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pingutats · 4 years

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at last!

it’s the morning after harry proposed, and here you are, in heaven.

warnings: some sexual content, not very graphic.

word count: 2k

. . . . .

As soon as you start to drift awake, you feel this overwhelming sense of bliss. Like everything is right in the world, properly aligned and in harmony. Your heart feels full, warm like the way a lover would cradle their hands around yours on a chilly winter night.

The thing that pulls you completely from the gentle embrace of sleep into the morning is someone actually grabbing your left hand. Not just someone, but Harry. And, you remember suddenly like a crack of lightning bursting through your sleep-weary skull, he isn’t just Harry, he’s —

“Morning, love,” he murmurs, his voice croaky and slightly slurred from sleep still, as he pulls your hand over to him and slips the ring back onto your fourth finger. “Y’always look so pretty in the morning. ‘Specially today.”

“H,” you whisper back, barely able to form a coherent thought. He’s your fiancé. You blink your eyes open, rubbing at them as you adjust to the weak light streaming through a window. “Oh my god, Harry.”

He’s grinning at you, eyes still half-closed. He brings your hand to his mouth and kisses the ring. “Oh my god, Y/N,” he repeats back, and you giggle.

You hold your hand up to the light, twisting your wrist so the small, classic diamond sparkles. You’ve seen it before, of course. You’ve known what it looks like for ages. The two of you picked it out together in a store a couple months ago. You’ve spoken about this moment, over and over — sometimes in practical terms to try and plan for your future, sometimes whimsically as you spelled out your wildest dreams to each other — but now it’s here. It’s real.

He was insistent on being the one to propose. You could pick the ring, the wedding venue, write the guest list and choose his outfit and even curate the reception playlist, he offered— as long as he got to propose. You accepted, of course, without the bargaining. You wanted him to do it anyway.

Harry isn’t one for grand gestures. When you first met him, only knowing him as the glamorous rockstar that he performs as when he’s on stage, you had assumed he would be into the massive displays of affection, the lavish gifts and the kind of relationship that no one can tear their eyes away from. But he isn’t really like that.

Harry is a cup of tea set out for you in the morning before you even ask for one. The last segment of the mandarin he was eating, held out for you to take. A hundred kisses to your cheek over the course of a night out, for no particular reason except that he’s tipsy and he loves you. A playlist that he texts to you with a sweet note in the description. Making the bed by himself before you’re done brushing your teeth. Carrying you from the car to the door at three in the morning because your heels are killing you and he’d rather roll around naked on broken glass than see you in any amount of pain at all.

That’s what Harry is. So it made sense that, rather than flying you out to Paris and organising a string quartet to play in the background while he got down on one knee under the Eiffel Tower at night (something you had joked about often), he did it in his own little unassuming way.

You wanted a surprise. That was all you asked. If he was going to ask, he better make it good.

It wasn’t big. It wasn’t grand or especially beautiful. You had been baking together all afternoon: flour all over the place, a small pile of chocolate chips that you’d “accidentally dropped” on the counter and were snacking on, cookies in the oven making the kitchen smell all warm and cosy. The echoes of your laughs and playful banter still lingered in the room. An Etta James album was playing in the background — Harry’s choice, of course. You were bending in front of the oven to check on the cookies.

“They’re looking good, H,” you said, gazing at them.

“Y/N,” he said from behind you.

“I think we’ve got a perfect batch on our hands.” You straightened up, reaching over to swipe a couple more chocolate chips from the shrinking pile. “Better than last time, those were all hard and —”

“Darling,” he said, a bit more firmly.

“Yeah?” You turned around, sucking on the chocolate, and froze.

There was Harry, on one knee on the kitchen floor, holding a little box and smiling gently up at you.

“Hi,” was all you managed to breathe out, once you regained the ability to move.

“Hello,” he said, smile growing. He cleared his throat. “I love you so much, you know?”

“Harry, you’ve got flour on your nose.”

“Do I?” He was grinning widely now, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he tried not to laugh. “I’ll fix that later, love, got something more important to do right now.”

“Okay.” Your voice was shaking slightly.

He chuckled, and then took a deep breath to steady himself. “Y/N. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. You make my days better, every day. Most gorgeous, funniest, kindest, sweetest girl I ever met. You’re so fucking amazing — sorry, I shouldn’t swear. Probably ruins the moment.”

“It doesn’t,” you said quickly. You could feel tears threatening to prickle at your eyes. “Keep going.”

“Nothing’s going to stop me, angel,” he promised. He set his face, playing at being very somber. “I really need to ask you something.”

You bit your lip through a smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause every day I wake up and hug you and I think to myself that I never want to let go of you. Ever.”

You nodded, unable to speak for fear that you would just collapse from how unbelievably sweet he is.

“Y/N,” he said, finally. He took a deep breath and pulled open the lid of the little box, and there was your ring. His smile returned to his face again, bright and dimpled and so Harry you nearly starting sobbing right there. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” You were saying it before he even finished his sentence. “Yes, yes, yes, yes—” and you kept saying it until he was back on his feet and had swept you up in the tightest hug, pulling you into his chest and spinning both of you around.

You clutched at the front of his fuzzy sweater and pulled him into a kiss that made the world feel like it was shifting. Because it had. Everything had changed now. It felt like the two of you had taken the world and cracked it open like a walnut, finding a completely new kind of life inside. A kind of life where you both completely, irrevocably, belonged to each other.

When he pulled back from the kiss, he rubbed his flour-covered nose over yours, then pecked another kiss on your cheek. “Got flour all over you, love.”

“Best go take a shower, then,” you said to him, grinning.

He raised his eyebrows, that mischievous glint in his eye that you so adored appearing. “Yeah? Okay, whatever my beautiful fiancee wants.” He let you take his hand and start to pull him toward the bathroom, before he suddenly jerked you back, making you stumble into his chest. “Shit,” he murmured. “Give me your hand, darling.”

“Oh.” You held out your left hand, and gently he slid the ring onto your finger.

He looked up at you, eyes shining. “Can’t believe I nearly forgot the most important part.”

“Me too. Silly goose.”

He snorted, and you leaned forward to kiss him again. He held his hands to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. He was warm, his embrace firm, his mouth gentle. Tasting him, the sweetness of the cookie dough he had been stealing out of the bowl, the vanilla of the lip balm he used — you could have lived in that kiss forever. Any kiss, really. You weren’t picky when it came to Harry. But he pulled back, and ran his hands down to the back of your thighs.

“Jump, darling,” he whispered, and he pulled you up to wrap your legs around his waist, your arms looped behind his neck. He pressed his lips to yours again, then carried you to the bathroom, your giggles echoing through the house.

He got on his knees for you again in the shower — “Wanna treat my fiancee like a proper gentleman” — with your leg thrown over his shoulder, your hand with the ring in his hair, your head thrown back against the tiled wall. He was always good (outstanding in the field, you would joke) but somehow today he was better. Like he was trying to tell you something just by the way he licked up your folds and sucked on your sensitive little bud until you were shaking and your hand tightened in his hair in a way that was surely painful. Like he was trying to show you just how much he loved you, as if everything else wasn’t already enough.

Later, you opened up the expensive bottle of champagne you’d been saving and split it over the takeout he had ordered over the phone in a rush while your hands were slowly creeping down his bare chest and playing with the waistband of the sweatpants he had thrown on after the shower. You ate outside. It was a pleasant night and as stars started to dust over the sky, you were sure they were shining just a little bit brighter.

And when you finally made it into bed, he was immediately over you, his arms snaking underneath you and hugging you to his chest while he thrust into you, deep and passionate. He had his head buried in your neck, his moans vibrating into your skin and you knew he was feeling more than just the physical. It was beyond that for both of you. Treasure this moment, you kept thinking. Keep this day safe forever.

You came together. As he got close, his steady rhythm starting to falter, he grabbed your left hand and pushed it down into the mattress, so you could feel the ring pressing into your skin. That was what sent the both of you over the edge.

Sleep came easily, your limbs still tangled together, your ring lying on the bedside table because you were scared to sleep with it. Harry must have fallen asleep after you — as you dozed off, you could hear the rustling of his pillow as he kept turning his head to look at the ring glinting in the full moon’s light coming through the window. His strong arm wrapped around you, holding you close, letting the rhythm of his heartbeat lull you to sleep.

“I’m so fucking happy,” he says now, in the morning, quietly, breaking the silence that had descended over you. He says it like it could be the last sentence he ever speaks. A neat epilogue.

You look at him, your arm still raised in the air between you. His eyes are trained on the diamond, and you could swear his eyes are sparkling just as much as the jewel is. He blinks, and glances back to you. “So, so fucking happy.”

“Me too,” you tell him. You let your hand drop, finding his and intertwining your fingers. “Love being engaged.” The word rolls off your tongue easily, and that was thrilling. You’re engaged. “’S better than I imagined. Better than anything else, ever.”

“Mm,” he hums, running his thumb over the ring, and then along the empty space of your finger just below it. “I think it just keeps getting better from here, love.”

. . . . .

hope you enjoyed!! i wrote this in barely two hours around midnight (obviously with at last by etta james playing in the background) because i just had to get this concept onto a page. it’s only been very lightly edited so if there were mistakes or it was structured messily ........ sorry. but i am just so in love with these very domestic, un-grandiose proposals because the important thing is the love between the two rather than the big displays... yeah. anyway hope you liked and if you want to send me a request or just chat, my askbox is very much open!!!

#harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #fiance harry #fic

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justice4canyonmoon · 3 years

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An Evening Off

Summary: Both Y/n and Harry have a rare night off. Y/n has relaxing plans for how they should spend it.

Notes: Howdy! This is probably the last fic I’m going to post for the next two weeks; I have finals for college next week, and I have a fuck ton of work this week because professors love to give students everything at once 🙃 Anyway, I came up with the very fluffy concept because I crave emotional intimacy, so I hope you like it!!!!

Warnings: cursing ig. otherwise just a lot of fluff and taking a bath together 🥰

WC: 1.9k

Y/n was feeling lonely.

Her boring ass office job didn’t produce too many friends for her. While the people she worked with weren’t the absolute worst, they were just, well, bland. Their lives were cookie-cutter. The closest thing any of them had experienced to a true adventure was a trip to IKEA. Her two best friends, Maria and José, were across the country, since she had moved from one coast to another to live with her boyfriend. Sure, she could FaceTime them, but it just wasn’t the same. And after the call, she knew she’d just be more lonely than before.

Harry wasn’t an option either. He was working, far too hard for her liking. She understood, of course; it was album crunch time. He had to make all of the last minute decisions: finalizing the tracklist, photoshoots, and touch-ups on the chosen tracks in the studio. But she missed him. The only times she saw him anymore was right before bed, when he would stumble into the room sleepily and kiss her forehead before going right to sleep. So yeah, she was a bit lonely. And being alone on her day off wasn’t exactly the plans she wanted to have.

Luckily, the universe decided to answer her pleas. At around 1:00, after she had finished up a late shower, her phone buzzed with a text from her beloved.

H: Hi, baby! The only thing we have left on the agenda today is touching up a couple of the album tracks, so I should be home a bit earlier :D If you’d like, I can pick up some dinner on the way home.

She couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across her face. For the first time in ages, the two of them could finally have some time together! Maybe she could do something nice for him! He had been working so hard lately, he deserved it. And honestly, she did, too. An idea popped into her head, and she threw open the bathroom closet, taking a look through her bath supplies. She grinned triumphantly as she pulled out a citrus bath bomb, knowing that Harry enjoyed the calming scent of orange and lemon. A nice bath would not only help Harry destress, but it would also be the perfect cure to the loneliness that was settling in her heart. She quickly texted Harry a reply as she set the bath bomb aside.

Y/n: Sorry about the wait, babe, was just taking a shower. Forgot to this morning lol

He answered pretty much right away, making her smile.

H: It’s okay, baby! No need for apologies :)

Y/n: Okay! I’m excited to actually get to spend some time with you! I could really go for curry, if you’re up for Indian takeout.

H: Curry sounds good to me! I’ll probably be home between 6 or 7! I have to go now, but I can’t wait to see you :) I love you so much!!!!

Y/n: Can’t wait to see you, either, Har!!! I love you, too 💕💕

“Baby, ‘m home!”

Y/n looked at the clock. It was 7:30, a bit later than what Harry had said through text, but still much earlier than usual. She leapt up from the couch and sprinted to the front door, tackling Harry in a hug. He laughed loudly and wound his free arm around her waist, not fully able to hug her back because of the takeout bag in his arms.

“Let me put the food down so I can give y’ a proper hug.”

She let go with a small pout on her face, which Harry promptly kissed off while setting the bag down. He then wrapped her in a tight, two-armed embrace. She melted at the contact, resting her head on his chest and hugging him back just as tightly. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, then rested his head on top of hers.

“Miss you, Har,” she said, her speech slightly muffled from talking into his t-shirt.

She could feel him frown against her hair, “I miss y’ too, Y/n. The album should be done by the end of the month, and then ‘m all yours until tour starts.”

“Good. I was gonna break into the studio and steal you back myself if you weren’t done soon.”

He chuckled, “I don’ think Jeff would like that very much.”

“Fuck Jeff! I need you back here,” she scoffed.

“I certainly hope y’ don’ want t’ fuck Jeff.”

She rolled her eyes, “You’re annoying.”

He grinned cheekily, “But yet y’ still here.”

“Lord only knows why,” Y/n grumbled, though there was a smile on her face.

They pulled away reluctantly, both realizing how hungry they were. The two chowed down on chicken curry and naan while chatting about their day. Y/n spent most of her day off watching The Great British Bake-Off and snuggling with Daiquiri, their black lab. Harry had been putting the finishing touches on three of the album songs (“I can’ wait to play them f’ y’, baby”), and ranted about the traffic coming home (“I would’ve gotten home 45 minutes earlier, but the freeway was ridiculously clogged up!”). It was domestic in a way that Y/n never thought she would have, and she loved every second of it.

When everything from dinner was cleaned up, Y/n figured now was as good a time as any to reveal her plans for the rest of their evening.

“Hey, Har,” she paused, then continued when she heard his hum of acknowledgment, “would you want to take a bath with me?”

He raised an eyebrow, “Is this a ploy t’ get me naked?”

“No,” Y/n said bashfully, “I just thought it would be nice to take a bath together. I found a citrus bath bomb at the back of the closet, and I thought it would be relaxing for us.”

Harry’s eyes softened and he smiled gently at her, “That sounds perfect, love. Y’ too sweet.”

The two made their way to the bathroom, hand in hand. Y/n plucked the bath bomb from the closet and laid it in the tub, turning on the warm water. The water became a pastel shade of yellow, reflecting the lemony scent of the bath bomb. As she was checking the temperature, a pair of tattooed arms wrapped around her waist, and a kiss was pressed to her cheek. The heat radiating off of his body led her to believe that Harry had already rid himself of his clothes. When she turned around, her suspicions were confirmed.

“You work fast,” she commented, making a humming sound when the temperature was to her satisfaction.

“A bit,” he confirmed, leaning over to turn off the nozzle “just wanna take a bath with y’, love. Speaking of, let’s get those pesky clothes off of y’, shall we?”

Y/n nodded and Harry reached forward, almost reverently lifting her (his) sweatshirt over her head. She shimmied out of her leggings and removed her undergarments. She stepped into the bath first, gesturing for him to follow. He obeyed, and sat between her legs, resting his head on her shoulder. The two sat in silence for a while, basking in each other’s company. Y/n couldn’t remember a time where she had felt this at peace. But she also knew that Harry had forgotten to shower that morning since he was nearly late to the studio, so she reached over and grabbed some soap and a washcloth. She looked down at him and giggled softly when she realized he was almost asleep

“Wake up, baby,” she crooned, “let me wash you.”

“‘M awake,” he muttered, “promise.”

“Sure you are, that’s why your eyes are closed,” Y/n teased.

He only hummed in response, making her giggle again. She kissed his forehead and began washing him gently. The soft circles she was rubbing into his skin with the washcloth were soothing, and a sleepy smile made its way onto his face.

“‘Y always take such good care of me. Dunno how I got s’ lucky.”

Y/n felt her face grow warm as she reached for the shampoo, “I think I’m the lucky one. You always take care of me, too.”

She began rubbing the shampoo into his silky locks. Breathy gasps fell from his lips as she tugged lightly as his hair, working the shampoo into his curls.

“Feels s’ good,” he murmured.

“Glad you’re feeling good, Har,” Y/n replied in a hushed tone.

She rinsed his hair and repeated the process with the conditioner. By the time she had finished, Harry had fully fallen asleep on her shoulder. She cooed softly at how adorable he looked. He was like an angel; his long lashes were speckled with little water drops, his wet hair stuck to his forehead in an oddly endearing way, and a small smile was spread across his lips. He looked so relaxed in a way that Y/n hadn’t seen in a while. The bath helped her feel more at ease too; the monotonous motions of washing Harry made the stress from her job melt away, and the loneliness that had plagued her earlier in the day was washed away by the warm water. But she knew she had to wake Harry. She wasn’t quite strong enough to carry all six feet of him back to their bedroom.

Y/n gently jostled his shoulder and whispered, “Harry. Need you to wake up, baby.”

He groaned softly, making her giggle softly once more. His eyes slowly blinked open to reveal his jade irises, and he stumbled his way out of the tub, making her laugh a little harder as she followed. Y/n got out two towels and dried them both off, knowing that Harry was much too tired to do it on his own. She took his hand and walked toward their bedroom.

When they reached the bedroom, Y/n guided Harry to sit on the bed while she picked out sweats for both of them to wear to sleep (she knew that Harry had a particular fondness for when she wore his clothes to bed, so she got out his clothes for both of them). Harry pliantly moved his limbs as she clothed him, and watched her with moony eyes as she pulled on her own sleepwear.

“Look s’ pretty in m’ clothes, love,” he complimented, relishing in the shy smile that appeared on her face.

“Thank you, Har. Let’s get you to bed, okay?” she replied.

Y/n turned off the light and joined Harry on the bed. He was already lying on his side, so she wound her arms around his waist, resting her head between his shoulder blades. Usually, he was the big spoon, but with the whole mood they had set all night, it just felt right for her to be the one cuddling him. Y/n barely heard Harry mumble a “g’night. Love you,” before his breathing evened out. She smiled and closed her eyes, reflecting on the day. Just spending one evening with her boyfriend made her feel right as rain, and the loneliness that had once threatened to overtake her was totally gone. Though she had been taking care of him that night, he was also taking care of her. And sure, they were both going back to work tomorrow, but in two weeks, Harry would be done with the album and would be all hers. When sleep finally overtook her, all she had were the most pleasant of dreams.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine

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milfjensenackles · 3 years

Text

castiel’s top 13 taylor swift traxx

1.7k words | read it on ao3

“What’s this?”

Dean looked up at Cas from his desk chair, confusion apparent in his curled lip and furled eyebrows. Cas had stalked into his room a moment before and unceremoniously dropped a small rectangle on the table in front of Dean.

Cas gave Dean a small, close-lipped smile while rubbing his hand over the other repeatedly. “It’s a mixtape. Like the one you made me.”

Dean flipped the mixtape over in his hands to read what Cas had written on it. Apparently Cas was getting a lot of use out of the rainbow pen set Sam bought him last week, because ‘CASTIEL’S TOP 13 TAYLOR TRAXX’ was spelled out in bright purple ink on the front of the tape. Dean smiled at Cas’ loopy handwriting before clearing his throat and asking, “Taylor?”

“Taylor Swift. I know your favorite artist is Led Zeppelin and you shared their music with me, so I wanted to return the favor. Sam taught me how to make the tape.” Cas beamed proudly at this accomplishment.

Dean almost grimaced but caught himself so he wouldn’t disappoint Cas. “That’s great, Cas. Thanks. I’ll check it out later.”

Satisfied with that answer, Cas folded his hands behind his back and left Dean to himself again.

About an hour after Cas left Dean’s room, Dean put down the papers he was looking through for a case to reach for the mixtape again. Dean knew why he made that Led Zeppelin mixtape for Cas, but he didn’t think Cas understood human customs like making a mixtape for someone. His feelings for Castiel had become… complicated, as of late. Dean was terrible at expressing himself, but he’s always been able to understand his feelings a little more through his favorite songs. He recently realized (embarrassingly enough) that he had developed quite a crush on the former angel. He knew that he would explode if he didn’t do something about it, but he didn’t want to ruin their friendship. Thus, ‘Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Traxx’ was born.

The only tape player Dean still had was in the Impala, so he grabbed a jacket and shoved the tape into his pocket. He managed to avoid Sam on his way out, which meant that he avoided having to give a lame excuse for going to sit in his car for thirty minutes or so by himself. He opened the door to the Impala and slid onto the bench before pulling the tape out of his pocket and sliding it into the player. A twangy country beat immediately sounded from the speakers and Dean groaned. How was he going to get through a whole mixtape of just Taylor Swift? She was talented and all, but not Dean’s thing. The things he was willing to do for that angel. He closed his eyes and leaned back to rest his head against the bench, listening as a young girl’s soft voice began to sing.

I like the way you sound in the mornin’

We’re on the phone and without a warning

I realize your laugh is the best sound I have ever heard

Dean sat straight up at that, hitting his head on the roof of the car. He rubbed at the bump forming on his scalp while trying to process the lyrics that were still playing repeatedly in his mind. What did Cas mean by putting this song on a mixtape he made specifically for Dean? Probably nothing, he tried to reason with himself. This is just one of Cas’ favorite songs. It doesn’t have anything to do with Dean. Maybe Cas was trying to tell Dean that he was interested in someone else. Maybe Cas did understand the meaning of Dean’s mixtape and was trying to let him down gently. Dean had apparently been lost in thought for the entirety of the song, because as the final chorus filled the Impala he felt his breath catch in his throat.

Whoa-oh, I’m feeling you baby

Don’t be afraid to jump then fall

Jump then fall into me

Baby, I’m never gonna leave you

Say that you wanna be with me too

As the first song ended, Dean picked up the case the mixtape had been inside to read the names of the songs that Cas had listed on the back. The next one was called Sparks Fly. Dean smiled to himself at that, reminded of the night he and Cas had met in that barn covered with sigils. Sparks had flown, but not for romantic reasons, like Taylor suggested in the song. He guessed Cas probably took the lyrics a little too literally, as he did with most things. This theory of Dean’s was proven to be true, as a song that was apparently called Don’t Blame Me blared loudly, causing Dean to rush to turn the volume down.

And baby, for you, I would fall from grace

Just to touch your face

If you walk away

I’d beg you on my knees to stay

This one was a little too on the nose, Dean thought to himself. Again, he allowed his mind to wander, questioning the reason behind Cas’ decision to put this song on a playlist for Dean. It took quite a bit of effort to make a mixtape, especially nowadays. Dean would know. Cas would have had to painstakingly record the songs that he chose for some particular reason that Dean couldn’t determine so far. He allowed himself to fantasize for a moment that it was Dean that Cas so desperately wanted before shaking himself from his thoughts.

Dean had to admit, these songs weren’t half bad. There was even one about cowboys that was probably his favorite so far. Not that Dean’s biased or anything. The next song faded in softer than the others, which caught Dean’s attention immediately. He focused on the words, leaning forward slightly with his hands folded in his lap.

All these people think love’s for show

But I would die for you in secret

The devil’s in the details, but you got a friend in me

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Dean frowned at these lyrics. Is this how Cas felt about himself? Did Cas really think that he brought only chaos to their lives? Dean supposed that Sam and himself hadn’t really ever said anything to suggest otherwise. He made a mental note to do better about showing his appreciation for Cas. The next few songs played through, and against his better judgment, Dean was starting to really enjoy himself. Before he knew it, the last song was playing, and the tape stuttered to a stop. He sat there quietly for some time after the last note played through the speakers.

He had two options here. He could be a coward, like usual, and let this mixtape thing be forgotten over time as they continue to dance around one another. Or he could confront his friend and potentially destroy their relationship. Eventually, Dean gathered his things and moved back toward the bunker.

Cas was in the kitchen by himself, drinking a cup of coffee out of a mug that said ‘Plant Daddy’ on it. Dean had purchased it for him as a joke when Cas got into gardening, and it immediately became Cas’ favorite. He had his reading glasses on along with an old flannel of Dean’s, which made Dean feel like he was going to explode for reasons he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Dean walked up to him and placed the mixtape on the table, as Cas had done to him only a few hours previously.

“Why did you make me this mixtape, Cas?”

Cas pursed his lips for longer than Dean could handle before taking his glasses off and standing up from the table to move toward the sink. He rinsed out his mug before turning back around to face Dean, bracing himself on the counter behind him.

“I find myself… able to relate to the words she sings, moreso than the artists that might be considered more ‘age appropriate’” – Cas’ hands went up to form finger quotes around the phrase – “for myself. Since becoming human, these new emotions have been very difficult to process. I feel like Taylor understands me. The songs I chose… I picked them because they reminded me of you. That’s what Sam told me humans do when they make a mixtape for someone they care about.”

Dean felt himself freeze. He looked down at the mixtape in his hand for a moment, before looking back at Cas again. He thought back to the tracklist he had already committed to memory. It all came to him at once, the lyrics flooding his brain.

My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hands

We’re driving down the road, I wonder if you know

I ain’t gotta tell him I think he knows

Please don’t be in love with someone else

Dean stepped forward, crowding into Castiel’s space. He opened his mouth, and nothing came out. Dean closed his eyes to steel himself, before opening them again and confidently saying, “I’m not in love with someone else, Cas. It’s you. It’s always been you. And I’m sorry if I’m reading the wrong thing into this situation but I – “

Dean was cut off by Cas, who had reached out and grabbed his face before crashing their lips together. Once Dean’s brain caught up to the rest of his body, he started kissing Cas back, pushing the angel into the countertop. This was nothing like Dean’s fantasies, which were always aggressive and usually the result of an argument or a near-death experience. This was achingly slow and sweet with the promise of more.

Cas was the one to pull back to breathe first. Dean followed his lips, wanting more. He would have gladly drowned in Cas. Cas noticed Dean’s eagerness and laughed softly. “I love you too, Dean. I made the mixtape hoping that you would understand what I was trying to tell you. Evidently, it worked.”

This time, Dean was the one to wrap his arms underneath Cas’ to pull him in for another kiss.

After what felt like an eternity, Dean pulled back and smirked, running his hand through Cas’ hair as he spoke. “So… you’d really ‘fall from grace just to touch my face’, huh?”

Cas rolled his eyes, but nonetheless gave Dean an endearing smile. “I already did, Dean. And I’d do it over and over again if it meant I could have this.”

#destiel fic #destiel #deancas #deancas fic #destiel ficlet #dean winchester #castiel #spn fic #lauren writes

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vasiktomis · 3 years

Text

Pomegranate, Chapter 17: Quiet Earth, Part I.

John Seed x Female Deputy

Rating: Explicit.

Read it on Ao3 here!

Notes: Thanks all who have been keeping up with this! I'm so consistently floored by the amount of content creators we have in this fandom corner and the sheer level of workmanship that exists here. This is the first chapter of Pom that I'll be posting to tumblr, and I'm hoping to draw up a little sketch with each update. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Big thank you to @shallow-gravy and @consumedkings as always for dealing with my stupidity and being a pair of top-notch angels, and also just like, everybody who takes time out of their day to engage with this? Y'all really sticking with ultra slow burn and I swear after some wicked angst in the next couple of chapters I'll finally be able to throw some well-deserved smut at you. WARNINGS: Forced conversion, descriptions of dissociation and derealisation, explicit language, sexual content, depictions of violence, guns, blood and gore. Canon-typical debauchery.

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“Don’t touch him!”

Mary May lunged with enough force for John to feel the wake of air sweep through him, even with how quickly she was snatched up and yanked back to her place. The soles of her tennis shoes squeaked against the floor as she was dragged to the far side of the room, unable to be trusted with providing audience to Nick’s Atonement.

A shame, really. It was nicer as a shared experience.

The Baptist rolled his jaw, off-setting some of the tension arising from the shrieks that the blonde flung at the back of his head. He righted himself, taking the tattoo gun from one of his faithful with a gracious nod, and turned his attention down to the pilot currently pinned to the floor. Without a word, he sank to his knees, straddling the man, keeping silent as he could just to listen out for any change in his demeanour. Fear. Grief. Defeat. Acceptance. A sign to prove his readiness.

Nick didn't flinch, breathing hard through his nose and watching with hateful eyes. John hovered an indicating hand over the man’s bare chest, bruised from the fight he’d put up against his capture, mentally mapping out placement. Then, he came in with the needle, beginning with the stem of an ’E’, right in the centre of Nick's sternum.

The pilot snorted, masking discomfort with indifference, turning a wince into a scoff. “Figures you don’t use stencils. I ain’t got a hope in hell of this turning out good, do I.”

That casual old Nick attitude. He missed it.

If only he’d let him do this 5 years ago. He wouldn’t have had to miss it.

John feigned offense. “Oh I’m sorry, Nick. Did you want me to do the rest in cursive? Add a feather? Infinity symbol?”

“For fuck’s sake-”

“Talk about tonal dissonance. It’s not meant to be pretty.” He grumbled. “Might’ve gotten a little more practice if you’d-”

A yell from the rear entryway pulled John’s hand away from his canvas. More squeaking. More interruption. Jerome Jeffries getting hauled into the church, held under each arm by the pair of Chosen that John had sent looking for him.

The Baptist cast a look over his shoulder at them, content with the sight of Jerome adequately beaten and bloodied. “Ahh. Pastor. Try to run and hide? It’s no wonder your flock ran astray with a shepherd so quick to leave them to the wolves.”

Jerome ignored him. No reply. No eye contact. A crime John noted to make worthy of capital punishment in the New Eden. The Pastor was set down beside Mary May, who immediately began seeing to his injuries. Murmuring bubbled between them.

“Did you reach them?” The bartender asked. Must’ve been a negative, because the next thing she did was curse.

“The Deputy was calling when they caught me.”

And if she had half the spine to come and broker an agreement for her friends, she’d be inbound.

“Could you at least gag them? I’m trying to concentrate.” John ordered no one in particular, earning another scoff from Nick. “The faster we work, the less we’ll have to get through once she arrives. The quicker we can be out of this heinous town.”

“Stay away from her, shitbag.” The pilot ground out, this time unable to save face when John retaliated, pressing the gun just a little too hard, digging down through an extra few layers of skin.

“Nick Rye, you’re a married man.” John tutted playfully, resuming his work. “That sin of yours again. Take, take, take. Didn’t think the Deputy to be your type. Wouldn’t say you’re hers, either.”

Nick looked downright disgusted at the prospect. Less concerned for the state of his wife - which meant she'd been a likely getaway. “Always been so fuckin’ jealous.”

“Come again?”

“Think folks are stupid? Think I don’t know you?”

“You don't know me, period.” John bit back, skin on the back of his neck flushing between boiling and freezing.

“Anyone else givin’ you this much trouble’d be long dead by now. That shit on the radio? Reckon you’d be talkin’ like that if your family could hear you across the river?” Nick continued, averting his gaze when John shot him a particularly poisonous look. He didn’t, however, find it necessary to respond to such a veiled accusation.

At least until -

“Everybody knows you wanna stick it to her, John-”

As if he’d been awaiting the chance, John’s free hand shot to Nick’s jaw, aching in protest when he squeezed, not stopping until he could feel the man’s molars beneath his flesh. “That’s about enough from you.” He crooned.

John had his desires, yes. He’d accepted that much. Had he not been sworn to celibacy, he might have jumped at the opportunity to respond to Cora’s advances last night. That said, she was still an outsider, and while her Atonement made the prospect less dicey, he couldn’t consciously consider laying with the woman in real life.

No matter how torturous it had become to gear his thoughts toward anything else.

He could be content with just her company, without making any further advances on her. Last night had simply been a moment of weakness, and he’d prevailed by stepping away.

“If you’ll excuse me.” John switched off the little machine once he’d completed his piece and promptly stood to beckon for replacement parts. Mary May might have gotten away with an allergic reaction last time he’d attempted this, but considering he’d be slicing it out of her within the hour, he couldn’t see any reason for her to be complaining. The bartender had been a thorn in his side from the start. While Nick and his wife had once lent John their...whatever a sinner’s closest equivalent was to friendship, Mary May had always been trouble. Wore her heart on her sleeve and trusted no one she hadn’t grown up around. Bolshie. Almost fucking killed him, once.

John busied himself with needle transfers and a pleasant expression. He could feel the woman’s eyes on him.

Did she think what Nick proclaimed? That complete and utter lie?

How fucking crass. No, he did not want to ’stick it’ to Cora. At least, as far as anyone else was concerned. He was fond of her, and - while yes, he had encountered temptation - if one disregarded the cum-stained, stolen panties in his pocket, and the conjured fantasies, and the purely incidental erection he’d maintained after the Deputy stuck her tongue down his throat last night - there was simply no evidence to suggest to anyone else that he was even remotely tempted to break the rules.

Sex was the furthest thing from his mind. It was mere coincidence that today had just so happened to fall on a morning in which he’d needed to trim.

…

If, however, she were to decide that she wanted to continue what she’d attempted last night, then surely he couldn’t be to blame if he only failed to stop her. It wasn’t technically fornication if he didn’t initiate it. Nor was it considered intercourse if -

“Brother John.”

John jumped, heart stopping, whipping his head around to the Chosen standing at the door of the church.

“What?" He asked thickly.

“The Deputy’s arrived.”

Right on cue, the crackling of gunshots drifted in alongside the Chosen’s announcement.

“Tell everyone to hold their fire.” John ordered. “We have them outnumbered tenfold. The Deputy can’t be stupid enough to create a hostage situation. Direct her here, and peacefully.”

The Chosen’s throat bobbed, swallowing back outrage, and John squinted hard at him, trying to dispel the flicker of green light in the mist outside as it settled against the man’s temple.

“John, I don’t think-”

He never got a chance to act on that incoming insubordination.

Instead, he jerked, cut off by a sickening crack as a section of his skull blew out of his head. Red mist and liquified brain matter followed, splattering against the doorframe, and the Chosen slumped lifeless onto the front step.

John wasn’t so much shaken by the killing as he was irritated by everyone else’s apparent refusal to let today go according to plan. Maybe also the pile of brains and hair now sitting on his once-pristine red carpet. He’d made this easy for the woman: kill everyone he could round up, leave her with no one to claim duty to, and get this all over and done with. Have her home by mid-afternoon. Embark on a new chapter and achieve salvation. It was that simple.

Woe to him for trusting in her common sense.

“Fuck’s sake. Wrath begets more wrath.” He muttered, smoothing a hand over his chin. He didn’t have the patience for this any longer. “Fine. Sister -”

A woman stood from the pews as soon as John made eye contact, equally as unshaken by the scene mere feet away.

“Send out word: the Deputy wants to sacrifice her friends for the sake of a fight.” John punctuated the end of his sentence with a click as he returned his focus to jamming the needles into his tattoo gun. “Give her what she wants. Take her by force.”

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The smokescreen was beginning to clear, but despite the weight it was taking off her lungs, Cora would’ve preferred it remain just a little longer. At least until they’d cleared out the town. Had they been quicker, it might have lasted longer. Covered their approach to Fall’s End. Given them more cover to sneak about unseen.

The streets, while still hazy, were visible now. It wasn’t a difficult task watching Peggie silhouettes run from building to building in search of her team. Resistance members and civilians were either in the process of being rounded up, or littered the road and pavement, dead. The Ryes, Mary May, and Pastor Jerome were yet to be seen amongst either group.

Same went for Boomer.

Aside from the barking of orders from Chosen and faithful, there was little sound. Knowing how much of a fuss her dog had put up the last time he’d been caught by the Project struck Cora’s nerves. He was his own alarm, and he would not go peacefully.

Not hearing him was an indication of the worst.

Some part of her brain argued against the idea. Vouching that John wouldn’t have hurt the creature. That was her dog. He had to be an exception to the massacre, no matter how vicious he behaved.

She had to find him, and creeping through the rear entry of the Spread Eagle was the first point of call.

Luckily enough, the back door had yet to be boarded up. Peggies who rushed past covered windows hardly stopped to peek inside the place for fear of being tainted by the presence of alcohol. Sneaking in was simple enough, too, at least once Jess had picked the lock.

“I’m going to pretend that door was open.” The Deputy murmured her equivalent to praise, passing into the building.

Grace headed straight in after her, taking a left to search for any sign of Mary May while she took a right toward the stairs.

“You pretend the Cook’s head was already gone when we found him?” Jess whispered.

“Freak accident. You all saw it.”

“First floor’s clear.” Grace announced from the serving hatch in the kitchen, clearly unhappy about it.

“Right.” Cora acknowledged, “I’ll check up top.”

The second story was as dead-quiet as the first. Furniture had been knocked over in the hallway and bedrooms had been raided. None of it indicated anything good, but she still had to know.

Cora pushed open the door to her room, and while she held no expectation of what she’d find, her heart sank anyway.

It was empty.

Boomer was gone.

Only his makeshift collar and a tattered bandana remained atop the rug he’d been snoozing on that morning.

Her dog.

John had either taken him or killed him, just like the rest. He’d do the same to the rest of her team. She should’ve taken the Baptist’s offer before the latter had even become a possibility.

“No sign?” Grace affirmed once the Deputy slipped back down to the first floor. “My guess is either they’re in hiding, or John’s giving them special treatment. If they were dead he’d be parading them.”

Sharky and Hurk exchanged a frown when Cora offered only a nod, notably more meek than usual.

“Was he in there, darlin’?” Adelaide asked, a little too gently not to invite a sting to her eyes.

Cora felt her jaw clench. It was a different breed of nausea, trying to keep her composure under the scrutiny of the rest of the team. She managed to shake her head, and Adelaide’s hand found her shoulder.

“Could still be with the others, yet.” The woman offered.

“So how do we find them?” Jess asked.

Find John Seed, of course.

“Finding them’s one thing. Getting to them might be the harder part.” Cora began. “The smokescreen’s only getting thinner and there’s Peggies everywhere. It's grasslands from here to the hills. No way we can herd everyone across a field on-foot, safely. We’ve got to make sure they stay freed, first.”

“And?” Jess huffed. “We’re gonna kill some Peggies, right?”

The blonde considered that.

“We split up. Search the buildings for anyone who hasn’t been caught yet. Round them up and plant explosives as we go. With enough chaos, maybe we can have a shot at turning the tide in the short term.”

Sharky was practically trembling. “Explosives, like, everywhere?”

“Everywhere. The more damage, the better.” Cora replied. “Adelaide, Xander, pair up. Sharky and Hurk, same with you.”

“And us on range?” Jess grinned, trading a look with Grace who maintained absolute stoicism. “I’m so into that.”

“No.”

…

“Say what?”

“No more ranged attacks. I need you and Grace to head back to the van -”

Jess was advancing on her before she’d even finished her sentence.

“You’re pulling me outta the fight? The fuck gives?” The huntress loomed over the Deputy, incredulous. Cora made an effort to stay put, but Jess’s insistence managed to outweigh her stubbornness, forcing the blonde to compromise by leaning as far back as she could without falling.

“We can’t keep running on short-term wins.” Cora insisted. “We have to put our foot down. No more small assaults. No more hoping John gets demoralised enough that he hands himself over.”

Sharky frowned. “What’re you saying?”

She met his gaze, puffing out her chest, retaking her space. “I’m saying the Henbane Bridge is unmanned right now. If we get word to the County Jail, there’s no roadblock to stop them from helping us win this. John Seed’s throwing everything he can at us. I say we try for the same. I say we end it for good. We’re gonna take back Holland Valley. Today.”

“...You really like that dog, huh.”

“That too.”

Jess looked unconvinced. “So the two of us are running errands while the rest of you are holding the fort? Fucking bullshit.”

“I told you. No more range.” Cora bit back, jabbing a thumb toward Hurk and Sharky. “You’d rather send Boshaws and Drubmans to convince Tracey to send us her best people? No offence.”

“None taken, bitch.” Adelaide grumbled.

Grace exhaled, throwing away momentary hesitation. “We’ll be fast.”

Cora traded a nod with the sniper before looking to Jess once more.

Still unconvinced.

“They have cars with guns on them, remember?”

The corner of Jess’s mouth ticked. Temptation.

Mission accomplished.

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The tacky fucking carpet was the first thing she noticed, creeping along Main Street. Bliss petals had been sprinkled all over the road leading up to the church.

The carpet ended at the door. An invitation if she ever saw one. Boastful. Arrogant.

A pang of dread ached through Cora's bones, holding her in place while she drew her revolver. It could be an ambush. It probably was an ambush, but there was nothing she could feasibly do to avoid it. If the others were in there, then she couldn't wait around any longer.

She had to do this. At least hold out until Jess and Grace returned, with or without help.

She'd been running for long enough. All other options had been exhausted. At least John offered the least awful defeat.

Drawing close to the entrance, the Deputy pointedly avoided examining a dead crow that had been impaled upon the wall. She inhaled, holding the breath in her lungs, steadying her heart rate.

It was only freedom.

She opened the door, immediately training the gun out before her, following its guide into the room.

About a dozen Peggies dotted the space, leaning against walls, lining the pews - all angled at the pulpit, observing Nick on the floor. He stifled a cry while John sliced through the final remaining layers of skin binding the tattoo to his chest, peeling the word 'GREED' out of his flesh. Blood pooled on the floor around them, and the moment John had stepped away, the pilot was descended on with antiseptic and bandages.

The Deputy waited for nausea at the sight to take its course. It never did. She was all but numbed to the sight.

"Deputy, run!"

Mary May's voice cut through the silence, and the bartender lurched from her own spot on the ground. Guns raised all around the room, swinging around to aim for Cora.

”Hold!” John barked immediately, unconcerned when the Deputy shifted her aim to him. Instead, he busied himself with washing his sullied hands. “Hold your fire.”

His followers obeyed.

Cora, meanwhile, cocked the revolver in her grip. One foot edged into the room, and she glanced around for the Project’s captives before returning her gaze to John. All on the other side of the room. Pinned. Fuck.

“Hope County Sheriff’s Department.” She announced, staring the Baptist down, ignoring the grin that crept onto his face - like he found it fucking funny. “Weapons on the ground. Step away from the hostages.”

“Hostages?” John snorted. He gestured Pastor Jerome, Mary May, and Nick. “These are guests! This is their Atonement. This is your Atonement.”

“Drop the fucking weapons.”

John’s patience thinned. Quickly. “I’m not doing this with you.” He replied simply. “Not today.”

With his own look around the room, John inclined his head. An unspoken order to which everyone carrying a gun turned them on her allies.

“We both know you don’t have enough bullets for everyone. Nor do you have the time. So why don’t you put down my gun and surrender.”

“Don’t-” Mary May was cut off with the tap of steel against her temple. Warning.

John was right. She was outnumbered. There was no chance of getting any of them out with force alone.

She inhaled. Exhaled. Watched the fondness slip back onto John’s face like it had never left, and set the gun on the floor.

“That’s my girl.” John murmured. Then, he motioned. “Get her ready.”

Cora’s stomach dropped as two sets of arms coiled around hers, each pulling and pushing, prickling at her skin with unfamiliar, sickening touch. Biology told her to resist. Escape the sensation. The downward pulling.

“No, stop it.” Escaped her while she squirmed. “Get off. Stop touching me-”

“Her friends can’t be far. Find them.” The Baptist ordered, turning away toward the pulpit.

Cora’s knees hit the floor. There was no holding the repetition of protests, but even as she consciously elevated the volume of her voice, it grew quieter in her ears. Calculated attempts to jerk away and make an escape became automatic twitches.

One of John’s followers - a female - crept into view, fingers tugging at the top button on her uniform collar. John readied a tattoo gun over the woman’s shoulder, and the Deputy’s mind screamed alarm bells. Get out. Escape. Fight back. Regain control.

“I won’t hurt you, sister.”

This time, she sank, curling forward, angling herself away from the woman. Another attempt, and she wrenched away again, snarling. Then, the Peggies around her must have gotten tired of all the fuss, because the tear of cotton clawed at her ears. Ringing through her brain.

Her back felt cold all of a sudden.

Green material slipped down her arms, and at the sight of her own uniform pooling in shreds in her own lap, Cora ceased her thrashing. The shredded shirt was yanked from her belt and tossed aside, and she watched with growing resignation while John turned back around.

His gaze found hers. Then flickered downward, first to the compression bra, then a margin to the right. “Here I thought you’d be unmarked.” He commented, inspecting what was visible of the old ink on her lower ribs while he approached.

Hands pressed against Cora’s shoulders, and she drifted back until her shoulder blades hit the floor.

John continued to loom until he stood directly over her. He sank to his knees, expression softening with his descent until he was on all fours on top of her. He looked almost adoring, and she hated how it comforted her, just slightly. She hated how the hands had disappeared from her limbs, and yet she still made no further attempt to escape. He had every ounce of power now.

She didn’t know she’d started trembling until his free hand swept over her collarbones, mapping out her chest, calming the gooseflesh beading on her from the chill, or the fright, or perhaps just that this whole thing felt so humiliatingly exposing.

A blush swelled over John’s throat, maybe indicating some straying line of thought. He snapped out of it and settled to sit on her hips. “This looks familiar, doesn’t it?” He teased, hovering the tattoo gun right over the centre of her sternum.

“Dont.” Was all she could manage. Weak. Pleading. “I don’t want you to.”

“You have no idea how good you’re going to feel after this.” John cooed.

One of his fingers drifted along her jaw. An attempt at comforting her, but to no avail. He looked equal parts gentle and feral with excitement.

The machine buzzed, lowering pitch when the needles finally pressed into her flesh.

This was it.

She’d lost. There was no going back, anymore. No more normal, no more ridding herself of this family. They’d taken everything, and now they were claiming ownership over her, too.

The others were being hunted. It was only a matter of time. John was working too quickly. They’d be gone before the Cougars even crossed the river.

Cora’s nerves muted. Sound closed to just the rumble of blood in her ears. She receded into herself. Found a backseat in her mind, away from the sensory overload and the humiliation and her own failure while her body quietly continued: ”Dont, don’t, stop.”

She’d lost, and John wouldn’t stop. Not while he was branding the evidence of his victory into her flesh.

Defeat tasted worse than anticipated.

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Bullets whizzed overhead while Sharky and Hurk took cover beneath the window, watching helplessly as the aisle of potato chips and bar nuts was torn to shreds by the onslaught. Dorito dust filled the shop like mustard gas.

“Cuz, I think they found us!” Hurk barked, snapping an arm over his head in defence when a stray round ricocheted off the front counter.

“What gives you that impression?” Sharky hit back, hurriedly setting down his shotgun and shrugging his backpack to the floor.

“How many are there?”

“How about you check?”

A moment of quiet occurred while the cousins glared at each other, leaving their standoff to a battle of no blinking. Then the Peggies outside must’ve finished re-loading, because the back wall of the shop was suddenly being shot into swiss cheese.

They were okay. Everything was cool. Addie and Xander had taken their share of explosives and gone the quiet route. Grace and Jess were gone. Shorty had disappeared into the church, and while he couldn't count the best, Sharky was pretty confident that John had caught her.

Could they have kept on looking for survivors and breaking out captives? Sure - but why do that when they could kill, like 40 birds with one stone and beeline for the gas station? It was conveniently across the road from the church, empty of any and all life barring the dormant tanks underground. An explosion that big was sure to fuck up like a good portion of Main Street. Not even the Chosen would be able to resist checking it out.

Disconnecting the safety switches had been easy. He’d been arrested for doing it like 5 times already. Cops, Peggies; it didn’t matter - Sharky knew what he was doing, and without the giant swinging dick of the law hanging over him, the man was on a mission. Cultists shooting at him was fine. He was used to that.

Threat of death or no, he wasn’t giving up the chance to see this place blow sky high.

“We’ll be outta here any second, Hurky.” Sharky assured. “Just gotta sprinkle a little C-4 around the place and we’ll be gone before it even goes off.”

Hurk was sweating. A lot. He was accustomed to being shot at, but normally, he had more than just Sharky to get him out of a tight spot. “Alright, bro. Gimme some. Many hands and what have you.”

“Fuck yeah. First step, toss some at the tanker outside. We wanna get the place as fiery as possible up here to wake up the big boys underground, and-”

Sharky stopped in his tracks, eyeing the backpack he’d just been in the process of unzipping.

“-uhh.”

“Uhh?”

“Hurky, can I be real with you?”

“Is now the best time for a deep and meaningful?” Hurk hissed, crawling toward him nonetheless.

The arsonist stuck his hand down the pack, rifling through fluff and mesh. “I, uh, I think I brought the wrong bag. And by think I mean know without a shadow of a doubt.”

Hurk watched as his cousin tugged the green, furry headpiece of a dragon out into the open.

“You brought-...”

“I brought my fursuit.”

“Not the C-4?”

“Not the C-4.”

“Okay, bro. That's fine. I'm not mad. Human error. Not even a little bit?”

Sharky checked again, just for good measure. “Nope...so, uhm...you got a match?”

Hurk ran a hank through his hair. “Not to poo poo your ideas, but that probably ain’t the best move.”

So just like that, they were fucked.

Jess and Grace still hadn’t come back. The others were nowhere to be seen. Shorty was holed up in that church, and he and Hurk were about to be rounded up by born-again virgins.

Shit, if that were the case -

“Well, if this is gonna be the last opportunity.” Sharky grunted, tugging the suit out and unzipping the back. “May as well enjoy our last minutes of freedom, huh?”

Hurk took the cue, creeping across the destroyed shop floor and reaching for a popped bag of pretzels. He sat back against the wall, leaning against the rocket launcher he’d propped up against the corner.

“Man.” The brunette sighed, staring at the floor. “If only we had some other kind of ranged, explosive device.”

“No shit.” Sharky agreed. “Some high velocity shit would fix this.”

They exchanged a sympathetic look once the arsonist had zipped himself up and crept over and sit beside his cousin, both leaning on either side of the RPG.

Hurk held out the bag.

“Pretzel?”

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“Was that so bad?” John asked, placing the tattoo gun aside and framing the Deputy’s marked chest. ’WRATH', in true black, beading with blood. The skin surrounding the text was mottled and inflamed. Excess ink covered the area in patches, gathering in the dip of her cleavage, disappearing beneath her sports bra.

All that sin, already leaking out through the exit he’d made for her.

Gorgeous.

Cora didn’t respond. That was fine. Shock was normal. She’d thank him once this was all over. For now, she just trembled, lock jawed, dissociated gaze searching what John had thought was him until he sat up. No, instead she was watching the ceiling.

John flashed a smile, blocking out a tiny streak of dread at the sight of the woman so vacant. Sweeping a lock of stained hair over her shoulder, he smoothed his fingers past her neck, attempting to gently angle her focus back to him. “Hey. You can come back now. We’re all done.”

You're finally on the other side. React to it. React to me. Look at me-

The boom came first, hollow and deep, and John felt the floor beneath him rumble. Chandeliers and decorations wobbled from the disturbance. Several of his followers shot from their seats, immediately abandoning the Resistance leaders they’d guarded in favour of pacing back and forth, trying to get a look at whatever was happening outside.

“Is this it?”

“Is it the Collapse?”

“It’s time?”

“John, is it the Collapse?”

The panic escalated quickly, forcing the Baptist to break his attention away from the empty woman below him and rein in the flock.

“Calm down.” He exclaimed, “It’s not the Collapse. It’s probably just-”

Another boom. Almost deafeningly loud.

This time, the whole church shook. Windows shattered in their creaking panes and smashed to the floor while pews squealed heavily in protest.

Contrary to his assertion, John dove down, covering the Deputy with his body. Holy shit, was it the Collapse?

The tremor must have been enough to snap Cora out of her trance, because a muffled “Get your tits out of my face.” buzzed against John’s chest.

Tragically, however, the Baptist never got the opportunity to reply to her. Had it not been for the fucking tennis shoe colliding with the side of his skull, he imagined he’d have something very clever to say. Alas, pain shot through his head and he jerked to the side, fighting against the blow to stay put. A snarl from Mary May, his apparent attacker, sounded in retaliation. She dove into him, knee driving into his ribs, throwing him off of the Deputy.

His thoughts left him for the briefest moment, overtaken by ensuing gunshots and shouts and the shrieks of the bartender as she was clawed away from him. Her hand shot forward right as she was yanked up, intended as a punch. It didn’t land, and John couldn’t help but shoot her a smirk for her failure.

“Deputy, gun!”

Nevermind. It wasn’t a punch after all. Mary May had been pointing over his shoulder at the revolver that had been surrendered on the floor. His revolver. The same one Cora was now scrambling toward.

No.

John lurched, heart leaping into his throat.

Not now. Not after he’d won. Not when they were so close.

His hand found the leg of Cora’s pants, wrenching, pulling her away from the weapon, and she kicked against him. Her finger tips slid against the barrel of the revolver, tugging it into her palm.

God wouldn’t fucking undo his victory.

John snarled, catching the Deputy’s wrist when she tried to aim - at him no less. Without her own recovery time achieved, he was able to wrestle the weapon from her easily enough, flattening her struggling body beneath his just long enough to hook an arm around her waist. He twisted around, holding the woman’s back against his belly. Her squirming ceased with the press of the muzzle against her head, and the moment her allies had taken notice of the change, everything went still.

Finally.

A little civility.

Several of John’s followers lay on the floor, either dead or close to it. Only a half-dozen remained, though the pair of Chosen had survived and placed themselves closest to their leader.

Pastor Jerome had procured a handgun from within his own bible - something that pulled a breathless laugh out of John as he surveyed the others. Nick hadn’t been able to arm himself, but he’d still tackled one of the faithful to the ground. His knuckles were bloodied. A familiar sight. Mary May had wrestled a gun of her own away from the woman who’d seized her. She aimed it shakily at John.

Armed but outnumbered, outgunned, and now, they were in check.

They never learned, did they?

“The way you people behave, you’d think salvation was a bad thing.” John tittered. “Right. Now, let’s try this again. Atonement, or damnation.” To punctuate his meaning, he tapped the muzzle against Cora’s head. She grunted in protest, and he ignored her. Of course it was a bluff. No one else knew that but him, though. It was too risky a move for the Resistance to let him do away with the one person that banded their factions.

She was their leader. They couldn’t lose her.

John looked around the room once more, locking eyes with Jerome first - then Mary May. “Are we going to behave?”

The answer was immediate and clear: a gunshot cracking through the Baptist’s ears and the flash of a blast spilling from Mary May’s weapon. Cora’s elbow driving into his stomach and the reaction time of his Chosen snapping to attention, covering him, already hauling John out of the church and onto the street.

Fuck no, he wasn't leaving without his prize.

"GRAB HER!" John howled, struggling against the attempts to get him to safety. "Leave the rest!"

It was a reluctant effort, but the Deputy was yanked along as well, shoved into Johns arms on his repeated orders, with me, with me.

“Mary May, what the fuck!” The Deputy roared over her shoulder.

“Sorry Deputy! I missed!”

Missed?

“You sure about that? Jesus fucking Christ!”

More shots sounded, but only the noise pursued them from the building. It wasn’t until John had shoved Cora into the back of the waiting truck that he realised how warm his hand had gotten. Wet, too.

“Get to the ranch!” One of the Chosen snarled up front, casting a look back at the Baptist while the vehicle took off, watching as he peeled away from the blonde to inspect himself.

Blood.

He was bleeding. But where from? Barring the sting of his scabs and that kick to the head, nothing hurt. There were no wounds hiding under his sleeves or -

A hiss sounded from the Deputy beside him, curling in on herself.

Shit.

She hadn’t elbowed him.

“Cora-” John scrambled for her. "Cora, let me see."

“Told you not to call me that.” The Deputy grit out, kicking at him until she’d well and truly jammed herself into the corner of the seat and the car door. Her left hand gripped her right forearm, just below the elbow and to no avail. Crimson coated the skin on her side, encasing her arm completely and seeping through her fingertips.

She was bleeding. Not heavily, but steadily.

”Deputy.” John bit back, advancing. “You’re hurt. Let me help-”

Just like that, the kicking resumed. “Don’t touch me-DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME-”

“For once in your fucking life, just relax!”

Only incomprehensible snarling came in response.

John rolled his jaw, brimming with as much irritation as he was adrenaline. The Resistance had made their choice. Regretful, but final. He’d gotten what he came for, and he wasn’t intending on losing her just because she was too stubborn to accept help.

He glanced at the revolver still in his grip. Then back at Cora, rotating the grip toward her. A threat. “Are you going to let me help, or am I going to have to calm you down?”

“Don’t you dare.” Her words came hoarse. She gave scowling a red hot go, but without the rationale to deny him, the Deputy lacked conviction. She exhaled. “Fuck it. We've done this enough already. You get ten minutes. Then you’re under arrest.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her cheek twitched. A weak chuckle. The slightest flash of acknowledgement as she let him press his weight over her forearm. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t pulsing; nor was there a puncture wound. A gouged strip had been carved into her flesh where the bullet had grazed, but nothing vital seemed to have been struck.

“That - you can keep saying.”

"You're a flirt when you're in shock, Deputy." Had John not been too busy regulating about a dozen other emotions, he might have flushed at her words. For a moment, he just sat there, basking in the borderline friendliness on her face. Then, it occurred to him that they were among watchful company, and he cleared his throat, returning to his task.

Minutes passed. No more words were exchanged. Not until they’d passed the Rye and Son’s sign.

The Chosen in the front passenger’s seat looked over his shoulder, dismissing another over the radio before regarding the Baptist. “The Resistance isn’t making ground. The faithful are still rounding up stragglers, and we’ve taken casualties, but numbers are looking strong. Medic will meet you at the ranch, John. We can deliver our newest sister to the Gate while you recover.”

John inclined his head. “Much obliged. We need this one to stay with us until she’s completed her vows. She can’t be trusted unsupervised, but I won’t put the responsibility of containing her back on our people again.” He looked to Cora, then. Her face had run pale and she’d gone clammy, but she remained upright. Just...woozy. Pacified, for now.

He’d got what he came for. Fuck the rest.

“I have something to say.” The blonde announced, swaying against John’s arm. “I know why Mary May shot me.”

“This another one of your jokes?” John deadpanned.

“This one’s funny, I swear.”

“...go on, then.”

“It’s because I never tip.”

For a moment, Cora looked very satisfied with herself. Then, she retched, slumping forward into the Baptist’s lap when he instinctually jolted out of the potential line of fire. He hurried to steady her, keeping tight hold over her wound, and grimaced while the noise escaped her a second time.

Thank God nothing came out; his shoes would’ve been the first to know about it.

The Deputy didn’t sit back up.

That was fine. So long as she wasn’t dead. So long as she wasn’t fighting back.

“It’s all the sin escaping you.” John explained, off-handed, when a complaining grunt sounded below. “Evil being expelled from your body. You’ll feel better soon.”

“Pretty sure it’s my blood pressure, actually. Soon as I’m good again, you’re history.”

When one disregarded the fact that she’d had a gun trained on him earlier - and the blood drying uncomfortably on his clothes - and the persistent pounding of a headache from Mary May’s heel, this was almost pleasant. The quiet roads. The Deputy, all but atoned with her head on his thigh. Not fighting back. Conceding defeat. Peaceful.

He got what he came for.

He’d won.

He was saved.

Passing his thumb over Cora’s ribs, John’s attention was pulled back to the old ink peeking out from beneath the band of her top. Text, blurred and flattened enough to be years old, and too obscured to decipher.

“Thought I’d be your first.” The brunette murmured.

“Jealous?”

Yes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What’s it say?”

“‘The Mountains Are Calling’.”

A sickening wave of dread passed over the Baptist. The rock forming in his throat, icy and bitter and seizing him against any reply.

The mountains are calling.

Jacob. Joseph. The Trials. Atonement wasn’t the final step. Handing her over to his brothers was the final step.

He got what he came for, but the woman in his arms wasn’t the trophy intended for him.

He was saved. He’d redeemed himself. He’d completed his task and Joseph would permit him beyond the gates. That was all he was supposed to do. That was enough.

That had to be enough.

“‘And I Must Go’.” John completed quietly.

Cora tilted her head a little, not quite looking at him - almost like she was trying not to. “You know John Muir.”

“Not enough to warrant a photo on the bedside table.”

“Shut up.”

There was nothing convincing about the chuckle he offered. He was too busy observing her, studying the side of her face. Committing her to memory as if he hadn’t spent years acquainting himself with every spot and micro-expression.

“Maybe working for you will be bearable.” She murmured, and John’s heart only sank further. "If I don't manage to arrest you."

The mountains are calling.

She still had no idea that all the promises he’d made her had been fabricated. That she wouldn’t be staying. That he’d lied to her.

The mountains were calling. In a few days time, she’d know it. She’d despise him. She’d be taken off his hands and he’d assume his regular duties once again.

He’d saved both of them.

Cora’s thumb absently grazed back and forth on his knee. Ignorant. “Can I ask something?”

It took everything in him not to mirror the action against her skin.

“Of course.”

“Can I start next Monday?”

"What happened to you being such a workaholic?"

"To be honest with you, I'm really fucking tired."

She’d be incredible. Jacob would love her. Joseph would be proud. John had accomplished something near-impossible for his family, and even if the Deputy hated him - even if she forgot him entirely, he was content with the knowledge that he’d have brought her to salvation.

Even if they never saw each other again, he’d know that she’d passed through the gates. That she’d climb to the surface once the world had been scorched clean. She’d rebuild, and marry, and have children, and he’d do the same.

Hopeful anticipation and the agony of longing had never felt so similar before.

“Fine.” John smiled, giving in, sliding his fingers up her arm and coaxing a stray lock of hair out of her face. There were no promises he’d be able to do it again after this. “But on one condition.”

“What?”

“Spend those days with me.”

Cora stirred, angling to peer up at him out of the corner of her eye. She smiled crookedly.

“Deal.”

#far cry 5 #john seed #cora stammos #far cry 5 fanfic #far cry 5 oc #john seed x female deputy #all hail cora's big fucking muscles #no beta we die like men

43 notes · View notes

peeterparkr · 4 years

Text

perennial;tom holland|two.

chapter two: yellow alstroemeria

↳ flower meaning: friendship

chapter summary: to heal with a friend.

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: angsty a bit, but confort and friendship! mentions of alcohol and mention of sex

word count: 8.1k

SOCIAL MEDIA BEFORE THE CHAPTER:

masterlist & profiles one: in which y/n decides to go back to social media and sees a surpirse.

previous chapter next chapter perennial masterlist.

perfidy ( series masterlist)

wanna be tagged?

Hello! Here’s the next one, please, please, please tell me what you think! And please help me out, tags haven’t been working. Also, thanks to everyone who voted for the cast, you’re gonna love it, and I might announce it soon!

There are flowers that need sunlight, flowers that don’t. You needed the sun to be bright again to bloom. Good thing, sunshine was coming back to your life.

You felt like everything was going great. For the first time you were doing something that you loved and you felt like you were actually healing. It had been different from last time, you were not alone. You were loved, you were being taken care of. Tim and Emma were there for you and you were so incredibly happy you had them. It was like somehow, this time you’d be able to get things done.

Especially on that particular day, you had woken up happy. You had decided to treat yourself to some pancakes with strawberries and cherries on top. Your phone had decided to be kind to you that day, and you were, too. A happy song was the first one to play as soon as you hit the music shuffle. ‘The Tide is High’ by Blondie, the gentle notes were only adding to the perfect scenario. The flowers that your aunt had gifted you, gaillardias, were blooming, you had a smile on your face and everything seemed to be going great. You even danced a little as you were leaving the apartment and walked to the bus.

It had been a few weeks, almost a month since you’d arrived in Los Angeles, and you were thriving.

Your script finally had a name. “Dos-à-dos.” A dancing step, so simple. The 80’s dance movie no one had asked for, but somehow you knew everyone one needed. It felt different seeing your dream and vision starting to come to life.

You couldn’t help but smile, you had this feeling that something was going to happen. On the bus, you nodded your head along to the music as if it was a movie scene and the spotlight was on you. You felt like the main character just after the storm had finished. Happy notes, colourful day.

A bright glimpse in your sight, and you had even found yourself blushing. It had been so different from last time. You had friends, and god, they were such good friends. Especially because Emma and you had been healing together, some days were easier, some others weren’t, but you had each other. Dancing, laughing, crying together. Going out together, staying late at night laughing. And Tim, too. He really had his life going great. He had been offered to work in a modelling agency as a side job to his director’s assistant job. Emma was working in a costuming department, and she also did some waitressing as a side job.

You were working at the flower and coffee shop, too. It somehow made everything nice, after a long day walking to a place that smelled of coffee and flowers. Your aunt really helped you heal with the flowers, learning from them. She was so nice, and she always gave the right advice.

Hollywood, huh. Dreams seemed impossible, and yet you were reaching them. You were happy.

Because you weren’t alone. And you were working on another project with them, three film graduates healing from heartbreak can make quite a team. And it was fun, so different from London. In a city where everybody wanted to make a name for themselves. And there you were. Ending up in diners at 3 am, going out biking, being stuck in traffic with the car you’ve managed to lease for the three of you.

After a long day of work you still had a lot of happy thoughts. Emma and Tim had gotten an invitation to a party, and in Hollywood, you have to go to them, you never know who you’d end up meeting. Maybe it’s the person that will make you reach the stars, or maybe not. Like a different kind of job interview, meet the right people, make a name out for yourself.

But you didn’t want to go to a party that night, Emma had insisted on staying with you but you assured her you were doing just great.

You had decided to have fun by yourself, you had been tired and you really needed some me time.It had been a happy day, the pre-production was going phenomenal. There were still a lot of corrections going on but the casting was almost over apparently, and filming would start soon and that had you on the edge of your seat. They had said you’d like them. You trusted them. A new director had called to play in, and he’d produce, too. You’d meet him soon. Apparently, he had heard about the project and offered to be director.

Things were going great.

You poured a glass of wine from the bottle you had on the fridge, it literally only had enough for one damned glass, honestly, that’s all you needed.

You had an old vinyl player, thank god Emma and Tim had agreed on buying it with you, and you had brought some pieces of vinyl from home. You went through your vinyls, and stopped just as you saw your favourite one. The one Tom had given you on your last birthday. Your birthday.

That was going to be soon but you just liked to ignore that fact. It really didn’t matter, honestly.

But you weren’t ready to listen to anything related to Tom yet. You weren’t exactly ready to go back to Tom.

You wouldn’t tell Emma or Tim that every now and then he did cross your mind. That was a lie, he lived rent-free on your mind and heart 24/7. You wondered how he was doing. Had he healed? Was he still angry you left? Had he finally understood why you had left?

He hadn’t reached out for you. You wouldn’t tell Emma or Tim you had texted him once, though. One final: “I’m really sorry, I love you.”

He hadn’t answered. Of course that had been stupid.

You wouldn’t tell Emma or Tim, you knew how friends go: forget him. But could you? You missed him and you really had expected him to come here and maybe pull one of those stupid scenes you hated from rom coms, maybe he’d walk to your apartment, it would have to rain, but it barely ever rained in Los Angeles, but in your scenario, it would. And even if he didn’t know where you live he would show up at the door, and he would try to give a speech of how you are the only one he wants, or how both of you should forget everything and give it another chance because that’s love or whatever crap they say in romcoms, and you’d jump to his arms and kiss him and forget about everything. Kiss him again and again.

But this was real life.

So he wouldn’t.

Of course you wouldn’t tell Emma or Tim that late at night you’d miss him. Or in the morning or the middle of the day. You even missed fighting with him, having to come up with silly comebacks to his stupid comments. You wouldn’t tell Emma or Tim that you missed his ugly face or his stupid laugh.

No, you wouldn't tell them.

But of course, that night you decided you’d have a ‘me, myself, and I’ kind of party. And so you did. Playing music that would make you happy, that you could dance along to.

And it was the day you’d decided to go back on social media. After a long, long time of not being able to be on your phone for more than 2 minutes, you logged in. You saw pictures of your brother, Emma, Tim. Pictures you’d taken of them. Something you’d gone back to, photography. It was nice. At least that way you could keep Harry’s memory alive.

Harry.

You wished you hadn’t lost him. The question he’d asked had lingered in your mind, had things been different, would it really be different?

Maybe you did think about it. How it could’ve been him. But would it? You had time to think about it.

Maybe you were trying to repress his memory because you knew he was supposed to be with Emma. But you couldn’t ignore the fact that Harry had still… tried something. Of course it was complicated.

But you knew your heart was stupid and stubborn and it belonged only to one person. Would you call him, soon?

Would Tom even answer?

Because though the time spent with him had been way shorter than the time apart, it had been strong enough to be engraved on your soul. That’s the thing about true love, or stubborn love, you love for the sake of loving. And if you were given another chance, you’d take it, no questions asked. Another hoax if you may, if he wants to. You could ruin another’s city echo. You would risk staining another street with hopeless memories only to see him again. More blank pictures, more unwearable dresses and lipsticks waiting to be kissed. A new box. You didn’t hate him. You hoped he didn’t hate you, and you wish you could turn back around to his arms.

And then… there it was. Like someone had punched you in your throat. As if you’d run out of air, and your whole body ached. You thought you’d never have that feeling again. You had only been scrolling, dancing to music, singing out loud and now… this. You heard something shattering, at first you thought it was your heart but then your senses came back to see the red wine all over your floor as the remaining broken glass had jumped and clashed.

You stared at it. That was undeniably Tom and he had Cherry’s lips on his cheek.

Why did this hurt that much? Why—why had he done this? Had he moved on? Did—he and Cherry start dating?

Had he moved on? So quickly erase your memory? And with your—cousin? You quickly locked your phone.

You quickly got back from your shock and rushed to clean everything up, pretending you hadn’t just seen what you’d seen. Pretending it had just been your imagination. And pretending you didn’t believe it.

But then you opened it again, and there he was, arms around Cherry, smile wide open, as Cherry was cupping his head and smiling against his stupid face.

And you only sensed an atrophied heart falling down shattering completely. What did you expect from him? To wait around for you? He wouldn’t.

He’d move on and of course he’d like someone like Cherry. Cherry was a goddess. A goddamn perfect goddess.

You weren’t like Cherry, of course he’d turn around to see the sculptured doll life had presented him. She was beautiful. A model like fairy queen whatever.

And you were you.

But didn’t he—love you? But of course, right you’d hurt him so much and you were a fool to think that someone like him could wait for someone like you when he’d hurt you.

It was like the damn mirror was being your worst enemy again. You were not Cherry, with her perfect eyes and lips and body. You weren’t Cherry who probably cared too little about her appearance but ended up being perfect. So careless and free. Never planning.

Tom preferred her over you, right? Because you were not enough. You felt it. Every single doubt coming to your mind. Was it your hair? Your makeup? Your body. What is it that she was a perfect fashion guru or that she wasn’t a handful like you. Was it that she probably didn’t dive in.

Or maybe that you were too easy to get over, too forgettable, nothing extraordinary. But… You had to stop yourself from going back to that place. You were okay, right?

You were you. That was great. You didn’t need anything else, and this was on him, not on you. This was him trying to date someone else for whatever reason.

You had to stop comparing yourself, no, no. But you couldn’t help it. And you went back to the picture.

But that’s the thing, you guessed, about jealousy. So, so, so jealous of her. But jealousy is a horrible feeling that only ends up killing us from the inside. God, but you were still thinking about Tom. You should’ve told Cherry, but that wouldn’t be fair play. You didn’t blame Cherry, Tom was… Tom.

But maybe you should’ve warned her that his smile was the biggest weapon he’d use against her, and tell her that maybe he’s perfect but he’ll end up making her give him her biggest weakness and he’ll use them as a weapon. That he’ll be an angel, but it’s only a disguise. He was a devil.

And that once you taste his lips you’ll never be able to live without them again. But no, Tom was only pain. Yes.

But you had to forget him now. Because he’d forgotten you. Probably he was only a mistake, someone to add to the book, but gosh, no, it couldn’t be. He was an idiot.

You looked at the picture. Why?

No, no… How could this be? Why the hell were you crying and why the hell did it feel so bad? Like a dagger coming right through you, like you couldn't breathe, everything had turned dark again.

You did the only thing you could do then, lay down and cry. Because were you going to call him and tell him to go fuck himself? You didn’t have the right to. You were the one who had gone away. But if only you hadn’t. And you had the enraging and flaming jealousy burning through you, the sadness was bigger. You’d be jealous later. And what would happen if you showed up?

Why did he do it?

This was on you. You’d given up, but it hurt so much. You couldn’t even figure out your thoughts, like a million things popping up, but nothing made sense and you couldn’t stop feeling that head and stomach ache, the heartache. You finally took a deep breath that was confused with a sob. Drowning.

It wasn’t raining in LA, yet you saw your room flooding, water entering from everywhere, and you couldn’t move. You weren’t able to breathe, you were only sinking. Had it all been in vain?

Maybe…

Maybe.

Your sorrow was too loud yet you barely made any noise, all curled up in your bed, feeling cold, and drowning, suffocating. The music was still playing, life laughing at you. And you knew it then, it was over. You were broken in two and there was no way to fix this now. Not right now. He’d given up on loving you. You’d lost him, and you wondered, would you ever try to turn back time to stop yourself from loving him if only you had known you’d end up losing him anyway.

“Y/N—no, Timmy let me handle this, let me--She’s not okay, okay, I know Tim, but you will only make things worse,” a muffled voice was heard outside your room after a while, Emma walked in to see you pitying yourself, as you danced hugging a pillow as you hummed along to the music still playing. She closed the door. “Are you okay?” She asked, and you didn’t lookup. “What a fucking stupid question of course you’re not,” she answered herself as she walked over with some takeout, another bag and two six-packs of beers. “Here, bottoms up, thought beer would go better with this” she said, handing you a beer over. It worked well as a microphone.

You sang along to the music, not even knowing when the hell you’d started playing that ABBA vinyl. She joined you, knowing that was probably what you needed. Heartaches are a weird thing, you didn’t even know what the hell you were going through, denial, probably. The cold tears kept streaming down as you were probably now in a state of denial, as you danced along your room.

And then, it hit. The pain, again. You sank to the ground and then rested against your bed.

Emma sat on the edge of the bed watching you. Emma sighed as she sank to the ground with you. you breathed in a sob as she pulled you into a hug, somehow being comforted made you even sadder.

“It’ll be okay,” she assured you. “It’ll be okay.”

You tried to soothe your sobs as you sat up. “This is stupid, why am I even crying I don’t care-”

“No, men are stupid—” Emma stated, you only chuckled softly. “Show me the picture.”

You handed her your phone, and she stared at it. Emma grimaced and then stayed incredibly quiet.

“So?”

She took a deep breath. “Okay—first we need to unfollow them both,” she said.

“But—”

She held the phone far from you as she unfollowed them. “Y/N you're going to keep going back and we don’t want that.”

You sighed, she pulled out some tissues from the bag and cleaned your face with them. You chuckled. She handed you some pills, and then walked over to your mirror, she opened a drawer and took out your makeup wipes. She walked back and wiped off the remaining makeup that hadn’t been absorbed by the tears.

“Do you think they’re—” You couldn’t even finish the question.

Emma bit her lip, knowing exactly what you’d meant. “I don’t know, I don’t know Tom enough.”

You groaned. She thought they were dating.

Emma realized it’d been the wrong answer. “It’s cause,” she paused as she took a deep breath. “Look, I didn’t know about this, you and Tom. Honestly, when Timmy told me I—I didn’t expect it you know?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, like… If you asked me anything concerning Tim and, I’d know, but... You and Tom? But guess it—”

“Didn’t make any sense, yeah I know,” you sighed.

“No, it did,” Emma said. “In a weird way. Even--,” she cleared her throat. “Harry said it once, how he wondered why you guys never dated…I never told Timmy about it but it—It made sense,” Emma nodded. “Him being in love with you made a lot of sense. that’s probably why he was always so attentive and obsessed and—”

“Yeah—Emma you’re not answering my question,” you gulped.

Emma chuckled. “What was the question?”

“They’re dating right?” You asked, showing her the screenshot.

She bit her lip, staring at it. “I don’t know.”

“Fuck, maybe not dating but—”

“Look y/n, I don’t know but—”Emma sighed. “Does it matter? This is a sign that you have to move on.”

“I don’t know why I feel this way,” you admitted.

“It’s normal.”

Was it normal? You didn’t know. But you were angry, sad, disappointed. You couldn’t even map your emotions. What were you even feeling? What was it? Jealousy? Anger? Sadness?

“I mean I guess I did ask him to move on,” you pointed out.

Emma sighed. “Didn’t you ask him to heal?” She had handed you the Chinese takeout she’d brought you as both of you sat on the floor. You stared at the food, but you weren’t even hungry.

“Isn’t it the same?”

“Not really y/n,” she said as she stared at her noodles before taking a bite. “You asked him to give you time because you wanted to try it out again.”

“I’m such an idiot.”

“Maybe it’s just a rebound,” Emma said.

“But it’s my cousin!” You cried. “What the fuck is wrong with him?”

“I mean you kind of—with his brother,” She pointed out.

“It’s not the same and you know that,” you rolled your eyes as she laughed .”Because -I didn’t.”

“I’m messing with you, but I know, I know but..”

“I don’t know,” you sighed. Because you really didn’t know. What was going on? What the hell?

“And cherry didn’t know?” Emma asked, as she changed the box with you, now you had the noodles and she had the chicken. It had become a habit with Emma, sharing food.

“I didn’t tell her,” you admitted.

Emma scoffed. “Oh, but come on,” Emma frowned. “Like, it was obvious, like… Please he showed up with flowers to your house? And isn’t she like a fucking flower guru or some shit why the hell didn’t she read the room?”

You finally took a bite before drinking your beer. “I...well.”

“But still no, you know what? Tom is the one who’s shit here,” Emma said.

“Is he?” You asked.

“Fuck yes,” Emma chirped. “Like, come on, what the fuck? He was so angry at you because you left saying you’d thrown it away,” she dramatized. “But he is the one to throw it all out!”

“You think?” You frowned.

Emma rolled her eyes. “I know that!” She snapped. “he—let me see the pic, again.”

You showed her again.

“I just didn’t think he’d move on that quickly you know,” you pointed out.

“Yeah I—it doesn’t add up,” Emma agreed.

“I feel stupid for feeling this way,” you sighed.

“No you’re not stupid you’re human and he’s an asshole,” she said.

“He’s not--” You gulped. “That’s—that’s the thing, okay? And I don’t want to call him that because that’s the reason as to why it all went to shit, because I called him a monster.”

“Look y/n, I know you still feel guilty about it but that man has hurt you multiple times throughout his life, he’s done some awful shit to you, and yes you hurt him too but he’s shown that he doesn’t deserve your love.”

“But I want to love him,” you said. “Or wanted.”

“Yes, alright and that’s fair,” she admitted. “But he’s a man and all men suck.”

“Right.”

You stayed quiet for a while as you both ate, sang along to the music still faintly playing in the background, changing boxes, drinking beer. Leaning against your bed, both on the floor.

“And like—Cherry is so pretty of course he’d date her,” you commented after a while.

“She’s pretty and so what?” Emma shrugged. “You’re beautiful y/n.”

“And she is—so perfect and I’m,” you continued. The poisonous thoughts coming back to you.

“Y/N no don’t you dare compare yourself to her,” Emma warned.

“But how can I not?” You stated. “She’s bloody perfect, her hair her clothes, she’s just-”

“Yeah, and look at you, you are fucking beautiful, alright? Look at you, so bloody beautiful and perfect, and talented and you’re amazing and you’ve got great music taste, but y/n don’t compare yourself to her!”

“Why not? Because we both know she’s a model and-”

“She’s attractive, yes! But you are too! You’re amazing y/n!”

“Then why did he move on? Why—why didn’t he come back for me?” You asked, and the question lingered in the air.

Emma didn’t have an answer to that question.

“I just don’t know how to feel,” you admitted. “I… I am jealous, but sad, and angry and desperate and I know I shouldn’t be.”

“I hate seeing you sad y/n,” Emma said, scooting close to you. “But it’s okay, right now you need to cry it out.”

You didn’t want to keep crying. But you needed, and just as she had said those words, the tears had streamed down again. You leaned against your friend, knowing she really was there for you, but no shoulder to cry on would soothe your sorrow.

“Yes, I’m here for you, it’s okay,” she said.

“I just thought I—” words couldn’t even come out. “it’s stupid but all this time I—I thought he’d come back to me but I guess it was just stupid.”

“No,” Emma said. “It’s not stupid.”

“I just can’t believe he moved on that quickly,” you said, sitting back up, wiping off your tears. “While I’m here crying over him and thinking about him all the goddamn time and I—I can’t believe he’d hurt me again but he probably doesn’t even know I care,” you continued with a sob, barely even breathing now. “And I—I’ve been pretending I’m doing fine but I just can’t forget about him and god it’s stupid that I keep—doing this.”

“Cry it out, you’ve gotten out of it before,” Emma said. “We don’t even know if they’re dating or-”

“No but the thing is Emma that if I fucking dared to post a pic where Timmy is in the background he’d lose his fucking mind and call me and blame me for it,” you growled. “And he’d make a scene and—And I deserve to make a scene too because—-because it’s too soon and I would’ve-” You took a deep breath as your voice was cracking. “I would’ve thought he’d wait just a little but maybe he doesn’t—I don’t even know why I’m… so upset.”

“Let it out.”

“I don’t even understand why I feel like this, jealous and sad and—I just it should be me, the one with my lips on his cheek and I am angry because maybe I shouldn’t have left! I’m here wondering what could be different, you know? And I”

“Y/n you left because of your dream.”

“And when I go back... what if I never see him again? What if we can’t even say hello or be in the same room.”

“You were like that before,” Emma said.

“But I can’t pretend he’s not the love of my life and I can’t pretend that I won’t love him for the rest of my stupid pathetic life.”

Emma didn’t say anything.

“I just... I am hurt—and I’m not making any sense. I'm just sad because I was going to call him.”

“You what?” Emma asked.

“I thought about it today, how I missed him too much but hey, not anymore, because he’s fucking dating Cherry or he’s fucking Cherry or…”

“It’s probably a rebound y/n.”

“With my bloody cousin? Is he for real?” You were exasperated.

“Men are stupid.”

“Yes but—but I just... I don’t understand this,” you sank to the floor again as you were running out of breath now, until then you noticed you were bursting into tears.

“Come here, it’s okay the pain will end,” Emma opened her arms again.

“I just thought I’d be—alright.”

“And you will, you are still thriving y/n!” She said. “They’re making a movie out of your script! You actually are doing something you love! You’re living with your best friends!” She pointed out.

“I guess.”

“You guess?” Emma frowned as she reached out for your pillow. She playfully hit you with it. “You’re fucking thriving, y/n! And you’re learning a lot of flowers, even if I can’t stand you talking all day about them, y/n you’re doing great!” She said, hitting you with the pillow after every word.

A faint smile was on your face.

“And you know what? You’ll forget about him, soon enough and we will dance and laugh and you’ll be okay,” she assured you.

“Yes.”

“But right now you need to cry and it’s okay,” Emma continued. You nodded. “Okay, what else?”

“And she—she tweeted this,” you showed her.

She frowned. “Love me, love me, say that you love me?” She frowned. “But those are lyrics, ain’t they?” She asked. “And if…Oh sis, look, that girl—Look I know this isn’t what you want to hear but it’s probably what you need to hear but that’s just a very obsessive rebound.”

“What?”

“If she’s in love with him already that’s her problem,” she pointed out.

“Really?”

“Would you fall in love with a man who was so broken?”

“...No”

“Exactly she’s digging her own hole and,-”

But you didn’t let her finish. “I just don’t want her being in my place I should—it’s… and what if he ends up actually loving her?”

Emma sighed. “You’ll find someone too, someone better who won’t hurt you and who will actually fly to another country to search for you instead of blaming it on you for leaving.”

You sighed.

“We are very much alike aren’t we, we both thought they’d come here?” Emma said.

“That’s on us being stupid for expecting something from two men,” you said.

She laughed as she opened more bottles of beer.

“It’ll be alright y/n.”

“I know but right now—“

“I know, I know we need to cry.”

Emma was definitely a friend you needed. And you were a friend to Emma. You hadn’t really had a breakdown, or was mostly helping Emma. You had so far ignored your pain until that night. Maybe because you were trying to assure yourself that it didn’t hurt as much or because you kept the hope that you’d end up together.

But Tom had moved on and you probably had to move on, too.

You woke up the next day with barely any blankets as Emma had stolen all your bed and pillows. You were sore and your eyes hurt from crying.

But you knew this didn’t feel as bad. Somehow it didn’t feel like after the club, or after prom, or after the script, or after whatever.

No. Yes, it hurt. But it felt like a normal kind of pain, like when Louis had broken up with you. Or like when Timmy had tried to start dating another girl just after your breakup. Not the Tom pain.

But it still hurt.

You woke up and you saw Tim, a cup of coffee in his hand as he was leaning against the counter, he was scrolling on his phone.

You walked over and poured some coffee for yourself. You needed some energy after spending all night crying. The morning routine had an unspoken rule, whoever woke up first would make coffee for everyone.

Timmy looked up at you. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you said.

“Did you get some sleep?” He asked. “Emma is a snorer, so—“

You chuckled. “Yeah, I know,” you sighed as you stared at your coffee.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

You pursed your lips and then shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Emma didn’t tell me what happened,” he admitted.

You frowned. “She didn’t?”

“No, she said I’m a man and I don’t deserve to know,” he said chuckling.

You laughed. “Yeah.”

He grinned. “I mean I kind of can assume what happened.”

“Do you follow Cherry on Instagram?”

“I do not,” he scowled. “But it’s—About Tom. Right?”

“Yeah. Tom’s an idiot.”

“But that’s no news,” Timmy pointed out with a smirk.

You chuckled slightly. “No, I know, same old story.”

Timmy watched you. “But what happened?”

You pulled out your phone and showed the screenshot. It probably would be a good idea to delete it and pretend it didn’t exist. But sometimes we are idiots and like to keep adding salt to the wound.

Timmy grimaced looking at it.

“Verdict?” You asked. “Are they a thing?”

“No,” Timmy assured you. “Knowing Tom,” he said. “He did this to hurt you.”

That—that hurt even more. Because Tim was right. Knowing Tom, this was his way of getting back to you. Knowing Tom he had expected you to see it and cry.

And maybe he had even expected you to call and yell at him.

And that’s when you did hear more shattering, this time it wasn’t a cup, this time it wasn’t the glass of wine. It was your heart and it was undeniable. You could hear it again. The rain pouring down, the ripped off stomach. There it was… the Tom pain.

You hadn’t seen it that way. But it made sense. It hurt more to think that this probably was on purpose. That Tom hadn’t moved on, that Tom was doing this purposely. That he probably expected you to be on the floor tearing yourself apart. Because Tom was probably taking his revenge. And Tom knew that you’d end up comparing yourself. Because that was Tom, he used your weaknesses as his biggest weapons. But you didn’t want to go to war again, no. You had changed, you’d bloom and blossom.

Yet you could only wonder, who dares to plant flowers on a battlefield?

“Y/N?” Timmy asked.

You only took a deep breath. “I’m—Yeah, you’re right.”

“Yeah, he probably thinks this is the way back to your heart, make you jealous or something,” Timmy said. “Nothing to worry about. I’m—Look, I’m pretty sure he still loves you but he’s an idiot.”

Big idiot wanting to tear you apart.

“You know I don’t understand why I’m —feeling this way,” you admitted. Now knowing you were angry and disappointed. Because he probably really wanted to hurt you, give you a spoon of your own medicine. “I—I don’t understand. How many more tears will I have to shed to get over him?”

“We all wonder about that,” Tim nodded.

“I just—I still, I don’t understand why he does that and why even after he does those things I keep loving him.”

“I think you were told so many times that he hurts you because he likes you that you ended up believing it and allowing it,” Timmy explained. “Maybe that’s why you are having trouble getting used to having people who care.”

You didn’t answer anything. He was right. He was so right.

“I guess but I didn’t...I thought this time.”

“What?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know, I thought this time it would be different, you know? I thought we would heal and then… have another chance.”

It was so difficult talking about this with Tim. You didn’t know where he was standing with you. But somehow, it had always been easy talking about anything with Tim, he listened. That was his gift. He listened and he was observant so he gave you exactly what you knew was right. His advice even if it hurt him, would be right.

“Maybe you will,” Timmy shrugged. “But you can’t keep yourself tied to him, y/n. It’s—hurtful to keep trying to reach for something that won’t hold back your hand. Give it time. And look, I’m not telling you to move on, because fuck, moving on when you’re in so deep is hard, but be kind to your heart. Don’t let it ache. Not for someone who’s willing to hurt you. And maybe you’ll go back to him, or end up with someone else, but he needs to grow. And if life really wants you to be with him, then life will give you a chance, but I don’t understand why you want to be with someone who does this kind of thing.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Well, is there anything I can do to help?”

You sighed with a smile. “Turn back time, maybe, get me out of my trance.”

“It’s a big city, y/n, we can take the day off, have fun you know? Go to a quiet place, I know that helps you.”

“I don’t know Tim.”

“C’mon, let’s get you out, have some fun,” he insisted.

“Maybe later, I need to assimilate things. Today I’m going to be at a meeting with casting and—yeah.”

The day felt… plain. The usual feeling you were so used to, the Tom pain. But you ignored it, and you saw the cast, it got you excited and back on track. It made you forget about it, about everything, really.

They still hadn’t told you who’d be directing, but he’d arrive next week. They told you that he had personally reached out for the project, a new director. Exciting news, right? But you couldn’t care about them, because you couldn't ignore the ache. The thoughts, the poison. No matter how sunny the day was, you felt gray. And it was almost ironic. How the day before you felt like everything was great, like rain on your wedding day. Ironic. How it was one of the best things that ever happened to you and you weren’t able to enjoy it. How it weighed on your chest.

Your aunt noticed you were sad, but she didn’t ask about it. You guessed she probably had seen the picture, too. It was her daughter, after all. Serving coffee and making flower arrangements did help, somehow. You know, help as much as it could with the sadness that was not allowed to cry and was supposed to smile instead.

You thought about it, how you really wanted to hate him. The city was too bright and happy and you couldn’t escape, you still didn’t think you’d lost him. Maybe that was your pathetic way of pretending it wasn’t over.

Emma tried to convince you to go out that night. You didn’t. She gave you a week, watching movies with you, letting you listen to music, going out to quiet places for dinner, staying up late at night either laughing or crying, and you were really bonding, watching series, sometimes just laying down on the bed together, while you were both on your phones.. Even if she tried to convince you to go out clubbing, and go out and meet someone, she even tried to make you open tinder, you really didn’t have the energy for it. But Timmy had stopped her from trying.

“That’s her way of healing, she likes quiet,” you had heard Timmy warn her.

“But she needs to keep herself busy,” Emma had said.

“I know her, give her a few quiet days.”

“But she’s a fucking mess,” Emma had said. “I saw her add champagne to her green juice this morning.”

“Like a green juice mimosa?” Timmy asked.

“She’s a mess!” Emma said.

“I know, but she needs quiet, and hugs and just, don’t push her,” Timmy continued. “If not, we’ll use your way.”

In that sense, Timmy knew you. That’s probably why he’d suggest movie nights, the three of you. You’d found a place that played old films, you went there, once.

And a week had gone by, and you weren’t doing better. But you knew it was normal, it was the Tom pain, the Tom effect. The one that didn’t go away easily. The one that lasted, the one that would stay forever. The perennial type of pain, that may be dormant for a while but would come once again. The Tom pain.

But you felt… that horrible thought came back. How she was prettier or skinnier or smarter or perfect and that maybe he hadn’t done it because he wanted to hurt you. That he genuinely liked her. And why wouldn’t he? Why wouldn’t he like her over you? She seemed more of the type fit for him and not you. She was probably the kind of girl that he would like to be seen with. Not you.

Cherry. Cherry. Cherry. It was funny how she was named after Cherryblossoms. Meaning renewal. And that was Tom’s new model, wasn’t it?

Poisonous thoughts that were killing you slowly. And that constant headache.

“Okay, that’s it, we’re doing it my way,” Emma had stated. You’d be going out that night, which you only wondered if it was right. You couldn’t be hungover the next day since you’d be meeting the director. Finally.

But Emma had convinced you. You dressed up, and showered with perfume, and you were ready to simply forget about him. Of course Emma stopped you and then did your makeup and made you change your outfit, which obviously hadn’t been picked out well, but who really gets fashion when they’re broken hearted.

The three roommates, out and happy. Walking into a club, more like a bar sort of place with a dance floor, the three of you sat by the bar.

“Alright, y/n, here’s the thing we’re gonna do some shots,” Emma stated as she ordered shots for the three of you. “And look, I’ve heard you and right now, y/n, we need… We just need you to forget about him, alright?”

“Fine.”

And so it started, the party you so well needed. Maybe you’d changed enough that quiet was definitely not what you needed. And maybe Emma had been right all along. You needed fun. And so fun you had, and you kept drinking and singing along to the music and Emma even dragged you to the dance floor. Yelling lyrics, coming up with new ones and terrible dance steps. Timmy only stayed behind watching you both, he was very amused by the situation. He knew this wasn’t really your thing but, it was fun and exciting and thrilling.

Then the second part of Emma’s plan started, she walked back to the bar and made you sit there.

“Now we wait.”

“For what?” You asked.

“Please, give it two seconds and men will come like this,” she snapped. “They’re soooo desperate, and we’re pretty and we need free booze, so,” she grinned. You could tell she was tipsy by now.

“I don’t really want to… flirt with anyone,” you said.

“Flirt,” she scoffed. “C’mon y/n, you need a cleanse! Tom’s the last man you slept with right?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Can we not talk about that?” Timmy laughed.

“Oh, please, Tim, did you think that she wouldn’t sleep with that guy who’s basically sex on legs,” Emma said.

Timmy blinked. “That’s a very weird way to talk about your ex financés brother.”

You laughed. “Sex on legs? Oh come on, I didn’t sleep with him for that.”

“I get it, you were in loooove all that shit,” Emma continued. “And it’s been… What? Two months?” She asked.

“Almost three, yeah,” you rolled your eyes.

“See? You need one good hook up and you’ll be fine,” Emma said.

Timmy chuckled. “Does that even work?”

“Good question, have you hooked up with anybody?” You asked. “Because if you have and you’re still-”

“No, I haven’t,” Emma admitted. “I’ve… made out with some guys but nothing really, but maybe that’s what we both need. Or the three of us, just one… random hookup. We need someone to fuck those guys out of our system.”

Timmy and you shared a questioning look.

“I don’t really—“

“Now, Timmy please leave otherwise you’ll ruin the place, go pick up some girl and dance with her,” Emma ordered.

Timmy didn’t even have time to say anything before Emma was pushing him away.

Soon enough, Emma was right, two guys had approached the two of you and offered to buy you both drinks. The conversation was boring. Honestly you didn’t even listen to their names, they were probably the stereotype of guys who feel they’re attractive enough to get their shot in Hollywood. They were talking and talking, the guy interested in Emma wasn’t half as bad, but you still didn’t stand him. Eventually the guy with Emma managed to get her to the dance floor and the guy with you realized you were not all interested and thank god, eventually walked away.

Two other guys tried to creep up on you but you threw them away, easily and quickly. You were very good at making them go away, maybe that was why Tom had… No, you had to keep that thought out of your head.

“Hello, ma’am May I buy you a drink?” you heard a voice behind you.

You laughed. “Timmy.”

He grinned as he sat beside you. “I’m sorry I just saw a beautiful girl all by herself and I want to buy her a drink.”

“Please don’t,” you grinned.

“I’m just trying to cheer you up,” he admitted, laughing as he took a sip of his own drink.

“Aren’t you interfering with Emma’s plan?” You asked.

He rolled his eyes. “I thought you were doing that yourself by rejecting everyone approaching you,” he claimed.

“Yes I just don’t think that a one night stand with meaningless sex will help me,” you said.

“I agree with that,” he conceded.

You looked around at the bar, you had had fun when you had danced with your friends but not now. Timmy lit up a cigarette and offered you one, you never were a smoker but a cigarette seemed like an open invitation. “I didn’t want to come,” you admitted.

“I didn’t either,” Timmy said.

“But you always go out with her, you like it.”

“No… Well, yeah, because I know this is helping her, not because I like it, you know this isn’t really my thing but she’s keeping herself distracted, that's her way of healing,” Timmy said.

“Huh, right,” you nodded.

“And I know yours involves watching movies in a quiet place, and curling up and all that things,” he continued.

“Yeah,” you smiled sadly.

“He’s an idiot you know,” he looked down at his cigarette.

“Yes he is,” you nodded in agreement as you sipped from your drink.

“Letting you go?” He scoffed, rolling eyes and shaking his head. “Although I do admit it was pretty smart.”

“What?” you frowned with a chuckle.

“I should’ve thought about it,” he continued with a smirk.

“What?” You playfully nudged him.

“Dating your cousin, that’s clever, closest thing to the actual thing,” he snickered.

“Oh thing then,” you laughed.

He chuckled and then looked away with a silly smile. “Yes, but she’s not half as pretty.”

“She is a goddamn model,” you chided.

Tim coughed. “As an actual model,” he reminded you with a smug smirk.

“Oh shut up,” you chuckled.

“As an actual model, I can tell you that she’s not half as pretty as you are,” he assured you.

You blushed. “You’re blind.”

He grinned. “Hmm I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

“I’d see a mess,” you stated.

“Yeah, who drinks green juice mimosas apparently,” he laughed. “But… Pretty mess.”

You laughed. “It’s not...It’s a thing. Green mimosas.”

“It’s not,” he turned serious.

You only grinned.

“So what’s a beautiful girl like you doing in a place like this?” He asked.

“I’m having fun,” you stated. “Ain’t that obvious?”

“You’re not from around here are you?” He chuckled.

“What gave it away?” You smirked.

“So what brought you to Hollywood?” He laughed.

“What brings everyone I guess, a hopeful promise,” you lied.

He grinned. “Hm, and how’s that going?”

“Huh,” you chuckled.

You didn’t even realize where the conversation had gone to. You ordered drinks, laughed and watched Emma yet again, like Tim had said, turn down another man. Drunkenly the three of you managed to get back home, but you and Tim kept talking and talking, and laughing.

After Emma, too drunk to even continue, was tucked in her bed, you and Tim headed to the couch where you both kept talking about silly things. His job, your job, about the project the three of you were planning, everything but Tom. The difference of being here in LA, how you missed London, but didn’t at the same time, the way that you both found funny people in the bus or the way you hadn’t crossed into any celebrity yet. About the script, and how it felt weird to see it come true, with your life, your love story. Was it love? How different it felt, and how you barely believed it. The way that you didn’t know what to write next.

And you didn’t know how it happened, really. You couldn’t even tell if it had been the alcohol, the conversation, the heartache, a combination of those three things, or maybe not. The absence of love, or how it felt like you had never really had one last proper kiss.

But his lips were on yours. And you really didn’t mind that his hands were pulling you close to him. You really, truly didn’t mind.

Except for the fact that you probably didn’t care and he did.

You pulled away as you felt his hand exploring a bit more than necessary.

“Timmy this isn’t —this isn’t okay,” you said but you weren’t stopping, and he didn’t either. “I don’t want to trick you into doing this,” you said.

“You’re not tricking me,” Tim said as he pulled away. “We both...Fuck this is wrong,” but his lips were back on yours, and your hands were on the hem of his shirt.

“But, no, no,” you finally pulled away. “Tim, no, no, I… can’t.”

“I know, I know, but…”

“I can’t do this to you.”

“I’m not complaining,” he pushed.

“But…”You didn’t even know what the hell you were doing. “I…”

He didn’t even let you finish as he was kissing you again. And again, and again, and again. Until clothes were on your bedroom floor, sweaty wandering hands and lips discovering new spots. Sweet new sensations, and savoury rough kisses. Colliding again, and again, and again. You really didn’t know what you were doing, he probably didn’t either. Because yes, flowers need sunlight, but somehow, something was blooming in the dark.

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fire-emblem-drabbles · 4 years

Text

Teaching Traditions

Pairing: Grima x reader

Prompt: general Christmas cuteness

Description: Though the Order of Heroes tended to celebrate a little differently, you intended to show Grima, your dear fell dragon, just how you celebrated Christmas back home. And that, of course, included showing him some of your favorite traditions.

Rating: sfw

Word Count: 5588

Notes: Commission for the lovely @evostrashbin! They we’re an absolute treat to write for, and I really liked the ideas they gave me to work with. Grima is always fun to write for but even more so when I can make our boy soft... So I hope you all enjoy this as much as I do!

~*~

In the past, Grima had no need for such frivolous human festivities. But, as you seemed keen to do, you changed that. With you, everything was different. And the more often it happened, the less Grima minded. Who was he to complain when even the simplest of Holiday gestures had you smiling, giggling, and twirling about as if you had no care. It was nice, pretending to be something you’re not. You could cast aside your duties for a short period and perhaps even Grima could forget for a moment he was the fell dragon. When he was with you, it wasn’t so hard.

“I’m so excited.” Your voice alone told him that. You were giddy, a skip in your step as you walked with Grima. “I can’t wait to share this Christmas with you, Grima! Oh, I know you’re going to love it!” You excitedly grabbed his hand, catching him by surprise. The two of you had only been together for a month or so; while Grima was eager for any sort of affection you were willing to give him the sensations were still new and foreign. And he refused to let any other Hero see him flustered simply because of your high spirits and contagious cheer. He had a reputation to uphold, after all-- only you could know how sweet he could be.

“What about it has you so excited?” He tried to remain indifferent but of course, since you were excited, he was excited. It was really his first Christmas, after all, and he got to spend it with you no less. He could think of no better way to spend it.

“Everything!” You exclaimed. “The Heroes dressing up, all the candies and treats and sweets, gifts, and stocking and toys and fun-- oh Grima, there’s so much about the Holidays to adore!” You stopped suddenly, Grima halting with you as you suddenly turned to him. “There are traditions I get to teach you about too, like hanging a stocking over the fire, leaving cookies and milk out for Santa… oh and mistletoe! Plus, when Christmas day finally comes, we can exchange gifts and maybe even make our own traditions…” You smiled lovingly, looking at Grima was mind obviously far away as you thought of the possibilities of the season.

“Why don’t you stay in the present, ______.” Grima suggested, placing a hand on your shoulder to pull you from your thoughts. Though it was a small gesture, it was often Grima was the first to touch you. Noticing this, he quickly retracted his hand, the barest hint of color tinting his cheeks. “Did you… have anything in particular in mind for us now?” Desperate to distract you from his former actions, Grima watched as your eyes went wide and you grinned.

“I did actually, good guess! Now come on, we have to hurry! I told the kids we would be there soon!” You giggled, once more dragging him along to whatever it was you had planned for him.

“Children?” He groaned.

“Don’t be like that! They adore you-- besides, I’m teaching them too. We’re gonna go out and make snow angels!” You cheered as the two of you slowed to a normal walk once you reached outside. As you said, a few children were here; other dragons, he noted. Probably to make him more comfortable. You really were so thoughtful when it came to him… he really didn’t know how to show how thankful he was.

“Yay, you’re here!” Fae giggled and ran up to the two of you, taking your free hand to hurriedly bring you to the rest of the gathered children; both Kana’s, Myrrh, Tiki, and even Nils, though Ninian was with him. They were ice dragons, after all, they must have been at peace in this weather. “Quick, come one come on, teach us Summoner!” Fae lead the two you to the group of children who looked on at you curiously.

“Yeah, Summoner! What did you wanna teach us?” Kana spoke up next, the boy looking up at you curious. Murmurs and words of curiosity came out from others, as well.

“Calm down! The snow isn’t going anywhere, we have plenty of time.” You laughed openly, the joy apparent on your face. It always made Grima feel so warm when you laughed. It wasn’t a bad feeling but a confusing one none the less. He was learning to be bothered by it less and less with you, though. “I see you guys were hard at work making snowmen-- good job! They all look so nice.” You praised.

“We made that one look like mister Grima!” Tiki pointed to what might have been Grima’s dragon form, what with the sticks acting as antlers and the big from on its face.

“Wow! That looks amazing you guys. Don’t you think so Grima?” You turned to him, eyes crinkled happily and a grin on your face. Honestly, he wouldn’t have known it was him if Tiki didn’t say anything. It looked like garbage but he couldn’t just say that not when seeing the little ones happy made you happy.

“It needs some work… but you made a good start.” Tiki and Myrrh, who had likely helped her make it gasped; rarely did Grima address them directly, let alone to say anything that wasn’t rude.

“You really think so?” Myrrh asked, looking at Grima with the same kind of wide, sweet eyes you often did. He hated the warm feeling that played at his heart. She was merely a dragon child-- what did he care what she thought of him. Still, words of encouragement left his mouth before he could help himself.

“Make it look scarier, and you’ll be on the right track.” The two nodded fiercely, seemingly ready to go and fix it now before you spoke again.

“Wait, wait before you guys go off to do that, let me tell you about snow angels!” You cried, catching everyone's attention.

“Snow… angels?” Ninian repeated, to which you nodded enthusiastically.

“They’re very easy to make, and they look pretty when you’re done!” You explained. “All you have to do is lay down in the snow and move your arms and legs back and forth-- the resulting imprint in the snow will look like a person wearing robes! In my world, many people associate that with angels, so that’s how the term came to be.” You explained.

“That sounds like fun!” Already, Kana had laid himself back on the ground, his female counterpart agreeing and doing the same. The other kids moved a bit and followed suit. Of course, you laid down as well-- Ninian and Grima were the only two left standing. While the kids now had fun playing in the snow, you frowned, looking up at Grima.

“Aww come one Grima, lay down with me! Just make one!” You pleaded.

“We’re both already wearing robes, _____.” He said pointedly.

“That doesn’t matter! It’s fun to lay in the snow for a bit! Do it for me?” You sat up and looked at him with the same doe eyes Myrrh just had, only with much more affect than the girl before you. “We can even hold hands while we do it, so our snow angels hold hands! Wouldn’t that be cute Grima?” You enthusiastically reached for him so he would join you on the cold ground. “Besides, after we’re done playing outside with the kids, I have another tradition to share with you. This one far less cold.” You giggled, grinning in delight as Grima sighed and sat on the ground a little ways away from you.

“If it will get you to stop begging me… I suppose I have no choice but to do it.” letting your grab his hand, he laid back and asked, “What now?”

“Now we just have to move our arms and legs back and forth, like this.” For empathies, using your legs and the arm he wasn’t holding, you moved them slowly back and forth, carving a space for them in the snow.

“You look ridiculous.” He huffed.

“You look even sillier just sitting there and not doing it with me.” You chimed back. With another dramatic sigh, Grima joined you in making a snow angel, moving his arm in time with yours so they could be holding hands, just as the two of you were now. “Oh these are gonna look so cute!” Your giggle was enough to bring a small smile to Grima’s face. “Now all we have to do is get up without ruining them! Easy, right?” You sat up, taking your hand from Grima. “All we have to do is get up carefully and step to the side…” You did just that, stepping out carefully and looking down proudly at your snow angel. If Grima didn’t know better, he would think you were overlooking your army after a victory on the battlefield; it was the same look you wore then. But at least for now, these were peaceful times-- ones in which he intended to indulge in the fullest with you.

“Here,” You had stepped around to his open side while he was lost in his thoughts. “I’ll help you up and after we go tell all the kids how all their snow angels look, we can go inside and get warm! How does that sound?” You held your open hand to him; the act was simply meant to be helpful, that’s just who you were, but Grima couldn’t help but overthink it. How easy it would have been for him to bring you down to his level, to make you fall in the snow and laugh as you had suddenly become as low as him. But… you had always resisted that, always offered him your hand, even when pulling him up was far more effort than him standing on his own. Perhaps, it was just one of the many reasons he fell for you… “Grima?” Your sweet voice saying his name brought his attention to you once more, a mischievous smile playing at your lips. “Don’t tell me—you actually like playing your snow!” Even your ability to find the silliest, sweetest, kindest explanation for his actions never failed to make his heart swell in unfamiliar, intoxicating ways.

“It’s nothing like that.” Grima took your hand easily, hoisting himself up with ease thanks to your help. “I was… just thinking is all.”

“Thinking, huh?” You didn’t pry much. Grima tended to do a lot of thinking these days. “Well, I think we should hurry up! I’m kinda getting cold, and this text tradition will surely warm us up!” Once Grima had safely stepped out of his snow angel, you were once more dragging him off to go compliment the little dragonkin. Still, he couldn’t but help and turn his head to admire the snow angels the two of you had made together. They were holding hands like you had insisted they should. The thought that many heroes would pass by them, and see them holding hands—as if it were the two of you holding hands-- brought that warm, fuzzy feeling right back to his chest. Though, from what Grima had gathered thus far, this time of year seemed to be all about it…

Soon enough, the two of you had made it back inside to warm up. Your clothing was already hung by the fire to dry and you had insisted he sit down and enjoy some hot chocolate with you to further warm up.

“Come on Grima, don’t you like sweets?” You said, gently bringing the steaming liquid to his lips. He backed away a little, pressing at the mug until you sighed and brought it to your own lips. In reality, he had never really tried them. No one had bothered to give him any in times past and at this point, he had made it a part of himself to just… hate sweets. They represented all the things he used to hate. Now, he supposed there was no point in it but he never was one to give in easy. Still, with you… it was hard to lie and pointless at that.

“I’ve… not had one. I think.” He looked to be in thought for a moment. If he had, it had been a long time, enough so he couldn’t bother to remember.

“Really!” You gasped. “Well, now is the perfect time! Just try a sip, please? If you don’t like it, I won’t make you drink it I promise!” Whether it was purposeful or not, you had your bottom lip sticking out in a pout. Grima hated how the look made him weak; didn’t you know how adorable you were? What if other heroes saw? That look had to be reserved solely for him. Only you could make him this weak…

“Are you going to be like this all day?” He sighed and rolled his eyes a little but nonetheless took the mug from your grasp. He liked how it was warm in his grasp, making his cold hands feel far more comfortable. He could feel your eyes on him as he gently brought the mug to his lips; your eyes were shining, your hands clasped together as you watched him slowly dip the cup back for a drink of the hot chocolate. As the title suggested, it was very warm; it pleasantly spread over his body as he swallowed and warmed his core. And the taste… was far unlike anything he ever had. If this was what sweetness was… he wouldn’t mind having it more often. To your great delight, Grima took another, much larger drink of the mug, nearly emptying it in the process.

“Wow! Did you like it that much?” You giggled, laughing at the little ring of chocolate on his top lip.

“It was… more pleasant than I expected.” Before Grima could wipe the offending stain off his lips, you brought a hanky up to them first.

“Here, let me.” Your voice was soft as you carefully wiped the chocolate from his lips. The act felt strangely intimate but Grima couldn’t fathom why. He let the thought linger a moment as he looked to you with wide eyes before you spoke again. “You can finish it if you’d like! Just be more careful when you do so, if you keep being so enthusiastic about it you’ll get hot chocolate all over yourself!” You giggled at the thought. “I’m going to go ahead and get the things we need for our next Christmas tradition so you just hang tight!” Before Grima could even ask what it was you planned to do, you were gone; luckily, not far, for Grima could see you easily in the kitchen as you busied yourself getting different things. Eggs, butter, flour, sugar… Grima had never cooked before so he frankly had no clue what you planned to make with him. He wasn’t worried, though, because the way you hummed and giggled and twirled around the kitchen as you readied things assured him the two of you would have fun. By the time you had come to retrieve Grima, he had well finished the hot chocolate. Warmed to his core by the drink, and by you, Grima was well ready to do whatever it was you had planned next.

“I’m still in shock you haven’t had sweet things before…” You shook your head. “But we’ll remedy that, don’t you worry! Because we’re going to make cookies together!” You cheered, bringing him to the pile of utensils, ingredients, and an open book as well. “It’ll be easy, as long as we follow the recipe.”

“Cookies…” Grima had heard the word before, even seen the food in question; heroes all around the order, children and adults alike, had been enjoying them a lot lately. “Are they hard to make?”

“Not at all!” You shook your head. “It's as simple as mixing all the dry things together, mixing all the wet things together, and then adding them together!” You explained. “Of course, the recipe will explain it more in-depth than that but that’s the idea behind it.”

“And… why is it tradition to make cookies?” Grima frowned. “Do you not eat cookies year-round?”

“Of course!” You said quickly. “This is a tradition strictly from my world. For Christmas, we teach our children about a mythical man we call Santa Clause; in reality, the figure was named after a saint named St. Nick.”

“What does this… Santa Clause have to do with anything?” Grima was simply confused now. “I thought we were making cookies.”

“We are! We’re making some to leave for Santa so that when he comes on Christmas eve to leave our presents, we can give him something in return.” You explained. “Like… you know how Chrom has that big sack of gifts he carries this time of year? And how Robin is asking about which heroes have been naughty, and which have been nice?”

“...I recall.” Though Grima loathed hearing their names, especially in those strange holiday costumes, he would bear your explanation.

“Well, they’re kinda dressed up like Santa, and doing his job! We have all sorts of songs about it, hehe…” You hummed the familiar tune of Santa Clause is Coming to Town a moment, before speaking again. “His job is to figure out which children have been nice and deliver them presents. For the children who have been naughty, he’ll only give them coal. So, the least we can do is leave him out milk and cookies, don’t you think?” You explained to him. “In my world, where magic isn’t commonplace, or perhaps even real, it really brings something special and magical to the Christmas season for children…” You sigh softly, eyes a little far away as you remissness about your childhood.

“Didn’t you say Santa was a mythical man?” Grima frowned, eyes furrowed. “Why leave out food for a fake man? Wouldn’t the untouched cookies let the children know he isn’t real?”

“That’s where their parents step in! In the night, when the children sleep, while they put out the gifts for them, they drink the milk and eat the cookies. When the kids wake up and see the food is gone they get so excited, knowing Santa visited in the night while they slept!”

“...We’re not really going to do that, are we?” Grima asked. “Most of the heroes already know its other heroes giving them gifts,” Grima explained as if he could really escape you when you had your mindset on something.

“Actually! When I told Fae about Santa, she went and told a lot of other heroes, adults included, about him. So, this year, you and I are going to play Santa for the order!” The happiness in your eyes was enough for Grima to think twice about arguing with you. It was obvious how happy the idea made you. “Don’t you think it will be fun, waking up Christmas morning, and seeing the delight on everyone’s faces as they open their gifts from Santa? Even the skeptic heroes will be amazed as Santa got them the very thing they had asked for!” You giggled, rubbing your hands together. Grima realized, then, you were using your power as Summoner-- that is, the power where heroes felt comfortable confiding in you and actively talking with you-- to make them believe in Santa by giving them what they want for Christmas. He had to admit, it was devious means to go about a relatively harmless plan.

“I see…” He nodded slowly, looking over the ingredients once more. “Then why are we the ones making the cookies, if we’re going to be the ones playing Santa as well?”

“To cover our trail, duh!” You said as if it were the most obvious thing. “No one will expect you and I placed the presents if we do all the stuff to prepare for Santa’s arrival!” You were so serious about it, looking around quickly to see if any heroes were nearby before moving to whisper in Grima’s ear. “And keep your voice down, will you? If someone figures out my plan I’ll be upset with you!” You said it with puffed out cheeks and that same little pout you had on earlier, Grima couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Of course, of course…” He nodded, to prove to you he was serious. “Why don’t we get started on the cookies, then? It sounds like your little plan might fail without them.”

“Right!” You quickly turned back the cookbook, already turned to a recipe for…. Chocolate chip cookies. You said it wouldn’t be that hard but Grima hardly had the luxury for cooking, let alone baking… “Alright, first step! We’re making a lot of cookies today since there are a lot of heroes! So, we’re going to triple the recipe!” You looked down. “So… instead of 2 cups of flour… we’ll need 6!” You went about doing that, grabbing a measuring cup and dumping the flour into a medium-sized bowl, the larger one set to the side. “Then we add in some baking soda, and salt, mixing it with a fork until well distributed.”

“Why are we adding so much salt to a sweet recipe? Won’t that make it taste foul?” Grima grabbed your wrist before you could add in the appointed amount. You seemed so excited by this, too-- he didn’t want you to mess it up so quickly.

“Aww, you know I appreciate your concern Grima, but it’s okay!” You kissed the top of his hand, causing him to panic and let go of your hand. You were then able to add it to the flour and baking soda without a problem. “The salt actually helps the cookie taste sweeter than it would have without it, I swear. And if you don’t believe me, well, I’m sure there are plenty of other heroes who would be glad to help me eat these cookies…” You mused. “Don’t you trust me?” You added.

“Of course I trust you!” The words came quick and a little too loud from Grima, making your heart flutter at how serious he was. “I’m just… unsure if I trust this recipe.” He mumbled, looking to the book with disdain.

“Well, trust me, it's okay. Why don’t you mix the dry ingredients why I cream the sugars and butter?” You handed him a fork and he went to work, mixing the white powders together until he could no longer tell flour from salt. When he was done, you were already adding eggs and vanilla to your mixture, making sure there were no streaks to speak of.

“And then we add the dry to the wet, right?” He asked.

“Right! Good job Grima!” Your praise made his heart flutter, though he would never admit it. “Do it a little bit at a time, otherwise we’ll get flour everywhere and it will be very hard to mix.” Gently, Grima streamed in a bit of the flour mixture at a time while you continued to mix it all together with a wooden spoon. You picked up the pace until Grima had dumped all of the flour in. He was amazed to find what was once a gross, wet mess was now a cohesive, and tasty looking dough. “Now for the best part! We add in the chocolate!” You pulled over a container of chocolate that had already been cut and dumped it into the large bowl of dough. “Now we just carefully fold it in…” You mumbled, doing just that. With a few stokes, the chocolate was incorporated into the dough. “And just like that, the hardest part is over.”

“This… doesn’t look like a cookie.” And frankly, Grima wasn’t sure how it would become one.

“Well, yeah, we have to bake them! We have plenty of stoves here, but even though they bake quickly we have so much dough it may take us a while…” You quickly wiped your nose and Grima noticed a bit of dough stuck to it.

“Your nose…” Drawing your attention with his words, Grima quietly wiped the mess from your nose, thinking nothing of eating the raw dough. “Hmm… you were right. I can’t even taste the salt.” Grima smiled softly at your wide eyes. He was just with the idea that the action he just did was intimate, in the same way, that you wiping the hot chocolate off his lips was, but he couldn’t find it in him to mind.

“Yeah, I told you.” You smiled right back at him. “Come on, I’ll let you lick the spoon if you help me portion out the cookie dough.” Now with new motivation, Grima nodded, getting to work helping you portion 12 different balls of dough onto greased sheets. As you had said, this would take a while; though the cookies hardly took 10 minutes to cook, it had taken the majority of the afternoon to bake them all. Grima could happily say though, they were worth the effort. Who knew sweets could be so enticing? Still, evening was rolling around it with it, the setting sun. Surely by now the two of you had gone through all of your traditions and could simply relax with one another until the time came for you to rest?

“Okay, so I know you’re tired. I am too…” You yawned out the words, covering your mouth and crinkling your eyes just a little. “But I have one more itty bitty little tradition to share with you, Grima. It’ll be easy. I just have to find it…” You hummed, swiveling your head quickly from side to side quickly while looking up at the ceiling. Grima had no clue what you could be looking for up there-- the only thing there currently was the endless amount of Christmas and festival decorations.

“What are you hoping to find?” He followed you as you went in a seemingly random direction, eyes trained on the ceiling above you and not forward. Grima was as careful to guide you away from any hazards as you scanned the area.

“I swear Sharena and I had hung some around here…” You continued marching forward, not looking where you were going in the least bit.

“_____.” Grima speaking your name had you pause in your search and glace back at him. “Calm down-- just tell me what you’re looking for. I’d like to help you.” Though once the words may have burn his tongue, now they flowed easily with his smile. His sharp teeth may have peaked by his lips, but he truly meant the words he spoke. You knew this to be true; there was no other heroes, no other person that you trusted more than him. The fact that he had asked to helped to ask you his volition only proved just how far he had come, and with you, how much further he was willing to go.

“Well…” You hadn’t wanted to spoil this moment, though you did appreciate the sentiment. “We’re looking for… a little twig with some leaves-- it’ll probably have a few red berries on it to. It’s a plat called mistletoe, and it will probably be hanging from the ceiling.” You explained.

“Why would it--” You cut Grima off.

“Nope! No questions until we find it, it’ll ruin the surprise!” With that said, you went back to your search, wandering ahead of Grima as he looked back to the corridor you had just passed. There certainly wasn’t any there-- though looking ahead, he could tell your search would be rather fruitless there as well. It was likely there wasn’t any of your so-called mistletoe around her. In fact, the two of you were rather close to where his quarters were. Yours were actually rather close to here as well. All the sudden Grima couldn’t help but wonder if something was… amiss. Walking past you (you didn’t even notice as he passed by) Grima found his door and frowned. Sure enough, your fabled mistletoe hung innocently in front of his door. Just as he was about to call for you, you bumped right into him. Grima easily caught you as you looked on with wide eyes.

“I found some mistletoe.” Was all he said. You looked up past his face to see the little bundle sitting above the two of you.

“Do you know what it means when two people meet under the mistletoe, Grima?” Your face was growing increasingly warmer, both from how Grima still held you close after catching you from your little tumble, and how awkward it would be having to explain this particular tradition to him…

“You were insistent I hold my questions until we found it. So, no, I don’t.” You couldn’t help but giggle, clutching him a little tighter and leaning ever so slightly closer to him as you did so.

“Hmm… well… would you mind if I showed you first? Then you can ask your questions.”

“You’ve gotten your way all day today, I see no reason to stop now.” You could tell by his little smile that he was teasing you, but you merely stuck your tongue out at him before speaking again.

“Okay, then. Close your eyes.” He did as instructed, making your heartbeat loudly. Just as you trusted him, how much he must have trusted to do as you asked without question. Your pulse had jumped into your throat, your hands were getting clammy-- it was truly now or never. You exhaled softly through your nose and circled your arms around his neck. You made sure you were angled correctly before moving in the short distance between the two of you and… stopping. This was going to be your first kiss with Grima. Had he ever been kissed before? He was new to all aspects of a relationship, why not this? Would he dislike it? Was he even ready to be kissed? Questions danced around in your head as you looked closely at his serene face.

“_____?” The ghost of his words fanned across your lips, reminding you what you were about to do. “Is everything alright?” His eyes stayed closed as you spoke, something you were thankful for as you gathered your courage.

“Yeah, everything is fine. I’m just… nervous is all.” Only now, feeling your own words travel across his lips, did Grima realize just how close you had gotten. He was tempted to open his eyes and get to the bottom of this but knew if he did so, he would never hear the end of it from you. So, he waited for you to speak. To move. To do anything. Grima was in great anticipation of something but he knew not what it was.

“Don’t be. I’m here with you… It’ll be okay.” He had always been poor at comforting you but with your guidance, he was getting better.

“You’re right…” He swore, when you giggled, he could feel your lips brush against his. Why did it bring up such an electric feeling in him? “I’ve no reason to be afraid, not when I’m with you.”

Only a moment after the words were said, your lips were upon his. It was gentle, so gentle, but Grima was nothing but thankful for it. For as much as the feeling lit him up inside, made him want to press himself closer to you and move his lips against yours in the same fashion, Grima really had no clue what to do. It was all instinct, from him snaking his arms more around your waist to the way he mimicked the movement of your lips against his. All too soon he found your lips left his, the both of you looking at the other in amazement and wonder.

“A… kiss?” He said softly. “How is that tradition at all?” He wasn’t one to complain as his breath quietly returned to him.

“When two people meet under the mistletoe, they’re supposed to kiss.” You explained shyly. Suddenly, you found it hard to meet his gaze as your words went on. Quickly, Grima spun to the two of you, so he was in your spot and you in his.

“So… if we meet again, we’d have to kiss again?” This time, Grima didn’t see a reason to question your strange traditions. After all, the merits of this one were clearly displayed before him.

“Well… yeah but all you did was move us around, Grima.” A smile met your lips again seeing how excited he was. His eyes seemed to glow and his little smirk was so charming.

“Those are minor details you need not worry yourself about, dear…” Already Grima was pulling you closer. He was more than ready to learn about this tradition.

“Oh, so suddenly you’re eager to celebrate Christmas with me, Grima?” You couldn’t help your little grin as you leaned back from his advance playfully. “Sadly, that isn’t how the mistletoe works Grima! We have to meet under it by chance again.” You explained.

“Weren’t you the one that said we should make some traditions of our own?” Gently, he pulled you back in to him. “I think this is as good of a place as any to start…” You were left no place to argue as Grima gently placed his lips against yours. For a second time, your eyes fluttered close as you kissed the fell dragon. This Christmas, shared with him, would surely be one you remembered...

#commssion #grima x reader #m grima x reader #grima x summoner #feh #fe awakening #fe x reader #its... 3 am as I'm saving this draft #dwdw I don't have work until late ahahah

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mrslilyrogers · 4 years

Text

Betrayal Part 2

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: (AU) Set in New York. You and Bucky have been married for 5 years. He’s the love of your life and you are his. At least, you thought you were until he started slipping away from you, coming home late and smelling of another woman’s perfume? You are in denial. Are you just losing your mind or are you really losing him?

Author’s Notes: Thank you to those who read Part 1! Please let me know if you wanna be tagged in this series! Bucky feels a little more guilty here :/ Hope you all enjoy! Let me know what you think :) **my work is only posted here or my ao3, mrslilyrogers

Warnings: ANGST, CHEATING

Part 1

Hoots of laughter sounded from the living room as Y/N entered the apartment. Her heart sang at the thought of Bucky spending time with his daughter, maybe their marriage was salvageable, maybe she was overreacting and Bucky has really just been busy lately, maybe he realized he’s been ignoring--- her thoughts ended abruptly when she saw Steve and Lizzie on the couch, popcorn in between them, and watching Lizzie’s favorite movie, clearly Steve’s attempt at trying to cheer her up from her father being too busy to pick her up from school. Never mind that both Bucky and Steve had the same jobs -both managing directors for the world’s largest investment banking company, Shield- which meant that if Steve could afford to pick Lizzie up, then Bucky sure as hell could too.

“Y/N!” Steve said rising from his seat.

“Mommy!” Lizzie rushed to greet her mom with the biggest hug she could muster and Y/N immediately scooped her up, hugging her back,

“Hey, you!”

Steve stood behind them and waited until the little monkey suddenly shifted from her mother, opened her arms and clung to him instead. He took her from Y/N with one arm as he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

“You spoil her too much, Rogers” Y/N said as she rolled her eyes, ignoring the barely concealed concerned look on his face.

“And how are you too, Y/N? How’s your meeting with Stark?” Steve asked teasingly, trying to lighten her mood.

“Oh you know,” She pretended to hedge around her answer before she excitedly exclaimed, “I got it!”

Steve’s smile suddenly lit up like a christmas tree, grinning from ear to ear as he enveloped her into a bear hug with Lizzie still in his arm. When he let go, he saw the flash of sadness cross her eyes before she beamed up at him again and recounted her meeting with the Tony Stark. How come Steve remembered her big meeting and Bucky couldn’t? The question nagged at the back of her mind as she chose to ignore it, focusing on her win for the day.

“Bucky couldn’t leave work, he has a meeting. But he said he’ll see you at dinner,” Steve said apologetically bringing her daughter down as she scrambled back to her movie.

“Right, and he couldn’t have texted that huh,” As soon as the words left her lips, she felt bad. It wasn’t Steve’s fault. The guy was practically an angel, leaving work early to pick her daughter up, proving that even though he and Bucky were not blood related, they were brothers in every sense of the word.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring you into this, Thanks for bringing Lizzie home,” she apologized quickly.

“Hey, Y/N, it’s fine. Are you guys alright?”

“Steve, will you be honest with me?” Y/N wrung her hands as she guided Steve to the staircase, bringing them away from her daughter.

“Do you know what’s going on with Bucky?” She asked, finally letting it out in the open. Steve is Bucky’s best friend since childhood and it would be stupid of her to ask her husband’s best friend if it were any other guy, but it was Steve, and he was the noblest person she knew. Loyalty to Bucky or no, he would tell her the truth.

“What do you mean? I haven’t really seen him lately, I’ve been in California for the past week…”

That’s when she stopped listening, California in the past week? Bucky couldn’t even have formed a better lie for last night. Did he really think she wouldn’t find out? Was that how little he thought of her, he didn’t even try his best not to be caught. A dry laugh escaped her lips as she shook her head. Unbelievable.

“Hey, Y/N, are you okay?” Steve asked, bringing her back to reality.

“Oh yeah just fine, Steve, sorry, do you wanna stay for dinner? I’m gonna start cooking,”

Steve shifted his weight between both feet, clearly uncomfortable by her change in mood.

“Uh, I don’t know, it’s alright--”

“Stay for dinner,” Y/N said since surely she’d be making too much food for just two people again.

“Lizzie would sure love to have her favorite uncle to annoy the whole time,” she suggested teasingly to which he exhaled in relief, glad that the tension left and they were back on safer topics.

“Well if you put it that way, then of course, who says no to your cooking anyway?” He replied jokingly while she laughed bitterly and headed to the kitchen with Steve jogging back to the sofa to finish the movie. Well, my husband apparently.

_______________________________________________________________________

Steve, Lizzie and Y/N were all huddled at the dining table, each enjoying Y/N’s famous molten lava cake as Steve regaled Lizzie of his and Bucky’s childhood exploits, telling her how he used to be picked on a lot and how Bucky was always the one who saved him. One in particular involved a pretty girl, Steve losing his inhaler, and Bucky walking home missing a shoe had Lizzie in a fit of giggles.

“But Uncle Steve, you’re the best!” Lizzie explained with chocolate all over her mouth, laughing and shaking her head as if not believing his tale.

Bucky heard the shouts and laughter from the kitchen, his daughter practically worshipping her Uncle Steve as he entered the apartment. His brows immediately shot up, Steve stayed? He didn’t know what to expect when he decided to come home earlier than usual and told Celeste he couldn’t stay the night. If he were honest, shouts and laughter were the last thing on his mind. He had expected them to wait up on him and his daughter running up to greet him as he went through the door as she usually did before. Before he met Celeste, before he got bored of his family. God, he was such an ass. He told himself it would only be one night then one night turned into another and another and next thing he knew, he was more excited to see her than to see his wife.

He entered the kitchen with flowers in his hand, intending to make it up to Y/N but the sight that greeted him cut him short. There they were looking like a family, Steve at the head of the table, his seat, with his wife and daughter on either side of him, enjoying their desert while Lizzie stood on her chair, arms extended, regaling them of her dance class at school. Y/N immediately shot her hand out to Lizzie’s arm, sitting her back down as Steve laughed at them.

“Lizzie, you’re going to fall,” She tried to reprimand seriously but couldn’t hold in her laugh. He hadn’t seen her laugh like that in a long while.

“Steve, see? I told you we shouldn’t have given her desert,” she huffed out.

“Well, you can’t invite me for dinner and not feed me one of your delicious cakes, besides, there’s a cause for celebration!” It was impossible not to get infected by Steve’s bright smile, and she immediately found herself smiling in return until they heard someone clear his throat.

“Daddy!” Lizzie exclaimed as she jumped from her seat, running to give her dad a hug.

“Bucky? You’re home?” Y/N said dumbfoundedly.

“How are you, Princess?” Bucky ignored Y/N’s shocked expression as he picked his daughter up, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Uncle Steve is here!”

“Hey Buck,” Steve greeted from his seat as he scooped out the last bits of his cake before he stood up.

“I should probably get going, Y/N thanks so much for dinner, haven’t had a good home cooked meal for a while and your cooking is always the best,” he said with a genuine smile but Y/N saw right through it.

“You want to bring home the leftovers, don’t you?”

“Yes, definitely!” Steve said, chuckling, as Y/N went to kitchen, presumably to grab containers for Steve, without acknowledging Bucky.

“Hey man, how was the office?” Steve asked a little too suspiciously. He always knew when something was up with Bucky and now he looked at him assessingly as if he found something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

“Just had to finish the report I told you about,”

“Uncle Steve, why are you leaving so early?” Lizzie whined from her position on her father’s arm. Her head resting on his chest as her arms wrapped around him.

“It’s almost your bedtime, little lady,” He booped her nose as he replied while she giggled and buried her head in her father’s shoulder.

“Lizzie, you’re spreading chocolate over daddy’s shirt,” Bucky watched as his daughter shifted her face around his shoulder, trying find a comfortable position as her eyelids grew heavy. It brought a smile to his face, his daughter was beyond adorable.

“What chocolate?”

“The one on your face,”

“Do not have chocolate on my face,” She argued sleepily.

“Sweetie, you do it’s all over,”

“Do not,”

“Do too!”

“Do not!” This time she huffed angrily with her eyes closed, it was the cutest thing in the world to Bucky which made both him and Steve chuckle.

“Here you go Steve,” Y/N came back, handing him the bags of leftover.

“Aww, Y/N, you’re an angel,” Steve tried to inconspicuously look for something in the bags but failed in his friend’s eyes. It still bothered Y/N how, for a guy who commands so much attention from any room he walks in, with his golden brown hair, baby blue eyes and perfect skin, he still tries to be subtle. There was nothing subtle about his looks and the way he moves gives the impression that he had no idea the effect he has on others, or simply that he didn’t care. The girls, Nat, Wanda and Y/N always teased him about it, especially in college, when he had been oblivious with the way women stared at him left and right. To them, he was simply Steve Rogers but other people looked up to him, with his commanding voice and gentle advice. He was the best friend any girl could ever ask for and Y/N was thankful for him especially tonight when she didn’t know if she should celebrate for her business’ success or cry for Bucky.

“Yes, there’s a lava cake in there too. Just pop that in the oven before you eat it,” Y/N had made sure to make extra for him, knowing it was his favorite.

“Oh Bucky, your wife’s the best!” Steve replied, giving him a clap to the shoulder. If only he’d notice, Y/N thought bitterly to herself before Steve gave her a side hug and kissed her cheek.

“Bye Y/N, thanks for the food again! See you tomorrow, Bucky,”

“Bye, man,”

“Bye, Uncle Steve,” Lizzie mumbled, as she waved blindly around, clearly, fighting her sleep to say bye to her favorite uncle.

“Bye sweetheart,” Steve said as he gently patted her head and left.

As soon as the door closed and they were left alone, the awkwardness settled in. Bucky looked to her, flowers still in one hand, with Lizzie sleeping on his arm.

“How was your day?” Bucky asked, breaking the silence.

“I got it, Tony loved the red velvet,”

“Wow! First name basis now huh, I knew you’d get it, I got these for you,” He gave her a genuine smile as he handed her the tulips, her favorite. She should’ve loved it, but she hated it now, it was a reminder of how awkward they had become. Back then, whenever he came home from work with her tulips, she would’ve jumped on him and gave him a kiss, telling him she missed him and how her day went without his prompting. He would’ve said he missed her too and told her about work but now, here they were, standing feet apart from each other, not knowing what to say. She didn’t have it in her to act like the wife she was. How could she hug him knowing where he’d been?

“Thank you. Are you hungry? I left some food on the table,”

Bucky clenched his jaw, knowing he was late, Celeste had unexpectedly shown up at his office even though she knew it was off-limits and he had to get rid of her. The whole day he’d been looking forward to spend time with his family and even ordered Y/N’s flowers in the morning for tonight but lately, Celeste had gotten clingy and needy, expecting more than he could give her when she knew from the start, their relationship was only ever going to be a purely physical one.

“Yes, I thought I said I’d go home for dinner,” he replied grudgingly.

“Uhm, no Steve told me you’d go home for dinner. Why couldn’t you have given me a call anyway? Or even a text?” Y/N felt her hackles rise, he didn’t have the right to be annoyed right now.

“Does it matter? She got picked up, she’s here, and it looks like you and Steve started without me anyway,”

“Bucky, you came home at 8:30, you do know your daughter is just 4,” She explained exasperatedly, pointing at the sleeping Lizzie on his arm to prove her point.

He let out a defeated sigh, “I got caught up at work, I’ll tuck her in,”

“Uh huh,” She watched as he walked up the stairs of their two-floor apartment and her heart broke again at that stupid lie he kept telling her and that she kept accepting.

When Bucky went back down, she just finished loading the dishwasher and washing the pots and pans.

“Would you just add your plates when you’re done and start it? I’m gonna head up,”

“Of course,” Bucky replied as he watched her walk up the stairs to their room, thinking, where the hell had they gone wrong. He missed her, he really did. The old Y/N would’ve fought and argued with him as soon as he finished tucking Lizzie in and he would’ve relented, accepted his fault and apologized, then she would’ve accompanied him for dinner and told him excitedly how her meeting went. He would’ve told her just how proud he is of her. He got lost in his thoughts as he stared down at his food. Damn, she even made Steve’s favorite pot roast. He knew she had been trying to fix things for a while, but now, she seemed distant and cold like she was finally giving up on him and it was his fault, he knew that too. He just didn’t know what to do, how to fix things. So as usual, he did what he did best, took a swig of his beer, and buried himself in denial.

Part 3

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel angst #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #betrayal

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cakesunflower · 4 years

Text

Just My Kind [Teacher!Calum AU] Part 6

A/N: this one’s kinda longer than the previous parts, which is fine given that i haven’t updated in a hot minute. happy reading!!

Previous Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

There wasn’t a schedule the students and teachers were meant to follow while at Big Bear Mountain. The group of students were divided up into three sections according to the bus they arrived in and were the responsibility of the two teachers they had come with. So Odessa and Calum were in charge of some thirty-odd students, giving the students their phone numbers to check in with them every few hours during the weekend. For the most part, the students were free to do as they pleased on the resort; the only thing they must do was meet with everyone for dinner later on that night and for breakfast on Saturday morning as well as Sunday before they left to go back home.

After making sure the students in her and Calum’s charge were gone to their rooms to take the time to settle in, Odessa went to her own. She tried not to think of Calum’s room right across the hall from hers, instead focused on putting her toiletries bag in the bathroom and bringing out the coat she’d borrowed from Sierra. Even getting off the bus and walking to the lobby of the hotel allowed Odessa to feel the cool temperature of the area, and mentally thanked Sierra for the coat she knew she’d be wearing all weekend long.

She didn’t really see the point in unpacking, knowing they’d be there only until Sunday, so she rested her suitcase on the table meant for it by the window before peering out. Her room provided her with a beautiful view of a lake, catching sight of the snowy slopes not too far away that she knew the students were excited to take advantage of. Apparently, many of her Los Angeles students knew how to ski and-or snowboard. Odessa didn’t know how to do either, so she was going to take advantage of the small shopping center village their hotel was located right next to—a walking distance—as well as a heated indoor pool and other amenities that didn’t involve skis or snowboards.

She didn’t know how much time had passed, but she’d spent it relaxing on the comfortable bed, reading the texts that came through of students in the group chat informing her and Calum of where they were heading to. It wasn’t until Odessa made sure every student in their charge had checked in that she decided to leave the room. In the mood to walk around to grow familiar with her surroundings, Odessa put on some warmer clothing, chuckling softly as she caught sight of the red beanie Grams had knitted for her. The woman was a whiz with those knitting needles.

After dressing warmly, Odessa grabbed her purse and left the room, boots padding softly on the carpeted hall as she headed towards the elevators. She stepped into the empty lift, and just as the doors began sliding shut, a hand shot through to keep it from closing, startling Odessa. Her gasp seemed too loud in the small space, widened eyes watching as the doors slid open once more, only to reveal Calum standing on the other side. Of course.

His dark eyes met her blue, and he offered a small smile as he stepped inside, looking warm in a hoodie under his coat, a grey beanie of his own covering his blonde hair. Odessa pressed her teeth together. She absolutely hated how awkward things were, knew it was her fault, knew she had the power in changing it. The doors slid shut and Odessa stared at their blurred reflections against the doors, Calum standing tall next to her, the silence in the limited space damn near suffocating as she picked at her nails, hands buried in the pockets of her coat.

Surprisingly, Calum broke the silence. “Where you headed?”

Odessa glanced at him, but Calum was checking something on his phone, conveniently avoiding her gaze. Was that for her benefit or his? “Uh, just checking out the little village,” she told him.

“Oh, me too.” She bit the inside of her cheek as he added, “There’s this café I’ve heard about, supposed to be really good. D’you wanna check it out?”

She looked at him once more, chest tightening at the hopeful look he wore in his eyes. The stubborn—read: stupid—part of her wanted to reject Calum’s offer, but she couldn’t bring herself to. Distance was one thing, blatantly ignoring a friend was another, and Odessa didn’t want to be that person. She was already annoyed with herself for treating Calum the way she was—through no fault of his own, only hers and her incapability of figuring out her feelings because she always let others influence her.

“Sure.” Her answered seemed to surprise him and Odessa fought the urge to swallow. How sad was it that Calum was actually taken aback at her agreement of joining him for something? She pushed herself, “Some company would be nice.”

Ironic, coming from her. Odessa was just glad Calum was kind enough not to call her out for it.

The elevator stopped, doors sliding open, and Calum held his arm out and gestured for Odessa to step out first. He followed after her and Odessa zipped up the jacket as the cold greeted them as soon as they left the hotel. There was a large, wide round-about in front of the hotel, one road leading towards the freeway their busses had come from and the other leading right to the village of shops they could see from where they stood.

There were people all around, a few Odessa recognized as students from their school, and she and Calum continued down the path leading right into the village. It was more like a pedestrian street with short one, maybe two, story buildings on either side, going on for miles, consisting of boutiques, restaurants, smaller cafes, and other kinds of stores. As they walked down the path, Odessa couldn’t help but feel as though she stepped into some kind of Hallmark Christmas movie, everyone around her dressed warmly to fend off the cold, a low hum of chatter in the air that was quieter than what she was used to on the streets in Los Angeles.

It almost reminded her of her small hometown in Nevada, nearly bringing her that same semblance of a calming peace.

“Is this better than being in the city?” Odessa bit the tip of her tongue, startled at how Calum seemed to read her mind.

She glanced up at him, noting that he was just looking ahead as they walked, sunlight shining on them from above the short buildings on either side of the path. Odessa took a breath, hands in the pockets of her jacket as she responded slowly, “Yeah, I guess. It’s a lot less. . . Hectic.”

“Do you miss your hometown? In Nevada?” Calum asked. Odessa refrained from frowning at him. She was positive they’d had this conversation before, and Calum wasn’t the kind to forget details about others. Was he just trying to make useless small talk? Had her stupid efforts of putting distance between them worked a little too well in making things awkward between them?

Odessa kept her gaze ahead, rolling her lower lip into her mouth. This felt strange. Wrong. Being with and talking to Calum had always been so easy, from the moment she had met him. Whatever tension existed between them, it was her fault. She had to fix it. “Not as much as I thought I would,” she answered truthfully. “I grew up in Ely but. . . There’s nothing there for me anymore. I miss my students, sure. But my mom’s always flying around, my grandparents are here, and so are my friends.” Odessa glanced at her feet, feeling a small fond smile curl at her lips. “Los Angeles isn’t so bad.”

“Yeah,” Calum hummed as they continued along. Someone whizzed by them on a bike, and Odessa was caught in the gust of wind they left behind. Damn, wasn’t it cold enough? “I’m glad it’s goin’ well for you, Odessa. I really am.”

She glanced up at him, catching the small yet genuine smile he flashed her way. Her heart clenched, feeling the guilt of pushing him away once again resurface. Odessa knew, in that moment, this particular guilt was a lot stronger than when she had felt it for feeling as though she was betraying Paige. Harsh as it may sound, Paige wasn’t someone Odessa could, or had to, betray. They weren’t friends, no matter how they painted the picture. It was about time Odessa came to proper terms with it.

They reached the café Calum had been talking about, and Odessa smiled as he held the door open for her. The inside of the café was warm, a somewhat busy, smelling like fresh sandwiches and coffee as the hostess greeted them with a smile and ushered them over to a table by the window right away. They sat across from one another as Odessa shrugged off her coat, hanging it on the back of her chair as the hostess handed them the menus before wandering off.

Odessa took the menu, not really reading what was on it because her attention was on the man sitting across from her. She peeked up from her menu, and maybe it was too warm in the cafe because Calum took off his beanie, running his hands through his short blonde hair, and Odessa noticed the darker roots growing in. Still, he looked good. Unsurprisingly.

She looked back down at the menu just as Calum asked, “Is your mom visiting for the holidays?”

He was trying to make conversation, Odessa knew, and the least she could do was keep it up. “Yeah,” she answered, feeling a small smile tug at her lips. “Bringing her boyfriend for us to meet, too.” Her mom hadn’t been able to make it for Thanksgiving, which would’ve been sad if Odessa particularly cared about the holiday, but she was definitely flying in for Christmas. Her boyfriend, one of the pilots of her the airline she worked for, was coming with her too so she could introduce him. Odessa was excited to see them both. “What about you? What’re your plans?”

“Ah, gonna be in New Zealand,” he told her with a small smile. “Spending it with my mom and grandparents.”

Odessa nodded in acknowledgment, eyes on the menu. She decided to go for the chicken panini. If Calum was going to spend Christmas with his mom, that meant his sister was going to be spending with their dad. He had told Odessa, one time when they were talking about their families, how he and his sister, Mali-Koa, switched off who they spent Christmas with every other year, with the one in between where both siblings were together with one parent. When that happened, New Years was spent with the parent they didn’t see during Christmas. Odessa silently wondered if that was better, of it she just preferred being with her mom every year and never seeing her dad.

Just as quickly as that thought had come, though, it disappeared all the same. Calum’s parents were still friends, from what he told her. Both Odessa and her mom wanted nothing to do with her dad.

A waitress came by soon enough, taking their drink orders and wondering if they wanted to order food right then too, which they did. Once she left, a silence befell Odessa and Calum, immune to any disruption by the chatter of the other café patrons. She loathed the mild tension she could feel between them, loathed that she knew it was because of her putting some distance between her and Calum for weeks since she had been unable to figure her feelings out. She wasn’t doing anything to ease the tension, either, as she opted to gaze out the window to her right, watching unfamiliar faces walk past the window, wondering if the lived their lives without making them complicated for themselves.

“Gotta be honest—I’m surprised you agreed to eat with me.” Odessa felt herself freeze where she sat, gaze snapping over to Calum before she could even think about it. When she looked at Calum, her breath silently hitched in her throat because instead of appearing accusatory like he had every right to, Calum looked almost reluctant to bring up the topic. Like he didn’t want to venture into somewhat dangerous territory, but had to anyway because he knew it was the path that led to honesty. Which Odessa knew he deserved.

“Calum—”

“I’ve been trying to give you your space, Odessa,” Calum sighed, head tilting from one side to the other as he sat with his arms crossed over the table. She bit her lower lip as his dark eyes locked with her blue, and her chest tightened when she didn’t see any anger in them. He would be justified if he felt that. Instead, all she saw was confusion, hesitance. He looked unsure, which was a look Odessa wasn’t used to on someone as confident and firm as Calum, and she hated that she put that look on him. “Figured you’d talk when you were ready about what’s been bothering you but—” he let out a short, empty laugh, muddled with confusion. “It’s been a couple of weeks and I’m still in the dark.”

If Odessa was being honest, she hadn’t quite expected Calum to outright ask her about her behavior. She had assumed he’d let her approach him, wait on her like he had been doing for weeks. Maybe he got tired of waiting, wanted answers sooner rather than later—and she didn’t blame him. Still, despite coming to an understanding about her own feelings, Odessa still wasn’t quite sure how to move forward from there, so she didn’t really know what to tell Calum.

Shit. She’d brought this on herself, didn’t she?

When the hell did she become someone who would let anyone have power over her actions—whether they were aware of it or not?

Odessa tried to find the right words to express what she wanted to say without actually spilling what’s been sitting in her heart in some random café. Just because she had come to terms with her feelings for Calum, didn’t mean she was exactly jumping at the opportunity to let him know. She was still at war with herself, mind heavy with the following consequences of letting him know how she felt. Despite what her friends may think, she couldn’t blind herself to the possibility of Calum not feeling the same way. Letting him know that she had feelings for him and him not reciprocating could make their friendship awkward, put a strain on their professional relationship, too. The latter would change no matter how Calum felt about her, but she would selfishly rather it be because they would do something about their mutual feelings rather than because he was avoiding her and her feelings for him.

She suppressed a sigh. Odessa wished the chatter in the café was louder. Maybe it’d drown out her own buzzing thoughts.

“I don’t want you to think you did anything wrong,” Odessa finally spoke up, her words slow and deliberate. Calum’s gaze remained on her; it was an encouraging warmth rather than a demanding heat. “Because you didn’t. This—it’s just something I’m dealing with on my own. And I’m just—I’m sorry for avoiding you. I was just trying to figure some stuff out.”

There. That was vague, but Odessa felt as though it got the message across. Hopefully.

“Did you?” She met his gaze, eyebrows knitting together slightly as Calum offered a barely there shrug. “Figure it out?”

Odessa’s lips parted, though what would say, she was unsure, just as the waitress returned with their food and drinks. She dropped her gaze to her panini, Calum’s question running through her mind. When she looked up again, his eyes were still on her, not even bothering to reach for his food, expectant. Her heart jumped and she exhaled through slightly smiling lips. “Yes and no,” she answered vaguely.

Before Calum could ask what that meant, a familiar voice interrupted them. “Oh, there you two are! On a little date, are you?”

Both of their gazes looked up and Odessa could feel the warmth instantly pooling in her cheeks at Justine Greggs’ comment, freezing in her seat. Justine stood with Bridgit Donnelly, one of the other English teachers, both of them grinning at Odessa and Calum like they knew some secret. The implication behind their smiles, along with Justine’s words, had Odessa wished the ground would swallow her up.

The older women were eyeing her and Calum impishly, and when Odessa chanced a glance at the man sitting across from her, the heat in her face intensified when she saw that charming, boyish grin easily take over his face. A subtle smile, yet enough to completely take her breath away. “Somethin’ like that,” Calum confirmed smoothly, leaning back in his chair as he looked up at them. Odessa tried her hardest not to focus on his words too much—or him—though it was proving to be difficult. With a tilt of his head, he asked Justine and Bridgit, “Would you ladies like to join us?”

Bridgit laughed lightly. She was in her late thirties, and her personality reminded Odessa of Grams. “No, no, we don’t want to intrude,” she grinned teasingly, shooting both of them a knowing look. Odessa wished she could present herself as unaffected as Calum, who merely chuckled along, not showing any signs of fluster like Odessa probably was. “We’re just going to pick up some coffees before heading to the ice rink. You two should check it out, too.”

Odessa may not be able to snowboard or ski, but ice skating was something she was capable of. She had gone through a rollerblading phase when she was fifteen, and holiday trip to New York once had proved that she was able to ice skate, too. “Oh, yeah, that sounds fun,” she replied without much thought, offering the two other teachers a smile.

The two women smiled before Justine said, “Alright, well we’ll let you get back to it—enjoy your meals, you two.”

There was a glint in her eyes, aligning perfectly with the teasing tilt in her voice that had the warmth in Odessa’s cheeks reheating. She had a good idea of what the two women were thinking, their implications not at all lost on Odessa, and she wondered if the universe used the people around her as a conduit to fluster her nerves when it came to Calum. At this point, too many people have teased or alluded to the concept of Odessa and Calum being something more than friends, colleagues. It didn’t help in easing her mind.

Once Justine and Bridgit left, leaving just her and Calum, she tried to push aside any awkwardness by biting into her panini. And while Calum paid attention to his food, Odessa had kind of hoped their previous conversation was forgotten. Until he spoke up once more. “What did you mean?” he asked carefully. She glanced to see him watching her after he swallowed a bite of his sandwich. “You said yes and no—what’d you mean?”

Odessa hesitated, lips parting as she thought of a proper, worthy answer. Calum was patient. She let out a breath and offered the best she could, “I mean yes, I figured out what I was working through but I’m, uh, not sure yet how I wanna move forward with it. If. . . That makes sense,” she finished, shooting him a somewhat apologetic look. It was another vague answer, she knew, but there wasn’t really any other way for Odessa to tell Calum without telling him. And it wasn’t the right time for it—if there ever would be one.

Calum eyed her momentarily, his gaze as intense and warm as ever, before his features softened and he nodded. He seemed to accept her answer, not that it was much of one, and Odessa appreciated it more than he would know. He wasn’t pushing her, even though he deserved to know; she knew he did. She’d been the one pushing him away, creating distance between them without so much as a warning. Calum did nothing wrong. He was unknowingly caught in a situation he was oblivious to, and Odessa was trying her hardest to untangle all of them out of it on her own.

“How are midterm preparations going?” Odessa then chose to ask, wanting to steer the conversation away from herself. Midterms were being held in the coming week, and Odessa had spent the last few days coming up with exams for her freshman and sophomore classes that wouldn’t drive them too hard into the ground.

“Good,” Calum answered with a nod after sipping his drink. “Exam’s ready—just hopin’ my kids are, too.”

Odessa cracked a smile. “Same here,” she said, catching sight of a child running down the street, an excitable grin on her face as she pointed towards a souvenir shop opposite of the café, waiting for her parents to catch up to her. Looking back at Calum, Odessa continued, “I spent half an hour debating if I should have a multiple choice section before deciding against it. I hated them when I took tests—I’m not putting my kids under the stress of second guessing their answer.”

Calum quirked an eyebrow. “That is, if they didn’t study well.”

“Not necessarily,” she pointed out. “I have some students who know all the material but they don’t test well. Multiple choice questions certainly don’t help those types.”

He tilted his head, curiosity sparking his dark eyes as he gazed at her. “You don’t think the challenge will help them in the long run? Not every teacher’s going to be as considerate as you, Essa.”

The nickname had her heart skipping a beat, but Odessa willed herself to relax, not to get too ahead of herself. Still—it was a struggle to fight the smile from tilting her lips. Her name, any variation of it, sounded so nice from Calum’s lips. “Maybe, maybe not,” Odessa shrugged, letting out a light chuckle. “There’s plenty of other teachers who can throw them off with multiple choices. I’d rather read the responses in their own words in open ended questions.”

Calum nodded, seeing the reasoning in her answer. “You can tell by that how much they know more clearly—yeah, I agree.”

Odessa flashed him a grin, feeling more at ease as the minutes passed by. “Plus, I’m too lazy to come up with wrong answers.”

He snorted as he picked up his glass of ginger ale. “I hear that.”

She could see his smile that he didn’t try to hide behind the glass, and Odessa didn’t really try to get rid of hers as she bit into the panini. Saying that she missed this, the ease of conversation and Calum’s company, would be an understatement. Depriving herself of Calum’s friendship in the past few weeks had been such an idiotic decision on her part, no matter how many times she told herself it was the right thing to do. Even though she had believed it somewhat, at the time, it now felt like an utterly moronic choice she wouldn’t be making again. Calum and their friendship meant more to Odessa than Paige’s territorial feelings and passive-aggressive comments.

Their lunch, much to Odessa’s pleasure, passed by comfortably, with conversation flowing easily without drudging up Odessa’s dumb distancing decisions over the past few weeks. The comfort Odessa felt with Calum had returned, despite her ever present thoughts lingering in the back of her head, and she couldn’t help but chastise herself for thinking separating herself from him was ever a good idea. For too long she had been putting Paige’s warnings above her own feelings, and with the help of the sight of Calum sitting across from her, grinning that bright smile, Odessa understood it was about time that changed.

*****

The ice rink wasn’t as busy as Odessa had expected it to be. She still had yet to venture onto the ice, the skates already tied securely on her feet, but she stood just outside of the rink, looking in through the transparent screen as a few people skated around. Music was playing throughout the arena, and from the two handfuls of people that were there, only a couple were students from the school.

It wasn’t that late in the day, barely five-thirty. The dinner scheduled for students and the chaperones wasn’t until seven, so Odessa had plenty of time to enjoy the rink for now. But before she could step onto the ice, Calum’s voice suddenly sounded to her right. “Are you gonna skate or stare?”

She let out a light laugh as she glanced at him, noting the small smile playing on his lips, hoodie pulled over his beanie. He looked so warm. After their lunch, they’d walked around the little village for a bit before separating; he’d gone to ski and after telling him she wasn’t risking an injury by joining him, Odessa had headed to her hotel room for a nap. She’d woken up earlier than usual that day, and the cold weather only added onto the sleepiness that had crept on her.

“No need to be pushy,” she responded teasingly before stepping forward. Odessa found her footing easily, the blades sliding against the ice as she moved, Calum stepping on right behind her.

“Oh, Jesus—fuck.” Odessa’s eyebrows shot up as she turned around, feeling an amused smile tilt at her lips as she watched Calum right himself, letting out a huff as he found his balance.

With a curious tilt of her head, Odessa asked, “You do know how to skate, right?” He knew how to ski—skating should be a piece of cake, shouldn’t it?

“Yes,” Calum responded instantly, putting a pointed stress on the word as he skated to come up next to her. “Just needed to find my balance.”

It was comical that as soon as he said that, his body tipped forward, feet threatening to give out under him. Odessa’s eyes widened and she instantly grabbed his hand, gloved fingers wrapping around his without much thought. She didn’t dismiss the jump of her heart when Calum tightened his grip, a small yet grateful smile lifting his lips as she tried not to dwell on the pinkness of his cheeks and nose because of the cold. Odessa’s throat dried, the music playing in the rink being drowned out by the notion of Calum having no intention of letting her hand go becoming prominent, and she slowly pulled him along.

Neither dwelled on the glaring fact that Calum, who could ski and play soccer, didn’t really need Odessa to keep holding his hand as they skated. But he hadn’t let go, and Odessa sure as hell wasn’t going to be the first to loosen her grip. So they skated on, the arena echoing with music playing and the chatter of others around them, mixing in with the blades gliding along the ice. Despite that, Odessa didn’t want there to be any silence between them, even though it was often comfortable; there had been enough unwilling silence existing between the two of them lately because of her and she wanted to fill it. Talking to Calum was too relaxing and effortless to deprive herself of.

“How was skiing?” she casually asked as they started their second lap around the rink, side by side.

“Not too bad,” Calum responded with a raspy chuckle. “Took me a minute to get used to.”

Odessa shot him a playful smile, raising an eyebrow as she asked, “Like skating?”

He returned her smile with a boyish smirk, the kind that flipped her heart, as he smoothly responded, “Something like that—except you weren’t there to hold my hand on the slopes.”

The warmth flooded Odessa’s cheeks at his words, surprised that she didn’t slip because of the shock they greeted her with. She hoped the coldness of where they were would present itself as reason enough for the harsh pinkness in her cheeks. Odessa had no idea if Calum was just joking around with her or if he meant what he said; his smirk remained, but there was a hint of something other than playfulness in the dark of his eyes as he watched her that only warmed her even more.

Her throat worked, looking ahead once more as they skated on, and Odessa let out a gentle, short laugh as she forced herself to respond, “I don’t think that would’ve made skiing any easier.”

“Maybe,” Calum hummed thoughtfully, fingers still interlocked with hers. She only embraced the knowledge of it once more when he gave a squeeze to her hand. “But I would’ve welcomed it anyway.”

He’s flirting with me. The thought screamed through Odessa’s mind, manifesting itself in the lump that formed in her dry throat, skin firing up even more. She knew he was; she could hear it in the quietened way he spoke, words tilting with hesitantly alluring tone. Like he couldn’t help himself to say innocently suggestive things, but was unsure if she would welcome them or not. But Odessa did—she very much did. Now that she was aware of her feelings for Calum, his flirtations that crossed the line of friendship Odessa had failed to establish—not that she minded—were words that made her heart race and in excitement and had the knots of anxiety tightening her stomach loosen and disappear.

Safe. Comfortable. Calum’s made her feel those things from the moment she met him—more so than anyone else she’s met that wasn’t her immediate family.

“Odessa.” She let out a barely-heard startled gasp as Calum forced them to a stop towards the side, out of the way of those skating around. He stood in front of her, tall body towering over hers, dark eyes meeting her widened blue. “I know it’s none of my business—but what happened? You kind of just. . . Stopped talking to me and, I gotta tell you, I’ve been trying to figure out what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Calum,” Odessa instantly replied without much thought. She couldn’t bear the thought of him thinking it was his fault, despite coming to the uncomfortable realization he most likely thought just that over the time she tried to put distance between them. Her nerves crept back, but Calum’s presence didn’t allow them to take over her. “I was just confused.”

Calum’s throat worked. “About what?” he implored, a gentleness in his voice not lost in the buzzing rink. It was already beginning to feel like it was just the two of them, nobody around to disturb them, as Calum kept Odessa grounded. His gaze, intense as always, was warm and encouraging, softer than what Odessa felt like she deserved.

She looked up at him, took in the pinkness of his cheeks and nose because of the cold, the blonde hair peeking out from under his beanie, the stubble on his chin and jaw. Odessa felt as though every detail of his appearance was engrained in her mind, the sight of him so achingly familiar. A warm light guiding her closer and closer to the truth until the words were slipping past her lips without much thought.

“How I feel.” Odessa didn’t particularly think to elaborate on that, feeling a hint of embarrassment creep up, mixing in with the nerves of finally, finally, finally telling Calum how she felt. Voicing it would make it feel more real than it already was, but Odessa just needed to get out of her head. Since she met him, Calum never made Odessa feel as though she should be embarrassed about anything—if she ever was, it was because on her accord. But as he stood in front of her, patient and, dare she say it, hopeful, she allowed herself to add in a somewhat wavering tone, “About you. Us.”

“Us?” Calum repeated, and was that hope settling in his features?

Odessa swallowed, heart jumping as he kept his gaze purposefully locked on hers. She couldn’t look away even if she wanted to. Calum’s eyes had her trapped and she wasn’t too keen on escaping. “I realized how lucky I am to have you as a friend,” she carefully started, her voice quiet, gentle. Was she imagining the way they seemed to be drawing close to one another? She was trying hard not to let her gaze drop from his eyes to his lips, no matter how inviting they looked. “And I’m just. . . Not sure how far that luck goes.”

She was being annoyingly cryptic, she knew, but Odessa had a feeling Calum knew exactly where she was going with this.

If anything, the way he let out a short breath through curling lips before closing the gap between them was pretty solid of an answer.

Odessa leaned into Calum immediately, her surprised gasp silenced with his lips meeting hers in a kiss so warm, so thrilling, that it allowed her body to feel shivers down her spine and heat spreading throughout her skin all at once. It was unexpected, but the shock wore off quickly as her free hand—the one that wasn’t still holding onto his—reached up to rest on the back of his neck, lips moving with his as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And it felt like it was.

There were no butterflies or fireworks, but a wave of calmness that blanketed itself over Odessa as Calum kissed her, feeling his arm wrap around her waist to keep her close, a warmth spreading through her. His stubble tickled at her skin and his head tilted ever so slightly to deepen the kiss, the sensation of his tongue languidly meeting hers sending another thrill down her spine. Odessa was deaf to her surroundings, uncaring of anyone or anything around her, her focus solely on Calum and the way he kissed her. Like he’d been wanting to do it for as long as she did. It was better than Odessa could have ever imagined, the taste of mint dancing against her lips, mixing in with his familiar cologne enveloping her.

They pulled away too quickly in Odessa’s opinion, eyes still shut as her mind reeled from the kiss, not even realizing she was subtly chasing Calum’s lips with her own until she heard him let out a soft chuckle. His warm breath tickled her, his forehead resting against hers, and Odessa pressed her teeth together to ground herself. Holy shit. As far as kisses go, Odessa wanted this one to be her last first kiss.

“I’d say your luck goes pretty far,” Calum spoke, a teasing tone in his raspy voice.

His words had Odessa letting out a breathless laugh despite her entranced state, opening her eyes to catch sight of his deep brown ones. Her breath caught in her throat as she noticed the way he was looking at her; soft, warm, delicate. A small smile played on the corners of his lips, a boyish smirk, yet his eyes gave away to the gentleness she knew he possessed. Had the pinkness in his cheeks darkened? Odessa was sure hers had.

Her hand dropped from his neck, but her fingers caught the drawstrings of Calum’s hoodie, playing with them as she found herself reluctantly asking, “You don’t think this complicates things?” She lifted her gaze to meet his, almost shyly. “We work together—”

“There’s no rule against that, Essa,” Calum reminded her gently. He then ducked his head, maintaining her gaze, raising his eyebrows almost knowingly as he added, “Unless there’s something else that’s holding you back from figuring out what this is.”

Odessa rolled her lips into her mouth, throat tightening momentarily as Paige’s face involuntarily flashed through her mind. Her fingers absently tightened their grip on the drawstrings of Calum’s hoodie she was playing with, looking away from him as a frustrated frown knitted at her eyebrows. Hadn’t she told herself she wouldn’t care about this anymore? That she wouldn’t put Paige, who clearly didn’t give a shit about Odessa, and her feelings above her own? Calum kissed her—and he obviously wanted to pursue something with her. Why was Odessa unwillingly finding reasons to not let him lead her in the right direction?

“Is it because of Paige?” Odessa’s eyes widened almost comically at Calum’s question, looking at him in surprise, taken aback at how he reached that conclusion so quickly. He was an observant guy, Odessa knew, but still—how had he picked up on that? Noting the disbelief in Odessa’s face, Calum offered a small smile, letting out a breath as he confessed, “Luke told me.”

Odessa’s expression dropped into a flat one, unimpressed at their friend’s inability to keep things to himself. But, honestly, Odessa wasn’t mad at Luke; him telling Calum what had been weighing so heavily on Odessa made things easier for her. It was probably cowardly of her, but Luke did her a favor, saved her some awkwardness, and she was grateful for it.

“Odessa,” Calum spoke up, broad shoulders squared and staring down at her pointedly. She did her best to focus attentively, warning herself not to get lost in the dark of his eyes. “You gotta know that Paige and I were never serious—it shouldn’t’ve happened in the first place, but I can’t change that.” Odessa’s heart jumped at his words, his admittance of not wanting to pursue anything with Paige feeling like a weight off of Odessa’s shoulders she didn’t know she needed, a relief she’d been silently craving for longer than she’d like to admit.

She parted her lips, hoping the skates on her feet would keep her steady, oblivious to the world around her as she quietly asked, “What’re you saying?”

The corner of Calum’s lips curled up softly, far too handsome, and Odessa was overcome with the urge to kiss him again. But she kept herself still, waiting for his answer. “I’m saying,” he started with a short chuckle, “that I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment I met you. And—” his smile widened, a playful tilt, “—being your work-husband isn’t enough.”

“You’re not proposing to me, are you?” Odessa cut in, unable to help the joke from slipping past her lips despite the anticipation tickling her stomach. She couldn’t stop herself—it was effortless when it came to Calum.

He let out a laugh at her question, the sight of his smile bringing on her own, especially at the light dancing in his eyes. With a quirk of an eyebrow, Calum pointed out, “I think I have to take you out on a date first.”

Before Odessa could respond, the excitement tickling her nerves, a shouting voice echoed throughout the rink, “Oh shit, Coach and Ms. Kline! I knew it!”

Her eyes widened in surprise, Calum’s eyebrows shooting up as they leaned away from one another and looked over. Odessa pursed her lips, fighting the sheepish grin from tilting at her mouth when she saw a couple students, mostly boys from the soccer team, towards the middle of the rink as they comically cheered their two teachers on. Heat pooled in Odessa’s cheeks as she saw the few boys and girls looking at them in teasing excitement, and suddenly Odessa herself felt like she was a teenager as she subtly slid back from Calum.

His hand was still gripping hers though as she peeked a look at him. His eyes were light with mirth, though he wasn’t going to give the kids the satisfaction as he shot them a look. Odessa wondered if they could see the subtle smirk on his face from where they stood. “Keep it movin’, kids. Nothing to see here,” he called back to them, waving them off with their free hand. Standing tall, he added, “Go on before I make you skate laps.”

One of the kids from the team, Frankie, puffed his chest out and hollered, “We’re on vacation! You can’t make us, Coach.”

Calum skated forward a bit, eyebrows raising and a challenging gleam in his eyes that had Odessa biting back a smile. “Wanna bet?”

And with a cacophony of “Sorry, Coach”, the boys and their friends were skating away, though Odessa wasn’t oblivious to the way they glanced back over their shoulders. It was amusing, if she was being honest, looking back at Calum as he skated to stand in front of her. He cracked a smile, letting out a silent breath. “Maybe I can take you out when there aren’t any kids around.”

She laughed, a flutter in her chest. “Sounds good to me.”

And even though there were a couple of students in the rink, their interest in their two teachers amusing, it didn’t stop Calum from tightening his grip on Odessa’s hand before they continued skating. Odessa couldn’t stop foolishly smiling, cheeks soon beginning to hurt, but she didn’t care. For the first time, she allowed herself to give into her feelings without a care for anyone else.

*****

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but were you and Calum on a little date earlier today?”

Odessa pressed her lips together as she forced down her sip of wine, widened eyes meeting Justine Greggs’ impish grin. Her fellow teacher had a knowing spark in her dark eyes, and Odessa felt heat creep up her neck as she put the glass down. “I—no, no. It wasn’t a date,” she told her with an embarrassed laugh which only served to make it seem like Odessa was lying—which she wasn’t. That was not a date. “We were just having lunch together, that’s all.”

“Mhm,” Justine hummed, not at all convinced as her lip curled while she took a sip of her wine as well. With a tilt of her head, she asked, “Then how come I’m hearing whispers among the students that a couple of them caught you two being close at the ice rink?”

“Oh, my God,” Odessa’s jaw dropped, gaping at Justine as she leaned forward. The two of them had been sitting the bar in the resort as it neared eleven at night, just a few people around. In a whisper, Odessa asked, “Are Calum and I on the rumor mill now?”

Her coworker smiled in amusement. “You two are the only focus of the rumor mill,” she informed Odessa, whose skin fired up even more.

She felt embarrassed, almost shrinking into herself as she told Justine, “I’m so sorry about that—we definitely should’ve been more careful about students seeing us—”

“Odessa, please, you’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Justine laughed lightly, waving the younger woman off. Odessa quietened, her nerves still playing on her features as she mentally berated herself. She hadn’t thought about it much at the time, too blissed out on Calum’s kiss and the confessions murmured in the rink, but now when she thought about it, she had noticed some of the looks she’d been receiving during the dinner earlier. All from students looking far too excited and as if they’d stumbled upon a big secret. They might as well have. “You and Calum are two grown adults with your own lives. There’s no rule preventing you two from being in a relationship.”

Odessa pressed her lips together in a small yet grateful smile, the blush still heavy in her cheeks as she sipped her drink. There may not have been a rule at the school keeping her and Calum from being together, but there had been an unspoken one that had nestled in Odessa’s mind for so long, all thanks to Paige. Now, though, it was being etched out of her mind for good, and as it went, so did the tension tightening Odessa’s chest.

“Speak of the devil.” Odessa’s head snapped up at Justine’s words, noting that she was looking past Odessa’s shoulder with a small smirk.

Odessa turned around in her stool, feeling a smile tilt at her lips as she caught Calum walking into the bar, feeling a nostalgic sense of déjà vu wash over her as she remembered the first time she saw him; Mrs. Brewer had uttered the same words when Calum entered the teacher’s lounge on Odessa’s first day of work.

His gaze met hers right away, a smile playing on his lips as he approached where she sat, his walk as confident as his smile quiet. He still wore his clothes from today, minus the jacket and beanie, a sight Odessa never would tire of.

“Evenin’, ladies,” he greeted despite it being way past the time for it to be considered the evening, waving down the bartender. “Mind if I join you?”

“You can keep Odessa company,” Justine said as she got up, her glass now empty. She smiled at the two of them, the knowing look too bright in her eyes as she paid. “I’m going to head to my room for the night.”

She left, leaving just Odessa and Calum at the bar as he ordered a beer for himself, spinning in the stool so he was facing her. “Did you hear?” he started, a ghost of a smirk tilting at his lips. “We’re the hottest topic in high school gossip today.”

Odessa let out a short laugh, eyebrows raising as she nodded, looking down at her nearly empty glass of wine. “Yeah—the kids aren’t that subtle about it.”

“No, they aren’t,” Calum agreed with a deep chuckle, nodding thanks to the bartender as the bottle of beer was placed in front of him. Lifting the bottle to his lips, Calum scoffed, “I haven’t been high school gossip since I was seventeen and streaked across the football field.”

A startled laugh escaped Odessa, blue eyes dancing in amusement as she stared at Calum in surprise, and he merely smiled boyishly as he sipped his drink. “Are you serious?” she asked with a laugh, facing him in disbelief.

He offered a shrug, not too apologetic about it. “Michael dared me. I couldn’t back down from it.”

Odessa rolled her eyes though she was still laughing, licking her lips before musing, “Of course you couldn’t.” When her laughter died down, Odessa took a breath and glanced at Calum, voice quieting as she asked, “Seriously, though—you don’t feel awkward about it?”

“Not really, no,” Calum answered with a shake of his head. He smiled, then, small and subtle, before adding, “It’s not anything I haven’t heard from my players.”

Her gaze darted to him as she drank her wine, eyebrows shooting up as she lowered the glass, swallowed the sip, before sputtering, “What do you mean?”

Calum faced her once more, right elbow resting on the bar top, chin lifting as his smile remained playing on the corners of his lips. The amusement danced in his dark eyes under the dim yellow lighting of the bar, features softened in the glow as Odessa peered up at him. “All the boys have mouths on ’em. They aren’t shy about teasing me ’bout you.”

“Teasing you about me?” Odessa repeated, the disbelief thick in her tone. She was having a hard time processing that this was even a conversation Calum had with his soccer players—on more than one occasion, so it seemed. She was amused and embarrassed and curious all at once as the heat remained pooling in her cheeks. When it came to Calum, Odessa might as well be a middle school girl with a crush. “What do they even say?”

“The most reoccurring?” Calum hummed, leaning towards Odessa just a bit, instantly making her oblivious to her surroundings. It wasn’t like there were that many people in the resort’s bar anyway, but as soon as Calum neared her, there might as well have been none. She noted the sweep of his eyelashes as he gazed at her, eyes briefly flickering to her lips before brown eyes met blue, her heart fluttering excitedly. “They kept telling their coach to do everyone a favor and ask you out.”

Odessa rolled her lips into her mouth, tasting the wine she’d been drinking, her left elbow propped up on the bar as she, too, faced Calum. The way he was looking right back at her—his gaze was never something Odessa felt like she would get used to, like he was taking in every part of her, committing her to memory. Her own voice lowered, pointing out softly, “You already did that.”

“I did,” Calum replied, smiling boyishly, his knee brushing against hers. Raising an eyebrow, he said, “Right after I kissed you.” Odessa hummed an affirmative, feeling as though something was pulling her closer to him. She found herself desperately wanting to close the space between them. “Which is something I should’ve done a lot sooner. But—” Odessa’s eyebrows quirked up ever so slightly, not even at her own accord, too lost in Calum and the gap between them closing. They’d already kissed in public once—what was a second time? Her gaze dropped to his lips, soft and full and pink, made to be kissed. She saw the corner of his mouth comply with a ghost of a smirk, voice low as he finished, “You were worth the wait.”

Odessa felt her neck tense as her throat tightened, Calum’s dangerously sweet words sending a thrill down her spine she did her best in hiding. The effect he had on her wasn’t one she’d ever experienced before—it wasn’t one she wanted to go without anymore, either.

They didn’t kiss then, like both of them so desperately wanted to do. Instead, a mutual yet silent agreement passed between them and they pulled away, sitting up in their stools, sipping their drinks as they let the conversation take a natural turn over towards something less enticing.

Odessa ran her finger around the rim of her glass, aware of Calum’s gaze on her, as a thought crept into her head. With a slight furrow of her eyebrows, she asked slowly, “What exactly did Luke tell you? About. . . The Paige thing?”

There was a subtle change in Calum’s features, a resignation as his cheeks puffed slightly with a sharp exhale. “Nothing that surprised me,” he told her truthfully. His gaze met Odessa’s. “Luke knows how I feel about you and he may have admitted that there was a chance you felt the same.” He cracked a knowing grin at Odessa rolling her eyes, muttering under her breath about Luke being unable to keep his mouth shut. Not that she was truly annoyed with him. Calum’s smile faltered a bit then. “But you weren’t going to do anything about it because Paige more or less told you to back off—which she had no right doing, by the way.”

Odessa scoffed, eyebrows raising. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Listen, Odessa,” Calum sighed, facing her with a pointed look on his face. “Do you want me to talk to her when we get back?”

She paused for a moment, considering his offer. If Odessa was being honest, the less interactions she had with Paige, the better—though, she wasn’t sure how that would be possible, given their friend group is the same. But sooner or later, Odessa would have to confront Paige herself, especially now that she had come to terms with her feelings for Calum and realizing it wasn’t just some passing crush.

“Don’t talk to her on my behalf,” she decided. “I have to talk things out with her myself.”

Calum nodded, accepting her reasoning. “Fair enough,” he murmured before taking a sip of his beer. “I’m gonna have to talk to her myself anyway—set the record straight about where she and I stand.” He then glanced at Odessa, lips curling into a boyish smirk as he added, “Especially if I wanna make things work with you.”

Her cheeks were aflame once again, yet Odessa didn’t mind one bit as a shy yet thrilled smile curled at her lips, already aching her cheeks as she ducked her head. Calum chuckled quietly at her reaction. He had a way with words, which wasn’t surprising given his profession, and he used it to his advantage to render Odessa speechless. She could only hope to get him back for it one day.

Once they finished their drinks, it was nearing midnight, and given that it was their first day at Big Bear, it would serve them better to go to bed. So they paid for their drinks and headed out of the bar and towards the elevators, the resort a lot quieter this time of night than earlier in the day. There was a comfortable silence between Calum and Odessa as they rode the elevator to their floor, and as they stood next to one another, Odessa had the foolish feeling of stretching her left pinky out just so to wrap around Calum’s. But she didn’t. Instead she just glanced at him from the corner of her eye, peering up at the much taller figure to her left, fighting off her grin when she saw his own lips twitching into a knowing smile.

She was giddy. Relieved. The tension that had been weighing her down disappeared in a matter of a day, and keeping a smile off her face wasn’t too possible.

The elevator doors slid open and Calum waited for her to step out first before they walked down the empty carpeted hall. They’d already checked in with their students earlier that night. Odessa’s hotel room came before Calum’s, since he was just two doors down, and as she pulled out her key card, he stood with his hands shoved in the front pocket of his hoodie, gaze on hers.

“I’ll see you in the morning, then?” Calum said just as Odessa’s door clicked open after she used the card.

She stood in the doorway, gripping the door handle tight as she peered up at Calum. There was a fighting urge to invite Calum inside, to continue the kiss that hadn’t lasted long enough back at the ice rink. And the way his brown eyes were peering at her, soft yet alluring, gave Odessa the feeling that Calum wanted to come into her room just as badly as she wanted him to. But he wouldn’t, not unless she said so, and as badly as Odessa wanted to, she shouldn’t. It would be inappropriate, wouldn’t it? While they were on a field trip with students and other teachers?

Having morals sucked. More so lately than usual.

So she smiled, leaning against the door she kept open reluctantly. “Yeah,” Odessa answered, almost breathlessly, with a nod. “In the morning.”

Calum nodded, a muscle in his jaw jumping momentarily, a subtle smile playing on his lips. Something silent passed between them as his eyes remained on her blue, and Odessa’s throat tightened. Calum lifted his chin. “Goodnight, Essa.”

Shit, she didn’t want him to go. “Goodnight, Calum.”

With one last smile, Calum turned to go, and Odessa stepped back to shut the door instead of watching him leave. She squeezed her eyes shut as she leaned her back against the door, head tilted back to face the ceiling, and her nose scrunched as she battled with herself. The moral side of her was telling her she did the right thing; inviting Calum inside wouldn’t be a good idea, for no reason other than it wouldn’t entirely be the responsible chaperone thing to do.

But another part—a much larger part—was reminding Odessa that she had waited long enough. Keeping herself away from Calum—hadn’t it lasted for too long already? Now that her feelings were out there, along with his, there technically wasn’t anything stopping either of them from pursuing what they were feeling. How many more excuses would Odessa dig up to keep herself from being happy? Why was she constantly doing that? She deserved more, didn’t she?

She bit her lower lip, eyebrows scrunching together above closed eyes. Odessa wasn’t a selfish person, and in this situation, she wasn’t even being selfish to anyone but herself. That had to come to an end; sooner—now—rather than later.

Her eyes opened, staring into her empty hotel room, and a deep breath escaped her as she made her mind up. Heart doing an excited flip in her chest, Odessa pushed herself away from the door, gripping the handle, and pulled it open quickly. Only for her breath to catch in her throat when she saw Calum still standing there, hand raised halfway as if he was about to knock on the door.

Odessa stared at him with startled eyes, only able to hear the escalating beat of her heart, as Calum stared right back, lips parting yet nothing coming out. A beat of silence passed between them, both taking in the sight of the other, and just as quickly, they met in the middle.

Calum’s lips found Odessa’s in a swift, desperate kiss, hands gripping her face as her own pulled him closer by gripping his sweatshirt, allowing him to push her into the room as she kissed him back just as fervently. His touch was warm, kisses hinting of beer and electrifying, and stubble scratching at her deliciously. Calum kicked the door shut behind him, the slam of the door drowned out by Odessa’s racing heart, and not a thing mattered except for the man who once again kissed her like his life depended on it.

tags: @irwinkitten @sweetcherrymike @meetashthere @loveroflrh @astroashtonio @softforcal @loverofhood @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @highfivecalum @malumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @miss-saltwatercowgirl @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @mindkaleidoscope @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @cocktail-calum @miahelizaaabeth @dramallamawithsparkles @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @calistheloml @aestheticrelated @tpwkcal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal @wildflower-cth @wildflowergrae @bloodmoonashton @vxidhood @gosh-im-short @notinthesameguey @mycollectionofnuts @cthwldflwr @everyscarisahealingplace @socorroann @talkfastromance4 @calumftduke @musichoney @treatallwithkindness @partlysunnycal @dead-and-golden @kaeleykaeley @harrys-sun-flower @br-hoe

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strawberrywritings · 4 years

Text

First threat.

A/N: I randomly hit a writer’s block this week and this is the best I could come out with, but i think I have the rest kind of figured out.🍓

/ Previous parts

The morning after, you woke up still in his arms, smiling and nuzzling closer to him, never wanting him to leave. When he woke up, he felt your fingers caressing his chest and he smiled sleepily. “Good morning, mi vida”, he wrapped an arm around you and brought you on top of him. You huffed in surprise and laughed when his hands found your almost bare ass. “Wasn’t last night enough?”, you joked, pecking his lips. He hummed. “It’s not that, it’s just that now I’ll never get enough of you and your wonderful body”. How could his voice be so sensual even when he just woke up? You had no chance but give in. After a round two in the shower, you and Angel ate breakfast before parting ways to go to work, not leaving without a goodbye kiss.

Angel arrived at the scrapyard, dressed in the same clothes from the night before (which you had washed and dried them overnight), Coco whistled and him and snickered. “Nice clothes. Got something to tell me, Angelito?”, he pushed his arm and Angel shook his head, but smiled nonetheless. “I spent the night with my girl”.

Coco grinned at him as they started working on a bike, “So… you smashed it?”. Angel threw a bolt at his best friend, a small smile on his lips still, thinking about last night. “We made love”, he corrected him, just as Gilly was coming up behind them. “Woah, what am I hearing? ‘Made love’? It’s too early in the morning for this shit, hermano”, they all laughed and Angel shook his head slowly. He was completely smitten.

“I assume you’ll be bringing her around?”, Bishop had a smile on his face, but his voice was serious and Angel straightened up. “Yeah, just… don’t know when”, he shrugged. “I’m sure we’ll find some excuse to party, right boys?”. Bishop’s words were followed by hollers in agreement from all the boys at the scrapyard. “Bring her over, she’s welcome”, Angel nodded and thanked el Presidente. Would they be welcome in her mind once she knew about what they really did?

A couple days later, El Padrino happened to come visit and stopped by the clubhouse, Angel made a beeline for him just as he got out of Templo. “Puedo hablar con usted?” Can I talk with you?, Angel was fidgeting and Alvarez nodded, sitting down with the Mayan. “Que pasa” What is it, he answered, noting the uneasiness in the man in front of him. “I have a girlfriend and I still haven’t introduced her to the club. I’m afraid she won’t… accept me. She doesn’t know what I- what we really do”. Alvarez nodded, “You’ll have to explain it carefully, one bit at a time. Eso no es fácil” It’s not easy, he paused and lit his cigarette, “And if she doesn’t accept it, you just let her go, Angel”. He swallowed and nodded, the thought of having to leave you was already too much for him, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “Gracias”. “De nada”. They shook hands and El Padrino left, leaving Angel alone with his thoughts, again.

Angel told you about the party the same day, he was so cool about it, too. “Angel, you cannot tell me two hours earlier! I need to plan these things!”, you were rummaging thought your wardrobe while he sat on the bed, unbothered. “That’s exactly why I didn’t tell ya, mi amor, you’re obsessing over something stupid”. “Meeting your friends is not something stupid, baby, fuck-”. “Just throw on something, it’s gonna be fine”, he smiled as he came over to where you were standing, kissing your cheek.

When you arrived at the clubhouse, you looked at yourself in the mirror of the car to check if everything was in place. He slid an arm around you and turned you to face him. “You’re perfect, mi amor”, he kissed you tenderly and you made your way inside, Angel greeting people left and right. You barely made it past the door of the clubhouse when suddenly the Santo Padre charter was all around you, introducing themselves and asking questions about you, about what you did. Conversation flowed easily, especially with the younger members, EZ in particular, as he and Angel kept making fun of each other.

“Tell him I’m not that messy, querida”, he looked at you and you chuckled. “I mean – you started – it could be better, but it’s not that bad”. “Looks like we’re making progress”, his brother chuckled. Angel was sitting beside you, an arm over your shoulders as he watched you interact with his brothers. You got up and excused yourself to go to the bathroom. “Someone is whipped”, Gilly said, and Coco nodded “Look at those heart eyes! Get a grip, hermano”. Everyone was laughing around him but he couldn’t take his eyes off you. His answer was a soft “Yeah, I am”, and a broad smile.

In the bathroom, you were washing your hands when a girl got in, you smiled politely as you began to dry your them. “You’re Angel’s new girl, right?”. You turned to her and gave her another smile, “Yeah, nice to meet you”. she barely let you finish your sentence as she spoke again, “I hope you know you’re nothing special, everyone’s fucked him. He won’t stick around for long”, she replied casually. Your face fell at her words and you just stood there, speechless that a stranger would have the nerve to say these things, and if it was true or not, you didn’t care at the moment. She noticed your expression and smirked, “Just tryna save ya some embarrassment, honey”. And with that, she left, you followed after her, making a mental note to talk to Angel about this.

The night went on, you and Angels’ friends played pools, he played some beer pong, you laughed and had fun, but the girl’s words were still in the back of your mind. You went around to greet everyone before heading out and Angel was so proud as he watched you get along with all his brothers. Bishop gave him a pat on the shoulder adn a nod of approval, Angel grinning widely as he led you out of the place.

When he dropped you off, you invited him inside to talk. “I really don’t want to look like the girl who wants to tell you what to do – you started, and his eyes immediately were on your face, a concerned expression on his own, not knowing where this was going – but I’d appreciate your previous relationships staying out of our own”, you sat down in front of him at the table, where he was drinking a glass of water. “What does that even mean?”, he furrowed his brows and shook his head.

“This girl, in the bathroom, said, and I quote, ‘You’re nothing special, everyone has fucked him, he won’t stay long’. I don’t care what or who you did before me, and since it’s obvious we like each other, all I wanna know is if you want something serious with me or not. I don’t wanna waste time, mine or yours”, your voice was calm, collected, and his face fell once you were done talking. You hadn’t defined your relationship, not officially anyway, but he thought that by now you knew you were his, and his only. He got up and made you sit on the table, settling himself between your legs, clasping both your hands and holding them to his chest. “I waited a month to make love to you, I waited for you, if I just wanted sex, I’d have already left, mi dulce. You are my girl and-”, he paused, taking your hand in his, “and I’m not good at expressing what I feel, but I care a lot about you. And I’ll do everything I can to prove it to you”.

You smiled and put a hand on the back of his neck, bringing your lips together in a slow and sensual kiss. “I just wanted to be sure, Angel, you don’t have to prove anything. I see it in everything you do for me”, you whispered, your eyes closed as you peppered kisses on his collarbone and he rested his hands on your thighs, gripping the flesh and bringing you towards him. “I’d love to stay here and have a replay of last night, but I gotta head home”, he nibbled at your lower lip and you sighed. “Call me?”, he nodded and smiled at you, pecking your forehead and removing himself from you. Making his way to the door, you followed him and closed the door after kissing him goodnight.

The days went by and you and Angel passed the three-month mark in your relationship, Angel’s secret slipping to the back of his mind, figuring that he’d tell you when the time was right, but he soon discovered that “the right time” was his bullshit excuse to avoid the consequences, again.

When he finished his shift, he unlocked his phone, finding dozens of texts from you and lots of missed calls. Immediately worried, he didn’t even look at his brothers, getting on his bike and speeding to your house. He entered you home all sweaty, both from the sun outside and from having just finished work, and if you weren’t scared as hell, you would’ve asked him to take you right there and then.

“What’s wrong, mi dulce?”, you were petrified, crying, you couldn’t talk, you could just point at what was on your table. His eyes followed the direction of your finger: on the table were multiple pictures, some of you and him, some of him and his brothers while- oh. While moving drugs. There was a note next to them. ‘We’re watching you’. Simple and, judging by your current state, effective. “Angel, what the fuck is all this?”, you looked at him, how could he be so unaffected by all of this? How could he be so calm? Why wasn’t he freaking out that someone had followed you? He looked at you, then back at the pictures.

“You should sit down for this”, was his only answer.

taglist @scuzmunkie @ifoundmyhappythought @angelreyesgirl @starrynite7114 @my-rosegold-soul @claytoncardenasbabymama @chibsytelford @thickemadame @peaches009 @mrsjaxtellerfan @cocotheclown @elcococruz @woahitslucyylu @everyhowlmarksthedead @justahopelessssromantic @gemini0410 @imagineredwood @samcrobae @enamoured-x @brattyfics @sadeyesgf @rebel-without-cause-x @general-tiny-mouse @thesandbeneathmytoes @wrcn9fvlcver @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @ly--canthrope

#angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #mayans mc imagine #my writing #a series of firsts

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sometimesitrytowritethings · 4 years

Text

Mountain Man: Part 2

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Swearing, Mention of death, Mourning

Summary: You never thought you’d love again. Then Arthur Morgan came into town. Fate continuously has you meeting each other in odd ways, and a troubled past is something you are both familiar with. Perhaps that’s what will make this time different.

Notes: A MASSIVE THANK YOU to @morgans-whore for helping me out with this!!! If you haven’t read their work, please do so immediately.

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Worth’s General store was a large building at the end of the Main Street. Although obviously aging, Jacob Worth did his best to maintain the store as much as possible, and keep it as well stocked as he could for the citizens of Valentine. The store was small and dark, despite the bright day outside, but stocked to the brim with goods both local and exotic.

You stepped over the familiar threshold, and were immediately greeted by the friendly voice of Jacob, “Good morning!” You greeted him with a nod and a smile, moving to the left so that the excited child behind you could dart inside.

Ben immediately dashed to the small candy display near the register, bouncing up and down in excitement. His curls bounced with him while he looked at the selection with a grin that reminded you so much of his father. Small, dirty hands grabbed for a bar of chocolate and a bag of hard candies, holding them up to his face for closer examination.

“Are you looking for anything in particular today? We just got in some more of that coffee from Guarma that I know you’re fond of,” Jacob continued, standing behind the counter and keeping his eyes on your son. He indicated to a shelf behind him, with a sign bosting “Fresh Guarman Coffee! $1 per pound!”.

You smiled at him. “Thank you, Jacob, but we’re only here for picnic supplies today. I’ll come back later in the week to pick up more coffee and dry goods, if you could please hold some for me?” Jacob was a nice man, if a bit lonely of late. He had been very close to your husband, and made sure to take good care of you and Ben in recent years.

He nodded, grabbing one of the heavy bags off the shelf and putting it to the side behind the counter. “Of course, happy to,” he wrote your name on a slip of paper and put it on top of the bag. When he stood up, he brushed his fingers off on his apron, and then rose his hands to comb through his unkempt beard. “You going over to see Andrew today?”

With a bittersweet smile, you nodded in affirmation. “Yes, it’s been a while since we’ve gone over there. And since the weather is nice today, we thought we would have a picnic,” you explained, walking over to your son and ruffling his curly hair. “Isn’t that right, Ben?”

“Yep!” he exclaimed, still mostly focused on the candy in his hands. “And Mama said I could pick out a candy for today, right Mama?” He looked up at you, eyes wide with excitement, reminding you all the more of Andrew.

You couldn’t hold back the loving smile that lit up your face when he looked at you. The five years since Ben had been born had been tough, no doubt, but seeing the boy grow up was worth more than the world. He was becoming more and more like his pa as he got older, earning you a small, bittersweet ache in your heart every time you noticed the similarity.

Raising Ben together with Andrew on the little ranch outside of town had been your plan. The two of you had looked so forward to teaching him to care for animals, to giving him more siblings to play with, to raising him into the brilliant young man that he was indeed becoming. Unfortunately, fate had had other ideas. Only one of those wishes was coming to fruition, and you were forced to watch him grow up alone.

You had grown up in a small town on the eastern edge of New Austin, helping your parents in the saloon and restaurant they had owned, and sadly knew next to nothing about ranching. Andrew, on the other hand, was born on a small ranch just outside of town, and had practically been taking care of animals since he could walk. Sadly, Andrew had passed only a few months after Ben was born, and never got a chance to teach him anything or give him any siblings.

Ben’s determined decision brought you out of your bittersweet reverie. “I think I want chocolate today,” he said, before placing the small bag of hard candies back on the counter. “I like when it gets all melty when it’s hot. Then I can just lick it off the package and I don’t even gotta chew.” His rambling made both you and Jacob chuckle.

You went back to browsing the shelves, picking up a few apples and peaches, and asking Jacob for loaf of bread, dried beef, and some cheese. As a special treat for you and your son later, you picked up some assorted biscuits as well. The last things on your list were a small bottle of wine for yourself and a bottle of milk for Ben… who was now hiding something behind his back.

He had a shameful smile on his face, and was rocking back and forth from his heels to his tippy-toes. Behind him was an obviously empty space on the shelf where peppermint candies usually sat. He could have only been more obvious if he were whistling. The boy really was a horrible thief.

“Ben, sweetheart, put that down please,” you lightly scolded, getting ready to bring out your stern mother voice if need be. “You’ve got a chocolate bar for later, you don’t need more candy.”

Then again, there is no reasoning with a child. “But Papa’s favorite is peppermints. I wanna get some candy for him,” he says, eyes going wide and shining with definitely-fake tears. He brought the red and white striped package out from behind his back and showed it to you, eyes as wide and innocent as a puppy.

“Honey…” you rubbed the bridge of your nose as you spoke, and closed your eyes, torn between holding your ground and giving into the puppy-dog eyes.

“Please mama?” There it was, the lip tremble. This kid had you wrapped around his tiny little finger. “Please? They’re his favorite. I’ll leave the chocolate if I gotta.” And the cincher. He had to have known what he was doing, offering to put back his own treat to get peppermints for someone who couldn’t even enjoy them? He was a literal angel.

An angel you could simply not say no to.

“Oh, alright, you. Those puppy dog eyes are merciless, you know?” you concede, not hearing the door open behind you and the heavy footsteps coming your way.

The boy jumped in excitement, his curly hair bouncing with him, and ran up to the register to show his purchase to Jacob. You follow suit, pulling a few bills out from under the blanket in the basket and handing it to your friend across the counter.

“Peppermints AND chocolate?” came a husky voice from behind you. “You really must be worth more than I could afford.” You recognised the sound almost immediately, and turned to face the man from the night before. He was again standing casually, observing the scene before him with his fingers looped in his belt, and smiling softly at your son.

Seeing him again so soon made you smile. Last night may have been short, and may have amounted to nothing in the end, but flirting with him had certainly been fun. “Well, hello again Mountain Man,” you responded, teasing him with the nickname Anastasia had unintentionally bestowed on him the previous evening and making no pretense of hiding the fact that you were running your gaze up his body. Although he was wearing the same clothes as the evening before, and was significantly dirtier than you remembered him being before you left, he looked even more handsome in the light of day. “That’s certainly true, but maybe we can negotiate the price over a drink sometime?”

His soft smile that had been reserved for your son turned into an impressed smirk as his gaze drifted to you. “‘d be happy to,” he responded.

You glanced down at your son, who was still pre-occupied with the peppermints, and decided to forgo any further suggestive talk while he was with you. Which, unfortunately, meant that you weren’t entirely sure what to say next. “Well,” you managed, clearing your throat and turning to pick up the full picnic basket from the counter. “I certainly didn’t think I’d see you in the general store. Don’t you mountain men hunt all of your own food?”

Arthur barked out a laugh, throwing his head back with it. You were surprised about how attractive it was. “Shoa, if I weren’t such a bad shot, maybe,” he retorted, looking back at you. “‘m headin’ out for a bounty. Just need t’ stock up on some supplies before I leave.”

“Bounty?” That certainly surprised you. Though, now that you’ve had a better look at him, you supposed that he could be a bounty hunter. He did have multiple pistols in holsters at his hips and a couple of repeaters strapped to his back. Not to mention the fact that he could probably wrestle anyone to the ground with his bare hands alone.

“Yeah, some snake-oil salesman been pawning off poison to women with sick husbands,” he explained nonchalantly, pulling his hands from his belt and walking in your direction.

“Ah…” you drew in a sharp breath as he came closer to you, backing you up until you were nearly touching the shelves against the wall. Your heart was pounding in your ears, what was he playing at? He kept his eyes on yours the whole time, the same predatory look in them that you noticed last night, and you would have panicked if it weren’t for the mirth in them as well. Somehow, you could tell he wouldn’t hurt you. This was just a part of the game.

Without a word, and keeping his eyes locked with yours, he reached behind you and pulled a box of shotgun shells off the shelf.

When he had what he wanted, that stupid attractive smirk returned to his face and he stepped back, giving you room to breathe. “S’posed to be camped out by Cumberland Falls. Shouldn’t take long, if ya’d want to join me for that drink afterwards,” he explained, finally breaking his gaze from you and heading to the other side of the room to the display housing basic tonics.

Now that he wasn’t so close, now that he wasn’t looking at you like he wanted to eat you alive, you could finally let out the breath that you had apparently been holding. “I… I’m a bit busy today, I’m afraid,” you managed, holding up the basket full of picnic foods for him to see. Your heart was pounding, and it was certainly not from fear. You only hoped he wasn’t able to tell.

Completely oblivious to the situation before him, Ben strolled over to you from the cash register, where he had been chattering on to Jacob. “Yeah, we are going to see Papa!” he told Arthur excitedly. “We even got him candies!”

Your eyes snapped to your son at the sound of his voice, only to see him standing beside you with an opened bag of peppermints, one already in his mouth. Faking offense, you bent down to your son’s height and took the peppermint bag from him. “You said those were for papa, you little thief,” you teased, slipping the bag into your basket before reaching out to Ben’s sides.

The boy knew what was coming, and was preemptively laughing and trying to escape you. “He doesn’t mind sharing!” he giggled, backing away from you with a grin.

You narrowed your eyes playfully at the child. “Oh, sure he doesn’t,” you taunted before going in for the kill, “you sneak!” With that, you drew Ben toward you and began attacking him with tickles. Ben’s shrieks of laughter filled the room as the two men watched on with smiles on their faces.

“Mama, no!” shrieked Ben through his laughter. “No tickling! No tickling! Let’s go see Papa!” His laughter died down as you stopped tickling him and released him from your hold. He was breathless and grinning from ear to ear, eyes shining with glee. You simply adored him.

“Alright alright, let’s go, my little thief,” you said, giving him a purposefully loud, wet kiss on his cheek, which he proceeded to wipe off dramatically. He then dashed to the door, careful to keep out of arms’ reach, lest you try to catch him again. You followed him with a smile, stopping briefly at the door to say goodbye.

“Anyway, it was nice seeing you again, Mountain Man,” you said, turning to Arthur with a small wave of your left hand, the light glinting off your worn wedding ring.

He cleared his throat and tipped his hat as you turned back around to follow Ben. “Ma’am,” was his simple farewell, and if you had glanced back, you would have seen his eyes, focused on the ring on your finger in disappointment.

The cemetery, much like everything else in the small town, was just down the street from the general store. Ben ran slightly ahead of you, still within eyesight, the bag of peppermints once again held tightly in his tiny hand. You waved and said hello to the few people that you passed as you walked the short street, but all-in-all it took no time to get to where you needed to go.

Andrew was buried next to his parents, and you knew the space like the back of your hand. The grave was starting to age, but was generally well kept by both the town minister and yourself. It was situated toward the back of the cemetery, under a tree and away from the road - an ironically beautiful spot for a picnic. Andrew would have loved it.

Just an hour after leaving the general store, you sat atop your picnic blanket, a worn blue and white quilt sewn by yourself and your late mother-in-law during the early days of your marriage, under the shade of the large tree with a book in hand. The half-eaten loaf of bread, leftover cheese, and beef were packed neatly back into the picnic basket, leaving you and Ben plenty of space to lounge.

Peppermints had been scattered over the blanket and beside the grave itself, as Ben played with a wooden horse on top of the weathered stone. He spoke quietly, voice still full of excitement, to his father’s and grandparents’ graves as he played. The book you were holding, a cheap romance novel that you had borrowed from Margaret a few weeks prior, didn’t manage to hold your interest, and you were lost in thought.

About Andrew. About the past. About what could have been.

Andrew had been beyond excited for your pregnancy, even going as far as building a small nursery onto the small house once he had inherited it from his parents. It had been a hard time for him, torn between the sadness of losing his parents to cholera not a year prior and the excitement of bringing a child into the world with the woman he loved. Thankfully, the entire town had been there to support him: his friends stopped by whenever they could, the Downes next door helped out on the ranch when they got a chance, Ms. Chadwick had even taken to stopping by on a weekly basis to help you during the pregnancy.

It had all gone surprisingly smoothly, and a little over a year after his grandparents’ passing, little Ben was safely brought into the world. The first few months were an exhausted dream, taking care of a child, your child, together. Waking up at dawn to feed Ben and make coffee for Andrew before he went out to take care of the animals. Days spent feeding and playing with your son, working as much as you could, and waiting for Andrew to take a break so you could coo over the little one together. Nights spent cuddled together, looking adoringly at the face of the perfect child that the two of you had brought into this world.

It was so wonderful, and so tragically short-lived, that you sometimes weren’t sure if it hadn’t all been a dream.

But then you remember Ben, so much like his father in so many ways, and the bittersweet memory of that time solidifies in your mind. It was no dream. It was short-lived, exhausting, and too perfect to last. Andrew was gone, but he still lived on in your son, and you wouldn’t trade him for the world.

An excited squeal from the boy brought you back to the present, and you turned to watch him race his wooden horse across the headstones decorated with your family’s names. Not far away, Arthur was also alerted by the sudden shrill noise. Watching the two of you, as he stood by his horse and covered with grime, sweat, and dirt, he smiled.

#Arthur Morgan x reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #f!reader #arthur morgan x f!reader

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auroras-blend · 3 years

Text

I Hate It Here

Summary: Vittoria gets used to her new church in Garland City and Leonardo finds he not as welcomed as he once was.

Note: Occurs after chapter 33

“Vittoria, step out of the car,” Papa demanded as he held the car door open for her.

Vittoria shook her head. “I don’t like this church.”

“You haven’t even been inside yet,” Papa reasoned, “Stop embarrassing me and get out.”

“I want Sg.ra Giordano,” she protested, crossing her small arms.

Papa sighed heavily, “We’ll return one day and you can see her, but for now, this is our church.”

“No.”

“What do you think God will think of you if you refuse to go to church on His day?”

Vittoria frowned and a potential offense to God made her step out of the car. She’d never want him to think she didn’t love him. Her little black mary-janes pattered onto the asphalt as she slid off the leather seat. She had resisted the entire time, decreeing that the Cathedral of the Holy Virgin was not her church. Then Papa told her no church belonged to her, but to God and that shut her up. Still, I miss our old one. People were nice to me. I liked our priest.

Papa held her hand as she smoothed out her dark navy blue dress, afraid the wrinkles would offend God and Christ. Papa had dressed her up, pinning her hair into a braided bun and clasping the diamond cross around her neck even though it brought up painful and bitter reminders of Sg.ra Bianchi. Whenever she thought of something sad, she talked to God. She talked to him a lot more now, the only voice she heard at night when she was left alone with her thoughts.

Her eyes drifted up to the imposing building. Like her church back home, it was grand and opulent, a marvel of architecture. It was a sterile white with statues carved into the face of the marble, a true sight as it towered over the buildings around it. Churches should be bigger than other buildings. The domes and spirals were erected so high, it looked like they were trying to reach God and heaven itself. Of course, like the cathedral back at home, the inside was as marvelous.

Rows of polished redwood lined the inside of the church, the number of pews taking up enough space to seat the massive amount of congregants filing inside. The pulpit is so big, but, “Where are the pictures?” she asked.

“The what?”

“The one at home had pictures of Jesus behind it? Where are the pictures-,” she began before a glittering light caught her eye.

Her green eyes widened in awe at the stained glass containing vivid colors, some portraying biblical scenes. Oh, there they are. They cast brightly over the wooden floor, which felt warm and like she was basking in holy light. It’s warmer than the one back in Italy. Vittoria noticed that her hands and legs weren’t cold. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

Papa led her to a pew as she was distracted by the grandness of the church, so distracted that she didn’t notice some women sliding away from him with wary eyes. But Papa noticed. He pulled her closer. “Principessa,” he whispered with a friendly and fatherly smile, “It’ll be in English today, except for the usual Latin.”

He handed her a Bible as she pulled out her favorite red rosary, “Really?”

“Yes, so you better pay attention because I’m going to ask you plenty of questions when I’m done,” he said in good nature.

She smiled back at him. “Sg.ra Lisi said I’m really good at answering questions.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said before gesturing to the dark-haired priest who came out to begin the service.

Vittoria, for some reason, felt her ears were mildly shocked by the English the priest was speaking in. It was her first language, but for some reason, it felt harder to follow along. Usually, at this time on Sundays, she was straining to hear some familiar words and heard herself thinking in Italian, as she desperately tried to program her brain to recognize his English. Eventually, she did and was as transfixed on the priest as her father was.

During the service there were eyes on her and Papa, making her squirm nervously in her seat. One young woman, in particular, had her eyes analyzing her body, as if trying to find something wrong. Papa didn’t notice and she dearly wished she had because the young woman glared at him with repulsion and distrust before she corrected herself with a smile when she saw Vittoria look back at her. As if she was trying to say, you’re not the problem. Vittoria shyly averted her gaze back to the pulpit and priest, trying to ignore the congregants who were as nosy as the ones in Summerfield.

Thankfully, the service seemed to go a lot faster and it ended as quickly as it began. Perhaps because it didn’t take her as much work to follow along and it kept her interest. Well, as much as a service could do for a nine-year-old. Papa helped her out of the pew before offering his hand and a friendly smile to an older woman who huffed and moved past him anyways. This is why I didn’t want to come back. American people are rude. What do they have against single parents?!

Vittoria frowned at her Papa who stepped out of the way and led her from the pews before smiling again as he caught sight of someone whom he must’ve known before. “Ah Mr. Howard,” he grinned, “It’s so nice to see you!”

The man pulled a face and looked ready to turn before he caught sight of Vittoria and decided to put on a facade of politeness. “Mr...Mr. Borghese,” he stuttered before being forced into a hug, “It’s been a while.”

“Too long,” Papa smiled, “And Mr. Borghese? When did you become so formal? You can still call me Leonardo.”

The man shifted on his feet uncomfortably, tugging at his collar that Vittoria could hardly believe was choking his skinny neck. The man was small, well smaller than her Papa, and only reached up to her Papa’s shoulders. He had sandy brown hair and blue eyes that reminded her of Pastor Marks. “Yes...well…” he glanced down, “You have a child.”

Papa smiled down at her and pulled her front and center. She wished he hadn’t. She hated strangers. “I do. Would you like to introduce yourself, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart? Not principessa? “Hi,” she said in a small voice, giving a tiny wave.

The man, or Mr. Howard, gave a strained smile. “Well hello,” he greeted, his demeanor becoming less stressed and friendlier, “What’s your name?”

“My name is Vittoria,” she said shyly.

It didn’t escape her Papa’s attention that prying eyes were on her, the little girl who walked in with the formerly beloved by all, Leonardo Borghese. There was something entirely innocent and non-threatening about him having a daughter. “Well, that’s such a pretty name. And how old are you?”

“I turned nine in December,” she said, wishing she could already leave.

“Wow, so you’re a big girl now, huh?”

“Not as big as Papa. He’s a giant,” she said quietly.

Mr. Howard and her Papa gave low laughs. “Leonardo,” an older woman approached with a thick accent that she couldn't recognize except she knew it wasn’t Italian, “You come back and you don’t introduce the girl?”

Papa smiled at the woman who had previously snubbed him. After all, how could he be terrible if he had a small daughter who loved him? Who looked at him with religious reverence and complete undying trust. Then there were the others who glanced over at the child with wariness, protectiveness, and apprehension. Fearful that she was in a monster’s presence, but she found they didn’t linger too long or approach her at all. Apparently, the young woman from before didn’t care enough to check on her; she’s probably going to gossip about us later.

The longer she and Papa stayed, the more people crowded her and asked her questions. Mainly the elderly who had much more faith in her father than the younger churchgoers. Old women spoke with Papa in Italian and Vittoria adorably responded in the same language, earning her pinches and smothering hugs into their breasts. WHY?! EVERY TIME?!

“It’s so nice to see you settled down,” a white-haired woman cooed, “She’s so sweet.”

They always talk about me. Never to me. “She was such an angel during the service. Some parents here just can’t control their children,” an old man scoffed.

“Well, she’s a good Catholic,” Papa praised.

That made her feel a little better. I try to be. “If you’re interested, St. Agnes’ is a lovely Catholic school for primary-age children. Well, girls. It’s an all-girls school,” a woman with a breathy accent smiled, “My nieces went there.”

“I’d consider all girls,” he smiled, “She hates boys.”

“I don’t hate you,” she said defensively, causing everyone to laugh.

Her face reddened in embarrassment as dread filled her chest. I wanna stay home with him forever. I don’t wanna go to another school. Vittoria liked being close to her Papa, and only with her Papa. I wish he’d hurry up so we can go home and play kingdom together. He promised we could play kingdom!

It was her very favorite game where she was the princess and he was the king. He’d build a castle fort with her, they’d sit for tea, go up on the balcony to wave, and dance. They didn’t do everything, but the game made her feel special. Vittoria tried focusing on planning the agenda and what they’d do for the kingdom game while he kept talking because he’s taking foreverrrrrrr!

***

The trip to the car was long. She felt relieved when they left the church, but all they did was move to talk outside. And she dearly wished they had gone home because they finally asked about the one topic that brought her agonizing pain and memories. Mama. “She passed away,” Papa said, softening his eyes as if he were devastated.

Light gasps sounded and she could feel her nose begin to sting. Vittoria retreated back behind her father. “Well bless you, for doing it all by yourself. I can’t even imagine,” an old woman exclaimed, her hand pressing against her chest.

Mama did it by herself and no one was nice to her. “How are you going to balance work and fatherhood?” one woman asked, “Childcare is a financial nightmare. I remember this one time…”

Oh my gosh, I just wanna go home! Vittoria grew restless and was about to sprint to the car before Papa was finally able to bid them all farewell. Well, not before they pinched her cheeks as a goodbye. Why do strangers think they can touch me? She had gotten used to it after a while in Italy, but it was always odd that everyone was so physical with her. Papa never minds!

The whole ordeal sent her into a distressed state and after her Papa inspected the car and buckled her in, she began to weep. Papa sighed when he sat in the driver's seat. “They touched me,” she cried, “Please don’t make them babysit me, Papa.”

I never want a babysitter again! Her Papa sighed, “Principessa...I’m going to have to go back to work eventually…”

“Then let me come with you,” she begged, “I’ll be quiet and good. I can even help.”

I can decorate his office and sort papers into folders! I can do all types of things. “I’ll even do it for free!” she offered.

People like free things.

“That’s very sweet Vittoria, but I can’t take you to...work with me. We’ll figure something out, okay?”

Papa had already decided she wasn’t going to a real school yet. Vittoria could hardly handle a grocery store; it’d be a nightmare at a school. No, he was hiring tutors again. That worked so well last time. He started the car and he began the drive home while she continued to cry.

“We’ll have lunch when we get back, but after that, you’ll take a pill,” he said in a ‘no arguments’ voice.

“You worked from home before. Why can’t you do it again?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“Things are different now…” he explained without explaining.

“I hate it here,” she pouted, “I hate Garland City and I hate America.”

“Vittoria,” Papa hissed, “Never say that again. I don’t care what you think, but you’ll keep those thoughts to yourself. Do you understand?”

A pout was stuck to her lips but she begrudgingly agreed. I hate it. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I hate it here...

#is it a one-shot or is it part of a larger bonus chapter? who knows!#not me #😂#i always really liked the garland city church aesthetic #leonardo borghese #vittoria borghese #i wanted to write this for a long time #also she definitely got in trouble for being disobedient in the first part

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veritylane7 · 3 years

Text

+mydecember+ Twilight ver. 13

( 10:50 PM ) Math-class doodle of Rukura (Raphael), airbrushed. Came out nicely. ^.^ ( 10:07 PM ) John's suggestion for a feel-good song that Mr. Rozario (school principal) should play over the PA system in the morning? Children of the Damned by Iron Maiden.... how I agree! ^____^

We're sick, sick people. Can you tell we're related??

song of the moment: "Genocide" by the Offspring. I really gotta get some of the Offspring cds... I want Smash, Americana, and Conspiracy of One.... *sulks*

( 9:57 PM ) Ribby-chan... s'all being taken care of. Mike and Matt be lookin' after me closely, and if Dan does anything else, he's in for some serious trouble. *heh* Mike or Matt my soulmate? Dooood, Mike's a pal, and Matt's like my older brother (he's actually my most recent ex-boyfriend in a way). Thanks for the concern, tho! And don't worry... I beat Dan up nice. If I have my way, he'll be singing soprano come next week.

*heehee* I think I've FOUND my soulmate, anyhoo. *pointed look at someone who's screen name rhymes with punkin' pie* *heartheart* ^__^

( 9:49 PM ) *runs around screaming fangirlishly* YUMMY! YUMMY! I GOT A CUTE, SCAAAAAAARY DOOD FOR THIS TEST!!!

Ideal anime guy test...

# 1 Zagato from Magic Knight Rayearth # 2 Ashitare from Fushigi Yuugi # 3 Chichiri from Fushigi Yuugi # 4 Hotohori from Fushigi Yuugi # 5 Kiryuu Touga from Shoujo Kakumei Utena # 6 Taikoubou from Senkaiden Houshin Engi # 7 Hayama Akito from Kodomo no Omocha # 8 Kyoichi Saionji from Shoujo Kakumei Utena # 9 Morisato Keichi from Ah! My Goddess # 10 Nakago from Fushigi Yuugi # 11 Ohtori Akio from Shoujo Kakumei Utena # 12 Ryohji Kaji from Neon Genesis Evangelion # 13 Eagle Vision from Magic Knight Rayearth # 14 Gabriev Gourry from The Slayers # 15 Ikari Gendo from Neon Genesis Evangelion # 16 Nagoya Chiaki from Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne # 17 Chiriko from Fushigi Yuugi # 18 Li Shaolan from Cardcaptor Sakura # 19 Tsukishiro Yukito / Yue from Cardcaptor Sakura # 20 Eriol Hiigarizawa / Clow from Cardcaptor Sakura # 21 Ikari Shinji from Neon Genesis Evangelion # 22 Kinomoto Touya from Cardcaptor Sakura # 23 Shiirou Kamui from X (X/1999) # 24 Tamahome from Fushigi Yuugi # 25 Monou Fuuma from X (X/1999)

( 9:46 PM ) Ideal anime girl test... how'd they know that I adore Skuld, Ami-chan, and Misato? o.O

# 1 Skuld (Oh my Goddess) # 2 Amy (Sailormoon) # 3 Misato (Eva) # 4 Belldandy (Oh my Goddess) # 5 Kari (Digimon) # 6 Rei (Eva) # 7 Lita (Sailormoon) # 8 Mina (Sailormoon) # 9 Fuu (MK Rayearth) # 10 Serena (Sailormoon) # 11 Hikaru (MK Rayearth) # 12 Sora (Digimon) # 13 Bulma (Dragon Ball) # 14 Mimi (Digimon) # 15 Misty (Pokemon) # 16 Rei (Sailormoon) # 17 Umi (MK Rayearth) # 18 Videl (Dragon Ball) # 19 Asuka (Eva) # 20 Urd (Oh my Goddess)

( 9:44 PM ) Slayers kyara test... now THESE results are good.

# 1 Gaav the Demon Dragon King # 2 Beastmaster Zelas # 3 Luna Inverse # 4 Valgaav (Vally-girl! ^_^) # 5 Xelloss Metallium # 6 Zelgadiss Greywords # 7 Gourry Gabriev # 8 Lina Inverse # 9 Rezo the Red Priest # 10 Filia Ul Copt # 11 Martina Whatever-Her-Last-Name-Is # 12 Amelia Wil Tesra Seyruun # 13 Naga (Wil Tesra Seyruun? I think so) # 14 Kopii Rezo # 15 Prince Phil

( 9:41 PM ) Sailor Moon test results... scary. O_O

# 1 Nehelenia # 2 Setsuna/Sailor Pluto # 3 Artemis # 4 Galaxia # 5 Haruka/Sailor Uranus # 6 Taiki/Sailor Star Maker # 7 Hotaru/Sailor Saturn # 8 Michiru/Sailor Neptune # 9 Minako/Sailor Venus # 10 Rei/Sailor Mars # 11 Yaten/Sailor Star Healer # 12 Luna # 13 Makoto/Sailor Jupiter # 14 Princess Kakyuu # 15 Ami/Sailor Mercury # 16 Chibiusa/Sailor Chibi Moon # 17 Seiya/Sailor Star Fighter # 18 Mamoru/Tuxedo Kamen # 19 Usagi/Sailor Moon # 20 Chibi-Chibi/Sailor Chibi Chibi Moon

( 9:39 PM ) Pokemon test...

# 1 Satoshi/Ash # 2 Shigeru/Gary # 3 Nyarth/Meowth # 4 Kasumi/Misty # 5 Pikachu # 6 Takeshi/Brock # 7 Kojiro/James # 8 Musashi/Jessie

I'm Ash and Gary... isn't that damn close to weird?

( 9:37 PM ) *laughing again* CHECK IT OUT!!

CCS Kyara test results:

# 1 Kero-chan # 2 Syaoran Li # 3 Touya Kinomoto # 4 Tomoyo Daidouji # 5 Eriol Hiiragizawa # 6 Sakura Kinomoto # 7 Yukito Tsukishiro

I'm Kero-chan!

( 9:35 PM ) EEEEEEH!!! O_O; For the X/1999 test... I'm Satsuki! O_o

# 1 Yatouji Satsuki - dragon of earth # 2 Kuzuki Kakyou - dragon of earth # 3 Sumeragi Subaru - dragon of heaven # 4 Monou Fuuma - dragon of earth # 5 Nataku - dragon of earth # 6 Shirou Kamui - dragon of heaven # 7 Kishuu Arashi - dragon of heaven # 8 Shiyuu Kusanagi - dragon of earth # 9 Kigai Yuuto - dragon of earth # 10 Sakurazuka Seishirou - dragon of earth # 11 Aoki Seiichirou - dragon of heaven # 12 Arisugawa Sorata - dragon of heaven # 13 Kasumi Karen - dragon of heaven # 14 Nekoi Yuzuriha - dragon of heaven

( 9:32 PM ) *laughing like a total idiot* CHECK THIS OUT! HOW FUNNY!!! I find that the results for my taking the Eva kyara personality test are very well done!

# 1 Asuka Langley Sohryu # 2 Gendou Ikari # 3 Ryouji Kaji # 4 Misato Katsuragi # 5 Touji Suzuhara # 6 Kaworu Nagisa # 7 Kouzou Fuyutsuki # 8 Ritsuko Akagi # 9 Aoba Shigeru # 10 Makoto Hyuuga # 11 Shinji Ikari # 12 Maya Ibuki # 13 Hikari Horaki # 14 Rei Ayanami # 15 Pen-Pen

( 5:56 PM ) Speller!!! You owe me Mickey ears, and I want Lance's underwear!! AND FEEL MY WRATH!! *wraths Speller* MWAHAHAHAHA! JOYCE IS DEAD! MWAHAHAHAHAHA! ( 7:36 AM ) Morning Blog!

Nah-nah-nah! Riot Ink business caaaards! *heehee*

I'm okay, really.

I am headachey!!! As Amy would say... my head is doing the achey brakey dance of PAIN. So, I imagine I will get nothing done in class. Ms. Fotinos is gonna kill me for skipping anyway... *sighs*

Querida! I shall continue my efforts to make dad buckle!!

Meagen-san.... really, I know what you mean. Technically, I can draw, but I kinda lack depth in my art (from what I can see). There are very few pictures that turn out with the emotion or realism I want them to come out with..... and funny enough, that kyara that I tend to make look how I want is good ol' Lucas.

Lucas: What can I say? I'm perfect. *mutters* Yeah, right...

And yes, you're getting fanart. Now if only I can manage to scan it....

Meg's Art Corner! Raphael-chan, or as I refer to him in RPs, Lian's Rukura. This is a fine example of what I draw in math class on scrap paper. And querida? It's not THAT good. ^##^;;;;

That's all from me!

Over an' out!

( 10:48 PM ) Of course my idea is good, querida! I'm so smart after all! *tosses away IQ test scores that say only 142* Lucas with blue hair.... streaked with green!!!!!! Yeeaaah, baby! ( 3:23 PM ) Warning, incoming rant!

STUPID! GODDAMN FLIPPIN' STUPID!! What a GOOD way to get yourself killed! Doing f*cking drugs! STUPID STUPID!!! Goddamn it! I mean, pot, okay that's bad. Bad and STUPID. But 'shrooms?!! HOT DAMN IS THAT STUPID!! And not only that, getting yourself into a situation where you get thrown out of your mom's house?! F*cking stupid! *fumes*

(note: never mind, needed to vent.... friend issues)

( 2:00 PM ) At home and skipping civics class.... *whistles and rocks back on her heels* 9.9

You know what's scary? It's scary when a dood whom you eat lunch with even jokes about wanting to rape you. That's scary. Even scarier is when he pins you against the wall and you have to fight him off, and when he comes back, your best (guy) friends beat the living sh*t out of him. Not quite sure what to make of this.... big super duper hugs and thank yous to Mike and Matt, my new bodyguards. Dan, touch me again, and they'll kill you for sure. I'll see to it. *sweet smile*

( 7:32 AM ) Morning blog!

Querida: Yep, the Mark plot is similar to our dj idea... except a bit more profound. *heh* And seriously, tho, a good plot would be something to the effect of Mark goes baaaad-niichan and tries to end the world, and you gots to stop him. There's a plot. Hooray for plots! Cam's efforts on trying to get Mark to put some sort of value on his own body should start working someday. I mean, HOW many times has Cam explained it? Not to mention, Mark has a nice idea of how Cam thinks now that he's been inside his mind. Mark-niichan's a slut.... but I love him anyway!

Cam: *pounds the living daylights out of Meg for calling Mark such a thing*

*heeheehee* Animal comparisons! *heehee* I gotta try that! Rukura = gecko Poya = otter Yuken = viper Lucifer = duck Michael = horse Zachariah = pot-bellied pig (personality wise) Gabriel = peacock Kanson = crocodile (someone patch in a call to australia, let's get the Crocodile Hunter in here, please... *crosses fingers*)

Meagen-san: I'm working on a fanart for you of SailorM. I shall prolly CG it tonight or tomorrow, okie?

School blows! I don't wanna go to school! WAH!

over and out.

( 6:35 PM ) For fun, and just to annoy him... Rukura's stats!

Name: Raphael Harrison Nickname: Rukura Age: 17 Date of Birth: February 28th Hair: purple Eyes: green Height: 6'4 Occupation: student Descent: Angel Family: human family includes Jacob [father, deceased] and Mary-Anne [mother, deceased]. Original family includes Kanson [father], Europa [mother, deceased], and Uriel {Yuken} [half-brother] Friends: Lucifer, Pandora {Poya}, Michael, Zachariah Current Residence: Atlanta, Georgia Likes: music, reading, daydreaming, being anti-social Dislikes: homework, unwanted attention, medication, and fighting Skills: singing, getting weirdly good grades Setbacks: has a rather serious heart condition, which despite medication and various attempts, is damn near impossible to treat, suicidal, and generally miserable Notes: reincarnation of the Messiah. Human mother died in childbirth, human father committed suicide a few months later. Is considered a "problem child", as he usually gets into fights at school. Been shifted around to foster homes all his life, never staying in one particular home longer than 1 1/2 years. Most recent foster family died in a car crash, leaving him the only living "relative" to claim his foster father's fortune. Lives alone.

( 6:24 PM ) Chris-kun: Dood, a meant the person playing as being Mark... ^__^;;

Meg-chan's on net restrictions, lalalalala... she's gonna get in trouble if she gets caught on the internet, lalalalala... she's rewriting stats for LotM, lalalalala.... she's TOO attached to Raphael-chan, lalala--

Rukura: *belts Meg in the head* Don't call me that! Meg: It's your legal name, isn't it? I like it better 'an Rukura...

Dan wants me to hit him. In the eeeeeew kinda way. Do I really come across as that much of a dom? @_@

( 7:16 AM ) Morning blog!

This is bound to be a short enrty, as mom is home. Sooo...

I had a really funky dream last night, but I don't remember it. All I remember is waking up a lot, upset, and trying to recall where I was. Bennett was curled up to me most of the night (good spiritie dood ^_^), but I don't think it helped much.... ah, well, it's the thought that counts.

Yesterday, I blew $44 on prismacolor pens. I got the box set of cool greys, plus a replacement 60% warm grey as mine is running out. That's me broke for another month now.

BMB is cuuuuuute today. *giggles* I want my verra' own Mik! I *heartheart* Mik! Rach, you better get me a Mik for my birthday! Or else!

I can't draw worth beans lately. *cries*

to Chris-kun: Thanks for the comment on the layout... and maybe now I'll bug querida to do an AH game (I honestly didn't think about that @_@).

*ponders* Yeah, you could go arouns as Mark in the game, and you could sleep with every second person you run into---

Cam: SHUT UP! *thwacks Meg* Meg: Hey, it's not my fault that your hubby is a total sl--- Cam: *throws a table at Meg* Meg: Itaaaai. X_X

Otaaay, enough out of me. Over and out.

( 11:44 PM ) Hal is GOD... lalalala! Hal is thy holy master! ( 11:27 PM ) Purple is a nice colour! It's the colour of hentai. ^__^; ( 12:30 AM ) BEHOLD THE NEW LAYOUT!!!

....very purple, isn't it?

( 3:58 PM ) This close >< to shooting myself... ( 3:56 PM ) I WILL get this to work.... I swear I will. ( 3:53 PM ) HTML is annoying. Background image, where are you? ( 3:50 PM ) Let's hope for the background image now.... *crosses fingers* ( 3:45 PM ) Playing with the layout... ( 3:25 PM ) This is the temp layout, as I'm altering this puppy to look how I want it to. New version should be up tonight. ( 2:43 PM ) Chris-kun: the Boa cd has two names. One is the japanese release, the other is for the international market. It's either called Race of the Thousand Camels or Twilight (like this here blog!). And the Limp Bizkit cd is called Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavoured Water. And Hannibal is a lot different than the Silence of the Lambs, isn't it? I liked it, but I stand by the fact that Jodie Foster made a much better Clarice Starling than Julianne Moore could ever hope to be.

Anyway.

My Bennett still isn't home... Dora, is he still with you? If not, you'd think he'd be home by now... *sighs*

Okay, time for me to book it outta' here for a bit afore dad calls and has a fit 'cause the line is busy.

( 8:05 PM ) Interlude...

Meg: Cain and Yuken! KAWAII!!!! Yuken: *giggles and twitches his neko-mimi, looking all innocent* Rukura: ICK! Who the HELL would touch HIM!? *points at Yuken* Meg: Well, you 'touched' him once... Rukura: NOT BY CHOICE, GODDAMMIT!! .... *sneezes* Yuken: *eyes Rukura venomously* Rukura: I'll be running off to Lian now... *heads for the hills as fast as his (verra' long) legs can carry him*

( 8:00 PM ) Querida, thank goodness it's not bronchitis. That's something I get a LOT, and it's not fun at all. And ten pounds? ALRIGHT! You GO, girlfriend!! *tackleglomps* You'll be okay.... I know so! ^.^

I got the "Play" cd (Moby), which came with the edit of South Side for free. Bonus, baby! ^_____^

( 7:24 AM ) Morning blog!

Well, I feel mighty stupid this morning. Yesterday, I kinda pulled a muscle in my left leg (riiight in my calf), but it stopped hurting. Woke up from a funky dream and got up to find it hurt. Now, being the idiot I am and not usually restricted by physical pain (hey, that's what ended up breaking my ankle), I went for a shower. Feeling headachey and cramped, I worked my way down the stairs, only to pull the same muscle again and fall about halfway down and land on the cat at the bottom. ^___^;;; <---- feels very dumb

*falls over* Meagen-san, you had me scared a minute there! If you had MEANT Mark, I would have had to call in paramedics and stuff to make sure you weren't doped up on anything!!!! @_@

List of kyara and colours this blog is gonna be themed on in order of layout updates: Cam/purple (this weekend, hopefully) Lucas/red (whenever) Mark/blue (whenever) Sybandial/pink (whenever) Jesse/green (whenever)

Each layout will have a background featuring the kyara, too! ^_^

I really need a life. Over and out!

( 9:51 PM ) Song lyrics... one of Cam's most recent themes! "Learn to Fly" by the Foo Fighters

Run and tell all of the angels This could take all night Think I need a devil to help me get things right

Hook me up a new revolution Cuz this one is a lie We sat around laughing And watched the last one die

I'm looking to the sky to save me Looking for a sign of life Looking for something to help me burn out bright I'm looking for a complication Looking cuz I'm tired of lying Make my way back home when I learn to fly

I'm done nursing the patience I can wait one night I'd give it all away if you'd give me one last try We'll live happily ever trapped if you'd just save my life Run and tell the angels that everything's all right

I'm looking to the sky to save me Looking for a sign of life Looking for something to help me burn out bright I'm looking for a complication Looking cuz I'm tired of trying Make my way back home when I learn to fly Make my way back home when I learn to

Fly along with me, I can't quite make it alone Try to make this life my own Fly along with me, I can't quite make it alone Try to make this life my own

Looking to the sky to save me Looking for a sign of life Looking for something to help me burn out bright I'm looking for a complication Looking cuz I'm tired of trying Make my way back home when I learn to fly Make my way back home when I learn to fly Make my way back home when I learn to...

( 7:06 PM ) Tay, I've decided the theme for my next layout... good ol' Bennett and the colour purple. How... fitting. ^__^

Now if only I can get this stupid HTML editor thing to work... *binks it*

( 11:05 AM ) Morning blog (late again)!

WHOO HOO! I GOT INTO THE ADVANCED VISUAL ART STUDIO CLASS!!! BIG HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ON MR. HALL!!!!

Yeaaah, I just went to first period class this morning and got my classes for next year reviewed. Then I came home because the muscles in my abdomen are spasming and it hurts like bugger all.

To all my blogging friends; I'm gonna change the layout of this blog in the next week (I have a LOT of links to add). I'm gonna theme it around an AH kyara, so lemme know who you think would be best, please. Just post your opinion in your blog, as I read most of them daily anyway. ^__^;

( 8:23 PM ) Yeah, I've neglected my duties as a blog-person lately... I have a life, you know. (Hey, the LEAST you can do is smile and nod! T_T)

Not much is happening, really. My civics class keeps getting cancelled, so I think I'll skip it tomorrow and come home early. What else to say...? Ummm, not much.

Song of the moment: "The Kids Aren't Alright" by the Offspring. I'm on a REAL Offspring kick right now... dunno why exactly. Maybe 'cause they just amuse me. ^_^;

Grammy awards. Bleeeek. *makes a face*

Amy, kids who don't like cheese are stupid! HA HA!

( 3:33 PM ) ...afternoon.... blog!

This morning I spent the whole time trying to get my scanner to work, so thus, no morning blog. But I've got some stuff say for a change!

Today, lunch period was spent bothering Dan for the most part. He really ticked me off yesterday, and I'm extracting my revenge. So, I was making him jealous by glomping Matt at every opportunity (Matt doesn't mind too much, and he's nice to hug 'cause he's always warm.... and no, Mike, he's not my boyfriend! JUST A FRIEND!! T_T). It was rather comical. Civics class was cancelled, since Ms. Fotinos was at the Raptor's game with the people who signed up to go... the half of my class that was at school for the last three periods of the day got transferred to a Grade 12 geography class, in which was SO awkward that the teacher took pity on us and sent us all home. Redoing Angel Hunter again. This time, on the right sized paper... I'm sticking with the page layouts, tho, as I think I've got the look I want.

And, for fun! Rukura's theme song lyrics!

Home by Depeche Mode

Here is a song from the wrong side of town Where I'm bound to the ground by the loneliest sound That pounds from within and is pinning me down

Here is a page from the emptiest stage A cage or the heaviest cross ever made A guage of the deadliest trap ever laid

And I thank you for bringing me here For showing me home, for singing these tears Finally I've found that I belong here

The heat and the sickliest sweet smelling sheets That cling to the backs of my knees and my feet I'm drowning in time to a desperate beat

And I thank you for bringing me here For showing me home, for singing these tears Finally I've found that I belong...

Feels like home I should have known From my first breath

God sent the only true friend I call mine Pretend that I'll make amends the next time Befriend the glorious end of the line

And I thank you for bringing me here For showing me home, for singing these tears Finally I've found that I belong here.

( 7:11 AM ) Morning Blog!

This song is tripping me out right now, but goddamn, do I love it! *grooves to "Home" by Depeche Mode* It's a really dramatic song... and it's sooooo making me think of Rukura. >_<;

It's very cold this morning. At least I think so, anyway, so I'm sitting here wearing the couch blanket as a cape. I feel like a doooork.

Meg's Art Corner (Freckle-chan, you copycat! T_T)

A special little picture; Lucas in his newest style of dress. Drool factor, out of 10? 12.

What else to say... ummm... Mom didn't leave me lunch money again. T_T;

Over and out!

( 2:12 PM ) Cam: EVERYONE RUN WHILE YOU CAN!!!! THE END IS NEAR!!!!!

....yep, for the first time in YEARS, I'm the proud owner of twp pairs of blue jeans. I've not worn blue jeans since I was about 5... and these ones fit niiiiice. I have hips and a waist.... @__@

Anyway, mom and I went to Sears and then to Curry's Art Supplies. I got my two pairs of jeans, two men's dress shirts (one white, one black), a new sketchbook, 4 new warm grey prismacolors, and a new 05 pigment pen. I am a happy Meg-chan!

Blue jeans that fit... *in shock*

( 9:09 PM ) I have officially started rewriting the Chronicles of Benjamin Carter! WHIHAI! Here's a bit of what I've written so far.

Frail. Benjamin was frail. He was about 5'4, fifteen years of age, and pale. He was small and slight in build; a boy and not yet a man. Right now, he looked more fragile than he really was... curled up under the blankets of his rather small bed, bruised and crying. It was a familiar scene.

Benjamin wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand in a vain attempt to push the tears away. However, it was pointless since more just spilled down his cheeks as if to spite him and his efforts to stop them. He hated crying. Hated it. But at times like this --- only at times like this--- he couldn't help himself. He was so tired of being forced into the clutches of rich men; predators that liked their pleasure taken out on the young boys who could be bought if the price was right. He was sick of the violation and the abuse. Most of all, he was sick of his father pushing him into it. His own father. He hiccupped in his efforts to restrain his tears.

Benjamin wanted more than anything to run away. Run away to another city, another country, anywhere but where he was. Just out of the clutches of the people who hurt him so much. But he was trapped like the birds his father kept in the iron cages that lined the back yard. He was a prisoner, shackled to the bars of his perpetual cage. Derkshaw would catch him if he ran. Derkshaw always caught him.

"Damn him to hell," Benjamin thought bitterly, though he regretted thinking it for reasons he couldn't quite explain.

There was a tap of boots in the hallway, and Benjamin closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and pretended to be asleep. The heavy, even steps stopped outside his door. The door squeaked as it opened slightly.

Benjamin tried to keep his breathing slow and deep, tried not to flinch. He felt Derkshaw's gaze on him. It burned.

'Go away, papa, go away....'

The door opened a bit more, and the tap of boots carried into the room.

It would be a good half hour before Derkshaw left, the blood on his hands and shirt not his own.

( 2:28 PM ) Man, am I grateful for mom. She just brought me the most wonderful little care packet of a bottle of ibuprofen and a Terry's Dark Chocolate Orange bar. *sniffles happily* Thank you, mommie!

Amy, Amy, Amy.... you have no idea how much stress is gone already. *heavy sigh* I can't thank you enough.

Spellleeeeeeerrrr, next weekend is go for coming over to my house to watch movies! You like freaky movies, I'll make you watch freaky ANIME movies! On the roster so far: Perfect Blue and X. Maybe I'll make a trip to Roger's Video and snag Devil Man or something. But I will get you hooked. I will. Your time will come (*sings* thy will be done!).

*laughing at BMB* Yeah, Mik, you dirty minded cutie! You think those nasty thoughts about Harley! *laughing*

Oiiii, Freckle-chan... you posted a nice list of couples you like. I think for fun, I'll do the same!

Cardcaptor Sakura Touya and Yukito - kawaii! KAWAII!!!! Sakura and Tomoyo - so sue me!

Oh My Goddess! Trobadour and Urd - they were cool! Too bad he's such a dork. Keiichi and Belldandy - well, DUH!

Magic Knight Rayearth Ascot and Umi - I'm a sucker for Ascot. What a little cutie! Clef and Presea - ditto that, 'cause Clef is so cute and so short!

Dragon Half Mink and Lufa - not likely, I know, but still.

Bakuretsu Hunter Tira and Carrot - feh on Chocolate. She's not half as cool as Tira. Marron and Gateau - I don' like Gateau too much, but Marron is so hot. *_*

Ranma 1/2 Ranma and Shampoo - not likely, either, but I think Mousse is too wussy for her. I've always been a Ranma/Shampoo 'shipper.

Shamanic Princess Kagetsu and Tiara - it's a sad relationship... Sarah and Tiara - um, don't ask.

Slayers Lina and Gourry - he's so funny around her... ^__^

Sailor Moon Usagi and anyone but Mamoru! T_T; Chibi Usagi and Pelulu [Perelu, Perele] - *heehee* Cute fae-ish boy with white hair!

Neon Genesis Evangelion Shinji and Asuka - I think she really does like him. She just doesn't know how to show it. Misato and Koji - funny funny! She's a player, tho.

RPing kyara [involving mine] Cam and Mark - for obvious reasons. Rukura, Lian, and Gabby - yes, a yaoi threesome. They're all so cute. Sola [Soren] and Sybandial - so innocent and sweet. ^_^ Jyrian and Quoik - I don't talk about these two much, but their relationship is really cute. Jesse and Rach - how can I not like this? He's cute, she's cute (haha, Rach!) Lucas and Lila - I liked this possibility... too bad she's dead and we won't find out what woulda' happened. Lucas and Carter - this is a slightly more demented relationship. Cadence and Lexiel - a more intellectual relationship... even if Lexiel is kinda big on sex for sick reasons. ^_^; Cadence3 and Cam - I'm a sick, sick girl. Lucifer and Setsuko - if we get Setsuko back, then we can resume this. They're cute too. ^_^

Other Stories Kiih and Ro (from Dora's "Three O'Clock") - I don't really know why... these two just kinda hit it off in my mind. Len and Yuri (see above) - ditto the above again.

Book Series Ron and Hermione - need I explain? Sirius and Remus - again, need I explain? Lestat and Louis (Anne Rice's VC books) - strange but yummy relationship Lestat and David - intellectual and alluring. Marius and Amadeo - Stokholm syndrome. Cal and Meg (A Wrinkle in Time) - KAWAII!

That's that done. ^__^;

( 10:41 PM ) Sap warning ahead!

I have the best best friends in the whole world! My best friends are Speller and Amy!

Speller, who I know I don't mention on here too much (I'm sorry! ;_;), is the smartest person I know. She's also one of the most talented writers, too. How many people can write a whole novel before/during high school? Aside from Amelia Atwater-Rhodes, not many. And her poetry kicks ass! She has a lot of it published. She can also draw better realistic stuff than I can, which makes me mondo jealous. It's not fair, I tell you! And she must learn to watch out for Hannibal. Beware him. Speller likes pudding. And pears. Damn those pears.

Amy and I have been friends since 7th grade, when she was the "new kid". We actually first met in drama class. She ran over a possum on her way to work. Yeeeah! She, too, is an amazing writer. It's not FAIR! She came runner up in the story writing contest a while back. I was proud. And I SCREEEEEEAMED the loudest when she won the Todd Bayless award. I live to embarrass.... ^_~

I am grateful to have such good friends. I love them. This concludes the sap. ^___^;

( 9:04 PM ) Querida, you're cooler than Simon and Milo! (Personally, Milo's a tad too butch for my liking, but Simon is a cute little brit guy with the sweetest little sentiments!) ....anyway.... yes, you have a neck. I hope. ^_~

And to complete the phrase you know you have problems when...you obsess over a cartoon with no neck, no nose, and huge eyes!

( 7:29 AM ) Morning blog!

I watched Perfect Blue last night. It downright scared me! Seeing Hannibal didn't scare me, seeing the Rage; Carrie 2 didn't scare me.... but Perfect Blue DID. The "real Mima" (the one who's forever in the Cham costume) is SCARY!!! And the Mimaniac is pretty scary too. o_O Iffen you haven't seen this movie, get it. Especially if you like stuff like Neon Genesis Evangelion, X, or Serial Experiments Lain. I warn you, there's nudity, a rape scene, and a lot of gore. This movie freaked me out more than Eva did.

In other news... going to the art store tomorrow!!! And, I'm also skipping 5th period today. Maybe even 3rd, 'cause I'm stuck doing NOTHING all class anyway. -_-;

Hopefully they have the 10x15 paper I want... 'cause, you know, that being the traditional dimensions for comic drawing. Y'all knew that, right? *gives you a loooooook*

And I best be off to get ready... JA!

( 7:02 PM ) Blogger hates me.

OH! OH! EVERYONE GO READ TODAY'S BMB!!! CY AND SKIDS FOREVERRRRR!!!!

I'm having a hell of a lucky streak this week. Today, in the mail, I got an AUTOGRAPHED Simon and Milo picture, FRAMED!!! *swoons*

And I got Perfect Blue!!!!

( 5:14 PM ) Gonna go see Hannibal with Mike and Chris in about half an hour! ^__^ ( 7:21 AM ) Morning Blog!

Last night, began a really angsty RP with Cam and Mark (well, it was angsty on Cam's end). Now, I only just realized that I think up really weird stuff that follow pretty much all the major time/space/reality laws. And all on a whim and at random. It's strange. You know you study this stuff too much when.... Yep, it's not every day when I come up with plots like that puppy. Using the imprints left in the reality weave to reconstruct a Mark.... that's some strange stuff (but it actually makes sense, which is what throws me). Huh.

I feel guilty... I got mad at Amy last night. She was being a little more depressing than usual, and I just couldn't stand it. I'm sick and stressed and I don't need to boost her ego all the time.

I've had this urge for the past couple of days to draw Cam shaking Lucas by the shoulders and looking very upset while Lucas looks blank. I don't really know why.... the caption for it has been running through my head, as it is this: "What am I to you?!" Trippiness.

Well, being the idiot I am, I didn't do my civics homework. My group is gonna love me for that.... then again, they're sticking me with the job of reading the presentation on Spain because I'm the only one that knows how to speak some Spanish. *sweatdrops*

I'm having urges to draw the weirdest things.... I hate it when Cam angsts at me from his little spot in my mind.

Meg's Art Corner A really weird little picture of c3 and a Chibi Cam. C3 is drawn more in my gothic anime style than my normal one. Turned out quite well! ^_^

Over and out!

( 7:16 PM ) Neeee, imouto! If you're not gonna be doing Yunga Neko for a while, you should get a guest artist to do, like, weekly panels just until you can work on it again. *volunteers* ( 7:14 AM ) Morning blog time again, kids!

I'm feeling okay this morning, so school for me. *sigh* School is so boring. Lunch is okay, mind you, because I have (as Speller said) "so many male bitches that work" for me. ^__^

I've been doing a lot of drawing since I got those pens. It's scary... can't wait to get more! ^__^ I also gotta get me some 10 X 15 paper, 'cause that's the standard comic size. I don't feel up to fighting with printers because the size ratio on 8.5 X 11 is uneven. Screw it. I'll just redo it all on standards.

I'm having the straaangest breakfast. Pork chops. Don't ask me, it was the only thing I could find...

Song of the moment: "Cruel Angel's Thesis (Harmonia Remix)" from Evangelion. *slobbers* I forgot what a COOL remix this is!!!

Meg's Art Corner Ben Carter, looking cute and vaguely distant! (Hey, he's a Blink fan, too!) Mark makes a scarilly cute girl. o_O Appearently, so does Lucas. Onna-Cam makes me think of Rally from Gunsmith Cats for some reason.... How cliché.

Over and out!

( 5:30 PM ) Nah nah naaaah! Meg has Sympatico access!!

Anyway, Meg also got herself some niiiiice grey prismacolor pens yesterday! Meg drew some pretty pretty pictures with them, too! Meg is happy, so she is!

Meg's Art Corner With her new prismacolors in hand, Meg is proud to present her latest creations! Angelique, the evil evil bitchy whore of a Demon from AH. She's pretty, tho. ^_^; "Legacy of the Messiah" cast shot; Rukura, Lucifer, and Pandora as kids! Carter and Lucas, a strange relationship these doods have. Carter looks somewhat like Cam, doesn't he? Quoik, Meg's only fae kyara!!

( 2:25 PM ) Tiredtiredtiredtired....

At the Office Place, they have a set of 24 prismacolor markers for about 40 bucks. I WANT THEM, but mom says "no, I don't have that kind of money right now". So, what we're gonna do, is I'm gonna drag her to Curry's Art Supplies store in a few hours and see how much THEY'RE selling them for.... maybe she'll buckle and take me back to the Office Place. ^_~

I need grey markers...

...oh, note to all who talk to me at night online. I won't be on until really late 'cause the network will be down. Unless mom hooks us up with Sympatico tonight, I'll be on around 2am. *sniffles* I'm gonna be without my querida fix! *snifflesniffle*

( 8:34 PM ) Lack of bloggingness today, as you all may have noticed. Dunno why, I was home again....

song of the moment: "Under the Bridge" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I *heart* Flea.... what an AMAZING bass player. Too bad this song doesn't showcase him much. If you want good bass by the dood tho, "Californication" is an order.

*cheers* The restrictions to see Hannibal have been changed from R to AA! In other words, I can get in to see it! Heeey, Dan, Amy, Speller, anyone? Wanna come with? I warn y'all, tho, it's been said that this movie is grotesquely violent.

Tomorrow is gonna be a very busy day. I'm going into town with my mom and brother for most of the day, then it's home for a few hours (like, two), and to the mall where I shall meet with Quinn-chan and Chris to go for our ritual Riot Ink business meeting. Then I shall return from the depths of Quinn's anime/transformers shrine of a home and return to my humble lair around midnight. Then I'll prolly talk to my baaaaybeeeeee (aka: querida) for the remainder of the dark hours of the evening.

Oh! Celeb Jeopardy! Two of my faaaaavourite doods were on there! Seth Green from various shows such as Buffy, and Steven from the Barenaked Ladies! DOOD! And Seth has his hair buzzed in sooooo damn short that he looks bald. 0_o

Kick ass! 3 Doors Down are playing at the Warehouse on March 11, and tickets are only $27... man, I wanna GOOOOO!!!

( 12:37 PM ) For Whom the Bell Tolls by Metallica Make his fight on the hill in the early day Constant chill deep inside Shouting gun, on they run through the endless grey On the fight, for they are right, yes, by who's to say? For a hill men would kill, why? They do not know Suffered wounds test there their pride Men of five, still alive through the raging glow Gone insane from the pain that they surely know

For whom the bell tolls Time marches on For whom the bell tolls

Take a look to the sky just before you die It is the last time you will Blackened roar massive roar fills the crumbling sky Shattered goal fills his soul with a ruthless cry Stranger now, are his eyes, to this mystery He hears the silence so loud Crack of dawn, all is gone except the will to be Now the will see what will be, blinded eyes to see

For whom the bell tolls Time marches on For whom the bell tolls

( 12:17 PM ) Okay, today's guest BMB is quite good. ^__^

*points out the window* Heehee, a mini-plow!! *giggles*

song of the moment: "Sunny Came Home" by Shawn Colvin (so sue me, I like this song... ).

( 12:08 PM ) Why is it on days that it's not supposed to snow, it snows the most? We've gotten about 13 cm since last night and it's still coming down... -_-;

song of the moment: "For Whom the Bell Tolls" by Metallica. Heeheehee....makes me think of AH. I shall post the lyrics on here later.

( 7:42 AM ) The Wheel of Excitement on Neopets loves me... I just won another 10 000 np. O_O ( 7:35 AM ) Morning blog!

Here I am, killing time while I wait for either mom to call me or for me to call mom. Stupid morons in Wal-Mart, you call the main office and ask to be patched through to Electronics, and they put you on hold and hang up on you. Figures, it was mom's boss that just did that to me. Moron.

I got slim to no sleep last night due to sickness. Man, do I hurt... I feel like my guts are being put into a dryer's spin cycle constantly. And after drinking 3 L of cranberry juice, I'm not too good right now. I'm kinda waiting for mom to call so I can ask her what to do... I dunno if I should stay home or go to school. I bet I'm missing a fair bit. Well, there's always Fiona and Harpreet to ask. ^_^;;

I bet Dan's gonna kill me if I'm off another day. Mike's prolly beaten him up a few times by now without me there.

*drums her fingers* Mom, I asked you to phone me... you've got 10 minutes, and then I phone YOU....and hope I don't get hung up on...

Oh! BmB's on it's guest week. Y'know, with guest artists doing the panels. I'm not liking it too much. Yesterday's was a tad too blunt, with not enough joke 'ahind it. Maybe next time, I'll try for a guest spot on there. I'd be sure to do something involving Cy and Skids. I love Cy and Skids. ^__^

I'm running very low on straight kyara. Querida manages to turn them all gay! *shakes her head* Bennett, Lucas, Rukura, Sy.... who next? *turns to Tiirak* Dood, you're not gay are you? Tiirak: No way. Meg: You sure?? Tiirak: Yes, I'm sure. Meg: *looks suspicious*

Mommie bought me the Silence of the Lambs yesterday. It's such a good movie, and all the better if you've read the book. The casting for the movie is very good, too... Jodie Foster makes such a cute Clarice Starling. It really pisses me off that Julianne Moore is playing Clarice in Hannibal (which comes out tomorrow, check your local listings ^_~). She is SO not Starling material. But as long as Sir Anthony Hopkins is still good ol' Hannibal Lecter the Cannibal, I'll watch it.

*calls Mom* Wow, I got through....!!! Maybe that's because I cheated and used the associates-only code. How would I know THAT? 9.9

Looks like I get to stay home again today... *feh* Boredom and a half. Amy, if you're home, feel free to phone me or something.

Over and out!

( 10:50 PM ) Yeeeeeeeee! Querida can read my mind and alter my dreamstate!!!!

No one should have to drink 2 litres of cranberry juice in 5 hours. x_X

( 9:21 AM ) Morning blog!

I'm home sick! And it's only the 4th day of semester 2. Seems that whatever the hell was wrong with me before is wrong with me again... pain hurts, you know. T_T;

I've not much to say today... doesn't that suck when you wanna say something but you're outta' stuff to say?

OH!!! GOOD NEWS! AH Issue one is officially coming along WELL! Looks like I won't have to go to version 16... ^___^

( 9:32 PM ) Rukura and Lian... I got bored and messed around with PC Paintbrush... ( 6:41 PM ) *looking from her cat CC to her mug of hot chocolate* CC is staring at the marshmellows like they're evil..... *inches away* ( 6:29 PM ) The Angel Hunter church stainglass window...? ( 4:00 PM ) Okay, I know.... I didn't blog this morning. I was running mighty late. I had to hop fences to get to school. ^_^;;;

What did I do today? Not much. I got yelled at three times and nearly booted out of my history class (why? for drawing! >.<;;), and I nearly fell asleep in comm tech. Thankfully, Mr. Dewitte let us out early.

The layouts for pages 1-4 of AH have been redone. This is version 15... and I'm LIKING it! FINALLY!

Heeey, imouto! Mercutio was the best kyara in that play. I also liked Benvolio, he was cool too (my once-best-friend Brittany took to calling me 'Volio 'cause I liked him so much). Mercutio, tho, had one hell of an attitude, and he was interesting and VERY funny. Too bad he had to die... I'm glad you liked the little snippet. Allow me to post another, just for you! ^__^ This is another bit I quite like.

Benjamin found it facinating to watch him, he was so calm and so... well, he was the very picture of freedom as far as he was concerned. Yes, that was it. Benjamin admired Lokistrant's blasé attitude towards life. Envy, almost.

When one night, Lokistrant was late on his ritual visits to the plantation, Benjamin worried. Could he have been hurt?.... no. This was Lokistrant. He didn't GET hurt. But maybe he just didn't want to see him anymore?

Abandonment. A reoccurring issue. His throat felt dry suddenly. He curled up on his bed, blond hair over his eyes, and wished for morning, when he KNEW that Lokistrant would not come. No second guessing when daylight was involved.

Minutes passed. And quite unexpectedly, Lokistrant was there, startling the boy. Leaning against the far wall, watching quietly, decked out in his usual dark reds and silvers. Benjamin sat up. "How long have you been there? You scared me!"

Lokistrant smiled his usual enigmatic smile, the impression of fangs something no longer unexpected. "Carter, deepest apologies for being so late." The smile was kind, but the voice was final, the tone stating that there was to be no questions asked. Lokistrant held out his hand to the boy. "Care to come with me into town for a while?"

( 7:45 AM ) Morning Blog, part II

Oh! I saw Cast Away over the weekend! It's SO good! Tom Hanks is a surprisingly good actor... I mean, who else can get away with talking to a volleyball so convincingly? And we all know that Amy likes to imagine him naked (Tom, not the volleyball). You should all go see it! NOW!!!! That's an order!

Heehee, now a little quote for fun from a story I am going to re-write.

Benjamin stared across the table at the stranger, worried. The man seemed in his twenties, if that, and had long brown hair that spilled over his shoulders and down his back. His eyes were an unnatural ruby red, and they were very intelligent eyes. Benjamin had learned early in life to be cautious, especially with the smarter ones.

The man crossed his hands on the table in front of him, casual. "Benjamin Carter, correct?"

Benjamin could dect a vague, though unrecognizable, accent. "Yes sir."

"You're fifteen?"

"Yes sir."

"Such a shame to see someone so young forced into... what you're familiar with."

Benjamin sunk down in his chair. "Why are you here? Why did you pull me away from papa?"

To match Benjamin's withdraw from the table, the man leaned forward, and smiled. Benjamin could have sworn he saw fangs. "You remind me of someone."

( 7:22 AM ) Morning blog!

Man, do I feel WEIRD this morning. I'm not sure why, exactly, but I just feel weird. I dunno. I think a certain spiritie dood slept in my bed with me last night.... *points at Bennett* 'Cause I actually slept.

Last night, during a particularly good RP, my ISP died and wouldn't let me back on. I wasn't happy. It was getting SO good, too... *pouts*

I'm so quickly out of things to say.... ^____^;;

O'er an' out!

( 11:17 AM ) Meg's random contemplations I'm considering re-writing Carter's story, which ties in with a fair bit of Lucas' story. Been considering it for a while... Carter's got some serious problems, and he's fun to write because he's so screwed up. He's got a really weird past. His dad was SUCH a jerk.... and up until becoming a vampire, Carter was good little Bennie; never had the nerve to fight his father. *ponders* It's an interesting story. Maybe I'll start on it again after I get home from seeing Cast Away.... ( 10:56 PM ) Okay, people, special announcement!!!!!!! Congrats to Bennett and niichan on the birth of their daughter, Candra Arael Bennett! ^___^ ( 3:32 PM ) Woohoo! I got switched from Casement's class to Apostolou's class! Hooray!!! And I am already SO ahead of all the people in my comm tech class. I seem to be the only one who knows how to use Adobe Photoshop, Illustrator, Publisher, and Premier, as well as Quark and a few other programs. Damn, am I ahead. *_* ( 7:36 AM ) Morning blog!

Wow, I only slept 3 hours and I feel okay.... *falls out of her chair laughing at today's BmB* Cy and Skids are a riot! I hope they do turn out as a couple! *laughing*

New semester starts today. I'm not too happy about this, as I have history and math this semester, and history is my homeroom class. With Mr. Casement. *cries* NOOOO!!! If I get called by my last name ONCE in his class, I'm gonna commit suicide (okay, not really).

My room is now a nice shrine of large wall hangings. On the walls around my bed, I have three Card Captor Sakura wallscrolls (two anime, one manga), and one kick-ASS Prozzak Saturday People promo poster. Thank you, John. *smilesmilesmile*

On Neopets, I am neopoor. Looks like my pets are gonna be eating at the soup kitchen a lot. -_-;

Meg's Art Corner! I know, I've not done much in the way of art lately. You know what's weird? I tend to draw more in school than at home. I think it's because I'm around so many people. Cam's SD Panther form, doodled in MS Paint. I was bored, okay? And it DID turn out cute. Part of my MS Paint family portrait. I still have to finish the pictures for John and Dani, and the kids too if I have enough willpower after screwing around with the stupid program afterwards.

Song of the moment: "When Doves Cry (Fatboy Slim remix) by Depeche Mode and Prince. I love this... don't ask me why. ^_^;

Quote of the moment: "Listen sister, if I want your opinion, I'll BEAT it out of you!" -- Elvira, Mistress of the Dark

Okay, that's it for now. Ja matta ne! *disappears in purple smoke*

( 12:38 PM ) Song of the moment: "Misere by Andrea Bocelli and John Miles. I have a very....expansive taste in music. So sue me. *sings along* ( 11:45 AM ) To Chris-kun: Dooood, I don't hate you, and I'm not mad at you..... jus' chill, man. S'your blog, you can say what's on your mind...

I got my pretty pretty new cladagh ring in the mail yesterday! *kisses said ring* Mi querida gave it to me!! Isn't that sweet? ^__^

I have come to the conclusion that Cam would make a really scary bad guy. Like, not c3... but if CAM were bad. He'd be scary. I mean, he's already got some issues with where his loyalty lies... and he's pretty much infinite in power. Not to mention, after being killed about 200 times, I think he knows the painful ways to kill people. Wonder if niichan (currently my neechan) sees this? Well, at least now he knows about Cam's possibilities for becoming nothing more than a lethal weapon.

I have three neopets! My blue wocky named Cadence, my green shoyru named Lokistrant, and my yellow eyrie Poyania! ^__^

"My December" is © Linkin Park. The art is mine. Don't take. Information on the layout is thus; this is Damien McKinnley, a character of mine whom I've been roleplaying for a little over a year now. He's Simon McKinnley's oldest child, and he's kinda angsty and depressive. Art done in paintchat and added some snow in Photoshop.

Name: Meg Graham AKA: DJ Rabid Armadillo Age: 17 Birthday: May 1st Identifies as: a depressive and obsessive compulsive bisexual artist and writer Hair: black Eyes: grey Bands: Depeche Mode, Iron Maiden Movies: Fight Club, Velvet Goldmine, Hedwig and the Angry Inch Books: As I Lay Dying, Harry Potter, Fight Club, A Clockwork Orange, and the Repairman Jack series. Anime: Fruits Basket, Kare Kano Manga: Fruits Basket, Kare Kano Artists: Takaya Natsuki, H.R Giger, Tony, Firefly Family: Tony, Julian, Dora, Poe, Mina Lives for: Firefly, art, music

Legacy of the Messiah Deviantart

Brittany Deanna Lisa Firefly Dora Becky Dan Julian Tony (blog) Alex Heidi Megan Hana Gerrad Kiran Amy Zalina Katarina Matt Ribby Chris Meagen Poe Tsua Frecklegirl Rikki Mina Blair

Journeys Down Boy Meets Boy Little Machine Litost Satellite Yunga Neko Lean On Me Chronicles of a Drow Sorceress Spider Born Haato no Kagami Arcana Tiger/Tiger Separation Anxiety Nymphs of the West

Aesiraven.com Aesiraven Oekaki Kaki-riffic! Neopets KikiWai b3ta

Name Contact? Speak to me. (smilies)

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