#I had to take these pictures under grey lights and the glare is from the fact that neither page would go flat

[augment-techs]

Go Go Power Rangers Social Variant Covers for #30 & #31 to go along with the one I posted for Matt. Can't find either of these two anywhere either and gd that is irritating. LOOK AT THEM.

[anxiousthoughts365]

Regulus Escapes: Part 1

There's a bright white light suddenly filling his bedroom, and Remus starts awake, squinting and trying to make out the shape in the centre of the sunburst. His chest immediately tightens when it solidifies into the form of a stag.

'Hey, Moony.' The Patronus speaks in an echo-y and slightly breathless rendition of James Potter's voice. 'I'm really sorry and I know it's the middle of the night, but we have a bit of a situation, and, well, can you just get to mine, please? I think - shit, Sirius, wait!'

The stag has barely dissolved by the time that Remus is out of bed. It takes him all of 30 seconds to pull on yesterday's clothes, write a haphazard note to his mother, and throw himself into the Floo, calling out James' address. He tumbles out of the ornate fireplace on the other side, coughing and wiping soot out of his eyes, and looks around the room. He pauses, wand in hand, as he tries to understand the scene before him.

James and Sirius stand at either end of the living room, glaring at each other but apparently unable to move. The reason soon becomes clear when Remus manages to drag his gaze away from Sirius, after hurriedly scanning his body to make sure that he isn't hurt.

Euphemia is positioned between the two boys, her wand raised and her eyes darting between them. It seems that her magic is the only thing keeping the boys separated. Remus' confusion only grows when he looks behind Euphemia, to the sofa opposite the fireplace. Fleamont hovers behind it, his usually jolly face grey and set, and his hand is resting on the shoulder of -

'Regulus?' Remus croaks, frowning and straightening out of his defensive posture. 'What are you -'

'He left,' James snarls, his voice tight as he apparently tries to rein himself in. 'He got out, and the first thing this arsehole does is try and attack him!'

This last is spat at Sirius, who instantly bristles.

'I'm not the arsehole here, Prongs!' he snaps, so viciously that Remus almost steps back. Things must be bad, if he's talking to James like that.

'Language, boys,' Effie chides, her words barely covering Regulus' mutter of, 'Here we go again.'

'Yes, here we go again, Regulus,' Sirius growls, glaring at his brother before twisting in the grasp of Effie's magic to look at Remus. Remus holds his ground against the fury burning in Sirius' gaze, in his tone. 'Picture the scene, Moony. My dear little brother finally, finally escapes that hell-hole, and turns up on our doorstep. He trips the wards, so we're all racing down to see who's arrived, only to find him with his fucking tongue in James' mouth!'

'Sirius,' Effie warns, and Remus sees the boy shrink away, ever so slightly. His rage is undiluted, but he still casts a slightly sheepish glance her way.

'Sorry, Mum,' he mumbles, his eyes slicing to James again. 'Can't help feeling a bit betrayed right now. Especially having learned that they have been sneaking around behind my back for the last couple of months!'

'James?' Remus blurts, himself feeling quite shell-shocked by this news. The nervous glance James sends his way tells him everything he needs to know. The secret-keeping stings at something in his chest, but Remus puts it aside for later. Right now, he needed to focus on Sirius. 'Effie, Monty, would it be alright for me to take Sirius back to mine for a while, please?'

'Of course, dear,' Effie sighs tiredly, seemingly quite glad that someone else is willing to take charge in this situation. The conflict between her boys appears to be wearing on her, and Remus briefly wonders how she had managed it during their fifth year, with all of the difficulty after the incident.

'What?' Sirius barks. 'No, I'm not leaving those two alone! They're going to be fucking -'

'There will be no fucking under this roof, Sirius,' Monty cut in sharply, and every eye in the room turns to him instantly. The boys all gape at him, even Regulus, who has apparently already grasped that Fleamont Potter, a man of few words, will only use them when necessary. And he's just used some of them to swear. He gives them all a small smile, then adds, 'And if you use that language in the presence of our wonderful lady again, my boy, you'll be tasting soap for a week. Understood?'

'Yes, Sir,' Sirius murmurs, his gaze sliding down to his feet. 'Sorry, Mum.'

'That's alright, darling,' Effie says softly, then her gaze hardens again as she levels it at the two boys. 'Now, I'm going to let you go, and if there's any more fighting, then I know from the look on Remus' face that I won't be the only one to intervene this time. And for some reason, I get the feeling that you two will obey him much more readily than you will me.'

To his surprise, neither boy denies this, and after a moment she flicks her wand upwards, and they both sag. They stare at one another for a brief moment, then Sirius opens his mouth.

Before he could get them all into further trouble, Remus lunges forwards and grabs his slender wrist, babbling as he pulls the boy towards the fire, 'Well, it's getting late, we should probably be heading to mine. Wouldn't want my mum to worry, now, would we? We'll be back when things are ... Um ... We'll be back in a few days.'

He reaches into the Floo Powder pot beside the grate, grabbing enough to carry the two of them, but before he can fling it into the flames, he glances over his shoulder. He looks past his still seething friend and his worried mother, and lets his eyes meet Regulus'. Silver eyes, clever and quick and so like Sirius'.

Right now, those eyes are heavy with exhaustion, but he sees the surprise in them as he inclines his head and says, 'Glad you got out, Regulus.'

'Yeah,' Regulus breathes, and at the sound of his voice James turns, as though he's unconsciously responding to someone calling his name. He watches Regulus' sharp features soften as his gaze meets James', and the younger Black boy doesn't bother looking at Remus again as he adds, 'Me too.'

Remus could swear that James lets out a slightly pained sound, but it's quickly covered by Sirius, who makes a disgusting false retching sound from behind him, instantly reminding them all of the situation. Without further delay, Remus throws the handful of powder into the flames and steps through them, pulling Sirius along behind him.

[heavenlyraindrops]

Changes With the Seasons| Stardew Valley| Sebastian x Reader

♡♡♡♡♡♡

Chapter Three: Fishing in the Mountain Lake

Masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡♡

Chapter Summary:

After realizing Robin had gone to an aerobics class and shut down her shop, rendering you unable to purchase her house upgrade, you decided to spend some time fishing in the Mountain Lake.

You didn’t know that that was where Sebastian came to smoke. Really, you didn’t. And it was a ‘very unwelcome surprise’ when you found out that he did.

♡♡♡♡♡♡

You’d finally managed to save up for one of Robin’s house extensions, the one that added a kitchen to your house- something you desperately needed. You were standing around at her counter, noticing her absence. You looked around helplessly, wondering where she could be or whether she was even in.

“It’s closed today. She’s gone for aerobics.”

You spun around, eyes narrowing when they landed on Sebastian. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to know how stupid you look.” He was wearing a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. You could see his toned arms. You were star- wait, n-no you weren’t! You turned away to face the counter, to show you were blocking him out.

It didn’t work. He walked towards you, getting dangerously close until you were backed up against the counter. You’d never noticed how much taller he was than you. You gulped, steadying yourself with your palms on the wood.

“Well, I didn’t-“ you began to retort before he began to reach behind you, onto the counter. You could feel his breath on your lips, making your face heat up. He pulled back his arm and shoved a piece of paper at your chest. You snatched it up, glaring.

Gone for aerobics class. So the shop’s closed today.

“What did you even need from her anyway?”

“A kitchen extension,” you muttered. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

He tilted his head to the side, amusement glittering in his eyes, “You don’t have a kitchen?”

You huffed, pushing it back into his hands and ducking out from beneath him before beelining for the door. “No,” you snapped. “Piss off.”

You could feel his eyes boring into you as you left.

-

Fishing in the Mountain Lake was one of your favourite spots for fishing.

The sky had darkened, pale light rippling across the waters of the lake. You were just about to cast your rod out again when you heard the sound of grass shifting and leaves crunching. Footsteps.

“Yoba, can I never catch a break from you?” You complained. Sebastian smirked dryly, his eyes betraying contempt as he lit a cigarette.

“Not my fault you’re always hanging around where I live.” You rolled your eyes.

You both fell silent, the only sound being the water. He lowered his hands, the cigarette in between his lips, the end of it glowing orange in the dim light. He blew out some smoke. You watched it swirl off into the air, before flicking your eyes back to his face, trying to be as subtle as possible. Despite the cold air, you burned.

You convinced yourself you were just irritated and focused on your fishing. Occasionally your eyes drifted, though.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

“I’m not staring,” you replied, a little too quickly. You knew he was smirking.

“Sure.”

You stayed silent for a while more. Then you spoke up.

“You- you know, you shouldn’t really smoke.” Giving up on the fishing, you dropped your rod and made yourself comfortable on the grass. “It’s bad for you.”

He glanced at you without turning his head. “You sound like my mom.”

You tossed a stone into the water. “You should listen to her, then.”

He stared at you for a second longer, before dropping the cigarette and crushing it under his heel. He blew out the remaining smoke. “Fine, whatever.”

You skipped a stone across the water. It hopped three times before sinking.

“You know, people are like skipping stones,” he muttered. You looked up. He joined you on the grass.

“Huh?”

“People are like skipping stones,” he said, more clearly. “They all sink eventually.”

You stared at him. “Ok, emo.”

His brow creased as you grinned out across the water. “So what?” You continued. “The ocean bed can be beautiful, you know.”

“It’s mostly dark, but whatever,” he mumbled. But he glanced at you sideways again, something different in his expression. He ran his hand through his soft black hair. You stared at it. You wanted to reach out and touch it for some reason, but refrained from doing so and knotted your fingers together in your lap to stop yourself. You gulped, then cleared your throat.

“Stop making everything all dark and gloomy for once,” you huffed. He tilted his head to look at you. He didn’t say anything, just stared, intensely. “W-what?” Your voice sounded weak to your own ears, and quiet, drowned out by the blood pounding in your head.

The stars were more bright here than in Zuzu City, you noticed. So was the moon. It shone on Sebastian’s face like some sort of divine light, sparkling in his eyes like shards of diamond.

Sebastian stood up. “It’s getting dark. You should go home.”

You scrambled up, trying to ignore the incessant thudding in your chest as you picked up your fishing rod. “Fine, whatever. Bye.”

He turned around, already leaving. “Good night, Y/N.”

The way he said your name felt strange, for some reason.

“Good night.”

You trudged up the hill, towards your farm, passing by Linus’s tent on the way, His campfire crackled and glowed. There was no sign of the man himself.

You reached home. You sighed, and flopped down onto the bed.

And then that was it.

It was also the last thing you thought about that night before you fell asleep. Staring at the ceiling, until it all grew dark.

[cowgurrrl]

Some way some how Joel and reader in lftl are able to take each other back to their homes from before. For closure and memories. They both are just two people who miss their babies. And now they get pictures and cards from their homes. Another little piece of Sarah and Jane to go back to jackson.

Hello do you have access to my wips I was literally working on this!! I wrote this more about reader going back to their last apartment because @hier--soir has an amazing fic about Joel going back to Texas and it's absolutely gorgeous <3 anyways, I hope you enjoy!! this made me CRYYYY

Never Grew Up With You

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: Jesus Christ I haven't cried at a fic like this in a LONG time I'm genuinely exhausted

Summary: "To never see her face again is what grief is." — Euripides, translated by Anne Carson, Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides aka this ask [1.5k]

Warnings: talks of Jane, memories, oh it's so sad

It's eerie being back in that town. It's empty, but the remnants of Outbreak Day linger in the streets— decomposed bodies, crashed cars, craters where the bombs hit. You recognize bits and pieces. The downtown area which used light up with Christmas lights and smell like funnel cake during the winter months. The church where you lied on the application form so Jane could get into daycare. Your apartment building. You stop in front of it, Joel at your side, and look up at it. 

It looks smaller than you remember it like maybe you romanticized the shithole after so many years of living in a worse shithole. Only a few windows still have glass, and you catch faded curtains flapping in the abandoned apartments. "Mommy, look!" Jane had yelled that day so you could catch the jets flying over the building. You were standing in the same area you are now. Your heart clenches, and Joel seems to feel it at the same time.

"Are you sure bout this?" He asks, and you nod. "I'll be right here with you the whole time. We can leave whenever you want." You don't answer him. You just take a deep breath and start walking toward the stairs—bullet holes and rusty, dried blood line the path up to your third-floor apartment, but other than that everything is the same. There's even still a flyer on the bulletin board advertising an apartment-wide potluck set the week after Outbreak Day. Jane wanted to go. She said her friends were going and she wanted you to meet them. You said you'd think about it.

When you reach the top of the stairs, you find your apartment door still open and immediately regret not closing it. What if there's nothing left? What if it's been raided? What if it's all destroyed? You push yourself forward until you're over the threshold and back into the life you left behind. The body of the runner who burst into your apartment that night is still there, grey and all but dust at this point. Dirty plates sit in the sink. Jane's kindergarten homework has slid off the table and onto the floor, her scribbly handwriting boring holes into you. You pick it up despite it having boot marks and ripped edges and stare down at how she wrote her name. Joel doesn't say anything, but he squeezes your shoulder and lets you know he's there.

Together, you silently move through the rooms and salvage whatever you find. In your room, you find ratty old clothes from 2003, medical textbooks, and a file full of important documents shoved under your bed. Among the papers are your tax forms, a copy of your college diploma, and Jane's birth certificate— the only physical proof that she was ever here. Jane Eloise born April 7th, 1998, to you and no one else. Somehow, the glaring absence of Matt's name on her birth certificate still makes your stomach turn. You find a few more keepsakes before moving to the living room.

Whatever might've been there has been taken or destroyed by whoever's been in the building in the last twenty years. The blankets and pillows that once lived on your couch are gone. Your TV has been smashed in. The shoes Jane always left in the middle of the floor have disappeared, probably taken by some other parent who was desperate and was too scared to think of the child who left them. You're about to walk down the hallway to the bathroom and Jane's room when something crunches under your foot. You look down, and all the air gets punched out of your chest. As gently as possible, you bend down to pick up the shattered picture frame and stare at it. 

It was a picture taken by a friend at the county fair. Jane is on your right with a half-eaten blue cotton candy in her hand and a water bottle tucked under her arm. Her hair is in a braid, and there's a big blue stain on her Princess Ariel shirt, but she looks happy. You're both smiling big, the reflection of the colorful carnival lights shining in your identical eyes. Everyone always said she looked like Matt, but you can clearly see your features reflected back to you in this picture. God, how could you have forgotten about the way her eyes crinkled when she was happy? Or how she leaned into you in public? Or how young you both were?

"What's that?" Joel asks as he walks over to you, and you meet him halfway to show him the picture, unwilling to hand it over just yet. It takes him a minute to realize what he's looking at, but when he does, he looks up to catch you staring at the picture. "'S that Jane?"

"Mhm,"

"She's beautiful," he says, and you smile. "Is that cotton candy?"

"Yeah, it was her favorite. Practically begged me to buy it for her. I'm pretty sure I overdrafted my bank account just to get it."

"How old are you in this photo?" He asks, and you furrow your brows as you think. 

"Uh, Jane looks about three or four, so I was, at least, nineteen."

"You look happy."

"And tired," you say. Both things are true, but you can't ignore the bags under your eyes or your horribly fitting clothes. You were struggling. You were alone. You were so incredibly ill-equipped and felt the weight of the world on your shoulders. And Jane... Jane is none the wiser. She's smiling. She's fed. She's loved. She's happy. Maybe you were doing a better job than you thought you were. "You know she wanted to go on the Ferris wheel?" You ask, and Joel raises his eyebrows.

"That little?" He asks, and you laugh, nodding.

"I said the same thing, but she was so determined. So, my friend got us tickets to go on it, and we went, just the two of us. But when we started going around, she started getting really scared about the height and how fast it was going. She buried her head in my arm almost the whole time, and I was stressed that she was miserable and we had wasted my friend's money, and I was so fucking tired," you say. "But when we stopped at the top, I told her to look at the sky, and she did. I pointed at the different stars and talked to her about the moon, and she calmed down. I don't know if I distracted her or if she realized how big the sky was in comparison, but when we got down, all she could talk about was how close she got to the moon. After that, we'd go out every night and look at the stars. Even snuck out of our QZ shelter after the Outbreak."

"D'you get caught?" 

"Once. I knew a FEDRA guy, and he let it go. We never got caught again." You haven't thought about Owen in years. You don't know if he's dead or alive. You don't even know if he remembers you. You're not sure if you want to know. 

You grab a few more things from her room: a teddy bear, a few shirts, and a picture of you and her on the day she was born. Being in her space again makes your head swim, and you want to stay here forever and leave as soon as possible, all at the same time. Eventually, after combing through every nook and cranny you still know, you do leave. You say a proper goodbye to the first home you shared with Jane and the memories you made there. You're silently grateful to the apartment for holding so many treasures you would've otherwise never gotten back. 

You don't know why, but you trace your steps back through one of your old routes. Joel is silent beside you and lets you lead, knowing you would never do anything to endanger him. You recount stories as you pass certain buildings or paths; he listens and asks questions about her and your shared life. Before you know it, you're on the same hill overlooking the QZ. The one where you hid with her when the Outbreak first happened. The one you sat down on and sobbed after Adam died because you had to pull yourself together before reentering. The one you buried her on. 

The tree holding her has gotten bigger, its limbs stretching to the sky and the leaves a brilliant green. Seeing it thrive makes you smile just a little before you pivot and start walking to where you know she is. The sight of a fresh bouquet on her spot stops you in your tracks and makes your breath catch. All these years, you worried she would go unremembered under that big oak tree. You worried she was alone and scared. You worried and worried and worried because that's what any good parent does. The yellow flowers protecting her prove your worries wrong. You take a deep breath and grab Joel's hand before walking over to her. 

"Hey bug," you start, fighting your tears, "This is Joel. He’s Sarah’s dad and he’s my… he’s my best friend." You squeeze Joel’s hand and take a shaky breath. "He takes care of me and I take care of him. So, you don’t have to worry about Mommy being lonely, okay? I’m gonna be just fine. You don’t have to be scared for me. I've got my people here just like you've got your people there. So, you just rest and I'll be okay." Now, you're really crying and there's no stopping it.

"I love you. I hope leaving didn't make you think otherwise, but I came back. I'll always come back because you're my baby. You'll always be my baby."

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha

[creativeashproductions]

The Old Therebefore // Luke Castellan

Part of the “The Threads the Bind Us” blurb collection

IN WHICH: Hex does the unthinkable and creates a successful adult life. Or Hex has made peace with the ending of her former relationship with Luke. Or thought so when suddenly Hex is sitting on her acreage porch reminiscing with him on their teen years and the interlude between Luke leaving and this moment.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, May’s mental state, and nostalgia.

Pairing: Luke Castellan x fem!reader (nicknamed Hex)

Words: 2.2k

Part of the “The Threads that Bind Us” blurb collection

A/N: Divider comes from @firefly-graphics.

@websterss Julieeeee look what I did!

Masterlist

It was the fifth anniversary of that night. 1,826 days, give or take, since the life you intricately built imploded. Even in the years following Luke’s disappearance from camp, the bitterness that had coated your love for him hadn’t kept you from your promise. Unlike Luke, you honoured your promises. So once the agony and heartbreak had dulled, you set out from camp to Connecticut.

The house was a pale blue with chipped white trim and flower beds just a tad overgrown. The massive tree in the front yard had a worn swing attached to the thickest branch that swayed either by the wind or the memories of a young child. There was an indent on the porch exactly where Luke had described falling and breaking his collarbone. The steps had been slick from the January snowstorm that year.

It was the Castellan home. The lights were on, and a man sat on the porch steps unmoving. Even if the godly attributes didn’t give it away, the nose and his fingers tapping a specific melody on his thighs gave him away. Even his posture.

Hermes. God of Messengers, Travellers, and Thieves. Messenger of the Gods. Or Luke’s estranged father and bane of his existence.

“He-“ 

“—respectfully, Hermes, I don’t want to discuss your child. I’m not your therapist nor your friend.” You sternly informed the god. You didn’t spare him another look before striding up the porch to the front door. When your hand is raised to knock, the grip of a warm hand is wrapped around your wrist.

“Fine. But taking it out on his mother—“Hermes almost winced when you cast a glare upon his features.

“Unlike you, I am not entirely a self-absorbed little errand boy for Zeus. Nor do I abandon people I love, even if Luke did it first.” You spat his name out with barely restrained disgust, “I made a promise to help, and I intend to make good on that promise.”

Hermes let you wrench your wrist from his hand and rap three times on the house. The door opened, revealing a woman about 5 feet 5 inches tall with thick black hair streaked with grey strands and a smile on her face. The shattered expression in her eyes and the blankness of her face stole your breath. May Castellan was older but still the same woman in that worn picture Luke hid under his bunk mattress; it had disappeared along with its owner.

“Hello.” May breathed, blinking until an unsettling smile coated her features, “Are you here for the cookies?”

“I am.” You spoke, deciding to keep her as calm as possible. 

You toed off your boots beside the much smaller kid shoes stashed on the mud rack. The rubber sole of the Converse had a little stick man doodled on it. Luke doodled the same stick man on all the soles of his shoes to deter his siblings from swiping them.

“I made Luke’s favourite. He’s at a friend’s.” May breathed in a trance, and you wondered what year she thought it was.

Even without peeking into her mind, you could feel the splinters of her sanity cutting into your abilities. It was so fragmented that you genuinely worried if you had even a chance to mend anything.

“Mrs. Castellan, do you remember the doctor talking about new methods beyond medication and traditional therapy?” you gently asked, watching as she pulled a pan of cookies from the oven. The warmth of the appliance heated the room to almost an uncomfortable temperature.

The sight of dozens of pans of cookies around the room, varying in colour from severely underbaked beige to as dark and hard as a hockey puck. 

“Oh yes.” May hummed, keeping her brown eyes on the scuffed blue porcelain mixing bowl. 

“Would you be interested in trying a few sessions with me?” You questioned and found for the first time since coming that she was all there mentally.

“Would it help Luke?” It was a timid question that confused you, but nonetheless, you answered.

“Maybe.”

“Okay.”

Your eyes peered over her shoulder to the entrance of the kitchen, where Hermes was standing as quietly as possible. His eyes followed May as she puttered around the kitchen and wandered to the plush couch in the living room. The walls held pictures of Luke at different ages, until the forlorn one with barely a smile at nine years old.

“Here, love.” Hermes soothed, guiding May’s hands to the cup on the coffee table. It still held the paper and crayons with LC on the box in chicken scratch.

You saw the little touches that meant a much younger and more innocent version of Luke had been here. Did the memories of Luke haunt the halls of his house like he did at camp? 

While having Hermes there was the last choice you would have made you would just have to make do. He kept urging May to listen as he told her tales from his long life. She didn’t twitch when your fingertips caressed her temples, and you toed inside her mind.

You had spent an entire year in Westport, using every weekend to untangle the strings of May’s sanity. Hermes never failed to be there to distract her and help her from fighting it. It was an intensely slow and exhausting year, but by the end, the fractures of her mind had mended. Now, it was a beautiful Kintsugi in her mind.

You left Westport to build a new life. You attended college and found a job at an independent bookstore. You had your own house. Had a promising career you were proud of. You did fairly well.

“Can you get the door?” 

You hummed from your position on the rug in the living room to get back on your feet from tidying it up. You could quickly wave a hand and manipulate your energy to pick everything up, but you liked pretending to be a regular mortal. Your only worries were being on time for work and keeping up with hobbies.

“Got it!” 

Your lips twitched. You found Chris Rodriguez trying to wrangle his kid into the karate uniform. You gently pushed him further away on your trip to the front door.

“Rodriguez, it’s Friday.” You spoke gazing over your shoulder while your fingers twisted the lock open, “Flag Football Friday.”

“Shit!” Chris swore, scooping Axel into his arms and racing back to the stairs. Your laugh cut off when you finally looked at the person at the front door.

Genuinely, you felt the blood drain from your face. Standing there before you with longer curls and an ease you didn’t remember. It was one Luke Castellan in the flesh.

“Hey, Hex.” 

Luke faltered, peering beyond you to the frozen form of his brother holding the tiny cleats for a child. The child in question was listening intently to Clarisse.

“Now it’s only dirty if you get caught.”

“Chris, can you take Axel into the backyard and throw the football?” You questioned, refusing to look away from the man who shouldn’t be here.

You felt the fury from Clarisse’s direction and put your hand on Luke’s chest to push him out of the house. The door closed firmly, cutting off any view of your small family and life.

“How are you here? How are you alive? Aren’t you supposed to be Kronos’ vessel?” you demanded, crossing your arms and glaring at your ex-boyfriend.

Luke pushed his hands into his jeans. “Uh, I guess you guys haven’t kept in touch with camp.”

Your lips twisted, “No. The summer you left, I decided to take a page out of your book and leave.”

You caught the wince from the man and felt the slightest twinge of guilt at his reaction, but you had a right? Didn’t you?

“Is Annabeth here?” Luke asked, trying to look in the frosted glass of your bright blue door. All Luke had for communication was Iris-messaging and letters from his little sister.

“No,” you bluntly responded and elaborated out of pity, “Annabeth and Percy live in California now.”

“No way. Annabeth would never live in California! It’s too dangerous!” Luke adamantly replied, tensing his muscles. His body language took you back to his training sessions with the younger campers.

Your brows furrowed, “Oh! Shit, no, actually, Percy went missing before the Second Giant War happened. We found him at Camp Jupiter. It’s a Roman version of Camp Half-blood.”

It was rather unsettling how easy it was to revert to your old relationship with Luke. Revealing things you probably shouldn’t.

“Roman?” Luke questioned, tilting his head to the right like he had always done with his curious nature.

“Yeah. Anyway, the lovebirds attend New Rome University there. Annabeth alternates between school and travelling between Mount Olympus, New Rome and New York for her architecture work.”

“Oh.” Luke mumbled, peering at the ground, “I guess things have really changed.”

That soured your reminiscing, “Why are you here, Luke?”

“Chiron said I should start trying to repair my friendships with everyone. Can I come in?”

You gently glanced back to your house and found Clarisse stoically staring him down, “Honestly, it’s not a good idea. Clarisse would be very interested in teaching Axel about the importance of protein and using you like a skewer as an example.”

You watched Luke stumble before dropping to sit on the porch with a devastated look.

“I don’t know what happened between you leaving and now. When Ethan or I suppose Kronos, announced your disappointment, Annabeth looked everywhere for you. What made you stop?”

It was the one question you had wondered about for years: Why did he give up his plans and his servitude to Kronos? Why did he never come back? Why did he give you up so easily?

Luke twisted to peer off into the sunset, saying, “I went home to Westport. I had prepared myself for seeing my mom because it was necessary for the next part of the plan—“

“Dipping yourself in the River Styx,” you sarcastically respond, glancing over, “Ethan’s really got a big mouth.”

Luke tugged a blade of grass from the yard and started twisting it in his fingers.

“Imagine my surprise when I see the house has been repainted, the decorations and fixtures updated, and my mother preparing a feast in the kitchen with no cookie in sight.”

Your lips stretched, happy to hear May was thriving still. You really need to get back up to visit her.

“Good for her.” You sighed, dropping to sit beside him and watch the sunset with him. I last saw her three years ago at my college convocation.”

It was silent, and when he spoke, his voice cracked, “Why couldn’t I fix her?”

“I think it’s because May was never broken like Hermes described or Apollo claimed. I won’t lie and say her mind was perfect or just needed polishing. The memories were sharp, and the splintered remnants were the hardest puzzle, but I restored it enough. When Rachel became the Oracle of Delphi and the curse was fully lifted, whatever I hadn’t been able to help May restore snapped back into place.”

You wrapped your arms around your legs and rested your chin on your knees, staring at the field. You’d intentionally bought your property with an excellent commute to the urban areas but still having privacy.

“So, is Axel yours?” Luke asked, glancing over to you. His barely concealed question amused you the most.

“No. He’s Chris and Clarisse’s son. He’s the best part of them.” You replied, “He brings out the best in them, too. Clarisse is incredibly patient with him. Don’t let her hear, but she’s softer with him.”

“Clarisse as a mother.” Luke chuckled, mimicking your position, drawing his long legs to his chest. “That I didn’t see coming.”

“Clarisse wants another one, but Chris refuses. He wants to be married first.” You sighed, shifting to stretch out your legs.

“They aren’t married yet?” Luke laughed, peering over, “I genuinely thought they’d be the first to run to city hall.”

“Chris didn’t want to be married and not have you there for him.”

The conversation petered out, leaving neither an uncomfortable nor peaceful silence. The two of you simply existed in that space.

“Do you think we’d be together if I hadn’t left?” Luke murmured after a few minutes. He had watched Chris rushing the child to the car with Clarisse clenching the keys in her fist. Chris refused to look back at Luke, and Clarisse staunchly looked away to avoid storming over to beat him up.

“I don’t know.” You were truthful, but it didn’t mean it didn’t feel like someone had shoved a fire spot rod into Luke’s stomach and churned his insides, “Maybe we would have been, but I made peace and laid that possibility to bed a while ago.”

You stood up from the porch and brushed off your pants, “There’s a cottage on the property in the forest you can crash in. Stay as long as you want. Chris and Clarisse built a house a mile further ahead.”

“Do you live here alone?” Luke asked, puzzled by the size of the house and the extensive land. It took him an hour to walk from the bus station in town to the house.

“No, I don’t. Besides the Rodriguez-La Rue family, I have taken in orphaned demigods.” You replied gently, opening the front door. Sometimes, this is the pause in the journey to one of the Camps. It was a team effort between the Hephaestus children, Vulcan’s children, some of Hecate’s children, and me to make this place as impenetrable as Camp Half-Blood.”

You left Luke on your porch, skillfully evading the disclosure of your relationship status. 

Taglist: *Please send me an inbox to be tagged

[shattersstar]

bound

pairing: vampire x reader

summary: He supposed this was his true home, not the house he had kept himself locked in, but the wooden box with your picture in it. Dutifully kept under his pillow, bringing you to the land of dreams with him—if he could dream. It was a bitter punishment for the life he lived, the transgression—sin—he supposed would be held against the two of you. For how he wanted you more than anything, how he would tear whole cities to shreds at your behest and let the hunters who lurked in your town meet his fangs if you so desired. It was gluttony, to take eternal life and still want more.

warning: horror-ish elements, blood mention., religious undertones (aka general vampire themes/concepts)

a/n: i have so much to say about this lil piece of writing omg okay, i wrote this back in May i believe around the time i was reading we have always lived in the castle and it Shows. its lowkey fantasy which is not like anything i write but the horror-ish vibes r pretty consistent with my original stuff. it is heavily inspired by a lot of the vampire media ive consumed too though even if its not based on one particular character. i have been thinking about it since i wrote it and while im a bit ehhh about posting something original i quite literally have nothing else to share and as i said before y’all keeping i’d still eat the fruit in my notifs is so :)))) so this is a thank you to y’all and a Step back into writing for me hopefully. ramble aside enjoy ! feedback and comments r always appreciated

—

It had rained, no—poured, stormed, hailed, cried, screamed. It had swept in during the day, white noise to him as he slept, while it greeted you during breakfast. The clouds wept over the lands in what felt like divine punishment. It was as if nature or something higher than that was against him, accosting or trying to stop him. As he stood at the edge of the great forest, rain pelting the top of his head he assumed there was nothing greater than nature. Not even him. There was nothing higher nor more humbling. God could spite someone, but nature enacted it. It flooded your sleepy town and even sleepier forest and he was on the other side. Confined to his home until the storm cleared and the sun rose.

He would not be graced with your presence yet again and he tried to ignore the call to change you, to have his fangs pierce your skin and his blood run across your tongue. He gritted his teeth, reminding himself of the hurt it brought and he would never cause that for his love. His dearest who lived on the other side of the forest he was unable to cross. His icy glare moved along the border, not even noticing the rain drenching his billowing black cloak anymore. Somewhere in the forest a branch snapped and animals chattered.

He would live for eternity, he could wait for you. It was his resolution before heading back to his home in the woods and trying not to be angry, to let fury run through his long dead veins and restart his stilled heart. If anything—anyone—could, he knew it was you.

He followed the path compacted over the years of those travelling to stare at his home, humans daring each other to go near it, but never following through when the windows shuddered and a figure moved past one of them like a ghost. Times had changed, but people were as superstitious as ever. They saw his decayed and rotted home and prescribed evil to it. It was overrun with vines, leaves would not grow on them. Even in spring. They stayed black, and gnarled, tightening their hold in his house each season. Thorns protruding from some of the thicker vines, protecting him it seemed. You had noted that, staring at his wondrous home with bright eyes.

It was in a clearing in the forest, grey stone withered away and swallowed by nature. It still stood strong, the outside a grotesque picture that did not reflect the inside. Oil lamps and lighting fixtures alike lit the space from the inside out. It warmed the walls, revealing the deep brown wood panelling that made up the older parts of the house. The stairs were still the original wood, a grand staircase that greeted no one, but him and you these days.

Many of the rooms upstairs had been closed off, sheets gently placed over the old furniture and doors closed forever. He had no need for such space, other vampires stopped visiting when hunters started lingering in your town. You had told him of your many encounters, most were smart enough to stay out the forest, but they still killed many of his kind. Finding them in their carriages amongst the cars rolling down the freshly paved roads. Horses killed along with whoever dwelled inside. They saw themselves as vigilantes, but you had told him most of your town considered them a nuisance. Urban men thinking they can save the more rural lands that bordered their great cities. Cities that forgot the magic that once thrived in places like the forest.

“Their thinking of building a highway through it, connecting us to other towns or one of the bigger cities.” You had explained one day, sitting in his lap and letting him hold you. He hummed, long fingers curling into the fabric of your sweater. You placed your warm hand over his and leaned further into his chest. He asked you to let him hold you and you had obliged like always.

He kept those memories in mind, the soft questions he would extend your way and how you listened so dutifully. May I hold you? Will you lay with me? Come walk through the cellar? Can I drink your—

His fist slammed against his dinning room table, nearly snapping it in two as a crack ran jagged through the centre of the chestnut coloured wood. His fangs were out, nails morphed into claws dug into his skin and blood dripped into the crack. He stared at it, muscles in his face twitching as he waited for it to end. Waited for the creature in him to return to laying dormant and his own clear, sound mind to return. Though he supposed it was never very clear or sound anymore, not when you had burrowed inside of him and promised to never leave. And as if his thoughts beckoned you themselves, the old telephone in his study rang. It’s shrill scream echoed through the quiet house, though the ring was discordant, snapping in two halfway through its loop and screeching a pitch higher. The noise made his pointed ears twitch and with a swoop of his cloak he was in his study. He answered it on the normal ring, cutting it off right before it went off tone.

He held the phone to his ear, but waited to speak. “Hello?” You asked, your voice soft and worried. You’d never called him before—truthfully he had no idea this phone even worked.

“Hello my love.” He returned, and you breathed out a happy sigh.

“Oh my god, hi! I found this number in some old directory—phone book thing,” You explained with an airy giddiness that he wished to share, “I wasn’t sure if it was going to work, but…” You trailed off and he was smiling fondly into the receiver.

“I have missed you.”

“I miss you too, I hate this weather I can never get through the forest when its so rainy.”

“I know.”

“Maybe they should build a highway through it, I could hitchhike my way to see you.” You laughed, but he turned somber. Industrialization finally touching the sacred land of the forest didn’t sit right within him. It may be the great divider that kept him away from you, but it was his home. A highway felt like you were asking to be swept away, to a new town or bigger city that he could not adventure too. He could ask you to stay—he knew you’d oblige—but it was not his place to keep you here. “Is your phone one of those spin, dial ones?” You asked suddenly, breaking through the tension he hadn’t meant to create.

“A rotary phone?” He corrected with a ghost of a grin, “Yes it is.”

“I want to see it when I come over again.”

“And so you will.” It was quiet again and he hadn’t noticed the tears running down his face. He didn’t know he was able to cry anymore.

“I love you.” You whispered, holding your cellphone close, likely curled up in bed and staring out your window at the rain and the forest beyond it.

“I love you dearest.” His voice did not betray the sadness building in him. “Sleep beloved, I will see you soon.”

“Yes, I’m gonna come see you and your rotary phone.” You laughed, forced and watery.

“Soon.”

“Soon.” You repeated, and hung up. He kept the black phone, laced with intricate gold details, to his ear for a moment longer. He had heard your voice at least and could sleep. He moved through his home, snuffing out candles and flicking off switches before finding the one room without windows. A coffin laid on the floor, dark brown and glistening with the finish that had been applied centuries ago.

He supposed this was his true home, not the house he had kept himself locked in, but the wooden box with your picture in it. Dutifully kept under his pillow, bringing you to the land of dreams with him—if he could dream. It was a bitter punishment for the life he lived, the transgression—sin—he supposed would be held against the two of you. For how he wanted you more than anything, how he would tear whole cities to shreds at your behest and let the hunters who lurked in your town meet his fangs if you so desired.

It was gluttony, to take eternal life and still want more.

Though it was hard to think of such evil things when looking at your face, he had taken the photo while you were on the roof. Wind had wiped your clothes into a frenzy and you laughed as the night sky twinkled behind you. He had taken it and was surprised when you’d given it to him only a few days later. He had kept up with modern technology as well as he could, but there was always something so magical about photographs to him. He collected hundreds over his life time, faces he knew and others he didn’t. Organized neatly into a collection of books, which he’d let you look through on occasion. He showed you photos from the many lives he’s lived, something about them bringing warmth rushing to your face.

He was always so devastatingly beautiful, regal and hypnotic across all eras. Yet, he couldn’t focus on the kind words that bubbled from your lips as the rushing of the blood under your skin nearly shattered something inside of him. His fangs threatened to meet your skin, but with calculated focus he reigned in his hunger. It was hard at first—you were the only human he had been around in decades—but he did it for love.

Everything he did was for love, it was his reason for existence it seemed. You had other reasons for your claim to life, but to him? You were all he had, the only reason to not let the sun engulf him or let a hunter kill him. He could not break your heart until you broke his. He let that thought dwell in his mind as sleep overtook him just as the sun rose and the rain ended. Its incessant pitter patter had ceased and he somehow dreamt of you standing golden in the forest and beckoning him closer.

He woke up to your face—maybe it wasn’t a dream—as you crouched next to his coffin. Maybe he had finally died and you were welcoming him to where God decided to send him. If you were there it couldn’t be hell. Could it be?

“My love—“ Your hand pressed to his chest, keeping him still. “It’s still daytime, sleep okay?” You whispered, hand moving to his jaw and cradling his face in your palm for a moment. “I’ll be back in a sec okay, I just need to change.” He nodded against you, kissing your hand before you let him reside in darkness. He had caught a glimpse of your pants caked in mud and could smell the blood from your skinned palms. Despite the slick terrain it seemed you ventured through the forest to see him. It made his chest shudder and for a moment he thought you had actually restarted his heart.

It was only a few minutes later when you were carefully opening his coffin again, now dawning a loose fitting silk shirt that made his red eyes alight with something wild. You had cleaned your scrapes and mud off your skin, smelling faintly of rain water and the lavender soap you gifted him. You stepped over him, nestling against his side and letting him enclose the two of you. One of his arms wrapped around your shoulders as your head rested on his chest, knuckles grazing over your hair while you stretched an arm across his torso. Your legs intertwined with his long ones and you let out a breathy sigh.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, and while you likely couldn’t see as thing, he could see you perfectly. You shook your head no against his chest, yawning into the fabric of his shirt.

“I just wanted to see you.” You murmured, chin resting in his chest as you made hit best attempt at eye contact in the blackness. “I saw the dining room table, are you okay?” You asked, somehow staring through him in the darkness. He offered his hand instead of finding the words in his throat, slowly unravelling his fist to reveal a mark free palm. He wasn’t sure you understand what he meant or if your eyes adjusted enough yet, until you carefully closed it once again, kissing his knuckles and placed your hand over his. You both were silent for a moment, until you looked up at him again and breathed, “You’re all I want.”

“And you’re all I have.” He held you closer, watching a grin pull at the corner of your lips. He was sure it was that devotion, obsession even, with you that would bring about his downfall. Centuries old and all powerful, but reduced to nothing without you. His strength and knowledge meant nothing if he didn’t have you to share it with.

And you could not stand your stagnant life in a town full of people who wished his kind dead. You chose a trek through the forest during the twilight hours of the morning to see him, bringing him soft kisses and silk under his hands as you let your mouth meet his. You kissed him with all the exhaustion and lethargy wrapped up in the two of you, molasses slow kisses that were just as sweet. It was how you fell asleep, lips to his neck and head tucked under his chin before your warm breathed puffed across his pale skin. He fell asleep not long after, engulfing you in his embrace, his cloak draping over your frame as he decided home was where you asked him to be.

[dark-elf-writes]

You keep making everything I send you a 100x better so *shoves a drabbled based on something you posted about you way*

Shikamaru sighs as he slumps imperceptibly into the long wooden table before him. The clan heads have been talking for hours and had long since covered all that they needed to discuss.

And yet, he thought wryly, here they all are. Stuck in the hokages office hashing out arguments he already knew the outcome to. Judging by the faint tension in the Inuzuka’s jaw, the crafted neutrality of the Yamanaka, and the impatient buzz of the Aburame, they all knew it too.

What a drag.

As if sensing his thoughts, his dad’s warm broad hand came to rest on his shoulder with a faint squeeze. The action might have looked like a casual display of affection to anyone who cared to look, but Shikamaru knew it for what it was. Reassurance. Reassurance that he didn’t have to direct his attention to the frankly mind numbing debates going on around him. If there was anything important, it would have already been covered.

And with that, Shikamaru finally allows his thoughts to consume him as his gaze idly sweeps across the office. When given free range, it doesn’t take long for his mind to turn to Naruto, with his golden hair and brilliant smile. With his whiskered cheeks and pretty eyes that never turned away until they had to.

Gods, Shikamaru loved Naruto’s eyes. They were the perfect color: a mix of lapping waves and sunny sky all in one.

At that thought, his gaze flickered to the sky outside the window as if to compare the two. He wasn’t surprised to find the scene grey and cloudy instead of bright and blue, but Shikamaru found himself disappointed anyway. The first time he had ever been disappointed to see clouds he thinks amusedly.

He would just have to find something else blue then, he decided. Gaze roaming the hokage’s office once more Shikamaru’s eyes land on strip of silk lining an open wooden box. No, too light. Along the old wooden shelves, several books are bound with blue covers. Too dull. Maybe Lord Second’s robes? Too dark.

Just as Shikamaru is about to give up, his eyes fall on another portrait hung on the wall. Blue eyes he noted. A perfect match. A perfect…match. What the fuck.

Gaze snapping up to the man’s hair, the Fourth’s hair, he takes in the golden blonde and spikes. Almost desperately Shikamaru pictures an older Naruto that wears blue instead of orange and almost hisses at the image. Perfect match. What the fuck.

Sobbing this is amazing.

Shikamaru turns, all wide eyes and questions pressing against the back of his teeth. His father shifts, sensing perhaps, the shift in Shikamaru’s attention in the way only a father could.

He looks down, meets Shikamaru’s eyes, and follows them back across the office. To the picture. To the truth hidden away from those too young to remember. The truth they had all been forced to keep locked under measures distance and seeming disinterest. The truth that had been only shared in part, leading to the hate from the civilians and those who couldn’t, wouldn’t remember.

The truth about a boy, no older than Shikamaru, that had been made into a monster and then forgotten by those who were meant to care for him.

He isn’t fast enough to grab Shikamaru before he stands from the table, shoving his chair back hard enough that it fell back against the floor loud enough to cut off the argument brewing between two clan heads. The same argument they had every meeting just like all the others. Everything in a perfect cycle.

(Father and son. Child and monster. Lies and truths.)

Shikamaru glares daggers at his father. At all of them gathered around the table.

At the Hokage, the only man powerful enough to silence them all.

He is gone before anyone could think to stop him, slipping under his father’s reaching hands and jumping out the open window before the man could grab his shadow (too overcast today for his father to grab him now, not that he would, not when he let Shikamaru evade him in the first place) If no one else would tell, if no one else could tell, then Shikamaru will.

After all, the Hokage had only ordered the adults into silence, and what the old man didn’t know couldn’t get Shikamaru branded as a traitor.

[specialagentlokitty]

Hotch x reader - insane

Heyo, would you be willing to do 12, from your prompt list, with Hotch. - Anon💜

12. “Go ahead, call me the bad guy. But we all know who’s to blame for what I’ve become.”

Sitting in the interrogation room, you had your hands cuffed under the table, and your head was cast downwards.

You didn’t say anything as the door was open, even as the file was dropped on to the table.

“For someone who’s on trail for thirty separate offences you sure are quiet.”

You gave a small hum but didn’t say anything to the agent.

“Do you have anything to say.”

You refused to speak.

“What’s your name?”

You scoffed a little bit, smirking as you lifted your head to look at the two sat in front of you.

You lifted your chin and cocked your head to the side as the pair of them took a minute to register your face.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t recognise your own team member.”

“(Y/N)…” Emily whispered.

You grinned, splitting the stitch on your cheek, making blood slowly trickle down your face.

“Emily..”

“On it.”

You watched Emily run out and you turned to Derek, cocking your head a little as you locked eyes with him.

Without warning you pulled your hands down, rattling the table which made him jump back.

Laughing, you watched as the rest of the team came rushing in and you grinned at them all, still laughing madly.

“What’s wrong with her…?“ JJ asked.

“Her mental state has slipped, whatever happened to her over the past two years she’s lost sense of reality.” Reid whispered.

“Lost sense? I wouldn’t quite say that.”

You watched as they all whispered among themselves and you closed your eyes, tilting your head back.

You listened to them talk and smirked as you heard someone padding over.

“(Y/N)…?”

Opening your eyes, you snapped your head to the man in front of you.

“Aaron Hotchner, such happiness we had.”

“What happened to you?“ he asked softly.

You hummed to yourself.

“I found a new career.”

“In killing people?” He snapped.

He was torn between feeling upset and feeling furious.

The you he knew wouldn’t have dared to hurt a soul, it just wasn’t you.

However, as he looked into your eyes. He wasn’t sure that he was looking at you.

You were scarred on the right side of your face, your eye nothing but a light grey colour as the light pink lines trailed down your face.

You weren’t his (Y/N).

“What did they do to you?”

“They showed me who I really am!”

“No… no they’ve turned you into a killer…”

Your grin fell and you frowned as you looked down slightly.

This time you looked more like yourself, even if you were a former shell of who you were.

“Go ahead, call me the bad guy. But we all know who’s to blame for what I’ve become.”

“What…?”

You locked eyes with him and glared harshly.

“YOU left me behind. YOU were the one who sent me in there. YOU were the one who ran when things got hard.”

“(Y/N) you need to understand…”

“You promised the world to me and that was a goddamn lie! Look at the bigger picture people change and I wish I had died!”

“You don’t me that…”

“I mean every word…”

“You just need help. You can change.. you need to understand I did what I could…”

“What?! That you left me to die because you got what you needed! You left me there Aaron!”

You yanked your arms downed, trying to break the cuffs as you looked eye contact with him.

It was Rossi and Derek that pinned you down. Forcing you to sit in the chair.

You heaved, sneering at your former boss.

“They gave me a choice of life and death… I chose life!” You spat.

Quickly everyone left while you sat there screaming and shouting.

Your words followed behind Hotch, haunting him.

Because he knew they were true.

If he has just turned around, he would have been able to save you. He could have changed the outcome of the person you were today.

You were insane.

And it was all his fault.

After taking a breather he made his way back inside and looked through the glass at you.

You were smiling anymore, you were simply staring directly at nothing.

There was nothing he could for for you now

[kumeko]

A/N: For the @memoryofpromises zine! I cheated a little and put both Riku/Naminé + Repli!Riku/Naminé in this fic.

…

…

…

…

The market was lively. Sitting on the steps to the town’s well, Naminé curiously watched as villagers bustled from shop to shop, their arms loaded with fresh fruit, meat, and other supplies. Children weaved between strangers’ legs, laughing as they chased one another. Shopkeepers rang bells and shouted, trying to attract visitors. Coins clinked as goods were exchanged and the sharp scent of roasted meat wafted through the air. The whole place hummed with energy and she couldn’t tear her eyes away, fascinated.

She hadn’t known that a place could be so alive. Looking down, Naminé started to etch out the market with a stick she’d found, scraping the pointed end on the hard dirt ground. If only she had something to catch the bright colours: the gleaming red apples, the dirty grey capes, the play of light and shadows from between the bazaar awnings. If only she could memorize it all and never forget.

A shadow fell on her sketch and Naminé looked up to find her companion glaring at her. At his feet were two big white bags, stuffed to the brim. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and scratchy. A ragged brown cape concealed his white hair, but nothing could hide his bright, blue eyes.

“Do you need water?” she asked, touching her throat. He sounded parched.

His frown grew deeper and he crossed his arms. Gesturing with a jut of his chin at her picture, he repeated, “What are you doing?”

“Sketching,” Naminé replied innocently, smiling as she glanced at the market. “I wanted to try to capture it all.”

“Are you using your powers?” He leaned forward, pulling her cape back over her head. She hadn’t noticed it’d fallen. Despite his gruff voice, his hands were gentle, carefully brushing back her hair before securing the cloth.

She watched him in silence. He smelled vaguely of the sea, despite never having been there, and it was funny the things that were carried over, the things that were inherent to a person. When he pulled back, Naminé shook her head. “No, just normal sketching.”

“Good.” He sighed, tension escaping his shoulders. Stuffing one bag under an arm and holding the other in that hand, he held out his free hand to her. “Come on, we have to go. We’ve been here too long.”

“I don’t think the organization will find us here,” Naminé murmured, taking his hand anyways. He pulled her up, his arm surprisingly strong for how lean it appeared.

“Did you foresee that?” he asked quickly. He was still holding her hand.

“No, just a hunch.” Dragging her foot over her sketch, Naminé wiped it clear, leaving behind only the stick. “Let’s go, Riku.” He flinched at the name. “Do you want me to call you something else?”

His jaw clenched but he shook his head. “No. I am Riku.” 

In a sense, she supposed, that was true.

-x-

Naminé blinked, staring at a pristine white page in a notebook. The paper crinkled as she flipped throughout, revealing dozens of sketches of the sky and migratory birds. Tracing the pencil lines with a finger, Naminé lowered her eyes. She was dreaming of that moment again, a dream that felt as real as a vision.

She lifted her eyes to gaze at the barred window in front of her, the thick metal stripes that gave her a peek of freedom. Around her, her small room was littered with soft pillows and silken sheets, with plush rugs and intricate lamps. A golden cage filled with the finest goods Organization XIII could lay their hands on. Golden bracelets clinked on her hands and feet, as though the rich metal could help her forget that they were chains.

A bird flew past the window and Naminé took a deep breath. She knew what came next. A salty scent flooded her senses, like a tide coming in, and behind her, she heard footsteps approaching her door. A rough voice asked, “Naminé, it’s time. Are you ready?”

She didn’t have to turn around to know the sharp blue eyes that awaited her. She didn’t have to, yet her body moved anyways, almost by instinct, and she stared at the familiar face of her companion. No, not quite—this Riku wore a half-smile, his expression almost kind as she came closer. Naminé had often wondered just where her spell had gone wrong, just what her Riku was missing that this Riku had. Experience. Time. There was something lacking that made her Riku gruff and angry, like he was waiting for something.

Then again, maybe this Riku had been like that when they first met. She couldn’t remember, it had been so long ago now. Only this moment remained crystal clear, a memory that refused to fade. Only this and his last breath, her hands covered in his blood, her sight blurry from tears.

“Here.” As usual, Riku held out his hand, offering his assistance in her escape.

She knew how this would end. Naminé took his hand and woke up.

-x-

Naminé leaned over to her right, peering down hill at the winding path as it led out of the forest. In the distance, plumes of smoke curled in the evening air, a dark grey against the pink sky. Even from here, she could hear the din of the town. “I can’t believe there are so many people.”

Pouring over a map he’d stolen, Riku scoffed, “Of course there are. The world’s pretty big.”

She flushed, her neck burning. “That’s true.” Even if she’d spent most of her life in Castle Oblivion, trapped by the organization, she wasn’t entirely ignorant of the world. Her visions of the future had given her peeks of a world she’d never experienced.

Still, it was one thing to see it, another to be in it. Every market was an assault on her senses, a cacophony of sounds and smells. Naminé scuffed her shoe on the ground, biting her lip. “It’s just, aren’t you curious?” Every town had a different feel to it. She could spend her life going through them and cataloguing the differences. “It’s a place you’ve never been to.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Not really,” Riku muttered, his finger tracing a path on the map. “I have memories.”

In a sense, she supposed he did. She glanced at the city one last time. “If there are so many people, then they might not find us here. Or anywhere. It’s too big for them to search everywhere.”

At that, Riku looked up from the map. His brow furrowed, his lips a thin line, and he shook his head. “You’re too powerful for that. They won’t just let you go.” Paper crinkled as his grip tightened. “You won’t be safe until we reach Destiny Islands.”

She couldn’t hear that name without remembering flashes of sun and water, three smiling children eating a star fruit. Sneak peeks of a past she should never have looked at. Stepping closer to him, Naminé studied the map. It barely covered half the continent, the vast majority of it forest with a stream leading to the ocean. “Have you figured out how to get there yet?”

Riku’s jaw tightened. Reluctantly, he shook his head. “Not yet.” His eyes lowered, long eyelashes hiding his gaze. “My…his memories…they’re incomplete. Foggy.”

Her fault entirely. Naminé bit her cheek, looking away. “We can go somewhere else,” she suggested. “There have to be other safe places.”

“No,” Riku barked, rolling up the map. “We have to go there.” He winced as he accessed his memories, as he strained to remember more. “Sora, he’s there. He can help you.”

The child with a gap-tooth and the biggest smile. “He might not be a fighter,” she countered, unable to shake the memory she’d stolen.

“He’s not as good as me, but he’s capable.” Riku grabbed her hand, his grip soft but firm. He went down the path leading away from the city. “It’s this way.”

-x-

Naminé dreamed of the scent of iron intermingling with sea-salt. If it wasn’t the start, it was the end, and Riku lay in her hands, his life pouring out him. Blood stuck to her hands as she cradled his head, begging him to breathe, to live, to not leave her alone.

He lifted a hand to her cheek, his touch soft. His lips moved slowly. No matter how many times she tried to stop, her sobs drowned out his final words. Did he blame her? Did he hate her? She was the reason he was dying here, a sword through his chest, and not safe at home with his two best friends.

Her powers were useless here. No matter what future she saw, it was dark and empty.

His hand slipped from her cheek, red smudging her skin, and the sound that escaped her wasn’t human in the least.

-x-

“Did you love him?”

Naminé blinked, tearing her eyes away from the flickering flame. Next to her, Riku was sharpening his sword, his right hand firmly sliding a rock across the blade. Despite his attempt at apathy, he was watching her from the corner of his eyes, his shoulders hunched, his jaw clenched.

She didn’t have to ask who he was talking about. They had been together for almost four months now and aside from the initial week, this was the first time she’d heard him ask about the original Riku. “Love?” she repeated, watching as his muscles tightened at the question.

“Did you?” he repeated.

How oddly direct. He was usually cagier when it came to something personal. Hugging her legs, she tucked her chin on her knees and considered the question. Love. Closing her eyes, she shook her head. “No, not exactly.”

He gave up the pretence of sharpening his blade. “What does that mean?”

“He was kind.” Naminé could still feel his calloused hand that first time she’d grabbed it, his widening smile when she hesitantly asked for his help. “I didn’t know anyone could be so kind, so warm.”

“That’s it?” Riku knitted his brows, not quite believing her. “You created me. You didn’t want him to die and you created me.”

Her eyes flew open. “That was…” She trailed off helplessly. How could she explain the panic that flooded her when she realized he was dying, the grief that ran straight through her spine? Maybe she shouldn’t have taken his hand, maybe she should have accepted her lot in life. He could have lived to be an old man.

It had been too late then. It had been to late to change his fate, too late to save his life, too late to resurrect his body. The best she could do was capture his essence in a golem, to push her memories of Riku into a container and hope they stuck.

I didn’t want to be alone, she wanted to say, but the words were stuck in her throat, an ugly truth she couldn’t discard. It hadn’t been just sorrow and guilt that forced her hand—it had been fear. She couldn’t call any of these ugly emotions love, she had no right to.

And if he found out, this Riku wouldn’t look at her the same. Copy or not, he wouldn’t look at her the same and she couldn’t take that.

“It wasn’t love,” she finally uttered, falling back to the original question. “I didn’t want him to die because of me.”

A half truth, but it seemed like it satisfied Riku. He studied her one last time before returning to his sword maintenance. “So that’s all it was.” His muscles were still tense and she knew the questions weren’t entirely over. Though his mood seemed better than before. “Then…”

“Then?” she prompted.

He glanced at her, his bright blue eyes boring into hers. “What about m—” Cutting himself off, he quickly stood up. “Never mind,” he muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His ears were a dark red. “I’ll check the area again.”

-x-

Naminé leaned forward, stretching a hand out from the lip of the cave. They had been lucky to find it just as the rainstorm had started, keeping themselves dry for the worst of it. And now, after waiting for several hours, it seemed like the storm had finally stopped. The wind had died down, the sun was peeking out from the clouds, and the only water that hit her was the steady drip from an overhanging tree. “I think it’s done.”

There was no response behind her, not even the usual soft rustle of cloth when Riku moved, giving him away when his footsteps were too quiet for her to hear. “Riku?” She turned back to her companion. Slumped against the cave wall, he gave no indication that he’d heard her.

Softly, she approached him. Still nothing. Coming to a stop in front of him, she leaned forward and squinted in the darkness. His breathing came slow and steady, his body completely still, and she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as she listened.

Riku was asleep. Slowly, so as to not disturb, she sat down beside him. He must have been tired—he rarely rested when she was awake, more often than not patrolling and scaring off any interlopers. It was unusual to find him asleep, even odder to find him in a deep slumber. In the dim light, she could barely make out his profile. Even while unconscious, he looked worn. He was trying to hard. Just like his original, he was impossibly kind, far too kind for someone like her.

At least he wasn’t angry in his sleep. That was one thing she hadn’t expected, the rage that simmered under this Riku’s skin. He was brasher, more eager to leap into danger, as though he used all his carefulness on her and left nothing for himself. Was this a fault of hers, her imperfect spell causing him to fill in the blanks of his heart with other emotions? Or was it anger from the original, at what she’d done, at what’d she’d caused?

She never wanted to find out the answer. Some things were better left unsaid. Reaching for his left arm, she watched as his expression twitched before smoothening out. Her fingers brushed against his pale forearm but he didn’t stir any further.

Relieved, she went concentrated on his arm. Riku would be angry if he knew what she was about to do. Lightly, she stroked his skin, her digits tracing images of stars and the sea. The future was filled with so many vague shapes, like hills rising out of the fog. Magic sparked at her fingertips, her eyes glowing as she tried to peer deeper into his future.

Water. The cry of sea gulls. A sharp tang of sea salt. Destiny Islands, she hoped, but it could be any port town.

Riku, a boy called. Sora, she was certain. It had to be Sora.

Was this the past or the future? Try as she might, the future remained cloudy, the fog enveloping everything in a thick, white blanket. It’d been like this ever since she’d created Riku, her visions growing weaker with each passing day. The future was obscured and it scared her a little, walking into everything blind.

If only she could see Riku’s future. She hoped he’d live.

-x-

Warm. That was the first thought that entered Naminé’s mind as she slowly woke up, swimming back to consciousness. There was something warm around her shoulders. Something hard against her head. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at the dirt floor, dazed.

Sunlight streamed into the cave, lighting up the shallow shelter. It was morning. She must have fallen asleep. Still groggy, Naminé stared blankly at the ground. Outside, she could hear the quiet drip of rain sliding off leaves. Through it all, she still felt something warm. Glancing to her left, she stared at a grey tunic. Riku’s grey tunic.

That jolted her to her senses, though she kept still as she assessed the situation. Riku’s arm was curled around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him until her head pressed against his chest. His breathing was still calm. Was he still asleep then? An unconscious move rather than a conscious one? Whatever it was, his hold was firm, pinning her to his side.

There was something comforting about it all. Something safe. Naminé couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt that way. He was warmer than her and she leaned closer, soaking in the heat. They should get up.

They should.

Naminé closed her eyes and breathed Riku in. A few more minutes couldn’t hurt.

[countrymusiclover]

18 - Princesses Rescue

Part 19

Yoda's New Padawan

Tag list - @tyrionsprincess30 @nanagoswife @lycaonpictusphotography @bigbendyhorns

Pulling my robe hood up I take his freehand and intertwined it with his whispering. "For Kiera and Leia." He nodded with a nervous smile watching the ship lifting off the ground through the window. "For Kiera and Leia."

Keeping my head down I walk through the crowds of people with Obi-wan behind me. We had passed a homeless clone trooper that nearly make me sob uncontrollably but I thankfully shook past it. It's safer to assume there's someone watching us, that at any minute someone could turn us in. I'm still going on to get my daughter back and my niece. Entering a dark light room there's a rumor that this man is a Jedi so I hide behind the wall lisening in. I catch a glimpse of a wire up his sleeve and scoffed drawing my lightsaber against Obi-Wan's protest. "Y/n!" He whispered as I grab the guy by his shirt reveling the green light of the weapon. "This is the weapon of a real Jedi. You liar, praying on the innocent. It's pathetic." Obi-wan draws a gun shoving me behind his back glaring down at me.

"Lisen girl, I'll show you some tricks of my own if I can maybe hold the blade." The guy spoke nervous having a gun pointed at him he dared to ask my husband. "What do you know of the Force?" Obi removed his wire breaking it with a scoff. "Just that's it's a lot of remotes and magnetics. You're going to help us find these girls were looking for." The guy nods hus head letting him lower the gun while I closed my lightsaber. "What were you thinking back there drawing it out so easily. You've exposed yourself." Obi-wan grumbled to me right before we caused an explosion in the place we were given direction too. "I'm not losing our daughter while there are people on the street pretending to be us. It's just sickening so I won't apologize." Tapping buttons on the keypad to the door it opens and Obi walks in first getting hit in the gut with something. "That's my daddy." Kiera cried running towards him. I glanced down to Leia grabbing her as she tried to run, blocking her way out. "It's okay. We're friends of your father, Leia."

Leia stepped back away unsure of us until Kiera offers her hand to her saying. "It's okay, Leia. My parents won't hurt you.." She takes her hand and I take Kiera's other hand following Obi-wan out the door quickly. We stopped at a clothes stand where I pull one shirt over my head dropping my grey cloak and putting on another one. Leia noticed Obi's lightsaber on his belt when he removed his cloak once we gave the girls different cloaks. "Is that a...You're a Jedi?" Obi shushed her out of fear glancing around at people. "It's just, you seem kinda old and beat up...both of you do." Leia puts her hand in mine letting me drag her along with Kiera near her father. Obi-wan pulled us towards another table selling clothes where I see our pictures on screens everywhere which isn't good.

Leia grabbed some gloves putting them on while Kiera clipped a red cloak on. I pull the hood over her head picking her up and carrying her. Obi-wan bends down to the little princess telling her our lie. "Now, if anyone asks we're farmers from Tawl. And you're my daughter." Leia mumbled under her breath. "Granddaughter, maybe." He whipped his head around confused. "What?" I mouthed the word "Uncle" to him after she said quickly. "Nothing, let's go." Kiera grips my cloak and I hide her head against my chest hoping that we can get to the ship without being spotted. Leia moves her head looking everywhere around where Obi grabbed her shoulders moving her along, getting annoyed that she's more stubborn than his own daughter. "Don't smell, look or touch anything." The princess whined. "You sound like my parents...maybe you two aren't really Jedi."

"We are - it's just not safe right now.. " I try explaining to her hoping she'll stop talking. Kiera climbed down quickly telling Leia. "It's true my mommy can make things float." Slapping a hand over my face I keep walking grumbling at my daughter. Really Kiera not helping. "Make me float." Leia asked with Kiera leaning into her. "Make us float, daddy." Obi moved his head down shaking his head no at them. Leia crossed her arms over her chest. "What's your name anyway?" I quickly replied to the princess pushing our way through the crowd. "I'm May and this is my husband Ben. Kiera is our daughter." Kiera and Leia walked together and I have to fight crying at how cute they are together. She tilts her head up judging Obi who keeps pulling us away from people. "You're hiding something...the less you say the less you give away. It's the opposite." Obi-wan and I blinked down to her when he questioned. "How old are you?" Leia grinned answering. "10." He mumbled under his breath to me. "You don't sound like you're ten." I squeeze his hand mumbling back. "She's an impressive ten year old."

The four of us take a seat trying to rest for a few. Kiera leans back against the wall by Leia. Obi-wan gets up opening a tracker from the bounty hunter he knocked out. A picture of me and him flashes before Leia points towards us. "You did lie. They took me and Kiera to get to you." She sniffs through tears running away and stupidity Kiera runs after her. Picking up my boots we raced after them. "Leia, Kiera!" He called out trying to reach them. "She never does this at home." I call back to him pushing threw people and climbing up onto a roof. "Leia is becoming just like her father." Obi-wan reached her when a bounty hunter stopped Leia until he shot the man. Kiera grabbed Leia's hand dragging her away. The pair run and I almost can reach Kiera until someone starts shooting at me. I get hit in the arm screaming. "Agh - Leia - Kiera!" Obi-wan draws his gun pulling us behind a metal box shooting back. Drawing my gun I blasted towards the bounty hunter glancing over my shoulder seeing the girls jump off the edge grabbing the rope with one hand. "Kiera - Leia!" Obi-wan and I rushed forward dropping on our knees crying out.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[lonely-lost-soul]

Royal

Request 1: techno x reader fluff? maybe something to do with a castle and warm summer days... I don’t have a full idea but as a vibe know?

Requested by: @theoneandonlyyeti

Simple and Sweet *MUAH* Hope you like it!

Scarred hands clasped onto delicate soft ones, a wedding ring shimmered in the sunlight of a wondrous garden. It was full of vegetation and trees that seemed to stretch far into the heavens, far beyond the castle’s outer walls. Your tea was steaming from where it sat in a porcelain cup, the white cup was decorated with blue flowers spanning the sides. Earl Grey with a hint of honey, your favorite. The hand across from you gave your own a tight squeeze, it snapped you out of your stupor and a smile made its way onto your lips. Your husband was the king of the Antarctic Empire, he had loyal knights and followers worldwide, and he was known for his brute strength and honesty. However, he loved you, treated you like you were some sort of Goddess, spoiling you rotten every moment he was able to. Right now you residing in a neighboring kingdom for the summer, Technoblade has promised you warm summer days filled with flowers and sunshine, and that’s what you were gifted for your anniversary.

“Sorry, I was just thinking,” You spoke tenderly, the warm sun had stained your nose and cheeks a lovely red. Your dress was also a soft pink, the neckline was deep as it dipped past your collarbone. The dress was sleeveless and it seemed to be littered with gold speckles, that part was Technoblades doing. His ears twitched as he leaned back in his chair,

“Can I ask what about? Not having second thoughts are you?”

“About our vacation? Never.” You laughed resting your cheek on your fist, “I’ve forgotten how much I’ve missed the sunshine.” Technoblade let out a little grumble, his white sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

“It’s certainly...hot.” You smiled over at him and snickered, his hair was tied back in a long braid a few stray pieces of hair framed his sculpted face. “I’m certainly missing the cold, and my weaponry.” You gave him a fond eye-roll in response of course he was missing his weapons the man truly didn’t know how to relax.

“Well you know I appreciate you going out of your way for little old me,” You said voice dripping his sarcasm as he sent you a look,

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He eyed you carefully as you stood up from the little table, your light pink dress trailing behind you as you walked into the garden. You turned around sending him a gentle smile his way, holding out your hand, Technoblade reached out and took your small hand within his own. “Seriously, you know it makes me happy to see you happy.” Technoblade brushed your hair behind your ear, and you kissed his wrist softly.

“I know my love,” You reached up to adjust the crown on top of his head, he smiled softly at you. “I’m just happy to spend the summer with you, with no fighting and no political nonsense. Just the sun on our face and flowers all around,” You giggled pulling him along the cobblestone pathway. He hummed fondly as you pulled him along, flower petals from the nearby trees spilling around the both of you. Technoblade pulled you flush and pressed a tender kiss to your lips,

“Ew gross!” A loud voice called from behind the both of you, Techno growled under his breath and you let out a small laugh. A small figure ran up to you and you scooped him up in your arms,

“Cringe. Don’t know why we had to bring him along,” Technoblade grumbled and you stomped on his foot,

“He’s your son.” You scolded covering Aether’s ears, “Of course we have to bring him along!” Technoblade clicked his tongue as you uncovered Aether’s ears, he huffed a little swatting your hands away from his head. He had pink hair just like his father, it was a curly mess that you desperately attempted to tame but to no avail. A soft speckle of freckles was across his nose and cheeks, and he had your striking (e/c) eyes. A flower crown was on his forehead, he also had two in his hands “How’s it going, my little Prince?”

“It’s so much fun here! I love hanging out with Uncle Tommy and Tubbo!” He gushed bouncing in your arms, “Tommy said he and Uncle Wilbur are going into the town soon to visit Miss Sally and Niki. Can I go with them, please?” He turned to look over at his father as he placed a hand on top of his head to ruffle his hair,

“Sure kid. Just don’t cause your uncles too much trouble alright? Unless it’s Tommy, you have explicit permission to fuck with him.”

“Techno.” You scolded harshly as Technoblade rolled his eyes, “That’s a bad word. Do I need to make a swear jar?”

“Mom no,” Aether whined falling against your shoulder, “Uncle Tommy curses all the time.”

“Uncle Tommy’s a little shit.”

“Seems like your mother needs a swear jar, heh kid?” He nudged Aether with his arm, Aether nodded a smile on his lips. You glared harshly at your husband who had a smirk on his lips.

“Agreed, come on mom. Fifty cents, pay up.”

“Trouble makers the both of you.” You teased kissing the top of Aether’s head, before putting him down on the ground. A smile spread across his lips as he wrapped his arms around Technoblade’s legs,

“Bye papa oh wait!” He held out his flower crowns one for each of you, you bent down and took them gracefully. You placed one on your head and one on your husband’s head as well, he scoffed lightly.

“Stay safe kid, remember what I taught you.”

“Go for the knees!”

“That’s my boy.” Technoblade gave him a stern thumbs up, he gave his father a similar gesture and ran back down the cobblestone pathway. You smiled fondly at the sight and Technoblade wrapped his arms around your waist. “God, I can’t believe kids making me soft, who am I?”

“My beautiful husband who loves his son that I carried for nine months.” You mused looking up at him to press a kiss to his chin. He hummed a smirk on his lips,

“Yeah, I am, and I do.”

“You ruined it, get off me.”

“Ah come on,” Technoblade groaned as you wiggled free from his grasp only to cross your arms in front of your chest, “My lovely queen, please.” You crossed your arms with a little huff of your own, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” You sighed with an eye roll “But you gotta lose that cocky attitude when number two comes along.”

“Yeah right, number two.” He chuckled interlocking your hand within his own, your eyebrow twitched as he pulled you along.

“What’s so funny about that?” You piped up as the both of you walked, your head held high. The flower crown on your head slipped a little as you adjusted it,

“I just don’t know if I can picture it, having two kids.”

“What about a little girl hm?” You tilted your head to the side as he followed alongside you like a puppy.

“A girl?”

You nodded watching two little birds fluttering along in a birdbath, you smiled softly, “Yeah a little girl. Maybe one with bubble gum pink hair and your cute little nose.” You poked his nose sweetly and he smiled softly, “maybe one with your fighting spirit. You could chase off any girls or guys she’s interested in.” He chuckled a little at that one, he would, he’d use his ax too.

“What if she had your hair and eyes though? A stunning little goddess just like her mother.” He mused brushing his fingers against your cheek, you giggled,

“You’ll have to swat the suitors away with a fly swatter.”

“Or an ax.”

“You can’t kill children Tech!”

“Eh says you.”

You shot him a look pressing a nervous touch to your stomach, Technoblade raised an eyebrow. He looked like he was connecting dots, “wait hold on a minute you’re not-” You flushed under his gaze and his jaw dropped, “HEH? You’re not serious! Are you serious? You’re- HEH? Baby!? DAD?! ME?!” He pointed to your stomach as to which you gave a nervous nod.

“It’s not for certain! But, I’ve been having the same symptoms I’ve had with Aether and-” He pressed a kiss to your lips hands hovering over your stomach.

“I’m two for two.”

“TECHNOBLADE! YOU ABSOLUTE BASTARD!” You hissed out hitting him on the top of his head, he let out a roaring laugh taking you in his arms and spinning you around.

“You know I love you, you and Aether and baby number two. I always will until the end of time. King or not, all of you will always come first.”

“Love you too, more than anything.” You responded pressing your forehead to his own, “My king.”

“My Queen.”

“Your dad’s going to pass out. Wilbur’s going to go completely pale and Tommy’s going to scream his head off.”

“You know my family well. I can’t wait.” A bright smile appearing across his face, you laughed fondly pulling him close his flower crown almost falling off his head.

“You just like chaos.”

“You know I do.” He cupped your cheek with his hand and pressed a tender kiss to his lips.

“You’re lucky I do too.” You purred sharing another kiss with your husband, flowers fluttered around both of your bodies. As the King and Queen of the Artic relished this rare peaceful summer day, at his family home.

~~~ Tag List: @theoneandonlyyeti, @iamsuchasimp @victory-is-here

@pastelmoonwitche @gnat1usaquar1us

[wish-i-wasnt-a-coward]

Family Cuddle Pile

a/n: I actually wrote this a while ago but it was perfect for the request. Theirs like, no content for this ship an I love it so much! Thank you for reading :) @arodynamic-enby

Pairings: romantic Anxceitmus and kid!Patton also super background Logince

Warnings: tattoos, less than ideal parent mentions, food mention, and light cursing

Word count: 1,844 

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

Remus flopped out of bed, throwing his body carelessly across the room. He hastily threw on his clothes. Short shorts, ripped fishnets, a vest that was more patches than original material, really big clunky shoes, and a ripped up band-t. He also hooked his favorite bone earrings in his tattered earlobes. 

He stomped into his apartment’s kitchen. He grabbed a stale piece of bread he soaked it in coffee. Yawned and grabbed his bag, racing out the door. 

His brother was waiting for him at the tattoo shop, sketching a new idea. Unlike him, Roman only had a few tattoos, including not one, not two, not three… but three Disney quotes, a frog on a mushroom, a rose on his arm, and a constellation. Most of his tattoos were covered by tasteful burgundy overalls and a white button-down shirt.

Remus’ tattoos were also mostly covered by his clothes. But he had a tattoo sleeve depicting the garden of Eden, a matching frog on a mushroom, a quote from one of Roman’s books, medically accurate bone structures on his hand, a realistic spider on his neck, and a snake wrapping around his non-sleeved arm. And those were just the visible ones. 

Suffice to say, the twins were very different. 

Remus threw his bag onto the floor in the backroom, “Ro, when’s the first appointment!!” he yelled. “Your’s? At 11. FYI, Jan n’ Pat are coming over at 12, for motivation” Remus smiled, fuckin’ superb. 

He busied himself in collecting the ink and preparing the tattoo gun. The client wanted a fucking orange on their wrist, it should only take an hour or two but Remus was not excited to do a frickin’ orange circle. 

The prissy orange bitch came in and Remus got to work. They didn’t move much and only cried a little bit when the needle started jabbing at their skin. Remus liked this part of the process, stabbing people consensually was his favorite thing ever… also the art part but stabbing people!

Almost exactly an hour later the door jingled open. “Dada!!” a tiny voice called back into the store. “I’ll be there in a minute patty-cake” Remus called from his spot hunched over the client's arm.

He added the final touches to the fruit and helped the orange bitch off the chair. Roman swept the client away, Remus practically ran to greet his partner and son.

Janus wore a leather corset over a black collared shirt and baggy pants, their long platinum hair framed their face under their signature hat. They were holding hands with a toddler wearing mostly pink and blue, his blond hair (that matched Janus’) was a mop of curls barely held together by a few butterfly clips. 

“Dada, Dada!!! I got you a flower” the little boy cried, letting go of Janus’ hand and stumbling towards the tall man who scooped him up. Patton giggled and held out a sweaty flower clenched in his chubby fist. 

Remus accepted the flower with a gasp, ”this is really for me?” he said joyfully. Adjusting the small boy in his arms Remus turned towards Janus who was looking at the pair with a disgustingly sappy expression. 

“What are you lookin’ at hot stuff?” Remus teased. “Shut it you,” Janus said, pressing a kiss to Remus’ check. Patton made a noise, “icky” he said pushing Janus away. They laughed, “yes darling, we’re very icky”. 

“When’s verge-“

“he’ll be home at 4” 

“Dope”

“Stop by the Sleepy Café before you bring Pat to the apartment?”

“Can do scootal-lo!” 

Remus turned back to the little boy in his arms, “looks like you're stuck with me squirt”. Patton beamed and snuggled into Remus’ chest. Janus smiled again, “I’ll see you, boys, at dinner,” they said, ruffling Pat's hair and peaking Remus on the lips quickly so as to not upset the toddler. “Bye-bye Janny!!” Patton called after Janus as they left for work. 

“Righty-o,” Remus said, carrying Patton into the back room. “I know Ro’s got a couple coloring books, wanna do those for a bit?” Patton nodded and reached towards the ground to be put down. Remus plopped Patton on the couch and pulled out the book and pens as well as a sketchbook off his own. They sat together coloring and drawing until Roman came back to hug Patton. 

“Ah, my favorite nephew!” Roman said, scooping up the little boy. Patton laughed and pulled Roman’s hair. “Roro, can I color your arm pictures??” he asked, pointing to Roman’s rose tattoo. Roman plopped the toddler back down on the couch and handed him a pen. 

Patton went to work on the rose, scribbling reds and pinks and greens across his arm. Roman gave him complements each time Patton paused, and each time Patton shushed him and went back to work. Remus finished up his sketch, adding it to the pile of tattoo ideas they were eventually going to put up-front, and sat next to the toddler. 

“That’s really good pat-” 

“Shhhhhhhh”

Remus nodded and mimed zipping his lips. He liked spending time with the kid. They weren’t biologically related but who gives a fuck about blood, unless it’s outside of your body, then it’s fun. 

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

“I don’ wanna” Patton wined his dad sighed “I know bubbles but we gotta go home to Papa and Janny, isn’t that fun” Patton considered this, “but Roro’s pretty arm picture” he argued. Remus scratched the back of his neck, “Pffffff- Ummm, how about this, we go home now and I’ll take you back to the shop tomorrow after pre-school” 

Patton brightened considerably, “ok” he chirped. “up please” the toddler’s chubby hands reached towards Remus who obediently scooped him up with a coo. After all who was he to say no to uppy hands. 

“See ya tomorrow, have fun on your date with the nerd” Remus sang as he snatched his bag juggling the still fussy Patton in his other arm. “Fu- Frick off Re. Say hi to your partners for me,” Romans said affectionately and waved as his twin left the building. 

Remus happily trotted out into the road. The tattoo shop was located on a quaint little street in the more commercial segment of their town only a short walk from Janus’ job. 

A light drizzle floated around them and the air was warm and comforting. Patton squealed as a large drop of water hit him in the head, prompting a laugh from Remus.

A jingle sounded through the peaceful cafe, the brown room was illuminated by those cool old fashion lights and a lovely array of pastries made the air smell of chocolate and blueberry scones. But the scones, as delicious as they were, weren’t the snack Remus was here for

“Hey babe- Remus why are you soaking wet”

“Puddle” Patton screeched. 

“Kid’s right, Puddle.”

Janus pinched their eyebrows, “ya know what, I’m not even surprised anymore. Just make sure Patton doesn’t catch a cold” they scolded. 

Remus nodded and saluted in mock seriousness, “yes captain” he said and pressed a kiss to Janus’ face over the cash register, “I’ll see ya in a bit” Remus grinned and led Patton back out of the cafe. 

Janus sighed lovingly as they watched their boyfriend and son turn to cross the street, Patton’s hand clasped around Remus’ happily. “Stop looking so happy, you're scaring the customers” Remy teased from across the counter. “Ha, Ha,” Janus glared and went back to work” 

Janus’ apartment was a cute two-bedroom space on the fourth floor of the building. The furniture was an interesting combo of vintage and things from the side of the road. The vintage parts came from their parent’s house, their father had died two years after Janus’ had run away and hadn’t thought to write them out of the will. 

The three of them had made a date out of customizing the few pieces that Janus wanted to keep. The customization mainly included darkening everything and adding more gothic touches. Virgil had done the fabrics, Remus the painting, and Janus moral support/ director. 

The three partners had also painted the kitchen/dining room/living room black with one yellow wall. Janus and Virgil’s room was dark purple instead of black with highlights in the same yellow. Patton’s room was the only one that didn’t  look marginally like a cave. 

The walls were a cream-yellow that lit up in the morning sunlight. After Janus announced that they were going to have a baby Remus had spent three hours painting the grey ceiling with white fluffy clouds. It was one of his favorite projects. 

Patton of course had no regard for the work put into the entirety of his home and was the usual menace of a toddler. And today a toddler with cheerios, truly a sight even god would tremble before. 

Remus plopped down next to Patton who was pushing cheerios around his highchair tray with an intense focus. He smiled at the little boy and flicked on the tv, “got any requests pip-squeak?” Remus asked. Patton looked thoughtful, “dead lady!!” he cried excitedly hitting the tray with his fists, cheerios flew everywhere. Remus nodded, understanding, “Corpse bride coming up!” he picked a few cheerios from the couch “you really are Verge’s kid” 

When Janus got home Patton was curled up on Remus’s chest. Both slept soundly despite the dead folk on the screen in front of them singing about the wedding. 

Janus smiled, their family was fucking adorable. They slipped off their shoes and snuggled up into Remus who hummed happily and pulled Janus into the hug still asleep. 

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

Three hours later Virgil trudged up the four flights of stairs huffing indignantly with each step. Of course, he could take the elevator… but it might break down and he would be stuck for hours. Or someone could get into the elevator with him and he would have to interact with a stranger. So stairs it was. 

He rummaged around his baggy hoodie, running his fingers through his dark purple hair in annoyance when he couldn’t find the key. Once he found it Virgil carefully (as he did everything) opened the apartment door. His combat books clunked satisfyingly against the hardwood floors as he entered his house. Virgil felt the tension leave his muscles, he was home. He glanced across the room, looking for his family. 

Virgil’s face lit up like a god damned Christmas tree. 

Across the room, both his partners and his son were curled up sleeping happily. Drool covered Remus’ face and Janus was snoring, they were the most precious thing Virgil had seen all freakin day. 

The three of them woke as Virgil wrapped his arms around them, Patton squealed in excitement. “Hello, darling” Janus mumbled sleepily into Virgil’s arm. Remus just groaned and nestled into the hug. The toddler wriggled between his dads squealing profusely. “Shhh, s’ sleepy time” Remus mumbled, rolling deeper into the cuddle pile and shutting Patton up. 

Virgil smiled and pressed a kiss to his partner’s cheek. “Mmm, love you” they purred. “Love you too Jan,” Virgil said, nestling his face in their neck. Virgil knew he would have to start dinner soon but that could wait, for now, cuddles.

[fuckleydiaz]

happiest he’s ever been || jj maybank

Faced with being kicked out by her mother after an argument, Macie asks her best friend to take a walk with her and it leads to the adventure of JJ’s lifetime

Taglist: @maybankforlife @teelagurl558

Pounding on his apartment door woke the blonde nineteen year old from his slumber. He groaned, reaching for his phone to see the time. The picture of him and Macie, his best friend since kindergarten, glared at him with the time. 1:37 am. He pushed himself out of bed, muttering curses under his breath as his socked feet hit the cold hardwood floor of his apartment. He had a fleeting thought to remember to call his landlord to fix the furnace in the morning.

The pounding continued until he finally got the deadbolt unlocked and swung the door open, cold October air hitting his face. He stood face to face, well, chest to face with his brunette best friend. He could see tears staining her cheeks making him frown.

“You okay Mace?” He asked. She shook her head, wrapping her arms around him tightly. He couldn’t do anything but hug her back. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Will you go for a walk with me?” She sniffled at the end of her question. It was what she did when she was upset, take walks, but it was cold, and really late.

“Now? Mace, it’s like 43 degrees outside. It’s almost two in the morning.” He stated, then thought better of it. “Come inside while I put warmer clothes on.”

She stood examining the thermostat while he changed, flipping the switch to ‘heat’ and setting it at 70 degrees, the only acceptable temperature to keep a house. In his bedroom, JJ furrowed his eyebrows as he heard the furnace kick on, the familiar smell of it working for the first time in months filling the apartment. Silently, he shrugged on his heavier jacket, grabbing an extra one for Macie.

“Here.” His voice was soft, holding the worn grey jacket out to her. “Put this on, I don’t want you getting sick.” She half smiled, pulling the jacket over her, no his, hoodie.

Fall leaves crunched under their boot clad feet as they walked. They were headed in the direction of the château, where they’d undoubtedly end up sitting at the end of the dock like they normally did when they took walks like this. JJ reached out, grabbing her small hand in his larger, calloused one and lacing their fingers together. If someone saw them, they’d look like a couple taking a late night walk together. In reality, him holding her hand was a comfort thing for both of them. There wasn’t necessarily romantic intentions behind it.

They reached the end of the dock in record time, his hand leaving hers so he could light the joint he had in his pocket. He glanced over at her, trying to read her expression.

“Ready to talk about it?” He questioned. He offered the joint to her, frowning when she denied it. “Must be serious if Margaret Jane Kline is turning down a joint.”

“JJ” she sniffled. “I need to tell you something and don’t freak out okay?”

“Are you dying?” He asked. She glared at him, then sighed.

“I might as well be in my mom's eyes.” She told him. “J, I’m pregnant.” The blonde man choked on his inhale looking over at his best friend.

“Macie I mean this in the nicest way possible, but how” he said. “You’re like the most anal person I know about birth control.”

“You remember that kegger a couple months ago, the one I definitely shouldn’t have gone to because I was getting over strep throat?” She asked. He nodded, telling her to continue. “Well the antibiotics like, canceled out my birth control. I hooked up with that blonde touron, the one everyone joked about being your long lost twin. I was drunk. I didn’t think anything of it until the test showed two lines.”

“Well shit, what are you going to do?” He asked. She shrugged.

“I like, found out a week ago. My mom found the scan going through my room and it was this huge argument and she told me I had to find another place to live.” She sighed . “Think I can crash at yours until I find a place?” He hummed, tossing the end of the joint in the water.

“I tried to get you to move in with me four months ago when I moved in” he joked. “You know you’re always welcome at mine, Mace. I don’t know much about babies but I’ll do what I can to help.”

“Oh my god, that's the best part and I forgot to tell you! My mom automatically assumed that it was your baby. She hasn’t liked you since you guys fell off the rails for that summer, and this really sealed the deal” she was laughing now.

“Well I don’t know about you but I’m freezing and exhausted, can we go home and go to bed?” He asked.

She collapsed on his couch almost as soon as she was through the door of the apartment, making him chuckle. He stripped out of his jacket and boots before nudging her lightly.

“Come on Mama, let’s go to bed.” He said, voice soft.

“But I’m good here.” She mumbled, face pressed against the arm of the couch. He had to fight back the urge to roll his eyes.

“Mace, come on, I’m not letting my baby mama sleep on the couch. I will carry you, don’t test me.” A groan left her lips as she sat up, glaring at him as he grabbed her hand and led her into the bedroom,

“It’s not even your baby.” She mumbled as she wrapped herself against his warmth.

“Hmm. That’s a technicality. Been my baby since you told me, sorry I don’t make the rules. Not like that touron would step up.” He said. “If it’s the one that looked like me, no one’s gonna question it. Everyone thinks we’ve hooked up numerous times.”

“You don’t have to raise a kid that’s not yours, JJ.” She placed her hand on his face. He smiled softly at her, moving to kiss her forehead.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Margaret. I know that I don’t have to. But I want to, okay? I made that decision in a heartbeat. Every kid deserves to have loving parents. Neither of us exactly had that, and I’m not going to let you raise a child on your own because you hooked up with some touron. DNA doesn't mean shit to me, okay?” He told her. “As far as I’m concerned, as far as the town is going to be concerned, as far as our friends are concerned, that's my baby.” She didn’t respond, and glancing down he realized she was asleep.

Macie woke up to the smell of bacon being cooked, making her stomach rumble considering she’d only eaten a couple of cold fries from the Wreck last night when she was closing up with Kie. She wandered into the kitchen to see her best friend making breakfast.

“If you don’t give me coffee I might scream.” She mumbled, sitting on one of the bar stools. JJ chuckled, pouring her a cup and sliding it over to her.

“Aren’t you supposed to like, cut back on your caffeine intake when you’re pregnant?” He asked. “And I forgot to ask if you’re having any morning sickness.”

“Morning sickness, no. Caffeine, yes but you know I get murdery when I don’t have my coffee.” She brought the mug to her lips, not caring how hot the bitter liquid was before she chugged it. “You look so domestic right now. Cooking breakfast for the baby mama.”

“Mamas gotta eat, Mace.” He said. He slid a plate with bacon, eggs and toast in front of her, picking up his own. “If it was up to you, you’d survive off French fries.”

“Oh fries sound so good.” She said, making him laugh. “Listen, I just love fries.”

“Mhm. JB wants to get one more good fishing day in before it’s so cold he can’t. You down to go on the boat?” She nodded in response to his question. “Hey, Mace?”

“JJ?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Uh, what do we tell our friends. Like was it just a hookup that ended in you getting pregnant, or like, are we dating?” He asked. “I think everyone thinks we’re dating anyway.”

“I dunno, J,” she told him. “What do you want to tell them?” He didn’t reply for a minute, just silently looking at her. Finally, he sat his plate down and walked around the counter to her, cupping her face with his hands and smashing their lips together. It took Macie a minute to kiss back, but when she did it was with burning passion.

“Does that answer your question?” He asked, pulling away with a smile. She grinned at him with a nod.

“What time are we meeting JB?” She asked. He glanced at the clock.

“About 45 minutes.” He told her. “Why?” She just grinned at him again, connecting their lips once more and pulling him to the bedroom.

Macie swayed a bit as the boat rocked, the water being a little rougher than normal. She felt JJ’s arm snake around her waist to pull her into his lap. His lips came close to her ear as he smiled.

“Hey now, we can’t have you going overboard.” He whispered. “What kind of father would I be if I let you drown.”

Macie rolled her eyes, adjusting herself so she could look at her friends and be involved in the conversation. Subconsciously, she took in the fact that while it looked like he had his arms wrapped around her waist, his right hand rested just below her navel, like he was protecting the tiny thing growing inside her. She leaned her head against him, closing her eyes.

“You guys look cozy.” Kie commented, eyeing her two best friends.

“I agree, very coupley” JB said, glancing over. Macie flipped him her middle finger.

“Fuck off JB.” She mumbled. “I live with him, he’s exhausting. I need a nap and he’s more comfortable than the seats on the boat.”

“Look, I’m just saying. You aren’t good at hiding your feelings, Mace. Just get together already.” JBs voice was almost taunting. Macie heard JJ mumble a ‘fuck it’.

“Already ahead of you JB.” JJ said. With that his lips met Macie’s making her smile. “Been macking on my girl for a couple months now.”

“Gross. Use protection, we don’t need any little JJs running around.” It was Kie who spoke this time. This brought a howling laugh out of both JJ and Macie. Their friends looked at them as if they were crazy.

“I’m sorry, that’s funny.” Macie laughed. “Because it’s too late for that.” JJ sighed with a smile.

“I mean, it’s not technically a little JJ but you guys sure gave her enough hell about how much the guy looked like me that it might as well be.” He said. “In my heart, it is, I guess. Been my baby since the moment she told me. DNA doesn’t change that.”

“Wait, you’re serious? You’re pregnant?” Sarah, who had just been listening to her friends and boyfriend bicker, finally spoke up. Macie nodded with a smile.

“Mhm.” She hummed. “Nine weeks tomorrow. Baby Maybank will be here late spring, early summer. Official due date is June 3rd.”

❤️❤️❤️

“How’s my baby mama feeling this morning?” JJ looked up from his phone as Macie walked out of the bedroom, his t-shirt covering her bump from the late February breeze coming through the balcony windows. “Have I mentioned how pretty you look in my clothes?”

“I feel like a whale. Nothing fits except your shirts.” She said. “And he’s playing soccer in my ribs again.” At nearly seven months pregnant, she was just about over this growing a small human thing.

“Why don’t you and the girls have a girls day. Go to the mainland and get some maternity clothes, get your nails done or whatever you guys do.” He told her. “My treat.”

JJ had learned just after Christmas that his grandfather on his mothers side, who lived across the country, had passed away. Not only that, but as his only living relative, JJ inherited everything he had. Richard, who JJ described as “a cranky old man who wanted nothing to do with him” was a loaded, self made multimillionaire, leaving his only grandchild with more money than he knew what to do with.

Part of it was going towards buying their dream house, but they’d decided to wait until their son was born to start house hunting. JJ had already made a trip to the bank with a copy of the will and a copy of his grandfather’s death certificate and started a savings account for Kai William Maybank.

“Are you sure?” She asked. He nodded, getting up and coming over to press a kiss to her lips then press his lips to the bump. He’d done it every morning since she started showing, it was a habit now.

“Baby, I have 85 million dollars sitting in the bank. What else am I going to do with it? Not looking to go full Kook. Go, take my credit card, have fun with the girls. I don’t care how much money you spend, okay?” He told her. “I have to work today anyway.”

“Okay, I’ll text them. I’m gonna take a shower.” She told him, pulling him up to kiss him. “Have a good day at work.”

It was nearly noon when the bell above the door to the surf shop rang and JJ stuck his head out of the office. He thought he recognized the woman walking in, but wasn’t 100% sure. Still, he walked out to the front counter

“Morning ma’am, how can I help you?” His customer service voice still surprised him, but he ignored it.

“Well actually, I’m looking for my grandson. He’s about your age, normally has a shaggy haircut, last time I saw him he was wearing a cutoff coors lite t-shirt.” She said. It hit him then, this woman was his grandmother. The only relative besides his cousin Ricky who’d ever actually shown care to him. His dad’s mother, she was living in Maryland the last time he’d spoken to her over the phone at Christmas.

“Nana” he breathed out a laugh. Walking around the counter to hug her. “What are you doing in the outer banks?”

“Oh, visiting my sister. I had breakfast with her and Ricky. Ricky told me you owned the surf shop now and I had to come see for myself.” She told him. “I also heard that you’re going to be a father, I’m saddened you didn’t tell me yourself.”

“Yeah, in June. A little boy.” He said. “Honestly? Was really hoping for a girl, but there’s a fifty-fifty chance there. Already love him more than anything.” He wasn’t lying, either. While JJ had expressed the desire for a girl, he was so excited about a boy. He was already so in love with his son, he’d completely forgotten about the true paternity of the boy Macie was carrying. In his heart and mind, Kai was his.

“Have you talked to your dad recently?” She asked. He frowned, shaking his head.

“Nope. As far as I know he’s still in Mexico. Better off without him, I know he’s your son, Nana, but he treated me like shit.” He said. “Half expecting him to come crawling back as soon as he gets wind that I have money.”

“I heard a little about that. Being responsible with it?” She half joked, giving him a smile. He gave her a smile and a nod.

“Gonna use part of it to buy a house, but I know that’s going to be like pocket change. Put a million in a savings fund for Kai, that’s what we’re naming the baby. He’ll be able to go to college wherever he wants. Macie and I are just kind of sitting on it. You can take the Pogue out of the Cut but you can’t take the Cut out of the Pogue.” He said. “Plus, I enjoy working, so I wanna instill that work ethic in my boy.”

“Macie is your girlfriend, right? When did that happen. I remember you running around with her when you were young” she questioned.

“Seven months ago. Uh, the night Kai was conceived. Drunken confessions led to something more.” He felt bad lying to his grandma, but knew she wouldn’t really understand. “Come over for dinner tonight, you can meet her properly.”

“I’d love to JJ, how about 6:30?” She said. He agreed, and watched his grandmother walk back out into the February air.

Macie was already home when JJ returned at 4:30, cuddled on the couch with a blanket and her beloved cat, Sprinkles, in her lap. He was carrying grocery bags, walking right past her to set them in the kitchen.

“Did you have fun today?” He asked as started putting things away.

“Yeah. Got some clothes, went to lunch. Why the sudden grocery shopping?” She said, turning to look at him.

“Nana is in town, she’s coming over for dinner.” He stated. “So if you want to change. and I will allow that monster in the bedroom tonight only. She’ll be here probably about six.”

“Sprinkles is a precious baby.” She said, scratching the calico’s chin.

“She hisses at me every time I look at her.” He deadpanned.

“Well, have you tried being nice to her?” She asked. JJ narrowed his eyes at her, a smile playing on his lips to show he was messing around.

“I have been nothing but nice to her since you brought her here. I could have said no, she’d have to stay a spoiled figure eight house cat then.” He said. “Can’t believe I agreed to tack on $40 a month for you to bring her here.”

“Hey, at least my mom mellowed out.” She said. “She went with us today. It was nice.” The thought made JJ happy.

While Joanna, Macie’s mom, had been really angry when she found out about their son, she’d come around. Especially after they’d explained the whole situation to her, her commending JJ for stepping up and raising a kid that wasn’t his. JJ had made it very clear that that was the last time the baby would be referred to as “not his” because he was already in it for the long run, it was his kid despite dna. Macie had told her mom that the man who donated the sperm could have been JJ’s identical twin, so it would be hard for them to convince everyone it was his. Basically, if Steven, her stepdad, could come into her life at 15, and treat and love her like his own, then JJ could do it from the beginning with no problem.

When JJ’s grandmother arrived, they were both in the kitchen working on dinner, making goulash and laughing. Dinner went smoothly, Macie and JJs grandmother sharing stories of the blonde man when he was younger, making him turn red in embarrassment.

When they were laying in bed that night, JJ running his fingers over the bump in a soothing pattern, she could tell something was on his mind. At dinner, he found out that he had a brother 11 months younger than him that his parents had put up for adoption because they could barely afford him at the time. He’d been adopted by regular, seasonal tourons.

“What’s on your mind?” She asked. He sighed looking at her with a soft smile.

“Just, do you think that touron, the one that gave us Kai, could’ve actually been my brother?” He asked.

“I dunno J, maybe. There’s one way to find out. We can get a paternity test done when he’s born. If you share 25% of dna, then you’re biologically his uncle.” She said. “Legally you’re his dad. You’ve been his dad since the moment you found out about him. Regardless of if that touron shows back up in the summer. And if I’m honest, I silently hope he comes out looking like you.” She pressed her lips to his.

“I love you, you know.” He told her

“I love you too.” She laid her head on his chest with a smile.

❤️❤️❤️

JJ sat in the uncomfortable hospital chair staring at the bundle of blankets in his arms in awe. After nearly 36 hours of labor that ended with an emergency c section, he was holding his son in his arms. Kai William Maybank had arrived screaming at 6:42am on May 19, a whole two weeks early, and weighing in at a whopping seven pounds even. He was all of four hours old and JJ was getting bonding time with him while Macie took a much deserved nap.

He took in every feature of the tiny boy in his arms. The more he looked at him, the more he knew there was some sort of biological connection. Kai definitely had the Maybank nose and ears. Something he’d inherited from his own dad. It didn’t matter though, because this was his son. There was a knock on the door, making him look up. He was shocked at who he saw in the doorway, actually smiling at him for the first time he could ever remember.

He knew his dad was back in town, he’d seen him around but Luke had respected JJs desire to keep distance between them. He was working a steady job at the gas station, he looked good. He looked like a completely different person and JJ couldn’t help but wonder if the woman he’d brought back with him had something to do with that. But now, Luke Maybank stood in the doorway, watching his son hold his own son with a smile on his face, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Dad.” JJs own voice shocked him. Luke didn’t move, staying in his place in the doorway.

“I-uh, I’m not going to stay. I ran into your friend, uh, John B as I was getting off work. Said he was going home to shower and eat then he was going to pick up Sarah and come to the hospital to see you. Then he told me you became a dad this morning.” Luke’s voice was soft. “Uh, the flowers are for Macie. Rosa’s idea.”

“You can come in.” JJ told him. “You look good, Dad. Happy, healthy.”

“I am. I really am. I know I can’t apologize for the way I treated you in the past, J, but I can work harder to build something from here on. Haven’t had a drop of alcohol in three years, drugs either. Moving away from the outer banks saved me from myself, it saved you from me.” He said. “You look happy, too.”

“Happier than I’ve been for a long time.” JJ confirmed. “Please come in and sit down. Hold your grandson.”

JJ wasn’t expecting to see his dad cry when he placed the newborn in his arms. Hell, the last time he’d seen him cry was when he was six years old and his mom died. He placed a hand on his dad's shoulder as if supportively.

“I’m sorry. It’s just, he’s not much bigger than you were. And I haven’t held a newborn since.” Luke trailed off. JJ let out a soft sigh.

“2004. July of 2004.” JJ finished for him. “I know. We found each other through one of those DNA kits. Ancestry or whatever. We’ve talked a few times over text. His name is Drew, well Andrew but he goes by Drew. He’s coming this summer to visit, meet his nephew.”

“We, I should have told you when you were old enough to understand.” Luke told him.

“Nothing to explain, Dad. I get it. Two under two? With what little we had? There was no way you could have done it. You made the choice you guys thought was best. He said he had a very happy childhood and his mother actually pushed him to seek out his biological family. They never hid that he was adopted.” JJ told him. “Proves to me blood doesn’t make a family.” He glanced down at the newborn knowingly.

“I want to be in his life, the baby’s, at whatever you want. You decide, J. I just wanna prove that I’ve changed.” Luke was still in tears.

“How about we start with me properly meeting my stepmom, huh? After we’re home and settled you guys come over for dinner.” JJ smiled. “Then we go from there.”

❤️❤️❤️

“Papaw! Gigi” Kai Maybank’s footsteps echoed through the kitchen and living area of the house as he ran towards the door, signaling to the blonde man making lunch that his father and stepmother had arrived. At nearly three years old, Kai was the spitting image of the blonde man at his age, and in preparation for his first day of the preschool summer program, they’d gone shopping the other day which resulted in a pair of light up shoes that Kai pretty much hadn’t taken off, much to his mother’s dismay. JJ just didn’t have the heart to make him take them off, which just made his footsteps echo more. He heard his dad say something to the boy as he turned to his wife with a smile.

Macie was holding back a laugh as the blonde grinned at her. She came over to wrap her arms around him, finally giving in to her laughter when he kissed her head.

“Tell me why I let you put more of those in me again?” She asked. It was his turn to laugh as he shrugged at her.

“Because he’s cute. We make cute babies and I want a house full of them.” He said, then moving so his lips were next to her ear, he whispered “and because you begged me not pull out when we realized you were at peak fertility for the month. So really, the twins are on you, Margaret.”

When Kai was just over a year old, JJ had started noticing that the toddler’s mannerisms matched ones that he had as a child, and came to the realization that he had the same birthmark on the back of his arm that both JJ and Luke had. He’d brought it up to Macie, just really curious if there was any biological possibility that the touron has been his brother, who didn’t remember much from his teenage visits because he spent most of it drunk with his friends. Drew had agreed to take the paternity test, but when it came back they were shocked at the results. Drew only shared 25% DNA with Kai. That meant, either they had another long lost brother, which Luke shut down immediately, or JJ was Kai’s biological father.

“The first time we hooked up was the morning we told everyone you were pregnant. I don’t understand.” JJ was confused. They were sat around a bonfire at John B’s house, her cuddled up beside him. Luke and Rosa had Kai for the night, since JJ’s step sisters were visiting for the summer and they wanted to see him. They were 15 and 13 so not quite old enough to hang out around town, although they’d made friends already.

“Do you guys seriously not remember?” John B spoke up. “You were really drunk that night.”

“What are you talking about, JB?” She asked.

“Mace, who the fuck do you think gave you strep throat?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “JJ had it the week before you.”

“Oh my god, he’s right.” JJ almost gasped. “I felt like shit but we still went to that kegger at the boneyard.”

“Yeah, where you two practically shared a whole bottle of rum and then some.” JB confirmed. “Then you guys disappeared for like an hour, we couldn’t find you. You both came back out of breath and with just had sex eyes. You couldn’t leave each other alone the rest of the night. Kie and I had to physically separate you when we were leaving.”

“Oh my god we got black out drunk and hooked up and our son came from that.” Macie could feel her cheeks burning.

“Well” JJ pressed a kiss to her head. “If you ask me, he’s the best thing that could come from that. I know he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me”

“Says the richest one in the group.” John B laughs. “Or did you just forget you’re a multimillionaire?”

“Can’t take the Pogue out of me, JB. Don’t need money to be happy. If we were living on what we made from the surf shop, we’d still be living comfortably.” JJ said. “This is the happiest I’ve ever been.”

Luke Maybank rounded the corner with his grandson in his arms, smiling at the couple who stood in the kitchen.

“What are the lovebirds giggling about.” He asked. JJ straightened up, looking at his wife curiously.

“Oh, JJ told me a joke.” She said. ���It was not appropriate for little ears.” JJ snickered, continuing to form the hamburger patties he would be taking out to the grill shortly. Both of his step sisters had joined them now, offering to take Kai outside to play.

“Before you do that. Dad, Rosa, did you guys read his shirt?” JJ asked. It was then that Luke Maybank’s eye met the preschoolers shirt, which had big brother printed in bold font on it.

“Wait, seriously?” Luke asked. JJ nodded with a grin.

“Maybank twins, coming in November.” He said. Luke came around the kitchen counter to hug him tightly, something that even three years later, JJ wasn’t used to but didn’t reject.

And as he stood in his kitchen, hugging his dad, he realized. He had the girl. He had an amazing son, was going to be a dad again in the fall, and he was happy.

The happiest he’d ever been.

[warmblanketwhump]

safe enough to fall

a little university-themed thing I wrote using @sicktember prompts: comfort item, sneaky temperature check, medicine, unlikely caregiver, and lightly inspired by these prompts

the grip of the winter’s cold was their constant, unrelenting companion - but sometimes, B just wished it would be a little less faithful.

It doesn’t ease in the morning, when B wakes up coughing with a cold nose and stiff limbs. It stays as B shivers through the lukewarm shower and the hurried layering of clothes over damp, goosebumped skin. It sticks to them like cling wrap on the bus, in the lecture hall, the windy walk to their next class, makes them tense their rattling jaw, and leaves them hunched over and huddled up, desperate to conserve any scrap of heat.

This was a fact of their university existence - that after the pleasant crispness of fall, their poor, scholarship-funded body was plunged into four months of frozen hell. They didn’t like to complain - after all, they were getting a free education. But no one told them how brutal their university’s winters would be, nor that dorm heating was little more than a few puffs of warm air every hour, or that regardless of how many layers they pulled on, they’d be chilled to the bone until late March.

Their final class of the week is in a drafty science lab, and they hold back a groan. The cold's not the only source of their dread - it was the thought of spending 90 minutes with their perky, overly friendly lab partner, A.

A, whose parents were well-off, well-known benefactors of their university. A, who lived in a nice house with proper heating and had the money for a warm winter coat. A, who obliviously chattered on about anything and everything. Besides that, they were just so...happy. All the time.

The can afford to be, B thought miserably. There was no way all that sunshine could be real.

B really tried to tamp down their bitterness, but it was hard to listen to someone gush on about their amazing weekend their family spent on some tropical island when B spent the same weekend wrapped up in blankets, trying to stay warm enough to study their nomenclature notes.

Two minutes before class, A bounds into the lab like a freed golden retriever and begins their usual volley of caffeinated questions, which B responds to in short, clipped answers. Suddenly, the questions stop and A’s brows furrow.

“You look cold. Are you okay?”

B shifts on their stool and tucks their fingers into the sleeves of their worn secondhand coat, pulling it tighter with a shudder. “I am cold. It’s winter.” They cough weakly into their elbow - the nagging cough has gripped them for weeks now.

“Are you sick?”

Direct, then. That was new. “No. At least, I don’t think so. I don’t have a fever or anything.” In truth, they had been feeling a little lower than usual the past couple of days, the chill a little deeper, the aches more pronounced, the cough a bit more painful. But in their book, that was hardly enough call themselves sick. B sniffles and A opens their mouth to comment further, but the professor calls the class to attention, and the moment is gone.

90 minutes later, they’ve got their work cut out for them - a ten-page lab report that’s going to count for nearly a quarter of their final grade. And as luck would have it, it was a partner project, which meant B got to spend more time with the equivalent of human rocket fuel.

“So...do you want to just knock this out tonight?” A's eyes dart around nervously.

B frowns - it’s almost the weekend, and they figured A would have plans with friends this evening. But B sure doesn’t have anything going on., so they don’t protest. “No… I s’pose we should get as much done as possible while it’s still fresh. Want to go to the library?”

“Ugh." A cringes. "Do we have to? That place is like a tomb.”

B huffs indignantly. “It's not that bad," they mumble in a weak defense of their favorite study spot. A shoots them a glare, and B rolls their eyes. "Do you have somewhere better? It's Friday, so most places are closing up.”

“Well, my parents decided to go on some last-minute ski trip to the Alps again, so my place is free," A says as they step out into the biting wind. "Plus, I have a ton of food and it's actually warm in there, unlike these buildings.”

The promise of decent heating and food that wasn't from the dining hall was enough for B. "Fine. Your place." The pair trudge through the bitter wind as the sun begins to set, and soon they arrive at A's parents’ home - a beautiful, winding estate just a couple minutes away from campus. B has to bite their lip to keep their jaw off the ground - in the blustering snow, this place looks straight out of a Christmas card. Another reminder of how they don’t fit in this world.

Will you stop? B chastises themselves. A having money isn't a personal attack on you. Just enjoy the free food, finish the assignment and get over it.

Despite the towering exterior, B's house was quite cozy, colored in warm neutrals and filled with soft, comfortable furniture. Just past the mudroom, they spot a big living room filled with with an enormous overstuffed couch, squashy-looking pillows, and soft throw blankets. Everything about this place screams warm. A rubs their arms, suddenly aware of how cold they are. The heat nearly makes them dizzy, and they can feel the temperature difference as it seeps into their cold skin.

"Want some cocoa?" A tosses their bag into the corner and heads for an electric kettle in the kitchen, and B follows. "It always helps me warm up." B nods. A couple minutes later, A pushes over a steaming mug with the top entirely covered in marshmallows.

B wraps their chilled fingers around the mug and takes a sip, and the warm, rich liquid feels like heaven to their cold body. "That's amazing."

A smiles. "It's the good stuff." They sip in a surprising silence for a few moments, before A sighs in resignation. "As much as I wish this was just a social call, this report isn't gonna write itself." They grab a bag of popcorn and nod their head toward the living room, and B follows dutifully. A flicks on the gas fireplace and tosses B a throw blanket, and the pair gets to work.

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

After a couple hours of studying, three instances of indignantly thrown popcorn, and a dramatic reading of the periodic table, B realized that they may have misjudged A. Deep down, under the bubbly exterior, A was a genuinely kind, sweet person. It wasn't an act - they just were human sunshine. And the longer they spent time with them, the more B realized they didn't mind their company at all.

"Alright." A drops their pencil and rubs their eyes. "If I have to balance one more equation, my brain's gonna explode. Study break time." A flips on the TV and puts the volume on low.

B leans their head back on the couch and pulls their throw blanket to their chin, trying to ward off the shivery feeling in their core. Despite the heat of the fire, the mug of hot chocolate, and the thick blanket, they just can’t seem to get warm.

Their face feels hot, but their blood feels chilled and heavy, the weight of it making them ache deep down in their bones. B wraps their arms around their knees, trying to rub away the throbbing pain and get some warmth into their skin. They glance out the picture window at the now-blowing snow. It's gonna be a miserable walk home.

"B, you're shivering." A's turning to look at them now.

B startles. "It's-It's nothing. Just a chill." The concern in A's voice triggers their flight response. "I....I should probably get back to the dorms. It’s late–" They're cut off with a hacking cough that leaves them breathless and they wince at the ache in their chest.

"B, it's snowing, and you haven't even had dinner-"

"Where's my jacket?" They push themselves up and toss the throw blanket off, instantly regretting it as the air invades their pocket of hard fought warmth. They’re trembling and dizzy and desperately freezing, but they cannot stay here. Then, the world tilts and they fall back on to the couch. For a moment, they're just laying in an icy, spinning world, trying to catch their breath, when warmth suddenly envelops them.

A's tucking the same thick grey blanket around their shivering form. As they pull away, their hand lightly brushes over B's neck, then freezes. B twists away from the gentle touch, but it’s too late. Realization floods over A's face. Caught. "You lied. You are sick."

B groans, even as their fingers weave into the chunky knit and pull the warm layer closer. "A, please. Just let me go home. I'm probably contagious. You don't want me here."

"B, you look like death warmed over. I'm not sending you out in a blizzard when you're feverish like this. I won't do it." There's a spark in their eyes and a set to A's jaw that dares B to challenge them.

B leans back, defeated. Even though they want nothing more than to run out of this room, they're too weak to stand and too cold to move. So here they'll stay.

It's okay. Someone's here. You can give in now.

No. I can't. I can't let them see me like this.

What choice do you have? You already look awful. Let them help you.

A covers them with another blanket and places a gentle hand on their back, rubbing slowly. The firelight flickers, casting light and shadow across their solemn face. “B. Tell me what you're feeling, and I'll get you what you need.”

B swallows down the rising panic, the helpless vulnerability they feel, and takes a shallow, shaky breath. “I…I guess I just feel….not right. I’m always cold...but it's...worse.” They sniffle weakly, trying to still and order their swirling thoughts. “Chills, fever, cough, sore throat, kinda stuffed up. And it just hurts everywhere.”

A nods slowly, then leaves the room. They return in a few minutes with a few small bottles, carefully scanning the labels and holding them up for B to see.

“Can you take this? Any problems with this one?” B had to take a moment and match the brand names with their usual knockoff brands, but soon they had a couple over the counter medicines picked out, along with something for their cough.

A glances at the medicine labels once more. "This one says to take with food. I've got some leftover chicken and dumpling soup I can heat up - does that sound okay?"

B nods almost imperceptibly. "Sounds wonderful." A gets up to heat the soup, and B feels the anxiety rising in their stomach when they're not in the room with them. A returns with a mug and manages to gently spoon a few sips of broth into B's mouth before B starts falling asleep, clutching the grey blanket even tighter to their shoulders.

A smiles sadly. “That blanket's my favorite whenever I'm not feeling good. It's the best thing you could have to fight off what you’ve got. Trust me.”

B curls into the soft fabric. It was as if the warm environment of the apartment and the comfort of the blanket had been a signal that it was safe to leave survival mode, rest for a moment, open the floodgates that had been holding back whatever had been ailing them for weeks.

After B takes their medicine, A’s eyes shift awkwardly around the room. “So….when you’re sick, do you like having someone with you? Or do you want to be by yourself?”

A sudden rush of emotion crashes over B. They’d so rarely had the choice. It takes all they’ve got not to throw themselves around A and beg them not to leave. “Stay, please,” they ask in a small, trembling voice. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

A smiles halfway and gently pats B’s leg. “Seeing as how I live here, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” They take their spot at the end of the couch and pull B’s legs over their own, flicking the TV to a familiar movie. B tries to keep up with the plot, but they keep falling in and out of a fitful, restless sleep, tossing, turning, unable to get comfortable enough.

When B’s about ready to cry from exhaustion, A’s there, covering them up with another blanket, bringing them a glass of water, gently stroking the damp hair off their forehead before laying a cold cloth over it. They flinch at first, but the cool dampness eases the fire of their fever, even for just a moment. The last thing B remembers before falling unconscious is a gentle hand squeezing theirs.

It could be minutes or hours later when they jolt awake from a fever dream in a cold sweat, choking and coughing. They’ve kicked off their blankets and the cloth is nowhere to be found, but the chills are back in full force. A appears in B’s blurred vision, hand held to B’s forehead. “Poor thing. Your fever’s worse,” they murmur.

B’s still gasping for breath, curled up in the fetal position, body wracked by the shakes as they try force the words through their chattering teeth. “A...It's so cold. I’m so scared.”

If B was more lucid, they’d see something in A’s eyes crack wide open at their weak, fearful cries. A pulls the trusted grey blanket from the floor and wraps it back around B, rubbing their arms to try and make them feel warmer. There's something in the tenderness of the gesture, and B’s panicked gasps turn into soft, quiet sobs. They try and cover their face with one hand, but A’s hand is there, catching their wrist and wiping the tears away with their thumb.

“Hey. You’re gonna be okay. We just gotta get through tonight, alright?” A’s voice matches their usual cheery demeanor, but B can see the fear in their own eyes. They don’t know what they’re doing either.

“Why are you helping me?” B whispers in a tear-roughened voice.

A shrugs. "You're sick. You need help. Is it that so surprising?"

B's eyes flash a delirious spark. "You don't get it. I'm a broke scholarship student. I'm nothing like you. I'm not fun, or bubbly, or rich, or any of those things you are, and I don't fit in here. So why?"

B can't stop the words now, every single insecurity laid bare. "Why do you try to talk to me when I'm nothing but rude to you? Why'd you invite me here? Am I just a project to you? Why are you helping me? I'm not worth it!" The words spill out before B can stop them, and the raw hurt in A's eyes nearly rips B's heart out of their chest.

B claps their hand over their mouth, tears flooding their eyes. Now they've done it. They've laid it all out there. A's gonna kick them to the curb. And B won't blame them one bit.

But instead, A just looks at them, and pulls B into a hug. Their voice wavers only a bit as they whisper in B's ear: "You're not a project. You are completely worth being cared for. And you’re not the only one who knows what it feels like to not fit somewhere. Trust me.”

Alone. In a big, empty house. Studying on a Friday night. No plans of their own.

A, are you lonely, too?

Their words are so simple.

And yet they're everything B didn't know they needed to hear. A's got one arm around their shoulders, and one hand threaded through their sweaty, fever-damp hair, and they're cradling B so tightly it’s like they're the one who needs to be held.

B can't find the words to apologize or comfort them back. They're too tired for that. But they wrap their other arm around A and let their head rest on their shoulder. They stay like that for ages until their head begins to drop, and A shifts so they’re both laying down, B curled against A, A’s arm wrapped around their shoulders as they tuck a blanket around them both.

And finally, finally, B lets go. It's safe to fall, this time around. Because for the first time, there's someone there to catch them.

[moonlightwritesdisney]

YOU. — Wyatt Lykensen

Pairing: Wyatt Lykensen X FEMALE! READER

Requested: Yes / No

Warnings: vulgar swearing. descriptions of blood. unhealthy behavior. mentions of rape.

Author’s Note: please note that you (the reader) and wyatt are both adults in this image. Just to clear up any confusion!

Summary: The first time he saw you he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He follows you everywhere. He gets jealous when he sees you invite a friend over for old times sake. Things go way to far. You will be his.

HE ALLOWED THE LOUD CHATTER and birds song in the bright summer square of ZombieTown to be slowly drowned out by all his pulsing thoughts. He stood in the distance observing you. Out of all the people that passed by blocking his view, he kept his hard eye on you.

 The way your soft brunette curls laid untouched just inches away from your descending chest. Echoes of your honey dripping laugh rang through his twitching ears. The jealously and anger only grew worse.

Unbeknownst to you, not aware of the wolf watching you had just finished a few hours of shopping, you were making your way down towards the central parking just by ZombieTown’s large water fountain before you were stopped by an old school friend — who was male. 

He was so surprised to see, he complimented you and watched you laugh in sweetness. Both of you stood their for at least 20 minutes catching up on old burnt out memories he was trying to re-flame. He could read your mind. He felt the same as you. He knew you were uncomfortable and wanted to make a fast escape. You didn’t trust this guy but.

“Hey uhm- i was actually wondering if you’d like to have dinner and a movie tonight?” Was this guy serious? After a twenty minute conversation?! You weren’t one to be rude because of your passive personality. “Oh — uhm sure! I’d like that. I’ll be there at seven o’clock”.

 And with that you were off and on your way home. Wyatt watched as you retreated towards the silver Cadillac you owned in the parking lot. He watched all around him. He glared at the young man who was walking the opposite way. That dumb human. He couldn’t stand a chance against him.

Nonetheless, he knew you’d be his one day. He’d let you have the little amount of happiness this human could spare for a while. He’d imagine you helpless crying and running straight into his arms. The way your head laid on his shoulder while he rubbed your back in a calming manner.

 Leaving little kisses on our neck when he was in the mood, the warm feeling of both your sweaty bodies pressed together in pure erotic euphoria. Tingles ran down his spine as he imagines your soft smile in his mind. His heart raced at the thought of your body. Every curve and edge. All the imperfections you could name he’d find absolutely exhilarating.

“Hey man, curfew’s almost up you have to leave”. Another voice snapped him out of deep personal thoughts, he eyed a stern looking officer dressed in a blue SeaBrook uniform, who was very tired and just wanted to go home. He nodded his way respectfully and exited the shopping plaza. The walk to your house wasn’t long. 

The city had separate ZombieTown’s main housing and shopping lot so you had to drive at least a small distance to venture for a desired shopping day. He had taken the path towards your small apartment plenty of times, along with being a wolf came with advanced speed so he made due time. The sky swirled with light pinks and oranges making a beautiful sunset in the small town.

The crunching of grass under his feet made his anxious as he took a deep breathe, his footsteps became silent in worries of you discovering him. He stood calmly in your background his ears twitching hearing you humming to yourself softly — he figured you were in the shower getting ready for you date.

A scoff left his red lips in jealousy, he hated that it wasn’t him. ‘in due time’. He thought to himself confidently as he caught attention to light fogs of steam arising from the running shower. Now, Wyatt was no prude but he absolutely couldn’t resist. His curious brown eyes peered above the brick ledge.

A gasp hitched in his throat. His heart could explode at any moment. Their you stood, pampering yourself in the shower. Looking ever so beautiful. The water dripping down your pale dark skin. Your green textured hair soaking up the moisture from the water. 

He bit down on his lip as goosebumps shot up his back. You were marvelous. Your beautiful voice flowing through his ears as you sung. His eyes grew yellow, his animalistic nature taking full control. Fangs flashed from his mouth.

He tightened his fist in frustration. He wanted to take you right then and there. ‘All mine’. He thought as he found himself skewing up dirty — unholy images in his mind of him senselessly fucking you, clinging to him as you screamed his name. He knew it was wrong. The tightening he felt in his boxers was painful. Too painful to even bear. He wanted you, every inch. 

To him you were everything. All his. After having to agonize through his painful boner he regained composure after zipping up his pale brown pants and moved stalkingly towards the right his eyes casting view into your bedroom window, the soft white shades slightly parted allowing him to see through.

Different collages and pictures of close friends and things you adored plastered all over your walls. Small shelves that held small knickknacks and small plants lightly attracting ray of sunlight bent at the wall. Your bed, freshly made with the soft maroon red and pillows with the dark hues of blue designed with golden tassels laid neatly, untouched.

 You were somewhat messy, but very articulate and decorative. Which he adored. Small white bookshelves filled to the end with large literature of your liking. Pushed up against your light grey accent wall. Posters and cute pieces of art made by yourself were taped just above your bed post.

He adored your room. It was full of positivity, light, and all things that you adored. The sweet vanilla and shea scent from your body streamed into his nose like a running river. Licking his lips in anticipation he closed his eyes and exhaled your delectable scent. 

You walks into the small atmosphere the cold air hitting your bare legs, missing the warmth of the water and steam capture your body in a relaxing shower. It was a sewer green like color to which your full cheeks spread into a large smile ‘perfect’.

After reaching for a pair of distressed and ripped jeans that you had seen in the corner of your eye you pulled down the chain to your light which shut off you quickly threw your clothing on your bed and sat down on the edge freeing the sparkling red cap on your lotion squeezing the lotion onto your hand. 

It smelt amazing, ever since zombies had fought for more equality from the humans. Zombies from everywhere where now able to walk into any store much to the similar human version of their Victoria Secret and others. To which they could by all sorts of cute lipglosses, lotions, night wear, and clothing. The sweet deep smell of cinnamon and rose entered your nostrils as you rubbed the lotion into your calves working your way up to the top of your thighs.

The black pupils widened in arousel and wonder as he stared into the inside of your window without your knowledge — your hands slowly rubbing the white substance on the curve of your plush butt. He was awe stricken, so captivated by the goddess he had known as you. His heart thumped wildly in his chest he couldn’t get enough of you.

 Your finger pulled up the red belt loops of the maroon jeans your legs fitted around, securing the gold buttons of your jeans into the red holes in front. You sighed and fumbled with the thin green fabric you scrunched up the material and pushed your head through, then your arms.

You stood in front of the large white rimmed body mirror that leaned against the back wall with a cute colorful tapestry laid over it with pictures of close friends and fun stickers plastered on the corners of the glass. You loved the way your outfit looked. You felt very satisfied. A huge smile spread across your cheeks. The left of your head swung towards the opening crack of your door — the ring of your front doorbell. 

You drowned in confusion, your eyes reached over to read the square alarm clock on your night side table. ‘6:24’. ‘He is only twenty minutes early’. Which you thought was very weird. You had just met back with your old elementary friend hours ago , and only after having a seemingly awkward conversation for twenty minutes you agree to go on a date but he’s twenty minutes early?!

You pondered at the all the possibilities as to why he suggested this. But nonetheless you shook the feeling away and picking up your towel placing it in your pale green clothing hamper. Stepping out of your room and down into the wide hallway your fingers wrapped around the chilling gold door handle and yanked it open.

 There he stood, bouncing eagerly on his toes. His hair slicked back with hair spray, the clothing he wore was doused with heavy calogne — the foul heavy smell of the body spray stung at your nose the second you opened your front door. Which was something you didn’t find attractive at all. The wide smile he wore seemed like it was too toiled. Like he was trying to hard. His clothes. Ew.

He wore a bright blue and white plaid buttoned, with a black lambskin jacket over it unbuttoned, dark blue low waisted jeans and light brown flats. Yikes. How human of him. You absolutely hated what he was wearing. You knew he was being desperate. You could see it in his body language and his expression. You spotted bright red roses — in front of him you would have scoffed and sent him away.

 If he truly remembered you he would have remembered you like sunflowers instead of basic red roses. How bland. But instead, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. You knew the crippling and heart breaking sorrow of rejection, you were a zombie of course so being cast out was something you knew all to well. Instead you tilted your head to the side and forced your cheeks into a great smile.

“Are these flowers for me?” You asked clasping your hands together. He looked down then up at your a small smirk plastering on his thin lips — ‘ABSOLUTELY NOT SIR PLEASE GOD SO DISGUSTING’. These thoughts screamed in your mind as you watched him with pure unattractive as his licked his lips “yes they are actually”.

 He said with a very man-ly chuckle “they reminded me of you so I picked them up at the zombie market in town on my way here”. As if this dude wasn’t trying hard enough. He truly had to glamorize the fact that he picked the flowers up at a zombie store instead of the regular human one. So he was racist and trying to hard. Great. You let out an awkward laugh and stepped aside allowing him in before the air became filled with his disgusting aroma.

You had retrieved the flowers from his hand and immediately threw them carelessly on the counter. He didn’t question it but instead following closely behind you. ‘I’ll burn them later’. You thought with a pleasing smirk that played on your face. He had already sat down in your living space his flats sprawled on the floor and his feet kicked up on your glass coffee table. Dog behavior. You rolled your eyes he was stupid and too dumb to even understand basic manners.

 Football was playing on your small flat screen, you had taken a seat next to him your feet flat on the floor, your toes curling in the soft plush carpet. “Would you like something to drink?” you asked politely, the man turned his attention towards you, a curl in his lip “hm sure, the finest wine you’ve got?” He requested you stood up and went into the small kitchen opening the oak cabinet next to the sink you had set both wine glasses down on the marble countertop. 

The dark brown hues in your eyes scanned out the closed window above your sink watching the bright pink sky combine with beautiful colors of orange and red cascading over the oval clouds. You twisted the cork out of the bottle of white wine you had just bought from ‘Z’s Gruesome Groceriez” in ZombieTown. 

You wondered if this human had tasted zombie issued wine before, since well zombie wine was a lot more bitter than regular human liquor / wine. It had a hint of brains. You shrugged with a ‘hmp’. ‘He’s too dumb to even notice anyway’.

After filling both glasses to the half point you held both of them in your hands and carefully walked back into the living room where the human sat on your white leather couch his eyes and full attention soaking into the fourth quarter and a fumbling ball. 

You cleared your throat to catch his attention, he smiled towards you and took the wine glass from your right hand and thanked you focusing his content back on the television. “So .. what are you doing for work now?” you asked trying to break the awkward tension to which he perked up after taking a small sip and setting it down.

 “Oh well I’d never thought you’d ask, I work as SeaBrook patrolman, you?” You ignored the sting in your gut “I work as a journalist and a proud activist for the Zombie’s and Werewolves’ against discrimination movement, or ZAWAD, it supports the bright culture of both werewolves and zombies and brings everyone together. 

We try to unite the communities in SeaBrook instead of pushing away and we absolutely do try our best too peacefully speak our thoughts and have mindful conversations without violence.” 

You spoke proudly watching his intense expression burn into your eyes. He nodded slowly and pursed his lips which confused you nonetheless you still tried to ignore the screaming inside your head and gut ‘make him leave’. ‘this is going to end badly’. Chills scattered down your back in anxiousness.

 “That’s interesting and ... very sexy actually, your very passionate about it i can tell”. You internally cringed at that word coming out of his mouth. ‘Sexy’. He definitely wanted something, and it wasn’t a genuine conversation. You froze with disgust his nimble tender cold fingers resting on your knee. “oh uhm, thanks i guess”.

 You spoke trying to give him the hint, you weren’t interested even  if he was the last person on earth you wouldn’t. His hand inched closer towards your inner thigh a evil smirk plastered on his face. “god your so sexy”. He then leaned his lips towards yours capturing you in his grasp. You didn’t give an inch, you squealed in protest.

 You moved your arms to his biceps and tried to push him way from you , he refused now he was on top of you. His rough calloused hands slide up towards your collarbone, you groaned in anger “can you please just stop-- STOP!”  You shouted, his breathe was hot against your neck his left hand slide up towards your neck and pressed down onto your windpipe. 

You gasped gritting your teeth, you used your right hand to try and push him off but his strength held your arm down. You felt helpless, weak, worthless to know that you had somehow allowed this disgusting being to get ahold of you. That is, until you felt him grasping the metal of your Z-band. 

You knew that taking it off could potentially be a very dangerous action, which was only to be taken off in emergencies only. This was a very big problem and it needed to be stopped. His hand gripped the clasp of your band, you felt the dark veins pulsating throughout your body. 

Using the strength to lift your left hand which caused a small chime from your Z-band to sound, it unclasped from you wrist and fell somewhere on the floor. In just a few seconds the light around your eyes had turned a deep purple cracks plunging from under them. A low growl erupted from your stomach then submerged to your throat. 

The man felt you vibrate from below him, he had suddenly noticed you had changed. He gasped and stood up as you growled and snarled, you inched closer towards him as he took steps back defensively. “Stay the hell away from me you bitch!” He shouted sternly but the anger was hot and boiling inside of you. 

Turning into a zombie was something you couldn’t control. It was coded in your genes. Once your Z-band was ripped from you the monster took over inside you, just as it did for anyone. Your vision had turned completely red. The low grumbles and growling roared within you, this is what you were. A monster, and damn, were you proud of it. 

You stepped closer to the cowering man as he flared his arms towards you, which unfortunately, only agitated you more. In this moment you were gone, the zombie inside you was controlling you, and you smelt fear. Which was a bad thing. “Your a waste of human life”. Your normal quiet spoken speech had transformed into a lower deep growl. Using your zombie strength you grabbed the human by his leather collar and bite deeply into his neck, the loud scream leaving the dry of his throat. 

The blood seeped out of his neck like a river, you lifted him to meet eyes with a demon like growl “next time you better stop”. You seethed before letting him drop to the ground, the now scared human scrambled towards his feet holding the gushing wound his hand covered in red. He disappeared out of the living space and out of your life forever. Or at least you hoped he did. Grunting you walked over towards the crack between the couch and the pale wall, getting on your hands and knees you reach down for the metal bracelet. 

After securing it in your grasp you immediately push the clasps together around you wrist. ‘Online’. You let a content sigh slumping back beside the wall the dark veins in your arms slowly recoiled from your arms and legs. Your back ached and your head pounded. The sweet tasting blood of the humans still resting on your lips and along your cheeks. 

Finally, after about a few seconds you steadily returned to your feet. Ignoring the few blood spatters that were now fresh on the floor. ‘I’ll clean it up later”. You let a deep sigh release from your lips as you picked up the two wine glasses and brought them to the kitchen and discarded of the waste in the sink. 

You were fashioned in the bathroom taking a warm cloth and bringing it towards your face wiping off the dried blood. You sucked in a breathe the sound of your beating heart filling your ears. You didn’t feel at all ashamed for what you had done. That bastard human deserved it.

 The overbearing of your anxiety flared, you were worried you might get in huge trouble, since unfortunately, the human is never to blame. You had gone to bed that night in hopes for a better day the next morning -- the only problem was, he saw everything.   

[peeterparkr]

red; tom's version|one.

chapter one: sad, beautiful tragic. “Long handwritten note deep in your pocket”

pairing: Tom Holland x Reader (tom's not famous here) story summary: you’re reminiscing through your relationship months after the heartbreak and breakup. Wondering if it went wrong from the very start when Tom arrived at New York, and him being a cautionary tale or if the problems came along the way. Perhaps the key to find back your way to him is going back through the nice things before the heartbreak came. Or is it too painful to go all over again?

chapter summary: you haven't seen him since he ditched you, after months of wearing plaid you go out and realize he's back in new york warnings: angsty, I mean it's a breakup, swearing. word count: 7.3k playlist (updated after each chapter, including Red songs+ other for the chapter): Spotify | Apple Music

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a/n: Hi, I couldn't wait to share it so I said, screw it, I'm posting this. You don't know how excited I am to write this and share it with you. As you know, this is inspired by Red by Taylor Swift and will hurt. So I expect us all to be crumpled up pieces of paper wearing scarves by the end of this. (perennial is still coming, I'm just waiting on a few people who're reading it). SPECIAL THANKS TO @erodasghosts for reading it and hyping me up and helping me figure this all out. I hope you guys all like it as much as I did. The story is set in New York. Please give feedback!

One month after the breakup.

Strong whiskey, on the rocks. That was his drink of choice that night. The night before had been a beer. You knew you could imagine the taste of his lips by only looking at him. You wondered if he’d gone there for a second night for the same reason you had.

When you had seen him across the place the night before, you had tried to decide how to feel. We always think we will react one way or another when we see our official heartbreak walking through. Victorious as he is perfectly dressed, with his hair flowing.

He hadn’t brought her. Which you didn’t know how to feel about.

The day before you had not been alone, Jules, Matty, and Lula were there.

“Shit, the axolotl at 10 o'clock, you’ve got to be shitting me,” Lourdes, Lula, had whispered before sipping her drink, a Long Island Tea. “We are celebrating she’s doing better, can’t fucking believe this,” she hissed at Jules who only lifted her chin slightly to see who she was referring to. “What the fuck is he doing here? Ay, es que, con qué huevos se atreve a venir aquí? Que no mame.” [with what balls did he dare to come here? He shouldn’t fuck with us. ]

You loved hanging out with Lula and listening to her very refined Spanish cursing.

“It’s not him,” Julia said.

You tried looking back to see who they were referring to. “Who is—?”

“Y/N, wait I just noticed the haircut!” Matt pointed out, reaching over, getting your attention back to them and not at whatever they were referring to. “It looks great. It’s like a new you!”

This new you. The one that had been screwed over twice. Men really have the nerve when it comes to breaking hearts. They recklessly go in and let you believe love comes in all shades of colors, passionate red like the roses they send, and tender pinks like your sweet innocence that they end up stealing. But they never tell you it’ll be you all alone in a dark room with shades of grey under a flickering light that barely warms you.

The new you, which was still a bit lost. Your old self was a stranger to you now. You had no idea who this new you was, she was quiet now. Didn’t have a heart because someone had stolen it and broken it and left it behind a dumpster. Still trying to find it. The new you wasn't.. you.

Your friends were glad, however, they finally got you to go out again. After weeks of wearing plaid and watching Fleabag, and even considering watching Greys Anatomy, a low point, you had finally decided to come back to see if there was any sunshine left for you.

It’s important to point out that you had been broken-hearted and almost crazy when the breakup had happened. Very… delusional. You were not proud of the way you’d reacted. Although you wouldn’t have reacted any other way.

The city had been quiet, the red lights seemed to last longer, and the crowds would often swallow you. The city you once loved was now an open book of a relationship that seemed real, should’ve known it was all fiction.

In your dreams they’d be bright, colorful. The village is aglow. Cold days with warm hearts. Like his.

You’d been cold ever since.

“Ah, yeah, the haircut. Got it today. Lula’s idea” The haircut had come as the solution to a problem that would never be solved. As if cutting your hair meant there was something you had the power on. You didn’t.

How stupid was it? You couldn’t control your life.

“It suits her well, doesn’t it?” Lula admitted proudly.

You still had his picture engraved in your heart. You still dreamed he would come back and say it was all a nightmare.

“It’s nice, I’m glad to have you back,” Jules commented. Julia had probably been the most surprised with the news of the breakup, she had almost gone and killed Tom when he had….unimportant. She hadn’t, though, and she had yet to tell you the reason why. Julia had been mysterious since.

“I’m glad to be back,” you confirmed. You’d ordered a beer, and maybe you shouldn’t have. Stella Artois, his one favorite. You pocketed the beer cap. “Though I was not gone.”

Matt watched you, him and Julia had recently started dating. Best friends since kids who just recently confessed their feelings for each other, took them long enough. “How back are you, though?”

“Meaning?” You asked, taking a sip.

Matt shrugged, “I could introduce you to some friends from work, there’s this hot guy—“

“No,” you interrupted him, leaving the bottle down as you had almost choked. “No, no. Not in the dating area yet. Won’t be in a long time. Still healing.”

Lula still had her eyes glued elsewhere. “Healing from a bullet hole, y/n, whatever you’re doing isn’t working, and band aids won’t fix it—Jules it is, I swear to god it’s him.”

“It’s not him,” Julia rolled her eyes.

“Ay, que sí!” [he is]

“Who?” You asked.

Julia took your hands, “you know Lula,” she rolled her eyes. “I love that you ordered a beer.”

“Yeah,” you gulped. “Beer is universal language for men as in: ‘don’t get close to me.’” A lesson someone dear had taught you once.

Matt tilted his head in agreement, “Yeah.”

“Really?” Lula frowned, “should’ve ordered one. Next time I’ll ask for my drink but instead of a glass I’ll ask them to put it in a beer bottle.”

“Wouldn't it be easier to order a beer?” Matt suggested.

“But then I’d break our tradition.”

Matt watched her, “you really are something.”

You chuckled.

“Why is beer seen as not—feminine?” Matt questioned.

Julia shrugged. “It’s beyond me, really. It’s a drink.”

“Like does my drink make me less of a man?” Matt watched his glass, another Long Island Tea. A stupid inside joke you all had.

“No,” you admitted. “But you know how society is. Since it’s sweet, it’s got to be—“

“Oh, no, no, I love you, y/n, but tonight I don’t want you lecturing us on it, no, tonight we are having fun, ok?” Lula reminded you. “We will not talk about femininity or lack of a beer—or whatever your agenda is up to these days, which, hey! Why does y/n get to break the rule?” Lula questioned. “No Long Island Tea?

Julia glared at her, “Because she can do whatever she wants tonight,” she hissed and then turned to you. “But how are you feeling? It’s your first time going out in months, is it as fun?” Julia was the one to try to cheer you up the most.

No, it wasn’t fun.

“I—feel good!” You lied. Although you were not. But you guessed that’s the response they wanted after seeing you laying down on the ground and crying yourself to sleep. Staring at windows and walking down in the rain. They wanted you to feel better.

Your body was covered in scars.Though, they were from adventures.

“Bullshit,” Lula intruded. “You seem sad. Maybe I’ll get some shots,” she announced before going to get some.

“Well,” you chuckled. “My first time going out and you bring me back to the place where it all started?” You answered cynically but then shrugged. “I’m—I…no. I just—It’s weird. I still see him everywhere, and as I’m here it’s like watching a movie of our greatest moments,” you admitted. “Like hey, look over there, it’s Tom and Y/N’s greatest moments,” you stated, Lula got back. “Let’s start memory lane…”and you sighed and continued with the best presenter voice you had. “Here you’ll wonder how the hell did it go so wrong since they were so perfect, what the hell went wrong, when did it turn into some sad stupid love affair. You’ll be asking yourself hey, they seemed in love, over there, they danced! Over there… they sang a song together! See over there? There was a fucking jukebox in which they have memories! Oh they have memories there too! And you’ll ask yourself, he made it seem real, what the hell happened?” You sighed exhaustedly. “What happened? What the fuck happened? How was I so stupid?” You ran your hands through your face.

Your friends only watched you, with pity, sadness. Even Lula had turned her gaze guilty.

You cleared your throat, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Lula sighed, “it’s our fault for bringing you here. We’re fucking idiots. Besides he is—Julia I swear to god, he is there.” Lula raised her hand and Julia quickly pulled it down.

Julia bit her lip, “I—hadn’t realized how much Tom there is here.”

“Yeah.”

“He called me—“Matt had started.

“No, no, we can’t talk about him, baby,” Julia reminded him. Matt widened his eyes and nodded.

You blinked, “no, it’s—He called you? Tom?” Why had Tom called Matty? What for?

“Yeah, had a missed call,” Matt explained, ignoring his girlfriend. “I—it was this morning.”

You felt your chest twist. “Yeah, I get a lot of those too.”

Perhaps he wanted to talk to you and thought Matty was dumb enough to give you the phone.

Julia glared at Matt. “We promised not to—“

“No, hey,” you stopped her. “I—sorry, I brought him up.”

“But we shouldn’t talk about him,” Julia insisted. “Tonight is all about having fun,” she stated as she handed everyone their shots.

“No, it’s alright,” you said. “I’m fine talking about it.”

Lula turned her gaze to you. “Shouldn’t you hate him?”

Were you supposed to hate someone who gave you something so beautiful? Just because it’s over doesn’t mean you have to look back and hate it.

“No,” you answered simply.

Matt watched you. “Wait, really?”

You took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m—I decided I’m thankful for everything. He really… I… I mean I knew from the start he was trouble. But he got me to get rid of Will. So I’m thankful for Tom. He showed me some beautiful things about him, about myself and… I’m thankful. Even the part when he broke my heart.”

It was a lie. Partly. You had been so full of doubts that you only tried wondering why it had gone so wrong. Or course, the lie was there. His lies. But how could any of it be a lie?

Julia smiled gently, “You’re really a grown up.”

“Or very stupid.” Lula commented.

“Thanks, Lula, I appreciate it,” you rolled your eyes. “I… well, I’ve gotta admit I was pretty stupid.”

Lula shrugged, “Hey, I don’t blame you, boy came in with an accent, he had a cute smile, he was hot, I must admit, and he wasn’t one of those Brooklyn fuckboys that take you to the rooftop and offer you a whiteclaw to watch the sunrise together,” Lula gave in.

“Oh, and they take candid pictures, and they say that their phone camera isn’t as good as their polaroid,” Julia laughed, “But hey, you’re lucky they took you to the rooftop, they never take anyone there, they took you there just because you’re…”

“Different,” Julia, Lula and you chanted.

Matt laughed, “You guys are the worst.”

“Anyway,” Lula said. “We should drink these,” she pointed at the shot glasses as she raised her own. “I came here to get drunk. So, to Y/N being thankful Tom was a piece of shit even when the boy had a dreamy accent?”

You closed your eyes, and let out a defeated dry chuckle. “Yes, to that.”

“To the piece of shit, then!” Lula grinned as the shots clinked and were downed. You instantly regretted drinking it.

Lula scowled as she had her eyes glued back at the bar, “It’s him, Julia, it’s him! What is he doing here? Pendejo, I swear to god I’ll go kill him.” She was furious, and you tried once again following her gaze.

The bar was crowded, red lights crossed around the place, with girls walking with tall heels, trying to smile and nod at guys who were talking to them but clearly were not of interest to them. Friends laughing, people flirting. You didn’t know who your friends were watching.

But the bar seemed to be enough of a reminder of him. How he had made you feel like crowds were never there, and how whenever you had been with him everything disappeared just to be with him.

“Who are we killing?” You questioned.

“Is new y/n a murderer?” Asked Matt. Matt and Julia were your oldest friends. The three of you grew up in Staten Island, and now moved to the crowded places.

Lula coughed. “Hope she is.” Lula, on the other hand, you’ve met in college, she was a very defined addition to the friend group. With more personality. A strong one. Lula, Julia and you shared a small apartment.

Julia cleared her throat.

“The fucking scarf,” Lula scowled.

“What scarf?” Matt asked. And you had the same question.

Julia whispered to her boyfriend’s ear who had turned cold. He lifted his head.

“But it’s not.”

“It is him,” Matt confirmed to Lula. “Jules, it is.”

And now your three friends were acting strange. Usually they did but this was strang-er. They all shared looks, Julia struggled with her hands.

They were watching you with pity but you’d gotten used to that. After the breakup they had been extra careful around you, kinder, you guessed.

Fools they were to believe that by not mentioning him you wouldn’t think of him. He was a memory that would haunt you for the rest of the days.

“So, y/n,” Julia was clearly hiding whatever Lula was seeing.

“Wasn’t he in London? What in this fucking world is he doing here?” Lula continued.

“Shut up!” Julia ordered.

“London?” You asked and you lifted your head, and any noise that was bustling before had stopped.

Tom.

Tom was there.

Thomas.

Tom who had broken your heart. In every possible way that he could’ve. Like he had planned it. Like he was aware.

He was there, on a stool with a beer in his hand and wearing a red scarf. The red scarf. As if he was mocking you.

Tom.

Did he pride on hurting you?

He had always said you were invincible. That you were unrivaled in matters of the heart. Was he proud he had beaten the unbeaten?

You’d always thought he would.

When we love deeply, getting hurt comes as a given. But when we love deeply, we are never expecting it to come. And when it does come the skies cannot turn grayer. Funny thing, you were a fan of the rain but when the rain doesn’t cease, the hope doesn’t perdure.

But he was back in your life. Or at least he had been in the same room as you after months.

What was he doing back in New York with your scarf?

You turned back to your own table, breathing in quickly, bringing your hand to your chest in an attempt to calm yourself down.

You saw your friends speaking but you couldn’t make a word of what they’re saying. Your heart was rushing. Thomas was there. Tom. Your Tom. And there was a part of you that had completely forgotten over the heartbreak and wanted to run to him.

Kiss him, try to fix it. Try to bring back the beautiful thing you both had. Because it was. And it hurt looking back.

You were having trouble breathing now, the heartbreak had come.

That’s the worst thing about heartbreak. You never saw it coming, though you should’ve. Though it was beautiful you’d known from the start you’d end up hurt. But when a lie is crafted so beautifully, how could you?

“It’s him.” The words had come in whispers.

You barely remembered what had happened next. You had only stood up, decisive to leave, you’d seen him try to walk his way to you. You’d heard him call your name, but you hadn’t turned back, you had seen Matty stop him from running to you.

It was blurry. You didn’t know how you got home. Desperately trying to understand why he was there and how the night had turned too badly.

Lula and Matt had come back later to find Julia trying to comfort you, hugging a pillow that you were sure he had slept on. Breathless.

But it was in the past now, you were there again. Same bar, both in stools far away.

You were almost sure he’d gone to that bar in hopes of finding you again.

Just like you’d gone again.

His eyes the night before were guilty. You only took a deep breath, you remembered trying to avoid his glance at any chance as you had walked out.

Why were you there again?

That feeling in your chest growing, like there was something heavy expanding. Yet your stomach falling smaller. The pain was but a shield, as if it was creating a special protection around your heart, and though it hurt it was enough for it to make your heart strong to leave the place.

You didn’t want to see Tom. You hadn’t talked to him since. Even when he’d tried to call. Even when you’d tried calling.

Not when you had replayed the breakup over and over and over again since he was gone.

Everyone deals with breakups in different ways. Yours, specifically, was avoiding it. Everything and everyone. Especially Tom.

It was hard when he was everywhere. In that tattoo he’d convinced you to get, in that ring he’d left, in that cereal box that you still hadn’t finished. Whenever you listened to a song he’d recommended. Whenever you’d open Netflix and that series you had started watching together was still recommended to you even when you’d deleted it.

Everywhere.

You couldn’t use your favorite colors because you could hear it, in the back of your head “I love how it looks on you.” “You should wear more blue, it suits you.”

Even your stupid laugh remind you of him. “Your laugh is the most wonderful thing I’ve heard, even if it’s so ugly.”

You missed the person you were when he was with you. How everything was happy. Who was that y/n? Who didn’t mind if she was slightly late to a place because he’d come with you? Who didn’t feel alone at parties when she knew nobody because you knew him?

A y/n that existed only for a short period of time when he’d been around and that he’d shattered like glass when he had the chance.

You missed that y/n.

The y/n that would sometimes lose her breath and catch it back when he walked into the room. A y/n that sang along to her favorite songs all day. The one that would give her heart in a rush to him. The one that watched movies no matter if they were good or not.

Life had colors back then.

Now you were full of regrets and of doubts. Wondering what you had done wrong? Where did it lead you?

You looked up at him then. He was staring down at his glass.

There was a slight trace of him still there, the Tom you once loved. The one with the silly smile and the gentle chuckle, the one with the jokes about everything.

You wondered how much of that y/n he saw too.

You were the same two people, in essence. But how different you were now.

The Tom you knew before finding out it was a lie.

There was still a hint. You knew. But there was so much of him in you that it was hard to see if you still were there. Or the Tom you thought you knew. Not the one with the lie. Or maybe this was the truest Tom he could ever be.

He had to move on, rather quickly, you recalled. If he ever did.

There was a stupid reminder of you in his hand, that red scarf from the very first day.

You still remembered how it all started, a stupid red scarf. He kept it, then, and he wore it.

You had ordered a beer, too. You pocketed the cap again.

But there was an image in your mind, maybe he had gone back and probably had his arm around her and he laughed at a joke she made. Maybe she was funnier than you. Definitely prettier, with her hair falling down all the way to her waist, her clothing accentuating everything you didn’t have.

You recalled having to leave the room when you found out. You had been a mess.

Leaning against a wall as you caught your breath before the tears came down, as if he had pierced right through it. A pain chest that had expanded all the way on your body, not sure how you were able to keep walking back to your place. Falling down to your knees when you did.

Pain. Words failed to describe such a deep sentiment.

But it was gone now. Not entirely but at least you could hold your breath fine when he was just across the room.

What went wrong?

You could ask him. He was right there.

Maybe even tell him how you had lost sight. He hadn’t walked up to you. He was nervous, but he seemed calm enough to see you were there. You were still unsure why you had gone there.

Maybe all the good things were enough to bring you there, maybe the fact that you still didn’t believe it was a lie brought you there. Maybe the fact that one of those pictures from that photobooth was still in a locket. So stupid.

He fiddled with the glass.

You waited and waited but he didn’t approach you. He took out a paper out of his pocket as he stared at it.

You wouldn’t approach him. No matter how happy he had made you once, you wouldn’t walk to him. No matter how beautiful it was. No matter if you were lonely and that when you dared to sleep he’d be haunting your dreams.

It was a tragedy now. What you both were, and not even worth enough to try and save it. You knew you were haunting him too. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here.

He was shakin, as he stared at you, nervous. He downed his drink, you guessed it was for some liquid courage and stood up, with the note in one hand and your red scarf in the other.

Your own courage for coming here was gone, as you saw his intentions, the urge to run you had the night before was becoming you. But he couldn’t walk. He had to sit down again, rubbing his face.

The courage that had come when choosing what Lula called the ‘revenge black dress’ was nowhere in sight. You were cold and regretting putting it on.

“I can’t do this,” you said to yourself and quickly let out some dollars to pay for your drink before picking up your stuff to leave.

You saw he panicked when he saw you leaving, he quickly called the bartender to pay for his drink.

You closed your coat as you were shaking yourself, punishing yourself for going there. Why had you gone there? The man had broken your heart? Were you really there to see him?

Was your heart foolish enough to ignore the warnings in your mind once again?

You walked your way to get to the subway station, how irrelevant you were through the crowds. You hadn’t felt this way for a while, caring for the crowds. But you had to get through them. There was a part of you that wished Tom was following you after. But the crowds didn’t let you see if he was.

Besides, you shouldn’t want that.

You finally managed to get to the station, you clung to your purse as you stared at the tracks, waiting for the next train to come. Peaceful it seemed, the station. As peaceful as New York could be. You guessed if you cried nobody would care.

“y/n!” You heard your name in the distance and you couldn’t handle it.

You took a deep breath and shook your head, angrily. Why had you gone? You could’ve easily kept ignoring his calls. You could’ve stayed in your apartment, crying as you watched SNL videos on youtube, or rewatching a cartoon for the hundredth time, letting your own sadness and self pity swallow you.

But you had gone to him. This was your fault. You should’ve taken a cab, instead, he would know you’d get at this station and he for sure would know what train you’d take.

“y/n, y/n!” He kept calling as he finally arrived next to you. “Sorry I would’ve gotten here faster but the damn MetroCard-”

“I’m not doing this, Tom,” you stated before he could go on rambling like the idiot he was. You couldn’t do it. “Not here, not anywhere. I don’t know what you’re doing here.”

“I…” His face was kind, and he seemed to be nervous. You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping, probably the jet lag.

You took a moment to look at him, he didn’t look as victorious as you had thought he was. His hair was messy, and his cheeks flushed, the buttons on his shirt were not buttoned right.

Seeing him again, with that signature look he had made you want to go down to your knees.

“Aren’t you supposed to be back in London?” You snapped. “With that pretty girl-”

“No, no, I’m-I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” Tom stuttered. “I was an idiot.”

You stared into his eyes, you were not ready for this. You were not ready to look into his stupid eyes. You looked away. “That’s all you have to say?” You tried walking away from him..

He shook his head. “No, no, no, no, I… No, I actually… I had this… I wrote down my apology,” Tom confessed. He showed you a sad, handwritten paper, now slightly teared up with the ink running. “I… I had….”

You looked down at it, his messy handwriting, crinkled with words scratched down. “You wrote it down?”

You didn’t know why you felt your heart warm. This kind of stuff was why you couldn’t understand what had happened. Someone like him, who writes his apologies down. Someone who stutters when he’s speaking.

“Yeah, I… but I spilled my drink on it after seeing you fled,” He explained, swallowing hard. “I… I… I had written it down so I wouldn’t forget it but now I realize how stupid that is… I’m… I’m really sorry, y/n.” .

You could hear the train coming. You were seeing him again. It hit you right there. And this was not the reaction you thought. You had said you would be delusional, crying and fighting and questioning him why the fuck he had done that.

Yet you weren’t. You were only watching him, eyes full of tears wanting to slide down but unable to. But there was that pain still in your chest.

How could he ever dare to hurt you that way? “I don’t want to talk to you,” you said. And meant it. “Please leave me alone.” You said before walking into the train.

“Y/N, please, no, please, please, listen to me,” He followed you in, the scarf still in his hand.

You tried sitting as far away as you could. Arms and legs crossed as you tried breathing in.

He sat beside you and you changed seats. He sighed but followed you again. “Please, I need to talk to you. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Well you did,” you snapped. “You did, and now you come here a month later with a handwritten note apology thinking I will be fine with it?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I had to solve-Please, would you listen?” Tom asked, knowing damn well he had to ask, and not just straight up blurt it out.

“Why would I, Tom?” You turned to him, with a tear traveling down your cheek. You were incredulous. “You’re kidding me, right? I… You… You think that just because you show up with that stupid face of yours and my scarf I’ll want to listen to you? You’re an idiot.”

He sighed and reached to give you the scarf. You ignored it.You were furious now.

The other people on the train were certainly getting a show. A guy with a backpack was trying to pretend he wasn’t listening but his reactions were giving it away. Another woman pretended to keep reading her book but she hadn’t turned any pages.

Tom took the scarf back staring at it. “I need to explain everything to you.”

“What if I don’t want an explanation?” You snapped. Though you did. You had been waiting for one, you wanted one. You would beg for it. But your pride was taking the wheel of the conversation. “Don’t you think it’s fucking late for it?”

“Is it?” Tom turned back to you.

“Yes!” You couldn’t believe him. But this seemed a bit too familiar of a conversation. “And beside no explanation would make me forgive you!” You stated, whispering, not wanting any of the attention you were receiving.

“I’m not… I… If you just listen to me,” Tom said.

You glared, “I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“Then why did you come to the bar?” He asked.

He fucking asked.

Your eyes widened. He had gone there. He knew. He fucking knew you’d gone back because you wanted an explanation. Or so he thought. No, you’d gone back because… Yes, because you wanted an explanation. Because everything he’d done had been beautiful. Until the heartbreak. He had crafted and vexed his way into your cold stupid heart and then he had gone and pierced right through it, crushed it.

You wanted to ask why. Why did he do it so vehemently?

You didn’t answer, instead you moved one seat away. He kept his eyes on you.

“You wouldn’t have gone if you didn’t want an explanation,” he said. “Or to see me, at least. I know I did, I needed to see you.”

You saw the guy with the backpack purse his lips, knowing that Tom had got you. There was little context for them. The girl with the book directed a glance to you, trying to read your emotions.

If they knew, they’d be on your side and yelling at him as well.

He rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his face.

“I didn’t, it was a coincidence,” you answered coldly.

“No, it bloody wasn’t,” Tom scoffed and then sat up. “No, I’m… No, but you know, you went to the bar for a reason.”

“And I left for a million more,” you frowned.

Tom pursed his lips and took out the paper again, trying to make out whatever he’d written before. “I’m really sorry.” His eyes traced through the note.

“Are you genuinely trying to read it? Don’t you know what you’re supposed to apologize for?”

Tom looked up, “So you do want me to apologize?”

The guy with the backpack squeezed his eyes shut, knowing Tom had fucked up.

“You’re kidding, right? Yes, you have to apologize, what you did is really, really shitty!” You pointed out.

“But you won’t forgive me, then?” Tom watched you.

“I don’t know,” you said and he looked up, a beaming gaze. “No, I won’t.”

He wrinkled his eyes, “I… I know I’m supposed to apologize, not to expect you to forgive. I'm just…”

He gulped, and then sat back, staring at the dirty walls and lights. He had dressed up. Badly, but he had tried looking good, you could tell. You could smell his lotion, too.

He was fiddling with the paper, crumpling up and then it fell to the floor. You looked at it and somehow related to it, not sure how.

You took a deep breath so you wouldn’t kill him and turned to him. “I have questions for you, if you answer them I might consider listening to you.”

Tom’s eyes brightened up. “Yes, yes, anything.”

You eyed him up and down as he watched you with begging eyes. You avoided his gaze. Tom followed your gaze as you tried to figure out what was the first thing you could ask him. Why had he hurt you?

Why did he not stop and think before making you fall in love with him?

Why did he not stop and tell you the truth?

“Where are you staying?” You asked,

Tom blinked. “Is that… is that the question?”

“No, but I know you don’t know how to fucking get anywhere,” you said.

Tom gulped, “I… uh, again with Harrison,” he explained.

You sighed. You remembered Harrison alright. And though there was a petty part inside you, you would help him out. Knowing he’d always get lost in the city. Though you could let him get lost, so you’d have to go after him and spend a bit more time. With an excuse, because you didn’t seem to have any excuse to be with him.

It hurt. What hurt the most was trying not to look back at the incredible moments you had because none of them were true.

You sighed. “Okay, when we get down you’ll take the F train—“

Tom stopped you, taking your hand. “No, wait, I don’t care if I get lost, okay, I… I just.”

You snatched your hand away from his cold hands he had. You darkened your gaze at him.

“Please, Y/n, I just need a chance. If you don’t want to listen… maybe I’ll just…” He handed you the note.

You crossed your arms, and tapped your foot, trying to decide whether or not to give it to him. “Fine,” you took the note.

You've gotten to your stop. So you stood up.

The girl with the book and the guy with the backpack watched you both as you walked out, pitying they couldn’t follow the drama.

Tom followed after you, he licked his lips. “You… you had questions, right?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, taking yet another heavy breath. You turned on your feet to look at him “One, did you lie to me?”

Tom was taken back by this, his eyes, consternated, only watched you. He gulped. “What?”

“Did you lie to me?

“I… well.”

You were getting desperate. “Did you ?”

“I didn’t lie about how I felt,” he said. You knew he wasn’t lying about it. He couldn’t. He couldn’t have ever lied about how he felt because you knew he had felt it too, a bit, at least,

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“I mean it, I…” Tom gulped. “I really liked you.”

“Yeah, I know, you liked me yadda, yadda,” you started. Liked not loved. “Cut the bullshit for once, did you or did you not lie to me?”

Tom took a deep breath. “Yes. But I had feelings for you.”

You bit your inner cheeks. “Uh-huh, yes, okay, good, yes, you acknowledge it. So, we have two statements here, Tom. You say you had feelings yet you lied to me,” you squinted. “Sounds-”

Tom gulped and avoided your gaze. “I know yes,” he looked down. “But, if you give me-”

“Ah, buh-buh, nope, I’m just gathering my thoughts here,” you coughed. “I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me what you felt.”

Tom shook his head in confusion. “I—I’m”

“Go on,” you motioned your hand.

“Y/N,” he said. And the way he dared to say your name was like having a knife right through you. “I had—I have feelings for you,” he said looking right into your eyes.

He didn’t say what feelings.

You were not sure where you wanted to go with this. “Fine, my next question…” you really didn’t know where this was going. “So, alright, you…” You couldn’t even phrase it. “You… made me fall in love with you knowing….Well, we both know what you did. What you hid from me. You’re a liar who made me—“

Tom took a deep breath. “Yes, but I didn’t… plan that.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, so it’s my fault?” You stepped back. “Sorry for developing feelings for you. Sorry for ruining your life—“

Tom closed his eyes, “No, no, look, I… wasn’t. I didn’t come here expecting to meet you, I didn’t want… It just happened, okay, I never thought—You're making it sound like it’s some big master plan. I—I never planned—I never would’ve ever planned on hurting you.”

You watched him, incredulous. “Thomas you do realize what you did to me?”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t! You’re trying to make me seem like I’m crazy for not even wanting to talk to you!” You called him out.

“I’m not, I’m just saying that if you’re here—you must miss it too, you know it was too real, and you want it back, possibly—M-maybe not, but if you came to the bar tonight it was in hopes of finding me again because you knew I’d be there, and you want to feel how you felt before, and i just… you know I miss it and that you knew I didn’t lie—“

You glared at him. “You did lie!”

“Okay—yes, yes I did—But not entirely, I just happened to omit one truth—“

“One very important truth,” you snarked.

“Fine but—please listen,” he tried to convince you. “and I’m sorry, okay? I—I didn’t want to hurt you. But I never planned this. It just happened. I didn’t come here expecting to fall in love with anyone, I didn’t come here trying to date, and I never expected it to be someone as complex—“

“Complex?”

“Yes, I never came to New York trying to find the most mental relationship I’ve ever had—“

“Mental?” You snapped.

“Yes! I love you but you’re fucking crazy! And I am too! I’m fucking crazy and mental but I—I—I loved being crazy and mental with you! We are fucking mental! Driving to nowhere? Breaking into places? Getting a jukebox on the subway? That’s mental! But—but I love that about you, alright? Don’t you get it? I could’ve stayed in London, I could've been the asshole who just ditched you and lied to you—“

You scoffed. “Well that’s comforting!”

“But I’m—I’m here, ain’t I? And I know I fucked up, I know, I accept that, I’m the asshole here, and I know you’ll never—I hid it from you because I didn’t know what was going on, I didn’t even get it myself. I’m here to give you my version of it. I didn’t realize I was falling in love with you…I am…,I am in love with you, and I never planned that, I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with someone else, it just happened. I may have thought it was just—Some fling, initially.”

You laughed cynically. “A fling.”

He gulped. “And the moment I realized what was really going on—”

“You left, that’s what you fucking did, when you realized it was way too real for you, you destroyed the one real thing you’ve ever known,” you barked, he stepped back. “I fell in love with you, I—I—and then you ditched me, and I thought that was the worst thing you could ever do to me but then I realized that it wasn’t real! I—you were never mine, Tom! I simply was—a break you needed or—a fling.”

“It wasn’t that—“

You watched him. Looking so innocent, kind eyes and tender lips. You would’ve believed him had he come before.

“You used me!” You snapped, the words that had wanted to come for a while just blurted out. “I just can’t believe you,” you said. “You don’t feel sorry.” You shook your head, your voice was cracking. “You're not sorry because you don’t understand. You don’t know what I went through, and if you had come earlier, if you hadn’t left me, I probably would have believed you. But—No! No!” You stepped back. “No!”

“I did call! You never picked up the phone! I tried—“Tom started.

“Was I really expected to pick it up? Let’s get back to it. Shall we? The facts. Did you or did you not date me? And made me fall in love with you?”

Tom sighed. “I—yes.”

“Did you lie?”

“…yes.”

You nodded. “Was I the other one?”

Tom squinted his eyes. “No… yes, no.”

You took a deep breath. “Did you leave me without an explanation?”

Tom looked down. “I did.”

“Did you ditch me?”

Tom looked everywhere and nowhere. “Yes,” he answered, defeated.

“Now, do you think I can ever forgive you?”

Tom didn’t answer.

You reached for your purse, for the locket that dug deep inside. “I don’t know you,” you stated giving him the locket, the stupid locket you’d bought as a joke when making fun of other couples and now laughed in your face. “Whatever happened means nothing. Because that’s the thing Tom. Everything we lived was a lie, those two people in the locket are not us, because you weren’t who you said you were, no matter how much I loved it, it’s not true and though it was too many emotions all at once I’m—It’s not real, not for you. I spent this whole time thinking I wanted you to apologize but I don’t want it. That charming guy wasn’t truly you because you omitted one very important thing. You—What were you thinking? Were you planning to never say it? Or did you plan it like that? Just ditching me, hoping I wouldn’t find out—“

Tom took a deep breath. “No—No, I didn’t. I just—-I didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you and I should’ve fixed it before—-“

“No, no you didn’t because it wasn’t enough for you.”

Tom gulped, “It was, it was—-the best thing I’ve ever had.”

“And you ruined it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“How little words mean when you’re a little too late, huh?” And that was the cue you needed to walk away. He silently watched you as you tried not to cry.

“I’m really sorry.” He said.

Was he?

“What if I try to prove it to you?” He asked as you were steps away from him.

You didn’t stop.

“If we go over this, you’ll see I never lied about it.” He continued.

“I already went over it, I remember everything, Tom, and maybe that’s why I don't want to talk to you.”

Tom walked behind, slowly. “I just happened to be very unlucky when it came to my own circumstances,” he reached over. “And I wish the timing had been better. But you’re right, it’s the one real thing I’ve ever had and I lost it because I hid something in fear of losing you. I lied because it was too good to be true. And I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me but I think you deserve to know why. But you went to the bar for a reason, and you had the locket for another.”

You stopped this time. Looking down at the floor and then at his hand, holding your stupid scarf. You shook your head, you really didn’t want to go through it all over again.

“I know you won’t forgive me,” he stated. “But I can’t let you go. You’re everywhere. And I miss the person I was when you were around, and I won’t stop fighting because you’re everywhere. Dreams, nightmares.”

Funny. You were his demons too.

“Am I haunting your nightmares?” You asked. Tom only watched you.

He took a deep breath. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, I just need—I really need you to listen to my version.”

“Fine then, let’s go down this sad, beautiful tragic love affair.”

-

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