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davidmann95 · 4 years

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So... Crossover #1: any thoughts?

Anonymous said: You seemed not to think much of Crossover #1 on Twitter. Your full thoughts?

wcwit said: So Cates' Crossover #1, best bad comic of the year or just regular pretentious trash?

An incidental note upfront: What you’re seeing there is the apparently SUPER-RARE SECRET VARIANT COVER I unwittingly picked up at the store - at first glance indistinguishable from the standard cover, the kid getting four-color-fucked by mysterious comic book rays is in fact themselves reading a variant cover of the book, rather than the main cover again in an infinite painting-within-a-painting sort of deal that’s the standard.

So I wasn’t gonna get this: my initial post on the comic and what an obviously awful idea it was back when we only knew half the premise and it was known as Pray The Capes Away actually got some out-of-nowhere traction recently, and I’ve grown rapidly tired of Cates’ Marvel work. Even learning that it was going to be Image’s biggest debut in decades - Jesus fuck, how and why - mostly just made me wish it was Commanders in Crisis getting those kinds of numbers. But Sean Dillon/@deathchrist2000 and Ritesh Babu both got early looks at it and assured me that I, specifically, needed to see the last page, so in I dove. I’ll be posting my reaction to the last page below because I recorded it for their amusement, and below that I’ll talk about said last page. It may surprise you, however, that that wasn’t my main takeaway from the issue.

Let’s accentuate the positive first! This book is gorgeous. Geoff Shaw was terrific back with Thanos Wins, but this is an incredible stylistic level-up aided and abetted by Dee Cunniffe’s colors: it’s rote as hell to say “They mix the elevated and the mundane so well!”, but even beyond the obvious ben-day dots stuff there’s such a tangible sense that the comic book beings don’t belong here, that they’re of higher, misty, platonic stuff and we squishy non-paper-people inevitably crumble and break and bleed in their wake, communicating that big idea so much more powerfully than the actual loads of text on the subject. And if we’re talking good things, I’ll concede it’s possible that there could be subtleties that play out in more interesting ways as it goes on, and that not everything is meant to be taken at face value: a smart friend who actually did like it mentioned being interested in it as clumsy but potentially effective exploration of ‘what if the fun hobby you had inadvertently became contaminated and stigmatized by forces beyond your control?’ In a post-Comicsgate world where we recently ended up inches away from the Superman logo almost certainly becoming a fascist propaganda symbol ala the Punisher skull for at least a generation, that’s a defensible lens to view this book through.

For all Donny Cates’ legitimate talents however, I don’t think an expectation of subtlety is gonna work out with this one.

Okay first off getting into the rest of it the main characters’ name is Ellipsis because “Those three little dots...they can become anything”, so there’s that. More importantly, in the world of this story where comic fans face social oppression after superpeople materialize and fuck up Colorado, they face EVERY KIND OF OPPRESSION: there are clear parallels drawn in here to the violence and harassment faced by people persecuted for their religion, people seeking abortions, queer people, and people of color; this motherfucker even drops a “hates and fears” to let us know comic collecting basically makes you one of the goddamn X-Men. Which in theory could be a purely misjudged allegory rather than stemming from actual, obscenely inflated to the point of disgusting fears of ‘nerd oppression’, except that the book literally opens with a quote from Wertham. If Cates didn’t want to make the message “Hating comics? That’s bad. Like, racism bad”, he utterly, grotesquely failed by inextricably intermingling imagery of real-world bigotry with systemic, deluded fanboy paranoia, at least as of this first issue that’s supposed to meaningfully convey the premise. As a queer dude I think I’m somewhat in my lane to say it’s too blunt and broad and dopey to be particularly offensive, but the co-opting of oppression is what this is rooted in.

The idea of ‘comics good no matter what people think, ain’t it?’ extends to the last traditional local comic store standing in this world: much as superheroes are the primary cause of suffering in this world but the point of the story is still supposed to reveal the beauty in them, part of this is that the comics community isn’t perfect but it sure is great. Which is expressed here via Ellie’s boss Otto, a loveable asshole who yells at people coming in trying to sell the wrong kind of comics to fuck off, but at heart is we’re supposed to understand a good enough dude that the shop he runs is “the only home a lot of (the benighted nerds) have left” (because I guess in this alternate universe the physical stores are still the main hub through which comics fans talk with one another?).

So here’s a story of my very own! That’s me in 2013, it must’ve been some kind of special day because I’m wearing a shirt with a button. I’d at that point only frequented one of what would be my thus far four regular comic shops. The first was a great place, and while to say I had a sense of community there would be overstating it a bit, I was on really good terms with the owner and we regularly chatted when we had the time. When I left for college my store there wasn’t as well-stocked, and for some damn reason all variant covers were double-price, but I got along really well with the owner there too. The third I wasn’t so lucky; the guy regularly behind the desk was never overtly hostile, but clearly wanted to wring my neck every time I asked when a missing comic might get in or if I could update my pull list, and given I’m in the ‘ideal’ demographic for being a comic book store regular and was dropping a solid lump of money there every week, I wonder how others were treated there (the store nearly went under, was saved on the last day of operation by another store that wanted to incorporate it as part of its franchise, then shortly afterwards DID go under and is now I believe a beef jerky place). My current store is fine, I didn’t chat much with the folks behind the counter even before we all had medical incentive to get in and out of places fairly quickly but it almost always has what I’m looking for.

Just because those were my regular stores of course doesn’t mean those are the only ones I’ve ever gone to. About a year before that picture was taken - it’s the closest I could find - when I was 17 my store didn’t have something or another I was looking for, so I head across town to see if another place I had looked up had it. This other place didn’t have what I was looking for either, though I distinctly remember picking up a few issues of Hickman’s FF while I was there since I had foolishly fallen off, hence my remembering the year. I bought a couple issues, but hung around for a bit looking to see if I might grab something else out of a dollar box, setting my comics down. Without realizing it, I’d set my books down on top of another issue, and when I decided I wasn’t getting anything else, I just picked that up along with the rest of the pile and was about to walk out before the owner stopped me. He explained what I had done though assumed it had been deliberate, and because I was a good-hearted little geek I even recall thinking “Well, he’s gonna chew me out, but I guess I deserve it. I’ll try and take this to heart as a learning experience.”

Then he pulled up his shirt a little to show me the gun on his belt. He pointed at the security camera monitors at his desk, and explained to me that if I ever did something like that again, he would have it on tape, and he would pull that gun on me and hold me there while he called the cops.

As it turned out, the comic was free.

The whole thing was so sudden and bizarre and unexpected I didn’t actually freak out until the drive home. It wasn’t until weeks or maybe months later that I managed to tell my dad about the experience, because I *had* nearly stolen a (free) comic and my guilt was mixed in with my nerves and I guess I was somehow too close to register just how disproportionate his response was. It wasn’t until now, nearly a decade later and thinking about it for the first time in a long time as I write this, that I wondered if that might have gone differently - especially living in the midwest - if I hadn’t been a white, squeaky-voiced 17-year-old.

So, minor spoiler, when our cantankerous but well-meaning LCS owner yells to call the cops and grabs and yells at a small kid for pocketing a comic (and later displays fantasy racism towards said kid), I am not filled with nostalgic love for the brotherly safe space that is comic book stores, where this guy while not meant to be seen as perfect is still framed in part as a charming, witty representation of Why We Love These Places, And This Community, And This Genre, And This Medium. Cates is clearly drawing on real time at his local stores, but he equally clearly has a very different takeaway from those experiences than me. And I am, again, in a demographic - white, cis-male, abled, bi but more interested in women, disposable income, a lifelong collector - that the industry and a lot of the guys who sell it to us contort themselves around catering to, even if I had a single very negative experience and later an ongoing low-key uncomfortable one to help disabuse me of any notions of the purity of the dork community. In the world of Crossover as of #1, toxicity is intertwined, deliberately or not on the part of the creators, with what we love on the cosmic and small business scales alike, but at least in the latter case it’s the whole picture that’s beautiful, not any single kernel that needs to be worked on to be dug up.

So underneath is my video reaction to the last page of Crossover #1. Very minor spoilers because I mutter the last two words of the comic to myself, but under the video I discuss said final page and some other scattered thoughts. Whether you read that or not, my takeaway is this: I’m fascinated with wherever the hell this thing is going, I’m glad my dad liked it well enough to want to keep getting it because now I’ll get to see where it heads, but my first impression is that this is at heart meant as cheapass Oscar-bait for people who only read Batman. It’s big and high-concept but also small and intimate! It’s meta and about how great you, the reader are for your consumption, especially the consumption of this! It’s going to be in large part about a forbidden love between a couple divided across impermeable social lines (a couple where they’re a seemingly straight white man and woman, but one likes comics)! Maybe it’ll become Not That, and I’m sure it’ll do at least something interesting along the way because Cates has done good stuff before and there are some inherently interesting big ideas for him to play with here, but for the love of god if you’re thinking about getting this buy Commanders in Crisis too or instead, it’s another new book out of Image about superheroes dealing with the collapse of the multiverse but that one is really fucking good.

So the final page splash reveal is that when the comic book child discovered in here got out of Colorado, which has had an impenetrable energy shield erected around it by one of the heroes for years, she and others were ferried out of there...by Superman, as the narration declares that “This is a story...about hope.” They don’t say the word, but she sketches her savior, Ellie and Otto freak out and go “Is that---” when they see it, and on that last page we see that while a crude drawing it isn’t a rough analogue character, it’s a guy with a cape and trunks with an S on his chest. Surprisingly, I don’t have much to say: it’s just another blunt signifier that superheroes rule and are the best, paired with the most utterly devalued notion as of late of what makes Superman special in ‘hope’. I mean, I’m perversely excited to see whether this is building the entire series on a hook it can never deliver on, or if Cates actually has talked DC into an intercompany crossover; believable given they’ve done a bunch of those over the last several years, and why else would Mark Waid be supervising as ‘story editor’ on this? I guess it’ll shake out one way or another with #6 given Cates has said it “has one of the more epic and — I would argue historic — sequences in comic book history in it.” But I’m far less convinced this is gonna truly go into the meaty question of “What does Superman mean and what makes him unique in this world where superheroes in general are indisputably either failures or monstrous bastards given the scale of destruction their presence has brought about, and he himself failed to stop that?” than as some kind of holy grail of how great superheroes are despite how dang violent they’ve gotten these days for the crew to chase after, whatever additional twist will surely be placed upon it. At least he’s kinda helping an immigrant kid get over a wall, if that’s deliberate?

Random final thoughts:

* If I wrote the opening essay and turned it in in a college course, I would be expelled for plagiarizing Grant Morrison. This is not a joke.

* If mainstream American superhero comics ended January 2017 in this universe, its own last ‘crossover’ was Civil War II, which is hilarious.

* God, please tell me if it takes the dive after all that this isn’t somehow tied into whatever Waid’s Superman project is.

* I wouldn’t normally crap on issues with the finer details of worldbuilding, but A. This is rooted in a nominally ‘real’ world playing by recognizable rules, B. I’m ragging on this anyway so what’s the harm, and C. It’s really obvious. So: Why is one of the racists against the superheroes the guy who loves superheroes so much he’s the last holdout in the entire world still selling comic books about them? How does this modestly-sized shop exist long-term with apparently a significant regular customer base if there are no new comics or even reprints to restock with, ever? Who’s buying the serialized cop/cowboy comics that the U.S. government apparently created pretty much overnight (nobody, it’s just another Wertham dig)?

* The solicit for issue #3 proclaims “Don't miss this one, folks. If you do, it just might drive you...mad.”, so now I fear some kind of Ultra Comics riff.

* “Kids love chains” is the most metal-ass quote of all time and I hate that it’s being wasted as an arc title on this book.

#Donny Cates #Geoff Shaw #Dee Cunniffe #John J. Hill #Mark Waid #Me #Superman #Opinion

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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harrypotterpovs · 4 years

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Sooo...here's my Fred Yuleball fanfic aka the first fanfic I'm publishing. Please remember I'm not a native english speaker so neither my grammar nor my translations are perfect. I hope you can still enjoy.

Backstory: You're a Gryffindor in the same year as the golden trio and share a dorm with Hermione and Lavender Brown. You're pretty popular and got asked out by a lot of guys who wanted to take you to the ball, but you only said yes to one of them: Fred. In this ff Fred shares a dorm with George and Oliver Wood (I know he's not in their year but I like himmm sm). You're somewhat close friends with the golden trio but spend most of your time with the twins. You already know about your feelings for Fred deep down but never made it too obvious.

,,Are you ready?“ Hermiones voice rings through the door just as she walks in. I look at her in awe. She wears the prettiest dress I've ever seen and has put her hair up into a beautiful knot. ,,You look stunning,“ I gasp. She laughs: ,,So do you. Who are you taking to the ball again? Fred or George?“ I smile widely just thinking about him. ,,Fred. I hope he likes the dress....“ Hermione puts her hand on my shoulder: ,,Don't worry, you look beautiful.“ I smile at her and hook arms with her. Together we walk down into the common room. The boys had to wait in front of the great hall until their dates arrived. So we make our way down the moving stairs. My heart pounds against my ribcage heavily. I felt so anxious. Fred was the kindest guy I knew but how would he react if the dress wasn't quite his taste?

Hermione lets go of my arm and smiles: ,,You should hurry, they're over there.“ I look around and spot them waiting next the statue in front of the great hall. I nod, my knees shaking and get down the stairs. I see George spotting me first and his eyes widen. He elbows Fred who then turns around and looks me up and down. His facial expression was a mixture of surprise and pride. I smile at him happily as I walk towards him. ,,Ready?“ I ask. Suddenly George steps up: ,,Sure.“ Fred frowns at him and pushes him away: ,,You know she can tell us apart, idiot.“ George laughs and so do I. Fred looks at me: ,,You look stunning.“ I laugh and look at his suit. It was pretty worn down but he tried to spice it up with some golden buttons and a nice tie. ,,You're the one to say that...Look at you. Handsome as ever.“ He looks down his suit and smiles uncertainly. ,,Well, I tried my best.“ He holds out his arm and I take it. ,,Have fun, you two,“ George says happily and walks towards a girl that seems to be his date for tonight.

Fred and I walk towards the great hall. ,,Try to not get into trouble tonight, alright?“ I say and look straight into Freds hazel eyes. He giggles: ,,I'll try my best, I promise.“ Seeing him smiling so genuinely was the most heartwarming thing I've ever experienced. The dancefloor was already crowded. ,,Shall we eat first?“ I ask. ,,You can read minds, I always knew,“ Fred says in a serious tone. Then he laughs and we push ourselves through the people towards the buffet. ,,You had the whole school to choose from and you take Weaslebee?“ I hear Pansy Parkinson snarl. I turn around and look at her. Her dress was pretty, not gonna lie. She and Zabini stare us down. ,,Obviously. Jealous that you didn't make the cut, huh?“ Pansy snorts angrily: ,,Why would I take something like this to the ball? He can't even afford a decent suit, look at this lump he's wearing.“ I see Fred checking his suit again. ,,Girl, have you checked the mirror before you left your room? You look like a whole gremlin.“ I take Freds arm and we distance ourselves from Pansy and Zabini. ,,I'm sorry, I really wanted to get a new suit but-“ ,,No, stop it.“ I interrupt him. He looks at me sadly. I grab his hands: ,,I love the suit and I love the tie. You look great, no matter what. Trust me.“ He looks at me for a while and then nods. ,,Let's dance first, then,“ I say and point to a less crowded corner. Fred smiles and takes my hand, leading me to the dancefloor.

It was a slow song, very relaxing and classic. Fred puts his hand around my waist and holds my right hand with the other. He takes the lead and swirls me around. He's definitely better at dancing than I am. ,,Did you really have a lot of guys asking you out?“ Fred asks, trying to sound unbothered. I wasn't sure if I should tell him the truth. But lying to him was no option. ,,Yes. Even Malfoy asked me...as if...“ I shudder and Fred laughs: ,,And you still said yes to me?“ I nod: ,,Of course. I like you. A lot. Why wouldn't I go with you?“ Fred smiles happily and his cheeks turn rosé. He pulls me a bit closer, I almost touch his chest. I smell his cologne and a sweet fragrance, vanilla mixed with toffee and a hint of something that smells like gunpowder. I'm pretty sure I was never this close to him. I'd have noticed how good he smells. His hands are warm and soft and his movements pretty smooth. I've never felt so warm and secure before. ,,Is that glitter in your hair?“ he asks suddenly. I laugh: ,,A bit. Hermione said it'd look nice. You don't like it, do you?“ Fred shakes his head: ,,No. I mean yes. I do. Absolutely. It's just...The sheer effort you put into that...“ I laugh: ,,Well, to be honest...I was afraid you wouldn't like my dress or my hairstyle at first.“ Fred frowns: ,,How could I not?“

The song ends and I look at the buffet. ,,I think they're gone. Let's get some food,“ I say and pull Fred through the crowd. ,,Fred, looking good tonight...“ Ron says, as he passes by with Lavender Brown. He stops to look at me and then back to Fred. ,,I don't know what you did to get her to say yes, but man...Good job,“ he adds, looking me up and down. Lavender eyes me a with a hint of jealousy in her eyes. ,,What are you talking about, look at your date,“ I say. ,,Lavender, you look astonishing tonight,“ I add and look at her happily. Her whole face changes. ,,Really? Thank you,“ she says. Ron sighs and pulls her away. I wave at them, as they disappear into the crowd. ,,What is your favorite food?“ Fred asks suddenly. I frown. ,,We're working on a new trickster candy and we're still looking for good flavours,“ he adds as he takes two glasses of firewhiskey from a tablet. He hands me one of the glasses. ,,Like sweet stuff or...?“ I ask. Fred nods: ,,Preferably sweet yeah.“ I take a sip and shudder: ,,Ugh, definitely not this.“ I cough and Fred takes it away from me. ,,Sorry,“ he says and puts it away. ,,Try this...“ he says and reaches for a glass with a golden liquid. I take it. ,,I think marshmellows are always a good choice. Or nougat. I personally love pancakes too,“ I say, before I take another sip. This one was smooth. Still burning in my throat but in a less aggressive way. ,,Bit better?“ Fred asks. I nod: ,,Way better.“ Fred reaches for a plate and so do I. As we're done filling our plates we go to sit down. I see Hermione swirl by with Krum, not taking her eyes of him for even a second. She was beautiful. My eyes wander towards Fred who seems to have stared at me for a while now. ,,You good?“ I laugh. He nods: ,,Sure. Just appreciating your efforts.“ I smile and turn towards him. ,,Are you staying at Hogwarts this christmas again?“ he asks thoughtfully. I shrug my shoulders: ,,I guess. My parents are still in France. Couldn't you stay too?“ Fred rests his chin on his hand, eyeing me: ,,No, I'm afraid I can't. Mom always wants us home at christmas. But you could come to our place, if you want.“ I look up, my heart racing. ,,Oh, I don't want to bother your family...“ I say. ,,God, no way. Mom would love to meet you, I'm sure. If you'd like to come, I'll just ask her.“ I smile: ,,I'd love to. But please make sure, no one is annoyed by my presence.“ Fred shakes his head: ,,There's no way.“ I shove a spoon of chocolate pudding into my mouth and stare at him in silence.

Two plates of a variety of foods, three firewhiskeys and four glasses of this weird golden liquor later we go back to slowdancing. I was a bit tipsy already and so was Fred. His cheeks are glowing red and his hands are warmer than they were earlier. ,,George thought I was kidding when I told him that you're my date for the ball,“ Fred says as I lean against his chest. I hear his heart beating faster and faster. ,,First I wasn't sure if you were kidding, too,“ he adds. I put my hand onto his shoulder and close my eyes: ,,I'd never.“ I hear him sigh. The room was way emptier now. A few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were still on the dancefloor. Neville and Ginny were slowdancing as well just like Krum and Hermione. Ron and Harry sat down to eat and stare at Hermione a while ago and Pansy ran off a couple minutes ago, after Zabini yelled at her for stepping on his feet when they were dancing. I was content and happy like I never was, feeling Freds hand on my waist, smelling his fragrance and hearing his heartbeat. ,,Do you wanna go outside for a bit?“ Fred suddenly asks. I open my eyes and nod: ,,Sure. Are you alright?“ Fred runs his hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. ,,I'm feeling a bit dizzy to be honest.“

We walk towards he big balcony and away from the loud music and the smells of the buffet into the cold, dark, silent night. The moon was shining and hundreds of stars sparkle in the sky. They were beautiful. It's been a long time since I saw them shimmer this brightly. Maybe it was the alcohol but I felt very sentimental all of sudden. Tears stream down my face. ,,y/n?“ Fred gasps. I wipe the tears away and blink rapidly: ,,I'm just a bit...It's such a beautiful night. I don't want it to end.“ Fred looks at me shocked. Then he pulls me closer, one hand around my waist, his head resting on my shoulder. ,,There's still so much time left. Don't worry,“ he says softly. My heart feels like it's burning. It wasn't the night I was sentimental about. I think it was Fred. The knowledge that he will never look at me like he did a few hours ago again. That he'll just act like nothing happened in a few days. ,,Can I ask you for a favour?“ he suddenly asks. I look up at him. ,,Can I kiss you?“ he asks. My heart misses out a few beats. I stare at him for a second, completely paralized. ,,Of course...“ I gasp. He pulls me closer and I close my eyes. I feel his burning lips on mine, a wave of heat streaming through my whole body, my heart crashing against my ribs. It feels like eternity. Then he pulls back, his cheeks blushing and looking pretty flustered. I pull him into a hug and lean my head on his chest. He wraps his arms around me and rests his head on mine. We stay like that for at least half an hour, talking about the music playing in the background.

,,Let's dance a little more,“ Fred says and pulls me inside the great hall again, holding me close. I follow his lead and we dance all night. Only when the room was completely empty we came to a halt. ,,I think I'm passing out any second now...“ I joke and look at Fred. All the alcohol in our systems was gone at this point. ,,Let's go up then,“ he answers and takes my hand. We walk out of the great hall and up to the common room. Just when I was about to say goodbye to Fred, Hermione comes down the stairs thats lead to the girls rooms. ,,y/n, we've got somewhat of a problem...Lavender brought Ron up with her. He was very very drunk and...vomited all over your bed.“ I look at Fred who just rolls his eyes at the mention of his younger brother. ,,I'll take her in tonight and make him regret what he did tomorrow,“ Fred says. I look at him. He takes me to his room? Is that even allowed? ,,I hope I'm around,“ Hermione says with an evil smile. Fred looks at me: ,,Only if it's alright for you of course. I can go and wake this idiot up to clean up his mess.“ I shake my head: ,,Let him rest. As long as it's alright with Oliver and George...“ Fred nods and we go up the stairs to the boys dorms.

Fred walks in first. ,,Turn out the light, you idiot!“ I hear George groan. ,,We've got trainig in the morning...“ Oliver sighs. ,,Guys, is it okay if y/n spends the night?“ Fred asks. Silence. ,,Depends on what you're trying to-“ ,,Shut up, George. Ron puked into her bed.“ A sigh follows. ,,I don't care but turn out the bloody lights...“ Oliver says. Fred comes out, a self knitted pullover with an F on it and a pair of jogging pants in his hands. ,,You can change in the bathroom...“ He points to a door at the end of the corridor. I nod and step into the cold room, closing the door behind me and looking around. It was smaller than the girls bathroom. I'm slipping off the heels and dress and change into the way more comfortable clothes Fred gave me. My dress folded neatly, I open the door and walk towards Fred. He shoves me into the dorm silently and leads me towards the bed in complete darkness. I feel around for the end of his bed and then lay down carefully. It smelled just like him. I feel him laying down next to me and covering me with the blanket. ,,Night...“ he mumbles. I turn towards him and snuggle against his chest. He puts an arm around me.

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mego42 · 4 years

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Hey! Just seen you accept prompts, well it's not really a prompt but I need a fic of friends Beth and Rhea, like they done her so wrong and I need ff to help heal my broken heart 😭

Hope this helps, anon and thank you for the prompt! 💖

Beth doesn’t know why she does it. The whole thing is just...insane. It’s insane, there’s no way around it. Especially now that all the cards are on the table.

But she still can’t stop herself from showing up on Rhea’s door, a bottle of bourbon in one hand and a bold red in the other.

The look Rhea gives her when she opens the door could curdle milk, but she opened the door, so Beth’s counting it as a win.

“You’re not even pretending anymore, huh?” She asks, nodding at the alcohol.

“No, I came clean.”

Rhea’s eyebrows shoot up. “And you’re still breathing? Damn.”

Beth shrugs a little, not really sure what to say to that. She’s surprised too, but at the same time, there’s a part of her that’s not? It’s not that she doubted Rio would kill her, but when he’d told her he needed her alive, she’d realized a part of her had been waiting for them to get there.

And that’s dangerous, she knows. She can’t- she can’t rely on that.

“Can I come in?” She finally asks, shifting her weight a bit in the face of Rhea’s scathing stare. “I know I have no right to ask, I know it’s insane that I’m here, I just...I wanted- I wanted to say thank you.”

Rhea keeps staring, unimpressed.

Beth sighs. “I also wanted to talk to you. You’re- you’re the only person I know who might...get it.”

At that, Rhea rolls her eyes and pushes open the door. “Yeah, I figured it was some shit like that.”

“Good thing you brought the hard stuff,” she says, heading back into the house, not waiting to see if Beth follows. “This is definitely a drinking conversation.”

Beth follows her into the house, surreptitiously looking around as they head into the kitchen, trying to absorb as many details as she can. In the two months they’d been friends, Rhea had been over to Beth’s house a few times but had never invited Beth over.

It’s a beautiful house, cozy and cluttered with stuff but in a clean, organized way that reminds Beth of Rio’s loft, and it gives Beth a pang to think about the ways the two of them align. Beth’s house is always a mess, she can’t imagine maintaining any kind of coherent, intentional interior design aesthetic, not with her kids. Or her husband. Her life in general.

Rhea pulls out some Ball jars while Beth sets the bottles on the kitchen island and slides onto a stool. Rhea eyes the wine but reaches for the bourbon.

“So, what do you want to know?”

Beth blinks, after Rhea’s hesitance at the playground, she hadn’t expected her to open up that quickly.

“The faster I tell you what you want to know, the faster you’ll get out of here and leave me alone,” Rhea says, reading Beth’s surprise. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told him: I don’t want my kid or me anywhere near whatever mess the two of you are making.”

She slides a jar to Beth and takes a deep drink from her own. “That said, you shoot the father of my kid again? I’ll kill you myself.”

Beth’s breath gusts out of her, and she reaches for her own glass. “So, you know that part, then?”

“Uh, yeah. I know that part.” Rhea scoffs. “I don’t know the specifics of whatever business you’re in, and I don’t want to know, but the parts that are relevant to me and mine? Chris keeps me in the loop.”

Chris. Beth knocks back about half of her drink in one go. She’s not sure what hits her harder: the name or the idea that Rio is capable of keeping people in any kind of a loop, he just chose not to with her.

“So, you two- You have…” God, this is hard. Beth doesn’t even know what she wants to ask. She never should’ve come here. “You have a pretty good relationship, then?”

Rhea laughs, and it’s not a nice sound. “I’m not your fuckin’ competition if that’s what you’re asking.”

Beth can feel herself flush from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair. That’s not what she was asking. It’s not.

But that doesn’t mean she isn’t filing the information away.

Oh god, this was the worst idea.

They both sip in silence for a minute, Rhea staring Beth down and Beth getting deeply acquainted with the countertop. She’s pretty sure it’s granite.

Citrus damage.

“How’s Marcus?” Beth asks, trying to find her way back to safer ground.

“Nope, off the table.” Rhea’s face is stone.

“I’m sorry, okay?” The words burst out of Beth before she can stop them. “I’m sorry for lying to you, I’m sorry for asking you for help. I didn’t- I didn’t mean anything bad by it, I just…”

She struggles to swallow around the lump in her throat.

“And I’m...I’m sorry I- I shot him. That night...it wasn’t supposed to be like that. I didn’t want that. Things were...things went all the way out of control. I would take it back if I could.”

The last part comes out a whisper, and Beth steels herself to look up at Rhea with a fortifying gulp of bourbon.

Her face is still hard but maybe slightly less than before. Then Rhea sighs, and it’s like she’s a full inch shorter when she’s done.

“Yeah, well, things have a habit of going all the way out of control around Chris.” She takes a sip of her drink. “It’s part of why I took Marcus and left.”

Beth raises her eyebrows, surprised by the personal information freely given.

Rhea points at her with the hand holding the glass. “Don’t get all puppy dog at me, I don’t forgive you for shit. I’m just sayin’ maybe I get how it happened, okay?”

Beth nods, and they sip in silence again, but this time it feels a little less heavy, and Beth’s so grateful to have fixed things even that much, she can feel tears prickling in the corners of her eyes.

“A word of advice?” Beth’s eyes fly to Rhea’s, and she’s watching her with a complicated expression on her face. There’s definitely still some anger, more than a little pity, but maybe also some sympathy, and that last part is so much a balm to Beth’s mental well-being, it catches her off guard.

She hadn’t realized how much she needed Rhea to forgive her. Not that Beth thinks she has, but if she can be sympathetic at all, then maybe there’s a way back from this.

It’s not even about Beth needing forgiveness or making it right, though it’s definitely partially the last bit. At the end of the day, she’d really liked Rhea.

She was fun and funny and a great mom. Beth loved having Marcus around- Well, she would’ve loved having Marcus around if seeing him hadn’t been such a sucker-punch of grief and regret every single time.

“Be straight with him,” Rhea says. “He’s a fuckin’ asshole, but he’ll never lie to you if you do him the same.”

“He lies to me all-” Indignation has the words out before Beth can really think them through, and she stops as soon as she realizes that’s actually not true at all. He withholds information, sure. He makes things sound like a joke, absolutely. But she can’t think of a single time he’s ever directly lied to her.

“Mmhmm,” Rhea nods as the realization spreads across Beth’s face. “If anything, he’s honest to a fault.”

She takes another sip, finishing off her drink. “That’s another reason I left him.”

Then she reaches across and grabs Beth’s nearly empty drink from her, finishing it and putting the jars in the sink. “Now get the fuck out of my house. My kid’ll be home soon, and he tells Chris everything, I don’t think either of us is ready for the fallout of that, yet.”

She’s not wrong, so Beth gathers up her bag and heads back towards the door, feeling about a hundred pounds lighter than she had on the way in.

Beth pauses on the front porch, turning back to Rhea.

“Thank you,” she says, trying to imbue the words with the weight of everything behind them.

“Yeah, yeah.” Rhea rolls her eyes and starts closing the door before she stops, thinking. Then she sighs. “Maybe I’ll give you a call next week or something, and if you’re still alive, we can start in on that red.”

Beth smiles, “I’d like that.”

#brio fic #brio fanfiction #beth x rio #nbc good girls #this doesn't pass the bechdel test and i'm lowkey annoyed about it but also i don't see a version of them being able to be friends #without having a conversation like this first #beth + rhea #prompt fic #tumblr fic #my fic

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lordyouko · 5 years

Note

5(inukag) and 32(kogakag)..... 😁😁😁😁😁

@oitreedeb That is one hell of a pick.

@n0vic3-4nastasia Bless you for giving me an excuse to write more inucest. I’ve never written A/B/O dynamic before but I’ll give it a shot.

What @oitreedeb and @n0vic3-4nastasia chose kind of go together and novice- asked for #1 with inucest so I decided to combine all of them in a sort of short ficlet.

@oitreedeb - *grumbles* making me write Kou/Kag. Finnee.

Here goes:

5. bad sex/sex fails (Inu/Kag), 32. Forbidden love (Kou/Kag), 1. A/B/O (inucest)

_________________________________________________________________

“Mmf! Inuyasha! What the hell are you-”

Inuyasha hastily let go.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “Are you ok?”

Kagome huffed, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face. “My god, Inuyasha, don’t you have like the vaguest clue – you know, how stuff… works?”

“I do,” Inuyasha protested. “Here, let me just-”

“No, no that’s ok,” Kagome said quickly. “Don’t worry about it. I mean clearly, you don’t want to.”

“I do want to,” Inuyasha tried again. “Of course I do, otherwise why would I be here in your bed-”

“You tell me,” Kagome retorted. “Why are you here? Because obviously, some parts of you don’t want to be.”

Inuyasha turned red then, and sat back, scooting away from her supine body.

Kagome raised herself onto her elbows, her shirt falling open carelessly where he’d clumsily unbuttoned the top few buttons, revealing her lacy bra barely covering her shapely breasts. Kagome noticed he didn’t even look at them once. In a corner of her mind, she wondered if he would have noticed if Kikyou had been lying here in her place.

“Because… I want to be with you,” Inuyasha replied, not meeting her eyes. “And – now it’s clear that – that I can’t.”

“Inuyasha,” Kagome said, voice becoming a little high pitched, a sinking feeling settling into her stomach. “What do you mean you can’t? If it’s a problem of – you know, performance, it happens to all guys sometimes…”

Inuyasha laughed hollowly. “No, no that’s not the problem. I – Kagome, I can’t because… because I’m an omega.”

“A- what?”

Inuyasha sighed, colour still dusting his cheeks. “It’s bad enough I’m a hanyou, and a bastard, but looks like that wasn’t enough for the universe because it decided to shit on me some more by also making me a – an omega-“

He glanced at Kagome; she still looked completely clueless. He swallowed hard. Damn, this wasn’t something he wanted to be explaining to the girl he had planned to spend the rest of her life with.

“An omega is a youkai that’s – that’s destined to be claimed by an alpha,” Inuyasha explained softly.

“Claimed?” Kagome repeated dumbly. “What is this, some feudal Japan thing? Because I’ll tell you, just because hanyou aren’t socially accepted doesn’t mean you have to-”

“This isn’t a society thing, Kagome,” Inuyasha interrupted, irrationally irritated by her defending him. “It’s my body. It’s – just the way it works. There’s not much I or anybody else can do about it.”

“You’re telling me the course of all youkai lives are predetermined from birth?” Kagome asked disbelievingly.

“No, not all,” Inuyasha said. “In fact, most youkai aren’t any of those things. They can choose who they want to be with, and who they become– ” bitterness laced Inuyasha’s voice. “But it’s not all bad for all the youkai who are born a certain way. Alphas have it made; it raises the honour of a family to have an alpha born in it. My father was one. And –”

Inuyasha paused and with a short breath, changed the subject. “Anyway, omegas are just the opposite.”

“Ok,” Kagome said. “So maybe if I-”

“Kagome,” Inuyasha said harshly. “You’re human. There’s nothing you can do.”

Kagome flinched, suddenly uncomfortably with the flinty look in his eyes.

“So what does that mean for you and me?” she asked softly, straightening up and beginning to button up her shirt.

Inuyasha swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. “I –“

He lowered his head and let his bangs cover his eyes. “I can’t be with you…”

She’d been expecting the words, but they still felt like a stab to her heart. They were, after all, dashing away hopes she had been holding on to for so long.

“How long have you known?” Kagome asked, averting her eyes from his. “That you’re – you know-”

“…since I was a kid,” Inuyasha said. There was a moment of silence but Inuyasha didn’t elaborate. Kagome knew he was holding something back, but right now, the details weren’t seeming all that important.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” she whispered. “All this time… you strung me along..”

A muscle twitching on his mouth was the only indication of Inuyasha’s pain. “There – there are no omegas or anything among humans, and I’m hanyou so I thought maybe… if I tried really hard I could-”

Kagome felt some of her anger melt away at the heartbreak in his voice.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he whispered. “I really – I really wanted to be with you…”

Kagome made a soft despairing sound, and Inuyasha sprang to his feet; in a trice, he was at her window.

Kagome sat there dumbly on her bed. A part of her wanted to go after him, wanted to stop him from leaving like this, but she found she couldn’t move. Her body suddenly felt so heavy and she was so tired-

She knew he would have scented the tears that were gathering in her eyes. He didn’t turn around.

Kagome sat there on her childhood bed where he’d left her and finally let the tears escape.

____________________________________________________________________

Kagome debated never again returning to the feudal era. She had almost decided never to jump down that well again, when it occurred to her – her life there hadn’t been all about Inuyasha. She had friends there, friends who would be hurt if she just vanished from their lives without saying goodbye.

So she went. One more time.

She hadn’t anticipated how quickly her friends would be able to read her desolation on her face. It took them no time to notice how upset she was, and how standoffish and ruder than usual Inuyasha was and they put two and two together – they were broken up, for good.

Then there was all the consoling and the kind words, and Kagome had never before known those things could make one feel like bashing one’s head against a wall.

So she fled.

Away from Sango and Miroku and Shippou and Kaede, away from anyone who wished her well.

She didn’t know where she had ended up when she stopped at last, winded, and dropped to the grassy floor.

She didn’t cry; that’s all she had done for so long, after all. Inuyasha entered her thoughts unbidden, and she felt the tears gathering like dark clouds in her chest, but she didn’t allow them to her eyes.

Instead, she concentrated on breathing, one hand clenching in the dirt beneath her fingers. She watched a drop of sweat slide off her forehead and mix into that dirt. It vaguely occurred to her that Kikyou probably never got all gross and sweaty like this.

“Kagome.”

The sound of her name, here, in this time, out in the middle of nowhere startled her.

She looked up and her heart leapt into her chest.

“Kouga,” she said, and was surprised to find her voice raspy and small.

Alien blue eyes clouded over with concern and Kouga knelt down next to her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Kagome looked down at her hands, and could not answer.

The wolf leader didn’t press her; instead, he came to sit cross-legged next to her on the ground.

“So what are we staring at?” he finally asked, turning to look at her after a while when the silence got oppressive.

“Are you alpha omega whatever too?” Kagome asked, without preamble.

Kouga drew back in surprise at the question. Out of the corner of her eye, Kagome saw his reaction. She knew she was being rude, but didn’t care right now. She sort of hoped she had offended the wolf, and he would leave her alone in peace. She sort of also hoped he would stay here with her and drive away some of her loneliness.

“I’m a beta,” Kouga answered, to Kagome’s surprise.

She huffed a laugh, resolutely refusing to meet his eyes. “So you can’t be with humans either, then,” she muttered.

“Why do you care?” Kouga began teasingly, but stopped when he saw she wasn’t taking the bait.

“It means I can be with alphas and omegas. I can be with whoever I want to be,” Kouga explained. “Except an omega that’s been claimed by an alpha.”

“But no humans,” Kagome added snidely.

“Humans too,” Kouga said quietly.

Kagome’s head snapped towards him. “Really?”

“Yes,” Kouga said. “Why, what’s brought this whole – mmph!”

He had to brace a hand on the ground behind him when Kagome kissed him suddenly.

Blue eyes were wide as saucers when she drew back. “Kagome-” he whispered, fingers brushing disbelievingly over his own lips.

Kagome said nothing; she just looked at him.

After a moment, Kouga leaned down and took her in his arms, lowering his head to meet their lips once more.

Kagome’s hand clutched at the fur-lined armour on the wolf’s chest, and it occurred to her that this was wrong.

Terribly, awfully wrong.

She had only just broken up with the boy who she’s planned to spend the rest of her life with. And she wasn’t the girl who did this kind of thing. She didn’t jump from one boy to the next.

She should be mourning the end of her relationship with dignity and then, only after a large number of months had passed, should she even begin to think about being in another relationship.

Kouga’s tongue entered her mouth, gently but surely, and Kagome decided she absolutely did do this kind of thing.

After all, if the first love of her life could break her heart without ever being with her, the least she could do was this.

And now, at least she had a reason to keep coming back to feudal Japan.

_______________________________________________________________________

A/N: That was the first ‘chapter’. @n0vic3-4nastasia - the inucest will be in the next instalment.

And, surprisingly, I’m having fun writing Kou/Kag. So @oitreedeb thanks for giving me a chance to write a pairing I never would have otherwise gone for ^_^

This will also be up on FF and AO3 soon.

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221bshrlocked · 6 years

Note

CONSTRUCTION WORKER CAT CALLING SEB/NEW HAIRCUT! Sorry for the caps I’m sooo aroused! Dirty rubble sex!

LOL i didn’t do dirty rubble sex though cause that’s just not sanitary. NSFW gifs under cut

The entire day. The entire fucking day. They’ve started working at god knows what hour and now it was the middle of the afternoon. Did they not get a lunch break?

Knowing there was no way you’d get any work done, you decided to go for a run, maybe distract yourself from all the noise. Walking out, you looked at your neighbor’s house and saw the construction workers looking at some blueprints. As you walked past them, you were clicking through the songs when you swore you heard one of them saying something about your breasts, but you chose to ignore it.

God! Men could be disgusting at times.

It was an hour later when you turned the corner and slowed down, about to take your headphones off when you heard them catcalling you again.

“Whichever one of you fuckers thinks this is how you get women to notice you needs to grow the hell up and act like a man not a fucking salivating dog.” Your face must have been the stuff of nightmares and you thanked the run for making you look more intense because they all seemed to look away and pretend they were working on something.

Shaking your head, you flipped them off before running up your steps and slamming the door as loud as possible. Throwing your phone towards the couch, you walked to the kitchen and started shugging orange juice when you heard the front door bell go ff.

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered, grabbing the nearest object which happened to be a pan and holding it up before you opened the door.

As soon as you opened it, you were met with an intense pair of blue eyes, the man’s hands immediately going up and dropping his orange hat. “Shit-” He backed away, his eyes never leaving yours and making you feel powerful.

“The hell do you want?” You growled at him, noticing the way he seemed distracted by your sports bra. When he realized you caught him, he cleared his throat and slowly lowered his hands.

“I just came to apologize for earlier. That was rude and uncalled for.” He picked up his hat, hoping to ease the tension a bit by not looking at you.

“Yeah. It was.” You lowered the pan, waiting to see if he was going to say anything else. When he didn’t, you decided it was time to take out your frustrations a bit. “When will you guys finish anyway? You’ve been working since sunrise and it’s honestly distracting.”

“Uhhh oh well we- the owner said th- that…”

“You weren’t the one that catcalled me were you?” There was no way. This man was stuttering a lot.

“I- well no but I’m in charge and- I just…you seemed hurt and I wa-wanted to come and apologize because no girl I mEAN woman, dame, female? No…fuck- this is just not-”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his embarrassment.

“Why don’t you come in and I’ll grab you a cold drink. Looks like you need it after all the work.”

“I don’t want to intrude and you’re just being nice and I’m rambling now aren’t I and you know what, I’ll just l-leave.”

“Wait, seriously. Just, a glass of juice or water. They look like they need a break too.”

He only nodded, telling them to take a lunch break before walking in and avoiding your carpet. He followed you quietly, setting his hat down on the table before nodding and thanking you once you handed him the orange juice. Come to think of it, he looked really handsome.

“What’s your name?”

“Oh me?” He asked, almost spilling the juice on himself.

“Well, you are the only one here!” Once again, you laughed at his awkwardness, hating yourself when he blushed.

“I…sorry it’s just- I don’t always talk women like you.” He sipped his drink again and for some reason, the comment sounded offending.

“What do you mean ‘women like me’?” His eyes grew wide and he started stuttering again.

“Shit no no I didn’t- I mean that, well you’re really pretty and I,” he stopped again, involuntarily looking at a sweat drop rolling down your neck in between the valley of your breasts. When he looked up, he saw you staring at him, a smirk gracing your features and making him blush even harder.

“Fuck I’m sorry I didn’t mean to look at your…god here you are being nice and I’m being a complete ass and checking you out and I-” You cut him off, walking around the table towards him and making him back up until he hit the counter.

“See something you like?”

“What?”

“I said, do you see something you like?” You raised an eyebrow at his distress, winking at him before slowly nodded. “You can touch if you want.” He was sure he didn’t just hear you say that.

“I- what?” He looked down when he felt your hands touching his, nodding at him as you slowly raised them to cup you through your sports bra. You smiled when he whimpered, your fingers moving to grasp his wrists before pushing them harder against your breasts.

“Fuck…” He swallowed the lump in his throat, finally managing to get the hint and massaging them just a little harder. “What’s your name?”

“Se-Sebastian.”

“Well, Sebastian, can I tell you something?”

“Hmm…anything.” He was too busy feeling you through your bra that he didn’t notice when your fingers moved against his shoulders and up to his head.

“I think your haircut is really sexy. Not gonna lie, I like to grab a guy’s hair when he’s going down on me but you…this look suits you.” That made him stop his movement, not sure of how to react to what you just said.

“Nothing to say?” You scratched his neck, feeling him relax a bit before he moved forward and kissed you. His lips looked much softer than they appeared, tongue exploring your mouth before he pulled your hair and started kissing your neck.

“C-can I ask you something?” He said between bites, feeling your head move against him and egging him on. “I- can I fuck your tits?”

Of all the things you expected this man to say, that was the last thing.

“Guess you’re not shy after all!”

“God I’m sorry that- that was so forward of me I shouldn’t have-”

“I’m not complaining.” You pushed him away and reached around to take off your bra, “I am still sweaty though.”

“Even sexier.”

His eyes never left your breasts as soon as you took your bra off, fingers pinching lightly at your nipples before he pulled away as soon as he saw you unzipping his pants.

“God damn!” He frowned at your comment, afraid something was wrong.

“Do..is it bad?”

“Bad? Honey you are hung!” You kneeled down and pumped him a few times before taking him in your mouth. In seconds, you had him swearing and throwing his head back.

“Shit oh god your mouth feels like heaven. Oh m-my fucking lord don’t stop…g-gah.” He was a moaning mess, praising you and calling you all sorts of nice pet names when you licked his balls and jerked him off a little harder.

“Baby baby please…c-can I?” He pointed at your tits again, the wink you threw him let him know you were on board. Pushing your breasts together, you motioned for him to step closer, imagining how filthy you must’ve looked like when he started fucking your tits.

“Oh fuck…they’re soft and big- f-fuck darling I…I’m not gonna last.” His grip on your shoulder tightened, hips thrusting quicker and eyes shutting as soon as he felt you massaging his balls again.

“Cum for me Seb..cum all over me. Wanna taste you baby.”

And that seemed to do the trick. He cried out his release, cum shooting on your tits and face before you opened your mouth and pushed forward to suck on his cock.

He had to lean on the counter for a few minutes before he could look at you. “That was so hot.” He nodded in agreement, grabbing the nearest towel and cleaning himself up before sheepishly looking at you.

“Don’t get all shy on me again I was hoping you’d ask me to dinner.“

“W-would you like to go to dinner?” He made himself look presentable again.

“Dinner at 7. Don’t be late.” You warned him.

“I won’t.”

On his way out, he looked back when he heard you laughing.

“What?”

“Oh nothing…just that you were gone longer than a lunch break and well, good luck out there.”

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader #that haircut #that haircut masterlist #that haircut smut

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

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peekaboo-parker · 6 years

Text

A Distraction- Luke Skywalker x Reader

(Not my gif, I found it in google images)

Requested By: Nobody. Just me, myself and I Prompt: From- @justsomewritingprompts “Go change your shirt” “Why?” “That one is distracting me” Warnings: A shirtless Luke! (´ ‘ω’ `) And kind of heated kissing ^///^ And of course the editing. Author’s Note: Sorry for another Luke fic, but I just love him so much that I have to write one. I also don’t want to be an inactive blogger person, so I want to create as much content for you guys as possible! :D

If you read this whole story I just want to thank you all for stopping by and for making time to read my stuff. Even if you don’t reblog or like, it really warms my heart to know people read my stuff and enjoy it. So thank you from the bottom of my heart. Also have a very Merry Christmas my frens <3 <3 <3

That’s enough of that… hope you enjoy. ;)

Masterlist

The small plant in your hand bobbed up and down as you walked around, coming toward Luke’s room. You wanted to give him a gift after all he had done during missions. Because you worked in the ground control part of the base, you were always tuning in to the young pilot through the audio. He was always so determined and always successfully completing his missions. You found his courageous, yet kind nature extremely attractive and you couldn’t help but grow feelings for him over time. To add to that, both of you were young members of the Rebel Alliance and so it was only bound to happen.

You were friends with him, but unfortunately not as close as he was with Leia or Han.

You breathed in a good amount of oxygen before finally opening Luke’s door to his room. “Sorry to intrude I just wanted to-”

“Oh, hey Y/N,” Luke flashed a toothy grin, rubbing a towel over his damp hair.

The room had suddenly felt warm as the door behind you closed and you had noticed that steam was coming out of the bathroom.

“Umm…” The plant was clearly in your now sweaty hands, but you had completely forgotten why you had came. Your god forsaken eyes couldn’t stop trailing down to Luke’s toned torso.

“Sorry I just had a shower - Ooh!” Abruptly, Luke stepped toward you with curiosity in his eyes. Your heart flipped and you stepped back from the sudden closeness you had just had with him. He was looking at the plant.

“Right! Umm…” You held it up, before stretching out the object to him, “It’s a Venus Flytrap. I-I wanted to give it to you, because…” Unconsciously, you found yourself looking back down at his abs. It wasn’t helping with the fact that his pants were sitting so lazily on his hips.

“Because what?” He looked so curious, you couldn’t fathom how he hadn’t noticed your shameless staring sooner.

With a swift action you rubbed your eyes with the back of one of your hands and shook your head, “It’s a present for you. I wanted to give it to you because…”

You sighed and Luke raised an eyebrow. One of the corners of his lips lifted slightly with a confused expression. The silence in the room was unbearable so you finally mustered up the courage and told him head on:

“Go change your shirt.”

“Why?”

“That one is distracting me,” You pointed down and his head followed.

With a gulp, you retracted your hand and let it sit under your other hand which held the plant.

“But, I’m not even wearing a shirt,” Luke chuckled and you felt the room grow even hotter as his smile and laugh seemed to make him glow.

“E-Exactly!” You responded with a flustered look. Your hands went up to push his shoulder back, but you could see his bare skin so you didn’t dare to touch him, “So, can you please go?”

A blush had finally made its way onto your cheeks and Luke smiled, his eyes soft at the sight of you being so flustered. “Sure, sure, look I’m going…” He stepped backward still looking at you, “I’m going…”

As he walked backwards, as slow as a freaking snail, you bit your lip. His chest and abdomen were so clear you just couldn’t look anywhere else, but right at him. Luke ducked his head, hiding the smirk that had adorned his face. He felt as smug as Han, as he disappeared into the bathroom where one of his shirts lay inside.

While you stood in the middle of his room, you felt out of place. Frantically looking around, you decided to move over to his bed and sit down. The Venus Flytrap’s mouth was wide open, waiting for it’s next victim/food. The shuffling of Luke in the bathroom, made your ears twitch. After seeing him half-naked you couldn’t get his body out of your mind, he really did distract you too much. Before, the Venus Flytrap had intrigued you, but it was no match for the sight of Luke. You mentally slapped yourself for being so shameless, you totally embarrassed yourself in front of him, didn’t you?

“Here,” He stood outside the bathroom, leaning against the door, his towel wrapped around his neck as if he’d come back from the gym. His hair was still pretty damp, but your heart couldn’t contain itself and pounded against your ribs.

“Th-” You gulped and gave him a nervous smile, “Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” He grinned at you before walking over and making himself comfortable beside you. You shifted as soon as you felt his weight come down onto the bed, making you move slightly closer to him. “Anyway,” He started, looking over your shoulder at the large-mouthed plant sitting on your lap.

“Umm, I wanted to give this to you,” Though you knew you had said that about a million times, you still said it. While you brought it up toward Luke, his hands instinctively opened, ready to hold onto the plant. A chill ran down your spine as Luke’s finger had brushed against your own when you had fully passed it over to him.

He noticed you stiffen up a little at the touch and he smiled warmly. He brought the small plant to his lap and looked down at it with curiosity.

You watched as he inspected each angle and each aspect of the Flytrap. It was a relief to know that he liked your gift.

“So, why did you want to give this to me?” He lifted it up, examining the bottom of the pot the plant sat inside and placed it back down onto his thighs.

You watched as he began to caress the plant. He was being so gentle with it, your lips curls upwards, “I just thought that it’d be nice to give you something as a thanks for saving us so many times.”

He brought his eyes up to yours, stunned by your compliment. Even his mouth hung just the tiniest bit open, awaiting for more.

You shrugged sheepishly, “Like, you’ve gone through so much trouble and strife just for us and you’ve been successful every time. Of course there’s been others who’ve also been victorious, but even since you came I -” You sighed quite dreamily, cutting yourself off. That was close, you thought. Your eyes had drifted down, but you were determined to keep some eye contact with him, “You’re a just damn hero and… I can’t thank you enough.”

“Well,” He chuckled and picked up the small living object as if it were a prize, “This is an awesome present. The plant’s so cool.”

He appeared to have been genuine about his feelings for the gift and you smiled at his excitement. “I’m really glad you like it.”

He returned the gesture and beamed. His baby-blue eyes, however, stay on your own E/C eyes, before they narrowed in closer inspection. He knew something was off and your eyes began to dart around with nervousness. He was getting the tiniest bit closer to you and you could feel his breath hit your cheeks, softly. “Even though you said you wanted to thank me, I can sense there’s something else your holding onto.”

A million thoughts entered your mind all at once at that point. Does he know? He can’t know, right? Should I tell him? Will he find out anyway? Should I lie? Should I be honest? You attempted to swallow, but only felt a lump in your throat start to grow. Your knuckles began to turn white, as you solidly gripped the hem of your shirt, making an effort to make a decision on what to do or say.

“Y/N,” Your name left his lips like the cool breeze outside. It refreshed you somehow, and brought you back to reality, “You can tell me anything. Don’t hide it. Please.”

You stayed silent.

Feeling your uneasiness, he let you take a breather and stood up to place the Venus Flytrap on the bedside table behind him. You watched him set it down; so gentle and careful with it like a mother putting her baby to sleep.

“You’re right,” The fists curling around your shirt loosened and you waited till he turned back to you, so you could looking into his eyes, “There is another reason. I just don’t know whether I’m ready to tell you or not.”

“Oh,” His head bobbed, understanding your uneasiness.

“I mean -” You exhaled and slumped, frustrated with your own thoughts floating around your head, “I want to tell you so badly, but I just can’t bring myself to! Just...” Drifting off, your eyes dwelling over the Venus Flytrap behind him. A fly had fallen into it’s grasp and now the plant was enclosing it. You laughed, tapping Luke’s shoulder and pointing to the living object.

He snapped his head around, a grin adorning his face upon seeing the plant start to close around the fly. “That’s awesome!”

Using your elbow, you placed it onto your knee and leaned against it, therefore being able to see Luke’s reaction. He was so happy, your eyes softened at the sight. Way too cute for your own good. “Luke.”

“Yeah Y/N-ff!”

Your eyes shut as soon as your lips had crashed onto his. Grabbing onto the collar of his shirt, by complete surprise, you pulled him toward you quite forcefully once he had turned to you. Though you had the audacity to kiss him, it felt as if your heart was in your throat.

At first, Luke appeared to be quite tense. You didn’t expect him to then pull away, only to connect with you once more, subconsciously placing his hands onto your waist tugging you forward in order to be even closer to you.

The moment was like a dream. It was surreal. It was a moment you had yearned for. A moment you’ve always wanted to share. A moment you’d always scold yourself for fantasising over. The blood pumping muscle would not settle, even for a second, but that was the least of your problems. There were occasional bumps of your noses, due to your inexperience. You didn’t know where to even hold Luke, so you let go of his shirt and slipped your hands up to his shoulders. They began to slide up his neck like a snake.

You pulled away, earlier than you had hoped. The need for some oxygen was too much and you had to refuel yourself. Luke was panting too, it was a relief that you weren’t the only one.

“I... I think I have an idea of -heh- what you wanted to tell me,” An exhausted, but very satisfied grin creeped onto his face.

Through your own exhaustion, you leaned forward knocking your foreheads together. With each pant, you felt each other’s breaths ricochet off your skin. Your thumb stroked the side of Luke’s neck and you smiled. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“I could tell,” He laughed and you both pulled away from each other. Both your cheeks were dusted with the colour red. You opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it, “I wanted to do that as well.”

“What? Are you serious?” Your eyebrows could barely fit on your forehead as they flew up. You sat up, your back as straight as a ruler.

“I was the same as you. I wasn’t really ready to tell you.”

You cocked an eyebrow, a snort escaping your nose, “But you were ready to be shirtless in front of me.”

“Hey!” He nudged you playfully and laughed, “You came in without knocking!”

“Okay, fair point,” You nodded your head, pursing your lips and closing your eyes.

“But, Y/N, I looked pretty good right?” The moment you saw his smug face you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. Now it was your turn to nudge him.

You were in the teasing mood, and so was he. “You keep telling yourself that.”

You both shared a look, before your laughs echoed through the room. Both your shoulders bobbed with each laugh. Luke’s head rolled back, his pearly whites shining with laughter. You watched as his Adam’s apple hopped and an urge rose up inside you.

Suddenly a small squeak sort of noise sounded. Luke kept laughing, while you had peeked behind him, your eyebrows furrowing with curiosity. The Venus Flytrap was digesting the fly, its mouth fully enclosed around it, but the silhouette of the fly was able to be seen.

You tapped Luke’s shoulder again and he wiped his eyes finally stopping laughing. He gave you a, ‘Huh?’ so you placed your hand onto his cheek and pushed. He yet again turned around toward your gift. “Looks delicious,” He commented.

“Hmm... want to go grab something to eat?” You asked.

With a look of sincerity, Luke took your soft hands into his giving them a good squeeze. “I’d love to.”

Masterlist

#luke skywalker #luke x reader #luke skywalker x reader #star wars imagine #star wars x reader #star wars reader insert #x reader insert #x reader #reader insert #a christmas present from me

582 notes · View notes

wheresmynaya · 6 years

Text

Meeting in the Middle Ch.6 | Brittana

Link to FF (x)

Thank you all for being so patient while my mom was in town! This marks the 'end' of this story since I previously said that this was going to be a short one. However, you’ll find that the ending leaves some room to play so I may continue but we'll see where my creativity takes me. Thanks for sticking around!

When Brittany wakes again it’s to be checked over by the nurse and to be informed that it’s not much longer now until her surgery. Brittany’s a little groggy, but she nods in understanding. On the little table next to her is a red Jell-o cup and a plastic spoon; she looks around wondering where it came from but she’s alone. She picks it up and turns it in her fingers, looking it over before she decides it’s now hers.

She’s two scoops in when she sees Quinn walk pass the window. She watches as she stops and starts talking to someone sitting down, Brittany thinks maybe Beth, but then Quinn glances at the window and finds Brittany staring back. She blinks and says one last thing to whoever she’s talking to before entering the room.

“Well, look who’s finally awake.” Quinn says through a smile that doesn’t quite reach her cheeks. She settles in next to Brittany on the stool at her bedside and nods to the Jell-o cup, “That was supposed to be after your surgery.”

Brittany stops mid bite and looks down at the nearly empty cup, “I got hungry.”

Quinn nods and leans on the bed on her elbows, “You really fucking scared me, Britt.”

“Yeah..” Brittany sighs as she sets down the empty cup on the side table. She looks to her leg wrapped in bandages then back to Quinn, “I really did it this time.”

“You’ll be okay.” Quinn assures her, “You’re tough.”

“I guess.” Brittany mumbles. She doesn’t think she’s so tough. She tripped over her own two feet and almost broke her knee, what’s tough about that? Brittany swallows the lump in her throat and lies back against her pillows, “I think I’m tired again.”

“Okay.” Quinn says and stands up, fluffing Brittany’s pillows before taking the trash from the table, “You nap. I’m just outside if you need me.”

“Okay.” Brittany replies and turns her head away from the window as Quinn closes the door behind her.

Brittany finds herself thinking about Santana. She wonders where she is and if she’s worried or if this is a perfect time to run off and never see her again. It really would be the perfect time, it’s not like Brittany can chase after her. She wouldn’t really blame her if Santana did take off though, who wouldn’t?

She falls asleep again to the thoughts of Santana and what could’ve been.

She doesn’t think she’s been asleep for long, maybe she still is, but she stirs to the touch of cold fingers brushing hair from her face. She thinks it could be Quinn since she just spoke to her what felt like a few minutes ago, but for some reason she has a feeling it isn’t Quinn. It must be the medication she’s on because she blinks, trying to wake herself up, but she’s so tired, it doesn’t really do much.

When she hears melodic humming, she knows it’s definitely not Quinn. She tries hard to make out the words, but it’s a song she’s never heard before. She wishes the drugs weren’t so strong just so she could get a clear view.

Then again, she must be dreaming, because even with her eyes closed she can tell that voice from anyone else’s and there’s no way she could actually be there. It’s comforting and she finds herself relaxing further in her pillows. If she is dreaming, she hopes she never wakes up. So she lays still and lets the cold fingers graze her hairline and move to her cheeks. She drifts back to sleep as the humming lulls her deeper and deeper into her slumber.

An hour or so later, she’s being transported to the operation room. She’s being guided through the hall and the bright florescent lights make her squint.

Her parents are walking along next to her bed and they ask her if she’s okay and they remind her everything is going to be okay. In all honesty, Brittany’s scared and the nerves make her feel a little nauseous. She keeps on her brave face for them though, even if a single tear escapes. Several others flank her bed along with her parents, but none look familiar. Quinn is nowhere in sight and neither is Santana, but Brittany thinks the latter might’ve never come.

It doesn’t really surprise her if Santana hasn’t because why would she? She doesn’t owe her anything; she doesn’t need to wait by her hospital bed. It’s not like they’re dating, it’s not like Santana cares.

At a certain point closer to the operating rooms, Whitney and Pierce are no longer able to be with Brittany. Brittany can see the worry in their eyes as they kiss her and tell her she’ll be fine. They have to be quick as the nurses tell them that they don’t have much time so they rush in a few more words of wisdom before turning away.

In their fleeting goodbyes, Brittany tilts her head up to watch them leave but as the nurses begin to wheel her away, she swears she can see a familiar Latina waiting in the wings.

Then again, it could just be hallucinations. Whatever medication they have her on is potent.

She thought she was nervous before but when it’s just her alone with the nurses and they begin to prep her for surgery she becomes acutely aware of how scared she really is. She’s never undergone a major surgery like this where she has to be put to sleep and she’s so freaked out about the possibility of going under and never waking up. She takes deep breaths in hopes of steadying her nerves and surprisingly it helps a little.

It’s not long before she begins to feel drowsy after they’ve administered the anesthetic and she thinks she won’t ever need to sleep again after this because she’s been napping so much since she’s been there.

A couple hours must pass when Brittany awakes, because she’s back in her original room. She’s still groggy as she blinks a little and looks around the room. It feels almost like Déjà vu and when Brittany’s parents spot her coming to through the window, they quickly burst in.

“Hey sweetie, how you feeling?” Whitney asks softly, brushing hair from Brittany’s eyes, as she sits down on the bed and Pierce takes the spot opposite her.

Brittany looks down and sees a neon green cast wrapped around her leg, starting from just above her ankle to mid thigh. Her leg is lifted by some pulley system and it sways as she tries to wiggle. Suddenly the memory of what happened comes flooding back and Brittany begins fighting to sit up but Pierce has his hands on her shoulders keeping her back.

“Britt, please, don’t fight.” Whitney begs as Brittany begins to push back. Whitney begins to tear up at the sight and pleads, “Honey, just relax.”

Brittany tires herself out quickly and softens under her dad’s strength. She stares at her leg and her heart breaks in two, “How long am I in this thing?”

“Eight weeks.” Whitney answers and Brittany squeezes her eyes tight to keep the tears back, “You’ll have to take more PT sessions after.”

She was supposed to be close to recovery by then, back to dancing, back to her old life, but no. After all her progress, she’s back at square one. She feels so helpless.

“You’re going to be just fine, Brittany.” Pierce tells her sternly, “You’ll come back from this so much stronger.”

Brittany can’t find it in her to believe him though and she lays back further in the pillows, and let’s the exhaustion take her.

The next time she awakes the room is empty. It’s much darker than before and the only light that streams in is from the window. Brittany looks around, her vision still a little blurry, but she blinks and settles on the window. She sees Quinn first and it looks like she’s talking to someone who is sitting down. Another feeling of Déjà vu, Brittany notes. She thinks maybe it’s Beth Quinn is talking to, but then Quinn looks in through the window and finds Brittany staring back.

Her lips move but Brittany obviously can’t hear what she’s saying. Brittany tilts her head as Quinn looks down again, wondering who she’s talking to.

Brittany soon gets her answer as Santana stands up.

Santana’s eyes finds Brittany’s easily, like second nature, drawn to one another.

Brittany’s breath quickens at the sight, and she remembers she’s meant to be mad at her but there’s a tiny part of her that’s happy to see Santana is still around. She doesn’t know what she’s supposed to feel, but when she sees that there’s a small smile on Santana’s lips as she stares at Brittany through the window, Brittany finds herself smiling back.

Brittany can tell Santana feels guilty just by looking at her but when Quinn turns to the Latina, her face falls again. Quinn says something and Santana nods, eyes never leaving Brittany’s, before she looks to Quinn and nods again. Brittany watches as Santana turns to leave and Brittany feels the urge to go after her, but remembers her leg is strung up and she’s so medicated she probably wouldn’t make it that far. Her eyes follow Santana until she’s out of sight.

“Hey Britt, how you doing?” Quinn greets as she enters the room, closing the door behind her.

“I’m okay.” Brittany answers then nods to the window, “What was going on out there?”

“Just some girl talk.” Quinn shrugs as she comes up to Brittany’s beside.

Brittany eyes her curiously, “About what?”

“You’re not in any pain, right? Mama Pierce wants me to make sure,” Quinn asks, ignoring Brittany’s question, “Your parents went to pick Beth up for her ballet practice. She’s super excited.”

“Did you make her leave?” Brittany asks, growing impatient.

Quinn eyes her cautiously and crosses her arms over her chest, “You think I’d do that?”

“I don’t know. You guys looked like you were talking about serious stuff..”

Quinn shakes her head and stands, “You shouldn’t worry.”

Brittany stares at her, trying to read her, but nothing.

Quinn takes a seat on the stool next to Brittany’s bed and sighs, “We were just talking. Really, you don’t have to worry.”

Brittany just nods, “Okay.”

“You know she’s been here all day..” Quinn mentions and Brittany instantly looks to her to explain.

“All day?” Brittany’s eyes widen, “How long have I been here?”

“Awhile.” Quinn answers, “I had to leave to close up shop and make sure the girls were okay and your parents picked Bella up from school, but Santana’s been here the whole time.”

Brittany’s heart races at the fact and it makes it so much harder to still be angry with Santana when she hears that she’s wasted her day in a hospital. She has a hard time convincing herself Santana doesn’t care about her because if she didn’t, why did she hang around? But if she waited around for so long, why did she leave? Why didn’t she come in and see her?

But then there’s a knock on the door and Santana’s poking her head through as she slowly pushes the door open, “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” Quinn says and Brittany watches quietly as she slides in.

Santana enters carrying a drink holder with three cups and a muffin balancing on top as another sits in the empty space in the holder. She’s still dressed in the same outfit as before when they were at Lucy Q’s, but she looks exhausted.

“Finally.” Quinn groans as Santana hands her a cup.

“Long line.” Is all Santana says, handing her a muffin too.

Quinn nods, meeting Brittany’s eyes for a moment before looking back to Santana, “Thanks.”

Santana keeps her distance, lingering in the shadows near the back counter. Quinn has a certain mischievous glint in her eyes and when she nods to Santana still shuffling around behind her, Brittany finally gets it, something is going on.

“What did you do?” Brittany mouths but Quinn just winks back.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Quinn says aloud as she balances her muffin on the lid of her coffee cup. She comes around to kiss the top of Brittany’s head, “See you in a bit.”

Brittany’s confused and wants to say she needs to tell her what’s going on but Quinn’s too quick. She watches as Quinn gives Santana a stern look before leaving.

Santana sighs and pulls a cup from the tray and picks up the other muffin with a couple paper towels.

“I got these for you,” Santana says as she sets them down on the little bedside table next to Brittany, “Hot chocolate and a blueberry muffin.”

Brittany feels her stomach grumble and she’s glad for the offering because she hadn’t even realized she was hungry. She can’t remember the last time she ate other than the jell-o cup but who knows how long ago that was. Then she thinks of how sweet Santana is for thinking to bring her something too.

“Thanks.” Brittany mumbles and starts to pick at the muffin while Santana sits the furthest away in the chair at the corner of the room. There’s so much to be said, but they sit in silence as Brittany nibbles at her muffin and Santana sips on her coffee, neither knowing where to begin. Brittany remembers how angry she was earlier, but she doesn’t feel like doing that all over again. She’s tired in more ways than one.

“So bright green, huh?” Santana points out, nodding to Brittany’s cast.

“Apparently I picked the color.” Brittany tells her after taking a bite of her muffin, “You’d think my parents would know better than to let me make decisions while I’m high as a kite. At least it’s not glow in the dark.”

Santana chuckles, “That could’ve been fun.”

Brittany laughs too but then they lull into another silence. Neither make eye contact and the tension is so thick it can be cut in half.

“So you feeling okay?” Santana asks tentatively, “I’m sure you’re tired of everyone asking, but I haven’t been able to ask you yet.”

Brittany nods, “Yeah, I’m okay. Maybe just a little tired. Not sure how, I feel like I’ve been doing nothing but sleeping here.”

“Oh, I can go if you’d like?” Santana asks and sits up like she’s ready to make a run for if Brittany wanted her to.

But Brittany just shakes her head, “You don’t have to. I don’t mind the company.”

“Okay,” Santana smiles and rests back in the chair, “I’ll stay then.”

There’s a comfortable silence that settles in the room as a nurse brings Brittany a dinner tray. None of the food looks appetizing but Brittany compliments it anyway as the nurse checks her vitals. As soon as she leaves, Santana’s the first to offer to get something better from the café downstairs. Brittany denies the offer though, not wanting to burden Santana any further, and begins picking at the food. Surprisingly, it doesn’t taste too bad.

They watch talk shows together on the little tv in Brittany’s room, laughing at each other’s jokes, but the unspoken still looms over them like storm clouds. Brittany can feel it and she guesses Santana can too, but it’s been a long day already and she needs a break from thinking.

But that doesn’t last long as Brittany has to be helped to the bathroom by her nurse. She feels embarrassed asking Santana so she pressed her call button instead. She winces as she swings her leg off the side of her bed and is urged to a standing position. She catches a glimpse of Santana’s expression as the nurse leads her to the en suite and it’s like the cracks of thunder rumble above their heads, the storm clouds threatening to downpour at any moment.

When the nurse helps Brittany back in her bed, Santana’s eyes stayed glued to her twiddling fingers. It’s not until the nurse leaves that she finally looks up.

“I’m so sorry, Brittany.” Santana exhales and the quiver in her voice makes Brittany look up. She looks so small, so fragile, but she repeats, “I’m so sorry.”

Brittany stares because she’s not sure why she’s sorry, it’s not like she was the one that tripped her.

“I’m sorry for being distant this week and I know it’s not the best explanation, but I just had a lot going on and I couldn’t handle that while also processing what’s going on here.” Santana motions between her and Brittany, “Whatever this is. I’ve worked my ass off and I couldn’t handle the distraction.”

Brittany burns at the word, “Distraction?” It hurts and she takes a breath because she feels like she’s been kicked in the gut, “I wasn’t trying to distract you from anything.”

“I know,” Santana urges and she straightens up, “That’s not what I meant. I don’t know what I meant. It’s just..” Santana pauses and runs her fingers through her hair, “I came back to Lima to focus on myself and really perfect my music and figure out who I wanted to be, to figure out the person I wanted the world to see. I didn’t come back to..” She pauses as she looks at Brittany, “To be apart of whatever is going on here.”

Another kick, Brittany’s lips part and her brows furrow, “What is going on here, Santana, because I have no idea. You’re hot, you’re cold, you’re here, you’re not.” Brittany can’t believe Santana had the audacity to make such an accusation and once again, she feels anger rise, “I came back to Lima to rest, not to be lead on.”

“It wasn’t my intention to lead you on.” Santana replies, “There is a lot more going on here than you realize.”

“Then tell me!” Brittany implores, “I can’t read your mind, Santana, and I’m so over trying to figure you out on my own. I’m tired of filling in the blanks and I’m tired of giving you the benefit of the doubt. What’s the big secret? Why is it so hard for you to just say how you feel because the guessing game is getting so old and I have my own feelings to worry about.”

Santana pauses and her shoulder slump in defeat as she looks at Brittany. The blonde can tell she struck a nerve, but she doesn’t care. If that’s what it takes to get her point across then she’ll keep at it.

“Okay.” Santana nods, licking her lips before taking a deep breath, “I didn’t leave my father’s label for creative differences. I was kicked off because he found out I had been seeing one of our artists. I can admit that it wasn’t right of me, but we knew each other way before I came to work for him and…it doesn’t matter. He was too caught up in the fact that the artist was a woman.” Santana drifted off, wiping a tear from her cheek, “When he found out his pride and joy was a lesbian, he wanted nothing to do with me.”

Brittany was speechless. Her heart broke for Santana; she couldn’t imagine anyone’s parents being so harsh. She was lucky with her folks, but she honestly couldn’t believe someone would treat Santana like that let alone her own father.

“The thing was, he already knew. There were so many signs, and so many times I had dropped the hint but it wasn’t until he saw it with his own eyes that he really believed me. He was furious; he fired her instantly and pushed me to create music that just wasn’t me. He tried turning me into someone else, to hide who I am and I couldn’t do it. When I confronted him, giving him the ultimatum that it’s either me as is or nothing, he chose the latter. He cut me off from everything; I had to sell my things and my apartment. If I hadn’t come back to Lima, I don’t know where I’d be now.”

Brittany stares at Santana as her voice cracks even more, but Santana wipes her eyes again and takes a calming breath. She looks like she could burst into tears again at any moment, but she continues, “You want to know where I’ve been this past week? I was in New York. My father had sent for me and made me believe he just wanted to spend time with me, to make amends, but it was all a joke. I believed him too, I thought he was being genuine. Well, the fucking joke’s on me! He didn’t want me there because he missed his daughter. He wanted me there because he missed the money I brought in; he missed my talent and what it did for the label. He bribed me with all the money and cars and swanky apartments just for me to come back. Isn’t that funny? My own flesh and blood.”

“Santana..” Brittany whimpers but Santana just shakes her head, tears begin to fall again.

“I just wanted to make music and feel accepted, but it’s so hard.” Santana continued, her voice cracking as she clenched her teeth, “What’s so wrong about me being me? Who gives a fuck who I love and what the fuck does it matter when it comes to my music? It’s stupid and I hate that even now I still want his approval. I’ve been working so hard since I’ve left and I find myself thinking Oh this is going to impress him, he’s going to be so proud. Why should I care? He’s a fucking asshole of a father!”

Brittany found herself tearing up as well as Santana began to rant. She could see how hard she was on herself, and she wished she knew what to say to make her stop, but Brittany could be hard on herself sometimes too and there’s not much you can say.

“I came to Lima because I wanted to better myself, you know? I didn’t want to be anything like my father. And my mom? I’m sure she’s just as bad! I didn’t want to be anything like them, but instead I’ve followed right in their footsteps. I’m just like them, Brittany, and I hate it. I’m guarded and I close myself off to people that care about me and I push them away until I’m left with no one. On top of that, I can’t communicate for shit and I’m angry. I’m so fucking angry and I don’t know what to do with it all.”

“He’s your family, of course you’d want to make him proud but he doesn’t sound like a good person. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, especially him,” Brittany said and instantly wished she had something wiser to say. Brittany wishes she could get up and give the girl a hug. Her heart breaks even more because if she thought she had problems, they’re nothing compared to Santana’s, “Just be yourself and everything will work out.”

“How do you know?” Santana asks, but Brittany doesn’t have an answer right away.

After a moment, Brittany replies, “I just know that nothing good ever comes from not being true to yourself.”

Santana’s lips part as if to argue but she presses her lips together again frowns. She looks deep in thought before looking back to Brittany, “I’m sorry I’ve been an ass and I’m sorry that I don’t know how to talk about my feelings, but as you can see I have my reasons and it’s not the easiest thing in the world for me.”

“You could’ve just said that, Santana.” Brittany replies simply, “I would’ve understood.”

“Really?” Santana looks surprised, “You would have?”

“Of course, but you didn’t even give me a chance to show you that.” Brittany argues, confused as to why it’s so hard for Santana to believe her, “You have to tell me things, what’s going on with you, because I don’t know. If you wanted space because you had a lot going on then I would’ve understood, but you’d have to tell me first so I’d know. It would’ve made things so much easier but instead you go with ignoring me for a week. ”

“I-I didn’t ignore you,” Santana defends then stops, “I didn’t mean to ignore you. I was just…embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?”

“Yeah.” Santana lets out a sigh as she rolls her head back against the chair. She can’t even make eye contact as she speaks, “I…I like spending time with you. It’s all I wanted while I was in New York.”

“Then why didn’t you just call me?” Brittany asks, “Even a text?”

“I don’t know, okay? I guess I didn’t want to drag you into my mess. It’s all too much and I didn’t want to burden you with it.” Santana answers and Brittany fights the urge to roll her eyes because how can Santana be so stubborn. “You know why I ran off so fast that night we kissed?” Santana asks but Brittany doesn’t think she can handle the answer. She doesn’t have a chance to guess because Santana’s giving it to her anyway, “Because you scare the hell out of me.”

Brittany’s taken aback but she continues to listen, waiting for an explanation.

“I’ve never felt like this about anyone before and it scares that shit out of me. I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel..I don’t know, unwanted? It wasn’t my intention. I know that feeling and I don’t ever want to make someone feel that way. I just, I didn’t know what to do. I know, that’s lame to say but it’s true. I’m not good at this and you’re just,” Santana begins to smile, “You’re amazing. You’re so kind and carefree and just a good person and I got scared because there’s no way I could ever be good enough for you.”

“Santana..don’t say that.” Brittany admonishes softly.

Santana doesn’t think twice and continues, “I’m sorry, but it’s true. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met, but I have…I have all these feelings,” Santana pauses and takes a shaky inhale before looking back up at Brittany, “Feelings for you, that I’m afraid of dealing with because I’m afraid of dealing with the consequences.”

Brittany is stunned and she blinks, too shocked for words.

“I don’t know how to do these things properly. All the relationships in my life have ended with me pushing the other away or vice versa, I’m just tired of being hurt,” Santana says with a shrug, “But you’re different, I can feel it, and I want to try really hard to make sure that this plays out differently...even though I’m kind of off to a bad start already.” Then Santana looks to her expectantly, almost pleading, “Please say something.”

“Come here.” Brittany tells her and Santana slowly closes the distance and sits on the stool next to her bed. She looks like a child that’s about to be scolded but Brittany just cradles her chin in her hand and guides her ever so slowly until their lips can collide once again.

It’s better than before, because this time it’s with feelings and it’s always better with feelings.

And Brittany feels so much for Santana and Santana has just confirmed that she feels so much for Brittany too. It makes her so overcome with joy and it’s not even because the drugs make her feel so good. She’s genuinely happy because Santana’s here and she likes her just as much as Brittany does and she’s kissing her back and it’s soft and gentle and everything she’s wanted since they kissed the first time. And she’s finally let Brittany in on her life, although it’s not the best information, she’s happy Santana’s finally told her something and she’s barely scratched the surface. There’s so much she doesn’t know, but now Santana’s giving her the chance to find out.

When Santana pulls away, a dazed look in her eyes, Brittany smiles and runs her thumb along Santana’s jaw. She loves the newfound closeness and revels in the softness of her skin.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” Brittany says honestly, “I won’t hurt you.”

She watches Santana gulp which makes her continue, “I’ll show you if you let me.”

“Okay.” Santana says timidly.

“You are an awesome person, Santana, and your dad is a complete idiot if he doesn’t see that.” Brittany watches as Santana frowns at his mention but she instantly kisses it away, “Thank you for telling me everything, it really means a lot. I’m sorry I didn’t know that’s what you were going through, I wouldn’t have snapped on you earlier.”

“Don’t be sorry, Britt, you had no idea.” Santana replied, nuzzling into Brittany’s touch, “I shouldn’t have shown up at Lucy Q’s like that. I don’t know why I did, I knew you were upset with me. It wasn’t fair and then all this happened.” Santana waved to Brittany’s cast and shook her head, “If I hadn’t been there, maybe you wouldn’t have-“

“Stop.” Brittany hushed, “It was an accident. There’s no way you caused this. Okay? Don’t put that on yourself.”

“Okay.” Santana nodded and let Brittany nudge her into another kiss.

“Okay,” Brittany grinned; loving the fact that Santana was still there, “I’m really happy you’re here.”

“Me too,” Santana pulled away slightly but she was still close enough that their lips brushed as she spoke, “So, what does that mean for us? What happens now?”

Brittany paused for a moment too and thought about the question. What did it mean for them? They have feelings for each other, it was clear now, but Santana was also clear about being afraid. She has a lot going on in her personal life revolving around her father and her career and it all seems so much bigger than them and their feelings. Brittany didn’t have a clear answer; she didn’t want to push Santana if she wasn’t ready especially if labels weren’t her thing.

Instead, Brittany took a calming breath and shrugged, “Anything is possible.”

#Meeting in the Middle #brittana #fic ideas #santana lopez #brittany pierce #fanfics #fics

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ellanainthetardis · 7 years

Photo

Let’s greet a new family member today ;) Let me know your thoughts!

[FF] or [AO3]

13. Nineteen Weeks

The puppies were little more than balls of white fur with black eyes and pink tongues. There were five of them left, rolling around in the light coat of snow with the little girl, under the watchful eyes of their mother. For puppies, they were huge, the size of a small dog at least, but that were Samoyeds for you, Haymitch figured.

“Haven’t found anyone to take them yet?” he asked Riley, almost wishing Katniss had caved and had adopted one – even though she claimed Buttercup was enough of a pet for a lifetime.

The old man rubbed the back of his neck and gave the dogs a wince. “Nah. Not many takers. Got a phone call from someone in Seven who would take two but… Can’t keep three of them on my own though.”

Haymitch glanced at Effie who was still talking with Eileen Clarke a few feet away. They had met the woman and her daughter on their way out of the Hob and the two of them had been chatting ever since. It had been fifteen minutes – fifteen minutes of him more or less having to entertain Eileen’s daughter – and he was starting to think they would never get to their appointment at the clinic on time. Effie tended to forget she didn’t walk as fast as she used to.

“The kid might take one if you can convince the mom.” he joked, nodding at the little girl whose red hair was flying around as the puppies chased after her.

“They make good friends for little kids.” Riley nodded. “They’re good guard dogs too.”

Haymitch knew he was hinting at something but he pretended not to understand, crouching down to pat the head of the puppy who had wandered away from the pack to sniff his boots. It immediately wriggled its tail and gave a joyful shrill bark, jumping left and right, clearly hoping for him to join its game. He buried his shaky gloved fingers in its thick fur with a smirk, ruffling it until the puppy rolled on its back to present its belly.

It was cute. Very, very cute.

He had owned a dog once. A very long time ago. His little brother had dragged a mutt back home, begging to be allowed to keep it… The dog had stayed for two days – time enough to infest the whole house with fleas –and then had run away and had never come back. Overall, it wasn’t his best pet experience but… He had liked the idea of a dog.

He heard Eileen calling her daughter but it wasn’t until he felt Effie’s presence at his side that he looked up with pleading eyes.

She stared at him for a second, lifted an eyebrow, and then proceeded to smile at Riley, exchange a few pleasantries, and make their excuses because they had an appointment to keep. He patted the puppy’s head once more and said his own goodbye, trying not to notice that the dog ran after them on a few feet until Riley whistled it back to his side.

“Say, sweetheart…” he hesitated.

“Eileen is approaching her due date.” she declared, not leaving him a chance to finish. “Isn’t it exciting? We need to find a gift for the baby… They are having another girl… There are a lot of cute dresses in that store in town…”

Her eyes took a faraway glaze that he had learned to recognize long ago: there would be a shopping frenzy in her near future. It made him smirk. She was hyper lately. She didn’t sleep well because the baby kept moving in the middle of the night and thus she was tired but glowing at the same time – because her favorite thing in the world now seemed to be feeling the shrimp move. He was starting to kick but not strongly enough to be felt yet. He kept placing his hands on her stomach but was disappointed every time. He should be able to feel him soon though and he couldn’t wait.

“You want a girl yourself just so you can dress her up in ridiculous clothes.” he teased.

She bit down on her bottom lip and adjusted her woolen scarf but couldn’t hide her excitement. “We will know soon, there is no point presuming.” Her eyes were twinkling madly and she looped her arms around his, a bright smile on her lips. “Can you imagine? In two hours we will know if we are having a boy or a girl…”

The words made him thirsty for liquor because they were terrifying.

They also made him want to kiss her, so that was what he did, not quite minding the fact that they were in public. The street was mostly deserted. December’s cold made people hurry from one point to another, and he was done hiding anyway. And, truth be told, being rewarded by her very pleased smile was enough for him to fight his own privacy issues.

They had been good ever since Four, despite the marriage disaster. They had sex, they planned their future with just enough excitement that they didn’t let the fear terrify them into stupor, they comforted each other when doubt crept in, they bickered, they bantered, they smiled and touched each other at every given opportunity like they were teenagers in love and not two adults who had been together for more than a decade… He dared say they were happy. And he loved being happy.

“So…” he prompted, as they started walking again. “You want a girl?”

“I suppose I would love a baby girl.” she hummed. “But honestly I just want our child to be healthy. I would be happy with either. What about you?”

He thought about it long and hard – as if he hadn’t been thinking about it for weeks yet – and he shrugged. “I don’t mind. I’d just want to… you know… know.”

“Yes.” she grinned, quickening her pace and forcing him to do the same. He didn’t protest too much because he was just as impatient as she was.

They managed to get to the clinic on time but barely just. It wasn’t a bad thing in Haymitch’s opinion because at least, that way, they didn’t waste their time sitting in the waiting room, trying to pretend they didn’t notice everyone was staring at them.

He was more than aware that a few people in Twelve – if not in the whole country – not only disapproved her pregnancy but also plainly resented it. So far, aside for the incident with Clay at the grocery shop, the worst that had happened was a few overheard comments. Effie hadn’t gone out of the house much since she had come back from Four – she had insisted on cleaning it from floor to ceiling because he had made a mess in her absence and the first snow fall of the season hadn’t been an inducement for her to walk around since she hated being cold. Still, Haymitch was a bit uneasy with the blatant hostility of some people and if that had tended to make him overprotective before, it was nothing compared to now.

There was no hiding how impatient they were from Doctor Larcher who smiled indulgently at them as they went through the infuriating process of small talk. Haymitch was relieved when they moved on to actually health related matters but he kept tapping his foot all the time the doctor asked Effie questions – despite her pointed looks.

He sighed in relief when the ultrasound machine was rolled closer.

It wasn’t their first ultrasound by any means and they knew what to expect now. Still, Haymitch grabbed Effie’s hand and squeezed, not even fighting his smirk. She answered that with a bright smile of her own.

It took a few minutes before Larcher found the right angle and the whooshing sound of the machine was covered by the strong heartbeat of their child. It wasn’t a sound Haymitch would ever get tired of. Every time, he felt a lump in his throat.

He didn’t mean to cling tighter to her hand but he did and she looked up at him, her eyes bright with tears she hastily blinked back.

He knew she still had her misgivings and the deep fear that something would go wrong was still there although slightly muted… But at times like this… It was easy to let go and just…

It was their baby.

He still had troubles processing the thought sometimes.

“Is he healthy?” she asked, her voice a bit rougher than usual.

Larcher’s eyes were riveted to the screen as he moved the sensor a little, taking notes on the chart with his free hand.

“As healthy as can be.” the doctor promised.

Just then the baby did… something. It moved… Or rolled… Or…

Effie chuckled. “He does that a lot.”

Haymitch watched the monitor, completely fascinated. It was one thing to know the baby was doing stuff in her stomach, it was completely another to see it with his own two eyes.

“He’s active, that’s very good.” Larcher commented. “You will be able to interact with him soon. He will react to voices and vibrations… I strongly encourage you to start talking to him.”

“Is it a him?” Haymitch asked, unable to contain himself any longer. He wanted to know suddenly, so he could picture himself with a toddler and have a proper accurate freak out.

The doctor glanced at him and tried to find a better angle even though the baby seemed to be awake and quite agitated. “I would say… Yes. He’s a he.”

“A boy…” Effie beamed, squeezing his hand, her smile so big it must have hurt. “Haymitch, we are having a boy!”

“A son…” he whispered and felt the imperative need to sit down.

It was a good thing Larcher was attentive – and probably used to this sort of things – because the man placed the sensor down and immediately pushed a stool in his direction right in time for his legs to give in.

“Alright there, Haymitch?” the doctor asked, a hand on his shoulder to steady him. He was studying him with attention and so was Effie.

Haymitch could only blink. The chuckles took him by surprise but soon turned to laughter and he placed his hand on her round stomach, not minding the sticky gel one bit.

“Effie, we’re having a kid.” he declared.

It might have been the most stupid thing he had ever said.

“Why, I am relieved you finally noticed.” she deadpanned, a tad teasing.

He rolled his eyes but he couldn’t stop smirking because… “We’re having a baby boy.”

“You don’t say.” she laughed at him but soon took pity, her own smile was impossible to fight. “A boy.”

“A boy.” he repeated.

Larcher was good enough not to laugh – too much.

It was still some time before they were allowed out of there. More questions for Effie, more recommendations… And then it was his turn to be grilled with questions about how he was doing, if he was handling withdrawals alright, if the pills helped, if he needed more…

He was relieved when they finally stepped out of the clinic, still reeling high on their new discovery. It seemed they couldn’t stop smiling. They would look at each other and they would smile and it was like everything was enhanced. The cold wind, the brightness of the snow covering the pavement, the sharp blue winter sky…

It had been some time since he had seen Effie so happy and it made him feel even better. It was cliché how utterly blissful he felt, walking down the streets that would take them back to the Victors’ Village, her arms looped tight around his.

“We are really doing this, aren’t we?” she hummed as they took a turn not too far from the bakery.

He briefly toyed with the idea of making a detour to tell Peeta the news but thought better of it. One, the kid needed to focus on the roof they were finishing so he could open soon. Two, if he told Peeta before he told Katniss, there would be hell to pay.

“Yeah.” he smirked. “We’re doing this.”

He was rewarded with a squeeze on his arm and he glanced down at her. She looked so beautiful… Her blue eyes madly twinkling, her cheeks pink both from the walk and the excitement… He reached out with his free hand to adjust her woolen scarf around her throat, and there was such tenderness in her gaze…

I love you…

The feeling was familiar but the words that floated in his mind were almost foreign. They died on his tongue before they could even pass his lips and it frustrated him because he wanted to tell her. She knew, he knew she knew, but knowing and hearing it weren’t the same thing.

He was so focused on her that he almost missed it. There was a movement at the corner of his eyes, a flash of brown leather, and, when he looked, there was Clay, leaning against a shop window, watching them… How long had the man been there? Haymitch could have sworn he had already caught sight of him at the Hob earlier. Was he following them or was it just a coincidence?

But the pure hatred in the man’s eyes…

“Haymitch?” Effie frowned, following his gaze. Her face hardened and she tugged on his arm. “Let’s go home.”

He swallowed hard, clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to confront the guy. He let her drag him away, one arm still firmly looped around his and her free hand rubbing her stomach over her coat.

“If you see him around and you’re alone…” he started after a few minutes.

“I am not stupid.” she countered. “And I am no stranger to being careful in public. I used to be famous once upon a time, if you remember.”

It was an attempt at levity, not a great one but an attempt all the same, and so he let out a long deep breath and tried to push the bad feeling in his stomach aside. “We’re gonna have to talk names, yeah?”

She brightened, the spring back in her steps as she steered them toward the Village. “Oh, we have some time yet but it never hurt to be prepared… We should have stopped at the bookstore… They have baby names books…”

He had meant last names, really, but he wasn’t sure now was the perfect time to put the marriage thing back on the table. She was happy, they were happy, and he didn’t want to start an argument.

“Nothing ridiculous.” he stated. “That rules out most Capitol names.”

She rolled her eyes at him and whacked his shoulder. “Do you want to name him after someone?”

The question was hesitant but he figured it was reasonable.

He made a face. “Like who?”

“Your brother?” she offered with reluctance because they never talked about his family. He tensed but before he could completely freak out, she rubbed his arm and soldiered on. “Or Chaff, if you really want to. I can’t say I would love it but he was your best friend and I would understand if you wished to pay tribute to him. Cinna also comes to mind but…”

“Katniss won’t like that.” he finished. Or, more accurately, she might appreciate the gesture but then have a panic attack every time they called their boy and that might be problematic in the long run. He wrinkled his nose. “Our kid is his own person. I don’t want… Look, I put my brother to rest. Chaff too. I don’t need… I don’t need that. They don’t either.”

She nodded and he couldn’t help but notice she looked relieved. “It was simply a suggestion. I would prefer a name without strings attached too. Ideally, I would have loved my grandfather’s name but my sister got there before me I am afraid. Two Timotheo would be confusing.”

Timotheo wasn’t so bad a name. Long and Capitol but they could always have shortened it to Tim or Theo. He was sure she could come up with worse than that.

They stopped for a moment at the foot of the slope leading up to the Village so she could catch her breath. Haymitch kept glancing at their surroundings, unable to shake off the feeling of foreboding. He wasn’t always at the house with her and he realized he couldn’t always make sure she didn’t wander around the District by herself – it wasn’t fair on her and it wasn’t fair on the kids. He also realized once the baby would be born, it would be twice as hard to keep them both safe from people who had grudges and less than kind intentions.

As they finally trekked up the slope to the Village, his resolution cemented. When they reached their front door, he was completely decided.

“I’m dying for a cup of tea.” she sighed, fishing around her purse for their keys.

He waited until she had opened the door to bury his hands in his pockets. “I forgot something in town, sweetheart. I’ll be back in a few.”

“Oh.” she frowned. “Alright. Could you swing by the bookstore, then?”

“Sure.” he nodded. “Get some rest, yeah? Take a nap or something…”

She rolled her eyes at him but there was a smile tugging at her mouth. She planted a kiss on his lips.

“I promised Mother I would call her after the ultrasound.” she declared. “So I will call while drinking my tea and then I will lie down and knit for a while. Satisfied?”

“Thrilled.” he deadpanned but pecked her right back.

She shook her head at his antics but disappeared inside, leaving him to head back into town. He was attentive but he couldn’t spot Clay anywhere. Maybe it had been a coincidence, then. Maybe he was being paranoid and overprotective. However they had been through so much it was hard not to be.

His first stop was the bookstore where he left the woman behind the counter select the appropriate books for him, painfully nodding and restraining himself from being rude faced with her curious questions. Gossip would follow that visit, he knew it.

He made several other stops and it was late by the time he finally got back to the Village, his arms full of bags.

He was also a bit scared she would kill him.

Once everything was inside, bags in a heap in the corridor, he wasn’t scared anymore, he was certain he was about to be mauled to death – she had just redone her manicure the previous day and he was quite sure her claws were sharp.

“Sweetheart?” he called out.

He could have done without the high pitched bark that echoed it.

She came out of the kitchen, wearing one of those pink leggings that were stretchy enough to accommodate her belly and lost in one of his grey sweatshirt, her blond hair tied up in a messy ponytail. She didn’t look impressed.

“What is this?” she asked.

And another happy bark answered her.

“Surprise?” he tried, looking a bit sheepish. The puppy barked again, crouching low and then hopping left and right, before rolling on himself, apparently perfectly happy to entertain himself. “He’s cute and fluffy. You like cute and fluffy.” he reminded her. He wasn’t about to go so low as begging her to let him keep it. He wasn’t a kid and she wasn’t his mother. He was a grown man who could decide to get a dog if he wanted to and he didn’t need her approbation. All the more so given that the dog would be very big once adult and that it should convince anyone to think twice before coming after her or their child. “Look, he needed a home.”

She pursed her lips and folded her arms in front of her chest.

“Well.” she huffed. “We have the house, we have the white picket fence, now we have a dog… I guess it is a good thing we started with the children already. We have some work to do to reach the traditional 2.5.”

He winced. “Effie…”

“You could have consulted me.” she snapped. “If you wanted a pet, I would have preferred a cat. And we are already having a baby, do you truly think we need another one? It will leave hairs everywhere. And…”

The puppy wandered to her, sniffing her feet and her legs before sitting back, his pink tongue poking out of his mouth. He barked twice and she sighed, bending just enough to pat his head. He wasn’t satisfied with that and tried to stand up on his hinder legs to seek her hand.

“Samoyeds are good with kids.” he told her. “They can grow up together. Kids like dogs.”

She still didn’t look happy but the puppy was making a good job at convincing her he was a cute innocent little thing that needed a home. It licked her hand – which made her frown – and barked at her, demanding cuddles.

“Look at this fur… He will shed it everywhere…” she sighed. “Who will clean up? I am not a housemaid, you know.”

“I’ll clean up.” he promised.

“You will train him too.” she declared. “There won’t be any bad surprise in the house, am I clear? And he better not come anywhere near my shoes.”

“I bought some stuff. It should keep him busy.” he pacified her, grabbing her shoulders and steering her toward the couch because he didn’t know how long she had been up but he was very sure she should rest more.

She had barely sat down when the puppy jumped on the couch next to her.

“Now, now, that won’t do.” she chided him, gently tangling her fingers in his thick fur. “No dog on the furniture.”

“I’ll put up a shed in the backyard for him.” he declared.

She immediately frowned and grabbed the puppy, holding it close to her chest, to the dog’s obvious delight. “It is too cold, poor thing!” She pouted at him as if he was the most cruel man to ever walk the Earth and she scratched the puppy’s neck. “We will buy him a nice bed. Oh, and a pretty collar… And a shiny plate. He needs his own plate if we are to keep him.”

He rolled his eyes, not quite ready to confess everything she had just listed was in the bags in the corridor, and dropped on the couch next to her. The puppy immediately escaped her to come to him and then amused himself walking back and forth to demand cuddles.

“Did you name him yet?” he snorted after a while of her alternating between berating him for taking decisions without consulting her and going completely crazy over the fluffy ball of fur.

“It is either Amadeus or Snowball.” she declared without a second of hesitation.

He shook his head, not even trying to hide his chuckles. “Can’t wait to argue about children names with you, sweetheart…” He scratched the puppy behind the ears. “Snowball it is.”

“Somehow, I knew you would choose this one.” she teased.

He snorted again and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, letting her lean against his chest, the puppy jumping around, exploring his new home.

It wasn’t so hard to imagine a baby crawling around after the dog…

And, with Effie in his arms and his hand on her pregnant belly, it wasn’t that scary either.

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #april showers

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mystrothedefender · 7 years

Text

Can’t we have a nice ending? -BatJokes. Part 1.

This is going to be a nice long story!!! Inspired by @rosy057‘s idea.

AO3 link here

FF link here

Bruce’s joints ached with the use of the grappling hook, as he made his way to Ivy’s old rooftop garden. Where he’d met Joker almost every night for the past 7 years.

He approached the roof garden, the lights in the greenhouse were already on, meaning Joker was already there, as usual.

He landed with a not so graceful thud and felt an annoyingly familiar shock of pain through his knees. He cursed himself, taking a moment to breathe.

Joker’s voice called for him from the greenhouse.

“Bats!”

He drew the word out into 2 syllables, singing the word happily as he came out from his shelter.

Bruce straightened up as Joker approached him. The man seemed to be staring at his hand, the usually wide smile on his face wavering slightly.

“Is your wrist hurting again? I saw you flinch.” He took Batman’s hand and took the grappling hook from him, beginning to massage Bruce’s wrist, his eyes flitting from his wrist to Bruce’s face, studying him. “You know I’m the only one allowed to hurt you, darling.”

Bruce frowned and gently pulled his hand out of Joker’s grasp. ”I’m fine Joker. I just need to invest in something to make the pull a little softer.”

Joker let out a sigh, his eyes wandering to the floor as he began to walk back towards the greenhouse, “Batman, I’ve been thinking lately, about… well,” he smiled, turning his head back to Bruce, his voice a more serious tone than normal, “About you. About us.”

Bruce followed him into the small building, taking a moment to absorb the familiar set up; a multitude of plant pots turned upside down set up to form a kind of dining area, premade food and drink already arranged on the ‘table’.

“Thinking?” Bruce urged after a moment. He was slightly unnerved by Joker’s tone, it was rare that he sounded concerned.

Joker nodded, acting intentionally coy, he took a seat and began to unwrap his food. He extended his hand to gesture for Bruce to sit down.

Bruce moved to take his seat, watching Joker take a bite of his sandwich. “Thinking about what exactly?”

Joker held up a finger, continuing to chew his food, he swallowed and cleared his throat. “Now, uh, keep an open mind about this… But I think it’s time we stopped, uh, this.”

A hard weight seemed to fall on Bruce as Joker spoke. “Why?” he asked bluntly.

Joker smiled, putting his elbows on the table, his sandwich held limply in his hand, “Look, Bats… We’re old. I’ve got to be at least 70 now, I know you’re not much younger than me.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

Joker laughed and shook his head, “If I can admit it you can Batsy. You’re an old man. You’re slow, your joints hurt, it’s hilarious that you’re still doing this.”

“I’m leaving…” Bruce turned to get up, stopped by Joker taking his hand.

“Please, Batman,” Joker cooed, taking his hand and kissing his fingers. “Run away with me.”

Bruce let out a small forced laugh, “This is the funniest thing you’ve ever said, Joker.”

Joker chuckled, “I was being serious. Bats, please-please-please! It’ll be amazing.” He looked at him with fluttering eyelashes, “We can live out the rest of our days together.”

Bruce shook his head, “There’s no way you’re serious. I won’t even consider what you’re suggesting. I couldn’t leave Gotham, my children, grandchildren. I have a business empire, Joker.” He took off across the roof, picking his grappling hook back up and prepping it.

Joker sighed noticeably, following Bruce with his arms crossed.

“Batman, I’ve got something to ask you,” Joker stated firmly.

Bruce frowned, “No, Joker.”

Joker walked up to him and took his hand. Slowly, much to Bruce’s surprise, he got down on one knee.

“Batman, will you marry me?”

Bruce’s mouth lolled open a little, “... What?”

Joker reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring, “Marry me!”

Bruce shook his head weakly, “...No.”

“Please!”

“No?!”

Joker pouted cutely, “Please-please-please…”

Bruce crossed his arms, glaring down at him, “Joker where did you get that ring? You know our agreement.”

Joker shrugged, “It was my grandmothers’,” he offered.

“I’m serious.”

“Me too,” he wiggled the ring box in front of him, “Marry me,” he sang.

Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes, “So the options are I either run away with you or get married to you?”

Joker shook his head, “Marry me and we run away together.”

“No, and no.”

“I’ll do whatever you want… Come on Bats, just imagine, you come home from golf or whatever and then you find me in a sexy little maids outfit, following your every whim..?”

Bruce swallowed hard. “Joker, I’ll say this again. No.”

“Is it coz I’m old?”

Bruce rolled his eyes, “No, it’s because you’re Joker, and I’m Batman, and I can’t leave Gotham.” he shook his head, “And… You’re Joker.”

Joker began to get up, or began trying to, “That never stops you from fucking me does it? You’re just making excuses and,” he huffed, “For god’s sake help me up.”

Bruce reached down to pull Joker up, grunting a little with the effort.

Joker pulled him close, smiling softly, “Come on… Don’t make me beg, or... do something drastic.”

Bruce frowned, pulling away a little, “What do you mean ‘drastic’?”

Joker played with his hands on Bruce’s suit, “Oh I dunno… I could blow up the city, something like that.”

“That goes against our agreement.”

Joker sighed deeply. “Bats… Is our agreement the only reason you’re doing this?”

Bruce paused for a moment, “...At first it was.”

“But now? You love me right?”

Bruce frowned, “Joker. What are you doing here?”

“Do you love me?” Joker huffed and shook his head, “I just… It’s been 7 years. The same thing every night. I want more than a $5 dinner and occasionally bending you over a plant pot. I’m 74. I need to retire.”

Bruce clenched his jaw, swallowing the uncomfortable lump that’d come to his throat. “Joker… I do love you, but I can’t run away with you.”

“Then we’ll compromise,” Joker said happily, “We’ll get married here and I’ll move in with you.”

Bruce shook his head, “Joker, I’m not going to marry you.”

“Seven. Years.”

“Joker, no. I can’t, what would everyone say?”

“It doesn’t matter. You love me right? Don’t you want me for more than 2 hours per night?”

Bruce shrugged, nodding after a moment. After 7 years he had grown to love Joker. Most nights he looked forward to their meetings.

“Batman. I have to. I’m 73. I have to retire. Either you come with me, or I go by myself.”

Joker’s tone made Bruce uneasy. “What do you mean..?”

“Do you know where I live? Batman..?” Joker smirked, “I live in a shoebox 2 floors down from here. I have to walk down 17 flights of stairs and then 10 blocks if I need milk. The highlight of my day is climbing up here and having dinner with you, don’t even get me started on the sex.” he shook his head, “Damn.”

Bruce looked at him, flat faced, waiting for him to continue, he knew Joker’s rants had a point.

“... I want more. I don’t want it to end like this.”

“You’re talking like you’re dying again.”

Joker scoffed and chuckled, “I’m 75 and I haven’t exactly been good to my body. I can feel it comin’ like a fucking train.”

“Stop talking like that!” Bruce heard himself yell.

“No Batman! You’re being delusional! You can’t do this forever, and you can’t stay here. For fuck’s sake…” he shook his head, “Your kids have been trying to get you to stop haven’t they? They keep telling you you’re going to kill yourself. Listen to them, to me. Come on…”

Bruce shook his head again.

Joker approached him, putting his hands on Bruce’s sides. “Just think about it…”

Bruce trudged round the house. Fights between him and his sons were becoming more frequent. Like the Joker they were of the mind that he should quit.

‘Take it down to part time’, ‘Just work from the cave’, ‘You won’t get to see your grandkids grow up’.

It was ridiculous. He was fine. He didn’t need this stress, why couldn’t they just let him go about his business.

He needed to get ready to go out, it was getting late.

He headed downstairs, keeping his eyes intentionally off his adoptive son as he began to gather his things.

Dick’s eyes bore into him, making his chest tighten.

“Bruce,” Dick said sternly, looking over from the computer. “You’re not going out tonight. Me and Damian’ve got the city covered.”

Bruce frowned, “I’m not starting this argument again Dick, I’m going out, I told you.”

“In that case you’ll be going without your belt.”

“What?”

“You’ve kinda forced this one, Bruce. I’ve moved it. Like I said, you’re not going out tonight.”

Bruce stared him down, walking across the room. “Dick, I need my belt, you will give me back my belt.”

“No I won’t,” Dick stated firmly. “We’ve been through this. You’re not well, mentally or physically. You need a night off.”

Bruce let out a growl, “Richard.”

“Don’t ‘Richard’ me, you’re killing yourself. You’re having a night off.”

Bruce turned back to his equipment, picking up his stuff, his mind racing with angry thoughts. “You can’t keep me locked in my own home Dick. I’m going out if you like it or not. I don’t need my utility belt.”

“What about your car? You need the car?”

The batmobile looked fine from what Bruce could see. “What did you do to the car?”

Dick smirked up at him, “It won’t start. Not for you at least. I took your prints off its system.”

“What?!” Bruce felt his head grow hot with anger, “That’s my car Dick!”

Dick shook his head, “Well it doesn’t seem to think so.”

“It’s a car, it can’t think.”

Dick sniffed indignantly, “What are you gunna do? Call the cops on me?” he shook his head, “You’re not going out. It’s for your own good.”

Bruce growled, “You can’t stop me. I need to go out.”

“So you can almost kill yourself? No. I won’t let you. You can work from here but you’re not going out.”

“I said you can’t stop me.” Bruce turned to walk back upstairs, he would into his car and drive into town, to one of his secret bases in one of Wayne tech’s old buildings.

“Bruce are you really this determined to kill yourself?” Dick yelled, following him up the stairs. “Do you have any idea how selfish you’re being?”

“I’m not being selfish, I’m saving lives,” Bruce snapped back.

“No, saving lives would be you staying here and directing us from the cave, not putting yourself in danger…” he sighed, “We know about your heart. I found your pills.”

Bruce stopped in his tracks. “You what?”

Dick nodded, “Yeah. How could you not tell us? I get that you like your secrets but this is something really important. We want as much time with you as we can get, you’re putting yourself in harm’s way.”

Bruce stood still for a moment, he couldn’t wrap his head round this. He couldn’t believe they had gone through his things. They’d decided to take away his belt. They were telling him what to do. He wasn’t a scorned child with a bad report card. He was a grown man, he could make his own decisions.

“I’m continuing with my life as normal. I won’t let a couple of pills change my life.”

“It’s not just pills, your heart could give out! What if you die on the job?” Dick said desperately, “What then? Everyone will find out who you are, who we are. Think of someone other than yourself. You dying will affect all of us, not just me and Damian, our spouses, our kids? Do you really want that for them? Everyone will be after them.”

Bruce swallowed hard. That had occurred to him, but he’d brushed it off, not let himself think about it.

“I won’t die on the job.”

“Bruce, for fuck’s sake, you can’t control your heart. You don’t decide when you die.”

It was true, Bruce couldn’t control his heart.

“… I need some time to think, alone,” he said quietly, turning again towards his car.

Bruce sat on the highest tower, his favourite place in Gotham other than Ivy’s roof garden. This was his favourite place to think. He could see the whole scape of Gotham from here.

He looked out over the skyline. It looked so different now. The years had changed it as much as they had changed him. He loved this city, the feel of it, it was where he belonged, it was his home.

But Dick was right.

He couldn’t continue serving her like this. Even getting to this roof had been painful, almost taken the breath from him.

He turned at a noise behind him, seeing Joker climbing onto the roof behind him.

“Oh damn, you heard me?” Joker shook his head, approaching him, “I’m losing my edge… remember when I used to be able to sneak up on you,” he chuckled, letting out a soft growl, “You used to love that.”

“Joker what are you doing here? I’m trying to think.”

Joker shrugged, coming closer and reaching out to put a hand on Bruce’s hip. “Well… We usually have dinner, you didn’t show up.”

“I left a message.”

“I know, I got it.” He smiled, “I just wanted to pop over, see how you were doing, what you were thinking about,” he smirked.

Bruce huffed, “… I wasn’t thinking about your proposal.”

Joker chuckled, “That sounds like something someone who was thinking about my proposal would say.”

“I wasn’t. I uh…” he sighed deeply, “I should probably tell you something.”

Joker smiled, leaning against him, “Go on…”

Bruce cleared his throat before speaking, having Joker so close to him always put him off a little. “I’ve been diagnosed with a heart condition.”

“Oh…”

“I haven’t told anyone, and I wasn’t going to, but Nightwing found out.”

Joker pulled away a little, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Bruce shook his head, “I didn’t really think it mattered, not until Nightwing confronted me today.”

Joker smiled again, “Then it looks like the decision’s been made for you.”

“No decision has been made for me,” Bruce said with a shake of his head.

Joker looked him up and down, “Then what’s with the old suit? You can’t even take the crotch off this one,” he let out a soft chuckle.

“You can,” Bruce corrected, “It’s just a little more difficult.” He cleared his throat, putting himself back on track, “Me being in this suit means nothing.”

“I think you’re lying… I think you sneaked out.” Joker smiled and swayed as he talked, “You snuck out and didn’t come to see me..?”

“I wanted some time to think.”

“About my proposal? How sweet.” Joker chuckled and shook his head, giving Bruce’s chest a soft pat, “You were thinking…” he looked out over the skyline, “About Gotham, ah yes, your one true love…” he chuckled again, “Batsy… You old fool. We’re both old fools really. Thinking we could keep doing this. How odd is it that I’m the one thinking more logically this time?” He looked back at Bruce, “Is it because you’re ill? You’re in denial about it? Maybe if you hadn’t gotten ill you would have taken your slow decline with a little more grace.”

Bruce shrugged, his eyes hadn’t left Joker’s face through his speech. “I don’t think so.”

“I know you’re afraid of getting old. But you’re not 30 anymore. You just gotta accept it, you can’t do shit no more. It hurt for you just to get up here didn’t it?”

Bruce shook his head, “I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me, it hurt me, that means it hurt you. Look, your kids are gunna keep trying to stop you coming out, you’re gunna keep hurting yourself, unless you stay at home all the time and work from your little cave you can’t really help anymore, and I know you won’t be happy staying at home.”

“I’m not running away with you.”

Joker slapped his chest, “Come on! It’s the smart thing to do… Do it for me. Y-you can just try it! For like a month, it’ll be a nice holiday for you, some time away from the kids. Then if you don’t like it you can come back.”

“I won’t like it. And if I did that then they’d know about us. My kids can’t know about you.”

Joker smiled, “I thought of that already. I mean, look at me! I can’t go anywhere like this without being recognised. I’m going to dye my hair brown, get a uh, more natural looking lipstick. I mean, red’s nice and all but I look like mutton dressed as lamb.”

Bruce held back a smile. “They’ll still know it’s you, you have a distinctive voice, and my kids are smart enough to recognise the shape of your face.”

Joker scoffed, “You think too much of them, unless they’re looking for it they won’t see me. Believe me, I’m an expert.”

Bruce let out a soft huff, “You know us running away together would mean that you’d have to see me without the mask.”

Joker’s mouth fell open, “Oh my god, I did not think of that,” he shook his head, “Honey… Its been 7 years, I’ve seen you without your mask many many times.”

“But all the time?” Bruce shook his head, “It’d be a big change for us.”

“Then like I said, try it for a month. If it’s too hard or you hate it or whatever then you can come back.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow: there was no way that Joker would let him leave if he agreed.

Joker pressed himself against him again, his fingers dancing on Bruce’s hips, “You could get away from the kids, go golfing, learn to bake…” He leant closer, giving him a soft kiss, “... come on… You gotta admit it sounds fun.”

Bruce let out a breath against Joker’s lips, “It… It does. But-”

“Take the leap with me Brucey.” He kissed him again, “Come on…”

Bruce closed his eyes, a huff leaving him akin to a laugh. “You can’t just say ‘come on’ and kiss me and expect me to melt at your feet, when does that ever work?”

“It’s worked a couple of times. It’s always worth a try. As is you running away with me,” he bounced on his feet a little, “Come on Batsy! Please, pleaseeee? I have a plan. You know my plans are always good.”

Bruce smiled and chuckled softly, “The fish?”

“Hey,” Joker slapped Bruce’s chest again, “That one almost worked, I didn’t know you can’t copyright an animal.” he shook his head, “Batsy, baby, I’m going to keep asking until you say yes. It’s going to get more and more elaborate, tonight it’s me hunting you down and asking you, tomorrow it’ll be me hacking into every tv in Gotham and screaming it to the world. You know me, I’m as stubborn as a mule and I won’t give up till I get my yes.”

“…Ok,” Bruce said softly with a shake of his head.

Joker stopped, his eyes wide, “Did you say…”

“Ok. I said ok.”

“Ok as in yes?”

Bruce nodded.

Joker pumped his fist in the air, “Yes!” he laughed loudly, pulling Bruce into another kiss.

Bruce kissed back softly. “You’re right. Dick and Damian are just going to keep hindering me. I can’t work by myself… Staying here I’m just going to end up hurting my family.”

Joker giggled, bouncing up and down happily, “This is going to be amazing! Oh god this is going to be amazing!” He patted Bruce’s arm, “Now, you like your control, and I like the unknown, so I’ll leave all the preparation to you.”

“I’ll arrange everything.” He let out a sigh, shaking his head, “I never thought I’d do this.”

“Just for a month at first,” Joker reminded him, “In case we can’t stand each other,” he chuckled softly.

“Of course.”

Bruce would never have expected his life to come to this. It was exciting really. He’d told everyone he was going on holiday for a month to de-stress and figure out what he was going to do for his retirement. He hadn’t mentioned Joker, and he didn’t plan on doing so.

This would be a good opportunity, this first month, if he did like it he could scope out a potential house, one with a nice basement. If he decided to move full time he’d set up a system so he could still help out here when he wanted to, but he would be far enough away that no one would be put in any danger by his death.

It was painful to think about, but he’d forced himself to. The end was coming for both himself and Joker. They both needed to slow down.

Bruce couldn’t understand why Joker had been so insistent on them going together. Yes they loved each other, they’d been exclusive for the past 5 of their 7 years together, but Bruce had always assumed that Joker would disappear like an old cat, or just show up dead in an alley somewhere one day.

Death wasn’t something Bruce liked to think about, but that was how he’d assumed it would go. Maybe it was just his wishful thinking, he didn’t want to watch Joker waste away and die so to save himself pain he’d assumed he’d never see it.

He didn’t want to think about it.

For now he’d focus on this holiday.

He finished packing his last bag and dragged it down the stairs.

“Would you like some help father?” Damian asked upon seeing him, instantly getting to his feet.

Bruce shook his head, “I’m fine.”

Damian nodded, “Ok, you don’t want to keep your driver waiting, they’ve been sat outside for about 5 minutes.”

Bruce frowned, relaxing his grip on the case and straightening himself, “I didn’t order a driver.” He walked to the window and looked outside, letting out a huff at sight of a man outside.

“He said he was here for you,” Damian said with a shrug, walking over to take Brue’s case.

Bruce nodded, still looking out the window, a small smile on his face. He pulled away and began towards the door, Damian following him.

“Where is everyone?” Bruce asked, picking up a bag of his hand luggage as they walked down the hall.

“They’re at the entrance. They wanted to say goodbye.”

Bruce chuckled, “I’ll only be gone a month.”

“For a child a month is a long time.”

Bruce nodded in understanding, he opened the door to the entrance hall and saw his family smiling up at him: his other son, son in law, daughter in law, and 2 grandsons.

“Hey boys,” he cooed to the children, crouching down in front of them, “I’m going to miss you two. You’ve got to keep your dads in check for me ok? You’ve got my number, call me if they misbehave.”

The blond of the two nodded, clasping onto his mother’s arm for comfort. The other threw himself forward, wrapping his arms round Bruce in a tight hug.

Dick smiled down at his son’s show of affection, his grip on his husband’s hand tightening. “I think he’s going to miss you more, Bruce.”

Bruce chuckled, hugging the child back, “That’s impossible.” With a grunt he lifted himself to his feet, picking the boy up as he went. He leant over to ruffle Damian’s son’s hair, giving him a playful wink, “Dylan, the next time I see you I expect you to have finished my book.”

The boy looked away, nodding, obviously close to tears. His mother turned him to her and hugged him tight, “He probably would have finished the sequel too.”

“I hope so.” Bruce smiled and let out a soft sigh, “Ok. I’ll bring you all gifts I promise.”

He opened the door to leave, still holding his grandson, he walked out towards the car, followed by his family.

A smile came to his face at the sight of his ‘driver’. Joker was leant against the car, dressed in a smart black suit, his hair dyed dark, only a few shades lighter than Bruce’s along with longer and curlier, his lips were a pale pink, soft make up around his eyes. He looked almost normal, and to add to that quite familiar.

Bruce turned as he approached him, still intent on not introducing Joker to his family. ”Shane,” he said in mock surprise, “What am I still doing holding you? I was about to put you in the trunk with my bags, you wouldn’t want that.”

The child let out a laugh, his grip slacking on him.

“Dick, take your boy,” Bruce said, holding him out.

Dick approached, laughing, “Come on kid, want some icecream?”

The boy nodded in response. Dick bounced the boy in his arms a little, waving a goodbye to Bruce as he walked off.

“Take Dylan to get some too would you Maddie?” Bruce asked, smiling sweetly, hoping she’d accept without protest.

She nodded, smiling back equally sweetly. “Come on baby.” She led him away.

Bruce felt a slight relief wash over him. Joker had become pretty harmless in his old age and he had expressed a love for children, but Bruce didn’t trust him quite that much yet.

Maybe in time.

He smiled at Damian as they made their way to the car, he watched as his son began loading his bags into the car.

He looked over at Joker, the man smiling widely, obviously holding back laughter. He walked to him, “Hi, I didn’t realise I was being picked up.”

Joker shrugged, “I’m not charging you.”

“I’ll pay for gas.”

“Oh I’m sure you will,” Joker replied, a soft growl to his voice.

Bruce couldn’t help being made uncomfortable at his tone, with Damian right there, he’d notice.

He closed his eyes as Damian cleared his throat, “You’re ready to go now, father?” he asked.

Bruce nodded, “Yeah, as far as I’m aware I have everything.”

Damian glanced at Joker, looking him up and down. “Right…” he looked back at Bruce, “Let us know when you get there. Have fun.”

Bruce gave a small stiff nod. “I’ll see you in a month. Let me know if there’s trouble.” He narrowed his eyes for a moment, “…No metas in my city.”

Damian nodded, holding his hand up slightly, “I know, father. I know all your rules. Have fun, try to relax.”

Bruce got into the car, saying a short goodbye to Damian. Joker plopped down in the driver’s seat, looking over at Bruce.

“That’s a nice family you’ve got there Bats.”

“It’s Bruce,” he said with a smirk. “But, yeah, they are.”

“I hope I can meet them one day.”

Bruce nodded, “Yeah, I hope so too.”

I’m gunna mention this now too. I’ve gotten a lot of transphobic comments recently. so. Joker in this story is trans. Also Damian’s wife is trans. Lol. Fuck you.

#batman #joker #batjokes #batjoke #tlbm

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donteattheappleshook · 7 years

Text

Six Weeks

Here’s a little Daddy!Killian one shot that I had bouncing around my head the last few days.

It’s a lot less angsty than it seems I promise.

Also I’ve never had a baby so a lot of this stuff might be wrong! Sorry if it is!

Please reblog if you like it! I’m not too proud to beg.

Ao3 and Ff

Rated M

Killian had always wondered how he would take to fatherhood. For a long time he’d accepted the fact that he may never be a father. After losing Milah he had abandoned hope that he would ever find someone with whom he would want to share something so intimate with, and after Balefire left in Neverland, he’d begun to fear one horrifying conclusion: that he had become his own father – ready to give the closest thing he had to a child to better his own situation. But when Emma told him she was pregnant he’d been thrilled. He’d finally found that kind of love again, after hundreds of years of searching and he could think of nothing more beautiful than her carrying his child, carrying proof of their love – of true love. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t lost countless nights’ sleep over it. When all the baby books had been read (and there were a lot of them) he often found himself lying awake in bed wondering if he would be like his father or if he could find it in himself to be like Liam – strong, dependable, supportive, loving, constant Liam. As he lay awake those nights he promised himself and silently vowed to Emma and his unborn child that he would be the later. He would be the father they both needed him to be – the one they deserved.

Surprisingly, Killian had taken to fatherhood quite easily. His daughter, so small and fragile he’d been afraid he’d break her the first time he held her, had stolen his heart in her first breaths. And she seemed pretty fond of him as well if he did say so himself – which he did, often and proudly. Since the second they brought her home Killian rarely left her side. He was up for every midnight and 3 A.M. feeding, despite Emma’s claims that it was her turn and he should sleep. He’d mastered the baby bjorn and the car seat to the point where he could do it one handed whilst balancing his girl in his hooked arm, and he’d even discovered that sea shanties were the cure for her restless nights.

“I told you, Swan. We have a little pirate on our hands,” he’d smirked as she’d rolled her eyes at his smugness.

What he hadn’t been prepared for, was how Emma had taken to fatherhood. He’d started noticing it the day they brought her home, when he’d taken his girl from his wife’s arms so that she could get out of the car – the look, her shoulders tense and her lips pressed in a tight line.

“Everything alright, love?” he’d asked, looking her over quickly to rule out anything physically wrong.

“Fine,” she reassured him before quickly taking the baby back and leading the way back into the house.

It had become something of a pattern. Whenever Emma walked into the room, finding him holding their daughter, rocking her to sleep or making faces at her at the breakfast table, she would react the same way, shoulders tensing, lips drawing thin and then an offer to take the baby from him. After the first week he’d started removing his hook whenever he was near his girl, thinking that Emma was worried he would accidentally hurt her and that was the cause for her ails. The next week he’d switched the hook out for his prosthetic hand on a near permanent basis. But still, Emma seemed uncomfortable, even troubled when she came upon the two of them. And still, she maintained that she was ‘fine.’

He’d brought it up to David once when the two met for coffee at Granny’s, baby in tow. It had been an awkward topic to bring up because while David loved his granddaughter Killian was pretty sure he still didn’t appreciate the evidence that Killian and Emma had had sex.

“When you and Snow had Neal,” he started, scratching the spot behind his ear, “Did she begin acting… differently?”

“What do you mean?” David asked, not looking up from the little pink bundle he was cooing at.

“Was she… protective?” he asked for lack of a better word.

David looked at him finally. “Oh, yeah.”

“Really?” Killian asked, relieved.

“We lost Emma so suddenly and so horribly when she was born. It took a while before Snow trusted Neal with anyone besides the two of us.”

“But she did trust you… with your child, I mean?”

David frowned at him. “Of course. What are you asking, Hook?”

Killian squirmed in his seat, taking his girl back and tucking her into the crook of his arm. He brushed the soft hairs that covered her head, still marvelling at the fact that he’d helped create something so perfect.

“Emma… I worry that Emma doesn’t trust me. With the baby I mean.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” David frowned, folding his hands on the table. “You’re out with her now. She wouldn’t let you do that if she didn’t trust you.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he conceded.

But something still irked him. And he was reminded of it when Emma walked into the dinner a few minutes later to join them, that same expression appearing on her face before she took the baby from him. David shot him a look and Killian knew he’d seen it too.

As they were making their way out the door David stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, waiting until Emma was out of earshot.

“I’ll talk to Snow,” he said. “Maybe it’s a motherhood thing. For now, just try talking to her.”

“I’ve tried. She always says it’s nothing. But I’ll keep trying. Thanks, mate. I appreciate the help.” He clapped David on the shoulder and followed Emma to the car.

“I see what you mean,” Snow said when they were over for Sunday night dinner at the loft. “She certainly seems… on edge whenever you’re holding the baby.” The look of concern on her face had Killian more worried than he’d been in the four weeks since his daughter had been born. “Killian…” she started gently. “Have you ever heard about post-partum depression?”

Killian’s eyebrows shot up. He’d read about it in passing in some of the baby books he’d poured through when Emma was pregnant but he’d never considered the reality of it.

“It can lead to women being afraid to leave their babies in the care of anyone else. Including the father,” she explained, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder. “I have a book on it. If you’d like to borrow it.” Killian was at a loss for words, unable to speak over the lump in his throat and settling for a nod instead.

That night, after Emma had fallen asleep, Killian sat awake reading the book from cover to cover and deciding he would talk about it with Emma in the morning. He was just getting ready to go to bed when he heard his girl whimpering over the baby monitor.

“Hi, little love,” he whispered, picking her up from her crib and cradling her against his bare chest. Her little fist balled up in the hair there and he winced a little. “You’re getting strong,” he told her. “Just like your mum.” He kissed her head, rocking her and humming lightly as she slowly drifted back to sleep.

“Oh, come on!” His eyes shot up to the doorway where Emma stood in one of his t-shirts with her hair rumpled and an exasperated, annoyed look on her face.

“What?” he asked, genuinely confused. He couldn’t figure out what he had done to deserve such a reaction.

“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” she demanded in a tone he believed to be much harsher than necessary.

“I was going to bed. And skin to skin contact is good for bonding. I read it in a book.”

“You and your books. Just – give her here. You go to bed,” she said, arms out to take the baby. “And put on a damn shirt.”

“No,” he answered, pulling back slightly.

“No?” Shock and confusion flashed across her face.

“No. Look, Swan, I don’t know why it is you don’t trust me with our daughter but we have to talk about it.”

“What are you talking about? I trust you with her.”

He scoffed. “Clearly you don’t. You should see the way you react whenever I hold her – like you think I’m going to hurt her. Like I ever could. And then you take her away as quickly as you can.”

“I don’t –”

“You do. What I can’t figure out is why. Is it because of what I’ve told you about my past? Because you know, Emma, surely you must know I’m not that man anymore –”

“Killian,” she interrupted him, her expression softening as she leaned against the doorframe.

“I think we need to talk about post-partum depression,” he said, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “Your mother gave me a book on it and –”

“You spoke to my mother about this?”

“I was worried! Look at you! Even now I can tell how tense you are looking at me holding her.”

“Killian. I don’t –” the frustration was growing in her tone.

“It’s okay, Swan. It’s totally normal and we can face it together and –”

“For fuck’s sake, Killian!” His eyes snapped up to meet hers. “I’m not post-partum! I’m horny!”

Killian froze, eyes snapping up to meet her face which was quickly turning bright red. “Come again, love?”

“I’m horny, okay? All these stupid hormones have me all out of whack since the baby came and seeing you holding her and looking like that it… does something to me.”

Killian tilted his head, trying to wrap his mind around the new information. Gently, he set the now sleeping baby down in her crib and strode slowly towards his Swan. “It does something to you?”

“Yeah, okay. Don’t look at me like that! It’s not that weird okay!” Killian fought the grin that was tugging at his lips. “Just… seeing you, holding a baby, our baby, and being so good at being a dad and I mean, Jesus, would it kill you to put some clothes on every once in a while? It makes me want to jump your bones every damn time I see you with her whether that’s in our kitchen or in the middle of Granny’s. And would you stop looking at me like that! It’s not funny”

Killian couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face at that, or the chuckle that left him. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” He was standing directly in front of her now, bodies nearly touching and he could feel her breath on his chest, warm and quicker than it had been a minute ago.

“Because we can’t do anything about it!”

He frowned. “Why not?”

She rolled her eyes and heaved an exasperated sigh. “Because the doctor said we have to wait until six weeks after I gave birth to have sex and it’s been a month and it’s freaking killing me!” she groaned in frustration.

“Oh, Swan,” Killian teased, reaching out to brush his fingers along the length of her arm, grinning when she practically jumped at the contact. “You didn’t read any of those baby books I gave you, did you?”

She frowned. “I read some of them,” she said, her voice shaky as his hand continued its exploration along her side and down to the hem of her stolen shirt.

Killian hummed, fingers teasing the skin of her thigh. “Well if you’d read all the books then you would have read that it’s strictly penetration that’s off the table until you’re cleared by your doctor.” His hand slipped under the shirt, making its way up to her hip and across her belly. “Everything else is fair game whenever you decide you’re ready.” Her breathing was coming out in shaky pants, her knees shaking under his touch. “I’ve been waiting for you to let me know,” he said as his hand trailed lower. “I’ve been going mad not being able to touch you.” His fingers dipped into where she was already wet and wanting and she gasped. “So tell me, love,” he drew her bottom lip lightly between his teeth and pulled before letting it drop. “Are you ready?” he asked with a teasing smirk, so close she could feel his lips brushing against hers as he spoke.

“Fuck, yeah,” she said, grabbing the back of his head and lunging forward. Killian groaned, pushing her back against the hallway wall. He kissed her long and hard, mouth slanting against hers, letting his tongue delve deep as he ground against her. His hand came up to cup her breast, thumb flicking her nipple through the shirt and she threw her head back, biting back a moan only so as not to wake the baby. Killian took it as an invitation, letting his lips and tongue and teeth trail along the side of her neck to the spot behind her ear that had her hand fisting in his hair hard enough to hurt.

“Please,” she begged and that was all he needed to hear before dropping to his knees right there in the hallway. He took a moment to take her in. He always loved seeing her like this, lost in the throes of passion, blind to the world around her. She ground her hips towards his face and he smiled, pressing a kiss low on her belly before drawing one of her thighs up over his shoulder and dipping his head.

The fist of touch of his tongue against her heat had her slamming a hand against the wall above her head while the other grabbed hold of his hair, holding him in place. He smirked again and focused on the task at hand, licking and sucking and kissing, keeping his touch light for fear of hurting her but from the muffled sounds she was making he wasn’t too concerned. It didn’t take long, not after four weeks of pent up sexual frustration and as he closed his lips around her clit and pulled she convulsed over him. He helped ease her down her body sweaty and shaking before finally going boneless.

She urged him up to his feet, pulling him in for a kiss that washed away all the fear and doubt he’d been harbouring over the last month.

“I’m so glad you read,” she said and he buried his head in her neck to stifle the booming laugh that escaped him. “Shh! You’ll wake her!” Emma hushed, holding him tight to her body.

Killian grinned salaciously against her skin. “I don’t know, Swan. If I’m being honest I feel like that could work to my benefit.”

She smacked him on the shoulder for his cheek and he nipped the crook of her neck in retaliation. They stood there in comfortable, happy silence until Killian’s head snapped up, realization dawning on him.

“Bloody hell, how are we going to explain this to your parents?”

#cs #cs fanfic #cs smut #captain swan #captain swan fanfic #ouat fanfic #ouat fanfiction #daddy!killian

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hoodiesandcomputers · 7 years

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Shared My Body and My Mind With You (That’s All Over Now): Chapter 7

Six months ago Felicity did the unthinkable and paid to have sex with the one and only Oliver. Despite being worlds apart they’ve become close friends, but what happens as feelings change, a rival comes into the picture, and a friendship suddenly starts to break? An offshoot of a prostitute/client AU, which comes from my one-shot “Taste of Your Poison Paradise.”

Hey everyone! Thank you so much for the comments, they mean a lot. There’s one more chapter left and an epilogue -- we’re at the home stretch!

Many thanks to @awriterincowboyboots, @curvy-tam and @the-mimi-hiddlestonfor helping me make this story the best it can be!

FF // Ao3 // Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6

Five months later

The day is bright and warm – everyone seems to be outside and enjoying the day as well, despite it being a Monday. Oliver dodges a few construction workers before entering Verdant, giddy for his meeting with Isabel. Seeing Isabel is by no means the highlight of his day, but he's been working on something for the past few months and today is the day to show it off.

A few months ago when Oliver's world started falling apart – again – he vowed to destroy Isabel, but he hadn't had the faintest idea how. After Felicity left, Oliver focused his attention on Roy and Taiana, and tried to find a way to get them free.

The duffle bag is heavy and his grip tightens as he walks through the hospital's hallways, worried people will know what's inside. Once Oliver reaches Roy's room, he knocks and slowly enters, finding Roy wearing the clothes Oliver had fetched from the younger man's apartment and folding his hospital clothes in a bag. He looks good, better even, and Oliver's chest warms with relief.

"Hey Oliver," Roy greets with a tired smile. It seems after talking to a hospital psychiatrist Roy is in better spirits. Oliver hopes Roy will continue seeking help when he needs it, and wants him to start a brand new life away from Isabel's grasp.

"Hey." Stepping forward and shutting the door behind him, Oliver gently drops the bag on his bed and sternly looks at Roy. He sees so much of himself in Roy – a damaged, lonely soul searching for something that'll bring ease into his life. Oliver still feels extremely guilty for not being there for Roy, but he's doing all that he can to make up for it.

"Has Isabel called you?"

"About a hundred times, yeah." Scoffing, Roy finishes up folding his clothes and sits on the bed, his glum and terrified expression reminding Oliver why he needs to do what he set out to do.

"Listen closely, Roy." Roy's eyes widen slightly as Oliver points to the bag. "There's eighteen thousand dollars in here – all cash. I've already got you a one-way train ticket to Star City, and I've packed some of your stuff from your apartment."

Producing the ticket from his pocket, he hands it off to Roy who only gapes at it, unsure of what's going on. "What . . . why?"

A lump forms in Oliver's throat and he swallows it, his emotions getting the better of him. Oliver's never been good with expressing his feelings, and he needs to show Roy this is a dire situation. If Roy doesn't take this chance, he'll be stuck in Chicago forever under Isabel's grasp.

"Isabel's not going to stop. She'll . . . make things worse for you. And I can't let her do that to you."

Inhaling deeply, Oliver gently looks at Roy and hopes to convey how much he cares for him. "I should've been there for –"

"Oliver, stop it." Roy steps forward, his eyes shining as he does so. "You told me not to get involved with . . . that. I didn't listen. It's my fault. But what you've done for me – what you're doing for me now – I don't think I can repay you."

Shaking his head, Oliver smiles softly and puts a reassuring hand on Roy's shoulder. "You never have to thank me."

And he means it.

Nodding slowly, Roy takes a long look at his ticket then glances at the bag. "What should I do with all this money?"

He sounds so unsure of himself, and Oliver's powerless to stop himself from dropping a piece of information that can possibly blow Oliver's cover. But Roy needs his help, and Oliver will do whatever is necessary to get him to safety.

"First thing you do when you get off is go straight to a nightclub called Nightwing. When you get there, ask for the owner of the club – his name's Tommy Merlyn."

His throat tightens as he remembers how great of a friend Tommy was, and instead of saying thank you, Oliver stopped all contact with him due to shame. Oliver hopes Tommy won't hate him for dropping off the face of the earth and sending a former prostitute to him.

"He'll ask how you know him, so when he does say . . . Ollie sent you. He'll know what you're talking about."

Roy nods solemnly and for the first time in forever, Oliver feels like he's done the right thing.

It feels good.

Now that Roy's been long gone, Oliver set his sights on protecting Taiana any way he could. It was much easier to get Roy to safety, but Taiana was another matter altogether. Much to his surprise, she had connections with the Russian mob called Bratva, and after some digging, Oliver realized Isabel Rochev wasn't on the Bratva's list of favorite people. The information allowed Oliver to exploit the Bratva's hatred against Isabel to help Taiana leave Emerald.

But as Oliver began to do some digging, protecting Taiana became about protecting every escort under Isabel's thumb. He didn't realize how bad some of the conditions were, and as he began to uncover how horrible it was, Oliver decided he had to do something for them as well.

It was a daunting task considering Isabel knows Oliver's real identity, but he vowed to protect those he cares about. No one – not even Isabel – will get in the way.

And here he is, stepping into Verdant for the very last time as Isabel's pawn. Despite having everything set in place, Oliver's slightly nervous and he's worried the plan he set in place might not happen the way he wants it to. He's practically memorized every bit of it – if something goes wrong he doesn't know what he'll do.

As Oliver approaches Isabel, he can tell she's irritated as she flips her pen back and forth and keeps fidgeting as she writes inside her books. Once Oliver's near her, she looks up at him in frustration and huffs, "Why haven't any of the escorts shown up for their meeting?"

"Because I told them to stay at home."

Scoffing, Isabel sizes him and Oliver readies himself for the big showdown, making sure he shoves his hands inside his pockets to prevent himself from rubbing his fingers. He doesn't want Isabel to know under any circumstances he's nervous. He has to be strong.

"And why would you do that?"

An overwhelming feeling of glee courses through Oliver – seeing Isabel's shocked face has given him the confidence he's needed since this morning. "Did you know Taiana has connections to the Russian mob?"

He spots the exact moment all the blood drains from Isabel's face, but she quickly masks her expression by raising an eyebrow, silently challenging him. "And?"

"And it turns out you're not very popular with the Bratva."

It didn't take long for Oliver to find out Isabel was more or less kicked out of Russia and illegally moved to America in an effort to escape the Bratva's wrath. After changing her last name and settling in Chicago, she managed to throw the Bratva off her trail . . . until Oliver came along. And once the mob found out how Taiana was being treated by Isabel, they wanted nothing but revenge on Isabel, to which Oliver was happy to oblige.

Oliver has to give her credit where credit's due – Isabel's careful not to show him how affected she is by his knowledge. But that'll change soon enough.

"I learned a thing or two from them, like where you keep all the money you collect from us . . ."

"Liar!"

Isabel's on her feet and glaring at Oliver with such intensity he genuinely fears her for a moment. Her thin lips quiver and he just knows he's got her trapped in a corner. The knowledge makes Oliver giddy with joy and he smugly watches Isabel, his excitement increasing with every passing second.

Stepping forward, Oliver looks at Isabel square in the eyes and relishes every moment she loses control. "I have all the money you ever had until now. And I've erased every trace of Emerald's escorts having worked for you."

"I still have one master file that can easily destroy all of you." Believing she's finally bested him, Isabel crosses her arms and challenges Oliver.

Oliver shrugs nonchalantly. "But . . . I have that too."

Once Oliver realized he had an ally to take down Isabel, he immediately started researching and getting back on Isabel's good graces to throw her off his trail. Unbeknownst to Isabel, some days he would clear his schedule and spend his time following Isabel, watching her every move. In a few months, he found out Isabel's schedule and realized she never changed it. Every morning she would go to Verdant, spend the next three to four hours there, and do a variation of shopping and working her way up the social ladder. She had no friends, no family, and lived a relatively lonely existence.

Not that he pitied or cared for her.

But perhaps the best piece of information was when he found out where Isabel deposited her money. There was a bank on the west side of Chicago with an employee who was obviously in Isabel's pocket. After smooching up to the receptionist and getting some dirt on the employee, Oliver found out said employee helped Isabel funnel her money in no less than four other banks scattered in Northern Illinois.

So, once compiling the information, he told his fellow Bratva compatriots and they raided each one of Isabel's accounts – as of this morning, Isabel has absolutely nothing to her name, and every escort currently under Isabel's has a piece of her money. However, Oliver left just enough cash at the bank left in Chicago that would give prosecutors evidence to put her in jail.

There's one more bank left in the city that has all of Isabel's records, with appointments dating back from 2003. And in the entire pile, he found the Holy Grail of all record books – a master list of every escort Isabel hired and fired, with their real and escort names attached with a photo of them, and several USBs with Excel sheets of every transaction Isabel's received since she started Emerald.

Coupled with his newfound computer skills Oliver, with the help of a former KGB agent named Anatoly, hacked into Emerald's website last night and erased all trace of any escort having been associated with Emerald. He even burned the book with every escort's information, since he didn't want anyone to get sent to jail for Isabel's foolishness. All that's left are thousands of dollars in Isabel's bank accounts and record books detailing money transactions for every client – enough to send her ass to jail, and maybe start a political scandal.

Now it's Oliver's turn to smirk – staring straight into Isabel's eyes, Oliver says lowly, "I've already called the police. They'll be here any minute now."

Her face pales and Oliver sees her swallowing thickly, her eyes darting across the club. In a split second Isabel reaches for her books and almost makes a run for it, but Oliver grabs her arm, yanking her towards him.

"You don't get to escape this time. Not after everything you've done to those men and women," Oliver growls. "Some of them were practically children."

"Fuck. You." Isabel snatches her arm away from Oliver, her eyes shining with resentment and a hint of fear. "You don't know how hard I've struggled to get to this point. And you're taking it away because of what? Vengeance?"

Oliver shakes his head, annoyed that Isabel still doesn't get it. "It's because you're a piece of shit who only cares about herself."

There's a tense beat until Isabel whispers, "After all I did for you –"

"You did nothing." Stepping closer toward Isabel, Oliver makes sure his gaze burns a deep hole inside her cold, black heart.

"Accept it: you're done."

In an effort to have the last word, Isabel's mouth open and closes several times before she realizes Oliver's bested her. The sirens have gotten louder and Oliver hears the car doors open, the sound of several police officers marching into Verdant music to his ears. For a split second, Isabel's eyes glaze over with real fear – the kind that lingers, the one that causes someone to make irrational decisions.

As the doors open and several police officers enter Verdant, Oliver keeps an eye on Isabel and watches her bravado crumble in his presence. For so many years she thought herself to be god-like, yet she's just like them – human and prone to arrogance and greed.

Oliver savors every moment knowing he had a hand in her demise, and takes immense satisfaction from watching Isabel get handcuffed by officers. As they read her rights, her eyes harden and she spits out, "I'll get you for this."

Her threat rings empty to his ears, and as she's carted away into whatever darkness she deserves to be in, a sense of pure, unadulterated relief washes over Oliver. This is one chapter he's able to close on his own terms, and damn if it didn't feel good.

~/~

Now officially out of work, Oliver stares at his apartment as the sunlight coats every inch of his one-dimensional, bland apartment. It's filled with basic amenities but there's no personal touch – it's fit for short-term living arrangements, not a nearly eight-year stay.

Oliver's mind flashes to his home back in Star City, grand and luxurious, tasteful and classic. The gardens were nothing short of stunning, and unbeknownst to everyone, there was a hidden hallway that led straight out to the gardens. He remembers how lively Christmas time used to be, and when Raisa made her delicious Russian cookies for Oliver and Thea every day starting at the beginning of December till Christmas.

He had a happy family and a happy home, and God, what he would do to get it again.

Something stirs in Oliver – staring at his empty apartment only makes the feeling intensify. Standing up, Oliver paces his living room, his hand rubbing against his forehead as he digests everything that's happened in the past few hours.

It's really over – he's no longer Isabel's whore. He and every other escort under her thumb are finally free, and they're able to do whatever the hell they want. And yet Oliver's deathly afraid. It feels like he's back in Star City, unsure of the future and worried where he'll spend the next few nights. It's unsettling to be so . . . free.

He's spent the last few months using every waking minute of his day to ruin Isabel – it distracted him from thinking about what Felicity's doing with her new life in Star City, and made him focus on protecting young and fragile escorts like Taiana. Now that it's over, Oliver's at a loss and he's worried what will happen to him next.

But it's silly – he's made so much money these past few years, and coupled with the money he stole from Isabel, there's more than enough to start a new life elsewhere. He can actually go to college, and not just a lame city college. Oliver has real, tangible options and for some reason he has no idea what to do with them.

He wishes his mom and dad were here. He wishes they could guide him and tell him what to do with his life. He wishes he could go back to Star City and make up nearly eight year's worth of hugs to his sister. He wishes he never took advantage of his wealth, paid attention to school, and heeded his father's warnings. He wishes he didn't blow it with Felicity and had someone to talk to.

Making up every single mistake is his biggest wish of all but the most unattainable. And it wrecks him.

There's a tightness forming in his chest, and the sensation becomes too overwhelming for him to be standing up. Taking a seat on his barely used couch, Oliver inhales a few deep breaths although it does nothing to calm him. He can't stop feeling so agitated and nervous all at once, and unsure of how to control himself, Oliver stands right back up.

Balling up his fists, Oliver takes one glance out the window and can't suppress a strangled sob escaping his lips.

His vision blurs with tears that haven't shed in several years, and his body shakes with emotions he's forcibly buried deep inside. There's nothing going on in his mind – it's a blank space filled with sadness and a need for release. It hurts to cry. His chest can't handle it, pinching painfully in retaliation for suppressing it for so long. Oliver sinks back down on the couch, holding himself tight and letting his emotions escape to the surface.

Oliver doesn't think about anything or anyone. He . . . cries. He allows himself a moment of weakness, a moment to let his façade down to show the empty walls how lonely he is. There's no audience – just him and his past, sitting at a standstill, wondering where the hell he should go next.

As his sobs lessen, Oliver suddenly remembers the shame and humiliation he felt the first time he whored himself. He was so nervous and didn't have a single clue what to do, but during the appointment, Oliver felt so insignificant that it was a blessing. No one knew him and no one would remember him. He was a pretty face who fucked other nameless faces. Oliver Queen didn't matter anymore, and it was all he could ask for back then.

Being numb allowed him to barely survive, and yet, it led him nowhere. He ruined his one shot at happiness with Felicity. Instead of finding real work, Oliver continued to take the easy way out and rise up the ranks on Emerald's roster, all while getting paid thousands of dollars a day and doing absolutely nothing with his life. He was completely aimless.

This time is different. It has to be. Oliver's entire existence has been a combination of avoiding problems or becoming one, only to find an easy way out with zero consequences. Even as a prostitute he's managed to escape unharmed, and although Oliver wasn't able to get a job in corporate America, he didn't have to work very hard to get a job at Emerald.

Things just show up at his feet and he takes it without understanding the gravity of it. He took a job at Emerald without realizing how much of a toll it'll take on him and his personal life. He devoured Felicity's love and didn't realize it was the only thing making him breathe until it was too late.

But maybe it's not too late. Maybe Oliver can't patch up every mistake he's made, but he can start off this new chapter by not getting off on the wrong foot. Maybe, instead of letting others dictate what he can and can't do, he'll carve his own path.

It starts with going back home. Back to Star City.

~/~

The second Oliver steps out of the airport, he's hit with a whiff of the seaside mixed in with pollutants – it smells so familiar that a grin unconsciously forms on his lips. From afar he can see Star City's skyline, dotted with even more buildings than eight years ago. There's a cacophony of jackhammers and yelling from nearby construction workers, the sounds dulling his senses for a moment.

Oliver can already tell things are going to be different, but he's come to accept that part of life.

Hailing a cab, Oliver goes straight to the Holiday Inn near the airport, anxious and excited to visit Thea. On the plane ride, Oliver labored over whether to tell her the truth about his escort days or to keep quiet. It seems hypocritical and counterintuitive to keep such a secret – his experience with Felicity showed him the downside of not being honest. Unfortunately, he's already told Thea he worked as an independent consultant and knows she won't press him for more details. But he vows to tell her the truth as soon as they have time to themselves because he owes her that.

Oliver wants to surprise Thea, so he calls up the Merlyn's household, unsure if it's the same number from several years ago. To his surprise it ends up being the same, but the maid tells him she's not there. After pressing for more details, the maid asks, "Who's speaking?"

"It's her brother, Oliver . . . Queen." His original last name sounds foreign to his ears – he's spent the better part of seven years ignoring that part of himself, and now he has to come face to face with it.

"Ah, OK! She's with Mr. Merlyn at Nightwing."

Confused, Oliver wonders why Thea would be at a club this early on a Saturday.

"Oh, I see. Thank you for telling me that, I . . . wouldn't have known. And could you not tell Thea I called? I want this to be a surprise."

"Of course," the maid responds warmly. "Have a great day."

"You too."

Ending the phone call, Oliver swiftly gathers his coat and leaves his room, unsure of what to expect from his meeting with Thea. As he takes an Uber to Nightwing – he really needs to ask Tommy about the name, it's sounds vaguely comic book-y – he frets about what to say to Thea. He's FaceTimed with her several times and has noticed how much older she looks, to the way her dressing has turned out to be a little more mature than he's used to. She's even begun to sound like his mother, which causes Oliver to think fondly of his mother.

The ride is long so Oliver takes the opportunity to really soak in the sights. So much seems the same, but Oliver can spot the roads that were recently repaved, the bus system appears to be running a lot more efficient than before, and spots several new skyscrapers. People are everywhere – they're walking, running, or relaxing in one of Star City's several parks. It brings a smile to his face, because after the recession Oliver worried whether Star City would be able to recover. Apparently it did and then some.

Palmer Tech is a sore spot in Star City's skyline, but Oliver has to admit, his resentment towards Ray Palmer has lessened in these past few months. It wasn't Ray's fault he took over Queen Consolidated – it was his mother's bad decisions that ruined the company. He's come to accept the Queen family wasn't as honest about their business practices, and it was only a matter of time until it stabbed them in the back. Although Oliver can't speak like a businessman, he understands what "unethical" and "immoral" mean. Perhaps QC's downfall was meant to happen.

There's a still a twinge in his heart when he thinks about Felicity. He tries not to obsess over what she's doing at Palmer Tech, though he genuinely hopes she's happier there. For awhile he would read articles about her, but stopped when he realized he needed to give himself some distance. Oliver spent much of his time relying on Felicity to make him happy that he didn't focus on himself. Depending on another person to make things better for him only shifted the responsibility away from Oliver, and he needed to stop doing it. He has to accept the good and bad parts of himself in order to be with another.

It isn't long before Oliver realizes they're going towards the Glades, and he frowns at the thought. The area was known for it's high crime and poverty rate, and he wonders what the hell Tommy was thinking by putting a club there. But as they inch closer to the club, Oliver notices brand new buildings, several new restaurants and better infrastructure. It's obvious Star City is wanting to make the Glades a livable and trendy area, but he doesn't doubt gentrification is taking place. It's a bittersweet feeling – he wants the Glades to prosper but he can only imagine the pain of losing one's home to outside forces.

He would definitely know the feeling.

The car stops in front of the club, but Oliver hesitates to go inside. The club looms over him and he worries if this was a mistake. What if Thea doesn't want to see him? He made an effort to not allow Thea to come to Chicago in fear of her finding out about his job. There's a large chance she resents him from doing so. And if Tommy's there? What will he do then?

"Hey, uh, do you mind . . .?"

The Uber driver cranes his neck to the side and glares at Oliver, silently asking him to scram as fast as he can. Embarrassed the man caught him spacing out, Oliver quickly gets out of the car and watches it zoom past him, wishing he could call it back. Nervous, Oliver starts rubbing his fingers in an effort to calm him down, although it fails spectacularly. The giant Nightwing sign taunts him, and gathering as much courage as he can, Oliver steps finally inside the club.

Oliver's surprised to find it unlocked, but he's immediately in awe of how amazing it looks. It's got a very industrial look to it with a large dance floor, and an upstairs lounge for the elite. He can tell it's been much loved – there are plenty of scratches on the dance floor and he spots leftover confetti in a corner. The ceiling is an expansive glass one, flooding the space with much needed sunlight.

As Oliver continues to step inside, his heart warms in happiness – he's incredibly proud of Tommy. Over the years Oliver's kept tabs on Tommy and was ecstatic when he saw a positive article about Tommy and his club. Nightwing looks to be a labor of love and he's glad Tommy found something he's passionate about. For a time he worried Tommy wouldn't move past his partying phase, but that seems to have changed – somewhat.

Oliver distinctively remembers he and Tommy joking about opening a club together so they could continue their lifestyle of debauchery and indulgence, but Oliver didn't think Tommy would actually do it. Good for him (although he doubts Malcolm Merlyn is pleased with Tommy's business venture).

Rounding a corner, Oliver spots a large bar to the right and finds bottles upon bottles stacked on its shelves. Stepping closer, Oliver considers stealing one to mess with Tommy when he suddenly hears soft giggles coming from his right.

Taking one glance at the source is enough to make him vomit right there, but he manages to tamp it down for everyone's sake. Finding his baby sister suck the face of none other than Roy Harper was the last thing he expect to see, but it appears he was meant to see it.

His mind goes through various emotions: shock, disgust and anger with a hint of happiness. He's glad to see Roy working at Nightwing as a successful waiter, but he's more than pissed to know he's making out with Thea. And he certainly didn't expect to see Thea for the first time in almost eight years under these circumstances.

They're oblivious to Oliver loitering behind them, so he loudly clears his throat, hoping it'll get their attention. They immediately break apart, shocked and embarrassed for getting caught in such a situation. Averting his gaze, Oliver waits for them to straighten themselves out until he hears Thea gasp loudly.

"Ollie?"

Glancing up at her and unable to contain his excitement, Oliver smiles wide as he's about to explode in happiness. It feels so good to see Thea in person. She's taller than he remembers, her baby fat is gone and she looks so mature for her age. Gone is his baby sister – she's been long replaced by an elegant Queen.

"Hey," Oliver whispers, his throat tightening up with various emotions.

Clamping a hand over her mouth, Thea let's out a sob before running towards him and jumping into his arms. The wind gets knocked out of him, but after finally feeling Thea in his arms . . . he could die as a happy man.

Hugging her tight, Oliver lets out a sigh of relief and tries to soothe her as she cries. His own eyes well in up tears – he hadn't realized how hard it was for Thea to not see him. For a moment he's transported back before everything went to shit, when his mother and father were still alive. He hadn't felt whole in such a long time, but right now he's feels nothing but complete.

Detangling herself from Oliver, Thea laughs and wipes her tears away. Grinning, she takes his hand and firmly grasps it. "I missed you big brother."

"I missed you too, Thea."

There's so much to catch up on. Despite talking to her on the phone, he's missed a large chunk of her transition to adulthood. He wants to know who her friends are, what her favorite color is, and whether she still hates shrimp. Oliver may not be able to make up for his absence, but he wants to be there for Thea in every way he can.

"Um Roy, this is my brother, Ollie."

Oliver had forgotten Roy was standing there, but as Roy blankly stares at him, Oliver does his best to convey how much he needs to keep his mouth shut.

Groaning internally, Oliver can spot the exact moment it all comes together for Roy. "Ollie . . . Short for Oliver . . . Queen."

"Yeah."

Glaring at Roy, Oliver silently begs him to not say anything more. Thankfully he proves to be smarter than that, and doesn't say another word.

"Uh . . . do you two know each other?"

"Nope" he and Roy say in unison. It's awkward for a minute as Thea pointedly glances back and forth between the two, no doubt suspicious, though she keeps it to herself. Oliver spots Roy avoiding to look him in the eye, and he almost feels bad for the poor guy.

Clearing her throat, Thea hooks an arm around Oliver's and asks, "What are you doing here?"

Roy ostentatiously goes behind the bar to restock its dwindling alcohol supply, so Oliver takes it as an opportunity to focus his attention on Thea. "Actually, I left –"

"Roy, what's taking so long? I needed you downstairs five minutes ago."

Tommy.

Oliver could be half dead and he would recognize that voice anywhere. As his heart begins to thump loudly beneath his chest, excitement and nervousness coils at the pit of his stomach, The last time Oliver saw Tommy was when he dropped Thea off at the Merlyn's home, and in the following years, promptly ignored every phone call from Tommy. He owes Tommy so much, the first of which is a long and heartfelt apology.

"Holy shit . . . Ollie?"

It plays out exactly like a scene from a movie – Oliver slowly turns around and comes face to face with his past, no longer able to avoid it. Just looking at Tommy brings an overwhelming desire for the good old days that he doesn't know how to function.

"Tommy," he says a little breathlessly.

Although his former friend looks relatively the same, Oliver notices a few changes – there are permanent laugh lines around his mouth and he looks older, more mature. Owning a successful business has done wonders for Tommy, and Oliver's so proud of him for starting this venture.

"I can't believe it – you're actually here!"

It's as if no time has passed – Tommy immediately wraps Oliver in a hug, ignoring the fact that Oliver left Tommy in the dust without a moment's hesitation. A lump forms in his throat, since he doesn't know how to articulate how much Tommy means to him. He practically raised Thea when Oliver couldn't, and appears to not begrudge Oliver for dropping off the face of the earth. Oliver doesn't deserve Tommy's friendship, but he would be lying if he said he didn't miss it.

Removing himself from Tommy's embrace, Oliver laughs as Tommy joins with him. It feels good to hear Tommy laugh beside him, and for a moment he feels like he never left.

"It's good to see you."

"Yeah no kidding!" Clasping a hand on Oliver's shoulder, Tommy gently shakes it and exclaims, "Now that's what I call a surprise."

Over to the side Oliver spots Thea smiling warmly, no doubt happy they've reunited. He also sees a tall, bulky man over to the side, stoically watching the scene unfold. Oliver feels a little self-conscious in front of an audience – there are a lot of things he needs to individually say to Tommy and Thea, and doing it in front of Roy and some other man isn't how Oliver imagined apologizing.

Sensing his hesitation, Tommy looks at Oliver as he tries to ease his worries. "I need to check on something upstairs, but we obviously have a lot to catch up on. How about we grab lunch? You hungry?"

"Uh –"

"Great answer!"

Stepping away from Oliver, Tommy points to the unnamed man silently watching the exchange. "John, get the car ready because Oliver and I are gonna tear it up at Magic Kitchen!"

Chuckling to himself, Tommy runs up the stairs as John goes to bring the car around, leaving Oliver completely bewildered. He just met Tommy for the first time in almost eight years and they're already having plans to each lunch at their favorite Thai place.

He had hoped to spend the rest of the day with Thea, but he also needs to make amends with Tommy. Facing Thea he asks, "Is it OK if I go . . .?"

"Oh my God, of course Ollie!" Waving her hand dismissively she adds, "I have some errands to run anyway. Are you free to have dinner tonight?"

"I'm always free to have dinner with you, Speedy." He grins at the nickname – it never fails to remind him of little Thea chasing him whenever she got the chance.

Rolling her eyes, Thea tilts her head to the side and points a finger at him. "Don't call me that."

Instead he smiles, glad he's in Thea's good graces and excited to have dinner with his sister. Coming back to Star City is turning out to be much better than he thought.

"All right, I'll call you when I'm finished." Thea nods seriously, and taking a quick glance at Roy behind the bar, Oliver jokingly – albeit a tiny bit seriously – orders, "I hope your errands don't include making out with the waiter."

Thea blushes furiously and looks about ready to apologize before Oliver stops her. "Don't sweat it."

Visibly relaxing, Thea nods again and smiles shyly. "Well, have fun at lunch. I cannot wait to hear what happens."

Thea sounds so much like his mother that he could've sworn she was right there in front of him. After seeing her in person, Oliver has no doubt their parents would be proud of Thea. For so long he was afraid of dealing with the present that he forgot some good things could come out of it.

Waving a goodbye, Oliver exists the club and is greeted with a black Mercedes. John, Tommy's driver and possible bodyguard, nods his head and opens the passenger door for him.

"Welcome back, Mr. Queen."

He says it so seriously that Oliver forgot John was saying something nice to him.

"Thank you," he says as he sits inside the car. Oliver's immediately hit with a whiff of expensive leather, and it feels so foreign to him that he feels awkward sitting in the car.

The door doesn't shut, and when Oliver quizzically looks up at John, he's unabashedly staring at him. But it doesn't make Oliver uncomfortable – instead, Oliver can tell John's studying him, his eyes gazing into his soul with a certain kind of knowledge only a few possess.

"You'll never get used to it, Mr. Queen."

"To what?"

Smiling knowingly, John tips his head to Oliver. "Being home."

He doesn't know how to respond but as John shuts the door, Oliver can't help but wonder if he's right.

If he is, then perhaps chasing the unknown isn't such a bad thing.

~/~

Magic Kitchen is exactly as Oliver remembered – loud, small and filled with aromatic smells. He can't recall how many times he's been here, but he and Tommy mainly came when they needed drunk food. This restaurant has many great memories, and he's glad Tommy brought him someplace familiar.

During the entire ride Tommy talked incessantly, telling Oliver everything that happened in Star City since he left. He found out Carter Bowen was an accomplished doctor, one girl from their class married a prince from Dubai, and Laurel Lance is a civil rights lawyer at CNRI.

Hearing and thinking of Laurel's name used to bring a pang of sadness – mainly due to how he left things with her – but he's long moved on from being in love with Laurel. And besides, as evidenced by Tommy's desire to stop talking about Laurel, he has a suspicion they might be seeing each other. If that's the case he's happy for them.

Now that they've placed their orders, it's gotten a bit silent between them as Tommy's run out of ways to fill the void. Oliver gathers the courage to say what's next but finds it easier said than done.

Leaning forward, Oliver takes a deep breath and begins, "Tommy I have to . . . After the way I left things . . ."

Words get stuck in his throat, and he berates himself for not planning this out earlier. He needs to convey how much Tommy's promise – and keeping that promise – means to him. He honestly doesn't know what he would've done with Thea had the Merlyns not taken her in.

"Seriously Oliver, if you don't stop talking this lunch is over."

Clearing his throat, Tommy rubs his hand on the nape of his neck, no doubt feeling awkward. He always had a hard time admitting his feelings, but Oliver wants Tommy to know how much he means to him.

"I have to say it."

"I'd rather you not."

Sighing, Oliver leans back against his seat and eyes Tommy. He refuses to look at Oliver as a way to change the subject, but Oliver won't yield. When he came back to Star City he wanted to make amends, and he needs to start with Tommy.

"Look, I know you don't want to hear this, but I have to thank you for raising Thea and . . . protecting her from how bad it had gotten."

His throat tightens from the overflow of emotions, and he glances down at the table to compose himself. Oliver knows he and Thea would've been homeless had they both moved to Chicago. There's no way Oliver would've become an escort if Thea was there, and working menial jobs to make ends meet would put him on living paycheck to paycheck. And Thea deserved better. Despite not being blood related, Thea was given a top-notch education and is currently in college, fully funded by Malcolm Merlyn. Oliver couldn't have done that all those years ago.

It seems Tommy understands how much thanking him means to Oliver, since he leans forward and softly says, "Listen, I would do this all over again. You know that, right?"

This is why Tommy became his best friend. It was his selflessness, his loyalty, and unwavering belief in the goodness of others, which made him an amazing person. If Tommy were someone else, Oliver wouldn't be able to ask him of such a big favor all those years ago. He wishes he hadn't stopped taking his calls, but it was his cowardice that made him do so.

"I know, which is why I want to thank you. And apologize."

Trying to make light of the situation Tommy brushes his apology off. "Since when did you become a sap?"

His heart heavy and desperately wanting Tommy's forgiveness – even if he doesn't deserve it – Oliver sincerely says, "Since I owed you . . . everything."

It seems Tommy's finally willing to accept his apology and thank you as his eyes soften while he nods solemnly. Oliver waits with bated breath, but just like that Tommy's smiles wide, his happiness reaching every inch of him.

"It's OK, Oliver. Really. There's nothing to forgive."

He doesn't feel a weight get lifted off his shoulders, but instead feels . . . normal. Like forgiving and forgetting was the next, natural step in Oliver and Tommy's lives. There's no need for groveling or heavy words, just a simple acknowledgement that the past is in the past, and it's time to move on.

And for that Oliver's forever grateful.

~/~

It's evening now, and although Oliver's dead tired, he's willing to stay up if it means spending more time with Thea. Much to his surprise, Malcolm bought Thea a condo in the heart of downtown with no strings attached. Malcolm had always doted on Thea, but this is more than he's ever done for Tommy. Either way, Thea's ecstatic to have a place of her own, and Oliver can't blame her for doing so considering how nice the views are.

She had ordered Big Belly Burger for dinner – Oliver had honestly forgotten how much he missed it. The Midwest didn't have Big Belly so Oliver relied on other fast food joints to survive the day. It's as if Thea read Oliver's mind and knew exactly what he needed to feel right at home.

They've finished up dinner and have moved onto talking about menial things, but in the back of his mind Oliver knows now is the best time he to tell Thea the truth about his time in Chicago. He's afraid of what she'll say and worried she'll want to cut him out of her life. But he has to take this chance – he can't continue to start over with a lie. Thea deserves better.

"Thea, I have to tell you something."

Clearing his throat, Oliver turns to face Thea as he mentally prepares himself for this dreaded conversation. She looks at him with caution, no doubt worried what he'll say next.

"This sounds serious."

She sits cross-legged on the couch and focuses her attention on Oliver, and he's struck by how mature she's become. Sometimes he forgets how hard these past few years have been for her, too. Oliver can only imagine the teasing and bullying she received from her classmates, but it looks like she's come out on top.

Nervous, Oliver inhales deeply as he gathers his wits. "I haven't been honest with you. About my time in Chicago."

"OK . . ."

Thea's eyes have widened and his heart beats nervously, wondering how he can properly say what ne needs to. She's become a little closed off now – Oliver can see her shoulders have contracted and she folds her arms in front of her chest.

Sighing quietly, Oliver takes a moment to plan out what he wants to say. "You know how I said I was an independent consultant?"

"Yeah, whatever that means," she snorts.

"I was actually . . . I was doing something else."

She watches him carefully, her face devoid of any emotion that might betray her inner turmoil. This is it – this is the moment all hell will break loose. He's been anticipating this for so long, and Oliver can only imagine how it'll turn out to be.

"I was an escort. For almost eight years."

The shame and humiliation he's feeling right now knows no bounds. He can't bear to look at Thea. He always prized himself as Thea's protector, as someone who's strong and intelligent, yet he was nothing more than a common prostitute. What will she think of him now?

Glancing down at her lap, Thea purses her lips and takes a deep breath. Momentarily closing her eyes, she looks back up at Oliver and watches at him so softly that he questions what he's done to have a sister as wonderful as Thea.

"I know, Oliver."

He's aware he's going through shock – Oliver can't hear anything besides his heart beating thunderously, it's rhythmic pounding the only thing to bring him back to reality.

"I've known for . . . awhile."

She's known. She's known this whole time. Oliver thought he was being smart and calculated with his decisions by changing his name and keeping Thea away from Chicago, but it didn't help. He could've told her the truth so many years ago, and instead continued to craft a lie for no reason.

Placing his hand against his forehead, Oliver tries to make sense of Thea's reveal. "How?"

Smiling nervously, Thea shrugs and says, "Well, um, when you would send me money it would be a few hundred. Then it started moving up to the thousands."

Oliver always made sure to send Thea money – what she did with it wasn't his concern. He just wanted to let her know he was working, that he wasn't living out in the streets and he could take care of himself.

"And one time you gave me eight thousand dollars, which was . . . suspicious. So I hired a PI and . . . he followed you."

There's a part of him proud of Thea for being smart enough to figure it out, but he's undoubtedly ashamed for hiding his secret for so long. "How long have you known?"

Thea scrunches her nose in concentration before saying, "About . . . three years? Maybe four."

He's at a loss for words. He feels like an idiot for lying, but he also wonders why Thea didn't say anything before. It certainly would've saved them this long overdue conversation.

"Jesus. Why didn't you say anything?"

With a gentle smile, Thea places a hand over Oliver's and squeezes tightly. Her eyes shine and her chin trembles slightly. "Because it was obviously a hard choice for you to make. And I didn't want you to feel bad."

He's struck by the gravity of her words, and it takes every ounce of strength not to fall into her arms. She's so strong. She's become everything their parents, and Oliver, wanted her to be: intelligent, caring, and above all understanding. His baby sister wanted to spare Oliver the pain and humiliation, and shouldered his burden far more than she deserved. What more could he have asked for?

"I'm sorry I lied, Speedy."

Shaking her head, she squeezes his hand once more. "I know you did it to protect me. So thank you. And you don't have to apologize for what you did to survive."

Oliver throat closes due to his overwhelming emotions as he presses Thea's hand back in gratitude.

"Thank you. For not . . . hating me for what I've done."

Scoffing in disbelief, she removes her hand from his and promptly smacks his arm. "Ollie, I could never hate you."

He laughs as he's feeling truly weightless for the first time in . . . forever, really. Telling Thea the truth was always in the back of his mind, and there were times when he didn't want to talk to her knowing he was lying through his teeth. Coupled with his lunch with Tommy and a productive dinner with Thea, Oliver feels he's begun to really move on from his past.

He's become the Oliver Queen he was meant to be.

They fall into an easy silence and Oliver remembers the stupid, and frankly, ridiculous lies he told Thea. It came to a point where he would try to make a believable lie before he and Thea spoke, but when she would ask him about work, he would almost always forget.

"Do you and Roy know each other?"

Her abrupt question throws him off, and he almost groans aloud – Thea's too smart for her own good.

Sensing his hesitation Thea ventures, "He told me he was an escort in Chicago so . . ."

Huh. At least Roy's honest with Thea, something he can't say about himself. It feels weird being so frank about his time as an escort – for so long Oliver kept this to himself that it was almost second nature. But this is his opportunity to be as honest as possible with Thea, and he won't throw it away no matter how awkward it is.

"Well Roy was, uh . . . kind of my apprentice."

There's a pregnant pause until Thea throws her hands in the air, bewildered by the turn of events. "Are you kidding me?!"

"Sorry." Oliver honestly feels bad for telling her, but he'd rather she find out through him than Roy.

"No wonder you two looked like you knew each other," she says, defeated. Scrunching her nose once more, Thea looks away in contemplation. It's highly unusual for one's older brother to be a madam of sorts to their sister's current boyfriend, but Thea's taking it like a pro.

"Sorry. Again."

She waves him off. "It's OK. It's always been OK."

Smiling tiredly, they fall into another easy silence. For the first time in several years, Oliver isn't thinking about what client he has next, or how he's going to funnel his money. It still hasn't hit Oliver he's free from Isabel, his lies and the past.

"So what do you plan on doing now that you're back?"

His inclination is to shrug and tell Thea he doesn't have a plan but . . . He came to Star City for a reason. It wasn't just to go home and apologize – he wants to make a difference in his life. Oliver was never passionate about anything and took his wealth – or lack thereof – and his esteemed position at Emerald to his advantage. Oliver never truly worked hard for anything, and there's nothing he can say he's proud of for doing.

But that can change too.

"I'm . . . gonna open a café."

#olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfiction #olicitysquee #oliver queen #felicity smoak

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mrsvioletrebellious-blog · 7 years

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Mums the word 😏

Other day talking to someone about children (they had none) and they were like “ohh I can’t wait to have children, I’m just so worried about the birth, my body after and pooey nappies” Ohh bitch please the pain is horrendous trust me girl but it stops when your handed that baby, the hours after birth ya tits will look like two vein ridden balloons and you will have more blood n clots coming out of ya then a murder victim and bitch do not even attempt to shit any thought of pushing again makes you feel like your going to lose ya liver or some other vital organ out ya pussybox.. Ya belly looks like a deflated ballon with more lines then a road map… But hey if your lucky enough few weeks you’ll go back to normal or you’ll always be left with a few reminders but it’s ok it’s all worth it trust me.. Remember ya pelvic floors girlfriend is all I will say ✋🏻 The times no one tells you about is when that little bundle of joy is not well and got a temperature and doesn’t want feeding or a cuddle or to be put down, or need changing, or noise or no noise and nothing you can do helps, nothing you can do works, your babies not well you can’t help them and you feel like a failure, and all you can do is go through all of the steps repeatedly until finally the child feels happy enough and then you’ve won 💪🏻 sometimes it’s took ten hours but hey you won.. When that little darling starts moving and everything needs glueing to the ceiling or they’ll have that £40 Mac powder all over the wall, they’ll put ya shoes down the toilet, they’ll eat the dog food or that dreaded moment when they put something in there mouth and you dive across the room like Tom daily on speed, shove ya fingers on there mouth fishing for whatever the fuck is in there just incase they choke, you get out he button, the ball, the key, the Lego, the car whatever theve decided to put in there today and then by potentially saving there little life you get them eyes 😒 from your darling toddler which we all know them eyes mean 👀 #Cunt… The child turns 8 and they decide they would like some make up so you say ok, get said make up, teach them how to apply and you say just weekends and I’ll help you when you do it.. Too one of the many mornings your rushing for school, someone has lost yet another fucking shoe.. How they do it I don’t know the shoes have a living place yet two minutes before school the fucking shoes playing run outs and no cunt can find it 🙄 so you finally find the shoe in the one place you didn’t look but asked the darling children too look ten times but obviously they man look 😤 (when a mans eyes graze an area and computer says no, they don’t actually look until you go there move something and say ta daaa here it is you useless cunt) you leave the house, someone forgets a school bag run back and get it child Jesus, they come back did you shut the door? Ermmmm I think so yea, fuck my life off you run and shut the door. Back with the children on that speedy walk to school well you are, whilst repeatedly saying “come on we’ll be late”“ leave that ” well come back later" come on pleaseeeeeeeeee" you turn and look at your little princesses face and fml the child is covered in so much bronzer she looks like fucking MR T, the only option other then crying because you know in the rush you forgot your bag so have no baby wipes, is laugh your fuckin head off.. Which results in your child screaming don’t laugh at me!!!!!!! And sulking, you have to console yourself and her whilst you use the sleeve of your new cream jumper to scrape the bronzer from her face 😫😫 You think your getting somewhere and then you see it’s integrated itself into her facial creases do she now looks like she has a skin condition, your now three minutes from school and the bell goes in one. Whilst sorting out mr T your youngest is rolling in a puddle and your eldest is looking at you with them eyes again 👀 #Cunt.. Make the run to school drop off the eldest who when you try to kiss him goodbye grunts 👀#EmbarassingCunt little skin condition formally mr T, when you explain to her teacher while she has that face and you and lovely teacher have a giggle walks into school you say love you, you get yea love you and again 👀 #Cunt. Two down one to go, take that one in he’s all smiles and then you go to leave, “no mummy coat off you stay” I can’t darling, I have o go to work, mummy’s to big to school, I love you and I see you later “ love you mummy 👀 #Cunt.. Walk out of the school with a Deflated sigh 🙄😤 Fuck I love them. But bejesussss its 8.55 am and I’ve been eyed a cunt 8 times ! Go to work and Fast foward three hours collect the little one and play cars and watch paw patrol on loop for another three hours, whilst trying to do washing and tidy the house.. Leave for school the little darling refuses to walk and wants to take his bike or scooter, first five minute walk which actually takes 15 all well until then they leave the scooter and demand to be picked up for the next two minutes you argue with a two year old about the fact they need to ride there scooter or walk and you’ll carry it, obviously falls on death ears and you realise you have three minutes to get to school so you have no choice to pick up the child and the scooter and power walk to school, get there aching, panting, covered in mud from shoes and scooter wheels, wondering why this happens everyday surely it’s a fuckin workout so why am I rewarding with a jumper covered in bronzer, muddy jeans, sweat and breathlessness but I still ain’t lost this fucking stone?!? #FuckYouLife Get the children what have you don’t today, usually I don’t know or nothing , great sounds lovely well at least you had a good day, arrive at the shop everyone wants a tenner you say no a pound each looks again 👀👀👀 #Cunt from three sets of eyes never a joy. Get home, uniforms off, make sure your rooms are tidy and do any homework, go in put dinner on, feed he dog again, walk in front room little darling has pulled every fuckin toy out of the toybox but instead is sat on sofa with your handbag snapped 13 off the 15 cigarettes you had and is sucking your Blusher brush and playing with not one of said toys, go upstairs the daughter has dressed herself up in a tutu, a crop top, is wearing a hat and fluffy socks, walking round with a baby and her still mr t skin condition face, reminds you of a Tommy rose appreciation club🙄 wash ya face darling, I did, ok well can you do it again I can still see the bronzer 👀 #Cunt.. Go in to the eldest sat in uniform on PlayStation, mate take your uniform off please "will in a minute” now please babe, id rather attempt to get two days wear out of it, even tho that’s rare I know.. He’s still say there “MATE uniform please” pulls off head phones, “I’m talking to my mates mum cheers they’ll a know now your Moany ” 😩🔫🔫 I walk out off room and do two fuckin 🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻 at his back, your mum is cool son ok, I’m cool, I’m sure I’m cool right, well I was, fuck I hope I’m cool🤔" Dinners ready, Ahhh family time nice conversation, it’s lovely pleasant, beautiful. Until the little one after eating one potato not touching meat or veg and is now wizz ing a car up ya back and refusing to eat any more, eldest rowing over ketchup , tell em all to give it a bloody rest, eat ya dinner n rein it in, three eyes of 👀 #Cunt Chill on sofa chat n watch some stuff together, bath, one refusing to get in, havin to tell him he may be half a foot shorter than you and a stone lighter but you will throw him other your shoulder and make him have a bath to which your response is “you some kind of weirdo gonna watch me wash ” nearly chin the cocky little bastard and are replaced of eyes 👀 #Fucktoofar One gets in thinks she’s Ariel rolling splashing having a whale of a time and using half a bottle of shampoo to wash her hands, and the little one refusing everything or throwing a jug of water at you Whenever you get to the bath edge, a very wet, muddy, sweaty, bronze covered mummy then says bedtime now, all settled downstairs sit on sofa right eastenders. Open the matchmakers, half a matchmaker down, footsteps running, shouting banging, up the stairs, re runs of that I’ve paused eastenders so much I’m only 7 minutes in, it’s been on and off pause an hour. Off the PlayStation now mate, in a minute 😩😩 hour n half has now passed 85 trips up and town the stairs 16 minutes into eastenders, daughter hates me because I’ve made her come off YouTube my goodnight love you’s are returned with a Grunt and I know 👀 #Eyes After stroking the little ones head and singing twinkle twinkle id say thirty times he’s asleep so I creep out like a fucking ninja, tell the big boy mate PlayStation OFFF now “alright mummmmmmmm I wasssssss, goddddddddddd” Finally finish eastenders and manage to scoff about fifteen matchmakers, realise ffs I need a wee upstairs I go again, go into the princess remove the phone from her hand that was playing the YouTube I told her not too, kiss her head pull quilt round her n think fuck I love this girl, go to the little one remove the car from his hand now he’s asleep enough it won’t wake him if I do so, kiss his head, think fuckkkk I love this child, climb the ladder to the big boy,remove the headphones from his head and am greeted with two open eyes, “ night mum, we love you you know that, and everything you do for us, and you are pretty cool ( Fuck did he hear me earlier im sure I said that in my head 😂🔫) I respond with a lump on my throat because that’s all I want in the world is fuck everyone else but as long as they know I love them I’m winning, say I love you too mate sleep, ok mum love you more” I walk downstairs put on the tenth load of washing this week and it’s only Wednesday let the dog out, browse Facebook, check school bags for letters, send five emails, turn off tv I give up tonight. Walk upstairs and catch myself in mirror n think ahhhh fuck I look dead I swear that’s another crows feet I better sort this fucking face out the other halfs home tomo, and I wouldn’t wanna shag me right now 😫😂 Fall into bed, browse Facebook and just get into that place between sleep and awake and a sleepy princess appears I had a bad dream mum can I cuddle you, yes baby come here, she falls alas pe with my stroking her head telling her a story about princess Elexis and the pink unicorn, carry her to bed, fall back In to bed I’m now wide awake it’s 1.30 7 more matchmaker I’ve been browsing the news feed for half hour. It’s sleep time quick text to the boyfriend I love you I miss you I can’t wait to see you and by see you I mean please rub my back when you get here cause it’s killing, 😂😂 Fall asleep to the thoughts off honestly how haven’t I lost this stone, must be the fucking matchmakers, tommorow I swear I’ll eat well! 5 hours later alarm goes off and it all fucking starts again, but every bit every moan every 👀 #Cunt is worth it because every cuddle every love you every 👀 #godilovemymum makes its all better.. So nappies, ruined body’s and labour well fuck me there the least of your worries girlfriend and I ain’t even hit the teenage years yet 😫😫😫😫😍😍😍

#motherhood #kids #love #life #real #mummyblogger #queen #stressed #tired #matchmakers #works #school #women #eomanhood #ladies #girls

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