#I’m gonna try to get a little bed for cooper and invite him up sometimes too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justoneday-namjoonii · 4 years

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Don’t Breathe | 3.0

»Genre: hitman!au || stalker!au ||

»Warnings: kidnapping, stalking, obsession, themes of potential Stockholm syndrome, mono-phobia, mature elements, manhandling, breakdowns, yandere (? i think ), he thinks it’s cute when she cries, eventually they fall in love, Disclaimer: I do not condone nor suggest stalking/kidnapping or anything of that nature, this is pure fiction ok, kidnappers and stalkers DON’T love you.

»Summary: He doesn’t get shaky hands, he never forgets his gloves and he never leaves a trail. He was told to get rid of everyone who witnessed the conversation between a gang lord and a politician, they were picked off, one by one. He found out a month ago, he missed one. A young writer who attended the event where the exchange took place. He has to kill her. Can he do it?

✤ pt.1 - pt.2 - pt.2.5 - pt.3.0 - pt. 3.5 - pt. 4.0 - pt.4.5

A/n: it’s literally been a long a** while, but it’s here💙 ps will edit later probably

“Okay, ma’am, can you explain to me how you found out she was missing one more time? I just want to verify that the report is consistent with what you told us previously.”

“Sure,” Suzy squirmed in her seat, feeling squeamish due to the busy police station. “I went to her apartment to check on her because her upcoming article was missing and she never forgets to log in her articles. She wasn’t answering my calls or texts, I got worried. When I knocked on her door, I didn’t get an answer, but that’s when I saw that the door was unlocked. I walked inside and everything looked normal but she wasn’t there, and her necklace was on the floor,”

Her mouth goes dry the more she recalls the emptiness of your home, the sheer horror she felt when she saw your most prized possession on the ground.

“She never goes anywhere without that necklace.”

“Alright ma’am, have you seen or heard from her on any social media in the last 24 hours?”

“No, I haven’t…”

She smiled. “Okay. Our officers will do everything they can to find her, alright? So don’t worry too much, she might’ve left her phone off or something, things like that happen all the time.” The woman laughed a bit, nonchalantly, as if she wasn’t talking about a human being who could be scared for her life.

“Alright, thank you…”

She left the station, heart heavy. And she couldn’t figure out why, but something about the woman’s words made her feel worse.

You woke up really early, around 4 or 5 in the morning, and you were trying so hard to quietly try to open the window but it was bolted shut. You tried the door, but even that was locked from the outside. After an hour or so, you gave up and went to sleep.

But you’re up now, and you’re trying to escape, again.

You screamed at the top of your lungs but you know you weren’t heard by a soul. He had cuffed you again while you were asleep and it was extra tight, you felt like your wrists were being crushed. You were furious. You were mad at that monster, the restraints, and the stupid bed he left you on. You started to think, how will I be able to escape? What did I do wrong? Is this really the life I have to live now?

Your thoughts are interrupted by a wobbling doorknob and you freeze, watching it open slowly. It’s him of course.

“Why are you screaming?” He looks annoyed and you curl into the corner, brows furrowed.

“Why do you think?” You spat, yanking against the cuff instinctively as you have the strongest urge to scratch him.

“Listen,” He approaches the bed and you lean into the corner as he takes a seat on the edge, “I’m being very generous. I’ve given you food, left you in very humane living conditions...Do you want to go down to the basement like an animal? Is that what you want?”

“I want you to let me go.”

“Well, that’s not gonna happen,” He stands to his feet and stares down at you, making you feel ten times smaller than you already did.

“We need to talk about some things. I have someone coming over, someone who wanted you dead and thinks you’re dead. So, if you want to stay alive, you need to listen. I’m going to put you in my room and you’re gonna stay there until he leaves.”

“Who- Who wants me dead?...” You stutter.

“My boss, he gave me the job. If he finds out I took a hostage in instead of selling you to him or killing you, he won’t be happy.” He takes in a breath and looks you over, your wrists are all bruised up. “Are you going to cooperate and walk to the room or do I have to drag you?”

“Take these ropes off my hands and you’ll find out.”

He shrugs. “Ok.”

You’re taken aback when he kneels on the bed and waits for you to turn your back towards him. Cautiously, you turn your back to him and he starts to loosen your binds. When you feel that your hands are free, you turn to sit on your butt and rub your wrists.

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it...” It’s only now that you realize that he’s staring at you, and you make the mistake of meeting his gaze. His eyes are surprisingly soft and you hadn’t noticed it before, they’re captivating and you force yourself to look away.

“Come on, he’ll be here soon.” With that, he walks out of the room, assuming that you’ll follow him, you don’t.

He looks at you, waiting for you to realize that you’re being unnecessarily difficult. When you see the slight move towards you, you decide to get up and follow him. He takes you down the hall and after a few turns, he walks into a large bedroom, one that’s well kept and fresh-smelling. Once you’re both inside, he closes the door.

“If you get hungry, there’s a mini-fridge in the closet,” He points to the closet, “If he finds out you’re here, we’ll both be in trouble.” With that, he closes the door—funny how he doesn’t lock its door, assuming you won’t try to leave.

This isn’t the best idea, having the person who thinks you’re dead in the house with you. But there was no way he could say no to Minho, that’s his boss and it would look odd if he canceled. While waiting for his guest, he orders some food. He placed the order at his regular take out place and went to the kitchen to wait.

What am I doing? This is the most reckless decision he’s ever made. In an attempt to reason with himself, he blamed his change of heart on the fact that he met you—he should have never run into you. The rules are simple, don’t make contact with the target, don’t get attached, don’t watch them for too long or you will get attached. He did all of that, and now he’s finding out why those rules were made in the first place.

He hears a knock on the door and pushes those thoughts away.

When he lets his boss inside, any thoughts he had of you vanished and he became the person his boss knows him as. Emotionless, calm.

“I wanted to talk to you about your last job,” Minho takes a seat in his living room, in his usual seat in near the window—he always said the view was priceless and to let him know if he were ever willing to sell, “I heard from an informant at the police station that she was reported as missing, do you know anything about that,” He takes a sip of the tea Tae always gives him.

“No, I don’t,” He deadpans, taking a seat and turning the music down with a low command to the speaker, “the girl is gone.”

“They found a necklace at the scene, the woman who went to check on her, I think it was her boss or something, said she doesn’t go anywhere without it,” Minho relaxes, exhaling in thought, “it’s getting a little messy.”

“That comes with the job sometimes,” the doorbell rings and Tae is thankful for the speedy delivery, the growing tense air was beginning to suffocate him. After putting the portion he bought for you in the fridge, he brings the food to the living room.

“But she’s not a high-profile target, she’s a writer,” Yet, people are worried about your disappearance.

After a few minutes of sitting on his massive bed, you choose to disregard his instructions and crack the door to try to listen to what they were saying. Gosh, the food smelled good.

“What did you do with her?”

“You know I don’t like to tell, but she’s taken care of,” Taehyung opened up his food, “this will blow over eventually.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Not much I can do about that,”

Minho laughs, wondering why some useless girl would be the issue they have to face with a case as sensitive as this one. “You should have sold her to me, I’d make good use of her. And teach her a lesson on minding her own business, if it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t have had to go back to the job. She was your first female and your youngest target yet, I went through your headcount file.”

“Yeah, she was around my age,”

“She was cute too, would’ve done well at House Lucia’s,” That dreaded place, “but I know you don’t like that place but it’s better than the other options.” Minho pulls a letter out of his suit and sits it on the coffee table.

“That’s your next job, Park’s gonna join you.”

Taehyung cringed, anyone but Park.

“Why Park?” He opens up the envelope and examines the case.

“He’s skilled with squeezing information out of people. Besides, it’s not an eliminate the target case. Go to the Gala, Park will handle the mistresses and you find the guy. Do you accept it? It’s a 75k payout.”

“Yeah, when is it?”

“Tonight,” Minho gets up, “he’ll be here tonight. Attire is formal and he’ll have your invitations. I enjoyed lunch, as always,” Tae walks him to the door and his boss goes to the backseat of the car that came for him.

“Same here,” He bids him goodbye and closes the door he breathing a sigh of relief.

“You can come out, I know you’re listening.”

Shoot.

You creep out of the hallway and stand at the banister, looking down at him.

“I bought you some food, you can eat it in my room,” He walks to the kitchen to get it out of the fridge and when he walks upstairs, you’re already back in his room.

You eye him as he enters the room, glancing at you when he sits the food on the end of the bed. He kneels down and suddenly he’s cuffing your ankles together, you frown, not responding fast enough to move

“Why are you-”

“I’m gonna let you stay in here while I work on some things, I don’t want you to run.” He stands to his feet and you sit on his bed, you wondered, how could he have known that you planned to run from him.

“I’m bringing you back to the basement tonight, so enjoy this while it lasts.”

It’s a Styrofoam plate, harmless enough. You hesitantly lift the lid to see white rice and other little sides, it looks good but you don’t want to eat it, not while he’s in here.

“How could I enjoy this? You have me chained up, how could anyone enjoy this...” You mumble.

“Eat.”

That’s all he says before sitting at his desk and turning on his desk top, ignoring you.

Eventually, you decided that you weren’t going to miss out on getting food. If you’re going back to the basement, there’s no telling if he’ll forget you again.

So you eat, but you do it spitefully.

He scrolls through the hundreds of file his target database with the letter G until he finds the mans name. Gorka, Ulysses. The man is a big-time statesmen, he has his hands in a lot of underground stuff and it seems like the ex-wife did too, she’s the one who paid for job. He scoffs, the man probably has no idea she’s hiring people to end his entire empire—this is one of the interesting parts of his job, the research.

“Um,” You clear your throat and he looks back at you from writing something in his notebook, “I have to use the restroom...”

“Go ahead,” Pointing to his bathroom, he turns back and continues his writing.

You take small steps towards the his bathroom and you close the door behind you, locking it.

Even though he’s fine with the job, he’s never liked working with partners, disturbs his process a little bit. But he’s fine with being flexible, looks good on his resume.

When you finish washing your hands, you slowly open the bathroom door to see him looking through a drawer under his bed. It’s hard to see what he picked up, but you look a little harder and realize that it’s some of your clothes. You shudder, thinking of how he acquired your belongings when he took you from your house.

He looks back at you when you walk further into the room, your awkward search for somewhere to sit catching his attention.

“You’re in a better situation than you would have been,” He turns to you, hair dangling over his piercing eyes, “you’re lucky...”

You frown, unsure of where he’s going with that. How could you be lucky? Right before your big article, you get kidnapped and forced to live with your kidnapper. “Are you serious?...” You couldn’t believe what he just said. “How am I lucky?”

No response.

“Hey, did you hear me?” You raise your voice, standing to your feet. “This isn’t luck!”

Calmly, he eyes you.

“I want to go to the basement, put me in there.” Your request catches him off guard but he shrugs, turning back around as if you didn’t even say anything. “Fine, I’ll go myself...”

You try to walk to the door anyway, your shuffling not letting you leave as quick as you wanted to. Before you can even make it halfway, he’s closing the door with a slam and locking it.

“Get on the bed.” His eyes lock on yours like a predator to prey—you have goosebumps.

“But I just want to go back to the basement, I won’t run.” You’re frozen where you stand, trying to determine his temperament. “Just leave me down there-”

“What did I just say?” His tone firms as he slowly approaches you.

“But- But you’re gonna put me down there anyway- Ah!” You gasp when you’re shoved back first onto the bed, holding you down by your arms as he kneels one knee between your legs. Eyes wide and heart-pounding, you whine, words not leaving your mouth.

“Do you know how lucky you are that you’re here? Had you been assigned to someone else, do you have any idea where you’d be right now,” He leans down, limiting the proximity between your faces but you turn your face to the side, trying to push your face into the comforter below you, “you’re a target, you’re not being treated like a target and you need to realize that. Stop acting out.”

He let’s go of one of your arms in favor of turning your face to him. “Look at me.”

“No, no-” Tears stream down your face and your nose glows red, your sinuses responding to your weeping. You use your now free arm to try to push his chest, he shakes his head at your poor attempt.

He let’s go of your arm so he can snatch both your wrists and holds them to your abdomen with one hand.

“You’re gonna stay in this room until I take you downstairs. If you act like this when I try to grant you some freedom, I’ll give you something to cry about.” Your breathing is shaky and you sniffle, eyes watery and wide. He wipes a tear from your eye with his knuckle and lets you go, walking back to his chair as if he didn’t just threaten your life.

Still in shock, you curl up on the bed and do the only thing you can do—you cry. He’s not phased by your fit at all, he continues to finish his work as your whimpers accompany his soft piano music on his Bluetooth speaker.

This is really happening.

Normally, you’d scold yourself for feeling sorry for yourself. You’d tell yourself that there are people who are suffering far more than you are—that you shouldn’t complain, you’re lucky. But you’ve never felt more unlucky, you’ve never felt more alone.

After a good two hours, he notices that your cries aren’t heard anymore and he looks at the bed, you had cried yourself to sleep. Poor thing, he thinks to himself. It’s about time for him to get ready to go, so you finally get your wish to return to the basement. He picks you up and walks you down the stairs, your out cold the whole walk.

He hopes you’ll find it more comfortable, he made you a fluffy safe haven on the corner of the large space. While you slept, he set up the plushy floor cushion that he ordered last night so you wouldn’t have to sleep on a padding-less mat. It was pretty expensive but he didn’t mind the price, it actually complimented the basement nicely. Laying you on the cushion, he un-cuffs your ankles. Instead of the small ones, he uses a long-chained cuff attached to the steel on the wall behind the cushion and hooks it to your wrist.

He covers you up with a fluffy blanket, caressing the side of your face when you snuggle against the cover, sighing in comfort.

Admittedly, he wishes you’d look that comfortable with him one day, sigh in his arms. In time, he hopes you’ll be able to realize that everything he’s doing is to spare your life.

He slips his gloves off, tossing them in the bin outside the lavish room in the wide-open halls of the mansion. After adjusting his suit jacket, he looks down at his watch, it’s getting late.

The party is still going on downstairs and now that the dirty work is done, he needs to find Park Jimin. A short walk past the many bedrooms and just when he thinks he should go look downstairs, he hears a giggling female. That means Jimin isn’t far. He approaches what looks like a powder room.

When he slowly opens the door he immediately turns his head, rolling his eyes, such class.

He takes out his phone and calls him, hoping that’ll get him to hurry up. With that, he takes a walk to the stairs and not long after, Jimin is fumbling out of the room, hair disheveled.

Our little secret, remember? Taehyung nearly throws up when he hears him say that to the woman who’s at least ten years older than him. He looks back at his temporary partner, watching as he zips his fly with the utmost class if that were possible.

“Hey, I got a little sidetrack, but I have what I need,” He walks beside him, a red glow on his cheeks, “you?”

“Of course.” Tae shrugs, “We should head out.”

“Already?” Jimin scoffs. “You’re no fun, Kim.”

Shaking his head, the two of them leave the party swiftly, Jimin’s Lambo growling in the night as Taehyung sits restless, he left you too long. He wonders if Jimin can pick up on his eagerness to get home, he’s sure it’s not that detectable. These jobs were never his thing, alcohol, too many people, too many distractions.

When Jimin drops him off but asks to come in so he can use the restroom.

“Down the hall, to your right.” Taehyung points, taking off his suit jacket and tossing it on the couch. For the life of him, he hopes you don’t start screaming, the last thing he needs is for Jimin to find out that you’re here.

It's painstakingly long few minutes before he breathes in relief, Jimin is walking down the hall, wiping his hands.

“It was a pleasure Taehyung, as always,” He leaves out of the front door with a wave.

Locking the door with the app on his phone, he waits for a few minutes. Just long enough to know Jimin had pulled out of the hallway and is halfway down the road.

Quickly, he goes to the kitchen to get you a snack and some water. He puts it on a plate and goes to the basement door, he presses his ear against the door to see if he could hear you moving around. Sniffling, he hears your sniffling and his heart drops a little bit.

He opens the door, the sound of his footsteps prompts you to wipe your face, he doesn’t get to see me cry again, that’s what you told yourself. You stare at him as he walks down the stairs, he’s wearing a dress shirt and dress pants. The dark blue silk shirt is rolled up to his elbows and a little unbuttoned, you assume he went somewhere fancy.

“Are you hungry?”

You shake your head no, not looking him the eyes.

“Well, I’ll leave it, just in case you change your mind,” He sits it on the cushion right beside you. For a moment, he stares at you for a bit longer than what most would deem comfortable.

“I bought this for you,” He’s referring to the cushion he so kindly chained you to, “hopefully you’ll sleep better.” Still refusing to give him eye contact, you bite at your lip anxiously, why won’t he just leave you alone?

He lightly touches your hand and you flinch away, a panicked glint in your eyes as you press yourself to the back of the cushion to be as far from his as possible. He backs away from you, a little confused.

“Hey, it’s okay,” He furrows his brows, eyes landing on your wrists, still bruised from your previous attempts to get away, “You need something on those bruises, I have a salve that’ll help,” He stands from his kneeling position.

“I’ll be back,” With that, he retreats upstairs.

As soon as the door closes, you wait a few seconds but eventually, you reach for the water and take a small sip. For all you know, he could have put something in the water, but you choose not to care.

It’s not long before he’s open the door, skipping down the stairs in sweats and a t-shirt, the salve in his hands, and what looks like cloth bandage.

“You drank some water, that’s good,” He’s scarily observant. Naturally, as if he had done it a thousand times, he reaches for your arm but you don’t shy away. What he had said to you early today comes to your mind so you decide not to give him any reason to fulfill the threats.

Sitting on the cushion beside you, he brings one of your wrists to his lap. You watch him gather some of the salves on his fingers before gently applying it to your skin. He does the same thing to the one hand he has chained and then wraps them in the soft cloth, careful not to make it to tight. When he closes up the jar, you bring your hands to yourself and you look at him, his face illuminated by the dim lights.

“I’ve never done this before,” He speaks suddenly, “I don’t know if that makes you feel any better.”

“It doesn’t...” You mutter, staring down at the metal circle on your wrist.

“I don’t expect you to trust me, but everything I’ve done, it’s not what you think.” He turns to you, causing you to look away once again. “You’re a good person, it’s nothing you did.”

“Then let me leave,” You swallow, “I- I promise, I won’t tell anyone, just let me go home, my family will be devastated when if they find out. I heard that guy you were talking to, someone reported me as a missing person, that means someone is looking for me... ”

He sighs. “I can’t.”

“Why not? You don’t seem like a bad person. If something in you is telling you to let me go, why don’t you listen to it?” You quietly plead, hoping your desperate tone affected him in some way.

“If they find out that I let you go, if my boss finds out that you’re still alive-...I can’t let that happen, you know too much, he’ll kill you.”

“The article is destroyed, so the guy who wanted it gone has nothing to worry about, I don’t understand why I even matter...”

“You just do. You can’t bargain with me about this. If there was a way for me to let you free without anything bad happening to me or you, I’d do it, but there’s not...” He pushes his hair back, brows furrowed in what seems to be distress.

He sighs, “I’ve never been assigned someone so young, you’re so close to my age. And I probably could’ve completed the job, but when I met you, and I looked in your eyes...” His words trail off and he stands up. “I couldn’t do it.”

“I feel like I’m being punished...” You look away, hands finicky, “I don’t feel like I’m being saved or protected, do you have any idea how afraid I am of you? You’re a stranger who’s saying all the things that I don’t know anything about, and you’re keeping me locked up in a basement. What you’re doing to me, it’s wrong...”

He suddenly gets on his knees and kneels in front of you, taking your hands into his despite your efforts to pull away.

“I hope you’ll understand that this is the only way like I said...You might eventually learn to like me, but you don’t have to,” He looks up at you, his doe eyes looking incredibly sincere, very different from how you’ve been seeing him, “and I won’t make you.”

You bite your bottom lip, “I don’t want to be here...”

Suddenly, he reaches a hand up and cups the back of your head. “it’ll be okay,” The size of his hand is now brought to your realization when his finger grazes your ear. He presses his forehead to yours and your eyes squeeze shut a the contact. When you feel your nose almost touch his, you instinctively jerk back and your hand responds on its own accord.

The sound of skin bluntly meeting skin is heard and you’re cowering back, immediately regretting your innate response. He lifts his hand to his now reddened cheek, he didn’t expect it to hurt so bad—you’re stronger than you look.

“Don’t- I just- Were you trying to kiss me?...” You stammer, a frown on your face. When you don’t fully elaborate, you settle on your own conclusion that he knows what you’re trying to say. He looks up at you finally, now standing tall above you.

He grabs your wrist, tugging you forward. It hurts a little but you stay silent, “This is why I like you, Y/n, that fiery spirit,” He suddenly drops your hand, seeming as if he decided not to physically respond. His response leaves you speechless, it’s not what you expected, “keep it up, you’re tempting me...”

With that, he leaves the basement and flicks off the light. “Goodnight,”

After staring at the door for a good minute, you decide it’s safe enough for you to lay down. You’re not sure how to feel about him right now. But for some reason, fear and apprehension aren’t as intense as before. And you might be wrong, but he sounded like he was convicted about doing all of this to you. Maybe he was just trying to make you feel like you could trust him, it’s hard to tell. But if there’s one thing for sure, something in your gut tells you that he’s not bad, he’s not the monster that you thought he was...

“She’s missing, her supervisor called me, said I was on her old emergency contact list,” He holds his phone between his shoulder and ear, not in a million years did he think he’d be calling his ex-girlfriend's mother with information like this, “don’t worry too much, I’ll try to get in contact with her.”

It’s been a few weeks since you two have talked, so when Suzy called him, his heart just dropped. Even after your break-up, almost a year ago, you two considered yourselves friends. The two years you shared together were great. You were thriving in your career, he finishing Med-school so he could begin his residency. Many nights were spent with you staying late at the office, or him pressing for finals—your lives just weren’t merging. That’s when you both decided you were better off as friends. But you still have platonic love for each other

“Dr. Kim, I switched shifts with Katelyn,” Sara, the new medical assistant at the clinic peeked on through the open office door, ”I’ll make sure she gets those messages,”

He nods, getting his keys so he can head out too. When he leaves, getting his car, he decides to shoot you a text, hoping you might respond.

Jin: Hey love, I know it’s been awhile, hope you’re doing okay. I got a call from your supervisor this morning, apparently I was still on your emergency contact list at work. She said she went to your house and you were’t there. She waited 24 hours and you still hadn’t shown up to work , contacted anybody. She went to the police station, reported you as missing. If you’re okay, please contact me or anyone, I’m a little worried

Taehyung lies in his bed, not bothering to slide under the sheets, his skin is warm to-touch. His cheek still stings, the feeling brings the image of your face to his mind, and he feels remorse. Never in all his years alone, did he think he’d long for someone's company, someone's gaze meeting his. This penthouse has always been a bit lonely, all this money and space, it can’t take the form of a person. A companion.

He feels guilty. He doesn’t have the right to think of your face, your eyes, your gentle hands that can inflict such pain, your spirit, what right does he have to grow so fond of those things. He’s never kidnapped anyone, especially not someone he was supposed to have killed months ago. But he did it to you, to the one he missed, in the words of his boss. The guild’s warnings prove to have been true all along. Don’t keep a target as a hostage, don’t get attached—it’s happening. He’s starting to want to get to know you, to get you to smile for him, at least once—it’s damn selfish, he hates himself for it.

When he hears a buzz coming from the drawer of his nightstand. He sits up, confused for a moment until he opens it up, realizing he had put your phone in there. He picks up the phone and presses on the message. He reads the message, eyes narrowing at the endearing term he used. Curious, he unlocks your phones and goes through your text vigorously, searching for what he hoped wasn’t there. As he goes to your past old messages from months ago, he sees I love yous, I miss yous, dinner at 7 my place? Then the texts become less frequent, the tender tone is no more and there’s apologizing on both ends. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this guy is your ex, now he’s on the list of people who are worried about you.

He drops your phone back in the drawer. There’s no way anyone could find you yet, he’s nervous. This is getting too close, and at this point, he shouldn’t, but he wants you closer.

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queenabstract · 4 years

Text

Aight. Here we go part 3 of

HOW THEY HELP YOU THROUGH THAT TIME OF MONTH

With the Trolls World tour characters

PRINCE D

You accidentally stowed away with Biggie on Poppy's journey to unite the trolls. Everything was going by so fast you were just kinda there. Not really doing much. Everything finally began to slow down when you were on that raft, calmly floating down the river, sort of wishing you had left with Biggie. You didn't feel all to comfortable around this Hickory guy. When the aircraft appeared above you, you had started to believe it was a dream, especially when you were floating around in a bubble and started seeing two Coopers. Wait....the others were seeing it too. Wait...OH SHIT THIS ISN'T A DREAM COOPER IS A MAIN CHARACTER OF THE CLASSIC I FINALLY REUNITED WITH MY FAMILY AFTER BEING SEPARATED FROM THEM AS A BABY WHAT THE WHAT!?!

Oh damn his twin is hot though.

A part of you wanted to laugh remembering how you first met Prince D, the rest of you wanted to smash something. After a few weeks of dating, Prince D had invited you to move in, and you greatfully accepted. You had a few good friends, but no family back in Pop Village. If anything, you made more friends in Vibe City. King Quincy and Queen Essence had welcomed you with open arms and treated you like family. Cooper was happy to have a familar face around, made settling in much easier for the both of you. If only, these stupid cramps, would stop. They went on for twenty minutes, stopped for five, and then went back to biting at you again. You groaned in pain and curled up into a ball.

"Hey, Stella wanted to know if you wanted to hang with her since she's going to visit Volcano City." Prince D peeked his head into the room.

"Right now is not really the best time. Can you tell her that I can't come this time, please?" You asked, your voice slightly muffled by the blankets and pillows.

"Uh, yeah...sure thing, babe." Prince D responded and left. You sighed and tried to take advantage of one of your five minute breaks to fall asleep to avoid the pain, but you weren't all that lucky. You yelled into the pillows in frustration, trying to figure out what you could throw or punch without causing any damage or making to much noise. Before you could truly begin plotting, Prince D came back in and gave you a kiss on top of your head, causing you to relax a little.

"Here, drink this." Prince D handed you a cup of what looked like orange juice. You gave him a puzzled look. "It tastes like orange juice, but its actually a medicine to help cure pain and help put the consumer to sleep. Most girls in Vibe City use it during that time of month. Including my mom. You should've seen the look on her face when she found Cooper passed out on the kitchen floor after he accidentally assumed it was normal orange juice. He couldn't tell the difference since there weren't any labels!" Prince D laughed. You giggled at the story too. Classic Cooper. Though anyone could make that mistake. You gulped the drink, now realizing just how thirsty you actually were. When was the last time you actually drank something that day? Had you even gotten out of bed yet? The drowsiness immediately hit you and your eyelids were too heavy to keep open.

"Woah. I guess its a lot more effective and faster on Pop trolls than I thought." Prince D said as he took the now empty cup from you and put it on the nightstand next to the bed.

"Mmm...definitely better than any painkiller I've tried. Thank you, D." You thanked him as you began to fall asleep.

"Anything for you, Babe." Prince D kissed you on the head one more time before you fell asleep.

"FOR CRYING OUT LOUD WHO GOT INTO THE JUICE THIS TIME!?!"

"Uh oh." Prince D forgot that his mom was in the middle of having the same problems.

Riff

After the World Tour, you had gone through the effort to get to know the rock trolls and their music better. You'd be lying if you said you weren't absolutely in love with the drums. And who else would be better to teach you how to play the drums better than the drummer boy himself, Riff. He was happy to see someone else from a completely different genre drawn to the drums as much as he was. Everyone else was still nervous and on edge around them, and most of the rockers were singers, dancers, and/or guitarists. He was one of the few drummers and the absolute best at it. You two became friends instantly and he started to follow you around wherever you went(your one of the few to show him kindness and affection this is the price you gotta pay). You were fine with it, he was an absolute cinnamon roll and you loved having him around. He eventually moved in with you to Pop Village. He was fascinated by their music and welcoming culture. Overwhelmed from all the kindness being shown to him, there was no way he was leaving now. Barb ended up having to get one of the other few drummers to take his place, despite them not being nearly as talented. He still got his college credit though. It was no surprise to anyone when you two started dating. You two were the cutest couple (besides broppy) in the village. You were so kind, loving, affectionate, calm, caring, and gentle, he was nearly mentally scarred when he came home one day to find the place trashed. He was scared, assuming the worst and yelling out your name, on the edge of tears. He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding when he heard your voice. He started to attack you with questions, trying to figure out what happened.

"Riff, listen to me." You grabbed both sides of his face, making him shut up instantly. "I love you, but if you keep asking questions, I'm gonna punch a hole in the wall." You said, your face dead serious. Riff was lost. Then it hit him. You were acting like a rock troll female during that time of month. Except you were still holding on to your sanity. Riff picked you up bridal style and laid you down in bed, wrapping you up as best he could in the blankets. He cleaned up the pod and put everything back in it's place.

"You uh...kinda remind me of Barb during her struggle...but uh...she didn't stop at any point and I think she accidentally punched me a few times." Riff nervously admitted as he sat down next to you. You whimpered and wrapped your arms around his waist.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I didn't mean to scare you like that." You apologized.

"It's not your fault." Riff shrugged and ran his fingers through your hair. "I can't imagine what it's like to go through what your going through. Your really strong to be going through this for most of your life without any way to stop it. And despite it all, you still show love. It's amazing." Riff rambled on.

"I usually take painkillers to help, but the pain is dying down a little now. I think I'll be fine." You yawned. There was a pause.

"Cuddles?"

"Please?"

Never let this precious bean go.

Biggie

You grew up in the pod next to him. You were best friends since diapers. You gave Mr.Dinkles to him as a present on one of his birthdays after you found him lost in the woods. You two started dating as teenagers. You two were married before the world tour started. He already knew to get you your painkillers and chocolates ready before you even knew it was about to start. He was like a big pillow so cuddles were no problem. The giant teddy bear of a husband always made sure to leave Mr. Dinkles with you in case he absolutely needed to leave. Unless it was really important or an actual emergency(which probably only happened one time) he absolutely refused to leave your side. He'd ask his cousin Legsly for help sometimes when it seemed to get worse than usual. Love you big blue teddy bear and his worm and never let them go.

NEEDLESS TO SAY PART 4 WILL COME OUT SOON

#trolls world tour x reader #Prince D x Reader #Riff x Reader #Biggie x Reader #Lets show more love to the drumming cinnamon roll and the giant blue teddy bear and his worm son

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heytherejulietx · 4 years

Text

“I’m happy for you.” ~ Bughead

Masterlists

Requests are OPEN

Notes - This is something taken out of my Wattpad book, which you can find here! I’d really appreciate if you could go and check it out, it’d mean a lot!

Warnings - None.

Word count - 2.2k.

"When did everything start going wrong?" Jughead whispered, his arm around Betty's waist, keeping her close as he spoke.

Betty didn't have an answer to his words. Everything had been perfect in the beginning. Having been friends for so long, they both had assumed that a relationship would be weird and wrong. But it was perfect. They were completely obsessed with each other - sleeping over each other's houses practically every night, messaging whenever they weren't together, kissing whenever they were alone. They had both shared their first time with each other. Granted, it was filled with embarrassed giggled and some awkward fumbling around, but it had been special nonetheless.

Though after high school had ended, the bliss of the relationship started to fall too. They both had ended up going to Yale, and thankfully managed to get a collage dorm together. But the stress of deadlines, being with each other all the time, and sleep deprivation from staying up to finish essays started to get to them. Betty and Jughead started fighting all the time, sometimes even ending in Jughead sleeping in one of his friend's dorms to give both himself and Betty space.

Both of them knew how it had to go, but neither of them wanted to end everything. They'd been through too much together, but it was getting too much. The fights were really affecting them both, and they couldn't do it anymore.

"I don't know." Betty whispered back, her eyes cast downwards on her hands. She knew if she looked at Jughead she'd start crying, and she had promised herself that she wasn't going to cry in front of him. "This is for the best, though."

"I know." Jughead muttered, lifting his free hand to start rubbing the blonde's arm gently, trying to give her some comfort.

Even though they were breaking up, Betty still appreciated Jughead's comfort. His touch still warmed her, to the point where she knew if he wasn't holding her she'd start crying. Her lip quivered though that was all, as she'd blinked back the tears that had started to burn along her waterline.

"We were good, weren't we?" Betty asked softly, causing a light chuckle to pass Jughead's lips that sounded forced.

"Yeah, we were. The best." Jughead responded, his arm subtly tightening around Betty's waist.

"When do you have to leave?" Betty questioned after another moment of silence.

Their split couldn't have been more perfect time-wise. College was over, and Jughead was moving to New York for a writing opportunity that he'd managed to get after a submission to their company a month back. Betty was staying in the dorm for another week, before she planned to move back to Riverdale for a little while as she considered her own options.

Jughead glanced at the clock on the wall opposite the bed they were both seated on, before breathing out a quiet sigh. "Ten minutes." He responded.

"You be careful, okay?" Betty asked, the tears starting to burn along her waterline again as she swallowed back the lump forming in her throat. "New York is a little while away."

"I will, I promise." Jughead nodded. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I will be." She responded after a pause. Of course Jughead was going to be incredibly hard to get over, but she was confident that after some time she'd move on and get on with her life.

The first tear slipped down her cheek, her hand lifting up to catch it quickly. The action hadn't been missed by Jughead, who leaned down to press a lingering kiss against her temple. "Good." He whispered as he pulled away.

"I'm gonna miss you, Betty Cooper." He muttered quietly.

"Yeah," Betty whispered back, tears falling faster as the lump in her throat returned. "I'll miss you too."

The next time Betty heard from Jughead was a good few years later. To help herself move on, she had thought it was better to cut all contacts; getting rid of his number, his Instagram account, and even his email. Though it didn't help, not really. She'd gotten into a few relationships after him, though they had all ended pretty quickly afterwards. Betty missed him more than she realised. She missed the way he would touch her with such care to make sure she felt loved. She missed the way he'd kiss her passionately in the night but gently and loving in the morning. She missed him being her boyfriend, and her being his girlfriend. It felt a little pathetic, that after so long she was still missing her ex. But she couldn't get over him.

The small white envelope addressed to Betty in fancy handwriting had been dropped off on Betty's doorstep in Riverdale - where she was taking over the Riverdale Register for her mother after she'd retired. The blonde was confused as she picked it up, not recognising the handwriting nor knowing why she would have a letter other than her bills and occasional letters from Polly.

What was inside was the last thing she'd expected.

The first thing she saw was Jughead's name at the top, his full name. Next to another woman's whom she had no idea who they were.

The second thing she saw was the date for the wedding.

Betty didn't know why she had started to cry at first, but the small white card caused the lump in her throat to form quickly as the tears built up. The card was dropped onto the table as she started crying properly, sitting in one of the dining chairs as she cried into her hands.

It took her a while to decide whether she was going to go. At first she had completely sworn off of the idea, thinking it would be too much, but after a phone call from Veronica - who was still her best friend after all of the years - she'd managed to look at it in a different light. Maybe seeing Jughead happy with someone else would give her some closure, seeing him again might hurt but it would also make her move on.

So the following weekend she'd sent the letter back to say she'd be attending the ceremony, and the following July she'd flown all the way out to New York to attend the wedding.

So the hotel wouldn't be as expensive, Betty and Veronica had decided to share a room together and split the cost between them (though Veronica had insisted to pay it all herself, Betty had the decency to insist she pay her share).

The dress she'd picked for the wedding wasn't too flashy, but it was still beautiful. It was a blush pink Chiffon dress, that was floor-length with an open back and a somewhat low neckline. To go with it she'd picked out some simple heels of the same colour, and on the day matched it with some light makeup, spare the light pink eyeshadow and lipstick.

Her arm had been looped with Veronica's as she'd walked into the chapel where the ceremony was taking place, seating with the raven-haired girl in the fourth row, with others from their high school such as Kevin Keller, Toni Topaz and Cheryl Blossom (who had come as a couple, as they'd gotten engaged the year prior), Sweet-Pea, and Fangs Fogarty (who Veronica had said was oogling Kevin from the moment he'd seen him). Archie was there too, but he was stood at the front of the chapel as Jughead's best man.

Betty hadn't looked at Jughead as she'd walked in, who was stood talking to Archie and his dad whilst everyone waited for the bride to come in. But she had made eye contact with him once she had sat down. He had sent her a half smile, which she returned with one of her own paired with a small wave, before his attention had been taken by Archie again.

Jughead looked the same. His hair was still the same length, he was still the same height and slim but muscular build; the only difference was that his head wasn't crowned with his grey beanie anymore.

"Betty," Veronica mumbled, tapping her arm lightly. "Are you okay?"

Betty just shrugged, not able to respond as the music had started filling the room, and everybody stood up to see the bride walk in.

She was beautiful, was what Betty noticed first of all. Annabelle Hope had been the name written on the wedding invitation, which she knew was soon to be Annabelle Jones. Her hair was a deep umber colour, which was pinned up into a bun that had small white flowers pinned to the strands. She looked to be somewhat taller than Betty, with a petite figure that made her look a little smaller than she actually was. Her dress was a simple but elegant strapless mermaid dress, with a matching lace train that was clipped to her hair with a small silver tiara.

Betty watched Annabelle for a moment, before glancing back towards Jughead. His smile was so wide and his eyes filled with both adoration and happy tears. An expression that she hadn't seen in years, maybe even since before the start of college. She was clearly loved dearly by him.

The ceremony went as smoothly as anything. They both read their elegantly scripted vows, Jughead's one causing Betty to almost get emotional, before they'd given each other their rings and kissed shortly after. Veronica had reached for Betty's hand during the service, which she accepted with a light squeeze.

The wedding reception was just as beautiful as the service. It was in the hall of the hotel that everybody was staying at, making it convenient for everybody attending who didn't live in the area. Golden lights were strung everywhere, white chairs and tables in one side of the room with the food table and the wedding cake, whilst the other was a dance floor.

Betty chatted with some of her old friends for a while, catching up on Cheryl and Toni's plan to adopt, on Kevin's new job which had him a director at a theatre, and on other little things. Though about half an hour into the reception she'd gone to the bar to get herself a drink, soon finding herself stood next to the groom.

"It was a beautiful service." Betty told him softly as she turned to face him, smiling softly. It was oddly normal to talk to him, despite how many years it had been and how they had spent their last time together.

"Thank you." Jughead nodded. "Annabelle did most of the planning, she's got more of an artistic eye than I could ever have." He chuckled before taking a sip of his own drink, which Betty could see was rum and coke - the same drink of his choice when they were together.

"You look beautiful, by the way." Jughead told her, his smile softening as he lightly touched her arm for a moment. "I'm glad you came, Betty. I wouldn't put it past you if you hadn't, but I'm glad you came."

"I... I wasn't going to go originally, I thought it might be weird for you having your ex at your wedding," Betty told him, putting aside the truth of how it would have been too hard for her. "But Veronica persuaded me in the end."

"It was actually Annabelle's idea to invite you." Jughead told Betty, causing her eyebrows to furrow in confusion. "I've spoken about you before, and she said it might be good to see you again."

"Oh." Betty nodded, a little surprised that he had spoken about her, though it did make her smile to know he still thought about her. It was a selfish thought, but she couldn't help it.

"Jug?" Betty asked softly after another moment. "I just uhm, I just wanted to say..." she paused for a moment, knowing how her next words were going to go. Was she really about to tell Jughead that she still loved him on his wedding day? Her green orbs glanced at Annabelle for a moment, who was dancing with Jughead's father on the dance floor. She looked already like a part of the Jones family, more so than Betty had ever been. As quick as she'd looked away she glanced back at Jughead, smiling softly. "I just wanted to say that I'm happy for you. You two look really happy together."

Jughead smiled and nodded his head, pulling Betty into a brief hug once she'd spoken. "Thank you, Betts." He nodded, the use of the nickname making her heart ache more than it was before. "And we are. She's very special."

Once he'd pulled away from the hug Betty took a sip of her drink, suddenly fighting the urge to start tearing up. "I'd better go find Veronica. She told me to not let her sleep with Archie tonight, but you know how she gets when she's drunk." Betty forced a chuckle, whilst the one that escaped Jughead was genuine.

"Alright, that's fair enough." Jughead nodded. "But I'll see you around?"

Betty looked at him and forced a smile, nodding her head. "Yeah." She nodded. "I'll see you around, Jug."

#riverdale #riverdale imagine #riverdale oneshot #riverdale one shot #riverdale bughead #bughead #bughead one shot #bughead oneshot #bughead imagine #bughead fic #betty and jughead #betty cooper and jughead jones #jughead imagine #jughead one shot #jughead oneshot #betty cooper imagine #betty cooper oneshot #betty cooper one shot

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themarvellouswriter · 4 years

Text

MOB! SEBASTIAN x TALL! READER

PART III OF THE MASTERPIECE SERIES

Warnings: Slight blood reference, mentions of torture but not really

Word Count: 1.9k

Genre: A weird hybrid mix of feelings, some angst and fluff.

Notes: Enjoy! And do share your thoughts! All feedback is welcome!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upon reaching your house, you slowly opened the door. “Sofia? You there?” Stepping into the foyer, you called out for your friend. Sebastian right behind you. “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he said looking around. You hummed in response as you headed towards your bedroom. He made a move to follow but you held up a hand to stop him. “Stay here. I’m not running or calling for help.” You raised your hands and waggled your fingers. “Some idiot must have taken my phone last night when they bonked me.” Sebastian had the decency to look embarrassed. He muttered an apology and ran a hand through his hair. “Cute,” you said making eye contact. His eyes showed a flicker of surprise, mildly taken aback. You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing as you went inside your bedroom. Seeing Sofia’s sleeping form you relaxed knowing that she hadn’t worried about your sudden disappearance in the middle of the night. You looked at your alarm clock. 11:17.

“Sofia! Wake up! You have a meeting with your advisor at 12!” You shook her awake. She sat up with a jolt. “My thesis,” she cried. “Y/N! Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” “You slept through your alarm! And I was,” your gaze went to Sebastian who was looking extremely interested in the picture frames and trinkets that littered your mantel place. Yes, you were one of those people who liked the idea of fireplaces in your house. “I was out.” You brought your eyes back to Sofia’s, hoping that she hadn’t noticed Sebastian but it was too late. She looked in his direction. “Ooh. Someone was having fun this morning. Is that why your hair look like that?” Your hands immediately flew to your hair. “Like what?” “You have a case of what I call sex-hair. Its really bad. Especially given how he’s dressed and you are wearing that.” You looked at her offended, “These are my favourite Captain America pyjamas. Besides. That is NOT what we were doing. I was out for breakfast and then ran into him. He gave me a ride home.” “And you invited him in?” You inwardly facepalmed. ‘You complete idiot Y/N. You walked right into that one. Deflect and deflect hard.’ “So nosy. Not a good look for a bride to be. And you’re late. Get up and get ready,” you said pulling her up to her feet and pushing her into the bathroom. Sofia laughed, closing the door behind herself. You let out a breath and started to gather some of your stuff. Sebastian entered your bedroom holding up a picture. “Cute baby,” he teased. “I know. I was adorable. I mean have you seen these cheeks?” You turned to face him and squished your face. He let out a genuine laugh. “You’re really something Y/N. I just can’t figure out what exactly, but I seem to like it.”

He moved closer. You looked deep into his eyes trying to figure out if he was being serious or not. “I like it a lot.” He took another step leaving only a few inches of space between the two of you. He leaned closer. ‘Oh my god, he’s serious. He’s gonna -’ Before you had time to finish your thought, you felt a warm pair of lips on your own. Your eyes widened in surprise before you snapped out of it and kissed him back. The kiss was soft and comforting. Like feeling the sun on your face in winter. A hand found its way to rest on your hip and your hands instinctively gripped his suit jacket, pulling him closer. You had shut your eyes sometime within the first three seconds of being kissed and all sorts of alarms were going off in your brain. ‘You’re kissing the guy who kidnapped you. Why? Why in the world are you kissing him and why are you liking it? Stop it. Stop it. Be sane woman, you do not kiss people who’ve murdered other people.’ Forcing yourself to stop, you took a dazed step back. “Sebastian, I don’t know why I did that.” “Are you telling me you don’t want to do it again?” “If we’d met under different circumstances and you hadn’t, you know, killed my neighbour. Are you seeing where I’m coming from?” You chewed on your lip as you hesitated. He took a step back and fixed his jacket. “Its fine, Y/N. I get it,” he answered smoothly, pushing back his stray hair. “I don’t think you do. I am not opposed to your lifestyle. I just want to know more about you before moving further. I don’t know anything about you! I don’t even know why you got her killed?” You swallowed harshly. “I don’t like not knowing and I get the feeling that you don’t either.”

He took your hands in his own, dropping the picture frame on your bed. “Hey, you don’t understand. Even though there is this whole murdered neighbour thing, I would never let anything happen to you and I would never hurt you. I know that we’ve not even known each other for a full day but I can’t get you out of my mind.” You gave him a weak smile as he went on. “I’ve never felt this way before and I don’t know how to act.” “Me neither. I know I should hate you and think of ways to get rid of you, but I can’t. I can’t even think about leaving you cause I know I’ll be hurt.” He brought your hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. The sound of Sofia clearing her throat startled both of them, making them jump apart. The former was now fully dressed and ready to go. “Hi, I’m Sofia, as you must have heard Y/N screaming my name.” She held out a hand. Sebastian shook it. “Sebastian. Y/N’s latest,” his eyes met yours and you could’ve sworn they twinkled with mischief. “Conquest.” “You should be honoured. She doesn’t go for men that easy.” “Sofia,” you exclaimed throwing a cushion at her. Sebastian laughed. “I am.” He shot you a discrete wink as Sofia checked her phone. “I will be late tonight so don’t wait up. Also, dress rehearsal on Friday. Do NOT be late. And Sebastian, why don’t you come too? I’m sure we can squeeze you in next to her.” You internally screamed. ‘What on Earth does she think she’s doing? I may be extremely, extremely attracted to him but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let him anywhere near my best friend’s wedding.’ “I would love to. Thank you,” came his gracious reply.

Sofia waved good bye and left. You automatically collapsed on your bed. Sebastian looked at you thoughtfully. “Did you mean that? What you said?” “I rarely say things I don’t mean,” you replied sitting up. Pushing your hair from your face, you met his gaze. “I don’t really trust you yet, but I could. With time.” He nodded, “Fair enough. Come on. Let’s start packing.”

Within an hour you had finished. You put your belongings in his car began the drive back to his place. You were skimming through your thesis when you caught him staring at you from the corner of your eye. “What?” “You’re cute when you’re focused.” You snorted. “A person of my size doesn’t really fall in the category of cute after a certain age.” “You are. I think so.” You let his words hang in the air. Nobody, out of all the women and men you’d dated, had complimented you so freely, so often. It didn’t feel like much of a deal but there was always some hidden part of you deep, deep down that made you think, I am being too much? Are they keeping quiet cause they secretly don’t like that I’m bigger than them? Should I dial back a bit and stop? You weren’t a fan of dependency so you kept your relationships to a minimum.

As you reached the place that would be your new home till Sebastian was ready to let you go, you rubbed your forehead in tiredly. With all the partying, the murdering, the getting bonked on the head and running around behind your best friend’s back. You just wanted to change your clothes and fall asleep. “Come along, sleeping beauty.” He helped you with your stuff and led you to your new room. This one was exactly opposite to his on the first floor. Unlike the room you’d found yourself in, on the second and topmost floor. His place although big was minimally furnished. It had all essentials but nothing that gave it a home-y feel.

You made yourself comfortable in your new living area and then took a shower. You changed into a fresh pair of clothes and then went to see what Sebastian was up to. You knocked on his bedroom door but got no response. ‘He must be downstairs then.’ You headed down. This time you noticed a room at the far end of the foyer. It was easy to miss since it had a curtain half way pulled over it. You pushed the door slightly open and came face to face with a man covered in blood. “Y/N,” came Sebastian’s disapproving voice from behind you. “Sebastian.” “What are you doing, love? You don’t want to see this.” “I kinda do. Why is he here?” “He got caught trying to blow up one of my shipments.” “Shipments of what?” “Shipments of fake art.” You raised an eyebrow. “That’s a first. Usually one expects to hear drugs. Or escorts.” “I’m not a part of the usually. It’s actually easier to fake paintings and get them shipped instead of drugs. Make more money too.” “So, are you torturing him?” “I just want to find out who sent him and how did he know where to find my stuff. He refused to cooperate so I got a little creative.” He shrugged, snapping his fingers. A hulking man appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “Gerard. Take Miss Winchester here to her room, please.” “I don’t want to go.” “Sweetheart, what’s going to happen next, is not going to be pretty. Are you sure you want to be here for that?” “Yes,” you answered firmly. He looked at you. “Fine. But you’re staying outside the room.” You nodded, “Okay.” Sebastian and Gerard disappeared inside the room. A few minutes later, you heard pained screams. Followed by dark laughter and angry Chinese. You went over the Chinese once, twice then thrice in your head. Sebastian came out, wiping his hands on a handkerchief which he handed to Gerard behind him. Taking in your shocked expression, he looked at you, face pinched with concern. “I knew you should’ve gone upstairs again, love.” “No, you answered shakily. “If I had, I wouldn’t have heard that man confess to what’s about to happen.” “Well, translate his Chinese for me love, I don’t speak it.” “He said that he was sent as a decoy. I am their real target. They want me dead. And I have no clue why.”

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fluff #seb stan x reader #sebastian x reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan x y/n #seb stan x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #sebastian deserves all the love in the world #masterpiece #themarvellouswriter #part 3 #please tell me what you think!#masterpiece series #please pay attention to this fic

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fourteenaway · 3 years

Text

A Tragic Prologue | The Story of Cary / Part I

tw: abuse, rape, domestic violence, infidelity, pregnancy.

Exactly five years and three months had passed since Caren had married Leeland, and it’d taken that long for them to finally have something that resembled a real vacation. Five years and three months and still she often felt as if Leeland was a stranger to her.

Madame Ephron had been the one to suggest that they take a break, go to Barcelona, they deserved it. Or rather she thought perhaps that Leeland needed it to get back in true form.

It was here that Daniel’s graduation invitation from med-school finally found her in a little villa they’d taken up in for the weeks they’d be here. She knew it instantly when she spotted the thick envelope, her heart jumping at the announcement of Daniel’s achievement of his medical degree. How proud she felt knowing he’d done it, completed college and then medical school in seven years what took most at least eight.

When she opened it she found not only a formal announcement but a note from Daniel, written in his handwriting that was far better than any other doctors unreadable scrawl:

Dear Caren,

I am embarrassed to tell you this, but I am the top graduate in a class of two hundred. So don't you dare try and find an excuse to keep away. You have to be there to bask in the glow of my excitement, as I bask in the radiance of your admiration. I cannot possibly accept my M.D. if you aren't there to see. And you can tell Leeland this when he tries to prevent your coming.

Your dearest,

Daniel

Caren smiled glowing from cheek to cheek at his excitement and good humor. The only bothersome thing about this was that she and Leeland had signed a contract some time ago to tape a TV production of Giselle. It was set for June, but now in May, they wanted them both. Both of them were sure the television exposure would make them the stars they'd strived so long to be.

It had seemed a perfect time to approach Leeland with the news. They’d returned to their villa after touring old castles. So as soon as their evening meal was over and the pair had sat out on the terrace sipping glasses of a red wine, she knew he was nuts about, but gave her a headache. Only then did she dare to timidly approach going back to the States in time fo Daniel’s May graduation.

“Really, we do have the time to fly there and be back in plenty of time to go into rehearsal for Giselle," she tried.

"Oh, come off it, Caren!” Leeland said impatiently. “It's a difficult role for you, and you'll be tired, and you'll need to rest up."

“Two weeks was plenty of time ... and a TV taping doesn’t take too long. Please, darling, let's go. I'd be sick not to see Daniel become a doctor, just as you'd be if your friend was reaching the goal he'd strived for year after year,” Caren tried again.

"Hell, no!" Leeland flared, narrowing his dark eyes and shooting sparks her way. “I get so damned sick and tired of hearing Daniel this, and Daniel that, and if it isn't his name you drum in my ears, then it's his brother, William this and that! You are not going!"

Caren pleaded with him to be reasonable, “He's only like a brother to me,” she lied slightly, “it just means his graduation day is nearly as important to me as it is to him. You can't understand how much this means not only to him, but to me as well! You think he and I lived lives of luxury compared to yours, just because we were adopted by the Derricks, but you can rest assured, it was no picnic!"

"Your past is something you don't talk about to me," he snapped back. “It's exactly as if you were born the day you found your precious Dr. William! Caren, you are my wife now, and your place is with me. Your William has Cassidy, and they'll be there, so Daniel won't lack applause when he gets that damned M.D.!"

"You can't tell me what I can do and what I can't do! I'm your wife, not your slave!"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," he said, standing and seizing hold of my arm. "C'mon, let's hit the sack. I'm tired.”

Without speaking Caren allowed him to tug her into the bedroom where she began to undress. But he came over to help, and in this way she was informed it was to be a night of love, or rather sex.

But she shoved his hands away.

Scowling, he put them back on her shoulders and leaned to nibble on her neck; he fondled her breasts before he reached to unhook her bra. Caren hissed and slapped his hands away, before screaming, “No!”

But he persisted in taking off her bra, finding it as easy as a mask to take off, he threw away his anger and put on his dreamy-eyed romantic look.

Caren supposed there had been a time when Leeland had appeared to her the epitome of everything sophisticated, worldly, elegant, but compared to the way he was now, since his father's death, he'd been only a country-bumpkin.

There were times she actually detested him. This was such a time.

"I am going, Leeland You may come with me, or you may meet me in New York after I fly back from the graduation ceremony. Or you can stay on here and sulk. Whatever, I am going. I want you to come with me and share in the family celebration, for you never share in anything-you hold me back, so I don't share either-but this time you can't stop me! It's too important!" Caren told him sternly.

Quietly he listened and he smiled in a way that sent chills down her spine. Oh, how wicked he could look.

“Hear this, beloved wife, when you married me, I became your ruler, and by my side you will stay until I kick you out. And I'm not yet ready to do that. You are not leaving me alone in Spain when I don't speak Spanish. Maybe you can learn from records, but I can't,” he spoke coldly.

"Don't threaten me, Leeland,” Caren said coolly, though she backed off and felt a terrible pounding of panic. “Without me you don't have anyone who cares, except your mother, and since you don't care for her, who have you got left?"

Lightly he reached out to slap both her cheeks. She closed her eyes, resigned to accept anything he did, as long as she could go to Daniel. She allowed him to undress her and do what he would, even though he clutched her buttocks so hard they hurt. For she could, when she chose, withdraw until she was outside of herself, looking on, and what he did to me So that what was appalling didn't really matter-for she wasn't truthfully there-unless the pain was great-as sometimes it was.

“Don't try and sneak away," he warned, his words muffled because he was kissing everywhere, teasing her like a cat who plays with a mouse when it's not hungry. "Swear on your word of honor that you will stay and miss your dearly beloved Daniel’s graduation and stay with husband who needs you, who adores you, who can't live without you," he demanded.

She knew he was mocking her, though his need for her was that of a child needing his mother. For that was what she had become. His mother, in everything but sex. She had to choose his suits, his socks and shirts, his costumes, his practice outfits, though he consistently refused to let her handle the household accounts.

"I will not swear to anything so unfair. Daniel has come to see you perform and you have gloried in showing off to him. Now let him have his turn. He's worked hard for it," she insisted.

Caren pulled free from him then, and strolled to pick up a black lace nightgown he liked her to wear even though she hated black nightgowns and underwear. They reminded her of whores and call girls but also her mother who'd had a fancy for black lingerie.

"Get up off your knees, Leeland. You look ludicrous. You can't do anything to me if I choose to go. A bruise would show, and besides, you've grown so accustomed to my weight and balance you can't even lift another dancer properly,” she spoke chillingly though she thought, truthfully.

He came at her angrily then, shouting, "You're mad because we haven't made it to the top, aren't you? You're blaming me because our booking was canceled. And now Madame Ephron has given us a leave so I can sober up and come back refreshed, made wholesome by playing games with my wife. Caren, I don't know how to entertain myself except by dancing; I'm not interested in books or museums like you are, and there are ways of hurting and humiliating you that won't leave any bruises-except on your ego-and you should know that by now."

Foolishly she smiled, when she should have known better than to challenge him when he was feeling less than confident. “What's the matter, Lee? Didn't your sex break satisfy your lust for perversion? Why don't you go out and find a schoolgirl, for I'm not going to cooperate."

She'd never before thrown in his face that I knew about his debaucheries with younger women.

It had hurt at first when she found out, but now she knew he used those girls like he used paper napkins, to casually toss away when soiled, and back he'd come to her, to say he loved her, needed her, and she was the only one.

Slowly he advanced, using his pantherlike stalk that told her he would be ruthless, but still she held her head high, knowing she could escape by shutting off her mind, and he couldn't afford to hit her.

He paused one foot away as she heard the clock on the nightstand ticking in the silence.

"Caren, you will do as I say if you know what's good for you," he warned.

He was cruel that night, evil and spiteful; forcing upon her what should only be given in love. He dared her to bite. And this time she wouldn't have just one black eye, but two, and maybe worse.

“And I'll tell everybody you are sick. That your period has you so badly cramped you can't dance, so you won't skip out on me, or make any phone calls, for I'll bind you to the bed and hide your passport,” he told her as he took.

He grinned and slapped her face lightly when he finished before whispering, "Now, honey-chile, whatcha gonna do this time?” He asked reverting into the southern drawl he’d grown up on.

The next morning, smiling and himself again, Leeland sauntered naked to the breakfast table, and flung himself down, sprawled out his long, beautifully shaped legs and asked casually, "What's for breakfast?"

He held out his arms so Caren could come and kiss his lips, which she did. She faked a smile and brushed a lock of dangling hair from his forehead, and poured his coffee, and then said, "Good morning, darling. Same old breakfast for you. Fried eggs and fried ham. I'm having a cheese omelet."

Assured by her tone that all was past he sighed, “"I'm sorry, Caren," he murmured. “Why do you try to bring out the worst in me? I only use those girls to spare you."

"If they don't mind, then I don't mind... but don't ever force me to do what I did last night. I'm very good at hating, Leeland. Just as good as you are at forcing. And at harboring revenge I'm an expert!" She warned him.

She slid onto his plate two fried eggs and two slices of ham. No toast and no butter. Both of them ate in silence. He sat across the checkered red and white tablecloth, closely shaven, clean and smelling of soap and shaving lotion. In his own dark and light exotic way he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen.

"Caren ... you haven't said you love me today," he said eventually.

"I love you, Leeland," she replied.

An hour after breakfast,and she was now madly searching every room to find her passport, while Leeland slept on the bed, where she'd dragged him from the kitchen after he fell asleep from all the sedatives she'd dumped in his coffee.

He wasn't nearly as good at hiding as she was at finding. Under the bed, and under the blue rug, she found her passport. Quickly she threw clothes into her suitcases. When she was packed, dressed and ready to go, she leaned above him and kissed him good-bye.

He was breathing deep and regularly, and smiling slightly; perhaps the drugs were giving him pleasant dreams. Though she'd drugged him, she hesitated, wondering if she'd done the right thing.

Shrugging off her indecision, she headed toward the garage. Yes, she did what she had to do. If he were awake now, he'd have buried himself into her side all through the day, with her passport in his pocket. Besides she'd left a note telling him where she was going.

When she arrived at the airport William was waiting for her and after hugging him briefly she asked, “Did Daniel get my message? He does know I'm coming right?"

"Oh, indeed. He was fretting through every moment, afraid Leeland would refuse to let you leave him, and knowing Leeland wouldn't come. Honestly, Caren, if you hadn't shown up, I don't think Daniel would accept his degree," he said with an appraising look in his eyes.

To sit beside William and Cassidy, and watch her Daniel stride down the aisle and up the steps to accept his diploma, and then stand behind the podium and make the valedictory speech, put tears in her eyes and a swelling happiness in her heart.

He did it so beautifully she cried. William and Cassidy also had tears to shed. Even Caren’s success on stage couldn't compare to the pride she felt now. And Leeland, he should be here too, making himself a part of her family and not stubbornly resisting all the time.

When she looked back at the stage though, and saw Daniel up there, ready to step behind the podium though, it all slipped away.

She didn't know how he managed to find her in the crowd, but somehow he did. Their gazes met and locked, and across all the heads of those who sat between them, they met in silent communication they always had and shared an overwhelming jubilation! For they'd done it! Both of them. Reached their goals; become what they'd set out to be when they were children. The dreams they’d shared to each other when they were both young and feeling unwanted and undeserving of the love the Derrick’s had both given them. And watching Daniel, Caren believed she could see his whole life.

She saw him swinging a bat when he was ten to smash a ball over the fence, only for him to run like mad to touch all bases in the quickest possible time, when he could have walked and made his home run. But that wasn't his way, to make it look too easy.

She saw him that first day when she’d showed up on the Derrick’s doorstep only a few years after he had, scared and untrusting of everyone as she clutched her younger sister to her chest. She saw that encouraging smile on his face that gave her hope when there was none.

She saw him racing on his bike yards ahead of her, then slowing down deliberately so she could catch up and they'd both reach William’s office at the same time and then locking up the bike for her.

The ceremony ended with a huge luncheon planned by the university in celebration. At the table Cassidy babbled away, but Caren and Daniel could only stare at each other, each of them trying to find the right words to say.

Suddenly Daniel frowned and asked why Leeland hadn’t come.

"He wanted to come, Daniel, really he did," Caren lied, “But he has obligations that keep him so busy he couldn't spare the time. He asked me to give you his congratulations. We do have very tight schedules. Actually, I can only stay two days. We're going to do a TV production of Giselle next month," she reasoned to him.

When everyone had gone and they were back at William’s house, alone on the veranda Daniel sighed and said, “Caren, he didn't want you to come to my graduation, did he?”

Caren remained silent in her answer and Daniel shook his head and said, “He’s going to ruin your careers. I warned you not to let him be your manager. Madame Ephron would have treated you more fairly. She loves you."

Caren began to pace the porch. Her original contract with Madame Ephron. had expired two years ago, and all she owed her now was twelve performances a year. The rest of the time, Leeland and her were freelance, and could dance with whichever company they liked.

Now everything was falling apart.

Everything was made worse by the fact that she had made a secret trip to the gynecologist the day before. Two missed periods didn't really mean anything for a woman like her, who was so irregular. She might not be pregnant, she thought. It might be just another false alarm ... but something about this time felt different.

If it wasn't a false alarm, she prayed she'd have the strength to go through with an abortion. She didn't need a baby in her life. For she knew once she had a child, he or she would become the center of her world, and love would again spoil a ballerina who could have been the best.

Ballet music was in her head when she drove Daniel's car to visit Leeland’s mother, Madame Milena one hot spring day when all the world seemed sleepy and lazy except for those poor children being instructed by a shrill little bat wearing black, as always.

Caren sat in the shadows near the far wall of a huge auditorium and watched the large class of boys and girls dance. It was scary to think of how soon those girls would grow up to replace the stars of the present. Then she too would become another Madame Ephron and the years would flow like seconds, until she was Madame Milena, and all her beauty would be preserved only in old, faded photographs.

“Caren," called Madame Milena joyfully when she spied her. She came striding swiftly, gracefully her way. "Why do you sit in the shadows?" she asked. “How nice to see your lovely face again. And don't think I don't know why you look so sad! You're one big fool to leave Leeland! He's a big baby; you know he can't be left alone or he does things to hurt himself, and when he hurts himself, he hurts you too! Why did you let him get control of your management? Why did you let him burn up your money as fast as it hits your pockets? I tell you this, in your place, I would never, never have let him put another in my role of Giselle!"

‘God, what a blabbermouth he was!’ Caren thought.

"Don't worry about me, Madame," Caren said coolly, "if my husband doesn't want me for his partner anymore, I'm sure there will be others who will."

She scowled and advanced on her. She put those bony hands on her and shook Caren as if to wake her up. Up close, Caren could see she'd aged terribly since Leeland’s father had died. Her ebony hair was almost white now, and streaked with charcoal.

“You gonna let my son make a fool of you? You let him put another dancer in your place? I gave you credit for having more backbone! Now you hightail it back to New York and push that other girl out of his life! Marriage is sacred, and wedding vows are meant to be kept!" She insisted.

Then she softened and said, “Come now, Caren," and led her into her small cluttered office, “Now you tell me about this foolishness going on between you and your husband!"

"It is really none of your business!" Caren insisted.

She swung another straight chair to where she could straddle it. Leaning forward upon her arms, she stabbed Caren with her hard penetrating glare, “Anything, and everything concerning my son is my business!" She snapped. “Now you just sit there and keep quiet, and let me tell you what you don't know about your husband."

Her voice turned a little kinder, "I was older than his father when we were married, and even so I dared putting off having a child until I believed the best of my career was behind me, and then I became pregnant. Leeland’s father never wanted a child to hold him down, and back, and so, from the beginning Leeland had two strikes against him,” she tells Caren.

She looks down then and whispers, “I tell myself we didn't force the dance upon our son, but we did keep him with us, so the ballet became part of his world, the most important part.”

She sighed heavily and wiped a bony hand over her troubled brow. "We were strict with him, I admit that. We did everything we could to make him what was perfect in our eyes, but the more we tried, the more determined he became to be everything we didn't want him to be. We tried to teach him perfect diction, so he ended up mocking us with all kinds of vulgar street language-gutter talk, his father called it. You know," she went on with a wistful expression, "only after my husband was dead and buried did I realize that he never spoke to our son unless it was an order not to do something, or an order to improve his dancing technique. I never realized that my husband could have been jealous of his own son, seeing that he was a better dancer and would achieve more fame. It wasn't easy for me to become only a ballet mistress, and for Georges to be only an instructor. Many a night we lay on our bed and held to each other, craving the applause, the adulation. ... It was a hunger that would not be satisfied until we heard the applause for our son."

Again she paused, and birdlike craned her neck to peer at Caren and see if she was paying full attention.

Oh, yes, she had her attention. She was telling her so much she needed to know.

"Leeland tried to hurt his father, and my husband got hurt because Leeland made light of his father's reputation. One day he called him only a second-class performer. My husband didn't speak to his own son for a whole month! They never got back together after that. Farther and farther they drifted apart ... until one fine Christmas Day when another prodigy drifted into our lives, and offered herself. You! Leeland had flown back to visit us, only because I had pleaded with him to try and make it up with his father ...and Leeland saw you,” she took a pause and sighed, “It is our responsibility to pass along our skills of technique to the younger generation, and still I felt some apprehension in taking you on, mostly because I thought you would hurt my son. I don't know why I thought that, but it seemed obvious from the very start, it was that older doctor you loved and if not him then his younger brother. Then I thought you had something very rare, a passion for the dance that is seldom seen. You were, in your own way, equal to what Leeland was, and the two of you together were so sensational I couldn't believe my eyes. My son felt it too, the rapport between you two. You turned those big, soft, admiring blue eyes on him, so later he came and told me you were a sex kitten who would fall easily under his spell and into his arms. He and I always had a close relationship, and he confessed to me what other boys would have kept secret.”

She paused, flicked her stony eyes over Caren and went on breathlessly, "You came, you admired him, you loved him when you were dancing with him, and when you weren't, you were indifferent. The harder you were to win, the more determined he was to have you. I thought you were clever, playing a skillful woman's game when you were only a child! And now you, you ... you go and leave him when he was in a foreign country, when he couldn't speak the language, when you should have learned he has weaknesses, many of them, and that he cannot bear to be alone!"

She jumped up like a black, scrawny alleycat and stood above Caren.

“Without Leeland to give you inspiration and enhance your talent with his own, where would you be? Without him would you be in New York, dancing with what is fast becoming one of the leading ballet companies? No! You'd be here, raising babies for that doctor. God knows why you said yes to Leeland, and how you can keep from loving him. For he tells me you don't, and never have! So you drug him. You leave him. You take off to see that younger brother, not even the one you were with before, become a doctor, when you know damn well your place is at your husband's side, making him happy and taking care of his wants! Yes! Yes!" she shrilled, "he called me long distance and told me everything! Now he thinks he hates you! Now he wants to cut you off. And when he does, he won't have a heart left to keep him alive! For he gave you his heart years and years ago!" She shouts.

Caren began to shake, slowly she rose to her feet; her legs felt weak and trembly as she brushed a hand over her aching forehead, and held back tired tears.

All of a sudden it hit her hard, she did love Leeland. For now she saw how very much they were alike, him with his hate for his father who had denied him as a son. And her with her hatred for her mother, making me do crazy things, like sending off hateful letters and Christmas cards to sadden her life and never, never let her find peace. And Leeland in competition with his father, never knowing he'd won, and was better...and her in competition with her mother-but feeling that she had yet to prove herself better.

"Madame, I am going to tell you something Leeland might not know, and I didn't really know until today; I do love your son. Perhaps I always loved him, and just couldn't accept it."

She shook her head, then fired her words like bullets, "If you love him, why did you leave him? Answer me that! You left him because you found out he has a liking for young women? Fool! All men have yearnings for young women but still they go on loving their wives! If you let his desire for young flesh drive you away, you are crazy! Slap his face; kick his behind-tell him to leave those girls alone or you will divorce him! Say all of that, and he will be what you want. But when you say nothing, and act like you don't care, you tell him plainly you don't love him, or want him, or need him!”

“I'm not his mother, or a priest, or God," Caren said wearily, sick of all the passion she used. Backing toward the door, Caren tried to leave before saying, “I don't know if I can keep Leeland from younger women, but I'm willing to go back and try. I promise to do better. I'll be more understanding, and I'll let him know I love him so much, I can't abide the thought of him making love to anyone but me."

Madame came then to take Caren in her arms. She soothed, “Poor baby, if I have been hard on you, it was for your own good. You have to keep my son from destroying himself. When you save him, you save yourself, for I lied when I said you would be nothing without Leeland. He is the one who would be nothing without you! He has a death wish, always I've known it. He thinks he's not good enough to live on because his father could never convince him he was, and that was my fault too, as well as his father’s. Leeland waited for years and years for his father to see him as a son, worthy of being loved for himself. He waited equally as long for his father to say yes, you will be even a better dancer than I was, and I'm proud of what and who you are. But his father kept his silence. But you go back and tell Leeland his father did love him. To me he said it many times. Tell him too that his father was proud of him. Tell him, Caren. Go back and convince him of how much you need and love him. Tell him how sorry you are to have left him alone. Go quickly before he does something terrible to himself!" She begged before Caren left.

So it was time for her to say good-bye to Cassidy and William. Only this time she didn't have to bid adieu to Daniel.

He put his foot down, “No! I'm coming with you! I'm not letting you go back to a crazy man. When you've made your peace with him, and I know everything is alright only then will I leave," Daniel declared.

The plane set down at La Guardia around three. A hot, sultry day. Both Carena and Daniel were both tired.

"At this hour Leeland will be in the theater rehearsing. They'll use the rehearsals as a promotion film. There have to be a lot of rehearsals; we've never danced in this theater before and it's important to get the feel of the space you have to move in,” Caren explained to Daniel.

Daniel was lugging along Caren’s two heavy suitcases, while she carried his much lighter bag. She laughed and smiled his way, glad he was with her, though she knew Leeland would be furious.

"Now you stay in the background ... and don't let him even see you if everything goes alright. Really, Daniel, I'm sure he'll be glad to see me. He's not dangerous,” Caren reasoned.

“Sure," he said glumly.

They sauntered on into the darkened theater. The stage up ahead was very brightly lit. The TV cameras were in position, ready to shoot the warm-ups. The director, producer and a few others were lined up in the front-row seats.

The heat of the day was chased by the chill of the huge space so Daniel opened up one of Caren’s bags and spread a sweater about her shoulders after they both sat down near the aisle, midway back in the center section.

Automatically Caren lifted both her legs to stretch them on top of the seat just ahead. Though she shivered, the corps de ballet were sweating from the hot light. Caren looked for Leeland but didn't see him.

Just to think of Leeland though, was to bring him out of the wings, onto the stage in a series of whirling jetés. Looking so handsome.

"Wow!" whispered Daniel in Caren’s ear. "Sometimes I forget how sensational he is on stage. No wonder every ballet critic thinks he will be the star of this decade when he learns some discipline. Let it be soon ...and I mean you too, Caren."

She smiled, for she too needed discipline, "Yes," she said, "I too, of course."

No sooner had Leeland finished his solo performance than the woman that had replaced Caren, Loretta Price pirouetted out from the wings, wearing red. She was more beautiful than ever and she danced so extraordinarily well for a girl so tall.

That was, she danced well until Leeland came to partner her, and then everything went wrong. He reached for her waist and got her buttocks, then he had to quickly shift his hold, so she slipped and nearly fell and again he adjusted to save her.

A male dancer who let a ballerina fall would soon never have a partner to lift. They tried again the same jump, lift, and fall back, and this time it went almost as awkward, making Loretta seem ungainly, and Leeland unskilled.

Even Caren, sitting halfway down the row of seats, could hear her loud curse. "Damn you!" she screeched. "You make me look gauche-if you let me fall, I'll see you never dance again!"

"Cut!" called the director, getting to his feet and looking impatiently from one to the other.

The corps de ballet milled about, grumbling, throwing angry looks at the pair center stage that was wasting so much time. Obviously, from the sweaty, hot looks of all of them, this had been going on for some time, and badly.

"Laurent!" called the director, well known for having little patience for those who required two, or even more takes. "What the hell is wrong with your timing? I thought you said you knew this ballet. I can't think of one thing you've done right in the past three days."

"Me?" Leeland railed back. "It's not me... it's her-she jumps too soon!"

"Okay," the director said sarcastically, "it's always her fault and never yours." He tried to control his impatience, knowing Leeland would walk out in a second if criticized too much. "When is your wife going to be well enough to dance again?"

Loretta screamed out, "Hey, wait a minute! I came all the way from Los Angeles and now you're sounding as if you're going to replace me with Caren! I won't have it! I'm written into that contract now! I'll sue!"

"Miss Price," said the director smoothly, "you are the cover only—but while you are, let's attempt it again. Laurent, listen for your cue. Prince, make ready and pray to God this time it will be fit to show an audience who might expect better from professionals."

Caren smiled to hear she was only the cover. She had thought she was really written out. She found she perversely enjoyed watching Leeland make a fool out of himself and Loretta as well.

Yet, when the dancers on stage groaned, she groaned along with them, feeling their exhaustion, and despite herself she began to feel pity for Leeland who was diligently trying to balance Loretta.

Any second the director could call "take ten" and that's when Caren would make her move.

Up ahead, first row, Madame Ephron suddenly turned her wizened giraffe neck to crane Caren’s way, and those sharp little beady eyes saw her sitting tensely, watching like an eagle.

"Hey, you, Caren," she called with great enthusiasm, “Come,” she gestured, “sit by my side.”

"Excuse me a minute, Daniel," Caren whispered. “I've got to go up there and save Leeland before he ruins both our careers. I'll be alright. There's not much he can do with an audience is there?"

Once Caren was seated beside Madame Ephron, she hissed, "Sooo, you’re not so sick after all! Thank God for small favors. Your husband up there is ruining my reputation along with his and yours. I should have known better than to always let him partner you, so now he can dance with no one as well."

"Madame," Caren asked, "who arranged for Loretta to be my stand-in?”

"Your husband, my love," she whispered cruelly, “You let him get control, you were a fool to do that. He is impossible! He is a tempest, a devil, so unreasonable! Soon he will go mad, if he doesn't see your face or we will go mad. Now run fast and put on dance clothes and save me from extinction!"

It was only a matter of seconds before Caren had on a practice outfit and, as soon as she had her hair bound up and securely fastened in place, she strapped on her pointes. At the dressing room barre she warmed up quickly. Doing her pliés, and the rond de jambes to pump blood into each limb. Soon enough she was ready. Not a day passed where Caren didn't do her exercises for several hours.

In the darkened wings Caren hesitated. She was prepared, she thought, for almost anything for when Leeland saw her, what would he do? While she watched him on stage, suddenly from behind she was brutally shoved aside!

"You've been replaced," hissed Loretta. “So, get out and stay out! You had your chance and loused it up. Now Leeland is mine! You hear that? He's mine! I have slept in your bed, and used your makeup and worn your jewelry. I have taken your place in everything."

Caren wanted to ignore her and not believe anything she said. When the cue came for Giselle to go on, Loretta tried to hold her that's when Caren turned savagely upon her and pushed her so hard she fell. She blanched with pain, while Caren went on pointe and glided onto the stage, making her perfect little string of pearls.

Each tiny step could have been measured and proven to be of an exact distance. For now was the shy, young village girl, sweetly, sincerely falling in love with Loys. Others on stage gasped to see her. Relief lit up Leeland's dark eyes for an instant.

"Hi," he said coolly as she neared him, and fluttered her dark lashes to enchant him more.

"Why'd you come back? Your doctors kick you out? Sick of you already?" He asked.

"You are a nasty, inconsiderate brute, Leeland, to replace me with Loretta! You know I despise her!"

His back was to the lookers as he sneered wickedly, all the while keeping time, "Yeah, I know you hate her. That's why I wanted her."

He curled his beautiful red lips so they looked ugly, “Listen to this, dancing doll. Nobody runs out on me, especially my wife, and comes back and thinks she can still fit in my life. My love, my dearest heart, I don't want you now, I don't need you now, and you can go and play bitch to any man you want! Get the hell out of my life!"

"You don't mean that," Caren said, as they both performed perfectly, and no one called cut. How could they when they did everything so exquisitely right?

"You don't love me," he said bitterly. "You've never loved me. No matter what I did, or what I said, and now I don't give a damn! I gave you the best I had to give, and it wasn't enough. So, dear Caren I give you this!"

And with those sudden words, he broke the routine, jumped high into the air, to come down forcefully and directly onto her feet. All his weight, brought down like a battering ram to crush her toes.

Caren uttered some small cry of pain, then Leeland was whirling back to chuck her under the chin.

“Now, love, see who will dance Giselle with me. Certainly it won't be you, will it?" He hisses.

“Take ten!" bellowed the director, too late to save her.

Leeland gripped her shoulders and shook her like a rag doll. Caren stared at him rattle-eyed, expecting anything. Then suddenly he whirled away leaving her center stage, alone, on two damaged feet that hurt so badly she could have screamed. Instead, she sank to the floor and sat there staring at her rapidly swelling feet.

From out of the darkened auditorium Daniel came running to her assistance.

“Damn him to hell for doing this!" He cried, falling on his knees to take off her pointe shoes and examine her feet. Tenderly he tried to move her toes, but she cried out from the awful pain.

Then he picked her up easily and held her tight against him, "You'll be alright, Caren. I'll see that your toes heal properly. I fear a few are broken on each foot. You'll need an orthopedist,” he told her.

"Take Caren to our orthopedist," ordered Madame Ephron who teetered forward and stared at Caren’s darkening, enlarging feet. She peered more closely at Daniel, having seen him only a few times before.

“You’re Caren’s doctor boy who caused all this trouble?" she asked, making Caren blush. “Take her quick to the doctor. We have insurance. But that fool husband, this is it. I fire him!” She declared.

At the doctor of Caren’s feet were X-rayed disclosing three broken toes on her left foot, and one broken small toe on her right.

Thank God both her big toes were spared, or else she might never dance again!

An hour later Daniel was carrying her out of the doctor's office with a plaster cast drying on one foot that reached to her knee, while the small toe was only taped and left to heal without such protection.

The doctor's last words rung in her ears though, “You may, or you may not dance again, it all depends."

On what it depended, he didn't say.

So she asked Daniel.

“Sure," he said confidently, of course you'll dance again. Sometimes a doctor likes to be overly pessimistic so you can think how great he was when everything works out fine due to his special skill."

Clumsily he tried to support her while he used her key to open the door of the apartment Leeland and her shared. Then he carefully lifted her up again, carried her inside and kicked the door closed behind him. He tried to make her as comfortable as possible on one of the soft couches.

Caren had her eyes squeezed tightly together, trying to suppress the pain she felt at every move.

Daniel tenderly supported both legs so he could stuff pillows under and keep them elevated to reduce the swelling. Another fat pillow was carefully eased under her back and head and he never said one word not one word.

Because he was so silent, she opened her eyes and studied his face that loomed above her. He tried to look professional, detached, but he failed. He showed shock each time his eyes moved from one object to another.

Fearful Caren looked around and her eyes bulged and her mouth opened.

This room! The mess! Oh, God, it was awful!

Their apartment was a wreck! Every painting Leeland and her had so carefully selected was torn down from the walls, smashed on the floor. Even the two watercolors Daniel had painted especially for her, portraits with her in costume.

All the expensive trinkets they’d bought lay broken on the hearth, lamps were on the floor, the shades slashed to ribbons and the wire frames bent. Needlepoint pillows she'd made during the long tedious flights from here to there while on tour were ripped, destroyed! Houseplants had been dumped from their pots and left with roots exposed to die.

Two cloisonné vases that William had given as a wedding gift, gone too. Everything fine and costly, and very cherished, things they had planned to keep all their lives and leave to their children, all beyond restoration.

"Vandals," said Daniel softly, "Just vandals."

He smiled and kissed her forehead and squeezed her hand as tears came to her eyes. “Stay calm," he said, then he went to check the other three rooms, while she sank back on the pillows and sniffed back her sobs.

Oh, how he must hate her to do this!

Shortly after, Daniel was back with his expression very composed, in that same eye-of-the-hurricane way she'd seen a few times on his face.

"Caren," he began, settling cautiously down on the edge of the sofa and reaching for her hand, “I don't know what to think. All your clothes and shoes have been ruined. Your jewelry is scattered all over the bedroom floor, the chains ripped apart, the rings stepped on, bracelets hammered out of shape. It looks as if somebody set out deliberately to ruin all of your things and left Leeland's in perfect condition."

He gave her a baffled, troubled look, and maybe the tears she tried to hold back jumped from her eyes to his. With glistening blue eyes he extended his palm to show her the setting of a once exquisite diamond engagement ring, given to her by his brother, William.

The platinum band was now a crooked oval. The prongs had released their clasp on the clear and perfect two-carat diamond.

Sedatives had been shot into her arm so she couldn't feel the pain of her broken toes. She felt fuzzy and disoriented, and rather detached. Someone inside her was screaming, screaming hatred was near again-the wind was blowing, and when she closed her eyes.

"Leeland," she said weakly, "he must have done this. He must have come back and vented his rage on all my belongings. See the things left whole, they are things he chose for himself."

"Damn him to hell!" cried Daniel. “How many times has he vented his rage on you? How many black eyes—I've seen one-but how many others?"

"Please don't," Caren said sleepily, "He never hit me, that he didn't cry afterward, and he'd say he was sorry. Yes, so sorry, my sweetheart, my only love. I don't know what makes me act as I do when I love you so much,” she muttered.

"Caren," began Daniel tentatively, tucking the platinum band in his pocket, "Are you alright? You look close to fainting. I'll go in and straighten up the bed, so you can rest in that. Soon you'll fall asleep and forget all of this, and when you wake up, I'm taking you away. Don't cry for the clothes and things he gave you, for I'll give you better and more. As for this ring William gave you, I'll search around the bedroom until I find the diamond."

He looked, but he didn't find the diamond, and when she drifted into sleep, he carried her to the bed he'd made up with clean sheets. She was under a sheet and a thin blanket when she opened her eyes, and he was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her face.

Caren glanced toward the windows and saw it was getting dark. Any moment Leeland would come home, and find Daniel with her and there'd be hell to pay.

But she wanted him to stay. For always he gave her comfort when nothing else could. Always he was there when she needed him to do and say the right thing.

“You’ve made it Daniel. I haven’t yet. You should let me go,” Caren whispered and then added, “You've achieved your goal of being a doctor. But I'm still not a prima ballerina." she said this last part bitterly.

"Caren, don't belittle yourself. You will be a prima ballerina yet!” He said fervently. "You would have been a long time ago, if Leeland could control his fits of temper that makes every company manager afraid to sign the pair of you on. You get stuck in a minor company just because you won't leave him."

Caren sighed, wishing he hadn't said that. It was true enough Leeland’s fiery temper tantrums had scared off more than one offer that would have placed them in a more prestigious company.

“You've got to leave, Daniel. I don't want him to come home and find you here. He doesn't want you near me. And I can't leave him. In his own way he loves me and needs me. Without me to keep him steady he would be ten times more violent, and I do love him after all. If he struck out sometimes, he was just trying to make me see that. Now I do see,” Caren told him.

"See?" he cried. “You're not seeing! You’re letting pity for him rob you of good common sense! Look around you, Caren! Only a crazy man could have done this. I'm not leaving you alone to face a madman! I'm staying to protect you. Tell me what you could do if he decides to make you pay again for leaving him alone in Spain? Could you get up and run? No! I'm not leaving you here, unprotected, when he might come home drunk, or on drugs,” Daniel started.

“He doesn't use drugs!" Caren defended, protective of the good that was in Leeland, and for some reason, wanting to forget all that wasn't.

"He jumped on your toes, when you need those toes to dance on, so don't tell me you will have a sane man to deal with. You need to leave him,” Daniel insisted only to be rebuffed.

"Daniel, I'm going to have Leeland's baby. I went to a gynecologist while I was in town. It's the reason I stayed longer than I originally intended. Leeland and I are having a baby."

She could have slapped him from the way he moved backward. He sat up on the side of the bed and bowed his head into his hands. Then he sobbed, "Always you manage to defeat me, Caren! First William, my brother who I can’t even hate, then Leeland who I’ll never understand why you put up with, and now a baby."

There was a silence for a moment before he suddenly faced her, "Come away and let me be the father to that child! Leeland isn't fit!”

"Daniel I'm going to have the baby with Leeland,” Caren said with a firm resolution that surprised even herself, “I want Leeland's child for I do love him, Daniel, and I've failed him in so many ways. Failed him because you and William got in my eyes, and I didn't appreciate what I could have had in him. I should have been a better wife, and then he wouldn't have needed those girls. I…” Caren tried to continue before Daniel interrupted.

"You forgive him for breaking your toes?" he asked, astonished.

"He kept begging me to say I loved him, and I never would. I kept a deceptive parasol over my head, to keep dark doubts in my mind, and I refused to see anything that was noble and fine about him but his dancing. I didn't realize that to love me, even when I denied him, was noble and fine in itself. So, let me go, Daniel. Even if I never dance again, I'll have his child and he will go on to fame without me."

Daniel looked at her with deep sadness before standing up and leaving.

So Caren slept only to bolt awake at the sound of a telephone ringing.

Why did a telephone ringing in the dead of night always have such a threatening sound?

Caren sleepily reached for the receiver and muttered, "Hello?”

"Mrs. Leeland Laurent?"

Caren came awake a bit more, and rubbed at her eyes. "Yes, this is she."

She named a hospital on the other side of town, “Mrs.Laurent, would you please come as quickly as possible? If you can, have someone else drive you. Your husband was in an auto accident, and is even now in surgery. Bring with you his insurance papers, identification, and any medical history you have, Mrs. Laurent...are you there?"

But she wasn’t she was back to being a young child and hearing her father was dead in auto accident, and she instantly cried out, “Daniel!” Hoping her hadn’t left.

He was to her in a second coming from the other room, “I’m here,” he said, for he always was and would never truly leave her.

In that dim and lonely hour that comes before dawn, Daniel and Caren arrived at the hospital.

In one of those sterile waiting rooms they sat down to wait and find out if Leeland would survive the accident and the surgery.

Finally, around noon, after hours in the recovery room, they brought him down. They had him laid out on what they called a "fracture bed", a torturous looking device that strung up his right leg which wore a cast from his toes to his hip. His left arm was broken, and in a cast, and strung up in a peculiar way too. His pale face was lacerated and bruised. His lips, usually so full and red, were as pale as his skin. But all of that was nothing compared to his head.

Caren shivered to look. His head had been shaved and small holes drilled for metal calipers to be hooked in to pull his head up and backward. A leather collar lined with fleece was fastened about his neck. A broken neck! Plus a leg fracture, and a compound fracture of his forearm, was to say nothing of the internal injuries that had kept him on the operating table three hours.

Caren cried out, “Will he live?”

"He is on the critical list, Mrs. Laurent," they answered so calmly, "If he has other close relatives, we suggest you contact them."

Daniel made the call to Madame Milena, for Caren was deathly afraid he'd pass away any moment, and she might miss the only chance to tell him she loved him. And if that happened, she'd be cursed and haunted all through the rest of her life.

Days passed. Leeland flitted in and out of consciousness.

He stared at Caren with eyes lackluster, unfocused. He spoke but his voice came so thick, heavy and unintelligible she couldn't understand. She forgave him for all the little sins, and the big ones too, as you are apt to when death is around the corner.

She rented a room in the hospital next to his where she could catch naps, but she never had a full night's rest. She had to be there when he came to, where he could see and know, so she could plead with him to fight, to live, and, most of all, say all the words she'd so stingily kept from his ears.

"Leeland," she whispered, her voice hoarse from saying it so often, "Please don't die!"

Their dancing friends and musicians flocked to the hospital to offer what consolation they could. His room filled with flowers from hundreds of fans.

Madame Milena flew up from South Carolina and stalked into the room wearing a dreary black dress. She gazed down on the unconscious face of her only child without any expression of grief.

“Better he die now," she said flatly, “than to wake up and find himself a cripple for life.”

“How dare you say that?" Caren flared, ready to strike her, "He's alive-and he's not doomed. His spinal cord wasn't injured! He'll walk again, and dance again too!"

Then came the pity and disbelief to shimmer her jet eyes and then she was in tears. She who'd boasted she never cried, never showed grief, wept in Caren’s arms.

"Say it again, that he'll dance-oh, don't lie, he's got to dance again!"

Five horrible days came and went before Leeland could focus his eyes enough to really see. Unable to turn his head, he rolled his eyes Caren’s way.

"Hi."

"Hello, dreamer. I thought you were never going to wake up," Caren said.

He smiled, a thin ironic smile, "No such luck, Caren love."

His eyes flicked downward to his strung-up leg. "I'd rather be dead than like this."

Caren got up and went to his fracture bed that was made with two wide strips of rough canvas slipped over strong rods. It was a hard, unyielding bed to lie on, yet she stretched beside him very carefully, and curled her fingers into his tangle of remaining uncombed hair.

Her free hand stroked his chest, “Lee, you're not paralyzed. Your spinal cord was not severed, crushed, or even bruised. It's just in shock, so to speak."

He had an uninjured arm that could have reached to hold her, but it stayed straight at his side, "You're lying," he said bitterly, "I can't feel one damn thing from my waist down. Not your hand on my chest either. Now get the hell out of here! You don't love me! You wait until you think I'm ready to kick off, and then you come with your sweet words! I don't want or need your pity-so get the hell out, and stay out!"

Caren left his bed and reached for her purse, crying, even as he cried and stared at the ceiling.

“Damn you for wrecking our apartment!" Caren stormed when she could talk, "You tore up my clothes!" Caren rampaged, angry now, and wanting to slap his face that was already bruised and swollen, “Damn you for breaking all our beautiful things! You knew how painstakingly we chose all those lamps, the accessories that cost a fortune. You know we wanted to leave them as heirlooms for our children. Now we've got nothing left to leave anyone!”

He grinned, satisfied. “Yeah, nothing left for nobody,” he yawned, as if dismissing her, but she was unwilling to be dismissed, "Got no kids, thank God. Never gonna have any. You can get a divorce. Marry some son of a bitch and make his life miserable too."

"Leeland," Caren said with such heavy sadness, "Have I made your life miserable?"

He blinked, as if not wanting to answer that, but she asked him again, and again, until she forced him to say, "Not altogether miserable-we had a few moments."

"Only a few?"

"Well... maybe more than a few. But you don't have to stay on and take care of an invalid. Get the hell out while you can. I'm no good, you know that. I've been unfaithful to you time and again."

"If you are again, I'll cut your heart out!"

"Go 'way, Caren. I'm tired."

He sounded sleepy from the many sedatives they fed into him and shot into him, “Kids are not good for people like us anyway."

“People like us...?"

"Yeah, people like us."

"How are we different?”

He mockingly, sleepily laughed, bitterly too, "We're not real. We don't belong to the human race."

"What are we then?"

“Dancing dolls, that's all. Dancing fools, afraid to be real people and live in the real world. That's why we prefer fantasy. Didn't you know?" He asked.

"No, I didn't know. I always thought we were real,” Caren whispered.

"It wasn't me who ruined your things, it was Loretta. I watched, though."

Caren felt sick, scared he was telling the truth. Was she only a dancing doll? Couldn't she make her way in the real world, outside the theater? Wasn't she better at coping than her mother?

"Leeland ... I do love you, honest I do. I used to think I loved someone else, because it seemed so unnatural to go from one love to another. When I was a little girl, I used to believe love came only once in a lifetime, and that was the best kind. I thought once you loved one person, you never could love another. But I was wrong,” Caren tried.

"Get out and leave me alone. I don't want to hear what you've got to say, not now. Now I don't give a damn," Leeland told her.

Tears coursed down Caren’s face and dropped down on him. He closed his eyes and refused to see, or listen. She leaned to kiss his lips, and they stayed tight, hard, unresponding.

Next he spat, "Stop! You sicken me!"

"I love you, Leeland," she sobbed, “and I'm sorry if I realized it too late, and said it too late but don't let it be too late. I'm expecting your baby, the fourteenth in a long line of dancers, and that baby is a lot to live for, even if you don't love me anymore. Don't close your eyes and pretend not to hear, because you are going to be a father, whether or not you want to be."

He rolled his dark, shining eyes her way, and she saw why they shone, for they were full of tears.

Tears of self-pity, or tears of frustration, she didn't know.

But he spoke more kindly, and there was a tone of love in his voice, "I advise you to get rid of it, Caren. Fourteen is no luckier a number than thirteen."

She left his room to sleep on Daniel’s shoulder for a few hours. When she got up she walked to Leeland’s room to see he was asleep, deeply asleep. The intravenous tube that led to his arm ran under the sheet and into his vein.

But for some reason she fixed her eyes upon that bottle with the pale yellow liquid that seemed more water than anything else, so quickly it was being depleted.

She ran back to shake Daniel awake, "Daniel," she said, as he tried to pull himself together, “isn't that IV supposed to just trickle into his arm? It's running out very quickly,too quickly, I think."

Hardly were the words out of her mouth when Daniel was up and running toward Leeland's room.

Daniel only had to throw back the sheet to see the problem, the tube had been cut!

"Oh, God," sighed Daniel, "an air bubble must have reached his heart."

Caren stared at the shiny scissors held so loosely in Leeland’s slack right hand.

"He cut the tube himself," she whispered, "he cut the tube himself, and now he's dead, dead, dead.”

Daniel turned on the nurse, but Caren stopped him even in her grief, “It's all right," she said dully, "If he hadn't done it this way, it would have been another. I should have known and warned you. There was no life for him if he could never dance again. No life at all.”

Leeland was buried next to his father. On the headstone, Caren made sure Madame Milena agreed to the name she added:

Leeland Laurent Romanov, beloved husband of Caren, and thirteenth in a long line of Russian male ballet stars.

Maybe it was ostentatious and gave away her own failure to love him enough while he lived, but she had to let him have it the way he wanted or as she thought he wanted.

Daniel, William, Cassidy and her paused at the foot of his father’s grave too, and she bowed her head to show respect to Leelands father. Respect she should have given him too.

“Caren," said William when they were all seated in the long black limousine, "your room is still as it was, all yours. Come home and live with Cassidy and me until your baby is born. Daniel will be there too, doing his internship at the local Hospital."

Caren stared over at Daniel who was seated on the jumpseat, knowing he'd won a much better position in a very important hospital—and he was interning in a small, unimportant one.

“Duke is so far away, Caren," he said with his eyes avoiding hers. “It was bad enough traveling when I was in college and med school so if you don't mind, let me be somewhere near so I can be here the day your son or daughter arrives in the world."

Madame Milena jolted so her head almost struck the ceiling of the car, "You carry Leeland's child?" She cried. "Why didn't you tell me before? How wonderful!" She glowed, so the sadness dropped from her like a gloomy cloak. “Now Leeland's not dead at all, for he will father a son, who will be exactly like him!”

"It may be a girl, Madame," William said softly, while he reached for Caren’s hand causing Daniel to turn away slightly, “I know you long for a boy like your son, but I long for a little girl like Caren and Cassidy ...but if it's a boy, I won't object."

"Object?" cried Madame. "God in his infinite wisdom and mercy will send to Caren the exact duplicate of Leeland! And he will dance, and he will reach the fame that was waiting just around the corner for the son of my husband!"

That night as Caren sat on the porch, the door behind her opened and closed quietly. She didn't look to see who it was, for she knew. She was good at sensing people, even in the dark.

William sat in the chair next to hers, and rocked his chair in the same rhythm as she rocked.

"Caren," he said softly, "I hate to see you sitting there with that lost and drained expression. Don't think all the good things in your life have passed you by and nothing is left. You're still very young, very beautiful, and after your baby is born, you can quickly whip yourself back into shape, and dance until you feel you're ready to retire and teach."

She didn't turn her head. Dance again? How could she dance when Leeland lay in the ground? All she had was the baby. She would make the baby the center of her life. She would teach her child to dance, and he or she would reach the fame that should have been Leeland’s and hers. Everything that her mother failed to give her and her siblings she would bestow on her child.

Never would her child be neglected. When her child reached for her, she would be there. When her child cried out for Momma, he wouldn't have to make do with only an older sister. No, she’d be like her mother was when she was with her father. That was what hurt the most, that she could change from someone loving and kind into what she was, a monster. Never, never would she treat her child as her mother treated hers!

She had to be careful and not eat junk food; She had to drink plenty of milk, take vitamins, and think happy thoughts, not vengeful ones. Every day from now on she would play ballet music. Inside her, her baby would hear, and even before he or she was born a small living soul would be indoctrinated to the dance.

She smiled, thinking of all the pretty tutus she could buy for her little girl. She smiled even more to think of a boy like his father with dark blue eyes just like his.

Carailand Ryan Laurent would be his name. Carailand for both her and his father and Ryan for Daniel’s little brother who now filled her dreams, remembering the way Daniel described him.

Though she tried diligently to think only of the innocent child growing within her, still her thoughts would steal to her mother, filling her with hate, filling her with unwanted plans for revenge. For somehow she had caused Leeland’s death too.

Madame Milena came often to check on her condition,and filled her with authoritative advice.

“Now you keep up your practicing; play the ballet music to fill Leeland’s baby with love for beauty before he is born; inside you he'll know the dance is waiting for him."

She glanced down at Caren’s feet that had finally healed, “How do those toes feel now?"

"Fine," she answered dully, though they ached when it rained.

The long days of grief sped by more quickly because she had Leeland's baby, part of him to keep with her.

Soon Christmas was upon them, and she was so large she didn't feel she should show herself. Daniel insisted, along with William, that it would be good therapy to go shopping.

Caren bought an antique gold locket to send to Madame Ephron, and inside she put two small photos of Leeland and her, in their Romeo and Juliet costumes.

Shortly after Christmas her thank-you note arrived:

Dear Caren, my own love,

Yours is the best gift of all. I grieve for your beautiful dancing husband. I grieve for you most of all if you decide not to dance again just because you are to become a mother! Long ago you would have been a prima ballerina if your husband had shown less arrogance and more respect for those in authority. Keep in shape, do exercises and bring your baby with you. My poor son just had a baby himself, I pray he will be a dancer. Bring your darling child and they can run around together. We will all live together in my place until you find a new dancer to love. Life offers many chances, not just one. Come back.

Forever here for you,

Madame Ephron

Her note put a wistful smile on Caren’s face.

It was a cold February night when Caren felt her first contraction. She gasped from the sharp pain. She had known it would hurt, but not so much!

She glanced at the clock, two o’clock in the morning of Valentine's Day. Her baby would be born on what would have been her and Leeland’s sixth wedding anniversary!

"Leeland," she cried out, as if he could hear her, "you are about to become a father!"

She got up and dressed as speedily as she could before she crossed the hall to rap on William's door. He mumbled something in the way of a question.

“William," Caren called, "I think I just had my first contraction."

"Thank God!" he cried from the other side, instantly wide awake. "Are you all set to go?"

"Of course. I've been ready for a month."

"I'll call your doctor, then alert Daniel, you sit down and take it easy!"

"Would it be all right if I came in?" Caren asked.

He swung open the door, wearing only his trousers, "You're the calmest mother-to-be I've ever seen," he said as he helped her sit.

He raced next to swipe at his face with an electric razor, then he was running to put on a shirt and tie.

“Had any more contractions?" He asked.

It was on the tip of her tongue to say no, when another seized her. She doubled over, “Fifteen minutes since the last."

She gasped and he looked pale as he pulled on his jacket, then came to help her up,"Okay, I'll put you in the car first, then go for your suitcase. Keep calm, don't worry, this baby will have three doctors doing their very best..."

"To get in each other's way," Caren concluded.

"To see you have the best medical attention possible," he corrected.

He left a note for Cassidy for when she woke up, also telling her to call Madame Milena and put the tape they made for her.

It seemed forever before the hospital loomed up ahead. Under a protective canopy at the emergency entrance, a solitary intern paced restlessly back and forth. Daniel, who said "Thank God you're here! I was picturing all sorts of calamities," even as he assisted her out, while someone else rushed up with a wheelchair, and without any of the preliminaries other patients had to endure.

She was snug in bed in no time at all and gasping from another contraction.

Three hours later, her son was born, Daniel and William were there, both of them with tears in their eyes, but it was Daniel who picked up her son, still with the cord attached, messy and bloody. He put him upon her belly and held him there while another doctor did what he had to.

"Caren can you see him?" Daniel asked tears in his eyes.

“He's beautiful,” Caren breathed in awe, seeing all that light wavy hair, the perfect little red body. With a fierce anger so like his father's he waved his tiny fists and flailed his thin legs, screaming at all the indignities inflicted upon him and all the light that came so suddenly to shine in his eyes, and put him center stage, so to speak.

“His name is Carailand Ryan Laurent, but I'm going to call him Cary,” Caren whispered.

Both Daniel and William heard her thin whisper. She was so tired, so sleepy.

“Ryan?” William asked for the rest was understandable to him.

It wasn't Caren who had the strength to answer. It was Daniel who understood all of it.

“Carailand was for both of them, and she always did love Cary Grant movies. But he’s blonde and beautiful just like my brother Ryan was. I used to tell her about him all the time when she first came here,” he whispered with a small smile.

For a moment their eyes met and she smiled. How wonderful to be understood, and never have to explain.

#cary: musing #cary: story #caren: musing #danield: musing #harry: musing #anything in these story pieces is something cary knows happened #most of this writing comes from the book in which cary's character is largely based on with several details changed and parts rewritten #we worship cary's bad ass mother caren and amazing step father daniel in this house

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holidaywishes · 4 years

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It Had To Be You XLIV

Chapter Forty Four: I Choose You

Summary: Tyler wakes up the night after his Bachelor Party unable to remember a lot of the night and has to figure out what to tell you.

Warning: Secrecy mostly, which means a little bit of angst but not too much. Hopefully.

Author’s Note: I don’t have a lot going on this week (last week was full of birthday’s and stuff) so hopefully by Wednesday, these last six chapters will be out for everyone to read. I’m sorry if this one is either too short or too long -- I never know how long it’s gonna be until I start actually writing it -- but I hope you enjoy it either way!

Song Credit: I Choose You -- Sara Bareilles

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When you didn’t hear from Tyler the next morning, even after calling him yourself, you started to get a little worried after he texted you as drunk as he was. It was starting to make you wonder what he might have gotten into.

“Should I call again?” you asked Diana, who sat across from you sipping her Mimosa

“No,” she stated, “let him call you. He’s probably just hungover and is trying desperately to get out a bed. A 31 year old Tyler is not the same as a 28 year old Tyler.” She laughed and you nodded, raising your eyebrows in agreement.

“Do you think he did anything?” you asked, Diana and Lucy trading glances before rolling their eyes, “No right? He loves me, we’re getting married! He wants to get married. Right?”

“Of course he does,” Lucy assured, “stop stressing. He loves you, he didn’t do anything other than get drunk and give some strippers some dollar bills.” You nodded once in finality and looked through the Brunch menu before taking a sip of your Mimosa.

“You’re right, I’m just being paranoid.”

Tyler’s P.O.V.

When you woke up in the morning, half out of the bed, you could feel your body vibrating from your hangover. You looked at your phone to check the time, finding a missed call and voicemail from (Y/N), forcing you to groan as you stood up; another groan coming from the mattress as you attempted to rub the hangover from your head. Your hands stopped at your mouth when you noticed the sheets ruffling

“No, no,” you whispered to yourself, staying incredibly still, when you heard another groan, “no no no no. Shit.” You finally looked down at yourself, only to find that you were only in your boxers and there was another girl in your bed.

“Well good morning” she said when she finally cleared the sheets away from her face, showcasing a smile on her lips that made you nervous

“What are you doing here?”

“You don’t remember last night do you?”

“Nothing happened last night!” you shouted and she held up her hands in defense

“If you say so...” she said as she got out of the bed, putting on her clothes that were strewn across the floor. You dropped your head to your hands as the girl walked past you and through the house, you couldn’t believe you would do this to (Y/N) but there was so little of the night that you could actually remember that you tried to make yourself believe that nothing had happened. You picked up your phone to call her, but couldn’t get your fingers to cooperate.

“What happened last night?” you said when Jamie picked up the phone

“You got very drunk” he chirped

“I gathered that much”

“What’s the last thing you actually remember?”

“The strippers? There were strippers right? Dressed as cops?”

“That’s the last thing?”

“I think so. I assumed I did some embarrassing dancing”

“To say the least” Jamie interrupted and you rolled your eyes

“Just tell me what happened!”

“Alright Alright. Relax,” he sighed, “first thing you should probably know is that you got into it with Mike.” You finally took a look at yourself in the mirror, finding a bruise forming around your eye

“Shit,” you said as you examined the bruise, “about what?”

“(Y/N) mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“You both said a lot of crap that I’m pretty sure neither of you meant. But he said a lot of shit about (Y/N) that you didn’t particularly care for.”

“Fuck..” you sighed, “what do I do?”

“I don’t know?” he sneered, “call him? text him? I don’t know.”

“Fine. Whatever. What else happened?”

“If you’re talking about the girl who followed you to your room after the fight,” he started and you tensed your body at the mention, “then I have no idea. After the blow up, no one wanted to stick around so everyone left. Including me. I remember seeing her grab some ice and then run to catch up with you. But I wasn’t in that bedroom with you two.”

“I couldn’t have..” you tried, struggling to get the words out, “I mean.. I wouldn’t have..”

“I think you need to figure out what happened. And then you need to talk to (Y/N). You know, your fiancée.”

“Thanks for the help, Chubbs.” You said sarcastically, ending the call harshly. Your first thought was to check the room for ‘clues,’ not knowing what you even hoped to find, when you came across a piece of paper.

“This must be her” you said to yourself and dialed the number. When she picked up, you asked her to come back to the house to talk and she quickly agreed

“I was wondering how long it would take you” she said before ending the call. When she got back to the house, you brought her over to the dining room table and sat her down; rubbing your hands together stressfully, trying to figure out where to start. She caught your glance before letting out a long sigh

“Just ask me already” she laughed

“What is it you’re expecting me to ask?” you teased

“Ask and see if it’s what I was expecting..” you rolled your eyes at her response

“Look,” you sighed, “I’m having a hard time remember my Bachelor party last night. I’m just trying to put the pieces together.”

“Uh huh?”

“My god!” you huffed, “did we sleep together or not?”

“There it is,” she laughed, dropping her head before looking back at you, “No. we didn’t sleep together.” She admitted and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Go--”

“You were wayyyy too wasted. I couldn’t do that to you. I believe in consent. From both parties.” You furrowed your brow before shaking your head

“And I’m also.. you know...” you said, trying to get her to take the bait, “getting married.”

“Oh yeah. That.” she said casually, “honestly. If you had really wanted to get married to whoever this girl is, you would have told me to get out of your room as soon as you saw me there. Just my opinion.”

“You said it yourself. I was drunk, I wasn’t making rationa--” you started, stopping only when you started thinking about this morning, “if nothing happened between us, why did you sleep in my bed? Why were my clothes off? Why were your clothes off?”

“Oh, that..” she hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek

“Yeah that” you snapped

“I.. It..”

“What?!”

“He told me to!” she finally yelled and you moved back in surprise

“Who?”

“The guy you were fighting with...” she confessed, “he invited me there in the first place and he called me later that night. I guess to hook up, but when I told him I was with you and that you had passed out he told me to stay. And to make you think that you slept with me.”

“That fucking --”

“He seemed really upset,” she added, “like not mad and not vengeful. But like hurt...”

“So he decided to hurt me like this?” you argued

“He said that it would only hurt you if you would cheat on her, your fiancée,” she said, “otherwise, it wouldn’t have even been a thought in your head.” You thought about it for a second, trying to understand his side, but you couldn’t

“It doesn’t matter. This is what Mike does. He plays ‘pranks’ to get a rise out of people. It’s not funny. It’s childish. He needs to grow up. Text him and tell him that he needs to grow up.”

“No.” She stated, “I’m not your go-between. If you’re mad at him, you call him. I don’t need this shit in my life. I have finals in two weeks.” She stormed out of the house and left you with your thoughts for a second before your phone rang.

“Hello?” you answered

“Ty! Where have you been? I’ve been calling you all morning. I was getting worried.”

“I’m sorry. I was--” you stuttered, “cleaning up. There’s a huge mess here after last night.”

“Speaking of last night..”

“Mhm..” you hummed, feeling your heart jump in your chest

“You seemed pretty drunk in your texts before I let you go,” she started, “was everything okay?”

“Of course. I just... had a lot of fun” you lied

“You sure nothing happened?”

“Actually,” you started, hearing a shift in her voice, “Mike and I got into a fight. We were both really drunk but we both said some pretty shitty things to each other.”

“Are you two gonna be okay?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t think so...”

“Ty, I’m sorry. You should try talking to him. You guys have been friends for a really long time. One fight, when you were both drunk, shouldn’t end everything.”

“I’m not sure you’d say that if you knew everything that happened”

“Tyler. He’s your friend. One of your best friends.”

“You don’t even like him”

“So?” she questioned, a sharpness to her tone that you weren’t expecting, “There are friends of mine that you don’t like but I don’t just desert them. Not if I have friends that I’ve known forever. Not when I have history with them...”

“Sometimes history is better left.. in the past.” You said and the line was blank for a second

“It’s up to you, Ty. I think it’s dumb to throw away this friendship but you’re right. I don’t know everything that happened so it’s truly your choice.”

“You on your way back?”

“Yeah, I’m just about to board the plane now. I should be there in a couple of hours. But I’m gonna pick up the dogs on my way home.”

“Okay, see you soon. Love you”

“Love you too!” she chimed and you let her go so she could board the plane. You would be lying if you didn’t agree with her. Mike had been your friend for years and just to end that felt like a shitty thing to do but after everything he said about (Y/N) and how you knew he felt about her, it felt like an ultimatum if you wanted both of them in your life. At the same time, you couldn’t understand why you didn’t tell (Y/N) what Mike had said about her other than you didn’t want her to hate him more than she already did. More than anything, he couldn’t figure out why he didn’t tell her about the girl that Mike had set up to make you feel like you cheated. Especially, when you didn’t do anything.

It was clear to you when you got back to the house that Tyler hadn’t been cleaning all day like he claimed he was because there was still beer bottles and cans everywhere and half blown up balloons scattered over the floor. He didn’t greet you when you walked in but the dogs run through the mess to find him; the mess that you couldn’t help but start to clean up.

“Ty?” you called, continuing to pick up the garbage that littered the house, “are you here?”

“Hey babe!” he said, appearing from out of nowhere.

“So, you’ve been cleaning all day huh?” you joked

“I cleaned up a bit but then I took a break... that lasted longer than I thought it would.” He laughed, leaning down to pick up some of the garbage when you caught a glimpse of his eye

“OH MY GOD! TYLER!” you shouted, “what happened to your eye?!”

“Oh shit, right,” he scoffed, “I forgot about that. I told you Mike and I got into a fight last night”

“Yeah but I didn’t think you met like a physical fight,” you replied, “this looks bad. Does it hurt?”

“No, it’s fine. The hangover hurts more” he laughed

“What happened last night?”

“I told you”

“Obviously there’s something you’re not telling me. You got into a fist fight with one of your best friends when you were drunk. And you both said some stuff that you shouldn’t have.”

“Yeah...”

“What were the things Tyler?” you urged and you noticed him pull away from you slightly.

“I don’t know. I guess, just..” he stuttered and you furrowed your brow while searched for the right words, “I chose you.”

“You chose me?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, as if that would be enough but you shook your head in confusion, “I don’t think he wants me to get married. Actually, I know he doesn’t. He made that abundantly clear last night. So when I told him that I wanted to get married, and that I’m going to marry you, he freaked out.”

“Tyler...” you sighed, “I can’t be the reason why your friendship falls apart”

“What?”

“If you and Mike stop talking because of me, whether you say it or not, you’ll resent me. And then we’ll get divorced and then we’ll hate each other and then you’ll have lost your friend for nothing.”

“Calm down,” he laughed, “I could never hate you.” You smiled at him, holding his hand gently in yours

“Call him,” you pleaded, “please. For me?” He nodded, almost timidly and you squeezed his hand before placing a light kiss on his cheek; continuing to pick up the mess his friends had left behind.

#Tyler Seguin #Tyler Seguin fic #Tyler Seguin imagine #Tyler Seguin series #Dallas Stars #Dallas Stars fic #Dallas Stars Imagine #Dallas Stars series #NHL #nhl fic #nhl imagine #NHL series #masterlist #the other masterlist #It Had To Be You #It Had To Be You series

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somenewsarah · 5 years

Text

Betrothed pt 2

Part 1 here

Genre: little bit of angst, little bit of fluff

Word Count: 2.5k+

AN: Let me know if you guys want a part 3!

The whiskey falls from his lips and dribbles down his chin as he reclines himself in the living room. Your father hadn’t been the same since your mother died- so much that he joined the Death Eaters to repay the muggles for taking your mother from you.

You stare at him as you make your way through the hallway until he’s out of sight. He’s always drunk now. Always laying in that brown leather recliner, spilling whiskey and bourbon down the front of his once-nice button down work shirt. You aren’t even sure he goes to work anymore. He just drinks. He doesn’t even know you exist.

Draco stands in your room, waiting patiently for you.

“Everything alright, love?”

“Yeah, fine,” you say softly. You grab your trunk from under the bed and place it softly atop your sheets.

“Come on, we don’t have much time. Father’s waiting for us at the Manor,” Draco says. He carefully opens your wardrobe and helps you place your clothes inside. “I know things are tough right now, Y/N, but I promise you that you’ll get through it, and I’ll be here every step of the way.”

Malfoy Manor is just as grand as you’d always imagined it would be. Tall ceilings, pillars, marble floors and countertops- everything is sparkling clean and white and crisp.

“Wow,” the word escapes your lips before you can stop it. Draco smirks down at you.

“Like it? It’ll be ours someday, if you want it,” he says proudly. “Come, I’ll show you where you’ll be staying and take you on a house tour.”

Draco extends his hand and you take it at once, falling in line to his own expectations. He leads you up a marble staircase and to the right, then down a long hallway that you could easily get lost in. He stops right outside of a white door and opens it slowly, ushering you inside.

A king-sized mahogany bed sits in the middle of the room. The sheets are a deep charcoal and look silky to the touch. An empty wardrobe sits across the room, next to a marble fireplace.

“This is beautiful, Draco,” you smile. “Thank you for letting me stay.”

“Christmas wouldn’t have been the same without you, anyways,” he smiles, gazing down at you. He motions to two doors on the far-left side of the room. “The bathroom is right through there. It’s shared with my own, and this door leads to my bedroom. It’s always unlocked should you need me.”

His hand is at the small of your back, and his lips sweep across your hair as he makes his leave, closing the door behind him. Sighing softly, you sit down on the bed, rubbing your fingers across the satin sheets.

Christmas morning is awkward, to say the least. Narcissa Malfoy is as nice as can be expected, but Lucius doesn’t say one word throughout the day. Well, not until you prepare to take your leave for the evening portion of the Christmas holidays.

“My apologies, I must’ve heard you wrong,” he drawls. You look to Draco nervously, who doesn’t meet your gaze. “Surely you aren’t planning on spending the evening with the Weasleys, of all people.”

“Actually,” you start politely. “I am. The twins are good friends of mine, and I’m going for a visit for the holidays.”

“How are you to marry my son when you are too busy hanging around with riff-raff like the Weasleys,” he spits down at you.

“Lucius,” Narcissa starts. “The girl had a life before you went off making deals with people.”

“Indeed, but the deal has been made and that life is no more,” he sneers. “If you leave you will not be welcomed back.”

“Enough, Father,” Draco says. “I will accompany her, and we will be back before midnight.”

Christmas dinner is tense, to say the least. Harry and Hermione were also joining the family for dinner, and they sit across from you and Draco, picking at their food, staring at their plates. George sits to your left, chomping away at his steak and potatoes like nothing were wrong.

“You gonna eat that?” He asks, stabbing his fork through one of your potatoes.

“George Weasley, put that down! There’s plenty on this table, you don’t have to eat the poor girl’s food,” Mrs. Weasley screeches. “Sorry, dear. Please help yourself to more, there’s enough to go around.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. Draco and I appreciate you having us,” you smile. George smiles over at you, and you up at him.

“Happy Christmas, Y/N,” he says quietly, so only the two of you can hear.

“Happy Christmas, George.”

Standing in the hallway of the Burrow, you lean against the wall, laughing up at Fred and George as they show you their newest creation.

“How you two manage to bring such light in such difficult times, I may never know,” you giggle.

“Life is too short to not laugh all the time,” Fred bellows, throwing another Weasley Whacker into the air. You watch in astonishment as the little firework explodes in midair, throwing around red and blue sparks, illuminating your faces.

George watches your smile as you watch Weasley Whacker after Weasley Whacker, your eyes lighting up with the fireworks. “Fred, mate, could you give us a minute? I need to speak to Y/N.”

“Sure,” Fred grins. He wiggles his eyebrows at you before he disappears into his and Fred’s shared bedroom.

George leads you to the top row of the stairs and motions for you to sit next to him.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, don’t worry,” George smiles reassuringly. “I just wanted to know what was up with you and Malfoy. Doesn’t seem your type.”

“Oh, that,” your heart skips in your chest and you quickly hug your knees. “It’s a long and complicated story.”

George knocks his knee into yours. He leans forward, wrapping his own arms around his knees. “Give me the short version, then?”

“Short version,” you say, testing out the phrase. “Alright, well… After my mum was killed, Father made a deal with Lucius Malfoy. I’m to marry Draco after Hogwarts. Father thinks the Malfoys can give me a ‘prosperous life,’ to quote him.”

“That’s outrageous,” George murmurs, shaking his head. “You don’t have to go through with this.”

“I wish I could believe you, George.”

“Give me one good reason why you should,” he demands, now turning to face you completely.

“It’s not that simple,” you argue.

“But it is!”

“Because George,” you start, your hands shaking. “Because my mother’s last words to me were to take care of my father. And he thinks by setting this up for me, it’s him taking care of me. The least I can do is be cooperative.”

“I can understand being cooperative, but letting him ruin your life like this? It seems mental,” he says, shaking his head.

“I know how it seems,” you whisper, your eyes cast down. “But you don’t have to see him sitting in that chair every day, drinking himself to death.”

George takes your hands in his own, his gaze focused and intense.

“What if we show him that there’s another option?”

“What do you mean?”

“I can give you more than a prosperous life, Y/N, I can give you happiness, joy, a fulfilled life that you can look back on and be proud of,” he insists, his eyes searching your own.

Your heart pounds as you look up at him, searching his eyes for some kind of joke or prank but he’s serious. Your head swims as you consider your time with Draco over the past five months. Sure, sometimes he could be pompous and rude, but other times he could be incredibly sweet, charming, funny, and everything you could ever ask for in a man. There were also the nights that he’d sweep you up to his dorm and worship you for hours on end. He takes care of you in a way you didn’t know that you needed. Imagining life without him seems almost unbearable. Draco is it for you.

“George,” you start, pulling your hands away. You knew who you would choose if it came down to it, but you’re sure he wouldn’t like the answer. “Draco can give me those same things, and maybe even more. But it’s not about what either of you can give me, I do hope you know that. I love you, George, you’re like my best friend. I’ll never forgive myself if I ruin our friendship with something as fickle as empty promises and feelings.”

George pulls away from you, his lips parting, but before he can say anything, Draco appears at the bottom of the stairs, what feels like miles away from you and George.

“Darling, we must be getting back,” he says, holding his hand out to you. Sure, playing the part of the rich girl was something you never expected for yourself, but Draco made you whole when you didn’t even know you had pieces missing.

You lean over and kiss George on the cheek softly, then stand and meet Draco at the bottom of the stairs. He tucks you under his arm.

“Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Weasley,” you say politely, giving her a brief hug. “It was so wonderful. I think I’ll be full for all the days that come.”

“You’re more than welcome, sweetheart. You’re always invited to a Weasley family dinner,” she strokes your hair, and it makes you miss your own mother. Before your eyes can well with tears, Draco thanks her and Arthur, and bids everyone a goodnight.

Despite the blazing fire, your room is cold. There is an unmistakable chill that seeps down to your core and for some reason, no matter how wrapped up in your blankets you are, you cannot escape it.

You creep into Draco’s room from the attaching door in your own.

“Draco?” You whisper.

“Beds aren’t the same without you, either,” he whispers back.

A smile spreads across your face as you climb into bed with him, cuddling up to his chest. His fingers find your hair in the routine way that they do, and he strokes softly, kissing your forehead every now and then.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” you say after a stretch of silence.

“Of course, darling. I know how much the Weasleys mean to you,” he says, a hint of malice in his voice. “Thought I cannot fathom why.”

“Draco,” you warn.

“I know, I know,” he sighs, and you can’t help the giggle that penetrates the stillness of the room. He was trying and that was enough for you. “I thought I was quite pleasant tonight.”

“I thought you were, too.”

“I heard what George said to you,” he whispers so softly you questioned whether you heard him correctly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Any thoughts?”

Draco shrugs. “Maybe he’s right. You light up when you’re around him. Maybe you’d be better off, happier even, with him.”

“I think you’re wrong,” you whisper, pulling away from him. You sit up on your elbow to gaze down at him, your fingers wringing through the spattering of white blond hair on his chest.

“Why would you think that? We didn’t even know each other until after the funeral,” he says, avoiding your gaze.

“Because I’m at my happiest when I’m with you,” you whisper. It’s a simple sentence, but for Draco, it holds so much weight. He wraps his arm tighter around you and pulls you down to his chest once more, kissing your hair repeatedly.

The holidays go just as quickly as they came, and soon, you’re back at Hogwarts, avoiding most everyone but Luna and using all your free time to occupy Draco and help him with his task.

“I should’ve studied more over the holiday,” he snarls, wiping a hand down his face. It’d only been three days since you’d returned to school, and already his eyes were sunken in and dull. He’d grown more and more impatient as he tried and failed continuously to fix the vanishing cabinet.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You ask, sitting next to him in the common room. He’d surrounded himself with so many book you had to scoot piles over just to accompany him.

“No, it’s alright,” he mumbles, resting his forehead in his hand. “I’m gonna head up, it’s way too late for either of us to be awake. Besides, you don’t want to get caught sneaking about this time of night.”

“Don’t worry about me, Draco,” you laugh, tucking a stray hair away from his eyes. “Let me come up for a minute? Just to say goodnight?”

“I suppose I can accept that,” he teases, the color slowly coming back to his cheeks. He stands and holds out his hand, as he always does.

You walk behind him to his shared dormitory with Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise who were already asleep. You make yourself comfortable on Draco’s bed, watching him as he slowly unbuttons his shirt.

“Like what you see?” He grins as he loosens his tie. He tosses it at you and motions for you to be quiet.

“Careful there,” you grin.

He finishes removing his shirt and pants, and you thought you’d never grow tired of seeing his bare chest. He’s lean but strong, and his long arms are the perfect length to wrap fully around you. Draco crawls to you on the bed and collapses on your chest, sighing softly.

“This task is absolutely mental,” he whispers. “I don’t understand it or why it was assigned to me.”

“I know,” you hum, stroking his hair and holding him to you. “I think you’re so incredibly brave.”

“It’s either kill Dumbledore or He kills my parents,” he shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s fair. I’m being asked to choose between the two people who raised me and one of the only people who has ever believed in me.”

“It isn’t fair. That’s what makes it so awful.”

Draco is silent for a while; you even your breathing, finding a rhythm with your fingers in his hair. Soon, he’s snoring as softly as Blaise, and you scoot out from beneath him, trying your best to not wake him from his slumber.

Finally free, you cover his body with the comforter and tuck him in. You kiss his forehead softly and run your fingers through his hair one last time before retiring to your own room.

“Goodnight, Draco,” you whisper.

Despite his coming wrongdoings and the treacherous views of his family, you truly believe in your heart that Draco will be an amazing husband and will take care of you the same way you want to take care of him. After all, Draco is it for you.

Taglist:

@hecatemacbeth7

@accio-rogers

@nerd-domland

@mclfoybaby

@emoshawnall

#Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy smut #draco x oc #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fluff #Draco Malfoy x OC #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #Ron Weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #weasley family #weasley imagine #weasley fluff #weasley angst

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zankivich · 5 years

Text

Neighbors: Shawn x Plus-Size Reader: Epilogue Part 1

a/n: we back bitches! I just couldn’t let my babies go yet. I really wanted to see what a future could look like for them. I really wanted to allow them the room to grow and evolve and be deeper, more complex beings. Please let me know what you think. Like honestly. It would mean the world to me. I just wanna talk about them. I missed them. Ok bye.

Trigger Warnings: Weight issues. Trouble conceiving. Smut.

*5 years later*

You always thought that when the other shoe would drop you’d be in a little bit better of a position to handle it. Like at all even. But sometimes that’s not what you get. Sometimes you’re in a med gown with your feet up in sternups while someone is swabbing and poking away at your cervix because your body doesn’t work right. Sometimes that’s all you get.

You vaguely hear the doctor explain to you about the length of time the test would take, how relaxing could help things, that you shouldn’t get stressed out quite yet. It all sort of feels like you’ve got cotton in your ears though. Like she’s talking but you can’t hear and you don’t want to hear you just want to go to bed.

It doesn’t help that they lead you out to the waiting room and he’s sitting there just as nervous and smiley as ever. Somehow he’s gotten so good at keeping your spirits high that you don’t even know how he manages to make you smile in that moment. Really all you wanted to do was cry. You go to fill out the exit paperwork and he’s right there rubbing circles into your back soothingly. You really wanna cry.

“I called your assistant to let her know you wouldn’t be coming in. Figured we could spend the day together, aye?” He hummed against your temple.

You nod silently. Thank fucking god he’s there to drive you home too, because the second you leave that building your eyes glaze over. You can barely see.

He lets you hold his hand, lets you pretend that those aren’t tears spilling silently down your cheeks as you stare out the window.

It’d been a hell of a five years. From the moment Shawn went completely and totally public with your relationship to the moment you moved into his apartment. To the rest of the tour finishing out sort of perfectly. To the vacation to Portugal. To the meeting of his grandmother and Allyiah’s graduation. To this random night in Madeira when you missed a New Years Eve party to make love with the windows open and he had laid beside you and put a ring on your finger with some sappy ass question of allowing him to love you for the rest of your lives. Not marry you, just love you. Wild. To the house you bought together with the stainless steel kitchen and the island you’d always wanted. And then of course there was that day over a year ago when he’d given you the puppy dog face after making you cum before work and asked if he could put a whole ass child inside of you, which had landed you here.

You walked into the house and immediately crawled out of your pants and back into bed. And he’s there almost as fast. His fingers trace out the words, “ i love you” onto your back and he throws his leg over you to smother you the way that you needed. It doesn’t matter though. None of it matters. And his love for you only hurts you more in this moment. Because you don’t deserve it. Can’t return it equally the way the way he deserved.

“It doesn’t matter to me.” He murmured softly. “You gotta know that, y/n.”

You snort softly, tears soaking into your pillow as he lies to make you feel better.

“It’s all you wanted. It’s the only thing you’ve ever asked me for.” You sniffled.

“I--I know. But I’d rather just have you, healthy and happy. That’s the only thing in the world I want, my love. Please don’t be sad.”

“I’m not healthy. I’m morbidly obese and now my uterus doesn’t work because of it.”

The tears come a little harder then and you try to take a breath but it just sort of chokes you. So he rolls you over and settles all of his weight on top of you. His runs his thumb along your cheeks and down over your chin, lips pressing to your forehead.

“That’s not what they said. They just said they need to run more tests.”

“She said my weight was definitely a contributing factor.” You argued gently. “It’s the whole reason my periods weren’t regular growing up. My mom had the same problem.”

“And she had four kids. All your doctor said was that it could make it harder, not impossible. So let’s let them run the tests. I never in a million years want you to blame yourself for this. Either we’ll make a baby naturally or we can adopt or do a surrogate or any of the other million ways people have kids now. This is not a thing to add stress, sweetheart. I hate seeing you sad like this.”

You swallowed heavily and look hesitantly up at him from beneath your lashes.

“If you just would’ve married one of those skinny model types, you’d probably already have a kid by now though.”

His eyebrow furrows and you notice an emotion on his face that he rarely ever shows towards you. It’s anger. He slips off of you and pulls the covers back taking all of the warmth away with him

“No. No, we’re not doing this. I’m not even going to entertain a discussion where I shouldn’t be with woman I asked to spend the rest of her life with me because of something so insignificant. I’m not going to let you sit in this house all day and blame yourself for a body that I’m so incredibly in love with. Get up we’re going out.”

He tugs at your hands until you’re sitting up and then disappears into your closet.

“Where are we going?” You mumbled reaching for the tissues on the bedside table.

“We’re going to go spend the day together.” He huffed pulling out one of his favorite dresses of yours. “We are going to go out to lunch. We’re gonna go see a movie. We’re going to do whatever the hell we want. We’re just not going to sit here all day. Understand?”

He steps between your legs and holds your face in his hands and it really is the most soothing thing in the world. You don’t know how he does it. How he makes it all better. Or, how he puts up with you all the time. How even when he’s clearly irritated he’s looking at you like you’re his whole world. Because you actually, genuinely are.

“Look at me.” He said softly. “You’re everything to me. Everything. And that could never change, no matter what. So never look at me like it could, or should. I love you and you’re it. Tell me you understand that.”

“Understand. I love you.” You whispered.

He smiled down at you. “I love you too. More than anything in the world. Let’s go.”

It doesn’t fix it. Not at all. But it also doesn’t let you stew for the moment. It’s okay. For now.

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

His parents invite them over for dinner. It’s a known thing at this point that the struggle of getting pregnant is taking a toll on them. It definitely didn’t help that the press had gotten whiff of the Mendes’ trouble to conceive. She had only been harder on herself.. He’s afraid to touch her anymore if it means she’s only gonna think about whether her body will cooperate this time. He’s even more afraid to not touch her if it means she’s gonna spend a second thinking he’s not absolutely obsessed with her in every way. All he wants in the world is to make her happy, and he can’t help but think it’s his fault for ever bringing it up to begin with.

His dad pulls them both into a hug and his mum does the same. She’s in that jumpsuit he likes with the gold belt that makes him weak in the knees. There’s wine that’s been sitting in the freezer because they knew she was coming. He pours her a glass and grabs a beer for himself.

“Did I tell you how much I love this outfit on you?” He asked as he hands her her glass.

She smirks. “When I put it on in the house. And when we got in the car.”

His cheeks warm. “Sorry. I still mean it though. I think it’s my favorite. You’re beautiful.”

A giggle passes through her lips and she smiles at him over the rim of her glass.

“Look I know what tonight is about. And I know I’ve been...really difficult to be around lately.”

He shook his head. “Not at all. Not even remotely.”

“I don’t believe you. But, I just….I’m gonna try and do better. So, what do you say we have dinner. Maybe drink a little. Maybe we can have a night like the ones we used to have? Before all of this?”

“Sweetheart that sounds amazing. I’d love nothing more than that.”

He reaches in to kiss her and it’s like the first time. She still makes his fucking toes go numb. She makes his heart flutter and his stomach tighten. He’s so in love with her. He’s never not been in love with her. She digs her fingers in his hair and pulls just slightly and it still gets him going like he’s twenty-three again. And when his fingers find her thighs and she bites at his lip, it’s the closest he’s felt to her in months.

“Shit. I cannot pop a boner in my parent’s kitchen.” He groaned pulling away.

“Like physically incapable or like…?”

“Not funny. Let’s go eat dinner.”

Dinner starts out smooth. It’s catch up and y/n telling his mum how great the food is before they start exchanging recipes at the dinner table. And it’s better. She holds his hand. She tries to let go. He can tell she’s trying, but it’s different than it usually is. Y/n is never not trying. Lately she had been trying so hard that it was painful for him to watch. This time is different because this time it actually works. He can see that she’s not in her head as much and she’s not worrying about everything. It’s exactly what they need.

“So Shawn what’s going on music wise? You working on anything?”

It’s a loaded question. And of course his dad couldn’t have known. At first he put the album on hold to make a baby, and then he kept it on hold when y/n started having trouble so he could be there for her. Every now and again she could hear him argue with Andrew over the phone, or refuse another meeting with the label. It wasn’t that he wasn’t making music. He just didn’t want to do anything that might take him away from her. But somehow that makes her stressed too. Tonight instead of completely falling in on herself she tries to stay in the moment. She takes a bigger sip of her drink.

He slides his hand onto her knee and squeezes gently.

“I’m always working on something.” He chuckled. “Nothing concrete though. Just creating to create. Cause it makes me happy.”

He peers over at her in hopes that it’ll click for her. That he’s happy the way things are. That she doesn’t need to be anything other than what she already is for him.

She smiles and takes another gulp from her glass. But she doesn’t shy away so maybe it’s okay.

Until it isn’t. She finishes her glass before anyone else, and then goes to fix another when his parents start talking about aaliyah and what she’s up to.The final straw is when she gets up to try and help clear the table and she stumbles and drops a plate. His parents stare on with concern, and she’s giggling up a storm. She goes to try and pick up the pieces, but the last thing he needs is for her to cut herself on the glass, so he politely intrudes. She’s not hammered enough to get angry at him yet.

“Hey, honey? Leave it alright. I’ll clean it up. Why don’t you lie down on the couch for a little while until it’s time to go.”

She stares up at him eyes completely innocent in that way that wine does for her. It’s kind of adorable.

“Why? What did I do?”

He smiles. “Nothing. Nothing. You’re perfect. Just don’t want you to hurt yourself. We can leave in a little bit okay?”

“O--Okay.”

Her eyes already heavy before she sits on the couch. He hands her a blanket and knows that she’ll be out like a light. His parents hadn’t really brought them there for dinner anyway. He really was just there to get advice from the only people he knew could make it make sense.

“What’s bothering you kiddo?” His mum asks before he can even take a breath.

He sighed and let his shoulder drop.

“I just feel like I’ve messed everything up. And I can’t really see anyway out of it. She’s--She’s blaming herself for all of this, and I can’t figure out how to get her to stop.”

“Well what have the doctors said? Anything?” his dad asked.

He groaned. “Just that her weight is playing a role in her hormonal imbalance and it’s leading to issues with her fertility. But nothing about her being infertile. It’s just gonna be harder for her, I guess. And I don’t know how to make her believe that I would rather have a beautiful happy life than put her through anything like what these past few months have been for her.”

“That must be so hard for her.” His mum murmured laying her hand on his shoulder. “And hard for you too, sweetheart. Is she talking to someone about it by chance?”

“I try. I don’t think she wants to talk to me because she’s afraid of hurting me. She talks to some of her girlfriends I guess, but we don’t really have any friends with kids. And it’s not like she’s gonna call her mom up and talk to her about it.”

“That’s okay. You can only be there for her and offer as much support as she needs.When’s the last time you two just...went on vacation or got out of Toronto for a little while. Sometimes it’s the environment. Babies can be tricky things.” His mum shrugged.

“Tricky, aye? Was I tricky?”

His dad chuckled. “You sure were. You showed up without even bothering to tell us you were coming!”

“And look at all the good it’s caused.” He grinned.

“Nothing but good, sweetheart.” She smiled.

He peered back into the living room where his person was dead to the world, sleeping the sleep of the innocent. And his heart just felt full and safe.

“I’ll figure it out.” He promised himself. “I’ll figure it out.”

***

*y/n’s point of view*

You are in the middle of a meeting. A rather important meeting one might add. With like spreadsheets and projections and shit. You have a laser pointer for Christ’s sake! So when your assistant let’s your one and only dumbass enter into the conference room with nothing but a shit eating grin on his face and a suitcase, you are certainly at a loss for words. What in the hell?

“I--I...Shawn what are you doing here?” You blinked.

“Sorry ladies and gents I’ve kinda come to sweep you away. I already got the okay from your boss so….let’s go!”

“I’m sorry? I’m in the middle of a meeting babe.” You wave your arms around at the general meeting-ness of the room. “I can’t just leave.”

“Oh. Well that’s cool I guess. It’s just that I got a jet waiting for us, and although they technically can’t leave without us, I’d still like to be punctual. I’ll wait in your office.”

There’s a running joke about the jet. It’s not a joke at all actually. It’s extremely serious. He took you on a jet one time. When you had decided that the concept of marriage wasn’t nearly as important as just loving each other forever, you went on your “not-honeymoon”. On the flight to Italy, he ate you out in the bathroom right as take off happened. It was the best orgasm of your life. To this day every time he brought up that stupid ass jet, your thighs got tight and you got just a little wet. Bastard.

The rest of the presentation is a complete and total wash. Your dumbass is somewhere in your office waiting to whisk you away to God knows where and you’re sitting here talking about revenue? No thank you.

“Everyone have a lovely weekend. I will be back...whenever the hell he brings me back I suppose.” You sighed heading straight for the door.

He’s sitting at your desk with his legs propped up in those jeans that somehow had not changed size in five years with an ass that still made you wanna cry. Rude.

“What in the hell are you doing here?!”

He rolled his eyes. “Well it’s lovely to see you too dear. I’m doing great!”

“Don’t get snooty with me. You know that I’m happy you’re here, although you could have texted. Where are we going?”

“Coachella!” He exclaimed. “You and I are going to coachella. We are going to live our best lives in the most ridiculous, boogie ass, VIP style that you can imagine. We’re gonna take pictures in flower crowns. We’re gonna be surrounded by people half our age and it’s gonna be awesome.”

Coachella. It was something you’d talked about once upon a time ago. Back when what you had was still new and expanding and you were making plans for the future without any thought of what might come later. Something had always gotten in the way. The tour. An album. A movie project. You hadn’t talked about it in years.

“Coachella? What in the hell made you think of Coachella?”

He got out of your chair and wrapped his whole body around you in that way that made your body feel more firmly rooted to the ground. His arms were warm and firm and he nuzzled his nose into yours.

“I thought we might be missing what makes us, us lately? Let’s just go to Coachella. Let’s have a fun fucking time. You don’t need to worry about anything in the world. We can just be us again ya know?”

You frowned softly. “You don’t think we’ve been us lately?”

He sighed. “I think we’ve both been under a ton of pressure, obviously you more than me. I just wanna take you away for a little, baby. I just want you to have fun.”

“Look I know that I’ve been--”

“No. Don’t you understand? I don’t want you to apologize. I don’t need you to make excuses for me. I don’t want you to try and make anything better. I just want you to go to Coachella with me. I’ve already packed your suitcase. Please will you go with me?”

His eyes are set firm in that way that they often times get when something means a lot to him. He’s not giving in, and more than that you can tell it would hurt him if you tried to fight in. Your emotions are a little all over the place in regards to why he felt the need to do this. But honestly, what was the worst that could happen? You weren’t getting pregnant in Toronto. How the hell was California gonna make a difference?

“Okay, okay! I’ll go.”

“Yes!”

He kisses you until your breathless and your toes curl and you can’t remember anything other than kissing him ever. Asshole.

Sure enough he takes you a jet where your friends are already waiting for you. It’s Brian, Stu, Bryan, Connor, your friends Cynthia and Taylor, and...Priyanka. Priyanka had been very annoyed to find out that the friend she made had neglected to tell her when she was solving all her relationship problems that they were Shawn Mendes related. You managed to stay friends from halfway across the world. She had even made a visit to Canada once, and you and Shawn had visited her in Barcelona again. You were closer than close, especially for friends with such physical distance between the two of you. Shawn knew that. Of course he knew that.

After you’ve had enough screaming and squealing over your friends, you decide to actually board the plane. Shawn is always there and waiting with a mimosa and quite expertly rolled, but still fat as all hell, blunt.

“I should’ve married you.” You mumbled reaching for both.

Everyone gets comfy in their seats, and you’re enough passes into your blunt that Stu is making grabby hands for not sharing when Shawn begins to nuzzle into your neck. He knew how sensitive you were there, especially high. Ugh.

“Babe,” He whispered kissing at your throat. “Need you to come with me.”

You whined softly and took another hit.

“Mmm where are we going?”

“I wanna do the thing. Please let me do the thing.”

Your eyes pop open at what he’s implying, and you’re not sure if it’s more intoxicating or sobering. Oh you’d let him do the thing alright.

You practically throw your blunt at Stu before tugging Shawn back towards the bathroom. Giggles bubble up from your throat as he presses you into the sink that’s nicer and bigger than the one you had in your first apartment. You hadn’t felt like this in a while. Playful. Care-free. In the moment.

It feels good. It feels like maybe everything he’d been asking you to do for months. You don’t know if it’s the weed or the mimsoa, or if instead it’s that sheepish fucking smile he gives you when he goes to take your pants off and nearly trips in the small space. In the end it doesn’t matter. You feel yourself falling. Into complacency. Into calmness. Into an ecstasy that has your legs locked around his head once again the moment the plane lifts off. Coachella here you come. Literally.

***

“Americans and your festivals.” Priyanka sighed nestling a flower crown over her headscarf.

You snorted softly. “Still not American, Pri.”

“Yea, yea, you’re the kinder version. I know. What are you wearing to this hotbox?”

Your day one outfit is a white cotton dress that falls off your shoulders and brings attention to your collarbones. There’s a big floppy hat to keep the sun away and sneakers because who the fuck has time for heels? You felt like a fat Florence Welch or a woodland fairy. It was kind of adorable. The fact that Shawn had somehow managed to pack your suitcase to your liking was a standard that you had never thought to set, but it surely came in hand.

The second you step out he’s waiting for you in a floral button up left undone over a tanktop and those damn jeans.He’s got one of those little pens with the cannabis oil in them, and you’ve never loved him more then when he smiles wide and goofy at you as you jump into his arms. Sometimes in your most insecure of moments, you would imagine that look going away, or even dimming in the slightest. But, it never seemed to happen. In over six years together he seemed to only love you more. Wild.

“You look so pretty. Are you excited?” He hummed fingers curving under the swell of your ass beneath your dress.

You bit your lip and pressed a little firmer against him. “I’m excited for something.”

“Sweetheart we should probably at least make it to Coachella before we run off to hook up somewhere.”

You pouted, bottom lip jutting out. “Well who’s idea is that?”

“Weed really does make you horny, aye?” He chuckled. “I promise to keep you more than satisfied this weekend.”

“Yea?”

You licked your lips and made yourself busy with pressing kisses along his jaw and neck.

“You’re gonna be trouble this weekend.”

“You have no idea.”

Coachella is...hot. Mostly. You get the feeling that you’re not exactly experiencing it like a normal person, the second Shawn leads you by your hand past a roped gate. It reminds you of the time you snuck into the VIP section in college, except for now there’s not sneaking in. Your person just leads you right through the entrance. There are big tents set up with misting fans and bars and people in outfits that don’t look comfortable. You’re a pretty big group, but it matches the vast amount of entourages walking around. You think you spot Kime Kardashian in a diamond encrusted tank top, but then you spot hot dogs and those are more important.

In reality there are only five things you needed to experience at Coachella. Weed. Alcohol. Food. Sex. and most importantly Lizzo.

“So is this little wristband of yours gonna get me to the front?” You asked waving your wrist in Shawn’s face.

You were nursing a long island in cup that looked more like a bucket and a hot dog in the other. Your priorities were perfectly in order.

“Not quite. My face should do it. I made a call ahead of time. Lizzo knows we’ll be in the crowd.”

You nearly choked. “Don’t tell me that. I don’t need to know that. I just want to shake my ass in peace, Shawn.”

“And shake it you will, my love. Preferably on me, but I’m open to negotiating.”

You were so crossed at that point your soul felt cross-eyed.

“No negotiating needed. You wanna bend me over, you just say the word Mr. Mendes.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “You know I think that could definitely get me going. We should explore that at some point. Not in public. But we should explore it.”

“Boo. You’re so boring.” You snorted.

You go see one of the smaller acts where the crowd wasn’t large and no celebrities were there. Connor and Brian are on molly and jump into a mosh pit. Bryan and Stu start grinding to a techno beat immediately. Priyanka and the girls are jumping up and down in pleasure. It’s fun. It’s funner than maybe anything you’d ever done in your whole life. There’s something so freeing about being surrounded by people who are sweaty and drunk and just want to hear and feel the music. It’s incredible in every way. And you can’t get over the fact that he did it for you. That he plucked you out of your own head, out of everything that had been going on the past months for this. It spoke to the idea that maybe your happiness really was all that mattered to him. That as long as it was you and it was him, everything else would work itself out. You just had to get the two of you down. The rest would follow.

You’re sitting on a blanket between his too long legs. You flopped your hat on top of his head and stole the pen from him to take another hit. From where you’re lying he looks like the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. You fall a little deeper in love.

“Hi.” You murmured as he nodded his head to the music.

He smiled at you. “Hi. You feeling okay?”

“You’re so pretty.” You say instead. “The prettiest fucker I ever saw.”

“How high are you right now?” He asked caressing your jaw.

You shook your head softly and pouted.

“No. You’re pretty, honest! I’m so in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you, too. The love of my life, you are woman.”

“I wanna give you a baby so bad.” You sighed letting your head fall against his collarbones. “I never even thought I wanted to be a mom, ya know? Thought I’d live so happy on my own. But we’d be really fucking good at it.”

His arms were wrapped around you already and he intertwined his fingers against your stomach from behind

“We will be, baby.” He promised. “You can teach our baby to be a total bad ass, how to be strong and fearless and smart. And I’ll teach them out to play music, how to be stubborn. We can both teach them out to be stubborn. And we’ll love them more than anything. It will be perfect.”

“You think?” You grinned tilting your head up to look at him.

He peered down at you with your big ass hat on his head and suddenly the only thing that you could do was giggle your ass off. Definitely still high.

“Are you laughing at me?!”

You shook your head gasping for air. “No! No I’m not I just---that fucking hat, Shawn!”

This sends both of you into fits of laughter. Moment absolutely ruined.

***

“Hey…Everyone is heading to one of the house parties before we come back for Lizzo’s set.” Shawn murmured.

You were dehydrated and still drunk. Getting out of the sun sounded lovely.

“Okay.”

He frowned and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Yea. I was thinking you and I might head back to the house instead for a little while. You know...to relax.”

“Oh. Oh! Yes. Let’s do that.”

“Yea? I thought we could maybe try something, ya know new? Like the other stuff?”

Your eyes widened. “What the hell did you have in mind?”

The past five years had seen many an explorations in the bedroom for the two of you. You dead ass Louis and Clark’d that shit. But like without the slavery and the general white supremacy. Once you discovered you liked having your ass slapped, you found out that there were some other things you liked. You liked when he was a little rough with you, liked being pressed up against something and taken for all you were worth. You liked being restrained, not so much with actual restraints which had taken a handcuff situation, panic attack, and an accidental black eye that meant Shawn couldn’t leave the house for a week, to find out. No need to go back there. Shawn liked praise. Endless amounts of praise. Good news was you liked praising, and he liked punishing. What a life.

Your friends are not even remotely convinced when you tell them you’re gonna stop at the house for a nap. Bryan offers to ride back with you both to grab his fanny pack and Stu very loudly explains to him that you’re going back to fuck. He’s not wrong though. So you skip over towards your car happily with your person because you were too secure in your relationship to get skittish about sex anymore. You were a sexual creature and you weren’t afraid to hide it dammit!

“God I have wanted to touch you all day.” Shawn groaned. Pushing you against the first wall he can find the second the door is closed.

You giggled. “That’s what I’ve been saying! You wouldn’t listen though.”

“You wanted to have sex in a very public VIP tent.” He snorted. “I want you all to myself.”

“Well you got me. Come take care of me, aye?”

“Of course. Anything for you. Come here.”

Did you have a bedroom? Yes. Were you staying in a mansion that probably cost a shit ton? Accurate. But you were a simple girl, with simple needs. And sometimes? Sometimes you just wanted to be fucked on a very sturdy, very expensive, mahogany desk instead.

You reached for the belt buckle on his black jeans already trying to pull him closer than close, already wanting his body on yours.

“Here?” He asked a little surprised but still pressing kisses to your throat.

You moaned. “Now. Need it right now.”

“Fuck.”

You both pull apart from each other just long enough for you to rid yourself of your underwear and Shawn to get his jeans and briefs far enough down his thighs for movement. It’s maybe the most needy that either of you have ever been. You and Shawn thrived in foreplay. Sometimes spent whole hours in foreplay wihtout ever even getting to the sex part. When he shoves his way between your thighs, holding his tanktop up with his hand to spit on his dick as he made his way within you, something animalistic occurs. Your body practically convulses around him. It’s dirty and hot and fast and you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

“Holy fuck you’re so tight.” He groaned against your shoulder. “God, baby.”

“Harder! Just want it harder. Baby please.”

He’s got your thigh propped up on this desk and it’s just the perfect height to have him fucking into you with the stroke from the gods. Crossed y/n didn’t need much, she just kind of wanted to get railed in broad day light. What? Like it’s hard?

He finds a way to get your leg over his shoulder and you back hits the wall and he pushes so deep inside of you, you see stars. He’s rocking himself against that spot inside of you that only he could touch like that. Your back arched and you squeezed your eyes shut in complete and utter ecstasy.

“What’s the thing?!” You gasped fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Huh?!”

“The thing! What’s the thing you wanted to do I’m gonna fucking cum soon.” You whined.

“I read an article!” He panted hips still moving. “That choking makes the orgasm like more heightened. Don’t wanna hurt you. Just wanna make you feel good. Always.”

“That’s so hot. Now--do it now!”

“Just...hit me if it starts to hurt, okay?”

His fingers, long and roughly calloused, gripped experimentally at your throat. At first he’s just touching the skin, just familiarizing himself with what it could feel like. Meanwhile his hips are still slapping against the back of your thighs, the desk beginning to squeak and rattle on its feet. His grip tightens slightly and you start to feel the restriction. His other hand hand digs deep into the wood behind your back for leverage, and he takes you somewhere entirely new.

“Oh my god. I can feel your body fighting for it.” He grunted against your lips. “Shit!”

Your eyes roll entirely backwards and your legs come together in some weak attempt at a defense as your body just kind of explodes on his dick. Is it squirting? Is it just another orgasm? Is he ripping you apart from the inside? Who knows? Not you, that’s for damn sure. The last thing you’re even fully conscious for is your fingers grabbing at his waist to pull him desperately against you. Maybe he cums. Again. You’re not sure. By the time you come too, the entire world is lopsided, and you still can’t breathe.

“We’re gonna have to pay for that.” Shawn wheezed against your neck.

“Mmmm...what?”

“The desk, baby. The desk.”

You peer down at something that isn’t your person for the first time notice that the world had not gone lopsided. Instead some of the legs on the desk had just completely given up at being legs. Oh well.

“That’s hot.”

He chuckled. “Yea? Broken furniture get you going?”

“Mhm. You wanna try and break the bed too?”

“I just came in you not twenty seconds ago.” Shawn sighed running his thumb along your cheek. “But, you’re so fucking sexy. Yes. Yes let’s go.”

“Think you can still lift me?”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead just grabs you up and stumbles his way towards your room. Thank god for gyms and thank god for Coachella. What a hell of a woman.

****

September in Toronto was your favorite time of the year. The temperature dropped a little bit, all of the kids were back in school, just as the city was becoming it’s most beautiful. You thrived in September. And when you were at your happiest it tended to have really good effects on Shawn. He fed off whatever energy you put off, and he loved seeing you happy more than anything in the world. So when some asshole named Andrew decides that he’s going to take the love of your life away from you in PRIME apple picking season, excuse you for feeling like someone was trying to rain on your parade.

“Baby it is a three day trip. We can go apple picking the second I get off the plane.” Shawn assured you as you watched glumly while he packed his life away from you.

“It won’t be the same. The temperature on Saturday was going to be perfect. They have the adult hayrides with the spiked cider and everything.” You mumbled.

He dropped one of his shirts and came to crawl into bed with you, warm hands coming to cradle your face like always.

“And it will be just as perfect when I get back. Because I’ll be with you. It’s just a quick trip to New York to meet with the label. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You fist your fingers in his sweatshirt in a feeble attempt to keep him there with you.

“That’s not true. I always know it when you’re gone. Always.”

He sighed softly. “I know. It gets a little harder every year to be away from you too. But three days, and then I’m yours. We can pick apples and make our own cider and bake your famous apple crisp and watch movies. You can not go into work. It’ll be perfect, aye?”

You frown but he kisses at your cheeks and your lips until you smile for him. It’s so annoying.

“Besides by the time I get back you’ll be in your ovulating window. I’ll be back just in time.”

You had drastically shifted your approach post Coachella. Shawn stopped making appointments with the gynecologists and the fertility specialists. You’d had a really vulnerable and honest conversation that hurting yourselves mentally and emotionally wasn’t going to be the way you became parents. So the plan became to just take the pressure out of it. You still had sex during your ovulation period every month, amongst a lot of non-ovulation sex as well, and if after a year you got nothing than it would be time to look into alternative options.

You scrunch your face up as he presses more kisses against your neck.

“You track my ovulation?” You asked.

“Yes. It’s incredibly easy on this little app I have. Now don’t be sad anymore, please?”

Your fingers scratch at his scalp and he practically purs still.

“Fine.”

“I love you, don’t ‘fine’ me.”

“I love you too.”

Shawn heads off to the airport leaving you home in a big ass house by your lonesome. You get the fireplace going and set about making yourself something for dinner. Nothing feels off at all. It’s just a normal day. You have to decide whether to do stir fry or tacos, but that’s about it. You set up the rice cooker before hopping into the shower for a much needed jam session with one of your favorite playlists. You figure a deep conditioning might do you some good since your person isn’t even around to play with your hair tonight.

You’re at the island chopping onions when your eyes trail up to the calendar on the fridge. It held random dates, usually when Shawn had business to attend to, so that you weren’t in the dark. You peered at the calendar and just noticed your ovulation dates and your period listed in pink marker. Shawn had taken to putting them up there for his own memory. And mostly because you were god awful with dates, which in hindsight was very telling.

You peered back down at the cutting board as you diced your onion before a little bell went off in your tummy. Your eyes moved back up to the board as your hand kept moving on the cutting board. There wasn’t time to question anything as you sliced your finger like an amateur.

“Shit.” You hissed as your finger pooled with a little droplet of blood.

You headed straight for the sink, letting the water turn red for a few seconds as you cleaned your wound. It was the visual of the blood that convinced you to count backwards. Again you were shit at time so you had to do it twice. But sure e-fucking-nough you might just be the dumbest fucker alive.

You ran straight for your phone dialing up the only number you could think to call in times of crisis, food and everything completely forgotten.

“Oh thank God you called.” Stu whimpered. “The in-laws are here and if I have to listen to Betty tell me one more time that my fucking crudite is wrong I’m gonna fix her a crudi-taint and call it a day.”

“This is an emergency, bitch. Forget the crudite!”

*Forty-five minutes later*

“I got one of every color and kind! A gallon of apple juice and also a snickers bar because I am stressed and I don’t even have a uterus!”

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

He stopped at some really bougie ass boutique and bought them matching scarves on his way home. He thought it might be a good “honey I’m home, please don’t hate me” gift. The meeting with Andrew had been to discuss some soft releases the label was looking to him to put out. He had some friends who needed features and wanted him to get on them. It would be a build up to his first album in three years. Which meant he kind of needed to make an album. That was a problem for another day though. For now he just wanted to take his person apple picking.

“Babe?!” He called dropping his keys into the bowl and tugging his bag behind him. “I’m ready to pick apples!”

She’s not in the living room. Sometimes when he had to go away she would take to the couch instead of their bedroom in protest, but the blanket on the back of the couch is still folded. The dining room is immaculately clean, which throws him slightly for a loop. Then in the kitchen he comes across a massacre of treats. She’d really gone to town. There was a cake, brownies, and fudge at first glance. He peered into the freezer to see that she’d somehow found the time to make three different flavored ice-creams from scratch. Wild. He wasn’t concerned because she always did stress baking when he was away, even if this time was quite...intense.

“Honey we’re gonna have to start donating your stress baking! It’s gonna send us both to an early grave.”

He reached for a piece of fudge anyway and took to the stairs when his very lovely human neglected to meet him downstairs.

He finds her in their bathroom cleaning the tub. With a toothbrush.

“Y/n? What’s going on?”

Her head popped up, her eyes widening.

“You’re home.”

He nodded frowning at her. “I”m home. Come here.”

He reached for her hands, helping her off the floor. His arms snuck under her big t-shirt tracing at the soft skin of her hips. She was tense enough to burst, but she seemed to lean into his touch.

“What’s up? What’s going on with you?” He asked softly.

“Why would you think something’s going on? Nothing’s going on.” She lied.

“Since when do you clean the bathtub with a toothbrush? Or at all for that matter. I always clean the bathtub.”

“I don’t know. I just figured I’d get some stuff around the house done. No big deal.”

“Okay. And the bakery pop up shop you started in our kitchen?” He chuckled squeezing her tight. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? You know you can always talk to me.”

She sighed, her arms coming to wrap around him as well.

“I’m okay, honest. Guess I just got a little anxious with you being away is all. I’m good now. I promise.”

He nuzzled their noses together and kissed her for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Okay. Maybe some apple picking would help? I hear they have adult hayrides with spiked apple cider.”

She smiled for him finally. “Yea. That would help.”

His favorite y/n was always y/n in the fall. Her soft, cozy sweaters, boots, and those leggings that mapped her thighs out perfectly. She was so beautiful it hurt. When he wraps her new scarf around her neck for her and she shimmies her shoulders a little, his heart soares. God he loved her. He loved date nights, he loved spending time with his best friend, and he loved showing her off to the world. It was his favorite thing in the world to do.

She loves apple picking. And so they drive out there armed with baskets and bags galore. Without fail every year by the third or fourth week, she will be pissed off at how many apples he “let her buy”, as if he has a say in anything that is taking place. But, in the moment it’s the cutest shit ever. And he takes pictures of her leaning up into the trees to get the best choice. They feed each other apples and kiss under one of the trees. It’s sort of perfect.

He saw a family packing up their car as the sun began to set and the air got colder. He watched a mom lift her son up in the air and kiss and hold him close. It caused a painful squeeze in his chest, and he was thankful y/n wasn’t around to see them. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about family trips to the orchard. He had. He thought about chasing tiny legs through rows of trees, of stopping grabby fingers from digging gross apples out of the dirt. He knew y/n and him had had quite the different upbringings, but this was what he’d always wanted. But, he meant it wholeheartedly when he said he’d rather have her than anything else. He believed wholeheartedly that she was meant for him and he for her, that their energies had probably started as one once upon a time, and that he wasn't meant to be without her. Whatever his life was meant to look like, it had to revolve completely and totally around her. There was just a tiny, selfish part of him that would like to be able to have them both.

When the backseat is overloaded with apples, they walk hand in hand to the store they have set up. The sun sinks low in the sky and there’s a little folksy band playing by an open campfire. There are twinkly lights and tables set up all around. It’s kind of romantic as all hell. She smiles at him like she always has, like somehow he’s worth as much to her as she is to him. He’s so fucking in love with her, it’s insane.

“Do you want me to get us some of those hard ciders before the hayride?” He asked squeezing her fingers.

She shook her head. “Actually can I try one of the cider slushies instead? Wanna switch it up.”

“Of course. I’ll be right back.”

They climb into the hayride just like all the other couples. Toronto is home and it really feels like home because no one shoves a camera in his face when he’s trying to cuddle with his person. And that feels really important to him. Her privacy, her happiness. It’s all he cares for.

“You happy?” He asked squeezing his arm around her.

She nodded and tucked her face into his neck. “So happy. Love you, ya know.”

“I love you too. So much.You’re the light of life.”

“Stop it.” She giggled.

“No. Never. You’re everything.”

“Yea...You are too.”

They order chinese food on the way home. She takes a shower with him and lets him run body wash over the parts of her that he cherishes the most. They climb into bed together, soft and warm and sated. He finds himself hopeful that every day will be this way, that every night could find him so lucky.

“Shawn?” She whispered, her fingers tangling in his necklace.

“Yes, my love?”

“I gotta tell you something...Or I guess maybe show you something.”

Her fingers trembled against his throat, and he knew they were finally getting to what must have caused her to bake everything they had in their home.

“Okay.” He murmured calmly. “You can always share anything with me. You know that, right?”

“Yes.” She smiled. “Yes, I know.”

She leaned up out of bed and reached over to the nightstand on her side. She hid it behind her back and turned to him, the suspense slowly driving him insane.

“Baby, what is it?”

There are moments in life that you never forget. Moments that, on your deathbed you could recount with startling clarity, right down to the way the air felt. This was that moment for him. He remembered that her night shirt was black and white stripes. She was wearing black underwear that night with a lacy back. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she smelled like apples and cinnamon and lavender and smoke. Because even after a shower the campfire smell would stick around for days. Her eyes had a wicked glint to them. A happiness so vast and so deep that he wanted to cry just looking at her. And then she holds it out for him and it’s like his world explodes, or expands infinitely, because there it fucking is. Right there.

“But--what? Is….is it?...is it?” He mumbled like an idiot his heart picking up speed in his chest.

The glint turns to actual tears in her eyes and she nods softly at him.

“I took fifteen of them. And the doctor fit me in last minute to make sure. I’m a little over a month along.” She tells him.

“I’m--I’m gonna be a dad?” He whispered, his throat closing up. “You’re gonna be a mum?”

“I hate to burst your harry potter bubble, but our little bean is most certainly going to call me mom.” She giggled. “It’s real. I promise. I’m pregnant.”

And he just fucking falls apart. It’s the hardest he’s cried since he broke his ankle at age thirteen. And he has to keep blinking through every tear because he needs to see her, needs to never take his eyes off her again, because she’s everything. She’s giving him the greatest gift in the world. As if giving herself to him had not been too much, had not been more than he could ever deserve. She was going to create life with him, for him. She was going to be the mother to his baby.

He’s never hugged anyone in his life as hard as he hugs her then. Like tackles her down to the bed and squeezes the hell out of her. She laughs and they cry and they hug and they kiss. It’s the greatest happiest he’s ever known.

“ I love you so much.” He gasped. “We made a baby. We’re gonna have a baby.”

She nodded running her fingers through his head. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

There’s more laughter. There are a hell of a lot more tears. And he completely pulls her body into his own and refuses to let her go. Not that she’s asking. It’s his baby after all. His babies. Holy shit.

“There’s something I gotta do.” He whispered in her ear.

“Yea? What’s that?”

He crawled gently down her body nestling himself between her legs. The second he reaches for her t-shirt she giggles and squirms.

“Are you really gonna eat me out to celebrate me being pregnant?”

He stared up at her, mortified from between her legs.

“No! Oh my god, y/n. Our child can hear you! I simply came down here to kiss your belly and talk to my baby in there. Get your head out of the gutter.”

She rolled her eyes. “The baby doesn’t have ears yet jackass, but excuse me.”

“Don’t listen to her baby.” He grumbled rubbing his thumb into soothing circles along her belly button. “Daddy is gonna sing to you all the time. I’m gonna take such good care of you and mommy forever okay?”

She lets him talk to her belly for the rest of the night. It’s the most incredible thing he could ever ask for.

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thecrownedlioness-archive · 4 years

Text

Michael has several meetings that day to start scheduling out the day of the actual Apocalypse, which is a wildly complicated thing. It lasts well into the night, so they don't see each other.

Kitten wakes up the next morning excited to greet the day. She puts on her regular old denim shorts and her slouchy black shirt, and steps into her boots. Maybe she can spend the day just continuing to explore the building, to see if there are any departments she'd like to work in. She doesn’t want to just be arm-candy if she can help it!

But before she can even get out the door, there's a swift knock. She makes a confused face and goes to open it.

Two security guards are standing there. They look very unfriendly.

"Yeah?"

"Ms. Sanchez, we've been told to escort you to the board room immediately."

"What's the board room?"

"Please, come with us."

Kitten shrugs. It can only be Michael summoning her, so she follows willingly.

They take her to the elevator and, to her surprise, press the down button instead of up towards Michael’s office and executive suites. She shifts her weight uncomfortably, but says nothing; these guys don't look like they're in the mood to fall victim to her charms.

Finally, the elevator opens, and she finds herself in an extravagant underground portion of the Cooperative headquarters—the Cooperative headquarters itself, which she has never seen.

The security guards continue walking, and she follows with little clicks of her boots on the marble to a set of doors. When they open and let her inside, what Kitten sees nearly makes her urinate on herself in horror.

The doors close behind her and she's frozen to the spot.

Nearly three dozen people, dressed all in black, are sitting along a giant silver table. They are wearing silver masks, all of them. There is not a single human in that room that she'd be able to recognize, and they all turn to "stare" at her... at least that's what she thinks they're doing beneath their masks.

"Step forward, Ms. Sanchez," comes a voice from somewhere in the pack of wolves waiting to feast on her flesh.

She wrings her hands and does so, her golden eyes wide, in her denim shorts and her slouchy black shirt. She feels positively naked.

The underground headquarters is in a Neo-Gothic style, looking exactly how one would expect a secret society to look. Ancient, intimidating. One silver-masked hooded figure steps out from the pack, the designated spokesperson for this event. “Ms. Sanchez, we have heard rumors.”

"R-Rumors suck," is the first thing she blurts out.

The room is silent but she gets the feeling that a few are stifling laughter. “They do indeed. Would you help us to clear a few of them?”

"I'll do what I can!" she chirps, putting her hands behind her back so they won't see her winging them.

The spokesperson folded their hands together, “Perfect. A few of us are going to step forward and ask you questions. Please answer them to the best of your ability.” Their tone is condescending. “First—what is your relationship to Michael Langdon?”

She hesitates, then remembers exactly what Michael told her to say. Kitten lifts her chin. "I am with the King."

A few turn to each other to murmur. “With? Could you elaborate on that?”

She hesitates. She'll have to be clever here. "No."

"And why not, Ms. Sanchez? Is the nature of your relationship to Mr. Langdon shameful?”

She narrows her eyes, but she's trembling anxiously. "No. It's just that..." Kitten chews the inside of her cheek. "... we're together. I can't be any clearer."

They nod, “I see. Let’s move on then.” Another steps from the crowd, as if they are going to name each one of her sins. Though they won’t be as kind as Michael.

“Before you came here, were you either a stripper, prostitute? And bear in mind, I mean: did you take money for sex either for yourself or others?”

Kitten thinks hard about the question, tries to figure out any way out of it. But every ounce of her street-smart cleverness is no where near the capacity of their brutal, (literally) evil intelligence and ruthlessness. "N-Not usually money. Favors sometimes. Goods sometimes. Alliances..." She realizes she might be digging herself a deeper hole in trying to hedge. "Yes."

“Thank you.” It’s said with the slightest hint of disgust.

The next comes forward. “How long have you been a devoted Satanist? What work have you done in his infernal name?”

Kitten hesitates again. It's obvious to them that she's trying to figure out how to deflect, but the way they're asking their questions makes it impossible. "I'm not a devoted Satanist and if I'm honest I ain't got the slightest clue what it means to be one. I believe in Michael Langdon and I know how to say Ave Satanas. I did figure out the other day that nema is just amen backwards and to be honest I think that's a little hokey but that's y'all's business."

“I see.”

Another. “Is your relationship to Mr. Langdon sexual in nature and have you received or been offered anything because of it?”

"Why? Does Mr. Langdon seem like he needs a prostitute?"

The retort seems to offend everyone in the room. “Answer the question, Ms. Sanchez.”

She thinks about his offer to buy her new clothes so she can fit in better around here and swallows hard, getting confused and panicked. "Y-Yes to both?"

“Is Mr. Langdon aware of your past?” The implication being: if he doesn’t know, how disgusted would he be to find out? If he does know, what possessed him to choose you?

"He reads minds," she answers dryly.

“What makes you qualified to be here?”

"Because Mr. Langdon says so."

“Why does he say so? In what way have you proven your worthiness as the rest of us had to do? Or was it your sexual relationship that sweetened the deal?”

"I didn't spend millions paying my way in like all y’all, if that's what you're asking," she snaps.

“It’s not and you’re not so stupid to think it is.”

"He... he's never really said why. You'll have to ask him that."

Another steps out. Her sins are growing as her judges step forward. “Why should you be with Michael Langdon?”

"He's with me for the same reason anyone is with anyone. Because that's what he wants. I ain’t gonna speak for him.”

“Let’s switch gears.” Another member joins the group at the front. “Was your precious employer a drug-lord and kingpin of Miami and were you also sexually involved with him?”

She can't help but tremble in fear. Not for herself. For Michael. They'll all know how unworthy and disgusting she is and it'll reflect poorly on him for choosing her. "Yes."

“As I thought. You seem to enjoy putting yourself in the beds of men in power. Was your father also a kingpin... and were you sexually involved with him?”

Kitten wants to vomit, shaking her head, the panic setting in. "It... it wasn't like that!"

“You didn’t have sex with your father?”

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes, but she tries to keep the weakness out of her voice. "I did, but—"

“Your father hired many of his sons, did he not? Did you have sex with your half-brothers?”

"I... It's... I didn't... you don't understand!" She sways on her feet, her face pale as a sheet.

“I think we understand perfectly well, Ms. Sanchez,” the spokesperson says, “We understand your type.”

"And what type is that?" she asks, wishing like hell she had anything to lean on, to physically hold onto that might keep her from crumbling to the floor.

“A junkie whore,” one of them spits venomously. They’ve all gathered against her.

If she glanced behind them, she’d see a hint of golden hair suddenly appear among the sea of black.

“One last question,” Michael says, causing them all to gasp and stiffen, or back away from him entirely. The atmosphere is ominous. “Why wasn’t I invited to this party?” It’s obvious they chose a time when they thought he wasn’t going to be around for this nonsense.

"Sir," one of them says, pointing a condemning finger at her as she stands there about to be sick with humiliation. "This... I hesitate to even say woman... isn't worthy to be here, much less to be with the Antichrist."

"Do you know anything about her?” another says. “Have you even read her file?"

"Sir... if it's female company you need, there are many devoted Satanist women who would be honored by the opportunity to serve you. But resorting to a prostitute—”

Michael lifts his hand, poised in a flicking motion, his face indicating he’d have no issue killing them right then.

Everyone falls deadly silent, except for Kitten, who is sniffling pitifully.

He slowly puts his hand down and begins walking towards her, the crowd parting as if even touching him would kill them. He reaches up and cups her tearful face, his blue eyes kind and loving.

She blinks, and the tears that had been clinging to her lids finally streak down her smooth cheeks. Her golden eyes shimmer with fear and sadness. "I tried. I’m sorry."

He kisses her forehead, “You passed your tests a long time ago, my only. They’ve done nothing.” He puts his hands back behind his back, “Could you lift one of your hands for me?”

She slowly does as he asks, fingers shaking.

He turns back to the Cooperative, “Do all of you see her hand?” It’s not rhetorical.

"Yes, sir," they all quietly answer, practically in unison from behind their masks.

“Good. It is stained with the blood of hundreds of men. The difference in our ability to kill lies not in talent or ferocity—but in fractions of seconds.” He starts to prowl around them.

Kitten does not lower her hand. The Cooperative members glance at each other and then at her slight, trembling form incredulously.

“Do you require proof?” He demands, “Bring the strongest man from the Sanctuary and she will decimate him,” he stops and stares down one of the members, “Or would you like to volunteer yourself?”

None of them do, not even the young men with enough money for boxing and wrestling and fencing lessons in their free time—rich bastards—afraid that he will blow their heads up during the fight to make a point. It's not her they're afraid of. It's still him.

“I didn’t think so. But I think I’ll still make my point.” He looks at Kitten, “Choose one of them and break their wrist.”

Kitten's tearful eyes clear up and flash dangerously. "Which one of them called me a junkie whore?"

He looks over the crowd. “Amelia Harper.”

The woman begins to tremble, but walks forward anyway. “Please, Your Majesty, I was only thinking of you! You deserve someone better!”

“I defy you to name one better than her,” he says, “Kitten.”

Kitten steps over to the woman calmly. She reaches up with a speed no human eye could follow and rips off her silver mask, revealing her face, a pretty blonde wincing in shock that this whore would have the audacity—

"I'm not sorry," Kitten snarls.

She lashes out again, snatching the woman by her wrist and spinning around, twirling her at the same time. The redhead reaches back and grabs her by the back of her neck, and uses the momentum of both their bodies to flip her over her back and slam her right down onto the floor, hard enough to knock the wind out of her.

The blonde lays there, shocked and gasping, and as an afterthought, Kitten reaches out and takes the woman's hand, turning it on its side and giving her whole arm a very precise, simple flick. There's a loud crack, and Amelia wails, grabbing her wrist once Kitten tosses her arm back. The Cooperative stands there, stunned.

Michael smiles. “I have deemed her worthy because she is worthy. If you have doubts, bring them to me yourself. Don’t hide behind your masks,” he offers his hand to Kitten, stepping over Amelia’s still whimpering form.

Kitten takes his hand, looking out over the little assembly. She knows this isn't over. They'll only despise her more after this, and see her as even more of a threat; they'll spread rumors that the Antichrist is affectionate towards an incest-loving prostitute. But this first altercation is over, and it's unclear who won.

“Return to your duties, ladies and gentlemen. You’ve wasted enough time.” He leads her out of the room, back into the hallway and towards the elevator.

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themaskedwriter · 5 years

Text

Never Gonna Give You Up

Pairing: Peter Parker x Teen!Reader

Word Count: 1979

Summary: There’s a prank war going on that has to do with a certain song, but no one is owning up to it. The only people amused are Peter and his s/o that gave him the idea. Then Peter decides to turn on you, but you don’t really mind.

Warnings: Rick Astley, if that counts

A/N: I love prankster Pete, it’s just so wholesome

Clues: The color red on nearly any character is one of my weaknesses, I’m a Pisces and astrology is one of my many hobbies, and I call my hometown “yeehaw territory”

————-

“We’re no strangers to love

You know the rules and so do I

A full commitment’s what I’m thinking of

You wouldn’t get this from any other guy”

Tony was confused. He did not remember adding the Rick Astley classic to his hard rock playlist, or any other playlist for that matter. But it was still being heard by friend and for during a raid on a HYDRA base, completely baffling everyone there.

All he wanted to do was kick ass and listen to AC/DC while he did so. Was that too much to ask? Apparently.

No matter what he did, what song he tried to skip to, the command was overridden and that cursed song continued to play. He couldn’t focus on fixing his playlist mid-battle, so he just worked around it and planned very satisfying revenge for whoever did this.

————-

Peter showed you some of the audio from the previous mission, Tony fumbling and cursing when his audio wasn’t cooperating and the rest of the team laughing or groaning in shared annoyance.

By the end of the audio, you both were rolling around on the bottom bunk of his bed in hysterical laughter. You had brought the idea up about using the song-that-became-a-meme to your boyfriend during chemistry class. Needless to say, it yielded terrific results. “Babe, that was absolutely genius!”

“Come on, you know you did the heavy lifting. Hacking into the Iron Man suit? That is absolutely insane!”

Peter’s smile took over his whole face as he let himself feel a little bit of pride for the accomplishment. Maybe it was time to step it up a notch. It was to impress you, after all…

————-

During target practice the next day, Clint’s day had started normally. He woke up a good two hours after everyone else and drank a pot of coffee, nothing unusual.

His bow and quiver were still safely stored in the weapons vault and they looked completely untampered with. Extending an invite to Nat and Bucky, the trio headed to the indoor shooting range.

Headphones on. Targets ready. Arrow notched. Arm pulled back. Deep breath in.

Fwoosh!

Thud!

“Never gonna give you up

Never gonna let you down

Never gonna run around

And desert you!”

“Clint, what the-”

“Turn it off, man!”

“I don’t know what’s happening!”

Clint has no clue why his arrow sang when it hit the target. Maybe it was a dud or something since he knew that he didn’t add that option to his arrows. An interesting dud, but a dud nonetheless.

“What do we do?!”

“Try shooting another arrow at it!”

Fwoosh!

Thud!

“Never gonna make you cry

Never gonna say goodbye

Never gonna tell a lie

And hurt you!”

“It’s happening again!”

“No shit!”

“Try another one!”

Before Clint could fire another arrow at the target, Nat snatched the bow from his hands. “For all we know, every single one of these arrows sing! No one is firing anything!” The redhead jumps over the barrier and to Clint’s target, promptly yanking the arrows out of the center of the target and snapping them in two.

The audio is distorted for a few seconds before crackling out, a couple sparks coming from the bugged arrows.

“That was an adventure. Who wants lunch?” Clint offers, giving up on target practice for the day.

“We literally just ate breakfast two hours ago, how are you hungry?” Nat raised an eyebrow at her friend.

“Doesn’t matter, let’s eat.”

————-

Since becoming an Avenger (kinda), Peter had been given his own lab that was connected to Bruce and Tony’s in case something went wrong. In this lab he had access to both Karen and FRIDAY, the AI’s being extremely useful to the teen for various reasons.

Sometimes he asked about certain formulas or the whereabouts of his mentor(s), but today he asked FRIDAY to show him the video feed from the shooting range.

You were perched on one of Peter’s worktables, legs dangling off the edge. There was a bowl of popcorn at the ready, just waiting for the show. Peter sat in the chair next to you and leaned his head against your leg, one hand rubbing it affectionately.

You both disregarded the small talk coming from the trio in favor of the reason you were watching in the first place: the latest prank.

At first, you both succeeded in keeping your laughter at an acceptable volume. The key words were “at first” because when Bucky told Clint to shoot another arrow at the first arrow, Peter lost it. The thing about Peter’s laughter was that it was contagious, and his laughter caused you to fall apart not far behind.

“Pete! Y/N! What in the world-” At the sound of the region’s voice in the lab, Peter hastily closed the video feed, hoping Tony didn’t realize what was going on.

“Nothing, Mr. Stark! We’re not doing anything! Just, uh…”

“Watching cat videos! You should have seen Snuggles when his claws got stuck to the curtain! Comedy gold!”

Tony gave the two of you an incredulous look. He didn’t know what you were up to, but he knew you guys weren’t laughing that hard at the demise of Snuggles. “Right… just keep it down a bit, will ya? Bruce dropped a beaker of chlorine trifluoride and now we have a new window straight down into the gym.” Tony left the lab as quickly as he arrived, leaving you be.

Once he was gone, Peter gave you a look that said “how did you think of that on the spot?!” because your boyfriend is literally the worst liar you have ever met.

You shot him a wink as you turned the video feed back on, not failing to notice how he shifts closer to you and wraps his arms around your leg, arms resting on the top of your foot. It took you a little while to get used to your boyfriend’s cuddly nature, seeing as he is more than willing to have any kind of physical contact, no matter how unconventional, at any given time.

————-

Neither of you kept track of how many times you played the footage over, but it was indeed more than a dozen.

But during about the sixth repeat, your boyfriend had an idea all his own, and decided to enlist the help of his mentor. He had been asking you for help with the elaborate pranks in your previous endeavors, but this was an idea that you couldn’t help him bring to life.

————-

“So why are you doing this song? Any… special reason for it?”

Tony was glad to help Pete with his plan, but the fact the teen had chosen this song made him realize two things: one, you and Peter were the culprits behind the hacking of his suit as well as the mods on Clint’s arrows; and two, Peter was completely and utterly in love with you, whether the kid knew it or not.

Peter’s cheeks tinted at the question, not wanting to give the whole truth but also not wanting to expose the both of you. So he settled for a middle ground and hoped that Tony didn’t completely see through it. “It’s a song that means a lot to both of us, and it’s also a promise of sorts.”

Tony could tell that he was a bit reserved about telling much more and so the tycoon let it drop, favoring to work in silence (well, almost silence if you count the Rick Astley hit playing occasionally).

————-

Friday night, and you were all alone. Everyone that was normally at home with you had something better to occupy their time, leaving you to your own devices. Peter was out in the city patrolling, Ned was with his parents at some sort of family get-together for the weekend out of state, and MJ had found a way to some protest upstate.

Right when you get home from school that afternoon, you began to marathon the latest season of GLOW with junk food on standby. This was one of the only shows you didn’t have a binging partner with, so there was no risk of offending any of your friends about watching ahead.

Just as the third episode was starting to get good, there was a thud against your bedroom window. You found that quite peculiar since you lived on the top floor of a Queens brownstone, so you decide to investigate.

Resting your laptop beside you, you move aside your curtains and try to see by the streetlamps whether or not there was an animal on the windowsill. Seeing nothing, you head back to your bed. Right when you pick up your laptop, you hear it again.

Of course.

Groaning as you set your laptop back down on the bed, you open your window once again and this time, you take a better look at your surroundings. You looked beside your windows and found nothing, but when you looked down, there was Peter in front of… a car?

When did Peter get a car?!

You were about to ask him that very question when your eyes caught a metallic glint that certainly wasn’t this random car. It was a boombox, and when he saw that you noticed him, he immediately picked it up and pressed ‘play,’ holding it above his head like it was Simba.

The familiar instrumental nearly made you fall out of the window in laughter. Nothing, however, compared to your amusement when your cheesy ass boyfriend decided to sing along.

“We’re no strangers to love

You know the rules and so do I

A full commitment’s what I’m thinking of

You wouldn’t get this from any other guy”

That’s it, everyone else go home. Peter Benjamin Parker was the cutest boyfriend on the planet.

You could tell Peter was having a great time, his smile nearly taking over his face. He was wearing jeans and a sweater over his Spidey suit (you could see the telltale red on his hands and wrists and he wasn’t wearing shoes), and his hair was tousled from what you assumed to be his mask. ‘He must have stopped at your house mid-patrol,’ you realize with a smile.

“I just wanna tell you how I’m feeling

Gotta make you understand”

Before he gets to the chorus, he sets the boombox back on top of the car’s hood and begins to dance… if you could call it that. It was honestly just a very spot-on copy of Rick’s swaying thing that he did the entire video. You honestly didn’t care how he moved about; this was the cheesiest thing you had ever seen, and it was your boyfriend doing it! Peter, the biggest, cuddly dork you knew, was doing this for you.

Obviously he chose this song because of your pranking endeavors from the past few weeks, but it was more than RickRolling the Avengers.

“Never gonna give you up

Never gonna let you down

Never gonna run around

And desert you!

Never gonna make you cry

Never gonna say goodbye

Never gonna tell a lie

And hurt you!”

Peter kept swaying and singing, completely ignoring the yelling and hollering from your neighbors about the noise. He kept his eyes on you as he sang along with the hit and you couldn’t even bring yourself to care about the people outside of your little bubble with Pete. Part of you dared one of your neighbors to call the cops because what were they going to do, arrest Spider-Man?

Once he finished, you immediately left your window and ran downstairs. Peter was leaning against the mystery car, just waiting for you to run up to him. You did, predictably, and instead of staying outside in the cold, you pulled him inside of your brownstone and didn’t let him leave your side the rest of the night.

#fic

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purplesurveys · 4 years

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829

Are you the type of person who gets straight to the point? For the most part, yeah. I’m a little impatient and quickly get annoyed when people go around in circles. What was the last thing you said in complete caps? It was probably the conversation I had with Angela this morning since we talk in all caps 97% of the time. The subject of the conversation is a bit of an inside joke though so it’ll be complicated just to start explaining it. Do you enjoy playing board games? Not really. I’m bad at following instructions so I’m mostly uninterested when someone tries to explain a new board game to me. I stick with the ones I already know, which aren’t a lot. Are there any movies you are wanting to see? Yeah but not any upcoming ones (if there are even any). My film queue is full of stuff that’s been released in the past, and the ‘My List’ section on my Netflix for instance has movies like Rosemary’s Baby, The Pianist, The Truman Show, V for Vendetta, etc. Do you live closer to the Atlantic Ocean or the Pacific Ocean? Pacific. I’m nowhere near the Atlantic Ocean.

Who was the last contact you stored into your cell phone, if you have one? The makeup artist who did my hair and makeup for my test grad shoot last December. My mom loved how I look so she had me ask for their contact just in case she needs it for future events. Did you wear anything new today? Nope, because I’ve been home for the last three months. That sounds more and more ridiculous to say each day... Would you ever have a calendar in your car? No, that’s what my phone is for. I think having a calendar in my car would be highly distracting too? What was the last song you sang along to? I’m not sure, I don’t think I listened to music today or yesterday. My guess would be Saw You in a Dream - The Japanese House. Are you a fan of the band Taking Back Sunday? No, but I heard of them a lot when I was a younger teenager. Do you ever eavesdrop on people's conversations? I don’t usually get to because my hearing is bad lol, but if it’s juicy and if I caught the context I probably would. Aside from waking up, what was the first thing you did this morning? I hung out with Cooper. I’m officially in charge of playing with him whenever he’s awake haha. I’ve never cared for a puppy before so one thing I learned is it’s a lot like taking care of a newborn baby? Cooper’s routine so far has been sleep for 1-2 hours, play for 1, and repeat. Once we notice him getting up, I’m the fun mom that plays with him until he tires himself out. Are you good at playing Hide and Go Seek? I can be good at it but I generally don’t like playing it. I always feel anxious whenever the It gets warmer to wherever I’m hiding. Do you live in an apartment or a house? House. Is there a music artist that never seizes to amaze you? In recent years Paramore has been drastically changing their sound for every new album they put out, so I’m always excited when they have new material because they always hit it out of the park. At what time do you normally go to bed? It ranges between 12 and 2 AM. It’s no longer as late as before. What is the last magazine you read? I haven’t read a physical magazine in a year or two; but the last online version of a magazine that I checked out was Esquire. How many words do you type per minute? If I’m taking a speed typing test where I really have to type as fast as I possibly can, I can reach 80-90. I never have to type that fast though so my typing speed would definitely be considerably less. What is your favorite term of endearment? I like baby. Do you like Twizzlers? I got into them as a kid just because Kristen Stewart ate it in the Twilight movie LMAOOOOO. Fangirls are ridiculous. I’m honestly just fine with them, they’re not groundbreakingly good or anything. I don’t even think I’ve had them again since my Twilight phase. Who or what made you smile last? I took a peek at what my dad was making for dinner and I already know it’s gonna be so good. Have you ever seen the movie The Wicker Man? Nope. How many states are between the state you live in and Florida? *yawn* Another US-centric question; though I got a little curious and looked up the distance between Florida and Manila instead. Google says 14,717 km. Do you sneak in candy/soda when you go to the movies? You don’t have to sneak in any type of food when you go to the cinemas here since they allow you to bring in whatever you want. I once bought Cinnabon buns to watch Wonder Woman hahah. The only unofficial rule is just don’t bring something that’s gonna smell and distract everyone. What was the last song you had on repeat? Back To You - Louis Tomlinson because of a question I answered on a survey yesterday. Do you often have that song on repeat? In 2017 I sure did. I don’t encounter the song these days anymore unless I look it up myself on Spotify. What brand of lotion do you use? I don’t use lotion. Where are your favorite pair of jeans from? I’m not sure actually. It was my mom who saw it and she bought it when she thought of me, and I never thought to ask her where she got it from. Silly string or confetti? Like, for a party? Confetti looks nicer to me. What month is your best friend's birthday in? June and September. One a scale of 1 to 10, how tired are you right now? 12 from taking care of Cooper, 2 in general because I made coffee. How long is your favorite song? I don’t really pick favorite songs because I have at least one in my preferred genres at a time. Nachos or tacos? Nachos. Also because I miss Nacho. Whose wedding did you last attend? My uncle and his then-fiancée, now my aunt, but that was 2007. It’s my parents who get invited to a lot of weddings, but not me and my siblings. Are you a rebel? Not anymore. I definitely acted like one when I hit puberty though. Does it take you more or less than an hour to get ready for the day? Less. I usually savor my time in bed then hurry up once I’m about to be running late haha. I’m out the door by 15, 20 minutes. What was the highlight of your day today? Taking a survey this morning on the couch with Cooper napping beside me while Kimi was near my feet :) Do you tap your foot when you listen to music? No, especially not when I’m driving lmao. Would you rather use tape or glue? Tape, it’s more secure. Homemade or store bought cards? Either works fine because my ultimate takeaway is that at least someone thought of me. I would personally make homemade cards/letters though. When did you last eat popcorn? Sometime around Christmas. My mom started making us bowls of popcorn but we got tired of it pretty quickly so our popcorn binge only lasted over the break. Have you ever done community service? I’ve done it with my classmates for a class requirement, not because we did something bad and it was our punishment. Will you get your hair cut anytime soon? Nope, I just gave it a big haircut earlier this year. Are you uncoordinated? Mostly not, but I still have moments where I trip over air. Michael or Janet Jackson? Michael. I know Janet is crazy talented too but I just never started trying to get into her music. Do you listen to any hip hop? Just some. What will you be doing at this time tomorrow? Most likely doing surveys too, as is routine. Have you ever listened to Jane's Addiction? I haven’t. Orange or purple? Purple. & - the typical ending to my surveys - how about some lyrics? “There’s just no future left for us to dream of, living in an era of instability / So caught up in the culture of their rivals, fear breeds in honest men.” From High Pressure Low - Against Me! Been thinking about these lyrics for the last few days.

#survey #surveys

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we-are-all-obsessed-here · 5 years

Text

Heart Strings And Melodies (Modern Musician!Poe AU) Part 18

(Not my Gif)

Summary: Poe and reader attend David and Ryan’s wedding. At the end of the day, will Poe and reader have some good news of their own?

(A/N- Haha, this part turned out longer than expected. In vaguely good news, I have written the last paragraph for this series. Now I just have to figure out what else to write to get from here to that final paragraph. In slightly less good news, the next couple updates may be slow while I figure out what I want to write since my brain isn’t quite cooperating.)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

“Have you got the present?” You called over your shoulder as you finished putting in your earrings. You heard Poe make a sound of uncertainty.

“Where is it again?” Poe called.

“It’s in the cupboard under the TV.” You replied. A moment passed before Poe shouted that he’d got it.

“Looking pretty damn good.” Poe’s voice came from the door, glancing over, he was stood leaning against the door frame, his gaze going up and down your body, taking in every inch of you.

“Thank you, you look very handsome,” You gave Poe a once over, biting your lip realising how good he looked in a suit. “Think you can zip me up?” You requested, turning slightly so Poe could see the last couple inches of open zip.

“Of course.” Poe smiled at you. He stepped behind you while you gave yourself a final once over in the mirror just to double check everything was how you wanted it. Poe’s hands rested on your waist after he’d finished zipping up your dress.

“I swear this dress wasn’t this tight when I last tried it on.” You sighed, running your hands down the sides of your dress.

“Babe your dress looks perfect… you look perfect,” Poe pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “I’ll be waiting by the door.”

Alone in the room, you shook your head to rid yourself of a dwindling thought.

“No… can’t be.” You whispered. You turned, your hand slipping from resting over your stomach to pick your clutch bag from your bed.

“Ready to go?” You called as you wandered over to Poe.

“Got the speech?” Poe questioned as he opened the door, ready to step out.

“Shit!” You rushed back to the bedroom to grab the piece of paper on your bedside table. “Now I have.” You shrugged off your moment of panic. Poe merely chuckled.

“Lets get going.” Poe stated, taking your hand in his and beginning the journey towards the boathouse where Ryan and David were holding their wedding.

“Oh wow. They said this place was gonna be nice but… damn.” You exclaimed, your gaze flittering across the veranda at the front of the boathouse. Flowers and ribbons decorated the dark wood balustrade and railings. Poe looked out onto the lake, small white rowing boats were moored to the wooden pier, each boat decorated with bunches of lavender and cream silk. Against the setting of the lake, the summer sun shimmering off the water, several dozens seats were placed near the lake’s edge, each covered in white, a large bow tied at the back with lavender tucked into the knot.

“They must’ve splashed out for all this.” Poe thought out-loud.

“Pretty sure they did.” You commented. Poe pointed out a table to one side of the veranda, several gifts were piled across it. The two of you strolled across and placed your gift amongst the others.

“Okay, I know David and Ryan… but I have no idea who anyone else is.” Poe whispered into your ear, watching as people wandered around the venue. Since you had a short time before the ceremony began, you hooked your arm in Poe’s and slowly introduced him to the people closest to David and Ryan. David’s mother was happy to see you, you had only met her a couple times but she gushed about how David kept her in the loop with how you were doing. David’s father on the other hand was a no show. It wasn’t unexpected, the man had never quite understood David since his coming out, and while David sometimes wished his father was around for family gatherings, he’d come to accept that he was better off without someone who didn’t support him. Ryan’s parents were mingling with the other party guests so were more difficult to pin down for an introduction. However, when the chance arose, conversation came quite easily between them and Poe. It drifted from talk of Ryan’s sister graduating university to how Ryan could hardly sleep the night before due to wedding nerves, from what his parent’s described Ryan had been a bit of a groom-zilla from the morning he woke.

“I know Ryan has been focused on everything being a certain way.” You commented.

“Seems like he’s got a very specific idea of how he wanted this wedding to be.” Poe added.

“Of course, he’s had the idea of being married at a boathouse since he was a teenager. To be honest, he started saving ideas for wedding decorations not too long after he and David started getting serious.”

“You should’ve been there in the early days Poe,” You started to reminisce. “They say that you and I were bad when we started dating, but holy crap, David and Ryan were even worse. It was cute in a kinda sickly sweet way.” You elaborated.

“Ryan tells us the two of you are engaged.” Ryan’s father stated.

“Yeah, it happened when we were on holiday. Not planned or anything unlike Ryan’s proposal, but yeah, we’re going to get married once we make a start on planning it.” You explained.

“If everyone could begin finding their seat, the ceremony will begin shortly.” A woman announced, cutting short your conversation.

“I suppose that’s our cue.” Ryan’s mother commented.

“And mine. I’ll come find you later after the ceremony.” You pressed a kiss to Poe’s cheek before following Ryan’s parents.

“Where have you been!” David fussed the moment you stepped into the room where he was getting ready, his hands going over his suit, smoothing down imaginary wrinkles.

“You really want to pull a Ryan right now?” You cocked a brow.

“A… what?” David spun to look at you.

“Apparently he’s being a bit of a groom-zilla.” You explained. David’s head dropped, a sigh coming from his lips.

“Sorry, it’s just… it’s almost time and I’m nervous that I’m going to fuck up my vows. I’ve been looking forward to this day for months and it’s happening right now.” David seemed to be borderline panicking.

“Hey, hey look at me,” You walked across the room to wrap your arms around David. “Take a breath. Everything is going to go perfect. Trust me. Come on, sit down for a minute. Try to calm down.” You spoke calmly. David did as you said, taking a seat by the window. You sat beside him, taking his hands in yours.

“Ellen and I are going to walk you down that aisle, and you’re going to watch the love of your life walk down that same isle in a pretty sweet ass suit, you’re going to say your vows, and be officially married. And lets face it, tonight you’re looking at the best sex of your life.” You squeezed David’s hands reassuringly, smiling at him when he laughed. A knock came at the door before David’s mother entered.

“Are you ready?” She asked.

“Almost, just one last thing,” David took a deep breath, stood and took a few sprigs of lavender from a nearby table. Carefully he slipped a couple into your hair and the remaining ones into his mother’s. “Perfect.”

You and Ellen left the room first, then waited for David to join you. He took a another deep breath when he reached your side.

“This is it.”

He held out his arms, inviting both you and Ellen to take each arm. Ever so slowly, you made your way outside towards the waiting guests. A slow piece of music filled the air as you and Ellen guided David down the aisle. Once you’d reached the end of the aisle, David turned to both you and Ellen, you watched as David leaned down to let his mother press a kiss to his cheek, when he looked over to you, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his other cheek.

“Just breathe.” You whispered as you pulled back. You felt David squeeze your hand before he took his place in nervous wait of his husband-to-be. You gave him a final smile before taking your seat beside Poe. Your gaze flicked over to David, his light blue suit almost shimmered in places under the bright sunlight. His fingers came up to smooth his hair, and you could see him mouthing something repetitively. The music began to pick up and you turned to watch the procession down the aisle. First came Ryan’s sister, Elizabeth, their one and only bridesmaid. Her dress, a pale blue scattered with images of blue and purple flowers, almost floated around her. A few moments after she took her place to the side of the ceremony, Ryan began his walk down the aisle. Unlike David’s blue suit, Ryan’s was a pale grey with a slight silvery tint to it, it too picked up the sunlight and shimmered. Whereas David had decided to go with a matching tie to his suit, Ryan wore a bowtie that was an unbelievable match to the blue of David’s suit. Of course that had been all your doing. Just as you and Ellen had done with David, Ryan’s mother and father, Janice and Matthew, were on either side of Ryan, guiding him towards his soon to be husband. You glanced back at David to see him smiling, holding back tears as he watched his lover approach. David took Ryan’s hands in his the moment he was able, his eyes holding adoration. As the music begin the quieten, the ceremony began.

“To my brother and David. I wish you many happy years together and hope that all the fun and all the silly shenanigans continue for as long as you are together.” Elizabeth finished her speech, a round of applause went around the room. Once a few moments had passed, you made your way up to the small podium to make your own speech to the crowd and the newlyweds.

“My two closest friends,” You gestured to the newlyweds, your gaze falling on them to see them sat, hands entwined together atop the table, listening intently. “There isn’t much more I can say that hasn’t already been said, but I’ll try. When I first met you, the two of you were friends, and had been for a long, long time. And you took little old me and brought me into the friendship you shared, but it felt more than that, it felt more like being brought into a family. And now that you’re married, you’ve officially got the rings to show the world that you’re truly a family together. It was funny when they first started dating, I’d be on the phone with David teasing him about how he was gushing and fawning over Ryan, and then the next moment Ryan would be calling to do the exact same thing. I felt like I was going around in circles listening to each of them talk about the other. But I loved it, watching as the two of them fell deeper in love. That look in their eyes when they first started dating has never faded and today it shines even brighter. I’m looking forward to seeing what their next steps are, united by marriage and stronger than before. I love you both, and wish you the happiest days to come.” Your gaze fell back to David and Ryan as you closed your speech. There was a warmth in your chest as you took in their soft, loving expressions as they smiled at you. A brief moment passed between finishing your speech, throwing a smile to the newly wedded couple and then making your way to the nearest bathroom while trying not to look as if you were in a hurry to get out of there. Poe tried to catch your attention as you rushed passed. Noticing how pale your complexion had become, Poe stood and quickly followed you. After entering the bathroom you rushed over to the toilet, just in time for your stomach to give a final churn and the contents of it to empty into the toilet. You vaguely heard the bathroom door swing open before hands were in your hair, holding it away from your face. Poe spoke your name, worry evident in his voice.

“Are you okay?”

You simply glowered at him before emptying more of your stomach into the toilet.

“You’re holding back my hair, while I’m throwing up… what do you think.” You argued back.

“Maybe it’s just an upset stomach? Nerves, something like that?” Poe offered.

“I think it’s more than just an upset stomach Poe.” You grumbled.

“What do you mean?” He asked, crouching down beside you.

“I’m late.”

“You’re… late…” Poe’s brow furrowed, not understanding your meaning.

“Jesus are you really that dense,” You sighed frustrated. “I haven’t had my period in weeks…” Your words drifted off.

“Wait. Hold on. Are you saying what I think you’re saying,” Poe waited a moment but you stayed silent. “Are you… pregnant?”

“I don’t know for sure. I’ve been feeling off for weeks now. When you were on tour, David noticed I wasn’t quite myself and he said it was just me missing you and honestly, I think even then I kinda knew what was really going on but it was just easier to believe I was lovesick.”

“Look who’s being dense now.” Poe teased.

“Birth control can go stick it.” You grumbled.

“C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.” Poe soothed, his hand rubbing your back softly.

“One minute,” You stated before your stomach heaved again. “Just… not yet.”

“So… we’re gonna be parents.” Poe murmured as he sat on the floor beside you.

“I mean… is that okay? I figured you wanted kids… but this is early right… too early? Maybe we should’ve waited.” You started rambling. Poe quieted you with a kiss to your temple.

“It’s a bit too late for waiting now,” Poe chuckled. “We’re in a good place. There’s no reason for us to not have a baby.”

“What if… I’m not sure if I want a baby.” You whispered, a tear running down your cheek.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Poe fussed, wiping away your tear. “Darling, sitting in a bathroom isn’t exactly the best place to talk about this.”

You nodded in agreement, sniffling as you did. “How about we talk about this after we get home? Do you think you can somehow put this out of your mind until then?”

“I can try.” You spoke dejectedly. Poe helped you to your feet, your stomach finally settling down.

“Look, we don’t even know for certain yet,” Poe started then paused when you threw him a look that said ‘are you kidding me’, “ Seriously, we can’t be a hundred percent sure. So, we’ll grab a test on the way home.” Poe smiled sweetly.

“Sounds good.” You sniffled. Poe handed you a small silver flask from inside his blazer pocket.

“Here, wash your mouth out with this, since we don’t have mouthwash.”

“Poe Dameron, since when did you put that in your blazer?” You asked with a small smile.

“Before we left,” He spoke with a mischievous smile. “Come on, everyone will be wondering where you’ve gone.”

As you poured a bit of whatever spirit Poe had stored in the flask and swirled it around your mouth before spitting it out, Poe took the moment to air his thoughts.

“I know I said we’d talk at home but… just one thing I wanna say,” He paused for a moment before continuing. “I’d love to be a dad someday, and I’ve been hoping for a while we’d someday have a kid of our own. But, and this is super important sweetheart, this is your decision,” His hand slipped to your stomach. “If you’re not ready, or for whatever reason you don’t want this, the choice is all yours. As long as you are happy with whatever decision you make whenever you make it, that’s all that matters. I need you to know that. Do you hear me?” Poe cupped your face in his hands. You nodded, unable to air your words in fear you’d end up sobbing instead. Your arms slipped around the back of Poe’s neck and you hugged him, your head resting on his shoulder.

“Okay,” You cleared your throat before continuing. “Let’s get back out there.” You offered Poe a loving smile.

The wedding reception continued as if nothing even happened. Although you did get a few raised brows in concern from the newlyweds. Thankfully you and Poe managed to brush off their concern with a simple lie. Nothing more was said on the matter. Despite your mind being preoccupied, and sensing that this was the case with Poe as well, dancing became a welcome distraction after the newlyweds first dance came to an end. Not that it was just you and Poe dancing together, no, you managed to share a dance with David while Ryan danced with Poe. You danced easily with David as you had done plenty of times before, Poe on the other hand started a little awkward with Ryan, but before long the two of them were having a laugh on the dance floor.

“See wasn’t so bad after all huh?” You questioned David after he’d spun you and brought you back towards him.

“I can’t believe we’re married now. It’s all official,” David enthused. “I didn’t even fuck up my vows.”

“I knew you wouldn’t.”

“Poe looks like a good dancer.” David commented as his gaze fell to his husband and then your own husband-to-be. The two of you broke apart, heading to the nearest seats to take a break, both of you slightly out of breath.

“Oh he is.” You affirmed. A moment passed before Ryan dropped down on the chair beside you.

“How were you not out of breath from dancing with that man of yours!” Ryan exclaimed, struggling for breath.

“Poe and I dance together all the time. It’s called having stamina Ryan,” You teased. “I hope you haven’t got a taste for him because a, you’re married now and b, he’s mine.” You continued to tease.

“Oh sweetheart. While I love your man to bits, he definitely isn’t my type. Which is why I married this one.” Ryan leaned over to rustle David’s hair. As another energetic song started to play, you watched as a small group of young children, some distant relations of David’s, made their way to the dance floor, bopping to the music and dancing with each other in circles. Their laughter reached your ears and you couldn’t help but take in their bright smiles as they ran around the dance floor, playing with one another as they went. Your hand drifted to your stomach, resting there for a few moments until Poe’s voice suddenly appeared beside you, your hand dropping away.

“We best be going.” Poe noted, looking down at his watch.

“Shit,” You cursed as you glanced at your own watch. “Our train is in half an hour.”

“Oh, damn. Yeah, you probably should go,” David started before standing, Ryan doing the same. “You’ve had to deal with my dramatic ass this morning so I release you from your bonds. Go get yourselves home.”

“Thank you,” You leaned in to press a kiss on each of their cheeks. “I love you both. Enjoy the rest of your day and I’ll see you next week.”

Poe wished the happy couple goodbye and took your hand, the two of you leaving the celebration as hurriedly as you could without looking as if you were making a mad dash for the exit.

It was a long silent wait for the pregnancy test result, despite the fact it only took a couple minutes, time seemed to drag on forever. On your way back from the wedding you picked a test up at the first shop you saw, stashing it in your bag until you made your way back to the apartment where you promptly ripped it open then dashed to the bathroom. As you waited, Poe held you close to his chest as you both waited with bated breath. The stick sat on top of several pieces of toilet paper on your coffee table, while you and Poe sat on the sofa.

“How long now?” Poe asked. You held the somewhat tattered box in your hands and tried to piece together what it said by trying to match together the rip you had made across the instructions.

“About a minute.”

You counted down in your head how long was left before you would find out whether you were truly pregnant or not.

“The sticks done a thing.” Poe whispered gently to you. His voice almost soothing. Leaning forward you took the stick in your hand, glancing down at the result. You passed the stick to Poe who took it gingerly at first but then just simply stared down at it.

“So… what does it say?” Poe questioned. Slowly, you looked over the box. searching for the instructions regarding the results. Glancing between the stick and the box, it took you a minute to make sense of what it was telling you. You bit your lip, placing the box down on the table. You heard your name spoke quietly beside you, Poe’s voice bordering on concern.

“I’m. Pregnant.” You whispered. You hadn’t realised tears had slipped down your cheeks until Poe took your face in his hands, his thumbs reaching up to brush them away.

“Darling it’s going to be okay. Don’t worry alright, everything is going to be fine.” Poe fussed. You leaned back out of his hold then reached up to touch the dampness on your skin. “I’m not crying.” You spoke slowly.

“Pretty sure that’s crying.” Poe pointed out.

“No. I mean… I don’t think they’re sad tears.”

“You mean… you’re happy?” Poe tried to hold back the hopefulness from his voice.

“I’m not entirely sure how I feel.” You admitted. Poe nodded, understanding.

“I get it.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. He rested his cheek on the top of your head.

“Are we even ready to be parents? I know you said you want to be one, but are you really ready to be looking after a baby in nine months time? I’m not even sure I’m ready to look after a baby.” You worried.

“Babe, you’ve been looking after me for almost a year now. Pretty sure you could handle a baby.” Poe teased. You gave him a quick elbow in his side, a small laugh being drawn from your lips.

“Poe I’m serious.”

“Look from my perspective. I think we’re ready. We’ve both got good jobs now and quite a bit of money saved up. You and I are in a really good place together and that’s not gonna change anytime soon. So it’s not like we’d be having a baby for the wrong reasons,” Poe paused for a moment before continuing. “I know I’m ready to step up and be a dad,” You could hear the raw emotion in Poe’s voice, see how his eyes became glassy with the beginnings of tears. “And I hope that you feel the same… but if not, that’s okay and we can… we can…” Poe made a gesture with his hand, unable to come up with the words he needed, “Not be parents…”

You thought hard for several long minutes.

“You’re right… we’ve got the money to support having a baby. And it’s not like we’re having a baby to keep our relationship together… we’d be having a baby because we want to. I want to be a mum, Poe. That I know for sure. I just…” Your voice started to crack a little, everything just becoming a little too much.

“Hey… it’s okay. Shhh. You don’t need to make a decision now. Just… sleep on it and we’ll talk about any worries you have in the morning.”

“Look at you being the person to say to sleep on it. You’re the one who goes ahead with something half-cocked.” You chuckled.

“Well yeah. But pretty sure a baby is something you don’t go half-cocked on. So… give it until the morning, or whenever you’re ready to make a decision.” Poe pressed a kiss to your temple after he’d finished speaking. He then stood from the sofa, offered his hand to you, which you gladly took then helped you from the sofa.

“It’s been one hell of a long day.” Poe murmured as he guided you towards the bedroom, his hand on your back rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

While you stood in the bathroom, brushing your teeth while clothed in your Pjs, your hand drifted for another time that day to your stomach. Your thoughts wandered freely across the idea of having a baby. Of whether you were ready. And whether that ready meant now. You paused for a moment before finishing your nightly routine. Soon after, you found yourself in bed beside Poe. The sheets wrapped around you and his arm resting across your body as the other carded through your hair. He gazed at you lovingly, humming slightly.

“The wedding was something special wasn’t it?” Poe wondered aloud.

“David and Ryan looked so damn happy, they’ve wanted this for so long. Plus it was a nice day for it too.” You agreed reminiscing on the day’s events.

“To see two people finally tie the knot and like you said, seeing how happy they were… makes me think of what ours will be like.” Poe continued.

“Something not quite as grand as theirs I hope.”

“Something Simple.” Both you and Poe spoke in unison. A chuckle escaped both your lips.

“Something simple yeah,” Poe breathed. “Not masses of people, just a few family and friends. Nothing too grand or glitzy, nothing like that. Something that’s just… us.”

“Sounds perfect to me.” You murmured happily. Leaning in, you shared a long, gentle kiss with Poe before reaching for the bedside light. He whispered a goodnight before settling down on his side of the bed. You whispered a goodnight in return. After a while of laying in the darkness with your thoughts rattling about in the silence, you reached out searching for Poe’s hand and eventually found it. You felt as Poe gave your hand a squeeze, an action which you returned.

“Poe?” You spoke softly, just below a whisper. You heard him hum in acknowledgement.

“I want to keep the baby.” You whispered. You heard a sudden intake of breath from Poe.

“Are you sure?” He shifted from his position to look at where he could see your figure in the dark.

“Yes.”

You felt warm lips press against your forehead as fingers tangled in your hair. You felt the quirk of a smile against your skin before Poe pulled away.

“I’m going to ask again in the morning, just so you’re one hundred percent on it.” Poe added.

“I’m sure Poe.”

“Still gonna ask tomorrow.” Poe reaffirmed. There was a moment of silence between the two of you as you once again settled down beneath the bedsheets.

“I love you.” You whispered with all the love you could muster.

“And I love you too.”

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#Poe Dameron x reader #Poe Dameron #Reader Insert

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