoping that Bianca’s anger from earlier had dwindled out over the past few hours.

“And why would I do that?” Bianca asked flatly from her seat on the couch. So much for the anger being gone…

“Because you love me?” Adore replied, putting on her most innocent pout.

“Do I?” Bianca asked, looking her dead in the eye.

Adore faltered, sensing that there was not one hint of humor in Bianca’s tone.

“…..d-don’t you?”

The silence that followed, on top of Bianca’s harsh glare filled the air with the most unbearable tension either of the two had ever felt.

As soon as those words left Bianca’s lips, Adore could swear she felt her heart drop into her stomach. Her eyes stung with tears and her legs suddenly felt weak as she stared back into Bianca’s icy brown eyes.

“You…you really don’t-“ Adore’s breath hitched, hot tears stinging her cheeks. The doubts spiraled around her brain and it felt far worse than the heartbreak any ex boyfriend had given her.

“Of course I fucking do! Don’t you get it?” Bianca exclaimed, unable to look at the complete and utter heartbreak on the taller queen’s face any longer.

“No. Apparently I don’t.” Adore said through tears, shaky legs carrying her to sit on the pale gray arm chair across from Bianca.

Bianca sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Can you please try to understand then?”

Adore shrugged, looking down at her chipped nail polish and picking at it.

“You come and talk all this bullshit to me about how no one cares about you, and no one loves you, bla bla bla. But do you not realize that I do?! Do you not realize that I would not sit there and listen to you if I didn’t care?”

“I didn’t mean-“

“No. Let me finish. I let you sleep in my room…not even just in my room, but in my bed when we’re on tour…whenever you want, drunk or sober. Hell, we even cuddle. I always answer the door or pick up the phone for you no matter how late it is or how tired I am because I want to know that you’re safe and that you’re okay. And when you’re not, I’ll listen to you talk and I’ll be your shoulder to cry on until you feel better. I would not do that for anyone else. I love my other friends but they know I’m not picking up the phone for them at 4 in the morning. Do you know why I do that for you though? Because I fucking care about you. I want to see you happy and I’ll do anything in my power to make sure that you are. Why? Because I fucking love you Danny.” Bianca ranted, pacing back and forth in front of Adore.

By this time a fresh wave of tears was cascading down Adore’s cheeks. She didn’t know what to say. Of course Bianca loved her, she knew that. She hardly ever doubted that until moments like the start of their fight a few minutes ago. Luckily for her, she had time to collect herself as Bianca continued before she had the chance to speak.

“So that’s why it bothers me when you tell me no one cares…when you’re literally talking to someone who does. Because it feels like all the things I do don’t even matter to you. And I know you don’t do it on purpose but fuck Danny…I just,” Bianca sighed, kneeling in front of Adore and taking her hands, “I just wish you would see how much I love you.”

Adore inhaled a shaky breath. “Of course it fucking matters Yanx…it all matters…so much. You mean everything to me…” She whispered with a soft sob.

Bianca lightly tugged at Adore’s hands until the younger queen joined her on the floor, engulfing her in her arms.

“That’s why I got so scared when you said that earlier. I thought I fucked up for real this time and I was gonna lose you for good…” Adore whimpered into Bianca’s shoulder, wrapping her arms in a death grip around her.

“I never meant to make you feel like that. Like I don’t appreciate you…or like what you do doesn’t matter. I think about it all the time and sometimes it just doesn’t feel real because no ones ever loved me like you do. And I’m scared-“ Adore’s voice wavered, “I’m so scared that one day you’re just gonna stop. That you’ll get sick of putting me back together and taking care of me and I’m so sorry Bianca, please don’t leave me!” Adore dissolved into sobs again.

“Hey no, I would never leave you. Where’s this coming from, Pussyface?” Bianca asked, realizing now that this was a lot deeper than she had originally thought.

“I just don’t get like…why would wouldn’t? I’m a fucking mess, Bianca. All the time. Don’t you get tired of it?”

“I get irritated sometimes, sure. But it’s never bad enough for me to want to abandon you. I don’t think there’s anything you could do that would make me want to do that. You’re too important to me Danny.”

Adore sighed shakily against Bianca’s chest, staying quiet and focusing on the sound of the older queens heartbeat.

“I’m serious. I would never ever abandon you…no matter how angry or annoyed I get. I want to see you happy and if you need my help I’ll be here. Always.” Bianca promised, rubbing her hand up and down the younger queen’s back.

“I know. I know you will…I just-“ Adore wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be.”

“Yes I do. I’m sorry I don’t tell you I appreciate you more…and I’m sorry for being so dramatic about this and about just like…everything? But I’m only like half sorry for doubting you so quick earlier.”

“I shouldn’t have given you a reason to.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. Don’t ever do it again, Bianca. That made me feel like the biggest fucking piece of shit ever.”

“What…are you gonna punish me if I do it again?” Bianca joked, with a smirk.

“It’s not funny!” Adore whined, desperately trying to hold back the smile that was creeping onto her lips.

“Okay! Okay…all joking aside, I’m sorry for that. It was bitchy even for me and I won’t ever do it again. I could literally see your heart breaking and that made ME feel like the biggest piece of shit ever.” Bianca replied. “Now can we quit all this sappy shit and just kiss and make up already?”

“But you never let me kiss you…” Adore pouted.

Bianca sighed, “Just this once.”

Adore sat up and pressed her lips against Bianca’s cheek. “I love you Yanx” she mumbled against the warm flesh. “I’m so glad I have you.”

#rpdr fanfiction #biadore #adore delano #bianca del rio #whiskey neat #angst #fluff #canon compliant #submission

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flamyangelwings · 3 years

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For a Given Value of 'Fine' Chapter 3

I swear, this was supposed to be a oneshot ^_^;

@winterpower98 just gets too many anons that inspire me. But this is the last chapter, I swear. I just needed to add Tang and the PowerPoint.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29295903/chapters/73944804

There was something wet on his face.

That was the first thing MK registered when he woke up followed by the fact that, while his throat was a bit less sore, his head was still killing him, especially right behind his eyes, and that he felt...weirdly spent for how little he remembered exerting himself. He let out a quiet sigh and rubbed at his face, realizing in the process that the wet thing had been a cool cloth resting on his forehead and surely he didn’t have that bad a fever? The next thing he noticed was that he was staring at his own ceiling, which was weird since the last thing he remembered he had been miles away from home.

He was definitely in his bed, but...when had he gone home? He remembered climbing out his window and going up to Flower Fruit Mountain for training, and the Monkey King having hime meditate over tea, and then...Oh. Oh. And then Pigsy had shown up. Oh, Pigsy had called him Xiǎotiān. Oh, he was in so much trouble.

MK stared at the ceiling for a few minutes just regretting his life decisions, or at least the decisions of...that morning? The previous day? How long had he even slept?

He had known that Pigsy and Tang wouldn’t be entirely pleased with him, if they found out he’d gone to train when they thought he was “too sick to work”, but he hadn’t realized they’d be that displeased!

A soft rustling of paper caught his attention and, when he turned his head, MK was surprised to see Tang sitting at his desk reading. He tried to sit up but the motion sent his head spinning and MK slipped sideways into his wall with a gasp that caught in throat and quickly turned into a coughing fit.

“Oh!” Tang said, nearly dropping his book in surprise, “MK, you’re awake!” He placed his book aside quickly and jumped up to help MK sit up and pat his back. “How do you feel?” he asked, once the cough had subsided, feeling Mk’s forehead at the same time

“MmfineMisterTang” MK mumbled, attempting a reassuring smile that he could tell came out more like a grimace.

Tang’s glasses seemed to glint in the light as he looked at MK with a piercing gaze “Do you want to try that again, Xiaotian?”

MK flushed and ducked his head at the look and the usage of his proper name and bit his lip “My throat’s a lot less sore, but my head still hurts and it also kind of feels fuzzy.” he admitted reluctantly, staring purposefully at one of the drawings on his wall instead of Tang “And I’m a bit...I'm really dizzy.”

“Yes, that makes sense, some of that is probably being caused, in part, by dehydration,” Tang said, fixing MK with a look of displeasure, “which tends to happen when people decide to exercise, or go near volcanoes, or do both, with a fever.” he grabbed a bottle of water that MK hadn’t noticed before and handed it to him “What were you thinking?”

MK took a small sip of the water to avoid having to respond before realizing how thirsty he was and taking a deeper drink as Tang pressed on “How many times have Pigsy and I told you that you need to rest when you’re sick?”

“I know,” MK tried to argue, giving a stubborn pout “but I was fine! I barely had a fever! The world doesn’t-”

Tang clapped a hand on MK’s shoulder and gave a light squeeze, causing MK to pause in the middle of his sentence, “I know full well what your parents told you.” Tang said, spitting out ‘parents’ like it was a curse word, “And we have talked about it before. The world might not ‘stop because you have a runny nose’, but that doesn’t mean you can’t. Or won’t, MK. Did you even think about what could have happened? You could have fainted while on the way to the mountain, while you were in the air or over the ocean. You could have died, MK.” Tang’s grip on MK tightened as he said that, and MK felt a rush of shame as he pictured Tang sitting alone in the noodle shop, not knowing if he was alive or not, waiting for Pigsy to find him and bring him home.

“...I’m sorry Mr. Tang.” MK said in a small voice “I really thought I was-”

“Fine?” Tang repeated dryly, before taking a deep breath to calm himself “MK, what does ‘fine’ mean exactly?” he asked calmly “It clearly doesn’t mean ‘healthy’, since you’ve repeatedly claimed you were ‘fine’ when you were obviously sick, and don’t get me started on the number of times you’ve said you were ‘fine’ and on the verge of an emotional breakdown or hiding an injury!”

MK bit his lip but didn’t answer, mostly because he didn’t have an answer, fine was...fine. It was...what did fine mean?

“Anyway,” Tang continued, unaware of the mental upheaval he’d just caused with his question, “the Monkey King has given you the rest of this week, and at least part of next week off from training. He said that if he sees you on the mountain before Pigsy gives you a clean bill of health he’ll bring you back here himself. The real question is whether I am going to have to stay up here to keep an eye on you or if we can trust you to stay put and rest.”

MK winced at that statement, he hated the idea that he’d even slightly damaged Pigsy and Tang’s trust in him even if he could admit that, in hindsight, he probably deserved it. “I’ll stay put Mr. Tang.” he promised sheepishly, fiddling with the now-empty bottle in his hands until Tang grabbed it from him and started to refill it.

“Good.” the older man nodded with a soft grin that then faded into a sharp look that sent chills down MK’s spine “That means I’ll have plenty of time to work on a little...presentation for you.”

MK froze at that statement before groaning in despair and collapsing backwards onto his mattress. He sent the scholar a pleading look but held his tongue. The last time he had made the mistake of complaining about Tang making a slideshow to lecture him, he had been seventeen and the man had made him write a five page essay on the subject instead, with proper sources and citation, and had refused to tell him any stories about the Monkey King until he had finished it.

MK would take the slideshow over repeating that experience any day.

“Don’t give me that look, MK.” Tang chided, handing back the bottle and crossing his arms, “you knew full well what you were doing, and I care about you far too much to let you pull stunts like this without consequences.”

“Yes Mr. Tang.” MK sighed with a pout, taking another drink of water

Tang picked his book back up and patted MK on the head “I’ll tell Pigsy you’re alright and let you get some more rest.” he said, heading out of the apartment, MK sunk back onto his mattress with a huff, and covered his face with an arm.

The next week and a half? At least? This was going to be so boring!

-----

It was.

The next two weeks were increasingly dull. For the first few days, Pigsy and Tang constantly came up to his apartment to bring him food, or check his temperature, or just to ‘check up on him’, which and MK just knew that actually meant ‘check that he was still there’. And that stung a bit, the confirmation that he’d messed up badly enough that Pigsy and Tang didn’t trust him to keep his promise to stay put. MK knew he deserved it but...it still stung.

Pigsy had apparently texted Mei when he was missing, because she showed up and gave him a hard time for being ‘an absolute moron’. Once he filled her in on the rest, she gleefully teased him for being ‘all but grounded by his dads” which MK loudly shushed her about, worried Pigsy or Tang might hear her. If he had his way, they would never find out he felt that way about them. It wasn’t that he thought that they would think it weird or reject him for it, but it’d make everything weird to say it out loud.

Tang borrowed several new books from the library for MK to read, and it had only taken a couple for him to realize that the books had a common theme. Every. Single. Book. Had one of the characters getting sick, ignoring it, and getting worse. Sometimes even dying because of it.

Tang could be very subtle if he wanted. Apparently, this was not one of the times Tang wanted to be subtle.

Once his fever finally broke MK was allowed to do a bit of exercise, just so that he didn’t get too out of shape, but only under Pigsy’s supervision and only for a short amount of time every day. MK didn’t dare try and do any extra, he knew if he did and he was caught, not only would Pigsy place him firmly back on ‘bed rest only’, but he’d also probably damage their trust in him even more.

After two weeks, MK finally got back to full health.

-----

As eager as he was to finally get out of his apartment again, MK had also been dreading the day when Pigsy decided he was fully recovered and that day had finally arrived, emphasized by Tang showing up with a folding chair under one arm and a bag that MK just knew had his laptop in it.

MK slumped on his bed, trying his best not to glare at Tang’s laptop as the older man hooked it up to his TV. As he fiddled with one of his stim toys, the screen was suddenly lit up by a plain grey rectangle with “The Hazards and Long Term Repercussions of Straining the Human Body While In Poor Health” written across it.

Tang handed MK a binder with the same words on the cover page and pulled out a collapsible pointer.

“Alright, open your handout to the first page, we will begin with the basics. How stressing your immune system can prolong your recovery period.”

Fifteen minutes later

“And that covers the dangers and long term side effects of heat exhaustion, if you turn to page eight, we can start talking about Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.”

Ten more minutes later

“After pneumonia, the next on the list of diseases that can be acquired from stressing yourself or ignoring your body when ill is bronchitis.”

------

After a total of 45 excruciatingly boring minutes, Tang finally put down the pointer and MK closed the binder with a sigh of relief and practically collapsed backwards onto his bed.

“And what have we learned?” Tang prompted as he unplugged his laptop and put it away

“Not to make you mad at me unless I want to be bored to death?” MK tried to joke, before ducking his head at Tang’s sharp look and sighing “It’s important to rest when I don’t feel well and not just try to power through it because I could make myself way worse and permanently mess up my body.” he recited, hoping that the answer was thorough enough

Tang looked at MK and raised an eyebrow, clearly wanting something more from his response and MK sighed, “And just because the world doesn’t stop running when I’m sick doesn’t mean I need to keep going.”

That got a pleased nod from Tang, who then sat down on the bed and ruffled MK’s hair

MK pouted up at Tang, free to complain now that the lecture was over and he was safe from the threat of having to do homework “You’re really, really, good at making really boring slideshows.” he grouched, readjusting his position so that he was leaning against Tang

Tang chuckled and gave MK a fond smile “Thank you. I had two awful semesters of university with one particularly dull professor to learn that from. That man could make anything sound dull.”

“You learned well then.” MK teased, his pout melting into a teasing grin that Tang returned, jokingly cuffing MK lightly on the head.

The two sat in comfortable silence for a bit, before MK’s eyes darted up to Tang somewhat nervously “You guys...you still trust me, right?” he ventured “Now at least? Mostly?”

“What?” Tang’s gaze snapped to MK, brow furrowed in confusion and alarm, “Of course we trust you! Why is that even a question?”

“Well you said…” MK floundered “You asked…After I snuck out. You weren’t sure if you could trust me to stay in bed. And then you and Pigsy kept coming up to ‘check on’ me” MK quoted, putting finger quotes around ‘check on’, making his opinion on what they had actually meant clear.

Tang stared at MK for a moment, eyes wide in shock, before taking off his glasses and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. After a few minutes of silence Tang let out a heavy sigh, reached around MK and pulled him into his side giving him a tight, albeit one-armed, hug “MK, I’m so sorry. I should have realized saying it that way would affect you. Pigsy and I trust you with our lives. We’ve always trusted you! I swear, we really were checking on how you were feeling, we’ve never seen you that sick before and we were worried!”

“Oh.” MK didn’t quite know what to say to that. He’d been worrying about having broken Tang and Pigsy’s trust in him for nothing? That was...great. It actually was great! MK had never been so glad to find out he’d been overreacting to something! He let out a relieved laugh.

“That’s...good. I’m...That’s good.” MK grinned, relaxing into Tang’s hug “So...Anyway…” he grinned up at Tang eagerly “I’m healed...And I sat through the presentation...So…..” he gave Tang a pleading look that was betrayed by his lips tugging into a mischievous smile

Tang laughed “oh, fine” he sighed in mock irritation. He reached into the bag that his laptop was stored in and pulled out a well worn leather book. He scooched back so that he was sitting comfortable against the wall, MK following him, and opened the book to a bookmarked page

“Let me tell you about the time Sun Wukong, Zhu Bajie, and Sha Wujing got into a prank war that ended with all three of them dyed different colors....”

-------

MK: Pigsy and Mr. Tang can never find out I see them as my dads. Also MK: Literally called Pigsy ‘dad’ to his face while out of it from fever and drugged tea

That book may or may not be Tang’s personal journal chronicling The Journey. I made the story up because it seems like something that could have happened.

#my writing #lego monkie kid #winterpower98 #mk monkie kid #tang monkie kid #Yes Tang is apparently Tripitaka #I didn't decide that until I was trying to find a story for him to tell MK #He has many degrees in many things #Including the lore of his own adventure

11 notes · View notes

tothemeadow · 3 years

Text

Commissioned by @hinokami-s

Kamado Tanjiro x OC

- When the days seem gloomy and Hayami’s obviously stuck in a rut, Tanjiro decides it’s on him to make her feel better, but with secret little notes... -

warnings: none

words: 3.5k

And when the world treats you way too fairly, well it’s a shame that I’m a dream…

It hurts. It hurts so, so much. No matter how far she tries to escape it, the visions keep coming back, haunt her during the dragging hours of the night. It shouldn’t come as a surprise when Hayami firsts starts to see the darkening bags underneath her eyes, the way her fair skin loses its gentle glow. It’s only a nightmare, she constantly tells herself. That may be so, but this certain nightmare shouldn’t be revisiting her so often, just waiting for her to drift asleep.

Even now, her memories of the dreadful dream run through her head, make her days dimmer than what they should be. How long is this going to last? Hayami desperately needs her sleep, but if this continues, well… She doesn’t know what to do.

On the other side of the door, there’s a gentle knock. “Yami-chan? Are you alright?” Nezuko’s sweet, twinkling voice sounds. “You’ve been in the bathroom for a while, now…”

Oh, yeah. Hayami supposes Nezuko is right; she has been in the bathroom for some time now, absentmindedly staring into the mirror, at her horrified eyes and dark circles. If anything, she looks more like a shell of her usual self.

“Give me a moment!” she calls back. No, she doesn’t want Nezuko to worry. Frankly, she doesn’t want anyone to worry, but the Kamado family has a certain way of creeping into people’s hearts and rooting themselves onto their souls. Quickly splashing some water in her face, Hayami releases a long, shaky breath. Pushing the loose strands of hair behind her ears, she takes one last glance at her reflection before finally turning away and opening the door.

As expected, Nezuko’s large eyes glitter with concern, her eyebrows furrowed. She looks too much like Tanjiro whenever she does it, and it never fails to pull at Hayami’s heartstrings. “Yami-chan, you know I don’t want to pressure you or anything…” she starts, voice small. Tapping her fingers together, she glances around, makes sure that the two of them are truly alone. “But what’s bothering you?”

Ah, there it is – the inevitable question. Now, Hayami’s always been one to turn away her own problems, rather choosing to focus on the other people around her, but when the tables are turned… Well, it leaves her feeling icky, to say the least.

Still, Hayami forces a smile, both for her own sake and for Nezuko’s. “What do you mean?”

Nezuko sighs, much like she was expecting this exact response. “You look… tired. Dead, even. And, well, your hair is down, so I thought…” Trailing off, Nezuko shifts her weight from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable and unsure of how to approach the subject. Like Tanjiro, her senses are keen; she’s able to pick up on the slightest of troubles, but she usually stays to herself, not wanting to bring discomfort to others.

It’s one of the things Hayami admires about her, but at the same time, she wishes Nezuko would drop it. She has a point, though; instead of her usual ponytail, Hayami’s long hair hangs loose, brushes against the entirety of her back. At times like these – at times of unease – her hair is the closest thing she has to a shield. Granted, only few people know of this so-called “habit,” so she can’t necessarily blame Nezuko for asking the reason why.

“Don’t worry about it, Nezuko,” Hayami tells her, albeit softly. “I just haven’t been sleeping well. It’s no big deal.”

Nezuko opens her mouth, seemingly ready to complain, but then she’s abruptly cut off by excited squeals. Shigeru and Rokuta come barreling down the hallway, cowboy hats on their heads and horse figurines in their hands. A chorus of neechan! greets her; both boys hop up and down in their spots, beaming grins on their faces.

“Neechan, play outlaws with us!” Shigeru exclaims.

“Yeah! Yeah! Outlaws!” Rokuta echoes, his voice a bit more chipper than Shigeru’s.

“Now where are those sneaky no-good-doers?” a voice drawls. Tanjiro comes into the hallway, then, a cowboy hat of his own sitting on his head. His face instantly flushes upon seeing Hayami. “O-oh… Yami-chan, how are you feeling? I was afraid you fell ill or something!”

“Uh-oh, the cop’s here!” Shigeru yelps. Both he and Rokuta scramble to hide behind Hayami, giggles spilling from their lips.

Hayami can’t help but laugh, the unease settling over her heart dissipating for once. Nezuko’s expression softens at that, but the look in her eyes still yells concern. Hayami ignores it, opting to forget her woes, even if it’s just for a little bit.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” she says to the two boys behind her. “I’ll keep him distracted while you two make your getaway! Go on, hurry!”

And, just as fast as they appeared, the boys take off again, proclaiming their gratitude as they scurry down the hall. With an amused huff, Tanjiro walks over to the girls, pushing his hat further away from his face in the process.

“Thanks for that,” Tanjiro says, a smile spreading easily on his features. “I swear, it’s like everyone else in this family wants you to be the eldest sibling rather than me sometimes.” His eyes flitter over Hayami’s loose hair for a moment; the smile on his face flattens into a straight line, the happy gleam in his eyes melting away into something sadder. “Yami-chan…”

“Listen,” Hayami interrupts, putting her hand up, “is it okay if I can crash here for the night? It’s just… Things are a little trying at home right now. I could really use the company.”

Cocking his head, Tanjiro seems bewildered by the sudden request, but the surprise quickly dwindles away. Sharing a glance with Nezuko, he nods his head, that familiar, soft expression coming back to his face. “Of course you can. You know you’re welcome here anytime, right?”

At that, Hayami’s heart flutters, both from gratefulness and well, something else. “Thank you, Tanjiro.”

Now, Tanjiro may not be the brightest bulb in the box, but he does have heart. His empathetic nature is one he was born with, one that developed into something strong once his younger siblings graced his life. And, considering that he and Hayami are extremely close, it’s only natural for him to pick up on her continuous crestfallen behavior. He doesn’t want to push it, though, because he knows that she’s just like him, always willing to put others first and ignore her own problems for the sake of others.

He still wants to support her, no matter what. And so, he does the only thing he think that might actually help…

“A note?”

Both of Hayami’s friends – Shinobu and Mitsuri – say it simultaneously, although in different tones. Mitsuri’s in more whimsical, romantic; Shinobu’s is more or less skeptical. Hayami nods at them, feeling just as confused as they are. It was mysteriously left in her locker this morning, and it had no name on it whatsoever. No initial, no hint, nothing. In fact, if it didn’t have her name on it, Hayami would have thought it belonged to someone else.

Granted, finding something so… special… waiting for her sent her heart flying into the clouds. The note itself was made of pink construction paper, neatly folded and even tied with a white ribbon. The sheer amount of effort put into the outside of the note only left impatient wonders for what could possibly be written on the inside. Hayami has already reread it, like, three times, but that’s not the point.

Handing it over to her friends, she watches as Mitsuri eagerly pulls off the ribbon; she’s practically shaking with excitement at this point. Knowing Mitsuri as much as she does, Hayami is more than aware of her romantic side. She’s not surprised as Misturi releases a delighted squeal, a lovely blush blooming on her face.

“Calm down,” Shinobu tells her, but a shit-eating grin is on her own face. “Let me read it.” Taking it from Mitsuri, she holds in before her, clearing her throat before she begins.

|Hayami,

I know things haven’t been the best lately. I can tell you’re hurting, but I just want you to remember something important. You’re important to so many people (me included) and you’re truly incredible. It pains me to see you without that beautiful smile of yours, but I’m not sure how to help. You always keep your pain hidden, and I want nothing more than to take it away. I want to see you smile again.

Sunny days are coming, I promise.

<3<3<3<3 xoxoxo|

“Oh my gosh!” Misturi gushes. “Look! There’s even little doodles on the paper!”

“Is that… supposed to be a cat?” Shinobu asks, cocking her head and squinting her eyes. “I don’t wear glasses, but I might need my eyes checked out after looking at that.”

“Shinobu!” Hayami squeaks. “Don’t say that!”

“Yami-chan, you have a secret admirer!” Misturi continues. Clutching her hands to her chest, her eyes glaze over with a joyful, love-stricken glow. “Think about it! Somebody is just waiting out there, wanting to confess their love to you! This is great!”

“Okay, but don’t you remember Valentine’s Day?” Shinobu interjects, a neat eyebrow raising on her forehead. “She got – what? 23 different people confess to her?”

At that, Hayami scratches her cheek in embarrassment. While it is true that she’s had so many people confess to her throughout the years, something about this note strikes her as different. For once, it doesn’t outright say that the anonymous sender holds any romantic feelings for her, but the choice of words leaves much food for thought. At most, this person is only wanting what’s best for her – pure, unadulterated happiness. It’s sweet, nonetheless.

Mitsuri pouts. “But this is different! This is secretive! Clearly whoever sent it doesn’t want to be outed for their feelings just yet. They’re giving chase! I say we try and figure out who it is!”

“Isn’t that a bit… irrational?” Hayami says. “There’s so many people who go to this school-“

“I agree with Mitsuri,” Shinobu cuts in. Hayami does not like the mischievous expression playing on her face. “We can single out the person who wrote this. Look at the handwriting, for example. Whoever left it obviously took their time writing it – it’s neat, but their natural handwriting still shines through. It’s messy.”

Both Hayami and Mitsuri gawk at the other. “You got that just by looking at it?” Mitsuri exclaims. “That’s so cool!”

“Hang on. Aren’t you two taking this too seriously? I doubt it’ll lead to anything more…”

Shinobu rolls her eyes. “Oh, to be young and naïve. It’s only because you’re super popular and have people practically drooling at your feet to have a chance with you. If we can find out who sent it, it shouldn’t be a problem. Like you said, it probably won’t lead to anything more.”

“Except that it will!” Mitsuri says with a giggle.

Hayami doesn’t know why her friends are so adamant about something so trivial – silly, even – but she supposes they have a point. Though, in the back of her mind, she’s almost positive that it’s some random admirer, just like the others. However, there’s another part of her that’s saying the exact opposite.

Either way, her friends have set their minds to discovering the so-called “culprit” or whatever their selected codename is. If one thing’s for sure, it’s that the hunt is on.

By the end of the school week, there’s still no obvious suspect.

Shinobu and Mitsuri are still hellbent on figuring out who’s leaving the sickeningly sweet notes; they’ve been popping up every day, much to Hayami’s secret pleasure. Something about them makes her heart soar, the overwhelming sense of joy and love flooding her very being. The feeling can only be described as beautiful.

Even now, she stares down at the folded piece of pink paper, the darling white ribbon wrapped neatly into a bow. Heart beating furiously against her ribcage, she gently pulls at the end, loosening the ribbon and opening the note.

Like usual, the various doodles decorating the edges catch her attention first. Pictures of cherry blossoms, mochi, crude cats… They’re all so delightful, and Hayami cherishes each and every single one of them. Little stickers join in alongside them: fluffy little animals, Sanrio characters, cute things like that. Whoever’s been leaving these notes obviously knows what Hayami likes, that much is clear. The attention to detail makes the note so much more special; worrying her bottom lip, she flicks her gaze over the neat-yet-messy handwriting, absorbing each and every word carefully.

|Hayami,

I’ve noticed you’ve been wearing your hair up again! Things are looking up, right? You always had this habit of wearing your hair down when something’s bothering you… Not that I mind (I think your hair is really pretty!) but it’s nice to know that your old self is coming back. I’d like to think these letters are at least bringing a smile to your face 😊 You’ve always been special to me, you know that? I wouldn’t know what to do if you weren’t my friend. We should have frozen yogurt at my house sometime this weekend! I think I have some strawberry froyo in the freezer… You like strawberry, right? I can always pick up another flavor if you don’t!

<3<3<3<3 xoxoxo|

That’s just… so cute!

Holding the note close to her chest, Hayami suppresses a squeal. How could somebody be so sweet? Pulling it away, she rereads it over and over, the smile on her face growing to such a point that it hurts her cheeks.

Now that she’s really looking at it, it says that she and the anonymous writer are friends. Plus, they mentioned frozen yogurt, and not many people know that’s one of her favorite treats! Does this mean that this mysterious person is going to give themselves up? If they were going to follow through with their plans and invite her over for froyo, then they’d have to, right? It only makes sense.

As much as she doesn’t really want to admit it, her curiosity is getting the best of her. Maybe – just maybe – if she follows in Shinobu’s and Mitsuri’s footsteps and plays detective herself, she can find out who’s been leaving the notes! It shouldn’t be that hard…

Right?

And so, at the end of that very school day, Hayami sets her little “plan” into motion. Well, it’s not really a “plan,” but it’s pretty close. Instead of going on a whole shebang of deciphering handwriting and dusting her locker for fingerprints (and yes, Mitsuri did think of that idea), she’s choosing to sit and wait. Call it intuition or simply a gut feeling, but the person whoever was responsible for the notes was bound to show up again. And, if they were going to show up and invite Hayami to their house, this is the time to do so.

As the last stragglers hanging around in the hallway finally take their exit from the building, Hayami slings her backpack her shoulder. A mix of anticipation and excitement boils within her blood, makes her nerves frantic and tingly. She isn’t quite sure how she should she go about this; after a moment or so of silent thought, she decides to hide around the corner and wait for this “knight in shining armor.”

Time passes – seconds, minutes, hours, Hayami doesn’t know. All of it feels like days to her. Before long, she’s mindlessly scrolling through her phone, debating whether if she should ditch the plan or not. With a sigh, she slips her phone away, drawing herself to a stand. Her knees ache from crouching so long; taking a moment, she winces at the slight pain, but then she immediately clamps her mouth shut at the sound of footsteps drawing near.

Slapping a hand over her lips, Hayami peers around the corner, her long ponytail swinging behind her. Wait, wait – are her eyes deceiving her? Tanjiro? What’s he doing here?

And if that wasn’t enough, Tanjiro glances around, seemingly checking out for any bystanders. Hayami ducks away just in time, her breath going still in her lungs. She watches on as Tanjiro shucks his backpack off his shoulders and brings it around his front; digging around inside one of the front pockets, he pulls out a folded-up piece of pink paper, a white ribbon wrapped neatly around it. Quickly, he walks up to Hayami’s locker, pops it open, and then gently places the note inside.

It was Tanjiro the whole time…?

The revelation sends Hayami’s heart wild; forget about the clouds, the clear blue sky. Her heart is flying through outer space, becoming one with the millions of stars shining through the darkness. Her best friend, this sweet, sweet boy… Now that she knows, it doesn’t seem surprising. Actually, she should’ve figured that it was Tanjiro the entire time, considering how his personality is.

“Tanjiro,” Hayami calls out, stepping away from her hiding place.

Upon hearing his name, Tanjiro flinches. Whirling around, he drops his backpack, his jaw dropping once he sees who it is. “Y-yami-chan!” he stammers, his face immediately heating up. “What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you the same thing,” Hayami says, a delicate smile coming to her pretty face. “Tanjiro… Have you been the ones leaving the notes behind?”

If possible, Tanjiro’s blush turns even darker. Rubbing the back of his neck with a hand, he looks away, a sheepish smile spreading across his lips. “I… I can’t lie, and there’s no point if you saw me…” Clearing his throat, he dares to look at Hayami. “…It was me. It’s just… You’ve been so bummed lately, you know? And I wanted to do something to help you out – gah!”

Hayami suddenly slams into him, then, her arms snaking around him as she buries her face in his shoulder. Although she’s taller than Tanjiro, their bodies fit well together, almost like two long-lost puzzle pieces. He’s warm, delightfully so, and he smells like the bread his family’s shop makes.

“Thank you, Tanjiro,” Hayami mutters. “Really. Those notes you left… I love them. They mean a lot to me.” She squeezes him harder. “Thank you so much.”

Tanjiro releases a pent-up sigh. “Of course,” he says, his arms wrapping themselves around Hayami’s form. “You know that I’ll always be there for you, right? No matter what it is, thick or thin… I’m here for you.” He pulls away, then, just far enough that the two are looking face-to-face. “It hurt to see you so sad like that.” His face crinkles with concern. “I didn’t want you to be sad anymore.”

Oh, lord, is this boy an angel or what? Saying such sweet things like that…

“Tanjiro…”

Looking at each other like that, eyes glistening, cheeks rosy, Hayami doesn’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s the both of them, drawn to each other like magnets or something easily as cliché - it doesn’t matter, though. Tanjiro’s lips are ridiculously soft as they slide against Hayami’s; it’s a dream of hers that she’s never dared to speak of, one that she thought of frequently. But to finally be able to live it, to make it a reality…

Her mind goes completely blank as her fingers slink into Tanjiro’s hair. He’s just so soft, so tender, so dreamy. Here’s literal perfection standing before her, kissing her with a gentle passion. After a moment or so, Tanjiro pulls away; eyes fluttering open, Hayami looks to him, to his pleasant smile and mirthful eyes.

“That was nice,” she hums.

Tanjiro’s earrings clank as he bobs his head. “It was perfect,” he chirps. Pressing his forehead to hers, his eyes fall shut. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he confesses, his voice just barely above a whisper.

Something irresistible and warm caresses Hayami’s chest, whisks her away to a world of fairy tales and happy endings. She’s only heard of such feelings in movies and in writing, but to experience it for herself – well, it’s a little off-putting, if she’s being honest, but it’s so wonderful.

“Same here,” she replies. “What… What do we do now?”

Leaning back once more, Tanjiro opens his eyes, a hopeful gleam to them. “I guess… If you want… We can be together? You know, be more than friends?”

At that, Hayami can’t help but release a giggle. “Is the famous Kamado Tanjiro nervous? You’re one of the most confident people I know, and this is what gets you?”

“Hey, don’t be like that! I’m not experienced with this sort of thing…”

“I know, I know. I’m just teasing you, Tanji. I’d love to be more than friends.”

“Wait – seriously? For real? I-I mean… Of course! That’d be great! Yami-chan, I’m so happy!”

Again, that cheek-hurting smile comes back to Hayami’s lips. “I’m happy too, Tanjiro. I’m happy too.”

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x oc #kimetsu no yaiba x oc #demon slayer x oc #tanjiro kamado x oc #kamado tanjiro x oc #tanjiro kamado #kamado tanjiro #kny tanjiro #commission #hinokami-s

21 notes · View notes

yikeswtfmate · 4 years

Text

(1) New Message from Unknown Number

main masterlist // (1) New Message Masterlist // next part

Summary: Y/N is drunk and can’t remember her ex’s number.

A/N: Hello, it is I, the idiot who writes Social Media AUs when she’s drunk but is too lazy to put them in the proper format and just leaves them to die somewhere on her laptop

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Social Media AU - that’s a lie, it’s actually just texts in Word format 🤡)

Warnings: swearing, dumbassery

Unknown Number: Hey asshat so listen

Unknown Number: I kno we hvnt spoken since like

Unknown Number: High school but whateve idc

Unknown Number: U’re an asshle so I dnt even care that its like…

Unknown Number: 3 in the morning nvrmd

Unknown Number: Ive ben dared to txt my hottest ex by these evil witchS so

Unknown Number: Here u go

Unknown Number: At least u had decent abs so congrats on tht jfc

Unknown Number: also u dnt get to complain abt this txt bc like

Unknown Number: u dated me for 6 months on a dare so U KNOW WHat this shuold feel like ya

Unknown Number: Wow dude that sounds like a dick move

Unknown Number: Seriously who the hell dates someone for 6 months on a dare?

Unknown Number: Doesn’t that only happen in movies though?

Unknown Number: hey bitchass dont act like u don’t kno what im talkinG abt

Unknown Number: Oh shit yeah, sorry. I don’t know who this asshole of an ex is but I sure as hell am not him

Unknown Number: Dude sounds like a complete waste of human space

Unknown Number: And I think I wouldn’t get to live it down if my friends would hear I did something that shitty

Unknown Number: Wait lemme ask Sam

Unknown Number: Nah, he says Steve would’ve beaten my ass if I were to do that so there u go

Unknown Number: m sorry who tf are u

Unknown Number: Bucky

Unknown Number: what kind of stupid name is bucky

Unknown Number: Shit man, u’re the one blowing up my phone at 3 in the morning, sending me weird ass messages when I don’t even know u and u dare say my name is stupid???

Unknown Number: Sheit srry

Unknown Number: Is been A long night

Unknown Number: nd week

Unknown Number: Actlly make thAt the whle entire fuckin month

Girl with asshole ex: Srry fr bothering u

Unknown Number: It‘s cool

Girl with asshole ex: Hey the witches ask if ure hot

Bonky: Yeah

Girl with asshole ex: WHAT THE FCK MAN AT LEST BE A LIL BIT HUMBLE SMH

Bonky: U wanted me to lie?

Girl with asshole ex: Fair point

Girl with asshole ex: They wnt a pic

Girl with asshole ex: Pic or it didn’t happen punk

Girl with asshole ex: Tht was nat

Bonky: What kind of party are u at that you can constantly text me?

Girl with asshole ex: Wanda’s place

Girl with asshole ex: Girls night

Girl with asshole ex: Getting hammered on wine BITCH

Girl with asshole ex: Also dnt change the subject

Bonky: I don’t even know your name

Girl with asshole ex: Why would I tell u my name I just want to see a suppsdly hot asssd

Bonky: You know mine and now you want me to send u a pic of me

Bonky: Bit of a disadvantage here babe

Girl with asshole ex: Babe?

Girl with asshole ex: BABE?

Girl with asshole ex: Fine

Girl with asshole ex: BABE if I tell u my name will u send a pic of u so we kno u arnt a 60yr old perv

Bonky: I’ll think about it

Girl with asshole ex: Hey fuck u

Girl with asshole ex: Not fair

Bonky: How do I know you’re not the 60yr old perv?

Girl with asshole ex: Cuz she got big tiddies to prove

Girl with asshole ex: And that was wanda

Girl with asshole ex: So now u know my fridsn

Bonky: Still don’t know your name tho babe

Bonky: Also tell Wanda she shouldn’t give out this type of info to strangers

Girl with asshole ex: ure not a stranger anymore bonky

Girl with asshole ex: ure my babe nao

Bonky: I’m going to let that Bonky slide just bc u’re cute

Bonky: But I’m also going to stop replying until you tell me your name

Girl with asshole ex: U think im cute?

Girl with asshole ex:

Girl with asshole ex: I mean u havnt even seen me but thats fair

Girl with asshole ex: Wand and nat say its true so ill believe u rnt lying to me rn

Girl with asshole ex: But I wanna see if ure cute

Girl with asshole ex: Wait why r u up st 3 in the mrng I mean we re drunk but wht r u doing

Girl with asshole ex: Babe u need to take better care of urself

Girl with asshole ex: Babe

Girl with asshole ex: Babe?

Girl with asshole ex: BABE?

Girl with asshole ex: Ph shit ure actually ignoring me

Girl with asshole ex: I dont like this

Girl with asshole ex: I actually like talking to u

Girl with asshole ex: Pls stop ignoring me

Girl with asshole ex: COME BACK AND LOBE ME

Girl with asshole ex: Babe?

Girl with asshole ex: Fine

Girl with asshole ex: It’s Y/N

Bonky: Now, that wasn’t so hard was it?

Babe: fcuk u

Bonky: I’m up at 3 bc we ordered pizza and decided it’s time to beat Sam’s ass in Mario Kart once and for all

Babe: Nd how’s that going for ya?

Bonky: Bitch has been beating us for the past 3 hours

Bonky: Thor is the only one getting at least close to him now so we’re about to give up

Babe: Wait shit how r u replying so fast if ure playing Mario kart tho

Bonky: I gave up two hours ago

Babe: Quitter

Bonky: Just gotta know which fights to pick babe

Babe: Heads up I might be fallin asleep soon

Bonky: Drink some water before that, maybe get some food in u as well to soak up all the alcohol and have an advil close for tomorrow

Babe: Ok MOM

Bonky: Hey Wanda willingly told me you have “big tiddies” so your friends don’t seem to be doing a good job of taking care of you

Bonky: Might as well let me do it so you don’t die tmrw

Babe: Ohhhh so u careeeee babe im touched

Babe: Kkkkkk Ill talk tu u tmrw ill be dead soon

Babe: Nd I do have big tiddies

Bonky: Good night babe

Babe: What the shit

Bonky: I see you survived

Babe: Barely

Babe: My head might explode soon and I feel like I’ve vomited for an entire lifetime

Babe: TMI sorry

Bonky: I’d like to point out I’m glad I don’t have to decipher your texts anymore and that you can actually spell properly

Babe: Fuck you Buckaroo

Bonky: I would also like to remind you that I have on good authority that you have “big tiddies” so don’t make me use that against you

Babe: I am going to kill Wanda

Babe:Ugh I need coffee

Babe: I’ll talk to you later

Bonky: I’ll be waiting for you babe

Babe: So

Babe: BABE

Bonky: Yes baby?

Babe:

Bonky: Nah, you love it

Babe: Fine

Babe: You still haven’t sent a pic of you though. I might be able to rise Nat and Wanda from the dead if you do

Bonky: What do I get in return?

Babe: The promise that I will keep replying even though you might turn out to be an ugly orc?

Bonky: Not enough

Babe: Fine. I’ll keep talking to you until you want me to stop. Or until I get bored of you

Bonky: Eh, you can do better

Babe: What do you WANT?

Bonky: A pic of you in return

Babe: I’m not sending you nudes, perv

Bonky: If I wanted to see you naked and be a dick about it, I could’ve asked last night, don’t worry

Bonky: But if you’ll know how I look it’s only fair I should know how you look

Babe: That sounds reasonable

Bonky: I’d say it’s a fair exchange

Babe: Fine, you first then

Bonky: If you don’t send me a pic of you afterwards babe I will stop replying, just so you know

Bonky:

Babe: Did you type super hot guy with the most beautiful eyes in the world in Google or something?

Bonky: I’m touched but no. Sam took that photo at a work event

Babe: Bitch do you really expect me to believe this is you? That looks like a guy who just stepped out of a magazine, I highly doubt I would have the luck to text him instead of my ex when drunk

Bonky:

Bonky: Are you always this annoying?

Babe: …

Bonky: What? Do you want me to take a selfie with the fucking newspaper now? I read the news online babe, I’m not getting off of this couch just so I can buy a stupid newspaper to prove it’s me

Babe: Do you have one in a suit?

Bonky: …why am I putting up with this?

Bonky: Hold on

Bonky:

Bonky: It’s been 5 minutes, are you going to reply?

Bonky: You still have to send me a picture of you though, a deal is a deal you know

Bonky: Fine, I warned you

Babe: Shit sorry

Babe: Hi Bucky, this is Natasha

Bonky: Hi Natasha. Is Y/N alright?

Babe: Uhm how should I put this?

Babe: Y/N is crying right now and she can’t reply herself

Bonky: What? What happened? Is she okay?

Babe: Oh yeah

Babe: She’s just crying because (and I’m quoting here) you’re “so beautiful, it’s like all my wet dreams and fantasies have come together. I swear this is some cosmic joke, this is not happening”

Babe: I’m not sure if she’s laughing or crying now

Babe: But she keeps yelling at me that I have to send you the most perfect picture of herself that has ever existed or you will stop talking to her

Babe: I think she started crying again because “I will never live up to that level of perfection, he told me that I have to know which fights to pick”

Babe: Uh yeah so here

Babe: 1 Photo Attached

Bonky: Hey Nat, could you tell Y/N that I would like to talk to her now?

Babe: Sure

Babe: Hey

Bonky: Baby?

Babe: Yeah?

Bonky: You picked the wrong fight if you think “you will never live up to this level of perfection”

Babe: Oh God

Bonky: Stop being an idiot

Bonky: And listen to me

Bonky: I would really like to keep talking to you. Mainly because you’re an idiot who makes me laugh, but it’s also the fact that you are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen in my entire life

Babe:

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #social media au #bucky barnes social media au #bucky barnes au #social media #bucky barnes texts

617 notes · View notes

iwritesickfic · 4 years

Text

not if it’s you

Bo knew that calling out sick for a day would mean he’d see Dell at some point after he was done with whatever he had to do. Part of him is hoping that Dell doesn’t know why he has the day off, but Dell isn’t an idiot.

Part of Bo’s reasoning is that even though he probably could work, he really shouldn’t. He’s told Dell enough times to not wait until it’s so awful he can’t get out of bed to get some rest, so he’s partially taking his own advice. That said, he feels pretty terrible. Whatever this virus is, it’s absolutely vicious. His sinuses feel like they’re full of concrete, his nose won’t stop streaming and most aggravatingly, he’s sneezing. Maybe for some people sneezing is the least of their worries, but with the aching in his swollen sinuses it makes it feel like someone’s driving a stake between his eyes.

The final reason is that Bo never really gets sick, and if he does it’s always mild, so he can’t imagine how Dell, who’s genuinely miserable with what others would call a cold, could handle this. The chances are pretty good he’s going to catch it even with Bo taking a day off, but it’s worth a try. Which is why he’s hoping Dell won’t show up at his door tonight, even though he knows it’s inevitable.

And just as he expected, at 8 PM there’s a knock on the door. Bo takes a deep breath and spends a moment in front of the mirror trying to look less shitty than he feels before opening the door.

“Hi,” he says, and Dell smiles. Even feeling like this it makes Bo’s heart melt.

“Hi. You’re sick,” he says, and it’s not really a question but Bo nods.

“You shouldn’t be here.” All he wants is to be held right now, to be taken care of and looked after and loved but it’s selfish to ask those things of Dell, even if he’s offering them.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, and Bo sighs. His head is really starting to ache from being upright. Dell starts to lean in, and Bo has to put a hand on his chest.

“I really don’t want you to catch this.” Dell tucks a bit of hair behind his ear, and Bo can feel his fingertips brush his temple.

“C’mon, you’re breaking my heart.” His voice is so hard to resist, he’s too damn charming. “Probably caught it already anyway.”

“Well you’re definitely going to if you come in.” A few sneezes catch him off gaurd, and though he’s able to catch them in his sleeve, his head throbs and it’s so bad he’s swaying on his feet. Then, he feels steady arms pull him close, his aching head against Dell’s chest. It feels incredible, being held, and he lets out a shaky breath.

They stay like that for a while in silence, one of Dell’s hands rubbing his back.

“You’re running a fever,” he finally says, and Bo hums in response. There’s another long pause before he speaks again. “Listen, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll go, but you have to take tomorrow off and you have to text me, ok?” Bo breathes a sigh of relief and nods against Dell’s chest. “Alright. One more thing.”

They pull apart, and immediately Bo is disappointed, the steady comfort is gone as quick as it came.

“What?” He asks, and without warning, Dell presses a lingering kiss to his forehead. Clever of him not to ask first, as Bo definitely would’ve said no, but it feels so nice he doesn’t complain.

“I’ll see you the day after tomorrow,” he says, and Bo nods, forcing a little smile. “Good.” He smirks. “Now go get some sleep you look like hell.”

Two days later the illness is almost completely gone, the only remnant the odd sniffle here or there and the soreness of his nose from being rubbed raw with tissues.

He’s glad they’ll be working - it takes care of the whole no-kissing thing without Bo having to actively decline, which is good because he’s pretty sure he’d give in just seeing his smile.

He’s hyper focused on Dell throughout the day, and luckily it seems like he’s feeling fine. He has small tells that Bo’s learned to recognize, but nothing seems off. Usually after work they’d have dinner, but Bo decides it’s best if he doesn’t risk it.

But, the next morning, he sees Dell and his heart immediately sinks. He definitely hasn’t slept well, and he’s touching his septum with his knuckle which nine times out of ten means he’s coming down with something.

“We should take the day off,” he says, and Dell sighs.

“I’m fine. Really.” Bo bites his lip. “Promise. If I feel bad I’ll let you know.” Bo must still look skeptical because Dell puts a hand on his shoulder. “Trust me, I’d love to take a break every time I feel like shit but I have responsibilities. The world’s not gonna stop for me.”

Bo wants to argue but he knows Dell’s right, at least partially. Now of all times it’d be hardest to get a break. He’s still in the process of transitioning into his new role which originally was supposed to be king, but is now just taking over all of the policy his mother doesn’t want to handle. The royal titles are mostly symbolic, but their family still wields considerable political power.

While there’s always tension between Dell and his mother, lately it’s been more pronounced than ever. Things are moving fast and he can’t afford to stumble.

“Promise you’ll tell me if you need to slow down.” Dell smiles.

“I promise. You’re really cute when you’re worried.” That manages to draw out a laugh, and Dell seems pleased.

The rest of the day goes smoothly, but Bo can tell he’s feeling worse and worse. By the end of the day, Bo’s already trying to see how possible it’d be to cancel their day tomorrow. Better to get a jump on the inevitable.

He’s relieved when they’ve finally reached the end of the day, but almost immediately there’s a new problem.

“Why wasn’t it on the agenda?” Bo asks, and Dell sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he does when he has a headache.

“It’s a family thing, I thought you knew about it. It’s not a big deal, it’s just a dinner.” It’s not just a dinner, Bo knows that. They’ll be entertaining some group of politicians for most of the night, then he’ll have to spend at least a few hours with his family and Emilia. But there’s really nothing to be done. Family commitments are non-negotiable. “I feel ok, really. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, ok?”

Bo takes a deep breath and nods.

“Tomorrow morning.”

The minute he doesn’t see Dell at 6:30 the next morning in the front driveway, waiting for the car, he knows something is definitely wrong. Dell’s never late. Ever. Still, he waits 15 minutes. When he doesn’t show by 6:45, Bo makes his way upstairs and through the maze of hallways to Dell’s apartment.

He knocks once, twice, three times, all to no response. Finally, he just opens the door. The room is dark, and for a moment Bo thinks maybe he’s not here, when he hears a few muffled sneezes.

He flips on the lights, walking over to the bed where he now sees a lump underneath the comforter.

“Hey,” he says, trying to keep his voice low. If he caught what Bo had he’s probably got a pretty bad headache. When he gets close enough he finally sees Dell curled up under the heavy blanket all the way up to his nose, eyes red rimmed and unfocused. Carefully, Bo sits on the edge of the bed, and Dell lets out a soft little moan. He tries to be gentle, but even pressing his palm to his forehead draws out another half-moan half-whimper.

He’s incredibly warm, but that’s not really a surprise.

“Fuck, did I sleep in?” he mumbles, voice thick with congestion.

“No, you’re fine,” Bo says, not wanting to make him feel any worse. Normally Dell’s sharp enough to tell when Bo’s bullshitting, but now he just accepts the information without complaint. He just lays still while Bo runs his fingers through his hair. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Head fuckin hurts. A lot.” Bo can tell. Dell doesn’t offer anything more, so Bo lets his thumb run back and forth against his hot temple.

“Migraine?” he prompts, and Dell makes a small sound from the back of his throat. “That’s a yes?”

“I don’t know, Bo. I just feel awful.” His voice sounds unsteady, like he might cry, which ratchets Bo’s anxiety up a notch. That and the fact he’s actually admitting to feeling terrible. Usually statements like that are followed by “but i’m alright,” or “but it’s not so bad.” He starts to sit up, and his face immediately goes pale. Bo guides him the rest of the way so he’s upright, but lets him rest his weight against his chest. His head is tucked into the crook of Bo’s neck. His breathing is strained.

“Hey, it’s alright, just relax, ok?” Dell shakes his head, and Bo sighs. “What’s wrong with that?”

“I have to get up.”

“I promise you don’t.”

“I’ll take an ibuprofen, it’ll be fine.” He’s shaking, but Bo’s not sure if it’s from exhaustion or the fever.

“Hate to rain on the parade but you can barely sit up. I’m not just telling you to stay in bed, I -”

“Yes you are,” Dell argues back weakly. Bo almost wants to let it happen. For Dell to get up and pass out just so he’ll understand what’s going on.

“It’s not an opinion, i swear, i’m being objective here. You’re just too sick.” Dell lets out a small huff and tries to sit up straight. He manages, and somehow gets his legs over the edge of the bed. Bo sighs.

And of course, just as he anticipated, the minute Dell tries to stand on his own his knees go weak. Luckily Bo’s able to catch him and get him stable again pretty quickly, but the damage is done. The shaking is even worse now, and with every exhale there’s a little pained sound.

“Fuck,” he finally says, and Bo presses a kiss to his temple.

“Just relax, ok?” He says, and Dell nods. Just as he’s pulling away, he lets out a harsh sneeze, followed by what can only be described as a moan. Two more come soon after, and it’s abundantly clear they’re worsening the pain in his head. He sniffles, which draws out another soft moan.

Bo pulls far enough away so his hands rest on Dell’s flushed cheeks, and experimentally, he presses his thumb into the space under his eye and to the side of his nose. Immediately he lets out a choked sob, and Bo frowns. His sinuses are so swollen Bo can tell from that one touch alone he’s got a sinus infection, and a bad one at that. It’s no wonder his headache is so awful. He remembers his own bout with this and how terribly his own head ached. He can’t imagine how Dell must feel.

“I am so sorry,” he whispers, and Dell shakes his head.

“It’s not your fault,” he says, and Bo sighs. “M’gonna lay back down, ok?” he mumbles, and Bo nods.

“Yeah, definitely. I’m gonna grab some stuff, I’ll be right back.” He nods, and Bo gets up. In the bathroom cabinet he finds a few things that might help, but he’s not totally sure. He has the thermometer, obviously, and at first he considers something cold to help the fever but decides something warm is probably better to help the ache. He remembers an old trick he used to use in university when he ran track, a quick way to make a hot compress.

He brings the supplies he’s got so far back to the bedside table and slips the thermometer under his tongue, before going to the closet and grabbing a sock. It takes him a minute to find the right drawer, but when he does he heads into the kitchen. It takes another minute to find the rice, but when he does he fills the sock about halfway and ties the end, then sticks it in the microwave. It’s sort of strange, but if it works it works.

When he finally gets back to Dell, the thermometer’s long done. 102.4. Bad, but not catastrophic. Yet. He takes the hot pack and lays it over Dell’s closed eyes, and he lets out a little gasp.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, panicked for a moment.

“No. Feels good,” he mumbles, and Bo is about to reply when his phone starts to ring. Loudly. Dell’s expression tightens, and Bo fumbles to answer the call. He gets up, walking over to the couch.

“Hello?”

“Bo, shit, what’s going on?” It’s one of the family’s other assistants, Marina.

“Dell’s sick. I was just about to call.”

“So when will he be ready?” Bo braces himself.

“He can’t get out of bed.”

“When did you become a doctor?!” She snaps.

“Mari, I’m serious.”

“I’m serious too!”

“He almost passed out trying to stand up, there’s no way he’s going anywhere. Even doped up on whatever, it’s not happening.” There’s a long silence.

“Well...” she trails off. “Shit. You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Alright.” She sighs. “I’ll clear everything today and tomorrow, and I’ll put in a med assist request. You better not be exaggerating. This totally fucks the entire week.”

“Why would I -”

“Because he has you wrapped around his finger, Bo.”

“I’m not gonna talk about this with you. Just text me about the med assist and let me know if I need to make any calls.”

“Alright. Talk later.”

“Thanks.” When he hangs up he lets out a heavy sigh, and Dell’s weak fever slurred voice pipes up from the bed.

“Who was it?”

Bo shoves his phone in his pocket and heads back over to where he was sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“Just Mari.”

“Why? You said we’re not late.” Bo goes back to playing with his hair, hoping the touch is comforting.

“Everything’s cancelled.” Dell still looks confused.

“Why?” Bo considers his options. He could just tell him the truth - it’s because he’s too sick to even get out of bed - but that might just stress him out more. Knowing that he’s the reason everything’s been rearranged will just make him feel worse.

“She didn’t say.” Luckily, he seems to accept that answer without question, but Bo can tell there’s something more bothering him. “Was everything ok last night?” Dell sniffles, and Bo hands him a tissue from the almost-empty box on the nightstand. He takes the now room temperature compress and puts it on the bedside table.

“No, I didn’t sleep good.”

“I mean with the dinner and everything.”

“Oh. Uh, it wasn’t great. Just family drama.” He pauses. “No one gives a shit about me, Bo.” Immediately Bo’s hand goes to cup his cheek.

“That’s not true.” Usually Dell doesn’t discuss any of his family issues, even when it’s just the two of them. He’s always diplomatic and vague, never really expressing any opinion. Bo gives a soft smile. “I do, right?”

“Not you, that’s not what I meant,” he says, and Bo sighs.

“Well what makes you say that?” Dell looks lost, his mind cloudy with fever, so Bo resates. “That no one gives a shit about you. What would make you think that?”

“I was so fucking sick last night.” He ends the sentence there but Bo can infer the rest of the meaning. And no one cared.

“To be fair, you’re very good at looking perfectly fine when you feel like shit.” Bo offers, but Dell’s expression doesn’t change.

“ I can’t...it’s hard to explain it.”

“It’s alright, I understand.” He doesn’t, but the conversation is clearly only making Dell more upset. “Can I get you to eat something?” He asks, and Dell sighs.

“I guess. I don’t know. Can you ask Mari why everything’s cancelled? That doesn’t make sense.” Bo bites his lip.

“Yeah, I can ask her.” He’s wondering how he’ll even begin to think of a believable lie when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He opens his texts.

medical got denied. Bo frowns, typing back quickly.

what? why?

She texts back almost immediately.

they didn’t say. schedule is clear though, so that’s something at least.

The frustration must show on his face because Dell speaks up.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, just give me a second,” he says, and types back.

he needs the med assist

Another message comes through.

relax. he gets sick all the time its not a big deal

Bo closes his phone and shoves it into his pocket, trying not to look as angry as he feels.

“What?” Dell asks, and Bo sighs, brushing some of the hair off his forehead.

“Just Mari giving me shit, it’s fine.” Dell frowns.

“What did she say about the schedule?” He asks, voice distorted by congestion and fever. Bo takes a deep breath.

“Today and tomorrow everything’s cancelled.” Dell still looks confused.

“Why though?” Bo is really having to weigh the benefits and drawbacks of being truthful. If he lies, Dell might feel better for the moment, but he’s eventually going to find out the reality. But if he is honest - that he told Mari he was too sick to get out of bed - it’ll cause some more immediate problems. Bo decides that he’s going to keep an even keel, and cross the truth-bridge when they get there.

“I think someone last night noticed you weren’t feeling well.” Dell doesn’t look totally satisfied with that answer. “Your mom maybe?” Dell’s expression immediately shifts to one of almost childlike disbelief, and Bo immediately feels guilty.

“Yeah?” he asks softly, and a lump forms in Bo’s throat. Would it be so terrible to lie if it’d make him feel so much better? He’s so sick he might not even remember their conversation.

“Mmhmm.” He’s really digging himself a hole here. Dell’s going to be devastated when he finds out it’s not true, but for now if it’s what’s going to keep him in bed that’s probably the most important thing. For most people the worst outcome of not getting proper rest with something this bad would be a prolonged recovery, which isn’t great, but it’s much better than what he knows Dell’s experienced twice - sepsis. When a normal infection gets into the bloodstream and wrecks absolute havoc. Insane fever, every nerve screaming, heart racing -

He hasn’t witnessed it himself, just heard the second-hand accounts from some of the other staff, but he knows enough. The awful immune system, the scar on his sternum, the nightmares and panic attacks - that’s where they all come from. One bout after pneumonia went untreated for two weeks when he was 15, the second from a kidney infection when he was 22. And Bo swears it’ll be over his dead body before it happens a third time.

So maybe he is overreacting, but he’d rather overreact than have to see Dell go through anything like that. Which is all the more reason Dell needs the med assist.

“Just when I thought she finally, fully, 100% hated my guts...” Dell mumbles, and Bo bites his lip. He types a text to Mari.

who denied medical?

He slips the phone back into his pocket, and goes back to stroking Dell’s hair. He seems so content, like he’s ready to fall asleep.

“Wait, take these first,” Bo says, and hands him two ibuprofen. He downs them quickly, and wastes no time curling back up under the comforter. Bo’s phone vibrates in his pocket.

who do you think? Bo sighs. Another text comes in.

could definitely change though. she’s trying to set some meetings back up, without him obviously, so she might want him distracted

“You keep looking at your phone like that. What does that mean?” Dell mumbles, and Bo rubs his eyes.

“It’s just Mari, it’s fine.” He slides it back into his pocket and tries to process everything that’s happening. Dell pouts.

“She’s being mean to you?” He almost smiles, but the look on Dell’s face is earnest. He tests the blonde’s forehead. Definitely a little warmer. Once a fever starts getting into the neighborhood of 103, Dell is a little less...filtered.

“I can’t talk shit about her, especially not to you,” Bo says, and Dell tries to roll his eyes, but his face screws up in pain. Bo smirks. “What’s up?”

“My entire face fucking hurts.” He takes a deep breath, and Bo’s glad it sounds like his lungs are doing fine. He presses the heels of his palms against his eyes and groans. “My teeth hurt, Bo. My teeth. They’re bones.” Bo can’t suppress a laugh.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dell looks at him like he’s an idiot.

“Bones are like...rocks.”

“They are 100% not like rocks. Why do you think it hurts when you break something?”

“Because there’s stuff around it - whatever.” He takes another deep breath and sneezes wetly into his elbow, followed by a soft moan. “Mari sucks. Why can’t we talk about Mari?” he mumbles, and Bo is surprised he remembers the beginning of the conversation. That said, he’s still clearly operating under the fever - he��d never be so candid if he was in his right mind.

“Because it’d be unprofessional,” Bo says, and Dell laughs.

“How does fucking me fit into unprofessionalism?” He asks, and Bo’s a little relieved he seems to have enough mental wherewithal to be sarcastic.

“Ok, yeah. You’re right.” Bo’s hand has stopped playing with Dell’s hair. “She just said something about me being wrapped around your finger.” Dell opens his eyes wearily.

“More please,” he mumbles, and Bo furrows his brow. “Your hand. Do more.” Bo cracks a smile and continues his ministrations, carefully running his fingertips through the gold-blonde curls.

“I think she was right,” he says, and Dell frowns.

“Bout what?”

“I’m wrapped around your finger.”

“No, it’s uh...the snakes. Around that thing,” he says and sniffles again. Bo hands him a tissue.

“I’m not following,” Bo says, catching himself before pulling his hand away from his hair.

“It’s like...two snakes. Around a thing. It’s on a bunch of stuff...” he says, trailing off, and Bo racks his brain.

“Can you give me...literally anything a little more specific?” Bo asks, and although he’s joking, feverish Dell doesn’t seem to get it.

“I’m trying, my head hurts,” he says, sounding genuinely dismayed, and Bo runs a thumb over his hot temple.

“I know, I’m just teasing.” The image suddenly pops into Bo’s head. “Caduceus! The staff with the two snakes, right?”

“Yeah, I guess. They’re like...they’re wrapped around each other. That’s you and me. Wrapped around each other.” Dell closes his eyes, finally seeming content now that he’s gotten a thought across.

After that, Dell falls asleep for real, which gives Bo a little time to handle everything else that’s going on.

He walks into the kitchen and closes the door before calling Mari.

“Hey,” she says. “Good news. You’ve got your medical but bad news is I don’t think you’re gonna like it.”

“Why wouldn’t I like it?”

“I’m pretty sure the plan is to have a doctor deem him physically unfit for any sort of real political office.” Bo feels a spike of anger in his chest. “It’s kind of bullshit but it might be better in the long run. With everything going on the past few months, he hasn’t been this bad since college. Or so I’m told. It’s what Will says, anyway.” Will’s been working PR for the royals about 10 years now. “He said stress makes it worse. And you know things have been pretty fucking stressful.”

Bo doesn’t know where to begin. There’s too much he wants to say.

“You there?” She asks, and Bo sighs.

“Yeah. Unfortunately.”

“They said they wanted the people there asap, so I’d keep a lookout.”

It’s then that Bo hears voices from the other room.

“I’ve gotta go,” he says, and hangs up before hearing her reply. He walks back into the main living area and sees Dell sitting up against the headboard, a young man and two young women are huddled around him. Bo clears his throat, and they turn.

“Bowen, correct?” the man asks, and Bo nods. “Seeing as Mr. Hagen won’t be needing your services for the rest of the day, you’re free to leave.”

“Bo stays,” Dell says before Bo can even open his mouth. The man nods.

“Alright.” One of the women is pulling out some medical tools, the other seems to be prepping a blood draw. The man doesn’t bother introducing himself to Bo, just continues on his conversation with Dell. Bo can’t be sure what’s already been said, but it’s safe to assume Dell downplayed the severity.

One of the women, Bo guesses they must be nurses, takes Dell’s temperature with an over the forehead reader. Bo braces himself for the reading.

“100.3. Low grade,” she says, and Dell shoots him a look. Either the fever’s miraculously broken in the five minutes Bo’s been gone, or Dell knows how to cheat the thermometer. The nurse taking his blood pressure frowns.

“That’s odd, he’s very warm. Do we have the tympanic?” The other nurse nods, and grabs an ear thermometer from the bag. Dell’s face has fallen. She puts it in his ear and and he sighs. It beeps, and she pulls it back.

“That’s more like it. 103.1.”

“Fuck,” Dell breathes, and the nurse rubs his shoulder.

“It’s alright, just your body fighting to get well.”

“I know,” he whispers. He looks like he might cry. He doesn’t so much as blink when the other nurse starts taking his blood.

“So we’ve gone over how you’re feeling today...” the man says, flipping through pages in a file. “You said mild headache, upper respiratory congestion?” Dell nods. “We’ll add the fever in, and your blood pressure is low...” He draws out his words as he scribbles things down onto the paper. “Obviously I’m just the RN, and Dr. Jones -”

“Dr. Jones?” Dell interrupts.

“That’s who was requested, right?” Dell frowns.

“I didn’t re- where’s Dr. Hansen?” He asks, and the RN looks surprised but not confused. He looks down at the sheet and presses his lips into a line.

“Alright, uh, I see the problem. Dr. Hansen’s -”

“Don’t tell me he’s busy. He’s not busy. He gets paid to be on call, it’s his job to not be busy,” Dell snaps, and Bo’s a little taken aback. He’s never heard Dell demand anything before. “I know what’s going on here, ok? I’m not an idiot.”

“I think your temp-” one of the nurses starts, and he cuts her off.

“I’m not mad because I have a fever, ok? I’m mad because I’m 24 years old and I’m being treated like a child.” He sighs and rubs his eyes. “I apologize, I’m just very frustrated,” he says, and it’s odd to hear him all of a sudden using his professional voice. “I know it’s not...I’m sorry, this is just your job.” He takes a long pause. “My mother made this request -”

“Oh, no. We were told it was uh...your assistant?” He turns to Bo, “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“Bowen,” Dell says, voice flat.

“Right. Bowen spoke with Marina, and communicated to her that you were too ill to leave bed. Marina in turn put in a medical assistance request.”

Dell pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes.

“Ok, whatever.” He sighs, and when he opens his eyes he looks completely exhausted. “What I mean to say is Dr. Jones reports to my mother, and Dr. Hansen is the doctor with whom I have a confidentiality agreement, so if I’m going to be seen by somebody, I need it to be him. And additionally I’d appreciate it if the vitals were reported exclusively to Dr. Hansen.”

The RN seems to have no problem with this, looking almost relieved that he hasn’t done something wrong.

“Alright, sounds good. Will do. Is there anything else I should tell him?” His pen is hovering over the paper.

“You can tell Dr. Jones I did a thousand pushups. And to go fuck himself.” The RN laughs nervously, but Dell’s face is blank. “Apologies for my language I’m fuck-” he catches himself and lets out a shuddering breath. “I’m really not feeling well.”

“Right, speaking of that,” the RN seems to be relieved the non-medical part of the conversation has ended, “Like I said I’m not Dr. - I’m not the one who makes the diagnosis, but with a fever that high I’m surprised you don’t feel worse.” He flips back a few pages. “From what you described I’d guess a common cold but it doesn’t square with your vitals.”

“Can I be frank with you?” Dell asks, and the RN twirls his pen nervously.

“Of course, sir.”

“I’m exhausted. If you have what you need -” The RN stands up immediately, and motions for the nurses to grab the bags.

“Yes, of course. Absolutely.” The hurriedly pack their things, and are gone without a trace in under a minute. Dell’s still sitting upright, leaning back against the headboard, eyes closed. Bo sits down on the edge of the mattress. Carefully, he runs his fingers through Dell’s hair.

“I’m not mad at you,” he whispers, but Bo doesn’t reply, just keeps playing with his hair. “You’re just worried about me, you don’t...” he sighs shakily. “You don’t know how fucked up everything is.”

Bo feels tears start to well up in his eyes, and a lump form in his throat.

“hey, hey, it’s alright,” Dell says, and Bo shakes his head.

“I hate seeing you in pain. I fucking hate it. And this is my fault. All of it.” He chokes back and sob and rubs his eyes. “And now I’m crying, and you’re comforting me which is ridiculous, and you’re still burning up and you still have that headache because I can see that crease between your eyebrows, and -”

“Relax.” He grabs Bo’s hand gently. His hot thumb runs back and forth over Bo’s knuckles. “Just relax.” Bo tries, and Dell gives him a sad little smile. “Trying to take care of me is...it’s like trying to build a house of cards in a hurricane. It’s rotten work.”

Bo looks down at their intertwined hands, then back up to Dell’s eyes. He tries to keep his gaze steady.

“Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

#My writing #oc bo #oc dell #sickfic #whump #it's long as hell because i don't know when to stop im probably gonna keep going tbh

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ppaperheartss · 4 years

Text

Godzilla

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

word Count: 5.7K

Warnings: a lil angst, some swearing

A/N: Hey! I really hope you enjoy this, I’ve worked really hard on it. Inspired by Godzilla by Kesha. Any comments or feedback are appreciated!

Bucky Barnes wanted to find peace. His whole life had revolved around fighting and angst and fear, and now he decided it was time for that part of his life to be over. It took him a long time to readjust to a life without meaning, without something to fight for. He spent his days wandering around the compound looking for someone he could spend time with, but most of the time the compound was a ghost town. So he kept himself occupied with therapist appointments, catching up on pop culture and exploring different music genres.

(Rumour has it that Bucky was seen working out to Taylor Swift’s new album, but he always denies it regardless.)

He was proud of everyone else on the team. Sam took on the role of Captain America with both hands and was eager to help the country with the pressing issues which the Avengers never got the chance to handle. Captain America is now the frontface for Black Lives Matter and is tackling gun violence one day at a time. He is making America great again.

Wanda has taken on the role of training new agents and works very close with orphanages in New York to rehabilitate young people who have led traumatic lives. She even introduced the Pietro Maximoff Foundation which aims to find people that had been injured in all Avenger fights as collateral damage and get them the help they so rightly deserve.

Scott spends a lot of time with Cassie to make up for all of the years that they missed together, and he even has another little one on the way with Hope. Though Bucky isn’t very fond of children yet he’s open to the idea of a miniature sized version of Scott running around the compound and causing havoc. Even the thought of it brings a smile to his face.

Parker recently graduated high school and now works with Bruce a lot of the time in their own lab in the centre of the city to continue on with the work that Tony had started. After the whole fiasco with his identity being outed he tends to keep a low profile, taking his time to get used to the spotlight that is everyday life as an Avenger.

Bucky is still coping with that too, honestly. It’s strange walking down a street knowing that everyone probably knows his name and his history, and has an opinion of him, when he has never seen them before in his life. Maybe he has. He struggles with his memory too.

When he was diagnosed with PTSD and anxiety, it was a strange experience. He had a little knowledge on it from his uncle who had fought in war before him and suffered from the illnesses, but it was different knowing about it and being diagnosed with it he realised quickly. He’s cautious around strangers and struggles to speak to someone who he doesn’t know if he can trust yet, but his therapist Dr. Walker says he’ll develop with time. He just needs to focus on his breathing and find something to distract hunsekd.

And he did. He went from not being able to open up the door for his takeout - which the app to order said takeout took him just a bit too long to understand - to being able to speak at veterans meetings with Sam in front of a couple dozen people. He connected well with the other veterans, especially those who had lost a limb in war, and found himself looking forward to the meetings for the chance to speak to people who shared similar life experiences and didn’t give him a sad look whenever he opened up about his nightmares. Knowing he wasn’t alone gave him a sense of belonging, something that he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

He retired from the Avengers and moved to a small apartment in Brooklyn that Sam helped him look for. He even went couch shopping with him, making sure that he bought the deepest and comfiest one there. He didn’t mind, he loved how comfortable modern things are compared to the 30s, but he wondered why he insisted on getting that particular one. That was, until one night Sam came to his apartment blackout drunk and slept there for 15 hours straight. He only woke once to complain drunkenly about how small the blankets were, to which received a pillow to the head.

Bucky enjoys having his own place to live. He wakes up early in the morning to go on a leisurely run through his neighbourhood and watch the sky turn from red to pink to blue. He stops at the cafe at the bottom of his street for whatever pastry is fresh and a sweet coffee.

He then comes home to his cat and plants, and spends his days loving and caring for them. He found Alpine on what could have been one of the worst nights he’s experienced in his normal life. It had been raining heavily for hours and Bucky was walking home from therapy when he was jumped by a group of men. In the panic of it all he lashed out, and having not been in the field for so long he underestimated his strength.

A civilian got hurt in the scrapple, but she was so scared of who he was that she refused to take help from him. The police then arrived and Bucky had to fight his case for an hour in the pouring rain with only a running tee on. It was a witness from an apartment block on the other side of the street who came to Bucky’s aid and explained how he hadn’t started the fight and didn’t hurt the woman on purpose. He walked home in a storm of a mood, his whole body shaking with anxiety and the cold seeping into his bones, when he heard a faint meow come from a dark alley.

He quickly swooped into action without hesitation, fishing the small creature out of the soggy box it was in and shielding it under his arm as he started to jog home.

That’s how he found himself an hour later sitting face to face with a small white cat with eyes he thought resembled his own in a strange way. He knew he was going to keep the cat without hesitation, he just wondered how something so pure could have made its way into his fuck-up of a day.

He even got a job in a coffee shop for a short while when Dr. Walker felt he was ready for it, so he could work on his social skills and how to control situations positively. He lasted a whole month in the shop and he made fairly good relationships with his colleagues and frequent customers, but he was asked to leave one afternoon as they had had a complaint from a daily customer about him. Apparently Bucky has a resting face that looks intimidating, and made the customer feel anxious. He had a tough time in his head that night. It took him a few days of wallowing in self pity and several conversations with Sam and Dr. Walker to realise he didn’t do anything wrong. He had to accept the fact he couldn’t convince everyone he was a good guy, and this is something he is still learning to accept.

He had felt so much misery over his lifetime that he thought he would never get the chance to be happy again, perhaps this new life would be enough for him. Though, he had to admit, that the fact that the only constant human interaction he had on a daily basis would be with store workers when he went grocery shopping, it was starting to make him feel lonely. It was like he lived on the moon, only watching others live their lives from a distance as he lived his own mundane life. That, of course, was before he met you.

You came shining into his life like a beam of sunlight that made him feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. There wasn’t a moment where your beautiful smile didn’t grace your face, and the joy on you radiated instantly made his day a whole lot better. You had been neighbours for quite a while before your first interaction, though you would always give him a chipper smile when he passed you in the hallways to which he responded to with a bashful grin.

Bucky woke up with a feeling something was wrong one day, and his suspicions were confirmed when he got a call from the nursing home informing him that Steve was sick. He knew he had to visit right away, just in case, but he didn’t know how long he would be gone and refused to leave Alpine alone. He couldn’t ask Sam, he was too busy being Captain America and a dumbass to properly care for a cat, so he moved onto what seemed to be his only other option.

The super soldier stood in your door frame (which was just too small for him to stand at his full height comfortably in) with a cat carrier in hand, blue bag slung over his shoulder and a desperate smile on his face. “Hi, I’m Bucky. Barnes. Bucky Barnes. Your neighbour. Room 6? Anyway, I need to ask a huge favour of you. I have to visit a friend out of town but I can’t leave Alpine alone - she doesn’t like it at night, and I was really, really, hoping you could watch her for a few days. I understand if you’re busy or have plans, though!”

You listened to his ramblings with an amused smile on your face, hand on the doorframe and leaning forward slightly. “Alpine?” you mused, eyebrow raised slightly.

His cheeks tinted instantly as he nodded down to the now meowing carrier. “Yeah, my cat. She’s two. She’s lovely, I promise. Doesn’t scratch or anything, she’s a real doll. You won’t even notice she’s there.”

You had bent down to look inside the carrier as he continued to ramble, only to be met with remarkable blue eyes which matched its owner’s perfectly. Cooing softly at her, you look up to meet the other pair of striking blue eyes. “Of course I’ll watch her for you. What else are neighbours for?”

He smiles instantly, shoulders relaxing as he lets out a breath. Holding out the carrier to you with his metal arm which you took instantly, he starts, “Thank you so much…”

“Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

“Y/N.” he repeats, setting the bag at your feet. “My number’s in there if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call. I’m better at calling than texting. Thank you, again, I owe you.” He smiles before waving quickly as you exchange goodbyes, turning on his heel and walking quickly to his car with keys in hand.

After closing your door you set the carrier down and open it up, lifting out the small white cat into your arms. Smiling fondly, you press a kiss between her ears. You wandered over to your window to see Bucky climbing into his car as he held a phone between his ear and shoulder, and something deep inside of you knew this was the start of something special.

After that first encounter, you and Bucky seemed to be glued to the hip. It started off as a coffee date as a thank you after he got home from the weekend in which you watched Alpine, and you were glad to hear that Steve was well. It then evolved into a home cooked dinner from you the next day because Bucky refused to let you pay for your coffee even though you insisted and you wanted to pay him back somehow. He was always a gentleman with you.

It then turned into weekly Friday night movie nights to catch him up on what he had missed movie-wise and supermarket shopping together the next morning because Bucky loved shopping in near-empty supermarkets just as much as you. Somewhere along the line you both got keys cut for the other’s apartment and you more often than not spent everyday together, even if it was just spending your hour lunch break from work sitting on a park bench chatting. You both had formed the best friendship possible, so it was no surprise to anyone that you wound up dating. It was meant to be, really. Soulmates.

But not when Bucky went to the gym, because there was no way you would be caught dead doing physical activities.

You loved being around Bucky; he was sweet and caring and loved to try whatever new hobby you were experimenting with. He would always taste-test your cooking and baking and never say anything mean about it - even that time you made cupcakes and used salt instead of sugar he was quick to force it down and sing its praises. He cries at dog movies and volunteered at the local animal shelter weekly after you informed him one night that he could because he was just desperate for some interaction with the dogs. You were surprised he hadn’t come home with every single dog his first day there because he just wanted them to be loved so much.

Bucky Barnes was a Saint sculpted by gods who had a heart of gold, and you could never see him any other way. Sure, you knew his history. Hell, you had even written a paper all about him and the Howling Commandos in your college History class, but none of that mattered to you. The Winter Soldier had been gone for over a decade, the trigger words meaningless and the mystery over, and you just wanted to know Bucky. Not his past - not that he could remember much of it anyway - but his and your relationship’s future together and what possibilities come along with that.

Bucky loved going shopping with you. He would give you an armful of clothes and make you give him a fashion show, where he would cheer for you and clap obnoxiously and shower you with the sweetest compliments, and you both savoured every second of it. You also had a fairly decent understanding of fashion, so you would help him keep up with all of the trends and keep him looking as gorgeous as he always is. So a Saturday spent together roaming the mall should be the perfect outing for the both of you. If only you could do it alone.

You held his hand tightly in yours, fingers intertwined and palms sweating slightly, but you were sure it was only his that was. You kept him near to know he was safe and coping, because crowds were one hundred percent not his thing. Maybe that’s why recently he had taken a liking to online shopping, because you could still have your famous fashion show in the comfort of his safe, judgemental free apartment. You could feel every set of eyes follow you and the six foot ex-assassin beside you for longer than necessary as they walked past you both, but you kept your head held high. No one was ever going to make you feel bad for loving Bucky. Not now, not ever.

“Oh my God.”

“That poor girl.”

“Stay back, he’s dangerous.”

“Do we just let murderers walk free now?”

You don’t know if the people walking by tried to be discreet with their whispering or wanted you both to hear, but you could hear them so Bucky definitely heard them. Looking up at him as you feel his breathing hitch, you follow his eye line and find a small girl being whisked away by her mother with fear evident on her face. The air around you grew thick, like you could feel his suffocating anxiety grow. He didn’t want to scare anyone, and this sight seemingly pushed him over the edge into a downward spiral.

Tugging on his arm you grab his attention, flashing him a reassuring smile.

“Why don’t we get food? I’m starving.” He simply nods in response, not trusting his voice.

You sit across from him in the booth in the corner of the food court, eating happily as you watch him visibly relax into his surroundings. He has a mountain of food in front of him but you know it’s never enough, and you just grin as he reaches over to swipe some of your fries.

You both talk mindlessly about insignificant things; a jacket that caught his eye, where you’d like to go next, how you both are craving ice cream, oblivious to the numerous pairs of eyes staring at you two. The flash of a camera and a series of giggles catches your attention. You quickly look to Bucky to see his reaction, but just smile at him distracted by his milkshake which has now covered his face. You lean over the table to wipe it away with a napkin before kissing his nose gently, and he smiles happily at you as his cheeks tint red.

“Why don’t we just leave after this?” He looks up at you, and it pains you to see the hope in his eyes at the thought of leaving. “We can go to that ice cream parlour at the bottom of the avenue and have a walk in the park instead.”

You smile at him. “That sounds so much better than shopping, baby. Let me go throw all of this in the trash then we can go.”

“No, I’ve got it. I’ll be two ticks.” He slides out of the booth, pecking your lips quickly as he picks up the trays and walks over to the trash. You still have a smile on your lips as you pull on your jacket and pick up your purse, but it fades quickly when you hear a crash and yells from behind you.

Jumping out of the booth quickly you turn, finding Bucky standing with a now empty tray between a bunch of chairs and a woman draped across the floor covered in the remains of your lunch. Bucky’s shaking as he tries to stammer out an apology. You assume that they’ve bumped into each other, and with Bucky’s strength she fell back hard.

People had started to crowd around as the woman went into painfully fake hysterics about how he had attacked her, and Bucky just stood there like a deer in headlights. Pushing through the crowd you run to him, grabbing the tray from his hands and setting it on a table. You take his hand in his, holding onto it tightly, and he leans into your touch to try to make his body as small as possible.

A hush settled over the crowd as the woman’s cries turned into whimpers when she realised she had an audience. “That thing just assaulted me! Did you see it? Doing this to a vulnerable woman!”

A few people murmured agreements to her accusations, and it only made your blood boil more.

“Bucky is a person, not a thing,” All eyes turned on you, and you only stood taller to secure your confidence. “and he wouldn’t harm a fly. I’m sure this was all just some sort of accident.”

She scoffed as she was helped up to stand from a few bystanders. “He’s a criminal. He knows nothing but hurting people. Just look at that,” she gestured to Bucky’s metal arm that he was now trying to hide away behind his body.

Just as you tried to defend Bucky, the crowd started getting rowdy again and you felt a tug on your hand. Looking back you see a mortified looking Bucky with glistening eyes. His voice is so weak you almost don’t catch what he says.

“Just leave it, Y/N. Please. I want to go home.” You nod quickly, fixing your bag over your shoulder and delivering the woman a scowl as you turn and practically run out of the mall together. You didn’t want to make a scene, because it always affects Bucky worse.

The car ride is silent, you in the drivers’ seat and Bucky bouncing his knee beside you, eyes shifting around frantically. You sit in the parking lot of your apartment block for a while, Bucky’s head on your shoulder and your hand running through his hair softly as he finally lets himself go. You stay there until his shoulders ache and he can’t find anymore tears to cry. You hold him close as you walk to your apartment, and he sits on the bathroom counter as you run a warm bath. You drop in his favourite bath bomb, and that at least brings a smile to his face.

He finally begins to relax as he sinks into the warm water and you sit on the edge of the tub, treading your fingers through his hair gently. It’s quiet for a while, but both of your minds are loud.

“I wish they would see you like I do.” Your voice cuts through the air like a knife. He sighs, shaking his head.

“They never will. Why should they? I’m a monster.” Bucky sounds weak. He’s tired of living like this, scared that he’ll make one wrong move and his face will be plastered all over the news.

“You’re not a monster, Buck.” You keep your voice steady. “You're the kindest, sweetest person I know. I don’t care about your past at all, and I… I love you.”

You weren’t planning to tell him you loved him for the first time, but it just seemed right in the moment. He’s quiet for a while, and you begin to wonder if he actually heard you or has fallen asleep from the warm water and lavender.

Bucky takes a deep breath before he speaks again.

“I love you, too.”

You can’t control the smile that takes over your face and you lean forward, planting a kiss on his head. You hear him smile and he moves to see you. The water swishes as he moves. A wet hand cups your cheek and you lean into the touch, watching his eyes stare at your feet as he struggles to get his words out.

“I love you so much it hurts. I wake up in the morning and see you laying beside me, and I know that I’m where I’m supposed to be. I just don’t want to screw it all up.” He finally meets your eyes. They’ve turned a stormy blue, and you can see all of his emotions swirling around them.

You turn your head to the side and kiss the palm of his hand, your fingers still running through his hair gently. He leans in, the tension escaping his muscles. He sighs as he pulls away, resting his forehead on yours. You smile at him, pecking his nose quickly.

“You could never mess this up. You’re my soulmate. Now, how about we have that ice cream now?” the two of you share a knowing smile.

You squeal as Bucky pulls you in for a hug, both of you laughing as he soaks your clothes and peppers your face in kisses.

“This is wrong, this is all wrong. I told you I should’ve worn a tie! Even Steve agreed with me on that one! I look so stupid wearing, why the hell am I wearing a leather jacket to meet your parents? Can we turn back? I’ll change quickly. Let me cut my hair. Is it too long?” Bucky pulls down the passenger mirror to inspect himself, his forehead creasing as he tries to perfect his already styled hair.

You sigh as you reach over from the steering wheel and take his hand, bringing it over to kiss his knuckles gently. “You look great. It doesn’t matter what you wear. They’ll love you no matter what.”

He grumbles a disagreement as he sinks back in his seat, changing the song playing through the car radio until he finds a depressing song to play to match his mood. You had noticed he did that a lot after only a week of dating. Whenever he’s happy you will almost always hear Michael Jackson or Queen playing from wherever he is in the apartment, and he had downloaded Spotify’s Sad Songs for whenever he felt down.

You reach over and change the song quickly, which earns a sharp look from him. You scoff, but you both know that it’s not malicious. “Calm down, Buck. You’re just nervous. We’re having a barbecue, not a fancy meal in a fancy restaurant.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just don’t want them to hate me. Would you leave me if they hate me?” He sounds like what a sad puppy would if it were able to speak. Stopping at a red light, you turn your body to face him.

“I love you, okay? Nobody will ever come between us, not even my parents. Just flash them that charming smile of yours and they’ll have you hooked.” He smiles bashfully at you, and you grin as you kiss him quickly.

After that the ride is short and sweet to your parents’ home. Honestly, you didn’t know how they were going to react to Bucky. You hadn’t told them who he was specifically, just that he was your handsome boyfriend who you loved very much. They had always been accepting of whatever life choices you made, even when you decided to drop out of college. They just wanted you to be happy. And Bucky made you happy, so that means they should accept him.

You held onto his hand tightly as you walked up the driveway, and before flashing him one last reassuring smile you knocked the door. The air was tense and time seemed to stretch as you waited for one of your parents to open up the door. Even you were becoming slightly nervous.

The door handle jiggles before the door flies open, and you smile fondly at your mother standing in the doorway. Bucky smiles too, though it’s a nervous one.

It had been so long since he had felt any parental love - he thinks about his family everyday - and as selfish as it sounds he was hoping he could use this as an opportunity to finally have a stable father figure in his life. From the stories he had heard from you, he decided you had lived the life he had always dreamed of. Family trips, game nights, going out for special meals together. Even just the little things, like how you called them every night to say goodnight. He craved stability in his life, and this may be one way he can achieve it.

She looks between you both, the smile on her face fading the longer she looks at Bucky. Just as you open your mouth you see her eyes flit downwards - straight age Bucky’s metallic hand. He adjusts his hand to loosen his grip on yours and swallows dryly. A strangled gasp escaped her lips before she grabbed your empty hand roughly, tugging you inside and scrambling to lock the door behind you.

“Y/N! What were you thinking, bringing that monster here!” She searched your face as if she was hoping to find bruises under your makeup, and your blood boiled.

“What the hell?” You shouted at her. Reaching back you feel for the door handle, but she takes your hand in hers before you can.

“Do you not watch the news? He’s dangerous.” She pulls away, staring at you like you were crazy. “Has he been lying to you?”

“I know exactly who he is mom-”

“Then it’s… it’s Stockholm Syndrome. I’ve read about that! I think I’m using that right.” she says. You scoff at how ridiculous she’s being, fully conscious of Bucky standing behind the door. She only frowns.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this. That’s my boyfriend that you just locked outside.”

“Whatever’s you’re feeling isn’t love, honey. I’ve heard everything about him. Did you know he attacked some poor woman in a food court a few days ago?” There's a tinge of pity in her voice, and it only makes you more angry.

“Oh my god,” you moan. “He is my boyfriend! That’s the James that I told you about! And you just slammed the door on his face and called him a monster.”

Her movements falter as realisation dawns on her face. She actually loves the monster, is what you assume she’s thinking. You turn and swing open the door, only to see Bucky seemingly frozen in place in shock and mortification. He just blinks and stares at you, and you just want to swaddle him up into a blanket and hold him close right on the spot.

You reach your hand out for him, but he flinches back and stumbles down the steps.

“Th-This is all wrong. I’m sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have come.” He sounds weak, like a child after being scolded.

He stands there looking lost, like he wants to run away and never come back but is also too scared to turn his back on you. He isn’t leaving you, just the situation. He doesn’t know what to do. Will you hate him for this? Are you angry that he isn’t standing up for himself? But he doesn’t want to shout what he wants to say. He wants to be calm. He’s learned how to be calm. How can he learn to be calm after everything he’s gone through, but no one else can?

Your dad comes to the door and you know things will only get worse. You step down to stand beside Bucky, holding his hand tightly.

“Y/N, what’s going on here? Who is that man?” Your dad seems just as confused about the situation as you are.

“Mom just- ugh. I can’t believe this is actually happening.” You didn’t want to cause a scene, just because of the sheer fact that your mom knows about what happened the other day so if one person sees this who knows what it will be escalated to in the media.

“She ruined today. Today was supposed to be amazing and she messed it all up because she didn’t want to give Bucky a chance.”

“Sweetie, look at him,” your mom began to defend herself. “Can you blame me? All I know is that he is a killer with an arm made of metal. He could hurt you!”

“Like you are?” She stared back at you in shock. “You took one look at him and decided he was a monster. He’s a person just like us, and he deserves to be treated like one. I’m sorry, but I can’t stand here and allow you to treat him like that. I love him and he loves me, and that’s all that matters.”

Your dad calls on you as you storm to the car, but you don’t listen. Slamming the door behind you, you push your foot in the ignition and drive away as soon as Bucky gets in the car.

Bucky doesn’t know what to do. Normally he knows how to help you, but he’s never seen you like this before. You’re shaking, and he doesn’t know if it’s from anger or fear. Fear that you’ve lost your parents? He’s so lost and feels terrible that he can’t help you.

It takes about fifteen minutes for you to stop seeing red and finally slow down to the speed limit. It was like something else took over your body and you were watching from five feet away. Everything happened so quickly. What actually just happened. Are you in the wrong? Maybe you should’ve told them about him before. You don’t want to have to but you know you should have. Explain it. Him. Bucky.

Looking over you see him half smiling patiently at you. He’s the one hurting right now, but he’s hiding it so he can be there for you. You don’t mean it, but the look he gives you when your lip trembles causes the floodgates to open.

He manages to reach over to the wheel and guide the car off the side of the road when the road begins to get blurry from tears.

“I’m so sorry, Bucky. I didn’t know she was going to do that. Never in a million years did I think she’d do that! She-she’s horrible and nasty and-”

“Y/N, please.” Bucky reaches out and holds your hand, his other reaching up to wipe the tears off of your face. “You don’t mean that.”

“But it’s still not okay.”

“I know it’s not,” he sighs. “I just thought they would be more like you.” He smiles weakly at you.

“So did I.” You sniff as you lean over, resting your head against his shoulder. His lips instantly reach down to kiss your head gently.

“Let’s leave it for now, and you can call in a few days. Maybe we can convince them to come around to me. I know you want them to like me.” Bucky’s voice doesn’t sound as hopeful as his words, but he wants this for you. You’ve always had a good relationship with your parents and he doesn’t want to be the reason it’s all messed up. He knows he’s not worth it. Well… yes, I am worth it, he forces himself to think.

He knows his worth in this relationship. He knows he means so much to you. You mean the world to him. He hopes you know that. But he knows how much your parents mean to you, and he would never want to make you choose. That’s selfish of him.

You look up at him and smile. “You know I love you, right?”

He smiles back. “You tell me everyday.” He bends down, capturing your lips in a kiss.

Bucky still had a long way to go with his recovery, but you made everyday easier. He couldn’t imagine his life without you anymore. You were the reason he got out of bed everyday, the reason he cared for himself, the reason he smiled.

Who knew Godzilla could fall in love?

63 notes · View notes

mandelene · 3 years

Note

Could you write child/teenager Alfred having a high fever and collapsing suddenly and Arthur just freaking out?

Thank you so much, i love your work ;)

Thank you! 💕😭 And I hope you like it!

Being a Doctor Is Hard -- Being a Parent Is Harder

Word count: 1089

He’s taking a sick day, but not for himself, for Alfred.

He called out of work to take care of him because the poor boy has been running a fever for two days now and has been crying endlessly for Arthur to stay by his side. It was getting to a point where Francis was becoming overwhelmed by the constant wailing, and so, Arthur decided it was time to take the reins and give his husband a break. Thus, Francis went to work at the bistro this morning, and Matthew is at school.

Meanwhile, Arthur has a very cranky four-year-old on his hands who doesn’t want to take his medicine or accept any of his medical advice, which frankly, is a little insulting. Patients’ insurance companies pay him hundreds of dollars for his advice, and here he is giving it to his son for free and he doesn’t even want it. Typical. Pre-schoolers are a ruthless bunch.

How many times must he do airplane or “choo-choo" train sounds before Alfred finally surrenders and takes the children’s Tylenol he meticulously prepared for him in a medicine dropper?

“You’re not going to feel better if you don’t take your medicine, Alfred.”

“Noooo!”

While the boy has his mouth open to protest, Arthur slips the medicine dropper between his lips and forces the medicine down. He didn’t want to have to do things this way, but he’s been left with no choice. Fortunately, Alfred swallows it and doesn’t spit it out, but he still cries once it’s over and done with, complaining about the taste.

“Here, love. Have some apple juice,” Arthur says, handing him his sippy cup. “Better?”

Alfred tearfully nods and sniffles.

“It’ll be all better soon,” Arthur promises. He kisses his warm brow and tucks him in. “The virus just has to run its course.”

“I wanna play outside.”

“You have a high fever and need to stay in bed and rest for now.”

“No!”

“Yes,” Arthur insists, petting his head. “When you’re healthy again, you can play outside. Right now, you’re going to take a nap.”

“No, I don’t wanna nap!” Alfred screeches, kicking his covers away and jumping out of bed, ready to throw another tantrum.

“Alfred, get back into bed!”

“No!”

He takes a deep breath and wills himself to stay calm yet firm. He bends down in an attempt to scoop the boy into his arms and place him back in bed, but Alfred dashes away from him and makes a run for it. What is with him today? Alfred has never been a good patient, but he’s never been this intent on being a menace either. He’s clearly not well, so where is he getting this energy from?

“Alfred! Sick children with fevers do not run around the house!” he shouts, exasperated. He chases after him, and Alfred makes it all the way downstairs to the living room before he stops in his tracks. At first, Arthur thinks he’s finally worn himself out and will start cooperating, but…not quite.

The color drains from Alfred’s face and his knees suddenly buckle. Arthur sweeps forward immediately and breaks his fall before he can get hurt. He lifts him up and into his arms, and for a split second, Arthur is paralyzed from shock. He has seen many patients, young and old, faint before, but seeing one’s own child faint isn’t the same.

But then, his brain switches from Dad-mode to doctor-mode. He carries Alfred over to the couch and lays him down. He has already regained consciousness, so it was a brief fainting spell, but that doesn’t make Arthur worry any less.

“Knees up to your chest,” Arthur directs him, moving his legs. “Stay still.”

Alfred, frightened by everything that has just transpired, takes this as an opportunity to start crying again.

“Shhh, shhh. Don’t cry. It’s all right. I’m right here—you’re okay,” Arthur says, trying to reassure himself as well. He leaves Alfred for just a moment to grab his bag with his medical supplies and to fill another sippy cup with juice.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Shhh, shhh,” Arthur coos before placing a thermometer under Alfred’s tongue and wrapping a blood pressure cuff around his arm. “Shhh, shhh.”

Alfred’s sobbing settles a little, and Arthur is relieved when he checks the boy’s blood pressure twice and sees that it’s going back up. Likewise, his temperature is beginning to go down after the fever reducer he gave him.

But what if the fainting spell is a sign of something more serious going on? Should he take Alfred to the emergency room? EKG, bloodwork, and urinalysis?

Just as he’s seriously considering bundling the child up and rushing him to the hospital, Alfred sits up, takes a big gulp of the orange juice in his sippy cup, and says, “Daddy, I’m sowwy fo’ wunning in the house. I wanna watch a movie.”

“B-But how are you feeling? Are you feeling better? You just fainted, Alfred.”

“I wanna watch a movie.”

Oh, God help him. What’s the protocol in this situation? Most fainting spells are harmless and not indicative of a more serious illness, but that was terrifying and he never wants to experience that again!

Okay, he’s going to keep an eye on him and take him to the hospital if it happens again or he gets dizzy. And he’ll call the boys’ pediatrician and ask if he can bring Alfred in tomorrow. He needs to hear from another doctor that his child isn’t going to spontaneously go into cardiac arrest on his watch. It’ll give him peace of mind.

“All right, we can watch a movie. I’ll bring you a blanket and more pillows so you can rest on the couch.”

“Okay.”

Arthur hugs Alfred tightly, and it makes him feel a little calmer. After he calls the pediatrician’s office, he snuggles with Alfred on the couch, and he swears he’s not going to let the boy out of his sight until he’s well again.

And when they go to the pediatrician’s office the following day, and Arthur feels like an idiot because the pediatrician confirms that Alfred is going to be fine, he realizes he may have overreacted.

He expects Alfred to hold a temporary grudge against him for putting him through an extra doctor’s visit, but once Alfred gets a lollipop and his Spiderman sticker, he doesn’t seem to care one way or the other and forgives and forgets very quickly.

Maybe pre-schoolers aren’t as ruthless of a bunch as they seem after all.

#hetalia #aph america #aph england #hws america #aph france #hws france #hws canada #aph canada #aph face family #hws face family #drabbles #sick alfred #fainting alfred #hws england

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fleckcmscott · 4 years

Text

The Falls

Summary: Arthur and Y/N reach Gotham City Hall. Two weeks later, they share a taste of newly-wedded bliss.

Warnings: Swearing, Adult situations

Words: 5,953

A/N: This request came from @jokerownsmysoul. I'm grateful for it - it was a real challenge. I can't wait for more! I also need to extend a hearty thanks to @sweet-nothings04 for her support. I've been going through a rough period, which is why my output has slowed. She encouraged me, listened to and helped me work through my doubts, and gave me great feedback. Also, send love to @howdylilflower for reading through this, sharing her thoughts, and pointing out my obvious errors!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Gotham City Hall was, to put it briefly, imposing. Statues of former mayors and city founders stood on either side of its massive staircase. The Corinthian capitals of the portico's columns rose three stories above the entrance. The glass and copper doors, made heavy by their vertical, iron security bars, provided a sense of elite exclusion, regardless of it being a municipal building.

As Y/N and Arthur dashed up the marble steps, their buoyant laughter filling the air, none of that mattered. All that pomp and circumstance was immaterial compared to the leap they were about to make. The leap she hadn't expected that morning but had craved for months. The leap into wedlock and all the dedication, trust, and responsibility that went with it.

The Office of Licensure and Registration was far busier than she'd assumed - it was set to close in half an hour. Two clerks worked the winding line of people dealing with the unremarkableness of bureaucracy. A woman complained about the cost to renew a dog license. ("But he's only a mutt!") At the window, a man was being told he needed to head down the hall and to the left. One guy was muttering to himself about what he was going to have for dinner once he was "out of this hellhole." The atmosphere, admittedly, was not ideal.

However, the love of her life standing beside her, clutching her hand a tad too hard, made it perfect. She examined Arthur's profile as he stared ahead. The joy and relief hadn't left his visage after she'd accepted his proposal. Pensiveness hid in the flare of his nostrils, though. In the repeated clench of his jaw. In the quiet bounce of one knee.

She pursed her lips. Taking off up the street and demanding to be married straight away had been pushy. Under no circumstance did she want him to feel pressured, especially not when it came to this. But, she considered, it was natural to be anxious. And he'd appeared ecstatic, too, nearly yanking her onto his lap on the bench at Lemmars Park.

Tucking back the stray, chestnut strand by his temple, she murmured, "I'm the happiest woman on earth right now." She gently loosened her fingers from his grip and hugged his slim waist. With a bashful duck of his chin and quick puff, his arm went across her shoulders. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes told her his tight-lipped smile was sincere. That he needed this as much as she did. That he'd be all right.

The clerk, whose nametag read "Kyle," was polite and indifferent. Leaning on the counter, they hastily retrieved their IDs from her purse and Arthur's wallet. She rattled off her social security number from memory, while he had to find his card. After paying a fifteen-dollar fee, a slew of typing, and Y/N promising to provide a copy of her divorce papers, Kyle handed them a fountain pen and beige piece of parchment.

Floral borders decorated the edges, an art deco design out of the twenties. The title "Marriage License" leapt out, printed in a font belonging to a carnival barker's wagon. Their names, cities of birth, and birthdays were listed. A final paragraph stated the following: "The undersigned are both of sound mind, are consenting adults, and willingly commit to the bonds of matrimony." They merely had to sign on the respective "bride" and "groom" lines to make it official.

Y/N bent to sign the paper without delay. Not wanting to smudge the ink, she forced her hand to go slower than usual. Arthur grazed her knuckles as she passed him the pen. Only a couple seconds went by, then he jotted his name, a scraggly "A. Fleck." She heard his breath catch as the clerk notarized the document.

The paper needed to be mailed to central office for processing, Kyle explained (which Y/N already knew). A photocopy was made so she could change her name. The official marriage certificate could be picked up in approximately three weeks. To her surprise, he said, "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Fleck" before closing the window's shade.

And that was it. They were husband and wife in less time than it took to register a new car.

Exhilaration fluttered in her abdomen. Pumped its way from her heart to the tips of her toes as they strolled arm-in-arm towards the closest subway station. Y/N suggested they grab a bite to eat to celebrate, maybe go to Kao Wah. But Arthur stated he wasn't hungry. "I'd like to be home. With my- with my wife." He averted his gaze as he said the last words, the tip of his tongue darting to his top lip as if to the savor their flavor.

Given how much he'd learned about traditions from old movies, she'd suspected he'd try to carry her over the threshold. She was grateful he didn't. Instead, he pressed her into the coats and jackets hanging on the wall. Kissed her with his entire body. "I need to make love to you," he uttered into her neck. The softness of the euphemism was strikingly different from his urgency as he unbuttoned her blouse. He'd have likely taken her in the entranceway if she hadn't led him to the bedroom.

The intensity with which he fucked her into the mattress hadn't been experienced since he'd shown up at her apartment drenched, lost, and unable to fully accept she loved him. But this moment was distinct. Although the lines of his face were taut, his eyes were filled with ardor. He entwined their fingers, crushed her to him, drove her hand into the pillow. "Say you're mine," he implored, the jerks of his pelvis deep and uneven. "Please. Say you're all mine."

It wasn't like her to give herself to someone. To allow that person to own her. She'd tried that before; it hadn't been good for either of them. Yet, she'd pledged her fidelity to Arthur barely two hours ago. She knew what his request meant. He didn't want to change or dominate her. He simply needed to hear her answer. To know he was no longer alone in the world and wouldn't be for the rest of his life, even if he doubted.

Caressing the expanse of his back and his distended shoulder, she responded. "Of course, I'm yours, Arthur." The tip of his nose met hers, and she savored the smile he pressed against her cheek. "Of course, I'm yours."

She absentmindedly played with his hair. Holding him to her breasts, she went over everything she had to do the following day. Having a plan calmed her, aided her in thinking straight. And the list she was making was a pleasure because everything on it involved him. "I have to call the landlord to add you to the lease. Go to the DMV to get my name changed. Add you to my insurance at work. Oh, we need to combine our bank accounts, too." She peeked at the top of his head. "I have a feeling I'll remember to write 'Mrs. Fleck' easier than '1983' when the new year arrives."

The emerging rigidness of Arthur's frame and the burps that suddenly left him alerted her to his tumult. He pushed himself off her, swung his legs over the side of the bed as guffaws ripped their way from his throat. She scurried behind him to see his palm hover above his ribs as he covered his mouth with the other.

It had been weeks since his condition had flared up around her. Even longer since he'd tried and failed to hide it. Acceptance of his affliction was a concept that was sometimes hard for him to accept; her kindness and love couldn't erase thirty-five years of distress. But he had gotten better at believing it and she was proud of him. Not wanting any of his progress to be lost (especially not on their wedding night), she helped him through it, as usual. Kissed his bicep. Reminded him to take deep, even breaths. Blessedly, the attack didn't last long.

He was wringing his hands, the shaking of his head almost imperceptible. "What if I-" He spoke lowly, fear emitted with every syllable. "What if I wake up in Arkham? Or taking care of Penny again?" Y/N continued to listen as she searched for the best reply. "I never thought I'd have what I wanted." A humorless chuckle as he swiped his nose. "I don't want it to go away."

She wondered if what he was saying was due to trepidation or illnesses. Then she realized the differentiation was irrelevant. What mattered was soothing him. Letting him know it was all right. And real. Slowly, she knelt on the floor in front of him. "I'm not going anywhere," she confirmed, cupping his weathered cheeks. "I adore you." Smiling, she claimed his lips. "I'm your wife."

His toothy grin caused her pulse to skip, and he drew her to his chest. "I'm your husband."

"There's no one else I'd rather be married to."

Laying on the mattress, he closed his eyes. She stroked his lean pectorals, delighting in his resulting sighs. Once the tension in his sinews seemed to ebb, once he looked relaxed, he made a thoughtful sound. "Are we gonna have a honeymoon?"

~~~~~

For as long as he could remember, Arthur had ridden buses. They were usually crowded, stuffed full of humanity. A cushioned, plastic seat was free about a third of the time. Apart from the engine, the rides were fairly quiet. Everyone wanted to get to their destinations instead of conversing. He'd gathered that from observing them. From trying to figure out how to make a connection.

The tour bus he was currently on felt like the pinnacle of luxury, with its padded, fabric chairs and tinted windows. A newer adventure movie played on the tiny television built into the ceiling, its volume so low he could make out only half the dialogue. There was a bathroom (a bathroom!) in the rear, cleaner than any public one around the city. Passengers were few. A young couple sat across the aisle, playfully teasing each other. Sights like that had sparked melancholy in the past. Now the corner of his mouth quirked.

He'd yearned to get out of the city. To go somewhere warm, beautiful, and calm. To have space but not loneliness, which was readily available at home. The postcards he'd kept in his locker at work and on his refrigerator had been a feeble attempt to keep the hope of leaving alive. A co-worker had asked about them once. Arthur, seeking to cover-up his vulnerability in a room full of tough guys, had mumbled a quick, "They're just pictures."

California's distance from Gotham had made it a promised land. He would have liked to walk its shores. They had to be cleaner than those of the city. Meet the people there. They were likely kinder due to the sunniness of the state's weather.

He'd lain on his worn sofa or written in his journal, particularly on chilly nights, fantasizing about playing ukulele on the beach with a pretty Hawaiian girl. The light shining off her tan skin, a contrast to his own pallor. The sway of her hips while she danced the hula would match the rhythm of his novice strumming. After a shallow dip in the ocean, they'd make love in the sand. The sun would be setting to their left. A campfire would burn bright on the right. It would have been great.

But the woman currently dozing on his shoulder made the reality he was experiencing finer.

It had been difficult for him to admit his disappointment upon learning Y/N hadn't thought of a honeymoon. The notion had been unimportant to her, as unimportant as having a wedding. When they'd married two weeks ago, she'd said, in her usual, casual manner, "You're my husband and I'm your wife and that's fine." He'd believed he'd gotten her meaning - that frills and fusses were unnecessary, so long as they were partners. But his chest had ached all the same. He'd awaited the opportunity to let out the old romantic in him for years. Those frills and fusses were crucial to him.

The brochure for Niagara Falls had been one of many in the travel agency's window. Its bright blues and greens had caught his eye when he'd passed by on the way home from therapy. He'd heard of the tourist spot on television. Weekend trips were awarded as prizes on game shows. A magician may have gone over them in a barrel. It was supposed to be the honeymoon capital of the world. And it was only four hours from home. He'd figured it would be easy to sell her on the idea.

He'd shown her the pamphlet as soon as she walked through the door, prattling with anticipation as she slipped off her heels. "There's a Skywheel. We've been on the Ferris wheel as Amusement Mile but this one's taller." He'd pointed at a picture while taking her coat. "There are a lot of restaurants. And a town we can walk in..."

Trailing off, he'd lifted one shoulder. "I know you've done all this before. A honeymoon, I mean." His brows pinched. "But not with me. I just want-" The interruption of Y/N's lips had stilled him, the twine of her fingers in his hair switching the racing of his brain to the pounding of his heart. Once they'd parted, the affection in her eyes reassured him.

"That's wonderful suggestion," she'd said. "We'll call a hotline for motel recommendations after dinner. I'm sure I can wrangle a free Friday from Phil." Her eyelashes had fluttered against his neck and she'd snorted. "You should have seen his face when I changed my name. And told him you'd be joining me on every business trip."

The memory made him feel fuzzy in spots he hadn't known existed until she'd seeped into them.

It was early evening, cold, and raining when they arrived. Y/N held her pop-up umbrella over them as he retrieved their shared suitcase. Thank goodness the stroll from the bus depot and to their lodgings was short. Only shallow splashes got on their pants during their scurry up the sidewalk.

Arthur had chosen the Honeymoon City Hotel for a few reasons. The ad had promised a view of the falls from every room, which he'd thought charming. A special newlywed's suite had been offered, Jacuzzi, cable television, and free breakfast included. And the place's corny name. Its silliness had touched the part of him that had bought a rose when he'd had no clue what he was doing, having dinner at a woman's apartment like a regular man. The part that compelled him to impulsively grab her hand while they stirred pots on the stove. The part that could, every so often, envision a brighter future for himself because he had her.

The motel, however, stated there was a problem. The room had been double-booked, a mistake blamed on a new employee having forgotten to note their reservation. The other guests had checked in earlier and couldn't be moved.

Having had a plethora of first days, Arthur understood what it was like to be new on the job. But he was still irritated. He asked where they were supposed to stay, then muttered to himself. He didn't want to be upset on their special weekend. Graciously, Y/N patted his arm and stepped in. He self-soothed with nicotine and noted how, in her kind but direct style, she negotiated a stay in one of the business suites and a ten percent refund. The front desk person told them their bag would be in their room.

They were also given a coupon for the nearby revolving restaurant. He'd been intrigued by the mention of it in his brochure, but he'd assumed it was too expensive. It was just beyond the Canadian border in Skyfall Tower. Because of the discount and no passports being needed, they decided to catch a cab and go.

Though Arthur usually didn't eat a lot, they opted for the buffet. He'd thought it a better value, and it would allow him to try new dishes without worrying he'd be stuck with something he didn't like. The novelty of the made-to-order stir-fry felt opulent. And it was fun adding broccoli, carrots, and mushrooms, but no water chestnuts because their texture was bizarre. Y/N appeared to enjoy the chicken Kiev and quiche, going back for a second helping of the latter.

Gazing out at the panorama provided by the windows surrounding them, Arthur titled his head. Droplets ran down the pane of glass, obscuring the view. The multi-color illumination of the falls were hazy from the rain. The plaque at the entrance had stated they were fifty-five stories up. In Gotham, he'd never been worth enough to go above the tenth floor. He wondered how fast they were spinning. He couldn't feel the momentum, but their position had changed slightly during dinner.

In his peripheral vision, Y/N was licking the rest of her chocolate mousse off a spoon. Nonchalantly, as if she didn't know the effect it would have on him. "This was almost worth the mistake the motel made," she said. But she winced as she straightened, put her palm on her stomach. "I'm not going to be able to move for the rest of the night."

Rolling his eyes and giving a half-smirk, he stood and guided her out of her seat. "You just need to walk a little." He slipped her jacket around her back. "Come on."

~~~~~

Y/N tried to stifle her laughter at Arthur's bewilderment. The room was...not what either of them had anticipated. (And a reminder why she was dubious about motels that had silly names.) Saying it left something to be desired was being generous.

Brown wood grain paneling, too dark to be considered cozy, was on the walls. Two twin beds, about three feet apart, were on the right. She chose the one closest to the windows, and it creaked and groaned as she sat on it. ("I hope the walls are thicker than they look.") Dim lamps with avocado green shades were on the nightstands in the middle. A thirty-two-inch television sat on the bureau across from the footboards. The room's saving grace was a fireplace in the back corner.

He popped his head into the bathroom, stated the shower was smaller than theirs, and grumbled that there was no whirlpool bath. She did not mourn that loss. The couple of times she'd used one, the pumps and jets had been loud and distracting. Besides. They were bound to test one out eventually.

Arthur made his way to the acrylic curtains and opened them. "I see...a parking lot." He shoved his hands in the pockets of his tan jacket and sighed. "This wasn't what I pictured."

She knew he'd blame himself because he'd picked the place, which was ridiculous. They'd both agreed to it. Disappointment and guilt on their honeymoon? That wouldn't do. "Vacations never go as planned. That's why you return home more drained than when you left." Reaching behind her, she flipped on the radio. Searched for and found a station playing upbeat music. Kept the volume at a level where the notes of "The Hustle" were barely audible but could still cheer. She stood and flipped back the covers. "Well, the sheets are clean. Help me push these together."

Chuckling, he brought the lamps she'd unplugged to the nearby desk, then moved the nightstands out of the way. There were four or so inches between the mattresses when the bed frames met, but they'd make the most if it. The ease with which he'd moved his bed against hers impressed her, prompted her to squeeze her thighs together.

While Arthur stuck his head out the window for a smoke, Y/N got to work. She dug out the sparkling wine she'd packed (not champagne, which he found too sour) and unwrapped the plastic cups by the ice bucket. After screwing off the top and pouring them both a serving, she stripped to her bra and panties, a lacy dark green set she'd bought for the trip. Then she tip-toed to him. "Mr. Fleck, would you do me the honor of starting the hearth?"

He flicked his cigarette, stood, and turned to her. The desire and love in his intent stare as it roamed up her body, and the softening of his features made her blush. She looked at the brown carpet demurely. "I only packed lace."

The raging flames were half a yard away, a yellow and orange glow illuminating them both. She traced his spine to the beads of sweat gathering in the small of his back. They'd begun mere minutes ago, but she was already light-headed. Not only from the satisfaction of him repeatedly filling her, the joy of joining with him entirely. But also from the blazing heat.

She focused on the drop perspiration rolling down his forehead to his nose, then felt it fall onto her neck. "Arthu-" The last letter was stolen by his lips, the tip of his tongue teasing hers. She broke off, gasping. "Can we take a break?"

Blinking at her, he stopped, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. "A break?"

Gently, she pushed at his hips and nodded. "I feel like I'm going to melt. And not in the good way."

He left the grip of her body carefully and went to the knob next to the fireplace. "I think it's on a timer." She watched his grimace as he attempted to turn it counterclockwise. "It won't budge."

Y/N scooted away from the fire, rolled onto her side, and grabbed her mostly full cup. "We'll have to wait it out." He pouted at her and she laughed. "Hey, waiting will make the quenching sweeter." Taking a sip, she beamed up at him. "I don't think I told you how I got to Gotham."

There was a pause before he swiped back his damp locks. "What do you mean? It was your old job." He stretched to lie beside her, propped on his forearm.

"That's true but there's more to it." Entwining their calves, she draped an arm over his hip so she could caress the modest curve of his rear. "I used to get groceries every Tuesday in Missouri - the shop was further out, so I couldn't go and get a couple of ingredients, like you and I do." She turned onto her back, surveyed the off-white popcorn ceiling. "It would be empty. Lines were short. New stock would have come in.

"I always bought three newspapers for the help wanted section: the Daily Planet, the Toronto Star, and the Gotham Journal. One week I had to work late and go on a Thursday, and the store was out of the Journal." She giggled and shook her head. "I was so annoyed. I'd avoided the Gotham Globe because it looked like a trashy tabloid. But I settled."

The skim of his fingertips across her belly was a series of tender, repeated lines. Her gaze flicked to his, her smile breaking her face wide open. "That's where I found the ad for Shaw and Associates." She brought his knuckles to her mouth. "That annoyance is what got me my job. Allowed me to move to Gotham." She grasped his chin, ran her thumb along his deepening dimple. "What led me to you." Arching a brow, she gave a little shrug. "It's almost enough to make me believe there's a reason for everything. Not quite. But almost."

The concentration in the lines of his forehead told Y/N he was trying to find the right way to express himself. He gave it a go. "You're my reason."

She winced. It was a conversation they'd often had. While she appreciated what he said, held every word in her heart, he tended to aggrandize her and not give himself proper credit for how well he was doing. For going to treatment, for trying different medications. For being honest. She was still finding the kindest, most effective ways to correct those notions. To emphasize they were equals, through and through. "Arthur, I can't be your only reason."

"That's not what I meant." He rubbed the side of his face. Sitting up, he hugged his legs to his chest and his eyelids fluttered shut. "I don't hate myself as much as I used to. Not every day."

He fidgeted with the carpet. Y/N put her palm on his foot, traced the tendons of his ankle. Tried to help bolster him to confide whatever he wanted. "My mother would say she was the one who knew my purpose. That she didn't mind my laugh, because I was happy all the time." Scoffing, he took Y/N's proffered cup. "If she told me I wasn't funny or I did something wrong-" He swallowed hard and finished her wine.

She got it. Penny, along with his experiences in and perceptions of Gotham, had hammered into him that he was hard to love. An egregious, groundless lie. The pain underlying what he'd disclosed settled in her stomach, a dull ache for what he'd lived through. She was about to speak when he wiggled his toe to stroke her wrist. "I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable."

"Psh." She sat to hug him across his back at the waist. "I've never been uncomfortable around you. Not once." He leaned into her as she kissed his temple. The reflection of the hearth in his light green eyes was beautiful, flecks of brown and hazel shining. Gladness lurked in them, undeterred by their earnest exchange. She tousled his curls, ran her nails over his scalp until a pleasured moan escaped him. "Don't ever apologize for telling me how you feel."

A prolonged but companionable silence, then. As the fire died down, she lay on the floor. Pulled him to follow her until his wiry frame covered her. "I hate to break it to you, but you're not that weird."

Enfolding their fingers, he squinted at her. "I'm not?"

"Sorry to let you down." She wrapped her legs about his middle, squeezed him tight as he opened her lips with his. "Loving you is one of the easiest things I've ever done," she purred. She kissed his face in a line, then whispered in his ear. "Planning to proposition a man on the third date was never a habit of mine."

"Hm." At the weight of him hardening against her thigh, she gripped his shoulders and arched towards him. "Did you always flirt with men in the grocery store?"

The mild pinch to his bottom was instantaneous.

~~~~~

After procuring two apples, bananas, and donuts from the breakfast buffet and bringing them to their suite, Arthur decided to journal. He'd been awake since four. There was only so much smoking, staring at the walls, and trying to go back to sleep he could do. So as not to disturb Y/N, he went to the bathroom and sat on the closed toilet, notebook on his lap.

The pen flowed freely and he snickered. It always felt good when jokes came easily. "My mother wud say (change voice here) 'mariage isn't for everyone.' But I found the one person who wanted to marry me. Sorry, mom. It's funny." "I have a wife. It's great to have one special person to steel the blankets from."

Tears pricked a couple punchlines later. He wiped at them with a square of tissue paper. "Today I feel good," he jotted. "I think it's because I like being maried. I'm so proud of myself for sticking with Y/N. The worst days are better. I used to wunder how long I could live with noone caring about me. But I don't half to anymore. I hope I never do again."

A yawn beckoned him and he padded through the doorway to peak towards the beds. Y/N was opening the drapes, just enough to let a strip of sunlight illuminate the room. She was pretty, barefoot, her nightdress ending mid-thigh as the rays framed her silhouette. He sidled up behind her. "What do you call two spiders that just got married?"

Turning, she tapped her chin, apparently giving it a good, long think. "Mr. and Mrs. Arachnid?"

Even if she was wrong, he appreciated her effort. "Newly-webs." Giggling, she hugged him around the neck, stretched slightly to kiss him. "I was on a roll this morning. Maybe I can make them part of my act."

She clambered into the bed beneath the covers and patted the narrow space next to her. It was a tight fit, but he climbed in eagerly, anyway. As he brought her half on top of him, she said she'd looked at the TV schedule and found a movie to start the day. One starring Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn. The film was new to him, though he'd heard of it. He enjoyed the unexpected love story between two people from completely different backgrounds. Nibbling on a chocolate donut, he wondered if Y/N saw the parallels. If that was why she'd chosen it.

When they finally got dressed and headed out, they discovered the Skywheel Arthur had been looking forward to was closed for the season. It appeared they'd gotten married too late in the year for a lot to be open. There was a wax museum and an arcade in the nearby town. Neither appealed to him. But as they wandered the streets, they found the Houdini Magic Shop.

The manner in which she was browsing the props and instruction cards made it was obvious Y/N was out of her element. The only clown performance she'd seen in years had been his. But she was sweet and enthusiastic, and pointed out items she thought might be of interest. He was polite when he declined them. In the end, Arthur picked out a color changing blossom and a never-ending scarf. Although it was a store for performers, he found pens Y/N could use for work. He presented them to her with a flourish, and she promised she'd use them daily.

They stopped by a nearby souvenir shop. It was small, about half the size of their living room. He bought a few postcards to go with the ones on his vanity. She chose three, scrawled "We're hitched!" on them, and mailed them to Patricia, Mabel, and Penny. There was a photographer's booth, too, and he convinced her to have their photo taken. The cardboard frame he chose had "We're honeymooning at Niagara!" emblazoned at the top in bright blue letters. It wasn't her taste. Not at all. But she claimed to like it, stating simply, "At least you're gorgeous."

And now, after a quick lunch of sandwiches and soup at a nearby cafe, they stood on the observation deck overlooking the falls.

Beyond city parks, Arthur hadn't seen a lot of nature. Though he appreciated the majesty of the place, he wasn't mesmerized by it. Not really. The height intimidated him. There had been periods in his life during which he would have gladly flung himself into the depths. Not to die. Just to make everything stop. Smiling slowly, squeezing the hand of the woman next to him, he was grateful not to feel that now.

He swiveled to study her. She was peering through coin-operated binoculars, a contented look on her face. She offered him a turn but he declined, already having the best view. He ran his thumb over the gold band on her left hand and shut his eyes.

He'd heard a song once. The lyrics had said he would be nobody until somebody loved him, and until he found somebody to love. It was plain the love the person sang about wasn't the one he'd felt for Penny. He'd thought half the equation might have been enough. But he hadn't felt much improvement when he'd fallen for his neighbor. He'd grown to hate it, going so far as to hawk the LP, despite liking the other tracks on it. He'd known he'd always be a nobody - he didn't need a tune to rub it in.

Nothing in this world, not even its natural wonders, would ever compare to the beauty of Y/N understanding him for who he was. Of her choosing to care for him even after seeing him. Of him finally having the ability to demonstrate the love he'd always wished was buried somewhere inside him.

Of her confirming his existence.

Her hand going to her forehead caught his attention. He tightened his grip on her, blinked away his musings. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Just a little vertigo. I'll be fine." Resting on the metal railing, she let out a long exhale. "It's too bad we have to head home tomorrow. This is miles better than my first honeymoon."

A burn came across his cheeks. "Oh?"

"My monthly started the second day. My ex's entrance exam for law school was reschedule, so we cut it short." Their gazes met, her irises glittering. "And you weren't there." Her eyelids fluttered and she cleared her throat. "It helps that I'm with a man who won't tire of my tenacity."

That wasn't a word he knew, but he figured it out from the context. It was strange that anyone would be put off by Y/N's strength of character. Her courage had been what had saved him on the subway. He'd found it odd, at first. He'd met so few people with any hint of it. Hoyt had shown his fortitude by yelling. Randall had talked him into shitty jobs and lied.

Didn't she know her strength supported his own? That her confidence, both in him and herself, made it easier for him to function? Lent him an inkling of what it was like to matter?

He palmed her side, took her hand in his, and leaned forward to whisper, "If you close your eyes, you can pretend we're alone." Flights of fancy were harder for her, he knew. He was pleased when she acquiesced. Kissed her browbone and pushed the bridge of his nose to it. Humming softly, he did his best to imitate one of their favorite songs. He didn't lead her in a dance, but a gentle sway from side to side.

Chest on the verge of bursting, he longed to accurately convey the emotions rushing through his core. Such positive experiences still felt new. He chose to use the phrases he would want bestowed upon himself. "I love you because of your...tenacity." Shrugging, he pressed his lips together. "You were always so nice to me. I think you're the best thing I've ever seen. I don't want you to change, Y/N."

The delicate caress of her fingertips on his neck made him shiver. "Should I nag you to quit smoking when I'm ninety? And you're pushing me around Gotham in my wheelchair?"

"Yes," he laughed, nodding swiftly at the idea of them being together for fifty years. That would be heaven. "And that I need new socks." He smoothed his hand down her back until she was flush against him. "And to take my medication." Palming her hip, he grinned down at her. "And to make love, if you still want me then."

She giggled, fisting the front of his jacket. "Definitely." On her tiptoes, her lips seized his. "I'll never stop wanting you." Groaning, he grabbed her face and kissed her fiercely, knowing he'd lose himself in her as soon as they returned to their room.

~~~~~

Van McCoy - The Hustle

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @howdylilflower @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @64-crayon

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x ofc #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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toocool2btrue · 4 years

Text

Good Intentions Gone Wrong...

Katie was at home, feeling quite miserable because she had caught a terrible flu and much to her annoyance. Lance along with the rest of her family had strictly insisted that she should take a few days off and rest. Lance had left for work with a heavy heart, not wanting to leave his ill wife alone but he had an important meeting that day and Katie was quite persistent, on him going to work.

"Go or else you are gonna spend the entire day fussing over me and make me go crazy." she had complained in a hoarse voice that morning but by afternoon, as Lance turned on his phone after the meeting. He smiled, finding ten missed calls from his beloved wife.

"How are you feeling?" he immediately questioned as Katie picked up the phone. There was a stubborn pause on her end before she spoke, "I am fine but try to come home early" she pleaded which was followed by a series of coughs.

"Miss me?" he teased, seizing the golden opportunity. He could imagine Katie rolling her eyes at the other end before she replied,

"Yes.. I do. Please just come home soon"

Lance's smile grew wider, "Do you regret kicking out your doting husband this morning?" he added. Pidge angrily sniffed from the other line, "You know what! Don't you dare come home tonight. Sleep at the Garrison today!" she threatened to which Lance nervously chuckled

"Easy there, Honey. I am coming. Do you want anything?" Lance asked, packing his stuff. There was a thoughtful pause from Pidge's side, "Well...."

Among the requests of getting more coffee, a big jar of peanut butter and chicken soup was the request of picking up her work tablet from her office. Lance knowing he was already in hot water couldn't protest much to the last one and so he dutifully made his way to Katie's office.

Despite them being married for 3 years now, Lance alongside Colleen wasn't allowed in Katie's lab or office. Despite his curiosity, he never argued much on this matter. Katie usually had a good reason behind her decisions and hence he silently accepted it.

"So what's the password? Is it my birthday?" Lance wondered as Katie snorted. "Sure..so that any random person who knows your birthday can hack into my office"

Lance pouted, "You are so unromantic.." he muttered to which Katie giggled in amusement.

"It's a pity but since you are now stuck with me so there is nothing we can do about it"

"So how do I get in then? Should I get Matt?" He questioned.

"No you don't need to get Matt. Just place your right hand on the scanner, the door will open. I added your fingerprints from the database in case of an emergency" she explained.

"Awww you do love me" he teased, his heart fluttering. "I thought it was quite obvious when I promised to spend the rest of my life with you. Let me tell you it's not an easy task at times" she shot back.

"Ha ha ha.." Lance laughed mockingly, rolling his eyes. "You should not be the one talking. If you had listened to me in the first place, you wouldn't have this cold"

Much to Lance's triumph, he had won this round as Katie muttered a quick whatever before ending the call.

When Lance entered Katie's office, he suddenly became well aware of the 'good reason' because of which he was forbidden from it. It looked like it had been hit by an earthquake or tornado or perhaps a disastrous combination of both. Everything was in complete disarray and Lance couldn't walk two steps without stepping over crumpled papers or tripping over discarded parts of prototypes.

Her table wasn't any better, it was scattered with various design sheets, important documents and in the very corner lay her work tablet. Lance carefully made his way towards the table and grabbed the tablet. He was about to make his way out of the disastrous office but his fingers itched, even though he had initially intended to go home to Pidge as soon as possible but his heavy conscious wasn't letting his feet move.

Lance placed the tablet in its original place again as he started to pick up things from the floor. Lance rolled up the sleeves of his Garrison uniform, it was going to be a lot of work but he smiled thinking it would be a nice surprise for Pidge to find a much cleaner office when she comes back to work.

__________________________

Lance was halfway done with the cleaning when Matt Holt arrived at his sister's office. Matt Holt was the only one who had full access to all of his sister's projects and even office so Lance wasn't quite surprised by the sudden visit but Matt surely was.

Matt casually sauntered into the office, partly surprised to find his brother in law still at work. His brows furrowed in confusion as he paused to survey the room and slowly a terrified look crept on his face as he was witnessing a crime scene rather than spring cleaning.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Matt cried out suddenly, grabbing the other man's attention. Lance blinked at him innocently, still holding onto files he had been busy arranging.

"What does it look like? This place was a mess and I thought I might clean it up a bit" he explained, not understanding the worried look on Matt's face.

Matt sighed, shaking his head sadly. "You know...I really liked you as a part of our family. It's truly sad that our time together has come to an end"

"Farewell, bro in law" Matt whispered, patting Lance's back. "What are you talking about?" Lance questioned, now feeling concerned as well.

"Pidge is going to kill you" Matt stated gravely.

"Why?" Lance questioned, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Because you messed up with her setting!" Matt cried out, wildly gesturing to the more organized office.

"What setting?! This place looked like it was hit by a natural disaster!" Lance defended himself to which Matt nodded in understanding.

"Sure to an ordinary eye it seems so but in reality everything was chaotically organized according to her. She could have easily picked out even a single piece of paper from this mess but now she won't be able to because you rearranged it all….she is definitely going to kill you" Matt repeated.

"She isn't going to kill me. She loves me" Lance stated, trying to assure himself.

"Yeah I thought so too till one day I tried to make her room more organized before she came back from science camp. Sometimes that day still haunts me in my dreams…" Matt whispered dramatically with a distant look in his eyes.

"But if you don't believe me. You can just call her and ask if it's alright that you cleaned up her office." Matt urged with a daring smirk gracing his face.

Lance gulped, taking out as his phone. "Uh..hey Honey. Just wanted to check up on you"

"Hey.." came Katie's tired reply. "Were you taking a nap? Did I disturb you?" he questioned, worriedly.

"No no you didn't disturb me" Katie assured softy before her voice rose dangerously high, "It's the neighbor's stupid dog! He has been barking so loudly for the past half an hour because of which I can't sleep and when I called her to complain about it. She started saying that Bae Bae is more obnoxious than her dog. That made my blood boil, how dare she compare Bae Bae to him. If only I could get out of bed, I would show her who she is messing with!" Katie growled angrily.

Katie coughed violently before continuing, "This is one of the worst days ever and that would be saying something since I was part of intergalactic war. I swear one more bad thing and I might just end up killing someone today"

Lance gulped briefly glancing at Matt before turning back to Katie, "Take it easy there Pidge, I am coming home and then we'll deal with the neighbor and her dog. Also any other snack you would like?"

"No, I am good. See you soon" Katie hung up. Lance placed the phone back in his pocket and turned towards Matt again looking slightly pale.

"Well then I'll start preparing for your funeral" Matt declared, heading towards the door but was immediately stopped by Lance.

"You have to help me. Aside from Katie you are the only one who comes here and would know where these things originally belonged" Lance pleaded.

Matt frowned, "Well I do have the general idea and perhaps we can wing the rest of it and pray that she doesn't notice it but-"

"But?" Lance cut him off.

"I have a very important meeting in two hours and I still have to complete my presentation for it.." Matt added moving towards the door yet again.

"No you can't leave!" Lance protested but Matt shrugged, "I am sorry dude but I really have to go.."

Lance sighed sadly taking a seat, he covered his face with his hands in defeat, "You know Matt. Don't share this with anyone but I always considered myself to be a lot to you than to my actual brothers. We have so many things in common and get to spend a lot of time together. I didn't get to do that with my actual older brothers and that's why I feel so lucky to have you and I always thought that when me and Katie would have our first kid. We would name him after you"

"You did?" Matt questioned. Lance cautiously removed one finger from his eyes to glance at his brother in law before nodding slowly.

"I did but I guess it's not going to be happening now…." he forlornly stated. "Anyway you should head back to work. I don't want to waste your anymore of your time"

"Screw the meeting! And let's get to work" Matt declared to which Lance laughed nervously, at this rate him and Katie would need to have triplets as their first borns.

The End

Will Katie ever find out?😏

Thanks for reading everyone. If you enjoyed the story. Please Reblog it and do mention your favorite part

#plance #Pidgance #plance domestic bliss #kinda sick fic #married plance #Katie Holt #Lance Serrano #Matt Holt #voltron legendary defender #crack fic?#Lance gets in to trouble #flirtyrobot #fluff #teasing #married couple banter

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xxxtrouvaillexxx · 4 years

Text

Paper Cranes

A/N: I swear that I’m working on the first chapter of LSaD, I plan to have it out by THIS Saturday! I promise that it’s coming! In the mean time, I’ve been working on this piece for a hot minute and it’s kind of just been sitting around in my drafts and in the back of my head. So~ while you wait, here is a little something something to keep the waters calm. And I needed a little something to deal with quarantine.

Pair: Bucky x Reader (platonic)

Synopsis: Y/N is an empath... More specifically, a healer with empathic abilities, which leads to from very severe trauma for y/n but you’d never stop helping your team for the world. Even when that trauma leads you to spend a night on to roof in tears and a very heated talk with your best friend Bucky.

Masterlist

Warning(s): angst (I’m a sucker for it...), an alarming amount of fluff, as usual.

Word Count: 3,931

The Tower has been bustling with life ever since the city closed down, or more aptly, the world as it seems. Every single one of the Avengers, other than Barton himself, was closed up in the same building for the last three weeks, and the air was becoming more restless every day. And the more anxious it became inside of these walls, the world was still doing worse for wear.

You, feeling all of that, felt all of your own worries too. Not that you let anyone in on that little fact. You’re the personal on-site doctor to the Avengers along with being one of the hero’s themselves, though you had no real special power to name in the ways of fighting. You simply were rather good at kicking bad guy butt and were a rather well-known assassin with the Black Widow herself.

And though the two of you are as close as sisters, she doesn’t even know about your ability.

“Lady Y/N!”

You whipped your head around so quickly at Thor’s booming voice, you could have sworn that you’d given yourself whiplash, but you managed to give the large man a large grin and match his excitement.

“Thor!”

Laughing, he scooped you up and off of the floor in a tight hug as if you were light as a feather. If there was anyone who, throughout the entire time of being shut up in a building with the worlds most lovably irritating heros, could keep spirits high, it was Thor. The man was like a giant teddy bear, to be frank. You could swear that the only time you ever see him get intensely serious about an issue is during a mission, and it surely wasn’t anything you were going to start complaining about now.

Letting you down again to stand on your own feet, he grinned widely and with mischief.

“I require a bit of aid, I’m afraid. Sparring with the two super soldiers seems to be only a tad bit more interesting without the use of powers.”

“Don’t let him fool you, doll. We pummeled him and he doesn’t want to admit it,” Bucky said from the doorway. Steve was coming up from behind him with a smile too.

“Well, it seems you boys have had an eventful morning then.” The humor was obvious in your voice and they all laughed, Thor of course boomed.

“Indeed!”

“Well, how can I assist you three then?”

“Just Thor today, actually. He thought it would be funny to go easy on us old geezers. Lessons learned,” Steve said grinning as he passed you with a pat on the shoulder to the kitchen.

Thor after, another, belly full of laughter, showed you the bruises that now littered his arms and torso. There were no major wounds, and it looked like it was just hand to hand sparring, though if it were anyone other than Thor the damage would have been far worse coming from the two super soldiers.

Shaking your head, you smiled and pointed him to the couch. “You might as well get comfortable while we do this. You’ve got enough bruises to keep me busy for a week,” you joked and sat down beside him. “You know the drill, eyes closed and deep breaths.”

He followed your orders without complaint and you rested your hands against his chest first and matched your breathing to his and felt the steady stream of power flow through you. It was light, airy and cool, shining a beautiful gold from your fingertips in waves. But as gorgeous as it looked, this amazing power to heal the injured was a double-edged blade.

As soon as the marks on his skin began to fade and return to its normal color, images of their match flashed in your mind. Every punch and kick that Thor received felt like a blow of your own. Needless to say, you figured it hurt a lot more for you than it had for the god in front of you. Even if you knew that you didn’t physically attain any of the damage, it didn’t dull the sharp pains that coursed through your body.

The reason you always made them close their eyes before healing them of anything, an illness, battle wounds, haunting dreams, or trauma, was because it was easier than trying to force down every wince and grimace. Sometimes it just seemed impossible, which is also the reason you tried to keep healing sessions like this to more personal settings, not that that was always possible.

After a few measured deep breaths to match with Thor’s, you moved onto his arms and repeated the process. It didn’t take long, and by the time you were finished the sharp pains had faded into something of a dull throbbing. Though you didn’t imagine that would stop anytime soon.

“I feel like a brand new man! Thank you, Lady Y/N!” He grinned and launched himself into another suffocating hug before turning to the men in the kitchen. “I will remember to not pull my punches with you two the next time around!”

“We’ll look forward to your next challenge then. But don’t go crying to Y/N next time you get your ass handed to you,” Bucky hollered back.

“Hey! Language!” You exclaimed with a laugh when you heard Steve grumble and say something about needing to forget that moment ever happened… Not that any of you ever would, of course.

You all sat around for a while before Steve went off to speak with Tony about something or another and Thor decided to find and pester his brother. ‘Which I’m sure I’ll have the pleasure to hear about later from Loki himself’, you thought with a chuckle. And soon enough it was just you and Bucky left in the kitchen sharing a peaceful silence and tea for several minutes.

The two of you had grown particularly close over the time since he’s come to the tower and in Wakanda. He was one of your closest friends next to Natasha. Because of that, you took extra care of him not that you’d ever tell him that. You took extra time with him in the evenings and during routine checkups to help him with his nightmares and the general horrors his mind puts him through. You’d be sure to brush your hand across his skin periodically throughout the day subtly to draw out any built up worries and anxieties and he usually stayed pretty close by when he was feeling extra tense.

Of course, there was a part of you that dreaded his checkups and the late nights. Not because that you didn’t want to help him, but the pain that it caused you was sometimes almost to much for you to handle. His memories that flooded through your mind when you touched, the phantom pains you’d feel... You couldn’t understand how anybody could ever do something so absolutely horrible, least of all to another human being. And it was almost incomprehensible how Bucky had managed to survive so long after all of it, but you had managed to tie that to the fact that he was the strongest man you knew.

But no matter how much you may dread those visits and the things that followed, you would never stop helping him. And you would never tell him the truth about your power. You doubted that he’d ever let you continue if he knew what it did.

“I think everyone is going out for joyride tonight, you plan on joining?” He interrupted your thoughts with a warm voice and kind smile.

“Not likely. I think I’ll just take the evening for myself. If everyone goes out, it might actually be quite around here for a change,” you chuckled. “What about you?”

“I haven’t decided yet, but Steve is trying pretty hard to get me out this time around.”

“So, probably then?”

He laughed and nodded, “Yeah, probably.”

“Where do they plan on going, anyway? Everything is shut down right now, so there isn’t much to do,” you asked. And it was true, with a global pandemic going around, everything was basically closed down until further notice everywhere.

He shrugged and looked to the ceiling, “Who knows. Stark thought it would be a good idea to get the quinjets out and running before they sit around to long and need a toon up. And he thought it would be good for moral if we weren’t all cooped up in the tower again for another night together.”

You guffawed and shook your head. “Oh? And having everyone cooped up in the jets is going to be so much better for team moral, huh? Tell me how that works out for him.”

»»-———————-««

It was roughly 11:30 now, and everyone was still out of the tower and flying around Lord knows where and you were in the tower alone. It had been nearly two months since these halls last ran silent except for the sound of your own footsteps. Nearly two months sinces you could freely express all of the pent up rage, and fear, and pain, and anxiety that has been building up inside of yourself.

On most if not all occasions, you were a very happy person. You enjoyed your work and the people you work with. You loved your family and friends, and the world even with all of its problems... And there were a lot of problems. And normally it would just be enough to spend a day to yourself with a book or a blank canvas and paint to release everything. You tried to always look toward the brighter side of things, but recently- without a way to vent out everything you’ve been taking in, things were to much.

So you found yourself up on the towers roof at almost midnight with tears running down your cheeks and finding it hard to catch your breath. Your chest ached. The instant that the door closed behind you and you were hit with the cool night air it was like everything just rushed out in waves.

You screamed, and wailed, and cried. You let yourself feel everything that you had been burying. Every last punch, kicks, knife and bullet, nightmare. It all came out in coughs and harsh please and grief. For yourself and for the people who went through it all.

“It’s not fair,” you cried. “It’s not fair!”

After what felt like an eternity and your throat was coarse from the yelling and sobs, you felt like there was nothing left to cry. You’d gotten it all out and let go of everything, finally. And you knew you would be able to face everyone tomorrow as yourself rather than the shell of a person you have been until now.

What you didn’t know, was that Bucky was there to witness it all.

»»-———————-««

When you woke up the next morning you felt a great deal better than you had the previous night. Let alone the previous week. In a rather bright mood, you woke early and decided to make breakfast, nothing special because let’s be frank- you weren’t any Gordon Ramsey. But you could make a mean stack of pancakes and eggs.

An hour later, the kitchen was flooded with tired heros and grumbled good mornings. Though you were aware that Bucky seemed to linger in the doorway a little to long and continued to stare at you throughout breakfast. You could practically feel the discomfort and tension poor off of him. He didn’t mention it though so you assumed he wasn’t ready to come to you yet.

It wasn’t uncommon for Bucky to try and handle himself first, be it a nightmare or his own thoughts he tried to take care of it first. Sometimes it worked, sometimes not. But you never wanted to try and take that chance from him, so you let him be until he decided for himself.

They all happily ate their share of pancakes, gave thanks in some form or another; hugs, verbally, a slug to the shoulder, the usual. And then everyone dispersed to go about their own day.

By the time that a week went by, you started to become genuinely concerned about Bucky. He was still tense and sticking close to you, but he wouldn’t let himself get close enough for you to touch him and draw out whatever it was that was causing him to be so worried. But he never left your side either. Everytime you left a room, a few minutes later he would follow. It was becoming so apparent that even Natasha said something over dinner, but Bucky didn’t bother to respond.

You didn’t want to take away the option of helping himself if he felt like he could, but he’s never gone longer than two days before saying something to you. It started to make you wonder if you had done something wrong or if he really felt like he didn’t need your help anymore.

Either way, you had to figure it out. The worry was beginning to choke you if you thought about it for to long. So after dinner, you excused yourself from the table and waited in the hall for Bucky to follow.

Sure enough, after a minute he started down the hall too searching for which way you disappeared to.

You showed yourself to him and ignored his apparent surprise, “Are you okay, Bucky? Did something happen?”

His face changed, he looked hurt and sad. Like he couldn’t really bring himself to say anything or absorb what you asked. You waited patiently while he grapled for an answer.

“What?” Was all that he managed to get out.

“Well, you’ve been following me around a lot recently, and you only really stick to my side like this when you need to talk or help with something. But it’s already been a week and you haven’t said anything yet so I was starting to get worried that it was worse than usual or that maybe I did something wrong or that you-”

“That’s supposed to be my line!” He exclaimed, efficiently cutting off my nervous rant and giving me a turn at being confused.

It must of been written all over your face because he quickly continued, “I was there. I saw- I heard you last week on the rooftop! How can you possibly be asking me if I’m alright!?”

Your heart stuttered to a stop at his words and you could practically feel the blood draining from your face. You didn’t even know where begin to explain why or what happened last week.

“Oh...” you trailed off and stepped back. “I didn’t know you were still here. I thought you went with Steve,” you have a humorless chuckle. “I don’t know why you’re so worried about it, I’m alright. Can we just forget about it?”

You knew it was a pathetic attempt to get him to let the problem go, you knew that there was no chance he was going to now that he’s been thinking about it for a week.

“You were begging out there, Y/N. Begging! You can’t just tell me you’re alright and expect me to just let it go like this is nothing!”

You were silent for a long time, taking deep and long breaths to keep yourself calm before taking the corner of his sleeve and dragging him to your room. “We should go somewhere private so we can talk freely.”

He followed you without question.

»»-———————-««

The two of you sat silently for nearly half an hour in your room. You felt completely uncomfortable in the situation. Usually, you were the one who was patiently waiting and comforting someone else while they thought over what they wanted to share or compose themselves. You were used to that, but being on the opposite end of that was new and something you came to learn within the first five minutes that you weren’t particularly fond of.

Finally, Bucky decided to break the silence. “Why do you have so many origami cranes hangin’ in here?”

Your room decor was a bit unconventional, compared to that of everyone else in the tower that is. The room was covered in your own oil paintings, all the ones you deemed should never see the light of day but didn’t get rid of, couches and chairs, bookcases, and of course, countless bunches of paper cranes you’ve hung from the ceiling. Unconventional, maybe. But you loved it anyway.

“There is a myth,” you nearly whispered it but you were sure that he caught the words anyway when he turned toward you.

“Tell me about it?”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “It’s an old Japanese legend. It says that anybody who folds a thousand origami cranes will be granted a wish by the gods. Some of the old stories even say that you are granted happiness and eternal good luck instead of a wish. But you can use the wish on anything, a recovery to illness or injury for example. Usually they’re made as gifts for special friends or family.”

Standing, you grabbed one of the many strings of cranes and gave it to Bucky. “Cranes in Japan are considered holy creatures and supposedly live for a thousand years. That’s why a thousand cranes are made, one for each year of their life. And there are some stories that even say that all have to be folded within a year and strung together on the same string by the one who is making the wish for it to actually work.” You drifted off and smiled at the strand he held and shrugged.

He stared at you for awhile before he looked around your room again. “All of them are stung on one sting.”

“So the legend goes,” you answered.

“But you have at least a hundred of these hanging around your room,” he awed and shook the his gently.

“53 to be exact. There are 53,142 cranes in this room. I’m working on another one now,” you laughed as his face grew in een more amazement.

The strands all hung next to each other. Currently you had two rows of 25 and one of three. Honestly, it was rather beautiful in your opinion. It created a sort of curtain on one of your walls filled with different colors and stories.

“Why?” He asked softly.

“Because I have a lot of wishes?”

“No. Don’t dodge. You wouldn’t have gone through all of this effort,” he waved toward the curtain, “for yourself alone. So why? How long have you been doing this for?”

“Nearly 15 years? I usually try to fold 10 every night before I go to sleep. You would be disgusted by how much I spend on paper,” you joked but he didn’t break. You groaned, “Fine! It’s because I didn’t know what else to do, okay? People were sad and hurting and scared, I felt it, and I didn’t know what I felt like there wasn’t anything I could do to help them. And so I started to make wishes for strangers mostly, people I felt needed it.”

“Felt?”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded hesitantly. “Or saw depending on the person. And it’s not like I’d ever do it on purpose, I’d just bump into someone and see everything! And I wouldn’t be able get it out of my head. I felt like there wasn’t anything I could do, Bucky. So I wished and wished and wished for them. For everyone.”

He looked at you incredulously, “Y/N... What do you mean, “See everything”?”

You blinked rapidly a few times and grabbed three more of the strands from the wall. “These,” you handed them to him, “are yours. These are the wishes I made for you. And before you say anything, just... Don’t freak out, okay? I didn’t make all of those to upset you, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I’m a healer, that’s always been who I am. But for me to be able to use that gift, I have to make physical contact with my patient. And I’ve been blessed to be able to mend body and mind! There isn’t anything in the world that would make me want to give up that gift, Bucky. But when I... touch people- anyone, Wanda, Nat, Thor, a stranger... You- I can see exactly how they got hurt mentally or physically. And I can feel the hurt too, like it were my own.”

You could barely bring yourself to say that last part, and it was barely a murmur as it were, but you knew that he heard it by the way that the color drained from his face and he slouched back a bit.

“Bucky,” you reached out for him but stopped when he flinched away from you. You swallowed harshly and continued, “I don’t hate it Bucky. I prefer it this way, really! It makes it easier for me to understand who I’m helping and more than anything else it brings me closer to them. I’m okay, Bucky.”

“Stop telling me that you’re okay! How could you possibly be after-” he paled more if that were possible as he looked at the four rows of cranes he carried now, “Oh my God. Four years, you’ve seen everyth- You’ve felt everything for four years! Y/N, I-”

“Don’t you dare try to apologise or regret coming to me, James,” you interrupted in a hurry. “If I can breathe then I’m fine. And I will never regret helping you when you needed me. You’ve never done anything wrong. And what you saw last week wasn’t usually how I deal with... Well, everything that gets piled up. Usually I go out for a day to breathe and just let go. It’s just that with everything closed down right now, I hadn’t had the opportunity in months. It got to much, that’s all. It had nothing to do with you, I promise.”

Everything you said seemed to go in one ear and out the other with him. He simply grasped the cranes tighter and refused to make eye contact.

“Bucky,” you whispered again and reached for him one more time and this time, he didn’t turn away. His wave of emotions hit you hard, there were to flashes of images or memories, just feelings of regret and horror and shame and fear. “It’s okay,” you breathed and raised to give him a hug. “It’s okay Bucky.”

Slowly he calmed down, and his emotions subsided into ripples rather than waves. His regret eased along with his fears. He pulled away from you eventually and offered a weak smile, that didn’t necessarily confirm any suspicions that you may have that he was lying or otherwise.

He held up the cranes and smiled, “Thank you, so much, for these.Y/N I can’t ever thank you enough for these, let alone everything else that you’ve done for me. I understand why you would’ve kept this to yourself, if I’d known sooner I’d never had come to you. But because I did- God, I can do things without begin afraid. I can go out with Steve and not freak out, or go through the night without nightmares. I’ve you to thank you for that. You’ve done more for me than I could have ever asked you, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that but-”

You smiled and shook your head, “This, Bucky, is plenty.”

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beardrabbles · 4 years

Text

THIN ICE

rating: k

words: 1796

characters: female stark reader, peter parker, tony stark

notes: ( ao3 request ) I deleted the chapter with the request like the dummy I am, but the gist of it was reader is a Stark, and Peter is frightened of Tony after learning that. Been a while, but I’m glad to be writing for you all again! :D

tags: none

“Weather’s nice…”

“Mhmm.”

“Would really suck if it was raining.”

“Yeah, it would.”

You spare a moment to glance at the boy beside you and find him muttering quietly to himself, the tone reprimanding and self-depreciating. Without meaning to, you giggled. You had fully anticipated waiting alone on the edge of the street, but another had arrived not long after you had. Clearly, the ones that had promised to pick you up were late, forcing awkward interaction between you and the one with splotchy, red cheeks. Although, now that you were getting a longer look at him — with his pushed back hair and his kind eyes — something about him seemed familiar.

“I feel like I’ve seen you before, but I don’t remember you being in any of my classes.” You turned to him, giving him your undivided attention. “Have we met before?”

The boy chuckled nervously and gave his lean shoulders a shrug. “I don’t think we have. I mean, aside from now. Now we’ve met.”

“Have we?” You arched a brow, and it only made him redder still. “Cause it still doesn’t feel like I know who you are.”

“Oh, yeah! Parker. Uh, Peter.” He held a hand out and smiled twitchily.

“Peter Parker? Nice to meet you. My name is (Y/N).” You were sure to avoid saying your last name, and he didn’t seem to catch that. Your first name was enough to make his eyes light up and his posture slacken even after you placed your hand in his.

“(Y/N). That’s a nice name.” He shook your hand for a second too long, but was prompt in dropping it after he realized how long he’d held it for. “You waiting for someone to pick you up?”

“Yeah, my dad.” You rolled your eyes and looked down both ends of the street, but didn’t spot the car you knew your father was driving. There was always the possibility it would blend in, except your father’s car was far from dusty or rusty or average. You knew for an absolute fact that you’d recognize it from miles away, and you had yet to see it after waiting nearly an hour. “Figures he’d be late.”

“I dunno, I’m kind of glad he’s late. Wouldn’t have been able to talk to you if he got here on time.” Peter became flushed again, and so did you. “Hey, I know this is sudden, but would you wanna hang out with me and my friends tomorrow? We were going to get pizza and relax a little before tests start next week.”

“Relaxing before tests? No studying?”

“It’s Ned’s idea, and I think he’s right. We can only study so much, and pizza’s good.” Peter laughed, and you joined in soon after.

“He is right. Y’know, I’ve been here for about a week and I’ve done nothing but run around. Keeping up with my classes, getting used to being in a new state, new school, not knowing anyone — it’s a pain. I think vegging out over some pizza would do me some good.”

“Great! Here.” Peter fished out his phone and handed it over. “So I can tell you where we’re meeting.”

“Good idea.” He didn’t give you the impression that he was doing this just to get your number, but you would have given it to him either way. Peter seemed nice and a little dorky, but you knew you could be too.

You tapped your number into his phone, and he was quick to send you a text so you could add his number in exchange. The single pizza slice emoji elicited a giggle before you put your phone away. “So, are you waiting for someone too?”

Peter nodded and began to rock on the soles of his sneakers. “Yeah! My mentor’s got something planned for me, and he said he’d pick me up today to make things easier.”

“Mentor? Are you an intern?” You would have been more surprised, but most of the students you now shared a school with were smart enough to own their own business.

“It’s not a big deal.” Peter shrugged modestly and looked down at his feet. “It’s just some big, hot-shot guy. Super cool. His tech is beyond what I expected. Loads smarter than me, but he’s teaching me so much. He’s kind of the best, but I think he already knows that.”

“Not a big deal, huh?” You laughed and nudged him with your shoulder. “He sounds pretty great. Who is it?”

“Oh, uh... You’ve heard of him. Everyone has.” His hesitation was endearing but ill timed. As he struggled with the balance between modesty and excited bragging, a car pulled up alongside the street. The slick, black exterior still managed to glisten despite the overcast sky and the looming threat for rain. The windows were tinted, of course, but you knew who sat in the driver’s seat.

“Looks like Dad finally decided to show up.” You adjusted the pack on your back and grinned towards Peter, but all you saw was confusion.

“Dad? But that’s Mr. Stark’s car.”

It was your turn to look at him strangely. “Mr. Stark? You sound like one of the people that works for him.”

“I don’t work for him, but——”

“He idolizes me.” Tony stepped out of the car, a cheeky smirk on his lips. “Who doesn’t?”

You wanted to groan loudly at your father’s mountain sized ego, but you had less self-centered people to talk to at the moment. Addressing Peter again, you had only one question. “Let me guess, he’s the mentor you were talking about?”

“He never told me he had a daughter!” Peter balked.

“You never asked.” Tony countered. He moved around the nose of the car, brown eyes peering over the tops of his sunglasses. “I had a feeling you two would run into each other eventually.”

“How come I haven’t run into her while working with you?” Peter looked between the two of you, spotting minor similarities in posture, facial structure and ( now that the two of you were speaking ) the cadence in speech.

“Because I’m not his shadow, as much as he’d love for me to be.” You pass him a smile, but it was too sweet and clearly fake. The smile he gave you in return was soft and genuine, a rare sight. An arm wrapped around your shoulder and pulled you in, his facial hair rough against your temple where he placed a loving, fatherly kiss.

“She’s got her own plans. Whether they follow mine or they go in an entirely different direction doesn’t matter. She’s a Stark! She’s destined to be the best in any field!” He bragged, giving your shoulders an extra squeeze before releasing you. You were flush under his praise, and you had to wonder what you’d done to deserve such an accepting father.

“This. . . is weird.” Peter frowned, and it caused both you and Tony to raise an eyebrow in such a way that it only weirded him out more that you two were so alike.

“What’s weird about it?” Tony asked.

“I just asked her ou——” Peter sucked in a breath, paused with his mouth open, then clamped his lips shut. Sadly, it was too late. Tony tensed beside you, and you felt the need to leap forward and protect Peter from the sudden shift in atmosphere.

“He wanted me to hang out with him and his friends.” You quickly amended.

Tony licked behind his lower lip and shoved his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans, his whole posture threatening. There was a moment of silence, but it somehow still felt noisy with the sheer amount of thoughts rolling around in Tony’s head.

“Him and his friends, or just him?” The question he posed felt like it was meant for you, but his dark eyes remained on Peter. Because of this, you kept your mouth shut and let him answer.

“Mr. Stark, you know I’d never——”

“Alone or with friends, Parker?” The sharp jab of his last name made Peter flinch.

“With friends! You know them. I’ve told you about them. Ned and MJ wanted to get pizza and hang out, but we haven’t picked a place yet. So we exchanged numbers so I could tell her when we did. I swear, it’s just to chill out before testing next week.” He sounded pleading, and it annoyed you — not because the pleading itself bothered you, but because your father was causing it.

“Dad, get back in the freakin’ car.” You grabbed his arm and turned him around, hands pushing at his back. He didn’t fight you off, but he did raise his hands while complaining.

“You’re dismissing your own father? I’m hurt, (Y/N). I never thought a boy would be more important than family.” He followed along as he was lead back to the driver side door.

“You are an actual menace. Leave us alone. I’m a big girl, and I want friends.” Once you neared the door, you lowered your voice so only he could hear. “You know him, right? Is he alright?”

“He’s more than alright.” Tony whispered back. “He’s one of the smartest kids I’ve met, aside from you. A little on a dweeb side, but you could make worse friends. Don’t tell him I said that, you I’m docking your allowance.”

“You won’t.” You smiled and bit at your lip. “So I can go with him?”

“Only if I’m allowed to mess with him a little more.” Perfectly white teeth were flashed in a cheeky grin. “I think I freaked him out.”

“I think so too.” You suppressed the urge to laugh and stepped back. “But you’re an actual butthead.”

“I know.” Tony winked, then put on another severe expression that he directed towards Peter. Sharply and menacingly, he motioned with two fingers that he would be keeping his eyes on the young hero. Peter stammered again, but Tony had already folded himself into the driver’s seat.

You moved around the car again and stopped in front of Peter, a spring in your step.

“Text me when you’ve got it figured out. I wanna come along.” You smiled shyly and nudged your shoulder against his. “See you, Peter!”

Peter lifted a hand in farewell, but made it a point to avoid looking anywhere in Tony’s direction. “Yeah! See you. Later. Tomorrow.”

You fled into the car, but rolled your window down at the request of your father. He leaned across you and shouted through the window as he slowly rolled the car forward.

“Watch yourself, Parker! I’ll know if you try anything!”

And with that, you and your father drove away, leaving Peter to panic on his own.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #stark reader #( got two more requests after this :D woop! )

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peeterparkr · 4 years

Text

limits of desire⤳t.h.||10

chapter 10: throw your bridal shower.

story summary: you met Tom a night he was trying to sleep with you, it didn’t work and you became best of friends. Wedding bells might be ringing for when you both realize what you really feel.

summary: the one with the Toblerone, the questionnaire & the lingerie

pairing: fuckboy!tom holland x best friend!reader

warnings: swearing, angsty, fluffy, harry potter, alcohol mention, sex mention, i didn’t proof read lmao

word count: 6.3k

previous chapter next chapter series masterlist wanna be tagged?

“What even is a Bridal Shower?” Sam asked.

Tom and Haz had tried to set up the perfect bridal shower since y/n told him. They were good at planning parties at the last minute. But, those parties usually involved alcohol, music and chips. Nothing too complicated. However, a bridal shower was a whole different thing.

Poker night was definitely going to go way different than the boys had expected it to go. For starters, Haz and Tom's house was covered in flowers, with tables and chairs around. There were cheesy signs with messages like 'Here comes the Bride', 'Put a Ring On It' and ‘Miss to Mrs.’. There were pink flowers, and in the refrigerator, to Harry's surprise, there was no space, due to the pink cheesecake, the pink chocolate cake, and the pink champagne. Haz and Tom had started shopping and decorating as soon as they had left the dance class.

"Don't tell me the toilet is the pink too," Harry complained.

"Alright, Tom," Tuwaine rolled his eyes. “I never thought I'd say this, but here you go...Magazines for bridesmaids, from various countries.”

“I found videos on youtube,” said Harry. “I sent them to you.”

“I made a board on Pinterest,” Haz said. “And i shared it with you.”

"Although honestly, everything would be easier if you went to her hotel room and told her how you feel," Sam suggested. “You know, show up with some flowers, maybe champagne, or maybe show up with some cards, Love Actually style, and tell her how you feel.”

“That could work,” Harry agreed. "But hey, I already ordered some pizzas and here are the beers, drink them since the fridge is full," he said while sipping his beer.

"No ... No, you don't understand," Tom wrinkled his nose, "It's not just preventing this wedding, it's also showing her I'm not against them."

"You're not?" Tuwaine asked condescendingly.

Tom sighed, thinking about the blue box in his drawer. "I bought something."

Haz raised his eyebrows. "What? A ring?”

“If you did, then…maybe you could go and propose to her,” Tuwaine suggested.

“Don’t be silly! He can’t propose to an engaged woman,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Neither can’t he confess his love, then,” Harry added. “At this point it’s… complicated.”

“Did you really buy a ring?” Haz asked,

"No, no ... Nothing, nothing," Tom cleared his throat. "Now, I need to turn this place into a dream place for y / n, uh ... Actually, I also made a board on pinterest, as crazy as it sounds, I have everything here, there will be a hot chocolate bar ..."

"Tom," Haz stopped him. "Sam made a point."

"I know, but it's not that simple."

"Isn't it easy to tell her that you love her?" Tuwaine laughed. "Man, I’m telling you, it took a long time for you not to tell her, already."

"If I have waited so long I can wait longer," Tom added. “I want her to see that I can really take things seriously, you guys understand?”

“I think rather, you are afraid, Tom,” said Harry. "I think you're afraid of being rejected as you rejected her."

"Maybe, yes," Tom admitted. “But hey, wouldn’t you feel that way? You saw how she was looking at Miguel, right? ”

“ Yes, Tom, but I also saw how you danced with her today, I've never seen her have that chemistry with someone else, not even with Miguel on the night of the party, ”Haz insisted.

"That's what it all relies on," Tom said. "She may have feelings for me, but she thinks I'm not fit for her."

"Have you told her that you have changed?" Sam asked.

"Yes," Tom sighed. "She doesn't believe me."

"We need an insider," Tuwaine suggested.

"We just need to convince not only y/n, then," said Haz. "She has a very poisonous voice there by her side."

"Lizzie," Tom growled. "And how to make Lizzie convince herself?"

"Ask her for help, for the party!" Sam suggested.”Maybe she’ll think you’ve changed, too!”

Tom thought about it. "Okay, okay," he said as he pulled out his phone, texting Lizzie asking about ideas for the shower of y / n.

"I don't know," Haz hesitated. "I think Lizzie isn't so happy with y / n's wedding either."

"Do you think so?" Tom raised his head.

Tuwaine was the first to let out a laugh. "Tom, please, the only thing Lizzie wants in this life is for y/n to get away from you." The other friends followed his laughter.

“Really?” Tom frowned.

“Yeah, but I heard her speaking at the party,” Haz said. “She told Hannah how she was unsure, that y/n should not marry someone she had just met.”

“She’s right about that,” Tom rolled his eyes.

“But still, she doesn’t like you,” Tuwaine added.

“Oh, no, she likes him just fine,” Sam teased. “But she’s angry Tom doesn’t like her in the same way.”

Tom rolled his eyes, but he received a text from Lizzie.

“Flowers, lots of flowers,” it read.

And he knew Lizzie meant that text. Because y/n loved flowers.

“Have the place be presentable. Fairy tale with taste, not too much.” She textured again.

"Ah, that's fine ... Now, you have to ... Transform this men's cage into a dream place," Tom said with little desire.

"What is a bridal shower, again?" Harry asked. “Do you have to bring strippers? Oh, what if you're the stripper for. ”

“No, no, no! it's not a bachelorette party, ”said Tom. "Actually, uh ... I don't know, I just know that we have to do the centerpieces, oh and plan games."

"Games, yes, I had some of that on my board on pinterest ..." Haz said. "Here it is! 30 games to do in a Bridal Shower! ”

Harry took Haz's cell phone, reading the games.

"great, that sounds promising," Tom said, he looked too stressed. "Hey, let's see."

Harry read the list. "You know, most of the games are really coupley things," said Harry. “You know… for couples who have been together for a long time. It would be easy if it were you. ”

“You could make a game like that, right? Let her understand that she doesn't know Miguel and that you Tom, are the one who should really be with her, ”Tuwaine said.

"Yes ... Yes," Tom cleared his throat.

"Yes, the nearly-wed game," Haz said. "I'll send a text to Miguel, I'll have him answer the questions and-"

"You have his number?"

"I had to spend a whole day with him, man, what did you expect?" Harrison sighed. “But, let's ask him questions and let y/n try to answer them. And vice-versa, make y/n answer a questionnaire, and we have Tom answer it. ”

“Cool, now help me out wit these, ‘the thanks for coming’ gifts,” Tom said, as he took out little bags.

"Toblerones?" Asked Harry as he looked into the bag.

"Yes..." Tom smiled. “Toblerones.”

“And… is this Harry Potter themed? I thought the theme was pink.”

Haz laughed, “the theme is the night Tom fell in love with her.”

——

Not far from there, y/n was not having a good time. She felt her head was going to explode. She was sure that whatever that had happened at the dancing lesson was not insignificant. She was in her hotel room, with Lizzie sitting on the edge of her bed while y/n was complaining against the pillow.

Lizzie was drinking from her glass of wine while staying quiet.

"Are you done?" She asked her friend.

"No," answered y / n. “I have serious problems.”

“Needless to say.”

“I love Miguel,” said y/n, more for her than for Lizzie, who decided to remain silent. "I mean ... I don't know why I'm doing this."

"Y / N, you’re not over Tom," Lizzie told her.

"What are you talking about? I'm over him… No, wait, I'm not over because I was never… above him, ”Y / n closed her. eyes. "I mean ... You know what I mean."

Lizzie poured her a glass of wine. "Okay,y/n, it's time we talked."

"Talk about what?"

"Talk about how you have been in love with Tom for a long time already?"

Y / N glared at her friend. "No ...that is not true."

"Come on, y / n, I can assure you that I know the day you fell in love with him." Lizzie sighed. "it was just shortly after you met, when you had that great big essay, you remember? The big Christmas party? We were on finals.”

"That ..."

"You fell in love at that time, and ... if I didn’t know Tom any better, I also believe that he fell in love at that precise moment. ”

Y/N took a sip of her wine glass. Yes, she remembered it too.

5 years ago.

It was cold, y/n had not stopped sneezing, and she had a mixture of tissues, notes and books around her bedroom. Her eyes were covered with dark circles and her nose was red. She was curled up while trying to read yet another book so she could finish her essay on the criticism of contemporary media, talking about free speech with legal terms and other nonsense that y/n did not remember due to her illness.

She was almost finished but, y/n, like the great student She was, she was still editing it. There was a party, Tom had invited her and her friends. Haz and he were celebrating the finals and Christmas. Honestly, it was yet another way to get girls to bed.

Y/ n's friends had been gushing about how amazing it was that y/n was now friends with a celebrity. And they were insisting on how y/n should be dating Tom, thing which, y/n of course declined, being that because clearly Tom was not the kind of guy you go out on dates with, but someone for a one-night stand. Y/n didn’t want that.

Besides, she liked him, as a friend, of course.

But she wasn’t going to the party, she had an essay to finish. Besides, she felt worse and worse by each second. Every second her cold was killing her.

"Are you sure you're not going?" Rachel, her roommate, asked. “It's you whom he invited.”

“I am sure, I don't want to risk getting even more sick, have fun, get out, and I hope you get some.”

She had sent a text to Tom, telling him she wouldn't go to his party because her body had decided to betray her, but she wished him luck and asked him to please not sleep with any of her friends, she didn't want things to be uncomfortable.

-C'mon, please join us, it'll be fun, you know what they say, drinking whiskey is like going to the doctor

-Who says that?

-I just did

-I'm sorry, I really wish I could, but I need to rest, have fun, tho!

So she curled up in her bed, coughing as she covered herself. She fell asleep. But not for long because someone had knocked on her door. Y / N, covered with a blanket, approached the door, which opened only to reveal a coated Tom who had a pizza box in one hand and another box with other things under it.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, perplexed as Tom surrounded her to enter the room.

"I came to take care of you," Tom said. "My God, you're a mess."

"Take care of me?"

"Yes, I told you I would throw that party to spend time with you, you decided not to come so I assumed I would bring the fun to you," Tom said with a smile. "I will help you clean up and then we will watch a movie," Tom said, leaving the box with things on her bed and the pizza on her desk, while throwing out y/n’s tissues and cleaning up her mess.

Y / N looked at him perplexed, with a smile, but not without , of course, sneezing.

"Hell, you sound terrible," Tom scoffed. “I believe you now, I mean I saw you with the red nose but it could’ve been makeup.”

“What… what is this?” Y/n asked approaching the box.

"A care package."

Y / N burst out laughing. “Really?”

“Yes, hey, I told you that I wanted to be your best friend, right? I think it's a good start, besides, you deserve it, I've seen you kill yourself for school, you need a break, ”Tom said, as he approached the box. "It has everything you need, I know you're old-fashioned and you still have a DVD, so I brought your favorites, Harry Potter."

Y / N smiled as she looked at the box. It had the Harry Potter movies, vitamin C supplements, chapstick, lotion, medicine,gatorades, tissues, advils, tea bags in a new cup, popcorn, toblerones (y / n's favorites), a pair of socks and a blanket . Y / N's heart melted.

Tom finished cleaning up the mess y/n had built up while y/n watched him and helped him with it. She saw him, for the first time, in a different way.

"Besides, I brought pizza, because I'm sure you forgot to eat," Tom said. “Now, put on the movie, snuggle up, take your pills, while I'm going to search for some hot water for your tea, okay?”

“But… Tom, your party,” said y/n.

"There will be more parties, silly," Tom laughed. “A friend needs me.”

And y/n had felt like her body was quickly warming up, and she was sure it wasn't a fever. And in that moment when she saw him smile, y/n understood many things about Tom. What she had seen from the beginning, just a few weeks ago. Tom was someone who cared. Tom was meticulous and loyal as a friend.

And she suddenly felt that her stomach was churning, maybe she could blame the same cold, but she had decided to ignore it. Blaming it on illness, when she was completely sure that she had fallen in love with Tom. She saw it with different eyes, and although it was too early to say it, she had seen him with blind eyes.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she told him as soon as he came back.

“I sure did, you deserve to have fun, too,” Tom chuckled. “Look, I will also take you out for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Hmm—breakfast?”

“Fine, brunch so you can sleep a bit more, alright?” Tom grinned. “But actually sleep! I’ve seen how you live on coffee and you should actually sleep more.”

Y/n chuckled, he was right. They stayed quiet for a bit.

“The pizza is great, but you know what I’m craving right now?” She looked at him.

“strawberry cheesecake,” Tom guessed.

Y/N blinked. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she laughed. “I was actually thinking about that!”

Tom’s eyes widened. “No way!”

Y/n giggled between coughs. “Yes! How could you even guess?”

Tom shrugged. “We were meant to be friends, y/n,” he smirked. “Now, let’s prove if this is destiny or not. What dessert am I craving?”

She looked him in the eyes. “I—well,” she bit her lip. “Chocolate truffle cake.”

Tom blinked. “Now that is creepy.”

Y/n raised her eyebrow. “Really?”

“Really, that is creepy.”

“Maybe we read each other’s mind—“ she smiled, as she snuggled with her blanket and her old Mickey Mouse plush.

“Still creepy,” he laughed.

“You know, I need to take you to this bakery, it’s near here, I discovered once when it was raining and I had nowhere else to get in, it’s sooo good, they have all kinds of dessert.”

“Like strawberry cheesecake and chocolate truffle cake?” Tom grinned.

“Yes, like strawberry cheesecake and chocolate truffle cake.”

That had been the first of many times curled up watching Harry Potter. It became another tradition between the two of them, who shared it only with each other. And since that day, y/n had not been able to let her feelings stop growing. But Tom had taught her that he was not a good match, that Tom was simply not built for relationships.

Which brings us back to today, where she was drinking from a glass of cheap wine in a hotel room with Lizzie.

"I'm not in love with him," said Y / N, trying to convince her friend.

"You are," Lizzie told her. "Y / N are you sure you're going to marry a man when you love someone else?"

"I don't know, Lizzie, it's complicated," said y / n. “It's… I love Miguel, he loves me like someone should love me. I don't have to beg him for his love, do you understand? Miguel doesn't go around reminding me that he can't love me. ”

“ Y / N. ”

“ Maybe, Lizzie, I was in love with Tom, I can't… I don't know, I think it's something that had to happen, and you're right, It all happened that night, when he decided not to go to his party to take care of me, ”she smiled as she remembered.

“Yeah.”

“But, being honest, Lizzie, why wouldn't I fall in love with him? Have you thought about that? I mean, he ... he gave everything for me, that night is just one of many, I thought maybe he felt something too. I mean, how many times didn't he pull an all-nighter himself to help me with an exam? Or how many times wasn't he there comforting me to cry with me? It was... the little details, from knowing my favourite chocolate to knowing that I accumulate notebooks. ”

“ I know. ”

“ But, it seems I always found a way to avoid it, as if every time he knew he was doing something to make me fall in love… He was with another girl, and yet with another girl. ”

“ I know, I was one of the victims, I was an aware victim, though. ”

“ You were? ”

“ Y / N, the last time I slept with him was to prevent you from doing it, we both know Tom, he always plays that little game with you, he always looked forward to playing with you and ... And I saw that several times that you were just about to give in, but, as someone who once slept with him, I didn't want you to feel that, you know? I didn't want you to suffer that particular disappointment, ”Lizzie said with a little guilt. “Oh, I don't know,y/n.”

“Come again?”

“I think I saw the way you saw him, and sometimes I came to think that Tom felt the same about you and then… Then he did those things, and he turned around to flirt with whoever was in the room. ”

“ Thank you for bringing that back, ” y/n sighed, gulping down her wine.

"Tom doesn't know how to love,y/n, or ... or maybe he does, I don't know, he's scared, that's what I see, and being honest, I can't stand it," Lizzie said. “Because in spite of everything, he is the man who has made my best friend cry the most.”

She was right.

“No… I don't know,” y/n ignored her gaze, knowing she was right. "But he's also a very good friend."

"I can't deny that," Lizzie said. “But I think, I think you have to let him go.”

“I know,” said y/n . “I tried that, I did that, and for six months, I was fine, I missed him too much, because… He's my best friend, and he's always there for me.”

“As long as you have him close,” Lizzie told him. "You'll continue with that doubt, with that hope."

"But you saw him today, right?" Y / N insisted. "You saw how he looked at me, and… oh Lizzie, when I was dancing with him, I felt ... I felt everything, even more than with Miguel."

The two finished their drinks and Lizzie filled them again. They remained silent, while pretending to watch the background film they had been playing all this time.

"Y/N are you sure you want to get married?" Lizzie asked. "I understand that you want to forget Tom, but is getting married necessary?"

Y/N did not answer suddenly but looked at her cell phone. She had a photo of Miguel as her background, as if to remind herself that he was her fiancé and not Tom. However, when unlocking it, she had a picture with Tom. She checked her notifications, and there was what she needed, a message from Miguel. Poetry, Said poetry she loved.

“Laugh at the night, at the day, at the moon, laugh at the twisted streets of the island, laugh at this clumsy boy who loves you, but when I open my eyes and close them, when my steps go, when my steps return, deny me bread, air, light, spring, but never your laughter for I would die. ”

Y/N smiled to herself.

"Yes, I want to marry Miguel," she said confidently. “I just need to see a picture with him to remember why I want to do it, I guess… I guess I'm having all these thoughts because I know I'm going to let Tom go, forever.”

“Forever?”

“Yes , I don't want to live tied to him, and if I don't let him go ... I'll stay there like a fool, dancing with him just to see how he goes and ends up sleeping with another girl, I can't keep hopeful in that fantasy of him finally falling in love with me, ”y/n reminded her. "So ... after the wedding, I don't know ... Well, for starters, I'll stay there with Miguel, I'm going to leave London."

Lizzie approached to hug her. "Take me with you. You can't leave me. ”

Y / N let out a small, forced laugh. “I have to go, and I will, because I will love Miguel, and we will build a life together.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, y/n,” said Lizzie, as she looked at her cellphone, she erased her last notification.

"Am I crazy?" Asked y/n.

"Very crazy, but I think Miguel will do you good," Lizzie told her. "However, if you're going to get Tom out of your life ... And after being so many years in love with him ..."

"What?"

"Well, if I were you, I'd have a little fun," Lizzie hinted with a smile. “I mean, you both would have to get each other out of your lives, then…”

“Lizzie! You're saying that… ”

“Yes, sleep with Tom, ”Lizzie laughed. "What could go wrong?"

"I am engaged!" Claimed y / n.

"That didn't stop you today," Lizzie reminded her. “Think about it, it was a joke… But, it would be good if you actually knew who you were in love with.”

“Lizzie!”

“Y/N! You’ve been in love with him for five years now. You’re getting married! And you’re never going to see him again, sleep with him, then he will have to kick you out it of his life and you will have to kick him out of your life, and you’re good! And you won’t live without knowing what it was like to sleep with probably the love of your life!”

“He’s—not the love of my life,” lied y/n. “Miguel is.”

“Whatever! You know you want to sleep with Tom!” Insisted Lizzie.

“No, no. That is why I have to go back to Mexico, I will continue with that plan! if I spend 10 more minutes alone with him, I will not be able to control myself. ”

“Do what you want y/n, ”Lizzie laughed. "It was just an idea."

Y / N rolled her eyes. “Idiot.”

“Oh, sometimes I appreciate that you didn't sleep with him,” Lizzie laughed, while y / n now served them both more wine.

Y / N shook her head. They were silent for a while, watching the movie that was in the background.

“Was he…” Y / N cleared her throat. “Was he good?”

Lizzie smirked and raised her eyebrows. "Very."

Y/N laughed. "I mean, with all that experience, wouldn't expect anything else."

Lizzie laughed. "Boy knows his ways," she admitted. "And tell me ... Miguel?"

"It's ..." Y / N flushed. "Well, nothing to do with the British guys ... He moves differently."

"Different good?"

"Oh, definitely, different better!" Y/n chuckled.

Both friends started laughing to each other and gushed about the other guys they'd dated. Having fun, remembering fun anecdotes.

—

Y/N had showed up to her bridal shower with just a slight hangover. Big was her surprise when it wasn’t a disaster. It was… perfect. Pink, very pink, but perfect. With a few touches of white and yellow thanks to the flowers Tom had chosen.

It was cheesy but with taste, and incredibly nice. Tom served pizza, which perfectly captured y/n’s request of ‘nothing too big’. There were some big pillows on the floor where they’d be playing after. It reminded y/n of a slumber party of sorts.

Tom was the only man around, because he was her maid of honor, of course. He was nervous and he seemed a bit out of character. Although, he had been acting that way since y/n had come back.

“Lizzie, hello,” he greeted her.

“I’m impressed,” she admitted. “This is the best shower I’ve been to.”

“Really?” Tom cleared his throat. “Thank you, I hope y/n likes it.”

Lizzie raised her eyebrows at him. “What’s the theme, though? I mean… it’s lovely—“

“Ah it’s… pink, I guess,” Tom lied. “Pink slumber.”

Lizzie gave him an authentic smile. “With strawberry cheesecake and pink chocolate cake, I see… and I saw you had some Harry Potter hints, too.”

“Well, y/n loves Harry Potter, I guess I just threw in a bit of what she loves,” Tom accepted.

“I see,” Lizzie gave him a sad smile.

The party continued, and y/n, with a glass of champagne on her hand, eventually approached Tom.

“Tom, this is adorable,” she told him.

“I’m glad,” he grinned.

Y/N was nibbling on a Toblerone. “I’m… seriously, thank you so much.”

“I’m not going to lie, I was going to a Mexican themed party, but I realized that I could’ve gone in a… totally not appropriate way and that would’ve been bad, so the theme is… Pink, simpler, nicer.”

Y/n chuckled. “Yeah, and oh thanks for the Toblerone, I totally love these,” she chuckled as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “You look nice today.”

Tom blushed looking down. “Thanks, you look… spectacular, that dress is beautiful.”

Y/N smiled but cleared her throat. “Oh… eh, and I just… wanted to thank you for coming to the dancing lessons with me.”

“Anything for you,” Tom said looking into her eyes.

Y/N blinked. There it was again, that promise which held so much but his love.

Tom smiled. “And oh, listen, the only Mexican thing is the music, listen to it, it’s… lovely,” he said turning the volume higher. “this is actually a song named ‘Solamente Una Vez’, am I pronouncing that right?”

Y/n chuckled. “Yes, I think.”

“Well, it’s a song… About falling in love just once,” he said looking into her eyes.

Y/N cleared her throat as she gulped down her champagne. “Nice, uh… Did Miguel recommend it?”

Tom closed his eyes. “No… He, he didn’t.”

Y/N looked away, Lizzie quickly saw her and ran to save her.

“Tom, let’s start with the games!” She suggested.

Soon enough they were gathered around on the pillows and on the couch, waiting for the games that Tom had prepared. They were all cheerful, and happy.

Tom chuckled. “Well, as you may know, I don’t truly know how these things work. Maybe I went a little over the top,” he announced. “I feel weird being surrounded by all these women.”

“Are you really, though?” Lizzie nudged Rachel, who was definitely not happy to be there.

Tom blushed, clearing his throat. “Anyway, uh--”

Y/N glared at Lizzie. “It’s amazing, Tom, thank you.”

“I had to do a little research, because I thought initially this was supposed to be the bachelorette party… And I didn’t have time to cancel the strippers!”

Anna, y/n’s mom’s eyes widened. “Tom!”

He laughed. “No, I’m joking, I’m joking… But with uh, the little research I made, the bridal shower is to…” Tom gulped. “Support the marriage and celebrate the bride,” Tom said looking at y/n. “The beautiful and most amazing bride.”

Y/N chuckled and mouthed a thank you to Tom.

“Enough of this,” Lizzie yelled. “Let’s play the games.”

“Well, I thought it’d be a good time to quiz all of us on knowing the bride,” Tom smirked. “I’m gonna pass some… questionnaires and we will see who knows her the best, we will also be competing against the groom,” Tom laughed. “Who was kind enough to send his answers by text.”

They laughed and started filling it up.

Y/N looked at the questions, and bit her lip. There was no way in which Miguel could’ve answered all of them right. Probably, the only one who could really answer them all was… Tom.

“Well, let’s start, an easy one, okay?” Tom grinned. “Uh, where did the bride and groom meet each other?” he asked. “Y/N, love, mind checking my answers while I check Miguel’s?”

Y/n smiled at Tom. “Mexico, when I was stuck in a rainstorm.”

Tom grinned. “Who got that one correct? Check all your answers then. And let’s see, Miguel got that one correct.”

“Wait, uh, Tom… “Lizzie intruded. “I’ll… ask the next one, and we can keep asking them.”

Tom shrugged. “As you wish.”

Lizzie looked down. “What’s y/n signature drink?”

“Iced coffee…” Y/n answered. “But…Pink mimosas if we’re talking alcohol,” she chuckled, winking.

Tom chuckled. “And… the groom’s answer was… Beer and… Tequila” Tom raised his eyebrows. “I think Miguel thinks he’s dating me, instead.”

Y/N chuckled. “Okay, to be fair with him, back in Mexico, I did only drink just that,” she admitted. She looked down at Tom’s answer. ‘Iced coffee, except when it’s cold, then hot cocoa, and pink mimosas if it’s alcohol’. Y/N gulped.

They continued with more questions, some of them Miguel guessed correctly, but most of them he didn’t. However, each question, Tom had guessed it correctly and with all the ‘buts and whys’ answered right beside it. He knew her, entirely. And she had kept drinking from her champagne while either of her friends refilled her glass.

“What’s her go-to karaoke song?” Y/N’s mom asked after a few questions. “Easy, I can answer it, Dancing Queen!”

“While that answer is partly correct Anna,” Tom chuckled. “That’s only when she’s sober.”

Y/N blushed embarrassed. Her mother stared at y/n chuckling.

“Oh yes, her rendition of Toxic, might be the best I’ve seen,” Hannah laughed. “The choreography.”

Y/N laughed, embarrassed. She was still sober enough to know she wouldn’t need to perform it. That didn’t mean she would.

“I’ve got to differ,” y/n answered. “While both of those options are correct… Tom was the one who guessed it fair and square,” Y/N chuckled awkwardly as she stared at his answers. Her three go-to karaoke songs were there.

“You all missed ‘You’re the One that I want’ from Grease,” Tom laughed watching her. “Shall we?” He asked as he looked for his phone, and searched for the song. “No, no, I’m not doing it,” Y/N laughed, while their friends cheered.

“Oh my god,” Anna giggled.

Tom stood up, reaching for y/n’s hand. “C’mon,” he said before starting the song. The piano gave y/n’s chills.

She smirked. “Tell me about it, stud,” she said.

The rest of the party continued, after y/n’s and Tom’s performance, it suddenly got more interesting. But nothing too weird, Tom hadn’t really done anything wrong and y/n was just waiting for him to hook up with one of her friends. He didn’t. He hadn’t even flirted with them, he had only smiled and listened to them, but no flirting. He had remained incredibly decent and had only paid attention to y/n. Maybe, y/n thought, he was no longer afraid to flirt with her because he thought that y/n wouldn’t fall because she was engaged. Little did he know that was the bigger problem.

The questionnaire had remained on her head, for the rest of the party. Miguel hadn’t been able to answer most of the questions. His answers had been incredibly naive and basic, while Tom’s were on point, as that question about her favourite movie in which he answered: ‘She says her favourite movie is Death Poet Society, which it is, but The Princess Diaries might be her actual favourite.’

But the party ended, it had been perfect. And y/n wasn’t sure if had been the recent conversation she had had with Lizzie, or if it actually was themed to that night. Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about it. The pizza, the Toblerone, the Harry Potter things and the blankets. Maybe it was her imagining stuff.

That didn’t impede her, of course, from booking her flight to Monday that very next monday. She hadn’t told Tom. But she had asked him to go shopping the next day with her, with Lizzie’s idea still roaming on her head. Hooking up with Tom one last time before she got married. As a cleanse. But it wouldn’t make any sense.

Besides, she needed to know where he was in that situation, which brought her to the next day after the party, Saturday, only two days before her flight. A stupid decision, really, to bring him over to check on some ‘clothing’. She had stalled, because she really didn’t want to see it.

However, Tom had been perfect. A perfect maid of honour, he had asked been her confidant, asking if she was actually ready to do all of this.

Tom had been particularly quiet and seemed to have his head elsewhere, but he was still there.

They were walking past the particular shop wanted to visit. Victoria Secret.

“I need to check the lingerie,” she sentenced as she dragged him to the shop. Tom turned red.

“What?”

“For the wedding night!” Y/N chuckled, seeing him turning tense.

“Well, check it with Liz! Or Hannah! Not with me,” Tom coughed, awkwardly. “No.”

“Are you crazy? You’re the perfect person for this job! Who’s taken more lingerie than you?” She laughed as she walked over to see the babydolls, and the teddy’s.

Tom squeezed his eyes shut. “Fair point.”

He followed after her.

“Let’s put your whoring to some use,” she laughed.

Tom followed after her. He was sweating.

“You get nervous around underwear?” Y/N teased.

“I can’t be recognized here,” he mumbled. “Especially not with an engaged woman,” Tom reminded her.

Y/N laughed. “Ah, please, people know we’re just friends.”

“Are we,” he mumbled, but y/n chose to ignore it.

She kept going through the racks as Tom tried to ignore her, scrolling through his phone, texting, until y/n walked into the fitting room.

“So, have you talked to… Miguel?” Tom asked as he strolled in front of the room.

“Yes, yes, I...can’t wait to see him again.

“Of course,” Tom answered. “Well… Uh, yn? I have to thank you.”

“Me? I should be thanking you… the bridal shower was incredible,” Y/N told him as she put on one of the red teddy’s she had chosen.

“Right… But I have to thank you, for well, asking me to be your maid of honour, yeah… it’s gonna sound crazy, but you’ve really opened my eyes to the whole idea of marriage.”

Y/N stayed quiet, thinking about the ring she had found in his drawer. She faked a laugh. “Right.”

“I mean it,” he said.

“Have… you met someone Tom?” She asked him, not wanting to hear a very specific answer.

“No.”

“Then how can you be serious? I mean, would you buy a ring without having a girlfriend?” Y/N questioned.

He sighed. “I don’t know I just…. I don’t know.”

Y/N bit her lip, before she walked out of the fitting room, slowly, staring into his eyes.

He chuckled as he sat down. “Well?”

She smirked as she batted her eyes before walking out with a pink and black corset, tied to the black pantyhose she was wearing.

She walked over in the sexiest way she could, with a slow pace and a lascivious look, seeing Tom getting red and flustered. His mouth opened in awe as she smirked before twirling a finger around her hair.

Tom’s eyes couldn’t be more opened as y/n saw him practically undress her with his sight.

“Well, you think Miguel will like it?” She popped the question.

Tom suddenly shook his head and coughed. “No.” He looked away. Before chuckling and walking over.

“It’s… just…” Tom giggled. “Cute.”

Cute? He had basically already eaten her three times with the glance he had given her and he said it was cute?

“Cute? I don’t wanna look cute on my wedding night!” Y/N complained.

Tom rolled his eyes. “Well, that’s how you’ll look, you’re… cute, y/n,” He gulped. “Maybe try something else.”

Y/N sighed, before getting back to try on more.

Eventually, she decided on one, even if Tom wasn’t convinced. This had been the first time he wasn’t all supportive of everything, but he seemed flustered.

Y/N had insisted on going to the bakery, where she wanted to talk alone with him, she was finally telling him.

“So… why did we come today? It’s Saturday? Are we seeing more wedding stuff related, tomorrow? We’re still up for brunch, right?”

“Tom… No, it’s… it’s my last day in London.”

Tom blinked. “What?”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you, but… I didn’t know how I’m… I’m moving to Mexico with Miguel and I… Tomorrow’s my last day in London.”

And it was probably her last Sunday with Tom.

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fangzeronos · 4 years

Text

Fanning The Flames Ch. 1

It’s been almost twenty years since the end of the Hundred Year War. Living in the Earth Kingdom with her children and family, the former Fire Nation Princess Azula was happy. She snickered as she heard the sounds of feet running on the cold floor, and she smiled softly.

“What did your mother and I tell you about running in the house, little ones?” she asked.

“Sorry, Mommy,” a young girl’s voice said. She and her sister walked around to Azula, both of them hugging their mother’s legs. “Mommy, can you tell us a story?”

“What kind of story, Ursa?” Azula asked, kneeling down and looking at her daughters. “Hm? Which story do you want to hear?”

“You and Mama!” the other girl said with a smile.

“Me and Mama? Oh, that’s a fun one,” Azula said, kissing her daughter’s head. “Ursa, you and Mai go sit on the couch and I’ll be right there to tell you all about it. Without the adulty bits that are too spicy for your tiny ears.”

Ursa giggled and nodded. “Come on, Mai!” she said, taking her sister’s hand and running for the couch, climbing up and settling in.

Azula smiled softly, walking over to the couch and sitting down. Mai climbed up into her mother’s lap, her golden eyes sparkling as she snuggled against her mother. Ursa wiggled under Azula’s arm, wrapping her own arms around Azula’s, ready to listen.

“Your Mama and I, hm? Well…that is a long story,” Azula said. “We met a long time ago, back when she was Kyoshi Warrior and I was…an undisciplined and obnoxious Princess who thought the world belonged to her. But, after Uncle Zuko and Katara stopped me, I got my mind right after your grandfather’s manipulations. And that’s where Suki came in, giving me a second chance…” ________________________________________

Twenty Years Ago

Kyoshi Island

Suki and Azula stepped off of the airship surrounded by several other Kyoshi Warriors. The Warriors split off and took off for their houses, sounds of laughing and cheering filling the quiet island’s air. Azula wrapped her arms around herself, her bag on her shoulder as she walked down the path with Suki, biting her lip.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Azula said, looking at the former Captain of the Guard and her brother’s right-hand woman. “Anywhere but here, Suki.”

“You need a relaxing place to keep yourself centered. You’d never get that in the Palace or with Sokka and Katara. Kyoshi knows you’d never get it with Toph,” Suki said. “Besides, this gives us a chance to get to really know each other, ok? Outside of trying to kill each other.”

Azula nodded, looking around as she walked beside Suki. “It’s so calm.”

“Yeah, until the Unagi attacks,” Suki said with a smile.

“Unagi? Attack?”

“Oh, yeah. It happens about once a week. Aang and the others took it down the last time I was here. Who knows, you may get lucky and get to see it,” Suki said, walking up to a house and pushing the door open. “Mom?”

Suki’s mother, Shei, walked in from the kitchen, hooking a towel on her hip. “Suki!” she said, running over and hugging her daughter. “You should have let me know you were coming home!”

“Surprise,” Suki said with a smile, hugging her mother back. “Mom, there’s someone I want you to meet.” She stepped back and moved back to stand beside Azula. “Mom, this is—”

“Azula. Princess of the Fire Nation,” Shei said in a hushed voice, her hand moving to her belt, fingers wrapping around the hilt of a dagger. “What is she doing on this Island, Suki?”

Azula backed up slowly, her hands in front of her. “Ma’am, please—”

“Answer me, Suki!” Shei snapped.

Suki sighed, stepping between Azula and her mother. “She’s here because I asked her. She’s not like she used to be, Mom. I promise. She just got out of the hospital again a few days ago and I thought coming to Kyoshi would help her relax. Please, you have to trust me.”

Shei removed her hand from the dagger slowly, narrowing her eyes. “One slip-up, Princess, and I will not hesitate to put this in your chest,” she said. “Understand?”

Azula nodded softly. “Yes, ma’am. I swear, I mean no harm or ill intentions. Suki’s telling you the truth. I’ve been in and out of the hospital for the last several years thanks to my mental state at the end of the Hundred Year War and my father’s machinations. Suki offered to help me and being away from the Fire Nation was the best option in her eyes.”

Shei looked at her daughter who nodded. She bit her lip and looked away, hands clenching. “Last time Fire Nation Royalty was here, your brother burned down half of the village. It’s hard for us to trust anyone from the Fire Nation. If Suki’s vouching for you, it’ll have to be enough,” she said. She turned back toward the kitchen, putting her hand on the doorframe. “Dinner’s in two hours.” She disappeared behind the curtain, leaving Azula and Suki to themselves.

Suki sighed, putting her hand on Azula’s arm. “Come on. I’ll show you the spare room,” she said. Suki looked at the young woman, biting her lip when she saw Azula was staring at the entrance for the kitchen, her eyes glazing over. She got concerned, stepping in front of her and breaking her line of sight. “Azula?”

Azula gasped, shaking her head out and backing up a step. “What—where—”

“Azula, where are you right now?” Suki asked, setting her bag down and taking the Princess’s hands. “Azula, where are you?”

Azula panicked, looking around before finally feeling Suki’s hands in hers. “Kyoshi…Kyoshi Island,” she said softly, licking her lips softly. “Kyoshi Island…”

“Where did you go, sweetheart?” Suki asked, putting her hand on Azula’s cheek. She remembered the healers in the hospital telling her that touch and questions would help ground Azula after an episode, and it was clear she had just had one, judging by the sweat building on Azula’s face and neck. “Azula?”

“I…I saw my own mother. Telling me I wasn’t…wasn’t anything but a monster. I was that five year old girl again, wanting praise from my mother but being met with disgust,” she said softly, reaching up and wiping her eyes softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s ok,” Suki said, smiling softly. “Come on. We’ll get you settled in and then we can look around the Island.” She took Azula’s hand and led her upstairs, nudging the door to the guest room open. “Well, it’s not a Fire Nation suite, but it’s cozy enough.”

Azula looked around the room and smiled a bit. “It’s fine. It’s better than my room in the hospital,” she said, walking in and setting her bag on the floor. She sank onto the bed, sighing as she did. “Suki…can I ask something?”

“Of course,” Suki said, sitting beside Azula. “What’s on your mind?”

Azula sighed softly, rubbing her hands together before she looked at Suki. She had two big questions on her mind, and one would be a longer answer so she opted for the quicker one. “How in Sozin’s name did you get Ty Lee to join the Warriors? That girl complained for years about being part of a “matched set” because of six identical sisters and then she comes to my cell in the prison wearing Kyoshi robes and makeup. How did you pull that off?”

Suki giggled and smiled. “She said that when you three impersonated us and got into Ba Sing Se, she felt like the armor and makeup would be fun to do all the time. I guess she’d bonded with some of the other Warriors while she was in prison after betraying you with Mai at the Boiling Rock, and she came to me after the War and asked if she could be part of the Warriors. We put her through intense training and crazy tricks, but she proved herself.”

Azula smiled a bit and nodded. “I think it looks good on her. Almost like she was made for it, or it was made for her, one of the two.” She rubbed her arms, biting her lip. “Why….why did you really offer to help me? After everything I did to you—”

Suki out her hand on Azula’s, giving a gentle squeeze. “Because I’d like to think that, if the situations were reversed and you were the Earth Kingdom girl raised with love and affection, and I was the Fire Nation Princess who was manipulated and used by the people that were supposed to love her, in the end you’d do the same and help me get back to myself and find the person I should be,” she said. “And, in all honesty, you needed a friend that wouldn’t judge you. Not when I know that everything that happened to you was your father’s fault.”

Sitting silence for a minute, Azula nodded before she leaned over and hugged Suki. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Other than you and Zuko, nobody wants to really give me a chance. All they see is the broken fourteen year old that tried to burn the world down. I hate being that person…I hate that being the only thing people know me as. I want to be better, and…if being here can do that, I’ll take what I can get.”

“I’ll be here every step,” Suki said, hugging Azula back and rubbing her back softly. “I promise. Nobody’s going to fuck with you while you’re here. Not if they want to keep their tongues. You’re my guest, in my home, and my Island. Anyone that doesn’t like it can step to me.”

Azula smiled softly and nodded. “OK,” she said. “Thank you, Suki. Really.”

Suki smiled. “You’re welcome,” she said. “Get settled in. I’ll go try and talk my mom down and then we’ll go look around the Island.”

A few hours later, after a tense dinner with Shei, Suki walked with Azula through the village. The princess was looking at everything, biting her lip as she watched people pull away from her, children being yanked back to their parents or older siblings. She knew it shouldn’t hurt and that she should expect it, but she also knew she couldn’t help the feelings in her chest as she watched the cold reception.

“Suppose it’s my punishment. Years of incarceration, a few years in and out of a hospital, finally getting the right dosage of medication to help me balance my emotions. Everyone’s still scared of me. I don’t blame them. Like Suki said, if situations were reversed, I’d probably be afraid of me too,” Azula thought.

“You’re lost in thought again,” Suki said with a smile, nudging Azula’s shoulder softly. “What’s wrong?”

“Trying to reconcile the reception I’m getting. I don’t blame them. My problems are as legendary as my grandfather starting the war. I don’t blame them for hating me and pulling away and hiding. I’d do the same if I were them,” Azula said with a bit of a shrug. “It’s alright. I’ll just be glad when it’s over. Soon enough I’ll become invisible.”

Suki nodded. “It’ll be ok. Lot of the time I feel invisible in the Fire Nation,” she said.

The two made their way toward the shoreline, Suki reaching down and pulling her sandals off, letting her feet hit the sand. Azula followed suit, wiggling her toes in the sand, giggling a bit at the sensation before she covered her mouth.

Suki looked over and smiled, cocking an eyebrow. “Did I hear—”

“You tell anyone what sound I just made, and I’ll kick your ass,” Azula said, shoving Suki into the sand.

Laughing, Suki hit the ground and rolled, popping back up. “Well, well. The Princess can have fun. New information.”

“Fuck you,” Azula said, rolling her eyes and walking down toward the beach with Suki. The two walked the sands, Azula enjoying the sea breeze. She closed her eyes and took a breath, feeling like a weight was off of her shoulders.

Suki smiled softly, watching Azula and feeling a tug in her chest. “What the hell? Odd…haven’t felt that since Sokka—oh, shit. No, no, no! Suki, no. Do not fall for another Fire Nation Royal! Zuko already broke your heart, you do not need that again. Just masturbate like a sane woman,” she thought.

Sounds of feet running on the beach caught Suki’s attention, seeing a villager rushing for them. “Fire Nation Bitch! Suffer in hell!” the man yelled, lunging for Azula with a knife in one hand, a club in the other.

Suki felt like time had stopped, shoving Azula to the side as the knife penetrated her stomach, the club coming down on her shoulder. She felt the bone break and the blade in her flesh, and she hit the ground, blood seeping from the wound.

Azula hit the ground, sliding in the sand some before she watched Suki get stabbed and hit with the club, hitting the ground. “SUKI!” She leapt up and tackled the attacker, knocking him onto his stomach before she wrenched his arms back. “Someone help!”

A few people rushed over, one man kneeling beside Azula and wrapping a sash around the attacker’s wrists, binding him. “Mahu, what are you doing?!”

“Fire Nation bitch needs to die!” Mahu yelled, thrashing as two others rushed to Suki.

Shaking his head, the man dragged Mahu to his feet. “My name’s Rahin. Princess, you’re not hurt are you?” the man asked.

Azula shook her head. “I’m fine, but Suki—” she started, looking over as the others tried to stop the bleeding. One of them reached for the knife, but she ran over and stopped. “Don’t take the knife out. You do, she’ll bleed out. Don’t do that yet. Get her to a healer! They’ll know what to do.”

“Let’s get the Captain to Moya. She’ll know what to do,” one of the men said, three of them lifting Suki up slowly.

Azula followed them after picking up Suki’s shoes, heart thundering in her chest. Suki had taken an attack meant for her. Suki shoved her out of the way, taking the knife and club to the stomach and shoulder. Nobody else had ever taken an attack for her, not in her entire life. She felt sick, confused, and disoriented. She stopped when they did, the three disappearing into the healers huts. She sank onto a bench beside the door, wrapping her arms around herself tightly, tears falling down her cheeks.

“Spirits, let her be ok,” she whispered. “Please…don’t let anything happen to her…”

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azuki #Azula #Suki #Kyoshi Warriors #Azula and Suki both have a bad case of the gays #this was fun #Can't wait to crank out the second chapter #and basically anyone that isn't Suki or Azula are OCs

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