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gaysindistress · 10 months

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Cocaine Jesus - Part 3 of Fine Line

Pairing: Mafia!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: you know the drill; angst, mentions of abuse, vague descriptions of abuse, the feels, Peggy Carter andddd John Walker slander

Word count

Master list

Fine Line & Dial Drunk

Word count: 4.3k

Tag list: @vickie5446 @cakesandtom @zaraomarrogers @deafeningvoidcloud

a/n: you guys - "I need you to promise me that you'll give Honey and Steve a happy ending.

me -"I promiseeeeed other people that I'd write all the angst possible and I gave 'em my word sooooooo"

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

The letter read the most ridiculous thing that she has ever seen. A poor excuse, a failed lie, a fucked up story, a concoction of rumors mashed together to make something out of nothing. He left it on her bed without a second word to her, a word to her parents, and walked straight out of her life. He left the letter detailing every single lie he could’ve thought of for the last 48 hours on her bed, on her pillow to be specific like some fucked up love story you read about in high school. She always joked that they might be Romeo and Juliet but this?

This?

His actions were far beyond anything that Shakespeare might’ve thought of.

“I used you to cheat on Peggy but we’re getting married so this has to end. Goodbye, Steve.”

One single sentence to end a relationship that they had talked about that could last for years. One single sentence that shattered everything that she thought to be true and concrete in her life.

One sentence to take everything she’s been looking forward to drowned in it in her own tears.

She threw the letter into the fire, with tears streaming down her face, and a vengeance as she stared at the flames. Ashes of the relationship flooded around her, but a shard of light called her attention. On her nightstand is the picture of them from that first night; a polaroid of two bright and smiling faces, so hopeful that life will be OK. You already know the story behind the picture, but in the wake of the letter, she contemplated destroying that picture and any memory of Steve she could find. A part of her wouldn’t let her burn it so instead she slipped it into her nightstand and crawled into a ball on the floor to cry.

That night she slipped into adulthood and decided never again would she allow herself to be fooled by men like Steve Rogers.

“Hey doll, where would you like me to start?” Bucky gently calls over to her as she stares around the room around her her entire life from birth to know I haven’t packed up into boxes and is laying like a field of memories around them.

“I don’t know. I guess just pick up one and start putting them in the truck?”

But he gives her a no and does what she says; picking one box up and hauling it out to the truck. Her mom had helped her pack, shuffling through all the items that she felt like her dear daughter no longer needed. Her mother, Lauren, knew not to touch anything in the nightstand. She had seen the polaroid some nights after Steve’s week departure and figured that her daughter had hidden in the picture in the nightstand. She had liked Steve and talked to her husband many nights about how she had hoped that maybe one day he would be the one to harness that wild spirit within her daughter. Having known the Rogers since practically birth herself, it was a shock that Sarah had let something like this happen. Lauren had tried to get her husband to say something to Mr. Rogers however, nothing came of the conversations, but frustration and misplaced anger. She didn’t think that she nor her husband would ever be able to give the Rogers the time of day after this. It was a miracle to even get Bucky in the house given their new sentiment towards the Rogers.

Bucky chose to keep his words to himself and only offered her sad smiles or gentle hugs. He was so unbelievably pissed at Steve when he found out when it happened because they had known since his return that he would be forced to marry Peggy. On that Fourth of July night, he urged Steve to let go of this honey, to give her a chance but he refused. He was selfish like that sometimes, taking and taking from everyone around him, because it made him feel better. It caused many fights between the two childhood friends seeing as Bucky had taken a liking to her too. It was fun for him; the girls, the wine, and the weed. Nothing that Bucky could say would make him stop because he has always got what he wanted and Bucky was forever indentured to him so his hands were tied. His own father was in the same position as him, but to the older Mr. Rogers. So he watched on the sidelines as Steve ruined yet another young girl's life with his charm.

When Bucky had walked back into the room, he sensed a shift in the air as she kneeled in front of her nightstand, frozen in time she held that stupid portrait in her hands and gawked at it as if she saw a ghost. Every ounce of life and color drained from her face as she held this momento of pain in her hand. It burned him to not just rip it from her hands and destroy it for her. He wanted to give her everything that she had been promised and so much more but he knew that if he did that he would risk the wrath of Steve. He knew that if he tried to give her any ounce of comfort, Steve would know and make his life a living hell. He already had enough control over Bucky’s life and he didn’t want to give him another reason to be even more controlling.

Instead of doing what his heart screamed at him to do he gently placed his hand on her shoulder so she would know that he was there for her if she needed. She brought it as if burned by his touch and quickly dropped off, turning slightly to look at him. He saw the tears in her eyes, and he gathered her into his arms for a death grip hug. One hand snuck into her hair, and held her head against his chest, as the other gripped her tightly, as if to provide her with all the physical comfort that she could ever need as her body shook from the sobs, a wet spot forms on his shirt and his own throat tightened at the feeling resolves quickly turned from that of a heart broken woman to those gut, wrenching gasps of a person experiencing true agony. The sound stopped leaving her mouth, and her body heaved in efforts to keep up with the demand for air. Her knees buckled and they dropped to the floor together in a heap of tears and bones.

“I got you, doll. I won’t let you go. I promise.”

His words seemed to make her cries worse, but her arms wrapped around him and her hands Claude into the back of his shirt. She was gripping him as tight as he gripped her, the strength of their shared misery, keeping them together.

“I got you. It’s okay. Let it out.”

“After this, we can’t see each other.”

Once again, the boxes of her life scattered around them as they ate Chinese food and settled into her small apartment. 480 square feet of nothing but everything that she could possibly think of. She drops the chopsticks, flinging rice and vegetables everywhere when she hears the words come out of his mouth.

“I don’t… what?”

I just don’t think that it’s a good idea for us to hang out because…”

“ I swear to god if you tell me that Steve had anything to do with this I will actually kill him.”

He gives a sad laugh and looks down at his feet, “ doll. I don’t know what to tell ya.”

“You can start by answering my question. Did Steve have anything to do with us?”

He refuses to answer her question and won’t meet her eyeline. That’s all the answer she needs though. Steve had yet again ruined another chance for her to be happy and this time he wasn’t even there to do it.

She slummed against the couch and almost dropped the food container on the floor with disbelief. She stares ahead and says nothing. She can’t say anything. Nothing she could possibly think of would make this moment feel any better than it does.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky mumbles as he drops a light kiss onto her forehead and walks out of her life.

Once again, that Polaroid staring back at her as it peeks out of the top of the box it’s in. All she can see is the fireworks, but she knows what the picture is. She knows the curse that inevitably brings, but she can’t throw it away.

She won’t.

“You know, my apartment is bigger and you wouldn’t have to get rid of anything,” the blonde jokes as he lugs another donation bag out of her room.

Y/N shakes her head while she sorts more of her things, deciding what can go to D.C. with her and what stays behind with the rest of her past.

“But you’re here and I’m going to be 4 hours away. How is that supposed to work?” she calls after him.

“I wasn’t talking about my old place.”

She cocks her head but continues to focus on the task at hand, “Yeah your old place would be like a 5 hour drive on a good day.”

“Look at me, gorgeous.”

When she turns to look at him, he’s leaning against the door frame with a set of keys in his hand and a smile wide across his face. She gives him an even more confused look. He shakes them before tossing them to her. Turning over the keys in her hand, she spots a key chain that reads “I heart D.C.”

“I don’t…” she pauses for a moment, “Oh my god you got the job?!”

“I sure did. I start in a week which means…” he trails off and his smile grows even bigger. She jumps up and hugs him so tightly that he stumbles back.

“That’s so exciting, John! I’m so proud of you,” she all but exclaims holding him against her and the excitement vibrates off of her.

“Thank you, gorgeous,” he whispers as he takes her chin in his hand and tilts so their lips meet, “But that’s not even the best part. I had your landlord put us on the same lease and get us a bigger place.”

She stills and pulls away, “You did what?”

“Don’t be like that. Be happy that we’re both moving up in our careers and we’re moving to a new city. You even said it yourself; if I moved with you, we’d move in together.”

Nervously chuckling, she nods her head, “Oh I just wasn’t expecting it so soon, I guess.”

“What? You have a secret boyfriend or something?” tension fills his voice at her hesitation.

“No, no! It’s just a lot of info at once, that’s all,” she tries to reason and it seems to calm what storm was brewing.

John lets out a deep laugh and kisses her once more before letting her go.

“Good because I saw this,” he says, pulling out that god forsaken polaroid from his back pocket, “And got a little worried.”

Her smile freezes once more and she scrambles to come up with something, “Oh that’s an old family friend that’s all.”

“You look awful… close.”

“Just friends… well not even that anymore,” she tells John as she returns back to her cleaning, “You can just put it in a box.”

John hums but it’s filled with dismay as he debates ripping it to see her reaction. He’s not stupid, he could tell that whoever the man in the picture was, he meant something to Y/N and it was beyond just old friends. He takes a picture of it to send to a cop friend of his and slips it back into his pocket. He’s going to figure out who this man was and erase him from Y/N’s life.

Five days later John gets his answer.

Steve Grant Rogers, born July 4 19xx to Sarah and Joseph Rogers in Brooklyn, NY. Married to Margaret Carter Rogers. No known criminal record or alises. Father has a lengthy record and is suspected to be the current leader of the Rogers crime family. Steve is expected to be take over when Joseph dies.

John’s jaw clenches when he reads the emails and closes his computer. Anger licks up his spine at the thought of his sweet Y/N being at all connected to this criminal let alone as close as she appeared to be. Almost immediately his anger is drowned out when she walks through the door of their new apartment, arms full of groceries.

“Here, gorgeous, let me get that for you.”

Time flies by when you’re having fun or at least that’s what they tell everyone. Y/N hadn’t thought about that Polaroid since John brought it up. She assumed that he did as he was told, and just slipped into another box. She didn’t even question it when she hadn’t found it when they were unpacking. Time really did seem to heal her wounds and Steve had finally left her mind. Nearly 5 years after he’d left her heartbroken and angry, she finally was able to forget the hold he had on her. Even though she’d briefly tried to start something with Bucky, John Walker had been the one to show her what love meant… or at least what his version was.

Her new friends in D.C. had warned her about the red flags they’d seen but Y/N dismissed them. She felt she knew him better after all they’d been together for three years and were engaged. She always brushed it off as them being unhappy in their own relationship or John just had a bad day or he wasn’t always like this. It had gotten to the point where her own mother Lauren started to point out the concerning things she saw; however, it wasn’t until her three year anniversary dinner that it all came to a head.

John had suggested they go back to New York for a little getaway considering how stressful their jobs and wedding planning were. He’d made reservations at one of the finest restaurants on the Upper East Side along with staying in one of his friend’s condos. Everything had been perfect; champagne, rose petals, quiet instrumental music, and two people fighting in the bedroom.

“I can’t believe you! You’re such a fucking asshole!” She shouted at him from the bedroom as he continued to get ready.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he calmly responded, fixing his tie.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, John.”

“No I don’t.”

“You had Joaquin look into Steve.”

“I did so what,” he leveled a very stern gaze towards her through the bathroom mirror.

“And you didn’t tell me for 2 years.”

“So what?” He said even lower than before but finally turned to look at Y/N, “why does it matter if I looked into your little boyfriend?”

“What are you talking about?” She huffed, back straightening as chills began to run down her spine.

“I know about you and Steve. You didn’t want me to know so YOU lied to me about it so what was I supposed to do? Ignore it? I wouldn’t be a very good fiancé, husband even if I ignored my gut when it comes to you.”

“You’re seriously trying to say that you were concerned about me? I would’ve told you anything you wanted to know, you didn’t have to have someone get a whole ass police background check,” she tried to reason and to defuse the situation. She could sense the anger and aggression boiling under John’s skin no matter how calm and collected he seemed in the moment.

He ignored her, instead fixing the cuffs of his jacket and shirt. Waiting and making her think he was ignoring her was his favorite tactic to get under her skin.

“I didn’t lie to you, I would never do that,” she tried again whilst taking small steps towards him.

“I care so much about you, gorgeous,” he started, closing the gap before engulfing her in a bone crushing hug, “Steve is a dangerous man, so much more dangerous than you could ever imagine.”

She gasped at the pressure he was putting on her, “John you’re hurting me.”

His grip loosened for a moment before he spun her around so she could look in the mirror. One of his hands looped around her shoulders and the other found its place around her neck. Her own hands flew to his wrist and she began to claw at his wrist as he dropped his head so he could speak directly into her ear.

“I am the only person who can protect you from him. Me,” he punctuated the words with a tightening grip, “I’m disappointed that you didn’t tell me about him, gorgeous. I can’t have a lying wife and you know that; I need someone who is completely loyal to me. Do you think you can do that?”

Tears fell down her face, ruining the makeup she’s just finished putting on as she rapidly nodded her head. Satisfied he dropped her and let her fall forward to catch herself on the bathroom door frame.

“Clean up, we’re leaving in 15 minutes,” he whispered into her ear before leaving the room. Once she knew she was alone, she scrambled to grab her phone and dialed a number she’d hoped to never dial again.

“Doll?” The voice answered with confusion.

She cried even harder when Bucky picked up and she choked on her words, “I need your help please. I’ll pay you anything, everything. Please just… please.”

“Doll what is it? Where are you?”

“I’ll send you the address but you have to come quickly. Hide in the alley and I’ll figure out how to get there.”

“Of course, do you want me to call HIM?”

“No,” she barely held back the next wave of sobs at the thought and hung up.

She took a few deep breaths, calming her nervous system before standing to fix her makeup. Within minutes, she’s managed to make herself look presentable to John’s standards. However she’d exchanged her heels for flats in hopes that if she did have to make a run for it, she wouldn’t break her ankle.

Her phone pinged beside her, alerting her that Bucky would be at the restaurant when they got there and was in the back alley like she’d asked.

“I’ll be right back. Can you order me the salmon if I’m back when they take our order?” she sweetly smiled at John as she got up.

He gave her that sick PR smile he used on his sponsors and went back to reading the menu.

Y/N’s body shook as she got closer and closer to the bathroom. On her way she stopped their waitress, a younger red headed woman that John had been relentlessly rude to. The woman smiled and stopped her by gently grabbing her arm to pull her closer.

“Go through the kitchen and out the back door. He’s waiting for you,” she whispered to Y/N. Fear ran through her body again as she stared wildly at her.

“Go. Bucky hates waiting around,” she smirked before releasing her arm and guiding her into the kitchen. The red head waved a hand at Y/N as if to shoo away a child and pointed to a set of doors that she assumed led outside.

She mouthed thank you and ran for the doors, pushing them open with all her might. Before her was a blacked out SUV and a smiling Bucky in the backseat. He had opened the door when she came bursting out.

“Get in Doll.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She climbed in and sunk into the leather as the car pulled away.

“Where to?” He asked after they’d gotten away from the restaurant.

“Somewhere safe.”

Bucky nodded as he tapped the driver on the shoulder and said something to him. She didn’t register what address he gave him because fatigue took over her body and she drifted off into the abyss of sleep.

10 years.

10 years since she’d been home, seen family, spoken to her friends.

10 years since she’d left John in that restaurant and gotten into the car with Bucky.

It had been 10 years since she’d gained her freedom but at the cost of a normal life.

During that time, Bucky and Natasha, the waitress from that night, had hidden her and kept her in some sort of witness protection program. Bucky knew of John’s reputation and knew that the only way to guarantee Y/N’a safety was for her to disappear. He’s made her a ghost, changing everything about her so that no one could find her aside from him and Natasha. Of course going into hiding meant she had literally no other connections but the two of them.

Nat had offered her a job working alongside her as an executive assistant to Bucky and another man named Sam Wilson. Bucky had assured her that he didn’t work for Steve anymore and she wouldn’t see him. His promise did little to quell her fears but she trusted him nonetheless.

It became clear pretty quickly after she went into hiding that John had no idea where she went but he kept looking. Her family had been told about the situation but everyone else was kept in the dark, which made John even more furious. His efforts to find her had been in vain and roughly around the 4th year of no results he stopped looking. Regardless she remained hidden because at this point, she’d lived most of her adult life this way. Y/N didn't really know anything outside of the world that she’s created but that’s not to say she was naive. Of course working as the assistant to a mob boss, she wasn’t oblivious to the real world. In fact she probably understood it better than most, she simply preferred her world.

It had been nearly 15 years by now since she’d seen Steve. Occasionally she’d see his name on paperwork from Bucky’s time working under him. Other than that, there had been nothing. Peggy, on the other hand, she’d seen far too often between events, galas, and even in Bucky’s office. Y/N doubted that the woman remembered her, let alone knew who she was so she didn’t let it phase her when she saw her. Natasha was quick to fill her in on all of the gossip if she wanted but it was usually the same; Peggy cheated with the same two men, Steve found out and would threaten divorce but it never came to fruition because she would claim she was pregnant. Spoiler alert she never was but if she made a big enough deal about it, Steve would have to reconcile with her to save his and his family’s reputation.

However this round of accusations and threats seemed to stick; Steve had actually filed for divorce and demanded a paternity test if she was, in fact, pregnant. Of course she wasn't, hence why they were fighting in the lobby of Bucky’s office. Natasha chuckles under her breath at their petty words and glances over to Y/N.

“You ready?” She asks as she gathers her own things.

“Can we even get out? It sounds like they’re literally at the door.”

Before Natasha can answer, Bucky walks in followed by the arguing couple. They’re shouting so many things at each other that no one can keep track of what they’re actually arguing about.

“Oh fucking believe me. I can’t wait for this divorce to be over. Maybe I’ll stop getting so many fucking STDs,” Steve shouts as he slammed the door behind himself.

Peggy scoffs as she crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head.

“Yeah that’s right. Don’t say anything because you know I’m right,” he scoffs back, dropping himself onto the couch Nat and Bucky had christened several times.

Y/N winces at his loud voice and turns around so that her back is to them. She grabs whatever paperwork she can and shoves it into her bag.

Nat clears her throat and whispers, “Let’s go.”

She loops her arm in Y/N’s and bids everyone a goodbye. Dropping a kiss on Bucky’s cheek, she tries her hardest to sneak the other woman out before Steve can see her. As soon as they’re out the door, they hear exactly what they’re afraid of.

“I swear to god, Buck, if that was Y/N, I will execute you right here, right now.”

Nat stiffens for a moment but quickens her pace and practically drags Y/N along with her to get them out as soon as possible. Steve’s booming voice chases after them and they make eye contact as the two women climb into the elevator. Before the doors close, Y/N can see the absolute heartbreak and pain that’s written across his face.

She doesn’t care though.

He’d done the exact same to her.

She’d gotten a few weeks of privacy before the oaf of a man came knocking at her door. The day had been rainy like the week prior and she kept to herself inside. Y/N had always loved the rain no matter where she was at because it reminded her that the earth could renew itself after a storm. However her peace is shattered when she hears the familiar sound of a luxury car pulling up in front of her house. Grabbing the gun Bucky stashed for her, she goes to peek out of the window to see her worst nightmare walking up.

Albeit it’s Steve and not John, she still tucked the gun back into its place before answering the door.

One knock.

Two knocks.

Three knocks.

She opens it and her breath hitches in her chest at the sight.

“What are you doing here?”

The first words that came to her mind after 15 years of nothing at all.

#mafia steve rogers #mob au #mafia!steve rogers #mafia!steve x reader #mob steve rogers #mob Steve rogers x reader #mafia! steve rogers imagine #mafia steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #fine line steve rogers

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obwjam · 9 months

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It's Not Safe For You Here (Stargate Atlantis: Carson Beckett x tiny!reader)

a/n: behold, folks: my very first commission! requested by the wonderful and lovely @blueskimmer! i love how this turned out and i'm very happy i got to put this together for them 💞 i hope you all enjoy!

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You just couldn’t believe your luck.

It usually went something like this: A Wraith ship came zooming out of the ring with that weird glowing light, taking as many people as it felt like. Within minutes, it was gone. It came through every so often, but because the giant village you called home was small, by human standards, the ship’s visits were few and far between. In the last couple of years, you had only seen seven, maybe eight, ring activations.

Of course a ship of unfathomable size descended on your home in the middle of your midnight borrowing trip.

It was pure, unadulterated chaos. People were screaming, dirt was flying, and you couldn’t see a thing. Whenever the Wraith came, you situated yourself in your little bunker until daylight, and this time was no different. You just had to climb down the water well and get to it.

What you didn’t fully realize was that a giant ship meant that there were Wraith on the ground as well as in the air. Debris was flying from every angle as weapons were fired and houses were set ablaze.

All it took was one errant rock to send you tumbling down.

It happened in an instant—so fast that you don’t even remember getting plunked. It was a pebble, really, something that wouldn’t have normally thrown you, but it came flying at such a breakneck speed that it immediately knocked you out, and off your feet.

When you came to, you had to blink away the light that flooded your vision. You groaned and tried to sit up, but immediately fell down when you realized you couldn’t. Your arm was twisted in a way that was not normal. You silently cursed yourself before realizing you had no choice but to get up and run. Things were hitting the ground at a rapid pace, and you had fallen off the well and were out in the open. You couldn’t believe nothing had happened to you while you were passed out.

So for the rest of the night, you stayed hidden behind the cover of grass and leaves. You managed to situate yourself underneath some fallen rock so if anything came tumbling down from above, you would hopefully be safe.

It was torture. You watched as hundreds of villagers dwindled down into a few dozen in a span of hours as the Wraith stunned them and dragged them back to their ship. The thought of getting snatched up by one of those aliens was enough to send you into a panic.

You didn’t realize you had eventually fallen asleep when the noise finally died down, but before you knew it, you were jolted awake by the sound of voices that cut through your ringing ears.

Voices you didn’t recognize.

“Oh, no…” Sheppard said as soon as his eyes fell on the scene before him. They were set to start trade with this planet—in exchange for some medicine, they would receive bountiful crops for the mainland. They certainly didn’t anticipate a culling happening in the week since they had been here.

“You’ve got to be kidding!” Rodney cried. “When did this happen?”

“It looks like they were just here,” Ronon observed. “Some of these buildings are still smoldering.”

“Oh dear,” Carson mumbled. It wasn’t often he got to witness the destruction of the Wraith firsthand, and he almost couldn’t believe that just a week ago, this was a bustling village with hundreds of people walking about. Guess he and his medical supplies weren’t needed on this mission anymore.

As the others began to drift off into different parts of the village to investigate, Carson, left with nothing to do, started to aimlessly wander toward the water well in the center of the destroyed town square.

That’s when he saw you.

He gasped to himself, blinking a few times to make sure he wasn’t just hallucinating. Right on the ground, gaping up at him in shock and fear, was a tiny little human.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Truthfully, he was surprised they didn’t encounter more species in Pegasus that weren’t human, but never in a million years would he have anticipated a humanoid creature as small as a mouse. He wasn’t sure if it was just the aftermath of a culling, but a closer look revealed to him how disheveled you were. Your clothes—more like rags—were draped over your figure like loose robes, and your shoes were nothing more than thick, makeshift pieces of cloth. Your hair was unruly at best, and your skin was caked with dirt, scrapes and bruises.

“Oh my god…” he whispered with equal parts concern and amazement. “What… what are you?”

You were shaking so hard you couldn’t stop yourself. Everything in your body hurt like hell, but it didn’t matter. At the absolute worst time possible, you had been spotted. He was wearing a thick vest with what looked like a million little pockets, and he was carrying a giant case that was unlike anything you had ever seen.

In your half-lucid state, you got the bright idea to try and hide from the giant. You managed to get on your feet, but you couldn’t take more than a few steps before your legs turned to jelly and you collapsed. Instinctively, Carson lurched forward, and in the disarray of it all, you shrieked and twisted your body away to brace for anything the giant might do.

At your sudden movement, Carson recoiled. Did he do something wrong? Was he scaring you? That was a stupid question. Of course he was scaring you. The doctor knew he had to help, but he also knew he couldn’t just scoop you up and take you back to Atlantis, no matter how much he wanted to. He had to make sure you weren’t so terrified of him first.

“Hey, hey…” he said gently, trying to mask his own shaking voice. He cringed at how big he felt trying to talk to you, so he slowly crouched down, not missing the way your eyes widened as he got closer. “I’m not going to hurt you, little one. My name’s Carson Beckett, and I’m a doctor. I just want to help.”

You could only stare blankly at this human with an incredibly bizarre accent. You knew he was trying to make you feel better, but a doctor? The ones that poke and prod and touch? Nuh-uh. No way.

“I promise, I won’t hurt you,” Carson said again. He felt like it needed repeating. “It’s not safe for you here. Let me take you back to Atlantis and we can—”

“NO!” you shrieked suddenly, surprising both you and him. You had no idea what Atlantis was, but you knew it couldn’t be good. “N-no, ple-please… I…”

Carson had subconsciously put his hand on his knee to rest, but once he noticed the way your eyes were tracking its every movement, he sheepishly pulled it back.

“Look, I know you must be scared down there. I know I would be if I were in your shoes,” he started. “But you’re in bad shape, dear, and if the Wraith come back again, you’ll be stuck here with nowhere to go.”

Your stomach dropped when he said that. You couldn’t even fathom the Wraith coming back like that again. There’s no way I would survive.

“Let me help you, and you’ll be back on your feet in no time,” he said softly, putting a smile on his face to show he was friendly. “I can take you somewhere safe and fix you all up.”

You instantly shook your head no, and when the doctor cocked his eyebrow, you knew you had to defend yourself.

“I… please, I can’t… I can’t go anywhere with you.”

Carson had to bite his tongue to stop himself from gushing over how cute your tiny voice was. “Why not, love?”

“Because… you’re a human.”

He sniffed an amused laugh before a feeling of unease washed over him. The fact that this little guy needed to distinguish themself as non-human was intriguing.

“What’s so wrong with being human?” he implored.

At that, you clammed up. After years and years of living in secret, you weren’t about to blurt out the borrower code now.

Carson sighed. You were clearly frightened out of your wits, and it didn’t seem like talking would get him very far. Maybe if he could get through to you just how bad your injuries were, you would be more inclined to trust him.

“It’s alright that you don’t want to chit-chat, but as a doctor, I can’t just stand by and let your injuries go untreated! You could be seriously hurt, and I have a responsibility to help you, even if... even if you are just a wee lad who can fit into my pocket!”

You were surprised at his sudden outburst—and amused at being called a “wee lad”—but he was right. You were badly injured, and you didn’t have the means to fix yourself, let alone hunt for food, water and shelter in this state. At this rate, you’d be dead in a week anyway.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for what you were about to say.

“…Okay.”

Carson perked up. “Okay what?”

“Okay… you can help me.”

A grin grew across the doctor’s face. You clenched your jaw as his hand gently descended palm-up next to you, eagerly awaiting your arrival onto it. You gawked at it in horror—his fingers were taller than your body, and his palm came up to your ankles—but there was no going back now.

Carson’s breath hitched as you dragged yourself onto his palm, tiny hands pressing deep into his skin for support. He was sure that he’d never been more nervous than he was right now—your life was literally in his hands. He stayed surprisingly still, even through your struggle to get your legs moving without being in crippling pain. Your form was so small in his hand, and yet, it was like he has the most important task in the world. He could feel your every little movement, down to your deep breaths and trembles. His heart fluttered with each and every one of them.

Once you were situated, he took a breath. Your eyes were trained on the ground, refusing to look up and deal with just how big he was.

“I’m going to stand up now,” he warned. “Are you ready?”

A tiny, nervous nod. His heart fluttered again.

You had to close your eyes when he stretched out to his full height—you had never changed altitudes so fast before. In a moment of panic, you reached out and grabbed onto the closest thing for support, which happened to be Caron’s thumb. He let out a small Oh!, which just made both of you blush.

Grabbing his medical kit with his free hand, he briskly, yet smoothly, made his way over to a now-empty house to give you some privacy. He pushed away his feelings of unease at the reality of the situation to focus on the task at hand.

Placing his kit on one side of the table, he laid his palm down on the other, his expression soft.

“It’s okay, you’re safe here,” he reassured you, noticing how you nervously eyed the new landscape.

His mouth hung slightly agape as you ambled off his hand, utterly fascinated at something so small moving around. He couldn’t even fathom what this place looked like to you right now.

You watched with wary eyes as he opened his impossibly large case and began to take out tools you had never seen before. He quickly glanced down at you and frowned at your sudden change of expression. He quickly realized just how scary his instruments must look to you.

“Don’t worry,” he stated, “I don’t need to use all of these. I’m mainly looking for… these.” He pulled out some gauze and tape and set them both aside.

“Do you have a name, little one?” he asked suddenly. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised when you didn’t answer. He began snipping off small pieces of gauze. “My team and I came here through the stargate hoping to trade, but…” he trailed off. Not only did he want to forget about the culling, but he especially didn’t want to think about you witnessing it. The thought of being so small during something so destructive made him want to vomit.

He shook off his anxiety and continued. “Can I at least ask how you got so banged up?”

You kept your eyes trained on the dents and scratches of the old wood you sat on. “I fell.”

“Fell?” Carson repeated. You merely nodded. “From where? When? How long had you been on the ground?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Your jaw was quivering at just how many questions this guy was asking. He wanted so much information, and you weren’t even willing to give up your name.

Carson pursed his lips. These were all standard questions he’d ask any patient, but he had to keep reminding himself that you were not just any patient. So he decided to keep his inquiries simple.

“So,” he sighed. “What hurts, love?”

You sniffed a laugh. What didn’t?

Carson saw your expression and gave you a small smile. “Right. Sorry. Stupid question, huh?”

You had to admit, it was fascinating watching him move around. He was snipping off pieces of that… whatever it was… and carefully laying them down. His gaze kept flickering between you and whatever he was doing. He didn’t even hesitate.

“Would you say anything’s broken?” he tried. He was still hoping for a verbal answer, but he settled for the impossibly small nod you gave him. Another heart flutter.

“You’re going to have to give me specifics,” he said with a small laugh. He gave you another look-over and frowned—you were wringing your hands and avoiding eye contact at all costs.

It seemed that he had a little more work to do than normal.

“Hey,” he started, putting the scissors down. He spotted a rickety stool nearby and pulled it over, taking a cautious seat as you gawked up at him. He leaned down, still in awe at how everyday objects simply towered over you. “You’re doing great, dear. I know you don’t want to talk to me, but just being here is very brave of you, you know.”

You looked up with a half-bewildered, half-flattered expression. There was this twinkle in your eyes as you tried to suss out how genuine this human was, and it was like you could see your own fascination mirrored in Carson’s own softly curious gaze.

“I’m serious!” he continued. “God knows if the roles were reversed, I’d probably have passed out by now. It can’t be easy being so… small in a giant world, I imagine.”

You stared at him in amazement. How could he possibly know what it’s like? What kind of giant would even try and empathize? That’s not what humans did in the stories you were told. Giants would snatch you up, stick you in a jar and torture you for fun. This one… this one was the exact opposite.

And that meant something to you.

“Kona.”

At the very sound of your voice, Carson felt his cheeks flush red. You were so adorable it hurt.

“What was that?”

“Kona. My-my name.” You cringed at how helpless you sounded. “You asked me for my name.”

“Kona…” Carson repeated. “What a lovely name.”

Your face went hot. Why did his compliments mean so much to you? You barely knew him.

“…I think my arm might be broken.”

“Oh, dear,” Carson mumbled. “Look, love, the best I can do right now is wrap it up a bit so you don’t aggravate it anymore…. but I’m afraid I can’t do much more unless I take you back to Atlantis.”

A pause.

“I know you don’t trust me, but I think you know as well as I do that it’s just not safe to stay here anymore. You could get hurt even more, or worse.” He gave it a moment for his words to sink in, and he could tell you understood. “Everything is destroyed here. There’s no reason to stay.” Another pause. “Please, Kona.”

Your heart skipped a beat when he said your name. You were a borrower that lived by yourself in a giant village on a strange planet—nobody ever said your name that wasn’t you. But the way this human said it… it had meaning. A purpose. Like he loved the way it sounded and knew how well it fit you.

You had never felt this way before.

“Okay,” you quavered, trying not to sound so scared this time. “I’ll go with you.”

It took Carson only a few minutes to pack up his things. Instead of trying to do it himself, he insisted that you wrap the gauze around your own arm, and he made sure to show you—from a distance, of course—the proper way to do it.

Climbing on his hand the second time was not nearly as petrifying as the first. Gripping his thumb seemed to be the easiest way to hold steady, but Carson didn’t mind. He thought it was the cutest thing in the world.

“This is probably the last thing you want to hear, but I came to this planet with four other people,” he explained as he sauntered out of the house. “And the place we’re going… it’s pretty big, even to me.” He chuckled at the fact that he just said that. “There will be a lot of people there, and you might have to meet quite a few of them. Are you okay with that?”

From his hand, it was like you were seeing this planet in a completely new light. Everything was destroyed here, but at least from this vantage point, it didn’t seem so bad anymore. Maybe this isn’t so bad after all.

“Yeah,” you finally replied after a somber moment. For the first time in a long time, you found yourself smiling as you turned your head around and looked up at Carson. He was beaming right back down at you.

“I think I’m okay with that.”

#fuck yeah stargate g/t you guys!!!!#this entire franchise is so underrated #the potential is literally limitless #thank you again for requesting this :)))))#i could have written an entire novel with this #i also wrote like three different beginnings before settling on this one LOL #the ideas man i'm telling you #obwrites #g/t #giant/tiny #stargate atlantis #stargate

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starkdemigodninja · 2 years

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More Touya content

Ask and ye shall receive. I have decided to dub this the “Keeping up with the Todoroki’s” timeline as this train of thought took off of its own accord and inspired an entire Touya x OC fic that’s currently holding my attention. So a little lovely wanted to know what happens after Touya gets home but first we’ll take a quick peek at what Rei was up to bts during the hospitalization.

After getting Touya to the hospital Rei does not go home until he’s stable. He codes twice in the night. The next evening seems more promising and doctors assure her she’ll be the first to know should there be any change.

She requests to be put in an outpatient program for her mental health fully recognizing what she did to Shouto and that she needs help but not wanting to leave her children with the help and at their father’s mercy

She goes back home. She tries to keep things as normal for the other kids as possible. Bringing them to visit their brother as soon as visitors are allowed.

The night after going off at Enji, Rei returns home with the other kids. They play in the courtyard while she prepares dinner. She feels a presence behind her and whirls around to find Enji looming in the doorway. “This is your fault. If you hadn’t been so weak, hadn’t destroyed my masterpiece….” He’s obviously drunk. He steps towards her and she meets him halfway brandishing the knife that been previously cutting vegetables. Last time she checked this was her house. She aims the point at his carotid. “Get the fuck out of my house.” He doesn’t move until she swipes at him slashing his cheek. Rei chases him from the house hurling various kitchen utensils. She decides that night over dinner that she was moving.

She drains half the money from the joint bank account and have Mitsuki and Inko help her house hunt. By the time Enji receives the divorce papers she and then kids are moving into a cozy eight bedroom.

Enji gets served the divorce papers in a board meeting at his angency. The world goes absolutely bonkers for the story. Touya’s accident, the divorce, the abuse allegations are all cause for speculation and fill every headline for weeks. Paparazzi lurk outside the hospital hungry for a pic of the family coming or going from seeing the wounded Todoroki boy. It’s all chaos.

When Touya gets out he’s happy not to have to return to scene of some his worst trauma. And he isn’t quiet about a goddamn thing.

Rei gets all the kids into therapy as soon as she’s able. The other kids take their time opening up the the child therapist not Touya. He spills everything.

When it comes to the paps Touya’s go to line is “I’m not legally allowed to comment on that piece of shit.”

When he comes back to school it is a special kind of hell. Too many nosy motherfuckers with too many questions. After while the novelty of embarrassing his father wears off and he just gets annoyed by the amount of other kids in his damn business.

He doesn’t know what he hates more the open staring at his still healing scars or the looks of pity. You (or in this case my OC) tell any and everyone off that makes him uncomfortable.

You two didn’t together right way both of you chalking the kiss up to heightened emotion and not genuine affection. (Much to Natsuo and Fuyumi’s dismay as it is so glaringly obvious how into each other you two are and it’s painful to watch you dance around each other)

One day junior year you over hear a group of girls daring their friend to ask Touya out as a joke all of them very openly talking shit about his scars. You see red but they disappear into a hall flooded with before you can crack open a can of whoop ass.

Touya comes up to you all smiles telling how he has a date that weekend expecting you to be happy for him. Instead you try to warn him it’s a set up. He accuses you of being jealous and claims that you don’t think he can pull a pretty girl cuz how fucked up the accident left him. You deny it (you actually think the scars make him hotter than sin but you’d never say that to his face). You fight until you get sick of each other and storm home separately.

Saturday comes and goes you don’t hear from him. Before you head to bed you text him: << Hey I’m sorry. I’m just trying to look out for you, not make you feel bad. << I hope your date went ok. Love you ❤️

Rei calls your mother the next morning and she hands you the phone while you’re still half sleep. “Hey honey, sorry to wake you. Touya got stood up last night, do you wanna come over maybe? I know you two fought but I know seeing you would help him feel better. Bring a bag I’ll talk your mom into letting you stay. Enji is sending a driver.” (Rei has no problem using Endeavor’s guilt to extort him)

You do as your told and hop in the bathroom for a quick shower dressing in cozy joggers and a crop tee, an extra uniform in your bag. You race down to the car only half listening to your mother’s “don’t bring home no babies” lecture. You tell the driver to stop at the nearest Daiso on the way. The clerk tried not to let any surprise on to his face as you buy a pair of tube socks and as many cheap bars of soap as you can afford.

Rei ushers you inside and up the stairs, taking your bag as you leave your shoes abandoned at the front door. She goes back to making comfort food. She knows this is a dangerous line she’s toeing and she can wholeheartedly say she doesn’t have any desire to be a grandmother yet but damnit something must be done. Especially if these shallow little broads are gonna hurt her boy intentionally.

You tip-toe into his room and find it dark except for the blue led lights around his desk and the soft glow of the galaxy mural you and his siblings painted for him a year prior. A soft folk song played quietly the chords wrapping the room in a sort of comfortable melancholy like an old worn cardigan. “Bestie?” You whisper not wanting to disturb him. “You were right.” Touya mumbles miserably his voice muffled by the pillows. You cross the room and clamber into the covers next to him. You’re immediately struck by the most delicious aroma of patchouli and mint as he shifted, downy white hair parting revealing a single puffy turquoise eye peeking at you. “I’m sorry I got pissy and yelled at you. I know you were just being protective.” He mumbled. “We both said some shit we didn’t mean it’s ok.” You held your arms out in acceptance. He took the offer readily melting in your grasp. You fight the heat rising in your face as he cuddles into you, your fingers slip into his hair massaging his scalp. He sighs at the contact. “I feel so stupid.” His voice wavers at the end and your heart breaks. “You’re not stupid, Makiko’s stupid.” You assure him giving him a squeeze. “And a bitch.” You stay tangled in each other chatting quietly about space and the deep sea and other random shit until Rei calls you for dinner.

Afterwards you attempt to help Tei clean up like you normally do but she shops you away with the other kids. You all decide to watch a movie in the home theater in the basement. (Another Enji guilt gift) After much debate you all settle on Zombieland. You try to convince Shouto to watch something else in a different room to no avail. “I’m not a baby, Y/N.” He insists. “If the twerp wants to traumatize himself let him, we’ve all done it at least once. Besides it’s a comedy hardly scary.”

You all laugh and jump through the entire thing. Talking shit left and right. Shouto dozed off as the credits rolled. Natsuo nudges Fuyumi who isn’t too far behind and scoops up the tween to carry him to bed. You settle in the guest room between Natsuo and Touya’s bedrooms. Touya inevitably sneaks in to chatter away until you both doze off curled up together.

The next morning your sitting on the couch loading bar after bar of soap into a single tube sock as Touya comes down fiddling with his tie. “The hell are you doing?” He asks perplexed. “The less yo know the better.”

You and Touya part at the lockers with a hug being in different classes. You see him off smiling until he disappears from your sight. As soon as he rounds the corner you drop your bag face determined heart filled with vengeance. You put your earrings in your jacket pocket,dump it with your bag, tie your hair up, and retrieve your soap sock. You march over to where you can here the little bitches tittering to each other. “Oi, Makiko.” Is the only warning you give before you go to work. It’s five in one but somehow you come out bloodied but triumphant. You seize Makiko by the hair and pull her to her feet just to slam her once again into a metal locker. “You will apologize to Touya. You will do it today. And if I find out you didn’t oh bitch, you’d better pray, cuz I don’t care if I’m suspended. I don’t care if I’m expelled. I will be back up here and I will fuck you up again. Do I make myself clear?” Makiko nodded against the painful grip in her hair. You ricochet her head off the locker and stomp her friend in the ribs one more time for good measure, mean mugging the few kids that lingered to watch as you head to class.

As you pass Touya’s classroom later you you peek into the partially open door and catches Makiko’s eye. She jumps in fear and quickly rounds the table in front of her to where Touya is sat dropping into a deep bow, the deepest she can muster short of dropping to the floor. You can’t hear what she says but her body language says everything.

When administration eventually finds out what happens they give all parties involved extra cleaning duties. You don’t mind, it beats suspension and Touya is kind of to stay behind and wait on you to finish. If there’s no adult supervision he’ll even lend you a hand so you can be done faster and you are eternally grateful. He always follows you home after making sure you get there safe and also getting as much time with you as he can seeing as you were grounded for a month after you mom found out.

Luckily for you though you are freed from bondage just in time for the biggest end of the year party this side of Musutafu, hosted by none other than the star player of your school’s baseball team Takahiro. And that is the fateful things change with you and Touya forever.

Alright lovelies here we go. A special shout-out to @darlingely hope this scratches that itch. And yes I did end with a cliffhanger to leave you wanting, I am cruel I know. Lol. 😜

You know the drill like, reblog, comment if you want more.

~Ciao 💜

#todoroki touya #touya todoroki #rich boy! touya #rich boy! dabi #fuyumi todoroki #natsuo todoroki #rei todoroki #todofam #todofam headcanons #touya x reader #rich boy! touya x reader #touya x oc #dabi x oc #bhna #todoroki shouto #mha #keeping up with the todorokis: the series

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ksfreckles · 8 months

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Sometimes my life seems divided in so many small pieces I find it hard to believe that either of those people were really me. How did such a distinct variety of starts and ends fit into this carapace, how did I have so much strenght and so much weakeness concealed into my soul? 32 years isn't that long. I feel like I've lived the lives of a thousand people, like I've walked paths I was never meant to cross.

The internet is, of course, a big part of it, with its fast happenings and its hundreds of people and so much color and sounds and light, and I have friends all across the globe!

It's intoxicating, really. Sideways realities, fears I don't remember fearing, conversations I don't remember having and it's all here, a big smudge of lines and lifes and lies and I'm all of them and none at all.

An e-mail telling a friend about us moving into this city tells me something "amazing" was about to happen! December 3rd was the date. December 6th mom was gone. I haven't talked to this same friend in the past two or three years., it's just life and it happens I guess.

Some old messages on another app, encouraging words, helpful thoughts. I'll be always here, the message reads. Of course "always" isn't immune to cancer, always couldn't make her stay. She never saw Kristen's nomination.

The pictures on my phone show month-old dogs in an empty house, and those same dogs have lived in four different houses now, their seven-year-old tails wiggling side to side, their cat-brother wrapped up watching them from afar. Those little lifes, the endless energy and the mischiefs are all coming to an end, and where did this time go? Where does the time ever go?

My sister has a boyfriend. Her own house, a different address, a life I don't know everything about. I have a wife. My own house, a different address, a life she doesn't know everything about. And it's ok, and we're all good, but at some point in space-time the two of us are sitting on a balcony telling each other we'll die together, we'll grow old together, we'll travel the world together.

At some point in space-time I'm flooded with such love nothing ever could compare. And this love makes me come out of imaginary closets and daydream during harsh days and this love keeps me full of fire and bravery and it's something that keeps me going. At some point in space-time, for a nanossecond, for a split moment, I'm loved back by this distant stranger all the way in France, and my stomach is full of butterflies, and I'm happy, and I'm worthy, and I am me.

I found such love years later. And it was different and more mature, and the me today looks back at the me who loved like that before and shakes her head cause that wasn't right love, that wasn't good love, that love hurt me and hurt her and it quite possibly destroyed the pure beautiful friendship we once had. And I'm married to someone new today, and it's a different love, a calm love, a strong love, the kind of love I know will last.

And all of these are me. The scared little girl, the dog mom, the cat mom, my sister's mom, my sister's sister, the one in love with Julia, the one in love with Bruna, Claudia's daughter, Maria Augusta's daughter, Selene's friend, Fotini's friend, Yoav's friend, a million different pieces, a never ending puzzle. And I'm as big as a grain on sand in this scary world, and how - oh, how - can I possibly expect to predict tomorrow if I could never imagine I would be all of this? How can one single person fit all of this?

And I'm exhausted, and intoxicaded, and deeply happy, and wonderfully clean. For a moment, somewhere in space-time, I am finally free.

#personal #idk where i was going with this #i just feel too much all the time and sometimes it floods

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jacks-tracks · 2 years

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Jacks tracks at home

The 5 months since my last post have been eventful. returning to Lasqueti, it was still raining! And it rained till July... This meant a very poor flower set on the fruit trees, and a wet, slow garden. I realized that the world was not going to hell as fast a s I'd thought, so I cut my garden space in half, down to 1000 square feet. The saving grace was the 2 greenhouses, which produced tomatoes and salads . No corn, very slow beans and peas, but happy crucifers. Good news was that the restructured dam held despite the winters floods, so I had 1 million gallons of water for irrigation and laundry.(the house runs on rainwater in tanks). With 22 fruit trees, I needed to move soakers and sprinklers every day during the 4 month! rainless spell. Persistant deer(hungry) found tiny holes in the fences, and were destroying the raspberrys and squash. A painful but harmless burst of BB,s moved them on. The local sheep were happy to eat the grass, and i rigged a water bucket for them.

After 2 years of trying to sell my 38 foot sailboat, I took Mariah to a broker in nanaimo. It took a month and a steep price drop, but I eventually found a buyer. Gone the maintenance costs, need to repair, insurance bill, and the ever present worry while down south that the mooring could fail. phew

The real shocker was that in June Jan died suddenly and very unexpectedly. I'll leave out the details, but it was quick and painless. Oh yes, we'd been apart for 4 years, but I still loved her, so it was a hard blow. I had nice support from my friends, and some excellent advice that really helped. Shannon and Ryan arranged a celebration of life in Jans backyard and 60 people came to show love and support.

Back on Lasqueti I carried on with life, building a 200 foot long, 8 foot high fence along the Main road. This blocks dust, noise,headlights, and adds privacy. The lumber all came from the trees i had to cut back of the house, so all i bought was a box of nails and some screws. Building the frame seemed to take forever, but once the boards started to go on, visible progress was very satisfying. I harvested and canned 100 jars of tomatoes, ate figs till i bloated, and enjoyed an extended crop of late peas and beans. Despite the poor apple set, and no plums, i was able to give a way 300 pounds of apples, and supply Shannon, Spenser, and the grandkids with a winter supply. No rain till late October, unheard of! And warm! I only lit fires the last week of the month, so still have 3 years wood in the shed. My heater heat exchanger sprung a pinhole leak, and I had to bail the stove every 3 days, and the roof sprinklers had a split pipe, so they poured water into the ceiling. Just adds to the excitement!

I,m so lucky to have good friends, and a bit of a social life. With Covid receding there were coffee houses, land conservancy fundraisers, and a mix of birthday partys and memorials for locals who died. It's all part of life in a small community.

With winter looming, and my tendancy to low light mania, I booked again at Casa Dan in Puerto Escondido, and am there now enjoying the 30 degree heat, daily sunshine, good food,and a different culture. I'll stay here 5 months. Hopefully my writing skills will return and i can make this blog more interesting. Look forward to more news.

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keywestlou · 2 years

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY LISA

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LISA - https://keywestlou.com/happy-birthday-lisa-4/Lisa, my baby. Fourth and last child. Fifty eight years old yesterday. Happy birthday my love! Ian ain't showing no respect! Only way to describe the situation. Traveling all over. Puerto Rico and other islands. Florida, South Carolina and other states. Leaving behind devastation, ruin, and death. Why so bad? Global warming involved? Difficult to say. There have been other hurricanes as bad. Andrew and the Hurricane of 1935 for example. Even as a Category 1, Ian with its water damage is wreaking havoc in South Carolina. I got out of the house yesterday. Some errands to run and wanted to see what Key West looked like. Damage nowhere similar to Fort Myers and other areas. Which I knew would be the case. We were lucky. The streets were different. Many areas covered in brown. Looked like hardened shit. The only way to describe it. Note the damage was foliage. I assume cars drove over it turning it into brown mulch which dried. Time and rain will wash it away. Tree branches and leaves laying on the roadside. People already cleaning up. More than I would have thought. In some places, tree trunks sawed into pieces lying with the branches and leaves. In other places, a piece of wall or two and some furniture which I assume had been soaked when water entered a home. I ran into no flooded streets. Of course, Ian had visited 2-3 days earlier. About a 100 boats displaced. Appeared to be live-a-boards. I did not go near the beaches. I had been forewarned the road running by Higgs was buried with sand. Smathers with concrete. Not sure yet if parts of the Boulevard or sidewalk running along Smathers was ripped up. I went to Bank of America to get cash. The ATM out of money. Went inside. Packed. I left. Never saw so many in the bank at one time. I really did not need cash that bad. My cards would do if I spent any money. The building across from Bank of America which was on fire wednesday morning destroyed. Doubt any part is salvageable. Traffic was heavy everywhere. Stopped at Lisa's to wish her a Happy Birthday! She was tied up on a conference business call. Shared a few words with Jake and went home. The Key West Citizen has changed its name. Effective today it is Keys Citizen. Understandable. Money. The paper has published less and less about Key West in recent years. Cut its publication to 4- 5 days a week. Now it will cover all the Keys with one paper. Publication days will continue to be limited. Ian had to cause a lot of turmoil for the ocean population. I was and continue to be concerned about the turtle hatching population on the beaches. Thousands gone forever. I doubt the reef itself is attractive today. Should take a few days for the water to calm down. Steve Thompson wrote of the beauty of the reef in the 1970's. My first time to the reef was just too cool. White sand beach we pulled onto. It was like floating in a giant orange castle. Bright colored fish floating by with no hassle. The water was so clear it was like outer space. Everything moving at a slow space. Couldn't believe no one was around. Just the reef, the fish, and not a sound. I never saw it that bright again. I'll remember that dive till the end. Guy is making progress. Spirit back on a flatbed today. The flatbed will take Spirit to a repair yard. There it will remain during repairs. At the moment, Guy plans to remain and work on the repairs himself. Syracuse/Wagner 5 pm today. Syracuse a 55 point favorite. Hope there are no surprises. Enjoy your day!

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bibliocratic · 3 years

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clear the area jonmartin, post-MAG200 content warnings in the tags

They earn their ending. A happy-ever-after beyond the gaze of any eyes.

Jon endures his abdication. This world has no Archivists, has need of none, the thankless crown of Knowing finally unburdened from his shoulders. The blood washes off Martin’s hands with soap and scrubbing and scalding water. They live.

The end. In conclusion. Fin.

Jon’s new scar, the packaging of his skin split ragged from collarbone to sternum, fades like sun-caught paint. A maw of red pursing to a gummy primrose pink, settling into a rough cartography of white.

The first few months are hard. Brimstone flare-up silences and ice-pick shouting, open-handed forgiveness and closed-fist weeping. They drain themselves to husks with anger and worry and grief until there is enough space for better things to grow there in their stead. Jon’s nightmares were a nightly stormfront to bear, sweated sheets and dawn fanfares of panic and dread, but he is learning now, with the space for his ribs to expand, that it is ok for them to breathe here.

Jon digs up the garden with a rusty trowel until it is a bumpy canvas of mulch and soil, dirt tucked under his fingernails and decorated with smudges up to his elbows. He hums while he irons their shirts in front of the television, thoughtless and senseless with tune.

Martin has tried to, but the sound goes down the wrong way.

Martin is happy.

It isn’t the sight as such, that might sit as a film over his vision to tinge his waking sepia. The reddest thing they own is a terracotta plant plot brimming with raggedy thyme that lives a precarious cliff-top existence on the kitchen windowsill. He observes Jon’s face in all its variations, even pained – when he snags splinters in his fingers, when he stubs his toe on the stone front step and swears damnation – and his response is sympathy tempered by admonishment.

It’s not the sensation, not really, that might tremble on his skin. Martin’s palms tend to dryness inside their homely bubble of creaky central heating, hemmed in by boisterous coastal winds. He handles bread knives and butter knives and steak knives and carving knives without the muscle memory of other blades, and he thinks he might be getting pretty handy with his oven experimentation.

It’s the sound. It wakes him, the noise lingering like the echo of a slap.

The slick punch of metal into muscle. A tooth-bared, tense-jawed gasp.

Resurfacing to shocked consciousness, he would be seized by a frenzy, to know, to check. His scattering hand scrabbling for the lamp with such force he hit it off the nightstand to roll in a giddy clatter, throwing off the covers to rapidly pollute both of them with the outside air. Jon would be rocked from sleep, groggy, panicked, and Martin’s words would not come, a train of thought trying to race full steam where no one had laid tracks, so it would be just the two of them, exhausted and upset and amping the other up in misery.

Now, upon his rousing, Martin knows not to turn on the light. He does not check. The aftermath of punch-gasp curls in his ear, and he inhale-exhale-inhales with the ferocity of mantra, and clamps the threatened tears in the clench of his teeth.

He does not wake Jon.

“How did you sleep?”

“Oh, you know me. Like a log.”

He is happy. He is. Why wouldn’t he be?

Jon rumbles like a rusty mechanism with snoring whenever he drops off on his back, and he mumbles accusatory when Martin coaxes him to his side. Martin finds black hairs on his pillowcase, in the shower plug. Jon is a vista of experience since the Eye left him, who gets hungry and tired and grumpy and drunk and silly and fed-up and giggly. Jon searches him out with the surety of magnets, and loves him, loves him, loves him. He seals kisses to Martin’s new landscape of extensive scars. Their disagreements, when they surface, are as meaningful and lasting as stones skipped on water.

Martin wanted this. He wants this. The rhythms of domesticity fading to foam on an untroubled shore.

He is out of practise with happiness, that’s all. It doesn’t come to him like breathing. He needs to till the earth of it, shelter its seeds from a thousand circling crows until it bears harvest.

He just has to try harder.

Night-time.

An episode or two of something simple, Jon nodding off like a capsizing ship before the credits. Encouraging him up in grousing, unwilling increments, rubbing out the nettle sting of pins and needles up his own arm. Check the locks, the light switches. Brush teeth. Pyjamas. Put his phone to charge, read until Jon succumbs to sleep. Click the light off, pushing Jon onto his side so his mouth doesn’t dry. Jon squirming around like a fastidious octopus until he has at least half his limbs hooked over Martin.

The dark creating shadow play. In the absence, Martin colouring in the gaps with lurid shades of disaster.

A creak – the rattle of a door downstairs, an intruder unfastening the back door, transferring their weight upon the staircase. A unfamiliar scent – the recollection of smoke-stench in his nostrils, the acrid promise of gas, the ferrous pungency of blood. The rain will flood their house to drown them. The wind will blow their roof in. Jon hooks his leg around Martin, the skin void of hair where Daisy’s mouth had almost torn it off, and all he can envision is the ways this could be destroyed as he watches.

Bundle Jon close. Ignore the rain, the itch at the bottom of his stomach, the queasy roil of his fear. Drift into unkind sleep populated with its garden of earthly terrors.

Martin is… not happy. Not exactly. And that’s fine. It’s fine.

Jon is happy.

Jon, rubbing at the compression lines around his hips, the accusatory splay of the top button refusing to budge closed:

“I can’t fit into my jeans.”

Martin enfolds him from behind, planting his palms over the slight paunch of Jon’s stomach, filled out through sensible eating and small indulgences and a hunger that will never be ravenous but has restored its human qualities.

“Hmm. It’s a good look on you. Healthier.”

“Or it’s middle age.”

“Or it’s eating things that aren’t tea and meal-deal sandwiches.”

“Or other people’s terror.”

“Oh yes, you’re right, I completely forgot about your subsistence diet of eldritch and unbidden horrors in a luscious wholegrain wrap, forgive me.”

Jon laughs at that. The sound has not yet lost its novelty for either of them.

He shifts, turns, his arms a buoy around Martin’s stomach.

“You’ve lost weight.”

“Must be all the clean air,” Martin quips. “All that healthy living.”

Punch. Gasp. Exhale.

Martin wakes up.

When his heart has wound down from the pace of its gallop, he extricates himself from Jon’s grip. It is a laborious task to find the places where they’ve joined in the night and pull them apart, like separating fabric snagged on rosebushes.

He gets some water from the cold tap in the kitchen. Sits heavily on the sofa, the room cossetted by the gloom.

Punch. Gasp. Exhale.

His hands shake.

He doesn’t go back to bed.

He isn’t happy, but he could grow to be. He could. He could. He just isn’t trying hard enough.

Some days, he feels like he’s waiting for the ice to give under them.

Check the passers-by as they walk. Anyone familiar, any teeth filed too sharp, anything animal or blood-shot, any eyes that glance too deep.

Check the oven. The gas knobs are angled to off but a leak is not impossible in a house this old, their alarm might malfunction, they might fall asleep and some spark from a plug socket could catch and incite a conflagration.

Check the window latches. The opening wide enough for a body to squirm through, the claws of a Hunter marring the sill. Wriggling infestations that invade through the letter box, the keyhole, the gap under the door where the wind can whistle through.

Check. Check. Check.

Jon is happy. Jon has a job, work friends, a hundred small luxuries that he has struggled to earn. Jon is happy, so why can’t he be? He went through so much less, the blood washed off easily with soap, what the fuck does he have to cry over –

Martin has always crafted his masks from scrap, tongue out in concentration, piecing things together in low light, a make-do-and-mend of his own devising. His early efforts, the paper mâché and glue easily cracked before he learned to shore up his constructions. He has a small collection garnered over years.

The quiet-voiced, muffled-stepped, muted-smiled creation of a Good Son.

The zipped-mouth, no-refusals-no-complaints-yes-of-course-how-high earnestness of the Good Employee, the desperation sanded off the edges so no one could see.

The I’ll-get-the-first-round friendliness, the open-handed, open-hearted, too-naïve Good Colleague.

This new mask forms in increments, in the same way a rising mound of dirt marks the extent of a grave being dug.

He doesn’t mean to. It’s just he’s better at not talking about things. He always has been. And it is an ugly, easy comfort, to slip back into bad habits.

And Jon is happy.

All the things Martin does not wish to permit the light to touch he compresses inside like shaken soda. The rot in him deepens structural, the places where he papers over moulds and fungal speckles with the distraction of their new life. His smile parades simple, contented, cheeky, teasing, and there is a meticulous artistry in each. He sketches interest, paints joy, manufactures irritation out of the clay of nothingness that he allows himself to feel instead of the overwhelming rush of everything else.

I love you, his mouth murmurs, laughs, sighs, groans, and that at least is always true.

The mask of a Good Partner slips on tailor-made.

They find their nine-to-fives. Jon’s job is uneventful, boring, and nowhere near an Archive. He works in a registry office for the council, filing and organising and he’s cheerfully lied on his CV in order to get it. He gets the bus and texts Martin grumpy faces and GIFs summarising his mood when he gets suck in the commute or some idiot parks in a bus lane, he has a couple of colleagues he likes and a greater number that he tolerates, he gets a hot chocolate from this universe’s overpriced multinational chain on his lunch hour. When he gets home, he complains with delight at the mundanity of his dissatisfactions, regales Martin with tales of meagre drama.

Martin gets a cleaning job at a school. It is monotonous, dull and safe. Martin loses track of the time easily, quagmired in his musings. The children are wary of him and his visible scarring but it doesn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. The teachers are friendly enough, as well as the other cleaning staff, but he does not make friends. They’ll have to move anyway, if anything finds them here, if the Fears emerge again.

Martin tries not to feel like he’s waiting.

He wants to have a good night’s sleep.

“I’ll have breakfast at the school, don’t worry.”

“There were some leftovers from the canteen, so I’m kind of full.”

“It was one of the teacher’s birthdays, you know, Denise? Heh, might have had a bit too much cake. I’ll pop this in the fridge for later though, it’ll keep till tomorrow.”

“I’m just not that hungry tonight, Jon.”

He feels sharper when he doesn’t eat. It is uncomfortable, a scratched-out, hollowing sensation, but things focus more. He can control nothing else but this, and it feels good, to have this mastery over himself when so much is beyond him.

He drops down notches on his belt and tells Jon it’s all the walking he’s doing.

The world continues to happen to them. He goes to the cinema with Jon and picks at popcorn and encourages Jon’s outraged opinion. He meets Jon’s mildly interesting work friends and plays nice and excels at small talk, and he drinks half a cider that he nurses over the evening because it’s making his head fuggy. His body communicates its sharpness to him and he gains grim satisfaction from ignoring it. He goes to work and goes home and doesn’t sleep and goes to work and goes home and doesn’t sleep.

Martin does his best at living, and his mask doesn’t slip.

“You seem tired,” Jon pries his words out carefully, picking them out of his teeth as one would scraps. “Is… is everything ok?”

“Yeah, sure it is. Why?”

“… you seem a bit down today. Recently. Is anything… is there anything you want to talk about?”

“I’ve just been working too hard. Been a while since I had to do double-shifts, heh, I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“If you’re sure?”

Jon shifts to a different position where he’s sat on the sofa, his legs tucking up under him. Martin endures his questioning gaze with practise.

“Yeah, I’m all good.”

Martin delivers a hand-crafted smile that’s gilded heavily with guilelessness and reassurance. He watches as Jon believes him and hates himself.

“You know… You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but you can – you know you can talk to me, Martin?”

Martin’s eyes focus on Jon’s chest at the point where a knife once sunk in, and doesn’t reply.

Punch. Gasp. Exhale.

Martin wakes up.

Jon has twisted over onto his back again, rattling like a chain-smoker’s cough with his snoring. They were quiet that evening, tangled up in their own thoughts, but there is none of that distance in sleep. During the night, Jon’s wormed himself out of the covers with a single-minded determination, his restless legs squashing the duvet to the bottom of the bed on his side, encouraging Martin’s to follow suit.

He’s shirtless, his top chucked off to pile unceremoniously on the floor. The temperature is ripe with a burgeoning summer heat, and Jon tosses and complains if he’s overwarm, and Martin didn’t think he’d get to feel the drudgery of another lived summer. He’s shirtless, and the room is palled in sweltering dark that softens the vague shapes of the wardrobe, the chest of drawers, the knickknacks of the life they’re building together. He’s shirtless, and Martin cannot see where the scar is, the only scar of Jon’s he has ever thought ugly, but he knows it is there. That he put it there. That he could just as easily be waking up alone.

His body pains him to live in it. His stomach tight and bottomed out empty.

He is so so tired.

Martin’s heartbeat does not slow down. His chest constricting, and he swallows, a sharp sound hiccupping in his throat. He stifles it with a forceful sniff but more come as a painful spasming wave, and he has to sit up if any air is to dribble into his lungs.

He should get up. He has to get up, do this in the bathroom, doubled-over the sink, stifling his weakness where it cannot be witnessed. He cannot do this here.

Punch. Gasp.

His burning face is soaked as he bunches up his sleeves against his reddening eyes. A calming exhale drains out shaky, moulds itself into another loud sob. He plants his hands over his mouth, screwing his eyes closed, and this will pass, he’s fine, this will pass…

“Martin?”

I’m sorry to wake you, he thinks to say. It’s nothing, go back to sleep, stop looking at me Jon, I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s nothing, it’s nothing…

His shoulders start to shake.

“Martin?” Jon repeats slowly. And the ice creaks and cracks and Martin gasps and then it breaks, and the force of his damned-up grief is tidal, catastrophic and he sobs into his hands.

“It’s… it’s alright – it’s… it was a nightmare, that’s all, ‘s alright…”

“It’s not!” Martin bubbles out, the words mashed to a wail in his hands. “It’s not, it’s not, it’ll ruin this…”

“Hey.” Jon brings his arm around Martin and he buries his head in the bony crook of his shoulder because he does not want to meet Jon’s eyes. “What do you mean? Martin?”

Jon rubs at his back. Martin’s body betrays him in a hundred ways as it collapses around him. His weeping wrings him out, dry-mouthed and headachy and trembling when he subsides into shivery breaths.

“Talk to me,” Jon says. “Please.”

“You’re so happy,” Martin sniffs out. “I-I want you to be happy, god, o-of course I do. Things are, they’re good, they’re good and we won, s-s-so why does it feel like I’m still holding my breath? I-I go to bed and I’m frightened of every noise, and I wake up and I’m terrified that someone somehow could take this all away, and I can’t sleep, and I-I’m tired, Jon, I’m tired of holding my breath, and it’s all – it’s all so much a-a-a-and I can’t – ”

“Oh, Martin – ”

His words fail him then. Jon holds him up and his arms do not loosen.

“We-we’re going to fix this,” Jon says after a long while. “I promise you, together, we’ll – we’ll talk to someone. You aren’t alone in this. Together, alright, we’ll do this together. We’ve survived – everything else, we can get through this too.”

“I don’t know if I can believe you,” Martin says, too drained to avoid honesty.

“…Maybe not yet,” Jon says after a pause. “That’s OK. I can wait.”

I’m sorry, Martin attempts to say but Jon presses a kiss to his forehead.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Jon says. He strokes Martin’s sweat-soaked hair.

“… Can we talk? Tomorrow? You don’t have to tell me everything, but… I’d like to be there for you, if you want me. If you’ll let me.”

Martin nods because he doesn’t trust his gummed-up throat. Jon takes that as an answer.

Dawn comes in slowly enough but they see it in together.

#tma #the magnus archives #cw racing thoughts #cw anxiety #tw eating disorder #tw ptsd #ask to tag #cw nightmares #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #jonmartin #tma spoilers

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mammonshuman92 · 3 years

Text

- It Takes Two - Pt.3

(Mammon x GN!MC)

Warnings: Angst to fluff, mentions of drunkenness and being taken advantage of, implied seggs Notes: S/N = succubus name (too lazy to come up with one and that hoe don’t matter lol) also, if it’s garbage I’m sorry lol thanks for reading!!

“Absolutely not.” Satan deadpanned, arms crossed as he scowled at his brother.

“C’mon, Satan. This is important!” He insisted, unwavering under his younger brother’s glare as they bickered back and forth in the fourth born’s doorway.

After seeing you in the kitchen and finally being able to talk to you, to simply be near you, for the first time in over a week, he was too excited to fall back asleep. Instead, he used that time to come up with the brilliant plan he was currently rushing around to execute. If Satan would just cooperate, that is.

“Look, I just need to borrow it, okay? Just for today, then I’ll give it back.”

“Do you remember what happened last time a bangle like this was used in this house?”

Mammon shuddered lightly at the memory of the punishment he and Satan had received for putting the last truth bangle on Lucifer, just for him to destroy it in a matter of seconds.

“I’ll never forget it.” He promised, expression going blank as he unwillingly reminisced. He shook his head lightly, as if clearing his thoughts and coming back to the current mission at hand, “Doesn’t matter though, I for real need to borrow it.”

“No.” The blonde demon stated once more, attempting to close the door on his brother. Mammon put his foot in the doorway and placed a hand on the door. Satan sighed, becoming quite irritated. It quickly dissipated upon seeing his brother's expression.

Naturally, they all knew what was going on. At this point, who didn’t? But to see his brother now, the shell of the man he usually is, a desperation in his eyes he’s never seen before, was a little alarming to be honest. And you, seeing the way you’d been handling everything was far more painful to watch; for all of them. Because of this knowledge, and the level of agony that can be read in one’s eyes; Satan relented.

He sighed heavily and opened the door all the way, stepping aside and motioning for his brother to come in.

“Just so we’re clear, I’m doing this for MC.” He clarified.

It’s not as if he was lying, but he’d rather spend an entire day bonding with Lucifer than admit he misses the old Mammon.

Mammon was fidgety the entire day as he impatiently awaited for the perfect opportunity to set everything in motion, just as he’d so ingeniously planned. It would absolutely prove to you that he’s telling the truth, put all the rumors that have been circulating to rest, and get the succubus to confess to her part in all of it. All he had to do was wait until his last class of the day, Seductive Speechcraft; the only class he shared with you and the succubus both.

You had an oral assignment due today and had to pair up randomly, stand at the front of the class and seduce your partner. He hadn’t been too concerned about the project because well, he had you. It’s not like he hasn’t seduced you before, and vice versa. Not to mention that no one else would dare pick you as a partner since it was a well known fact that the two of you are together. ...Were together.

Thinking of your relationship in the past tense made his heart ache.

He was practically bouncing in his seat with how restless he’d become. You were here in this class, just a few tables behind his. He tried to casually turn back and steal a few glances of you, but every time he did, you looked away. The permanent red rings that seemed to adorn your eyes now were like a knife to the gut.

His plan had to work. It had to. He couldn’t go on much longer, knowing the kind of pain you’re in. The pain he caused.

She caused.

“Mammon.” The professor called, gesturing for him to come to the front. He jumped up from his seat, nearly running to the front.

This is it. It’s time to get MC back.

“S/N.”

The room erupted in whispers, everyone turning to look at you. You sank down in your chair slightly, feeling as heat flooded your face. Embarrassment, anger, pain and probably a dozen more emotions surged through you. Asmo, who was sitting next to you, reached out and placed his hand on your arm that was resting on the table.

How does this count as proving his innocence? I should’ve known better. I’m such an idiot..

She stood from her seat slowly, turning back to look at you, a smug smile on her dumb face. You swallowed hard, the stinging in your eyes a warning of the tears that were to come. A few colorful words quietly slipped past Asmos’s lips as he gently squeezed your arm, giving you a sorrowful look.

She pranced to the front happily, Mammon’s face mirroring hers, making your stomach churn harshly.

If I lie and say I’m going to the bathroom, I wonder if I can sneak off to the HOL...

The professor nodded to them, signaling they could begin whenever they were ready. Mammon nodded, reaching into his pocket as he turned back toward the succubus. He fished out a bracelet of some kind. He gently grabbed her hand and slipped the bangle on her wrist. She giggled and looked at it in awe. You could feel the bile rising in your throat, as the hole in your chest grew, making you certain it was visible on the outside.

“I got ya this unique bangle. I hope it brings ya as much happiness as it will for me.” Her brows furrowed slightly at his words, unsure of what he was implying. She shook it off quickly, turning her heart eyes back to him.

“When I first saw ya, I thought you were insanely beautiful and I knew I had to make you mine.” He began.

“It didn’t take long for you to win me over, using your charm and pretty words to reel me in.” He said, smiling at her. Her face was flushed as she soaked up the words that were tearing you apart.

Mammon dropped the hand that had still been holding hers from when he slipped the bracelet on, “But, that’s all it was, huh? Charm and pretty words.” Your ears perked up at the slight change in his tone.

“What?” She questioned, a look of confusion replacing her infatuated one.

“You only wanted me for what ya could get outta me. Grimm, clothes, jewelry. When I realized that, I broke it off.”

“How is this considered seducing?” She griped, crossing her arms over her chest, lips contorting into a pout.

“Be patient, the best part is coming up.” He beamed at her.

“Where was I? Oh, right!” He began, turning his gaze on you, the class following suit. You sank a little further into your chair.

“Fast forward a few hundred years and now MC and me are together and couldn't be happier. Like, I’ve never been so happy in my entire life. But, for some reason you hated that, huh?” She glared at him through narrowed eyes. “Yes, I did.”

She gasped, throwing a hand up to cover her mouth; shocked by her own words.

“Why?” He pressed.

“Because MC has become so popular. Like, they’re just a stupid human. What’s so great about them that they get the attention of every high ranking demon in all of the Devildom?” She blurted out, eyes filling with horror as she realized she couldn’t stop the words, the truth, from spilling out like word vomit.

Whispers could be heard once more throughout the room, eyes darting back and forth between you and them.

“Is that why ya confronted MC after school last week?” He continued.

“Yeah. I wanted to hurt their feelings, knock them down a peg. Let them know that they aren’t that special just because they have what I had first.” She gasped again, shocked by how easily she was spilling her guts.

“What is going on?!” She hissed at him as she nervously looked around the room at their fellow demons, and you, staring at her.

The corner of his mouth pulled up slightly, “Oh, did I forget to mention that that bangle makes the person wearin’ it only speak the truth? Must’a slipped my mind.” He scoffed lightly, tapping his forehead a few times.

Oh my Diavolo.. the truth bangle..

Having remembered when you and Levi borrowed it from Satan to put on Mammon because of that game of Levi’s you got stuck in, you were fairly certain you knew where this was going. A small feeling of hope blossomed in your stomach.

With eyes as big as saucers, she desperately clawed at the bangle like some feral animal caught in a trap.

“Only the person who put it on can take it off.” He informed her, another smirk on his face.

Her head snapped up to look at Mammon, who was already staring at her. He leaned in, his words only meant for her ears.

“Time to pay for what ya did.” He whispered venomously, causing her to recoil slightly.

“Movin’ on.” He leaned up quickly, shooting you a glance before continuing. A look you’d seen many times before.

That was his ‘I have an ace up my sleeve’ look.. He’s definitely up to something. You thought to yourself.

“Let’s talk about last week at the club. Tell us what happened.” He said, walking the floor around her. The way he was talking to her was as if he were a talk show host trying to pull the latest tea out of his guest.

“I went with some friends, but decided to snoop in the VIP lounges to see if I could flirt my way into some free drinks. And I found you in one of the lounges, clearly drunk off your ass. Oh, and you were whining about that stupid human.” She rolled her eyes. The look on Mammon’s face, the bubbling anger, didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Okay, I’m gonna have to stop you for a moment. I don’t really see how this fits into Seductive Speechcraft.” The professor chimed in.

“It’s gettin’ there, I promise.” Mammon assured him. The professor eyed him curiously, then nodded.

“Alright, so after ya found me in the VIP lounge, what happened next? Tell us everythin’.”

She shook her head wildly from side to side in protest of continuing, knowing she would be doomed if the truth got out, but the bangles magic was too strong.

“I tried talking to you, but you kept being an ass, once again, whining about the human.” She scoffed, “ Then, I sat down next to you and started flirting with you, whispering in your ear and stuff, then you jumped up. But, you got really lightheaded from the quick movement and sat down again. You were very, very intoxicated.” She explained, panting; becoming physically exhausted as she tried to fight the bracelets magic.

So far everything is just as he said. Which means the next part is..

Sweat beaded on her forehead and her face paled as the words that revealed her for what she was started to come out.

“I thought that since you were so wasted you’d give in to me, so I climbed into your lap. We started making out and it was getting pretty hot, pretty fast, but then you kept saying their name over and over and over. So I went along with it. You were so wasted you didn’t know what was going on, you were going to ruin me on that couch, thinking I was them and I wasn’t going to stop you. You were almost mine again, but before anything good happened the human and Asmodeus walked in and ruined everything.”

She clapped her hands over her mouth as tears began welling up in her eyes. Everyone in the room was staring at her wide eyed and whispering. D.D.D. 's all over the room were snapping pictures and recording video of the chaos. She was ruined.

Mammon quickly grabbed her hand and slipped the bracelet off her wrist. The succubus ran from the room red faced and in tears after outing herself as a jealousy fueled, manipulative predator.

You were shell shocked.

Everything was true. Every bit of it. He didn’t betray you, break your heart. Even completely out of it, all he thought about was you..

You’ve spent the entirety of the last seven days believing the one person you’d fully trusted with your heart, the only person you’ve ever loved so much that they just felt like home, had completely stabbed you in the back and broke your heart.

But he was taken advantage of when he was in a bad way, and he was innocent.

“So… you’re not going to do a Seductive Speechcraft presentation? Because although it was entertaining, your little show doesn’t count.” The professor interrupted the commotion, looking at Mammon expectantly.

Mammon turned to you and motioned for you to come to him. Like the love struck fool you were, you obliged; eagerly rushing to the front of the class. He reached for your hand as soon as you came to him, cradling it softly in his with misty eyes as he looked at you.

“Mammon, I-” You began but was quickly interrupted when he put his finger to your lips, shushing you.

“Hang on, MC. I got somethin’ I really need to tell ya, okay?” His expression was serious yet soft.

“You are the most important thing to me in all the realms. I don’t care that you’re a human and I’m a demon. That don’t matter to me. I’ve never been happier in all the millenia I’ve been around.” His bottomless blue eyes bore into yours as he fiddled with your fingers nervously.

“I swore to ya that I’d never do anythin’ to hurt ya, and I meant it MC. I didn’t want her, and I still don’t. You’re the only thing I ever want for the rest of my life. I love ya, MC. And I’ll spend every day provin’ it to ya.”

With tears streaming down your face you threw your arms around his neck, smashing your lips to his hungrily. His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you as close as possible as your lips moved together desperately.

“Although it was odd and took you entirely too long, I guess I’ll give it a B+. ..Ok, that’s enough, break it up. Hey! Do I need to get a hose?”

Devilgram was quickly flooded with pictures and videos of S/N’s multiple, embarrassing confessions, effectively putting to rest all the rumors that had been circulating as of late.

After being scolded heavily by the professor and even more so by Lucifer for your very public display of affection, the two of you locked yourselves in his bedroom.

“Thankfully Satan let you borrow that bangle.” You were sitting up against his headboard while his head rested in your lap facing your belly, arms wrapped around you snugly refusing to move even a centimeter.

“Mhmm.” He hummed sleepily as you carded your fingers through his hair, ever so slightly scratching his scalp with every pass. It’s the most relaxed he’s been in what feels like eternity.

“Probably made spilling your guts in front of everyone a little easier, too.” You teased lightly in regards to his tsundere tendencies.

“I wasn’t wearin’ the bangle.” He stated, matter-of-fact.

“What?” Your hand paused in his hair.

“Ya talkin’ about all the stuff I said to ya back there? Yeah, I wasn’t wearin’ the bangle. I don’t need to be forced to tell ya how much you mean to me. Not anymore.” He pulled you down onto the bed, causing an outburst of giggles from you, until he was hovering directly above you. His hand rested softly against the side of your face, his thumb tenderly stroking your cheek; his sapphire eyes overflowing with love and adoration.

“Since the first time ya smiled at me, the first time ya said my name; Hell, even from the second I saw ya, it’s only been you. I would go to the ends of time or destroy an entire realm single handed, if it means you’ll always be mine; if you’ll always love me and stay by my side. Till my heart stops, it’s yours.”

Feather light fingertips trailed down the side of your face to your jawline. His thumb reached up to wipe away a lone tear that you let slip at his words, as he wrapped his arm underneath your body, pulling you to him until you were completely flush to his body. His lips met yours softly, lovingly; sending electricity through your veins.

The rest of the afternoon, and part of the next day, was spent making up for lost time.

And, as for what happened to S/N, aside from being publicly humiliated with her reputation in shambles, as it should be; let’s just say you know a certain book worm of a demon who loves curses and hexes, especially minorly inconveniencing ones, that was willing to teach you a few new things.

Who knows? Maybe she will enjoy finding crumbs in every pair of shoes or socks she will ever wear.

- fin -

~ taglist ~

@harujkookie

@snxpe-lxve-blog

@ithinkimdekubutreallyimdenki

@maybe-nott

@bandaged-despair

@bokuto7stan

@aliackerman

@lebetha

#obey me!#obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me angst #mammon #mammon x mc #mammon x gnmc #gender neutral #trigger warning

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deerestapologies · 3 years

Text

5 times you called him by a pet name + one time he called you by a pet name

(Diluc + Zhongli x GN!Reader)

Diluc

1. "Oh, hey hon." You greet mildly.

The candles have begun burning a bit low, the long shadows making his pout even more obvious.

"I apologize, I was held up for longer than anticipated."

He produces a small bouquet from his coat, a cluster of wildflowers, and approaches like he's about to give an offering instead of a gift. He kneels by your chair, face stoic as usual, but you can see the worry and shame in his eyes.

You twirl the stems to absorb their delicate scent, and then carefully drop them in your water glass. You cup his face in your hands, and press a kiss to his brow.

"It's okay." You kiss his brow again, "I am not mad." You kiss his nose. "I am hungry though."

You laugh lightly at his rush to sit across from you. An evening eating cold roast was worth being able to spend it with him.

2. "I understand your frustration, but perhaps we had best move on." You place a hand on his crossed arms.

"Their behavior was unacceptable, especially for those who would call themselves knights."

The stubborn clench of his jaw tells you just how angry he is. The idiots were lucky to have only gotten the verbal bludgeoning earlier instead of the literal one he wanted to dish out.

"Yes, but you've already made them apologize, and they do seem repentant," the fool knights in training nod frantically, "so why not leave this mess for Kaeya, darling?"

He sighs, but loosens his posture to wrap a protective arm around you. The hell the Knights were going to catch for this was still to come, but at least no one lost any limbs. Yet.

3. Tucked into your pile of pillows, book in hand, you waited as you do most nights. Diluc had a late meeting scheduled after dinner, but he promised it was truly to do with the winery and not of the vigilante variety.

So you bide your time, until you hear his heavy boots come up the stairs.

"I'm home." He calls softly.

"Welcome back." You say just as softly.

He goes through the motions of undressing, refreshing himself, and redressing without missing a beat, but his posture seems wilted. You mark your page, and turn over the blanket for him.

"How did it go?"

He heaves a deep sigh, and crawls over to you. Pulling you close, he lays his head on your chest but doesn't say another word.

"Oh, sweetness." You embrace him, one hand holding his face and the other in his hair. "It's okay. I've got you."

4. You lengthen your steps, but the increased pace doesn't seem to deter the boy following you. He isn't dangerous per se, but his persistence is damned annoying.

"But, if you'll just listen," he jogs back up to your side, "I just need your help for a little while!"

"I am neither a Knight nor an Adventurer," you cut him off with a sharp wave of your hand, "And you have nothing I want. Now leave me be."

He sputters, "M-master Diluc said-"

As if he's had his tongue plucked out, he suddenly stops talking.

You turn around only to find Diluc himself, a stifling hand on the kid's shoulder. His face is a stoic mask as always, but his energy is thunderous.

"I agreed to help you out of deference to your mother, but you," You see the boy wince as the hand tightens, "failed to listen to a word I said. Harassing my staff and my partner has only earned you banishment from all of my properties. Now go, before I report you to the Knights as well."

You both stand stock still as the boy sprints from the winery back to Mondstadt proper.

"Your going to report him anyways, right?" You mumble, after he is just a speck on the horizon.

"Of course," He finally relaxes his stance to look at you, "Though I doubt Jean will be happy about it."

Your chuckle, already imagining her face when the letter reaches her desk. Heaving a sigh, just grateful for the problem to have moved on, you grab Diluc's hand.

"Thank you," You pull him into a tight hug, "for protecting me as always, angel."

5. You gently rap on the door frame to his office. He looks up from his work just long enough to give you a soft smile.

"I was wondering," You lean against the frame, avoiding actually entering lest you get sucked in as well, "If my dear husband was going to come to bed tonight?"

The bright lamp on his desk means you see his blush even from across the room. He huffs an embarrassed laugh, but starts shuffling paperwork into orderly piles.

"I hadn't realized the time, my apologies."

You hum, "It is understandable. But I cannot rest if you are not in bed with me."

You watch as he tucks away his tools, pulls his gloves off, and undoes the tie in his hair, all with a much to pleased smirk on his face.

He pulls you into a delicate, lingering kiss with a hand on your neck. The warmth of his skin makes you shiver. You lean into him, letting him wrap you in his arms.

He chuckles, "Well, I would hate to neglect my husbandly duties."

1. The lingering warmth from your bath and the softness of the sheets has you dozing in minutes. You toss a hand onto Diluc's side of the bed, wanting to be present when he comes to bed as well but the ache of a long day is catching up to you.

After several moments you feel a calloused hand grasp your own. You are too tired to properly see, but feel the dip as he climbs into bed.

Still holding your hand in a delicate grip, he presses a kiss to your palm, and then your cheek.

"Sleep, my love, I am here."

Zhongli

1. Zhongli re-enters the house not even ten minutes after leaving. He is patting down his jacket and looking about the entryway in wonder, and you can't help but chuckle.

"Forget something?"

"Yes," he plants his hands on his hips, "I can't seem to find my wallet. I could have sworn I remembered it this time."

You get up from where you were leisurely awaiting his return, and snag the 'disappearing' wallet from where he left it on the table.

"Not quite, old man." You wave it, teasing.

"Ah, of course."

Tucking it into the pocket of his jacket, you tug him closer to plant a kiss on his flushed cheek.

"My apologies, it seems I was a bit distracted this morning."

He tucks a piece of hair away from your face, gaze so blatantly loving you can't help but crash your lips against his. Damn whatever appointment he may have, he shouldn't be so handsome in your direction.

2. It is not every day you wake up before him, so you try to make the most of it. You prepare his clothes for the day, just so you can pick out your favorite of his shirts. You start a light breakfast, and brew an energizing blend of tea for both of your sake.

You spend some time simply waiting at the table, content to sip your tea and watch the morning birds.

When the soft shuffle of feet brings Zhongli into the kitchen, you stand up. He is mostly dressed, minus his tie and shoes, jacket loose around his shoulders.

You steer him to the table, and press a kiss to his cheek when seated.

He hums contentedly, still a bit sleepy, "Good morning."

You pour him a cup of tea as well, and his smile grows a bit wider. He tilts his head up, "Thank you."

You meet him half way, pressing a firm kiss to his mouth, "Of course dearest. Do you have anything pressing today?"

A hand comes to rest on your hip, preventing you from moving back to your seat.

"No, nothing more important than this."

3. Squished between the mattress and the press of his body, you couldn't imagine being more content. The warmth, the scent, the feel of his breath ghosting across your skin.

You run a reverent hand through his hair, spread loose over his back. It seems impossible for you to be this happy, like you would only read about in unrealistic fantasies.

Amber eyes are already watching you, when you open yours. His gaze is soft, unbearably so, so you look at the ceiling.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

He answers it so easily, as if it is among the many universal truths that exist in his head.

"You must understand," You wet your nervous mouth, "I mean it. Truly, I love you."

You feel his head tilt in confusion, but power on, emotions spilling.

"You are my starlight. My life would be unimaginably dark without you. I am scared constantly by the sway you have over me, but I cannot stand the idea of living without you. I want be here with you, forever, no matter the cost."

You squeeze your eyes shut against the flood of tears that threaten to spill, waiting for his polite retreat. His body lifts off yours and you pull a shuddering breath in, unused to laying yourself bare in this way. He could end you now, destroy you by just walking away.

But you feel tremoring hands grasp your face, almost too tightly. He doesn't say a word, can't, but presses his forehead to yours.

4. "Zhongli?" You call into the empty hum of the parlor, hoping it will carry to his office. It's not far, but he gets absorbed in his work easily.

You lean out the door a bit, and try to project your voice more, "Hey, honey?"

The door to his office clicks open, and his head pokes out. "Do you need assistance?"

"Yes, please," you adjust the pile of books in your arms, "Would you mind grabbing this other pile? A client requested reference material from just about every era, and I don't think I have the wing span to carry all of it."

He presses a quick kiss to your head, and scoops up the remaining books with no problem.

"Of course, would you like me to relieve you of those as well?"

"Not a chance, show off, you're gonna have to deal with the doors."

As if to prove your point, he balances the stack in one hand to hold the front door open for you, smile only slightly smug.

5. Given how busy your lives were, and his propensity for letting time fly, you figured he would forget again. It would not be the first anniversary he forgot, and you imagine it wouldn't be the last.

It's not like you could hold it against him, especially not when he was so earnest and loving all year round.

So your surprise was genuine when he led you, dressed in his best, to a private booth at Liuli Pavilion.

The food was made by the head chef, as a show of gratitude for Zhongli's long patronage (you send a quiet thank you to Childe), and the service superb. The evening is relatively quiet, you converse as normal but with the additional soppiness that comes from acknowledging romance.

You are especially glad for the privacy when you cannot help but practically ravish the man over the table, his face being too handsome to bear just looking at.

Shortly after, he looks at you with burning eyes, and finally says, "I am quite full. Perhaps we should head home."

"That sounds perfect."

You continue to stare, sappy and sated, as he blindly pats at his pockets, equally unwilling to look away.

After several moments, it dawns on you, and then immediately on him.

You can't help it. You laugh. Hysterically, because no matter what Zhongli is Zhongli.

He's standing now, flustered like you've never seen, pacing the room as if his wallet would be anywhere but the table at home.

"This was not my intent." He huffs, "I had planned the evening meticulously."

"And it was lovely," You choke back another laugh, "But, sugar, you are not living this down for the rest of our lives!"

You are laughing as you pull out your own wallet, giggling uncontrollably as you hand over all the money on your person, and can barely walk you're so light headed when he leads you out the door.

He doesn't once let you go, from the pavilion's steps to your front door. Indulgent to the end, your man.

1. It is always a pleasant surprise when your errands overlap. Working nearly in conjunction makes it happen quite often, but still, it makes your day brighter.

You have just finishing bartering your lunch into existence when you spot Zhongli headed your way. Quickly, you slip the chef a few more mora to add another dish.

He is at your side in an instant, bringing your hand to his lips in that coquettish way he has.

"There you are," he lowers your hand but does not drop it, "I've been looking for you, treasure."

You twine your fingers together, relishing the warmth. You snug up to his side, taking the liberty of placing his hand on your hip just to see him blush.

"Have you now?"

"Always."

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin diluc #genshin zhongli #(the chef after zhongli +1: excuse me this is a wendys)#an informal apology

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henryobsessed · 3 years

Text

The Veterinarian and the Werewolf - Chapter 8

Word Count: 1879

Warning: trigger - hunting, and demeaning verbal abuse.

A/N thanks again to my beautiful @sillyrabbit81 for your editing and @amberangel112 for your encouragement.

Chapter 8

Henry could not understand why Jessie was still considering going out with this jerk. He huffed at Joe’s words and was pleasantly surprised at Tom’s reaction. Pleased to have someone in his corner, he nuzzled into the young man’s arms. It felt nice, an odd feeling of loss and regret pulled at his soul. He hadn’t seen his nephew in five years, he would be fifteen years old now four years younger than Tom. Memories of their last time together flooded his mind, the feel of his hands running through his fur. Even then he had refused to change, sadly his nephew had never known him in Human form.

The packhouse was large, made of local stone it would be considered menacing to outsiders. But for those invited in, it was a house filled with love. They had found Henry and his nephew Adam just outside their forest line, half-starved, dehydrated and desperate for care. The pack doctor had tended to Henry whilst one of the pack's mothers had shared her milk with the little pup. Adam had captured the mother’s heart and at Henry’s approval had adopted him into the pack. Henry had grieved the loss of his only kin but been so grateful to them. He knew he could not look after the little one, not with his heartbroken in pieces.

Over the next ten years, he had come and gone from the house checking up on Adam, watched as he grew strong, not only physically, but emotionally he had developed into a beautiful soul. Their last time together they had sat just like he was now with Tom. He had curled up next to Adam, his head in his lap, Adams fingers running through his fur. “I wish you could change for me Uncle, I see all the other dads and sons playing together and I love the idea that when I change next year we can run together. Then I can finally talk to you and hear your voice back. But I want to know what you look like, to be able to hug you like I see that others hug their dads.” His face had added to Henry’s grief looking so heartbroken and longingly at him. He had tried at that moment, had attempted to honour his request but his human side was so lost, hidden in pain. He had left the house that day, knowing even if it broke his heart, he needed to let his nephew grow with his new pack and not be held back by him.

Now nestled against Tom he regretted that decision. He heard a chuckle soft and happy. “Well look at you two. I would never have guessed Wolfy could be so comfortable with another human. I haven’t seen him like that with anyone except with me. What’s your secret Tom?” Her bright eyes landed on Tom who had continued to scratch behind Henry’s ears.

“I don’t know Miss Jessie, but I have always loved wolves, well any kind of animal really but especially wolves.”

She seemed thoughtful as she eyed them both making Henry wonder what she had planned. “Tom, are you free tonight? I have a date and I really don’t want to leave Wolfy alone again.” Henry felt Tom stiffen. Wondering what was wrong with the request, he moved his head to look up at the boy.

A brief look of disapproval flashed in his eyes before they softened as he looked down and saw Henry watching him. “Yes, Miss Jessie. I would love to spend more time with this beautiful boy.” Internally he chuckled at Tom’s words, if only he knew he was twelve years older than him.

That afternoon Henry, Jessie and Tom spent out in the garden. Tom seemed to fit beautifully into their friendship group kneeling beside Jessie as they planted new flowers and shrubs where they had pulled up the weeds. Together, Henry dug the holes, Tom placed the plants and held them in place whilst Jessie filled the soil around them. Henry enjoyed hearing the light conversation between his Mate and his new friend until it became heavier. “So, Tom, when did you begin to love wolves? I know your father traps them, so I’m interested as to why you don’t follow his belief.”

Tom continued to work, as a gentle hum was heard working up from his throat. “I know why Dad does it, although I don’t think he is correct. He blames the wolves for his loss of cattle, but I haven’t seen that many around. The wild dogs are more to blame but he won't listen. They have a group that meet purely to discuss the wolf problem, but in my whole life, the only large group I have seen was back when I was four. It’s the first and last time Dad allowed me to come to a hunting party. Mom was horrified that he was taking me, but I wanted so much to be with Dad, and he wanted me to be just like him.”

Henry shuddered as the boy spoke as if by some force of nature, he knew that he was about to hear what had happened that day. He also sensed the grief radiating off the boy, wanting to calm him he pushed his body into Tom’s side. Nuzzling his head as if to say, “It's ok, I’m here for you.” Tom let out a heavy chuckle as if he had heard Henry’s voice.

He sat back looking down at Henry as he spoke, “Thanks Wolfy, you would think that I would not remember something that happened that long ago, but it's imprinted in my mind. They had been tracking a pack that had only just entered the area, convinced the rest of the ranchers that they were a risk to our lively hood, that we couldn’t let them nest here. So, the best of their marksman left, when we found them all, sitting around a tree, curled up sleeping, all I wanted to do was go play with the cuddly animals. Dad kept pulling me back holding me still and quiet. I didn’t understand until the loud bangs began.”

Tom’s voice wobbled at this point and Jessie who had been silent up till this time also came closer. She pulled him into her side, her arm encasing his thin body as his shoulders began to shake. “I started screaming as I saw a single wolf with a baby on its back running away, Dad aimed for it but I managed to push the barrel up making him miss. I got the thrashing of my life that night. I couldn’t sit for a week, but it was worth it. I was never allowed to come again after that, not that I wanted to. It took a while, but Dad eventually began to trust me enough to check the traps. I am glad too because it meant I could help this fella.”

Jessie held the boy as his sobs subsided. Henry was trying to hold his anger in, these were the people who had destroyed his family. And yet this one boy had not only saved him once but twice, his gratitude was the only thing stopping him from wanting to go rip the throats out of the group. Ignorance and fear were the driving forces that ended his family, if only they knew the wolves would only ever take a sick animal, and sometimes the young, never the strength of the herd. They would never kill without need. But the wild dogs he had seen were giving us a bad name.

Jessie's voice interrupted his thoughts, the softness not hiding the grief in her own. “Was that near here Tom?” How did Jessie know?

“Yes, Miss Jessie, by the tall tree in the middle of the forest.”

She silently picked up the tools, both animal and human watching her, wondering what she was thinking. Sighing she stood up, “Come, it’s getting dark and I need to get ready for this date.” She walked silently back into the house. The boy and the wolf looked at each other before both followed.

Jessie fixed dinner for Tom and Henry then left to dress, leaving the pair to their own devices. Tom seemed quiet after revealing his early childhood trauma and Henry was eager to help calm the boy. After eating, he plodded into the living room, jumped up on the couch and yipped in Tom’s direction. Chuckling, Tom responded, “You want to watch some TV boy?” Nuzzling the remote, he yipped eagerly hoping to distract the boy from his thoughts.

Tom settled next to him and picked up the remote, they settled on watching a rerun of M.A.S.H before they both heard the clicking of heels and the rapping of knuckles on the front door. Open-mouthed both Henry and Tom sat dumbstruck as Jessie walked down the stairs in a light yellow sundress her dark hair flowing softly twisted into waves. “Wow Miss Jessie, you look amazing” got in first before Henry followed with his eager Yip. Giggling Jessie smiled softly at them both, “Ok I won't be out late, but even so, don’t get up to any mischief”

This caused both Henry and Tom to laugh, one sounding more like a series of yips. The door opened and closed and Jessie was gone. Together the two sat, watched movies and shared some popcorn that Tom had found in the pantry. Just as the end of a Witcher episode finished they heard yelling coming from outside. “I don’t give a dam Boyd, you had no right to hit that poor man, It was an accident.” The front door opened as Jessie stormed inside, the front of her dress had a brown stain down the side of her skirt.

Next Boyd came crashing into the room his face red as he reached out to grab Jessie's arm, this caused Henry to jump into action his snarl reaching the ears of the big man before he saw the wolf racing towards him. Jumping back almost stumbling over the kitchen chair Boyd’s face grew hotter, “Keep that mutt controlled Jessie otherwise I’ll control him for you with my shot Gun.”

The air went still as Henry felt Jessies and Tom's hands on him, “That is enough Boyd Hatfield, you are no longer welcome in this home. Get. Out!” Surprise filled Boyd’s face as he not only recognised Tom but registered his marching orders. Menace replaced the look of surprise, “Listen here little girl, you better watch that attitude of yours. I’ll allow you to cool off but we are not finished talking, and if you value the life of that mutt you will do as your told.” Punctuating the statement with a nod of his head he turned and strolled out the door.

Heart pounding he turned looking up at Jessie who seemed to have lost her speech, her face pale and her hands shaking. Tom moved swiftly pulling her into his arms as she began to cry, frustrated that it wasn’t his arms holding her, Henry pushed his body against her to show he was there, but inside he was furious. That man had threatened not just himself but Jessie, but he had to focus on her right now, she was more important no matter how much he wanted to go after him.

Chapter 9

#the veterinarian and the werewolf #henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #werewolf

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deannaroxannewrites · 3 years

Text

Tropetember Day 7 - Mutual Pining / Requited/Unrequited Love / Angst with a happy ending

My boys

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Rating: Teen and up

TW: Angst (all of the angst), Angst with a happy ending, Witness Protection

AN: Day 7 of @tropetember. Another Hotch story that could be expanded into a small series. Enjoy the angst (and fluff because I CANNOT HELP MYSELF)

You've been looking to spending a quiet day with your boys, until a phone call turns your world upside down.

Find this story on Ao3 here.

Word Count: 1.6k

You were in the middle of pottering around the kitchen putting your groceries away when the phone rang.

Glancing at it, you realise it’s Aaron. Why would he be ringing you right now? Jack’s soccer game wouldn’t have been finished for very long and they usually got a treat before coming to visit you.

You answer with a smile, you were looking forward to spending the day with your boys.

“Hi sweetie, what can I do for you?” You ask.

Aaron says your name and his voice shakes. You instantly stop what you’re doing. Something is wrong. Something really bad is happening. You can tell.

“Scratch.” He takes a shuddering breath. “Scratch was at Jack’s game.”

You gasp and panic floods through you.

“Is he ok? Are you both ok? He didn’t get to either of you did he?”

"No, he didn't."

There's a pause and you feel your heart start to calm. At least they're OK, although you can't figure out what's happening. Unfortunately, your relief at them both being unharmed is immediately destroyed.

"Jack and I are being put into witness protection."

You hear the glass you were holding smash as it connects with the marble floor of the kitchen. It's funny, you feel like a spectator in your own body. The only other thing you're aware of is that you feel like you can't breathe.

Aaron calls your name a few times but you're hyper fixated on one thing he says. 'Jack and I.' Not we. Why hadn't he said we?

"Can I not come too?" Your voice is small. Lost. "If this madman is following Jack, he'll know who I am, Aaron."

You hear him exhale.

"I know. I tried to get the Marshals to offer you the choice of coming with us." You imagine he's scrubbing his hand down his face in frustration. "They said that, since Scratch's focus is the team, and I will no longer be around or know what's happening, you will no longer be at risk." He lets out a scoff.

Tears silently trace down your face. Your world was ending but, no matter how much you wanted to beg and scream and demand they stay, this was already a done deal. Jack's safety was the most important thing in the world and you wouldn't dare risk it for your selfish desires.

"OK." You take a moment to breathe and clear your throat. "Can you do something for me?"

"Of course."

"Tell Jack I love him? Give him a big hug and kiss and tell him that I'll see him when this is over?"

That breaks him, and he quietly sobs out your name.

"You're going to be OK. Both of you. And I'll be here waiting." You take a shaky breath. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I'm putting everything into your name. I don't mind if you move into the apartment or if you rent it out and put everything in storage. Just try to hold onto the keepsakes and Jack's stuff."

"I've got it. Don't worry. It's in good hands."

"The very best." He gives a shaky laugh. "I love you so much. I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault Aaron. God, I love you so much."

You both go quiet, knowing you don't have long until the Marshals disconnect his number.

"I can't ask you to wait for me." He tells you. It makes a sob break through your restraint. "That would be selfish of me. Just know that I love you. And, once this is over, we'll see you again."

"I know, it's OK. I love you."

"I…."

The line goes dead and, like the glass spread across the floor, you break.

---------

The weeks following are hazy in your memory. You imagine it's not totally dissimilar to a bereavement. After all, you'd discussed seeing each other again, but you both knew that there was a chance it may not happen. Scratch had been evading law enforcement for months with ease. He was watching Jack and no-one even knew. It didn't bode well.

Time continued to pass. Eventually, from around the 6th month mark, people started offering to set you up with friends/relatives/colleagues. You weren't getting any younger they kept saying. You can't miss out on the rest of your life.

It was something you were well aware of. You were only a couple of years younger than Aaron so you were moving past your prime, particularly if you wanted to have kids of your own. You couldn't do it though. It just felt wrong when Aaron was out there alone somewhere with a new name and identity. How could you move on? Instead, you focussed on work, even getting a promotion for your efforts.

You didn't move into the apartment, you couldn't bring yourself to. You and Aaron had been discussing moving, and potentially purchasing a proper house with a garden Jack play soccer in in the future, mere days before everything happened. It was just another thing that didn't feel right. Instead, you moved the important things out to Dave's basement. He had the space and it would be much safer than a storage locker. It also helped sooth his guilt over the fact that none of the team were supposed to have much contact with you to try and keep you off Scratch's hotlist.

Since you didn't need the income from the apartment, you instead approached a charity who worked with women and families escaping domestic violence. You'd offered them the apartment at a reduced rate for short term lets that rolled month by month, with potential to go up to a year. The plan was to give people time to get back on their feet and regain their independence in a safe and secure environment.

You'd had two small families in so far. Both had moved on after securing jobs with good salaries and new full time accommodation. They were both keeping you updated about how they and their kids were doing, and you were happy that you were able to help them even just a little. It was empty at the moment and you were busy organising some basic maintenance and were going to repaint some of the rooms to freshen it up.

You'd just been on the phone with Derek, who'd offered to do the small repair jobs you needed doing, when someone knocked at the door.

Glancing at the clock and seeing it was nearly 9pm, you paused and texted Derek as a safety precaution. It was probably nothing, but better safe than sorry.

The knock sounded again, a little more urgent this time, and you hustled to the door to open it.

When you realised who was on the other side, your knees gave way.

There in front of you, looking almost exactly the same as when he left, was Aaron with Jack peeking out from behind him.

Realising what was happening, he reached out to steady you and you threw yourself into his arms, sobbing as if your life depended on it.

He held you just tightly, rocking from side to side until you pulled back. You lower yourself into a crouch and hold your arms out to Jack, who collides with you with enough force to knock you on your behind.

You both laugh as you land on the floor, a light, carefree combination of sounds that tinkles around the room as you press kisses all over his face. Aaron bobs down to join the hug before helping you both to your feet and guiding you all to your sofa.

"I'm so glad you're both back" you tell them. Jack is snuggled into your lap and you're snuggled into Aaron. Declarations of love pass easily and frequently between the three of you and it fills you with warmth.

You spend the evening catching up with them. Apparently Scratch had been caught at the end of last week but it had taken this long for word to get through to the Marshals and for them to organise transferring them home.

Jack tells you over dinner (pizza, Jack picked) about his school and all the things he's learnt since the last time he saw you. Aaron tells you about his cover job as a law clerk in the backwater town of Nowhere, Iowa. In return, you tell them about how you got promoted at work and what you've done with the apartment in their absence. Aaron's eyes shine with pride as you explain the cause and you know it's one that's close to his heart.

Before you know it, it's almost midnight and Aaron is suggesting they go back to the hotel that they've been set up in for the next few days. You won't allow that though. They'll be lucky if they're allowed to leave your sight ever again.

You all brush your teeth together in the bathroom while joking around before getting sorted and all clambering into your bed together.

Wrapped in Aaron's arms, with Jack tucked up against your side, you finally feel whole for the first time since that dreaded phone call.

"My boys," you gently sigh. "I love you both".

Aaron presses a soft kiss to your forehead, and you let the sound of their breathing calm you as you fall into the deepest nights sleep you've had in forever.

Even better, they're still there when you wake up.

#Tropetember #fanfiction #Criminal Minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #angst #angst with a happy ending #witness protection #jack hotchner

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missymurphy1985 · 3 years

Text

The Umbrella Girl (part 7 - final part)

What happened to Cillian's house?

Warnings - mentions of baby loss / angst / smut

Taglist @queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @margoo0 @elenavampire21 @janelongxox @noctvrnalmoth

Cillian had flown home on the next flight following Orla's call, you'd stayed home to allow him time with his family, giving him the space he needed. He hadn't called for nearly a week, and you hadn't disturbed him either, when finally your phone rang.

"Cill? Are you okay?"

"The police are still investigating. It certainly looks like arson, but they can't say one way or the other yet. Y/n, I should've been at home last week, and she knew that! That schedule was planned for months in advance, I'd have been burned alive in that house!" You both knew this, but saying it out loud somehow made it more terrifying. "Does she know where you live y/n?" You paused to think back, but no, she had no idea. The address on your records was private, she wouldn't have access to that under data protection laws.

"Where are you?"

"I'm at Orla's, I'm staying here until the house is safe for me to go back to. It's a mess y/n... A complete wreck.." his voice was cracking, breaking your heart. You were desperate to hold him, but he was hundreds of miles away.

"I miss you so much... I so want to be there with you..."

"Is Emily at school?"

"Yes. She breaks up today for half term though."

"Good, I thought I'd got the dates right. I've booked you tickets for the ferry tomorrow morning, I know Emily is scared of flying.. come out here to me? I need you.."

You were stunned into silence.

"Is that okay?"

"Shut up Murphy! That's the best news I've had this week... Yes! We'll be there!"

"Thank god, thought I'd scared you off for a second!"

"You're an idiot sometimes you know that?" You laughed. "I'll see you Saturday morning, yeah?"

You arrived at the docks in Dublin just after midday, Emily launching herself into Cillian's arms as he swooped her up and kissed her cheek. He welcomed you into the embrace, kissing your lips and resting his forehead against yours. A younger lady approached you, judging by her blue eyes you assumed this was Cillian's sister, Orla.

"It's so good to finally meet you, he's told me so much about you! Here, let me help with those bags." She took your suitcase and pulled it along with you to her car. You arm linked with Cillians left, his right carrying Emily who was telling him everything about the ferry ride over and how much she enjoyed it.

"I've got another surprise for you waiting at Orla's, Em," he whispered loud enough for you to hear.

"Cill...." He shushed you playfully with his eyes. You hated him spending his money on either of you - you didn't want people to think that was all you wanted...

Getting into Orla's house just outside the city, she took your bag up to Cillian's room and led you all through to the dining room. A man walked in holding a wriggling toddler.

"This is my brother in law, Damien, and my nephew Leo. This," he introduced you, "is y/n." Damien shook your hand and you cooed over Leo, giggling away in his father's arms. Emily tugged on Cillian's shirt impatiently, generating a scowl from you.

"Emily we've just walked through the door - you need to wait!"

"Its okay, I'll take her." Cillian took her hand and led her into a playroom next to the kitchen area. You heard her squeal and walked through to see the biggest dolls house you'd ever seen, it was huge - fully kitted out with furniture and a family of 4.. it was breathtaking.

"Cillian... I can't..." You mumbled.

"It isn't for you, it's for her!" He laughed, and smiled watching Emily begin to place the furniture in the house and set her dolls up for what looked like a picnic in the little living room area.

He turned to face you, bringing you close to him.

"Thank you.. thank you for coming out.. and being here.."

"Together, hand in hand, remember?" You touched your nose against his, both of you smiling into each other.

The police called round later that evening. You were sat in the dining room, hand in Cillian's under the table, as they explained.

"We found petrol cans littered around the outside of the house. Three had been thrown through the letterbox, and set alight. Fortunately, your neighbour has CCTV cameras, and we caught images of the person who did it - take a look, see if you recognise them?" One of the officers opened the laptop and played the video. Cillian squeezed your hand, preparing himself to watch his home be destroyed. You could make out the image of a person dropping the cans, and the police froze the screen on the clearest image they had. They zoomed in, and Cillian's mouth dropped.

"I know him..." Your eyes widened. You did too...

"The fuck is he doing there?" You gasped. The Assistant Director of Peaky Blinders, James, was staring right back at you from the screen.

"We have him in custody - he's admitted everything. He'll be charged in the morning. We think you know he has a connected with Lisa?" The officer nodded to Cillian.

"He does. But why's he involved? He's got nothing to do with any of this?

"He's been in on this since the beginning. He's given us Lisa's location in London. The Net Police tracked her down this morning. Y/n, you need to know.. she was about half a mile from your house.." you gasped again.. James must have had access to your records... She must have seduced him to get close to them.. Cillian pulled you close and kissed your head.

"Thank fuck I got you away... Where's your mum?"

"She's gone to her sisters place in Manchester for the weekend.. Cillian she'd have killed us!"

"But she didn't, did she? And she's locked up.. fuck.. this might be over?" He turned to the officers. "Is it over?"

"They've not mentioned anyone else being involved, and James was more than happy to spill the beans - we'll continue to keep an eye on you for a while, just to be on the safe side."

"Thank you... For everything... Thank you." You whispered to the officers, barely able to form a sentence. You were still worried, but you felt safe for the first time in weeks.

Once the police had left, you fell into each others arms, holding on tighter than you ever had. The relief flooding you both.

"Where's Emily?" You asked, as he was kissing your neck.

"In the garden with Orla... You'll have to control yourself a little while longer Cillian, it's nearly dinner time..." You groaned, feeling his lips gently nibbling at your earlobe.

You felt his hand trail up your thigh, over your backside as he pulled you into him.

"You have no idea how much I want to bury my fingers inside you against this wall, right now y/n..." You turned your face to kiss him deeply, before pulling away winking and walking towards the garden, a sexy little sway as you walked, chuckling to yourself.

Dinner was a Chinese takeaway, Orla's insistence even though you'd offered to cook them all a meal to say thank you for having them. Once it was all cleaned up and the little ones were in bed, Emily set up in a small single Batman themed bed (another treat from Cillian) in Leo's room, the four of you sat in the living room with a bottle of wine. Your body was wrapped in Cillian's on the sofa, Orla looking over at the two of you.

"You two are like lovestruck teenagers, you know that?" She laughed, watching the two of you stealing glances at each other and stroking each others hands.

"Too much PDA from your older brother, Orla?" Cillian pulled a face making Orla laugh.

"No, it's so lovely seeing you happy, especially after everything that's happened these last couple of years.. it's been a tough one hasn't it?"

"It's been difficult, but it's over now. I can focus on picking myself back up now. I'll finish Peaky, and take some time off, I think," Cillian yawned, kissing your hand. "I'm beat. Orla, Damien.. we can't thank you enough." He stood, taking your hand in his and leading you out the room.

"What are family for Cillian, you're welcome here as long as you need to be," Damien smiled.

Within minutes you were in his room against the wall, jeans round your ankles, his fingers knuckle deep in your core pulling forward against your walls. His hand covering your mouth to quieten you so you didn't wake the kids up in the next room.

"Fuck... Cillian don't stop..." Your orgasm was already building following the constant teasing between the two of you that evening, and he increased the speed on his movements inside you. Your hand sneaking underneath the waistband of his jeans to grip his erection firmly, making him hiss slightly at the sensation as you pumped him slowly under his jeans, the fabric not allowing for too much movement.

"You gonna cum for me y/n? Let me feel it..." He whispered in your ear, making you shudder. You nodded, before moaning deep into his hand, your orgasm washing over you like a hurricane. Your hand gripped onto his cock a little tighter as his fingers came to a stop, before bringing them to his lips to taste you.

You kicked off your jeans from your ankles and sank to your knees, pulling his jeans down with you. He looked down at you and watched you tease the tip of his cock with your tongue, lightly licking around the head and down his shaft. He rested forward, one hand against the wall, the other in your hair, groaning as he watched you take him inside your mouth painfully slowly. Inch by inch, sucking gently, before he felt the back of your throat.

"Fuck yes..." He closed his eyes and controlled his breathing, trying not to blow his load down your throat. You started bobbing your head back and forth, your teeth scraping the underside of his cock as you did making him grip your hair tight. You really wanted to make him come in your mouth but your core was screaming for him. Standing up and pulling both your t-shirts over your head you led him over to the bed, pushing him onto his back. Crawling over his legs, you hovered over his cock, bringing your fingers down to you core and running them slowly over your wetness.

"Want this, Cill?" He groaned watching your fingers running through your folds and nodded quickly. You sank onto him, making both of you gasp, and started rocking your hips back and forth. He held onto your hips guiding you, and you leaned back, finding your rhythm. His fingers toyed with your clit as you rode him, and you could feel a second orgasm approaching. Sensing it, he flipped you over to lie on your front on the bed. Pushing your legs together, raising your hips slightly, he moved over them and started pushing himself back inside you, his chest now on your back as he started thrusting into you. You clawed at the bedframe, the new angle hitting your g spot perfectly.

"Fuck you're so tight... This feel good baby?" His voice was back in your ear now, his lips kissing and biting over your shoulders and neck as his thrusts became more powerful. You had to muffle your cries of ecstacy into the pillow. "Good girl... you gonna cum again for me huh?"

You couldn't stop it if you tried, you came hard, your walls clenching every inch of him. His thrusts slowed slightly, before he pulled out of you and lifted your hips up so you were on your knees, your face still in the pillows. Lining himself you, he thrust hard into you, making you bury your face again and grip the bedframe as he fucked you hard and fast, the only sounds being your skin slapping together and the wet sounds where your bodies were joined.

"Fuck... Shit... Gonna come y/n..." He grunted softly as you felt him spurt his seed deep inside you, panting as he came down from his high, before pulling out and laying beside you, stroking your face gently.

"I love you.. y/n.." he whispered softly, taking your face in his hands and kissing your lips. You froze, gasped softly and pulled back. Was it too soon? Probably. Did you care? Nope. You saw a flash of panic in his eyes and smiled.

"I love you, Cillian. I do.. I've not felt this way for anyone else. Ever." He grinned, and pulled you into his arms.

"I've been thinking.. I need a change of scenery. What would you say if I moved to London? Permanently?" You leaned up on your arm and trailed your fingers over his chest hair.

"What about Ireland? All your family are here?"

"Yeah but they've had more than 40 years of me. You and Emily are in London - and that's where I want to be."

"Cillian I'd never make you leave your family - please know that?"

"No ones making me do anything anymore y/n. I'm doing this for us - there is an us, right?" You punched him lightly on the arm making him chuckle. "I've already started talking to estate agents. There's a beautiful 3 bed townhouse in Kilburn. It looks stunning y/n, you'd love it."

"What do you need a 3 bed house for? There's only you?" He looked down at you and raised his eyebrow - you felt your core throb slightly, that eyebrow raise was sexy as fuck... And you were certain he knew it.

"Well, Emily's gonna need a room. And us. And a spare room for guests maybe.. or..." Your stomach flipped.

"Cillian.. If you're asking me what I think you're asking me.."

"I'm not asking for anything y/n, I'm not even asking you to move in, unless you want to obviously... I just.. I just want to be near you. All the time. I know it's early days still, but we've been through more in a short time than most couples go through in a lifetime. I can't ever see myself with anyone else, ever.. what do you say?" He was stroking your face, and you were lost in his eyes.

"On one condition."

"Name it."

"I'm in charge of the decorating. I've seen the photos of your last house Cill, your taste is shocking.." he laughed and tickled you until you were back underneath him, and you groaned at his hardness pushing against your thigh. Kissing him deeply, he was soon back inside you, slotting in like a jigsaw piece finding its other half.

**********************************************************

Epilogue - 1 year later

You and Emily had spent the afternoon tidying and cleaning, waiting for Cillian to come home after a month back in Dublin onstage at the Gaiety Theatre performing in Enda Walsh's latest production - Cillian's first work since finishing Peaky Blinders 8 months ago. The show was due to go live any time now. You'd moved into his Kilburn house 6 months ago after realising you were spending 5 days out of 7 there every week anyway. Lisa and James were in prison for a fair few years, being found guilty for arson, slander and harassment.

"Mum, he's here!!" Emily ran from the window after hearing a car pull up and you both went into the kitchen - Emily sat at the table pretending to do her homework and you at the counter on your laptop.

"Hey girls? I'm home!" He called, and you walked into the hallway smiling before embracing him tightly. He kissed you and dropped his bag on the floor and his keys in the bowl. Emily walked through and hugged him right, before standing as straight as possible in the hallway. You winked at her, and looked at Cillian who was staring at Emily.

"How've you both been? What have I missed?" He moved into the kitchen and put the kettle on, desperate for a home made cup of tea.

"Nothing much really.. Emily and I went shopping this afternoon and she's got herself a few new t shirts, I bought a few things I think we'll need soon." He looked at you and smiled, his brow furrowed slightly.

"Look at my new t-shirt Cillian!" Emily danced in front of him, twirling round in circles making him laugh.

"I can't see it while your spinning like a merry-go-round Em, stand still!" She stood still and you bit your lip. "What's it say on the front... Hang on.." he gently held Emily's shoulders and read the slogan. He paused, then read it again, before turning sharply to you.

"Big Sister?!" You nodded, grinning.

"Mommy's having a baby!" Emily yelled, pretty sure your neighbours knew now!

"You're pregnant?!" He moved over to you and placed a hand over your belly - no bump yet, but it still made you glow inside.

"Six weeks. Found out yesterday, wanted to surprise you..." He lifted you off the floor and kissed you, before reaching for Emily and pulling her into the hug. You felt safe, secure, and most importantly, loved.

And now with baby Murphy on the way, your family would be complete.

#cillian murphy #cillian smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader

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nugnthopkns · 3 years

Text

dance me to the end of love (iv)

word count: 4.1k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, alcohol consumption

series masterpost: here

a/n: my apologies for the delay!! life got crazy for a bit but i'm back with my two favourite idiot intellectuals

Magdalene stays busy to keep the loneliness at bay.

All of her friends have left Denver, doing whatever it is that hockey players and their partners do in the off-season. She never expected them to stay to keep her company, and would certainly never ask. Besides, they were all so excited to go home and visit family. How could she disrupt their happiness just so she wouldn’t feel so alone? It isn’t her fault that Ryan, Bette, and company aren’t estranged from their families like she is. At twenty-five she should be a little more self sufficient than what she currently is, but Magdalene is working hard at being kinder to herself.

To combat the pervasive loneliness Magdalene spends a lot of time in the heart of downtown Denver. Under normal circumstances she would hate the crowds, but now they comfort her. The swaths of tourists walking the streets and approaching her to take family photos make her feel like a part of something bigger than the pity she finds herself wallowing in often. Barn Owl Books also becomes a frequent retreat when she has downtime, and the owners enjoy when she brings Caligula around. Other patrons adore the white cat and he loves the attention.

One day as she’s leaving work, once again offering to stay late so June doesn’t have to, Magdalene’s phone rings. She contemplates not picking it up, wanting nothing more than to curl into bed with the novel she picked up at Barn Owl the other day, but she knows it must be important. No one ever calls her around this time unless it’s absolutely necessary. Digging the phone out of her pocket, she sees the number of her building superintendent Paul flashing on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Miss Stevenson?” he asks, voice tinged with the toughness that comes with dealing with upset renters on a regular basis.

Magdalene chuckles at the formality, pointing out he hasn’t called her by her last name since she moved in five years ago. “Yeah Paul, it’s me. What’s up?”

There’s the crackle of static on the phone line as the man clears his throat. “So, uh, some bad news.” Magdalene’s stomach twists into an intricate knot. She knows she paid rent on time and can’t think of another reason he’d call her. “A sprinkler main on the floor above yours burst about an hour ago, and it’s pretty bad. Your place definitely got hit the hardest because it’s directly under where the pipe burst. You’re going to have to move out for at least two months while we gut the place and start from scratch. How quickly can you come and get the things that are salvageable from your apartment?”

“Fuck.” This is the worst news Magdalene has ever received. “I can be there in fifteen minutes,” she panics, “But Paul, you’ve gotta go inside and check on my cat. He’s going to be freaking out.”

Paul agrees to visit Caligula after some prodding, and Magdalene drives much faster than she ever has before through the neighbourhood. It’s far from reckless, but she knows that it isn’t the safest course of action. A police officer stops her about three minutes from her final destination but lets Magdalene go after she explains the situation as calmly as possible.

Other tenants affected by the flood are already moving boxes down the stairs when Magdalene pulls up. Everyone is understandably grief stricken, but she can’t find it in herself to console them like she would under normal circumstances. All Magdalene cares about is making sure Caligula is okay. She sprints up the four flights of stairs and doesn’t even break a sweat, adrenaline flooding her veins. Her apartment door is ajar, most likely from Paul entering a few minutes ago, and she flings it open with more force than probably needed. It swings back violently on its hinges and makes a spectacular crash when it hits the wall.

“Caligula?”

“He’s in the bathroom,” Paul sighs. “I can’t get him out of the tub but he’s still breathing. Is he not scared of water?”

Magdalene lets out a breath of relief she didn’t know she was holding in. She treads deeper into the apartment, casually assessing the damage, before reaching the room in question. There, pressed against the far corner of the tub, is the fluffy white cat that Magdalene’s heart beats for most days. Paul is there too, leaning against the sink and shaking his head.

“Thank you,” Magdalene says sincerely. “I’ve got it from here.”

The superintendent exits the unit with a solemn goodbye and heads to the lobby, no doubt going to direct traffic flow and answer questions. It takes a few minutes but Magdalene coaxes the cat out of the tub and into her arms. She holds him tightly and whispers words of praise, knowing it will help to calm them both down. After an uncounted amount of minutes Magdalene moves them into the bedroom, that looks surprisingly intact upon first glance, and changes out of her work clothes and into something more suitable for rummaging around her destroyed home. Caligula climbs up her body and settles gingerly into the hood on her sweatshirt. She starts in the bedroom, and finds that the only thing that’s actually salvageable is the clothes in her closet. Grabbing the suitcase from the top shelf, Magdalene shoves everything inside of it and wheels it into the living room.

She spends the next few hours going through every room in a meticulous manner, desperate to keep relics from her life in Denver. The water did a number on her space and destroyed almost everything. All the furniture is a write-off, and most of her books and records are ruined. Two things that withstood the damage are faux marble busts of Augustus and Marcus Aurelius, which Magdalene packs into one of the boxes Paul dropped off. Everything else fits in three other boxes and they’re tucked into the trunk of her car before the sun sets. Paul insists that the demolition company will get rid of everything else and ensures her she won’t have to pay rent while the construction is going on. It isn’t much of a consultation, considering that Magdalene has no idea where she’ll be staying, but she thanks him anyways as she makes the final trip to her car with Caligula.

Once inside, Magdalene breaks down. She has no idea what to do – no one is in Denver to help her out and she can’t afford to stay in a hotel for however many months this is going to take to fix. Tyson and Bette will be back in just over a month, but Magdalene doesn’t want to bother them or guilt them into coming back early. She cries in the driver’s seat of her car for a while, Caligula on her lap and doing his best to lick up the tears streaming down her cheeks. Not knowing what else to do, she dials Ryan’s number. Though they haven’t been talking as frequently due to the time difference and Magdalene’s insistence he enjoys his time with family, she knows he’ll pick up and listen intently. He’ll also hopefully talk her down from the imaginary ledge she’s found herself on.

He picks up on the second ring. “How’s my favourite girl?” Ryan asks, and Magdalene can hear the smile in his voice. The combination of his voice and the words spoken has her choking on another sob. “Hey, hey, breathe.” Concern is now the primary emotion expressed through the phone line. “Mags, what’s the matter?”

It takes her a few seconds and multiple pads of Caligula’s paws into her stomach for Magdalene to calm down, but she eventually tells Ryan what happened. He listens just as she thought he would, and keeps her breathing steady with his voice. She cries a bit more before running out of tears, but Ryan keeps her focussed on anything but the shitty circumstance she’s found herself victim to – detailing how he skated with Nate earlier in the day and just how many times his teammate kicked his ass. Hearing the mundane story helps more than Magdalene thought it would, and when Ryan asks her where she’s going to stay she responds with a relatively strong voice.

“I’m just going to sleep in my car.”

“Fuck no you aren’t.” The certainty in which Ryan utters the words takes Magdalene by surprise. For someone so far away, he has a lot of opinions on what she should be doing.

She sighs. “There isn’t another option Ry. I can’t afford a hotel for the months my apartment is going to be out of commission and there’s no point in renting another place.”

“Stay with me.”

A series of flabbergasted noises come out of Magdalene’s dropped jaw, but she can’t form any words. Ryan continues, “Think about Caligula. Being cramped in a car isn’t going to be good for him. Or for you. I have an extra bedroom you can call your own for as long as you need. Please Mags.”

Truthfully, it’s the best she’s going to get. Bette and Tyson offered to house a couple of rookies this season, meaning their spare rooms are filled, and there’s no one else she’s close enough with to think about asking. “I don’t want to intrude,” she sighs, but it isn’t a very convincing deflection.

“I want you there,” Ryan insists, “And little boots too.”

It takes them a while to work out the logistics, but Ryan makes a couple of calls and lets the doorman of his building know Magdalene is moving in. He also books a flight for the next day, and ensures her that he’s more than ready to come back to Colorado. They talk for a few more minutes, and in that time she gets directions to her temporary home. Once Ryan hangs up with well wishes and a see-you-soon, Magdalene looks in her rear-view mirror and sets out for a part of Denver she never thought she’d live in.

☼☼☼☼

When Magdalene calls Bette to fill her in on what’s been going on while on the way to pick Ryan up from the airport, the blonde is taken aback by the surplus of information. “Hold on,” she breathes, “Ryan’s coming back to Denver?”

“What part of ‘I’m on my way to the airport to pick up Ryan’ was confusing?” Magdalene laughs.

Her friend doesn’t find the jest funny. “Fuck off.” The comment only increases Magdalene’s laughter, but Bette forges on with the conversation. “Can you recap the events that led to Ryan leaving home nearly three weeks early?”

Magdalene indulges her friend, explaining for what feels like the hundredth time that her apartment was destroyed in a flood and that Ryan offered her his spare bedroom and that he was coming home so she wouldn’t be alone in the unfamiliar environment. Bette listens in silence, and Magdalene imagines she has a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. She’s made quite a few comments about how friendly the two of them seem, but Magdalene does her best to shrug them off. Ryan can just be her friend, a great one even, without Bette projecting her need to have her best friend to have an identical lifestyle to her. Even if she’s right, and Magdalene does want there to be something more between her and Ryan.

“Hold the phone.” Magdalene hears Tyson shout, no doubt getting closer to his girlfriend so he can join in on the conversation. “Gravy’s letting you stay at his place?”

“Yeah…” she trails off, unsure about what wasn’t clear this time.

Tyson hums as though he’s an old-school anthropologist who just made an astute observation about the group they’re studying. “Interesting.”

“How so?”

“Well for starters, he barely lets us hang out at his place,” Tyson explains. “I think I’ve been there maybe twice. So that’s new. Is Caligula staying with you?”

Magdalene is completely confused. “Why wouldn’t he be? He’s my cat.”

“How does Gravy feel about it?”

“What the fuck are you getting at Tys?” Magdalene asks, but there’s a bite to the question. She’s tired of the impromptu interrogation he’s providing. “Because Ryan was excited to have him around. Last night I sent him a video of little boots prancing around the condo like he owned the place and he thought it was hilarious.”

Bette, who had been silent for several minutes, gasps loudly. Tyson laughs, but Magdalene can tell it’s riddled with disbelief. “Mags,” he says gently, though with more than enough teasing laced in, “Gravy isn’t a big pet guy.”

The comment hits Magdalene like a tonne of bricks. What is she supposed to do with that information? There’s only ten more minutes until she gets to the airport, and she needs time to push Tyson’s comment to the back of her brain and collect herself. Magdalene gives a rushed farewell before hanging up the phone and checking her rearview mirror and blindspots. The radio filters back through the car speakers, but she doesn’t hear it, too caught up in what Ryan allowing Caligula to share his space means. There’s little traffic on the off-ramp and before she knows it Magdalene is pulling into a parking space and killing the engine.

She grabs the messily scribbled welcome home banner from the back seat before locking the doors and heading inside to the arrivals section. The inside of the airport looks similar to the empty parking lot – it’s a Tuesday after all. Only a few others wait with her for the plane, and many chat idly amongst themselves. Magdalene stays off to the side in an attempt to not get sucked into a conversation about the upcoming thunderstorm. Passengers slowly trickle through the open door, and Ryan is easy to spot. He towers above everyone and is carrying a rather large bag of hockey equipment. Magdalene smiles at the sight of him, unable to help herself. It’s been nearly a month and a half since she’s seen him and being apart for that long is something she never wants to do again.

“Hi,” she breathes as he approaches, waving awkwardly while she speaks. It’s as though she hasn’t spent countless hours talking with him about every possible topic her mind could dream up.

Ryan doesn’t feel the tension, or if he does he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he wraps her in a tight hug that lasts a touch longer than one with just a friend should, especially in public. Magdalene tries hard not to melt into his side but it’s nearly impossible – Ryan has a magnetic pull that tugs on her heartstrings and makes her insides feel fuzzy. Others bustling around the terminal start to give them strange looks, and it’s only then that Ryan clears his throat and untangles his arms from Magdalene’s waist.

He smiles down at the strong-willed brunette with kind eyes and shoulders his bag once more. “Let’s go home.”

☼☼☼☼

It takes a few days to settle into a routine, but once they do it’s glorious. Training camp doesn’t start for another three weeks, so Ryan spends his day doing light workouts and chilling with Caligula while Magdalene is at work. Once she gets home they make dinner and watch West Wing reruns on the cable network Ryan didn’t know he was even paying for. Their lives fit together seamlessly and it surprises Magdalene just how much she missed having a roommate – Bette moved out after their sophomore year of college, and it’s been just her and Caligula ever since. Though the personal space is nice, she likes being able to hear Ryan laugh at the meme she just sent or knocking on his door in the middle of night to ask if he wants ice cream.

Magdalene wakes up one Saturday to complete silence. It’s unsettling considering she hasn’t heard that since adopting her pet – Caligula sleeps next to her head and breathes loud enough that she’ll never have to buy a white noise machine. She notices her door is slightly ajar and hears soft noises coming from the living room. Ryan must be taking a day off, Magdalene notes, because he’s typically out of the house by seven and it’s currently five minutes past eight. She rolls out of bed and stumbles into the ensuite, brushing the tangles out of her hair and washing her face.

Not bothering to change out the pyjama pants and hoodie she stole from Ryan, Magdalene pads into the sunlit living room to see her roommate doing yoga. On a tiny mat beside him is Caligula, stretching his limbs like he’s following along with the tutorial. The sight is adorable, and before she can think twice about it Magdalene is snapping a photo of the two of them and posting it to her Instagram story.

“You trying to whip my cat into shape Graves?” Magdalene teases, weaving around them and plopping onto the couch, bringing her knees to her chin and holding in a yawn.

Ryan laughs, loud and care-free, and Magdalene wishes he could record the sound and play it on loop. “He kept trying to sit underneath me and I didn’t want to hurt him. I read somewhere that if you give a cat something similar to what you’re doing they’ll leave you alone. Guess it really works.”

Her heart constricts in the best way possible. Ryan continues to go above and beyond to make her and Caligula welcome and doesn’t seem to mind they’re the ones invading his space and not the other way around. There’s still twenty minutes left on the YouTube video he’s watching, so Magdalene pushes herself off the expensive leather sectional and into the kitchen. The least she could do is make breakfast. Deciding on pancakes, Magdalene gets to work prepping the batter and warming up the frying pan. She hums absentmindedly to the Joni Mitchell song playing on the small radio she placed in the kitchen window. Music always made cooking more enjoyable for her, and Ryan doesn’t seem to mind the device taking up space.

The island is set and the food ready by the time Ryan slides into his seat, small beads of sweat lingering on his forehead from the workout. Magdalene resists the urge to wipe them away and instead busies herself with placing the right amount of berries on his plate.

“Mags,” Ryan calls softly, pulling her out of her mind and back down to Earth. “That’s more than enough. Sit down and eat before it gets cold.”

They eat in silence until Caligula appears, meowing for whatever scraps he can get his hands on. Against Magdalene’s pleas Ryan feeds him a blueberry. The cat sniffs it inquisitively before swallowing it, though it comes up again a few moments later.

“You’re cleaning that one up bud,” she laughs, bending down to make sure Caligula is okay before rinsing her plate in the sink.

“Fuck.”

Ryan does as he’s told and helps Magdalene with the dishes before getting ready to head out for an unofficial team meeting. Camp starts in a few days and Gabe wants to get together and make sure they’re all on the same page before barreling head-first into the season. He promises to pick them up a late lunch of sandwiches from Barn Owl and Magdalene follows him to the door to say goodbye. It feels natural, like they’ve always shared this routine, and she knows that Ryan feels it too because he wraps her in a tight hug before petting Caligula one last time and slipping out the door.

Bette calls soon after he leaves and grills Magdalene on all the details of her new living arrangement. She’s still in Canada, spending a few more days there than Tyson to help his mom and sister finish unpacking their things at the house they recently purchased.

“So, have you kissed him yet?”

The question is asked in such a casual, Bette-like manner that Magdalene barely chokes on her water. “Bee, what the fuck?”

“Oh come off it Mags,” she sighs, “You like him. He likes you. The two of you live together now. It’s only a matter of time before the friendship turns into something more.”

The blonde is right about at least one thing – Magdalene has developed a steady crush on Ryan. She should have known being in such close proximity to him all the time would put her feelings into overdrive. However, she didn’t have another option other than to accept his offer when it was proposed nearly a month ago, so Magdalene is now being forced to deal with the repercussions.

“I have, in fact, not kissed Ryan,” Magdalene huffs. “But I’ve thought about it once or twice.”

A squeal tears from Bette’s throat and she forces her friend to share the details. Magdalene obliges mostly to get her off her back, but it does feel good to talk about it with someone. It’s a very long time since she’s had romantic feelings for anyone, and Magdalene is nearly giddy with excitement over the possibility of new-found love by the time Ryan gets home. She says farewell to Bette and promises to come over as soon as they're both in the same city again.

It’s later than both of them expected, so they decide to forgo lunch and instead cook an early dinner. Ryan wants chicken and Magdalene wants spaghetti, so naturally they compromise on a carbonara without the pork. The radio is cranked to the highest volume as they work, both singing along and in their own little worlds. Magdalene is in charge of cooking the pasta and Ryan sets about making the sauce, and more than once she catches him looking at her while he’s supposed to be stirring the mixture. She can’t be too mad, however, because each time their eyes meet she’s supposed to be doing her job too. Before too much time has passed the meal is ready. It cools on two plates while Caligula is fed and wine is poured – the former done by Magdalene because the cat still isn’t quite comfortable enough with Ryan. Once sitting, they raise their glasses in a silent toast and dig in. The pasta tastes heavenly, and Magdalene makes sure to say so.

“Oh my god this is delicious,” she nearly moans, “You have to make this like every night.”

Ryan laughs and raises his fingers in mock salute. “You got it boss.”

Conversation flows into how they spent their hours apart – Ryan gushing about how good it was to see his teammates again and Magdalene talking about how she caught up with Bette on the phone. She of course left out the part where she confessed feelings for her best friend to her other, more senior best friend. Dinner passes in the blink of an eye and soon the two of them are standing side by side at the sink, elbows knocking occasionally as they do the dishes.

“Want to watch a movie tonight?” Ryan asks nonchalantly. “You said earlier this week you wanted to see Clueless again.”

Magdalene smiles – of course he would remember this offhand comment she made a few days ago about the classic. “That sounds fantastic. Can you finish putting these away? I’m going to pop a couple blankets in the dryer to warm up and see if I can get a nice picture of the sunset for Bette, she mentioned on the phone that she’s missing it.”

“She literally hasn’t changed time zones!”

Laughter tumbles from Magdalene’s lips as she slips out of the kitchen. Two fluffy blankets are pulled from the back of the couch on her way down the hall and tossed into the machine. Grabbing the same sweater of Ryan’s she was wearing earlier in the day from the foot of her bed, Magdalene heads for the balcony door and slips through the glass.

The city is nearly silent. Cars pass under Ryan’s balcony like blips in the night, but they don’t dare touch the peaceful atmosphere radiating from Magdalene. She’s had one of the best nights of her life, just her and Ryan laughing over glasses of wine and the pasta dish they cooked together. It’s all so domestic and charged with stolen glances and soft smiles that Magdalene knows it’s more than two friends living together for a short period of time. There’s been a fundamental shift in their relationship but she doesn’t know how to address it, or if she even wants to despite her looming attraction. Being with Ryan is so easy that she forgets it’s only temporary. Realistically she knows it can’t last forever, but she finds herself hoping each day Paul will call and tell her the rebuild is taking longer than expected.

Ryan calls her inside, informing her the blankets are out of the dryer and the movie she picked out days ago is queued up on the television. Magdalene takes a deep breath and finishes her glass of wine in one gulp. Hopefully he won’t notice when she casually leans in and rests her head on his shoulder halfway through the film.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @samsteel @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlbluesbrat21 @denis-scorianov @danglesnipecelly @c-tangerine @stormingroses @spine-buster (add yourself to the taglist!)

#ryan graves imagine #ryan graves x oc #ryan graves fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #dmtteol

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terrm9 · 3 years

Text

you give it to me anyway (Tatum X Lina)

Set immediately after the ending of chapter 13.

Update (after the events of chapter 14): in this little series, Tatum does not go back to the army but is relocated to work as a bodyguard for some random politician in Rutherland. That's why this goodbye of theirs is not as heartbreaking as it was canonically. Therefore, shall the two other parts happen, they will not follow canon because I have them planned and I refuse to make new plans

WC: 3 600; rating: M (mature)

Warnings: swearing, making out, mentions of smoking, alcohol consumption, adult situations; hurt/comfort

Author’s note: my first Foreign Affair fic - it was so much fun to write I forgot about my two idiot doctors for a while. This is supposed to be part 1 of three-parts mini series, but 1) I have no idea when those two other parts will happen and 2) if it goes by plan, they will be all completely okay to read as stand-alones so hopefully this will be enjoyable no matter what.

She could feel it. She could swear she could; she could pinpoint the moment her mind stopped working and all the energy normally divided between the gears in her head and the beating of her heart suddenly focused solely on the latter.

Her mind stopped working and her heart drummed against her ribcage twice as hard.

Lina doesn’t remember much after that, after bursting through the door and demanding an answer (“Why the fuck would you take Tatum off the team?”), her memories a messy blur of shouting (hers), a voice trying to calm her down (Demarco’s) and the one that mattered in the end.

“Lina,” Tatum put his hand on her shoulder, his face stoic – but she knew better, she could see his eyes, eyes pained, eyes pleading. “Get inside. I will be with you in a moment.”

“But-“ she opened her mouth to protest, only to be stopped by Tatum’s gentle squeeze and eyes more pleading.

Just get in and wait for me, he whispered and that’s how she has gotten here.

Pacing back and forth in her room, biting her lip so hard she feels blood. Her brain is working again, thinking and analyzing (overthinking, overanalyzing) and she needs a cigarette, a shot of vodka, she needs to punch something (someone), needs to just do something.

The tremor in her hands violent and she clenches them in fists, telling herself that it’s anger, a rage running through her whole body, but there is that traitorous voice that whispers – no, screams – that she knows this is more than that, that it’s fear.

A lump in her throat formed and unmoving and Lina swallows once, twice, keeps swallowing until she cannot catch her breath but the fucking lump is still there and tears are threatening to fall from her eyes and-

No.

Line Monroe does not cry. She has learnt not to cry, hasn’t cried since-

She does not cry.

Tries to take a deep breath but it’s completely useless and Lina knows how she feels. Like a crystal vase in the middle of a big wooden table, beautiful and shiny and protected at all costs – all of it worth nothing when an earthquake comes. This is her personal earthquake, every second pushing her closer to the edge, sobs threatening to cut her open, to leave her mouth and never stop and she wonders if falling over the edge and just break into million pieces would be such a terrible thing.

She could beg. She would beg, if only that would help. She only begged once in her life.

(Lina has never been the picture of a perfect child – well, definitely not after Tatum left. No, she lived for making her mother’s political career an actual hell, she laughed into her face in the middle of a scolding. The First Daughter of Rutherland couldn’t give less fucks about what her mother wants, needs, asks for. Nobody ever asked what she wanted, needed, asked for.)

She only begged once in her life – she was seven and desperately wanted a puppy. (She could do it again at the age of twenty-two and desperately wanting her Tatum.)

Mom, I promise I’ll be good. (Mom, I promise I’ll be good.)

I will take care of him. (He will take care of me.)

I won’t eat sweets. (I won’t smoke. Won’t get drunk.)

I will do all of my homeworks. (I will go on as many fake dates as you want.)

I won’t watch TV. (I won’t cause another scandal.)

I will clean the whole house! (I will attend all the summits, I will, I will.)

Mom, please. (Mom, please.)

She never got the puppy. (She knows that no matter how much she begs, she will not get to keep Tatum, either.)

An earthquake and she is starting to accept her fate, awaiting the final shake, the strongest vibration that will make her fall from the table and shatter.

There is a soft knock on the door and she feels it coming, the magnitude strong enough to stir fear inside of people.

Tatum walks in, closing the door behind him carefully – and the Richter scale does not have enough values to describe how dangerous this earthquake has gotten.

“Lina,” he whispers softly, stretching his arms towards her and that’s it.

The crystal vase falls to the ground (into Tatum’s arms) and the shards cut skin (and the sobs cut Lina open).

It is easy after the first one – like the blood spilling out of the cut, like a plug removed and water pouring, flooding, destroying, the sobs leave her mouth and her shoulders shake and Lina hasn’t done this in four years, hasn’t shed a tear for so long but Tatum’s arms encircle her, strong and firm and safe and no, breaking into million pieces is not such a terrible thing after all.

She thinks she screams in one moment and Tatum only hugs her tighter, slowly dropping to the soft carpet, pulling Lina with him, his arms never (never, never) leaving her shivering body – and she holds onto him tighter than she holds onto her own life (own dignity, own worth, none of it more important that holding onto Tatum), hands still clenched in fists. Lina’s grip on his perfect white shirt must be uncomfortable and she is sure she is ruining the fabric, if not with her nails then definitely with her mascara-tinted tears.

For a long, long moment they stay like that – Tatum kneeling on the floor and Lina curled up against his chest, sobs wrecking her body and his hands drawing soothing circles on her back.

“We will make this work, Lina,” he whispers when the room falls into silence, the only memory of Lina’s ignominious breakdown being Tatum’s soaked shirt and her throbbing temples. “You are strong and the other bodyguards are capable. Demarco is a good agent, they will keep you safe.”

“I don’t care about being safe,” she scoffs. “All my life, everyone has only cared about me being safe. You are… You have always been the only one to care about how I am feeling. If I am happy. And now you are leaving again.”

Tatum pulls back a little – not enough to break the contact of his hands on her shoulders, just enough to look her into eyes – and with a voice that is quiet but firm, leaving no room for doubts, he says: “I am not leaving you, Lina. I won’t be returning to army, okay? I am going back to Rutherland tomorrow and only then I will be informed about this move – maybe I am only being taken off for some time. This is not the same as the last time.”

“I cannot lose you again,” she whispers, not meeting his eyes. As if she was not sure about her decision to share such moment of vulnerability with him.

“You will not. Who is my toughest galyetas here, hm?”

Lina looks up at him at that, the initial shock from hearing the old nickname (the one she hasn’t heard in years, the one she has missed for years) soon replace by her smile, however faint and it’s like the sun peeked into the room all at once.

(Eyes puffy and red, cheeks wet from tears and lips swollen from biting and has she always been this beautiful?, Tatum wonders.)

“I am,” she chuckles before Tatum demands the answer and encouraged by the moment of clarity that has settled over them, she manages to stand up and open the closet.

Impulsive would be a great word to describe Lina. Unpredictable. Fierce. Mostly fierce, Tatum thinks and it should not be a surprise for him when Lina takes off her skinny jeans and light blue blouse, carelessly throwing them over the chair and it should not be a surprise when she follows the motion to take her bra off, no, it should not be a surprise for him and yet-

The heat in his cheeks is inappropriate, for God’s sake, and he should – he must – tear his gaze off her naked back, but he cannot (and how many nights he wished he was granted this? how many days?). He stares and stares as she ruffles through the closet and it’s his time to clench his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching out to her.

“I should… I will leave you to change,” he finds his voice and it’s low and husky and inappropriate, but Lina just smirks as she turns slightly to face him better and he needs to avert his gaze, he must not stare at the curve of her breasts, so perfect above her ribcage.

“You have already seen me naked,” the smirk widens. “And besides, you should get out of that wet shirt too.”

Getting out of his clothes does not sound like a good idea to him, not in the slightest, but it gives him a reason to look down and unbutton his shirt – and that motion gives him some time to take a deep breath and respond.

“Yes, I have seen you naked. When we were five and swimming in a lake.”

He can swear he heard Lina mutter ‘time to check how much has changed in those fifteen years’, but Tatum doesn’t trust himself enough to engage in that conversation and so he carefully slips out of his jacket and the stained shirt and switches his radio off before putting everything in a neat stack on the top of a drawer.

Tatum sits down again after that, his back leaned against Lina’s bed and soon she joins him, soft grey cotton shorts and tank top on. She mirrors his position and they share a private smile, because it is their position, the one everyone knows them by – knee to knee, shoulder to shoulder, (heart to heart), Tatum’s arm wrapped around Lina’s shoulders and her hand resting on his right knee. It is always this position for them and Lina can’t count how many photos they have together, where they sit exactly like this.

“Are we going to be okay?” she whispers, almost not daring to break the comfort they bring out of each other. But she needs to. She needs to know that they are going to be okay.

“Of course,” he nudges her knee with his own softly and smiles down at her. For a moment, she pretends she does not see the panic swirling in his eyes, giving away that he does not know, that there is no of course for them.

She nods, her fingers drawing mindless patterns on his leg and she is sure they are not that mindless, she knows that in a language only known to them she is writing her confessions, she is writing a love letter.

More mindless patterns and Lina feels Tatum’s eyes on her, caring and loving and worried, definitely worried, but she doesn’t look up at him because the emotions his gaze can stir inside of her are enough to send her into another breakdown.

“Do you remember Scott Diaz’s party?” she asks into the silence.

Tatum chuckles loudly and squeezes the shoulder he is hugging. “Of course.”

“It was the first time I got drunk,” Lina says as if it was an explanation itself, when in reality this conversation was not making any sense so far.

Scott’s party was the one which only Lina attended when she was sixteen – Tatum had to stay home to help his father with something (it was not important to Lina back then) and Lina didn’t mind that much because she liked Scott and she believed there were higher chances of her charming him without Tatum’s alert gaze directed at her.

“Yes, I remember,” Tatum decides to play this game that makes no sense with her. “It was my toilet you threw up into that night.”

“I remember getting drunk with Scott and his stupid friends and realizing that they were a group of idiots, with Scott being the greatest idiot of them all. But I was drunk and he was my first crush and I just wanted him to like me and I was ready to do anything.”

“Yes,” Tatum says again, this time much more quietly, though. “I remember your phone call at 2 AM. You were crying and asked me to come and rescue you because you are drunk and nauseous and Scott is a dick but you might sleep with him if I don’t come.”

There is a long pause and Lina thinks he might not continue. Even worse, she fears he might ask why she is bringing the story up now.

To her utmost surprise, Tatum laughs and continues: “I stole my dad’s car so that I could get you out of there faster. You threw up in the backseat and my dad almost killed me because he was supposed to take your mother to the airport the next morning.”

Lina laughs with him shortly and the room falls into silence once again.

Once again, Lina makes sure to interrupt the comfort it brings.

“And then you left and there was nobody to rescue me anymore.”

She is not sure why she said that. No, Lina does not want to tell Tatum about those years he has been away. She is scared (and she has never been that scared in her whole damn life), scared to share the failures and slips of her past, scared that he would get up and leave-

(Because that’s what he should do)

-scared that he would see what she sees every time she looks in the mirror and Lina does not care about the opinion of the others, she does not care if someone sees her as someone worthy or not, as long as that someone is not Tatum.

Deep down, she knows he would not, he will not leave, she knows Tatum - the same Tatum that strokes her upper arm now, giving her the space to sort her thoughts – will stay with her even in the moments she does not want to stay with herself.

And there is one fear that is bigger, greater, more terrible than the fear of being left – fear of hurting him. The idea of her past being the reason of his hurt, being the thing that puts the haunted look into his eyes, makes her want to throw up.

She will need to tell him eventually because if somebody deserves her honesty, it’s Tatum Mendoza, her best friend, her savior, her Tatum.

Eventually does not mean now.

Tatum wishes Lina could say something, anything, he wants her to share her demons with him and he almost asks her to tell him everything but before he can do so, she turns abruptly and looks at him, her eyes no longer puffy or red – glossy and bright and beautiful now and she doesn’t say a word.

She just looks at him like he is the only thing in the whole world worth looking at.

"It's your eyes," she says quietly, reaching to cup his stubbled cheek with her left hand.

"My eyes?" Tatum asks, surprised by the sudden statement.

Lina nods, tracing his left eyebrow with her finger before moving to stroke the skin under his eyes and finally reaching the bridge of his nose.

"There's no one else's eyes that could see into me," she whispers and her finger traces circles around his right eye now, soothing the wrinkles - reminders of their earlier laugh.

(She doesn't know those wrinkles are hers; nobody makes him laugh like she does)

Her gaze doesn't leave those eyes, not for a second and and the intensity she looks at him with is far more intimate than her naked form, bare torso and soft skin she shared with him moments ago.

Tatum is sure he must be blushing.

It’s the moment her thumb traces his lower lip when they snap.

The atmosphere of fear and uncertainty and mutual understanding so deep it ignites further fear changing into the one of passion and need and fire, fire, fire, burning inside and outside, the moment their lips meet.

He has kissed many girls and he knows Lina has kissed many people too and fuck, they even kissed each other before but this kiss is different, filled with more than just years of friendship (years of love) – filled with years of separation, years of longing, years of pain.

They kiss as if the pressure of their tongues against each other’s could be their private painkiller.

A moment later they are on the bed and Lina is not sure how they got there, she can’t remember they mouths parting but it must be so, because she is laying on her back, her hands firmly against Tatum’s shoulder blades to pull him closer and it still feels like he is not close enough, one of his hands next to her head and the other tangled in her hair, pulling on them and massaging her scalp all at once as he kisses her the way she has never been kissed before.

Lina’s hand moves from his upper back to his shoulder, caressing the old scar there and moves to his chest and his stomach and she feels him growl against the skin of her neck at the touch, the vibrations sending shivers over her whole body; she reaches his waistband and her finger fumble on the button of his trousers as he kisses her collarbone.

His fingers circle her wrist suddenly and he moves her hand away from him, gently (as he always is with her, gentle).

“You don’t want-?” she doesn’t know what to say. Me? This? Us?

“I want everything with you, Lina,” he sighs and it’s almost painful sound. “But I cannot take an advantage of this situation. You are – we both are – worried about your future, exhausted and uncertain and I don’t want our first time to happen under such circumstances. You deserve much better.”

There is a part of her that wants to cry again. Sob again and punch someone, because of course he is right.

(It is every single part of her, actually. Every single part wants to cry and sob and punch)

He is right, as he always is. He knows what she needs even when she doesn't know it herself – he always had known. Five years apart did nothing to change that.

Lina traces the lines of Tatum naked torso with her eyes and perhaps it should scare her how familiar it feels. She knows his body, every (almost every. Almost, she reminds herself) scar and every freckle, his flexed muscles and long fingers, she knows his body, even though she grew up getting to know a body of a boy and now her fingers are caressing a body of a man.

She hates how vulnerable she feels and how much she wants to share everything with him. But that's now what she has taught herself, no.

And so, despite the disgusting feeling of tension in her throat, she smirks and asks: "Why do you care about the first time so much?"

Tatum chuckles and makes a show of rolling his eyes (not leaving his position above her, not even now), biting his lower lip deep in his thoughts.

When he looks down at her again, however, his gaze is tender, too tender and intense and Lina has to avert her eyes because surely he can see into her, he can see all that she has done, all that she has caused while he was gone, not there to save her, to take care of her.

"It's not the first time I care about," he speaks softly and any hints of amusement are gone. "It's the first time with you."

She almost asks him about his first time – she knows it must have happened after he left. There is the part that is Tatum’s childhood best friend and is simply curious. They shared everything with each other – first crush and first kiss and first platonic love, she knew his and he knew hers. Of course she is curious about his first sex or how many firsts there were, how many people that got to know him in the way she has never gotten.

There is another part of her, a bigger one, she realizes with dread, that hopes he would tell her that he has lost count, that his five years in army were filled with infinite excesses and that he would rather not talk about it – maybe then her deeds would be justified.

She cannot ask him because it’s Tatum and he would ask back.

What would she tell him?

She laughs to herself, a sardonic sound lacking any hint of joy it is supposed to carry.

I have no idea. I am not sure about the first nor about the last time. I cannot count them, I will never be able to count them because I do not remember.

I do not remember.

“Lina,” he whispers, still hovering above her. “Don’t do that. Stay here with me.”

“I-“ she opens her mouth – for what, she doesn’t know. To explain or to apologize?

“We do not have to talk, mahal. We can just lay next to each other until the morning comes, alright?”

Tatum lays down next to her and wraps his arms around her without further questions and as she puts her head on his chest and listens to the steady beat of his heart, she feels calm for the first time in weeks.

“Alright,” she whispers back.

They lay next to each other through the night, listening to each other’s hearts and breathing and Lina thinks that even though they don’t talk, there are novels of conversations exchanged between them that night, written in the softest of sounds they make.

*** *** ***

Ever since finding out that Tatum is Filipino, I felt this desire in my heart to throw some (nick)names for Lina in his native language here and for him to use them. I can’t see him calling her darling on daily basis, but I can see him muttering it in the language he grew up with when the moment asks for it

galyetas = cookie, biscuit (Tatum’s nickname for Lina since forever)

mahal = darling, sweetheart

I am not exactly happy with how the ending turned out but it’s not going to get better so you have to suffer through it with me

Thank you for reading!

#foreign affairs #tatum x mc #tatum mendoza #tatum x lina #play choices

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imgoingtohellsofuckit · 4 years

Text

But Baby Bird

Cheating!Hawks x Reader

Warning - Cheating! Toxic ass behavior.

Summary - You catch Hawks cheating on you - and you decide to take him down a peg

Apparently cheating Hawks is a trend right now? And like I’m down... But in my way. Also listen to the glee version of Bust your windows and it 100% fueled this.

Today was a normal day for you. You got off at work, went to pick up something for dinner, and headed home for the night. Work had been stressful. All the heroes at your agency seemed to need a hundred things. And running the behind the scenes of the agency was already hard enough. So you were longing to be home. In the arms of your fiancé. He’s always great with helping you recover from a bad day.

As you walk into the penthouse you notice a distinct lack of Hawks. Normally he greats you at the door- a drink and hand and a sweet kiss. However he was no where to be found. You don’t think too much on it. You’ve been at the office extra late the last couple weeks and with his hero work you know it brings natural conflicts in your schedules. However the pros boots at the door reveal he’s here. Still he could be asleep. He is one for laying around in his free time.

“Hawks baby?” You call “I’ve got us dinner.”

He doesn’t reply. You roll your eyes setting down the takeout bag on the kitchen counter. Starting to set it up. Knowing he’d be grateful to wake up to the meal. You move to grab some paper towels only to catch site of two wineglasses in the sink.

“The fact he can’t just reuse a dish-” You groan lightly.

“Baby bird-” You hear a distant groan. You move looking down the hall to the bedroom. “Oh Baby Bird.”

“He couldn’t fucking wait for me,” You growl, “what a tool.” You move marching towards the bedroom. Clearly annoyed that your boyfriend started with out you. ”Hawks I’m sure I’m better than your hand-”

The scene in front of you isn’t that of catching your partner jerking it off... No instead it’s Hawks balls deep in on of the interns from his agency.

“No fucking way,” You say harshly. Hawk looks over at you. Eyes wide. Guilt filling his expression.

“Love Bird-” Hawks start pulling away from the girl. The intern moving to grab the blankets from your bed to cover herself. Hawks standing and pulling his boxers from the ground as you stared at the scene.

The emotions flooding over you weren’t deafening. The anger. The sadness. The helplessness. The shock. All blending into an overwhelming mess. You just walked in on your fiancé fucking his intern. The man everyone warned you about proving their point.

For a moment you don’t do anything. Then you just start to laugh.

“This isn’t- let me jus explain.”

“Explain what?” You ask him laughing lightly, “that you’re fucking some bimbo from your office?”

“Y/n-”

“Fuck off Keigo,” You say harshly, “I’m done. I hope you and your little slut over there have fun...”

“Babe-”

You pull away harshly.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” You spit back.

You left. Wanting to be anywhere but there. So you ended up over at Rumi’s. Your friend giving you the usual break up kit. The pajama, ice cream. The whole nine yards. She tried to cheer you up as you sobbed. You wanted to understand why the hell he’d do that. Why he’d risk your relationship of 4 years all for a girl who’s barely legal. You wonder how long he’s been letting this happen? If she’s the only girl?

“Fuck Keigo,” Rumi says harshly.

“I tried that- didn’t work out so well in the end,” You say slightly amused. She laughs lightly.

“That’s the spirit babe,” She says, “he sucks- but he’s a learning exprience. Now you can go find a guy who treats you right-”

“Or I can burn his apartment down,” You say harshly.

“That’s an option,” She says, “I’m sure you’re dad will love that one. Mr. Hero Commission watching his sweet daughter burn her fiancé’s house to the ground.”

“You think he’d let that get out?” You ask her slightly amused, “man would have that covered up in a heart beat.”

“Well as much as I love the arson- let’s think smaller,” Rumi says, “like moving on... Show him what he lost.... And he lost the hottest bitch he’ll ever see.” You chuckle through the light tears. Moving to wipe them away. “Now no tears- pretty bitches down cry over fuck boys.” I laugh lightly. “Step one to cheering up is get under some hot guy- how’s Zawa sounding?”

“As much as I’d love to tread that wave of daddy issues- I can’t even think about that right now,” You say sadly, “Hawks and I were supposed to get married! I spent our entire relationship defending him from people telling me it would end up this way. I feel stupid.”

“That’s not your fault,” Rumi says, “you love him... Besides you aren’t the only girl who’s ever gotten hurt this way... Heroes fucking suck. Whores... All of them. They’ll stick it in anything that has a pulse- and even that’s not stopping them sometimes.”

“Ew,” You chuckle sadly. She starts to laugh.

“Bird man sucks- and you deserve so much more,” She tells you, “I promise you that this will only bring you closer to the guy who’s gonna treat you right.”

“Thanks Rumi,” You tell her. She moves pulling you into a hug.

“Any time song bird,” She says. When she pulls back she gives you a firm look. “Now go to bed- we’ve got moving out to do tomorrow.”

“Fine,” You tell her.

You try to head to sleep. You really do. But you barely get a wink when the sun starts shining through the large windows in Rumi’s living room. Outside you can hear birds chirping. The sound fills you to your core with anger. Stupid birds... Stupid Hawks. You toss a shoe at the window. The birds immediately flee.

“I know the man with wings fuck you over but don’t take it out on the birds,” Rumi says chuckling lightly. You look back to see her in the kitchen. She’s in her hero costume. Her bunny ears standing tall. “Morning song bird.”

“Ew” You groan, “I don’t want to hear that nickname ever again.”

“Oh come on I called you that before he who shall not be named ever did,” Rumi says, “your mother gave you that nickname. Don’t let him ruin it.”

“Too late,” You say as you stand from the couch. Moving over to grab a cup of coffee. Rumi rolls her eyes lightly at your comment. “I’m going to get my stuff- you still gonna be able to do that?”

“Sorry Y/n I got called in for patrols if you wanna wait here-”

“No I’m gonna go get a head start,” You tell her, “It’ll go faster that way anyways. You got any boxes?”

“No but Aizawa does- and he’s meeting us at yours to help move your stuff,” She says, “I’m giving you another chance to fuck him.” You roll your eyes roughly. “Come on! He’s hot- and before Hawks you would of killed to get under that man.”

“There was a lot I’d do pre hawks - but a lot of thats changed,” You tell her, “so I guess I’ll meet you there?”

She heads out for work. And you go through the basics of getting ready. You had called your boss to tell them you needed the day for a family emergency. This was kinda a emergency. Honestly you just couldn’t handle needing to run around for everyone else after all of that.

The penthouse isn’t too far from Rumi’s house. It’s a ten minute taxi ride. You stand out in front of the door for a minute. Anger slowly filling you as your mind replays the events of last night. You shove it away and finally open the door. The light of the morning reveals what you didn’t notice last night. Napkins with lipstick on the table. A few spare feathers on the couch. Small signs of the build up. You scoff loudly. Marching back to your room. You’re thankful that the intern isn’t there. Even more thankful Hawks isn’t. You start in the closet first. Grabbing your clothes in armfuls and tossing them onto the floor of the bedroom. Next you move to the dresser. Pulling the drawers out to dump your belongings out. You can hear the soft moans fill your ears on repeat. Keigo calling her baby bird. Something he’s called you a million times. You growl lightly. Trying to focus on getting your things. As your grabbing the picture of you and your late mother you notice a picture of you and Keigo the night he proposed. You were so happy. He promised it would be you two for the rest of you life. You move grabbing the frame. You don’t even know why. But it doesn’t stay in your hands long. In a split second your slamming it against the wall. Then you move tossing the other ones of you and Keigo on the floor. Glass is everywhere. You don’t care. You rip the frames off the wall letting them smash as well.

You calm down a bit. Moving to the bathroom to grab your stuff. However you catch yourself in the reflection. Smirking lightly as you catch the tube of lipstick on the counter. You uncap it and lean forward. Writing the word ‘Cheater’ across the glass in large red letters. Satisfied you toss the lipstick in your makeup bag then grab it to move it with the rest of your stuff. Next you move into the office. More pictures in frames around the room. You pull the down tossing them at the wall. Not caring about the scattering glass or the memories your destroying. You grab one of the markers from your desk to keep up with the redecoration. Scribbling ‘Whore’ ‘Player’ and other insults across the wall. You don’t care about what your doing. All you care about is the inconvence he’ll have cleaning this all up.

You move dragging the marker along the walls as you head out to the kitchen. Opening the shelves to toss plates and bowls on the ground.

“What the hell are you doing?”

You turn to see Keigo. He seems to be just walking in. He’s got his costume on. You smirk lightly as you drop a stack of plates on the ground. “Oops.”

“Y/n what the hell?!”

“You don’t like the redecoration? That’s a shame,” You say.

“Are you still mad?”

You don’t answer. Instead you let the teapot you toss at his head answer for you. He barely ducks it.

“Listen what happened-”

You move throwing a mug at him. He steps out of the way and it smacks the floor behind him.

“It was an accident.”

“You accidentally fucked her?” You ask harshly, “oh that’s the dumbest excuse I’ve ever fucking heard.”

“I meant it was a mistake- I messed up.”

“Oh shut the fuck up Keigo,” You growl, “I don’t wanna hear it.”

“We need to talk about this- like adults not throw a tantrum!”

You angrily toss the toaster at him. He smacks it away from him.

“You’re acting like a child!”

“You cheated on me!” You shout, “don’t give me that acting like a child shit.”

“I’m trying to talk to you and you’re throwing shit- so yeah you’re acting like a child,” He shouts back.

“Fine Keigo - what’s you’re excuse?” You ask him, “what lead you to this mistake?”

“You’re never around and I felt so alone-”

You don’t let him finish. You’re tossing the silverware drawer at him.

“You’re blaming you fucking your intern on me!” You scream, “oh my fucking god! You’re a joke.”

“Let me explain-”

“I- don’t- want- to - hear - it!” You scream in between tossing wine glasses at him. You’ve made a terrible mess of your kitchen. You couldn’t care less though. All you can think about is Keigo standing in front of you trying to blame him cheating all on you.

“Stop throwing shit!”

“Keep your dick in your pants!” You scream back.

“Did this little tantrum make you feel better?”

“No!” You scream, “you broke my heart Keigo! You cheated on me! I can’t believe you don’t understand why I’m so upset-”

“I’m trying to explain-”

“You’re trying to blame me!”

“Just let me talk!”

“No!” I scream, “I don’t care! I don’t want to hear your stupid reason!”

“Baby bird I love you-”

“HOW DARE YOU CALM ME WHAT YOU CALLED HER!” I scream on the top of my lungs. Anger radiating off of me. “You stupid- fucking- asshole!” More of the kitchenware goes flying. He’s dodging them. Mumbling explanations. You stop. Laughing lightly. He watches you clearly confused. You grab the lamp from the table and toss it straight into the middle of the TV.

“Babe oh my god!”

“Shut the fuck up! I’m done! I’m done letting you walk all over me! Defending you when you clearly don’t deserve it! And I’m done trying to love you when you clearly don’t love me!”

You yank the ring off your finger and toss it at him.

“We’re done.” I say firmly. He looks at me. Tears starting to well in his eyes. Suddenly the anger fades. You just felt numb. Over it all.

“Hey Y/n- Oh my god.”

You see Rumi and Shota at the door. Looking over the disaster of an apartment. Concern covering their faces.

“Are you okay?” Shota asks, “did he hurt you?”

You chuckle lightly.

“You think he did this?” You ask him, “I’m fine- Let’s get my shit and go... I don’t want to be here for another second.” You move past Hawks over to your friends.

“But Baby Bird,” Hawks says lightly. You look back to the man.

“Maybe next time you’ll think before you cheat-” You tell him, “see ya Bird Man.”

#cheating hawks #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami #mha x reader #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #cheating hawks x reader #cheatinghawks

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