#but yesterday and today it's become pretty unbearable

[emilianadarling]

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Male spouses if the farmer miscarries their baby? Both their feelings about it and how they help the farmer after. ❤️

This is a pretty heavy topic, so everyone - be careful if you're going to read this headcanon (there's nothing hardcore here, but still just in case). Thanks for the question, dear anon. 💖

SDV bachelors with a AFAB!Farmer spouse who suffered a miscarriage:

⚠️ WARNING: Miscarriage, depression, angst, mention of past alcohol abuse, lots of hurt/comfort.

_________________________________________

Sebastian doesn't pressure Farmer in any way, and lets them lie in bed all day. To be honest, he would have covered himself with a blanket as well, trying to hide from reality, but Sebby can't afford to leave Farmer in that state. His whole family is going through this pain as they do, and more than ever, Robin is offering advice and so needed support to his son. Even Maru and Demetrius, who he wasn't close to, have given him full support and help. And Sebastian will do anything to help his spouse.

Without wasting a moment, Elliott took Farmer to the clinic after their complaints of feeling unwell. The writer was standing near the registration desk when Maru with tears came out to him and told him that Farmer had miscarried. Elliott simply fell into a chair and turned paler than death. And still, Elliott mustered all his strength to comfort his crying spouse. The writer vowed that he would be with Farmer in both happiness and sorrow, and he would never leave them.

Shane was devastated by the news. Their baby... He'd been through it pretty badly, and so had Farmer. Shane's hand was already reaching for alcohol to dull the unbearable pain, but he quickly came to his senses and stopped himself. No, Shane won't let his old habit take over, especially when his spouse had suffered such grief and needed him the most. They'll try to get back to normal together, crying at night and hugging, but they'll get through it. Shane loves them and won't leave Farmer alone.

Harvey's heart clenched with fear when Farmer woke him up in the night and screamed that bed was covered in blood. Fortunately, the doctor took home everything he needed from the clinic in advance, so that if anything - immediately provide help to Farmer. Harvey had prepared for everything, even the miscarriage scenario, but prayed to Yoba that it wouldn't happen. But... it did happen. Harvey wouldn't leave his spouse's side for a minute, and would be there for them to help them recover - physically and mentally.

Alex hadn't even had a chance to get dressed, but he had already picked up Farmer in his arms and, with the speed of a bullet, carried them to Harvey's clinic, shouting about the emergency. But no matter how fast the athlete ran, it still happened. Alex is about to burst into tears. He feels so helpless, not knowing how to comfort Farmer. But his grandparents will help him and Farmer with their grief and get back to their old life. In the meantime, Alex will do everything in his power to help the Farmer with their pain.

Sam's whole world turned upside down in one day. Yesterday he was expecting a child with his beautiful Farmer, and today... Today his heart has broken into a thousand shards. Sam's spouse is choking with sobs, his mom is being comforted by his dad, and Vincent, terrified, doesn't know what's going on. But this time Sam acted like a real man and calmed everyone down at once. Afterwards, he asked to be left alone with Farmer. Sam himself is trembling and wants to cry, but for the sake of Farmer and their well-being, he will become their so needed support.

[marleysfinest]

you look so pretty...

nsfw eren x fem reader. minors dni. cw public foreplay/sex, mild dominance, eren being stroppy

word count 1.9k

obligatory tags to the eren babes @somelattes & @bloompompom

you stretch and rub the sleep from your eyes, pleased to see that the weather has improved since yesterday. eren stirs slowly beside you, eyes closed, but you know he's awake. before you have a chance to slip out of bed and head towards the shower, his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you in close.

"mornin'," he croaks, eyes still firmly closed as he clings on to sleep as firmly as he's clinging to you. "time is it? come back to sleep."

you stroke his forearm affectionately as you contemplate the attractive idea, but you know that you should get moving. you want to beat the crowds at the mall before it becomes unbearably busy, knowing that saturday shoppers bring out the worst in you.

"nine," you reply quietly, "c'mon, if you're coming with me then we should get up."

his hold on you tightens, pinning you square against him beneath the feathery sheets.

"d'you have to go?" he asks, his voice carrying a slight whine that you're all too familiar with, "let's just stay here. we've got the whole weekend."

you groan, wishing you could stay, but knowing that there was no way that you could squeeze another week out of your work shirts. you'd left it long enough; if you pushed your luck any further, then you risked an embarrassing incident that you knew for certain you didn't need. no, it had to be today. he tries his best to encourage you to stay, his fingers tracing your breasts and pinching your nipple, knowing it's usually a sure-fire way to get you in the mood, but you're taken by a strange sense of determination this morning.

"c'mon," you urge, tapping his arm so that he releases you, and you sit up on the edge of the bed, "sooner I go, sooner I'm back. you coming?"

eren looks up at you with hooded, scowling eyes, dark hair tangled against the cotton pillowcase, and heaves a sigh.

"fine," he succumbs, "go shower and get ready, I'll hop in after you."

eren reluctantly agrees to join you, thinking that spending time with you while shopping for clothes is better than no time at all. his grumpiness alleviates slightly when you offer to buy him coffee en route, and so you slip into the starbucks outside the mall before beginning your mission. you call up your orders - hazlenut latte for him, chai latte for you - and before long you're swiping up your orders from the barista at the end of the counter. you take a sip, savouring the richness, and eren does the same.

"good?" he asks, you nod, swallowing your mouthful of coffee.

"mine too," he adds, "although, I can't help but think you'd have enjoyed the taste of me better this morning..."

his voice trails off, making it no secret what he was insinuating. you slow your pace to glare at him, eyebrows raised, surprised at how he was being so forward even by his standards.

"we've got the whole weekend," you reply, deciding to throw his own words back at him, which has the desired affect. you just about hear the sigh of frustration escape his flaring nostrils, and you could've sworn that a quiet groan slipped from the back of his throat. feeling strangely pleased with yourself, you pick up your pace, heading inside the mall with your boyfriend in tow.

despite it still being relatively early, the stores are already packed with shoppers hungry for a deal. you elbow and rub shoulders with the public as you frantically search for your new work clothes, becoming more and more desperate to be at home with every passing minute. when you finally reach a section of zara that not only has a half-decent offering of shirts, but is quiet, you take the opportunity to relax the tension in your muscles and flick through the rails at a much more leisurely pace. after pulling some pieces to try on, you feel eren's presence behind you, boxing you in beside the secluded racks. before you have a chance to ask him what he's doing, you feel a cold hand rub against your thigh before riding up your skirt and grabbing a handful of your ass. you smirk as you realise the game that eren's playing, and as he repositions himself, he wraps his remaining arm around your waist, pinning you to him as the other slides his hand from your ass to the elastic of your panties. his fingers barely graze your lips as you suddenly feeling him pressed up against you, and you realise that he's really the one being tormented here.

"something wrong, baby?" you ask, your head lolling back to rest against his shoulder. he looks down at you, emerald eyes burning, the hunger in his expression more obvious than the nose on his face.

"nothin'," he replies, "just... trying to persuade you."

"here?"

"what? we're alone."

there's conviction in his statement, and you realise that he genuinely believes what he's insinuating. you know that, if you gave him the word, he'd fuck you right there against the rails, but having sex at the risk of being seen by not only fellow shoppers but the numerous security cameras surrounding them was not on your to-do list.

"c'mon," you say gently, breaking him out of his daydream, "I need to go and try this stuff on. come with me? I want your opinion."

you take your head off of his shoulder and peel yourself away from his hold, albeit reluctantly. after quickly scanning for the changing rooms, you take one of eren's hands in yours and pull him after you, your fingers limply entwined. if you sense him slow his pace to observe the swaying of your hips (which perhaps you're doing deliberately), then you're sure it's pure coincidence.

he takes a seat on the little stool outside of your cubicle , and as you close the door with a smile, you can't help but notice the pained look on his face and the hunger in his eyes. after sliding the lock across, you slip off your t-shirt and pull on the silky, candy-floss blouse and carefully do up the buttons. you like it; it feels nice against your skin, and fits well, but you want a second opinion. you open the cubicle door to see eren scrolling absentmindedly on his phone, although not for much longer. he looks up to see you striking a deliberately over the top pose, and there's a swell of butterflies in your stomach. you giggle and await his response, noting the almost predatory way he's looking at you as he tucks his phone back into his pocket.

"let me take a closer look," he mumbles, sighing as he gets to his feet and joins you in the cubicle.

once the door is locked once again, eren keenly inspects the shirt. his eyes wander from where it hugs your waist and up to where it gently enhances your breasts, looking progressively unconvinced.

"I don't like it," he says frankly, finally meeting your gaze. "take it off."

you huff a sigh, and slowly begin to undo the buttons from top to bottom, pretending to fumble to see just how much you can rile him. after just two buttons, eren quietly growls and reaches for you in an almost angry frenzy. you're taken aback, but don't mind as long as he doesn't rip off any buttons. he pushes the blouse off of your shoulders, exposing your chest and lacy bra, bringing himself closer to getting exactly what he wants. he takes two handfuls of your breasts and begins to massage them, leaning in to smother himself in them, kissing and licking, knowing how it always gets you going. as your head falls back, you can't help but smile.

"someone's desperate," you tease. he looks at you intensely, and you pretend to ignore the sound of him undoing his belt buckle.

"someone is being a little brat," he retorts, "take it off."

you oblige, realising that, despite achieving some privacy in the changing room, you are still technically in public, and drawing attention to yourselves wouldn't be the wisest choice. you also knew that eren wasn't above causing a ruckus to get what he wanted. you slip the blouse off, letting it fall carelessly to the floor, and succumb to your boyfriend's somewhat feral urges. he hooks his hands around your thighs and forces you to wrap your legs around him, and pins you to the changing room wall. his lips are all over your neck and collarbone, licking and sucking and leaving trails of faint love bites that you'd need to cover with concealer on monday morning. you feel him pressed between your legs, and you realise that you hadn't even noticed him slip his boxers down to his ankles, and so when he slips your panties to one side and slides in with ease, it takes you by surprise. you suck in the air through your teeth as you're forced to adjust, the sound of your breath making him twitch.

"isn't this what you wanted?" he asks, purring into your ear, "isn't this what you've been teasing me about all day long?"

you smile as you cling to him, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and gripping on to his t-shirt. he begins to thrust in and out painfully slowly, drawing out quiet but heavy sighs from you each time his pelvis meets yours. your head lolls back against the wall, and despite your eyelids falling heavily through pleasure, you know that eren is looking at you in this state of risky euphoria. you feel his grip on your thighs tighten, pulling you closer together, and burying himself as deep as he can go. you bite back a groan, knowing that he's trying to get a rise out of you, and force out a giggle instead.

"c'mon, you can do better than that," he mutters, suddenly serious as he starts to move his hips again, faster this time. "you're the one that wanted me to come with you. show me what we could've been doing at home all this time. properly."

for a split second you consider it, going all out and letting your inhibitions go so that the entire store would know what you were up to. you even considered whether you liked the place enough to care about inevitably being banned from it, but you still had some of your wits about you. deciding not to fuel his fire any further, you remain silent as you tighten your legs around him, forcing him to bury himself deeper. he throws his head back and groans at the feeling, hitting your deepest part again and again and relishing in the slick building up around him. you let a few choice whimpers escape - louder than you'd wanted - and you both failed to consider anyone who might have been around when you came. eren breaths heavily into the crook of your neck, barely masking his moans as he throbbed inside you, and the two of you stand for a moment while you regain some clarity.

with an always surprisingly gentle hand, eren helps clean you up and get dressed. he carries the clothes you need to return to the rack, saving you the job, and you both walk out of the little changing room with warm cheeks and smiles on your faces.

that was, until you see the security guard standing at the entrance, glaring at you both with the store's suited manager at his side.

[pendarling]

Prom

Sorry for being ded guys

Another problem with the school was their outlandish events that went further than it was supposed to. 

When prom started, it started hard.

Students left and right fell to their knees for the chance to ask out their seasonal crushes. It was unbearable for the teenage hero. They couldn't stand watching half of their friends do the same despite their claim that "prom is stupid."

Honestly, there was still an entire week left of classes, and nobody even bothered to study for the approaching exams. Libraries would be a hangout hotspot for students looking to skip class and find time to spend with their date.

It pissed them off.

Hero simmered in annoyance and pushed their textbooks to the side of their locker. There was just one more class, and then they'd leave here for the day. 

"Hey Hero~!"

Hero recognized that irritating voice, their callous and predacious enemy, had managed to sneak into their personal life as much as they already existed in their life behind the mask. They couldn't stand seeing them, maybe more than seeing all these lover birds come together.

Hero glared at Villain's relaxed figure as they pressed their body against the lockers and looked at them, almost expecting them to say something back. Anything, as long as it kept them entertained, but today, they wouldn't let Villain become the death of them. They had more pressing issues, and it wasn't just the exams. 

"Aw~ c'mon... you're not gonna say anything to me?" Villain followed behind Hero when they turned to leave quickly. They grazed a hand along Hero's back, begging them to turn around, "Lemme hear that pretty voice, darlin'. I'm starting to think you're still mad at me from last night?"

Villain's hand was slapped off them; piercing eyes stared at their own, "Don't say it like that." They spoke in a harsh whisper, but Villain could barely make out the words under all the traffic in the halls.

"Say it like what?" They jokingly shrugged. 

"You know what I mean..." They mumbled and walked off again, but not until Villain noticed the blush growing on their face. 

Chemistry class was always the hardest to understand, not for Hero; luckily, their gifted supernatural powers came with a bit of science. However, they hated that this was the only class they shared with Villain because it was Villain's worst subject. 

They were forcibly seated next to Villain, with the teacher having high hopes that Hero would somehow teach Villain all they needed. 

As soon as the teacher left the room, they were given a silent period to work on the equations. Of course, the class found this opportunity to do the opposite and erupted into loud conversations and laughter. Hero found that even though they were working, Villain still managed to talk more than necessary. Rambling on and on about... what they shouldn't be in coded sentences. Hero had begun to believe it was Villain's way of making their shared lives outside of school feel more intricate than it really was

"I thought I was a goner yesterday; you totally had me back there--" they chuckled loosely with every obscure phrase. 

They felt the stare of their enemy when their one-sided conversation began to die down. They gave them a slight glance and caught Villain's head resting over their arms on the desk as they stared at them. It was a gaze out of admiration; it made Hero blush momentarily before regaining their senses.

"You-- don't have anything better to do?" Hero finally grumbled lowly, attempting to cover the embarrassment along their face. 

Villain thought for a second; they leaned their chair back and forth, "No one is even working on this crap. Look around!" Hero momentarily lifted their eyes off the page and caught the classroom in its own world; groups of students were talking rather loudly. Strangely, they didn't notice, but perhaps their lack of concern for others and their obsession to get the work done drowned out the noises. 

It didn't bother Hero what everyone else was doing; only that Villain was trying to get them out of their bubble. "I'm not interested. " They returned to the paper. 

"God, you're so boring sometimes y'know? It's like..." They searched for their words. "Two different people. One that's a complete nerd and the other--" Their eyes lit up, "Ooh, the other is a total badass."

They sighed, "Is there a reason why you're still talking to me?"

That sentence gave Hero what they wanted. Silence, Villain ignored them and fiddled with their pencil nonchalantly. They blinked several more times and looked at the ceiling, contemplating their next choice of words. 

Hero frowned when the conversation ended and continued their work in peace for the rest of the class.

Students clamoured out of the rooms as the bell rang. Villain had expertly tidied up their corner of the desk quickly and now observed Hero's hands fumble around for their books. They picked up a few of their spare notes and helped them finish up for the rest of the day. 

It was unusual for Villain to wait patiently by them, their eyebrow raised at what game they were playing this time. 

The class filtered out, leaving just the two of them in the silent room. 

"Hero," Villain called. Their voice began to sound much smaller than usual, the joking yet malicious sounds no longer present. Their eyes calmed for a second and took in their sincerity. 

Could it be?

They never took Villain for a cheesy romantic, but the idea that they were giving it an attempt made their heart soar. A fuzzy feeling grew in their chest at the prospect of being asked out to prom; what would it be like? What would this change?

Villain rubbed the back of their neck sheepishly, looking at the door, worried anyone might casually stroll in and disrupt the moment. "Uhh... Listen, I know you're not much for this sort of thing, but--"

Their hesitation worried Hero; of course, they'd made a few off-handed comments at the ridiculous open shows of affection in the halls, but that was just their first instinct. It didn't stop them from wanting something similar; that wasn't selfish, was it?

"Yea?" They pushed, hoping that they wouldn't quit now. 

"Well, I was thinking, since a lot-- I mean... I don't usually do this, but since it's been a while... and we--"

"Spit it out already." They scoffed and took a step forward. "I knew you would do this, you're so obvious."

"Seriously, lemme get to it." Villain felt flush; they took a deep breath, "Hero, would you like to... go to prom with me?"

They smiled warmly from ear to ear and let the part of their heart show on their sleeve; under the glow of Villain's charm, they couldn't resist. They nodded softly, the idea beginning to take hold of them that it wasn't wrong to be a little in high spirits for prom. 

~~~ MASTERLIST

[easypeasylindyvesey]

APRIL 2027- PART 17

I slip back into consciousness when I hear a ringing sound right near me. I groan and bury my head into the pillow. “Fuck,” I mumble. I let the alarm ring until it becomes unbearable, as I lazily reach over and hit the stop button. The sun is out once again, peering through the large window. I glance over at the other side of the room. Jimmy’s still asleep. He looks so peaceful. It’s like purposefully waking a baby. I hear him shift and groan at the same time, slowly opening his eyes and looking straight ahead. He caught me.

“You were watching me?” he yawns, moving into a sitting-up position. His hair is somewhat spiked with light eye bags under his eyes. He looks disheveled. Even his crewneck is all scrunched up.

“No,” I reply dryly. “In fact, I was literally about to get out and come wake you because you didn’t hear the alarm.”

“Oh, well, that’s nice,” he said. “Appreciate the thought.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, rolling my eyes again. Pretty soon, they’re going to get stuck in the back of my head. “Hurry up, we have to leave at 10. We can get breakfast on the way if we’re quick. I’m gonna get ready. I shouldn’t take long.”

“K,” Jimmy replies. “But if we are late, it’s because we were carried away on a cloud while sleeping and then we immediately got dropped back down onto Earth.”

I give him a questionable look. “What the fuck are you on?” I say, making my way to the closet to take out my outfit.

“I can proudly say it’s not drugs,” he says.

“Okay, wow,” I answer back. “Maybe I should’ve let you sleep.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” he sarcastically argues. “I swear, these hotel beds transport you to a different world.”

“Yeah, and then you wake up in reality,” I conclude, shutting the bathroom door behind me. I lean back against the door and let out a long sigh. The fuck is up with him? Is he trying to lighten the mood? News flash, James. It’s not working. Why can’t he just act like a normal human being today? Oh, wait, because today’s not a normal day. Got it.

I change out of my pajamas and put on the same outfit I wore yesterday. It also occurred to me that I have to wear those god-forsaken shoes again. I look at my hair and realize I don’t have time to really style it, so I just brush it down the middle and throw in some hairspray. I apply light rounds of blush and mascara and end with a coat of matte lipstick, with a layer of chapstick to prevent them from drying out. I smooth out my halter top and dress, examining myself in the mirror. I don’t find anything negative to point out about my appearance, at least not in this very moment, so I take the short rush of satisfaction and emerge from the bathroom. I see that Jimmy’s out of bed, he made it, and laid his suit out on it. He’s rummaging in the closet looking for his shoes.

“It’s all yours,” I say.

“Got it, thanks,” he says, still looking through the closet.

“They’re beside your bed,” I remark.

He turns around and looks at me, then leans over his bed. I think that’s when he notices the black soles sticking out. “Yeah, I totally knew that,” he said, shutting the closet door and moving back to his bed, putting his shoes on the duvet.

“Obviously not,” I scoff.

Jimmy grabs his suit and shoes, making his way for the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a sec.”

“Yep.” I sit on the unmade bed before forcing myself to get up and having to put it together. I reach for my purse off the back door and throw it on the bed. I scroll through my phone, waiting for Jimmy. He finally emerges, wearing the typical black and white suit. The clicking of his dress shoes make their way over to his side of the room, his hand retrieving into his nightstand drawer to grab his wallet and keys to the Benz. He picks his phone up off the bed and settles it above his wallet. He notices my slouched posture, keeping an appropriate amount of distance, probably not to set me off.

I get up and walk over to him, my hand brushing over his to grab the keys. That slightest amount of friction caused my pulse to quicken, my fingertips burning hot as I release from the momentary brush of skin-to-skin contact. Why is he always so warm? Is it a gender thing or something? Don’t men have warmer body temperatures than women or something to that effect? Is there anything he’s hiding? 

“You ready to roll?” I ask, grabbing my purse off the bed and motioning to the door, twisting the knob, opening it completely.

“You, uh, you don’t want breakfast?” he replies haltingly. “I don’t think either of us want to get hangry, especially today.”

I stop midway through the door frame, now resorting to rolling my eyes internally. “What do you suggest we can get on short notice?”

“It’s not really short notice if we’ve got a little over an hour until it starts.”

“Whatever. What are you in the mood for?”

I hear him take in a sharp breath and then release it. “I think I could go for a good bagel right now.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. plain bagel with nothing else,” I retort. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Alright, stop that,” Jimmy replies back. “Yes or No?”

I walk out of the door frame and down the hall to the elevator. Jimmy follows behind, shutting the door behind him and locking it with the keypad. He keeps a quick pace as I step into the already open elevator, him trickling in right next to me. I press the ‘1’ key and the elevator completely closes. Unwillingly facing him, I give him the answer he’s looking for. “Yes.” He gives me one of those half smirk, half smiles and clears his throat, facing the elevator keys. I guess that’s all the confirmation I need.

We stop by a local deli and order our preferred bagels: Jimmy’s being just plain, which leads me to believe that he is secretly psychotic and how he hasn’t been killed in New York yet is beyond me, and for me an egg bagel with cream cheese. We sit down in the crammed space and quickly inhale the warm smell and taste of our breakfast. Small talk ensues, but there’s not much flow from one conversation to the next. I think we’re both nervous about today and would rather not confront those feelings right now. We’ll manage them as it goes on. Hopefully, it’ll be in a way that’s not embarrassing to everyone else in the room and just reserved between the two of us with no change of heart. I feel as if it’s still a little awkward with him and I, given me moving in and all that crap, but I’m not sure if he feels that way too.

The drive back to the funeral home is a little bit better than yesterday’s. I’ve never driven this nice of a car before. I decided to be a little over the top and open the sunroof so we can feel the wind in our hair, quite literally, as we drive down the main roads. The wall-to-wall sunshine tends to relax me, as if he planned for the weather to be this beautiful on the day we say goodbye. Another nice decision I made was wearing my black Aviator sunglasses that I’ve only saved for certain outings. They’ll really compliment the all-black fit. Jimmy brought his sunglasses, too, that are also black. I give him a sideways glance as we approach a red light, and he’s looking like an undercover FBI agent. If he can’t give himself a tiny boost of confidence, I might as well do it for him. He’s got one hand sitting on the PRESS button on the seatbelt and the other on the side door. Why does it look like he wants to make an early exit? Yeah, nice try. You ain’t getting away from me that easy.

As we pull into the parking lot, the temporary rush of dopamine is instantly replaced with what feels like irreversible sadness. We unbuckle our seatbelts and just sit there, the only evident sounds coming from the radio, engine, and the short yet shaky breaths. I can’t believe it’s really happening. My worst dream.

It’s 10:30, so we have a little bit of time before we’re supposed to go in, but I don’t want to rush it yet because it’s going to feel too real. I snap out of my trance and face him, who literally looks like a statue. I can’t tell if it’s because of fear or what, I’ll just say that it scares me. I reach out to touch his arm. “Hey,” I whisper, as he slightly winces and looks toward me, his sunglasses still sitting on the bridge of his nose. “We can take a couple minutes. Don’t worry.”

“Kay,” he replies. “Do you have your speech?”

I look at him with a furrowed brow. “My what?”

“Your speech.”

My speech.

That I had him read.

And I put it back in my nightstand drawer.

And never took back out.

Oh no. No, no, no.

“Oh, my God.” I freeze, bringing my hand to place on my forehead, mouth slightly agape. “I forgot it. It’s still in the drawer. Damn it, we were in such a rush that I couldn’t even think to remember it. Oh, my God.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Jimmy responds assuringly. “You just talk about the things you remember, that’s all.”

“Yeah, and I’d still find a way to make it sound like a book,” I say. “Guess it was a blessing that I don’t have it. No one wants to listen to a speech for that long, anyway, especially when other people gotta talk.”

“I would.”

“Well, yeah, but you’ve already read it, so you’d just be hearing the same thing over again. Whatever. I’ll figure it out. Maybe I just won’t go at all.”

“No, you’re going. I will drag you by the feet if it means you get the chance. Besides, don’t you think his family would be left wondering why his girlfriend never spoke?”

“First of all, ex-girlfriend,” I clarify, “and second, it’s not about them.”

The silence is deafening.

I take a deep breath. “I didn’t mean it like that. Of course it’s about them. They lost a son, a brother, a cousin. But we lost a teammate and a friend. Everyone in that room will have some sort of relation to him, whether through blood or not, but I’ll be damned if anyone gets outshined as their relationship with him being more important than someone else’s. They all made an impact. I just hope everyone understands that.”

“They will,” Jimmy says. He reaches to take the sunglasses off his face and put them on top of his head. “You still wanna leave immediately after? I’m following your lead.”

I give him a grimace. “Yeah, I do.”

“Okay. Just wanted to make sure.”

“I hope they don’t take it personally.”

“Hey, they won’t. They understand you’re going through it, too. It’s not like you’re being forced against your will to stay. I’m not sure what the team’s doing, either. I guess we’ll see once it ends.”

I only have the courage to muster a “Yeah” before turning off the engine and stepping out of the car. I reach back in and press the button to close the sunroof, shut the door, and then open up the back one to get my purse. I shut the door behind me and lock the car as we make our way to the entrance.

When we walk in, oh, dear God, it’s loud. There’s so many people talking. We’re not even 30 seconds in and I can feel the onset of a headache. I stop short to wait for Jimmy to walk next to me, and I grab his wrist as we push our way through the crowd. Unfortunately, that’s not the only one there is. Another one formed right in front of the room we’re supposed to go into, a different one from yesterday. Does no one know how funeral arrangements work?

I exhale heavily. “These people gotta freaking move,” I whisper under my breath, dragging Jimmy behind me as we squeeze through. “Excuse us, please.” 

It’s in that moment where everyone decides to move away from the door. Wow, it really took that much, huh? We stumble in awkwardly, stopping in between the rows, unsure of where we should sit. That’s when we hear a whistle and jerk our heads to the right side, where I see the rest of the team already sitting. I let go of Jimmy’s wrist and make my way down the one row that’s not full yet. Adam and Tate are sitting there, along with Braden and Jacob. “Hey, Abb,” Tate replies sadly. As she looks at me, I realize that I totally forgot about how we were going to plan a girls’ day, and how I haven’t thought to text or call in the last month. Damn, I feel like the worst friend right now.

“Hey,” I say quietly, sitting down at the end of the row, leaving the appropriate amount of personal space. Jimmy sits down on the left side of me, adjusting his suit jacket and putting his sunglasses in the pocket. We both stare at the very front of the room. There’s a large portrait of Ryan at the front. They used a nice picture of him, one where he’s smiling. His eyes are sparkling like the sun reflecting on water. There’s large bouquets of flowers boarding the picture, and the casket off to the right, only this time, it’s now closed. I feel somewhat relieved. I don’t know if I’d have the courage to see him in that state again. I tap my fingers on the bench, becoming a little restless. I need this to start already so that I can leave. 

Everyone that was standing outside the room start to make their way in. Most of the faces are unrecognizable. I’m not even sure if I saw half of them yesterday. They all filter in to opposite sides, choosing from the left or right. I see Ryan’s family up at the very front, as they’re seated across from the portrait. God, they look so sad. I wish there was something I could do about it.

[lake-archive]

Scene 47

AO3 Link

Fandom: Persona 5

Character (main): Anja / Luka (OC), Goro Akechi

Scene 46 - Masterlist - Scene 48

What had first been thought of being an excellent idea turned out to be a result of stubbornness the very next day. Because even with the rest this pain didn’t go away. Their head kept on having the equivalent of a massive headache, the walls in their head being used as a drum or something. Not just from one side but from all sides and it was a bit of a pain. Even when having been at the door their mother had pointed it out.

“Sweetie, you look all pale. Don’t you want to call your friend and tell him that you can’t make it today?”

But they shook their head. “Thanks Mom. I’m fine though. Don’t worry about it. Besides, you said that I need to see the sun more, right?” Though they had forced that joke out of their mouth. They may as well shove it out of their mouth. Yet they had to push on. They were fine. There is no need to worry about them… Yeah, no need at all.

So they had left the house and needless to say… The warm breeze greeted them with today’s heatwave already. It felt so uncomfortable actually, it was unbearable. They theorized if that time of the month had started to kick in… It could be yet it felt a little worse somehow. Was it because of yesterday, that weird place? They have been feeling worse since and it started to get to them. Then again, a dry throat may as well be a cause because of the heat right now. The dizziness too… Uh, they had to get something to drink. Yet when they checked their pockets… Wait, nothing? Did they leave their wallet at home? Right, when not in the best condition things can slip their mind rather easily… 

They looked around… They had already walked a good distance too, drat. It was too late to turn back now. Damn it. They clicked their tongue as a result. Looks like their throat will remain dry a little longer and their brain stays deep–fried for a little while longer. Because if they walked back now they would be late. And they wanted to be on time. They had promised. And they would keep that promise no matter what. It was unlike them to arrive late to pretty much anything after all and they were not about to break the streak. This was nothing after all, they could handle it.

So they kept on walking, their stubbornness prevailing in the end. One step after the other until he was finally in their view. Or was he? They couldn’t say… The view was… awfully blurry. Actually, it was only getting worse over time. They couldn’t really think clearly, at all. Everything felt a little hazy. They couldn’t even tell apart shapes, though that was perhaps the least of their worries at that point. Everything looked like some weird painting, with the colors smashed together. One could just barely make anything out if anything at all… It was nothing but a mess.

They could feel how everything just became… More difficult. Their steps had become heavier, their head a lightheaded mess, thoughts incoherent. They weren’t even sure what was going on anymore, everything was just… Weird. They didn’t understand it, no idea why or how. Breathing became just as difficult, them having to shove out the clumps of breaths. Though it felt more as if they were puking them out. Nothing came out of course, nothing but air at least. It was horrible. Everything ached, no exceptions. So close to fall over… So very close… They just… Just…

No, they couldn’t hold out any longer. They felt their body succumbing to the pain eventually. Their shaking legs had finally given up, feeling as if they were breaking down. They couldn’t hold the weight of the body they were holding and made them collapse. They could just barely feel their feet. Honestly, they just felt like mere muscle clumps if anything and they weren’t even sure if they had legs anymore to begin with. No, not just their legs… Their entire body. It was as if they were being… Separated? It was hard to say. There was a certain strain on their body, one they couldn’t describe. It was just painful, utterly painful. Oh someone free them from this misery already… They couldn’t… They could not… They… They…

Yet before knowing it they just collapsed onto the floor, face down and right onto the cement. It felt… Cool. Hard but cold and that was refreshing. Honestly, that made them want to sink down. They closed their eyes in the end, just… Maybe if they rested for a few minutes it will be fine. Yeah, a few minutes. They will get up shortly after. Just rest and everything will be better… Yeah…

“What the— Anja!? Get up! Anja! I said get up! You idiot!”

Scene 46 - Masterlist - Scene 48

[kaerimichirami]

999

That’s how some things go. That’s just expected. One day, you reach the breaking point. One day the distance is too unbearable. One day the smile fades. One day it is all gone, as sand that passes through between my short fingers. One day it becomes dust. One day it is over and there is nothing to prevent that. There is a light, until you make it responsible for eliminating all injustice. It slowly dims, and it’s such a slow process that you get used to it. Occasionally, you’ll ask yourself: “Am I running out of time?”, but you will never be able to actually do something. It’s all in vain. It will disappear and everything will be pitch-black, and soon your eyes will serve no purpose. Your hearing weakens, and with that your balance is also lost. Your skin is too rough, and you can’t feel the delicate little trinkets anymore. All you can smell are bad ideas and failures, and all you can taste is regret and the bitter risperidone. One day, nothing matters anymore, because everything was taken from you before you could even use it. One day, you wake up, and you’re an adult now, but haven’t you always been on your own? One day, you don’t feel comfortable in your own body, but hasn’t every day been like this since you were eight years old? One day, you realize how painful it is to not be able to remember of anything that happened before that. Causality is all messed up, your brain is all messed up. You can think of a few pretty words. You can name a few flowers you like. But you can’t go and smell their scent, right? All there’s left are withered dreams and thorns, that pierce the remaining of your poor body, soul and heart. And it pierces oh-so deeply, and it bleeds to the point there’s a tiny pool right under your feet. Splash, splash. It is all confusing, it is all extremely unfair, and you can’t hold conversations anymore, and no one understands or helps you. No one has ever, no one does, and no one ever will. It is all just a matter of time until you break after the countless bending, but you resist. You resist, because maybe, if you’re strong enough, you’ll overcome that, and you’ll get to live tomorrow. But tomorrow is just like today, that was just like yesterday. And if it’s not just like it, it will be worse. So you put on this extreme effort to get up, brush your teeth, while everything falls apart, while everything bothers you, while your birthday is two weeks from now, and you can’t give up just yet. Because there’s more to see, and you’re so scared of hurting yourself again. There’s probably no exit, and there’s probably even more pain in the future, but just maybe, one day you will be on the news, receiving a prize for making the cut. You will see the light again, breathe in and the scent of lilies and orchids will overflow, you’ll be able to touch each petal with your gentle hands, and food will come guilt-free.

But that’s not today. And that won’t be tomorrow. And nobody will do it for you. And you have to try, because it might be next Friday, or next month, or next year, or in 47 years. Today, you wonder how did you manage to walk all the way to your twenties, but in twenty years it will be just the same. And you’ll wonder, again, why do you put this much effort into such a hopeless person, such a poor soul, why work so hard for someone who gets mistreated all the time, who has so many traumas, who has constant fears and nightmares. And it doesn’t make sense. Dying would be so much better. But there’s a chance. A small, no, tiny, microscopic chance, that you will love those tunes again. And that you will laugh at your own jokes, and that one day you’ll cook such a great meal for yourself. And that one day, you’ll lay in bed, and you will feel the warmth of your blanket, and your pillow will be properly cold, and you’ll feel ready to sleep a full night. But that’s not today, right? You don’t feel comfortable now. And you can barely keep up with yourself. But you keep imagining, that there is something worth it. That you’re worth it. Despite the rest of the world telling you’re not. And maybe there are things that are worth it. And people that are worth it. But that hasn’t happened to you. Maybe it never will. But you can’t waste this chance, right? That is smaller than the smallest cell of your body. For some reason, you need to keep going. Whatever that means, wherever it takes. It’s painful, it’s tiring, it’s unfair. You’re at your lowest and there have never been ups. But maybe… oh, you’re already tired of your own excuses. But, the truth is… it seems quite unfair that you should end it yourself, right? Because you wouldn’t give a damn if you were killed, but having to do it, when no one ever helps you, when others wish your death but don’t have the guts to do it themselves? It just feels like it’s too much.

So you sit down, and you keep staring at that screen, and you occasionally cry and occasionally laugh, and there’s nothing to your day but the littlest things that no one cares. But that’s all you are, and that’s all you have. And you don’t want to lose anything else. And you don’t want to lose more of yourself. So you gather each piece, and you awkwardly glue it together. And that’s you. And that’s as far as you go. Actually, that’s how everything goes. That’s already expected, you tell yourself every day. And yet… one day, you’ll reach the breaking point.

[jocielynn-blog]

CW: Mental Health talk-

I've had a horrible couple days guys...my issues have been in overdrive.

Not just my stutter, aphasia, or migraines even, though these have been pretty bad (I struggled hard to not show it yesterday,) but my paranoia and hallucinations are...becoming unbearable. On top of that my anxiety is through the roof to the point where my pulse wouldn't drop below 100 today...

Hell, at the grocery store I had to remind myself that just because there were two customers near me, one of whom was going down the same aisles as me, that had the exact same color of red hair doesn't mean that they are fae agents out to get me....fucking schizo episodes suck..

Then dealing with trying to figure out words, and worry that people are starting to be disgusted with me, then seeing all the shit go down online, then building up to the fact that situations aren't the cheeriest for me right now, the lack of meds for either my ADD, Bipolar, Schizo-affective disorder, or even just plain fucking hormones...let alone access to a doctor...

The fear of how much rent is going up this year as well as our renters demanding all tenants to get renters insurance from them in the next few months...

To my birthday coming up and me just not wanting to think of any of this for a few days but all my fucking issues, situations, and what not seem to tell me I'm not worth having a birthday and to forget doing anything for myself because fuck me I'm a piece of shit that just exists on the fringes of what society views as human...

I know I've surrounded myself with amazing people who remind me of how amazing humanity is...but sometimes I can't help but feel like I'm just a poison killing everything around me...fucking up the world next to me...

...I need help everyone, I know that...but sometimes I need to exist and live...but my brain makes that hard.

Don't worry, I'm riding the wave, but this is a bad wave this time...

[queenvidal]

No Means Yes

Negan x Reader (Rick's Daughter)

(Not my gif - found it on pinterest. If it's urs, contact me for proper credit)

Chapter 2: On Top

Chapter Summary: With Rick angering you more and more, Negans proposal becomes actually enticing. The head of the Saviors is determend to get the scout all for himself, but not exclusively for scouting.

Wordcount: 3766

Era: Season 7 - Part 2 of the The One And Only Series -

Note: I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes or wrong spellings, English isn't my first language.

Chapter Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 (End)

Masterlist / Negan x Rick's Daughter Series

“Y/N?” Michonne calls you from the other side of the door, knocking softly against the wood. “You’re late for your shift.”

Unbotherd by her calls, you roll onto your other side, pulling the covers over your head. It's been one of the bad nights again, filled with wide awake hours and nightmare induced dreams whenever you manage to close your eyes for a moment. 

The breathtaking pain of your ribs got unbearable most of the time. You practically burnt through all of your meds, leaving you with Alexandria's last bottle of painkillers. It got so bad, that you’ve been in your room with three weeks of almost strict bedrest and your mood slowly got fouler than a walker in the blaring summer heat. 

It’s not like you had the luxury of staying in bed all day of course, with the scavengers constantly out of town, Alexandria got pretty defenseless. Your guard shifts were cut down drastically but you still had to take some regardless. Not that you hate the guard shifts or anything, in fact you quite enjoy them, but with the everlasting pain in your upper half of your body, even as much as walking up and down the wall was becoming a chore. 

The door to your room opens slowly and Michonne comes inside your room. Her shoulders slump at the sight of you. She comes closer to sit on the edge of your bed. “Hey?” she asks you quietly, reaching for your shoulder to squeeze it lightly.

Only a few weeks ago you would have pushed her or any hand away from you, but the toll of the injury rendering you pretty much useless to your group, being bedridden and an extra burden to the scavengers due to your high demand of potent painkillers, drained you mentaly and physically. You just don’t have the power anymore to keep your usual composure up. If you could cry, you would. You never felt so weak in your life before. Useless.

“Hey.” Michonne tries again, drawing small circles in your shoulder. “Bad night?”

“Are there others?” You ask sarcastically, your voice still thick with the few hours of sleep you had. Eventually, you pull the covers down but keep your eyes everywhere but the woman beside you. “I’ll just need a few minutes, okay?”

“Take your time,” She says with a sympathetic smile on her face.

Slowly you crawl out of your bed, thankful for being the only one in Alexandria to still have one. It’s unimaginable what an absolute hell your recovery must have been, if you had to sleep on the floor like the others do. 

Michonne gives you privacy by quickly standing up and going downstairs, while you pick up your clothes for today. You take a new top and sweatpants out of your closet and quickly change. The oversized pullover from yesterday gets picked up from the chair in the corner of your room and pulled over your head. 

After brushing your teeth and making your hair, you head downstairs as well. Still a bit dazed from the short sleep, you toddle towards the kitchen.

Michonne and your father are discussing something at the kitchen table but their voices go silent once you reach the room. Both look at you when you enter, making you more uncomfortable than you already are. 

“Morning,” you whisper before grabbing a glass out of a cabinet. 

“Morning,” Rick replies, visibly on edge. You two barely talked since your injury, not that you'd mind. It is rare for you to have a normal conversation without ending in a fight eventually and you’re really not in the mood for more of that.

You fill the glass with water from the tap and move on to the next cabinet to fetch your meds. Slowly you screw the orange container open and shake a few tables out onto your hand. Three? Four? Who cares, it’s not like they will relieve enough pain to be even noticeable. You plop them into your mouth and down them with the whole glass of water.

“C and A are heading out today.” Your father starts, leaning against the kitchen table. 

“I know.” You reply, not looking at him but at your empty glass.

“Team B is still on the road. Once they are back, you will be relieved of guard duty again.”  

“Yeai,” you cheer in a mocking tone before finally meeting your fathers eyes. “Where are you guys heading first?”

Rick shares a quick glance with Michonne before telling you, “We go up to Pennsylvania.”

This can’t be right. You look at your Dad with confusion knitting your eyebrows together. “I’ve made you plans for the route to Cumberland and-”

“And Clarksburg, I know.” Rick interjects. “But I decided for our teams to stay out longer and gather more stuff. A and C will go together to the outskirts of Pittsburgh.”

“You’re kidding.” He has to. You refuse to believe that the last two weeks you spent reading maps, calculating driving hours and the needed supplies for the trips were all for nothing. 

“You haven’t been out for over a month, Y/N.” He starts and you feel your temper rising. “I don’t want to send the teams out to places you haven’t been to recently.”

“But I’ve ever been to Pittsburgh?!” You ask loudly. “We have enough supplies to last for a few weeks, there is no need to walk among, which always was our last option due to its risks, in case you’ve forgotten that!” 

“We have to gather what we can while there is no snow.” Rick defends his decision.

"Funny how I've told you so months ago, only that you didn't care back then," you point out.

Michonne offers, “It is risky, but it is worth it."

You just shake your head in disbelief, at this pace Rick's going to get people killed. Walking among is exhausting and the cold will only make it  worse. “You don’t know that,” you keep arguing, “We’ve got-”

“Y/N, this is not up for debate.” Rick wants to end the argument. “We've barely met the Saviors deadline. I can't let that happen again. We’re gonna leave in an hour.”

“Both of you?” You ask them and Michonne nods silently. “Then who’s gonna supervise the pickup today?”

Not me, not me, not me, you keep repeating in your head over and over again. 

The last thing you need right now is to have to deal with the Saviors face to face. Especially their leader. During the weeks spent in your bed you had a lot of time to think about Negan's proposal. Maybe you are reading too much into things, but you have a feeling that Negan got at least a tiny bit softer since you got your injury. His persistence sure did work on you. Not to mention his - dare you say - charm.

You know what he is capable of when provoked but what you didn’t know is how different he can be when he wants something. This man was all smiles and flattering words and God, was he testing your resistance. Also you couldn’t help but notice that he was quite handsome when he smiled- 

NOPE! We’re not going that path of thought again.

“Aaron will be our substitute.” Michonne’s voice tears you to the presence again. “He’ll manage, don't worry.”

I don't worry about him, but you don’t say that out loud. "So, how long will my shift be, am I on the wall during the pickup?” You ask, when grabbing a protein bar out of the cabinet.

“That’s the plan, yes.” Rick confirms.

Perfect, right in plain sight. Fuck . You try not to show your inner turmoil, when you take a quick bite. You glub the bar down and lean against the counter for a second. 

Michonne comes to lean next to you with her arms crossed but with a sympathetic smile on her face. “Hey, it will be okay. We’ll be looking for morphine or anything in kind.”

“Thanks.” You tell her after a deep sigh that tears right through your burning lungs. “How long will you be gone?”

“Two weeks to a month.” Rick answers, crossing his arms. 

"A month?!" You repeat with your voice rising in sheer disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

Rick's eyes roll in annoyance before he says, “It will be fine, Y/N. Team B will handle that-”

“What if they get injured?” You interrupt him angrily. “What if they don’t come back at all?”

Rick looks down at his shoes for a fleeting moment before returning his eyes back to you. “Then there is still you as a backup.”

Ouch!

You're speechless. This actually hurts. Is that what he sees in you, nothing more than a backup plan?

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Michonne tries to smooth things over. “Aaron and Eric will move out, too, if necessary.”

And leave the town defenseless? No way. You just shake your head, too winded up to say something to all of this. You're angry and hurt, you’d blurred something out and you'd have to apologize for later if you opened your mouth now.

Rick straps his hatchet to his belt before asking, “You’re the most experienced with walking among. Do you have any tips?”

All you can do is to huff a laugh. The nerve of this man is just unbelievable. You glare at him as you push yourself from the counter to get to the door. “Don’t act like you care about my opinion.”

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

The sun is shining through the windows, painting the infirmary in a pleasant warm light. Despite Rick's orders, you’ve left your post on the gate the second the Saviors arrived. Aaron raised an eyebrow, when you silently moved away, but once you explained to him that Dwight’s among today's pickup team, he let you pass and 'hide' outside of his line of sight. 

While it was merely an excuse to leave early, it wasn't a lie either. Dwight’s always giving you a side eye, when being part of the pickups. You murse he's just waiting to trick you in some way or another to do something stupid, making good on his promise. 

With a sigh on your lips, you shake your head, trying to think of something else than that asshole and return your focus back to the map of Virginia that's in front of you. You lean  against your desk while studying it. With your ribs still not fully healed, it just hurt way too much to lean over your desk all the time. When you planned the new routes, you decided to pin the scavengers map on the wall and it actually helped.

With your eyes following the streets on the map, you can’t help but feel the anger rising again, mostly because of the wasted time. It’s just another proof of how little your father values your efforts. Who cares if you haven't been outside for a few weeks? Your scouting trips were still valid and you wouldn't plan routes to the places you’ve been prior if you weren’t absolutely certain for them to be still worth looting.

"Why the long face, sunshine?" 

You turn your head towards the man you’ve been hoping to avoid. If you’re honest with yourself, you don’t care about Dwight, at least to the extent of feeling the need to hide from him. No, Negan is the real deal. Literally.

If anything you’re afraid of eventually giving in. Not because you genuinely want to join the Saviors ranks, but because of your deteriorating patience with your father and Alexandria in general. You don't hold any illusions that you’d survive on your own for long, Negan's men might be a better choice for the time being. Until you found a new place to stay at least. And the fact that you even thought so far ahead scares you.

Negan closes the door behind him and comes closer towards you and the map. You’ve been so caught up in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice him coming in until it was too late. 

“What’s that?” Negan asks, inspecting the map as well.

“The routes for our teams”, You tell him before rounding your desk to sit down on your chair. Negan keeps standing at the map, scratching his beard as he’s going over the marked locations.

“Red means looted, yellow is scouted out and orange is the next route," you explain the color system before he can ask.

"Damn." He looks at you with a bright smile. "You really went fucking everywhere." The amount of yellow pins is hard to miss. His eyes stay on a blue pin that's sticking out not too far away from DC. “And what's with the blue one here?”

“Point of interest or rather a place to avoid.” You tell him.

“Avoid?” He asks, clearly interested, “Do you know what's up there?”

“Nope, the barbed wire with explosives taped to it gave me the impression that whoever put that in place doesn’t appreciate visitors.” And it only made your curiosity skyrock, you really wanted to go and explore the area but of course didn’t. You knew you wouldn’t stand a chance, if they found you, only armed with your knives.

You add, “Probably another community or something.”

“During your trips, have you ever found other communities?” Negan looks back at you.

“Sure”, you admit, there is no point in lying and you sure as hell won't even attempt to lie to him out of all people. “Not many though and I don’t engage with them. If I see high walls or blocked off streets, I mark their locations on my own map and tell my people to stay away from that area. With no guns and all, I prefer us playing safe and not coming too close to them.”

“Smart girl,” Negan smiles. 

You just shrug your shoulders at his praise, making his smile falter for a split second. "You pissed or something?" 

You're tempted to wave him off but catch yourself just in time and place your head in your hand. "Well, yeah" you answer him sincerely. "The two routes you see there were planned for our teams. Spent most of my downtime on them only to be told my father changed his mind last minute. He had a better idea and took two teams up to Pennsylvania."

"Huh…" Negan turns his head back to the map. "When you send out teams, what's their success rate?" 

"Usually 100 percent." You tell him nonchalantly and he turns to you with a raised eyebrow. "I only send them to places I've already scouted out and unless there is a horde of dead, other survivors or someone gets injured, the runs are all successful. If we count in unpredictable events it’s still about 75 to 80 percent, I’d say."

"And Rick just said nope and went somewhere else?" You nod your head at him, earning a snort from Negan. "Unbelievable."

He keeps scratching his beard, his eyes following the trail of orange. Eventually, he turns around towards you. "Seriously, doll. I just have to get you in my team. You're just wasting your talent here." 

"Negan," you sigh. How many times have you already declined his offer, twice? 

"Yeah, yeah." He rolls his eyes before casually leaning against the wall opposite from you. "I just don't get it. These people here are not even worth being spit on, yet you keep turning me and my damn good offer down, just to keep providing for them."

"I don't care about the people," You correct him, "I care about my people and I do what I do to keep them safe."

Negan just huffs a laugh, "You know, I wasn't expecting you to agree to come with me right away, but I gotta say I didn't think it would take that long to finally convince you."

You can't help but smirk at him. "Disappointed?" 

The question is earning a low chuckle from him. "Hell, far from it. I'm a man who enjoys the hunt."

"The hunt?" You repeat, arching an eyebrow at him. "I'm not some prize to be won." 

"No, doll." Negan agrees with a smug smile. "Not a prize. You, my dear, are the fucking jackpot."

Warmth settles on your cheeks. Compliments always get you somewhat flustered, but hearing them from this man in particular does things to you. Things you really don't want to think about for too long. 

After clearing your throat, desperately trying to hide your flustered state, you try to change the subject. "Seriously, though. All jokes aside, I don't think we would work, Negan. I can't really picture me and your boys playing nice."

Negan pushes himself from the wall to saunter towards your desk. "Oh, they're gonna have to once you're one of my lieutenants." 

You've heard this title before but can't remember if it's a good one, so you tell him, "I'm not all too familiar with what that means." 

With a bright smile on his face, Negan explains, "It means you're gonna be right one top of the ranks, above everyone else but me." 

Your eyebrows raise on their own accord. That would mean responsibility. Something you wished you had for pretty much all the time. No matter what you did, someone else always got the last say. 

You're the town scout, but Rick eventually decides if places are worth looting them, you're not even leading your Team, Daryl's word goes, when B is on tour. And even the command over the pantry is only shared, with Olivia still being the preferred contact. 

The infirmary is the only place you have control over and even that's debatable sometimes. If you need something, like equipment or meds, you can't just move out and grab them, you always have to report to somebody. 

Having the chance to be in charge for once sounds insanely good, if you're able to ignore the fact that the Saviors are leeches on other communities, reaffirming their position with violence and oppression.

"So," you start, your interest still piqued, "The only one on top of me would be you?" 

"Correct." He pauses for a moment, with a wolfish grin he leans down on your desk, looking deep into your eyes before he says, "But even that can be up for debate, you strike me as the kind of girl that likes to be on top."

Blood rushes so fast to your face it's making you lightheaded, he didn’t just insinuate what you think he did? Before your blank mind can comprehend what he just said or come up with a retort, Negan pushes himself from your desk again. "Well, sunshine, as much as I enjoy our little meetings, I gotta cut this one short unfortunately. I’m needed elsewhere today.”

You blink a few times to catch your bearings. “Eh yeah, I should get moving too,” you say, thankful for the distance between the two of you . Quickly you grab your scouting journal from your desk. 

Negan asks. “Something planned for today?” 

“Gonna pack for tomorrow.” You tell him and nod towards the map on the wall. “Got a few trips ahead of me.”

“What trips?” He asks in a firm voice, his mood suddenly changing very fast.

“I… I am going to Baltimore.” You explain, uncertain why he suddenly seems so irritated. “I only got one team at my disposal right now and they are still on the road.” With your journal in hand, you stand up from your desk and grab your jacket that you have put on the back of the chair. “Baltimore is completely overrun, no one dares to loot there. Been there a few times already and know my way around. Shouldn’t take more than two day-”

“No.”

You turn towards Negan with questioning eyes. “No?” 

“You wont hit the road until your injuries are fully healed.” His voice sounds commanding, but despite his rather serious expression, you can’t take him seriously. 

You put your jacket on and ask, “And who’s gonna get supplies for you if not me?”

Negan takes a step closer, looking quite angry now. “There are enough other people living in this town.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, not this topic again. “Yeah, right. But none of them knows how to use a knife or can fight.”

“Can you?” He asks, coming even closer. 

When you’re about to take a step back, he grabs your journal out of your hand and raises it above your head.

“Really?” You can't hide the annoyance in your voice as you look at him. Negan obviously wants to prove his point and you hate to admit that you can’t reach for the book without the stretch of your muscles inflicting pain. But you're not infamous for your stubbornness for nothing, so you reach out your arms regardless, only for Negan to raise his even higher. 

“Negan, come on,” you're pleaing but it’s in vain. 

The head of the Saviors stares you down, “When you can’t even take your little book back from me, how do you want to fight off the dead shits?” He asks, his eyes not leaving your face, scanning it for any sign of pain or discomfort. 

You consider him for a second before jumping up and tearing at the book. Hot white pain shoots right through your middle before you know it, forcing you to clutch your left side with a groan passing your lips.

With his point proven, Negan throws your book back at your desk before entering your personal space again. “You’re not going anywhere, Y/N. Thats a fucking order.” 

You stare him back into his hazel eyes, ready to challenge him. But the voice in your head screams at you to stay down and after a moment of consideration you deflate, eventually giving in. “Fine.”

Negan’s face stays stern for a long moment before it slowly splits into a smile and he lifts your face up with his hand beneath your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Good girl.” His intense glance only adds more warmth to your face.

Satisfied with your reaction, he finally lets you go with a low chuckle. “See you next week, Sunshine.”

The man turns on his heels and goes for the door, not looking back when he exits the room. Unable to do anything but to stare at the now closed door, you are left alone with your wildly spinning mind. You don’t know how to feel; stuned, confused, flattered?

Goddamn, this man is driving me insane.

Chapter Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 (End)

Masterlist / Negan x Rick's Daughter Series

[wizkiddx]

your voice

angsty vibe, requested by @hollandlover19 than you for th rq and hop this doesn't disappoint too much :)))

summary: tom says something so stupid and has to deal with the consquences

warnings: a bit angsty, but ends in fluff! argumnts and raising voices, I guess could be associated with panic attacks tho not written with that intention

//////////////////////////////////

“Oh, Y/n er sorry.” Harrisons morning dulcet tones were what you were awoken to with a groan.

Everything was achy, and your head was pounding, making you grumble in discontent as you shifted uncomfortably on the technically too-small-to-sleep-on sofa.

This was not the morning you’d foreseen even 12 hours ago.

Lockdown had been difficult for everyone, even removing the tragic health crisis. Being locked in with your boyfriend and his brothers and friends was, for the most part, amazing. Lots of laughs, lots of beers and lots of quality time that you usually didn’t get. But it was also intense.

Without a doubt, since you first got together, this was the longest time you’d ever had with Tom. And it had been brilliant, your relationship getting so much closer and just learning the subtlest intricacies about the other. In fact, when lockdown had been announced, you’d never lived together (the most a week-long holiday).

Though it was also like a pressure cooker, Toms rented house. When one of you were in an understandable but stubborn lousy mood, it affected the whole house.

Yesterday night had been the perfect storm. The weather was unbelievably scorching; your work had announced that they had to let some staff go because of the financial implications of the pandemic; a ‘mole’ had released personal details of your relationship.

And it was like a pot on the stove; everything went from controllable to violently boiling over in a matter of minutes.

Honestly, you didn’t even know why you had started arguing - it was that pathetic. And yet you’d both said pretty horrible stuff - though it was Tom who had crossed the line. Frankly, the way he’d spoken to you was almost unforgivable.

You’d both known instantly too, all his anger at you had immediately evaporated when he’d realised what he had said. It took no time for him to become a grovelling apologetic mess, however even that- it was already too late.

It might sound feeble, but honestly, you’d run and locked yourself in the downstairs loo. You’d cried on the inside- whilst from the other side of the door, he had been begging and pleading with you.

After an hour though, Tom finally gave up - hence why you’d had a pretty uncomfortable night on the sofa.

This brings it back to Harrison, the early riser of the house, barrelling into the living room after his morning run. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, except also slightly terrified looking as he stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“I’m up now” You sighed, dragging yourself into a sitting position on the sofa whilst massaging your crooked neck.

“You er…. you fell asleep watching the TV?” Rolling your eyes, you sighed at the blonde, even if his poor acting was a little entertaining.

“Are we both pretending that you don’t know what went down last night?” Of course, Harrison knew. The walls were thin, you’d been screaming and he was Tom’s best friend. No doubt, Tom had immediately gone to him for help and advice last night.

Harrison held his hands up in response, caught in the act, and clicked his tongue. “What he said was bad. You shouldn’t be the one ending up with the sore back.” He wasn’t wrong.

“And yet here I am…” With a sigh you smiled which he returned with a sickeningly empathetic one “Anyway, don’t let my sad self get in the way, did you come in here for anything?”

Now, because Harrison was mentally a five year old, that’s how you ended up sat crossed-legged on the floor, clutching a wii remote and angrily shouting at yoshi on the mariokart screen. The whole household was competitive as hell and you were no exception - so some rouge elbows were flying when he viciously knocked you off the track.

Slowly Harry and Tuwaine filtered in and picked up remotes too, so the quiet morning was very quickly switched into a tense atmosphere of yelps and shouts. None more so than Tuwaine, who was possibly the worst looser you had ever met.

Really, you knew all the boys were only doing this as there way of showing you they were with you. That they also thought Tom was a massive raging dickhead. And you appreciated it more than they would ever know. Locked down in Toms house, very much not mutual ground, having three stupid boys behind you meant everything.

Just as you got on to the 18th and final race of the house’s mario grand prix, another voice cut across the tense silence as you waited for the coutdown to turn into ‘go’. Naturally, you flipped round to see Tom, looking as though he literally just rolled out of bed with puffy eyes and messy hair and no top. The sight made your heart flutter, to the point you had to consciously check yourself - refusing to smile softly at him like you usually would, instead narrowing your eyebrows and looking back at the TV.

Tom had so desperately hoped that when he came down this morning, everything would be better. That all it’d take would be a quiet conversation for the two of you to make up - for him to have you in his arms again. Primarily as he had heard your excited laugh echoing through the halls in reactions to Tuwaines yelps of protests - it made him hopeful. Waking up to a cold and empty bed was almost soul-crushing this morning. He did not want it to ever happen again.

Which is why his heart sank so much when all you gave him was a scolding look, before turning your attention to the TV. Admittedly, he was naive to think that what he’d done last night would be an easy fix - he knew it too. So with dropping shoulders, Tom silently took a seat on the sofa, watching from afar. You spent the rest of the race more absent, not joining in with the Harrison or Harrys trash-talking, acutely aware of Tom’s eyes burning the back of your head.

Then came Harry’s celebrations as the overall winner (only just) and when Harrison suggested another game Tom piped up again.

“Give me a turn Harry.”

The three boys kneeling next to you all stiffened, looking immediately to you for what seemed like consent - as if they were engaging with the enemy. (At least it was good to know everyone was on your side).

“I’m gonna go prepare for my meeting anyway.” You spoke quietly, already placing the remote on the floor and standing up.

“Y/n I don’t mind swappin-“

“No. Thanks, H but no.” You weren’t being selfless and giving Tom a turn. You were running away from seeing him.

And Harrison was still really angry at Tom. He’d been so selfish and insensitive and had hurt you- someone who Haz also cared a lot about too. Yes Tom was his bestmate, that he’d grown up with and known for years - but Haz really liked you too, in fact all the boys did. So they were almost as pissed with Tom as you were.

So while you threw the cushion you were sat on back on the floor, Harrison shot Tom the filthiest look and practically shooed him away.

“come on Y/n … just one more? Then you can do your boring work.” You were about to refuse when Haz tilted his head toward the door, only then noticing that Tom had slipped out the room. Now that he was gone ,yes, just one more wouldn’t hurt. The meeting prep wasn’t time pressured; it was an excuse for an escape.

Tuwaine whooped a little when you nodded, planting back down and ready for the first race. Yet apart from that, the room was still a little awkward, you being the first to break the silence.

“Actually Haz, would you mind giving me a lift today?”

“What to the shops?

“Um no not quite.” Tuwaine laughed in his usual innocent and infectious style before asking more.

“Seriously? You know we’re locked down? Boris won’t be happy if you going mad and leaving the house.”

“Just to Y/f/n’s. She lives on her own so it’s legal.”

“She lives just down the road right? Can’t you walk?” Harry was confused, making him look away from the screen, ultimately leading to his ‘diddykong’ falling off the track.

“I’ll have my bags. I um… I think I’m going to stay with her till lockdown eases more.”

As soon as you said that, Harry pressed pause on the race, all three boys looking at you mouth-opened.

“For real?”

“Yeh I um… think me and Tom need some time apart and being locked in isn’t helping.”

“I’m not saying to forgive and forget what he said… but he is really sorry.”

“The twats literally kicking himself.” Tuwaine added, making you smile a little for calling Tom that.

“I know just… I need some space and-“

“Are you breaking up?” Harry almost announced, cutting you off. He would miss you too.

“No! Nono I … well I don’t know. I just- we both need this.”

The boys all nodded, looking at the floor for a moment before Harrison’s blue eyes were back on you.

“Course I’ll drive, but… but I’ll miss you.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You’d left merely an hour later, whilst Tom was holed up in the garden doing what looked like an almost unbearable work out. It meant he was also out your hair and you could throw all your stuff into two suitcases without him being any the wiser. It was probably pretty cowardly to leave without speaking to him, but you couldn’t. It would hurt too much and you didn’t want to break down in front of him. No doubt as soon as you had got to Y/f/n you did - into a blubbering mess of tears - but Tom hadn’t seen so it was okay.

Speaking of. Tom.

Tom was not in a good way at all. He’d been trying really hard to curb his’ short fuse’ lately- all of which had been well and truly blown in the past 4 hours. After finally being realised from meetings, which he’d not been able to concentrate on anyway, Tom had mentally prepared himself for a lot of grovelling. Once he’d vaguely hunted the house and not found you there, he naturally asked Harry and Tuwaine (both of whom were in the living room) if they’d seen you around.

It was a typical question, the answer he was expecting was that you’d just gone on your daily walk. And yet the response he got was… well a lot more confusing. Harry’s eyes widened whilst T did his awkward-uncomfortable chuckle, the two locked in an intense bout of eye contact. It was as though they were arguing with each, but through the powers of telekinesis... and it put Tom on edge. He was already stressed because you were so angry with him, so not getting a clear answer out of his brother and best mate - lets just say it tested his patience.

“You two need to tell me what the hell is going on right now.”

The two boys both looked panicked to speak to him, which was the opposite of the usual situation. They were some of the ONLY people in his life that would just say it how it is, no sugar coating. Like if he was away and being ‘famous’ was getting to his head; or if he wore the wrong pair of jeans. Even yesterday evenings events, they’d both called him out on what he’d said to you.

So why the silence?

Eventually, it was Harry who spoke up, but in doing so, practically just waved all responsibility on to another innocent party.

“Ask Haz.”

And then Tom knew. He knew this was bad. Immediately his heart was pumping at an alarmingly fast rate, taking the stairs two at a time and not bothering to knock before bursting the door open.

“Where’s Y/n?”

Harrison was reclined back on his haphazardly made bed, laptop balanced on his lap as he looked up with a sigh. He’d known this conversation was coming, but it didn’t make it any less easy. With a sigh, Haz closed the lid of his MacBook and sat up on the bed.

“Tom just-“

“Where. Is. She.”

“She’s gone to Y/f/n’s.”

“Oh… okay.” Suddenly Tom’s voice was muted, thinking he might’ve blown his top at nothing. This wasn’t weird - Y/f/n was in your support bubble and you went to hers often.

Tom was grossly underestimating the situation - and Harrison heard didn’t fancy stringing him along though.

“No like gone. She um… she took all her stuff. I think she’s going to stay there till-“

Tom was already out his room at that point, slamming the door as he did so. Making a beeline for his own room, Tom then frantically started to pull out the draws and rummage around the shelves, confirming what he already knew. Your clothes were gone, your toothbrush and toiletries were gone, you were gone.

It’s important to note Tom didn’t really cry all that much. Or if he did - it was more inconsequential, at a sad movie or one of the rescue dog stories from battersea. Actually, when it came down to it, he didn’t really cry.

Now though, it was impossible to ignore the burning of his eyes, as he sank down onto the bed that now felt twice the size. With ragged breath, he repeatedly fisted his eyes, not actually letting the tears fall - but it was impossible to not acknowledge their presence. Harrison stood wordlessly at the door frame, knowing it best not to interrupt - whilst at the same time knowing Tom shouldn’t be left alone. There was a delicate balance between the two, which he was walking on a knife-edge on right now.

After a short while, Tom looked up with red eyes and nodded at Harrison, effectively granting him entrance. With a sigh once again, Haz moved and sat next to Tom on the bed, clasping his hands together nervously.

“She said you both just needed a break from each other. Think lockdown and everything was just a bit too intense.” Haz had tried to explain, yet it seemed Tom had only managed to lock onto one of the first words.

“A break? Or breaking up?”

“I uhm… she didn’t explicitly say ending things. But I just… I don’t know to be honest mate.”

“You see the way she looked at me this morning? Like she hated me. Wouldn’t even acknowledge that I was there.”

“I don’t know what to say… she needs time and space I think.” Tom was silent for a beat, shaking his head as he cradled his forehead.

“I hate the fact you and my girlfriend are on better terms than I am.” Anddd his voice was back to scathing.

“I’m not on anyones side. But your both my friends and she… she needed some time.”

With that, Harrison made a quick exit out, getting Harry to take over the Tom supervision.

Ever since the atmosphere in the house had been tense. To say Tom was highly strung was an understatement, particularly towards Harrison. Deep down he was thankful Haz was looking out for Y/n: he was glad that Haz was checking she was okay. It’s not like Tom could, because Y/n was refusing to answer his calls, texts, whatsapps, even the slip of paper he’d slipped under Y/f/n’s door in the middle of an especially dark night.

So it was good to know Y/n was okay, but the fact she was going on socially distanced walks with the rest of his housemates was rubbing salt in the wound.

After a week and a half of complete radio silence on your end Tom had utterly worn down. He didn’t have the emotional capacity to be angry anymore, he was just tired. Tired of missing you with every breath, tired of the ten-tonne weight of guilt pressing on his chest, fucking exhausted with being angry at Haz and Harry and Tuwaine.

The best thing in his life and one of the very limited opportunities was quality time with the people he loved more than anything else. He had ruined it all.

And it was the small things. It was waking up to your soft, whispered voice in the morning; it was your infectious giggle when he surprised you with a hug from behind and gentle kisses to your neck; it was your quiet singing in the shower. Especially when he knew Haz, Harry and Tuwaine were all still seeing you and laughing with you. It hurt like hell.

Which is how he ended up hesitantly knocking on Harrison’s bedroom door at half eleven at night, with his tail between his legs. Having been so uber-healthy all lockdown, Haz was already in bed following his sleep cycle, though for Tom right now- he would be awake.

“I’m um… I’m sorry I’ve been a knob. There’s no excuse of anything I’ve just… I’ve been a knob.”

“You’re not wrong.” Harrison nodded in agreement with a sly smile, motioning for Tom to come into the room, after which he perched on the edge of the bed.

“I just… I need to speak to her but I… I don’t want to push her if she’s still hurting and I…”

“You absolutely promise not to blow your fuse? Because she couldn’t handle that.” Tom’s eyes widened, thinking this would be a much harder pitch than how it seemed to be going.

“Yesyesyes i- I promise. I just, I feel broken you know? Even if all I get is the time to say sorry, I-I really need to.”

Harrison released a deep breath, nodding slowly before throwing the covers off himself. Tom watched all his movements with a curious gaze, silently sitting as Haz pulled on a hoodie, then socks too.

“Well? Let’s go.”

//////////////////

Now, what Tom had not in the slightest bit been prepared for was this to happen tonight. Really, he hadn’t even thought Harrison would agree to let him talk to you… and even if he had, Tom not in hell thought it’d be at 11:30 that evening.

His heart was thundering in his chest, trying to hurriedly script how on earth he was going to apologise meaningfully to you - as him and Haz walked the short distance to your friends house. Honestly the whole situation was peculiar to Tom - finding it hard to believe that if you weren’t to answer his texts you wouldn’t be open to an in person conversation.

What Tom didn’t know, was how you’d been texting Haz at a similar point of desperation. You weren’t happy and even given everything Tom had said and acted - you missed your boy. No matter how infuriating he could be when trapped 24/7 - you’d quickly learnt this was the only way you wanted to spend these weird times.

So yes, Tom’s best friend knew you were hardly sleeping either, but needed that little push to interact with you boyfriend. No doubt, you’d still be awake to answer the door.

Once he’d arrived at the apartment block and walked up the stairs to the right floor, it still took some prodding and pushing from Harrison to get Tom to knock on the door. Plainly, because he was shitting himself. Haz hadn’t given him enough pre warning, enough time to work it all out in his head. So it took another encouraging nod from Harrison for him to knock on the slightly rough-round-the-edges flat door.

Y/f/n was single and young, starting her career in Kingston - so the flat she could afford was modest at best. When it was just occupied by a single person, that was manageable - two was a push. You’d only been living with her for a week and a few days but it was enough to know this flat was not ideal for two people in lockdown. You were already stepping on each others toes. It also wasn’t technically legal to move households but Y/f/n had always been in your support bubble as a single household otherwise. And so there was also a layer of guilt to it all.

Naturally then, sharing a bed with someone who wasn’t Tom meant you just were not sleeping. Even if you had both gone to bed early (just to kill some hours in the day) you were still wide awake at quarter to twelve - when a timid knock echoed through the minuscule apartment. Curiosity peaked at who the hell would be calling now; you silently slipped out of bed, managing to not disturb Y/f/n, and closed the bedroom door.

Now you weren’t an idiot. Even though this was southwest london, hardly the capital for crime, Y/f/n lived in a dodgy building with some questionable characters. And it was midnight. Hence why you approached the situation cautiously, tiptoeing to the door and waiting with your ear pressed against the wood.

“I told you she wouldn’t answer!”

“She will! Might just be in the loo or something.”

“Haz this is stupid-“

The air in your chest froze when you immediately recognised the smooth tone of his voice. It was him… and you’d missed that so much. Already there were tears in your eyes and you couldn’t open the door just yet. So no, instead you slid down the doorframe before calling quietly out into the night.

“Tom?”

The bickering on the otherside of the door was silenced, but you heard a quite tap on the door... and could envision exactly what was going on. Tom, pressing both palms and his ear to the door, as Harrison took a few steps back - sensing his work was done.

“Y/n? You there?” He sounded desperate, you could hear the emotion dripping off his voice. It was only when you tried to reply did you realise your own voice was having a harder time speaking.

“Yeh its-its me.” It felt as though this heavyweight that had been pressing down on your chest was slowly lifting, making your voice all cracky and low.

In response, there was a short and sharp exhale. It sounded relieved before some fidgeting as you imagined him crouching down beside the door - mirroring your image.

“Fuck, it… it feels so good to hear your voice.”

“Yours too… I’ve-i’ve missed you.”

Tom snorted at that, a gentle bang allowing you to realise he’d just whacked his head on the back of the wood.

“You have no idea how this week felt.” He was wrong though, you did.

Yes, maybe without the insurmountable guilt that Tom was rightfully feeling, but it didn’t mean that the time apart wasn’t easy.

“I do. This hasn’t been a nice holiday for me you know?”

He sighed, knowing that yet again he’d said the wrong thing. This time though, he didn’t rebut instantly (which surprised you), instead his response was more measured and calculated.

“I am so sorry. And of course, I know because I was the one that hurt you too. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for that.” You nodded but given this conversation was happening through a door Tom didn’t see your gentle agreement - opting to fill the silence.

“I um… I’m not good at this whole um… speaking my feelings. But I’ve hated myself ever since I picked that fight with you. It was stupid and uh it-it was all my fault. I’m so so sorry for hurting you.”

“‘Why?” You tried to ask, except the words were stuck in your throat, making you have to clear it before asking again. “Why did you say it?”

“To get a rise out of you. It’s stupid and petty and fucking-fucking dumb. I said it not because I’ve ever thought it, I never ever have, but I knew it’d hurt you. I was preying on your insecurities because I was angry at the world and that was so unfair. “

“No shit.”

Silence reigned as you fiddled with your fingers - specifically with the promise ring he’d bought you a year ago.

“You-you think you could ever forgive me?”

“Thats the annoying part. I want to hate you because you literally stabbed me then twisted the knife but… but all I’ve done this week is miss you. Even when I saw Haz or Harry or Tuwaine. I just fucking missed you.”

“Can you open the door please love?”

Clumsily you scrubbed the tear tracks off your face, scrabbling to your feet so you could thrust open the doors. Because you might still be bloody pissed at him, but at the same time - you needed your Tom. Thrusting the door open, the first thing you registered was being pressed into Tom’s chest. His arms slinked around your waist and held him tight, which you reciprocated, squeezing tightly round his neck. Your senses were all being assaulted by one thing and one thing only. Tom.

He smelt like usual, except maybe the slightest bit stronger than usual - you figured he hadn’t showered in a day or two or bothered with cologne. The top of your forehead was pressed up against his chin, and as he readjusted his grip on you, you felt the scratchy feeling of his unshaven stubble. He kept whispering apologies against the top of your head, almost desperate and religiously.

Arching back, you brought both hands to cup his cheeks, looking into his glassy brown. eyes, which looked so lost and confused.

“I’m still angry.”

“Of course-“

“I’m still angry but I’m going to kiss you okay?”

Safe to say Tom didn’t require a verbal response, taking it upon himself to nudge his lips against yours, yet waiting for you to initiate the kiss. And that you did, everything else about this godforsaken week and a half. His index finger traced the angle of your jaw, whilst he held your lower back tight, pressing himself as close as physically possible to you. Needing you.

Eventually arching back, your thumb ran over his deep and sunken under-eyes, which added so much age to his face.

“You look tired Tommy.”

“Can’t sleep without you telling me goodnight.” That was another tradition you had had. Even when he was away, you’d even set an alarm for whatever bedtime was for the other across the world. Just so you could send a little message or voice not saying goodnight. Was it cringey? Yes. Did either of you care? No.

But since you’d been away all the evening wishes were absent from you. Which hurt Tom more than you may ever know.

“I know you’re still angry but will you please come home to me? I need you to be the last thing I hear at night and the first thing in the morning.”

would love to hear any feedback <333 (but think this is a bit of a shitter so im sorry!!!)

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @pandaxnienke @thegirlwiththeimpala @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @hollandlover19 @hunnybunimdun @crossyourpeter @thefernandasantana@hallecarey1

[riffheartsgraziella]

Riff x Graziella HC - The Day Riff, Jr. Was Born

A/N: This one ended up being a lot longer than I anticipated, but I hope you enjoy!

Graziella had been struggling with intense discomfort all day. As petite as she was, these last few weeks of her pregnancy had been particularly challenging as her womb stretched itself to its limits, her belly bulging hard and swollen. The baby had been on the move constantly, pressing down roughly on her pelvis and kicking harder than ever. He certainly wasn’t going easy on her. Somehow, that fact reminded her of Riff and made her smile despite the unbearable ache of missing him. Even the simplest tasks, like getting up out of a chair and walking around the room, exhausted her, so she had pretty much been sticking to the four walls of her bedroom at Velma’s apartment. Thankfully, the frigid February winds had been keeping everyone indoors as of late, so she didn’t feel like she was missing out on too much. And the girls always came by to keep her company. “Can yous believe he’s gonna be here soon?” Mamie was chattering excitedly, cooing over the baby clothes she was tenderly folding. The Jet girls had thrown Grazi a little baby shower last month and now they were making sure to help her organize everything before the baby finally arrived.

“I can’t! It seems like just yesterday we found out about him,” Rhonda laughed, sitting down beside Grazi on the bed and resting a hand on her rounded belly. “Really? I feel like Grazi’s been pregnant forever,” Karen teased, throwing a wink over at her as she carefully folded the blankets Grazi had been gifted. “Trust me, I feel like it, too,” Graziella laughed, resting both hands atop her protruding stomach. “God, I’m like a whale.” “Ya ain’t! Don’t say that!” Velma insisted, looking over at her from where she was setting some stuffed animals in the little bassinet across the room. “Yer the most beautiful pregnant girl there ever was!” Mamie told her, nodding her head for emphasis. “Yous have ta say that ’cause yer—oh!” Graziella let out a sudden groan as she tried to shift in bed. “What is it?” Velma demanded, all of the girls frantically turning their full attention towards her. “Nothin’!” Grazi insisted, waving her hand. “I’ve been feelin’ a little uncomfortable today, but it’s just ’cause this little monster won’t stop kickin’ me,” she grinned, poking her belly playfully. “Are ya sure, Grazi?” Velma asked, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, ya are gettin’ kinda close. The doctor said it could be any day now.” “I’m sure. It’s really not—” Before Graziella could even finish her sentence, she let out a loud gasp of surprise and glanced down at the blanket beneath her. It was suddenly completely soaked, as was the nightgown she was wearing. “Grazi! Did yer water just break?” Rhonda gasped, shooting straight up and staring down at her friend with wide eyes. Karen, Mamie, and Velma squealed and ran over to the bed as well, hovering anxiously with outstretched hands. “Oh my God! My water broke!” Grazi cried, her face devoid of all color. “Don’t panic! Nobody panic!” Karen insisted calmly, shooting pointed looks at the other girls. “It’s all gonna be fine, Grazi,” she added, gently touching her friend’s cheek. “I’m gonna call Mouthpiece! He’ll tell everyone!” Velma declared, hurrying out of the room to grab the telephone in the family room of her apartment. Her parents were away for the weekend, so they wouldn’t be able to assist them, but the Jets would take care of things for them. “Tell him ta tell Diesel! He can see about gettin’ a car ta bring Grazi ta the hospital!” Mamie cried, following Velma out of the room. “Good thing we already started packin’ yer hospital bag,” Rhonda said, running over to the corner of the room and snatching it up. “Grazi? Grazi, breathe,” Karen told her gently, noticing how pale her friend had become. “It’s all gonna be okay. The baby’s gonna be here soon!” She sat down beside her and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Oh, God, he’s comin’. He’s comin’ now!” Graziella exclaimed, panic blazing in her eyes. She’d been unable to think about anything but finally getting to hold her baby in her arms, but now that the moment was here, she was terrified. “What if I can’t do it? What if we don’t get ta the hospital in time? What if I—” “Grazi!“ Karen said sternly, ever the rational voice of reason. She grabbed her by the shoulders. “If anyone can do this, it’s you. We’re gonna get ya there. We’re gonna be with ya the whole time. Just breathe.” Graziella nodded and did her best to take deep breaths as Karen and Rhonda helped her out of bed and dressed her as quickly as possible. She breathed as the contractions started to take hold of her, causing her womb to clench painfully. She breathed as Karen, Rhonda, Velma, and Mamie helped her down the stairs of the apartment building, assuring her that the boys would be there soon. She even breathed as Diesel frantically drove up onto the curb in an old station wagon, nearly hitting the fire hydrant outside Velma’s building in the process. “Hey, Grazi!” Diesel panted, hands on his hips as he tried to catch his breath. “Alright, everyone else is on their way ta the hospital, so we gotta go. Like, now. ’Cause I gotta get this car back,” he added, looking nervous. “Who’d ya borrow it from?” Mamie asked as the other girls helped Graziella into the backseat. “Well…there wasn’t really anyone around ta ask, so I sorta maybe hotwired this one,” Diesel admitted slowly. “Diesel!” Mamie cried, slapping his arm. “I’m gonna bring it right back!” Diesel insisted, hurrying Mamie into the passenger seat. “That’s why we gotta move!” “Oh, yeah, that’s why. Not ’cause I’m back here goin’ into labor or anythin’,” Graziella said through gritted teeth, clutching her stomach as another contraction passed through her. “Drive, Diesel!” Rhonda exclaimed. Drive he did. Going at madman speed, even racing past a few Stop signs, much to Mamie’s horror, Diesel got all of them to the hospital in record time. “I’ll meet yous back here!” Diesel called out the window once all of the girls had safely exited the station wagon. “I’m gonna bring this back,” he explained, throwing an apologetic look in Mamie’s direction before driving off. “God, at least he got us here fast,” Velma said, shaking her head as they worked together to get Grazi inside. Mouthpiece had gotten the word out fast, as he usually did, and the Jets had assembled quickly, as was their fashion. By the time the girls entered the waiting room, the entire remainder of the gang was there, gasping in relief when they saw them. “There yous are! What the hell took so long?” Gussie demanded. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe the baby’s comin’!” Tessie exclaimed, her eyes wide with delighted excitement as she and Sweden both bounced on the balls of their feet. “Tiger an’ Ice are tryin’ ta get ya checked in, since we knew yous were on the way,” Mack explained, pointing to the receptionist’s desk, where both Ice and Tiger were gesturing wildly. “She’s here!” Maxie yelled over to them. The few people sitting in the waiting room who happened to not be members of the Jets just stared, slack-jawed, at the group of more than twenty rowdy teenagers yelling orders at each other from every corner of the room. “Here, Baby John, hold this,” Rhonda insisted, hastily shoving Graziella’s hospital bag into the youngest Jet’s arms. “What do I do with it?” Baby John asked nervously, but everyone else was too preoccupied to pay him much mind. Karen went to check in with Ice and see what was happening, while Velma and Tessie led Grazi over to a chair, encouraging her to keep breathing through each painful contraction. “Here, Grazi! These are supposed ta be good for ya,” Sorella said, handing her a cup of ice chips. “Nat an’ I went an’ got ’em from the cafeteria.” “What the hell is takin’ so long?” A-Rab demanded from his spot on the couch beside Dot, who was anxiously sucking on a lollipop. “Ain’t they see we got a lady with a baby here?” “Yeah, what is takin’ so long?” Action joined in, rising from his spot near Rhonda. “Hey! You!” he called out, getting a nurse’s attention. “What the hell is takin’ so long? Our friend’s havin’ a baby here,” he told her, pointing at Graziella. “Sir, I can see that. You’re all just going to have to wait a moment,” the nurse responded, looking harried. “Wait for what?!” A-Rab cut in, glaring. “For her ta have the baby in the damn waitin’ room?” Graziella groaned at that and Dot slapped her boyfriend’s arm. “Sir…” the nurse began, arching an irritated brow. “Why don’t yous move yer fuckin’ asses a little bit?” Action snapped. “Action!” Rhonda exclaimed, her turn now to slap her boyfriend’s arm. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask the both of you to leave. Now,” the nurse said sternly, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at Action and A-Rab. “What?! But we—” “Now. Unless you’d like me to call security,” the woman threatened. “Would you two idiots just go wait downstairs before you stress Grazi out even more?” Dot scoffed, rolling her eyes. “But it’s cold outside,” A-Rab frowned. “Shoulda thought o’ that before yous mouthed off,” Rhonda said, throwing Action’s jacket at him. Heads down like a couple of schoolboys, Action and A-Rab had no choice but to head downstairs and wait for the news of the baby’s arrival outside. “Oh, God, what is takin’ so long?” Grazi asked, sweat beading on her brow despite the freezing winter weather outside. She squeezed Tessie’s hand tightly, wincing through the pain of yet another contraction. “I’m sure they’ll be ready for ya soon,” Velma said, biting her lip as she rubbed Grazi’s back soothingly. Sure enough, one of the nurses soon called Graziella’s name, while another arrived with a wheelchair to escort her to the delivery room. She was told that she could bring two people with her. “Is one of them the father?” one of the nurses asked, looking with wide eyes at the group of Jets scattered throughout the waiting room. “No,” Graziella replied quietly, her heart pierced through at the question, which had been innocently asked. It’s not like the nurse could have known. “No, he’s gone.” Something about the look on Grazi’s face must have told the nurse it was better not to ask anymore questions. “Okay, well you still get to have two people with you.” In the end, Graziella chose Velma and Mamie. They were her two oldest friends, and they’d been through everything with her since she was a little girl. They’d see her through this, too, just like they’d seen her through everything else. “Good luck, Grazi!” Tat called out, waving and blowing her a kiss as the nurse started to wheel her away. The rest of the group echoed her, waving and sending Graziella off with all their good wishes. “We’ll be here waitin’ for ya!” Ice called out, offering Grazi an encouraging smile as she gazed back one last time at her dearest friends in the whole world. They wouldn’t have to wait too long, it would seem. By the time Graziella was finally settled in a hospital bed, one of the nurses declared that she was already nearly eight centimeters dilated. “You’ll be ready to push soon, honey,” she told her, patting her knee with a comforting hand. “I’ll go get Dr. Dupont.” Thankfully, her doctor was on call tonight. “Yer doin’ great, sweetie,” Mamie said brightly, squeezing her hand and wiping at her forehead with a damp washcloth. “Really, Grazi, we’re so proud o’ ya,” Velma nodded, brushing a few sweaty locks of blonde hair off Graziella’s neck. “I can’t believe he’s really comin’,” Graziella murmured, gazing up at the ceiling as a massive wave of emotion came crashing down over her. “Oh, God, he’s really comin’. He’s comin’ an’…an’ Riff ain’t here!” she wept, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. “Oh, sweetie,” Mamie murmured softly, tears glistening in her own eyes. “Oh, Grazi,” Velma said gently, hugging her friend as best she could given the circumstances. Both she and Mamie knew that all they could do was be there for her, as they had been every day since that awful night last summer. A few moments later, Dr. Dupont appeared and examined Graziella, declaring that she was ready to start pushing. “Okay, it’s now or never, Grazi,” Velma said, squeezing her hand encouragingly. “We’re right here,” Mamie promised, smiling in support. Graziella had known labor would be difficult, that it would be painful. But knowing something in your brain and experiencing it firsthand are two totally different things. As she began to bear down, trying to force her baby down the birth canal, Graziella didn’t think she had ever been in so much pain in her entire life. She screamed in agony as Velma and Mamie held her knees, whispering encouraging words that she could hardly process. “Breathe, sweetie, breathe!” Mamie instructed. “You’re doing wonderfully, Graziella. Keep pushing for me now,” Dr. Dupont said, monitoring the baby’s progress as she pushed as hard as she felt she was physically capable of. “Keep going!” Graziella collapsed back against the pillows, panting and crying and sweating. “I can’t! I can’t!” “Yes, you can, Graziella! I see the baby’s head now. Come on, honey,” he encouraged her kindly. “Ya can do it, Grazi,” Velma said, wiping at her brow with a washcloth. “We’re right here. Yer doin’ great.” “The baby’s almost here, Grazi,” Mamie added, squeezing her shoulder gently. “Ya can do it. Just think o’ Riff. Think o’ how proud he’d be o’ ya. Think about how he’d be tellin’ ya ta keep goin’,” she said softly. Squeezing her eyes shut, Graziella took Mamie’s advice. She pictured Riff there beside her, holding her hand and pressing kisses to her sweaty forehead. She pictured the way he’d be smiling at her, teasing her, pushing her to keep going, the way he always did. She imagined what it would like to hear him say, “Yer doin’ great, girly girl. Yer almost there. Ya can do this.” She imagined how proud he’d be to hold his child in his arms for the very first time. “Almost there! One more big push!” Dr. Dupont called out, giving Graziella the motivation she needed to bear down hard one last time, a loud cry tearing from her throat as she did so. Then suddenly, with a whoosh and a loud cry, her child entered the world. The room, which had been filled with the sound of Graziella’s cries just seconds before, was now filled with the cries of a tiny baby taking in his first breaths. “Congratulations! You have a son!” Dr. Dupont announced, holding the squirming baby up in the air as he carefully examined him. Graziella wept at the news. A son. Riff’s son. She knew it would be a boy! “You have a perfectly healthy son,” Dr. Dupont said again, smiling as he carefully placed the baby in Graziella’s waiting arms. Velma and Mamie both wept as well as they looked down at his perfect little face. “He’s an angel,” Mamie breathed out reverently, lightly stroking his cheek with one finger. “He really is perfect,” Velma cooed, touching his hand gently. Graziella didn’t think it was humanly possible to feel such love. As she gazed down at the sweet baby in her arms, the last gift Riff had given her, she thought her heart might actually burst. It didn’t seem possible that her heart could possibly contain such love and not explode. She ran one finger down her son’s cheek, admiring the silky softness of his skin. His little mouth opened and closed as he gazed up at her sleepily, his eyes already starting to drift closed. Weeping, she held him close and pressed soft kisses to the top of his downy head. Dr. Dupont and the nurses smiled and turned to give them a moment’s privacy, but one of the nurses turned back at the last minute. “Have you thought of a name?” she asked curiously. “Riff,” Graziella told her without hesitation. “His name is Riff. Just like his daddy.” “Welcome to the world, Riff,” the nurse responded with a smile, turning again to leave the room. “We’ll give the two o’ yous some time alone together while we go tell everyone the good news,” Mamie said, kissing both Grazi and the baby on the forehead. “Ya did amazin’, Grazi,” Velma told her proudly, rising to follow Mamie out of the room. When the two of them appeared in the waiting room a few minutes later, everyone was on the edge of their seats, staring up at them expectantly. “It’s a boy!” they screamed together, throwing themselves into Diesel’s and Mouthpiece’s arms. All of the Jets erupted, cheering and screaming and crying as they clung to one another in excitement. Even those who had been staring at them earlier in the evening couldn’t help but smile at the scene before them now. Rhonda and Dot hurried downstairs and out onto the freezing cold sidewalk to throw themselves ecstatically into Action’s and A-Rab’s waiting arms. “A boy!” Rhonda cheered as Action swung her around excitedly. “Grazi has a son!” Dot laughed as A-Rab held onto her tightly. A little while later, once the baby had been thoroughly examined by Dr. Dupont and cleaned up by the nurses, Grazi and Riff, Jr. were able to start receiving their visitors. “I don’t think they can all come in here at once,” the nurse who had asked for Riff’s name said skeptically, eyeing the large number of guests who were waiting to see the newest member of the Jets. “Please,” Graziella begged, smiling tiredly as she cradled Riff, Jr. in her arms. “Just for a little while.” The nurse sighed, looking up and down the hallway surreptitiously. “Fine. Only for a few minutes,” she insisted, quickly waving the Jets in. The room was immediately filled to the brim as all of the Jets and their girlfriends crowded into the room. The boys had scrounged together what money they had to buy Grazi a huge bouquet of flowers, which Baby John proudly placed on the table beside her hospital bed. “He’s so small,” Diesel commented from where he stood behind Mamie, hands resting on her shoulders. “I mean, I know he’s a baby an’ all, but…” “Hard ta believe any o’ us was ever that small,” Big Deal chuckled, his arm around Natalie’s waist. “Say hi, Riff,” Graziella said softly, waving his tiny hand gently. Grinning, she looked up at all of them. “Might take him a little while ta learn everyone’s nicknames,” she teased. “That’s alright. We got time,” Ice replied with a smile, his arm wrapped tightly around Karen. “He looks like Riff,” Baby John said softly as they all stared down at the little baby in Grazi’s arms, the last piece they had left of their friend and leader. “Shit, man,” Action muttered, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. The nurse he and A-Rab had yelled at had graciously allowed them back inside after Rhonda and Dot forced them to apologize. Within seconds, there wasn’t a dry eye in the hospital room as they all mourned the one person who should be there more than anyone else. The sight of Riff’s son had made all of them come undone. Riff might be gone, but he would live on through this child that he and Grazi had made, this child who brought them all a sense of hope in a world that was sorely lacking it. “We ain’t gotta talk about this again after tonight,” A-Rab insisted as he wiped at his eyes, which made them all laugh. “Alright, you guys, rules are rules. Time to let mommy and baby get some rest,” the nurse told them, popping her head back into the room. “You can come back to visit tomorrow. Maybe in smaller groups,” she added. Everyone gave Grazi and the baby a kiss as they left the room, promising that they’d be back soon and gushing about how sweet Riff, Jr. was. And then it was just Graziella and her son. The room felt strangely quiet with everyone gone, but Graziella reveled in the chance to get to whisper to her baby boy, just the two of them. “Hello, my little love,” Grazi said softly, lifting his tiny fist in one hand and pressing a kiss to it. “I’m yer mommy. An’ I love ya so much. I love ya more than anythin’ in this world,” she murmured, rocking him slowly in her arms. “Yer a miracle. The last gift yer daddy gave me. Yer named after yer daddy, ya know. I can’t wait ta tell ya all about him.” Lowering her head, she pressed a tender kiss to her son’s forehead. “I did it, Riff,” she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clutched at his Miraculous Medal with her free hand. “I did it. Our baby’s here. I wish ya were here, too.” She swallowed back the grief that was always just beneath the surface. “But I know ya are. I could feel ya, just like Mamie said. I miss ya, baby. Watch over us, would ya? Watch over yer son.” She wasn’t sure if it was her exhausted delirium, but in that moment Graziella could have sworn that she felt the brush of gentle fingers across her cheek. As she gazed down at her son, his eyes opened and locked onto hers, holding her captive. “Hi, Riff,” she whispered, smiling for them both.

[youbloodymadgenius]

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 3

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello's masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite , who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310 , @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria . Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 3497 (oops 🙈)

Additional note: what you’re going to read is not realistic.

Enjoy 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

With his stomach in knots and a frown on his face, Ivar watches closely his godfather, who enters the living-room, wheeling a large trolley case behind him.

"Hello, Ivar." Floki looks around, an eyebrow raised questioningly, "Lagertha isn't here?", before flopping down on the corner sofa.

"No," Ivar shakes his head, wheeling up next to him, "She's out on a date with this English guy... Hammond, Halmund or whatever his name is."

Scratching his ear, Floki tilts his head, "but she knows you're going, right?" He pulls the trolley case closer and then snorts, mumbling under his breath, "don't think I can't see you rolling your eyes!"

"What do you think? Of course, she knows. She said, and I quote," Ivar raises his hands to make air quotes, his voice tinged with obvious annoyance, "'Of course you can go, sweetie, you know I don't want to be the one holding you back. Call me if anything goes wrong. And don't forget to take your meds.'"

"She cares, Ivar." Floki's tone is soft as he places a hand on his godson's shoulder.

Ivar lowers his gaze. "You should have taken me in." His words are barely audible and suddenly he feels like he's eleven again and he has to swallow against the sudden dryness in his throat.

"You do know that back then I wasn't in a good place." Floki's sad sigh almost gets Ivar in tears as memories of his parents and Helga flood his mind. The pain in his heart becomes nearly unbearable but he fights it off with all his might. He never wants to feel broken and lost again.

Ivar lifts his head up and Floki can see the stubbornness in his eyes. "I could live with you now."

"No, you could not, and you know it!" Floki smiles and taps Ivar on the cheek. "Ivar, I live between two flights, today in Norway, yesterday in Iceland and after-tomorrow in Canada. What kind of life would this be for you, huh? And besides, living with Lagertha is not that bad."

But living with Sigurd is! Ivar wants to shout. He keeps quiet, though, shrugging before eventually mumbling. "Guess not..."

"So," Floki starts, eager to change the subject, "where are your brothers, by the way?"

"Where do you think they are, huh, you knock-kneed fool? They're already there." Ivar glances at his watch, furrowing his brow. "Harald's party started twenty minutes ago."

"We better hurry up, then!" Crouching down, Floki slowly opens the suitcase under Ivar's scrutinizing gaze.

"Quick!" Ivar commands, barely able to contain his impatience, his nervous fingers tapping his push rims. "What do you have for me, old man, huh?" He even contemplates climbing out of his chair to open it himself, but the fear of breaking a bone at the worst possible time is stronger than his eagerness.

"You're going to calm down, young Padawan." Floki quips, slowly moving his hand in front of Ivar with eyes full of mischief. Ivar immediately slaps his godfather's hand away, mumbling under his breath, "I'd rather be a Sith Lord." That earns him a loud, hysterical laugh from his godfather.

Ivar grunts, ready to protest, but all thoughts leave his mind as soon as he's able to see what is in the trolley case. The scowl on his face obvious, he doesn't even try to hide his disappointment as he utters, "you made me braces?"

He hates braces with a passion. Along with underarm crutches, he had some, as a child. They were bulky, stiff, painful and walking with them was tedious, agonizingly slow, and exhausting. Ragnar had been adamant that he wanted his youngest to walk, no matter the struggles, no matter the nearly unbearable pain. Ivar had settled his ass in a wheelchair the day of his father's funeral, getting rid of his braces shortly after, a decision he had never regretted. So no, such torture devices were not at all what he was hoping for.

"Have a little faith in me," Floki rolls his eyes. "These," he looks lovingly at the strange contraptions in his hands, "are not braces, Ivar. Have you and your crippled ass ever heard of exoskeleton?"

Ivar's eyes widen. "It's that thing used in rehab that allows paraplegics to walk, right?" As Floki nods, Ivar gives him a puzzled glance. "But, erm, you do know I don't have a spinal cord injury, don't you? Or are you suffering from memory loss? Maybe it's your age?"

Dismissing the remark with an exasperated wave of his hand, Floki hisses, "I'm well aware that you don't, godson dearest," before narrowing his eyes, his voice now serious, "you may have full sensation in both legs, yet they can't exactly support your weight and your lack of motor function can't be denied. Not really different from some paraplegic dudes, what do you think?"

Feeling a heavy lump in his throat, Ivar frowns, not pleased with the idea of him being like a paraplegic. Almost without thinking, he contracts his quads as best he can, as if he wants to make sure he's still able to do it.

Floki doesn't miss the barely-there movements in his thighs, though, and his voice softens. "Look Ivar, you're not a paraplegic, okay? But I used the exoskeleton technology. And since you're not paralyzed, I was able to make a smaller device that you can wear underneath your clothes, and you're going to walk. I mean, really walk, not just like those guys in rehab, between parallels bars and with a PT right behind them."

Ivar, his eyes bright, stares at his godfather, slack-jawed with amazement. "I'm..." He begins to sputter, voice filled with emotion, "I'm really going to walk?" Feeling like his heart is pounding out of his chest, he fails to contain his excitement, drumming the fingers of his right hand on his lap. He'd tap his feet if only he could.

"You are." Floki nods before taking out of the trolley case a pair of dress shoes. "I put dozens of sensors in the insole of these shoes, which will enable the exoskeleton to correct your stance practically every second. Therefore, you won't need crutches, although I would say it's safer for you to use this." Reaching down, he grabs a black derby-style cane, simple and sleek in design. "You know," he shrugs, "just for extra support. Better safe than sorry, hmh?"

Ivar, who doesn't even flinch when he sees the walking stick, just reaches out, his hand grazing the carbon fiber exoskeleton. "Is it really for me?" His eyes filled with wonder, his voice trembling, his lips stretch across his face as his godfather nods. "And you made this in what?... four, five days?"

Letting out his signature giggle, Floki waggles his fingers in front of his face. "Even I couldn't make this in such a short time. No, the truth is, I've been working on it for a while. Let's say your phone call just sped things up. Though I must say, this marvel of technology is not flawless... It has a really low battery life, like four hours of autonomy at best. If I had more time, I certainly could have done better, but for now, it is what it is and you'll have to make do with what you've got." Pursing his lips, he glances at his watch, "So, just so you know, if you put this on now, you'll have to come back around midnight if you don't want to have to crawl around. And if you hear a beep, you'd better hurry, okay?"

As Ivar just nods, his beaming smile never fading, Floki adds, tilting his head, "and now, go get ready, young Padawan, you have a party to attend!"

***

Sitting on a bench at the seaside, Ivar watches the party from afar, a feeling of uneasiness tightening his chest. It was a mistake. Attending to this party was a mistake. Despite the exoskeleton, despite the fact that he walks almost normally, it was a mistake. He shouldn't have come. He shouldn't be here. Anxiety surges like the swell of a wave, and he struggles to breathe. Sigurd was right: he doesn't belong here, doesn't belong to this life.

A part of him wants to leave. It would be better to run away, to go hide in his room. But he won't. He can't. Because just a moment ago he saw you. Because he's not ready to give up on you now that he is here, eventually close to you.

He recognized you the moment his eyes fell on you. Looking radiant in a polka dot dress, you're as pretty as he remembers. Pretty? Who's he kidding? The girl you were six years ago was pretty. You're a woman now, and one of the most beautiful he's ever seen.

Glowing, smiling at everyone, you didn't even see him. In his head, of course, he makes plans to approach you, even if deep down, he knows all too well he'll never muster enough courage to talk to you. You probably wouldn't want him to anyway. After all, he may be standing tall today, yet he's still a freak, a fucking cripple. He's still cursed with his bony, twisted, useless legs. He's still a burden.

Yet, there's this little voice inside of him, barely audible, whispering that you're not like this, that you never were in the first place; and that's partly why the ten-year-old boy he was when he first met you felt drawn to you almost instantly.

Closing his eyes, he focuses on his breathing and decides to take a little trip down memory lane, bringing him back to that sunny, summer day of his first – and only – encounter with you. His memory so vivid it's like it happened only yesterday.

He can't hear the chirping of birds as his brothers are loudly playing and bickering in the pool. His beloved mother is nowhere to be seen and he's willing to bet she's taking a nap, but not without first making sure he has everything he could possibly need. Lying on a sunbed in the shade of an oak, a glass of lemonade within reach and a thick book on his lap, he hardly notices his father coming into the backyard, Harald Hårfager following close behind.

Since Ivar knows Harald is here to talk business with his father, he pays no attention to the two men, who take their seats at the patio dining table.

He nearly falls off the sunbed when a tiny voice startles him. "Hello!"

Stunned, he turns his head towards the voice and comes face to face with a smiling girl he doesn't know. You. He'd say you're about his age.

"I'm Y/N," you tell him, waving your hand shyly. "I'm at my uncle's for the weekend," you keep going, pointing your finger at Harald, "and I was wondering... May I join you?" You finally ask, dragging a second sunbed closer to his.

His first instinct is to look around, because you can't possibly be talking to him. Why would you? Surely you can't have failed to spot his leg braces, nor his hideous orthopedic shoes. You can't have missed that he's a cripple.

Frowning as he sees that no one is around, he snorts, his nostrils flaring. He can tell you're wearing a swimsuit under your pink dress. What do you want, then? Are you here to mock and ridicule him or what?

"You better get in the pool with my brothers." He knows he sounds rude, not answering nor greeting you, but he doesn't care. He doesn't want to be made fun of and doesn't intend to give you the chance to do it.

Seemingly undeterred, you speak with a soft voice. "No, I'd rather not." Your smile is so genuine he can't help but think you mean no harm. "Actually," you shrug, sitting next to him, "I'd rather stay here with you, if you don't mind. What are you reading?"

Gobsmacked, he just looks at you – and gods, how pretty you are! – for a long time, unable to utter a single word. Are you truly interested in what he's reading? Interested in him? He swallows hard, his heart racing. A small smile dancing on your lips, your kind eyes never leave his as you wait, full of hope, for him to finally talk to you.

And that's what he ends up doing, almost in spite of himself. For the next two hours, he shows you his astronomy book, a gift from his godfather for his tenth birthday, and tells you about the stars, the constellations and the nights he spends watching the sky, when his mother allows him to. And for two hours you listen to him, asking a question here or there and always smiling. He's pretty sure you're not faking being interested in what he's saying.

All too soon, your uncle tells you it's time to go and you stand up with a scowl, letting out a sigh of regret. The next moment, you flash Ivar a grin. "I had a really great time with you, thanks! I'm going back to my mom's tomorrow but I hope we can spend time together again sometime, maybe next summer. I'd love to stargaze with you, you know?" With that, you lean forward and as your lips touch his cheek, Ivar's breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest.

Ivar inhales deeply. That kiss... That's when he fell madly and hopelessly in love with you. If he concentrates enough, he can still feel the softness of your lips against his skin, still smell your sweet, flowery scent.

That day, he had watched you leave with a smile on your face, already dreaming of the day he would see you again. You had said "next summer" and even though it was a long time away, he was willing to wait. In the meantime, he would have plenty of memories to recall - your joyful voice, your sparkling eyes, your lovely smile... Sure, he could wait.

And he had waited, hopeful and happier than he had been in a long time.

Not long after, however, his life had been turned upside down, his father being murdered and his mother dying in a car crash. Lost, angry, broken, and infinitely sad, he had gone through the following months as if anesthetized - barely living, hardly functioning, sometimes feeling as if the memory of you was the only thing keeping him from drowning.

Yet, and he doesn't know why – or perhaps simply because Ragnar being dead, Harald had no reason to visit anymore – he had never seen you again.

"Hello!"

His whole body freezes and he stops breathing. This voice... Your voice... He'd know it anywhere. Yet, it can't be, right? Did he fall asleep? Is he dreaming? Is one of his brothers tricking him? Why would you talk to the cripple?

"My name is Y/N." He can hear the smile in your voice. "I was wondering... May I join you?"

Summoning the courage he's not sure he has, Ivar looks tentatively toward you.

Gods! You're even more beautiful up close. Fuck. Now that you're here, right next to him, he doesn't know what to say, what to do. Panic seizes his hammering heart as a lump rises in his throat. He attempts to swallow around it to speak, to say something, anything, but the words won't come out and he finally just nods, his hand gesturing to the bench for you to sit on.

"Thanks," you give him a broad smile before taking your seat.

Ivar cannot believe his eyes. What are you doing? Did you recognize him? Why are you here, with him?

"Woul–", he sputters, struggling to find his voice, "Wouldn't you rather be there?" Pointing his index finger at the crowd gathered in front of the makeshift stage just a few meters away. He frowns, tilting his head, "the party is in full swing."

"No, I'd rather not." You shrug and as you turn your head toward him, he breathes in your sweet scent, suddenly feeling dizzy. "The guys are already drunk and really have one thing on their minds. And those who are not are boring." You lower your gaze, as if embarrassed, and it's so adorable Ivar feels like his heart is melting. "I'd rather stay here with you, if you don't mind."

Oh, he doesn't. He doesn't mind at all. The truth is, there's a fucking firework inside of him, and he barely contains the screams of happiness that threaten to escape his lips. "That's okay, you can stay," he says instead, his fidgeting fingers dancing on his lap.

Over the next hour or so, the conversation flows easily as you speak about Karasjok, the small town where you live, telling him about your mother's people, the Sami, their culture and customs.

Ivar shares with you bits and pieces of his life too, speaking about his passion for the Viking culture and about his belief in the ancient gods. The night, his night, is full of your laughs, full of your smiles, full of you. He wants it to never end.

He's still trying to figure out if you know who he is, if you remember meeting him once when you rise to your feet, almost bouncing with enthusiasm. "Walk with me, will you?"

He's about to break the truth about his inability to walk when he remembers that actually, thanks to Floki, he can. His eyes never leave yours as he grabs his cane with a little bit of self-consciousness, wincing as he stands up, but he can't see disgust, contempt, or disappointment on your face and your smile doesn't falter as you delicately slip your hand under his free arm, curling your fingers back over it. Shaken by your sudden proximity, Ivar feels goosebumps rising on his skin.

"It's such a lovely night and I'm so happy spending it with you."

Your words leave him speechless as you lead him close to the water. A bunch of guys can be seen in the distance and Ivar is pretty sure his brothers are among them. He can feel their heavy stares on him and doesn't need to hear them to know what they're saying. "Who's this dude? Do we know him?" Standing tall, with his braided hair and a blue suit, he knows he doesn't look like himself. Yet, as he locks eyes with Hvitserk for a second, he'd sworn he sees a hint of recognition crossing his brother's face. And as the latter gives him a thumbs up, he knows his mind is not playing tricks with him.

"Oh, I love this song!" You clap your hands twice before shrugging shyly. "Let's dance, please!"

Ivar's heart breaks. Scared out of his wits, he swallows hard, his breathing uneven. "I... I can't." It's a painful admission, and he wishes the ground would just swallow him up.

He realizes you pay no mind to his defeated tone, though, as you grab his cane, leaning it against a nearby tree. "We'll go slow, I promise."

Almost in spite of himself, he places his hands on your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck. Gently – cautiously – swaying to the music, Ivar leans in close and, inhaling deeply your delightful scent, he feels like he's going to spontaneously combust. Your head resting on his chest, he's sure you can hear his frantic, pounding heartbeat. But he can't bring himself to care, not when you're finally exactly where he wants you to be. In his arms.

That's why he doesn't hear the first beep, or if he does, he doesn't pay any attention, entranced by your beauty, your kindness and the mesmerizing color of your eyes.

But when you stop dancing, your eyebrows raised, "What's that beeping noise? It doesn't stop," he hears it too, cold sweats washing over him as panic courses through his body.

"I... I must... I must go," he stammers, and honestly he's about to throw up. He can't think, can't speak. All he knows is that he doesn't want you seeing him crawling around. He won't allow it. He can't.

Fuck.

That's why he leaves. He just strolls off. He doesn't see the appalled look you're giving him, doesn’t' realize he's leaving his black cane behind, doesn't hear the despair in your tone as you shout, "wait, please! I don't even know your name!"

He has only taken a few steps when crocodile tears run down his cheeks, blurring his sight. It hurts so much he could scream, and he can barely breathe as the realization starts to sink in. Who was he trying to fool? Sigurd had been right all along. No matter the exoskeleton, no matter the genius of his godfather, he's still a freak. A monster. An abnormality.

He doesn't belong. He's not worthy.

Fuck.

His heart shatters in a thousand pieces.

Fuck.

Y/N.

Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @adrille88

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings @heavenly1927 @dini73

[doodleimprovement]

The Roadtrip To Hell :: Stop 5 :: Cannes (With a Stop in Avignon)

Those changes make themselves known, and more is learned

Arrival 

The day that they arrive at Cannes is an absolutely beautiful day, and Jericho, after they drive in, declares the day a beach day and Helena is ecstatic. Jericho takes her to the beach, and uses the time to both watch her, as well as think over what he saw in his dreams. It bothered him, and he wondered about it quietly before Helena managed to drag him into the Mediterranean. 

While resting on the beach, Helena asks offhandedly if Neth ever went to the beach when he was alive. He answers no, because the beach was not a place of leisure in his day - not to the royal family. Sailing, yes, but the beach, no. Helena asks if he still knows how to sail. He joked that there is no way he’d know how to sail any of those ridiculously small new boats. The day ends peacefully without incident, surprisingly. 

Day 1

The next day, Jericho is in control in the morning - per usual - and declares that today is a sightseeing day, and Helena seems excited to get going. They visit La Croix-des-Gardes, as well as several of the lavish squares and even do some window shopping. Throughout the day Helena starts to look a little off, and Neth’s nervous feeling joins Jericho's. 

It becomes obvious that Helena has come down with something, and oddly enough it’s Neth’s worry that becomes overwhelming and makes Jericho a bit more proactive than he might be otherwise, and goes with her to a doctor, who gives the rather regular diagnosis of the flu. He gets Helena some regular children’s flu medication, and they return to the van. Jericho decides to see if he can rent them a hotel room for a few nights so she can sleep in a full bed for the next few nights. 

He finds them a nice little room at a beach-side hotel for an excellent price, and gets the room set up before Helena crawls into the bed, apparently getting some rest finally let the symptoms hit her full-force and she groaned in annoyance - she loved how pretty Cannes was and had wanted to explore, but now she was stuck. Jericho tells her to continue to rest, and he sets up at the small desk in the room to email her teachers about her illness so she wouldn’t fall behind. He still felt oddly anxious about it- assuming these emotions were from Nethaniel, which he found odd. 

He orders them some food, and after he gets Helena to eat she’s down for the count and asleep for the day. He eventually falls asleep and while in the dreamscape, finds Neth looking a bit off. Neth is asking a thousand and one questions about Helena’s well being, with Jericho reassuring him that the medicine would help her, and she would be fine in a few days, and to not worry. This doesn’t assuage him, and Jericho - annoyed - asks him why he cares. Nethaniel can’t bring himself to answer, and makes a rather mean-spirited comment about how Jericho would be unbearable if Helena died. The conversation ends right there. 

Day 2

The next morning, Helena wakes up feeling worse than yesterday, groaning with a stuffy nose and a fuzzy head. She calls out for her dad, and while her father comes into her line of sigh, she recognizes that body language and realizes that it’s Neth, not her dad. He sits at her bedside, looking her over and asking her if she’d ever been sick before. She says yes, and asks where her medicine is, cause she feels really lousy. He grabs it, recalling how Jericho gave it to her, and checks the label. Helena watches him finally get the dosage in the little cup, he offers it to her and she takes the medicine. He then asks what else is done to help her, and she says that her dad usually makes her soup with the slow cooker they keep in the van when she gets sick. 

Neth spends almost 30 minutes seeing if her father wrote down the soup recipe anywhere. Neth is getting frustrated, and Jericho’s feeling in his chest is almost funny. Neth feels a bit mocked. Neth decides that he’s just going to make his own. He’s cooked for himself before on hunting trips! And now there are stores that sell everything!! It should be easy! He checks on Helena, finding her asleep with shallow breaths. He’s nervous for a moment, but finds comfort in Jericho's assurance that she’d be fine, and he leaves for the market. 

After spending way too long haggling with the butcher, Neth returns with some very basic foods, and Helena amusedly tells him how to plug in the slow cooker and how it works, and he’s fascinated at the fact that humans have effectively made a portable soup cauldron. His stew is made with pig trotters, chopped beef, onion, cabbage, and just an absurd amount of spices. Helena makes a weird face at all of the spices, but he ends up making the entire room smell aggressively like soup. Helena asks why he’s in control when he could just let her dad take care of it. He states that if he did that he wouldn’t get control until she was better - and that making sure that she was okay was part of their deal. Something in his wording makes the little girl smile knowingly, and she manages to fall back to sleep

She wakes a few hours later and her father is back in control, offering her the soup. It's really good, much to both of their surprise, and the rest of the evening goes off without a hitch

That night, in the dreamscape, Jericho thanked Neth again for his help, and Neth once again brushed it off. Jericho seems miffed at this, but decides to take a chance and open up. Jericho tells him that the way he brushed things off reminded him of his ex-wife, the ‘scape showing a vivid memory of. It seems to be a turning point memory, and Neth watches with disgusted fascination at Jericho returning home on a cold day and seeing that the house is very cold, and he has to rush to check on his daughter, and Jericho explains to Neth that his wife nearly froze their daughter to death one night because she didn’t keep the home heater on, and when he got angry at her she was dismissive of it. Neth realizes that perhaps - perhaps - his attitude was being overly shitty, and he manages an apology. Jericho thanks him. 

Day 3

The next morning Helena seems to look better already,and is greeted by Jericho, who gives her more medicine and asks if she wants to watch a movie. Helena asks if Jericho is gonna go taking pictures and he says no. She’s sick, and that's his responsibility. They watch a movie, though Helena is asleep before the movie ends. 

Jericho spends most of the day on his laptop, getting anxious bursts from Neth if he isn’t checking on Helena every hour or so, something he has to scold the ghost for. He notes that he looks like he’s gone mad, but tries to take it in stride. 

Helena goes through her email on her tablet, and sees that she got a rather intense article from Muriel, who told her that there’s some theory stuff in this study, but that people made fun of the guy who wrote it, but she thinks that he makes a few good points - along with adding the “eyes” emoji. Helena starts to read it

The article ends up giving the theory that the “mad prince” was not mad, but that there are untranslated letters from the Mad Queen that could possibly exonerate the man, but that historians have just not gotten around to it

Helena contemplates, and sees that the guy's email is at the bottom. She thinks about sending an email, but decides against it for the time being - going back to sleep. 

That night, Jericho ends up in yet another dreamscape, but this one is so much more … calm. He is watching from Neth’s eyes. He’s speaking with another man, but it's in that old spanish that he can only barely understand. The men hug, and he gets a kiss on the forehead. There is much love there, but the man leaves and it turns to sadness. When he’s thrown back, Jericho asks who that man was and he says that it was none of Jericho’s business. Jericho asks if it was a man that he loved, and he states that it was something like that, but it didn’t matter. Jericho attempts to hint that he *also* likes men, but it doesn’t seem to register. It's so awkward, holy shit. 

Day 4

Helena looks much, much better than the day before, and despite still sniffling begs to go to one of the museums, and Jericho - whose in control - caves once she promises to wear a mask out. He gives her medicine again, checks her mask, and then off they go. 

The day goes by rather quickly, and by around 4, poor Helena looks down for the count. She whines to be carried and Jericho makes a joke of refusing to carry her. They both know they’re joking, but Neth seems not to and shows up just to carry her, something that surprises Helena. She tells him that they were joking, and he says he doesn’t care. 

While being carried, Helena asks him what he looked like when he was alive. He asks her to guess, and she remembers her dream from a little bit ago, and asks him if he had green eyes. He eyes her suspiciously, and she then asks if he had black hair, and if it was cut short- and he had bangs - but then she sneezes and he pointedly changes the subject by adjusting her mask and chiding her for not resting. 

That night, Neth and Jericho have a surprisingly calm night, with Jericho asking him surprisingly non invasive questions. Neth then asks him why he didn’t remarry and Jericho admits that he just never thought of it. He’s dated, but he moves too much to have a solid partner. He tells a story of a boyfriend he once had before - and Neth seems surprised at this - but that *that* surprised. They end up having an interesting conversation. 

Leaving

The next morning Helena seems to be fully recovered and bouncing off the walls - ready to head to Andorra to meet Bow, who she’d been messaging since she woke up. She tells Bow her theory about the ghost possessing her dad and Bow tells her that something about him seems familiar and that she’ll tell her what her own theory is when she arrives. Helena helps her father (Jericho is in control) get the van ready and off they go!  

Rest Stop 6: Avignon (From Cannes 2hr30min)

When they get there - Harriet makes it very, very known that all she wants to do at this rest stop is ride the carousel in the city square. Jericho tells her she needs to play catch up, and if she is caught up to class reasonably well by the time they get there, she can definitely get a ride. She spends the ride listening to auditory lectures and videos on the back seat of the van. 

They get to Avignon and her father checks her progress, pleased at how she’d done on the catch-up quizzes and states that they can go to the square, which makes Helena start bouncing off of the walls. They do a cleaning up of the van, and head out to the city square. 

Halfway through the walk, Jericho is replaced with Nethaniel, who asks what a “carousel” is, and she says she wants to show him. They get there, and Neth is frankly baffled at the thing. She asks if he wants to join her, and he gets talked into it, standing next to her on one of the horses. He raises a brow and asks if she wants to learn to ride a *real* horse which gets her excited. She makes him promise to do so before the ride starts. 

The ride is ext-remely fun for Helena despite her being nearly too old to enjoy it, and Nethaniel is amused at all of the parents holding their children as if they’ll fall off of the horses.. That is until Helena almost does. He admonishes her for that, but she just gives him a grin and laughs it off, making a comment about roller coasters. Neth asks what those are, and she tells him to ask her again when they get to Barcelona. 

Jericho takes over for a night drive to Andorra while Helena is asleep, and spends the time talking to “himself” as he drives, not bothering to take a break until they get to an RV park on the outskirts of the capital. He thanks Neth for the talk, and they end up having the first dreamless night between them in days. 

[sugawarassoulmate]

6+f for Suga, please! Sorry I can't get enough of him... It's okay if you choose not to write about him, feel free to ignore!

I needed this bc I fell in the street yesterday and i’m so sore 🥴 here you go, besties 🖤

6. humiliation x f. “when i tell you to look me in the eye, you look me in the eye.”

words: 394

cw: gn!reader, humiliation, degradation, creampie, daddy kink, minors dni

“look me in the eye, baby,” one hand is tangled in your hair, forcing your head up. the other on your waist, guiding your hips. sugawara rarely took you from behind, he usually preferred to have his face between your legs or have you ride him. 

but today he’s got you on all fours, in front of the mirror in your bedroom so you can watch yourself get fucked. whether it’s from pleasure or brattiness, though, your eyes are still screwed shut. “getting shy with me?” he tugs on your hair, making you wince in pain, before slamming into you. your eyes shoot open, locking with his through the mirror. doting, sweet suga who always has a kind word for you isn’t here, his comforting brown eyes are cold and the smile he gives you is more sadistic than anything. “when i tell you to look me in the eye, you look me in the eye.”

you can just barely see his cock disappearing inside you and even that’s too much for you, clenching around him. “my pretty little slut, letting me use you like this,” suga leans in to grunt in your ear, slightly changing the angle. the pressure is becoming unbearable but you don’t dare break eye contact again. “should i let you cum? maybe you should beg for it.”

you don’t want to give him the satisfaction but his stamina is much better than yours; he could go on for hours if he wanted to and edge you for as long as he wants. sucking up your pride, you plead for release. “daddy, please! i’ve been so good, letting you fuck me. i’m your plaything just for you.” shame washes over you but suga’s cock feels too good for you to care. “i wanna cum, daddy. wanna feel your cum in me too, please, please”

suga pushes you face first into the mattress, increasing his speed and ordering you to cum on his cock. “daddy’s gonna fuck his cum into you,” he slurs as you gush around him, your juices coating both of you. suga cums right after you, pulling out and watching his cum run down your thighs.

“so messy, baby” his fingers spread your sex and more of his cum dribbles out of you. his condescending voice leaves you flustered. “maybe daddy should fuck you in the shower, hm?”

[julieloveupstead]

"To Infinity and beyond" - Upstead (part 1)

Description: First morning as brides. They are as happy as ever. How will Will react to the news that his little brother has knelt before Hailey?

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

Did what happened last night really happen? Did he really propose to the most gorgeous woman he knew? Did Hailey really say yes? Had he dreamed it?

Looking now at Hailey still sleeping in his arms tears involuntarily welled up in his eyes, his heart began to beat unmistakably fast and his smile widened more and more with each passing moment.

It all seemed surreal to him, but he couldn't have imagined a better evening and a better engagement.

If someone had told him just six months ago that the most gorgeous woman he'd ever met and an amazing police officer with an incredible career ahead of her would choose him over every cop's dream job at the FBI he would have laughed it off.

But he did. Hailey Anne Upton chose his Jay Halstead over a career with the feds. He asked himself what he had done to deserve her.

From then on, he couldn't imagine a morning without her smile, the smell of her skin, and her morning voice. Her kisses and the fact that he was the first to look at her every day.

There wasn't a day that went by when he couldn't imagine a romantic dinner where he would ask her to marry him and give her the ring she deserved and reflect how special she was, even though he knew he would never find one. He even had a plan to write an engagement speech. He wanted to do absolutely everything to show how much he loved her and the fact that he couldn't imagine his life without her.

When he told her that he had been thinking about eternity with her for years, he wasn't lying and he really couldn't remember the specific moment when he had had that epiphany. He felt like it had always been her that mattered.

And maybe his proposal was not as he had dreamed, but maybe that was the secret. All it took was the two of them doing 'Their Thing That Works' to make a supposedly not unusual and not overly thought out proposal be unusual and the way it should be. Just theirs without all the noise and talk.

He felt the small person in his arms move so he looked at her. He smiled and kissed her neck.

- 'Good morning, my fiancé,' she whispered without opening her eyes yet and Jay's heart stopped to start faster. She's going to drive him crazy someday. He thought and kissed her again but this time on the cheek.

- Good morning, my fiancée - he whispered wrapping her in his arms so he could kiss her properly.

- Did that really happen yesterday? - Hailey asked putting her hand on the man's cheek and a smile wandered across her face.

- Mhmm, yes you proposed to me and I said yes - he replied with the same smile and pulled her even tighter to him.

- Fact - she laughed into his chest and feeling grateful that Jay didn't see her blushing. Hailey as she remembered thought it was the craziest idea ever. She had been so terrified after everything that had happened in that warehouse that her only clear thought had just been Jay and that she only wanted to be with him. Her first thought after saying those words in front of Jay was that he would say no and that would be the end of it, and when he didn't answer anything she felt even weirder and the whole situation with Roy.

Then his positive answer and then this time his statement was the last thing on her mind at that moment.

It was like she was in a dream and still it was all not getting to her.

- But you proposed too, and I said yes," she said lifting her head to look into his green eyes.

Jay put a strand of her hair behind her ear and with a big smile and still with tears in his eyes he bent down to bring their lips together.

- How did I ever deserve you? - he whispered against her lips.

- I don't know, maybe with those good waffles and coffee - she replied shrugging her shoulders and drawing stencils from his jaw to his neck and chest.

- I got the message. - Laughed Jay, kissing the top of her head. - And as much as I'd love to make you the first breakfast in bed today as my bride, we did arrange for Will and I to have breakfast today, remember?

- Oh crap actually. Is today the opening of that new breakfast place? - She asked a little disappointed that he was running away from her.

- Mhmm - he muttered.

- All right, what time should we be there? - She asked kissing Jay's neck. He might not get breakfast in bed tonight, but maybe he would get something else.

- O 10? - Jay feeling Hailey's lips on his neck could barely concentrate.

- What time is it now? - she asked without stopping the kisses.

- Mmm - Jay had to pull his neck out to see the time, which forced Hailey to stop. - 7:23, we still have plenty of time. - He replied, and knowing what was going through that gorgeous blonde's head, Jay nipped at her lips with a sly grin.

✾✾✾

- Do you think Will will be very angry? - Hailey asked nervously looking ahead as she and Jay drove to breakfast together. They were quite late, but it was Hailey's opinion that it was all Jay's fault for not wanting to let her go, although she would be lying if she said she protested too much.

- Maybe a little, he'll harbor a redheaded nature, but once he gets his food and finds out about our engagement he should be over it pretty quickly. - He replied with a laugh.

- Do you think so? - Hailey although she was trying to be serious and really cared that the older of the Halsteads wasn't offended at them couldn't help but laugh when she imagined the look on Will's face when they told him.

Hailey looked at Jay who was focused on the road and an even bigger smile appeared on her face. So many hours had passed since Jay had knelt down in front of her, and she still couldn't believe it was happening for real.

She never thought there would be someone in her life who would love her in spite of everything and above all else. She didn't know if she would ever deserve true love, but everything changed when Jay came into her life.

- I love you Jay - those three words had become so natural to Hailey, and yet she still felt excitement every time she said them.

- I love you Hailey - Jay saying looked up at her and put his right hand out, so he could grab her left and intertwined their fingers.

The blonde looked at their hands, and she couldn't feel happier than at this moment and with this man.

✾✾✾

- The big one didn't make it? - indignantly spoke up Will as soon as Jay and Hailey crossed the threshold of the breakfast bar.

- We sorry. - Hailey was the first to speak up when she sat down at the table.

- Can I know the reason? - asked the older Halstead brother curiously looking at his two companions, but noticing the reddened cheeks on their faces and the smiles they were sending out, he regretted asking the question. - You know what I don't want to know, he waved his hand and reached quickly for the menu to hide his embarrassment.

Hailey and Jay seeing the doctor's behavior only laughed and also reached for the menu.

✾✾✾

- I'll tell you how delicious those pancakes were - Hailey put down the cutlery and leaned against the back of the chair she was sitting on.

- Better than mine? - said Jay, leaning back in his chair and looking at his fiancée defiantly.

- Mmm well... I mean - Hailey straightened up at the look on her fiancé's face - I love your breakfast and your pancakes are delicious, but these were delicious too. - She explained quickly hiding her forming smile.

This man will drive her to passion.

- You're lucky I'm marrying you," he leaned closer to the blonde, "because I'll have all eternity to prove to you that my pancakes are the best in the world," he whispered in Hailey's ear, so Will wouldn't hear. The woman had to bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud, and then Jay, not caring about the people in the restaurant, kissed Hailey.

- God you guys are awful - Jay and Hailey pulled away rolling their eyes with laughter hearing Will's indignant groan.

- And you've gotten awfully embarrassing - laughed his brother Jay getting a roll of his eyes.

- Okay boys I'll go to the bathroom quickly and we can get going - she said laughing at her brothers.

- Okay but come back quick - said Jay causing laughter from his wife who got up and walked towards the bathroom.

- You guys are really getting more and more unbearable by the day, Will said, drawing the attention of his brother, who kept looking in the direction Hailey had gone. Jay couldn't help it that even in a regular restaurant he had to be 100% sure that his beloved was safe. It's already a habit he hasn't been willing to unlearn.

- Gosh and you're really getting grumpier by the day, the brunet bit back.

- God. - Will rolled his eyes at his brother. He took a large sip of his coffee mug to his lips and put it down, turning back to his brother. - Something makes me feel like I'm probably going to have to pull my mom's engagement ring out of the depths of the dresser and just count down to the time you propose to her.

Jay hearing his brother's words almost choked on his own coffee trying to stop himself from telling the truth. He turned towards the bathrooms checking to see if Hailey was coming back. He didn't want to tell the story without her presence.

- Are you okay Jay? - Will asked concerned.

- Yeah, just - he coughed - I won't be needing that ring anymore.

- What do you mean, you haven't gotten married yet, did you? - asked Will jokingly, but when Jay didn't laugh he widened his eyes and opened his mouth wider. - What? How? When? Why? What? - Will knew that Jay had completely lost his head for the petite blonde detective and with reciprocation, but he hadn't expected such revelations so soon.

- Hey slow down man - laughed Jay at his brother's reaction. - First of all, I'd rather talk about this with Hailey, but since you brought it up yourself, tough. - started the brunet, still unable to stop laughing at his older brother's embarrassment. - Secondly, I proposed last night, and to tell you the truth, she proposed to me first.

- What? - the still surprised doctor couldn't make out the words. - Never mind, it's long story and just Hailey and my story - he stuck his tongue out at his brother. Jay couldn't stop grinning at the memory of those moments. He knew his brother was curious about all the details, but Jay wanted them to stay just for him and Hailey and didn't want to reveal anything to anyone, not even his older brother. What's between him and that gorgeous blonde is so special and just them that he didn't see the need to tell about it. - And to your question 'why?' the answer is simple. I love this woman madly and after everything we both went through before, and now I can't imagine my life without her. These few months with her have shown me that I don't need to procrastinate anymore, that we have already procrastinated too long anyway, so I just said what I felt, knelt down and asked myself if she wanted to spend life with me. She said yes, and since yesterday I am the happiest man in the world. - He said, not ashamed of the tears of joy that appeared in his eyes at that memory.

- Wow, I don't know what to say, little brother," he said, still shocked but also visibly happy and proud of his brother Will. - I'm proud of you and happy for you guys.

- Thanks man - replied smiling widely Jay.

- What about the ring, I haven't seen any on Hailey's finger - Will asked, completely forgetting about his coffee.

- Ammm, because it's not here yet. - said Jay uncertainly. - I didn't want to give Hailey our mom's ring because somehow it's unlucky for us - he pointed at his brother and himself. - And besides, I want Hailey to get something special, something that we can associate with this special event and only us, not Erin or Natalie. And most of all, I want to give Hailey a ring that she deserves, that reflects how much I love her and how special she is to me. - Jay concluded. There was silence around the table for a moment. Jay was still reliving the events of last night vividly, and Will couldn't get over how his brother had matured over the years.

- Jay - Will spoke up after a moment, drawing his younger brother's attention to himself. - I'm proud of you. - He said, looking into Jay's eyes, who nodded approvingly. - And I know our parents would be too, especially mom.

- Do you think so? - asked a hopeful Jay.

- I'm sure of it - nodded Will with a confident tone. - Thanks Will - smiled with thankfully Jay.

- What did I miss? - Hailey suddenly appeared at the table and watched one brother or the other with curiosity.

- Nothing much - Will was the first to speak up, getting up from the table and approaching the woman. - Welcome to the family, future sister-in-law - he embraced a surprised Hailey, who looked at Jay and asked for an explanation without speaking out loud.

Jay just smiled, and that was enough for Hailey to guess that Will had found out about the engagement. There was nothing left for her to do but smile gratefully and return the hug.

- Thank you, Will - she said, close to tears and feeling the tension coming off that she didn't even know she felt.

Looking at the two people closest to him, Jay smiled and thought that he had always dreamed of having such a family and that he was really happy.

He also knew that Will was right, his mother and even his father would not only be proud of him but would love Hailey.

He looked out the window and looked at the blue sky and smiled.

Yes, without a doubt, Hailey would earn their adoration.

[maybankiara]

PHONE SWAP (DREW STARKEY)

18: MR. WHITE CLAW

summary: Addie Mallory is just your average economics student when she meets Drew Starkey at her local Target in Atlanta. This is where the story is supposed to end – a short meeting and a picture to go – except Drew accidentally leaves with the wrong phone, and the story begins, instead.

w/c: 4.4k

a/n: long one! sorry about it. i promise it won’t happen a lot. also, if i catch one of yous hating on holden you’re gonna catch these hands. <3

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Me | 6:42pm I swear it’s fate that you’re coming back today because you know what Me | 6:42pm MARIANNE IS MAKING GOULASH TOMORROW Me | 6:43pm surprisingly unrelated to you coming back but hey!!

Drew | 6:45pm no way! Drew | 6:45pm Does she make good goulash?

Me | 6:46pm I’d be able to tell if she ever made it before lmao Me | 6:46pm it’s her first time Me | 6:47pm but she’s a pretty good cook overall so!! I wouldn’t expect like a masterpiece or whatever but a decent meal??? Me | 6:47pm f yeah

Drew | 6:48pm I’m inviting myself over Drew | 6:50pm what time should I come by?

Me | 6:57pm if you think for one (1) second that this wasn’t an invitation Me | 6:57pm you are terribly wrong, mr. white claw man

Drew | 7:01pm ok but WHEN SHOULD I COME OVER

Me | 7:02pm oh right 

Drew | 7:05pm ???

Me | 7:05pm Marianne says goulash will be around 6 but you can come over at like 4 or 5 so we can catch up!! Me | 7:06pm I still need to show you the album!! I developed some photos I took since we hung out

Drew | 7:07pm 4 sounds great, can’t wait!! Drew | 7:07pm I’ll make sure to bring some White Claw Drew | 7:07pm What does Marianne drink?

Me | 7:08pm Vodka Me | 7:08pm Tequilla Me | 7:09pm jk you don’t have to bring anything, we have enough alcohol in the fridge

Drew | 7:10pm Still bringing beer

Me | 7:10pm And good vibes

Drew | 7:10pm And good vibes, of course

Me | 7:10pm Gonna be good 😄

◇

The bell rings shortly past four o’clock, and Addie buzzes their guest in with a smile on her face. Marianne peeks from the kitchen, leaning over the corner, strands of her hair falling from underneath the headband-bun combo she’s sporting for the cooking. 

  ‘Is it the celebrity judge?’

  ‘Sure is a judge,’ Addie says, unlocking the door. ‘Not so sure he’d like the celebrity title.’

  The door opens and reveals a smiling Drew, in his usual attire – a simple grey tee with a Queen logo on it, black jeans, and a baseball cap. Greetings are exchanged, and then Drew’s taking his shoes off as Addie warns him that maybe Marianne might be a bit much today. There’s a casual whiff of cologne that Addie catches – it’s similar to Holden’s minty one, but simpler.

  ‘You ready to munch on some British-French-American-Hungarian goulash?’

  He raises an eyebrow. ‘Is anyone ever ready for that?’

  ‘Nope. But Marianne has just called you the celebrity judge of her nonexistent cooking show, so you’ve got no choice but to be ready.’

  ‘Fair,’ he says, just as Marianne shouts from the kitchen, ‘I’ll have my cooking show soon!’

  The self-proclaimed chef pops out of the kitchen, wielding a spatula covered in a dark red, thick liquid. Her red-and-white apron is tied haphazardly around her waist; both the apron and the sweatpants have already become victims to her cooking, and the bun seems to be getting looser by the minute. Marianne flashes the two a massive grin, one finger pointed at Drew.

  ‘Drew!’

  ‘Marianne!’

  Her grin widens so much Addie’s worried it’ll rip her cheeks. She wiggles her finger, then, in a come here motion. ‘I need your goulash expertise, stat.’

  ‘Give the man a moment to breathe,’ says Addie. Next to her, Drew chuckles. 

  ‘Do you want to enjoy the goulash?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Then let the ones who can make it good do it and stay out of it.’ Marianne crosses her arms over her chest, and a drop of liquid falls off the spatula. She doesn’t even notice. ‘Drew?’

  ‘Coming right up, boss.’ 

  With a pat on the back from Addie, Drew departs into the kitchen. Marianne is already listing off all the things that she’s put in the goulash, how she’s done it so far, and how the internet has told her needs to be done from now on. Addie tunes most of it out – while she thinks Marianne is one of the best cooks she’s ever met, after living with her for over a year, some things you can’t help but get used to and eventually, get a little bit tired of. She’s happy there’s Drew, though, because he’s either very interested in Marianne’s process and amused by her telling of it, or very good at pretending to be so.

  Addie grabs a rather small box with a pink bow on it out of the hallway drawer, right next to a grey envelope, then makes her way to the stack of French books lying underneath the TV. The newest copy of a first-edition of The Unbearable Lightness of Being in French is lying on top of a photo album, the same one that Addie told Drew stories from the last time he was over here. She tucks it under her arm and brings it to the kitchen, which has a prominent smell of Marianne’s cooking – a lot of spices, some of them even scattered around with powder spilling out at the edges, and wine that’s both a part of the dish and accompanying Marianne and whoever’s keeping her company. This time it’s Drew, so instead of wine, there’s a can of White Claw in his hands. Addie chuckles to herself.

  Marianne, huddled over the steaming pot, motions for Addie to come closer without looking. ‘How does this smell?’

‘I don’t know how a goulash is supposed to smell.’

  ‘Like that,’ Drew answers. ‘Stop worrying so much.’

  ‘If it can be better, I’ll make it better,’ replies Marianne, then asks him to contribute with some spices and then stir it. ‘If it goes badly, you made it. If it’s great, I made it.’

  Drew laughed. It was a big kind of laugh, the one that fills out the entire room. Taking a seat at their modest dining table, Addie realised it’s been a while since anyone other than the two of them laughed so freely in this place. (That just made her miserable; she needs to stop focusing so much on work and her studies if she wants to retain a semblance of a social life.) She puts the album down, and places the box right underneath it – just enough to be noticeable.

  ‘Addie, you didn’t tell me your roommate is basically the female equivalent to Gordon Ramsay.’ Drew’s leaning against one of the cupboards, sipping his drink with a smile. Marianne elbows him in the shoulder, frowning. 

  ‘The kids one, maybe. I don’t swear, that’s Addie’s job. She’s the sailor.’

  ‘Bitch,’ says Addie under her breath, feeling warmth creeping up into her cheeks as she smiles. ‘Calling me out like that.’

  Marianne doesn’t look at her, but Addie hears her quiet giggle. ‘That’s a quarter.’

  Addie sighs, and Drew lets out a chuckle that sounds a lot like oh. He probably figured out what the jar filled up with quarters is, and Addie thinks he’s finding it a little too amusing, so she says, ‘Don’t laugh.’ 

  Of course, it doesn’t work.

  ‘That’s kind of funny, you’ve got to admit.’

  ‘No.’

  He raises his eyebrows at her, not even trying to hide the smile. Addie calls him to look at the albums, after she places a quarter in the jar, because she can feel Marianne is about to side with him and go on a tirade where she makes fun of Addie’s bad habit – not that she minds, really, but she’d much rather see what Drew thinks of the photographs and his birthday present. 

  It ends up taking him a long time to notice it, which starts driving Addie nuts, but she wants him to be the one to notice it, because… Well. She doesn’t really have a reason. 

  They go through the photographs and Marianne is hovering over Drew’s shoulder, nearly dripping the goulash a few times onto the album, until Addie tells her that her goulash is burning (it isn’t) and she finally leaves the spatula where it belongs, before coming back to look. She likes the photos, and so does Drew – Addie had most of them developed, both from Waystone and the park they were in. Most of them were of the places, but there were a few of Drew. They weren’t the best quality, but his face was relaxed in them, and he was smiling with a playful glint in his eyes, and Addie liked them more than the ones where he looked like he was posing. (She developed those, too, but still hasn’t quite figured out where to put them. She’ll probably give them to him.) Good memories were made that day, and friendships cemented, too.

  When he finally notices the box, his eyebrows shoot up. ‘Is this the present?’

  Addie just nods and waits. She’s thankful that Marianne is humming along to the music while she stirs the pot, because it means that there’s no awkward silence while he carefully unwraps the bow, as if it would break if he tugged on it too hard. He opens it, finally, and laughs – Addie feels like he’s been laughing a lot more recently. 

  He holds the present in his hand, shaking his head. ‘A phone case. Really?’

  ‘Yep.’ Addie grins so hard she bites a little on the inside of her lip; what if he doesn’t like it? She pushes the thought away. ‘Can’t have us swapping our phones again.’

  ‘True. Although, it did end up in a pretty good thing.’

  ‘I guess it did, yeah.’

  There’s a moment where they’re just staring at the phone case, as if it is about to start talking. Addie kind of wishes it would, and once again feels thankful for Marianne’s music. She doesn’t want to start reminiscing, but that’s where her brain is going, and suddenly she finds herself thinking about that summer morning where she was hungover and half-asleep when she met him and it feels weird that it’s been nearly six months since that. It feels like it was yesterday, but it feels like Drew’s always been around. 

  ‘Mr. White Claw,’ he reads off the back of the matt case, amused. Addie’s pretty proud of herself for that one.

  ‘Nothing describes you better than that, basic white bitch.’ She smiles at him, and kicks him under the table so he’d look at her. ‘Happy birthday, dude.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He raises his can and waits until she raises hers, then says, ‘To swapping phones.’

  Addie clinks the can against his. ‘And making friends.’

  ‘And putting another quarter in the jar. Don’t think I didn’t hear that.’

  ‘Marianne.’

  ‘Nu-uh.’ Marianne snaps her fingers, pointing first at Addie as she speaks, then Drew. ‘You, quarter in the jar, and now that the ceremony’s over, I need you back at the cooking station. The goulash ain’t gonna cook itself, mec.’

  As Marianne says, the other two do. Addie is honestly just grateful she doesn’t have to be the one helping out in the kitchen, because as much as she enjoys cooking, Marianne’ demands get on her nerves sometimes. That, and Drew is actually enjoying helping her out. Addie gets to sit back and relax, listen to her friends make food and bond over the dishes they can make—turns out Drew is incredible at making his mum’s casserole recipe, and promises to bring it over someday—and she feels like she’s come a long way from being holed up in her room, studying and working. Even if sometimes it feels like nothing’s changed. 

  In between helping Marianne, Drew puts the phone case in its rightful place. It’s a bit cheesy, but Addie likes the thought that there’ll be a reminder of their friendship with him at all times, if he likes it as much as she thinks he does. It’s a bit silly, too. Addie likes giving and receiving presents that are more silly than useful, which is probably not the savvy and mature way to approach life. 

  Time wears on, and Addie includes herself every now and then, mostly just chilling on her phone as the two work towards what they claim is going to be a masterpiece. She highly doubts it, and it’s amusing whenever she voices her opinion and they try to argue otherwise. She likes to see them getting along – she’d never admit it, but as much as she knows and loves Marianne, a part of her was still scared he’d get the celebrity treatment. Now, she watches as Marianne threatens to throw goulash if he doesn’t cut the pepper faster, and she can only laugh. 

  Her phone chimes and there’s a text message displayed over Holden and Addie’s faces –  a picture taken barely a week ago. They look happy together, and seeing it brings a smile to her face. As Addie texts back, Marianne ushers Drew away from the pot, finally taking over. Drew joins her at the table with a can of White Claw and a can of Heineken. 

  She puts her phone down and takes the Heineken with thanks. ‘Cooking time over?’

  Drew nods. ‘The chef fired me. I think.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Addie laughs, ‘the chef tends to do that.’

  To prove a point, Marianne gives them the finger, and says a whole sentence in French out of which Addie can only understand ‘merde’, and that is mostly because she turns around for that word, glaring at the two. Drew nearly chokes on his drink, and Addie just shrugs, because it’s Marianne, and no one can really understand Marianne. A conversation starts about photography and how Drew did mean to bring the camera, but he left it with Chase and Madelyn when he was visiting, and he ends up telling them stories from all the sets he’s been on. 

  When the bell chimes again, he’s the first one to notice, as he’s sitting not even a foot from the entrance into the kitchen. ‘Someone ringing?’

  ‘Oh, god, I forgot— Thanks!’

  Addie makes a beeline for the hallway, giving her friends a quick ‘one moment!’ in lieu of an explanation. She’s at the front door within seconds and opens it with a smile, greeting her boyfriend with a hug, and a kiss on the cheek. 

  Holden chuckles, and then he’s giving her a brief kiss on the lips before they part. ‘Hello there. You had a bit to drink?’

  ‘A little,’ Addie says, feeling the heat in her cheeks. ‘I’m glad you stopped by.’

  ‘Me too.’ His hand falls from her waist and he takes a step back, looking around. ‘You’ve got the papers?’

  Addie reaches into the drawer and takes the grey folder out of it, but doesn’t give it to him just yet. ‘I know you’re in a hurry, but Marianne is making enough goulash for a whole village, and Drew’s here, and I want to introduce you.’

  ‘He’s here?’ he asks, just at the same time as Marianne shouts from the kitchen, ‘WHO IS IT?’

  In her defense, she thought it would’ve been a nice surprise for Holden to stop by and stick around for a little bit once he got what he came here for, and maybe chat to her friends for a few minutes. The idea might’ve been fine, but hearing Holden’s little sigh at the realisation and a guaranteed confusion from the two in the kitchen, it might’ve not been a fine surprise. This paired with Holden only meeting Marianne of her friends so far...

  ‘C’mon,’ she tells him, hoping to reassure herself just as much, and takes hold of his hand. ‘They don’t bite.’

  Back in the kitchen, Marianne and Drew are leaning on the cupboards, both of them silent and waiting. Addie walkins into the kitchen first, and she watches their eyes follow her hand – the one which drags Holden in behind her. Marianne shouts his name and nearly leaps to hug him, while Drew remains at his spot, gnacing between the two having a quick catch-up and Addie, who tries to tell him not to worry in the form of a smile. 

  His eyes keep dropping back to their hands, intertwined, and she can see barely-concealed confusion on his face. 

  ‘This is Holden,’ she says, now that Marianne isn’t hogging him anymore. ‘My boyfriend. Holden, this is Drew.’

  They shake hands and exchange the ‘nice to meet you’s without anyone feeling the need to prove themselves to be the Alpha male, so Addie counts it as a win. Not that she thought either of them would do that – she just hasn’t seen Drew interact with anyone who wasn’t her or Marianne, and Drew is, after Marianne, the first person from Addie’s life Holden has gotten to meet. 

  The more she thinks of it, the more she realises how risky it was. 

  ‘You’re the actor Drew, right?’

  For a moment, Addie just watches Drew – his hands are crossed on his chest and he looks a little menacing, now that she tries to see him from Holden’s perspective. Tall and pretty attractive, pretty relaxed in a place he’s barely been to, and with the reputation of a successful actor – and to top it all off, a resting bitch face. 

  Addie’s heart skips a beat. 

  Drew laughs and she feels relief wash over her, instead. ‘Is that how she presents me to people?’

  ‘Drew, it’s literally how we met,’ she says, rolling her eyes at him from across the room. ‘How else am I supposed to explain how I know you?’

  ‘Fair.’

  There’s a moment where the sizzling of the goulash is all that can be heard, but Addie doesn’t think it’s one of those heavy silences, where every person seems like they’re holding their breath. She takes it as a good sign. 

  Holden pats his thigh, then, and he has an apologetic face when he says, ‘I’ve got to go. Work won’t wait forever.’ He flashes Drew a smile. ‘Nice meeting you, Drew.’

  ‘You too.’

  Addie sighs. ‘You just got here.’

  He opens his mouth to say something, but Marianne is quicker: ‘You try this goulash, look me in the eye, and say you don’t want more of it.’ There’s no and then you can go, because Addie has a feeling Marianne knows pretty well just how good the goulash is. 

  She commands the room as she approaches Holden with the tiniest bit of goulash steaming from the spatula over her hand. Her eyes are determined and there’s a crook in the corner of her lips – the sly kind of smile when she knows she’s already won. Holden doesn’t get a chance to protest, because the spatula is headed for him, and he’s got nothing to do but take it. 

  The room holds a breath. Even Drew is looking at Holden in expectation, chin resting on the palm of his hand. 

  For a bit, Holden just coughs and complains about the hotness (Marianne argued he had to have been blind to not see that it was steaming). Once he’s finally back to normal breathing and side-eyeing Addie for giggling at him, he tells Marianne it’s one of the best things he’s ever tasted.

  Addie could swear she could see pride and self-satisfaction through Marianne’s eyes.

  ‘Now that Holden is staying,’ says Addie, ‘can the rest of us have some, too?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ replies Marianne, with a newfound spring in her step, grace in the way she moves. Drew laughs at her, quietly, and Addie finds herself laughing with him.

  Marianne brings out the goulash and Addie helps pour it into the bowls, handing each of them one. The chef ends up taking Addie’s chair, on Addie’s insistence, because what does she deserve after all these hours other than enjoying her efforts in peace? So Addie leans on the counter, ignoring Marianne’s protests that it’s dirty (‘These shorts need to go into the wash anyway’) and savours the food. It’s unbelievably good – Drew even comments at one point that it’s as good as the one his Hungarian neighbour made, if not better. Marianne glows after each compliment, so Addie doesn’t really stop giving them. Even as the conversation goes on, and Holden stays a little longer than planned, they keep sprinkling in nice comments about the goulash whenever they can. 

  Addie’s glad Holden and Drew are here for this, however unplanned it was.

  Holden slaps his thigh again, in the very same manner with the very same look on his face and this time, Addie catches herself right before she laughs. ‘I’ve really got to go now,’ he says, getting to his feet. ‘Work calls.’

  He walks up to Addie and she smiles at him, elbowing him gently in the ribs. ‘That’s okay, Mr. Workaholic. We understand.’

  She thinks maybe she’s pushing it, but Holden smiles and reaches the other side of her waist, tickling just enough so that she groans for him to stop. ‘You’ve got it just as bad as I do,’ he tells her, and she can’t argue.

  ‘Wait, Holden.’ Marianne twirls her spoon in front of her space, brow furrowed, and a distant look on her face. ‘Can I ask you lot a personal question?’

  ‘Marianne—’

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Addie. I won’t bother them too much.’

  Marianne does give her a reassuring smile, or what’s meant to be one, because Addie doesn’t feel particularly reassured. The girl, for all the love Addie holds for her, really has a thing for pushing the limits and boundaries without meaning to. Addie sinks into herself, arms crossed on her chest with Holden’s hand still resting on her waist, and hopes Marianne picks her approach carefully. Addie might know her well enough, but Drew and Holden don’t.

  ‘Sure,’ says Drew, leaning back in his chair. ‘What is it?’

  Instead of responding, he looks at Holden until he agrees to it, too. She takes a deep breath, then, and gives them the shaky kind of confident smile as her fingers fix up her bun. ‘How important are romantic things in a relationship to guys?’

  Addie resists dropping her head in her hands. She just sighs. Glares a little. 

  Lets it all unfold. 

  The hand on Addie’s waist moves a little, with no purpose. She can hear Holden breathe more deeply, as he always does when he’s trying to crack a problem. Drew, on the other hand, frowns; his eyes stare out of the window, the distance noticeable in them. Part of Addie wishes the question was never asked – part of it is as glad that it wasn’t bad as it is honest that maybe, Addie is curious about the answers, too. 

  ‘Probably shouldn’t ask Holden that while Addie’s around,’ jokes Drew.

  ‘Ha-ha. Very funny.’

  Drew looks at her and shrugs, a smile peeking through. (Addie found it a little bit funny and he can see it.) He sighs a little and scratches the place above his eyebrow, glancing at Marianne. ‘What kind of romantic things are we talking about?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Marianne waves her hand in a vague motion, then lets it go back to fiddling with the bun. ‘Um, dates, quality time together, gifts or flowers or whatever, that romantic sappy kind of shite.’

  ‘It depends, then,’ Holden says, voice deep and laced in thought, just as Drew speaks with confidence, ‘Very important.’

  Drew chuckles and Holden smiles, too, but Marianne doesn’t look very reassured, so Drew leans forward in the chair, placing his elbows on the table with his hands crossed. ‘Look, it depends on the guy, yeah, but most guys like the romantic stuff. Going on dates, getting flowers and chocolates, candlelit dinners and just spending quality time together is a big deal. Not having that is just kind of… I don’t know.’

  Marianne nods. She’s looking at Drew as if she were soaking his words like a sponge, and not one that likes them. 

  ‘I don’t really agree,’ says Holden, after letting out a little ‘hmmm’ sound. ‘I mean, it really depends on the guy, but also the partner. Look at Addie and I – we spend most of our time together at work, or doing work, and it’s something we love doing so the time we spend together doing that is what we’d consider quality time, right? And you don’t— We don’t need all that romantic stuff. If you know someone likes you, there’s no need to constantly show it. If it works already.’

  Addie just stares at the ground. All eyes are on her, now, even if not physically – she can just feel the attention on her. Does she agree? Yes, for the most part, and it’s not her Marianne is asking this time. They’ve already spoken about this. Marianne knows Addie enjoys the approach she and Holden have with the relationship.

  When she finally looks up, she catches Drew’s eyes for a moment, and then they’re gone before she can read them. ‘Well,’ he says, ‘I guess it depends on your relationship and your boyfriend, then.’

  ‘My friend’s.’ Marianne nods with a smile that looks like it’s about to slip off. ‘I’m asking for a friend.’

  Drew leans back. ‘Sure, yeah. I hope your friend manages to sort it out.’

  Marianne thanks him, then makes a joke about the goulash being finger-licking, and within moments everything’s as if there wasn’t just a serious conversation. A little later, Addie walks Holden out, receiving a gentle kiss on the lips before he leaves. Drew sticks around for a little while longer and when Marianne invites Drew to their group’s annual Fourth of July party (very exclusive), Addie feels like it’s another unpredictable-Marianne moment she should’ve foreseen. 

  For better or worse, though, Drew shakes his head with a little sigh. ‘Thanks for the invitation, but I’ve already booked a flight home.’

  ‘Oh.’ Marianne nods, not even trying to hide her disappointment. ‘Shame. We throw the best parties around Atlanta.’

  Drew chuckles, tugging his jacket sleeves over his arms. ‘I don’t doubt that for a second. I’ll catch one of them, at some point.’

  ‘Yeah. You should.’

  Addie is leaning against the wall, watching them talk about their plans for the Fourth of July, and realises she’s happy that Holden’s met Drew. She’s happy he’s integrating into her friend group, at least bit by bit. It kind of makes everything more real; more permanent. Later, she finds out from Marianne that Drew messaged her, thanking her for the goulash experience. When she’s lying in bed, thinking about all the work she needs to do tomorrow because she slacked off today, a thought pops up: Marianne’s birthday is going to be soon, and that is bound to be a wholesome party.

  Addie falls asleep with a smile on her face.

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19: THANKFUL

tagging. (let me know if you want to be tagged!) @jjmaybanksbaby @ofpinkfizz @snkkat @drewswannabegirl @yeslifeofateen @rudypnkw @stfukie @x-lulu @drewstarkey @butgilinsky @solllaris @hyperactive2411 @chasefreakinstokes @surferkie @jroseron @k-k0129 @starlightstories @rafecameron​