#u never expect it but then it hits u like a ton of bricks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rosyblooom · 1 month

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blooming season🌷 (1) | ln4

"grief is just love with no place to go”

PAIRING: lando norris x fem nepo!reader WORD COUNT: 2.6k WARNING(S): mentions of death & blood, swearing SUMMARY: four years after she fled monaco, y/n is back on the anniversary of her father's death. however, an unexpected encounter with an f1 driver disrupts her plans. A/N: my first time doing this, so probably has errors. if you've got any thoughts or requests pls let me know xoxo hope u enjoy! :)

part 1 <- | part 2

The scent of salt still lingers in the air, but now it feels different, not as welcoming as it used to be. It's a painful reminder of days gone by, days filled with joy and warmth that now seem distant and unattainable. No matter how hard you try, you can't shake off the memories, replaying them in your mind like a scratched vinyl record that refuses to play properly.

Today marks four years since your father's passing, and four years since you left Monaco. You were just eighteen then, fresh out of high school, when the news of your father's tragic car accident hit you like a ton of bricks. In a desperate attempt to escape the overwhelming sorrow, you packed your bags that very night and left before the weight of it all drowned you.

You couldn't bring yourself to attend your father's funeral, clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't real. But deep down, you knew the truth—your father was gone, and nothing could change that. Even as you threw yourself into your studies, pursuing a nursing degree, the pain never truly went away.

And now, here you are, sitting alone on this deserted stretch of beach, watching the waves crash against the shore in a steady rhythm.

This spot holds a special place in your heart, known only to a handful of locals—a fact you couldn't be more grateful for. Here, away from the watchful eyes of tourist crowds, you find solace as you simply listen to the earth rotate.

You exhale slowly, leaning forward to brush the sand from your palms before reaching into your bag for the bottle of red wine nestled inside. It takes a bit of effort to uncork it completely, but the satisfying pop is worth the wait. With careful precision, you fill a wine glass to the brim with the rich, maroon liquid—something to take the edge off.

"Welcome back, Y/N," you whisper to yourself, lifting the glass in a silent salute. "Thank you, thank you. I can't imagine anything worse."

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips, a stark contrast to your usual composed demeanour. It's been 1,460 days, yet it feels like your world only just came crashing yesterday.

Needing calm now, you take a sip of the wine, savouring its sweetness, when the sound of approaching footsteps catches your attention, pulling you back to the present moment.

"Seriously?" you think to yourself, feeling your heart plummet like a stone sinking into deep waters. You took every precaution to keep your return under wraps—after all, you paid good money for that privilege.

Arriving just last night, you made it a point to rise at the crack of dawn, a time before the world awoke; a time when it's just you and no one else. You couldn't bear the idea of facing the prying eyes that would surely accompany the day ahead. For once, you didn't want to be known as the daughter of one of Monaco's wealthiest families; you simply wanted to be yourself, stripped of titles and expectations—a daughter mourning her father.

Feeling like a trapped animal, you become acutely aware of every sound and movement, your gaze locked on the figure approaching.

A man.

His brown curls bounce with each step until he comes to an abrupt stop just a few feet away from you.

With a small wave and a nod, he greets you with a simple "Hey."

It takes a moment for you to register that the greeting is directed at you, causing you to tear your gaze away without a response. Your eyes flit between the gentle ripples of the sea and the man settling down uncomfortably close, prompting an annoyed grunt to escape your lips.

“Fuck spatial awareness, huh…,” you mutter under your breath, though not quiet enough to evade his notice. He slips off his black headphones, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Sorry, what?"

You clear your throat, then sit up straight and gesture expansively. "All this space, and you have to sit right next to me?”

He smiles.

Your gaze narrows.

"But I'm not right next to you," he retorts with a playful grin. "You're all the way over there." He points towards you and then at himself. "And I'm right here."

"Well, it's still too close," you snap.

"Sorry, did you buy this beach or something?" he counters, his grin widening. "Last time I checked, it's open to all members of—."

Growing increasingly frustrated, you interject, "No, I didn't buy anything. I just want some personal space. But clearly, that's lost on you."

With a scoff, you spring to your feet, snatching up your towel and cramming it into your bag, sand and all.

"Wait, you don't have to leave," he insists, his footsteps drawing closer. But you pay him no mind, tossing your phone into your bag and hastily gathering the rest of your belongings from the ground.

Once everything is crammed into your bag, you snatch up your half-empty glass of wine and stand upright, only to feel a foreign warmth enveloping your hand and glass. The man now stands directly in front of you, invading your personal space completely; you have to tilt your head back slightly to meet his piercing green gaze.

"Look, I'm sorry if I did something wrong, but—" he begins, but you cut him off sharply.

"Way too close now," you snap, attempting to pull your hand away, but he refuses to release his grip.

"You do realise I'm trying to apologise, right?" he asks, confusion evident in his eyes.

"I don't care."

His grip remains firm. "There's plenty of space for both of us here."

"It doesn't matter anymore," you respond, your patience wearing thin.

The struggle continues, your voice growing louder with each tug. "Let go of the fucking glass!"

Suddenly, a sharp yell pierces the air, followed by the hollow thuds of broken glass hitting the ground. Shock washes over you as you barely register the sticky liquid trickling down your hand and onto your toes.

"Ah, shit," he exclaims, snapping you out of your daze. You quickly assess the situation, noticing the shattered remnants of the wine glass scattered on the ground, staining the sand crimson.

Panic sets in as you frantically check your hand and feet for any injuries, your eyes wide with fear. After several anxious moments, you breathe a sigh of relief.

I'm okay.

The tranquillity is abruptly shattered by deep groans echoing through the air, drawing your attention to the man's slumped figure with his back turned to you. His face remains hidden from view.

Though he's clearly in pain, you're tempted to slip on your shoes and make a hasty escape. Today is already burdened with its own weight; you're not sure you can handle any more. You even take a step back, ready to flee, but then something stops you.

A pang of guilt washes over you, weighing you down like heavy bags strapped to your legs. With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly admit to yourself, "I can't believe I'm about to do this."

"Okay, fine. How about you put on your big boy boots and let me take a look at that?" you say, crossing your arms expectantly.

There's no reaction from him, not even a response.

Rolling your eyes, you drop your bag onto the sand and cautiously circle around him until you're face-to-face with his unruly brown curls.

"Hello?" you tap his shoulder, frustration creeping into your voice. "Earth to the stranger who doesn't understand personal space?"

"Seriously?" he retorts, his tone sharp.

His eyes meet yours as he straightens up, his expression guarded, but you simply shrug, maintaining a neutral demeanour, and extend your hand.

"Let me see," you say calmly.

For a moment, he simply stares at you in bewilderment, but then he tentatively extends his hand towards yours.

"I see," you breathe, examining the large cut in his palm with care, mindful not to dirty it with your fingers. Despite the blood seeping from the wound, you release a relieved sigh after a thorough inspection—it's not as deep as it initially appeared.

"Alright," you announce, dropping his hand and clapping your hands together. "Go home, make sure nothing touches that hand, clean the cut, and bandage it. Keep it dry for a couple of days, and then reassess."

Without waiting for a response, you turn towards your bag, sling it over your shoulder, and shoot him one final glance.

"This has been... unpleasant," you remark dryly. "I really hope our paths don't cross again. Goodbye."

"Wait!"

You shake your head and ignore him, determined to continue onward.

"Wait!" he calls out again, desperation evident in his tone. "I don't have any bandages!"

You stop walking, considering his words, but still don't turn around.

"And... I don't have any sanitising stuff either," he adds, his voice trailing off slightly.

Slowly, you turn around and wave your hands dismissively in the air, shouting back, "That's what supermarkets are for! I guess it's time for a shopping trip!"

Just as you're about to spin on your heel and leave again, his voice cuts through the distance.

"Look, you seem like you know what you're doing. Can't you just help me out here?"

Shielding your eyes from the harsh glare of the sun, you squint at him as he begins jogging toward you. "That advice," you shout back, "was me helping you out. Trust me, I wanted to leave way earlier."

For a moment, neither of you speaks as you watch him closing the distance between you. When he finally comes to a halt in front of you, you instinctively take two steps back—you need your personal space.

"So?" he says between pants, waiting for your response.

You furrow your brows, deep in thought. "Well, I don't have anything on me, sorry to disappoint. But like I said, there are shops around here."

You resume your walk, but to your dismay, the guy falls into step with you almost immediately.

"So, what? You have nothing at home?" he presses, his gaze burning into the side of your face.

Refusing to meet his eyes, you increase your speed.

"Right, because I'm just going to invite a stranger," you emphasise, "who I didn't want to be around in the first place, into my home."

His hand suddenly grips your arm, causing you to instinctively rip out of his grasp, both of you coming to an abrupt halt.

"What?" you bark, irritation seeping into your tone.

"You can google me," he offers, his voice calmer now. "Lando Norris, Formula One driver. Search my name up. You'll see pictures—every single detail about me, you'll probably find on the internet. Now I'm not a stranger anymore, right?" he suggests, his gaze pleading.

You remain silent, shifting your focus toward the calm waters as you breathe in and out. It feels as though the world has paused, waiting for you to come to a decision, to reach a conclusion.

Today, the anniversary of your father's death, is a day you've been dreading yet anticipating for so long. Its disruption unsettles you, but deep down, you know you can't simply ignore it. As much as you wish to skip over this chapter of your life, tear out its pages, and never look back, you can't. It's not healthy.

Still, that doesn't mean you can't delay it for a little while longer.

"Fine," you sigh, relenting to the situation, and begin rummaging through your bag until you locate your phone.

Quickly, you extract it and raise it to Lando's face, snapping a photo of him with the flash on.

"What the hell?" he exclaims, blinking rapidly.

"For my protection," you state matter-of-factly. "Just because you're famous doesn't mean you can't be a bad person."

Once his gaze meets yours again, he runs a hand through his hair and offers a sheepish smile. "Fair enough."

You nod, acknowledging his words, and continue your walk toward the car park.

"I'm not a bad person, though," he adds quickly, catching up to you.

"Colour me convinced," you reply dryly.

*********

As you approach the car park, annoyance bubbles within you at the sight of it: filled with cars and swarmed by dozens of people.

"You said you're a Formula One driver, right?" you ask, tilting your head up at Lando.

"Yeah, why?" he responds.

Instead of answering, you grab the hood of his jacket and pull it over his head.

"Why did you do that—" Lando begins, but you cut him off.

"The last thing I need is a mob of your fans, okay?" you interject firmly. "The quicker we get this done, the sooner we can go our separate ways."

Lando chuckles as he adjusts the hood. "I'm really that bad, huh?"

"Worse," you deadpan.

"...Right."

With your raven car in sight, you quicken your pace, relief flooding through you. The last thing you want is for people to realise you're back, especially not today.

However, as if your luck has run out, a woman steps in front of you, blocking your path. You immediately turn your focus to Lando, motioning for him to take a picture with his fan and hurry up.

But instead of the attention falling on him, a weight suddenly falls onto your shoulder, catching you off guard. You clear your throat, preparing to speak, but the woman beats you to it.

"Oh my goodness, Y/N. It's you, isn't it?" the woman exclaims, her voice filled with recognition and sympathy.

You can't reply; your mouth feels dry, your tongue heavy with unspoken words.

No, not today. Please, not today.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Y/N," she continues, her expression radiating pity. It's uncomfortable—the way she looks at you, the way she touches your shoulder so gently. It feels like you're being burned alive, yet you're immobilised, just as you were four years ago when you first heard the news.

"Your father was such an amazing man. And you, I mean, you've been missed. My daughter loves you—"

Suddenly, you're being pulled forward, jolting you out of your trance. You struggle to keep your balance as you try to comprehend what's happening—the woman is gone, and Lando's hand is firmly clasped around yours, pulling you closer to him.

Your personal space has been completely invaded, yet you don't feel the usual urge to pull away. Even if you did, you're not quite sure Lando would let you.

"Your car's the black one, right?" you hear him ask, but the words don't immediately register.

"Huh?" you mumble, still reeling from the encounter.

"That black car over there," Lando points and leans in close, his gaze locked with yours, "that's yours, right?"

You nod, still not quite ready to speak.

Lando releases your hand and holds out his palm to you. "Okay, car keys, please?"

"What? No," you shake your head, rejecting the idea. "There's no need for that."

"Come on, I'm a Formula One driver, remember? I won't crash it."

"It would be irresponsible of me to let you drive in this state," he adds, his voice firm.

"And what about your hand?" you nod toward the injury.

"Like I said," Lando smiles slyly, cocking his head to the side, "I drive race cars; I think I can handle driving with one hand."

Rolling your eyes, you relent, "Okay, fine."

With a sigh, you fish out the car keys from your bag and hand them over to him.

4:05 ───────────ㅇ─ 4:28

644 notes · View notes

mysaintkitten · 7 months

Note

hi g!! firstly i have to tell you how much i love your work, you’re incredibly talented and i’m always so excited whenever you post something.

i have this idea for a story: you and neil have dated for months but you recently split up and neither of you seem to get over the other, so one night after a failed attempt on forgetting him you somehow end up in his bed again. old habits die hard…

hope u have a nice day :)

first of all .. thank you so much !! you are so incredibly kind !! second of all, i made this a liiiiiittle bit angsty and fluffy but still smutty !! i loved the breakup sex idea so i was so eager to write about this :)

Break Up | Neil Lewis x fem!reader

prompt: you and neil split up (NSFW!!!! NO MINORS!!!!)

WARNINGS: (brief) fighting, (brief) mentions of mental health struggles, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (p in v), creampie

word count: 3.8k

the break up was messy. both you and neil shot vile, unnecessary insults at each other as he scrounged around your shared apartment to gather his belongings before leaving.

“you’re pathetic, neil. absolutely fucking pathetic.” you spat, desperate to make a dig that’ll hurt him.

“you know what? you aren’t even worth all this anyway.” neil snarls before swinging the door open, “you’re a cold-hearted cunt and i hope i never have the displeasure of seeing you again.”

you scoff, “feelings mutual, sweetheart.”

before he’s even fully out the door, you violently slam it shut, bumping neil in the process. he mumbles a few more profanities before finally leaving.

moments after this altercation, you’re left pacing around the living room. your mind flooded with him, the memories, the pain. what starts off as vicious rage, quickly switches into overwhelming despair. you just collapse. your knees falling to the ground as you sob into your hands. how did this happen? how can something so good sour so quickly?

neil fell victim to the same fate. he kept his composure until he got into his car. as soon as he shut the door, he was hit with a subtle waft of your essence. he wasn’t sure what exactly he was smelling, whether it was your detergent, or body wash, or perfume, but it was your smell. and it hit him like a ton of bricks. he teared up a bit, but he tried his best to stay calm until he found somewhere to stay for the night.

he drove to some miscellaneous pizza place and cried in the parking lot. god, he thinks, this is almost worse than crying in front of you. he feels pathetic, angry, depressed. he wipes his face and heads into the pizza shop, orders himself a pizza, and calls jonathan while he waits.

“hey dude, i know this is short notice, do you mind if i crash at your place for a bit? (y/n) and i broke up, it was really bad man ..” neil asks while pacing around outside the shop awkwardly.

“yeah, dude, of course. however long you may need. plus, while you’re here i need to discuss some things to you about a shipment that lucien and i picked out.” jonathan responds.

neil appreciates jonathan’s hospitality, but the last thing he wants to talk about is business. he wants to crawl onto jonathan’s couch and sleep, at least for a day or two, just avoid the world all together. but he’s an adult man, a business man at that, depression won’t pay the bills.

“yeah yeah,” neil answers, “sounds good. i’ll bring a pizza by too. maybe i’ll pick up some beers.”

“sick!” jonathan says eagerly, he appreciates the bare minimum, that’s what neil likes about him, “let me know when you’re here i’ll buzz you up.”

they say their goodbyes and neil hangs up, continuing to linger outside the store. he basks in the silence of the streets, the cool breeze, the dull and numb feeling that’s stuck in his chest.

once the pizzas ready, he thanks the workers and tips them graciously. he then picks up the beers for him and jonathan to share, before quickly speeding over to jonathan’s apartment, trying to get there while the pizzas still warm.

he arrives to jonathan’s place and they do as expected, eat, drink, watch movies, discuss business. neil feels as though he’s watching himself through some sort of film, like he’s not in control of his body. it felt uneasy. he believes the severity of the breakup has caused him minor disassociation, in some way. he’s desperate to vent. he has thousands of pent up feelings boiling within him and he needs to let out even the slightest bit of steam.

neil swallows harshly, “you know, man, i just really think i screwed it up with (y/n) ..”

“yeah, chicks are crazy.” jonathan retorts while grabbing neil’s empty plate from in front of him. jonathan doesn’t like to talk about feelings very much, that’s what neil doesn’t like about him.

but neil gets the hint. no sense in rambling to a man who won’t listen. so he grabs his beer and chugs down the rest, almost immediately proceeding to crack open another one.

jonathan puts on a movie that he knows neil likes and the two sit in near silence and watch. jonathan’s silent because he’s paying attention, neil’s silent because his mind is reeling. all he can think about is what he said to you, what you said to him, what it’ll be like to see you out in public. it branches into what’ll it be like when he sees you out with someone else? he can’t stomach the thought right now, he needs to go to sleep.

neil sits through the movie, trying his hardest to pay attention to what’s on screen and try to forget what had happened earlier. he wasn’t successful. but he tried.

the movie ends and jonathan pats his knees before standing up, “well, i gotta crash,” he yawns, “help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. use the tv if you’d like, just keep the volume at a decent level.”

“no yeah, definitely. thanks again, man.” neil responded.

the entire night he lays awake. he tosses and turns trying to sleep, but his mind won’t rest.

he stays this way for a few days.

he starts to slowly move on, little by little, until one day he hears that you were spotted with a guy. as soon as those words hit his ears, he feels a lump form in his throat. that’s it. that’s his breaking point.

without much thought, he storms off to his car and drives over to the shared apartment that you have now taken basically full ownership over. he hurriedly rushes inside while being bombarded with visuals of you with other guys, you fucking them, them using you, and worst of all, them just being affectionate with you. thinking of you holding their hand, them kissing your cheek and making you giggle, you dancing in the kitchen with them. just like you used to do with him.

before he’s even realized it he’s ended up outside your door. he stands there for a few seconds to gather his thoughts, he didn’t really come over with a plan, he just felt compelled to come.

neil raises his hand and knocks on your door. he can hear your footsteps approaching. but what if it’s a guy coming? your new boy-toy? he doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself if he sees your new partner right now.

you swing the door open, confused and shocked to see neil on the other side.

your eyes widen, “uh .. neil .. what ar-“ you say before he nudges you lightly out of the way, “i forgot some things ..” he mumbles before quickly making his way to your bedroom.

“neil? what did you forget?” you call out, trying to catch up to him, “hello? what did you forget?”

“oh, am i interrupting something? just give me a minute.” he groans rudely

“interrupting? what are you implying?” you question, feeling even more confused.

“oh, nothing, i just didn’t know if your new boyfriend was over, or whatever.”

the confusion starts to become anger, “what? neil, what the fuck is wrong with you? who said i have a new boyfriend? and what business is it to you anyway?”

he turns to you and laughs, “we’ve been broken up for less than a month and you’re already moving on! did i not matter at all to you?”

“again, even if i was seeing someone new, it’s not your business.” you snap, crossing your arms in front of your body.

he just scoffs as he feels tears begin to prick at the corners of his eyes, “i’ll get what i forgot and i’ll leave. you’ll never see me again.”

you can hear something in his tone, “neil? are you alright?”

you’re fuming, he’s infiltrated your space and now he’s attempting to start a fight? but simultaneously, you still feel a deep sense of empathy for him. you’re still in love with him after all.

“i’m f-fine.” he stammers, actively keeping his back towards you while sifting through piles of clothes, he can’t bear to see your face right now.

“are you sure? you don’t sound alright ..” you reply softly, placing a hand on his shoulder soothingly.

“i’m fine! jesus, (y/n)! just let me look, please!” his voice cracks as he swats your hand away, he knows he can only keep up this front for so long.

“neil, we were together for months, i know you better than you know yourself, tell me what’s wrong.”

we were together.

those three words made him nauseous to hear, he knew the two of you were done, but to hear it hurt on a different level.

he loses it, the tears start to pour out from his eyes.

you hear him begin to cry quietly, his hands coming up to cover his face.

“what is it?” you ask one last time as your voice begins to break, you had been struggling as well. but you, like neil, kept it mostly to yourself. you rotted away in your apartment, barely even showering or maintaining yourself. but today he saw you on a relatively good day, you felt motivation to shower and clean. if he had caught you on any other day, you would’ve been absolutely mortified.

neil finally turns around, his face red and cheeks wet with tears.

“what happened to us?” he sighs, “we were so good, (y/n),” your eyes are nearly welling with tears. “i thought i was going to marry you.” he adds, his voice barely above a whisper.

you’re at a loss for words, you didn’t know what happened either. it’s like one day something between you just switched. you were both stubborn, but that had never been an issue, until it was mixed with unexpected changes and outside stressors, you eventually just couldn’t stand each other.

you can’t hold it in anymore, you begin to sob in front of him.

“i loved you, neil.” you walk closer to him, “i didn’t mean what i said. i just felt hurt, and i wanted to hurt you back.”

“i know,” he chuckles through the tears, “i know. i felt the same, i didn’t mean it either.”

you missed neil, so so dearly, and you wished that he could come back to make amends. now here he is, and here’s your opportunity.

you swallow your pride, “i miss you.”

you see something shift within him once those words leave your mouth, “i miss you too.” he mutters.

he grabs your face and runs his thumb along your cheek before planting a kiss on your lips. you’re shocked, but you wanted this. you’ve been craving this. you kiss him back.

he pulls away briefly to see your expression, but you lean forward immediately to kiss him again more passionately.

he groans into your mouth, bringing his hands down to the dip of your back.

“missed you so much ..” he whines into your mouth while wrapping his arms around your waist, clenching you close to his body. you bring your hands up to your head and run your fingers through his hair, occasionally bringing your hands down to touch his shoulder blades.

neil slips his hands under your shirt and unclasps your bra.

“mmh .. neil, we can’t ..” you groan between kisses, although you aren’t making much efforts to stop him

he slips his tongue into your mouth and makes the kiss sloppier, moaning softly in the process

“let me make it up to you .. please ..” he begs, creeping his hands down to your ass.

he grips it gently and feels himself growing hard. since the breakup, he’s had a lot of pent up sexual tension. he’s been couch surfing, which isn’t exactly ideal for private intimate times, so he was rarely able to get off. so now even just the sensation of your ass has him popping a chub already.

as you kiss, he starts to slowly guide you towards the bed. eventually the end of the bed meets the back of your legs, and you stumble back with neil on top of you.

you detach from his lips and shuffle your body back, neil follows your lead and moves his lips down to your neck, kissing and sucking softly. his lips on your neck and the warm friction of his body is causing you to get undeniably wet. this isn’t the best way to go about things, you and him should’ve maybe had a civil and thoughtful discussion. but you suddenly feel his bulge graze against you, neither of you are in the right state to sit and talk.

his kisses begin to move downward to your collar bone, almost to your chest, but he halts.

“can you take off your shirt?”

without responding, you slip your shirt and now unclasped bra off. he resumes his kisses down your chest until he gets to one of your nipples, he swirls his tongue around the harding bud, suckling on it gently soon after while moaning lowly.

you gasp and arch your back, “missed these tits ..” he groans against your skin, bringing one of his hands up to knead your other breast.

before long, his kisses trail down your torso, sliding his hands down your sides to grip your hips. his kisses stop at your navel, where he looks up at you from between your legs, slinking his fingers down to your waistband where he hooks his fingers in. he tugs them down lightly, but stops. watching your face attentively for your approval.

you raise your hips and allow him to continue to pull your pants and underwear off. he moves out of the way briefly to efficiently tear them off, before quickly going back to where he was originally, directly between your legs. he groans at the sight of your wetness.

neil places small kisses along your inner thighs while latching his hands beneath them, his lips inching closer and closer to your pussy. he plants a wet kiss on your lower lips, making you whine at the sudden, but much needed gesture.

he continued to kiss, sloppier and sloppier, until the kisses become blatant licks against your clit.

“mmh! ne-il!” you whimper, rutting against his face slightly. he hums, gripping your thighs harder, “missed this cunt so much ..”

as you moan and rut, neil gets more determined to make you come on his face. he laps you up, occasionally dipping down to use his nose while he prods your hole with his tongue, or using his chin to rub your clit while he stares at you twitching in bliss. he’s utilizing his face in ways he never has before, he seems nearly ravenous.

he sucks on your clit gently before detaching his mouth, “use my face t’come, show me how much you want it.”

“i want it,” you moan breathily as you lock your fingers into his hair, “i want it so bad!”

he smiles against you. sucking, rubbing, and licking all of your sensitive areas. you using his face purely to get off gets him unbearably hard, he begins to grind against the mattress beneath him for some sort of relief

your gasps and whines progressively get louder and louder, to the point where your eyes are squeezed shut and your mouth hangs slightly slack, neil just watches. he missed you as a person, as a partner, but he also missed watching you be pleased. the way your body and face contorts, knowing it’s all from his touches, it just couldn’t compare to anything else.

his jaw is sore, his scalp hurts from your pulling, and the entire lower half of his face is dripping wet with a mixture of your arousal and his own saliva, but he has no intentions of stopping. not until you come on his face.

your ruts start to get quicker and needier, your thighs shaking and tensing in the process as you gasp and beg for neil to make you come.

“please, please, please,” you babble quietly, “i’m so close.”

neil can barely breathe, and he’s so incredibly hard he’s afraid he may faint from the loss of blood and oxygen flow. he groans against your pussy, crude sounds of moans and slight squelching fill the room.

your orgasm is inching closer and closer until it finally hits. your mind going blank and your hips movements coming to a stop, your thighs clench around him and twitch around his head. you’re quiet as you come, as if the air has been sucked from your lungs. neil licks you through your high, until you’ve become too sensitive and have to push him away.

“too much .. too much ..” you whine, neil hesitantly pulls away. he could stay between your legs forever.

he places small kisses on your inner thighs and sighs deeply against you. once he catches his breath, he trails back up your body with kisses. eventually his lips end up at your neck, he places a small lick onto the shell of your ear while sneaking his hand between his legs and palming himself.

“nothing else compares to you .. nothing .. no one ..“ he mumbles, hastily unzipping his fly and pulling his pants down with one hand, “i think your pussy was designed just f’me ..”

you whimper and place your hands on his clothed back, “this .. off .. please-“

he places one more wet kiss on your neck before sitting his body up. his eyes are glossy and his lips are a rich pink colour. he takes off his shirt and you can’t help but compliment him,

“you look so handsome.” you chuckle

he smirks, “thanks, i think eating pussy gives you some sort of natural glow, or so i’ve heard.”

you roll your eyes playfully and hook your fingers into his boxers waistband, “take these off, too.”

neil laughs breathily and removes his boxers, his hard, sensitive member springing free. his tip glistens from his arousal, you bring your hand to his cock and grip him weakly while pumping him.

he moans and his eyes shoot down to between his legs, watching you pump him, “oh, fuck ..”

his moans enable you further, you begin to pump him quicker. he huffs and whines before gripping your wrists and stopping your movements, “stop, stop”

you let go, “if you keep going i’ll come on your hand, i need your pussy.” he mewls as he lowers himself between your legs and aligning his cock head with your opening.

your pussy is extremely slick from the combination of his spit, your orgasm, and your persistent arousal, so he slides himself in with no issue. making the both of you groan at the sensation. as he bottoms out, he just sits inside you for a few moments, simply enjoying the embrace of your warm and wet cunt. you whine at the fullness you had been missing, while neil was away you’d attempt to finger yourself, but your own fingers didn’t compare at all to his cock. the feeling reminds you of what neil said, “i think your pussy was designed just for me”, maybe it’s truer than you thought.

his hips shift back and he slowly thrusts himself out, before quickly snapping back in. his pace is quick and needy, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him fuck you so desperately.

“neil-l .. mmh!” you gasp, swinging your hand over your mouth to cover your loud moans. neil chuckles and swipes your hand out of the way, “let me hear you, your noises are so pretty.”

“o-oh, stop ..” you tease, having just enough composure within you to still banter slightly with neil as he fucks you

“‘m serious ..” he moans, “hearing how good my cock is making y’feel .. so fucking sexy ..”

his pace gets rougher, and you almost instantly lose whatever snarky response you had in mind, “god, f-uck!” you cry out, bringing your hands down to your sides to grab the duvet beneath you.

as he thrusts into you, his eyes dart between your fucked-out face and your tits, which are bouncing slightly from his force. he places a hand onto your hip and the other onto your tit, both hands gripping harshly on whatever they’re grabbing. you whine at the aggression, feeling it get you hotter and wetter.

neil huffs and glances down at your pussy, whimpering at what he sees, “jesus, so fucking wet”

“you got me t-this wet ..” you stammer, feeding into neil’s neediness.

he moans, “y-yeah?”, his voice high and shaky, normally he’d want to come off as dominant and basically stoic, but right now he’s absolutely pussy-whipped, he couldn’t pull himself together if he tried.

hearing the pleasure in his tone makes you hum, your legs wrapping around him and squeezing him lightly.

he laughs and gulps, “so desperate to keep my cock inside.”

you nod quickly and snake your hand between your legs to rub your clit as you clench around him involuntarily. neil whimpers small sounds of approval, knowing how close you are to coming. his breaths are heavy and he’s having a hard time keeping up the quick rough pace, both of you are approaching your orgasms rapidly. the aesthetics of it really don’t matter, the pleasures your bodies are giving each other is what matters above all else.

“gonna come ..” neil swallows, “gonna come ..”

you wanna tell him you’re going to come too, but you physically can’t vocalize it, but you assume your whimpers and clenching and wetness is telling enough.

moments later, you’re coming on his cock, “n-eil!” you shout as your body convulses slightly from the overwhelming sensation. watching you come pushes him over the edge completely, “yeah, yeah, fuck!” he rambles, his brows furrowing and mouth hanging slack as he comes while continuing to pump himself inside you.

you ride out your orgasms until it eventually becomes too overstimulating for the both of you, he pulls out his softening cock and huffs. your thighs twitch at the feeling of his and yours come begin to slowly drip out from inside of you. neil smirks proudly “i missed seeing this too .. so goddamn much ..”

after that, you and him sit in silence for a little. you don’t really know what to say, and you don’t know what you are. still exes? friends? partners?

instead of pondering, you think fuck it and just ask;

“what are we now?”

“what do you want us to be?” he responds

“i want us to get back together.”

“i want that, too.”

——

back to my old reliable .. neil !!!

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #neil lewis #neil lewis x reader #watching the detectives #hope y’all like this #:)

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holdmytesseract · 1 year

Note

hey my love ❤️ can I resquest u something?

daryl is expecting a child with the reader where he is super excited but he also spends his time outside, looking for things for his baby.. but he receives a call from rick saying that his girlfriend is in the infirmary and when he arrives he finds out that the reader lost the pregnancy and he takes care of her and pampers her a lot those days after they both take great care of each other, because he will also be super sad😭

Sorry for my bad english 🤦

Into Shards

Daryl Dixon x pregnant!Reader

Summary: When Daryl is outside the walls, looking for stuff for yours and his baby, he gets called back by Rick - only to come home to devastating news...

Warnings: Major trigger warning here! Miscarriage! pregnancy things, walkers, fluff, bit blood

Set in the beginning of season 9!

Word Count: 2,2k

a/n: Hi nonny! Thank you for the request! ☺️💚 I am honest... I don't know if I should love this one, or not. I tried to write a bit action as well, but it probably isn't the best... Hope you like it nevertheless! 🙈

Tagging: @km-ffluv @loz-3 @stitchintimefan @peaches1958 @fictive-sl0th @lou12346789 @in-this-minute @hotgirlsshareaccounts @sweetpeapod @fuseburner @azanoni @bookofsecretjourneys

Masterlist

"'M goin' back out today. That okay for ya?" Daryl asked, while buttoning up the last few buttons of his black shirt and rolling up the sleeves. You smiled at him, stretched and stood up; leaving the cosy bedsheets behind. "Of course." You said, stepping closer and watching him slip in his angel-winged vest. Both your hands found their way on his chest, softly tugging on the cold, smooth fabric of the famous leather vest. "As long as you're coming back to us..." You whispered with a smile; your eyes never leaving his beautiful blue-greyish ones.

Us... The word hit Daryl like a ton of bricks - in the best way possible, though. It caused the ends of his nerves to sizzle. An overwhelming feeling of warmth and love flooding his veins. Us... He couldn't stop himself from smiling that signature sweet, small, boyish smile. "Ain't gonna ever leave ya two alone," he stated, shaking his head. One hand settled on your left hip, while the other found your yet non-existent baby bump. Although Daryl always stated, that he was already able to feel the tiny, innocent life. Despite the fact that you were barely eight to ten weeks along - according to Siddiq. Whenever he said that, you'd just giggle and shake your head.

"'M always goin' to come back for ya. 'Specially now." Your smile even widened; one hand reaching up to brush a chestnut brown curl out of his handsome face. "I know." You stood on your tippy-toes to brush your lips against his; eyelids fluttering shut.

"I can't convince you to let me join you, can I?" Daryl scoffed playfully, shaking his head. "Absolutely not. Ain't lettin' you walk around out there." You sighed, but giggled. "Thought so... Take care out there, yes? Be safe." Your boyfriend nodded. "'Course. Promised." "Good." You kissed him again. "I'll be back 'fore the sun's goin' down."

Daryl grabbed his crossbow then, his knives and took one of the pick-up's. His bike would've been a bit too small for his task ahead. With a last look at you and a soft smile, he left Alexandria; off to find and scavenge stuff for the baby.

Around midday, Daryl was already several miles away from home, searching every square inch of a few smaller cities around D.C. Daryl knew that it probably wasn't the best idea to be close to such a big city, but that didn't scare him.

Now he was sneaking down the streets of a rather very small city he didn't know the name of. Not much houses, only a few shops. His eyes landed on an old building. Not big and plain. Unimportant, unnecessary. He was about to walk past it, when he recognised the small sign over the old, rusty door... 'Smith's Baby Store'. Wasn't that exactly what he was looking for? "Finally," he muttered to himself under his breath, drawing his knives. With his foot, he kicked against the unstable door, listening for any signs of walkers. Nothing.

Carefully, he opened the door. It didn't budge at first, but with a little more strength, it finally gave in - as if someone was inside it before him. Looking around to check the street for any stray walkers - which wasn't the case, he stepped inside the small house. Daryl noticed immediately, that this house was constructed very... strange. The door didn't lead straight into the shop. It led into a long, dark hallway - with only three other doors. One on the left, one on the right and one at the end of the hallway. Daryl sneaked on quiet feet down the squeaking hallway; the old wood creaking underneath his weight. He checked the two rooms on the sides first, but found nothing. One room was already scavenged. Not much things were left. Most of the items useless and broken. The other room was nothing more than a broom closet with dusty cleaning supplies.

Daryl let out a slightly annoyed groan, before he made his way to the last room. The sparse wooden door wasn't locked. It was slightly ajar, making it easy for the archer to open it. The door led into a big room, full of shelves and cupboards, in which several baby things were. A smile twitched at the corners of Daryl's lips. Jackpot. But just a moment later, his expression shifted into a frown. The building had been clearly scavenged already, so... Why leave this room out? Why not take these things as well?

The answer got the archer only seconds after the thought had crossed his mind. He took a few steps inside the room - and immediately felt the floor giving softly in underneath him; bending under his weight. The wood was rotten, dilapidated and more than unstable. Daryl walked backwards again, biting his lip and weighing his options. Should he risk it? Should he not? He didn't know what was beneath the floor. Perhaps the basement? He could've sworn he had seen a small stair in the other room, leading down to a door. The basement couldn't be that bad, could it? And perhaps the floor held him, so... Daryl had been way too long on his way today and the past days - weeks. He didn't want to go home once again empty handed.

So, he took the risk - and paid for it almost immediately. The old wood held his weight the first time and also the second time - but not the third. It gave in underneath him, creaking and aching, causing the archer to fall - like he had predicted into the basement. With a thud, he landed on his back, groaning. "Shit." Only a tiny window let the sunlight in and illuminated the dark, dusty and... smelly room. His ears were ringing from the fall, his senses blinded for a moment, causing him to not realise instantly, what he got himself into.

Only when the sounds of low snarls and snapping teeth urged slowly but surely to his ears, he realised. Daryl's eyes widened in shock and surprise, before he scrambled to get up from the cold ground. The window didn't let much light in... But enough to show that said basement was filled with more than just two walkers... Way more than two. Daryl grimaced - in pain and frustration. "Damn it!" The walkers noticed him, of course, immediately and went straight at him. Daryl reached for his knife to get rid of the first undead, attacking him; all the while scanning the room for the door. He had to get out of this.

Unfortunately - just in that moment, while he was fighting the undead, started his walkie talkie to give forth some static hissing, before Rick's voice echoed across the basement. "Daryl?!" The archer got rid of another walker, plunging his knife into its rotten skull, before retrieving the weapon again, and reached for the walkie talkie attached to his belt. He thought it had been the last one, but just as he was about to answer his brother, another walker lunged at Daryl from behind, with such an impact that the little, black device slipped from Daryl's hand, along with his knife. A grunt left his lips as he tried to get the undead man away from him. He turned and stumbled to the ground with the walker landing on top of him. Its foul breath hitting Daryl's face; rotten teeth snapping at him, mere inches from his neck. "Daryl?! Do you copy?!" Rick's voice called out for him again. Daryl gritted his teeth and used all his force to shove the undead away from him. Quickly he reached for his knife and killed the walker. Panting, he fell back on his back, catching his breath. "Come on, Daryl! It's urgent!" Rick sounded almost desperate by now. Daryl took a deep breath and stood up to get the walkie talkie. "Rick? Rick! I'm here." He panted, wiping some blood from his face. "Sorry, man. Had to get rid of a few walkers."

Rick answered instantly. "Thank god. Daryl, you gotta get back here! Quick!" The man frowned, making his way to the small door of the basement. "Why?" "Y/N's in the infirmary! She-" Rick's voice broke and Daryl's heart dropped. You were in the infirmary? Fear and panic immediately started to rise within the archer. "Rick?!" He literally screamed into the walkie talkie, "Rick!" but all he got in return was static hissing. "Fuck's sake!" The archer cursed and slammed the device on the ground, before he literally run up the stairs and out of the house. Something was wrong, if you were in the infirmary - and whatever it was, he had to get back to Alexandria as fast as possible.

The gates got opened immediately, as soon as Daryl approached Alexandria. The archer didn't even bother to park the pic-up on its rightful place. He jumped out of the vehicle and slammed the door shut; seeing Rick already running his way. "Daryl!" The archer met his friend midway. "Wha' happened?! What's wrong with 'er?!" "You better see for yourself...," was all Rick said - a sorrowful look on his face. Daryl didn't let himself tell that twice, of course. As fast his legs could carry him, he sprinted to the infirmary. Without even knocking he ripped the door open and stormed in - attracting Siddiq's attention. "Daryl." "Where is she?!" The archer walked up and down the room like a wounded tiger; tried to push past the doctor - but Siddiq stood firmly in his way and tried to calm him down. "Daryl, calm down. Y/N's in the last room down the hall. Let me explain first, okay?" The black-haired man lifted his hands as if in surrender. Another try to calm the worked up man across him down. Daryl's chest heaved, as he grunted and gave the doctor a short nod - which Siddiq returned. "You... You might want to sit down for this." "Nah, 'm good. Tell me wha' happened." The doctor took a deep breath. "Alright, I... Y/N came to me a few hours ago; said she had cramps. Usually nothing to be worried about, but I checked on her nevertheless." Siddiq swallowed hard, lowering his head. "When I went to check, I... I saw that... There was blood, Daryl."

The archer's eyes widened and he felt his heart drop for the second time that day. Deep down, he already knew what it meant, of course, but he didn't want to believe it. Not until Siddiq spoke the dreadful words out loud. "Y/N, she... I'm afraid she had a miscarriage. I'm sorry." Daryl just stared at his friend blankly. The news - the shock was just too overwhelming. Without saying a single word, the archer walked past the doctor and straight down the hall, towards your room.

Gently opening the door, he found you laying on a bed, curled up into a ball. Your back towards him. He could hear the soft cries and sobs, which left your lips - breaking his heart. Daryl whispered your name, trying to hold back his own tears. You stirred immediately; hearing his voice. Shifting to face him, he saw your tear-stained cheeks and red, puffy eyes. "D-Daryl..." You sobbed, causing more tears to fall. He was immediately at your side, pulling you against his body. "'M here, love, 'm here. 'S alright, 'm here..." Of course, he knew that nothing was alright, but what was he supposed to say?

Daryl felt your body shaking against his. He wanted to scream; he wanted to cry - but he couldn't allow himself that. He needed to be strong for you. For the both of you. But the harsh reality hit him nevertheless. A few hours back, everything was alright. His little world was perfect. And now? Now it all came crashing down. The happiness ripped out of both your hands - within the blink of an eye. "I-I am s-so s-sorry, I-I-I..." You stammered, hands clasping on his vest; holding onto him for dear life. Daryl immediately shook his head. "Stop that, please... You have nothin' to be sorry for. This ain't your fault, sunshine." "It h-has to b-be! I-I must've done s-something wrong, I…" "Nah, you didn't. These things just happen sometimes." You looked up at him with hooded Y/E/C eyes. "B-But why to u-us? W-We were so happy about it... Looked forward to meet this baby and now... Now they are gone..." The words caused fresh tears to run down your cheeks. "I don't know, sunshine... I don't know..."

The most important thing was, that you had each other. It was going to be a tough time, but you knew that with Daryl by your side, you would overcome the grief. Scars were going to heal with time and sooner or later, you would welcome a new life in this world, where happiness was most precious and family was the most precious gift. Yes, it wasn't going to be easy, but you knew from all the things you've been through that everything works out in the end. After all, light couldn't exist without darkness, could it?

The next days Daryl spent the whole time at home with you. He didn't leave your side. Not even for a minute. The both of you spent most of the time in your house; secluded. Everybody understood that, of course and gave you all the time you needed to process the loss. Losing a child was never easy. No matter if born or unborn.

#daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x pregnant!reader #daryl dixon #twd #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead

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tpwkwriter · 1 year

Note

u r my fave writter everrrr! And I wanted to recommend H helping the reader with anxiety, depression, an eating disorder and like a traumatic childhood. THANK YOUUUUU

My comfort.

First of all thank you so, so much Not only for your request but lovely words! 🥰

And wowser A traumatised y/n! 🫢but luckily H is there hey!

*Warnings* mentions of depression, anxiety, trauma,drug use!, body dysmorphia, struggles with eating and various mental health issues! My dms are open always! 🤎

Love your beautiful selfs! 🫶🏼

— — — — —

Ever since a young age y/n had been through various battles.

Her childhood was far from mundane, when she was about 9 her parents took to several different substances and would happily leave y/n and her sister alone for many hours through the day.

When the girl hit her early teens she was aware of what was going on and that realisation hit her like a ton of bricks, knowing her parents would rather be out doing his knows what, with god knows who then actually looking after her and her sister

When it was time for secondary school, y/n would still admit that this was the worst time for her. 7 hours of constant work to come home and play mother. The constant comparisons to her and her classmates drove her mad, the reminder of exams and work it was all a bit much.

When she hit 17 she went to college and took part in a weekend job to earn some money on the side. Of course her parents eyes lit up once they heard money was being made.

On y/n’s sisters 12th birthday y/n was finally able to buy her gifts and treat the young girl. However this didn’t go down with the rest of the family, y/n recalls this memory very clearly even though she’s been trying to repress it for years.

The argument they had that evening was booming, her father threw anything he could get his hands on, her mother threw every insult and shaming word there was, all of this because she wouldn’t lend them money?

The night quickly escalated when an empty vase was threw at y/n leaving a cut on her wrist that scarred and she still sees to this day.

From that night y/n picked up longer shifts, and more hours just for a bit more money and financial stability.

By her 18th birthday she could afford her first car, wasn’t anything grand but the freedom it allowed her was amazing, she finally felt proud of how she’s done this all herself, she finally felt pride in herself and not self hatred.

Fast forward to age 25 and her life was something she wasn’t expecting.

She was with one of the most recognisable faces, who was able to show her parts of the world she never thought she could, he gave her the biggest comfort and safe feeling that she ever so lacked.

Her sister was currently 21 living with her own boyfriend and was equally as happy, and both of them was as close as ever.

Y/n loved Harry with everything in her, and wanted no chance or risk that he would walk out on her. Y/n adamantly worked on her figure everyday, she started off her morning in the gym, went for a run at-least once a week, this was good n all but she slowly started slipping meals and going past them.

It was currently nearing 6pm and H had just come back from the studio and long day.

“Alright love?” He asks putting a hand on her waist and kissing her cheek as she was finalising dinner.

“Oh my god H” she giggled

“Y’made me jump! Didn’t hear y’come in” she smiled

“Was m’plan” he smirked kissing her again.

“How was y’day” he ask, reaching the top cupboard for too glasses knowing she wouldn’t be able to reach them.

“Was okay, got Tomorrow off so no excuse to get rid of me” she smiled.

“You?” She asked

“S’okay busy, happy to have our day tomorrow”

Dinner was finalised, and the both sat at the table speaking through there day to each other.

“Y’been to the gym today?” He asked

“Yeah” she answered.

“Did 2 hours in there today!!” She said proudly.

“M’proud of you darling, make sure we’re not overworking ourselves right?” He asks slipping her a look that was all too familiar.

“M’not, I just wanna stay, like this I guess?” She smiles.

“What do you mean baby? Y’gorgeous” he states.

“Have you eaten today?” He asks stopping in his tracks to watch her.

“Um” she wonders.

“I mean, m’eating right now, but I just wasn’t hungry really” she claims, taking another spoonful of her food to her mouth.

“Y/nnnnn” he playfully drags

“I promise I’ll eat more tomorrow, just, wasn’t hungry today!” She smiles.

“Y’did 2 hours in the gym and didn’t eat anything after?” He asks tone getting deeper and eyebrows raising.

“I really I didn’t mean to, I was running errands after and I forgot” she says standing up from her seat collecting the plates from them both.

H joins her in kitchen and helps her tidy up.

“Thanks H” she said.

“N’worries, thanks for dinner love” he says kissing her temple swiftly.

“Gonna get dressed, and then we can watch one of your bloody documentaries?” He smiles

“Y’know it H” she blushes.

They reluctantly parted, y/n found herself bundled up on the couch with a fluffy blanket awaiting her loves return, she found herself scrolling mindlessly on instagram.

When your current boyfriend has exes in the like of Kendall Jenner, cara delavine and Camille Rowe it’s often hard not to feel worse compared to them, curiosity took y/n over and she clicked on Camille’s instagram page, she was greeted with selfies, pictures of events she’s been too, her with her friends and various other things, her beautiful eyes, her shiny long hair, her model figure, she was straight out of a magazine.

Suddenly all of y/n’s work felt pointless, no matter what she would always be compared to these fashionable girls, that familiarity hits her once again.

She set her phone down and focused on the Tv in-Front of her and fell deeper into her fluffy blanket she was cuddling.

Without a word of exchange H joins her back on the sofa, sits next to the girl and guides her legs to his lap, allowing his fingers to gently trace over her shins and ankles.

“I love you” she says eyes remaining glued to the screen.

His movements stop and he turns his head to her.

“I love you too”

The night was slowly closing and the couple slowly started there evening routine.

Y/n was in there shared bathroom going through with her skincare before bed, a million thoughts popped up at once, she didn’t know if It was her anxiety or just her clear overthinking tendencies

Y/n glanced in the mirror, all she saw was all imperfections, she couldn’t even compare to Taylor swift or Kendall Jenner in anyway shape or form.

“Baby Y’alright?” Harry asked from the other side of the door.

She quickly tapped her phone to see the time just to realise she’s spent nearly an hour locked in the bathroom.

“Yeah baby m’now Coming out” she said shaking the train of though out of her head.

Silent tears roll down her face.

Him. He was so amazing in everything he did. His voice was safe. His words were so comforting. The thought of him not being around her terrified the shit out of her.

— — — — —

Part 2 coming soon!

Hopefully you all like this! There will be a part 2 as I don’t want this to be a really long fic, because I have many ideas what I want done with this!!! 🤎

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crownofstarfall · 1 year

Text

Ramblings (Ashton Greymoore x Reader)

Helllooo. I wrote this sweet moment for my friend who is a huge Ashton simp. The reader in this story is a ranger, but tbh it just mentions Longbow so you can self-insert whatever you want!

Let me know how you like it and if I should start posting more of my writings!

Enjoy! xxx

word count: 826

Ashton wasn’t a man of many words, especially when it came to expressing himself to those he cared for. It had been no different when he had first met Y/N. The two genuinely enjoyed one another’s company, and conversation seemed to flow very easily. They had to meet no high expectations when conversing with one another. But suddenly one day, Ashton was hit with a ton of bricks. He started to feel a few little sparks in his chest when he was around her. He played this off as a new type of chronic pain that he would experience, much like the rest of himself, but after more and more time had passed, it grew, and he wasn’t sure when he would explode.

A few months passed, and the sparks in his chest were now more of a fiery warmth that enveloped his heart and the surrounding area of his chest. He always felt this, not even just when he was with Y/N. His every thought was about her, she never left his mind. This new sort of heat constantly reminded him that she was not his, and she probably never would be. He had no intention of revealing his intentions to her. She would most certainly never feel the same, so he would spare himself the pain.

He didn’t mean to start completely ignoring her, he just wanted to rid himself of his affections and then they could continue their relationship as normal. He hadn’t realized that Y/N had a mind of her own and noticed that he was distant. She had feelings for him of her own, and she also did not allow herself to completely fall for him. But she didn’t want to lose her friend altogether either, he was too important to her. She would not stand by and watch as he drifted away from her, so she confronted him. Which led to a huge fight. Which then led to them kissing. Which then led to them telling each other how they felt. And now they were together, happy.

Unlike Ashton, Y/N sometimes had too many words to say. He had grown accustomed to her rambling on about things he didn’t care about, but he listened to them anyway and smiled to himself about how lucky he was. One particular day Y/N was rambling on about a certain type of longbow she admired, but could not have. Ashton sat with her on a bench, his shoulder around her, pulling her into his side as they watched the street around them. He hummed along to show he was listening and acknowledging.

She continued on for another ten minutes before seemingly, out of nowhere his heart burst with love, and finally allowed himself to smile over at her. He loved these close moments with her, just sitting in intimate proximity and just enjoying the other’s company. He didn’t say a lot, but he loved how she filled the silence around them. He was lost in his thoughts when he was suddenly pulled out of them when Y/N asked him a question.

“What?” he raised his eyebrows.

“I asked if you were tired of hearing me talk.” she frowned. “I knew you were, you’re not even paying attention. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you. I’ll shut u…” but she was cut off when he pressed his lips to hers. Her eyes widened with surprise. She really thought that she was boring him.

After the kiss she couldn’t seem to form a word, “I…I… ghmn.” He chuckled.

“Don’t ever shut up. I love to hear you ramble on about things you like. Don’t ever stop.” He caressed her cheek.

“Are you sure? I knew you weren’t listening… I can stop.” she tried to meet his gaze but couldn’t allow herself.

“I was before, I just was lost in thought of how much I love you,” he whispered, then kissed her again.

She was too stunned to speak.

She felt his lips leave hers but she still left her lips agape. Her eyes fluttered open to look up at the beautiful green genasi before her. He smiled at her and stroked her hair, pushing a few strands back behind her ear.

“You know I love you too, don’t you?” Y/N asked him, placing her hand on his, stopping his movements.

His gaze moved from her eyes, down to her lips, which were still agape, and then back up to her lovely eyes.

“Of course, I know. You have made that perfectly clear.” She nodded along with his words. “Now, please continue. I promise I will listen more intently.” He grinned at her and then pulled her back into his side. She was silent for a few moments and then picked up where she had left off. She began to trace the gold on his chest while she rambled on. He couldn’t keep the smile from leaving his face.

#ashton greymoore #ashton imagine #ashton greymoore imagine #critical role #critical role campaign 3 #bells hells #ashton greymoore x reader #ashton x reader

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loveisbraveandwild · 1 year

Note

TW// racism, slurs

I know we're going through something right now as a fandom, but if I might ask for some advice: should I DNF this book of essays from a white author who just referred (within the book) to people from my country with a racial slur? I feel so conflicted bc I never DNF but that shit hurt. I was enjoying the prose, and I was excited to finish it, but now I can't even look at it. What would you do? Should I look past it?

Maybe I could look past it because the author didn't say the word with bad intentions, I don't think. It might be that she thinks that that's what we're called. She might not realize it's a slur?? But also I'm tired of making that excuse for people. And she's such a celebrated author these days, too. I don't know what to do. That really hit me like a ton of bricks to the face. I was not expecting it.

if youre writing and publishing a book you have a responsibility to do research before publishing it. i dont think u Have to dnf it as long as ur reading w nuance, but i also think u can and if u feel uncomfy reading it u absolutely should dnf it. no fault or blame in dnfing books, especially when contributing authors r bigots and u feel triggered

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petri808 · 3 years

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hiii i am absolutely obsessed with ur drabbles could u please do nalu #4 and #39 pls🥺

“Walk out that door and we’re through” + “Please come home, I miss you”

This was tough cause the questions could trigger a story similar to this one I also did for these prompt asks round. But I think I can make it different enough, albeit angst hell 😅 here we go! It’s a little rushed but longer then I expected for a ficlet lol

“Lucy,” Natsu knocked at the office door, “it’s time to go.”

“Where?” She answered without looking up.

“Levy’s birthday party.”

“Oh!” Lucy sat up in her desk chair and turned her body to face her husband. “Right! I forgot. Um, shucks, but I’m on a writing high right now and I can’t stop— tell her I’ll make it up to her, will ya?”

She always says that… Natsu sighed, “yeah, sure…”

Levy Redfox was Lucy’s childhood best friend and while the woman was also his friend, it just didn’t sit well with Natsu that she’d choose writing over the woman. But this had been an ongoing issue lately... Don’t get him wrong, he fully supported his wife’s career as an author, especially now that it’s really starting to take off. The issue was it had consumed her at the expense of everyone around her.

He knocked on their friends door, answered by Levy herself.

“Natsu!” Levy hugged the man excitedly, but when she noticed he was alone, frowned a tad. “Again, huh?”

“I’m sorry, Levy,” Natsu’s shoulders slumped. “Lucy’s in a,” he made quotation marks in the air, “‘writing high,’ and said she’ll make it up to you.”

“Well, I’m glad you came,” the woman smiled despite the sadness hiding behind her eyes.

All of their closest friends were in attendance and spent the evening talking, eating, and playing a few fun birthday games. It distracted him to some extent, but as the night wore down and the other guests had all left, Natsu, his best friend Gray Fullbuster, Levy, and her husband Gajeel sat around in the living room talking about the elephant in the room. Lucy.

“I’ve tried talking to her,” Levy said quietly, “but, I try not to make it sound too harsh.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what you need to do babe,” Gajeel chimed in. “Be blunt.”

“Yeah, I’m like you,” Natsu agreed with Levy. “It’s not easy to bring it up cause she’s oblivious about it.”

“But it’s hurting your marriage man!” Gray looked at Natsu. “And your friendship,” he switched to Levy. “I’m with Gajeel. If you aren’t honest with her, it’s not gonna get better.”

“Think I don’t know that?!” Natsu spat back. “Think I enjoy being the only one in that house in pain?! I don’t, but—” his voice cracked, “I’m worried I’ll push her away if I say something.”

“She’s already pushing you away dude. Do you still love her?”

“Of course, I do,” Natsu sighed. “I love her more than anything, but apparently it’s not enough… we haven’t even… you know, I can’t remember the last time.”

“Wow… Then you really gotta tell her. All of it,” Gray coaxed.

Levy who’d sat quietly through the back and forth, chimed in quietly. “Gray’s right. You should tell her, when you go home, just tell her how you’re feeling. And whatever happens, happens. We can just hope for the best.”

“You know you’ll be the first to hear from her if I do,” Natsu pointed out.

“I know. But… it’s time I come clean too.”

Natsu slumped back onto the couch and let out a depressed exhale. “And you,” he looked to Gray. “You know if it goes wrong I’ll be showing up at your door.”

“My couch has your name on it.”

“Gee, thanks.”

That had to be the longest drive home Natsu had ever taken, even though it was really just 10 minutes. He was a physical person by nature and never been very good at expressing his feelings in words. Words were his wife’s domain. There were a lot of things he wanted to say, but his biggest fear was saying things wrong. With his hand on the doorknob, Natsu took one last breath and opened the door to her office. He knew before entering, Lucy was still working by the clacks of the keyboard and interrupting would immediately cause friction. But he couldn’t wait anymore.

“I’m home,” Natsu called out… with no response. He sighed and spoke more sternly. “Lucy. I’m home.”

“Oh, welcome home,” she finally responded. “How was the party?”

He knew it was an empty question, because she never even looked up or stopped typing and it meant she wasn’t really listening. “Lucy… we need to talk.”

“I’m kinda busy Natsu.”

“I know, but you’re always busy Lucy. That’s part of the problem.” The moment the last word came out, Natsu knew instantly he’d picked the wrong one. Crap.

Lucy stopped typing, turned off the screen and shut the laptop. “Problem?” She turned the chair around with her eyes narrowed in a focused glare. “What do you mean, problem?”

“Lucy,” he ran a hand down his face, “I don’t want to fight, but we need to talk— there’s a lot we need to talk about.”

“Like what?” She crossed her arms. “What is so important that you need to mess with my job?”

There it was.

“I’m not trying to do that,” he sighed. “You know how proud I am of your career. But, it feels as if you’re choosing your career over everything else in your life. Me, your friends, we’re all just being pushed aside—”

“Are you kidding me?!” Lucy shot out of her chair shaking in anger. “I am not doing any of that! I’m not pushing anyone away! Y-You’re the one who’s acting selfish trying to tell me I’m not giving you enough attention! And don’t you bring Levy into this! If this was bothering her she’d tell me!”

“It does bother her! But she’s afraid of getting,” he gestured with his hands up and down at Lucy, “this reaction! Is it selfish to want to spend some time with my own wife?!” Natsu growled. “We never spend time together anymore! You’re just always hunched over that damn computer!”

“I’m doing my job!” Lucy shrieked. “I have deadlines to meet! This story ain’t gonna write itself! Research ain’t gonna materialize on its own! It’s a lot of work!”

“Lucy,” Natsu pinched his brows together, trying hard to stop from snapping further as well as to control the tears building in his eyes. “I love you, more than anything in this world, but I don’t know what happened to the woman I’d married. The old Lucy wouldn’t abandon her loved ones like this.”

“You’re just mad because I’m successful now.”

“That’s bullshit! And you know it! No job is worth losing the people you care about, and if you can’t understand that, then, I don’t know what else to say!”

“Then I guess there isn’t anything more to say,” she spat back.

“I guess not.” Natsu answered softly, turned and left the room.

He’d already assumed confronting Lucy about her precious career would not end well, and he was right. Staying would only cause more trouble. So, he quietly packed a suitcase to go to Gray’s house, making sure to bring anything he’d need because he had no idea how long he’d stay there. He’d said his peace; it really was all in Lucy’s hands now.

Back in her office, Lucy dropped back down into her chair as the full weight of what just transpired hit her like a ton of bricks. She cradled her face in her hands as the anger that had fueled her response suddenly mixed with sadness. Tears flowed free. Did that really just happen?! She could hear Natsu moving around in the bedroom, the opening of drawers, the closet, the zipping sound of the suitcase, each and every step driving a knife deeper and deeper. How dare he tell her to stop writing! This was her dream! Her livelihood! Why couldn’t he just support her instead of acting like a child who wasn’t getting attention!

When she heard Natsu walking towards the front door area, Lucy raced out of the room to confront him one last time.

“Walk out that door and we’re through!” She screamed. “Do you hear me? We’re through!”

Natsu ignored her words knowing it was the anger talking… hoping it was just the emotions fueling her rage. “I’ll be at Gray’s,” he simply responded with a hint of sadness in his tone. “You should really think long and hard about this Lucy, because if not, you’ll lose a lot more than you realize.” And with that, he closed the front door behind him.

Lucy crumpled to the ground and wailed— raged, banging the floor with her fists as the sobbing overtook her. She truly could not understand what brought this on. Hadn’t she been a good wife?! Faithful! Hard working! What more did he want?! All she was doing was trying to make it in the cut-throat world of publishing. Does he not understand how hard it is to make it in that world?! She pulled her phone from her pocket and started to dial Levy’s phone number. But just as she got to the last two numbers, she stopped. It was already 1 am, and it would be rude to wake her friend up. Lucy sniffled and hung her head in shame before dragging herself back towards the bedroom. She’ll just call in the morning.

When Levy answered the phone, Lucy was slightly taken aback by the response. Not a hello, just a, ‘I wondered when you’d call.’ Evidently the woman was expecting it, but she was too tired to let it add to her problems. She hadn’t slept much after Natsu left— no surprise. She was still angry, but also confused, sad, and just mentally drained of life. Her friend agreed to come over in a bit, so Lucy dragged herself into the shower hoping it would make her feel better.

“Wow, you don’t look good,” Levy remarked at her friend.

“Hi to you too,” Lucy mumbled as she moved to the side to let her friend in. “Who would after a fight?”

Once settled on the couch, Levy went straight to the point before Lucy could even begin. “I already know what this is about. I know Natsu’s side, so start with yours.”

“Wow— okay, well—” Lucy pulled her legs up and tucked them underneath her body in a protective mode. “He tried to tell me to stop writing and I thought that was bullshit,” she said bluntly.

Levy’s brow raised. “Is that exactly what he said? To stop writing?”

“W-Well no, but that what he implied!”

“What did he say exactly?”

Lucy looked away, a scowl growing on her face and to hide the renewed moisture in her eyes. “He said I’m pushing everyone away.”

“And you don’t agree?”

“No! I’m not choosing my career over everyone! It’s ridiculous to even imply that I would!”

“Lu, do you still love your husband?”

“Of course, I love him!”

“Are you sure he knows you still love him?”

“I—” Lucy crossed her arms over her chest and sunk further into the couch mumbling. “I don’t see why he wouldn’t.”

“I can tell you, he doesn’t. Lu, you’ve pushed all of us away.”

“So, you’re taking his side?!”

“No. I’m giving you reality. You’ve been wrapped up in your fictional world so much that you’ve forgotten this one and the real people in it.”

“I—” Lucy turned away to hide the tears slowly starting to trickle down her face. “I never meant to…”

“I know…” Levy placed a hand on her friends leg. “Lu, we all know. He knows, but he’s hurting and it’s in your power to fix this.”

“But how?! I can’t just stop writing. I have deadlines and— you know, its a lot of work to put a story together.”

“You have to find a balance. Right?” Levy coaxed. “You have to take breaks. You have to relax sometimes. Natsu’s not asking you to stop, and he knows there will be times you really can’t stop. But it can’t be all the time, and right now it’s all the time.”

“I know…”

“Girl when was the last time you…” Levy wiggled her brows and grinned. “You know.”

Lucy blushed. “Too long.”

“Well?!” Levy laughed. “Are you finally getting our point?”

“Yeah,” Lucy sighed. “I got tunneled vision.”

Levy leaned in, adding pressured from the hand on Lucy’s leg and a softening in her voice. “And it put your marriage in jeopardy. But it’s not too late to fix it.”

The tears exploded from Lucy. “I told him… when he left, I-I told him don’t come back.” She buried her face in her hands as the sobbing took control. “I-I was screaming at him… so angry, I just lost it and—”

Levy pulled Lucy into a hug. “Shhh,” she held tight. “I’m sure he knew you didn’t mean it. Shh, it’s okay. Sometimes we say things we don’t mean when we’re mad. But you can still get him back, I’m certain of it.”

“H-how?!” Lucy sobbed into Levy’s shoulder. “He’s gotta be so mad at me!”

“Hun, Natsu’s more sad then mad. He needs to feel like you still love him.” Levy pulled away and cupped Lucy’s cheeks, staring, searching the woman’s eyes. “Can you tell him you love him?”

“I can tell him I love him,” Lucy sniffled.

“Then go tell him that!” She hugged her friend. “You’ll be okay Lu, you two are meant to last.”

“Thanks, Levy.”

“He’s at Gray’s right? Want me to drive you?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Levy smiled. “Now clean up a bit, I’ll wait in the car.”

The whole ride over to Gray’s house was the most nerve wracking experience in Lucy’s life. As she sat there huddled in Levy’s passenger seat, all the ways she could ever apologize tried to funnel through her head. She was a writer, and yet for the first time in a long time, all the words dried up or mashed together like a broken verse. Levy did her best to keep Lucy calm, reminding her that it’s all about being honest— just let your heart do the talking for once and not her head.

“You got this,” Levy patted Lucy’s shoulder before she exited the vehicle.

Lucy sure hoped she did. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Seconds ticked by and with each chime, all the weight and worry crept closer to sending her over. He was mad. Too mad. He probably won’t answer…

Finally someone did. “You came?” Natsu’s voice was soft and low, his eyes still bloodshot and worn.

“I came,” Lucy hung her head in shame. “I’m sorry— F-For everything, Natsu please come home, I miss you. I love you more than my job, and I’m gonna make it up to you.”

“You always say that Lucy…”

Ouch. Straight through her heart. The tears broke free again as her knees weakened, causing her to fall against him. Natsu caught her, and she clung to him, gripped to his shirt. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please come home! I love you! Natsu please come home! I can change! I promise I’ll change!”

That’s when she felt his hold truly tighten around her body and his head come to rest against her own. Lucy sobbed harder from the acceptance, pouring her heart in her words. “I love you… I love you so much, I’m so sorry….”

Natsu cradled her head and closed his eyes, voice soft with an upbeat to its tone. “Now there’s the woman I married.”

He held Lucy tightly until her sobbing slowed, eventually pulling away just enough to wipe the tear trails away. “Shall we go home now?”

Lucy nodded. “Please….”

#fairy tail #nalu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nalu au #nalu fan fic #nalu ficlet #nalu fan fiction #angst #asks and answers

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obwjam · 3 years

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Hey!! I was wondering, can you do a Loki x female teen borrower story where the borrower is caught by Loki and starts crying and then Loki feels real bad about making the tiny cry so he tries to make it up to her?? And in the beginning there could be a little fear play👍🏻, which is why the borrower starts crying.

I love your stories btw!! They’re so good!!💗💗

fsjfsajfd thank u omg 🥺🥺 sorry this took a while i’ve had a busy last couple weeks lol but here ya go :)

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

You thought they were all gone.

You could have sworn you counted them all. Red suit, shield guy, bow and arrows, woman in black, guy with a hammer, the green monster. You had counted six. There were only six of them.

Six of them that you knew of, anyway.

See, there was a seventh. A seventh that you never saw, and that was by design. He was kept on the down low so his brother could try to reform him; teach him the ways of good and teach him to help the city, not destroy it. As a gesture of goodwill on his part, he let his brother roam free around the tower while they were all out on a mission. Building trust was essential.

But you didn’t know this. You assumed you were free to replenish your supplies, like you did every time they all went out. So you slid open the piece of tile from the ceiling you had cut off, dropped your rope down and gently landed on the kitchen counter. With two bags slung over your shoulder, you were excited for today’s haul.

You would soon be interrupted.

Loki had sensed something was off almost immediately. It didn’t take a genius to see that there was a thin rope dangling from the ceiling that wasn’t there before. He normally wouldn’t touch the kitchen, but now that he was alone, he was wont to wander off.

He saw you scampering across the counter, heading straight for the bread. “What in the nine realms...” he whispered, careful to keep his voice low. A tiny person. He had certainly heard the tales, but he had never seen such a thing with his own eyes, and the last place he expected to see one was on Earth.

A mischievous smile spread across his face.

Tip-toeing ever so lightly, he made his way over to the counter where you were just reaching the wrapped up loaf of bread. You didn’t even realize someone was there.

“Now, what do you think you’re doing, little one?”

You nearly fainted right then and there. No, you thought. No no no no no... I have to be hearing things...

You were frozen to your spot, but you managed to turn your head around enough to see the giant hovering over you with an evil grin. You dropped both your bags.

“Oh, don’t let me stop you,” the giant teased. “Afternoon snack, is it?” He reached over you, delighting in the way you twitched when his hand got close, and grabbed the bag of bread. You looked at it with tearful eyes.

“This isn’t yours, you know,” Loki tutted. He tossed the bread onto the table. “And the kitchen is no place for a creature such as yourself.”

“Please-- please, NO!” you cried as Loki’s hands descended down. You weren’t poised to run away, so you shut her eyes tight and clenched your jaw as Loki pinched your waist and pulled you up.

“You can’t be older than a teenager!” Loki gasped, feigning sorrow as he held you in front of his face. You were writhing. Loki hummed.

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll be making a daring escape, borrower,” he smiled. “You’re mine now.”

“LET ME GO! PLEASE!” you shouted, but Loki ignored you. Back in Asgard, catching a little one like this came with great honor. Loki almost scoffed at how easy it was to capture you.

But something was beginning to eat at him as he brought you back to his room. He had never really planned on catching a kid.

Once you were safely to Loki’s quarters, he opened up the palm that was holding you. You were trembling and holding yourself tight while tears streamed down your face.

“No... no...” you kept repeating. “No, this isn’t real, this isn’t real...”

“Look at me, borrower,” Loki instructed. You just shook your head. You were too scared to move. You yelped, though, when Loki grabbed the back of your shirt and yanked you up into the air.

“When I saw look at me, you look,” Loki sneered. You cowered from his words, your tiny legs flailing about as you tried to wriggle free of Loki’s grasp.

“You should be relieved,” Loki said lowly. You whimpered. “I saved you from an awful accident. If any one of those Avengers had found you, you would be fully dissected by now.”

“Please...” you said again, your voice scratchy. “Please -- please don’t -- don’t hurt me...”

“Oh, I won’t hurt you,” Loki said. “See, that is why you’re lucky. I don’t hurt creatures who are too weak to defend themselves.”

Creature. You couldn’t get over how he kept calling you that. You were just a tiny little thing that he could do whatever he wanted with. You knew he was lying. You weren’t safe here at all.

“In the natural order of things, I rank above all,” Loki continued, “so when I say look at me, you. Look.”

Your whole body was suddenly whipped to the side as he roughly twisted his hand so you would be facing him. Your entire body was shaking from the pure fear of Loki’s entire face engulfing your field of vision.

And that was the last straw.

You sobbed. You sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and just when you thought you would run out of tears, more appeared. The realization that you would be kept in captivity for the rest of your life hit you like a ton of bricks. You were going to be his pet. You would never get a chance to be free again.

At this display, Loki softly gasped. He hadn’t actually expected you to break down as much as you were. Without thinking, he lowered you back into his palm and gently brought his hand up. This time, he made sure not to loom.

“Little one...” he sighed. “You don’t have to be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”

You didn’t look at him.

“I... I’m sorry,” he managed, hoping that would get you to stop. You were still crying, but you finally tilted her head up at him in confusion. Did he just... apologize?

“I was only teasing,” he tried. It was hard for him to sound sincere. “I am not going to hurt you. I only meant to have some fun.”

Your tears slowed down until you were left sitting in a puddle in Loki’s hand, sniffling and wiping your puffy red eyes.

“What is your name, little one?”

You whimpered and shook your head.

“Okay... that’s fine.” He stared at your tiny, shaking form. “I am Loki,” he finally said. “I’m stuck here in this tower, just like you.”

You huffed. You were not alike.

“At least you have the freedom to roam where you please. I am not allowed to step foot outside the doors of this wretched place.”

At this, you looked up. “Really?” you asked, voice raspy and impossibly small.

“Oh, yes. My oafish brother won’t allow it. And unfortunately, on this pathetic little rock, he’s in command. So now that I told you my name, won’t you tell me yours?”

Your eyes darted back and forth. Should you say? He could just be trying to get you to let your guard down. But there was something so sincere about the way he was asking. You could feel it.

“I’m... I’m (y/n),” you said so quietly that Loki almost didn’t hear. “(Y/n). And I’m stuck here too.”

Loki smiled. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I’ve been here since I was nine.”

“Since childhood? And you have never been seen?”

“A few times,” you shrugged. “But nobody really knew what to do, and they never came looking for me. Except for the time that the guy with the bow and arrow thought I was a bug and tried to squash me.”

Loki felt his chest fill with rage. Clint was already his least favorite.

“Where is the rest of your kind, borrower?”

You shook her head. “I dunno where they are. I live here by myself.”

“By yourself? You have no family of your size? No lineage?”

You shrugged. “I mean, I used to have parents, but...” you trailed off. “That was a long time ago.”

Loki blinked. He hadn’t expected this.

“...why don’t you stay here with me, (y/n),” he said, trying not to sound too sympathetic. You wiped your eyes one more time.

“Stay with you?” you repeated in awe, surprised he had said your name.

“Yes. You will be safe in here.”

You pondered his offer. If you said yes, you would be stuck with him. If you said no, though, he might get upset again... or tell one of the Avengers about you. He seemed to be lightening up a bit. You really had no other choice.

“Okay,” you said finally. “I’ll stay.”

“Wonderful,” Loki said in amusement. You gasped and gripped onto the folds of his skin as he lowered his palm down to his bedside table. You immediately jumped off and landed next to a large, bright object that you didn’t recognize. You yelped and skidded back.

“That’s just a clock, borrower,” Loki laughed.

“A clock... I know that,” you lied. Something else caught your eye. “What... what is this?”

“I believe humans call it an ‘eye phone,’ though I don't understand where the eye part comes in.”

You giggled. “I don’t either.” With your new vantage point, you could suddenly see a world of new objects. Loki watched with a smirk at your sense of wonder.

“What’s that again?” you asked, pointing to a flat, black screen across the room.

“That’s a television. It’s how humans entertain themselves.” Loki paused. “Would you... like to see how it works?”

You eagerly nodded. Loki waved his hand, and the TV flickered to life.

“I don’t understand how humans can stomach this garbage,” Loki complained. “I mean, look at this. She’s taming a dragon like that?! You would never approach a female dragon from the front, unless you want to be killed.” Loki stole a glance down at you. You were staring wide-eyed at the TV. So this is what it looked like.

Without warning, Loki carefully reached down and scooped you up from the table. Your heart leapt up to your throat, but your nerves calmed when Loki swung his feet onto his bed and stretched out. From your new vantage point, you were sitting in Loki’s hand, which was resting on his chest, which had a direct view to the TV.

“Is this alright?” Loki asked, straining his eyes to look down. You nodded, too awestruck to say anything as you tucked your knees to your chest and settled in.

As the show progressed, you became decidedly less interested in what was going on. It had been an emotionally taxing period of time, and you were tired. You slowly unfurled your legs and leaned back into the curves of Loki’s fingers, mimicking his own relaxed position. You could barely keep your eyes open. The thumping of his heart was like a low and steady drum marching you off to a quiet and happy place.

Loki’s fingers twitched at every movement you made. Eventually, he realized you had stopped moving and that your hair had settled into a single spot. He peered down. You were fast asleep, your tiny chest rising and falling to the slow beat of his heart.

Loki couldn’t stop staring at you. He didn’t quite understand why he felt this way, but he knew what he had to do.

From this day forth, he would be your protector.

#marvel g/t #been a hot second since i wrote marvel AND loki damn #g/t #obwrites

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babybuckleydiaz · 3 years

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Hey, I was wondering if you take request? If you do, may I please request a Buck and Eddie idea where Buck and Eddie are dating and Eddie's parents turn up unannounced and they hate buck for losing Christopher in the tsunami and when Eddie goes to work, his parents verbally hurt buck causing him to leave and Christopher overhears everything and tells Eddie when he gets home and they leave to get their buck? I absolutely love a caring and protective Eddie.

an/ i am so sorry to make you wait so long, and i hope that this was worth the wait, hun. thank you so much for prompting this, i enjoyed writing it.

Today was one of the rare days where Eddie had gone to work without Buck by his side, so the younger firefighter had been spending his Saturday with his favourite little Diaz. As much as Buck loved to be working alongside his boyfriend and making sure that the other was safe, he enjoyed having his one on one time with Christopher and just unwinding in a place that he knows he is loved. It beats the loneliness of his apartment walls. Right now found both Buck and Christopher curled up on the couch, a book opened up on the adult’s lap with the kid leaning heavily into the other’s side. Curled up and safe against Buck.

The atmosphere had been peaceful and quiet, but that had all been ruined by a knocking off the door that caused both the people in the house to jump in freight at the sudden noise. “That scared the sh- heck out of me.” Buck chuckled, and the slip up he almost made caused Christopher to giggle as Buck jumped up to his feet when the knocking at the door began once more; this time a little louder than the first time. Opening the door, Buck is caught off guard and more than surprised at the two people that stand strongly before him.

The last people that he had been expecting to see when he answered the door was Helena and Ramon Diaz, looking annoyed that he had been the one to answer the door instead of their son. “Oh, um. Hi?” Buck says, confused because Eddie hadn’t hold him that he had been expecting a visit from his parents, and he was underprepared for the two people to be standing before him. And outnumber because these two never once tried to hide their dislike for their son’s boyfriend.

“Evan. Where is Edmundo?” Questions Ramon, pushing passed the young firefighter to get into the house and beginning looking around for his son. But the annoyance that was on his face was replaced with a bright smile when he saw his grandson sitting on the couch, moving over and pulling the young child into a hug; one that Christopher happily returned with an excited smile on his face. “Oh Christopher, my boy!” Happily says Helena as she too pushes passed Buck, who sighs before running a hand through his hair and down his face as he shuts the door behind them. “Sure, come on in.” He mumbles, only loud enough for himself and would have fallen on deaf ears anyway.

“Eddie is at work, doesn’t finish for another four hours.” Buck explained in response to the question that had been asked of him earlier, and he is raising an eyebrow when Ramon stands up straight after letting go of his grandson. He whirls around and looks at Buck, who doesn’t miss the anger that he sees there. Nor does he miss it on Helena’s face when the woman turns to barely look at him before making her way to greet and hug her grandson.

“And he left our grandson with you? Seriously?” Buck flinches back as if he had been physically struck by the older man, the question being one that he never expected to be asked. “U-Uh yeah? Why wouldn’t he, I’m capable of looking after Chris.” Was the response that he had given back, not too sure whatever the older man could be meaning when he had asked that. He was more than capable of looking after Chris for a couple of hours, the kid is most of the time a dream to babysit for the day. An easy kid to look after.

“I’m just surprised he would make the same mistake after last time.” Ramon utters under his breath as if what he said was nothing more than an afterthought and Buck frowns deeply at the words. “Excuse me?” Buck is annoyed now, because he had no idea what the hell Ramon was trying to imply as he spoke, and he’s angry that these people who barely even know him have judged him so easily. “You know exactly what he means.” Helena adds in, having had let go of Christopher and is now standing by her husband’s side; Chris sitting on the couch and watching the scene going on in front of him. “Hey Chris, buddy?” Buck ignores the other two adults for a moment in favour of turning his attention to the child with a smile on his face, one that’s kinda and loving. At the sound of Buck’s voice, Christopher looks from his grandparents and turns to look at the firefighter. “Can okay to go in your room for a while, we’re going to be talking about some grown up stuff.”

Buck doesn’t want Christopher to be around for this conversation, and it was as if the young boy could see that is exactly what Buck wanted and nods his head happily at the older male. “Course, Bucky!” Christopher announces, and uses his crutches to push himself off the couch before he is making his way down the hall and into the bedroom, the door slightly jarred and Buck sighs as he watches the kid he loves so much go.

And as much as he doesn’t want to deal with this right now, he turns his attention back to the two Diaz parents who are looking at him with barely concealed anger. “What the hell is your problem with me?” Buck jumps in first before either of them can get a chance to start, confused and annoyed that these two have come and ruined a perfectly peaceful and nice day that he and Christopher were enjoying. “I haven’t done anything wrong to either of you.” Buck says, because he hasn’t done anything at all that could have made these two hate him as much as they seem to do. But at his words, Ramon snorts a laugh that holds absolutely no humour inside of it.

“We almost lost Christopher because of you, I warrant that as a good enough reason to dislike you.” Ramon cruelly says, and for a moment Buck is absolutely confused as to what this man was getting out before it hits him like a ton of bricks. His body growing cold and eyes widening as it is made perfectly clear it was that Ramon was talking about.

The Tsunami.

“Are you serious, the tsunami was a freaking natural disaster! I did my best to try and keep Christopher safe!” Buck hisses, not wanting to let either of these people come in here and blame him for something that was a natural disaster, they have no idea what he or Christopher had gone through that day on the pier. “Oh really? Your best?” Helena huffed. “Then clearly your best wasn’t good enough, because you lost him in the middle of it! He could have been killed!” buck can understand why they are thinking like this, he really can, because he had struggled so badly with no blaming himself for losing Christopher but that doesn’t give them the right to treat him as they currently are. “You’re are not fit to be looking after our grandson! I have no idea why Edmundo left him in your care.” Ramon says distastefully, and Buck rolls his eyes as he scoffs. Because as long as Eddie trusts him then that is all he needs to focus on.

But he can’t deny that that feeling of self-doubt is crawling back up his bones, because what if Eddie was still mad? Buck quickly shakes his head as if to rid himself of the thought. If Eddie didn’t still trust him with Christopher then he would have made it painfully obvious and wouldn’t have left his son in Buck’s care the day after the tsunami. But the words being screamed at him do nothing to help all the work that he has done to try and move passed that day and all the trauma that had come hand in hand with it.

“Well, we are here now and you can leave. We’ll look after our grandson now, thank you.”

Once more Buck scoffs as he shakes his head. “No way, Eddie left Chris in my care, he trusts me with his son.” Buck presses on, not wanting to relent to what they were asking him; but he can’t help when the trembling in his hand begins and his heart beats a little too fast for his own liking. But he stands unrelenting none the less.

“ I don’t care if our son left him in your care.” Ramon begins, and Buck doesn’t say anything yet, instead he clenched his jaw and looked at the older man in the eye. Whatever they have to say will never be worse than what his own parents have ever said to him, he can easily take this.

“We are Christopher’s grandparents and we cannot trust you to look after him, you are unfit to do so. You’ve done nothing but proved that, and we don’t want you to look after him.” Ramon is ruthless in what he has to say, and Helena standing there the entire time in support of what her husband has to say, nodding her head every few moments as Ramon continues to make his points. Leaving Buck’s heart dropping in their wake. “And we are not going to wait around and have the day come that you get him killed in your care.” Buck eyes widened, because did they seriously think that he was that unfit in watching Christopher that he would get the kid killed? We’re they seriously saying that right now? Buck really couldn’t believe what he was hearing right now.

“I-I-“ Buck didn’t know what he was even going to say before he was cut off anyway, Ramon holding up his hand in front of Buck to silence him and Buck hates himself for how quick it worked. “Get out right now, okay? Don’t bother saying goodbye to Christopher, because we will convince Eddie to stay clear of you.”

Not knowing what he can say to change their minds or even make them see common ground, that being Christopher’s safety, Buck just nods his head slowly. He looks down at the room that Christopher is in, and as much as he wants to ignore them and go and say goodbye to the kid, he doesn’t do that. He’s not about to give Ramon and Helena another reason to go off on him. Wordlessly, he grabs his jacket and his keys as he roughly puts his shoes on; lips pulled down into a sad and angry frown the whole time doing so.

With one last look at Ramon and Helena, Buck is out the door without Christopher even knowing.

---------

One thing that Eddie wasn’t expecting when he got home was the silence that filled the house, having had expecting the childish laughter of his son and his boyfriend as they caused absolute havoc on the house. But instead there is nothing of the sort, just the television playing softly and the chatter of two voices that Eddie hadn’t been expecting. Unlocking the front door and entering the living room, Eddie is greeted with the sight of his mother and father sitting on the couch, conversing quickly amongst themselves.

The second thing that he notices is what Buck is nowhere to be seen, only now clicking onto the fact that his jeep wasn’t in the driveway where it was usually parked when he stayed over. Noticing all of this, Eddie can’t help that he is already annoyed and defensive; but usually his parents being here doesn’t always been the best news for him. “Ah Edmundo, you’re finally back!” Helena happily announces, seeing her son standing in the doorway with a frown on his face as he looks around. “Oh Christopher is playing in his bedroom, do not worry.” She says, as if that was the only thing that he was worried about in this moment, but he was able to hear Christopher moving around in his room so that wasn’t something he was too concerned about at this given moment.

Instead he finds himself asking “Where’s Buck?” Before even giving his parents a proper greeting, but he isn’t in the mood for their dramatics right now, and them being here usually ends in arguments that he doesn’t want to deal with. Sighing, Helena just smiles softly at her son instead, knowing that he obviously wasn’t in the best mood right now. “Ah, once we got here he decided to leave and go back to his apartment.” At that, Eddie frowns because he already knows that isn’t the truth, he and Buck had a lot of plans for after work with Christopher, ones that Buck himself was excited for. But he knows that Buck wouldn’t have left without letting his boyfriend know that the plans needed to be changed. Buck has always contacted Eddie when he wasn’t going to be home if Eddie finished work long after he himself had.

The sound of Christopher’s crutches clicking down the hallway distracted him before he could open his mouth to call them out on their bullshit, a determined but sad expression marring his features. “Hey buddy, you okay?” Eddie questions, forgetting his parents are even there and instead focusing on his son, who should never have to look as sad as he currently does. Christopher moves as quickly as he could to stand by his father’s side, looking at his grandparents before nodding to himself and taking a breath. “Hey, whatever you need to say just say it kiddo, don’t worry about them.” Eddie encourages, not caring about the displeased grunt that his father makes in response to his words.

He and Christopher do not keep secrets from each other, and he doesn’t want the secret keeping to start now when it was clear that his son has something that he thinks is super important.

“They’re lying about Bucky leaving, they’re mean to him.” That isn’t something that Eddie had expected to come out of his son’s mouth, and he grows a look over his shoulder at his parents before turning his attention back onto his son; prompting the younger boy to keep talking. But he seems hesitant when he looks over at his grandparents once again, obviously not wanting to make them mad but he’s clearly concerned for Buck and needed to say what it was he wanted to get out.

“It’s okay, kid. Eyes on me, you can talk to me.” Eddie reassures with such a patient and soft smile on his face, Christopher’s eyes searching his face and nodding to himself before he begins speaking once more.

“Bucky left because they told him to, they were yelling at him and were mean to him.” Christopher admits, and any anger that Eddie is feeling at those words, he’s pushing them down because he’s talking to his son right now. His parents will get getting a piece of his mind though, that was for sure. “They think he’s going to get me killed and that you shouldn’t trust him to look after me.” Christopher has tears in his eyes as he shakes his head though, because he feels as though he needs to explain to even his father that he’s safe with Buck. “But Bucky has always protected me, he keeps me safe! They blame him for the tsunami, but that wasn’t his fault!”

Seeing easily that his son was getting worked up, Eddie pulls the kid into his arms and whispers something in his ear that no one apart from Christopher can hear. “It’s alright, Chris. Calm down, I know.” He sooths, running a hand through his son’s hair as Christopher listening to him; taking calming breaths like Buck had taught him not long after the tsunami had happened.

“Now, why don’t you run along and pick out some clothes and shoes.” Eddie prompts with a smile, Christopher already agreeing with a determined look because he knew what it was that he and his father were going to do. They were going after their Bucky. “Okay, dad.” He responds even as tears still slide down his cheeks, and Eddie gives him a kiss on his forehead as he brushes his cheeks with his thumbs, dying the tears as they fall.

With that, Eddie pushes himself to his feet and looks at his parents with nothing but anger written on his face.

“Look Edmundo-“ Eddie doesn’t even give them the chance to speak their mind and trying to explain what they were doing because he doesn’t want to heart it. “Save it.” He cuts off harshly, he is so angry right now. “Who the hell do you think you are, telling Buck that he will get Christopher killed? What the hell is wrong with both of you?” And now, Eddie really doesn’t care that he is being rude because they had no damn right to come in here and tell Buck that he had to leave. He was beyond furious, because Buck does not deserve to be treated so horribly.

“You also have no right to undermined my parents and decide who I should trust my son with.” Angrily states the young firefighter, and Ramon and Helena stay silent because they already know they won’t be able to explain themselves and their actions. “Who I trust my son with is up to me, and no one else. And I trust Buck to look after Christopher.” Eddie says, and it really is as simple as that. Because as he said before: there was no one else in this world he trusts with Christopher then Buck. He meant it then and he still means it now.

“By the time I get back, I want both of you gone. I’m far too angry at both of you right now. You have no fucking right to do what you did.”

Briefly, Eddie wonders if he is blowing this out of the water, if he’s going over the top for what the situation is. But then he remembers the expression on Christopher’s face moments ago and how Buck must be feeling to realise how he isn’t overreacting what so ever. He’ll deal with his parents later, when he has calmed down. Because right now he has a boyfriend to worry about and bring back home.

--------

“Okay, I’m coming. Jesus.” Buck sighs tiredly as he makes his way down the stairs when hard knocking on the door had woken him up from a light sleep. Jogging down the stairs and to the front door, he doesn’t even really bother to check who is here, just opening it and then making a surprised sound at the people who greet him.

“Bucky!” Christopher cries out happily as he horrible forward and goes to stand by the older man, who bends down to hug him and kiss the top of his head. “Hi there, kiddo!” He happily says back, his whole mood having shifted seeing the kid he loved so much and his wonderful boyfriend, who is smiling softly at the scene. “Not that I don’t love seeing you both, but what are you doing here?” He questions, moving out of the way and allowing his loved ones to enter his apartment, Eddie closing the door softly behind him. “Well, Christopher told me what happened today so I thought I could come and drag your butt back home.” Eddie explained in response, as if it was the most simple thing on the earth and Buck can’t help but blink in surprise.

“Eds, it’s no big deal. Go spend some time with your parents.” Buck says, nodding his head at Christopher who motions for the television; leaving Eddie and Buck to talk about things that he really shouldn’t have to be concerned with. “Hm, nah. I’m good.” Eddie smiles, and Buck can’t help but snort and shake his head before his small smile drops and a frown takes over his expression; and it makes Eddie sad to see. At the end of the day he thinks the only expression that should be on Buck’s face is one of pure happiness.

Or Euphoria but that isn’t the point that Eddie was trying to focus on right now.

“They’re wrong, Buck.” Eddie says before Buck can even begin to say what it was that he was going on, because the older man already knew what it was going on in that wonderful head of his boyfriend’s. “I meant it said when I trust you with Christopher, I know that you will always protect him as best as you can.” The tone in Eddie’s voice was serious now, and he moves to cut the side of his boyfriend’s face, thump gently tracing his cheek bone as he smiled something so soft and loving that it never failed to leave butterflies in the younger’s stomach. “In the tsunami, you tried with everything you had to find him, okay? I know you never would have given up.” Buck remains silent, but Eddie doesn’t miss the tears that begin to burn in his eyes.

“I should have tried harder, Eddie. I never should have lost him to begin with.”

This is something that will always be quick to break the older man’s heart so quickly; and that was Buck’s habit for blaming absolutely everything on himself without hesitating. “Baby, don’t do that to yourself.” Eddie pleads, an unusually soft tone that he usually keeps reserved for Buck and Christopher, and it’s so gentle and patient that the tears in Buck’s eyes fall down his cheeks. “Don’t get so lost in your own self-doubt that I can’t find you, because I don’t and never will blame you for keeping separated from Chris that day.” This is a repeat of a conversation that they used to have so many times, and Eddie can’t help but resent his parents for making them have it once more.

“You were both caught in a natural disaster and you did the best that you could, love. You worked yourself to the bone until you had your eyes on that kid again.”

That was something that the dark haired man doesn’t think he could ever get, watching Buck collapse to the ground as all the fight had left his body at the sight of Christopher in his father’s arms. He just dropped and just thinking about it makes Eddie’s chest twist so painfully. And he hates that he couldn’t convince Buck to stay with him and Christopher that night, that Buck would have gone back to an apartment alone and hurt; it’s one of his biggest regrets that day. He can’t help but wonder if Buck’s feelings about that whole day would have played out the same, of having himself and Chris there that night might have played in his favour.

“Now, you’re coming home with Chris and I, okay. We will always want you with us, no matter what my parents say.” Buck doesn’t open his mouth to protest, and that is something that Eddie is going to take as a win. “Because they will always be wrong about you, I will always trust you with Chris; never gonna hesitate about it.” Buck just sniffs back tears as he seems to search Eddie’s expression, trying to find something that will counter every word that he had just said but he doesn’t find a single thing. But everything that Eddie had just said he means it with his whole heart and being. “You know, I really fucking love you, Eddie.” Buck whispers as he is pulled into a hug by the older male, burying his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck and taking a moment to soak in the love the other is offering. He can feel the other chuckle, the sound vibrating in Eddie’s chest as he brings up a hand to cup the back of the younger’s head; fingers trailing gently through his hair.

“Good cause I love you too, and you’re not getting rid of us.” Eddie replies. “Ever.” And to himself, Buck smiles because that sounds like something that he could happily live with.

#buddie #buddie fic fill #prompt fill #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #buddie fic #911 fic #911 on fox #911onfox #911edit

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myhaikyuuthings · 4 years

Text

Just One Night

request: Now that we established that no one can resist the pretty setter, do you have HC of how Akaashi and y/n met up that fateful night of conception? Maybe they were an old flame rekindled for the night? Did their passion soar? Or were they just looking to hit it and quit it?

Just read part 2 of the Daddy HCs and you honestly can’t expect me not to want more after reading Akaashi’s!! (like u know, maybe a ˢᵐᵘᵗ fic of the one night stand with a flash forward to the results of the dna test 👉🏼👈🏼)

wait so who’s the father? Y/n’s ex or Akaashi? I gotta know 😫

pairing: Akaashi x fem! reader

warnings: smut, mentions of alcohol (reader is Not drunk)

** i couldn’t find this gif without the words also if you wanna listen to the song i did while writing this, it’s here :) this is shorter than it probably should have been but I didn’t wanna get too deep into their one night stand**

It had been a pretty bad fight. Bad enough for you to throw your engagement ring at his head and break up with him. Bad enough to end up at the local bar, nursing a drink and ignoring anyone who tried to talk to you. Until he walked in.

He was with a group of men, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He was easily the prettiest man you had ever seen, and you were trying really hard not to stare. But your eyes always found your way back to the little booth, to him. Thankfully, he didn’t appear to notice you basically gawking at him.

You were very wrong about that.

“Here you go miss,” the bartender smiled, passing you a mixed drink.

“Oh I didn’t order this,” you said, trying to push the drink back.

“That man in the booth sent it over for you, I can take it back if you’d like?”

You followed his finger to the gorgeous man, blushing furiously at the realization that he had in fact noticed your staring. With a smile you assured the bartender that it was fine and you’d drink it. Not long after you finished the drink, you noticed him approaching from the corner of your eye. You almost felt guilty for the shiver his mere presence sent down your spine.

“Hi, I’m Akaashi Keiji, may I have your name?”

‘Oh his voice is as pretty as his face,’ you thought, introducing yourself to him and accepting the hand he extended. ‘Pretty hands too, what the hell is he perfect or something?’

You flirt a bit as the night goes on, but that guilty feeling is always sitting at the pit of your stomach. So you came clean, about how recent your break up was and that you weren’t looking for anything serious. He was just too pretty to look away from. He handled it surprisingly well, telling you your ex sounded like a dick, and that nothing had to come of tonight if you didn’t want it to, he was simply enjoying your company.

Something about the way he said that made you make a decision that would haunt you for many years, but in the moment it seemed like the best choice you could have ever made.

- nsfw

His hands held your hips lightly, his tongue trailing across the column of your throat. You shuddered under him, leaning into his touch. This wasn’t by far how you expected your night to end, but he felt so good pressed against you that you really couldn’t complain. Your legs were hooked around his hips, pulling him deeper into you.

“You feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock,” he groaned against you, his hips thrusting into you lazily. You clenched at his words, moaning lewdly. “Sound so pretty too.”

“Keiji,” you panted, blushing deeply as he leaned up from your neck to look at you.

If it was possible for him to get more attractive than the first time you saw him, it would be now. The way his hair stuck to his forehead just a bit, the deep flush going up his neck to his cheeks. The hickies littered across his skin that you left. He was truly a work of art above you.

“What is it?” he asked, moving one hand to cup your cheek gently. His eyes were so soft it almost felt like he loved you in that moment.

“Kiss me, please,” you whispered, draping your arms around his neck.

He smiled down at you, catching your lips with his. The way his tongue slid against yours was intoxicating, the faintest hint of whiskey on his breath. He nipped at your bottom lip, his thrusts becoming faster at the moans falling from your mouth.

“If you keep clenching around me like that I’m going to cum,” he growled, his nose brushing against yours as his hips slammed into yours.

“Cum for me then Keiji.” In retrospect, you both should have realized you forgot the condom.

- end nsfw

Your ex knew about your one night with Akaashi before you got back together. But he never thought there was a possibility that Akaashi was his son’s father. So when he got the call from his lawyers, stating that you wanted a dna test he didn’t know how to react.

All four of you sat in the lawyers office, waiting for her to read out the test results. You knew your son wanted Akaashi to be his biological father, you could see it in the way his hand was intertwined with your husbands. If you could have avoided this, you would have. Making the two people you love potentially miss out on years of each others lives because you guessed wrong? Part of you hoped you had guessed right.

Akaashi never faulted you for it. You had history with your ex, many years together before the two of you met. When your son was born, and as he grew up, it was obvious he took after you. So really, he couldn’t blame you for never reaching out. His hand held yours as you waited.

“The DNA results show the father is Akaashi Keiji.”

Your exes jaw dropped before quickly morphing into anger and hurt. Akaashi simply smirked beside you, knowing your son was his. After all, he was too much like him not to be.

“In your face you waste of cum!” Your son yelled out, doing a happy dance before flipping off your ex.

You didn’t even have the heart to get onto him, the guilt of keeping them apart for so long hitting you like a ton of bricks.

“Don’t start blaming yourself now, you didn’t know,” Akaashi said, reading you like a book as your ex stormed out of the room.

“Yeah mom, I look just like you it’s not your fault, plus you brought him back into my life.”

“I love you both so much.”

#akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #akaashi #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!! scenarios #haikyuu reactions #haikyuu!! reactions #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu #haikyuu!!

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slothgiirl · 4 years

Text

maybe together we can get somewhere (noah x mc)

the gang finds out noah is alive. he and mc have built a life together while no one was paying attention (12k)

this was fun and experimental to write, trying to build a relationship through the limitations of the gang only getting snippets of noah and mc and hopefully giving enough information to piece together a plot without being to expository. hope u enjoy (noah x mc are soulmates change my mind)

Stacy.

It's a family vacation. Only the second one after her college graduation since she's only living an hour from Westchester.

It's her mom and dad and Connor and his girlfriend and her girlfriend.

Sofi laughs easily, fitting right in at some story Connor is telling and Stacy’s still annoyed that her brother brought up what she and her friends had found in the woods as children when they were at the airport: when anyone could have heard. She doesn't want to deal with it ever again. And she'll get up and move across the country if she has to.

Connor catches her gaze and offers a small smile and just like that; Stacy let's it go.

“Oh a farmers market,” her mom cries out, “we should check it out!”

Her dad laughs, “alright but don't expect me to eat any frankenstein fruit.”

Stacy snorts, finding Vancouver both amazing, and like any other city she's been to. Canada is hardly an exotic travel destination, but it's nice, waking up to a view of the pacific ocean. She wonders if she should visit her old friend since she's in town.

She'd last talked to you on the phone a month ago, surely she could just drop in.

Sofi slides her hand into Stacy’s, before asking, “what are you thinking about?” It's the first time Sofia's really spent time with her family. And her girlfriend knows about her tendency to overthink and now is one of those times.

Stacy's sighs, “just-I have a friend who lives in Vancouver. I was wondering whether I should visit them or not.”

Her girlfriend smiles, leading them into a stall with lots of fruit samples, “You should! If they're your friend I bet they'd be really happy to see you.”

Stacy shrugs. “Yeah, I guess you're right. It's not like I'm going to be in Vancouver again anytime soon.”

She grabs a second sample of the blood oranges, before telling Stacy as she decides to get a few for the road, “so who is this friend?” Because Sofi doesn't know about the whole Redfield thing and she'll never know because Stacy doesn't want to burden her with Redfield and also doesn't want to talk about it herself. It's over: in the past. Finished.

“One of my childhood friends like Lucas. There was this whole group of us,” Stacy explains.

“Like Dan,” Sofi nods, understanding. “Do you guys still talk?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you should totally drop by! Personally, I could skip the biking tour.”

Stacy laughs, “my parents really just got us all the types of tour.” It was nice, how much things had changed and the boat tour had been fun even if she’d gotten pretty cold over those two hours, it had just been the perfect excuse to snuggle up with Sofi and a cup of warm coffee inside. Connor and Vy could be outdoorsy together, taking millions of photos of the water and skyline.

“It’s cute,” Sofi comments, “my dad would just grumble about the expense and lead his own tour, no doubt getting us all lost.”

Stacy shrugs, “that’s why we have google maps.”

Sofi laughs, and pays for her oranges.

Stacy’s tired of the crowded stall, so she steps outside to wait. Canadians may be polite, but there’s only so many people brushing past her she can take. She takes out her phone and asks Lily for your address because of course Lily has it; she had sent everyone care packages and birthday presents without fail. Stacy had just sent an electronic gift card and called it a day.

There’s a good crowd but this isn't a sad little farmers market like the one back home that has like nothing but a stall or two.

She finds that she does miss the small town feel of the city she lives in even if she has to drive everywhere and living close to her family is nice even if she’ll forever hate the woods, any woods. Andy and tom had confirmed nothing was out in Westchester but she won’t chance it.

It’s second nature to go through her emails while she’s on her phone.

She scans the crowd, seeing if she spots her family somewhere. And sure enough Connor and Vy are sniffing at some tea samples, looking disgustingly sweet together and Stacy makes sure to take a picture because she went with Connor and Tom to pick out the ring. He just has to pop the question.

Wait! Was she or Sofi going to ask the question? Oh god, Stacy wanted to marry this girl. It hits her like a ton of bricks and they’re only 23, been dating two years so they have time, but Stacy’s sure. This is the one.

The panic subsides as she realizes, yeah, this is the woman she wants to spend the rest of her life with and that’s no big deal. They’ll take it day by day.

She locks her phone, glances around, ready to go get Sofi who probably struck up a whole conversation with the vendors and is getting invited over to their house for dinner as Stacy stands out here, waiting, and sees. . .well not Noah Marshall because he’s dead. So that’s not possible. And it’s not like she’s in Westchester.

But-but it certainly looks like Noah at a glance.

She can’t actually make out the man’s features, just the back of his head, which wow-Stace, she might just be losing it if she’s starting to see Noah Marshall walking around, but there’s something about the way the man walks and the shade of hair even if the haircut has changed. . .she shakes her head.

She’s imagining things.

“Ready to go,” Sofi asks, putting her hand on Stacy’s arm, “Your mom texted, she said to meet in front of Whole Foods wherever that is. Also, hilarious that there’s a farmers market in front of Whole foods.”

Stacy snorts, nodding, “yeah, let’s go.” And then looks back because it’s been five years and she still wants to kick Noah’s ass even though he’s dead so it’s a non issue at this point.

The man’s gone.

Stacy soon forgets among trying to keep up with the itinerary that her family had made on google docs over the past few months.

They take a ferry in the general direction of the address Lily gave her because it’s a fun way to travel. Connor comes along but Vy stays behind in the hotel because she wants to call her parents.

“Did they go to school here,” Connor asks, because it had been a few years and he hadn’t really kept in touch with you the way Stacy and the others had.

“No,” Stacy explains as she double checks the address while Sofi points out cute houses as they walk down the street google maps is saying the house is on. “They went to UWash. I think they studied something boring like finance which I know Ava made fun of them in the group chat about.”

Sofi, a current law student, asks, “what’s wrong with finance?”

Connor snorts, “you’re talking about the same woman that helped organize supplies for her campus’ black lives matter protests.”

“Ava’s very anti-establishment,” Stacy explains because Sofi hasn’t met Ava. Her old friend had transferred to Berkeley before Stacy started dating Sofi, but not before showing everyone her minor magical abilities. “You know, the whole break up the banks, give native americans their land back, will definitely end up a granola anthropology professor in some university after her goth phase.”

Sofi nods, “Ah, I get it. She’s not wrong about the banks. Did you watch the big short?”

“You have the most boring taste in movies,” Stacy teases because this woman made her watch Dunkirk which was long and boring and the soundtrack gave her a headache.

Her girlfriend shrugs shamelessly, “I did do a film studies minor so. . .”

Stacy knocks on the door. “I hope they’re in.” It’s a cute if small house on the edge of the city, close enough to still be part of Vancouver without being in the middle of traffic. There’s a subway station just two streets over, but taking the ferry had been much nicer. Subways had lost their charm in new york after all the times Stacy had been an hour or two late because of some issue.

“Wait,” Connor asks, raising a brow, “you didn’t text them?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Stacy admits. She hadn’t seen you in over two years. You had even less of a reason to be in Westchester compared to everyone who’s family still lived there. Your house had sat empty since you left for college.

“I think it's cute,” Sofi says, wrapping her arms around Stacy’s waist from behind.

Stacy smiles, blushing slightly.

The door opens up and holy fuck.

Stacy gasps, her mouth forming a wide O because she can’t even form a coherent thought.

A very much alive and happy Noah Marshall opens the door, wearing a pink apron that says something inane “kiss the cook”, with more than a bit of food stains, and flour on his chin. He’s not wearing a beanie, but it’s summer and Stacy is sweating even in shorts, and his hair is cut and styled instead of long and greasy like it had been in high school. His eye color has somehow changed from brown to a strange shiny blue that seems too catlike to be natural but that’s whatever when he’s apparently risen from the dead.

What the hell!

Connor is just as flabbergasted as she is.

And Noah’s caught off guard, the easy smile dying on his lips as he realizes who’s at the door.

It’s Sofi that spares them, asking Noah if you’re home, because she doesn’t know anything about what went down in your senior year of high school.

Noah nods wordlessly, “yeah, yeah, come in,” even though he looks like that's the last thing he wants to do looking as grim faced as he had been in school, sitting in the back and refusing to talk to anyone.

For once, Stacy wishes Sofi wasn't here because she wants nothing more than to kick Noah’s ass. She took kickboxing lessons, she totally could. Noah's taller, but not exactly built in the same way Andy is after all the years of exercise; though he's not exactly a scrawny teenager anymore.

How long has this been going on?

You're sitting at the kitchen table, a cheap flimsy thing from Ikea that at least has the decency to look nice, laptop open while wearing a moth-eaten oversized t-shirt of the beastie boys. You don't even look up, when you ask nonchalantly, “so who was at the door?” You reach a hand from another chip, eating straight from the bag.

“Stacy,” Noah says faux cheerfully. And Stacy did not miss how annoying he could be. “And Connor Green.”

You finally look up. A couple thousand emotions running through your face: surprise as you open your lips to speak and then close it without a word, your brow furrows as you frown, then you exchange glances with Noah, then you're blushing red as you meet Stacy's questioning gaze, caught red handed. After a second, you can't meet her gaze, instead looking at Connor the same way you had that year as if he could single handedly save you from everything and no wonder you asked him to the dance, oblivious to Stacy's crush on you at the time.

“Hey Connor, long time no see,” you get up, crossing the length of the small kitchen to hug him, “Andy's always going on about you, you know.”

Connor manages a smile, “it's good to see you, too.”

“Hi, I'm Sofi,” she says, extending a hand, “Stacy’s told me a lot about you.”

You shake her hand, inviting her to down sit, “all of you. Dinner’salmost ready.” You glance at Stacy asking. . .

She shakes her head. Of course she hasn't mentioned Noah. She's tried to erase him from her memories the same way she's tried to forget all about the ruins in the woods and Dan disappearing.

“Not that you helped,” Noah quips, proceeding to slip back into the kitchen.

“Self care.” You smile back, confirming her suspicion that this had been going on for a while. And you haven't mentioned anything. Not once. But then, you stopped bringing him up when you realized everyone was on the same page, the page you weren't, after what he had done, no amount of childhood tragedy could excuse the fact he had been willing to kill all his friends for some monster. Stacy couldn't find it in her to forgive him, even in death.

Meanwhile, you had spent too much time after everything that happened crying over this jerk.

“What are you making,” Sofi asks as Stacy takes a seat, everything clicking together as you offer everyone something to drink, exchanging lovesick smiles with Noah even as he bats you away from the stove with a spatula.

You loved him.

Despite everything he had done, you loved him. Stacy couldn't understand: had been closer to Dan and you than Noah even as kids. The way you looked at him said everything; the way you'd chased after him, unwilling to let him go into the woods alone.

It made sense why you were so willing to forgive him, and why you had spent so much time mourning him.

“Vegetable pot pie,” Noah explains, starting to roll out the dough, “This one decided to become vegetarian.”

“Since when,” Connor asks, deciding to just go along with it all. Maybe Connor was just mentally stronger, better able to cope with all the supernatural weirdness having helped Tom out at the lake, and still trying to understand the power from all of Pritch’s journals.

“Just a few months ago,” you admit. “It was this whole vegan challenge at work for the month but I missed yogurt a lot but giving up meat was pretty easy.”

“Where are you working now,” Stacy asks, taking a seat carefully, making sure not to turn her back on Noah.

“Oh,” you smile, closing your computer, resting your chin against your hand, “UBC, at the anthropology museum. It's why I-we moved here. I do financial analysis for their investments. Ava found it really funny that I got a job at a museum before her.”

“Oh,” Stacy wonders, glancing at Noah again, who's just as tense if the line of his shoulders is anything to go by, and the telling line of his mouth that reminds Stacy of the first and last time she tried to include him: a APUSH presentation that Noah had waved off and preferred to bomb. “You told Ava?”

She feels the sting of hurt but Ava makes the most sense considering you were closest to her and Lily. Not to mention Ava was still messing around with the occult. A heavy lead ball of anxiety always forms whenever Ava has shown Stacy her magic tricks.

You get the double meaning.

Noah pointedly ignores her, carrying a conversation about the best places to eat in the city with Sofi.

You force yourself to smile, “about the job yeah. Thought she'd laugh since she's the anthropologist. She called it the encroachment of late stage capitalism.”

“That sounds about right for Ava,” Stacy snorts.

You'd chosen Noah over her: over your friends. The choice had already been made before Stacy had even known this was an option.

You two were a packaged deal.

Stacy takes a deep breath, and turns her back on Noah, joining the light conversation of local things to do in Vancouver and how you had completely face planted while trying to ice skate.

“-and instead of helping me,” you tease, getting plates out for everyone, “Noah just sat back and laughed!”

“And took a video,” Noah points out. “You don't have any balance babe.”

“I wouldn't do you like that,” you wrinkle your nose, smiling fondly as Noah brings the food out of the oven, the smell filling the small house and suddenly Stacy’s mouth is watering.

“You have,” he replies all mock offended, “you left me in the cab!”

“I was very drunk,” you shrug shamelessly, then turn to Sofi and Connor with an explanation. “Too much fun on date night.”

“Shut up,” Noah utters, placing the food on the table, looking incredibly soft and it finally sinks in. He's alive. He's alive and you're together and while Stacy doesn't care for him, she's glad you're doing well.

She's still going to punch him the first chance she gets.

The food’s some of the best she's ever had.

She hugs you goodbye two hours later: a great big tight hug that says everything she hasn't been able to because of distance. She puts all her love and tenderness into hugging you. “It was so good seeing you,” Stacy says and means it. One day they'll talk about this.

But not now.

She's dragging Sofi into this.

You nod, hugging her back just as tight, before whispering in softly into her ear, “please don't tell anyone.”

And how could she refuse, with your sweet chocolate eyes looking at her like that, as if she holds everything you hold dear in her hands. It's easy for Stacy to make the choice to look away and say nothing.

Lily.

Britney makes them take a hundred selfies before they even leave the airport. Lily beams at the camera even as she pays for starbucks. “Aw man we should've tried tim hortons now that we're officially in Canada.” Lily muses, shooting you a text, letting you know she'd soon be out of the airport.

“But do they have peppermint frappuccinos,” Britney asks, leading the way as they head to the exit. Airports were always so big. It took forever to get anywhere.

“I'm not big on peppermint,” Lily comments even though Britney already knows that, before taking a long sip of her pink drink. She really had been craving a drink. That was another thing about planes: dehydration. Still, it would be worth it to visit you for the first time since you moved to Canada.

“I know,” Britney winks, “that's just more peppermint bark for me.”

Britney's the one that spots you first. Lily's taller than you, but still pretty short. “Your loser friends over there.” Britney teases and it shows how far she and Lily have come that they're able to laugh about the time wasted in high school where she bullied other kids including Lily.

Lily follows on her heels, fixing her coat to try and look cute. It had only been a three hour plane ride but it was three hours plus dealing with airport security so it felt closer to three years. Gosh it had almost been three years since she graduated college. Time just flew by.

Excitement bubbles up and Lily’s smiling hard when she sees you in an olive green jacket and grey hoodie combo, still the same as ever if happier now that you weren't stressing about school.

She had meant to visit you sooner but being an adult meant things often got in the way.

Then Lily spots Noah Marshall hovering behind you, laughing at something you just said , face lit up like a kid who's just been told they can finally dig into their Halloween candy. Except it can't be Noah because he's dead. Yet here he is, wearing a black coat, washout blue hoodie, and of course a beanie. If Jocelyn was here, she'd say he looks like an asshole wearing aviators indoors.

Removing any doubt of who he is, Lily having already come up with a reasonable explanation of you having coped with Noah's death by finding a lookalike, dies when he spots Britney and Lily before you. “Lily,” Noah grins as if he didn't die after trying to kill her, “you looked like someone kicked your puppy.”

You smack his shoulder. “Behave,” you tease as you try and smother a gasp. You meet her gaze sheepishly, but Lily's still too flabbergasted to respond.

“Aren't you supposed to be dead,” Britney asks.

He deadpans, “Mandela effect.”

This time, you dissolve into laughter.

Noah glances over at you with a smile, pleased with himself.

Lily finally manages, “explain.”

You nod, “let's get you settled in first.”

Britney hands her bag to Noah, “here. I need to carry Lily's bag.”

“Sure thing,” Noah snorts, taking her bag.

Lily had imagined Canada to be much more green. Like a national park green, with so much plant life she could smell it thick in the air, but it's pretty much just another downtown metropolitan area like Seattle. You'd really only moved a few hours away from Seattle so that made sense.

She keeps glancing over at Noah as if he'll disappear and this is some trick from whatever thing still lived in Westchester. But he's still there, flesh and blood, his arm draped around your shoulder as they stand by where she and Britney have taken a seat, bags under their feet. They had only brought carry on bags.

You're obviously together but Lily keeps getting stuck on the fact that Noah's alive.

She isn't surprised. Noah only ever had time for you that year; both of you slinking off when you thought no one was paying attention. Lily remembers seeing you hug Noah in some lonely corner of the school if you didn't skip fifth period math.

And Connor had said he'd seen you both out in town during school hours.

Maybe it's the glasses.

Noah won't be alive to her until she sees his entire face, leaving no room for error.

“Can't believe you're moving to Seattle!” You repeat because yeah Lily had gotten a nice job offer there.

“Neither can I,” Britney complains, “I like SF, and I'd like to live somewhere warm one day. Aren't there any major tech firms in Miami?”

“Nasa,” Lily says thoughtfully, “I didn't have the experience to apply though.”

Her girlfriend frowns, “You went to Berkeley though. That has to count for like ten years.”

Lily laughs.

“You should've shot your shot,” you agree.

“Isn't Florida super humid though,” Noah mentions tilting his head, reminding Lily that he's there and she can't help but flinch. “And there's tons of snakes and agitators everywhere.”

“I like snakes,” Britney notes.

He had been so sweet those last few weeks, Lily thinks to herself. Noah was always saying how she was much stronger because she could be kind even as everything was going to hell. In english, she'd burst into tears, sick and tired of having nightmares just to wake up to a living nightmare, and he'd chased after her, comforting her.

It had made his betrayal hurt all the more.

“So how exactly are you,” Lily asks, dancing around the subject. Surely it was rude to bring up that Noah had been dead.

“Alive,” he replies, quirking his brow, holding Britney's bag as he opens the door.

“Yeah. . .that.”

This time, when you and Noah look at each other, there's no boundless joy that fits in perfectly with the holiday season. You've even put up snowmen in the house's windows, and there's lights wrapped around the porch: off right now. It's just you looking at Noah with glassy eyes and Noah with an amount of tenderness in his eyes that Lily didn't know people were capable of in real life: the look people get when they're finally able to confess how in love they are in movies.

It's only there for a second and then Noah's making light of the whole situation, as if he can't stand to see that haunted look in your eyes, “Well you know what they say, when you wish upon a star-”

You roll your eyes, lightly smacking his arm, then changing your mind and squeezing his arm. “Don't be a dick.” Then you round your attention on Lily, “there's the shoe rack.” Before ushering the group into the living room. “I-I didn't,” you take a deep breath, tugging your coat off as you take a seat on a cheap navy cotton couch. “I guess I never stopped looking for a way,” you glance at Noah, “for a way to fix things. I mean, I still went back there for all the school breaks.”

You've stopped looking at Lily, gaze locked on Noah's. Pink dusts his cheeks and he ducks his head, looking alway, out into the quiet street, skyscrapers in the distance.

Britney purses her lips, listening intently. She heard accounts of this nature from Jocelyn. Dan knee better than to tell her anything about the woods back home.

“And I found it,” you finish without elaboration. Lily understands. Some things were, there were some things too awful to speak once again into being.

He slips his hand into yours, threading your fingers together.

It's sweet and though Lily's reservations remain, it's clear he loves you.

“Okay then,” Britney claps together, knowing full well she was ruining the moment, “how soon can we go shopping. I'm doing all my christmas shopping in Canada.”

“Because of the exchange rate,” Noah sneers, not missing a beat.

“Hardly,” Britney snaps back, “I'm a certified trophy wife now.” She smiles as she looks over at Lily who giggles.

It's two in the morning and Lily keeps tossing and turning. It's warm with the heater chugging away in the night. But she can't sleep.

They'd spent the whole day out, exploring the city. You'd gotten a few days off work. Britney had made you both carry bags and bags of gifts as promised.

At least she'd have plenty of time to wrap them. December had only just begun.

But Lily can't sleep.

It isn't the nightmares of her childhood: of Jane and all the things she wishes she had said no to, or those terrible months in which Lily had nearly died from sheer terror, but a pool of anxiety masquerading as restlessness.

She gets up, having visited you before back in Seattle, back when you had shared an apartment with Ava and a revolving door of roommates during college, and wonders if Ava knows. Ava, who messes around in the more supernatural corners of the world, who you had always been closest too.

Lily gets up and decides maybe a glass of water will calm her down as she chews over the idea of Noah and her both under the same roof.

She slips into the dark kitchen, with that weird anxiety that she was sneaking around that she could never shake even knowing that you wouldn't mind her going through your kitchen. She slips into the kitchen and nearly faints at the sight of Noah at the table.

He's sitting in pitch dark.

Only it isn't-

“-your eyes,” Lily hisses, breaking the calm of the twilight hours.

Noah's sitting in the dark reading.

Because his eyes are glowing blue like redfield when she was little and redfield was a friend and hadn't shown it's true nature.

Noah's eyes are glowing.

“Shit,” Noah says gently, reaching up to flip the lights on.

He moves slowly, but Lily still flinches.

“I'm sorry Lils,” he says, those three words encompassing so many years and the darkest parts of her life, casting a shadow over her whole life she can never escape because Westchester is home but it's also where it happened and Noah's a big part of why Lily spent a year having panic attacks: having flashbacks to that awful game. He says it and the last itchy scab over the deep wound Lily has harbored for years flakes off.

Lily does a little nod of acceptance, but keeps her eyes on his unnaturally reflective eyes, a light in the dark.

She swallows thickly.

That glass of water sounds amazing right about now.

“What are you doing reading in the dark,” she asks. It seems Noah had been right all those years ago; Lily was able to keep trying, a flower growing in a crack of cement.

“Studying,” Noah says calmly. “It's pretty boring actually. Sort of makes me wish I was still haunting the woods.” His smile is small, testing the waters.

Lily-she can't. She shits her eyes, shaking her head once, slow.

“Sorry,” he says easily, shutting a thick textbook, “coping mechanism.”

Lily thinks about all those nights she'd wake up in the middle of a nightmare, “is it a glitch then?” She tilts her head curiously, the way she spent hours going over the same file of code checking for any bugs: and mistakes that had slipped through the cracks.

“You could call it that. . .but they reckon that it's more of a give and take situation.” He fiddles with the sleeve of his shirt. “The power takes people but gives them power, and when, when they brought me back, I took something with me.”

For once, dread doesn't fill Lily at the mention of what lies in the woods back home.

Lily nods, and pours herself a glass of water. “What are you studying?”

“Psychology,” Noah answer's, “trying to do developmental psychology. I want to,” he waits a beat before finishing in a rush. “I'd like to be a child therapist.”

“I thought you wanted to go to culinary school,” Lily questions. She remembers you mentioning that once. Then there's the fact that Noah had brought her lunch to school a few times when he'd learned that Lily's parents had forced her into a diet.

“I did,” he shrugs. “Turns out I like to cook for myself more than anything.”

Lily smiles.

She's glad he's able to move on like she has.

“You know I use to have nightmares. Nothing really helped apart from-.”

“Tiring myself out,” you both finish.

Noah smiles grimly.

Lily drinks he water and keeps him company for a while.

Lucas

Logically, Lucas knows that Canada is not that different from the states yet he still feel like the place should be more exotic as he steps off the plane for work. It's grueling work really, the pay is bad and he flies economy more than is healthy for his back, but he likes keeping private corporations on their toes. That was the whole point of environmental science, though going to law school for the same thing is starting to look more and more appealing everyday.

He just feels like he doesn't have the weight to truly go after these people and hates having to pass off the cases when he knows he could do more.

But law school is. . .stressful.

He'd have already started his third year of law if he had just gone straight to law school after undergrad.

Lucas wonders if he's ready to manage that type of stress.

He gets off the plane and has to go directly to the non-profits office. It's a tiny little thing in a rougher part of the city; gone are the shiny sports cars and whole foods.

There's boxes of paperwork dating back from the 60s and he gets to work, drinking the cheap donut shop coffee that the office head, an amicable black man who still has a rhythmic african accent that Lucas isn't worldly enough to place, gives him with a shrug, “got to support our local businesses eh?”

Lucas nods. “Tell me about it. I feel like I missed out on the New York that was happening.” Ava had sent him a buy back the block patch and he really hadn't been surprised because she had always been opinionated and headstrong about it. If she was the town witch, well then she was going to be the biggest baddest witch.

He types a reminder into his notes to get her a souvenir.

He uses yelp to find a cheap diner, where he continues to pour over a thick manila folder--have to break up the work--and finds that he can smell the ocean here even when he can't exactly see it.

Lucas sets a reminder to himself to go enjoy the beach at least once.

Then he sees the reminder to call and ask Stacy where you were living. Lucas half wanted it to be a surprise, but worried he'd miss you.

He knew you liked going out dancing. And he had arrived on a Friday night.

It was unorthodox.

He usually worked strictly in the states since each country had their own laws and environmental precedent established by the courts. And alright, Lucas’ phone had a lot of law school tabs open. He was only twenty four. That wasn't too old for law school.

Weren't some students in legally blonde in their thirties?

Experience could give him an edge.

Lucas calls Stacy but it goes straight to voice mail.

Right, time difference.

He'd have to wait until tomorrow.

Having not exchanged any money as of yet, Lucas pays for his breakfast for dinner with his card and hopes the fee isn't too bad. Then he stuffs the folders and decides to walk to his hotel.

It's an hour long walk through town but years of being incredibly stressed had left him with the purposeful choice of slowing down when he could. Sometimes it felt like forcing himself to slow down, but he always felt better after a walk through a new city or sitting down with a fictional book even when he swore he didn't feel all wound up.

As far as cheap diners, tonight's was good and he had fun trying poutine.

Lucas walks through the tall buildings and wishes he hadn't worn a suit jacket. He should've worn a plain shirt or one of those gag gifts Andy was always sending him from various thrift stores. It might be further up north than even he grew up, but it was still hot in the summer.

Walking an hour in a casual suit was not his greatest idea, but the city carried the same vibrant energy the new york had. The energy that had encouraged Lucas to go to a house party--once.

He's walking by a street full of dive bars all blaring out nostalgic hits from his teenage years from Hannah Montana, which okay, to Kesha which sounded about right, and of course, Blackpink. The chalkboards outside all promise cheap drinks but Lucas isn't a big drinker.

He isn't sure how much of that is avoiding any substance that could get him hooked or if he's making that choice because he really doesn't like alcohol.

Lucas is just about through, about to by a monolithic building that has a bunch of displays in the windows, when he does a double take.

Noah fucking Marshall is smoking on the curb outside a bar, face flushed.

There's no doubt about it. Lucas would know that asshole anywhere. The same sharp jawline and prominent nose, brown hair curling around his ears only a few inches showered than it had in high school. He's wearing dark jeans and a black leather jacket over a white shirt and looking way too happy for a murderer.

Noah Marshall wearing aviators at night like the rat bastard he is!

The intense feelings of rage and wanting to hit something until the world righted itself surges in Lucas’ chest until there's a white hot anger in his throat and red clouding his vision.

He blacks out.

One second he's furiously gapping at the man-

the next

-Lucas is standing over Noah Marshall, knuckles on fire having just sucker punched the fucker.

Oh shit.

Noah looks just as surprised for a second as he looks up, blood beading up where his lips split open.

Lucas watches as recognition hits those bambi blue eyes---wait, blue.. .?

And then Noah shrugs, the ghost of a smile forming on his lips as he states, “yeah. I deserved that.”

There's a couple people looking over.

Lucas is still pissed as Noah gets up, dusting himself off and looking at the barely smoked cigarette on the ground as if he wants to smoke it, before grabbing the glasses and placing them back on instead.

Then, he grabs another cigarette, “want one,” he offers Lucas who no, wouldn't want one: wouldn't want anything from Noah if he was drowning and Noah had the only life jacket.

He was good with drowning.

Thanks.

Lucas, anger still fizzing under his skin like boiling water, asks, “how the fuck are you here!”

Noah shrugs, before slurring and it's then that Lucas realizes the other man is flushed drunk, “I live here,” without an ounce of sarcasm.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Lucas says, curling his lip and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh you know me. I'm just plotting world domination and decided Vancouver would be the perfect location for my evil villain lair. I've got a neon sign and everything.”

Lucas rolls his eyes, grinding his teeth together. “Do you always have to be such an asshole?”

Noah spreads his hands out and proceeds to do jazz hands, before taking a drag of his cigarette.

Fuck, Lucas feels like punching him again.

He's really thinking about it as he watches Noah, sure the idiot will try something again, when he hears your voice as you stumble out of the bar, “I knew it! You were going out for a smoke break!”

Noah's entire demeanor shifts, no longer the boy Lucas has built up in his head as the cause of all their problems. Over the years, he's decided that Noah had known from the start. In the depths of his denial, Lucas had told himself that Noah had kidnapped Dan. But, you appear, and Noah's turns bright pink as he hurried to stomp out the cigarette you've already seen like a naughty school boy, even as he turns and smiles as if you hung the sun in the sky and painted the night stars. It's lovesick the way you both look at each other with the fondness of ancient couples out for a walk in the park, lost in their own world.

However the fuck he's alive, Lucas realizes that this Noah, the real living Noah, has been just as freaked as the rest of them. It's something he hasn't thought about in years.

Noah had lost Jane.

It's enough for Lucas to unclench his hands even if he's still seething because what the hell, he still offered them all up on a silver platter. Redfield or Jane--whatever it was in the end--had given Ava powers and she hadn't stabbed your group of friends in the back.

You cross the distance quickly, and throw your arms around his middle, tipsy. That's probably why your smile is so pure-untouched by all the trauma and boring adult problems like remembering to pay the bills and having to call the cable company for the fifth time.

You don't even notice Lucas.

“What happened to your face,” you ask, raising your hand to cup Noah's cheek, frowning.

Noah nods over at Lucas.

You finally notice him.

“Lucas,” you wag your finger at him, still cuddled up to the man in question, “You can't punch Noah. Do you know how much trouble I went through to get him back?”

It shouldn't be possible, but Noah turns pinker.

“Aw babe,” Noah teases you with a familiarity that carries depth.

This wasn't a new development then.

“You really do care about me.”

This time, you round on Noah, wagging your finger menacingly, “Don’t be an idiot! Of course I love you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me!”

Which has Lucas majorly side eyeing you.

Sure, Noah had grown up to be tall and not unattractive, as far as pasty white boys were concerned, but he'd still tried to kill everyone.

Noah also looks skeptical.

“What are you doing in town Lucas,” you then ask.

“Work,” Lucas replies blandly, as he tries to come to terms with this reality altering discovery. “You were dead.”

“That's not entirely true,” Noah muses philosophically, “Physically I was dead but technically I was still roaming the woods as a monster.”

Reflexively, you interject, resting your hand on his chest, “you're not a monster.”

“I thought you liked the shape of water.”

Which sends you squealing. “Noah!”

Lucas doesn't get it. You are the strongest person he knows who can talk to anyone and has a sense of determination that rivals a gold medalist: the one who kept everyone together during one of the shiftiest times in his life, and he's who you settle for! “If you have to say technically, you've already lost the argument.”

You snort.

Noah rolls his eyes good naturedly.

“Wait,” you realize, eyes going wide, “does that mean you're younger than me now.”

Noah tilts his head in thought, “physically. . .”

“Pretty sure that means yes,” Lucas adds, wondering how long Noah had been back for.

“Oh my god, I'm stealing from the cradle!”

Noah looks incredibly affronted as he blinks rapid looking down at you like you'd grown a second head.

“You mean cradle robbing?”

“I'm. . .twenty four,” Noah says. Not even he sounds convinced.

“Twenty two,” you correct archly. Then look at Lucas with a friendly smile, “you want to go get pho?”

“Right now!” Lucas checks his watch. It was already midnight. He should've been at his hotel room sleeping by now.

You nod.

Noah elaborates, “it's pricey but the broth hits different. They have some pretty good view of the city too.”

Two years. Noah had been back for two years and you never said anything.

Lucas can put up with Noah for a few hours to spend time with you. After all, you were the one who was putting up with him for life apparently.

“Should we let-,” you begging to ask, amusement dancing in your eyes, city lights reflected in the dark brown hue that had a quality of depth that made it easy to open up to you.

“Nah,” Noah smirks, “Sheer chatted some dude up, they won't even realize-”

“Rahul will though.”

“Psst, it's fine.”

You've both built a life here, far removed from any traces of Westchester. Maybe that's where he had gone wrong. Lucas had been so desperate to escape he's never found a place of his own, and still haunted by his one and only home: a place he wants nothing to do with. He needed to make a new home.

Law school wasn't sounding too shabby.

Noah leads the way.

A lightbulb turns on.

“What's with your eyes?” Lucas asks.

Noah chuckles, “sometimes you fall into a vat of radioactive waste because that's just the type of luck you have.”

You shake your head, amused. “Side effect. It's nothing serious. We checked.”

That doesn't comfort Lucas at all.

He wonders if Connor or Tom could fix that just to be sure Noah wouldn't suddenly go Redfield on you while you were sleeping.

Ugh, that was one mental image he didn't need.

“So what terrible horrifying government secret are you here investigating and does it have to do with a company hiding vats of radioactive waste,” you ask.

Lucas takes the bait.

He could and has talked people's ears off about the loose regulations on place on waste disposal among an array of industries.

Andy, Dan, Tom

This all starts with two things as far as Tom is concerned. First, they've all been talking for ages about doing a guys road trip after everyone still around Westchester had driven down to visit Ava. Not that the girls weren't fun, Tom thought to himself, but it just sounded nice.

He never had a sleepover growing up so this would make up for that. At least that was the idea.

Then Lucas called Andy freaking out about Noah Marshall and Connor could only nod and go, “yeah he was with them about a year. . almost two since we visited. I think it's already been two years.”

Which was a total mindfuck because why hadn't he mentioned anything.

Why hadn't Stacy?

Tom’s done some research into necromancy and it never ends well which is why they pile into Dan’s prius and hit the road to Vancouver Canada. Sans Connor because Vy is pregnant and Connor is glued to her side. “I think they were dating,” he also adds, bookmarking some cases around New Orleans that scream supernatural activity. That throws everyone for another mind loop as he clues the Pine Springs gang who wasn't there that senior year, why Noah Marshall shouldn't be alive, much less freely walking around. The only person who takes the news relatively well is Dan, who scratches his chin thoughtfully before saying, “that makes sense,” he nods to himself.

Andy rounds on him, ready to kick Noah's ass on sight which Tom will totally back him up on. Tom still can't handle spiders for which Danni and Jocelyn continue to tease him about.

“How in the fuck does that make sense,” Andy seeths, “that motherfucker landed you in a coma! I broke my leg and had to repeat senior year!”

Dan adds, “well you know, they spoke about how tragic his death was. And they used to have nightmares of him dying-”

They all turn to look at Dan.

“What,” Andy says, “when did they tell you that?”

Dan shrugs, “well they were always coming over that year and making a point to spend time with everyone but I always thought they looked sad and thinking about them alone on the edge of town,” he trails off. He’d never brought up your parents absence, but it was clearly felt. “So I went over to theirs when I could,” Dan finishes.

Andy shakes his head, “no. I don’t know what or how, but people don’t just come back from the dead and everything's sunshine and roses,” he crosses his arms against his chest and fumes across the entire state of New York.

Tom has to agree with Andy. There’s nothing in their research to suggest that people can just come back okay. Everything taken by the power ended up twisted into a funhouse version; it never ended well.

They stretch their legs in Cleveland, Andy still scowling. Every now and then he’ll rant about how Noah has to be up to something and he has to go save you from dying. Tom doesn’t bring it up, prefering to let Andy work through it now and wrap his head around Noah Marshall being alive on the car ride up to Canada, but Connor had said Noah’s been back for at least two years--wouldn’t he already have done something? He thinks of you and how you had been alone with Noah at the end. Maybe you had kept some things to yourself.

It was hard to relive trauma aloud.

It made it more real.

Tom sends Imogen a few snaps in Toledo as Andy blasts The White Stripes, to fit his mood.

He wishes Parker had been able to get the days off. Having someone at a distance from the situation might help everyone keep their cool. He knows he won’t stop Andy from beating Noah’s ass.

Dan picks up postcards in Chicago for everyone, as they sit by the famous Bean eating pizza.

“I can’t tell if this is better or if I’m fucking starving,” Andy admits, on his third slice.

Dan snorts, looking up from his lap where he’s writing out the postcards, wanting to send them quickly, “so they make it back before we do.”

Tom takes a walk around the plaza, thinking that fall really was the best weather, cold enough for a sweater without being too freezing and the sun didn’t burn.

They don’t stop in Wisconsin or Minnesota except for gas and Mcdonalds.

Andy sleeps as Tom takes over the driving.

Dan’ll be up next.

“Please play something other than Beach House,” Tom complains at Dan, “this is going to make me fall asleep.”

Dan chuckles, “Its good night driving music.”

“No Dan,” Tom shakes his head with a smile

The sun rises, and Tom gets to sleep.

He wakes up in Rapid City, South Dakota and they have to recreate that awful Hilary Clinton, “just chilling in Rapid City,” Andy says mockingly.

Dan almost chokes on his coffee.

Montana is so fucking beautiful and Tom’s seized with the sudden urge to come live out here. “We could totally do it,” he tells the other men, “it’s cheap out here. We could buy a huge piece of land and never have to deal with any bullshit again. Our friend group could do it. Danni’s really handy and Lily could set us up with wifi!”

“Bro,” Andy says gravely, “you know I love you, but I’m not moving to Montana with you.”

Dam smiles softly, “Danni would have a field day taking pictures here.”

Montana is beautiful and green and none of the nature here has that heavy feeling the woods in Westchester do, but they’re tired and exhausted from being on the road for the last two days. They crash at a motel 8 and sleep for the next twelve hours.

They ask this beautiful woman who's wearing birks and has a tote bag emblazoned “love your mother” with a planet earth painted on, to take a picture of them in front of Pike Place Market. Dan has her number before Tom’s done sending the pictures to his Pine Springs groupchat, teasing Parker about having stayed behind to yell at teenagers smoking weed while driving boats around the lake: accidents waiting to happen.

Tom has never been to Seattle.

He knows most of his friends from Westchester have to visit you or Ava, and he's grown close to Ava, but at the time he was more of a friend of a friend and so never flew up to Seattle.

“Is it lame I'm still tired,” Andy asks, as they find a park to sit down at. It felt so good to be able to lay in the grass instead of sitting cramped up in the car.

“Age is starting to hit us.” Dan muses. “Either of you want to come get some things with me.”

His friend snorts, “Haven't you gotten enough gifts for everyone?” Which, yeah, Dan has been accumulating a small horde of souvenirs in the back for all his friends. He's a thoughtful guy. Tom’s not surprised the man’s a nurse. If he'd had Dan as a nurse when he was a kid, he might not completely hated going to the doctors office.

“I was kinda thinking about getting something from every state,” Dan says, blushing red as he rubs the back of his neck.

“I think it's sweet,” Tom says, clasping a hand on the other man's back. “Cheesy, but sweet.”

Andy shakes his head, “we should've gotten there by now. If only we hadn't stopped in Montana-”

“Noah's not going anywhere,” Dan points out, “you can kick his ass tonight or tomorrow.”

“They know we’re coming,” Andy scowls, “He could be halfway around the world by now.”

“Just remember Lucas already sucker punched him,” Tom offers his friend as consolation.

Dan shakes his head a little, but stays silent. Tom hasn't been able to get Dan’s feelings on the whole situation. He can’t imagine him being completely ambivalent or cool with Noah getting off scot free, but then again, Tom doesn’t know every little detail.

No one talks about it in detail even in their little power club that Connor and him started up.

He gets it.

It’s not something anyone wants to linger on.

And he understands better than most.

His monster was different, but no less horrifying.

“I’ll go with you,” Tom offers Dan, because this is a new city and even though the point is to go see what's up with Noah, and make sure he isn’t still the shadow monster he was the last time Tom saw him, he still wants to make the most of it.

“Two hours,” Andy says with a warning. “Two hours or I leave you in Seattle.”

“Sure, sure,” Tom shakes his head. Andy would never do them like that.

“If you’re coming we should go to the space needle,” Dan says thoughtfully, taking out his phone to begin google mapping the places he wants to hit up.

“Two hours!” Andy calls back from where he’s watching a couple people play basketball.

Tom discovers he has a thing about heights as they ascend via an elevator. It’s a slow day and the elevator operator talks him through it, telling him all sorts of bad puns and more information about the space needle then he can remember. “Sarah Palin came by the other day,” the woman who looks to be about their age with green ringlets and a friendly smile that doesn’t seem to be forced like most customer service workers smile (smile through the pain), “and she said she could see Alaska from here! Get it?”

Tom tries to smile, but yeah, he’s never doing this again. “Did you see the masked singer with Sarah Palin?”

The girl nods, “how the mighty have fallen. You think there's an alternate universe where she was vice president and insead Joe Biden’s on Dancing with the Stars?”

Tom’s laugh dies in his throat as the elevator jolts to a stop. It certainly feels like a huge jolt, but that may be his anxiety making everything elven times worse.

“Well thank you for riding air force two,” she salutes as Tom finally steps into the platform.

Sweet, sweet relief.

He sort of has to go take a picture or two off the viewing platform. He’s made it this far.

“She was totally into you,” Dan says, stepping in to take Tom’s mind off things.

“Was not.”

“Totally was.”

Tom rolls his eyes, “she was just being nice.”

“Sure man, sure. But she was.”

They arrive even later than Andy had predicted. It’s midnight and proof that they had dallied in Seattle for two long. This is the first time Dan has ever left the country so of course they stop and take pictures.

And then they stop and eat at the cute little cabin lodge just off the highway.

And even Andy forgets about the Noah business.

They pull into the street, disappearing from the city in the turn onto the street. It’s crazy how much of a difference a street can make. A little quiet row of houses tucked under the twinkling lights of the city lights.

Your house is a small one story thing, clearly an older home from before cookie cutter houses came into fashion, and with a certain amount of charm even with the dead plant by the doorstep: closer to a cottage than a house like something out of Snow White. There’s even a ouija board doormat that Tom thinks is completely in line with your humor and probably Noah’s as well. He just doesn’t remember much about Noah when he was alive. Last time Tom saw Noah, Noah was saying sorry to the birds. People could change.

Right?

It’s not like Noah had gone all Zodiac Killer on his friends.

The lights are off and Tom feels kind of bad that he’s about to wake you up, but he also really wants to crash in an actual bed.

Dan knocks on your door as Andy paces behind Tom.

A minute later, you peak your head out the door. Your navy blue sweater is cuffed around your hands, clearly meant for someone taller, helping to stave off the autumn chill, and grey flannel pajama pants. You rub your eyes with the back of your hand as you yawn. “You’re here,” you smile and hug Dan with one arm, “do you need any help with the bags.”

“The bags can wait until tomorrow,” Dan answers for the group, “I just want to sleep in a real bed.”

You snort, “don’t actually have a guest room,” you admit, keeping your voice down as you usher them all inside, “but I do have a pretty comfortable pull out couch and way too many quilts. I have to stop going to Victoria Island.”

Andy looks around, tense.

Tom’s a little surprised when you hug him too. “Want any food? There’s a ton of leftovers. Noah’s been stress baking. He has a bunch of exams this week.,” you say with such casualness.

“We already ate,” Dan offers, “there was this cool looking log cabin that sold me on pumpkin spice muffins.”

“Where is Noah,” Andy asks, cutting right to the quick.

You look at him pointedly as you explain, “he went to sleep early. He’s got school at like 7 am. I have no clue why. . .college was all about afternoon classes for me.”

Andy wisely, let’s it go for the moment.

You show them where things are, the couch is already extended. The TV’s sitting on a pile of textbooks with a nintendo switch right next to it.

Tom is out before his head hits the pillow.

They wake up and eat the promised leftovers as you rush to find the spare key to leave with your friends before you too have to go to work. “I would've asked for the day off like I did for the rest of the week,” you hastily explain, filling the electric kettle with water, “but it was Maureen’s birthday and I would’ve felt like such a dickhead.”

You make Dan promise to come look through the Museum you work at before it closes, and then you’re running off with a tumbler full of tea, putting a hand through your hair as if that’ll save it from looking like a mess. Tom’s unsurprised at your easy nature when they’re all imposing, making no secret of the real reason they had driven all the way to the other coast of North America.

Andy conducts a walkthrough of the house, leaving the sole bedroom of the house alone.

Dan shakes his head, flipping through the TV channels, before logging onto your netflix account, the most recent show having been played was Avatar the Last Airbender. “Anything you want to watch?”

“The good place,” Tom offers, “everyone’s always saying it's good.”

Dan shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t have netflix.”

Andy comes back with a picture frame clutched in his hand, “He’s such a dick!” Red seeping into his neck as he fumes.

Tom looks over at the picture, but it’s just a photo any normal couple would have hanging around their house: a blurry polaroid of you and Noah, each with a red solo cup at some house party, with the date, over a year ago, written on the border. He gets it, he does. And Andy’s his friend, so he nods.

Dan on the other hand, “okay. . .”

Andy disappears back down the hall. “I just don’t understand how they kept this from us! I mean-after what he did!”

Tom nods the same way he always had when his dad would start lecturing him in japanese even though his japanese is limited to whatever the japanese equivalent of Dora the explorer teaching spanish is.

“Probably so we wouldn’t freak out,” Dan offers, not looking away from the screen.

Andy marches back into the living room with a deep set frown, “Noah was fine offering us up to that monster and now they’re here playing house like nothing ever happened.” He sits down next to Tom, head in his hand. “I just don’t get it.”

He clasps a hand on Andy’s shoulder in comfort.

“Maybe they just wanted to forget as much as we did,” Dan notes quietly. “Some of us left and never really went back.” He’s talking about Lily and Lucas, who only visits during the holidays, then there’s Ava out in Arizona, busy doing field research and only going to Westchester in between jobs. Dan’s an hour away, a world away, near Stacy.

It’s really just Andy and Connor who stayed.

He’s in Pine Springs, a good hour to the west of Westchester.

“He died,” Andy grumbles out, “it could’ve easily been them, or any of us, or all of us. We’re lucky no one else did.”

Dan frowns, looking over at Andy, “I don’t like this anymore than you do. I’m not jazzed that Noah’s been back for years and we just found out. But I trust their judgement.”

“Necromancy is serious business,” Tom says, breaking the staring contest that’s started between the two friends.

Noah’s at least a little bit of a coward, as he saunters up to them, running a hand through his hair as he takes a seat at the table.

You had said this diner had the best malai kofta in the neighborhood.

He’s resting expression is still skewed towards sour, even as there’s other noticeable changes from the Noah Tom remember’s who’d kept to himself in school. His hair cut into a flattering undercut, clothes no longer on the angsty scruffy side but still decidedly casual as he opts for a dark palette, and of course, the blue eyes that seem to glow even in the afternoon light Lucas had mentioned in great detail. Noah’s clean shaven and lean, a backpack slung over his shoulder.

He only spares Tom a second’s glance before he focuses in on you, his lips quirk-ing up in a small smile. Sitting down, you lean forward expectantly as he plants a kiss on your cheek by way of greeting, before saying, “C’s make degrees right?”

“Mhm,” you nod, “but you did fine so it doesn’t matter. I ordered you the chicken and waffles. That’s what you usually get right?”

“Actually,” Noah starts, clearly about to tease you.

You shove his shoulder lightly, “beggars can’t be choosers.”

Dan extends an olive branch, “hey Noah.”

Which Andy immediately shoots down, “so it’s true.”

Tom’s only glad they’re already sitting and yeah, Noah’s a coward for meeting them in public, not that it had stopped Lucas from sucker punching him. It probably won’t stop Andy, only he’s sandwiched in between Dan and Tom and there’s no way Dan is getting up and out just so Andy can punch Noah. That’s not the kind of friend Dan is. Dan’ll take someone away to cool off, sprouting lines about being the bigger person, but Tom thinks that sometimes a punch is well earned.

Noah nods, sobering up, rating his arms on the table. “Yeah. It’s still. . . it’s still a trip nearly four years later.”

You cover his hand with yours, giving Noah’s hand a squeeze.

Now that they’re here with Noah, a burst of curiosity that’s been brewing in the back of Tom’s mind finally surges forward. “Do your eyes always glow? Or is it light a cat’s iridescence and that’s why you can read in the dark?”

“Gee, let me give you the paperwork the doctor diagnosed me with after I explained that my sister became a shadow monster and I came back to life. He was super nice and helpful about everything. We really don’t pay doctors enough.”

Andy rolls his eyes, “So are you still a monster or not.”

Noah frowns, before leading forward, gripping a glass of ice in hand pointedly, lifting it off the table, watching his own action with a sad fascination, “you can’t begin to imagine how nice it is to be solid again--to be more than a lingering ghost who can barely remember who it used to be.”

Which doesn’t answer the question but--

Some monsters were all too human for comfort. And some monstrous beings ended up friends and allies back in Pine Springs.

You and Dan walk up ahead arm in arm, chatting about everything from how cozy ll bean’s wool socks were to how you wanted to branch out and leave your job but it just couldn't be a bank, working in a cubical all day seemed like a death sentence. Dan fills you in on the news from back home and you both catch up as you walk at a leisurely pace back to your home.

Somehow, Noah manages to be patient as Tom rattles off question after question.

“Do you remember much?”

“What was it like coming back?”

“Can you do any magic thought,” he purses his lips in thought, “that doesn’t tell us much, since Ava’s out there levitating feathers.”

“Are any of your other senses better?”

“Do you have any other changes after coming back?”

“Can you speak to animals now?”

“Do you ever get a craving for human flesh?”

“Your limbs don’t fall off or anything? Right?”

“You have all your memories back?”

“Do you ever see any ghosts?”

“Can you see ghosts?”

Noah answers them patiently, if amused, as Andy skulks behind, clearly listening in on the conversation.

“How did they bring you back,” Tom finally asks, having spent countless nights researching necromancy. It had crept up in the Pine Spring’s society books, journals detail all sort of gorey accounts of their attempts to harness the power to gain power over the dead and living, but none of it had ever amounted to anything. At least in the best case.

One member had rotted away from the inside out, black mold blooming in his lungs, incurable as he choked to death after trying to raise a simple cat from the dead.

Noah tenses up, glancing over to where you’re laughing as Dan does a spot on Bernie impression about how it’s time to once again, “ask for a The man from U.N.C.L.E. sequel,” before meeting Tom’s gaze again. “You’ve formed a little club to keep the power away from people right?”

He nods, “I just-I don’t want more people to go through what we have,” he explains. They had to be proactive and learn so that no one else would stumble upon the power and exploit it to violent ends. Ava’s magic wasn’t derived from the power. Tom had double checked that. Ava’s magic was her own through her own sheer will.

But the power-that was something else entirely.

He swallows thickly.

Nothing had happened so far. And he couldn’t tell if their plan was working, or if they had gotten lucky. It had been a handful of years. But then, a decade had passed between Jane Marshall’s death and her awakening.

“And no one else ever will,” Noah says forlornly.

“Explain,” Andy says, walking up on Noah’s other side.

The man looks up at you, as you and Dan wait by the street corner for the rest of the group to catch up, and he shakes his head. “All you need to know is the power won’t be a problem again.”

Tom runs the problem over and over in his mind as they explore Vancouver and Andy continues to get digs in at Noah while Noah lets him.

He thinks about it as Andy makes everyone watch #Alive. And then Dan reminds them how obsessed everyone was with Inception when it came out. And Tom thinks about Noah’s words. And then you suggest watching something lighter: Zoolander.

Tom plays Noah’s words over in his head as he stares up at the ceiling, listening to Andy’s snores.

He puzzles over what Noah meant, why he didn’t want to bother you with it, as he drives back across the continent.

The power takes.

The power gives.

He gets it as they stop for gas in New York.

Oh, you really must love him.

Ava

Ava walks into Tom’s house out in Pine springs. It’s summer and she’s ready to spend the entire week swimming and continuing the search for a black lipstick that won’t stain. Fenty came pretty close.

There’s tons of cars in the driveway and she knows she’s the last one to get there; she always did like an entrance.

She tries the doorknob before knocking, hearing the laughter and conversation carry outside. The house is unlocked so she lets herself in; she likes to make entrances, guilty as charged, before following the sound of voices into the back porch overlooking the lake.

Tom had lucked out in buying this place during the summer the lady of the lake terrorized the town.

She’s frozen in shock when she sees Noah sitting with everyone like he hasn't been dead for over eight years. He’s sitting with an arm around you, beer in his other hand, talking with Lily, in a faded AC/DC shirt and dark jeans despite the heat.

Ava pinches herself to make sure she isn’t dreaming.

“Ava,” Lily cries, spotting her, “you’re here.”

“What the fuck!”

Realization dawns on your face as Noah looks over at the resident goth chick who’s withered into a refined goth woman, less fishnet and more victorian mourning shirts paired with flared black and white leggings, for the first time in eight years and seven months.

“Hey Ava,” he says, lifting his hand up in greeting from where it’s resting on your shoulder.

Your face heats up, as you look at Ava, realizing you’d never gotten around to telling her. Not when you’d visited her for Thanksgiving even though she refused to participate in a propaganda holiday that “perpetuates colonialism” or the time last year when you’d gone to support her big lecture at UMississipi. It had never seemed the right time and now the time to calmly explain was gone.

“Someone explain before I light him on fire,” Ava utters, feeling heat grow in her fingertips. It was easy after years of practice. She was toying with the idea of buying a house in Salem.

Noah doesn’t even flinch.

How could he, having grown up with Jane for a sister that had gone around filling people shoes with mud and shoving people into pools with a laugh. That girl had been fearless, and Ava has long thought if she’d been an inch more scared, you and Jane never would have gone into those ruins.

It almost warms Ava’s cold dead heart.

Ha.

If Ava had sometimes been the third wheel with you and Jane, then Noah had been the ugly duckling waiting for a scrap of attention because Jane shone bright, a sunflower soaking up light, thriving on attention. Maybe Noah hadn’t been all that bothered to let his sister take the lead as kids, even as he grumbled about the trouble they were sure to get into, but neither Marshall twin had cared about anyone’s attention more than yours.

Jane had always been a limpet, her hand in yours.

Ava had been too independent even at nine to always go along with Jane, or want a friend that close.

But you didn’t just go along with Jane, you encouraged her, and dragged Noah along when Jane got too caught up in her made up games to remember to play nice. Noah who even at nine seemed clued into the fact that you were hurt that your parents were never around, something that never occurred to Jane.

So she’s not surprised that Noah and you are a thing.

Figures.

You’d kissed more than one white boy that could vaguely pass for Noah if you had enough to drink in college even if you had only dated twice and neither had been Noah Marshall knockoffs.

It’s glaringly obvious in hindsight.

What she doesn’t get is how he’s alive.

And everyone’s just cool with it.

“I thought you already knew,” Dan says.

Lily looks at you, “didn’t you tell Ava first?”

You raise a brow, “I thought Lucas told everyone?”

Lucas shrugs, wearing a suit in the summer, “I did. I just figured Ava already knew”

Stacy sips her cocktail, “awkward.”

“Wow,” Noah jokes with a grin, “you guys are terrible friends.”

Andy almost chokes on his beer, sending Noah a look that would’ve made Medusa jealous.

Danni shakes her head, “too soon dude, too soon.”

Maybe she should move into Cora’s old house. That way she could keep up with her friends' news.

How the hell did she miss Noah coming back to life.

That was metal as fuck.

She and you would have words about keeping secrets.

“Just give me the strongest drink you can make,” she says with a shake of her head, taking a seat next to Imogen, the resident mixologist.

#noah marshall #ilitw noah #noah x mc #maybe theres two left #reposting bc it didnt show up in the tags #lily's part was my favorite #toeing the line between making noah a sarcastic shit and a traumatized man and a soft boy in love #mine

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Not A Ghost, You're In My Head (Your Move 3/3) (Branjie) - Ortega

a/n: this has had about fifty billion potential titles, but rest assured that finally this is Your Move 3, only a year and a bit late. i really hope u all enjoy the end of the saga, and sorry and thank u to those who have been so patient! i’ll shut up now bc quite frankly uv all waited long enough for this. (title’s from Forever by Charli XCX pls listen to it it’s such a Branjie song)

fic summary: “Everything was perfect. Until it wasn’t.”

***

The smell of coffee and the warmth of the cafe inside hits Brooke like a ton of bricks as she walks in, blinks a little, and scans the room to find a seat. Eventually her eyes settle on a small booth through the back, away from the clatter and hiss of the coffee machines and probably the closest thing to quiet that they’ll get in a public setting like this. Sliding into it, Brooke shrugs her jacket off, lifts up a menu, puts it down again, drums her nails against the tabletop and takes her phone out. She checks the time, then checks her reflection in her phone’s camera. Briefly she finds it crossing her mind that she’s probably put more effort into her outfit, hair and makeup today than she had for their first date. What had she worn for their first date again? She can’t remember. She supposes it doesn’t matter now.

Putting her phone down, Brooke digs her toes into the soles of her shoes and takes one deep breath that she intends to be calming. Instead it leaves her feeling as if she is trapped under a sheet of ice with a millimetre of air to work with before she sinks underwater. Part of her feels as if she is already sinking. The other part of her feels as if she sank a month-and-a-bit ago and here she is, sitting waiting in a cafe, a living shipwreck. Sometimes her ribs feel like huge, cracked planks of wood, an empty vessel where something once lived. Sometimes it feels as if her heart is a sail, a huge mast broken in two with two long, ragged dagger marks scarring the sheet and rendering it useless. Other times she feels like a huge, heavy propellor is cutting into her stomach and churning it up, though that’s mainly when she makes the mistake of scanning social media (and isn’t madness doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results?)

Today, Brooke just feels hollow.

Suddenly her phone buzzes harshly against the table and Brooke’s heart involuntarily leaps as she picks it up, an aftershock of the past seven months that will eventually dissipate with time. At least, she hopes so.

V: i can’t do this today

V: i’m sorry

Brooke feels as if an elastic band inside her has suddenly snapped. She doesn’t know if she feels relieved or if she wants to cry. Feeling a blush prickle against her cheeks and a lump form in her throat, her body seems to make the decision for her.

B: It’s okay don’t worry. Another time x

What does she expect? Brooke isn’t supposed to be the heartbroken one, Brooke isn’t meant to be the one that is sitting crying at a coffee shop table as if she’s the one that’s been broken up with. She wipes below her eyes and dabs lightly at her lashes with her fingers before pulling her jacket back on and walking quickly back through the door of the cafe she’d stepped through not even five minutes ago.

They’ll try again when she’s ready.

***

Brooke sinks on top of her bed, letting out a huge, deep breath of air until her stomach feels as if it is concave. It had been Vanessa that was the cautious one, it had always been Brooke making the big decisions about their relationship- a fact that, she cruelly reminds herself, remained true til its very end. She blinks very slowly. Her eyelids are so fucking heavy and tired. She took the morning off work to accommodate her plans and now she has nothing to do. Sitting and staring at the ceiling until her eyes burn is a nice impromptu plan.

Her phone suddenly hums in the silence of the room. As if she’s been shocked by jump leads, Brooke spins over on her bed and grabs her phone from her bedside table, her heart hammering at an unhealthy rate. She feels the disappointment sink through her whole body when she sees the name on the screen.

“Hey.”

“Hey, boo. Calling to see how you were, but your tone kind of says it all for me.”

Brooke rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well. Vanessa never showed.”

“I know. She phoned me.”

The cardiac arrest is back, alive and unwell in Brooke’s ribcage. “What did she say?”

“That she felt like an ass. I asked her what donkeys had to do with anything.”

Brooke shakes her head and laughs in spite of herself. “You’re the fucking worst.”

“I know. How are you doing?”

Brooke frowns deeply. “What, that’s all you said? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

A sigh comes from the end of the line. “Brooke, maybe you have to let her go.”

“No, come on, Yves, that’s not fair. Don’t talk to me like I’m obsessed and still clinging on because that’s not…it’s more complicated than that.”

“I mean. It was you that ended things.”

“Yeah, thanks for reminding me,” Brooke sighs, her heart feeling sick and empty.

“Look, just give her some time. You can’t just expect everything to go back to the way things were. Because…” her friend pauses on the end of the line, as if she’s about to deliver something Brooke won’t want to hear. “…well. Things might not.”

“I thought you were phoning to cheer me up,” Brooke says, deadpan. Yvie has the audacity to laugh.

“No, sorry, sorry. I just…you know. Best friends tell you shit you don’t want to hear sometimes. That’s part of the contract I signed back in high school,” Yvie’s affectionate warm laugh comes down the phone and Brooke finds herself smiling. It’s impossible to stay mad at Yvie; she may look fierce on the outside but Brooke knows she’s secretly a Care Bear brought to life via magic spell. Brooke is sincerely happy they’ve been friends for so long. They’ve helped each other and been there for each other through a lot, of course, through situations that are arguably worse than this, but Brooke is glad she has Yvie during this absolutely shit time. Vanessa had loved Yvie too when she’d met all of Brooke’s friends. Sure, she’d got along with Plastique and Nina and had eventually warmed to Bianca (although that had been a struggle after some of Bianca’s snide comments), but Yvie had welcomed her into Brooke’s life with open arms and had treated her as if they had been friends all their lives too. Brooke knows Yvie still speaks to Vanessa just to check in on her. She doesn’t mind.

“Do you wanna go for drinks tonight? Or food, if you feel like drinks will descend into stuff you’ll regret,” Yvie continues down the phone. Brooke exhales slowly.

“…Honestly Yves, it’s fine.”

“I’ll come to the apartment then. I just don’t want you wallowing. Wallowing’s for hippos. You’re not a hippo. You’re a…graceful crane.”

“You’re drunk already.”

“Maybe I am, and what the fuck of it? Right, I’m coming over tonight with lasagne in a tinfoil tray. Preheat your oven now. I’ll be round at 7. Love you, bye.”

“Bye. Love you too,” Brooke raises her eyebrows as she hangs up the phone. She remembers when she used to sign off like that all the time.

***

Brooke remembers those days of being in love with Vanessa, when the sex was passionate and gentle and full of fire and tenderness all at once. She remembers how it felt to look at her for as long as she wanted, taking in each glossy thread of hair, each small speckle of colour in her eyes, each individual and perfectly curled eyelash. Vanessa would always laugh at Brooke when she did that, telling her she was a creep, to stop staring at her. Now Brooke wishes she’d looked just a second longer, because she’s clearly not committed it all to memory.

She decides to go into the office. What else can she do? Yvie is annoying, but she’s right, Brooke can’t just sit and wallow. Or she could, but there’s case files that need updating and Brooke can either be sad at home lying in bed or sad at work doing something productive. Sad is the wrong emotion, she supposes. Empty is maybe more accurate. She is past the point of sad. Sad had happened when they’d had that argument and Brooke had played her trump card, best card in the pack at the time. Now she knows it had been a tarot card in disguise, the fool, and Brooke hadn’t at all known what her future would hold. She still doesn’t.

She walks into her office, past people that used to fear her, respect her. Perhaps they still do, but Brooke can still see the glint of sympathy in their eyes, hear the note of pity their voices hold. Brooke says good morning to Nicky, her new secretary. She hasn’t fired her yet, probably won’t ever fire a secretary again no matter how horrendous they are. Vanessa never came back after that day and Brooke doesn’t blame her, but she hopes she’s found another job. Nicky, she supposes, isn’t horrendous. She’s efficient and calm and obedient. Brooke knows she’s attractive too, and for a moment she allows herself to wonder if there is a parallel universe where she’s sought out a relationship with Nicky instead. Maybe a bit of random fucking with a pretty girl could take her mind off everything. Brooke laughs to herself in her office. She’s clearly losing it.

Detox comes in around half an hour later. Brooke’s done no work, simply staring at an excel spreadsheet and feeling her eyes glaze over but being unable to work up the motivation needed to blink. Detox puts a cup of coffee down on her desk and Brooke lets out a laugh.

“Jesus Christ, D. I’m not dying.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Seen happier faces at a fucking wake,” Detox jibes softly, pushes the cup closer to Brooke. “How are you today?”

Brooke leans back in her chair, swears she catches the scent of Vanessa’s perfume. It is gone almost as quickly as it had appeared and all Brooke is left with is approximately 45,000 memories, none of which she wants. “I’m shit. But I think that might be my new normal, I’ve felt like shit for so long. So I guess shit is the new fine. Therefore I’m fine.”

Detox exhales through her nose, the hint of a humoured smile playing on her lips. “The old you would be beating you up and taking your lunch money if she heard you talking like that.”

“Believe me, I’ve already beaten myself up enough.”

Detox gives a heavy sigh of frustration, shifts from one foot to the other. “You need to sort your shit out, Brooke.”

“What are you, my Mom?” Brooke snaps back, now as frustrated as her friend. She wants to be left alone to stew in her own lack of emotions. Detox doesn’t relent.

“Look, I’m gonna give you two choices. Number one, you accept that everything’s over with Vanessa, that you fucked it, that you’ve made your bed and now you need to lie in it. But from what I can see of how you’re acting just now, you don’t want to do that.”

“No, I’m not fucking doing that,” Brooke sighs, tearing her hands down her face and wishing Detox would leave.

“Second option is, you start a constant campaign of non-stop attempts to win V back. Flowers, texts, cards, we’re talking borderline Joe from You.”

“Of course you watch that trash.”

“But you get the point?” Detox persists, annoying incarnate. “Brooke, you can’t…you can’t go on living like this. It’s been over a month, it feels like I’ve lost this bitch that used to be my friend.”

Brooke supposes she has lost her sense of self. She goes through her days without showing a single emotion, instead preferring to let them all out in the courtroom, raining down upon witnesses relentlessly as if every case has been a personal experience. She’s won her past six in a row and she puts it down to the fact that she now focuses every single fibre of being that she possesses into her career and job and work and anything that doesn’t have to involve emotions whatsoever.

“Look, I’ll..I’ll think about it, alright?” Brooke waves her away, rubs her forehead long-sufferingly. The whole thing is annoying her, becoming less of a heartbreak and more of a headache.

Detox smiles and punches the air. “That’s my girl. Have a think. Right, I’ll leave you alone. See you later.”

Have a think. Brooke wants to laugh. She hasn’t been able to stop thinking since the day Vanessa left.

***

Brooke misses her.

She misses the way Vanessa just got her humour like no-one else did. When she’d have a client waiting for her and Vanessa would send her her first impression or opinion of them in advance, and then Brooke would have to hold in her laughter for the duration of her meeting because holy fuck yes, the woman’s hat did make her look like a bat and combined with her cloak it did make her look like the villain in a superhero movie.

She misses the way that Vanessa had sort-of-not-quite-not-officially moved in with her. Some of her clothes are still strewn around the apartment: a pair of black heels left by the door that she’d worn out to dinner with her, an emerald green lace underwear set that had fallen underneath the bed and Brooke had stuck in her washer-dryer, the cosy pyjamas that lived under one of Brooke’s pillows folded not-quite-neatly and covered in creases, and a white silk shirt that Vanessa had worn to work and Brooke had peeled off her when they’d arrived home, pressing kisses to her bare collarbones, chest and stomach. Vanessa used to crash her way through the apartment and often Brooke wondered if it was her mission to make as much noise as possible as she loaded the dishwasher, hoovered the living room, sang off-key in the shower. Brooke’s apartment has been so deathly quiet since she left, a funeral sort of quiet. Mournful and still and ghostly and cold.

Sometimes Brooke is sure she sees in black and white.

She remembers the day when they told each other they loved each other for the first time. There had been no ceremony, no grand gestures. In fact the pair of them were watching a film on Brooke’s couch- The Little Mermaid 2, Vanessa eager to force her love of Disney sequels onto her girlfriend. Brooke had looked away from the TV just for a moment, just to see Vanessa’s reaction to whatever was happening on screen, and when she lay her eyes on her she felt that familiar feeling of falling hit her like a wave all over again. It had happened quite a few times that fortnight or so, and the urge to tell her grew with every moment they shared together. Brooke watched her smile like a dork at the TV, the light in her eyes shining and the good in her heart visible just by looking at her. Brooke had laced their hands together, Vanessa taken by surprise and meeting her gaze with a funny sort of smile on her face. Her nose had crinkled up as she’d laughed at her.

“What?”

Brooke had pulled her close and kissed her without saying a word, trying to tell Vanessa without actually telling her anything. She was scared to say it first. She was scared to say it at all.

When Vanessa broke away, she gave Brooke a look that seemed to reach into her soul. Then she looked down at the blanket they’d thrown over them and gave a shy laugh.

“I wanna say something but I’m scared.”

Brooke still remembers the way her heart had beaten right out of her chest. If she tries she can still feel it.

“Say it. Say it, because I want to say it too.”

Vanessa had made eye contact again, her face nervous and hesitant, and Brooke wanted to kiss her fears away but that would have stopped her from saying what she wanted so desperately to hear.

“I love you. I’m in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you.”

Almost as quickly as they’d said it they were pulling each other in, their lips meeting desperately as they melted into each other. And Brooke hadn’t taken her to bed and they hadn’t had passionate, lovestruck sex on the couch. They had sat and kissed on the sofa with the film playing in the background like teenagers, the feeling of being in love communicated without even having to say anything else.

Brooke had finally understood why people in musicals randomly burst into song.

She wishes she had known the last time she’d said it to her would be the final time. She wishes she could say it to Vanessa again. It’s still true. She’s still in love with her. She had fallen so hard.

The trouble with falling is that she had to hit the concrete eventually.

***

Another day goes by and a new one begins. Nicky comes in at half past nine with Brooke’s coffee. Vanessa always used to have it sitting out for her when Brooke arrived, a little heart drawn in the foam with caramel syrup making the coffee too sweet, just like her. Brooke can forgive Nicky, though. She suffered through another sleepless night and she needs the coffee more than she needs a lot of things. Doing her makeup this morning had been like painting a corpse, and Brooke tries not to feel embarrassed as she takes in Nicky’s perfectly painted face in contrast to her own. She thanks her, takes the cup and assumes Nicky will leave.

“Ms. Hytes,” Nicky says, surprising her. She stands in front of her desk, her brow furrowed in concern. “You’re hurting.”

Brooke almost drops her coffee cup in surprise. In days of old she would’ve fired a secretary on the spot for having the audacity to address her in such a way, make such an assumption, but Brooke is tired. She can’t be bothered to deny it, it would take more energy than to simply admit it. She deals in facts, and it is a fact after all. “Yes, Nicky, I am.”

Nicky pouts a little sympathetically. There is a pause in which Brooke assumes she’ll leave. She doesn’t. Instead she speaks again. “Who was the girl that broke your heart?”

Brooke can only blink back at her, her eyelids heavy from lack of sleep. She could tell Nicky to go back to her desk, she supposes, to get on with her work. But she’s in a rare mood to talk about things, so Brooke cracks a small, indulgent smile. “And how do you know it was a girl?”

“Men can’t break hearts like women can,” Nicky says softly, philosophically. Brooke isn’t sure she’s right but she supposes she’s never had any experience with men to disprove the theory. She sighs, nodding.

“Yeah, it was a girl. Her name was Vanessa,” Brooke says, the name feeling too clunky and odd in her mouth where once it had felt like a prayer. “I guess she didn’t break my heart. I broke hers and then by proxy I broke my own. It was a stupid mistake, we had a fight and…things were said that I regret but she still won’t talk to me. And fair enough, why the fuck would she?”

Nicky nods slowly, wraps her arms around herself to give herself a hug. “I have the same. Uh, I am escaping a girl who broke my heart. But even though she hurt me, I still love her. How does that work?”

“Because emotions are stupid and they don’t work in a logical way,” Brooke shrugs instantly. She’s had a lot of time to think about the subject. Looking at Nicky, she can see the pain behind her eyes, the hurt behind the calm facade of her perfect makeup. “Who was your girl?”

Nicky smiles sadly, nostalgia getting the better of her. “She was named Jaida. She was a model, like I used to be. I don’t wish to talk about her much. It’s still sore."

"Yeah. It’s still sore for me too.”

“You say you broke Vanessa’s heart?” Nicky asks shyly. The words are like a stab through Brooke’s chest, confirming the whole thing, validating it. Brooke nods wordlessly. Nicky gives a small laugh. “Then probably she still loves you too. Like me for Jaida.”

Brooke laughs, disbelieving even though she’d be lying if she said Nicky’s words don’t strike even the tiniest bit of hope into her heart. “No, I think that ship has sailed, Nicky.”

Nicky raises her eyebrows, shrugs. “You should call her.”

“Tried that.”

“Well, call her again,” Nicky persists, her voice calm and relaxed despite her insisting. “I wait for my call from Jaida every day."

Brooke feels sad for the young girl. She’s clearly lived so much of her life already at such a young age- she’s from France, but her CV stated that she moved to America to work in the modelling industry, which clearly didn’t work out if she’s making coffee for Brooke. "You should go back into modelling. You’re wasted here.”

Nicky frowns. “I am a waste…of space?”

Brooke laughs at the misunderstanding, waving her hands and shaking her head in protest. It’s the first genuine laugh she’s had in a long time. “No, no, no, no, God no! Wrong expression. Um…you’re too good at modelling to be working as a secretary. You have too nice a face.”

Nicky blushes, making Brooke’s face hot too. She hopes her compliment didn’t come out wrong. Nicky is smiling again, the regret plain on her face. “I would love to, but I would risk meeting her again and I am not ready for that.”

Brooke’s face contorted. “But you want her to call you?”

Nicky sighs, scuffs her foot. “It’s different when you have her in front of you and she’s beautiful."

Brooke shrugs in agreement. "That’s fair enough.”

Nicky lingers, tilts her head thoughtfully. “Can I do anything to help, Ms. Hytes?”

The Parisian lilt to Nicky’s voice makes everything sound like a proposition, even though Brooke doesn’t think she means it. She knows that she could probably have Nicky in her bed by the end of the day if she wanted to- they’re both hurting and broken hearted and yearning to be needed and wanted again, and Nicky is gorgeous but it’s not Nicky she wants. Her porcelain skin just reminds Brooke of Vanessa’s in contrast, her neat blonde hair brushed carefully into its bun reminds her of how wild and loose Vanessa’s used to be, her blue eyes remind her of Vanessa’s dark ones. Brooke shakes her head, gives a tight smile of gratitude. “No, Nicky. Thank you for this, but I think we’d both better get back to work.”

Nicky smiles in agreement, giving a little nod as she exits Brooke’s office and takes a seat back at her desk. Brooke looks at her phone in its place on her desk, reaches out to take it. She scrolls to Vanessa’s name in her contacts and hovers her finger over it, millimetres separating her from potentially hearing her voice again.

She discards her phone onto her desk and opens an email.

***

They had been the best months of Brooke’s life. She couldn’t stop telling Vanessa how much she loved her once she’d started and Vanessa couldn’t seem to either. They were the worst kind of honeymoon phase couple, or perhaps the best. Detox had cooed over them like a mother hen and Brooke had let her guard down a bit at work. Well, a lot. She’d loved being able to show Vanessa off as her girlfriend, she’d loved being able to kiss her throughout the day, squeeze her hand as she showed a new client into her office. They would exchange ridiculously soppy emails during meetings. Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

Brooke has spent so long blaming the business trip, blaming Priyanka, blaming Vanessa, blaming her work, blaming the distance. It was none of them. It was her fault. She did all of it.

Brooke had flown out to Florida for the weekend. There was a conference that her law firm had to attend there, Detox was speaking. Brooke had been looking forward to it as she knew one of her old friends from her Law degree would be there. She hadn’t seen Priyanka in ages; she was still based in Canada and practising there, but they still texted and when they’d found out they were both going Brooke had been excited. Priyanka is one of those rare exes that’s still a friend, their breakup back in their early twenties being a mutual decision, and Brooke knows there’s no attraction there anymore.

But of course, Vanessa didn’t.

Brooke should’ve done more to reassure her, she knows this. If she looks back she can see how agitated Vanessa had been during the leadup to the conference for a full week- biting her perfectly manicured nails, a small frown on her face without her knowing, moments where she’d stare off into space. Vanessa knew about Priyanka (they’d both talked about their exes) but Brooke had told her it had been amicable and mutual. Besides, she told Vanessa how much she loved her every single day. It wasn’t as if Brooke had hidden the fact that Priyanka was going to be there that weekend, or shielded her phone when they’d been texting each other. She’d had nothing to hide.

Brooke almost wishes she had been more secretive now. Maybe it would’ve changed things.

The conference had been fun, even though Brooke now holds it in the same regard as the beginning of a horror movie, the calm before the cyclone. She’d phoned Vanessa when she had arrived, eager to reassure her but she could still hear the worry in her tone, the anxiety. Still, it hadn’t stopped her meeting up for drinks with Priyanka that evening in the hotel bar, laughing and chatting like they’d always used to and doing silly Boomerangs with the cocktails they’d ordered. Brooke told her all about Vanessa and Priyanka was thrilled for her, saying how excited she was to one day meet her. Brooke had got her phone out to show her some photos when Priyanka had looked at her own and gave a little exclamation of surprise.

“Oh! Is her nickname Vanjie?”

Brooke had narrowed her eyes, watching as Priyanka scrolled. “Yeah, why?”

“She’s watched my Insta story already. Doesn’t follow me though. Probably just doesn’t want to be weird,” Priyanka had shrugged. Brooke had shrugged back, offhandedly agreeing but internally embarrassed. She’d known why Vanessa had watched her story- she’d been checking up on her. Brooke hadn’t liked that.

When she’d arrived home, everything gradually came crumbling down, the pair of them slowly removing the Jenga blocks of their relationship one at a time. Their hug had been off when they’d seen each other again, their conversation had been the small talk of strangers. And then it had happened. Vanessa had brought up Priyanka, Brooke had brought up the Instagram stalking. Vanessa had brought up how weird she found it that she still wanted to hang out with an ex, Brooke had defended herself and told her they were only friends. Vanessa had expressed how worried she’d been, Brooke had been hurt.

“When have I ever given you reason to be worried?”

“Well shit, when you met up with your ex for drinks?”

Brooke had hit out, called Vanessa out on her jealousy.

“Well maybe I do get jealous! But it’s only ‘cuz I don’t ever want to lose you, fuck, I just don’t want to think about you with anybody else, that’s all!”

“But you don’t have to! Priyanka is my friend, that’s it, that’s all there is to it!” Brooke remembers how irritated she’d been, how exasperated. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I trust you! Of course I trust you. I just don’t trust her,” Vanessa had sighed frustratedly, pulled another block out.

“Well I’m not going to just not see one of my friends for the rest of our relationship, V!”

“So you’re choosing her over me? That it?” Vanessa had questioned. Brooke still remembers the tears in her eyes. She’d known Vanessa hadn’t meant to say that, she knew Vanessa knew she was being unreasonable. But Brooke had reacted instantly, thinking in absolutes, or perhaps not thinking entirely.

“Fuck, Vanessa, well if it’s that black and fucking white to you then what the hell are we doing anyway?” she’d yelled, the finality still hurting her if she thinks about it. The raised tensions in the room had come to a boiling point. Vanessa had gone quiet.

“What are you saying?”

Brooke had committed and she was still angry, still frustrated. She’d doubled down. “Why the hell are we doing this if there’s no trust in our relationship?”

The realisation had dawned slowly and sickly like tar over Vanessa’s face. “You’re saying you want to break up?”

Brooke hadn’t replied, only stared at the floor. Vanessa had taken it as an answer.

She’d left.

Brooke had regretted it, but she’d known they would make amends. It had just been a silly argument, and things had been said that neither of them meant. She still loved her. They still loved each other. Brooke had given it an hour, waited for her to cool off before she called her to apologise.

Vanessa hadn’t picked up.

Brooke’s still waiting on her to call back.

***

Brooke is ten minutes away from a firm meeting when she gets the text.

V: i’ll be at Rialtos for the next hour

V: your move i guess

She doesn’t even think about the decision, simply acts. She asks Nicky to send her apologies, tell the director that she’s had to go home with stomach pains. If she gets a disciplinary it’ll be worth the risk. She crashes out of her office like a tsunami, her bag and her coat swinging wildly from the crook of her arm. Rialto’s is a five minute walk from her office but she makes it in three even in her stilettos. It’s only when she sees it on the corner on the sidewalk opposite that an overwhelming feeling of panic and sickness hits her like a gut punch. She’s been waiting for this moment for the past month-and-twelve-days (she’s counted), but now that it’s here she almost doesn’t know what to do. She’s never felt nerves like this- all of her nerve endings are buzzing like broken strobe lights and every time her heart beats her whole body feels it. It had been different the first time they were supposed to meet up and talk things out because Brooke had been there first, she could sit for a while and psych herself up. But this time Brooke knows that Vanessa is sitting at a table in the bar just across the street, and all that’s separating them is a busy road, a door and a few steps. Brooke steels herself, forces herself to take a few deep breaths as she checks her reflection in the shop window beside her. She looks a fright: no makeup, sleep-deprived bags under her eyes, the only thing remotely presentable about her is her hair which she threw into a low ponytail that morning. Then again, she supposes that Vanessa’s seen her without makeup before. Brooke thinks Vanessa’s seen every possible version of her, apart from of course this one. She takes another deep breath, turns around and stares the bar down as if she’s going to war.

It’s time.

Brooke dashes across the road and it crosses her mind that perhaps it would be better to just let fate take its course and get hit by a yellow taxi, but that’s the coward’s way out so she reaches the bar entranceway, pushes the door open with a huge, held-in breath. Rialto’s is dark inside with dim red lighting, and so even at four in the afternoon it seems as if it’s midnight. There’s red booths with black lacquered tables that shine under the crimson of the lamps positioned above them and the walls are covered in framed pictures, none of which Brooke takes in because she’s searching, slowly yet frantically as if she’s attempting to both prolong and speed up this whole situation. One booth near to her to her right holds a cheerful couple, another on her far left houses an old man drinking a cup of coffee.

And then she sees her.

She’s got her back to the door but Brooke recognises the wave of her blonde hair, the tie-dye of the oversized hoodie she’s wearing. She recognises the acrylic nails and the chunky rings that pattern the hand that’s curled around what looks like a French martini on the table. A searing, painful memory of their first date at Le Bernardin wrenches Brooke’s heart. She takes another deep breath and walks forward even though she feels like she’s going to be sick. She stops just at the table and the breath is knocked out of her lungs.

Vanessa looks up at her, her face impassive. Her makeup is perfect, but then Brooke wouldn’t have expected anything else. There’s dark roots at her side parting but Brooke thinks she somehow suits them. Apart from that she looks exactly the same, just how Brooke remembers her.

“Hi,” Brooke greets her feebly. Vanessa somehow communicates a shrug through a blink.

“Hey,” she says, taking her hand off her glass to gesture to the seat opposite her. “Sit.”

Brooke nods as she sits down in the red leather seat, and it’s only then that she notices there’s a second cocktail opposite Vanessa. It looks like a pornstar martini, it’s one of Brooke’s favourites.

“I ordered you one. Figured it might make this easier,” Vanessa explains. Her expression doesn’t break. Brooke is touched by the gesture.

“Thanks,” she says. Her hands shake as she reaches out to take the glass, sips at it and feels the sweetness of the vanilla vodka and the tang of the passionfruit coat her dry mouth. Her stomach’s still churning as Vanessa sits regarding her for a moment. Brooke wants to say something. She wants to immediately apologise for it all, even though she’s left twelve voicemails and twenty texts saying the same thing. She wants to ask how Vanessa is, even though that would be the most idiotic of things to say. Eventually she decides to lead with a compliment.

“You look great.”

Vanessa sniffs. “You don’t.”

Brooke takes the hit, supposes she deserves it. “I’ve not been sleeping great.”

“Yeah. Yvie’s mentioned,” Vanessa looks down at her lap, blinks. When she looks up again she’s clearly ready to speak, and Brooke’s heart is in her mouth. “So, we need to talk properly.”

“Yes.”

Vanessa looks down at the table, then into Brooke’s eyes. Brooke can tell she’s having a hard time doing so. “Uh, first off I wanna say sorry.”

The apology knocks Brooke for six. She feels herself frown involuntarily. “For what?”

“Well, it was wrong of me to try an’ make you choose between me and your friend. I knew it was wrong the moment I said it but I was jealous, an’ I was hurt. But that don’t excuse it, so I’m sorry.”

Brooke shakes her head. She’d been annoyed at Vanessa for that at the time, and she’d have maybe appreciated an apology a month ago, but just now it only seems trivial in the grand scheme of things. “Vanessa, you don’t…you don’t need to apologise for this situation.”

Vanessa narrows her eyes at her and there’s a warning look in her gaze, so Brooke drops her protests and shrugs a little. “But I accept your apology.”

Vanessa nods, clearly following some internal script. Brooke is happy to go along with it, to play her part and say her lines, whatever they’re meant to be. She’s so used to immediately taking control of every situation she finds herself in, and even though her stomach feels sick and she feels as if she’s in an interrogation room she doesn’t mind playing the role of the witness and letting Vanessa be the lawyer for a change. She supposes she is on trial in some way.

“Now…I know that you’re sorry, you’ve made that pretty clear, so I don’t want another apology from you,” Vanessa begins, and part of Brooke doesn’t like that because she does want to say sorry, but maybe that’s just for her own benefit and not Vanessa’s. Vanessa sighs as she continues, looks down at her drink and this time doesn’t break eye contact. “But I need you to know how much you hurt me.”

Brooke winces. She realises Vanessa’s waiting for confirmation. “Okay.”

Vanessa pauses, and the breath she takes is shaky before she speaks again. “I…loved you so much, Brooke Lynn.”

The past tense slices Brooke in half.

“I never loved anyone like that before in my life. An’ I always thought you were too good to be true, like somehow one day I’d wake up and our whole relationship would be a dream. I never stopped tellin’ you how lucky I was or how much I appreciated you or how much I loved you. An’ you never stopped tellin’ me either. You made me feel so loved, an’ so precious, an’ so…fuck, sorry.”

Vanessa’s tone grows frustrated, anger layering with the tears Brooke can see in her eyes as she tips her head up, swipes at them like a tiger to wipe them away. Brooke thinks her heart might be breaking again, halves into quarters.

“An’ so that day, when we had that fight,” Vanessa continues, staring steadfastly at Brooke. “All of that, everything we had…it was like it didn’t matter anymore? Like everything we’d shared an’ everything I’d told you an’ everything you’d told me…like, what, that was all for nothing?”

“It wa-”

“Just lemme get this out, please,” Vanessa puts a hand up, stops her. “It was like everything I knew about you was just…nothing. I didn’t know you anymore. An’ I know it was a stupid fight and we shoulda been able to work that shit out, but…I was hurt. I’m still hurting. You hurt me.”

Vanessa stops. She’s done. Brooke wants to cry. She swallows the feeling down before she speaks.

“I behaved like a dick. And I said stupid things, but by the time they were out I couldn’t take them back. I didn’t mean any of it, Vanessa, I just…opened my mouth and said whatever got there first. That’s my fault, I know that. And I know I’ve apologised before but I haven’t had the chance to do it in person, so I’m honestly so sorry for hurting you. For making it seem like our relationship meant nothing to me. Like you meant nothing to me. You mean the world to me, you still do,” Brooke sighs, trying to make the deep breath she takes to stave off her tears subtle. She can’t meet Vanessa’s eyes when there’s tears in her own so she fixes her gaze on the passionfruit half floating in her drink as she continues. “And you don’t have to accept it, just as long as you hear it.”

“I know,” Vanessa says instantly. She looks calmer now she’s said her piece and heard Brooke’s, and she takes a sip from the two little black straws sticking out of the martini glass. She suddenly rolls her eyes, a bitter smile spreading across her face. “Fuck you, Brooke Lynn.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I mean…fuck you for making me still love you. Fuck me for still loving you,” Vanessa sighs, resigned. The words make Brooke’s heart give a leap and she can’t help the smile she instantly tries to suppress and fails. Vanessa narrows her eyes at her, her expression turning serious. “But that don’t mean I forgive you.”

“I know. You don’t have to,” Brooke says guiltily. She thinks about saying it, wonders if it’ll guilt-trip Vanessa and she doesn’t want that, but indulgently and selfishly she says it anyway. “I still love you. I never stopped.”

Vanessa winces as if she’s been shot, her expression instantly turning into one of discomfort and her eyes squeezing shut. Brooke frowns. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologising, Christ. You’re so fuckin’ Canadian,” Vanessa sighs exasperatedly as she puts her head in her hands, and Brooke probably would’ve laughed if she hadn’t been trying to repair the most important relationship of her life so far. Brooke feels awkward and she’s in this conversation without a map, unsure which direction it’s going in.

“Where do we go from here?”

Vanessa drains her glass, foam and syrup all that’s left. She leans back in her chair and folds her arms over. There’s a tiny smile that’s back on her face, and it makes Brooke’s hopes start to climb.

“Well,” she shrugs a little, her guard still up but ever so slightly lowered. “You can start by buyin’ me another drink an’ we can take it from there.”

Brooke nods, grabs her purse and almost sprints to the bar. She orders another French martini and another pornstar- she thinks she’ll be needing it. As she waits for their drinks and the sound of ice in a cocktail shaker cuts through the air, Brooke sneaks a look at Vanessa in the booth. She’s so gorgeous. Brooke’s happy to see her again, despite the circumstances. Just as she makes to turn back around, Vanessa’s head snaps up from the phone in her hand and their eyes meet.

Vanessa’s gaze is soft and the small smile on her face is warm.

Maybe they’re going to be okay.

#rpdr fanfiction #ortega #not a ghost you're in my head #your move #branjie #angst #lesbian au #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #detox #nicky doll #yvie oddly #priyanka

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nevermore-ocs · 3 years

Text

13 x Plus-Size!Reader-- A Real Woman

Author’s note: EYYYYYY FIRST WRITTEN ONE SHOT FOR 13, and it’s SAUCY AS HELL AT 3.6K WORDS, hope y’all enjoy!!

"Are you kidding me?"

The amount of irritation that filled your body and threatened to explode out of you could put a volcano on the verge of erupting to shame. You picked up the sliver of cardboard that had the black-lettered numbers imprinted on it. It was the right size. It was clear as day. However, when you glanced back at yourself in your long, standing mirror, the (favorite color) fabric very obviously hugged your body and curves in a less than comfortable way, good thing you kept the receipt...somewhere in the bevy of bags you had scattered at the foot of your bed. It was quite frustrating, honestly, the dress was the clothing you were so excited to come home and wear, only to be shot down at the height of your excitement. It was also pretty disheartening, the sight of the dress strained in the more fuller areas, even more so when it was a bit of a struggle to peel the clothing off of your form, just fold it away and take it back, all you could do now. "Darling?" The knocks rang through your head like a loud siren, 13, Remy, you forgot you had told her that showing off your new dress was a surprise for her. She must have gotten impatient and walked to your room from the living room where you left her at, teeming with overwhelming eagerness to see whatever you had in store for her. "Darling, it's been quite some time now, can I come in?" You heard the metal doorknob jiggling with her turning it. "U-Uhhh, one second, Remy!" You called out, silently praying to yourself that she would listen, but knowing your SCP girlfriend, listening when she was this ecstatic was out of the question and wasn't coming back either. "I have to wait longer? But, darling, I want to see you now, I've been waiting far too long!" You could hear the growing need in her voice, and that alone tugged at your heartstrings. Balling up the dress with the tag and the receipt, you snagged one of the bags from the end of your bed and you tossed the items, hurriedly, into it and set the bag to the side, hidden, right in time for Remy to throw the door open. "Hmmmmm? Darling, I thought you were going to show me the new clothes you got, I've seen this underwear pair on you before!" It only now hit you like a ton of bricks that you were stood in front of her, almost fully naked, in nothing but a bra and panties. "But, I adore seeing that perfect body of yours, so this is wonderful as always!" She went up to you, her arms hooked underneath your thighs and she easily hoisted you up into her arms and she kept you pressed against her formally dressed chest. Her lips peppered all over the skin on your face, your lips, the bridge of your nose, and the tip of it too. You, at the very most, attempted to return as many kisses as you could, but Remy, knowing you like the back of her hand, which may have seemed extremely creepy to some, read you like a book. "Darling?" She set you down on the bed, carefully, "What's the matter? Usually, you keep up with all of the kisses I give you! What's going on?" You almost didn't want to answer, mostly out of the fear of Remy going out to the store where you bought the clothes and her just, going on another rampage. Without saying anything, other than letting out an audible sigh, you leaned to the side and grabbed the bag from before by the woven handles and you lifted it, handing it to her.

The bag was empty now, she was looking over the dress and holding it out in front of her to get a good look at it, "It even looks like it'll barely fit me!" She let out an actual growl, it turned into a snarl when she took another look at the tag in her other hand, and in a huff, she stuffed the bag back full. She would have thrown it to the side out of pure angry if it weren't for your hand going onto her arm to stop her. "Remy, it isn't a big deal-! I'll go and return it," she gently-she was always so tender with you as if you were going to break-paused your words by taking a hold of your hands and she knelt onto one knee in front of you as you sat on the mattress. "But still, darling, you sounded so excited when you came back home with this! I can tell when you're troubled, this is an insult from them if anything!" She shook her anger off, for now, and refocused all onto you again, "Tell me, darling, what's wrong? Is it the fact that you paid for it and now you have to take it back?" You let a small smile, albeit with some sadness to it, slip onto your lips listening to her words, your fingers threading through the fluffy, onyx-colored hair she had on her half-shaved head, her eyes fluttered close, her head craning into your open palm and her own wide, sharp-toothed grin spread across her face like a fire spreading through a forest. "Remy, it's, it's not because I paid for it, it's because...." you were dreading to tell her this, out of everything, she despised it when you spoke like this about yourself. "Darling?" She squeezed your hands, "It's because it didn't fit in the first place. That's why I'm upset," the moment that the words dusted from your lips, your lowered your head and silently prepared yourself for a verbal lashing. She stood back up to her feet quite abruptly when she heard that. Her brow furrowed, but a sigh left her lips and she sat down next to you on the bed, the mattress dipping down slightly when she did. "Darling...we had this conversation already, you know your body isn't an issue." She repeated it so much, the words were starting to stay stuck in your head like a mantra you could repeat to yourself and you tried to, honestly, just some days, it was harder than others. "I know that Remy, you tell me every day and I-I appreciate you telling me it's just-" your words got cut off in your throat when one of Remy's fingerless-gloved hands took a hold of your chin, specifically her thumb and index finger. With a gentle tug, she urged your head to turn and face up towards hers and the moment you two locked eyes, you could feel her unnaturally colored eyes boring into your soul in an unwavering, unbreakable gaze. "And I tell you the truth every time I say it." You felt her turning on the bed, you were so fixated on her eyes that you didn't even realize that now, she was facing you. "Darling, your body is...gorgeous. It's perfect," you opened your mouth, to be defiant on your words but she was quicker than you, and she put a finger over your lips, hushing you softly. "It's real, it's beautiful, you aren't some whore who had vulgar things done to it, it's you, it's perfect," her hands went from your head to your shoulders, and cascaded downward in a warm, massaging way. "The way your body fills out my palms when I squeeze you, when I hold you," her words paused momentarily, you felt her hands glide over your hips and when she did, she took a handful of you and squeezed, drawing a gasp out of you and your hands instinctively shot up to her broad shoulders and you held onto her, your fingers digging into the cloth of her navy blue vest. "It's heavenly," the words escaped her lips in a soft, shuddering her breath, feeling your body alone did that much to her, you could feel the excitement resonating from her body by her heavier than normal breathing.

Her hands moved back, they pressed against your lower back and while she motioned you to lay down, she continued to speak, her voice was so low, so addicting, her words flowed into your eardrums and stuck themselves into them like super glue. You, out of all people, knew just how talented she was with words, "Now, lay back, relax," when your body rested against the mattress and your head cradled by the surplus amount of pillows piled up at the head of the bed, she moved up onto her knees above you, her hands moved up and took hold of her bowtie and she untied it, her eyes never breaking from your body. "Let me show you how beautiful you are..." when her bowtie came undone, her vest was unbuttoned quicker than you expect. She leaned down, her hands planted at the sides of your head to keep her elevated above you. "Darling~" The word rolled off of her tongue so smoothly, that time she said it, it sent jolts running rampant through your body before shooting down straight into your core, it made your thighs press together and it occurred to you that she noticed since after that happened, one of those signature wide grins settled onto its usual place on her lips. She began to move her hands up to your bra and your bosom, when they arrived, she hooked her finger around the clip at the front of your bra, however, she paused her movements when she did and waited before she even attempted to undo it. "May I?~" You couldn't the smile that broke out across your face. She always asked. With a nod of your head, you pressed a chaste kiss against her lips before relaxing again, "You may~" the moment the words left your lips, she pulled upwards on the clip and your bra unfastened. Your breasts spilled out of the cups when she pulled the clothing away and set it to the side for whenever you needed it back. Her hands instantly went back up, she cupped both of your breasts and squeezed, drawing a breathy gasp to come from your mouth, "How your body reacts," she started again, her voice was beginning to get drenched in that recognizable, insatiable desire, all for you. "It's otherworldly~ Every breath you take, seeing your breasts rise and lower," she ran her thumb over one of your nipples, teasing the hardening nub with her fifth digit before adding her index finger and she pinched it tenderly, giving it a soft tug too. "It makes my blood boil in the best of ways~ It stirs this, this, want for you," her words drifted off when she leaned closer to your right breast. Her inhumanely long tongue slinked out of her mouth and she dragged a long, wet, lick up your nipple at first, then she closed the distance, her lips wrapped around your breast, and she sucked on it tenderly. You could feel those sharp, dangerous teeth of her grazing against your skin in almost a teasing way as if she was preparing to bite down, but, wasn't going to.

"Remy~ Haaahh~" Your hand, shakily, reached up and your fingers snaked into her fluffy, soft, black hair. You gripped it and gave a soft tug, and in turn, it pulled a low, rumbling growl from the pit of her stomach. You felt the sweet, pleasurable vibrations go through your breast, alongside the suckling from her, and how her tongue flicked across your nipple over and over again. Pulling back, she breathed out quite heavily, panting shortly after, and whilst she did that, her fingers hooked around the edges of your panties, and she tugged downwards. "No, no it's not a want-it's a need~ It's as if I don't get you, if I don't claim you, I can't go on~ You and your perfect body awaken this, almost primal desire for you," she reached downwards to unbuckle her belt, however, this time, you beat her to the punch. Letting hand press against the tent in her slacks, you wrapped your fingers around her restrained, hard cock, and you pumped it a few times. She gritted her teeth, sucking in a soft breath through the gaps, her hips bucked somewhat into your hand at the pleasurable friction, "Can't you see what you do to me, darling?~" She breathed out, "Remy?" You questioned after slipping the black, leather belt out of the belt loops of her slacks, "Don't you feel just how erect you got me?~ I'm throbbing, it's almost uncomfortable in my slacks, haha!~" She took over, taking a hold of the zipper, she pulled it downwards and pushed her loose slacks down with her boxer briefs. She breathed out a low groan of relief when her imprisoned length sprung out from her cloth restraints and stood hard at attention. "You did this, darling~ Your body did this to me, those, mhm, delectable moans and noises you let out~ How your eyes roll back when you get lost in your pleasure," to prove her point, one of her gloved hands made its way to your wet slit, she slid her finger downwards from your clit to your entrance, letting your wetness collect on her digit, then she slid it deep inside of you. It made you moan out quite loudly, and your actions repeated exactly what she had said. Your eyes rolled back, you threw your head back into the pillows and moaned out openly. "Just like that~" Her finger steadily pushed in and out of your slit, her other hand, free as it can be, went to your thighs and kept your legs spread open for her. She caressed it thoroughly, going across the inner part, then moved upwards and across the top of it, then to the outer side, and she gripped tenderly, her fingers digging into your body somewhat, not enough to do any kind of damage though of course.

Pushing her finger into you deeply, she kept it buried inside of the warm, wet crevice, she curled it inward towards her palm over and over again, and her thumb planted gingerly on your clit, and she rubbed it in tantalizingly slow circles, "How soaked you get at my touches, you're a sight people dream about~ That they wished they had~" She continued, watching and taking in the sight of just how you writhed with pleasure on the bed, your fingers gripped and held onto the bed-sheets tightly, if you had the strength she did you were sure to tear through them. "Remy~ Hah~ Anh~ Please, that's so good, I-I had no idea you thought all of that about me~" You managed to get out, taking in that grin she had. "Then I'll always make sure that you do~ And even if you forget, I'll gladly repeat it, I'll tell you as many times as you need to hear it, as many times as you want, darling, you are so perfect~" She slowly retracted her fingers from your dripping wet slit, causing you to whimper in a needy way, desperate to feel something of hers to fill you up again. As if right on cue, she began to answer your desires all over again. She slid herself into place, snuggly in between your thighs, and when she did, she placed her hands under your legs, and she moved them until they rested comfortably at her waist. "And darling, seeing you like this, your body burning, the scent of my love's essence pooling out of her and filling my senses, I cannot wait for another moment," her hips adjusted and you could feel the head of her cock brush against your folds, it nudged past them, but she didn't enter you, yet. "I have to take you~" When she leaned over you, you took the chance, your arms hooked around her neck, and you pulled her down to your level. Your lips crashed against hers in a much-needed, deep, passionate lip-lock, your tongue, feeling bold, ran across her bottom lip and she instantly received the message. Her mouth pried open, welcoming your tongue, and it made the kiss deeper, hotter. Your tongue swirled around with her inhumanely long one, it made your legs tighten around her waist, and you felt her hips begin to rock. It made her cock grind against your cock, it gradually gathered your wetness on the length of it, making it slick. "Then take me, Remy~ I need you too, I, God, I need you so badly~"

Hearing you beg was the best music in the entire world to her, better than her favorite song in the same. "Gladly, darling~" She reached down, wrapping her hand around the base of her cock, she lined herself up to your entrance, you felt yourself breathing heavier, preparing yourself for what's about to come. Her hips pushed forward, her slick, hard length slid deep inside of you, her hips pressed up against yours when she easily hilted herself, letting herself be engulfed by the welcoming feeling of your wet, velvety-soft walls hugging around the shape of her cock, "Ooohhhh, darling~ You always feel, mmmm, wonderful~ How you hug around me, no one is as perfect as you, my dear~" She leaned down, and pecked your cheek, "Hold onto me, I don't think I can contain myself anymore, now that I'm," she pulled her hips back, almost sliding herself out all of the way, only to snap her hips forward again and pump her cock deep inside of you. "Inside of you~" Doing what she said, you kept your arms locked around her neck, your fingers clawing at the back of her shirt as she started to thrust in and out of you at a steady, growing pace, her hips slapping up against yours. Her name escaped from your lips in loud moans numerous times, like a mantra, as if it were the only thing you knew, she wasn't as loud, but her low groans, matched with a few quiet, breathy little laughs sent shivers up and down your spine since her mouth was right next to your ear. Your legs wrapped properly around her waist, your heels digging into the spot above her rear, her arms moved down and wrapped themselves firmly around your waist and she clung onto you. Thanks to your legs, it made her thrusts grow faster, her forehead rested against yours, you could see just how red-faced she was, she panting, breathing heavily. "Darling~" She gasped out, it took you a couple of attempts to pry your shut-tight eyes, but when you did, you were greeted with the sight of her red sclera, light grey irised eyes focused onto (eye color) ones, the sight made you feel safe, it made you feel loved, she never scared you or anything like that, it made your heartbeat louder with uncontrollable love all for SCP-013. "I love you, darling, I love you so much~" She had leaned forward, and you, surprising her, leaned forward too and closed the gap in between the both of you for another warm, passionate lip lock, "I love you too, Remy, I, mmhf!~ Hahhn!~ I love you~"

Her thrusts grew faster, more rapid, inconsistent, she was getting close. Her noises got louder than before, her panting started to turn heavier and almost sounded more primal-like due to her mouth being open as it was, "D-Darling I'm, ohhh, I'm so close~ You feel, so, hnh, unf, amazing~" Nodding, as your orgasm was at the precipice, ready to come crashing down and hit you with all the force it had, you pulled her down closer to you, her head next to yours and instantly, she turned it and nestled it into the crook of your neck, placing several kisses all over the side of your neck, along with little bites here and there. She attempted to contain herself, however, after the whole incident with the last bite she did to one of your thighs and almost gave you a heart attack when she lifted her head and she had blood on her lips. "M-Me too!~ Cum, hahh, cum inside of me, Remy, please!~" You could feel her grin against your skin, "I wouldn't want to anywhere else, hnh, anyway, darling~" You laughed breathlessly alongside her, turning your head, you pressed your lips against her cheek and onto one of the swirling, deep tissued scars that spiraled across the exposed side of her face. She pumped and pounded her hips down into yours a few more times and it was that last one that made her hilt herself all of the way inside of you, keeping her hips locked down onto yours. She groaned out loudly, her hips flexed forward with each pump of her cum flowing inside of you, flooding you, she hadn't even begun to pull out when droplets and dribbles of her cum seeped through the gaps of her cock buried deep inside of your slit. She was never too keen on pulling out of you, not that you had a problem with it. "Hopefully," she started, huffing out a much-needed breath, and she hiked herself back up above you, her hands planted on the mattress much like before. When she adjusted herself like that, that damned, large, wide, sharp-toothed grin slid onto her face and made itself at home on her lips.

"That got through to you, darling~ Or....do you need more convincing?~ Trust me, as you know, I can be, hehehe, quite persuasive~"

#oc #my oc #scp #scp 13 #scp: containment breach #scp 013 #SCP-013 #13 #oneshot #fic #writing #my writing #ns//ft #ns//fw #ALSO YES #13'S REAL NAME IS REMY #ITS USED A LOT IN THIS XDDDDD

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