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readingcoco · 8 months

Text

Painted Red 🖤

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader (f)

Words: 3444 words

Ao3 Link

Summary: When a new sandy-haired Deputy Sheriff arrives in town, you can't figure out why he gives you and the other Working Girls so little attention. It becomes your mission to figure him out and hopefully make some money along the way.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, eventual smut, sex work, period typical attitudes, strangers to lovers, medium honor Arthur Morgan, angst, mutual pining, Deputy Callahan.

Thanks to @rivetingrosie4, @redwritr & @shootybangbang for all your help on this story and for being dreamy angels.

Chapter One - The Deputy

[chapter 2]

“Guess who’s downstairs!” a voice interrupts from behind your door.

The autumn sun sits heavy in the sky, casting a warm pink haze that spills in through your bedroom window. You were supposed to start your shift an hour ago, but instead, you are here, sprawled out on your bed, hair undone, counting the money from the evening before. Muffled notes from the piano downstairs drift softly into your room. You inhale deeply on your cigarette, resenting all things that pull you away from these precious sleepy moments before you have to head downstairs. Make conversation. Smile. Perform.

Timekeeping has never been your strong suit, and you have lost count of the times Lulu had threatened to dock your tips for tardiness. These were empty threats, of course. You knew your position was secure - Even if Lulu liked to kick up a fuss in front of the other girls.

Brow furrowed, you take another drag from your cigarette. $15. $75 total from the week so far. Money hadn’t been flowing as freely as it had done seasons past. The drought had hit everyone hard, and you knew, sure enough, if the boys were feeling it in the tobacco fields, it wouldn’t be long till you were feeling it in the cat house, too. Seemed everyone was praying for rain. Still, Saturday meant full pay packets and men eager to let loose after the working week - something you were more than happy to help them with.

“Who!?” you call out, just as Minnie peeps her head around your door.

“Christ! You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge ass backwards! Lulu’s been askin' after you?”

You hum in response, dragging a comb through the bird's nest atop your head sweeping it up into a loose bun. “Who's got you all giddy? Surely not some John?”

“That new Deputy’s back!”

You roll your eyes. “How big’s the pot now?”

“$5. $5.25, if you still fancy your chances”, Minnie smirks, perching herself at the foot of your bed, watching as you put the last of your face on. “but Ida says she’s out. She don’t wanna waste more time on a Trick who don’t want tricking.”

“Tricks always want to be tricked,” you say, rooting through the collection of bills and coins laid out haphazardly across your bed, handing Minnie 25¢, which she slips into her coin purse.

Men were mostly the same. Sure, some might pretend to be respectable in the streets with their wives or taking their mothers to church on a Sunday, but you’d had every colour and creed between your legs. This deputy would be no different, and you were going to relish claiming the prize pot for yourself.

With a final drag of your cigarette, you smooth out your skirts and collect the pile of money on your bed, stashing it in your linen drawer - making a mental note to deposit it in the parlour safe before the night was out. Keeping that much money in your room is foolish, and if you were more sensible, you would deposit your tips between each John. But then you’d miss out on watching the pile grow. Evidence of your labour, your time, your craft. It wasn't like you worried you wouldn’t get it back as soon as requested - Lulu’d always been good about things like that, but to hand it over before you’d even had the chance to feel the paper fully in your palm seemed like it would make it less real somehow.

You turn to Minnie-

“You ready?”

“Girl, I’ve been waiting on you!”

“Let’s give that deputy the night of his life.”

Although the sun is yet to set in the sky, the house is already live with music and laughter, the mezzanine balcony providing the perfect vantage point to assess what the evening might have in store. There are men fresh from the fields playing Faro, Lemoyne Raiders several whiskeys deep, a few of the younger, more boisterous Grays and the creepy gunsmith, Mister Feeney. Not amazing pickings, but not dire either. Then you spot him, sitting quietly on the table closest to the door, hat pulled low, scribbling something furiously into some book. An odd sight, all considered. You weren’t sure most of the men in this town could read, let alone write.

Minnie squeezes your arm before descending the spiralled staircase, the Deputy firmly in her sights. You lean back to watch as she glides effortlessly across the room—a vision in teal silk taffeta.

As you settle onto your hip, the fine hairs on your neck abruptly stand to attention as the air pressure changes behind you.

“So kind of you to grace us with your presence.” Lulu’s voice drips thick with syrupy disdain. Smile remaining tight. Never in front of the guests.

“Punctuality is a virtue of the bored, Miss Lulu.” You smile sweetly.

She’s not impressed.

“Just get to work. Make Some Money.”

As you look back down to the floor below, a dispirited Minnie is walking away from the Deputy, his nose still firmly in his book. You bristle slightly. Did this man think himself better than the women who worked here? Sure, he was paying for drinks, but a man could drink at home if he was looking for solitude. In a parlour house, it was polite, proper even, to tip the girls, whether you require our services or not. And if the deputy didn’t know this etiquette, you were more than happy to educate him. Prize pot be damned.

It was your turn to make the night’s debut down the curve of the parlour’s stairs, something that on an ordinary night, you liked to draw out for as long as possible. Feel the eyes of each man gaze up at your form like they were watching a goddess descending from heaven, blessing them with your time. True power. But tonight, it takes everything in you not to stomp down the last few steps onto the floor.

That cad still isn’t paying you a lick of attention.

“Deputy.” Your voice comes out curter than you intend as you reach him. You hope Lulu isn’t close enough to overhear.

“Maybe another time, Darlin” " the man responds without looking up.

Make conversation.

“Deputy” You try again. “Are you aware of the price on your head?”

The sound of pencil scratching comes to a halt as he turns to face you. To your surprise, you notice that he was drawing rather than writing as he snaps the leather-bound book shut—the sound startling your gaze upwards to meet his own. And for the first time, you take in the scale of the man. Built like an Ox with broad shoulders and a barrel chest, upon which the words ‘Deputy Sheriff’ shine out from his silver badge. From this proximity, he looks unlike any lawman you’ve seen.

He watches you intently as though trying to predict your next move - eyes a piercing shade of azure blue, locked dangerously onto your own. You have his full attention, but now you’re unsure if you want it.

“Excuse me?”

You swallow and try to make your next words lighter in tone.

Smile.

“Nearly five and a half dollars, in fact.”

His shoulders loosen ever so slightly. Eyes still on you but less predacious, perhaps even the suggestion of a smirk beginning to form at the corner of his mouth.

“Five and a half dollars? That’s some bounty. What I do, rob a bank?”

“Worse,”

He rubs his jaw.

“Oh?”

“You got five whores questioning our faculties. There’s a sweep on which lucky lady’s gonna be the first to get you upstairs, but so far, no one’s got as far as your name.”

A low rasp of a laugh passes the Deputy’s lips, and you feel a sense of relief as the danger in the air dissipates. Bluntness- this man responds to bluntness. And you wonder if you can hold his attention long enough to work your magic.

Perform.

“There are normally two reasons a man mightn’t want to lay with a girl like me…”

You pause for effect, starting to have fun now.

“He’s broke. Though that don’t stop most from pushin’ their luck. Or they’re queer.”

The Deputy straightens and clears his throat. There is something delightful about making a man like this squirm, and you can’t help but sense that he may be enjoying it too.

“So which is it, Deputy?”

You give him your most innocent of smiles. Hand finding purchase upon the swell of his shoulder, knowing full well that its removal could signal the latter of your accusations. You are being cruel now.

There is a moment of hesitation before the man can find the words to respond. Your unassuming smile not giving him an inch of wiggle room. Thumb beginning to make slow circles atop his shirt.

“I-It’s just not really my thing. Payin' for it, I mean. Not that I can’t, or - or-”

“Oh? There’s some third thing I ain’t privy to? A sweetheart somewhere you’re keeping true for?”

“Not really, no.”

A hint of regret in his voice.

“Then why deny yourself a bit of company?”

You notice the tips of his ears turn pink and leave his lack of an answer to hang in the air for a moment before taking pity-

“Don’t worry, I’m just teasin’, but you ought to know it’s customary to buy a girl a drink, even if you ain’t planning on laying with her. We all have to make a living, Deputy, and this is my house.”

And you're not sure if it’s out of a sense of gratitude at you relenting your line of questioning or because he has started to enjoy the warmth from your hand on his shoulder, but that’s when he motions for the barkeeper to bring two drinks over to the table.

Your eyes dart over to Minnie, who is sat between two Grays. She throws you an encouraging wink, and you become keenly aware of the four other sets of eyes watching too. This is the furthest any of you has got with this man, and a wave of responsibility washes over you. You are going to earn that $5.25 plus the additional $5 when he fucks you. You feel foolish for ever doubting your ability in the first place. A man is a man, is a man.

“Ethel White”, you hold out your hand “but call me Ettie.”

“Arthur Callahan.”

Arthur.

He nods to the chair across from him as he removes the leather book from the table and puts it away in his satchel. You pull out the chair next to him instead, purposefully pinning him between you and the wall.

“Christ woman, you ain’t coy, are you?” he laughs, removing his hat, revealing a sandy crop of hair.

Without his hat, you are better able to take in the details of his face: the strong brow, the crook of a nose broken one too many times, a smattering of sunspots across his crown. Quite handsome, you think to yourself, a welcome change from the interchangeable looks of the Grays or Braithwaites who make up the bulk of your clientele.

“Not at all,” you smirk. “Besides, I want to take a look at what you were scribbling away at in that book. Must be awfully interesting to hold your attention so well.” You glance down at the journal now peeking out the top of his satchel. “Is that watercolour paper?”

“Huh?”

“Watercolour paper, you know, to stop the paint seeping through and spoiling the rest of the pages? I saw you were drawing and-”

He looks at you then, and you can see a slight flicker of shame cross his face momentarily. The feeling of someone pointing out the unfamiliar to a previously known thing, changing it somehow, making it less your own. You feel guilty. Watching him squirm was fun, but you never intended to make him feel foolish.

“I don’t paint. It’s for sketching mostly, keepin' track of the people and places I’ve been.”

“You do a lot of travelling, Deputy?”

“A bit.”

That instinct again, that there is more to this man than meets the eye. The lawman artist a walking contradiction.

“What do you paint then?”

His question catches you off guard. Men like to be asked about themselves. They rarely ever show interest in you. A prick of heat flushes across your cheeks, and you hope the rouge of false abashment covers its authentic companion. It’s you who is in control here - not him, goddammit. But his face is filled with genuine curiosity, like he wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t interested, and that’s what puzzles you further.

“Um, landscapes mostly, but I prefer painting people.” The words spill out before a filter of allurement or double entendre can be applied. “It’s just difficult to get people to sit for any length of time. Though I’ve painted all the girls here at some point or another.”

“Where’d ya learn?”

And that is a question too far.

You’d been gifted a great many things over the years, some thoughtful, most not, and learned the hard way how easily something given could be taken away. You’re art though, no one could take that. You wondered sometimes if that had been an oversight when you’d been promised lessons. The techniques acquired the only remaining thing worth a damn apart from your horse. Leftovers from another life.

“Don’t change the subject, Deputy. Are you going to show me your sketches or not?” Before you can stop yourself, you are leaning over him to grab at his satchel, totally aware that the danger this man displayed to you only moments earlier still lies just below the surface. With lightning-quick reflexes, he grabs the wrist of your right hand, firm in his warning. Do not push me, girl. But you have never been one to know when to stop. Your eyes are locked onto him as your breath comes in quick and heavy to your chest; You notice his start to slow. He’s read you like a book. Left hand spearing from under the table to meet your secondary attack, pinning it against his thigh.

You look down at your fingers splayed out under the weight of his own. Knuckles scarred and calloused from a lifetime of work not typically required by law enforcement. The warmth from his thigh radiates beneath your palm, and it takes everything in you not to edge your fingers closer to the source of his heat.

He meets you with an expression you struggle to place. Not anger - though you couldn’t blame him if it was. Amusement maybe?

“Think careful about your next move now, Miss. I wouldn't want to have to arrest you for larceny.”

You give him your widest of smiles and look carefully over your shoulder behind you. And as though suddenly clocking the inference of your shared position, Arthur lowers your right hand so it rests on the table rather than in the air. The grip still firm.

“If I let you go, will you behave?”

“Will you show me your drawings?”

“Woman-” But he doesn’t say no.

“I’ll behave.”

He looks at you, trying to figure out whether he trusts you.

“I promise.”

Gaze still set, he experiments loosening the grip on your wrist and then shadows the hand on his thigh - awaiting any sudden movements. You hold still. And for a moment, you see him grapple with himself as though he can’t quite believe what he is about to do. He releases you fully, and you take back your right hand, leaving your left firmly in place.

“Now, if I show you, you gotta promise not to go grabbin'? There’s stuff a man should be able to keep private.”

You nod.

He grins as he bucks his thigh, dislodging your rooted palm.

“Hands behind your back.”

With a playful huff you acquiesce, putting both arms behind you as though bound and look back at him coquettishly. And although he feigns disinterest at the way this new position pushes forward the peak of your chest, you catch his eyes dart across them, guilty in their haste.

He removes the leather-bound journal from his satchel, smoothing open two pages carefully on the table.

“Here. But that’s your lot.”

Spread across both pages is a beautifully rendered sketch of the parlour’s exterior, and you don’t know how to react. He stiffens slightly beside you.

“Just a silly doodle,” he says, moving to close the book. Clearly reading your quietness for disappointment, disgust, something else?

“Wait-”

To see the parlour captured in such effortless detail; The ornate carvings of the porch where you take your morning coffee, the Virginia Creeper that had to be cut back for fear it’d engulf the entire house, the hanging baskets of petunias that Lulu so lovingly tended to - feels exposing in a way you’d not expected. What other unnoticed minutiae had his perceptive eyes picked up on?

“It’s beautiful. You’ve captured it just right.” You half-whisper.

“Ain’t as good as a paintin’.”

“Different thing entirely, but if you can draw like this, I’m sure you’d make a fine painter.”

He gives you the smallest of smiles as you catch sight of Lulu’s permeating glare as she sweeps down the central staircase. You are on the clock. If he’s not biting, move on. And you remember you are not here to discuss painting or art unless it serves your more explicit purpose.

“See that top window at the back?” You make sure to graze his arm as you remove one hand from behind your back, bringing it slowly to the open page.

“That’s my bedroom.”

“Oh?”

“Might you like to come up and see some of my work?”

You can see him contemplating the thought over in his mind, and you start to wonder if there really is some poor woman he is betrothed to… or perhaps your prior insinuation was correct, for you have never met a man so ill at ease at being in close proximity to a woman-

“Mister Callahan!”

You are both pulled away from each other's gaze as you turn to face your intruder. Sheriff Gray. And you are up and on your feet in an instant. Eyes twinkling with faux excitement to welcome this invader of fun, spoiler of all things delightful and new. Arthur straightens to attention.

“I see you’ve met Ettie. Ain’t she a peach? I hope she’s been treatin’ you with all the hospitality we here at Rhodes can offer.” As he slurs his words, it is clear he’s already halfway soaked and once again, you feel Lulu’s watchful eyes on the back of your neck. You have a responsibility to your house, and Sheriff Gray isn’t any regular John. To keep him placated is to keep the house protected, and it is your duty to ensure the Sheriff remains happy and drunk, coddled and empty.

“Oh, stop it!” You coo in his ear, wrapping your arm up tightly in his. Voice layered thick with honey.

The shine on his breath hits like a train, bringing tears to your eyes that you mask by nuzzling your head to his shoulder. He sags heavy on your hip, oblivious.

“You didn’t tell me you’d hired such a handsome new Deputy-''

Arthur shifts in his seat, and you wonder what detail of your performance his observant eyes have picked up on.

“You keepin’ secrets from me, Sheriff? Or do you just want me all to yourself?”

“I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t.” Sheriff Gray hiccups and turns to face Arthur. “Do you mind if I accompany the lady upstairs?”

Arthur stands, towering over the Sheriff by quite some measure and places his hat back atop his head.

“Course not. You both enjoy your evening. I’ve to be headin' back anyway.”

For a second, your eyes meet Arthur’s, but his expression is impenetrable. The Sheriff speaks again.

“Safe travels, Deputy. Rhodes is honoured to have such honest men like you and Mr Mackintosh about. Your work rootin’ out that shine is already being felt around the county.”

Arthur nods. The effects of the shine are certainly being felt.

He hiccups again. “Don’t be a stranger, now.”

“Don’t be a stranger.” You repeat, all traces of the sickly sweet affect gone from your voice. You yip as the Sheriff swats your backside, but you keep your head high, eyes still held on this curious lawman artist.

Don’t be a stranger.

“Miss.” Deputy Callahan touches the brim of his hat as you lead Sheriff Gray upstairs to your room.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x fem!reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 smut #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x oc #painted red

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ghost-in-the-hall · 11 months

Text

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part I

Well, it happened... After trying to evade the hype for so long they finally got me 😂😂 This story has had me in a chokehold (haha, get it?) since I started toying around with the idea of it. Hopefully you guys enjoy it, let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for future chapters and/or Sleep Token one shots!

WARNINGS: None

Part II

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

Credit to @spookyghostjelly for beta reading, ily bb 💗💗💗

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You sat with your feet propped up on the counter, one of the magazines you had yet to sell spread open on your lap. "Be fashion forward this fall." You read out loud to the empty store in a mocking tone as your eyes grazed over the pictures of chunky sweaters, jeans, and boring, brown leather boots. The bell over the door jingled as a customer entered the store, your eyes darted up, expecting one of your regulars. You were met with the sight of someone in a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over their head. 'Great,' you thought to yourself, 'just when I thought I was going to have an easy evening.' You watched the man carefully, waiting to see what exactly he was going to stick in his pockets. Now, you normally turn a blind eye to shoplifters up to a certain extent, everyone deserves to have something to eat. But, being an independently owned store you could only take so much of a loss on your inventory. To your surprise, the man didn't pick up a single item. He took his time looking over the contents of each shelf, his hands never leaving his sweatshirt pocket. "Can I help you find anything, sir?" His head turned slightly in your direction, but not enough for you to see his face.

"What time do you close?" You were caught off guard by his British accent, it was an uncommon occurrence to get outsiders in your small backwoods town.

"Eight o'clock." He nods his thanks and hurriedly exits your store, almost bumping into one of your regulars on the way out.

"Everything alright?" He asks as the strange visitor leaves your store.

"Do you know him?" You ask quietly, as if he would somehow be able to overhear you despite having rounded the corner of the building already.

"Yeah, he's one of those… those cultists that set up shop in the woods." He explains. You were a bit shocked at the realization. You had been seeing headlines in the local newspaper for months as curiosity rose around the small group of men that had built a few Cabins on the very edge of town. Reporters didn't dare venture into their camp for an interview, but that didn't stop them from snapping a few pictures from the safety of the treeline. Four cabins sat at each corner of a small clearing, a large fire pit dominated the center. From what you could make out they seemed to have some sort of root cellar and a lackluster garden, which would explain why you hadn't seen any of them in person until this afternoon. "You be careful, (Y/N). Freaks like that might just try to sacrifice you to some goat demon they worship." He warns. You can't help but roll your eyes at the outlandish statement.

"Mark, those boys haven't done a single thing to bother anyone since they got here. They've been out there for months, if they were going to take someone they would've done it by now." You argue.

He chuckles, "Trust me darlin', I hope you're right. But until then me and a lot of other folks around here plan on keeping a close eye on them. You'd do best to stay away from them."

"You think I can't take care of myself?" You challenge, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Now, Miss (Y/N), you and I both know you'd beat my ass to next Sunday if that's what I was implying." The two of you shared a laugh. "I just don't want something bad to happen, that's all. These strange men show up out of nowhere one day and no one knows where they came from, hell none of us have ever seen their faces. They all wear these black masks, least that's what the reports are saying. You can never be too cautious."

"I'll take my chances." You smile politely in an attempt to get him off his soap box. "Now, I take it you're here for your pack of Marlboros."

"Yes ma'am, and an extra one for Donnie if you don't mind." He responds with a nod as he fumbles for his wallet in his back pocket.

"You got it boss." The rest of your evening was spent rather uneventfully, save for the fact that you would practically jump out of your chair every time the door opened. You glanced up at the clock, there was about twenty minutes left until you closed. "Maybe he decided to not come back." You shrug. Moments later an old, beat up pick up truck rumbled into the parking lot. You watched as the driver got out, his head dipped low to hide his face in the hood of his black sweatshirt. He pushes through the door, the jingle of the bell the only sound to cut through the tense silence. "Welcome back." You tried to sound friendly despite your unease. He nods at you in response, not saying a single word as he makes his way quickly and directly to everything he needs. He approaches the counter, unloading his arm load of supplies before taking a step back. "You got a name to go with those big, broad shoulders of yours?" You ask in a bit of a teasing tone, trying to do what you could to lighten the mood. He remained silent, despite the fact you couldn't see his face you couldn't escape the feeling of his piercing gaze. You opened a bag, carefully organizing his contents inside. "$18.75, sir." He slaps a twenty dollar bill on the counter, not even waiting for his change as he grabs his bag and flits out the door. You watched as he drove off, not sure exactly what you were supposed to make of that interaction. You had a similar occurrence every day for almost a week. He would come in, grab an armful of groceries, put down his money, and he left. You would try and greet him whenever he would come in your store, it was always met with a curt nod.

"Vessel." You froze as he finally spoke up. You looked up, your eyes met with 6 slits on an odd looking mask. "You can call me Vessel." You couldn't think of how to respond at first. He had barely acknowledged your existence before tonight, what had changed?

"Vessel… (Y/N)." You stick out your hand to shake his. "It's nice to finally meet you." You smile as his hands clap into yours.

"You're different from the other people we've run into from town." He remarks.

"The reporters?"

"Some of them, a few others we just happened to cross paths with." You could feel him studying you. "You don't seem scared."

"Vessel, you've been coming in here for over a week now. If you were going to try and hurt me you would've done it by now." You notice the corner of his mouth quirk up in a smile.

"I guess you have a point." He chuckles. You finish scanning his items and give him his total. He places the money down on the counter and picks up his bag.

"How come you never take your change?" You ask as he's almost out the door.

"I know you run this place by yourself, think of it as me tipping a small business." He flashes a brief, brilliant smile at you. You try to hide your shy smile by fixing up your register. "Oh, and (Y/N)?" You glance back up at him. "It's nice to finally meet you too."

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Tag List: @herripinkle @mustluvecho @jumpcauseimfroggy (If you would like to be tagged for Sleep Token stuff let me know!)

#sleep token fanfiction #sleep token #sleep token x reader #vessel #vessel x reader #ii x reader #iii x reader #iv x reader #sleep token fan fic #my writing #my fanfiction

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firewasabeast · 28 days

Text

Uncle Eddie (part 5)

Our Juniper is growing up 😞 You can read this chapter below, or on ao3. All parts can be read together or as individual stories.

Eddie was pretty sure that this was the most nervous he'd been in his entire life.

Standing on the Buckley-Kinard porch, flowers in one hand and a poorly wrapped birthday present in the other, he let out a deep breath as he waited for someone to come to the door.

When the door finally opened and Tommy stood in front of him, he felt about two feet tall.

“You are in some deep trouble, Man,” Tommy said, shaking his head.

Technically, he deserved it. It was all his fault.

Juniper's tenth birthday was the first time she would have both parents, and her Uncle Eddie, off work for the whole day. Everyone was going to be at the party, even all of her very annoying ten year old friends, but she was most excited to show off her firefighting family, which very much included Uncle Eddie.

Except Eddie, after a very long and exhausting forty-eight hour shift, was asked by Smith if they could trade shifts. “I only have a twelve on Saturday, and I'd be willing to take your twenty-four on Sunday.” And damn if that didn't sound like a good bargain at the time.

It wasn't until he got back from a call on Saturday and checked his phone to see three missed phone calls and five texts from Buck that it hit him.

He was supposed to be at Juniper's party.

He was an idiot.

And should probably get his brain checked for forgetting the one thing she'd reminded him about over and over to the point of Eddie having to beg her to please stop reminding him.

So now he stood at the door with apology flowers and a present that would have been awesome yesterday, but would probably mean nothing today.

“Am I even allowed in the house?” Eddie asked, Tommy already moving to the side to let him in.

“Well, technically Evan was closer to the door when the bell rang, but he went out back instead of answering.”

Eddie stepped inside but stayed in the entryway while Tommy closed the door. “How mad at me are they? How mad are you?”

“Mm,” Tommy hummed, thinking it over. “I'm down to about a four, but that's because of all the downright pathetic texts you sent me yesterday after Evan wouldn't respond to you. Juniper is probably a nine, but I think she's more sad than mad. Evan is... Well, Evan is Evan, so.”

“So I'm in really deep trouble.”

Tommy nodded. “Oh yeah.”

“I guess I should get started on my apology tour then.”

“Good idea. The five apology texts you sent last night are enough for me, by the way. I'd start with Juniper today if I were you. Evan won't forgive you until she does.”

A sigh. “She in her room?”

“Yeah. Good luck.”

*****

Eddie knocked on the open door, standing in the doorway until Juniper hopefully gave him the all clear to enter.

She was facing away from him, sitting at her desk and carefully applying polish to her fingernails. The knock caused her to swivel in her chair, but the smile she had faded quickly when she saw Eddie there. She turned back around.

“I thought you were Papa,” she grumbled out.

“No, just me. Can I come in, Chewy?”

She shrugged. “Free country.”

For all the ways she was turning into her own person, she still contained so much of her dads attitudes.

Eddie walked into the room and over to her desk, setting the flowers down beside her. “That's part of my apology,” he explained, then he set her gift on the other side of her. “That's for your birthday. Your nails look very nice, by the way.”

It was something she had been getting into lately. She loved trying new polishes. Right now she was applying a shimmery blue, and she had done so almost perfectly. She practiced on Tommy a lot. His toes had a new color every week.

The present Eddie had gotten her was a new polish kit that had come out. It was apparently a huge deal with tweens... and she was supposed to have it yesterday so she could do all her friends nails.

“I don't know if- if you know this,” she said, twisting the cap back on her polish, “but my birthday was yesterday.”

Eddie went over to her bed, tossing some stuffed animals to the side before he sat down. “I know, Juniper,” he started, hoping she'd eventually look his way, “and I'm sorry. I made a stupid mistake, I know I did. There's no excuse, but I am sorry.”

Juniper sighed. She stared down at her nails, watching them shine as she moved them around. “Papa told me I should forgive you.”

“That's nice of him.”

“Daddy told me it was, um, it was up to me.”

“That... sounds like your dad.”

“Then Papa told Daddy that people make mistakes, and a- as long as people really try to do better and mean that they're sorry, we should forgive them.”

“That's good advice,” Eddie agreed.

“Then Daddy told Papa that certain mistakes shouldn't be made in the first place and people should make an- an effort to show up.”

“Well, everyone has the right to feel however they feel,” Eddie reasoned.

“Then,” she continued with an exasperated breath, “they kept talking back and forth so I just came in my room.”

Sometimes Eddie wished he could be a fly on the wall to see what kinds of conversations happen in this house.

This was not one of those times.

“Well, Chewy, I- I hope you do forgive me, but I understand if you need more time, okay? I'll make it up to you however I can, but if you want me to leave you alone for a while I will.”

When Juniper didn't respond, Eddie got up and started for the door. “I'll see ya, Juniper.”

“Wait.”

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to see that Juniper was facing him now. “Yeah?”

“Are you really sorry?”

“I'm really sorry.”

“And you promise you won't do it again?”

“I-” Eddie paused, “I promise I will do my best to make sure I never make you sad again.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That is- is not the same.”

“It's the best I can do, Kid.”

She eyed him for a minute before seemingly coming to a conclusion. “Fine. I forgive you.”

“You do?”

“Mhm. You said you'd make it up to me, right?”

There's always a catch.

“Yes... Yes, I did.”

She smiled brightly, folding her hands together. “Can we go to Fun Zone today? It's a trampoline park and it's like th- the best place to go ever! Can we go?”

Well, that didn't seem like too much of an ask.

“Sure,” he replied. “Let me clear it with your dads first, but I'm sure it'll be fine.”

She clapped excitedly, her nose scrunching up with her grin. “Yay! I'm gonna get ready!”

Eddie glanced at his watch. “We'll head out in a few minutes, okay? I gotta talk to your dad first.”

The look on Juniper's face changed. “Ohh,” she grimaced. “I think Daddy's more mad than me. Here.” She hopped off her chair and picked up the flowers Eddie had given her. She pulled out one of the miniature roses and handed it to him. “Give this to Daddy. It might help.”

Under any other circumstance, Eddie might have laughed at the serious expression on her face, but not this time. After all, Juniper got her stubbornness from somewhere, and that somewhere was definitely Buck.

*****

Tommy was on the couch reading a magazine when Eddie came out to the living room. “How'd it go?” he asked.

“I've been officially forgiven,” Eddie informed him. “Although it did take a bit of a bribe. We're gonna go to some trampoline park thing after I talk to Buck.”

Tommy perked up at the mention of the park. “You mean Fun Zone?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Tommy snorted. “Oh, she's good. She is good.”

“What?” Eddie asked nervously. “Why?”

“On Sunday's kids get endless free ice cream. Endless ice cream, trampolines, they've got zip lines, obstacle courses, rope climbing, stuff like that. Add it all together and-”

“And she's gonna vomit in my truck.”

Tommy nodded. “I'd take a bag.”

“She's punishing me, isn't she?”

“We must all pay for our sins, Eddie,” Tommy replied, dramatically flipping the page of his magazine.

“Is Buck outside still?”

“Mhm.” He nodded toward the rose in Eddie's hand. “Flower for him?”

“Junie's idea.”

“Hm. Probably should've gone for the whole bouquet.”

With a roll of his eyes, Eddie turned for the sliding doors and headed out back.

Buck was sitting on the porch, staring out into the backyard ever so solemnly.

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie began with a slow approach toward him.

Buck said nothing, turned slightly to fix his gaze further away from Eddie, toward one of their trees.

“Just letting you know, I already talked to Juniper and cleared everything up.”

Still no response.

Eddie sighed. He scooted a chair beside Buck and sat down. “Buck, I'm sorry. I was overly tired when I took that shift and the party slipped my mind.” He held the flower in front of Buck's face so he couldn't avoid it. “Juniper accepted my apology. Can you?”

Buck stayed unmoving at first, but after a few seconds he took the flower from Eddie and stared down at it. “You only brought me one flower?”

“Buck.”

Finally, Buck turned to him. “That was a really crappy thing to do, Eddie. Junie looks up to you, she'd been telling all her friends about her Uncle Eddie. Told them you were the cool uncle that taught her Spanish, and then you didn't even show up.”

“Buck, I-”

“And I worked on that damn party for two months. You remember all the clipboards.”

“I do.”

“A vintage, early 2010's birthday party? That was the theme I was given! Whatever the hell that even means! Tommy and I spent two months figuring it all out, but all she'd ever talk about was the fact you'd be there. Tommy and I are just her dads, Eddie, you're the special, cool one in her life. You let her down.”

As if Eddie didn't feel bad enough already. “I know, Buck. I know I let her down, and let you guys down too. I'm sorry.”

“You should be,” Buck replied, face tense.

They were both quiet for a minute, until Buck's posture slowly relaxed.

“You know I wouldn't care so much if it was just me, but you hurt Juniper,” Buck explained. “She still enjoyed her party, but she was really upset you weren't there.”

“I know, Buck. I really am sorry, okay? I'm gonna take her to Fun Zone today for a few hours and- and maybe we can have all her friends come to the station sometime soon? Give them a class on fire safety and show them what we do.”

Buck thought for a moment, twirling the rose between his fingers. “And you'll be the one giving the class,” he replied. It was less of a question and more of a command.

“Yes, I will give the class.”

Buck sighed. “Fine. You're forgiven.” He pointed at Eddie, “Never do it again though.”

Eddie raised his hands in surrender. “Wouldn't dream of it.” He groaned as he stood, his bones creaking in ways they never did when he was younger. “I gotta see if Juniper's ready to go. Mind if I steal your kid for a few hours?”

Buck shook his head. “No, but... Wait, did you say you're going to Fun Zone?”

“Yeah.”

“She's gonna puke in your car.”

Eddie closed his eyes, bracing himself for whatever he had just gotten into.

“Yeah, I... I know.”

#bucktommy #911 #tommy kinard #evan buckley #eddie diaz #juniper buckley-kinard

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da-rulah · 4 months

Text

The Mayor's Daughter - Mary Goore x f!Reader [Part 7]

Summary: Mary is in danger, walking into the lion's den with nothing but a pocket knife. Forrest is on his way, but will it be too late…?

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 11.2k

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, themes of abandonment, difficult childhood, threat, violence, blood

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

A/N: Ladies, gents and enby darlings, I need to draw your attention to this stunning artwork I commissioned of Mary from the unbelievably talented @ghuleh-draws... I cannot believe how gorgeous he is and I could talk about it for hours. Please, go and show her and the art some love. Hopefully it might heal some of the trauma I've caused with both last chapter and this one... And once again, a big thank you to @angellayercake & @her-satanic-wiles for beta reading this!

Mary’s arms ached, and yet, he continued with his work. Mr. Rogers had started to lose some of his dexterity, his arthritic hands no longer able to do as much as they used to and so, Mary’s workload had as good as doubled. Furniture in need of a new lease of life had begun to pile up in the workshop, and school prevented him from making the dent in the work he needed to. Late evenings were becoming later and later, and yes, Mary’s grades had started to suffer.

But it was becoming impossible to ignore the financial situation he found himself in, and – even at sixteen years old – the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. There was no choice here. If he wanted to move himself and his mother into a real home and out of the scummy little motel on the outskirts of town, they had found themselves in, he had to do what he had to do; with very little time to be the kid he still was...

He’d stopped glancing at the clock on the wall of the workshop long ago, well aware midnight had come and gone. It wasn’t the ideal place to be on a Friday night, when all his friends were out enjoying their freedom. Still, he continued to sand down the wood of the dresser he was working on tonight despite the aching. If he could just get the sanding and the first layer of staining done tonight, it would be dry by the time he came back into the workshop on Sunday and he could spend at least Saturday evening with his friends like he’d planned. If one night a week was all the free time Mary would get, he’d just have to be grateful for that.

Mary turned off the sander and swiped his hand across the top of the dresser, feeling how smooth it now was to the touch – no ridges, no scratches and totally even. Mr Rogers himself couldn’t do a better job, he was sure of it. And so, he pulled his dust mask from his face, letting it hang beneath his chin as he put the sander away and reached for the brushes and varnish.

As he did, his phone began to vibrate on the tool bench, violently rattling against the metal. He stared at it for a moment, part of him wanting to ignore it and continue his work. Another 45 minutes or so, and he could head back to the motel and get some rest. But it vibrated incessantly, until he had no choice but to put down the brush and tin in his hand with a loud thud and answer the damn thing.

“Yeah?” he spoke into the receiver, his tone dejected. He knew who was calling at this hour. He always knew.

“Yeah, hey kid. Me again. Look, I’m sorry but you’re gonna have to come and get her. I’ve cut her off but she won’t go.” That voice belonged to Manny, the bartender at Ace’s Taproom. He sounded as exhausted as Mary did.

Mary sighed into the phone, rubbing at his brow as if it would relieve the pressure that had built there.

“Can you just... I don’t know, can it wait an hour?” Just enough time to get this layer of varnish done... Then he could still head out tomorrow night, his plans intact.

“She’s already causing a bit of a scene, kid. The sooner you can get here, the better.” His tone was apologetic – even Manny knew this burden was too much for a kid to take. But who else was there?

“Alright, I’ll be there in fifteen. Thanks, Manny,” he relented, already untying the tool belt from around his hips with his free hand.

“I’m sorry, man. I’ll see ya soon,” Manny consoled just before he hung up. Mary dropped his phone back onto the bench with a loud slam, running his dusty fingers over his face and taking a deep, steadying breath. This was happening too often, almost every damn night. It had to stop, but what else could he do? He’d just have to keep saving her.

When Mary pulled into the parking lot in Mr Rogers’ old van that he had kindly gifted him – for the sole purpose of collecting and delivering the pieces of furniture they worked on at the shop, since he could no longer lift them in his old age – he took a second to himself, collecting his thoughts and preparing himself for a confrontation he knew was bound to happen.

He got out, heading towards the sign that flickered in neon red in the shape of an ace of spades. At this hour, there were very few people on the streets, much less left in the old taproom but still, he could feel the shame creeping in.

Inside, he spotted her immediately, slouched over the bar on her usual stool nursing an empty glass with an incredibly pale drop of amber liquid in, as if the ice that had inhabited the last dregs of her scotch had melted and watered it down. Manny stood at the other end of the bar, talking to one of the other regulars but he shot Mary a sad yet appreciative smile across the room. Mary just lifted his hand in an almost-wave, and headed over to the bar.

“Ma?” he called out gently. She barely stirred, her head laying on her arm like she was asleep. He shook her gently, pushing her hair from her face. “Ma, come on. Let’s go.” He pulled her shoulders into an upright position, her head lolling as she came to.

“N-no, I’m not done yet, baby,” she slurred, her tongue as drunk as her mind.

“Yeah you are, they’re shutting up soon. We gotta get home,” he encouraged, trying to help her down from the bar stool. Her head gained its bearings, and she caught sight of Manny at the other end of the bar, as well as the other patron, watching the saddest scene unfold in front of them both.

“Th-this prick... Said he wouldn’t serve me no more,” she rambled, pointing at Manny with an arm too weak to stay elevated. “What you starin’ at, huh?”

“Ma, come on... Let’s just go, yeah?” Mary’s cheeks were heating up with embarrassment.

“Don’t need your pity, dickhead!” she shouted, still slurring as if her tongue were too big for her mouth.

“Go home,” he told her firmly, trying not to rise to her insults. She flipped him off, while Mary wrapped her other arm around his shoulders and hoisted her to her feet, slowly taking her outside.

As soon as the door shut behind them, his mum pushed Mary from under her and tried to stand on her own two feet, stumbling a little in the process. But she found her footing, while Mary stayed close enough to catch her if she did fall.

“Idiot boy, ruining my fun,” she mumbled. That was like a knife to the chest...

“Either me or the cops, Ma,” he sighed. “Let’s just get home.”

“Home? HA!” she hollered, “Where’s that then?” Mary just rolled his eyes, taking her arm gently and guiding her back in the direction of the van. Her walking reminded him of a newborn foal, so unsteady as she took one step at a time and yet she tried to get him off her the whole way, unwilling to admit she needed help.

“Ma, this has gotta stop. This ain’t healthy...” he began, starting a losing battle. She stopped and slapped her hands down by her sides.

“Don’t start with me, Mary,” she warned, but he was determined.

“You’re drinking our savings, Ma! How are we ever gonna get outta that motel when you’re spending it faster than I can make it?” He raised his voice, his frustration evident.

“You said you were working overtime!” she argued, as if that were any real argument at all. Mary was a 16 year old boy; his only job should be a few hours a week at most, if at all. Not every hour he could squeeze in, and certainly not to pay for her alcoholism.

“Yeah, to get us a new place! But I can’t make enough if you’re just gonna spend it. Do I have to stop giving you money for you to stop? That’s for groceries, Ma. For shit you need!”

“Don’t you curse at your mother, boy...” she practically growled.

“Maybe if you acted like my mother-” It was a low blow, but not entirely unwarranted. His mother interrupted him with a sharp slap to his cheek, the suddenness stunning Mary into silence. His cheek stung, but his heart even more so. She’d never raised a hand to him before.

“M-Mary...” she stuttered, her eyes beginning to fill with tears as the realisation sank in that she’d just slapped her son. Her little boy... Mary took a step back as she reached for him, letting her stumble and regain her balance again. “I’m sorry...” She tried to grab at him, to hold him and stroke his hair and desperately apologise but he shoved her off, and she stumbled to the ground in a heap.

“I’m done. Get yourself home, Ma.” He turned quickly back to his van, his hands shaking with emotion he tried to hold back. His keys jangled in his hands as he unlocked the door with the press of a button, and he climbed into the seat with a slam of the door.

His cheek still stung with the force of her slap, his eyes welling up as he clenched his jaw so tight his teeth could have splintered. He squeezed his eyes shut and hit his head back against the plush cushion of the headrest several times as he slapped at the edge of the steering wheel, releasing all of his hurt, his anger in an outburst he contained to the cabin of the van now that he was alone.

Taking some deep breaths, he calmed himself to a point where he could wipe the fresh tears on his cheeks and shoved his keys into the ignition. But he paused before he turned them, the engine staying dormant, and glanced down into his wing mirror only to see his mother still in a heap on the floor. Her shoulders shook violently, her sobs audible even from here in the cab. His eyes lingered there, unable to tear them away as his chest ached. She looked so helpless, so utterly destroyed by what she’d done but more so, what had been done to her...

“God fucking damnit,” Mary muttered, climbing back out of the van and walking back over to her with caution. Of course he did... How could he leave her? His own mother, lying on the cold tarmac of a parking lot, in this state? Mary was all she had now, their shitty little apartment snatched from them, abandoned once again by anyone and everyone. For years it had always been Mary and her, against the world – that couldn’t change now, when he was all she had left.

Without a word, he lifted her again, her sobs quietening when she felt his hands under her arms and realised he’d come back for her. Her expression changed from anguish to surprise with an essence of gratitude and apology, allowing her broken son to pick up the pieces as he helped her back into the van. He took great care with every move, gently letting her get comfortable as he leaned over to strap the seatbelt across her, laying her head against the seat while she sobbed silently and hiccupped from time to time.

As he drove her home, she reached for the radio to flick it on, getting comfortable in the seat and using the sound to try and distract from the situation the pair of them found themselves in. Mary stayed quiet the whole time, keeping a watchful eye on his mother as she seemed to drift between sleep and reality now she was bundled into a warm and comfy seat.

“You used to tell me... I would hear you on there someday,” she slurred as they got closer to the edge of town, pointing weakly at the radio with a fond but weary smile. “My boy, ‘the rock star’,” she giggled. Mary looked ahead at the road, trying not to entertain the drunk rambles nor the dreams he’d squashed for himself with the weight of his responsibility. His one and only goal right now was to get them back on their feet – and even that felt unattainable.

Back at the motel, he watched his mother struggle with her dexterity to fit the key into their room door. Eventually, he gently took the keys from her and let them both inside, guiding her as had become their routine. He let her sit on the bed – the one they now had to share under the circumstances – and crouched at her feet to take her shoes off for her, placing them one by one on the floor.

He helped her take off her jacket, laying her down gently on the pillow while she curled in on herself in a foetal position. Mary headed into the bathroom with an empty glass, filling it with tap water and bringing it back out to his mother’s side of the bed. He crouched down next to her, urging her to drink. She did, small sips at a time.

“Ma, please... you gotta get better. We need to get outta here,” he said softly.

“I was getting better...” she sniffled.

“I know, Ma. You can get better again,” he encouraged, but there was a small part of him that worried she never would. “You just gotta move on from-”

“Stop,” she begged. “I don’t wanna hear it...” But Mary persisted. She had to hear him.

“You can’t let this shit stop you. You’re stronger than that. We’ve been through worse,” he insisted. Her head shot up from the pillow, her gaze stoney and angry.

“You have no idea, Mary... What it’s like to have the world promised to you and then ripped out from under you.” She spoke through gritted teeth.

“You’re worth a lot more than that fuckin-”

“Enough!” she yelled, rolling over onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. We could have had everything, if you had just...”

“Me?” Mary interrupted, instantly offended at her accusation. “What the fuck did I do?”

“Your attitude, Mary,” she shot her glare back at him. “Always fucking attitude.”

There was no chance she was blaming him for all this... This was neither his, nor his mother’s fault. There was someone to blame, but in their absence the only person close enough to his mother was Mary, and the only person she could lash out at was him. She couldn’t possibly mean what she was saying, and yet, it still stung all the same.

“Go to sleep,” he told her, his voice hardened and stern as if he were the adult, and she the child. “You’re just talking pure shit now. It ain’t my fault he lied to you.”

“He didn’t lie-”

“He did, Ma. He lied to you, and everyone else. He’s a piece of shit like everyone else in this washed up town!” Mary raised his voice, his anger at every injustice he faced from everyone around him mounting higher and higher. “I’m fucking sick of it, here! I wanna get us out, but you’re too busy drinking every dime I fucking make to notice that I’m fucking drowning!”

Mary stood up suddenly, smacking at the shitty motel phone on the dresser beside the bed. His mother sat up, steadying herself from the headrush and the room spinning around her.

“I’m doing my best, Mary!” she yelled.

“Are you? Cause your best was getting clean eight months ago. Your best was no alcohol, getting yourself a job, being a normal fucking Mom! But now you’re back here, and it’s me who’s gotta look after you!”

“I-I... I have an addiction, it’s not that easy-”

“You’re not even trying! You’ve fucking given up, and why? Just ‘cause some fuckhead promised you the world with a cherry on top and it turns out, he was lying like every other dickhead?” Mary was going too far, but with a lack of a proper outlet, being forced to grow up quickly and fend for the both of them, every bottled up thought and emotion was spilling from him without restriction.

His mother sat on the bed, watching her son thread his fingers through his hair in frustration and take some deep breaths to try and steady him – but they weren’t working.

“Y’know what? Fuck this. You call me when you decide to be a mother again.”

And with that, Mary grabbed his keys and stormed out of the motel room, slamming the door with so much force that the cheap painting on the wall fell and shattered behind him.

Despite picking up his keys, he bypassed the van and kept walking, his legs taking him further into town without a destination in mind. He’d roam aimlessly if he needed to, but he needed to let off some damn steam, to expel some of this fucking rage that he’d imprisoned for too long.

As he went, he found himself kicking over trashcans, the metal rattling along the sidewalk. He used his keys to scratch the sides of cars he stomped past – the expensive ones, mostly. The ones owned by people in this town with too much money, greedy fat cats with more of it than sense. On his keys, he had a swiss army knife keychain, and one particular car – a very expensive black SUV – he shoved the blade attachment into the tyre deep enough that it deflated, high pitched whistle getting quieter and quieter as he walked further into town.

By the time he was in the town centre, he was starting to see a few people out and about, shoving shoulder to shoulder into them with a look of pure thunder on his face. Most people simply yelled out at him to watch where he was going, or called him a punk or other variations of ‘delinquent’.

‘Yeah’, Mary thought, ‘that’s what you all fucking think of me’. A town full of people who only knew him for his namesake – a deadbeat father and a drunken mother. Why wouldn’t Mary follow suit? If people thought that of him already, maybe he should just live up to the expectations; become the stereotype and stop giving a shit about anyone and everyone around him.

Why should he try anymore?

But he shoved at the wrong shoulder outside a pool hall, two kids Mary knew as seniors from his high school stood outside with cigarettes in one hand and beer bottles gained with fake IDs in another.

Corbin and Asher.

“Hey! Hey, fuckface!” Mary heard from behind him. He kept walking, too angry to give a fuck. But they followed. “Mary fuckin’ Goore, huh? You piece of shit, think you can slam into me and walk the fuck away?”

Mary didn’t even look back, but they caught up...

Corbin grabbed the back of his jacket and slammed him face first up against the shutters of a closed store, the metal rattling under the force. In an instant, he spun Mary around, slamming him again and holding him there.

“You got a problem, kid?” he asked, cocky and ready for a fight. Mary struggled against his hold, trying to shove at his arms and kick at his shins.

“Get the fuck off me, man,” he yelled. “You were in the way.” Corbin laughed condescendingly, looking back at Asher who stood there with both of their beers in his hands smirking the whole time.

“This kid thinks he owns the sidewalk, Ash. From what I’ve heard, he belongs in the fucking gutter...” Corbin landed a fist to Mary’s gut, Mary folding up like a ball of paper as he coughed. “Maybe we’ll put him there.”

He dragged Mary by his jacket and threw him to the ground, watching him roll around in pain until he tried to get up. Corbin raised his foot as if he were about to stomp on him, but Mary rolled to the side just in time to avoid it and instead reached out and pulled on his ankle, toppling him to the ground with a loud thud too.

Corbin was older, heavier, but Mary was younger and nimble – quickly he straddled Corbin and started throwing punches, every ounce of anger inside him forcing his fists into Corbin’s face who was yelling at Asher to do something, to stop standing around like a fucking moron and get this ‘little shit’ off him before he ‘beat the crap outta him’.

Before Asher could get close, Mary was being dragged off Corbin by someone else – someone in blue. Before he knew it he was being shoved against the hood of a car, his wrists clamped together in cold metal rings as the cop who’d stumbled on the scene slapped the handcuffs on him. His partner restrained Corbin just the same, slamming him on the other side of the hood.

One of them called for another car, unwilling to shove both Mary and Corbin into the back of the same cop car lest they kill each other on their way to the station, but Mary was thrown in first, and taken in for processing.

“Mary Goore, huh?” was the welcome he got when escorted inside by the Chief, sat behind the processing desk on a late shift. “Was only a matter of time,” he scoffed. Mary’s blood boiled at that. A few minutes later, as Mary was getting processed, another cop rolled in with Corbin in handcuffs. Immediately, Mary tried to lunge towards him, both of them hurling insults at each other while restrained.

“Pembrook, get this kid in a fuckin’ cell to cool off!” the Chief yelled at the officer restraining Mary, who did as instructed and hauled him off to a solitary cell.

“No, no wait! I get a phone call!” Mary said, running back up to the locked door as the officer shut it behind him.

“You’ll get your phone call when you calm down, kid,” the officer shouted back through the door. It was at least another hour before Mary got his phone call...

Not that it did him any good. He tried both his mother’s cell, and their motel phone – no answer. Perhaps he’d fucked up the phone when he smacked it off the side table, but still, his mother wasn’t answering her cell, probably passed out for the night.

Mary was left alone, sat in a solitary cell with fresh bruises and cuts, until the sun had long since risen. He curled up on the bench at the back of the cell, cold and metal and uncomfortable, and barely got a wink of sleep.

“Goore, let’s go,” he heard through the hatch in the door at God knows what time. He rolled over and sat upright, wiping the exhaustion from his face as the officer – a new one, only having just started his shift – opened the cell door. Behind him, was perhaps the only person Mary could really depend on at all.

Forrest.

“You can collect your things from the registration desk. Don’t find yourself back here again, kid. You got lucky, this time...”

Mary just nodded meekly as the officer turned and walked off, the door wide open and Forrest stood there looking at him with an expression of nothing but worry.

“Corbin got out last night, heard you were still in here. Got my parents to pull some strings,” he explained with a shrug. “Shit, Mare, you alright?”

Forrest stepped into the cell and placed his hands on Mary’s shoulders, inspecting him. Mary just nodded again, both too exhausted and too somber to form actual words.

“I’m gonna kick Corbin’s fuckin’ ass for this,” he grumbled. “I’ll set his eyebrows on fire in chem. He’s the worst fuckin’ lab partner anyway.” Mary huffed out a barely-there laugh at that, his shoulders shaking in Forrest’s hands.

Forrest was a senior, like Corbin and Asher. He knew they had a reputation, always getting into shit like this but he never thought he’d see Mary heading down the same path. He was the only one who saw what Mary went through, the work he put in at the workshop, the nights he spent nursing his alcoholic mother. He’d taken him under his wing a little, made him one of the gang and tried to offer him some respite from the slurry of shit he found himself in.

Getting the money from his parents to bail Mary out wasn’t difficult; they threw money at him like it was bird seed on the steps of a cathedral, but it was for that reason he knew loneliness just as much as Mary. On opposite ends of the spectrum financially but somehow, they shared a common ground in just how shitty their relationships with their parents were.

It shouldn’t have been him who got Mary out of here. It didn’t matter to him who started the damn fight or why; Mary had been through enough as it was, and an outburst like this was simply a ticking time bomb. What bothered Forrest more than anything, was knowing it had to be him walking him out of that police station and not the one person Mary loved most in this world, the one who was supposed to love, protect and care for him.

This wasn’t the last time he would collect Mary from a cell; there were more outbursts to come, more frustrations and stupid mistakes but if he had to, Forrest would be there for them all. He’d never abandon this kid who cared so deeply about people and the injustices they would face. Mary could have his rebellious phase, get it out of his system – hell, Forrest certainly did, and he wasn’t sure he was even out of it yet. But he needed someone to lean on, someone to reign him in when he started to go too far.

That night was Mary’s rock bottom, but Forrest jumped down into the pit with him, armed with ropes and twigs, ready to build a ladder to get them both out.

You were pacing outside the convenience store, desperately calling Forrest with your groceries in one hand, cell phone pressed tightly to your ear in the other. He didn’t pick up the first time, probably ignoring a number he didn’t know but you were getting more and more desperate. The second time you dialled, he picked up after a few rings.

“Yello?” he answered, chipper and riding off the high of a show well played.

“Forrest?! Oh my god, thank fuck for that. Listen, it’s me... Mary gave me your number,” you rushed out, barely intelligible at the speed you spoke.

“Duchess?” he questioned, using the nickname the boys had seemed to settle on when they realised you weren’t going to castrate Jed for creating it. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Mary’s... I don’t know, he said to call you! I’m at the store, he told me not to come back. Something’s wrong, Forrest... He said it wasn’t safe?” you panicked.

“Shit...” he muttered. You heard scrambling on the end of the line, like he was getting up and grabbing a few things around him and stuffing them into a backpack. “Listen to me, you don’t go back to that apartment, okay? I’ll be there soon, one of us will call you when it’s safe. Just stay there.”

“Forrest what’s going on?” Your voice had raised an octave in pitch, your cheeks burning from holding back tears.

“Those guys at the bar... They know him, they’ve hated him for years and they threatened him. He just needs some back up, it’ll be alright. Just stay, okay? Promise me.”

You wanted to promise that, but how could you stay there and not try to help Mary? If those guys had turned up at his apartment, he was outnumbered and if nothing else you could act as a distraction. You stayed quiet for a beat too long, and Forrest stopped rustling about his apartment needing to hear confirmation. He couldn’t be worrying about you too when his best friend was in danger.

“Duchess?” he yelled into the phone.

“Y-yeah, yeah... Sorry. I’ll stay,” you told him, still unsure if you were telling the truth.

“Good, just wait for the call. He’ll be fine,” he assured, but the panic in his voice betrayed him too. He hung up without another word, leaving you stood in the street in the early hours of the morning, absolutely petrified for your boyfriend...

Could you really stay put when he was just a few blocks away? When there was potentially something you could do to help him? You supposed you’d just have to...

The door creaked as it slowly swung open, betraying Mary right from the start. If someone was in his apartment still, they’d have heard that... No doubt about it. And so, his grip on the swiss army knife tightened, and the steps he took became slower, steadier so he’d be able to plant his feet should he be ambushed.

Stepping into his apartment, it was still dark. No lights had been turned on, just the orange glow from the street lamps outside streaming in through the windows. He listened out for any sign of movement, but nothing. To his left, nobody in the kitchen... But things were out of place, to put it lightly. Drawers hung open, cupboard doors almost ripped from their hinges. Cutlery, food and crockery lay strewn about the floor and countertops, like it had been ransacked.

Mary proceeded with caution, noticing that the floor of his apartment was covered in his things... Records, clothes, blankets and pillows; even his tatty little guitar was on the ground in the middle of the floor, the neck broken and strings snapped. He wasn’t sure whether to feel rage or despair, but both hit him like a freight train.

Slowly, he stepped a little further to peer around the corner that led to the bedroom and bathroom to his right, and then to his left, around the partition between the kitchen and living space. That’s when he noticed.

A figure, sat on his couch with their back to him. He knew who it was immediately.

Mary planted his feet, readjusting his grip on the blade in his hand. He was preparing himself for any sudden movement, every single one of his senses heightened. Should he be ambushed from another direction, he was ready.

“Where is she?” The shadow asked, their voice low and eerily calm. Mary stood his ground; he was in no mood for games.

“What are you doing in my apartment?” he asked, ignoring their question. The figure straightened up where they sat, no longer hunching forwards as they studied something on the coffee table. They took a deep breath, before answering with another question.

“Where... is my daughter?” The shadow turned their head towards where Mary stood, between the outer wall of his bathroom and the entryway to his kitchen. The street lighting gave just enough of itself to illuminate the stark features of the man in front of him, the hardened glare pointed his way.

The Mayor.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mary lied, without much conviction at all but he already knew there was no point. But he wasn’t giving him any information. He could go fuck himself.

The Mayor cracked a grin; a sadistic little grin, as if he were some kind of comic book villain spoiling for a fight. “Now I know that ain’t true, so you’re gonna tell me where she is, I’m gonna go get her, and I’m gonna deal with you later.”

“I don't know where she is,” Mary spat, his resentment and hatred for this snake barely contained.

The Mayor sighed dramatically, slapping his hands to his knees and standing up. He turned towards Mary then, folding his arms across his chest. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, top button undone now he was technically off the clock. But he still wore his expensive suit, save for tie and blazer, as if it would intimidate Mary somehow.

“Should have expected this from you, Mary,” he chuckled, “Defiance. Attitude. Even coming in here with a damn weapon.” He nodded towards the swiss army knife in Mary’s ever tightening grip.

“Someone broke into my apartment. Gotta defend myself,” he stated plainly.

“Nah,” the Mayor scoffed, “it was only a matter of time before you got yourself in trouble again. Cops of this town were always too good to you, lettin’ you off too easy.”

As if Mary had ever done anything to hurt anybody... Sure he’d been picked up a handful of times for graffiti, or destruction of public property, that one fight with Corbin and Asher – which technically, he didn’t start... But Mary stayed quiet, staring at the threat in front of him just waiting for him to try something.

“You know,” he started, turning back to the coffee table, “maybe I’m forgetting my manners, huh? Maybe we should catch up first?” He bent down, picking something up from the table and turning back. In his hands, was the photo frame Mary kept on his windowsill...

The Mayor looked down at it, studying it with a smirk. “She always was a looker, huh? How’s she doing these days?”

Mary saw red, desperately fighting every instinct in his body that wanted nothing more than to tear into this vile man, rip him limb from limb and cast him to the wolves. His already injured knuckles turned white, the wounds splitting back open as his fists balled up tighter, the handle of the blade in his right hand digging painfully into his palm. But he stayed grounded. He would not make the first move.

“Get the fuck outta my apartment,” Mary warned. The Mayor was testing his patience, and it had already snapped once tonight.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me where my daughter is.” His smirk dropped, along with the frame in his hands. He disregarded it without a care in the world, letting the glass crack as it hit the ground with a thud. Mary winced at the sound.

“Wouldn’t tell you if I knew,” he lied. He was adamant he would never tell him where you were, never give you up if he beat him into a pile of broken bones. You’d been free of him for less than a week, but already you’d come out of your shell so much, found yourself. How could he ever put you back in the box they’d kept you in all those years?

“Do you think you’re good for my daughter, hm?” the Mayor took a step closer, “You think she’d want someone like you?”

Mary ignored him. He had to. This was just a manipulation tactic, something to throw him off and degrade him like everybody always had.

“You’re the scum of this town, Goore. Everybody knows it.” He stepped closer again, circling Mary with slow and calculated steps like a panther on the hunt. “You, and your drunken whore of a mother, your deadbeat father... You were fucking destined for the gutter.”

Mary watched him as he came to stand in front of him again, just a little taller than Mary but puffing his chest out as if to intimidate him. Mary stayed painfully still, grinding his teeth in rage. One wrong move, he was poised and ready to defend himself.

“You think you know me... You don’t know shit,” he taunted, “But I know you...”

“Oh-ho-ho," the Mayor laughed, “You do, do you? This should be good.”

“Yeah... I know you’re a filthy letch who takes everything from good, honest people and lines his pockets with it.” Mary was getting cocky now, arching his eyebrow and tilting his chin up in defiance as a sadistic little smile crossed his split lip. “I know you used to be a good guy, once upon a time. Beautiful family, on top of the world...”

The Mayor barely reacted, pushing his tongue into his cheek and looking down at Mary with the same arrogance he always exuded.

“I know you trapped your perfect little wife up in your ivory fuckin’ tower while you flashed your shit about town like a damn Kennedy brother...”

The Mayor’s eyes darkened. Now Mary was getting to him.

“I know you trained your precious little girl like a damn puppy her whole life, only to have her grow up to resent every little fuckin’ thing about you...”

Mary was about to cross a line. He was about to say something just to get a rise out of him, just to make him snap. He’d never talk about you like this and mean it, but for all the pain and misery this man had caused people through the years, he deserved something that cut him to the bone.

“You repelled her so much that she crawled out of her pink, frilly cage... and spread her fuckin’ legs to the town scum...” Mary laughed, smug and satisfied when he saw the way the Mayor’s hands tightened around his biceps, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

Mary took a step closer to him – a stupid move, but he was oozing cockiness, no longer thinking clearly and only wanting to cause as much fucking damage to this prick’s ego as he damn well could. He knew it would turn his stomach to know his daughter was friends with Mary, let alone willingly fucking him.

Mary looked the Mayor up and down, smirking with barely contained glee as he leaned into him to deliver the final blow.

“She calls me daddy now...” he whispered, staring directly into his eyes with an impish sparkle in his own.

The Mayor’s eyes raked over Mary, sizing him up, looking him up and down while he chewed on his cheek, the disgust on his face twisting and morphing into a vile expression of hatred. Before Mary knew what was happening, the blade in his fist was knocked clear across the room, his balance thrown off as two large hands wrapped around his throat. He was spun around and pushed backwards into the small kitchen space, tripping over the mess left there as he tried desperately to fight the power of the much older, much bigger man attacking him.

Soon enough his lower back was being slammed into the edge of a counter, the thumbs of the hands around his throat pressing down on his airways while Mary did what he could to fight back, clawing and scratching at the Mayor.

It was getting harder and harder to breathe, spots starting to flicker across his vision as that murderous glare stared back at him. The thought briefly crossed Mary’s mind that he might not stop... Once he was rendered unconscious, there was nothing to stop him from taking the life he’d worked so hard to rebuild over and over again away from him. Just as he’d found a semblance of happiness, too... The Mayor was going to take it all away from him. Again.

The Mayor’s grip adjusted to just one hand tightening around his throat, the other pulling back and coming crashing down on Mary’s cheek with a blow that reopened old wounds of the evening. Mary was going to lose this fight, there was no contest. Blow after blow landed to his face as the Mayor squeezed the life out of him...

“Daddy!”

The Mayor snapped out of his trance, his head whipping behind him with his fist pulled back in preparation for another strike, the other still choking Mary. You looked on in pure horror at what you’d walked into... You had expected to come back to a dangerous situation, but not one that included the attempted murder of your boyfriend at the hands of your own father.

With the Mayor’s attention on you, however brief, Mary took advantage and lifted his foot to push at the Mayor’s hip quickly, twisting him just enough that he lost his grip on him, and Mary fell to the floor in a heap, coughing and spluttering as the oxygen rushed back into his lungs. It was all too much all at once, the sudden rush of blood back to his head and the pain of the punches hitting him at the same time and he rolled and writhed on the floor as he tried to regain control of his body. But the spasms continued, and he could barely see nor hear anything while he squirmed at the Mayor’s feet.

You rushed into the kitchen, attempting to bypass your father and to immediately help Mary but you were stopped, a hand wrapped tightly around your bicep and attempting to drag you away. Of course, you fought back, smacking at your father’s chest and kicking at him as if it would help.

“Let go! Get the fuck off of me! GET OFF!” you screamed over and over, hoping someone might hear from another apartment and come to your aid.

“You forget your place, girl,” your father snarled, barely affected by you beating at him. You managed to wrench your arm free of his grip and take a step back, your father’s attention on you and you alone while Mary still coughed on the floor, almost vomiting with the way his chest heaved.

“If you think it’s with you, you’re sorely fucking mistaken,” you growled. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Teaching this little fucker a lesson in manners,” he spat, pointing down at Mary who spat a glob of red tinted spit to the floor – a biproduct of the hits to the face he had taken. He’d regained enough composure to sit himself upright against the cupboard, letting his head hit the wood as he glared up at your father, chest still heaving.

Only now did your father take a good look at you, seeing how different you looked in a short denim skirt, a fishnet top, the make-up you’d chosen to wear over what you had always been told to. Once again, his expression clouded into disgust.

“What has he done to you?” he asked, looking you up and down.

“Him? You think I’d jump from a life where I’m controlled by a man into another one?” you shrieked. Your father pretended not to hear you, instead leaning down to quickly grab Mary by his shirt and heave him to his feet, holding him against the cabinets again. Mary didn’t fight back; he couldn’t. He was still in too much pain, his body not responding to his commands.

“You take my daughter from me, and dress her up like one of your scummy little whores?” he screamed into Mary’s face while all he could do was wince and squeeze his eyes shut, trying to steady the swimming sensation in his head.

You rushed towards them, pushing at your father until you could weave yourself between the two of them. Mary barely kept himself upright against the counter, but you reached a hand behind you anyway, securing it in his and holding it tightly against your back.

“Don’t you fucking touch him,” you warned.

“You wanna protect this little shit? Why? You think you love him?” your father mocked, scoffing at the mere thought of it. “I couldn’t quite believe it when I finally got it out of your mother... As soon as she told me she saw you get into a shitty black van, I fucking knew... I thought ‘no, no way my little girl is that fucking stupid’. Of all the decent guys in this town, you choose this?”

The anger you felt as he berated you, insulting not only Mary but you and your intelligence too... You had no time to be angry at your mother, knowing what your father was like and how he could manipulate anybody to get what he wanted out of them. All of your energy was directed into protecting Mary, standing between him and your father and proving to them both you weren’t backing down. Gone were the days of obeying and staying in your lane. If Mary had taught you anything in your short time together, it was that you could be yourself and stand up for what you believe in unapologetically. And you believed in Mary...

“He’s a better man than you give him credit for,” you seethed, squeezing his hand behind your back. Your father laughed maniacally at you, throwing his head back and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Really? This little shit? If you think he’s any good for you, you’re dumber than I ever imagined. You come from a good, respectable family. This whole fucking town knows me, loves me, and all I ever did was give you everything you ever wanted on a silver platter... But you throw it back in my face?” he argued, throwing his hands around as he yelled. But you stood your ground. “You know where he comes from, right? Deadbeat fucking dad who drank and gambled his money away. A whore of a mother who also drank herself into a permanent hospital bed?”

“You’d... know all about that, w-wouldn't you?” Mary struggled to speak through laboured breaths from behind you, hunched over but pushing up on the counter to stand upright.

Your father’s head snapped back to glare at Mary. “Excuse me?”

You felt a change in the air, notably in your father’s demeanour. His eyes had widened, and he seemed to freeze in place, waiting for Mary to speak again while he caught his breath and used his strength to stand properly behind you. He kept hold of your hand, squeezing it tightly but once he stood up, he used his free hand to steady himself on your waist; both protectively and for stability.

“You... you think you have a right to judge... my mother? After what you did?” he asked rhetorically, which only confused you. Your brow creased and you turned your head to look back at Mary.

“What are you talking about?” you asked softly, trying to make sense of what he was saying. He tore his eyes from your father to glance at you, offering you a look of apology laced with fear as if he were apologising for what you were about to hear... When he looked back at your father, your eyes followed to see that same wide-eyed expression. “What did you do?”

“You gonna tell her, or should I?” Mary’s voice was a warning, but still, your father remained silent. If he wasn’t going to tell you what the hell was going on, you’d just let Mary. Someone needed to say something, and quickly, before you lost your cool again.

“Tell me,” you ordered them both, but still you directed your glare at your father.

“Yeah why don’t we tell her, hm?” Mary’s voice had grown a little stronger, recovered from the hands that had squeezed his neck for almost too long. Adrenaline was kicking in, numbing the pain in his head from the beatings and giving him the strength to get angry, to challenge the Grand High Mayor.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he defied. Mary just scoffed.

“You tricked my mother, and took everything from her...” he spat. You looked back at Mary, confused and shocked. Your father just stood in silence, glaring.

“How?” you asked, “Tell me everything. Now.”

“You won’t like this...” he warned, never breaking eye contact to look at you.

“I don’t fucking care, Mary. Tell me.”

He took a moment, forcing a steadying breath to calm the rising nerves. He’d never wanted you to hear this, fearing it might just devastate you to know who exactly your father was, the kind of man he could be, and what he was capable of. You hadn’t needed to find this out, but this had all gone too far. He wanted nothing more than to pull the rug from under the Mayor’s feet, to make sure he knew that Mary knew everything, that he needed to be very fucking careful this secret never got out. Mary had him in checkmate, holding the secret in until someone came along who would hear him and believe him – someone with a higher standing in the town than himself and his friends.

“My mom got clean when I was 15,” he began, “She’d stopped drinking, got herself a job that could keep us going while I was in school, and still working for Mr. Rogers on the weekends. We were living out in the Oak Ridge apartment complexes, and we were doing alright.”

“Then in came a man in a dapper suit with a briefcase and a fuckin’ God complex, who convinced the landlords to sell up so he could flatten the building and build office blocks instead. He fucked over all the residents, all hard-working people, by flashing compensation to the landlords who just handed out eviction notices. But my mom owned our shitty little apartment outright. She’d just managed to club together the money for the deposit, to get herself a mortgage and have a place that was just ours. She wanted stability, and she didn’t want to sell up. She was the last one who refused...”

Your father’s eye twitched as he readjusted his stance, like suddenly he was incredibly uncomfortable. “You don’t actually believe this fucking scumbag, do you?” he asked you, interrupting Mary.

“Shut the fuck up,” you snapped, and miraculously, he did just that.

“So he... He charmed her. He bought her pretty things, took her to fancy places out of town, told her everything she’d ever wanted to hear... He told her he loved her,” Mary’s voice cracked at that, at the hurt of somebody lying to his mother when that had been all she’d ever wanted, “He seduced her, and told her he’d run away with her and give her the life she’d always wanted with him... if she’d just... sign on the dotted line...”

You felt sick to your stomach. Not only had he taken advantage of Mary’s mom, their situation, all for his own gain, but he’d cheated on your mother, gone behind his own family’s back to manipulate a damaged but healing woman and ruin her life. Your head span with overwhelm, purely disgusted by what you were hearing. You knew your father wasn’t a good man, but you had no idea he was such a monster...

“When she signed the deed over, he dropped her and left us both on the streets. He left us with nothing; no money, no home. We had to move into the Quartz motel, and she was heartbroken. She started drinking again, more and more because of what YOU did,” Mary snarled at him, pointing his finger as he raised his voice. “She was too depressed to get back up again, and I had to pick up the pieces. I had to quit school, work full time and give everything up when I was fucking 16 years old just to keep us afloat. She never recovered, and it didn’t matter when I got us this shitty little apartment and finally moved us outta the Quartz, her body gave up.”

Mary pushed you to one side in his rage and stepped up to your father. You stumbled and caught yourself on the counter, too stunned to do or say anything about it as the truth sunk in. Mary got in his face again, pointing his finger directly at him and screamed, “It’s because of YOU she almost fuckin’ DIED. You piece of SHIT! YOU AS GOOD AS KILLED HER!” Mary slapped his hand against your father’s chest, who just stood there and took it, glaring at Mary as if he were still that same kid.

You shook yourself from your own little trance and pulled Mary back to you by his arm, turning your back on your father and holding Mary’s cheeks to soothe him, to calm him down as he broke down at the truth. Mary stood there and sobbed, letting you wipe the tears as you shushed him, whispering apologies to him as if any of this had been your fault. But your heart broke for him...

How could your father have ever been that callous? You thought you’d known him, that he wasn’t anywhere near as bad as it seemed he was. You were aware he leaned more towards right wing politics, and no, you didn’t agree with him. And you’d known some of his associates were bent and unethical in their ways, but you’d never known he was as corrupt as Mary was telling you. All those whiffs of under the table deals you’d gotten over the years were true. He was a crook... A liar, a cheat, and abusive fucking monster.

“You don’t seriously believe this shit, Pumpkin?” he asked, using a damn pet name of all things to try and get you back on side. You span around to glower at him, rage bubbling up inside you.

“Don’t you fucking ‘Pumpkin’ me, you arrogant letch!” you screamed. “That explains why you kept disappearing all the damn time, spending your evenings and weekends anywhere but at home. I guess now I fucking know where you went... You missed half of my sweet sixteen, for fuck’s sake! Sped off right after the cake and didn’t come home for two days. Is that where you went? Is that where you always went? To take advantage of a decent woman who only wanted to be loved? To give her kid the BEST FUCKING LIFE POSSIBLE!?”

“I never went anywhere near his slut of a mother!” he yelled back.

“Oh, please!” Mary interjected, “You fucked her, and then you fucked her over.”

“You LIAR!” Your father lunged at Mary again but you stopped him, forcing him back with a push that took all of your strength, all of your anger. He didn’t try it again, instead focussing his anger on you now.

“You gonna let him manipulate you like this? Lie to you? He’s just trying to come between us, Pumpkin, to keep you away from me. He'll fucking use you and dump you for the next girl who shows him any attention. You’re just some petty fucking revenge he’s taking out on me... He’s USING YOU!”

“Sounds more like something you’d do...” you growled at him. You had made your choice already, long before tonight. Your place was at Mary’s side, now more so than ever. Fucking revenge. As if Mary would have lied to you all this time... There was no way?

Your father straightened himself up, dusting his shirt off as if there were something on it, but it gave him a moment to collect himself, to make himself seem the prim and proper one.

“If you choose to believe his lies and stay with him, then that’s your stupid choice,” he told you as he straightened the cuffs of his shirt sleeves, not even affording you the decency of eye contact. “But know this; you choose him, and that’s it. You will have nothing. No money, no home, no future. I’ll make sure neither of you work in this town. I will cut you off completely.”

He thought he had the upper hand, that his words would scare you into submission and force you to come home with him. He seemed to forget the heated words you’d exchanged the night of the dinner at the Town Hall...

“I thought I’d made myself pretty clear last time we spoke... I don’t want to live under your fucking thumb anymore. You told me to leave once before, and what, now you’ve changed your mind? You want to play happy families, and drag me back into the life you forced me to live? I want my own life, and now? I want it as far away from you as I can possibly get.”

Your father stared at you, his jaw grinding in anger. He’d lost control of you, and he hated it. You were unravelling his perfect ‘family man’ façade that had won him all those elections, tearing down the perception the town had of him as this kind, caring man with a beautiful family.

As you glared at each other, challenging the other to speak first, heavy footsteps got closer as if someone were running down the hallway outside the apartment and soon, Forrest ran into the apartment clutching a baseball bat and ready to swing. He stopped short at the scene in front of him, not having expected this at all... Mary, beaten and bloodied behind you, squaring up to your father, the Mayor...

Forrest knew everything and quickly connected the dots, keeping the bat raised and ready in case your father tried anything at all. But now he was outnumbered, and his pride wounded.

“You’re making a big fucking mistake, madam,” he warned. “You’ll end up a low life like these idiots, and laying in a hospital bed just like his mother.”

“You need to leave,” Forrest told him firmly. “You got another witness now, sir,” he warned, sarcasm dripping from the honorific.

Your father straightened up and turned, taking a few steps to stand at the edge of the kitchen where Forrest backed up to give him the room to leave, bat still raised. Just as he was about to leave, he turned back to see you reach for Mary’s hand, holding his cheek gently in yours as you took a good look at the bruises and blood that covered his face.

“You should get out of town before morning,” he began. “I will pull every string at my disposal to make sure you will never find peace here. This is my town, and this?” he waved his finger around, “is a dangerous neighbourhood. Especially without a deadbolt.” He nodded towards the front door that he’d bust open.

“Get out,” Forrest reiterated with a look that could have burst him into flames if he had the ability.

Without another word, your father turned and left, slamming the front door that only bounced back open with nothing left to catch.

Forrest lowered the bat with a sigh, rubbing at his forehead from the stress. You focussed all of your attention on Mary, checking he was okay. He certainly wasn’t... He’d taken two beatings in one night and was covered in a litany of injuries that needed attention.

Without saying a word, Forrest dropped the bat on the floor with a clatter and rushed into the bathroom, pulling out an old first aid kid from under Mary’s sink and rushing back with it while you gently guided an exhausted Mary to his couch, forcing him to sit back.

As you patched him up with band aids and gauze and fed him a glass of water, no one dared to speak another word. After everything that had happened tonight, the silence – however brief – was welcome. But eventually, one of you had to break it.

“We should get you to a hospital, Mare. You might have a concussion, or a bust nose or something’,” Forrest reasoned. Mary shook his head.

“I’ll be good, don’t think anything’s broken.” Neither you nor Forrest argued with him. “Fuck, what the hell are we gonna do?” he asked, sinking further down into the couch beside where you knelt on the cushion, hovering over him.

“He’s just trying to scare you both, right? He’s pissed, just wants you both out but what the fuck can he really do?” Forrest asked from the floor, where he’d picked up the broken picture of Mary and his mom and set it on the coffee table. Mary stared at it, biting back the sting of tears.

“Anything... he can do anything. He’ll make good on his threat, his security don’t ask questions.” You chewed on your thumbnail anxiously, trying to think of your next move.

“I’m sorry...” Mary mumbled, looking down at the picture on the table with shame in his eyes.

“For what?” you asked, shuffling closer to him and gently turning his chin towards you, “What could you possibly be sorry for?”

“He’s cut you off because of me,” he sniffled, keeping the tears in his eyes at bay. “I’ve fucked your life up for you already...”

“Don’t you dare,” you told him firmly, “you listen to me. I chose this, I needed to get away from him and I did. This is a blessing, we’ll be okay-”

“How the hell are we gonna be okay? We can’t stay here anymore, we got nowhere to go and the money I make at the shop isn’t gonna keep us both afloat for long...” he panicked, but you hushed him with a finger to his lips.

“We’ll figure it out. Money’s not a problem...” Mary looked confused, as did Forrest, the pair of them staring at you. “I’ve... I’ve been saving. Funnelling money away for a while. I knew someday I’d wanna get out and well... I opened a bank account as soon as I was old enough and just kept throwing my allowance into it. I got a trust fund when I was 18, he thinks I spent it. I didn’t, it’s been stashed away for years. We can get a place Mary, we just need somewhere for now.”

Mary blinked at you dumbly, “You... You want that?”

“What, to run away with you? Are you kidding?” You ran your fingers through his hair, avoiding the long strands that were clumped together with dried blood. “Haven’t I already done that?” you asked with a soft smile.

Mary gawked at you, smiling a little himself before he leaned closer to you and planted his bust lips onto yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. Forrest coughed from the floor, bringing the two of you back to reality.

“That’s great and all, but... where the hell are you gonna go for now?” he asked. Mary processed his question for a second, thinking it over.

“Well, it’s not exactly a ‘best case scenario’, but... I have an air mattress back at the shop? It’s just a storage unit but it’s outta town. Sometimes I’d work late and be too tired to drive home so I’d crash there. No one really knows where it is, I never have clients come to the unit.”

“It’ll do, while we look for a place in the city,” you told him. You didn’t care where you stayed or what you slept on, as long as it was safe – as long as Mary was safe.

Forrest nodded, getting up from the floor and starting to gather some of the mess from your father’s rage. “Better get a move on then... Grab what you need, I’ll help you move it in my van too.”

Before either of you stood up, Mary sat upright and turned to face you. “You sure about this, doll? Like... really? I can’t expect you to use that money to set us both up.”

“Oh, shut up...” you smirked, swatting his shoulder lightly. “You really having second thoughts about taking my dear daddy’s money and running off into the night?”

Mary’s eyes glinted with a mischievous sparkle, and his lips curved into a smirk. “Well, when you put it like that...” He leaned in as you giggled, welcoming another slow, tender kiss that felt like a triumphant win given the events of the night.

From across the room, Forrest rolled his eyes, picking up a small pillow and throwing it at the both of you to break you up. When you both yelped and looked up at him, he simply widened his eyes and shook his head, tapping at an imaginary watch on his wrist as if to say ‘hello? Get moving!”. You stood from the couch, reaching your hands out to Mary who used your strength as leverage to sit upright, his whole body aching and protesting after all the damn fighting tonight. Forrest was, of course, right. You needed to pack up what you could quickly, and get the hell out of town.

So much had happened tonight, and so much had been said that couldn’t remain just a fleeting exchange in the heat of the moment. Revelations of the kind of man your father truly was had to be put to the back of your mind for now, to be dealt with and talked properly about in the coming days. For now, you couldn’t focus on it - the wound too painful to acknowledge until you were out of harm’s way. You couldn’t think about the truth, or what that meant in terms of your relationship with Mary. The thought that perhaps you were just Mary’s retribution couldn’t take root in your mind, lest it grow into genuine suspicion. There was no time to let doubts creep in. Instead, you dove into packing with Forrest, shoving clothes and essentials in whatever bags or boxes you could find to busy your mind.

But Mary; he stayed put, fiddling anxiously with his rings. Neither you nor Forrest questioned him, figuring after two pretty rough beatings tonight he could sit this one out. But it wasn’t that that held him back...

His own doubts were seeping in, an anxiety burning in his chest. He’d unveiled a huge part of himself tonight, something he’d never intended for you to know. He’d never wanted to hurt you with this and now that he had, he had to force down the guilt that came when he’d seen the look on your face as the truth spilled. His disdain for the Mayor hadn’t ever been as simple as hating the face of the town that hated him. There was so much more to it than that, but he’d never wanted to make that your burden.

Part of him now was terrified. The thought had crossed his mind that perhaps – maybe not now, maybe not for a while, but someday – you might think he chose you for this, like some sick revenge on the Mayor. Even he had accused Mary of it, claiming he was using you... Taking his only daughter and defiling her, corrupting her just to get his own back. That night back in the dive bar had started as a bet, yes. The thought had indeed crossed his mind that it was ironic he’d got to fuck you after your father had fucked over his family. But you were so much more than that...

He was in too deep now. He loved you. Now more than ever, he was afraid he might lose you over this. He prayed that you didn’t think that, that your father’s own accusation had fallen on deaf ears.

But for now, he just needed to get you both out of town. As long as you were safe, he’d take whatever consequences came his way.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

#mary goore fanfiction #mary goore fanfic #mary goore x reader #mary goore #repugnant fan fiction #repugnant fanfiction #repugnant #repugnant band #ghost bc #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost #ghost band #ghost #ghost the band #mary goore smut

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mackeydoodledoo · 1 month

Text

She Wears Short Skirts, I Wear T-Shirts: Chapter 3

Pairing: Bridget (Cheerleader AU) x (Fem!)Reader

Chapter Summary: Continuing on hanging out with Bridget, she invites you to one of her Cheer competitions, however, you have a band competition the same day...

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety, Swearing

Chapter Key: Italics = Thoughts, +*+ = Time Skip, F/n = Friend's name, B/n = Band Name, Bold/Italic = Flashback

Chapter Theme: Aftertaste - Katie Gavin

A/n: n/a

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

*Y/n's POV* You walk into school Monday, everything going back to its bleak, bland self...

"Hi Y/n," Bridget comes up to greet you

"Hey you," You smile

The both of you walk around the school...

"Your Sunday go okay?" She asks

"Yeah, I just went to work and finished any homework I had yet to get to," You say, "You?"

"Yeah, I got to sleep in," She says

"That must be nice," You say

"Hey so I have a question," She says

"Yeah?" You ask back, "Shoot."

"This Saturday, I have a cheer competition with the town's independent competitive cheer team," She begins, "It'd mean a lot to me if you came."

Wait...

"This... Saturday?" You ask

"Yeah, why?" She asks

"Band has a competition," You explain, "The competition that determines whether our and goes to State Finals..."

"Oh," Bridget puts on a smile, trying to hide that she was sad

But, she was terrible at hiding her sadness emotion.

"I'll try," You say

"You will?" She asks

"Of course," You smile, "I've never been to a cheer competition before. So it's bound to be an interesting time."

The both of you stop at her first period.

"Okay, I'll text you the details in like... the next few days," She says, "Hopefully I'll see you there..."

She disappears into the classroom.

+*+

You sit at the front desk at the record store...

Man.... Working some weeknights sucks...

But, you were able to make a few extra bucks whilst being in high school.

But the entire place was dead, other than your manager who was in the back, doing god-knows-what.

Hey whatcha doing? I'm at work... So bored... You? Laying in bed, where do you work? The local record store. Oh! I didn't know you worked there. Guess I'll have to come visit ;) It would sure beat being in here by myself. Don't you have a manager with you? I do, but he's always in the office. Part of me believes he only goes back there to sleep and let me do all of the work. Do you want me to come in and keep you company? I'm off soon, so it wouldn't be worth it. 'Preciate it though :) Always. Anyway, I just wanted to text you the information

You watch as your phone dings with the address to the high school Bridget was going to compete at.

Epic, well, I'm going to head out of here and then to bed. Goodnight Pinky. Night Emo ;)

+*+

You walk into the band room, coffee in hand.. You couldn't wait to be done with outdoor band...

"Captain! There she is!" Your bass 5 member greets you

You sigh as you go grab your drum for a sectional.

"You're lucky your drumline instructor likes you all enough to get breakfast," He says, gesturing to boxed up food behind him

"I can take over until you're done eating Y/n," f/n says

*Bridget's POV* You wake up to your alarm and get changed into some simple sweats, but packing your independent cheer team outfit into your backpack.

"I'm heading out," You say to your parents who were at the table

"Okay, we'll see you there," Your dad says

You exit the door and plug in your music as you approach the car parked at the curb of your house.

"Morning Bridge," F/n greets you

"Morning," You yawn

"Want to get coffee before we head to practice?" She asks

"Sure," You sigh

"Hey, you're not your usual chipper self in the morning, spill," She says

"I invited someone I like... And she said she had something very important to do," You begin, "I'm worried she'll miss it."

"First, it'll be her loss," f/n chuckles, "Second, don't let it get to your head today. It's another big day."

You nod.

+*+

You sit with your girls as you all much on catered food.

Hey you, rehearsals going good? Yeah, how about you? We finished, we're packing our equipment into our truck, and then heading to the competition site.

"Okay girls, let's run the routine one more time before heading out!" Your coach yells

You all get up and follow each other to the padded floor for another routine run.

Good luck at your competition. Good luck at yours :)

You board the bus and sit in your own seat as you drive to the competition.

+*+

You step off the bus and follow the coach to check-in. You look at your phone, hoping to see a text from Y/n...

Nothing...

Must be at her competition by now... Or even out on that field...

You set your belongings in the designated area and begin to stretch your body.

+*+

*Y/n's POV* You quickly, but efficiently put your drum away and quickly change into presentable sweats and quickly make your way to your car.

*Bridget's POV* Anxiety runs through you as you travel throughout the school, heading to warm up areas and then to the competition floor.

You've competed in the little Regional class competitions before, and finally earned your wya up to Independent class....

Why am I so nervous?...

As you get into place you look up one more time, hoping to see Y/n in the crowd. Last second, you see someone rushing to the stands. You weren't able to wait any second longer before the music began.

+*+

Your friends split off after they hand you the first place trophy.

"Oh Sweety that was amazing!" Your mom hugs you

"Thanks mom," You sigh into a smile, "I just wish Y/n was able to make it..."

"Oh, you didn't see her as you walked off the floor?" She asks

You blink at your parents in confusion... However, your dad points over your shoulder. Y/n leans against the wall.

"If you're going to hang out with her, go on," Your mom tells you

"We'll see you at home," Your dad says

Without a second thought, you run down the hall.

"You made it!" You practically jump into Y/n's arms

"I said I'd try," She says, "I made it just before you started performing."

So... That person running to the stands was her...

"Do you want to grab a bite to eat?" She offers, "I drove straight here as soon as we got back to the school and I'm kinda starving, and with a routine like that, I'm sure you are too."

Your stomach grumbles...

"You read my mind," You smile

"Come on," She says, "By the way, where's the rest of your team?"

"They all left," You say

"What a shame," She sighs, "I'd wonder if your independent cheer girls would have liked me too..."

"Do you wish for every girl to gawk over you?" You ask

"No!" She says, "Not at all. But, it'd be nice if your friends I have yet to meet would like me."

"I didn't know you cared about first impressions," You smile

"I don't but... Your prized drummer shows up at a Cheer competition," She chuckles, "She's out of her element here!"

You giggle, "Come on, let's get you out of it then."

+*+

Y/n drives to the same diner, and the both of you sit in a booth.

"What's it with you and this place?" You ask

"Could never go wrong with a good burger," They say, "And it's basically the only place I know how to get to by heart."

"Also, how did the band do?" You ask

"We're going to state finals," She smiles

"That's amazing!" You smile back, "I didn't have ant doubts the band wouldn't. They have the greatest drumline."

"Well, not to toot my own horn but we did win the award for best percussion," She says, sounding full of herself

"The town's united Cheer team also took first," You brag

"With a cheer routine like that, I wouldn't doubt it a single second," She says

"When's state finals?" You ask

"Next week," She answers

"That soon?!" You ask

*Y/n's POV* "Well, yeah," You say, "It's beginning to get too cold to do band things. Even if the state finals venue is indoors."

"How will you be able to revise the show on time?" Bridget asks

"You underestimate the ability to change a show with less than a week," You chuckle

"I'm serious!" She says

"I am too," You say, nonchalantly, "There have been times where we have changed a drill set the day before a competition. We all had it nailed in like... Thirty minutes."

"Thirty?!" Her eyes widen

You nod, "You know, if you joined marching band, you'd fit right in with the color guard."

"Really?" She looks at you

You nod again, "They're graceful, badass, and beautiful. They're also scary at times, but that's mostly when we're crossing between them as they spin their props. Did I tell you that they also spin more than just flags."

"I've seen it," She says, "They're awesome."

"Maybe, you should consider giving winter guard a try," You suggest, "I won't force you, but I'll send you some videos from my guard friends. I do winter percussion... As the drum set player."

"Oh, I wonder how you got that part," She smiles

"Well, I started out doing auxiliary percussion, then moved my way up to drum set," You explain, "Drumset is simply an extension of percussion."

"I'd totally come to one of your winter shows," She says

"Well... The ensemble I'm with is out of state...." You sigh, "One of the top 5 groups in the entire country."

"I'll make the drive," She says

"There's a lot of car mileage and gas involved," You attempt to deter her away from making the drive you do

"I don't care, I want to see whatever show you do," She says

"Well then I will keep you updated on my indoor drumline endeavors," You chuckle

+*+

After dinner, you drive her home...

"Hope I didn't take you from family stuff," You say

"They didn't mind," Bridget says, "As always, thank you for driving me home."

"Anytime pinky," You reply, "I shall see you on Monday."

Chapter 4

#bridget x reader #bridget descendants #female reader #descendants #ruby rose turner

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heyidkyay · 8 months

Text

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twelve

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Authors Note: This part took way too long to write. Had a bit of writers block ngl, but I managed to get it done last night when I couldn't sleep. Be prepared for a load of fluff but also some surprises. It's a good chapter, I enjoyed writing it once I finally got into it! But I'm also sorry for long wait! Hopefully the next will be along soon.

> Just a reminder! We left off on the red carpet with Mouse and Matty:) You can look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 22m ago GFC Charity Event! The gals are currently live and interviewing The 1975! So far we’ve had Jamie Bell, Peter Capaldi, Dylan and Jordan Banjo! 2TIME @/user1 WHAT was that? 102 @/user2 chemistrychemistrychemistry Ugh! @/user3 SHE COOKED FOR HIM?? Soloveme? @/user4 What’s going on at this event?? It’s all over my feed😭 MILK @/user5 Screaming this is honestly all so mental Parisin75 @/user6 Wait so they’re friends now? Or is something else happening?? > Too_shy @/user7 Last time I checked but he seemed so happy on the carpet, and he wouldn’t look into the lens at all. His eyes were always focused just above it, either on Adi or Mouse! >> Drumonmepls @/user8 Couldn’t have been Adi!! She was to the left of Ross on and off screen!

***

It was days after the event that things seemed to finally settle again. For Matty, at least. Me? I was still getting the odd DM and tweet here and there, but I couldn’t complain, not with how it had been at the very start. Hordes upon hordes of people had come to make their opinions known on the stance of Matty and I’s ‘sudden’ friendship; fans had taken to both Twitter and Instagram, they’d called into the show, and a few had even turned up outside of the studio.

Matty had been helpful throughout it all though, mainly just finding ways to take my mind off of it and sending security down to the building just to ‘be on the safe side’. It’d been a nice gesture, sweet even. But had also meant that his management team had cracked down on him and the band, cooping the lot of them up in a recording studio and pressing them to finish up the album they were currently working on.

That in itself hadn’t affected me much, the whole Matty being distracted by work thing, because it had happened around about the same time that prep work for the Christmas period had kicked in. Which was basically a time where Adi and I focused on pre recording a few shows so that we could sail smoothly into the new year.

This year it had been hectic, to say the very least, but Finn had been a Godsend. Offering to pick up Teddy from nursery on the days when we were filming late and even keeping him occupied on the one weekend that we’d lost the previous day's audio- which had been a fucking nightmare.

Today though, was finally a day where I got some time to myself. Well, myself and Teddy, seeing as I’d completely and utterly missed him even with only having been gone a few extra hours in the day than usual. Still, the kid was my little ball of light and without him I’d be utterly lost.

“Alright there, Teds, what’re you drawing?”

It was a Sunday, the 17th to be precise, and so we only had a week and a bit left in the lead up to Christmas. I’d spent the morning wrapping most of Teddy’s presents before he’d woken and demanded sustenance- which, fair enough. But he was always a little moody whenever he first woke up. Bit like me, I suppose. And so, whilst I’d started cooking him his breakfast, I’d settled him down at the table with some paper and pens to keep him distracted, an old album by The Cranberries playing.

“Plane.” The toddler retorted easily enough, tongue poking out one side of his mouth in utmost concentration.

Grinning at the small action, I settled a cup of juice before him and then stroked a hand through his unruly hair. “Is that for mémé then?”

Teddy hummed, nodding his head at the odd angle it was resting at. I chuckled, always enamoured by his every little thing.

“That’s brilliant, bubs! I’m sure she’ll love it.” I assured him softly, trailing my fingers through his hair one last time before withdrawing to finish up with cooking.

“How many days?” Teddy asked once I’d plated everything up and taken my seat beside him at the table, immediately I knew what he was on about- seeing as he’d only asked the same question a dozen times a day since the last time we’d phoned my mum.

I pretended to think about it long and hard. “Um… about this many days.” I said, holding up six fingers.

Teddy’s brow instantly furrowed as he set about leaning as close as he could get over the tabletop to point towards each of my fingers. “One, two, three…”

“Six!”

I beamed once he’d finally got it, clapping along with him. “So good, you clever boy! Six- six days til mémé gets here!”

Teddy repeated the words in a breathy murmur, grinning gummily back at me as he wiggled in his chair. Then it was just “six” over and over again for a short while.

I tittered faintly to myself, shaking my head before we went about the rest of our breakfast in much the same manner.

It was almost ten to eleven when the doorbell went and I frowned at the thought of who it could possibly be.

“Mum, door.” Teddy informed me, still so invested in his colouring. I hummed softly in turn, wiping my hands before getting up to go answer it.

“Remember to put the lids back on.” I reminded him about the pens, tucking his hair behind his ear as I rounded his seat, “I’ll just be a sec, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

I smiled softly at his monosyllabic reply, listening to him mumble to himself as I padded my way into the hallway. From here I could just make out the darkened shadow standing on the other side of the door’s paned glass and flicked through a mental list of who it could possibly be, wondering if I'd forgotten anything that was supposed to be happening today. But I reckoned it could just as easily have been Finn dropping by for an impromptu visit, or Adi even.

Flicking the latch and pressing down on the handle, I opened it up only to blink at the figure that stood before me. They gifted me an impish grin as they pushed away from the door’s stoop and onto steady feet.

“Figured I’d just pop by, say hello.” Matty mentioned by way of hello, fiddling with an unlit cigarette he held between his fingers whilst I continued to stare back in surprise, “Studio’s been booked for the day, so I managed an easy escape.” He added when I made no move to reply, “Thought we could grab a coffee or something- if you ain't busy, that is.”

He tacked that last bit on in a rush, as though he was beginning to understand why I was so silent. He’d really, really caught me off guard here.

“Er, I mean it’s a bit out of the blue and that. Should've really texted, I know. But I figured I'd try my luck.” He blundered again, shifting awkwardly on my front step now, looking enough out of place for it to finally blink me out of my stupor.

“I-” I went to say but was ultimately interrupted by another voice from further inside the flat, one that was approaching on toddling feet all too fast for me to react to its sudden presence.

Matty’s eyes bulged a tad at the little face that poked its way out from behind my knees, and mine followed when it finally hit me what was actually happening.

“God, sorry! You just- it’s- I just wasn’t expecting you.” I fumbled, arms reaching down on impulse to pick up the toddler by my feet. I forced out a heavy breath before plastering on a big smile for Teddy, who only seemed to have eyes for the curly haired man staring back at him. “Um, you wanting to come in then? I can do tea, I think. Coffee, even.”

I didn’t really give Matty much of a choice in the matter though, in truth, because I was sailing away to escape the sudden scenario that had started on my doorstep, simply so that I could wrap my head around it all. It was just as I made it back into the kitchen that I heard the door rattle close behind us though and then, as I'd perched Teddy back in his seat, I glanced up to find that Matty had in fact accepted the offer of a warm brew.

It was strange to watch it all fall into place for him, his eyes straying over toys that littered the livingroom floor, the tiny bike which sat in the corner, the star-chart that hung on the cupboard above the fridge, all of Teddy’s artwork and clothes that had been thrown about haphazardly over the last day or two.

I swallowed around my anxiety then, not really sure how I felt now that I knew that Matty finally knew. Because see, I had never really been sure. Teddy wasn’t much of a well kept secret amongst my longtime listeners but I didn’t go flaunting pictures around or mentioning him at every turn. For safety reasons and privacy’s sake. So I hadn't been too certain on whether Matty knew of him or not, having noticed that he’d failed to ever mention him in our texts or calls.

“Um, sorry for the mess. Work’s been a nightmare, and this is my first proper day off in weeks, you know? So." I shrugged a little helplessly, looking out at all of the chaos, then decided to pull on my big girl trousers and trek through this mess like I did everything else in life. “Tea, then? Or coffee?”

The small cough that escaped Matty’s throat echoed around the room once he’d found purchase in the kitchen’s entryway and his voice was tinged with a slight rasp when he finally spoke, “Yeah, uh yeah, please. Coffee.”

I smiled mostly to myself as I turned away to refill the kettle, my mind still whirling but finding relief in Matty’s obvious shock too. Whilst it began to boil though I had nothing much to occupy my mind with, so I decided to putter back on over to the table where Teds had started back up with his drawing and attempted to relax my shoulders.

“Go on, sit down,” I said to Matty, pointing to a chair as I tried to steer us back into easier waters, “Feel lucky you just missed breakfast, this one tends to get it everywhere.” I chuckled lightly in hopes to fill the quiet I was met with.

Teddy glanced up at me then with a prominent pout, obviously not too pleased about my comment. “No.” He argued and I heard Matty snort as he finally took a seat opposite, leaving Teddy to act as the buffer between us both.

“Uh, yes.” I fired back at the toddler, but little good it did me when Teddy only seemed to maintain his avid disagreement.

“Uhuh. I eat it all today.” He reminded me, lips pushed out as his brows climbed higher up his forehead, leaning against the table’s edge again on his elbows. “See?” He added on, pointing a finger over towards where a sink full of soapy dishes now laid.

I smiled, unable to do anything but, though it was Matty who actually replied to him, which both surprised me and put me on immediate edge. “I mean, the little guys got a point. If you ate it all then there can’t be any mess, right?” He directed that last bit towards the little rugrat attempting to evade all guilt and I paused in wait to see how Teddy would respond.

Teddy appeared wary for a moment, blinking over at Matty in a startle, probably having not expected to be roped into a conversation, before his lips settled into something more like a grin. “Right!” He mimicked with a short nod of his head, his ‘r’ sounding more like a ‘w’.

Matty all but beamed at the sudden attention he’d drawn and continued to do so once Teddy started prattling away to him at a hundred miles an hour. I just left them to it, listening in as I padded back over to finish making the drinks.

It was only after Matty had just about knocked back most of his coffee that Teddy grew tired of talking and asked if we could do something fun, eyes drifting over towards where we often kept his wellies. I knew just what fun he was looking to find.

I conceded easily enough, seeing as it was both his day as well as mine, and smiled with a gesture of my chin, “Go on then, but brush your teeth and find some proper clothes, then we can head on over. Alright?”

Teddy’s head shook up and down in rapid succession, already bolting up out of his seat to make a run for his bedroom. Matty wore an inquisitive look once it was just him and I, both of us sat on opposite sides of the table.

“The park.” I informed the singer, fiddling with the handle of my now empty mug whilst my eyes kept sliding back and forth from the counter to Matty himself.

The man simply hummed and leaned back in his seat, I was forced to watch on as he cast his eyes about the rest of my kitchen, taking his fill now that he had a moment to finally do so. I swallowed and struggled with the unforeseen worries of what he might see, what he might think of it all.

I wasn't well off, by any means. But I had a decent income, enough to provide for Teddy and I, as well as live comfortably. Though if the radio show suddenly dipped and we lost most of our viewing, then there’d be a whole different story to be told.

Even so, it was a much different life to the one Matty lived. That much I knew. So it wasn't too strange of me to wonder whether or not it met any of his standards. And how it alone made me feel.

“How old then?”

The question startled me somewhat, enough that I blinked and looked up at him without thought. My brows furrowed a tad and so he continued, “Teddy- was that it?” And at my nod of confirmation, he smiled at me for another answer, “How old is he?”

Caught off guard still, I gaped for a second and then forced myself to reply, “Um, four, he’ll be five soon enough.”

“Wow.” Was what Matty replied with in a soft murmur, his head moving in an ever so slight nod, “A good age though.” At my questioning look, he chuckled, “Or so I’ve been told.”

I hummed, mostly amused, then fiddled with one of the many pens Teddy had left behind at the table.

“They’ve all been good so far- the ages.” I said to him, rather stupidly, and grimaced around a low laugh at myself, “Just, I mean he’s a good kid, is all.”

Matty was smiling at me when I glanced back up, his eyes squinting with the strength of it. He knocked his fist on the table lightly, “Seems it. Just wish you’dve mentioned him sooner.”

I frowned at that, lips pursing as my nose wrinkled. I didn’t much like the way he’d phrased that last bit, because it’s not that I wasn’t proud of Teddy, I was always showing him off, constantly even. But I also didn’t feel as though everyone had the right to see to that. “Yeah, well he’s not a secret I’ve kept hidden. It’s just safer mostly.”

It was Matty’s turn to frown then, seemingly offended by the offhand remark. “What and that includes me, does it? You think that I’d be a danger to him?”

I stared back at him, brow dipped a tad, eyes squinted. Because I hadn’t meant to hurt him, far from, though could he really blame me for being cautious, for having wanted to keep Teddy away for as long as I had?

“No,” I answered him, and it was an honest one, “But only now, after having known you as long as I have. I mean, you can’t really be surprised by the fact that I didn’t mention him in the beginning, Matty. I hardly knew you! I’d only ever had the picture that’d been painted of you in my head, I didn’t want that around him.”

He scoffed quietly at that and I heard the way his boot kicked out under the table as he shuffled further back in his chair to run a hand through his hair. “Yeah and what about now then?”

He had me there, I supposed. I sighed and raised a hand to rub at my tired eyes, this wasn't a conversation I had planned for yet, let alone on a morning like this.

“It’s hard, okay? It’s hard to know when to introduce him to new people, he’s only ever really known those closest to me, and after that it’s just been his nursery teacher and the handful of kids in his class.” I explained, watching Matty and hoping he heard the truth in my words, “And you’re this fucking celebrity people love, you’ve got places to be, fans to meet! I never once thought that you’d stick around, not for as long as you have at least. Or that you’d eventually pull me into your life.”

He looked up then, expression so carefully made. “And that’s a bad thing?”

I folded in on myself a little at his question. Unsure.

Matty rolled his lips together and dipped his chin in a slow nod, “Right.”

“Matty, it’s not like that.” I tried.

He was quick with his reply though, all but leaning into the table’s edge now, “Then what’s it like, Mouse?”

He hardly ever called me Mouse, from the day we’d met it had always been Squeaks.

I dragged a hand over my face and then into my hair, perhaps in hopes to bide my time, but mainly because I felt cornered. How was I supposed to tell Matty how much I valued him? His chaotic presence in my life, his texts and calls, his friendship. It was something I hadn’t known I’d needed, but he’d come along and surprised me. He had stuck around, even when I thought he wouldn’t, and he wasn’t asking for anything more than just my company. He didn’t have an ulterior motive, some trick up his sleeve. Or at least that’s what I believed.

“Does this change things, knowing I have a son?” I heard myself ask him, it was a genuine curiosity but I also had to know. I didn’t want to be strung along or let Matty into Teddy’s life like I had Finn and Adi, only for him to then up and leave when he finally grew bored of the normality of it all.

Matty simply stared back at me, those brown eyes of his narrowed as they flittered back and forth between my own, his lips parted slightly as he thought the question over.

“Do you want it to?”

And that hadn’t been the answer I was expecting.

Instantly I shook my head, dropping the pen so that my hands could fall limply into my lap. “Of course not, I like having you around, Matty. Me keeping Teddy from you has nothing to do with that.”

He continued to watch me.

Then finally he conceded with a prompt nod and I felt myself breathe in. “So, the park. Is there a spare invitation going?”

I let the air go in a stilted chuckle, smiling at the common ground he’d gifted us but also at the image of Matty messing about in a playground of all places. “Yes, yeah, ‘course.” I assured him, “Just, be prepared for any puddles, alright? He will soak you if you're within five feet of the splashzone.”

Matty finally laughed too, this soft thing I hadn’t really ever heard from him before, not in this way at least, and then grinned, whirling around in his seat when a stomping toddler came darting back into the room.

“Wellies ta!”

My eyes fell closed as I released another heavy sigh, “Please! Teds. Remember? Please, not ta.”

Teddy merely blinked back up at me and so I decided it would have to be a battle picked for yet another day.

“Fine, go get them then.”

Matty snorted unhelpfully, which brought him to Teddy’s attention once more. “Need help with ‘em, little man?” He asked, raising a brow at me in hopes that it’d be okay.

I swallowed but ultimately nodded, I couldn’t not when Teddy’s curls started bouncing wildly with the nodding of his head at the question.

And so, I watched them go, Matty taking Teddy’s extended hand, praying that I hadn’t made a massive mistake here. Hoping that somehow Matty would prove me wrong and stay, for a little while.

–

The days after Matty’s impromptu visit came with little to no fuss, it was only when the man wasn’t in the studio that was on the phone to me- and by extension, Teddy as well, who’d taken quite the shine to him. Who could’ve known, hey?

Still, it was a massive change of pace. For me at least, I hadn’t managed to get a read on how Matty felt about it all, but I had yet to worry over it. Mostly because of the Christmas period and how stressed I’d been.

“Finn, I swear he’s driving me out of my mind!” I complained down the phone to my best mate, the thing was currently perched between my shoulder and ear whilst I attempted to throw my hair up into a half-arsed bun, if only to keep it out of my face. “The mess! I mean, it’s like a tornado’s gone and ripped its way through my flat!”

“He’s four, babe.” Came Finn’s unhelpful response. I huffed.

“Exactly! Four, how can someone so small create such a massive mess?” I stressed, trying to clear away as much of the clutter my living room was presently made up of as quickly as I could. “Mam’s gonna be here in,” I glanced hurriedly over at the clock on the far wall and felt my anxiety spike, “Just over an hour! I can’t let her walk into a bombsite!”

Finn laughed at that and so I scowled in retort, even if he couldn’t see me through the phone.

“Finn!” I admonished.

“Alright, sorry! It’s just, she’s your mum, babe. She won’t care what the flat looks like.” He tried to soothe me as he moved about on the other side, doing whatever it was that he was doing. “Why’s he made such a mess anyway?”

I gritted my teeth as I stepped on yet another rogue piece of Lego and just dropped down to start rounding everything and anything I could possibly see into a great big tub.

“He’s excited, wanted to look nice for when mam shows up but also wanted to showcase to her all of his drawings and sculptures.” I told him, grimacing at the penstained action figure I picked up before tossing it amongst the heap too. “I’ve been in the kitchen mostly, cooking for when she arrives, so I didn’t really bear witness to the fact that he’d taken my permission and flipping run with it! You should see my front room, Finn.” I shook my head for the umpteenth time since I’d walked in and blinked at the chaos I’d been met with, “It’s a proper tip.”

I was given a resounding chuckle once more and simply decided to slump there on the floor, glad to note that most of everything had now been packed into the box. Out of sight, out of mind and all that.

“Finn, I don’t even want to go and see what his bedroom looks like as of right now. I can just picture how his wardrobe’s been overturned and all of his clothes have been tossed about the room.”

I forced myself up onto my feet then, halfheartedly listening to Finn’s reply. I still needed to sort myself out before anything else and that thought alone stressed me out further.

And of course! Of course it would be in that exact moment that the doorbell went.

“Fuck.” I mumbled to myself, but found my feet already taking me towards the door. I paused only briefly by the mirror to catch sight of the mess my hair was in and tugged it free in hopes it’d help somewhat, “Listen babe, sorry for all my whinging but I’d best go. Door’s just gone and I’m guessing it’ll be that parcel I’ve been waiting on.”

“Cutting it pretty late there.” Finn said and I couldn’t agree more. It was the 23rd, Christmas was now only days away and still I’d yet to receive it- even after having ordered it well over three weeks ago!

“Fucking hell, tell me about it,” I groaned, opening the door up to be met with the sight of a big wrapped box blocking my vision. My forehead wrinkled in utter confusion, “Um, Finn? I really am going to have to call you back.”

“Why, what’s happened? Don’t leave me hanging! Who is it!”

The parcel dropped down an inch then to reveal a familiar grin and shining eyes.

“Surprise?”

I hurriedly hung up the phone and shoved it into my back pocket, the feeling of bewilderment unable to override the instant worries that washed over me about what a state I must've looked. But I bullied those thoughts back down, ignoring the massive part of me that was currently screaming at the entire situation, for whatever reason I couldn’t even begin to really understand, cause it was just Matty, right? And instead propped myself up against the doorframe.

“What’s this then?” I asked, unable to help my smile when he was looking back at me seemingly so pleased with himself.

“Christmas, in’t it?” He replied all too easily, shaking the rather large present he held in his grasp to further the point.

“I can see that.” I chuckled, shaking my head a little at the picture he made, all bundled up on my front doorstep practically dwarfed by the box he’d brought along. “I just thought you were headed home today.”

He shrugged, an action that was made funnier by the large parcel, but continued smiling, “Meant to, just couldn’t leave without seeing you lot first.”

I blinked, startled by his words. But grinned when he merely widened both his eyes in exaggeration.

“It is fucking freezin’ out here, you know! Could invite a mate in.” Matty reminded me, so I hummed, mulling it over. But he wasn’t one to give up too easily and bribery appeared to be his best tactic here, “I’ve got presents. So open up or they’re going back.”

I narrowed my eyes in turn, “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but darling I would.”

I found myself grinning at him again, something I tended to do whenever he was around it seemed. There was just something about him, I supposed.

He went to take a step back then and I relented all too easily. “Alright.” I laughed, opening the door up wider to allow him in. Matty all but jumped over the threshold, bringing the cold in with him, and whilst he set about shaking off his coat I went to close the door behind him, only to be stopped by a bright red coat.

“Oh, thanks.” I said in surprise to the postie that managed to time his arrival so perfectly. “Thank you,” I repeated for good measure, shooting my head up from the packaged parcel he’d handed me, “Happy Holidays!” He grinned in return, already taking off back down the steps and parroting the same sentiment to me.

I finally managed to shut the door after that and was met with a ruddy-faced Matty, who was wrapped in a big jumper I was immediately jealous of.

“Last minute present?” He wondered with a smirk and I waved him off.

“Ordered it weeks ago, got here just in time.”

Matty hummed and turned back to glance down at the big box that now rested against my hallway radiator, level with my hip it seemed. “Where is the monster?” He asked me, using the name both he and Teddy had taken a liking to.

My brow furrowed slightly. “You really didn’t have to, Matty.” I said to him quietly, looking down at the present he’d gotten for my son.

He was having none of it though, rolled his eyes in fact and hunched over to pick the box up again. “Shut up.”

I snorted and couldn’t help but bite back, “You shut up.”

“Real mature, sweetheart. Ain’t you parents meant to be all boring and nice?” Matty quipped as he wandered his way into my living room, I breathed in a sigh of relief when I followed behind and found that my efforts in cleaning hadn’t been in vain.

“Ha ha. Should’ve taken up comedy.” I retorted to him, fixing a few pillows that sat askew on the settee, something to which Matty also rolled his eyes at.

“Nah, band makes more money.” He answered easily, like he’d thought about it before, as he glanced about for the best place to put the box.

“By the tree if you want, or you can leave it next to the chair so he’ll see it when he barrels in.”

Matty laughed and went with the latter. “You been alright then?” He asked me, taking the time to glance at all the holiday cards that rested on the mantelpiece nearby.

“Yeah,” I sighed with a small smile, “Hectic but that’s expected, isn’t it?”

He shot me a warm grin, nodding. “Christmas, babe.” Was all he replied with, which was fair enough, then he went to reach out to pick up a picture frame of me and a very very tiny Teddy. “When was this?”

I stepped closer and smiled down at the photo, “I was still in hospital with him then, my midwife took it.”

Matty hummed, looking down at it with a soft smile. It was then that I heard a thump sound somewhere down the hall, so I released a weighted breath and forced myself to step away, “I’ve got to go check on Teddy, he wanted to dress himself this morning and he’s been way too quiet.”

With another laugh, Matty let me go, nosing through more of the photos and cards which sat along the shelf. Something I could understand, he’d only been here just twice before, but even still, he didn’t care for how blatant he was with his nosing.

I took the parcel with me as I went, slipping into my bedroom to unwrap and grin down at it. It was Matty’s, which is why its arrival had been so perfect. I'd begun to think that I would have to give it to him the next time I saw him. But now was as good a time as ever.

In a rush, I pulled out a gift bag and some coloured tissue paper, having no time to actually wrap it, and plopped it in. Making my way into the next room to see where Teddy had gotten to.

When I pushed his door open further than it was, I was only slightly surprised by the state of it. The rugrat in question, though, was stood by his wardrobe door, pulling an array of funny faces in its mirror.

“Oi mister, what you been up to?”

Teddy startled slightly at my voice but was giggling when he spun around to spot me. “Got dressed myself.” He stated, pointing proudly at the t-shirt he’d managed to pull on.

“Hm, so you have!” Taking in the jeans and tee combo he’d picked, I then grinned over at him, “Looking good, boyo. Could be a little stylist when you’re older, you know!”

Teddy gave me one of his impish grins and then darted over towards me. “No!” He dragged out in reply, hands clutching at my legs now he was near, his sweet mischievous face staring up at me, “Gone be like you.”

I had to press my lips together then to keep the strength of my smile at bay, his words making my heart swell. “You little charmer.” I chuckled, running a hand through his unruly locks, “Come on though, you’ve got a visitor.”

His eyes widened as he jumped back to rock onto the balls of his feet. “Mémé?” He asked excitedly and I almost felt bad about it not being her, but I knew how much Teddy had also grown to like Matty in the recent days so I wasn't too fussed.

I shook my head, “Not yet, soon though. But somebody else came to see you.”

Teddy’s eyebrows rose as he thought about who it could be and so, knowing that we could possibly be here all day, I started to steer him out into the hallway.

“Finny?” He asked, then, “Santa?”

I snorted, then shook my head to both. “Nope and no. Why don’t we just go see, hey?”

And with that I pushed the door to the living room open wider and watched on as Teddy gasped at the sight of the curly haired frontman standing by our settee.

“Matty!” He all but squealed, practically catapulting himself across the room to make a dive for the man.

Matty laughed, though also seemed startled by the reaction he’d garnered. He swept Teddy up though, all the same, and jostled him around before settling the toddler on his hip, eyes bright with something when they glanced over at me. I smiled, a heavy feeling settling itself in my chest.

“Alright, mate? What you been up to?” Matty asked Teddy, falling back onto the cushions behind them and stationing the toddler next to him.

Teddy replied in earnest, excited to tell Matty all the tales he had stored away since the last time they’d spoken, which had been a few nights previous over a FaceTime call.

I shook my head in amusement and trailed over towards the kitchen, silenting motioning to Matty to see if he wanted a drink. The answer, as always, was yes and so I set about brewing him his usual, along with my own, taking the time to clean myself up a bit too.

By the time I walked back in, Teddy had just about finished telling Matty all the details of his last day at nursery (they’d had a party), which I’m sure the man had already heard about, but who acted as though it was the most brilliant story he’d ever been told.

“One coffee.” I said in greeting, placing the two mugs onto coasters before taking a perch on the armchair by them.

“Ta.” Matty replied, grinning madly when Teddy cackled gleefully and repeated the word over and over. I rolled my eyes at the pair of them and took a calming sip of tea, unaware of how much I’d been in dire need of it. Whoever claimed Sunday’s were a day of rest, were liars.

“He spotted it yet then?” I asked aloud, already knowing the answer seeing as how I didn’t currently have a bouncing Teddy on my hands.

The toddler’s face wrinkled in confusion and he shot his head over to see me, I grinned from behind my mug. “Huh?” He sounded.

Matty hid his next snort well but then hummed too, pushing forward in his seat to grab at his coffee. “Oh his present, you mean?”

That had Teddy’s head spinning. “Where!”

“Manners, bubs.” I reminded, and Teddy nodded so quickly I was honestly a little worried about the whiplash he might face before his eyes were back on Matty.

“Please, present?” Teddy asked, pouting up at the curly haired man with a sudden urgency, his words butchered by his missing bottom teeth.

Matty chuckled, glad for the fact that he’d put his coffee back down in the toddler's haste, and then gestured his head over to the right. “You mean that one?”

Teddy’s eyes, if even possible, widened further, eyebrows reaching the tips of his curls and mouth dropping open as he finally spotted it.

“For me?” He gasped in awe, shuffling down Matty’s leg to approach it, all of his movements now slow as if his shock was stopping him from reacting typically.

I leaned forward to watch on and Matty did the same, obviously nervous for Teddy’s reaction.

“For you, mate. Was walking by this shop the other day and spotted it, thought of you.” Matty told him seriously, smiling too whilst he wrung his hands together, foot tapping anxiously away, though unaware of it.

Teddy looked back at him, chewing on his bottom lip carefully, taking two more steps before he was touching the wrapping. He oohed at it softly to himself but I caught the way Matty’s face brightened at the sound.

“‘pen now?” Teds asked, his eyes drifting away from the gift, towards me and Matty both.

Matty looked over at me then too, the same question echoed on his face. I nodded with a small smirk, “Go on.”

Teddy’s eyes lit up and he spun back around to marvel at it once more, “W’ats it?”

The snort that escaped me at his ask went unnoticed by the pair as Matty moved to join the toddler on the floor. “Gotta open it up and find out, I ‘spose.”

Teddy’s grin brightened and then he fell to his bum so that he could pull the present closer. “Help?”

Matty blinked at the request and I was witness to the way his throat bobbed before he nodded, “Yeah, sure mate. Here, pull this, alright?”

Teddy did as instructed, tugging on a small opening in the wrapping.

I noted as he began to tear away at it, how oddly wrapped it really was, meaning that Matty had probably taken the time to wrap it himself. My chest tightened again at the thought.

“Box.” Teddy announced once all the wrapping paper had been discarded on the rug behind him, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from outright laughing at the befuddled expression he gave Matty.

The man had no qualms though, simply chuckled at the question and leaned in closer to force one side of the cardboard box up a little, “Gotta open up that too, monster.”

Teddy’s brows drew together in concentration as he followed Matty’s lead, forcing the lid open more before a loud gasp escaped him. Matty went back to wringing his hands, fiddling with the rings on his fingers whilst I moved over to the settee to get a look too.

My expression faltered at the sight of the beautiful gift Matty had given Teddy. Inside the box rested a guitar in an incredible shade of deep blue, it was small enough for Teddy to hold whilst also being big enough for him to grow with. Even with my obsessive love for music, not once had I ever really thought about buying Teddy such a thing, not one of this calibre at least. It must've cost a fortune.

“Matty.” I whispered, but the man didn’t even spare a look my way, eyes trained on my toddler, trying to garner his reaction.

“You know what it is, mate?” He asked after a moment and Teddy’s little head dipped in a slow nod. Because I knew he knew, he danced around constantly pretending to have one in his hands whenever we had the tele or radio on. Where there was music blaring, there would also be a Teddy playing air guitar.

“‘tar.” Teddy stated in a soft voice, both Matty and I smiled at the way he said it, but the former nodded, pulling the instrument out of the box so that Teddy could get a closer look.

“Cool right?”

Teddy nodded silently again, reaching out a hand to carefully touch the wooden neck, blinking and reeling back when a string strummed. Before he then giggled and reached out once more.

Matty seemed to slump in relief, evidently glad that Teddy liked it. But I’d go as far to even say he adored it, never had he ever been so gentle with anything.

“Have you got something to say to Matty, Teds?” I prompted, ignoring the way my throat caught at the emotion I felt. I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around it.

Teddy pulled his eyes away from the guitar to gaze up at Matty as though he was something other. I merely blinked at the reaction and before I knew it Teddy had thrown himself into Matty’s arms, startling the man a tad. Matty welcomed him after a second though, glancing over the toddler’s head to share a look with me.

“T’ank you.” I heard Teddy muffle into the collar of Matty’s jumper then, actually saying the words this time. It seemed Matty knew what that meant too, because he tightened his hold on Teddy’s waist a little.

“You’re welcome, mate.”

The rest of Matty’s visit was used to teach Teddy a bit about the basics of a guitar, managing to play an E minor and get started on an A chord. Teddy listened to Matty with rapt attention, barely sparing anything else a second glance, which was startling for a toddler, let alone Teddy who was constantly go, go, go.

Watching them was all too lovely as well. For someone with such a cool front, Matty seemed to melt around Teddy, succumbing to that of the boy’s charm and easy going nature. It was sweet to see, surprising but endlessly sweet. Had me losing track of time, in truth. Which is why I jumped and cursed the way I did when the door finally knocked.

“Mémé!”

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apicelladonna · 3 months

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It's been exactly 2 months since I made this account for the sake of hyper fixating on Grindeldore and what a lovely time here!

Thank you all for a warm welcome and interactions truly!!!🥹❤️ I get to relive the happy memories and make new ones too.

I'm so glad you find my shared works, chaos and art about Albus and his ex husband to be just the right cuppa for you and to many more of these old tragic yaoi folks in the future !🥰

as always don’t hesitate to chat, message, or comment! I really enjoy being able to spout about them happily for hours when my clinic rounds are done 🥲

Hopefully I can post chapter 2 of Prometheus had Blue Fire this sunday so fingers crossed that the writer’s block disappears or someone else will disappear—

Warm hugs and sweets, Ella!

#Grindeldore #GGAD #Gellert Grindelwald #Apicelladonna's Art!#Prometheus had Blue Fire #Vinda just wants to go home and drink wine maybe #Newt yet again gets mixed up in his professor’s messy divorce even in death #incorrect fantastic beasts and where to find them quotes #fantastic beasts and where to find them #hp fanart #Help Newt by sharing the goods ness thst is Prometheus had Blue Fire chapter 2 is on its way—#incorrect prometheus had blue fire quotes

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gwiyeounsonyeon · 5 months

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Growing Pains CH4 (MWC 10, 11, 12!)

Pairing: RE2 Leon Kennedy x Male(Intended) Reader Summary: College AU! Your day is shit but Leon's there to take you out. Words: 3,004/200 Warnings: reader's overstimulated Notes: this chapter was originally supposed to be longer but the first draft sucked so i rewrote everything

☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

For the entirety of your Sunday morning shift Leon had lingered in a mostly empty corner of the cafe, he sat up at a single-person table with a laptop out, pretending poorly to be hard at work. He looked around the store often and constantly checked the time, obviously very impatient for the day to be finished and so excited he was practically vibrating the store from how hard he was bouncing his knee. You knew he didn't mean to cause you any stress but his very naive puppy-like act pinched some nerves you didn't know you had–or maybe you were just having a bad day. With your head buried deep up in the clouds, you hadnt realized that you fucked up two orders in a row until the customers had come up to angrily complain at you, glaring nastily as you apologized and made them each their correct order and gave it to them for free. Apologizing had left a sour taste in your mouth that grew as you poured the coffee down the drain and tossed the cups into the trash, you had absolutely no idea why you were getting so worked up over something you’ve done a handful of times.

You barely made it through your next customer without blowing up in their face and as soon as they left you step back from the register and start untying your apron as you head to the back, “I’m goin’ on break.” You don't mean to sound as rough as you did and you don't notice the worried looks Claire and Leon throw your way. You don't pay any attention to her as Claire follows you into the break room and you try to keep the silence between you by pretending like you dont notice her standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, “There’s something wrong with you today.” It's kind of funny, the way she says it and any normal person would take offense but you’ve known Claire for nearly her whole freshman year, so it's a lot easier to tell the difference between her being flat out rude and her just caring too much to baby you. “That so?” You don't look up from your hands, idly shuffling things around and pretending to look busy so she’d hopefully leave. “If you won’t tell me what’s wrong, then you can just go home.” Your brows furrow and you glance up at her confused, “I have an hour left, why would I do that?” She shrugs and lets her hands fall down by her sides, “I dunno…” You instantly recognise the insecure tone in her voice and pull your hands from your locker so you can stand up fully, “I’m just… worried, you’re acting weird.” Your demeanor softens, a weight settles in your stomach as your shoulders drop, you hadn't realized that she’d picked up on your unreasonably sour mood and the fact that it made her upset without you knowing only makes that weight heavier. “I-.” You start to apologize but she cuts you off by shaking her head, “Just…” She struggles to find the right words and looks off to the side, her eyes drifting to the corner of the room, “You don’t have to bottle it up… You’re not alone anymore.” Her words hit you like a bullet straight to the chest, a lump forms in your throat as you remember what you had gone through when you first met Clair.

It was bad and the knowledge that she noticed and remembered something like that gets your eyes burning, but you swallow the lump in your throat and blink the tears out of your wet eyes as you nod awkwardly, “Yeah. Yeah, I know.” She goes to say something else, her hand reaching out to you but someone rings the bell at the counter and she pauses for a second and looks over at the door, she looks back at you like she’s going to apologize but whoever is at the counter rings the bell again and then keeps ringing it impatiently. She breaks for the front, only slowing down as she rounds the corner and into the dining area to take the customers order. Once she's gone you’re left in relative silence, you sit on a hard plastic chair and lean back, your mind wondering to Clair and how lucky you must’ve been to have met her. Your thoughts keep running as you think about what kind of life she’d lead after college and if she would still be friends with you, or if she’d still be friends with Luis, or Leon. For some reason your thoughts get stuck on Leon, you wonder about his life, his major, what his grades are like but those thoughts are only brief, your brain taking you down a different train of thought.

You stare off into space as you fidget with your phone, your thoughts unhelpfully reminding you of how flawed you are and how perfect leon seems in comparison to you, you hadn’t realized you started crying until a tear lands on your phone. The interruption pulls you out of your self-deprecating spiral and back into the present moment, you wipe your face quickly and stand to go to the bathroom before Claire or someone else spots you. You lock the bathroom door and lean over the sink, avoiding looking in the mirror, you know your hair is messy, you know you have dark bags under your eyes but you know that looking at yourself will only send you back into your earlier spiral. You scrub your weary face with cold water and pat it down before fixing yourself the best you can and heading out back to the dining area. It got busy fast, you hurriedly tie on your apron to help the next customers in Claire’s long line, a decent chunk of them migrating over to stand in front of your register.

You’re too busy to notice the grateful look she gives and definitely too busy to notice how Leon’s stopped pretending to work and is now just blatantly staring at you. With the two of you working you get through the wave of customers until there’s only a few stragglers left and a few familiar faces, Luis leans against the counter by Claire looking painfully tired and they chat idly as she makes him his drink, Leon naturally migrating over to the two of his closest friends. You aren't given any time to engage or listen to what their talking about as a brick wall settles in front of you, you look up at the Tyrant, who, after being added to the group chat with everyone including Luis and some girl named Ashley who you’ve never met in person, you learned that the Tyrants real name was Mr. X. you also learned, after a lot of teasing and jokes, that no one knew Mr. X’s full last name nor his first name. “Hi. Welcome to-.” He interrupts you with a wave of his hand and a scoff, “If you can’t remember something as simple as my order then why the hell do you work here?” You will yourself not to gawk, the gall of this guy. You fix your smile that had dropped slightly and tap his order into the register a tiny bit passive-aggressively, “Of course I remember your order, it’s just customary that I-.” He cuts you off again, “I don’t care about the customs of a coffee shop run by children,” He casts a nasty look over at Clair and you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from getting fired or sued. “Just shut your mouth and make my damn drink.” Your head aches, a dull pounding settles just behind your eyes and you turn around to make his coffee, just wanting to get his order finished so he can leave.

As you’re putting a fresh pot of coffee on to boil you see the teacher turn to Leon and Claire to ask them how they’re preparing for exams. Claire’s normal strong defiant demeanor falters and Leon just looks scared shitless, he doesn’t attempt to say anything but he doesn't have to as Claire’s already opening her mouth to tell him they had a study group. The coffee is pretty much finished so you turn back to making his drink, keeping their conversation within earshot, something about this guy made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Once you finish you place the lid on his cup, not bothering to snap it on correctly but he doesn't seem to notice as you hand it over, “Please be careful, our lids haven't been fitting right.” He rolls his eyes at you and tosses down the exact amount and not a cent more. When Mr. X passes Leon on his way out he glares down at him, a frown tugs at your lips as you watch Leon's face twist anxiously.

When he's out of the shop and the door is shut firmly behind him you hear the trio collectively let out a big breath, you mull over your conversation with him in your head while you shut the drawer and lean your elbows on the counter, your eyes straying out the window just in time to see Mr. X run into a trio of freshmen and spill coffee all down the front of his coat. Before you realize what you’re doing, your arm grows a mind of its own and you knock your fist against Luis’ shoulder, he looks over at you and you point out the window where Mr. X is throwing a temper tantrum about the coffee spilt on his ugly ass coat. Luis snorts, then chokes on his coffee, doubling over in a coughing fit. He nearly misses the counter when he tries to set his cup down but you catch it just in time, using his free hand to point out the window, Claire barks out a loud laugh as she slaps Luis on the back. Your eyes flit over to Leon just in time to see the tension flood out of his shoulders and a small smile tug at the corners of his lips, he senses your gaze on him and he looks over.

As you make eye contact, butterflies fill your stomach uncomfortably and your face starts to feel hot, you turn back to the register and pretend to look busy as the freshmen wander in, giggling to themselves. You miss the way Leon brightens up but you hear his excited voice loud and clear; “Hey Ashley.” Your head snaps over to them when you hear that name and you look over to see a pretty looking blonde amongst two brunette girls that are leant in close to each other whispering about something and a ravenette who doesn't look like she wants to be here. The ravenette comes up to the counter first, rolling her eyes at her friends as she passes, she looks at the menu for a while as you watch the very friendly interaction between Ashley and Leon with a bitter feeling rising in your throat. The girl in front of you clears her throat and rattles off her order, you tap it into the register while trying to listen in on what Leon’s talking about but it quickly gets very complicated as the girl starts listing off the different types of ingredients and things she wants added to her food. “I’ll go make that.” Claire sing-songs and snatches the note from your hands while she walks to the kitchen Luis trailing after her, you make the ravenette’s drink and tune back into Leon’s disturbing conversation about how Mr. X is very biased and rude, going so far as to give Leon false bad grades.

“Why haven't you reported him?” As soon as it comes out of your mouth everyone goes quiet, clearly scared of the guy. Leon shrugs and plays with his fingers, “He's scary…” You roll your eyes and toss a crumpled receipt at him, “And he’s going to keep being scary if no one does anything about it.” He watches the receipt bounce off his shoulder and roll onto the counter, he pokes it and then unfolds the paper, fidgeting with it to try to get it completely flat. You watch him as Ashley speaks up, “It's not that easy, i’ve heard that the whole staff is scared of him and that's why he’s still allowed to work here.” She speaks with wide eyes, her two brunette friends nod enthusiastically as the other girl rolls her eyes. “And you believe them? Have you not met the Chancellor?” you say, your gaze flickering back to leon as he doodles on the receipt with a sharpie, your heart squeezes at how cute he it but as soon as that thought passes through your head you force your eyes away, glancing up in time to see Ashley cock her head slightly, “No, who’s the chancellor?” You nod while pulling out your phone to google Albert Wesker, you click on the first picture and show her, the brunette girls leaning in to see too. “Oh, I know him. He comes to the store my dad works at.” When she says that Leon looks up trying to see the picture on your phone, you tilt the screen over to him and he furrows his brows, “He looks familiar, i think…” Ashley must have realized something as she suddenly gets really enthusiastic, she taps Leon's shoulder rapidly until he looks up.

“He’s the guy that donated all that money to my dad, the one we saw at the party.” Your brows raise at what she said and the unpleasant feeling stirs in your gut again, rising up into your throat like bile. Claire comes back with the black haired girls food and the other girls drift over to her to get their orders in too, once they have the shortest one waves Ashley over to order. “Why’d your dad need money?” You look over at her as she shrugs “I never asked, I just assumed it was for his business…” You’re even more confused, “Business?” The taller brunette girl nods, “Yeah, Ashley’s dad works for a really big tech business. He’s like, really rich.” You nod slowly and look over to Ashley for confirmation but before she can get a word in, the shorter girl pipes in, “Its called DSO but no one knows what it stands for but it's on everyone’s phones, see?” She holds out her phone and sure enough on the back near the bottom left hand corner were the letters DSO. You’d seen a few buildings with those letters before but you’d always assumed it was for something else, not tech stores. “Mine doesn’t.” You don’t pull out your phone but it doesn't seem to matter, both of the brown haired girls look at you weirdly and then at each other, you roll your eyes and shake your head while walking back to your register to see the time, there's about thirty minutes left until it's time for you and Claire to close.

You busy yourself with wiping down the counter as Claire makes the rest of the girls’ drinks, they thank her and pay before leaving. You watch out of the corner of your eye as Leon and Ashley hug before she leaves to catch up with her friends. You frown down at the counter as you clean it off, “What's got you down, Hermano?” You’re embarrassed at the yelp you let out when Luis sneaks up behind you and sets his hands on your waist. He laughs and pulls his hands off to stand next to you while leaning on the counter, “Where the fuck did you come from?” You slap his arm lightly, your other hand pressed over your fast beating heart. “I went to the bathroom.” He shrugs casually, like he hadn't just tried to kill you.

You furrow your brows and push him into the direction of the door, “Get out, we’re trying to close.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender as he turns to walk out the door, Leon trailing behind him like a lost puppy. They wait and chat idly by Leons bike as you and Claire close, once everything is done and in order she heads out of the shop first ticking her tips into her pocket as you reset the alarm then lock the door behind you. Claire waves you and Leon goodbye as her and Luis walk in the direction of campus, both of them having classes all afternoon. Leon clears his throat nervously from behind you, he’s holding onto the handlebars of his bike, ready to go. “Where are we going?” You stuff your keys back into your pocket as his cheeks turn red, “Oh uh… I haven't… actually gotten that far… yet…” He explains lamely while scratching the back of his neck, Your heart skips in your chest and you purse your lips trying to fight off the sudden urge to lean in and kiss him.

“Hm…” You hum thoughtfully and pull your bottom lip into your mouth to chew on it as you think. All you really want to do is go home and relax but you also don't want to leave Leon, the longer you’re around him the more addicting it gets to be around him. “What about a movie?” He perks up and nods, following you when you start heading in the direction of the theater, “What’s even on?” You yawn and stretch your arms over your head, your body feeling stiff, “There's a zombie movie playing.” You see him look over at you from the corner of your eye, you give a thoughtful nod not really thinking about it, all you want to do is sit down and maybe sleep. “What’s it about?” He pauses to think, “I think it's about a cop but that's all I remember seeing about it.”

☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

#x male reader #x reader #resident evil leon kennedy #resident evil leon #resident evil 2 #resident evil #re leon #leon s kennedy #leon #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #re2 leon kennedy #re leon kennedy #leon kennedy re4 #re leon kennedy x male reader #re2 leon kennedy x male reader #leon kennedy x male reader

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tatterings · 10 months

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“Lamentable” update!

I’m about 2/3 done with chapter 10!

I’m at 6,700 words so far, so this is another hefty chapter.

It will need to be proofread still, but hopefully I can get it posted by this Sunday. ❤️🐻

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #halstarion #astarion x halsin #halsin x astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #halsin/astarion #astarion ancunin

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anactualcaseofthetruth · 2 months

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I would like to thank everybody for tagging me in WIP Wednesday, Seven Sentence Sunday and everything else but alas I am in a writing rut and have gotten nothing done.

So, instead, I will share the summary and my moodboard for the first chapter of my story I Thought I Would Be Happy By Now which hopefully is coming soon!!

SUMMARY:

TK is sent by his mother to Austin hoping his father can do what she hasn’t been able to—get him clean. TK hasn’t been to Austin since he was seventeen, and had no plans to return after how he left things, but he’s backed into a corner, and what Gwyn Morgan wants, she usually gets.

@paperstorm @welcometololaland @strandnreyes @carlos-in-glasses @ironheartwriter (pssst I have no idea whoever to tag, I forget who all tagged me, I'm sorry!!!)

Shout out to @lightningboltreader for being my beta. I've read her latest comments on my doc and she has ~feelings~ about what I've written so far.

#fanfiction #911 lone star #tarlos #seven sentence sunday #coming soon #wip wednesday

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infinitegalahad · 1 year

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AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - CHAPTER 5

Pairing: J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Identifying! Reader Summary: You and Robert, of course, were a couple. A serious one at that; no more games, judgment, hiding, and dancing around the idea. But it came with its many hardships. Word Count: 6.0k Warnings: LOTS. Please read. Infidelity, messy relationships, minor blood loss, loss of child, cursing, and minor sexism (not from Oppie). Please read and heed with caution. Notes: THAT HAT. OMG. MY HUSBAND IS LOOKING SO FINE THERE. oops sorry for being horny on the writing account, next topic! folks, buckle up, this is a lot! not only is the longest chapter, but its got a lottttt of drama happening. we're talking infidelity, marriage proposals, trinity, kitty being a bad bitch, edward teller in sunscreen, my drunk writing, groves being an ass hole and most importantly; TWO sex scenes. apparently, y'all loved my smut, and i appreciate your compliments! there's one more scene to come *insert winky face* mwahahha. i also know i said this is ten chapters, but this story is nearing it's ending, so there's one more real chapter. I'm going to try concluding the story within the week. I've been packing for school and I've got a long drive on Thursday. I'm done with most of my packing, so I will try to release the final chapter tomorrow. the epilogue will be much shorter. this has been one hecka of a ride, and the next chapter will most likely be a lot of drama. once again, your support has been amazing, thank you all for everything! <3 Taglist: @forgottenpeakywriter @queenshelbyy @chloriine36 @kodzuvk Taglist | Masterlist

It was five in the morning, and yet it didn’t feel close to it. The sky was pitch black with not a star to be soon. The only light of the source came from the dim light bulbs and the headlights of the cars that surrounded you. You lay on your stomach beneath an uncomfortable mat with your hand edging the corners of the binoculars you held, the other hand reaching for the pain of sunglasses to block the light that would hopefully come from the test bomb.

Two years. Two years of potential hard work gone to nothing.

Awaiting the announcement of the detention, you laid and, in an attempt to hide your anxiety, thought about how the hell you ended up in the middle of New Mexico, working on some secret project for the government, and what it took to get you to be a small part in the Manhattan Project.

You and Robert, of course, were a couple. A serious one at that; no more games, judgment, hiding, and dancing around the idea. But it came with its many hardships.

The first straw was Kitty.

She was much older, and from what you heard, extremely intimidating. While you respected and honored her, you also wanted to avoid her, as you felt that she did not like you at all. Robert had told her he was in a relationship with a “young” woman, emphasizing “young”, and Kitty read him the riot act. Robert thought she was overreacting, but you sympathized and understood. All you wanted was to be respectful, and honestly, avoid her at all costs.

But of course, that didn’t happen. After one of your Friday sessions, which ended in Robert and you making love, you slept at this house and stayed until Sunday most times. You even had your own toothbrush and brush, using the feminine bathing products and flowery perfumes that Robert had gifted you. Hatomi had noticed and always said you smelled good. She had been having a possible affair with your French Literature teacher, but that was a story for another time.

That one morning, you woke up with Robert’s arm on your waist, and a child staring directly at you. You identified him as Peter, as he was the spitting image of Robert, minus the parts that very much looked like Kitty. Blinking rapidly, you thought it was some bad dream, but the broken truck and bright, sad blue stare made you realize that Kitty was here with her and Robert’s children.

You and Kitty didn’t take long to meet, with her being dressed and you being butt naked.

Both of you had to smack Robert awake, who was appalled at the situation. There stood his children in front of a girl who was closer in age to them than their father and a very pissed-off mother. Naturally, this needed a very long conversation.

Kitty glared at you while sitting on the couch with Robert’s shirt on. She, like Robert, smoked a cigarette; her cold eyes burning into your skin. Robert reached over to grab your hand, which you slapped away.

“So you’re his student?”

You gulped and looked down, nodding.

“And you’re getting your bachelor’s degree in what? The arts?”

“Maybe a Bachelor’s in both the arts and science, ma’am.”

She blows a puff of smoke into your face, making it feel very directed. As she gets up to get a drink, she eyes you and turns to Robert.

“At least she’s smart.”

As much as you really want to leave, Robert insists you stay too well, impress Kitty, and show her you can cook, provide, and care for him. It infuriates you, and as much as you look at the door, you force yourself to stay. You don’t have any clothes there, so you’re forced to wear Robert’s white oxford shorts and bottom lingerie shorts while working around Kitty. She blatantly asked if you had anything besides Robert’s clothes to wear, and you said no. She sighed.

As Robert plays with his children, Kitty and you decide to make dinner, together. She wants to make Robert’s favorite, which you know by heart; chicken, boiled potatoes, and peas. You tell her, at least advise her, that Robert now likes his potatoes mashed and his chicken with pomegranate seeds on it. Kitty holds a large knife, and you swear that she looks like she wants to stab you with it.

“Where do you get them from?” She coldly asks as she pours milk into the bowl to stir the potatoes.

You look up from sauteeing the chicken with garlic and respond, “Get?”

“The Pomegranate.”

“Oh, his garden,” Your face begins to grow red, “He didn’t know he had pomegranate’s in his garden–”

“Until you told him,” Kitty interrupts.

She stops cutting, and you stop mixing the chicken. There’s a shared silence between the two of you; filled with thousands of questions.

You scratch behind your ear and sigh, gathering yourself before you respond.

“Yes. He likes them a lot. I noticed Toni likes them, too. However, I shouldn’t–”

“You care.”

‘What?”

“You care about him a lot. I can see that,” Kitty goes on about. Once she’s done mixing the potatoes, she goes to the sink to clean the mixer. You can swear you hear sniffle.

“There’s no other reason why you would be using him, y/n. I can’t think of one because there’s none. You’re troubled, yet good. You may be young and naive, but you care about Robert. You take care of him, and I, well–”

Kitty can’t finish her sentence. She drops the mixer and tries to hide her contained sobs and hunching over the sink, but you notice. You walk over to try and comfort her, but Robert’s not far. His voice echoes along with the laughter of two children. Hearing this, Kitty pulls herself together and sniffles. She walks past you with red eyes. You want to ask, but you don’t.

You learn, through numerous sources, that Kitty did not hate you, nor was jealous. She, according to one person, adored you. You found that hard to believe, but every time you sent the children gifts,s he made sure to write you an apology note.

However, while you made room for Kitty, you utterly refused to make room for Jean Tatlock.

At that point in your relationship, you and Robert had been going on relatively strong. He’s your boyfriend, and your Friday meetings had extended to more weekly meetings, so with stays at his house. Some people know you are an item; some are disgusted, and some are happy. None of this bothers you and Robert as you continue to be a happy couple; until it’s not happy.

First, it’s the regrets. After each time you’d fuck, Robert would go on about how horrible of a man he is and how he can’t keep doing this. You do some further digging, and with some integration, learn that he’s not teaching next year. He’s off to some “secret location,” and within the mixture of his regret of “poisoning you”, he recommends that you two should simply stop and just leave each other.

Of course, this breaks your heart. Hatomi, and your other friends, are horribly worried about. Your lab partner in your chemistry class, George, can see that your eyes are red and asks if you are okay. You respond that you are, having a feeling that something else is going on with Robert.

At your next Friday meeting, you arrive early, but you don’t water the flowers, and you know why you don’t want to ever water them again. Robert comes to the door, ten minutes late, and when he opens it, you can see his collar is flipped up and his hair is a mess. As he takes a breath, you push past him and run up the stairs. You already see the pair of kitten heels by the door, and as Robert pleads for you to wait, you don’t. Once you turn the all too familiar corner to his bedroom, you hear a soft curse. It’s a woman’s voice.

Turning into his bedroom further proves your worst nightmare; another woman. Let alone, your own fucking psychiatrist; Jean Tatlock.

In your sessions with Jean, she’s been breaking more code of conduct, talking about the new man she's seeing, saying she’s having “one heck of an affair”. Based on her descriptions of him, from the lineage and nicknames, you put the pieces together, and all of them lead back to her and Robert.

“Y/n,” Jean calmly pleads. She covers herself with a blanket as she gets out of bed, “Stop. Wait. We want to talk-”

The words “we” make your eyes swell with tears. Spinning on your heel, you beeline towards the stairs, but bump into the person you least want to see; Robert. He puts his hands on his arms, but you violently shrug and push his chest away.

“Get away from me–” You hiss. As you back up, you sense Jean behind you and scream the same thing at her, “--Back, both of you.

“Y/n,” Robert gently calls your voice, holding out his hands, “I’ve been meaning to tell you-”

“Tell me fucking what?” You bark at him. You point your finger back to Jean, “Robert, honestly, out of all people, my fucking psychologist? The one who describes my medications? The person I tell everything too besides you? The one I saw today just two hours ago for my weekly session?”

Jean is sobbing behind you. You like her, but yet, don’t feel bad. She’s much older than you; she should know better.

“I had no idea–”

You scoff and let out a fake laugh, “Idea? Sure,” You look back at Jean, whose mascara is running down her face, “Don’t cry; you knew. You’re smarter than you look, you knew. You know my background, and you would go out of your way to do this? And now? We all fucking know. Robert, now we all know you were cheating on your little pure virgin girlfriend with her fucking psychologists, whom I considered to be one of my friends.” Looking at Jean, you say that last sentence, ensuring she understands you are no longer her client, let alone her friend.

Walking down the stairs, Robert grabs your arm and forces you to stop walking. You refuse to look back, but you can hear his breathing, which makes you scrunch your firsts.

“Y/n, I understand your anger. This is far beyond wrong. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t. I think it’s best that you take the time to finish your education and, if I recommend, mingle with others your age,” Robert explains with a condescending tone, which makes your blood boil.

“I can no longer carry the guilt on my shoulders. I used you for too long, and now it’s catching up with me. I’m sorry to do this to you, y/n, but I-”

You violently throw your arm back, shaking Robert’s hold on you. Through Robert’s breathing and Jean’s sobs, you storm down the stairs. Your face feels hot, and so does your body, but you ignore it as you stumble out of the house. Ignoring the calls of your name from Robert and Jean, you run out of Robert’s house and down the hill. Once you are away, you finally let go and let the hot tears run down your cheeks. Finally, the devastation and pain hit you like a bullet. When you’re not around any trace of Robert or Berkeley or any of it, you let out a screaming sob of frustration, anger, and sadness.

It takes you a short while to recover.

You no longer like to associate Robert with his name. Once again, he’s reduced to Dr.Oppenheimer; your terrifying physics professor with endless icy eyes and a tendency to smoke, not the man who took your virginity and showered you with expensive gifts that you refused to throw out. The relationship between you two has been severed and erased with your function serving as professor and student. Your meetings stop, at the end of the Semester, Robert gives you an A with an E for exceptional effort. Your parents receive your report card, and out of all your grades, are most fond of your Physics report. Dr.Oppenheimer writes that you are an active participant whom he had the pleasure of working with personally in the term. As they read out his comment, your memory flashes back to it all; the dinners, the music, the fire, the terms of endearment, and the whole lot of it.

Your mother, through a puff of smoke, remarks that he seems like an amazing man. Forcing a smile, you agree.

Once you return after the Holiday break, nothing much has changed in Berkeley. You’re still alone yet doing well academically, Hatomi’s on the verge of ruining a marriage, and you and Robert have not spoken, according to your calendar, in over two months.

And then you meet George.

George is your lab partner in Physics. You have known him since your orientation at Berkeley, from the forced events to the lackluster parties. He’s always had an interest in you, and has made it clear from day one; from wanting to be your lab partner to even asking Hatomi if you preferred chocolates over flowers. When you two would sit down together, he would always initiate small talk and ask how your day is going. You’d respond and spark up small conversations about your lives.

Into the first week of December, George asked after class if you wanted to go see Citizen Kane with him. He bought two tickets, and offered to buy you anything you wanted, but understood if you were busy since in his words, you seemed even busy on Friday afternoons.

You knew Robert was watching. You quickly glanced up and saw him at his desk, smoking as he pretended to observe tests when really, he was observing the interaction between the two of you.

“I’m actually no longer busy at all on Fridays,” You loudly say as you want the words to echo and burn into Robert, “And yes, I’d love to go to the movies with you.”

“I’ll pick you up at Stern?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

George arrived an hour before and took you out for an early dinner. You knew that he loved to read like you, but you also learned he was fluent in three languages and was overall extremely educated. He made sure to ask what you enjoyed, telling you to talk about your favorite books, movies, or anything that you loved. You had told him to read the first few chapters of Citizen Kane to familiarize yourself with the movie. George went red and said he had done the same, offering that if they enjoyed the movie, they could see together and talk about the plot.

The movie was good, and in addition to the soda and popcorn he bought you, he also took you back to his dorm and fucked you like there was no tomorrow. As he humped into you, you clawed at his back and looked up at the cycling. Everytime you close your eyes, you see and think of Robert. You forced George to look at you throughout the sec and kissed him patiently to void all thought of Robert.

There was no doubt that Robert was bothered by you and George’s interactions. You made it not so obvious that you were George’s girlfriend, while George did; from the hushed whispers and small touches he’d give you in class. While George would be doing such small things, Robert would be intensely staring from a distance with straghinted fingers and furrowed eyebrows. At one point, he changed lab partners in an attempt to keep you and George apart. You still worked together on every single lab, and to Robert’s dismay, aced every single one.

In the beginning, you remember Robert leaving flowers in your cubby during Labs since you’d always arrive about ten minutes early. He’d tuck them into the pocket of your lab jacket. Without fail, and everytime, you threw each flower out. Eventually all together, you stopped showing up on time and made sure to show with George.

Robert soon began to disappear from your thoughts and life. For the remainder of the year, you only spoke to him in class and nowhere else with cold, curt interactions. George had replaced Robert in all, shape, way, and form. It was strange to go with George since he was your age, and not in your former case, your thirty five year old Physics professor who cheated on you with your friend and phys-

But that was all in the past.

Two years had gone by. Robert was the thought of the past now and you kept yourself busy between obtaining a Bachelor of Arts and Science in Literature and Physics, all while maintaining a very serious relationship with George. You spent most summers with him on Nantucket sailing or collecting seashells. Sometimes, you’d think about the “what ifs'' of Robert taking you to New Mexico on a horseback adventure. That had once been a reality, but now would forever remain a fantasy. George reminded you that yes, there were good men in the world. You both had your many issues and ups and downs, but both of you agreed that infidelity was never on your list.

Eventually, each cycle completes itself for everything. During the fall of your Junior year at Berkeley, George proposes to you on a weekend trip up to Napa. He’s smiling the whole way through, and says he doesn’t want to wait any longer and heads straight to the courthouse to wed.

You want to say yes, you really do, but you can’t. No matter how many times you say you love him, you know that you love him as a confidant, but not a lover.

Rejecting his proposal, that ends every tie with George. Things are sour for a week, but Hatomi helps moderate a conversation between you two. George sobs, which in return, makes you cry. You apologize to him, and tell him he deserves better; telling him that if he sees a pretty girl, he should take her to the movies and buy her what she wants. George smiles and thanks you for loving him, hugging you, and wishing you the best of luck in your future endeavors. He writes you a letter, but you refuse to open it and leave inside of your copy of Citizen Kane, shoving it into your bookcase for it to gather dust.

After you and George are finished, there’s no time to grieve as you were being dragged into another situation. What seems like any other ordinary walk to your metaphysics class results with you alone in an office space with an intimidating general. He did not introduce himself, but you gathered his name as Major Groves. He held a thick file on you, questioning your life and digging into every little detail. He pressured you on your two brothers and roommates, who happened to be associated with the Communist party, asking if you had any association. You held your hands up and was nothing but honest; saying that while Hatomi still went to your meetings, your brothers had stopped talking about the idea once both of them married and had their own families.

Still, Groves persisted and became aggressive, accusing that your friends and you were some type of danger to democracy. Communism isn't your thing ever, but you had respected it. Many people you surround yourself with were either former communist or still into it, not that it bothers you. You thought of Robert; whom never associated, but you knew he gave money.

Which was strange. With your thought of Robert, you heard a silent shut. Groves sighed and you looked, and to your horror and saving grace, it was Robert.

“Thank god you’re here,” Groves let out a huff as he leaned against the desk.

“Major Groves,” Robert nodded his head as he took off his porkpie hat. He stood away from you, but beside your chair, “Is there any issue with Miss Y/n?”

Groves, still looking gruff, pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Well yes, and no. You see, I find it alarming that she has both family and friends in association with the Communist party. I also understand her, uhm,” Groves hesitated to say it out loud, “Former relations, according to you. It raises suspicious since well, she is both in association with a communist, many of whom who are female in which he know where that ends, and slept wi-”

You were about to walk out, not wanting to be dragged into whatever mess this way, but Robert’s calm voice echoed and immediately shut up Groves.

“General, on the defense of Miss Y/n, I can assure that her ideologies and gender are mennail to the subject of the meetings. As for our past relations, there are of the past. I ask that you not criticize or grill her without my presence,” Robert’s voice commanded. He looked at you and back at Groves, clearing his throat.

Your heart skipped a beat as you shifted in your head, clasping your hands together. Robert looked at you, and you returned his gaze, quietly thanking him.

Once Robert entered, Groves' interrogation stopped and he got what he pulled out of class. In his words, something “big” and “important” was occurring in an undisclosed location in New Mexico. You pieced together that a weapon of destruction was being built, since Groves brought up in your profile that your skills in Physics primarily resize in the nuclear and quantum mechanics, as described by the physics course taken at your time in Berkeley. You had even taken time out of your academic schedule and did research as a job with some of your professors. All of your Physics teachers concluded that you were extremely qualified and knowledgeable in Physics, and in one of them, being Robert.

Robert had gone on about your time in his class, saying that you were one of his brightest students, whom he had given recommendation should be part of said project. He said he was willing to talk with Berkeley to configure a way for you to leave and graduate on time to come and work on his location. Major Groves said with Robert’s recommendation, he would be pleased to approve your security clearance. Groevs also mentioned that he would give you time to figure out things with you, and also implying, Robert.

Groves had excused himself, leaving you and Robert alone. It had been two years since you two had been alone together, let alone really conversed. You still sit at the desk and look down, not wanting to look at Robert now, admiring your manicured nails in hopes that you wouldn’t chew off the nail polish.

“Thank you, by the way,” You muttered, “You didn’t have to.”

Some things never change, and you look up to see Robert, elearning against the desk as he looks at you, smoking out of a pipe.

“But I did. Not that I ever minded doing so.”

The tension never left, and both of you know it. Bouncing your leg, you lean forward and gather the courage to look at Robert.

“Why? Am I allowed to know why the hell I’m being dragged into this?”

“Y/n, you know I can’t say why. I can say that it is important, as you would say, in the grand scheme of the universe,” Robert explained, “We are small pieces, and this project is a much larger force. A force that can end all wars.”

Confusion still infects you. Some of this makes sense, while other parts do not. You think hard back to the past and Robert’s say on the war and weapons, trying to gather your thoughts on the situation Robert has dragged you into.

“The Germans are out of the war, that’s all I can truly think of,” You mentioned. Once we see Robert lean, your body compels you to lean forward as well, “Is this weapon of mass discussion?”

Robert looked uncomfortable by that saying. He shifts uncomfortably and stands from his desk, slowly making his way over to you. You want to protest and tell him to not, but you gravitate towards his presence. His hair is a little more gray, and he is still cold, but as handsome as ever.

“Call it what you want, but possibly. It’s a weapon to end all wars, ideally, the conflict in the Pacific,” Robert alluded to. You forgot how close he came to his desk. He puts his hands on the edge of the desk and you lean back, looking down. Your cheeks when red, reminding you of your younger days with Robert. Robert’s fingers anxiously curl over the wooden desk top as you let out a soft sigh, containing a noise you did not want to be heard by anyone else.

“There’s something else,” You blurted, “You want me for something else.”

It’s radio silent for a second. Robert’s fingers shift, and you heavily sigh.

“Robert–”

“I want you for your intelligence,” Robert says as a confession. His hands spread against the desk. As much as you try to control yourself, you can’t. Your hands uncurl from your grasp and cover his, grasping them.

“I also wanted you.”

With that, Robert asked to kiss you, and you didn’t even say yes as you jumped from your chair and crashed your lips into his. Nearly falling back, he grabbed you and dragged you to the ground, refusing to let go of your body and lips. It’s desperate and messy, evident that the two of you missed each other's presence. Robert asks to remove your clothes, and you let him do so. Once removing your panties and stockings, he sticks his hard dick into you and fucks you like there is no tomorrow. He covers your mouth as you cry tears of happiness and sadness, sobbing his name. Once he finishes inside of you, you hug him and sob your eyes out. Roberts holds you and says he won’t let go.

Both of you know you have a lot of shit to work through. He had Jean and you had George. Robert knows he’s fucked up, but he still loves you,a nd as much as you don’t want to admit it, you love him as much as he loves you. The whole reason you turned down George was because you still loved Robert. It wasn’t easy for you to forget , and with Robert, he clearly didn’t.

He promised to fix things if you came to Los Alamos with him.

And you did.

You managed to graduate from Berkeley a year early. Groves said that he would write to your family that you were involved in a top secret Government project, promising that he would try to cover your back as much as possible. Once you were out of this project your family would question you, but it wasn’t important. After all, Robert was right; you were small things in the grand scheme of it all.

Los Alamos is hot, cold, and isolating. You are severely depressed, but you are able to manage that with your work and Robert. The work on the bomb is no easy task; it’s full of pressure, arguments, and disagreements. You feel intimidated, surrounded by much older men, whom you feel have more power than you do, despite knowing that you are just as capable as they are. With this stress, Robert is your reliever. Every night, the two of you switch, finding a way to comfort one another in these depressing times.

Now, you live full time with Robert. Nothing is perfect, but the two of you talk and make things work in the best way possible.

You tell him about George and how you turned down his proposal. Robert coldly laughs, saying that you deserved a good man, and that you should have accepted. You said you couldn't because you loved him,a dn as much as Robert thinks you are lying, he loves the honesty that comes from you. It proves to him that when he fucked you, that you were always going to be his. He tells you that he’s cut things off with Jean, promising on his knees that he won’t ever respond to her calls ever again. You force him to promise you or else you’ll leave him. Robert looks like he’s going to sob when you said that, and he repeatedly insists that he will never do such a thing to you ever again.

You snap back to reality when they make an announcement that they will test the bomb in three minutes. The men around you anxiously chatter as they prepare for an explosion. You put on your sunglasses and look around you. You catch Edward Teller, basking in his sun chair with a face smothered in sunscreen and sunglasses. He looks down at you, and you look away into the dark night, anticipating the explosion. Your heart skips a beat, and to pass the time, you sink back into your racing thoughts.

In Between this drama, time passes in Los Alamos. Between the bomb being congested and your relationship with Robert being rebuilt, you fall sick. You’re nauseous, vomiting in the morning and sometimes the day, your period stops, constipation, backaches, you feel like you’re dying. You’re able to hide this from everyone but Robert, who assumes what he thinks it is. One trip to the infirmary confirms that you’re two months pregnant, bordering three.

Initially, you're shocked, but thinking back to the classroom, it all makes sense.

You’re ecstatic, despite being extremely sick. You take time off from your job, and Robert makes sure to tell everyone that you have come down. I'll have a bug and will return within a couple of months. The only people who know about the pregnancy are you, Robert, and the doctor. Robert makes sure to keep the mater private.

Like you, Robert is thrilled at the concept of you having a child. You’re rather young and nervous, but Robert promises to take care of you and your child. No longer can you do things on your own without Robert swooping in; whether that be cooking, cleaning, or even reaching for medicine.

The two of you lay in bed with your feet entangled. Robert caresses your stomach as he has done before, softly going over the small bump forming in your stomach.

“I thought I had been putting on weight,” You bluntly admitted, rolling your shoulders back.

“And even if you were, I would love you the same as I loved you before,” Robert plants a kiss into your hair, gently patting your stomach, “You look as beautiful as ever, love. Even with our child, you’re still so tiny. You’re just as I remembered you-”, His hands grab yours as he interlocks your digits, “-in that classroom at Berkeley. You shook your leg and your skirt rode up. As you bit your lip, I looked, and I fell. I feel hard, y/n. I love you.”

You smile to yourself and close your eyes, squeezing his hand.

“I love you too, Robert.”

“59 seconds until the drop!” A voice booms over the loudspeaker. Anxiety, nerves, and excitement fills the crowd of Sciences, including yourself. You put a hand on your stomach, feeling the flatness. Sometimes, you can still feel that bump. It’s been a long time, but she’s still there, haunting you.

You lose the baby at seven months, and remember there being so much blood and tears. Every night after losing the child, you cried yourself to sleep and apologized to Robert. Robert held you and comforted you at that time. He kissed you and held you close, saying that all was well as long as you were him.

You violently sobbed, thinking back to your days of reading Greek myths at his rental house on Shasta. Just as Hades had given Persephone the seeds for her to say, Robert had impregnated to you and brought you to his desert exile. And like Persephone, you stayed.

Just as tears were beginning to form in your eyes, a light dried the tears right out of your eyes.

At 5:29:45 AM local time, the stillness was shattered by an imperceptible click, triggering the activation sequence of the Trinity bomb.

A brilliant, searing light erupted on the horizon with a radiance unparalleled by any natural phenomenon. The desert floor was instantaneously transformed into a blinding white sea of light, casting stark shadows of the nearby objects. The intensity of the light seemed to defy the boundaries of the human eye, as if a new sun had temporarily usurped the heavens.

A seething ball of fire engulfed the desert in those milliseconds, swelling with ferocious energy. A towering column of smoke and dust spiraled upward, its outline illuminated by the incandescent glow. The ball of fire and the mushroom-shaped cloud of debris swelled and merged into a surreal symphony of colors – brilliant whites, fiery oranges, and deep reds – like a celestial painter's brush strokes across the sky.

Trinity’s detonation unleashed a symphony of destruction that resonated not just across the desert but through history itself. The ground quaked with a seismic force, as though the Earth itself trembled at the unimaginable power harnessed by humanity's newfound knowledge. A resounding shockwave rippled through the air, shattering windows miles away and rattling the bones of those who stood witness.

The sound that followed was a peculiar and haunting one – a low, rumbling roar that bore no resemblance to the traditional thunder or even the roar of an aircraft engine. It was as if the very air had been torn apart and reconstituted into a sound that could only be described as the collective gasp of nature itself, a primordial cry at witnessing its own mastery being tested and defied.

The visual and auditory onslaught seemed to defy the boundaries of perception, leaving spectators both in awe and in terror. The Trinity test had successfully harnessed the fundamental forces of the universe and turned them into a weapon of unimaginable devastation. In the wake of that blinding light and resounding sound, a sense of profound unease settled upon those who bore witness – an understanding that the world had irrevocably changed, and humanity had ventured into a new and uncertain frontier, where the implications of our newfound power were as profound as they were perilous.

The cheers are loud and violent. People are thrilled that those two years of hard work have paid off. They're dancing, drinking, celebrating, and you feel happy, even partaking in such matters.

When the bomb is dropped on Hiroshima, the celebrations truly ensue. The excitement from the test early explodes with raw joy. Everyone knows that the ear is coming to an end as they drink, sing, dance, cheer, and cry. Emotions flood as people celebrate, and you partake in them for a while. As you do, you look for Robert but he’s nowhere to be found. You search within the crowd but you can't identify his pork pie hat or pipe.

Fleeing from the celebrations, you flee to Roberts office. His secretary isn’t there, so you make this way to your office. You find him standing by the window, simply looking at the crowd. As they move, he stands perfectly still. His hat is thrown on the ground and his pipe is thrown on his desk.

“Robert?” You sing-song his name, quietly walking over, “Oppie?”

There’s no response. He’s not acting happy, nor does he look at it. He looks devastated.

His eyes are watery, and you can immediately feel the guilt on his shoulders.

There’s no need for words as you walk over and crash into Robert. His arms wrap around you and with that, he quietly cries into your shoulder, sinking with you into the carpeted ground.

#carrie writes #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy imagine #oppenheimer x reader #robert j oppenheimer x reader #j robert oppenheimer #j robert oppenheimer x reader #robert j oppenheimer #oppenheimer

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chelseachilly · 1 year

Text

THIS LOVE - chapter five | we found wonderland, you and i got lost in it

pairing: ben chilwell x reader

rating: T

word count: 2.9k

summary: you know you have to end your fake relationship with ben, you just have to find the right time. and get through one more big event as his girlfriend. ft. special guest appearance by mason!!! (and lots of angst)

A/N: once again i'm sorry for the delay in updating, i've had a busy couple of weeks! i also apologize in advance for this chapter...title is from wonderland by taylor

previous chapter | view all chapters

The week following the Nike party, you once again find yourself in the difficult position of avoiding your best friend/fake boyfriend.

This time, though, it’s not because you’re confused about how you’re feeling about him. It’s because you’re now painfully aware of the fact that you’re in love with him, and it’s very hard to be around him and pretend you’re not.

It’s also much harder to pretend to be his girlfriend in public now, which is why you know you need to tell him this is over. You just don’t know how - or when.

You know for certain that you’re going to have to wait until his international break this week is over, as the last thing you want to do is mess with his head before he takes on Italy at Wembley on Sunday. When he texts you from the training camp that he’s likely to be on the starting lineup, you’re so happy for him that you almost forget how dire the situation is.

You’ve already agreed to attend the game and sit in the players lounge with his family, as well as attend the team dinner with him afterward. These are all things a girlfriend would do - although they’re also all things you’ve done many times before you were “dating” - but you’re dreading it.

It’s going to be incredibly painful sitting there cheering him on in his kit and holding his hand at dinner knowing all of this has an expiration date. That it isn’t real.

When Sunday rolls around, you reluctantly put on Ben’s jersey - a brand-new England one this time, which he had delivered to you this week - and prepare yourself for the task at hand. You just need to get through today. You’ll tell him tomorrow that this needs to end, and hopefully you will have done enough to repair his image by now that whatever statement his publicist writes about your “amicable breakup” will suffice. As much as it’s killing you to keep this going, you’re not sure you would have it in you to end it if Ben will suffer for it.

His mum and sister come to pick you up so you can go to Wembley together, and you force a smile as Sally chats excitedly about the match ahead and thanks you profusely for what you’re doing for Ben. This makes you feel even worse, as you can’t really explain to Ben’s mother that you might have to put his reputation on the line once again because you’ve gone and fallen in love with him.

Or perhaps that you’ve been in love with him the whole time without realizing it. And that you being in love with him is the reason you agreed to be his fake girlfriend so easily.

And maybe that it’s why it’s why it’s never worked out with any of your past boyfriends. You’d always assumed they were threatened by Ben because they weren’t used to boys and girls being so close or they were intimidated by him being a footballer, but maybe there was some merit to it - maybe it’s why it didn’t even cross your mind that pretending to date Ben might interfere with your love life.

But those are all thoughts you don’t have time to dwell on right now, as your Uber is pulling up to the stadium and you have to mentally prepare for an entire day and night with Ben and many of his closest friends and family.

You’re escorted by England staff to a bustling room full of people and given your VIP passes for the day. You weren’t sure if the players would be allowed to mingle with their guests before warmups, but it seems Southgate is going a bit easy on them as they’re already leading their group in the qualifiers and they’ve been training hard all week. This is nice for the boys, but not so great for you.

As soon as you walk into the lounge, Ben runs over to greet you, enveloping his mum and Alex in a quick hug before giving you a casual peck on the cheek that feels too casual, too reflexive. You barely even register it until he’s pulled back and is beaming at you.

“Thanks for coming,” he murmurs in a low, sincere voice that you know is only meant for you to hear. “I missed you this week.”

Your brain can’t seem to conjure a response, apparently overwhelmed by the slightest bit of attention from the man you’ve known just about your entire life, but luckily you’re interrupted.

You squeal slightly as you feel someone hug you from behind, but you relax as you turn to see it’s only Mason. Returning his bright smile, you throw your arms around him to hug him tightly.

“Mason, it’s been forever!” you exclaim as you pull back.

Mason has always been one of your favourites of Ben’s friends, and you’ve been quite close with him ever since Ben joined Chelsea. You think you’ve missed him almost as much as Ben has since his transfer to Manchester United.

“I know,” Mason sighs. “Been a crazy few months, but it’s nice to be back in London for a few days and see everyone.”

“Especially his best mate who he abandoned,” Ben jokes, making both you and Mason roll your eyes instinctively. “I’m gonna show Mum and Alex to the bar, you want anything, Y/N?”

“Um, no, I’m good, thanks,” you say a bit stiffly, fiddling with the seam of your shirt and avoiding eye contact.

Ben looks a bit confused but doesn’t press you further, probably because you’re surrounded by people, and nods once before walking away with Alex and Sally.

As soon as he’s gone, Mason looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s going on with you two?”

“Has Ben not told you about our…arrangement?” you ask quietly.

“No, he has,” Mason shakes his head. “I mean why are you being weird privately? Are you guys fighting or something?”

You let out a sigh - if Mason picked up on how awkward that interaction was then Ben definitely did too, and that’s the last thing you want.

“It’s nothing. I’m just…reconsidering the arrangement,” you admit. “It’s become a lot harder than I expected.”

“Too hard pretending to be in love with Ben? Fair enough,” Mason says with a slight chuckle, which quickly fades when he sees your serious expression.

“More like…too easy,” you murmur.

He’s the first person you’re confessing this to, as it’s still too terrifying for you to even fathom, let alone speak out loud. It does feel like a small weight off your chest, but that’s replaced by another wave of fear. You know Mason won’t tell anyone, but saying it makes it seem all the more real.

“Seriously?” Mason asks with wide eyes.

“Please don’t say anything to him.”

“I won’t, but…holy shit, Y/N. You’re in love with Ben. I mean, I always thought there was something, but-“

“Keep your voice down,” you scold him quietly, before his words fully grip you. “Wait, you knew?”

“Well, you guys have always been so close.”

“He’s also close with you and Tom and Madders and-“

“It’s not the same, and you know it,” Mason says gently yet firmly at the same time, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You should tell him.”

“I…I can’t,” you sigh. “He doesn’t feel the same way, and I can’t risk losing him completely.”

“But-“

He doesn’t get to finish his rebuttal before Ben returns to your side, passing you a glass.

“Got you a water just in case, you looked a bit pale,” he says softly with a gentle hand on your back, making your heart thump so hard in your chest that you’re worried it’s going to explode. “But say the word and I’ll swap it out for a G&T.”

Damn this boy and his thoughtful gestures and how well he knows you and how cute he looks in his training kit. It’s going to be a long day.

“Thanks,” you say with a small smile, ignoring the knowing looks Mason is sending your way.

The boys say goodbye shortly after to go prepare for the game, and you find Alex and Sally once more so you can make your way to your seats.

It’s a tense game, even if you weren’t already tense going into it. Both teams have a goal going into the second half, and possession has been a pretty even split so far. As the clock begins to run out, it looks like a draw is likely - until Ben volleys it into the net with less than five minutes to go and scores the winner.

Of course he looks insanely good doing it, too - you really hope Sally is distracted enough by celebrating Ben’s goal that she doesn’t see how you’re staring at her son like he’s the hottest person you’ve ever seen in your life, which he very well might be. You’re completely in awe of him as he celebrates the goal and, as soon as the whistle is blown, the win, with his teammates.

God forbid he just be your insanely attractive, smart, caring best friend, he also has to be a national hero today.

Everyone is caught up in the excitement of another win, solidifying England’s place in the Euros, as you make your way down to the tunnels to congratulate the boys.

When you see Ben, you don’t know what comes over you, but every single rational thought that existed in your brain a few hours ago flies out the window. You know you should be holding back, but instead you find yourself running straight toward him and flinging your arms around his neck.

Ben immediately catches you and pulls you close, and despite how sweaty he is and how many people are watching, you can’t seem to get close enough. You squeeze him tight as he lifts you off the ground for a moment.

“You were amazing,” you mumble into his shoulder.

When he pulls back, part of you expects to snap out of whatever spell he has you under, but it’s the exact opposite - you see his wide eyes and bright smile and it suddenly feels hard to stand.

Ben must notice your sudden lightheadedness, as his hands find your waist and keep you steady.

“You alright?” he asks you quietly, and you nod.

“Yeah, I’m just so proud of you,” you say, and it’s half of the truth. The other half is that you’re so in love with him you can hardly breathe. “That was so incredible.”

Ben smiles and squeezes your waist tighter, somehow both grounding you and making you feel like you’re floating at the same time.

“Thank you for being here,” he breathes.

You think you could stand here in his arms, staring into his bright blue eyes, for the rest of eternity, but you’re still in a room full of people, all of whom want Ben’s attention at the moment.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” Ben says softly as he’s being summoned for an interview, and you just nod and watch him go.

You continue to watch him with pride from afar as he answers questions about the match and his goal.

His gaze periodically drifts over to you, his smile growing each time your eyes meet.

You realize that although this may be the first time you’ve been able to identify what the feelings are, this isn’t the first time you’ve looked at him and felt like your heart was going to explode out of your chest.

You felt this way when he showed up at your dorm with all your favourite foods and spent the entire night helping you study for a chemistry exam. You felt it when he got his first England call-up and FaceTimed you before anyone else. You’ve felt it when you’re watching a film and he adds his own little commentary that would annoy you if it were anyone but him.

At your best and worst moments, through the years and across miles that separated you, it’s always been Ben.

As Sally and Alex leave to find the washroom, you see Mason approaching you with a knowing glint in his eye.

“Nice game,” you say to him a bit shyly, knowing that he’s caught you staring at his best mate like he hung the stars.

“Thanks,” Mason says with a soft look, throwing his arm around you. “You should tell him tonight, Y/N. The game is over and he has the next week off. It’s the perfect time.”

“I can’t,” you reiterate, “he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“How do you know?”

“Mase, the whole reason we’re doing this is because he has a reputation for being a fuckboy, remember?” you whisper to him. “He’s never seen me that way.”

“Y/N…”

You’re once again saved from Mason’s line of questioning when Ben begins to wave you over to where the players are all taking photos with their significant others in front of the England flag.

“Tell him,” Mason whispers to you once more as you begin to walk away, walking directly over to the man your brain is telling you to run away from.

Your heart rate is still struggling to return to normal from the hug earlier, and it doesn’t help things when Ben immediately pulls you into his side for the photo, fingers splayed across your hip.

“You two are adorable!” the girl taking the photo, someone from the media team, exclaims with a grin. “Would you like to do one with a kiss?”

You’re aware that it might look suspicious if you don’t kiss him when all the other couples have, so you’re already racking your brain for an excuse when you feel Ben looking at you.

He raises his eyebrows slightly, keeping his gaze locked to yours, and your stomach flips as you realize he’s asking for your consent.

The rest of the world seems to cease to exist for a moment. You can’t hear the camera flashes or see the dozens of people watching you. Everything disappears except Ben, and his lips that are dangerously close to kissing yours should you give him permission.

Once again, your feelings overtake your common sense, and your head is nodding before your brain can catch up.

Your eyes shut on reflex as Ben presses his lips to yours.

It’s the most amazing kiss of your life.

His lips are soft and warm and they mold so seamlessly against yours, like they were sculpted for this very purpose.

It only lasts a moment, but it’s long enough to know that you could spend the rest of eternity kissing him.

When you slowly open your eyes, the look on Ben’s face snaps you out of your idyllic trance and brings you crashing back down to reality.

His eyes are wide, and he looks a bit like he’s seen a ghost. While you were fantasizing about what could be, he appears uncomfortable. Ashamed, even.

Of course he is. You’ve just kissed the man you love, but he’s just kissed his platonic best friend as part of an elaborate PR scheme.

You’ve been living in a fairytale, getting swept up in a world where you are Ben’s girlfriend and his feelings for you are genuine, but it’s not real.

It never will be.

“I-I have to go,” you mutter quietly, shaking your head as you pull away from his embrace.

Your vision goes a bit blurry as you desperately look for an exit, brushing past Mason as he tries to ask if you’re okay and marching toward the door.

“Wait, Y/N!”

You can hear Ben’s voice as you walk quickly through the tunnels of Wembley, trying to find your way to the street so you can get an Uber and get out of there.

“Y/N, please stop and just talk to me for a minute!”

You begin to jog away in your desperation to avoid speaking to him right now, but you realize it’s not very realistic that you’re going to outrun a professional footballer, so you stop when you hear him getting closer.

“Ben, just let me go,” you sigh in exasperation.

He’s looking at you with wide eyes, and when he reaches out to touch your arm, you recoil from him.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong,” Ben insists. “Are you upset that I kissed you? I thought you were saying you were okay with it, or else I never would have-“

“It’s fine, Ben, I just can’t do this anymore,” you say, trying to get the words out quickly so he doesn’t hear your voice tremble. “I’m sorry.”

“Can’t do what?” he questions. “You mean…this? The plan?”

You nod and watch Ben’s face fall in disappointment. Despite how your heart is aching right now, you still feel terrible for letting him down. All you ever wanted was to help him, and now your stupid feelings have gone and messed everything up.

“I’m sorry, Ben, I can’t,” you say, clenching your jaw to keep from crying. “I have to go.”

“Wait,” he says again, voice softer this time as he reaches out to grab your hand. “Please tell me what happened. Did I do something?”

It hurts you to see him so distraught over upsetting you when he doesn’t know the reason why, when his only crime is making you fall in love with him.

“Nothing happened,” you insist, once again pulling away from his touch even though it feels like cutting off a limb. “I just need some space and everything be fine, I promise.”

You turn to walk away from him with tears streaming down your face, knowing that for the first time in your life, you’ve made a promise to him you’re not sure you can keep.

a/n: let me know what you thought!!! your comments/asks make my day! tag list: @lunamelona @kathb59 @captainwans @amandaaa1025 @bbygrlllllll @cinderellawithashoe @batmansb1tch @ncentic @myheartgoesvroom @chillymountsjess @babygirlbenji @delicateearthquakellama @joyfullyswimmingface @xxenia14 @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @chilwellspulisic @maraudersmap123 (let me know if you would like to be added or if i missed you!)

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell x y/n #ben chilwell imagine #chelsea fc imagine #this love

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