#i constantly wished for my life to be something solid; a perfect picture that had an end goal

[fairynook]

“I wish for the same thing I've hoped for since the beginning. I wish for a life so brave, so unpredictable, so full of unexpected joys and unforgettable love that no box could possibly contain all my memories... Such a life won't be perfect. It'll be something better... It'll be my own paradise."

- Chelsey Philpot

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter One}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara's blogs! >> @tacmc.

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby's Masterlist

Tara's Masterlist

5 years later….

Nyx looked at his birthday cake and the lone candle that was lit atop the icing before looking up at Feyre with a confused expression on his beautiful, little face.

His mother laughed, quietly, before leaning forward and taking out the candle. She had just blown out the flame when Rhys barely pushed the cake closer to Nyx, who put his chubby, little hands smack-dab in the middle of the icing and dug in.

Everyone had come to celebrate, and even Nesta couldn’t stop her smile from showing. At least, she let it show when she was on the opposite end of the house from the one and only, and massively self-centered, Cassian Nazari.

Of course, he would be at Nyx’s first birthday party. He was Nyx’s uncle - maybe not by blood, not that blood mattered when it came to Cassian, Rhysand, and their other lifelong friend, Azriel.

He, too, stood across the kitchen, watching as Elain snapped picture after picture of the jubilant baby, the mess atop his high chair the largest Nesta had ever seen. She knew Elain was taking notes for their own daughter’s birthday party, though she was barely three months old.

Rhysand’s smile was as big as Feyre’s as they watched their son, listening as his giggles filled the kitchen. Nyx realized quickly that the cake was for him alone and after smashing it for a few moments, he lifted a large handful to his chubby face and took a bite. His eyes lit up and that started the giggling anew.

Nesta loved her nephew and niece, had loved him since the day they were born, but she didn’t envy her sisters and their happy families. Unlike them, she had remained perfectly content on her own, especially after the endless string of disaster dates she had been forced to sit through throughout the years.

And children? It wasn’t that Nesta disliked kids. Not all kids, at least. She loved her nephew and niece, anyway. Having one of her own, though? Having to be around one every day? Every night? Having to constantly try and make a tiny person content?

No, thank you. That was a challenge she had little interest in.

A deep rumbling laugh came from across the house and Nesta looked up to find Cassian entering the kitchen, still chuckling at something Mor had said.

As hard as she tried, she couldn’t keep her lip from curling slightly as she looked at him. It only infuriated her more when he caught sight of her as he raised his beer to his lips and winked.

He was absolutely insufferable.

After their catastrophe of a date years ago, which Nesta had made Feyre promise was a stunt she’d never pull again, she had only been forced to be around Cassian Nazari a handful of times.

One of which was during Feyre and Rhysand’s wedding, only months after their date.

“You only have to walk with him for thirty seconds,” Feyre had sighed, while Mor continued to pin and curl her hair into place. “You don’t have to be happy about it.”

“Good,” Nesta said, draining the glass of champagne in her hand. “Because I’m not.”

As Feyre’s maid-of-honor, it was customary that she was supposed to walk out of the wedding arm in arm with Rhysand’s best man. She wished that he’d picked Azriel, but since it seemed the Cauldron hated her, it had to be Cassian.

Elain, who was harboring the world’s most obvious crush on Azriel at the time, was thrilled with how they’d be exiting the wedding. Nevertheless, she said to Nesta, “I think you two got off on the wrong foot. He’s a really good guy, Nes.”

Nesta shot her youngest sister a look of pure annoyance through the mirror’s reflection. “Have any of you ever been on a date with the guy? And not only a date, but the worst date of your life?”

Feyre snorted, fully aware of where this conversation was headed. “No.”

“Then you have no room to talk,” Nesta snapped, admiring herself in the mirror. “Mother’s tits, Feyre, he wore jeans to the nicest restaurant in Velaris!”

“At least he didn’t wear his boots,” Mor muttered, then she caught Nesta’s glare in the mirror. “Really? He wore his boots?”

“He was dressed for an all-night, summer bonfire,” Nesta said, shaking her head. “And he’s completely full of himself. And, he forgot his wallet!”

“Not like you can’t afford dinner,” Feyre said, and Nesta’s lips snapped shut. She was fully aware that the conversation had somehow become a let’s-pick-on-Nesta session.

Feyre added, “You have to walk back down the aisle with him, share an entire table during dinner, and that’s it. No one is asking you to dance with him, but be nice.” Nesta met Feyre’s eyes, her jaw set. Feyre sighed, “Fine, be civil.”

She scoffed, but nodded. “Fine.”

The ceremony itself went off without a hitch. It was beautiful and elegant and the perfect wedding Rhys and Feyre had always wanted.

She ignored Cassian’s unending looks the whole night, managed to give her maid-of-honor speech without snarling at him, and after that, took advantage of the open bar her sister and new brother had so kindly provided.

She was coming out of the bathroom, a glass of wine still clutched in her hand, doing her best not to trip over her own feet when she walked into a wall.

A wall of solid muscle that turned out to be Cassian’s back.

When he turned around and she looked up at him, his eyes were nearly as glazed as hers.

“Hello, Nes,” he said, smirking down at her.

She bit out, “Don’t call me that.”

“That was a pretty, little speech you gave,” he said, leaning against the wall. “I know true love exists cause I’ve seen it first hand. Poetic.”

Nesta scoffed, brushing off the skirt of her dress as if he had tainted it. “Don’t flatter yourself. I wasn’t referring to you. I was talking about Feyre and Rhys, in case you thought otherwise.”

“Oh, I didn’t,” he promised. “Honestly, I didn’t think you were talking about anyone. Just some fluffy shit that sounded sweet. Unless it’s that guy that showed up at the restaurant and ruined our date. Oh, wait,” he began, tapping his chin as if in deep thought, “You dumped him though, right? Poor bastard.”

“You’re a prick,” Nesta bit out. She refrained from saying that Tomas hadn’t ruined their date. It was sad that seeing her ex was one the bright points of her night, rather than seeing the Greek god standing before her. The pretentious, cocky asshole of a Greek god.

He only grinned. “But am I a liar?”

Nesta’s jaw locked. She eyed his tux. “I’m just glad you decided to clean up for your own brother’s wedding. No jeans?”

He scoffed. “Is that the worst you’ve got?”

“Do you prefer me to give you my worst?” she asked, brows furrowing. “If so, you may want to be careful what you wish for.”

Cassian said nothing, just lifted the beer she hadn’t noticed in his hands to his lips.

Nesta rolled her eyes, brushing past him, and made a move to head back into the reception.

His voice called out behind her, “You don’t have to be such a miserable bitch, you know?”

She froze, looking back at him. He was no longer smirking at her. Instead, his eyes were intense. “Excuse you?”

“You’re so miserable that you won’t allow anyone else to have any fun, won’t allow yourself to either,” he said, still leaning against that damn wall. He crossed his arms over his muscular chest, his dress shirt tight and loose in all the right places. “You want everyone else to suffer, just because you’re forcing yourself to, for whatever reason.”

“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” she bit out, stalking back over to him. She was so close she had to look up into his face.

“I don’t,” he said, words clipped. “I tried, but you didn’t seem very inclined to let me get to know you during our date. You were more concerned with my attire and your ex than you were with me. You thought all I wanted to do was fuck you.” His eyes, still glassy and glazed, dragged down her body and back up again. “Besides, you’ve got that damn stick shoved so far up your ass, there wouldn’t have been room for my cock even if I’d really even tried.”

A blink was Nesta’s only reaction. Then her hand was moving of its own accord, splashing her full glass of wine directly in his face and all over that pretty, white shirt.

“Go fuck yourself,” was all she’d said before she walked back into the ceremony, leaving him there to drip on the venue’s fancy carpet.

“Nesta!”

She blinked, Feyre’s voice drawing Nesta out of her memories, looking over at her sister. She stood next to Rhys and Elain, who had her camera in her hands, and Cassian stood behind Nyx’s high chair.

“I want a picture of him with his godparents, come here,” she beamed and Nesta tried not to cringe.

She had been so proud, her heart feeling like it would burst when Feyre and Rhys had asked her to be Nyx’s godmother. There was no hesitation when she said yes, tears lining her eyes as she’d hugged both her sister and brother-in-law.

She tried not to think about the fact that when they’d told her Cassian was his godfather, she nearly asked them to give the distinction to Elain.

But she hadn’t, wouldn’t. Despite what others, especially Cassian, thought of her… Nesta loved her nephew.

She loved her family.

With a sigh, Nesta meandered over to Nyx’s high chair. “Alright.”

“Closer,” Feyre ordered, gesturing Nesta to move in closer beside Cassian behind the high chair.

Nesta’s lips pursed but she took another step toward the boys for her sister’s sake.

“I’m not poisonous, Nesta,” Cassian muttered, smiling at the camera as he spoke. “You won’t burst into flames if we brush arms.”

“You’d be so lucky to brush arms with me,” she muttered back, hoping the smile she was giving her sister was convincing - and knowing full well that it wasn’t.

Without another word, Cassian tossed his arm around Nesta and said, “Cheeeeese!”

Nyx was giggling, looking up at his godparents behind him. There was so much joy and adoration in those big, beautiful eyes that Nesta didn’t have the heart to storm off, leaving Cassian in her dust, no matter how much she wanted to.

The camera’s flash went off and Nesta pushed Cassian’s arm off her shoulder.

The rest of the party was perfect. Feyre took Nyx up to the bathroom to clean him off, while Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian hauled his many gifts out into the living room. Feyre opened them one by one, despite everyone knowing Nyx had no clue what was going on, though he did clap his chubby little hands and giggle at a few particular items. Nesta stood off to the side with Elain, holding a milk-drunk, sleepy Seph in her arms.

Azriel and Elain’s little girl had been a surprise, neither of them planning on Elain getting pregnant so soon after they got married. They both fell into the role of parents so seamlessly though, that Nesta knew another baby would be in their near future. They adored the baby girl, and she was the most perfect baby Nesta had ever seen.

Persephone hardly cried, only doing so when she was hungry or needed to be changed, and once whatever wrong was taken care of, she became a happy, smiley baby again.

Nyx, on the other hand, had been a hellion as a baby.

Which was to be expected, considering who his father was. Although responsible when necessary, Rhysand was just as much of a madman as Cassian...especially when infused with alcohol.

“You look good with a baby,” Elain crooned from beside her sister.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “You can keep trying to push me down the marriage-baby road, but I just won’t take it. Wasting your time.”

Elain sighed, dramatically, with that little grin remaining on her soft pink lips. “As long as you stay such a good auntie, I suppose I can’t complain.”

Nesta looked down at the sweet, sleeping infant in her arms. She didn’t mind those little snuggles.

She did mind the diaper blowouts, constant spit-ups, and loud crying, though. That’s usually when she gave Seph back to her parents and blissfully enjoyed her independent life.

Feyre gasped and Nesta looked up. She was holding a little guitar that had Nyx’s name and the night sky engraved into the dark-stained wood.

Nesta’s eyes snapped to Cassian.

Cassian smiled, fondly, at Feyre. “I know he won’t be able to start messing with it for another few years, but I couldn't help myself.”

“He made that himself, you know.” Nesta’s eyes shot to Elain, who was watching the scene before them. She whispered again, “He doesn’t do it for a living, of course, but it’s a hobby of his, making guitars. He’s really good.”

She blinked, the information catching her off guard for whatever reason. But all she said was, “That’s nice.”

She spent the rest of the afternoon, ignoring the man as much as she could, as she always did. But as the guests began to dwindle, as Nyx and Seph went down for their naps, the three sisters gathered in the living room, while Rhys, Azriel, and Cassian went out back to inspect the small jungle gym Rhys was building for Nyx. Again, he was too young to use most of it, but the tiny swing and slide would be hours of fun for the little man.

Feyre brought two cups of coffee out to her sisters before collapsing next to Elain on the couch. “That could not have gone better if we tried.”

Nesta leveled her a look and raised an eyebrow.. “If we tried? You had a minute-by-minute itinerary for a one-year-old’s birthday.”

“Everything was perfect,” Elain smiled, cutting off Nesta, blowing on her coffee gently. “Nyx had a good time, neither he nor Seph had a blow-up, Cassian and Nesta managed to be in the same room without stabbing each other. All in all, a good day.”

Nesta rolled her eyes before throwing a vulgar gesture towards her sisters, who were both laughing.

“Fine, new subject,” Feyre grinned. “Oh! Before I forget, Rhys and I are going out of town for our anniversary in a few weeks. I was hoping you could watch Nyx for a few days.”

It took Nesta a moment to realize that Feyre was talking to her. She froze, having been blowing on her own hot coffee. “I’m sorry, what?”

Feyre laughed, quietly. “I was hoping that you could watch Nyx while Rhys and I go away for a long weekend. We’re going to the mountains for our anniversary. To his family’s cabin.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” Elain said, looking at Nesta.

Who blinked, having only unfrozen to set her coffee down on the table between them. “You want me…to watch Nyx…for the weekend? Alone? By myself? Just me and him?”

“That’s what I was hoping for, yeah,” Feyre said, nodding as she sipped from her cup. “You can come here, where all of his stuff is in one place, and make yourself at home.” She shrugged. “I’ll leave money for takeout and the key to the wine cabinet.”

Nesta hesitated. “I’ve only babysat Nyx a couple of times…all for, like, an hour each.”

“It will be fine,” she said, a genuine smile on her face. “It will only be three nights, really. We’ll leave after work on Thursday and be home Sunday evening.”

Nesta stammered and shook her head. “I have to work on Friday, the restaurant-.”

“I’ll keep him during the day on Friday,” Elain offered. “I don’t have any shoots that day, so he can spend the day with me and Seph.”

“You could keep him the whole weekend,” Nesta tried, looking at her younger sister hopefully.

“Seph is enough of a handful,” she chuckled, glancing at Feyre, who was nodding as well. “I don’t think I can handle two at once for an entire weekend.”

“Please, Nes,” Feyre said, drawing her eldest sister’s eyes to her. “I know you can do it and it would be nice for you to spend some time together, just you two.”

“And you can call me, if you need anything,” Elain added.

Nesta looked from Feyre to Elain. “You two already planned this.” They at least had the wherewithal to look guilty. She sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “Fine. But I’ll probably end up calling both of you every thirty seconds.”

“I can work with that,” Feyre said, just as Elain said, “Then it’s settled!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nesta snorted, shaking her head. “But, I hope you know that I wouldn’t do this for anybody else.”

“Oh, I know,” Feyre grinned, “which is what makes you such a wonderful, wonderful big sister.”

“I am pretty damn wonderful,” Nesta agreed, grinning as she sipped from her mug.

As she drank, she peeked out the window, where the boys were putting together the playset. Once she did, only one thing caught her eye.

Cassian was already watching her.

And when he caught her gaze, that stupid little, cocky-ass grin appeared.

She hated that grin, hated it with every ounce of her being.

And she wouldn’t feel bad for it, no matter how much her sisters adored the guy.

She hated him, hated Cassian Nazari.

And she always would.

[pascalpanic]

Just One Mission (Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x Champagne’s Daughter!Reader)

Inspo: I Like It, I Love It by Tim McGraw

Summary: Your father, Champ, runs Statesman, and you’re his best- and only- female agent. Your normal partner, Tequila, is out, leaving you with another agent. Normally this would be fine, but it’s with Whiskey, who practically ignores you, despite the fact that you’re crushing hard on him. You’re sent to the county fair to track an undercover bad guy under the guise of being a couple for your latest mission, and it starts to feel more and more like something is happening, not just between your fictional couple.

WC: 5.1k

Warnings: language, obvious mentions of alcohol (this is Statesman after all)

A/N: Can I get a yeehaw for our favorite cowboy? Biggest of thank yous to @remmysbounty for helping me name this!

“You can’t be serious. Why can’t anything ever be straightforward around here? Why do I always have to go play make-believe?” You asked, pushing your glasses back up your nose to clarify his hologram. You move from where you stand, against the window showing the New York skyline, to walk towards the meeting table.

Champ gives a chuckle, as if he knows everything. Of course he does. He’s your boss and he never fails to make that known. “You came into this job knowing you’d be doing undercover work, Amaretto,” Champ says with a pointed look. You bite down on your lip to avoid cussing and look down to avoid his eyes. “Plus, you’re our best. And our only lady.”

“Whose fault is that?” you grumble, crossing your arms. Normally it doesn’t bother you much, but today you wished more women worked in the field. “Why can’t I go with Tequila? Him and I work well together, you know that,” you ask, hating your voice and your tone. You sound like a whiny teen complaining to her dad. Honestly, it was close enough, and maybe even worse: you were a fully grown woman complaining to her dad.

Your father, Champ, sighs and removes his hat. “For God’s sake, ‘Retto. Tequila’s mission has been extended. I’m sorry to tell you that Agent Whiskey will be your partner for just one mission, for one night.”

“Dad, I-”

“That’s Champ when you’re in here, Amaretto,” he chides, which makes you groan and plop down on an office chair, kicking your legs up onto the table and crossing them. “It’s a small mission. You can handle it. Whiskey’ll treat you right.”

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you knew you could handle it. You would be more than fine pretending to be Whiskey’s sweetheart for the evening. It was what came after that you didn’t want. You had known Jack for a while now, and had been hiding a crush ever since the man first entered your life. 

You had been a Statesman ever since your father revealed to you that he wasn’t just the head of the Kentucky distillery- he was the head of a spy organization under the same name. Your career here hadn’t been long, but you were already proving that the skills must run in the family. You were the first female field agent, had a perfect mission record, and no unnecessary kills or injuries. That impressed Jack as much as the rest of the facility, maybe even more. You were a stunning and sharp woman with brains to match. 

As much as Whiskey wanted to flirt with you, to tell you just what he thought of you, he held back. Your father held his job by a string. In order to hold back everything he thought, he kept a distance. You were the only woman in the company Whiskey didn’t flirt with. “He hates me,” you say sharply to your father, telling him what you really thought Whiskey’s opinion of you was. He complimented every woman around him, but he actively avoided you. When you had talked in the past, it was brief and he had always found an excuse to leave. How else could you take that?

“Prob’ly just jitters around the boss’s girl,” your father drawls, and you want to scream and shout and throw a temper tantrum. “Besides, you both have roles. Neither of you have to be yourself.”

Stopping you before you can launch into a rant, a knock comes at the meeting room door. You look and- speak of the devil- Whiskey peeks his head in, finding you alone in the meeting room. “Sorry. Heard ya talking, you in a meeting?”

Your father laughs as he hears the man’s voice. “Tell him to put on the glasses,” he tells you, only audible through your earpiece. You relay the message to him and once Jack’s glasses are on, he straightens a little, addressing your father. “Good to see you, Whiskey. Just telling Amaretto about the mission,” Champ tells him, and you roll your eyes.

“Right, that mission. Next week?” He asks, clarifying, eyes darting to you briefly before finding your father again.

“You got it.” A knock comes at the meeting room in Kentucky, and your father turns for a moment, then back to the two of you. “Ginger’s callin’. Talk to you later, darlin’, and you too, Whiskey.” He takes off his glasses and the image of him disappears. 

You remove your legs from the table, swiveling your chair and removing your glasses. “How exciting, huh?” You ask dryly, eyes finding Whiskey’s. “The hottest week of the summer and he’s sending us to Alabama to spend a night outside.”

Jack chuckles a little, your sarcasm penetrating through the shield he has up specifically to deflect you. “At the county fair, no less. Couldn’t these idiots set up shop in a refrigerated warehouse?” He sighs, adjusting his hat. 

Tearing your eyes from him, you look out of the impressive window instead. “Sure to be a fun time,” you shake your head. He looks so handsome, and it makes you want to punch something. “Why my father loves to put me in these situations, I’ll never know. He’d never do this to Julep,” you lament. “I must be the expendable kid.”

“Julep is 17,” Whiskey reminds you, raising a brow. “You’re the only one of age, and you’re probably the only competent one too. He showed me a video of Rosé at the gun range and good Lord, how the hell did a man like that birth something so clumsy?”

“Why do you know so much about my sisters?” You ask him, tilting your head. 

“Your father never shuts up about ‘em. He shows them off constantly,” he shrugs. “Shows us videos, pictures. Even knew plenty about you before you came.” You raise an eyebrow at that, and he shakes his head quickly. “Barely anything personal. Hell, I don’t know your real name. He’s never called you or your sisters anything but your nicknames.”

You stand, gathering the folder you brought into the room with you. “Well, that’s a comfort. I’m not Champ’s daughter, I’m Agent Amaretto, and that’s the way I’d like to keep it,” you say, your voice slipping away from sharp and into flirtation. Whiskey’s deadpan slips into a smile and you press the folder into his chest as you walk past him, and out of the room. The smile grows wider as he turns to follow you.

-

Whiskey was right. It’s the hottest week of the summer, the August heat making you feel sticky and swollen, and you’re in Alabama. Disgusting. You look in the mirror and groan as you look at yourself. You were told that you and Jack need to blend into the atmosphere of the county fair, and you sighed. 

The past week, the two of you had prepped for your mission, slowly melting the thick layer of ice that subdued both your crush and his flirtation. He had slowly slipped into his regular self around you, which you didn’t notice. You didn’t know the real him. You had become more of yourself too; less sharp, more smiles, even a few laughs at his terrible southern euphemisms and adages. He finally called you darlin’ and sugar and sweet thing, and you felt your face warm more than it should. You let your walls down by the time you got on the plane, joking around with him and making actual conversation. During the flight, the two of you had enjoyed picking cover names, deciding on Beau and Jolene Pruitt, a newly married couple. Both were native Alabamians with thick drawls, not that it would be out of character for Jack.

Getting to wear casual clothing around that man excited you far more than it should, and you had spent a stupid amount of time picking out something that would fit in but also look nice. The wardrobe women had packed you plenty of options to mix and match from, and you settled on something that seemed to be a mix between your cover and yourself. You wore short denim cutoffs, ripped and distressed, with cowboy boots to match. You also wore a white tank top and a red, white, and blue flannel, either to be worn open or tied around your waist. A large gold cross pendant rested on your cleavage, as many women around here similarly had. It was imperative that neither you nor Whiskey could be recognized, and you had been given a wig of thick hair the opposite of your natural color, plaited into two French braids that were long and ended around your waist. No mission was complete without your gold, wire-rimmed Statesman glasses. 

You have to admit, you enjoy this look, minus the gaudy jewelry. You get to show off a little bit more than you normally would, and you secretly hope Whiskey may up his flirtation with you. You’re recognizable to someone who would know you, but the change of hair color and the glasses are a solid cover-up. You snap a picture in the mirror, sending it off to the ladies in the wardrobe department.  you ladies spoil me- I love getting to look cute for a change!

The women reply a moment later with a picture of all of them. You’re always cute, sugar! Show that man what he’s missing!

So, maybe you had confided to the wardrobe ladies that you found Jack attractive. Who didn’t? They agreed, but all showered you with attention and insisted you should make a move on this mission. You had said no, but they had hounded you over and over until you told them yes. It was a lie, but they didn’t need to know that.

A knock comes at your hotel door, and you smile before you can stop yourself. You force yourself to drop it, tossing one of the braided tails over your shoulder, and open the door. “Well there, Beau,” you drawl as you see Whiskey, but you stop and laugh a little as you scan his body. 

His reaction is the exact same, after a brief scan of your outfit. You both break into laughter. Jack is wearing cowboy boots, jeans, a white t-shirt, and a flannel with a different pattern but the same colors- red, white, and blue. “Stealing my thunder with the outfit, I see. Are you going to put your costume on or what?” You ask teasingly, and he shakes his head. 

“Believe it or not, Jolene, this is my costume. Seems the only different thing about being Beau is my name.” He grins wide at you, adjusting his similarly gold-rimmed aviators that rest beneath his classic Stetson. 

You shake your head but smile. “Why am I not surprised?” You tease, turning and grabbing your phone and the large bulletproof purse you’d be carrying tonight. “The ladies in the wardrobe department are going to love this,” you chuckle, and then freeze for a second. 

They did this on purpose. 

Whiskey has the same thought as you. He had confided in the ladies in the wardrobe department that he found you absolutely stunning but unattainable, due to the fact that your father was the control of his… everything. They had chattered excitedly, telling him that he should make his move on the mission too. He had done the exact same as you- said yes, but as an appeasement. “Well, they sure are. We’ll have to get someone to take a picture of us while we’re there.”

You nod, your heart skipping a beat at the fact that he wants a photo of this. It’s just for the mission, of course, you tell yourself and brush it off. “Oh, and that’ll be perfect cover. Of course these two would want a photo taken of them. We can do it right in front of the marks- better yet, we can ask them to take the picture,” you chuckle happily and sling the heavy purse over your body. 

“Or we can take a picture now,” he chuckles, nodding to the mirror you just took a picture in a moment ago.

“Sure,” you nod and lead him over to it. “Uh… smile?” You laugh and hold out your flannel for the photo. Jack makes finger guns and gives the camera a seductive face in the mirror, making you laugh. “Jesus, I thought you were the smooth agent.”

“Smoother than you. You’re smooth like a gravel road in a dry spell, look at that pose,” he says and zooms in on the picture. “Pose like you have some confidence in that pretty little head, honey,” he teases. “Copy me.” He makes the same pose, and you mimic it, taking a picture before bursting out laughing. “Much better,” he nods as he looks at the image. “Better send me that,” he nudges your side before walking to the door. “Well, Jo, let’s get this show on the road.” Smiling at the picture, you send the image to the wardrobe ladies. very subtle, Charlotte! You fire off before pocketing your phone and following him along. “Aw, Jo and Beau,” you coo, your personas snapping into place as soon as you leave the hotel room, clutching his arm. 

The two of you meander down through the hotel, finding your way to the parking lot. You break away from him to sit in the Bronco (of course he brought it) but you find yourself missing the contact of your arms intertwined. It’s probably for the best though, you think to yourself. If you have to keep touching him all night, it’s quite possible the Alabama heat may melt whatever’s left of the iceberg you’ve built to hold back your crush on him. 

-

A man bumps into you, and Whiskey is at your defense before you can defend yourself. “Watch it, cowboy,” Jack fires back, his hand resting on the small of your back. You smile up at him, practically making heart eyes. It looks in character, and you’re glad for that, but it’s entirely you. 

“My hero,” you giggle and place your hand on his chest. 

“Just for you, sugar,” he says sweetly and you beam up at him. He looks around, as you do, but the two of you rest there. It’s hot, unbearably, but yet you enjoy the contact your body makes with his. Both of you wear your flannels around your waist, allowing your grip on his arm to hold his strong muscles directly. It’s definitely enjoyable. “You hungry, honey?” He asks. 

You have to admit, you haven’t eaten much today, mainly out of nerves for the mission. But everything is going just swimmingly: you have eyes on the target, have a plan to infiltrate them later, and are now just biding time to seem normal. “I… yeah, I am,” you nod and look up at him. “How ‘bout some cotton candy?”

“Now, darlin’, if you’re hungry, that ain’t gonna do the trick,” he says and raises an eyebrow, removing his aviators and hooking them on his collar. “This is the county fair, for cryin’ out loud. Let’s get you something deep fried.” You nod in agreement and the two of you wander over to a stand selling various deep-fried atrocities. You smile and chuckle, letting him order for the two of you. The vendor hands you each a ridiculously large corn dog, and you laugh. 

The smell of the food makes your stomach growl. “Oh god, I didn’t realize just how hungry I was,” you moan as you bite into the food, your thick accent dropping. “Good choice, babe,” you tell him, smiling at how easily it comes. 

“I know you, sugar,” he teases, leading you to a picnic table where he sits across from you, munching on his own. No one else is around here, allowing you to speak freely. “Really, I do. I found out your real name the other day,” he says with a smile, and you nearly choke on the breading, halfway down your throat. He finally says your name aloud, drawing it out, making it sound like it’s coated in honey and dripping with flirtation.

You look down at your food, biting your lip. “Who told you that?” you ask, still staring down.

Jack chuckles at that, ignoring the question. “Beautiful name for a beautiful lady,” he teases, and you chuckle, shaking your head. The flirtation is much better than the stone-cold silence before a week ago, but it doesn’t do anything for the growing crush you have on the man. “Champ must’ve known you’d be a stunner.”

“Have you heard of nominative determinism?” you ask as you look up, tilting your head and twirling one of the long braids of your wig around your finger. The words sound funny with the thick accent you’re putting on. Whiskey shakes his head. “It’s this theory that your name shapes who you become. So, if you said that my name was chosen for beauty, I would grow to become my name, so I’d be beautiful.” He nods a little at that. “Do you believe in that kind of thing?” you ask him genuinely, tilting your head and taking another bite of the corn dog. 

“Clearly,” he chuckles through a mouthful of food before swallowing it. “Your name is pretty, you’re pretty. Someone has a name with a bad reputation, they become it.”

“Your mama named you Jack Daniels, you become Agent Whiskey,” you tease with a growing smile, accentuating that drawl that you’ve perfectly picked up from your father and the mustached man in front of you. “I’ve thought about that a lot with you. Did they assign you that name because of your name? My dad never talked about work with us before I became an agent.”

Whiskey shakes his head at you but does give a laugh. “Prob’ly, just thought it’d be funny, I ‘spose. They needed a new Agent Whiskey anyway, I believe. Last one died or retired, they never told me. Filling the vacancy while making a pun out of it. Your father has a sense of humor, doesn’t he? ‘S sure great at givin’ nicknames.”

You shake your head at that. “Don’t I know it. He’s been calling me Amaretto since I could give him sass back. Told me I was a little bitter, just like the word means in Italian. Julep’s too sweet, Rosé is a mix of gentle and bold. No one calls us by our real names unless we’re in trouble,” you chuckle. “You should hear my mama shout when Julep gets in trouble. She nearly shakes the house, and Julep likes to avoid it by pretending she can’t hear her. She’ll hide in her room, and my mama just shouts and shouts until the neighbors come over to make sure the family’s all still alive. It’s in a loving way, of course, nothing bad.” You shake your head, clearing the topic from yourself. “But it’s like your mama knew you’d get into something with alcohol. That’s odd.”

Jack chuckles and takes the last bite of his food. He doesn’t respond, just cleans up his little area and waits for you to be done, watching you with his chin resting in his palm. You smile as you notice that, looking away, and he does too. The two of you stand and walk along again. He offers his hand, to hold it, and you take it. You’re not entirely sure that he did that as Beau, and you’re certain you didn’t take his hand as Jolene.

Walking through the midway, you catch your mark out of the corner of your eye. “Go time,” you murmur to the man, dropping his hand. “Sir,” you ask and pat the man’s shoulder as he walks past. He stops and you shoot him a cheesy, massive grin. “Hi there, would you mind takin’ a picture for my husband and I?”

The man nods. “Sure, ma’am. Where do you-”

“Oh wonderful. Here,” you say and position the man, handing him your phone, then move back to stand by Jack. “Beau, honey, here,” you say as you position the two of you for the camera. You wrap his arm around your waist and place your hand on his chest, grinning ear to ear. He’s doing the same.

“How ‘bout this?” he asks, swooping you up and holding you bridal style. 

You squeal into his ear, laughing. You almost call him by his real name but stop yourself. “Beau, quit!” You giggle and smack his chest teasingly, playing along with it and smiling for the photo. He lets you down only to pick you up again, hoisting you onto his back, piggyback style. Finding no other choice, you wrap your arms and legs around him, and he rests his hands on your thighs to hold you up. “Beau Pruitt!” You exclaim, emphasizing the words, hoping that the man taking your photos registers the name, knowing it’s not someone threatening. He’d probably take your phone and run if he heard you call the man holding you up by his real name. 

He finally lets you down and you thank the man, taking the phone back and continuing to walk along, naturally lacing your fingers through Jack’s. “What was that?” you ask lowly, smiling despite the pretend annoyance in your voice.

“Playin’ the part, sugar,” he shrugs and smiles at you. As you wander through the midway, Jack’s eye catches on a brightly colored, massive teddy bear hanging from the rafters. When Jack gets a plan, he goes all in. “You know what, honey, if this is to be a proper date, I am gonna win you a teddy bear,” he chuckles, grabbing his wallet.

You quickly push the hand holding his wallet down. “Don’t be ridiculous, babe. I don’t need a teddy bear,” you laugh.

“I am takin’ you on a date to the county fair. It’s only fitting that I win you a teddy bear!” He argues back, laughing. He hands a bill to the attendant, earning him quite a few balls to toss at the stacked milk jugs. “Here we go. This is for the big, tie-dye one up there,” he declares before hurling a ball. 

It hits the top jug and Jack winces. “Ah fuck. Bad shoulder,” he chuckles, picking up another.

“Then why the hell are you doing this, Beau?” you ask, catching yourself before you can call him Jack and holding down his arm. “I don’t need the teddy bear!”

“I already paid the attendant,” he chuckles and leans in to your face, taunting you. He uses your distraction to slip his arm from your grasp, throwing it and hitting the second row of bottles. “Hell yeah!” Jack crows excitedly, arms in the air. You laugh at his excitement and decide to let it happen. He throws three more balls before he knocks down the whole final row, whooping excitedly. “That one, if you please,” he tells the attendant and points to the large bear hanging from the ceiling of the booth. The attendant takes it down and hands it to him, and he promptly hands it to you, beaming. “For you, my dear,” he says, pride radiating from him.

“I love it,” you laugh and hug the massive bear to your chest, kissing its forehead. “I think I’ll name him… Whiskey.” He grins at that and takes your hand again, leading you through the crowd.

-

The rest of the night passes more like a date would than a mission. You and Jack converse happily, simply avoiding real names but talking like you would between friends. His hand rests in yours the whole night, and you enjoy it. The sun begins to go down and the humidity lessens, as does the stifling heat. It’s almost cool now; the both of you wear your flannels properly now, unbuttoned in the front. You munch contently on some cotton candy you finally convinced Jack to buy, even feeding him some to further your ruse. Sighing, you look around and take in the absolute perfection that is this tiny county fair. The sunset is beautiful and the lights of the carnival section are starting to come on. You start to speak until you hear a too-familiar voice through your earpiece.

“Amaretto, Whiskey. They set up shop in the pig barn, but they’re at their most vulnerable. Time to move.” You both groan as you hear your father’s voice. You look down at your interlocked hands between the two of you, then up quickly, remembering. Your father can see what you see with these glasses on. His voice comes in through your earpiece alone now. “See, I told ya it wouldn’t be so bad to spend a little time with Whiskey. I’ve noticed you’re not hating it.”

You shake your head and pull out your earpiece, tucking it in your pocket and murmuring a curse to your father. Jack notices and you simply shrug. “Wasn’t working right. You’re gonna have to relay the messages for me.”

He nods then pauses, listening. He chuckles and turns to you. “He says to put it back in, he knows you can hear him just fine.” You groan and put it back in with a frown. “Next time you want to have family dinner, count on one less plate,” you hiss through the piece, making both Jack and your father laugh. “Whatever, get us to the pig barn then.” Your father guides the two of you through your mission. They’re indeed at their weakest, just four men loading their van with their backs to you. Luckily, they’re the four that Statesman wants. You and Whiskey each easily take out two, leaving them tranquilized on the ground. “Pops, they’re good. Send in the recon van.” A few moments later, the van rushes in through the utility door, and two recon members load the men into the van. You and Whiskey give them a nod, smiling at them and thanking them before leaving the barn.

The voice comes through on just your earpiece again. “Take the rest of the night off. I know you want to.” 

He’s right, you do want to, and so for once, you listen to your damn father. “The rest of the night is up to us,” you say as you turn to Whiskey, removing your earpiece and your glasses and putting them in your bag. You reach for his earpiece, taking it out too, both of you almost shivering at the contact of your wrist to his cheek as you take it out. Jack catches your palm and plants a kiss to it and you grin. “Would you like to stick around, maybe go on some rides?” you ask and put away his earpiece before sliding your hand into his. “As Whiskey and Amaretto?”

Jack grins at you. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

The rest of the evening is spent on rides and eating ice cream, getting squished into Jack’s side on the Scrambler and flipped around on the Slingshot. You both laugh practically all night, overjoyed. You check your watch and look up excitedly, eyes lighting. “The fireworks are gonna go off in ten minutes.” You look at the wait for the ferris wheel- it’s about as long. “Let’s go on the ferris wheel to watch it.”

Jack nods. “Whatever you say, sugar,” he nods, lagging for a moment as you start to run to the next ride, then catching up and pulling you into his chest, kissing your head. You laugh at the feeling of being trapped in his arms and wrap your arms around him too, allowing the bear hug to last a moment longer than it should.

The both of you wait in line for a few minutes, continuing the conversation you’d been having before.

The line eventually shortens enough for the two of you to get on, and you sit, hands on the lap bar. Whiskey sits next to you, draping his arm across your shoulders. You look up at him and smile, scooting into his side. You give a little whoop of excitement as the ride starts moving, and you jump at a loud bang.

You timed it perfectly.

The sky lights with different colors, a variety of fireworks lighting off and illuminating the dark night sky. The stars are clear all the way out here, in the middle of Alabama, and you beam at the image. You pull out your phone to snap some pictures but Jack holds your hand down. “The pictures never do it justice, darlin’. Just look up at those and remember ‘em real hard.” Laughing softly, you rest your head on Jack’s shoulder as you watch. It’s stunning, absolutely gorgeous, and you look at Jack for a moment to find he’s not watching the sky, but has his eyes trained on your face, watching your reaction.

The moment is perfect. He can handle the rejection, he decides, if he has to, but he has to move now. “Can I kiss you, Amaretto?” He murmurs quietly, his face already moving close to yours. You give an answer in the form of a gesture: taking his face in your hands and closing the gap. The kiss is perfect, his soft lips tasting of the cotton candy you finally persuaded him to buy a few hours ago.

He sighs softly, his hand finding the side of your face as well. He breaks away for a moment and looks at your lovely face, grinning at the way your eyes reflect only his face, the dark night sky, and the colorful fireworks. “I think your pops named you wrong. Furthest thing from bitter. You’re the sweetest, most perfect thing I ever did taste,” he drawls before closing the space again, pressing his lips to yours. Your heart pounds in time with the bursts in the sky, erratic and loud, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re finally kissing the man you’ve been crushing on since the moment your father introduced you to the Statesman.

A particularly loud firework startles you and you jump, breaking your kiss and grinning at him, the adrenaline from both the scare and the kiss pounding its way through your body. You look at him and want to say something but can’t find the words. You simply giggle and look into his eyes, making him laugh too. You sit there for a moment, laughing, while the ferris wheel stays stationary. As it moves, you cling to his chest again, looking up and beaming at him. “Kiss me again, cowboy,” you demand, and he chuckles.

“Any time, sugar,” he says with a smile as he takes your chin in his hand and kisses you again.

[moonbeambucky]

A Wealth of Love

Pairing: Hal Carter x Reader Word Count: 5618 Warnings: fluff, light angst

Summary: The only thing Hal Carter is wealthy in is love but will his forbidden romance last when his past comes back to haunt him?

A/N: This is my submission for @baezen​​​​​​​​​ The other guys writing challenge. My prompt was “Those things you said yesterday…Did you mean them?” Thank you to my love @all1e23​​​​​​​​​ for beta reading 🍕❤️ pic source (x)

Bright sunlight streams in through the windows made brighter by the all white finishings of the large kitchen. This particular afternoon is a hot one, more humid than the last few days and Y/N knows that not everyone can enjoy the comforts of her family’s perfectly air conditioned home. 

A quick search through the cabinets and she finds two large mason jars. Pulling open the fridge she takes out the pitcher of lemonade and in the oversized pantry she pulls out the container of muffins she made earlier that morning. She hums a tune mindlessly as she fills one jar with lemonade, nearly startled by a voice behind her.

“Is this really necessary Y/N?” her stepmother asked, with frustration laced in her tone.

Y/N is quiet as she sets the pitcher down, screwing on the lid and making sure it was tight. With a quiet roll of her eyes she resumed what she was doing. 

“At least you aren’t using the good glassware.” Y/N ignored her snippy comment, having learned not to engage her in conversations like this. 

She sets her items in a basket, filling the other mason jar with ice as the final step before she leaves through the backdoor, finally letting out her own frustrated huff when she was no longer in earshot of her stepmother.

Y/N walked down the freshly manicured grass of the expansive acreage to get to the large white barn where Hal Carter was hard at work. He was the stable hand and has been working for Y/N’s family for almost two years. 

Hal was six feet tall, with strong arms made stronger every day by the work he does. The outline of his muscles could be seen through the plaid button downs he would wear and sometimes take off on the days when he was already overheating in thick jeans and boots. A gentle smile accompanied beautiful blue eyes and soft brown hair that would start to curl when sweat soaked his strands. 

Y/N liked seeing Hal, not just because of how incredible he looks as sweat shines over his body- the image of him lifting his shirt to wipe at his brow, exposing a perfectly carved stomach will forever be seared in her mind- but because he’s kind to her and he doesn’t expect anything from her unlike the rest of the world.

Her father doesn’t understand Y/N’s silly little dream of being a teacher. She had just completed her first year of having her own class and honestly he had hoped the whole ordeal had turned her off. He doesn’t see the point of working anywhere that pays so little and she’s tired of having arguments with him about forgetting his own roots, busting his ass with two jobs and still barely making ends meet until he found success with a patent which launched his business. He would scoff at his past, ashamed of the fact that he wasn’t born into wealth like his wife. 

Unlike her father who felt she should be at a job earning a lot, Y/N’s stepmother didn’t understand why she wanted to work at all. If it were up to her she would have her married off to William Archer III. He was an investment banker who also came from money like Y/N, having attended the same private school but that’s where their similarities ended. 

Y/N was disgusted by his attitude and how little William cared for anyone other than himself. He was a spoiled rich kid that hasn’t worked a real day in his life and never would. His company was his father’s as it was his father’s before him, and the only thing William was actually good at was profiting off the backs of those who work ten times as hard at a fraction of what he makes. 

William constantly pursued Y/N because she turned him down. He liked the challenge, thinking of her as nothing more than game to be hunted, another one of his hobbies that Y/N despises, but instead of mounting her head on the wall he’ll mount her on display around his arm as a picture perfect trophy wife. 

Hal was surprised by Y/N’s refreshing demeanor from the start. He knows his role as staff but unlike the rest of her family Y/N has never made him feel less than. She was a kindhearted soul and quite frankly sometimes he doesn't believe she’s actually related to them. 

The first time Hal met Y/N he was cleaning out one of the stalls in the stables. He took a moment to pause and wipe the sweat from his brow, nearly jumping out of his skin when he saw her standing there. She was beautiful, there was no doubt in his mind about that, and even more beautiful as she stood there flashing a radiant smile as she apologized for scaring him. She was coming in to check on one the horses, Percy, to see firsthand if his stomach issues had gotten better.

The smell alone in the stables was enough to keep her family away but Y/N didn’t mind at all, grabbing a manure fork of her own before Hal had the chance to protest so she could inspect the droppings herself. 

“He’s doing much better now Miss Y/L/N,” Hal said. She took note of the slightest hint of a Midwest accent in his voice though it was mostly undetectable. 

“I’m so happy to hear that,” she beamed, setting the fork aside and stepping forward to see the horses enjoying their day on the open lawn. She spotted Percy grazing on the grass and her heart lifted, glad to see that he was doing better. “Oh, and it’s just Y/N,” she said, looking over her shoulder back at Hal.

The formality her parents required from those they employ is not for her. Y/N knew they were privileged to have a group of people working for them, in the house and on the grounds; but Y/N always felt her parents would forget that these people were actual humans with lives that didn’t and shouldn’t revolve around their family and not robotic slaves meant to carry out all their wishes without complaint.

Hal gave a respectable nod to her, curbing his smile to a professional one as he excused himself back to work. 

Their interactions increased over time, especially with Y/N spending a lot of time with her favorite horse Penelope. She liked to brush her down and bring her apples she picked from the trees on property, and whenever they went riding Hal couldn’t take his eyes off her.

When Y/N was saddled up on Penelope’s back it seemed like it was the only time she truly felt in control of her life. It was true. Riding allowed her the time to clear her mind and with the wind in her hair she let go of everything outside of that moment.

But there was one thing that she couldn’t shake from her thoughts, Hal Carter. 

It didn’t take long before for their friendship to develop and quite soon after a forbidden romance. It was something they worked hard at, deleting texts right after sending them, hiding their pictures together. Y/N’s stepmother had a tendency to snoop so she did everything she could to protect their relationship. 

Hal tasted the lemonade from her lips, his calloused hands wrapped around Y/N’s waist, backing her up towards the wall to steal more of the sweetness he couldn’t get enough of and he didn’t mean the drink. 

Her lips were soft against his, a heavenly touch that set every part of him aflame. The idea of sneaking around made both their hearts race, every noise keeping them on edge with “what ifs” racing through their minds. If they were caught Hal would surely be fired and though they wouldn’t have to hide their relationship any more that’s not something Y/N wanted.

Hal rarely spoke to her about money; she understood and didn’t push the issue. She knew his financial situation wasn’t the best and that despite her parent’s attitude towards the staff they actually paid them surprisingly well. It wasn’t something he ever flaunted but it wasn’t something neither of them could deny. 

Still, he couldn’t help but feel like all of this could slip away from him, that one day Y/N will wake up and realize what a big mistake she made. She could date anybody, someone her parents’ won’t turn their nose up to, someone who could afford to take her out. Not even to a fancy place because Hal knows she doesn’t care about that but he’s ashamed he can’t even take her anywhere. 

“Darlin’, you deserve everything.” The corner of his lips sunk into a frown as he sighed, “And I can’t give you that.”

“Hal, I have everything and I don’t want it, I only want you.” 

He was shocked by her admission, still finding it hard to believe. “I’m nothing Y/N. I have nothing. I’m lucky I even have this job.”

She brushed the hair away from his eyes, letting her hand move down cup the soft skin of his cheek, warm against her palm. “What do you want Hal? You don’t have to work for my family forever. Whatever’s holding you back I’ll help.”

He smiled, taking her hand off his cheek to kiss the delicate knuckles of her skin. She knows what he’s doing, changing the subject when he doesn’t want to answer. Again, she doesn’t push him.

“Follow me,” he said, letting go of her hands. 

They walk along the fence of the pasture, down the slope of a small hill before they stop at a bright red maple tree. Hal adjusts Y/N to stand in the right spot, his solid frame behind her, leaning in as he points his finger up between the branches.

“Can you see?” he asked, and she tried to follow the line of sight for his finger. 

She isn’t sure what she’s looking for until she sees it, the slightest movement of a robin moving its head, spying on them from her nest.

“She’s been sittin’ on those eggs for a week now,” Hal said, smiling because he knows Y/N’s love of animals is not just for horses. They’ll be hatching soon and he can’t wait to bring her to see them. 

If this is what their dates are for now then Hal doesn’t mind it at all. Any time spent with her he’s grateful for but Y/N knows she’s been gone for too long and knowing her stepmother she probably set a timer the moment Y/N walked out of the door. 

Back in the stables she packs up the empty mason jars and reluctantly says goodbye. Hal holds her close as they kiss, the slip of his tongue in her mouth makes her yearn for more. A soft hum bubbles in her throat before she grabs the back of his head, deepening the kiss as their tongues dance together. 

They get carried away and Hal falls back into a pile of hay, protecting Y/N in his arms as she falls on top of him. With a final press to his lips she gets up, extending her hands out to Hal to pull him up. He helps wipe off any hay that may have gotten attached to her, watching her figure get smaller the further she walks away from him as she makes her way back to the main house.

With a heavy sigh Hal gets back to work, knowing for now their secret is kept by the horses, the only ones who seemed to be rooting for them. 

“What took you so long?” Her stepmother scowled, throwing her a sharp accusatory glare. 

Y/N rolled her eyes, opening the basket to take out the mason jars. Over her shoulder she responded, “You know how I like to spend time with Penelope.”

As she washes the glasses Y/N can’t see the disapproving shake of her stepmother’s head, especially as she sees a strand of hay stuck on the fabric of Y/N’s leg. She doesn’t say anything. The clack of her heels echo through the large home as she stomps her way out of the kitchen, not liking this one bit.

Y/N comes down the grand stairway when dinner is ready, her hand languidly gliding down the banister. It’s not that she didn’t want to eat with her parents, she didn’t mind their company as long as they didn’t pester her about the things that parents do, but she was tired of seeing them. 

Going away for college had been a wonderful escape, to be Y/N Y/L/N, regular college student and not the girl with a rich family. Her father was right, teaching does not pay well but she isn’t doing it for the money. However she did need to save a bit so she could move out and finally be on her own. She had assets in a trust fund but she refused to use them, wanting to prove to her family that she didn’t need their money.

“There she is,” the somewhat familiar voice of a man called out.

Y/N lifted her head, frozen in shock to find William Archer III sitting at her dining table. 

A cheshire cat smile stretched across her stepmother’s face. “Look who came by!” she feigned surprise. Y/N knew her stepmother had called him the moment she left to see Hal. 

There was plenty of space at the table but most of the chairs had been removed, leaving only one open and unsurprisingly it was next to William. Y/N plastered a smile to her face and held the back of the chair, moving it as far away from him as she could before she was scolded by her stepmother. It was embarrassing, especially when her father chimed in to remind her that they don’t treat guests this way. If only they knew what he was really like. Reluctantly, she returned the chair to its spot next to him though she kept a greater distance than where it was originally. 

Y/N wondered if she was the only one who noticed the way William would speak wildly with his hands, these big gestures that involved movement of his whole body giving him an excuse to adjust his chair again and somehow he had ended up right beside her. She ignored him as best as she could, moving her leg away each time his hand “just happened” to brush against her thigh. 

She tries her best to be pleasant despite the very unpleasant circumstances, making small talk when William didn’t talk over her. 

“Hal says the robin chicks will be born soon. I can’t wait to see them,” Y/N beamed, her smile fading as she caught the tail end of her stepmother’s eye roll. 

“Oh, I didn’t know Hal was an avian expert now. Honey perhaps we should give him a raise, a man with such an extensive animal background,” her stepmother said sarcastically.

“That’s because he is one!” William chimed in, bursting out with a round of belly aching laughter, a duet with her stepmother’s own cackling.

Y/N expected that from her but she was even more disappointed to see her father snickering. 

“That’s enough!” She slammed her hand against the table, the flame of the candlesticks wobbling back to a steady flicker. “I’m sick and tired of all you thinking you’re better than Hal or anyone else just because you have money. It’s disgusting.”

Her father clenched his jaw, “I know you like to forget this Y/N but you have money too. Stop acting like it’s something you’re so ashamed of. I worked hard to give us what we have.”

“Did you?” she asked accusingly. “Because it’s been so long since you had to bust your ass like Hal I think you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be a decent person!”

Her stepmother balked in disgust. “Young lady you do not speak to your father this way.”

Y/N ignored her as she got up from the table, stomping her way out of the house. The evening air was cool and she felt immediate relief on her skin that burned hot after her emotionally fueled eruption. Her stepmother has always been a snob but she hates the fact that her father has lost touch with reality. 

“Hey.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose upon hearing William’s voice, the last person she wanted to ever see. Hal was in the distance, working late and she was hoping to say goodbye to him before he left. Now that William’s here she can’t. 

Turning around she huffed, not hiding her contempt. William’s hands were up in a small attempt to convey that he wasn’t looking for trouble. 

“Are you okay?” His tone seemed sincere but Y/N kept her guard up. “I know you don’t like me but I do care about you Y/N. I always have.” 

She knows better than to trust him but something inside her breaks and she lets out a shuddering sob. Y/N didn’t want to feel the way she does about her parents but she can’t help it. She wished her parents were better people, she wished she could openly speak to them about how she feels, and not having to hide her relationship with Hal. She wishes things were different.

William hesitantly offers a hug and in desperation Y/N takes it, crying against him. “It’ll be okay,” he comforts, rubbing her back.

With her back turned she doesn’t see the smirk on William’s face as he spots Hal in the distance. He lets Y/N pull away, feeling comfortable enough to have gained his trust for a moment before he acts. Like a leech he grabs her face, forcing her lips to his, his tongue probing forcefully into her mouth.

Y/N is pushing him off with her hands as best as she could, scrunching her face and whipping her head around to get away from him. Her efforts don’t take her very far as his lips get closer again so instead she kicks him in between his legs. 

William doubles over in pain. “You little bitch!” he sneered, grabbing her by the hair as she tried to run away. 

His clenched hand raised to her but immediately felt his arm wrench back. He was turned around forcibly by Hal, whose own fist socked William right in the jaw. The hard punch took the coward down and while he was busy screaming expletives Hal went to Y/N.

“Darlin’, did he hurt you?” The softness of Hal’s voice brought tears to her eyes that fell down her cheeks as she shook her head. She found true comfort in Hal’s arms, apologizing for what had happened. “Shhh, you have nothin’ to apologize for,” he reassured her. 

“You’ll pay for putting your hands on me y-you… dirty lowlife scum!” William threatened, walking away from them. 

Hal’s jaw clenched with anger but Y/N’s gentle palm caressing his cheek made him release his tension. 

“I’m sorry Hal,” she said, and once again he stopped her but this time with a soft kiss to her lips. Y/N had nothing to be sorry for but on nights like this Hal felt sorry for her, thinking she wouldn’t have to go through this if she gave her heart to a better man than him.

There’s a knocking at her door and before she can get up her stepmother has already let herself into Y/N’s room. “We need to talk about what happened...” she said, settling down on Y/N’s bed beside her. Y/N braced herself for a lecture before her stepmother finished. “...after you left.”

Relief washed over her believing the serious look on her stepmother’s face was not meant to scold her but about what happened with William.

“I hope you saw what I’ve been telling you, William is–”

“William? Y/N no, this is about Hal.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed with confusion. “Hal?”

“He assaulted William. Your father and I need to reconsider his employment.”

She stared at her stepmother in disbelief. Was she actually naive enough to believe what William told her? Y/N answered her own question as her stepmother continued to talk about “poor William” and how he had to drive home holding a bag of ice to his face.

“William is a liar. He forced himself on me! Hal was only trying to protect me. How do you not see this?”

Her stepmother took Y/N’s hand in her own, awkward and unsure if this felt right or not. She was unable to have children of her own and perhaps that’s why she treated Y/N so poorly from the start, resenting her and never truly accepting her as her daughter. Y/N was passed off to au pairs and maids to be cared for as her stepmother went shopping or to the spa. Y/N has always felt disconnected to her stepmother and even more so now.

“Sweetheart, I know men like Hal. They’re fine to look at but they can’t provide for you, not the way William can.”

“You don’t know the first thing abou–” Y/N’s cheek stung at the unexpected slap she received. 

“Don’t tell me what I know because I know exactly what you’ve been up to with Hal. Stay away from him. Hal is not the one for you.”

Y/N rose from her bed, stomping as she paced in front of her stepmother, waving her finger in her face as she told her off. 

“I’m leaving. I’m going to get Hal and we’re leaving and there’s nothing you can do about that!”

“He isn’t here.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed at her stepmother, her nostrils flaring, teeth clenching together as she hissed, “What did you do?”

“Nothing! He asked for the day off, though his days are numbered. As soon as we find someone to take his position…” her stepmother said without hiding the joy in her voice. She sauntered out of Y/N’s room feeling proud, not giving a single care she broke down crying. 

Her vision was clouded by tears as she texted Hal, wondering why he didn’t tell her he wouldn’t be there today. It took a few hours for him to respond, every waiting minute adding to her anxiety but when he finally did she was able to take a deep breath. Hal reassured her that he was fine and wondered if she could meet him later. 

Y/N told her family she was going shopping as she headed out, instead she drove to Hal’s. They were only twenty minutes apart and yet they lived in such different worlds. The homes in Hal’s area were older, small ranch style houses on lots smaller than her home’s driveway. She had so much more than this community and yet they had everything she wanted. 

She sees a dog being walked by a couple, hand in hand as they stroll down the sidewalk not worried about hiding their love. Y/N comes to a stop in the street to let the children playing move to the side. She gives a friendly smile as she slowly rolls past them, seeing their happy faces in the rear view mirror. She wonders if anyone can see how she aches behind her smile, desperate to be as happy as them one day. She parks behind his truck on the street and texts that she’s there.

When Hal came to New York he was sleeping in his truck, desperate for a place to stay. His friend Peter offered him a room which Hal helped close off and renovate into an unofficial one bedroom apartment in the back of the house. Peter needed the cash to pay his mortgage so it worked out for both of them. 

Y/N had been over a dozen times but Hal was embarrassed every time she did. His place was small but he kept it as nice as he could. He didn’t have much furniture, a bed, a pretty beat up looking couch, a small table that barely fit in his small kitchen. She told him over and over how she didn’t care about material things and deep down Hal knows that but he can’t help those feelings anyway.

She runs into his arms, enveloped by his warmth as he squeezes her tight. “I missed you darlin’,” he cooed as he tips her chin with his fingers, pressing his lips to hers.

“What happened today?” Y/N can’t help the worry woven through her words.

He takes her by the hand and they sit on his bed; he never liked Y/N sitting on that dirty couch of his. 

“I had something to take care of today… for our future.” She looks at him with hopeful eyes. “I had some trouble in my past, surprised it didn’t catch up to me yet to be honest. Once this is over I can work anywhere, we can live that life we want darlin’.”

Tears roll down her cheek, their path altered by the curve of her smile. Hal’s thumb brushes them away gently, bringing his lips to her forehead and after the softness of her lips. Clothes are slowly discarded and Hal takes his time making love to her, joining her passionate cries with moans of his own as they peak together to the heights of bliss.

He cradles her in his arms, his fingertips grazing soft circles over her back as they lay together for as long as they could, knowing Y/N would have to leave soon. The time comes sooner than they wanted and with reluctance they get dressed. 

A knock at the door startled them both, the sound of a voice even more shocking.

“Y/N! I know you’re in there!” her stepmother taunted, banging roughly against the glass pane of the screen door.

Her jaw dropped open in shock as she could only think about what a psycho her stepmother was. “Did she follow me?” Y/N whispered to Hal, panic washing over her. 

There was no point in hiding anymore, not if her parents really were firing Hal, and if that was a bluff they most certainly would now. 

Hand in hand they proudly step out from his door onto the small pathway on the side of the house. It’s there when Y/N’s jaw drops in shock to see William standing beside her stepmother, the two of them standing shoulder to shoulder with two police officers.

“That’s him,” William points at Hal, a smug look plastered on his face. 

A man as tall as Hal took a step towards him, roughly separating his hand from Y/N’s as he began to cuff his hands behind his back, reading him his rights as he walked Hal towards the police car parked crookedly in the driveway. 

“What are you doing?” Y/N pleaded for an answer. 

William answered her question, informing Y/N that Hal had a warrant out for his arrest for auto theft in Kansas. She realized that’s what Hal must have been talking about. 

“I have friends everywhere Y/N and I will make this harder for him unless…” William tried to lace his fingers with hers but Y/N quickly snapped her arm away. 

She watched helplessly as Hal was stuffed into the back of the car, wiping away the tears that began to fall. Her stepmother sauntered up beside her, making some comment about how appalled she was that she had a fugitive working for her, that’s when Y/N snapped.

“Enough! I don’t give a shit what you say. Fugitive or not Hal’s a better person than you’ll ever be. I love him, I love him with every piece of my heart and I’m going to do everything in my power to stop this.” 

The car drove away with Hal craning his neck around, not knowing if he would ever be able to see Y/N again.

“Hal! Are you okay?” Y/N said, hugging him with all her might. 

The breeze on his skin felt nice but it was nothing compared to having her in his arms again. “Much better now darlin’,” he replied, squeezing his arms around her. 

Hal spent the night in jail, calling Y/N to ask for her help. He explained everything, that back in Kansas he had borrowed his friend Alan’s car to take a girl named Madge out on a date. Alan’s jealousy got the best of him and he reported the car as stolen. They haven’t spoken since.

Once Y/N got Hal’s call she contacted her attorney, sought out every Alan Seymour she could find before she narrowed it down to the one he went to college with. She spent all morning working with the attorney to have him stop the extradition proceedings and arrange for bail instead. She couldn’t think of a better thing to use the money from her trust fund on.

“I’m so sorry about all of this darlin’, I never meant for it to come out like this. Alan coulda taken it back then but he was still mad ‘nd probably worried about lyin’ to the police.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for Hal,” she assured him, cupping his cheeks with her hand. He pressed against her palm, his lips pulling into a small smile as he looked at her. “I can’t believe my stepmother had you arrested. I hate her. I hate my father. I hate what they’ve become. Let’s go away together.”

As the words fell from her lips every part of Hal’s body stiffened with worry. He was about to ask a question before Y/N interrupted him. 

“I’m done with them Hal. I don’t care how hard I have to work to put this behind us. We’ll get through this together because that’s how I want to spend the rest of our lives.”

It was hard to hide the way Hal’s lips were pressed into a thin smile. He didn’t tell Y/N the full story, that Madge came with him when he left Kansas, to get away from her family too. By the time they got into Missouri she turned around, realizing she couldn’t leave them. 

This was different though. Hal didn’t care if Madge came or not, he didn’t feel the same way about her as he does with Y/N, which is why this is so hard for him.

“Those things you said yesterday…Did you mean them?” Hal asked, holding her hands in his. Y/N nodded and Hal let out a sigh. “I love you too Y/N but I can’t ask you to choose between me and your family.”

Her heart skipped a beat but not in the way Hal had made it done in the past. This pain was sharp in her chest and she would have fallen down if Hal hadn’t been holding her. Those were the last words she expected. 

“But you’re not asking Hal, this is my choice.”

“I know darlin’ but trust me on this, if we ran away we’d be happy but in the back of your mind I know how you’d feel, wonderin’ if your parents were okay because I know deep down you love ‘em and it would break my heart to see you tryin’ to cover that up. I can’t put that on you.”

“Hal, please…” she cried. “Don’t say this.”

This is the last thing Hal wants, Y/N is everything he’s ever wanted in life but things were always too good to be true for him. He was doing this for her even though it hurts, because Y/N deserves the best. 

“I love you Y/N, more than anything in this world. I know I can’t ever repay you for gettin’ me out, and I know your parents think I’ll never be good enough for ya but–”

“You’re wrong son.” 

A familiar voice has their heads turning around to find Y/N’s father standing there. 

“Dad? What are you doing here?” Y/N was confused, unaware of the way she took a protective step in front of Hal.

“I came to bail out Mr. Carter but it seems you’ve already done that. I wanted to tell him that Mr. Seymour has been contacted and he will be revoking his initial claim.”

“Sir, I appreciate that but I can’t ask anything of you,” Hal began.

“You didn’t have to. I owe you an apology for my wife’s behavior. She was wrong and after I heard the truth about what happened with William I owe you a thanks as well for protecting my daughter.” 

The corner of Hal’s mouth turned upwards as he replied, “You don’t have to thank me for that sir, I would take a bullet for Y/N if it meant she’d be safe.” 

“I can see that. You’re a good man Mr. Carter, a hard working man that reminds me of the person I was a long time ago.” Her father shares a look with Y/N, nodding his head ever so slightly. “And I see the way you love my daughter, that makes you good enough in my eyes.” 

Her father extends his hand towards Hal who is hesitant at first to shake it, waiting for the other shoe to drop but the sincerity in the eyes of the man before him sets his mind at ease. The two men shake and soon enough Y/N is back in Hal’s arms.

The weight is lifted from their shoulders knowing they have her father’s support, not only in Hal’s defense but in their relationship. Hiding is in the past and Hal couldn’t be happier. The truth is no matter what he told Y/N before Hal knew he wouldn’t have been strong enough to let her go.

As Hal held Y/N in his arms he vowed to never again feel ashamed about material things he didn’t have because Hal was rich where it counted, in his heart.

[gryffindorcls]

Plot Twist

Summary: Even though she still gets nervous around him, Marinette has been happily dating Adrien for several weeks. However, after agreeing to a mutual reveal with Chat Noir, Marinette postpones her date night with Adrien. Luckily, he also has plans with a friend that night.

Length: 7,178 words 

Hello, lovely readers!  This was written for the 2020 JV Art and Fic Trade on Discord. There is accompanying art for this fic by @supergirl9130.  Be on the look-out for it soon! Enjoy! 

(Shout out to my beta for this fic, @miss-congeniality-of-ml) 

— AO3

Fanfiction

Marinette snuggled further into Adrien’s embrace, relishing in his warmth. In response, he kissed the crown of her head and sighed.

If someone had told her six months ago that she would be in this position, she would have laughed, cried, and then laughed again. Never in a million years did she actually think that Adrien Agreste would ask her out on a date, let alone want to become her boyfriend.

“Are you still feeling cold?” Adrien whispered into her hair. “Do you want me to get you a blanket?”

She shook her head. “I’m okay.”

“You say that now, but you always get cold again when I let go.”

“Then don’t let go.”

“As you wish, my love.” He held her even tighter, sending her heart into a frenzy.

Much to her chagrin, six weeks of dating still hadn’t taken away all of the nervousness that she felt around him. She quickly discovered that Adrien’s love language was all of them; as a result, he constantly showered her with affection, gifts, and attention. While most of the time Marinette didn’t know how much more her heart could take before it exploded, she’d never been happier.

Ever the gentleman, Adrien never showed her anything less than boundless patience whenever she became a blushing, stuttering mess in his presence. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it, and that only made matters worse.

Whenever she had a “Marinette Moment” (as he affectionately called it from time to time), he would simply smile, pull her into an embrace, and whisper reassuring words into her ear. Sometimes, his soothing would work, but other times it sent her heart off to the races, leaving her to slowly melt into a hyperventilating puddle.

“Marinette, breathe.” Adrien’s hand was running up and down her back. “You’re turning redder than you usually do.”

She wanted to kick herself.

It had happened again.

She hadn’t even realized that she’d been holding her breath this time. Shaking herself back into reality, Marinette exhaled and buried her face against Adrien’s collarbone, relishing in the soft cotton of his designer t-shirt.

“Sorry,” she whispered, slowly feeling the embarrassment fade away.

“You know that you never have to apologize when this happens.” He kissed her cheek. “Like I would really complain about having another opportunity to hold you in my arms.”

“Yeah, but it happens all the time.” Marinette pulled away, bit her lip, and looked down at her lap. “Aren’t you getting tired of it?”

Adrien took her hands in his and ran his thumb over her knuckles. “Never. I love everything that makes you, you.”

Had it not been for the warmth that filled her chest upon hearing his declaration, she would have combusted again, but instead, she pulled her hands away and launched herself into Adrien’s arms. “You’re amazing. How did I get so lucky?”

He nuzzled his cheek against the crown of her head. “I ask myself the same question every single day. You are not only the best girlfriend I could have asked for, but you are also the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. My only regret is that I didn’t ask you out sooner.”

Momentarily forgetting how to breathe, Marinette choked on her next intake of air. The coughing fit left her breathless and lightheaded.

So much for staying calm.

With sheer panic in his eyes, Adrien’s hands fluttered around her as she gasped for air. “Are you okay? Do you need water? What do I do? Please be okay!”

Taking a sharp intake of breath, Marinette managed to partially regain her composure. “I’m fine.”

The worry still hadn’t left his features. “You didn’t look fine. At least let me get you some water.”

Adrien hopped off of the couch and ran to the mini-fridge under his desk. Upon returning, he handed her a chilled water bottle and sat down next to her.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He put his arm around her. “Did you choke on air again?”

She sighed. “No. It was your cuteness this time.”

“Oh, really?” The panic in his eyes melted away, leaving behind a dazzling smile. “Twice in one day. I’m on a roll!”

“You can’t just tell me that I’m the best girlfriend without warning me!”

“I can’t help myself. Complimenting you has become a hobby of mine.”

“Well, your hobby is going to kill me.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“I’m serious! You’ve watched me launch objects across the room and trip on air when I’m around you. One day you’re going to be so adorable that I’m going to get spooked and fall to my death or something.”

“You know I’ll never let anything like that happen to you, right?” Leaning in close, his breath ghosted her cheek. “I’ll always be there to catch you when you fall.”

The heat moved to her ears. “Adrien…”

Using his index finger, he tilted her chin upward and captured her lips under his. “Okay, I’ll stop.”

“Thank you.” Satisfied, she returned the gesture with an even deeper kiss, eliciting a contented hum from her boyfriend’s throat.

“For now.” His mouth curled into a Cheshire grin as he pulled away from the kiss.

With a pout, Marinette stood up and made her way to the opposite side of the couch. After crossing her arms and sitting down with a playful huff, she turned her head and stuck out her tongue.

“Marinette!” Adrien jutted out his bottom lip and pressed his hands together. “Please come back! The couch is getting cold.”

“Nice try, Agreste. Those kitten eyes won’t work on me!” Marinette looked away and pointed her chin in the air. “Have fun sitting by yourself.”

“NOOO! You have to come back!” Marinette choked back a laugh, and Adrien held his hands up in surrender. “Fine! You win, my love.”

“Good.” She crawled across the couch and resettled herself against his shoulder. “Now, hold still. I’m tired after almost dying.”

“Oh, so now I’m nothing more than a pillow to you? I see how it is.”

“Shhh! Pillows don’t talk.”

“GASP!”

Marinette snorted. “Oh my God...did you really just say the word ‘gasp’?”

“So what if I did?” Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her back to his side.

“Who even does that?”

“I do!”

“You are such a dork.”

“And you’re surprised?”

No.

At least not anymore.

On their first date, Adrien had spent thirty solid minutes trying to balance a salt shaker on its edge while gushing over his new favorite movie. As she watched him hunch his body over the table, stick out his tongue, and maneuver the salt shaker into the perfect position, Marinette realized that the person who had been taped all over her walls was Adrien Agreste, the perfect model and son, not the boy who sat before her.

No, this was not the Adrien who went to photoshoots, took perfect pictures, and sat up straight during interviews. This was not the Adrien who smiled politely when approached and shook hands with powerful men and women. This was not the fabricated Adrien from the magazine quizzes whose personality was defined by his favorite color and the brand of shampoo he used to wash his hair.

This was the Adrien who had swallowed his pride and admitted that he didn’t know how to make friends. This was the Adrien who had seen a girl standing in the rain and sacrificed his comfort by giving her his umbrella. This was the Adrien who loved video games, whose eyes lit up when he saw a plate of cookies. This was the Adrien she’d fallen in love with, the Adrien she’d lost sight of when her mind had been clouded by infatuation.

That night, Marinette rediscovered what love meant. She’d silently cursed herself for getting lost in the glossy, ten-page spreads and towering advertisements that brandished his face, for jumping to conclusions without knowing the full story.

At that moment, she vowed to learn the full story, to truly get to know the Adrien behind the flashing lights and perfect etiquette. She’d dreamed of a life with Adrien, but in actuality, she’d only dreamed of a life with the idea of him.

Marinette didn’t know that she could love a person more than she already did, but at that dinner table under the soft light of a chandelier, her heart expanded to make way for all that she had to discover about her new boyfriend.

So yeah, he was a dork. A kind, selfless, sometimes clueless, wonderful, and amazing dork.

She smiled and tapped his nose. “No, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

He beamed. “Good! Because I’m not going anywhere.”

“And one day I’ll be able to handle your sweet nothings without turning into a puddle.” Marinette picked the water bottle off of the table and took several long sips.

“Once again, I will repeat this until the day I die. Your blushing is one of the cutest things on the planet. It rivals videos of kittens eating loudly and ducklings wearing hats. You’re absolutely purr-fect.”

Water nearly came shooting out of her nose. “Adrien Agreste, did you just make a cat pun?”

“Yup!” He looked so proud of himself.

All the nervousness from before disappeared, for if there was one thing she knew how to do, it was how to deal with a cat-pun slinging boy with a smug grin on his face.

“Is there a reason for the puns, or are you just trying something new?”

“I think you meant to ask if I was trying something mew.”

“Nope, that’s all you.” “Well, to answer your question from before, punning is a part of my purr-sonality. C’mon...just admit they’re claw-some.”

“Goodness gracious, just how many cat puns do you have in your arsenal?”

“I can go all night, Marinette.”

“And pray tell, where did you learn all of these puns?”

“I have a few cat pun websites bookmarked on my computer and my phone. I also have a cat pun translator app, and I bought a pun dictionary. But I put all of the best ones I find in my notes app.” He whipped out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, and held it out for her to see. “I’ve always liked puns, but the cat ones kind of took over.”

She bit back a laugh. “Who are you? Chat Noir?”

An indistinguishable emotion flickered behind his eyes before quickly being replaced by a mischievous glint. “Would that be the worst thing?”

No.

But something like that happening would be too good to be true.

Her partner was the best, and there was no doubt in her mind that whoever was behind the mask was brave, kind, loyal, and an all-around amazing human being, so it wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility for the love of her life to be Chat Noir. However, Marinette knew that she wasn’t that lucky. At least the world had been blessed with two equally as amazing blond boys...who both apparently loved puns.

“Not at all.” She smiled and shook her head. “He’s a pretty cool guy.”

“R-really? You think so?” His voice uncharacteristically cracked on the last word of his question.

“Yeah, he’s my favorite hero.”

“Wait, really? It’s not Ladybug?”

“Nope. It’s Chat.”

And how could it not be? Her partner was incredible, and soon she would be able to tell him that not as Ladybug, but as Marinette.

Chat had been overjoyed when she’d suggested a mutual reveal. It was long overdue, and now that she was comfortable as the new Guardian, she was ready. It would make things safer for both of them to know. Not to mention she was excited at the prospect of being able to double down on their search for Hawkmoth.

Oh, how she dreamed of the day that Hawkmoth’s reign of terror came to an end! With her and Chat working together as both heroes and civilians, that dream might finally have the chance of becoming a reality.

If only Adrien could know about my life behind the mask, she mused, He’d probably be super helpful. Perhaps that’s something Chat and I could dis-

Her thoughts were interrupted by a piercing ring.

Adrien picked up his phone, turned off the blaring alarm, and sighed. “As much as I would love to stay here and cuddle, I have to go meet with my work friend now. Are you sure it’s okay that we’re skipping date night for this?”

Oh, right.

He was meeting with a friend today, as well.

She’d been worried about canceling her plans with Adrien, but he’d seemed relieved when she had brought it up earlier that week. When he revealed that he had also made dinner plans and needed to postpone their date, she couldn’t help but marvel at how in sync their lives were.

“Of course! It’s important for us to hang out with other people sometimes.” Marinette looked up at him through her eyelashes and smiled. “And we’re not canceling date night. We just moved it to tomorrow.”

“That’s right!” He grabbed her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “And to make it up to you, I will make sure that it is the most amazing date you’ve ever been on!”

“Even more amazing than the time you took me to Gabriel’s annual investor’s gala?”

Adrien nodded his head. “Most definitely.”

“Oh?” Marinette bit back a laugh. “And why is that?”

His face fell flat, matching the tone of his voice. “Because my father won’t be there.”

Giving in and falling into a fit of giggles, she held her stomach and doubled over. “Yeah, that would definitely do it! He made things so awkward when he demanded that you dance with that girl.”

“Sadly, it’s not the first time he’s done something like that. He’s always using me as a marketing tool with the investors. Let’s just say that having me spend time with a rich man’s daughter is one of my father’s many business tricks.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that.” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “At least he’s out of town for the next few weeks.”

“Yeah, thank goodness.” He leaned in and pecked her on the lips. “It means that I have you all to myself with no interruptions.”

The alarm on his phone went off a second time.

He took a deep breath and tapped the screen. “Except for right now. I really do have to get going soon.”

Marinette took her phone out of her purse and looked at the time. “Me, too. I told my friend to meet me at 6. If I don’t leave within the next five minutes, I’m definitely going to be late.”

“Same.” Adrien pocketed his phone, hopped off the couch, and grabbed his shoes. “So, where are you meeting up with your friend?”

“Oh, at some cafe I suggested. I went there with Kagami a few times.”

“Have we ever been there together?”

“No, but maybe we could go tomorrow! On our make-up date!” Marinette hopped off of the couch and slipped on her flats.

Adrien returned to her side and took both of her hands in his. “I’d like that.”

Marinette had picked the restaurant because she knew Chat would love it, and the more she thought about it, she knew that Adrien would probably love it, as well. “You know, you and my friend...you and he are really similar. I think the two of you would be really good friends.”

“And if we’re being honest, you and my work friend are so alike it’s insane. I guess there’s a reason why I used to be in love with her.” His eyes blew wide as he clasped his hands over his mouth. “I mean…”

Marinette took a step back. “The girl you’re meeting with today...she was the girl you-”

He frantically waved his hands in front of him. “No! It’s not like that anymore! I swear! I don’t love her...I mean, I do, but not like that. She’s like family? Also, she’s dating someone now. She only saw me as a friend, so it didn’t work out.”

“I always thought it was Kagami.” She collapsed back onto the couch, feeling her heart sink. “That means I wasn’t even your second choice. I was your third.”

Adrien scrambled onto the couch. “No, no! Please don’t start thinking like that.”

“But it’s true.” Feeling smaller than she’d ever felt, Marinette buried her head in her hands and pushed back tears that threatened to fall. “I’m sorry you didn’t wind up with either of the people you loved before me.”

“Marinette, I need you to look at me.” He carefully pulled her hands away from her face and held them in a steady grip. “You weren’t my third choice. You weren’t even my second choice. You were my always choice.”

“Your...always choice?” A tear slipped down her cheek and fell onto her lap. “I don’t understand.”

“You know what? Neither did I until the day I found out that you had a crush on me. Sure, I was in love with the girl I work with. It consumed me and didn’t let me think about anything else, but she didn’t want a relationship with me. I was heartbroken, and while I respected her wishes, I didn’t know how I could ever love another person the same way. Then Nino made his little slip-up, and I realized that I already did.” He leaned in and rested his forehead on hers. “I’ve been in love with you since the day we met.”

“But…”

“No buts. Please. I care about my work friend a lot, but I am in love with you. Yes, loving her was exciting, like fireworks, but loving you feels like…” His face softened, his gaze filled with adoration. “It feels like home.”

Her breath hitched. “Adrien…”

“Marinette.” The reverence in which he uttered her name set her entire being ablaze.

“You’re going to melt me into a puddle again.”

“Good.”

She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and closed herself around him. Returning the gesture, he drew her into a tight embrace. With his chest flush against her own, Marinette could feel the pounding of his heart and the depth of his breaths.

When he pulled away, she immediately felt the absence of his warmth. She sniffled, and using his thumbs, he wiped away the wetness from her cheeks.

“Now go have fun with your friend.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I want to hear all about it when I call you tonight.”

Marinette couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped. “Thanks, you, too.”

“And maybe the both of us could convince our friends to hang out as a group one day...you know, since we’re all so alike.”

“It’s funny. My friend used to have a crush on me, and I turned him down. It sounds like our friends wouldn’t just hit it off, but they might just be made for each other...like you and I are.” She couldn’t help but laugh as she pictured Chat and Adrien’s work partner meeting for the first time. “Too bad my friend is already dating someone.”

“My co-worker is dating someone as well.” Adrien chuckled and shook his head. “But for real, it sounds like they’d be a match made in heaven.”

“Wouldn’t it be funny if they were actually dating each other?” It was a ridiculous thought, but it felt good to laugh after crying.

Adrien nearly doubled over. “That would be the most insane plot twist. Their relationship would be like one of those romances from a movie or something.”

“Only if it’s a really cheesy movie!” She thought back to all of the times she’d dealt with Chat’s flirtations. “I know for a fact that my friend is the ultimate hopeless romantic.”

“You mean like me?”

“Well, I did say that the two of you were alike.”

“Then I must meet this classy gentleman friend of yours!” Adrien held a finger in the air as he spoke. “He and I shall be the best of friends.”

An infinitely more ridiculous idea popped into her head. “I just thought of an even bigger plot twist!”

“Let’s hear it.”

“What if you’re actually the friend I’m meeting today?”

“Well then, may I suggest the biggest plot twist of all? You and I are actually each other’s friends, and we didn’t know because until today, we’ve been dressing up in disguises every time we’ve met up.”

Marinette slapped her hands against her cheeks and feigned surprise. “Then that would mean that you fell in love with me twice!”

Yeah, it would! And it would also mean that you turned me down because you had a crush on me but didn’t know it.” Adrien flopped dramatically onto the couch. “My poor brain can’t handle the confusion.”

“Same. Can you even imagine trying to keep something like that straight?”

“Nope! As crazy and cool as something like that would be, I’m pretty relieved we don’t have to deal with that kind of mess in our love lives.”

“Yes! Agreed!” But you’re right. I do think that the four of us would have a lot of fun together! I’ll ask him about a possible group hang-out session. I’m sure he’d be down for something like that.” Marinette straightened her purse strap, bent down, and pecked Adrien on the lips. “I’ll talk to you later. Love you!”

As she walked towards the door and out of his room, she heard Adrien call out behind her. “I love you, too!”

Carrying his words with her, Marinette bounced with each step she took. She skipped down the steps of the mansion and basked in the warmth of the summer sun.

How could she have been so silly to think that Adrien loved her less than he did? Of course, he loved her! She could see it in his eyes every time they were together. She could hear it in the way he spoke to her. She could feel it in each kiss.

Adrien Agreste loves her just as much as she loves him, and there was nothing that could ruin the high that came with this knowledge.

Nope. Not a single thing could ruin her day.

She was in love.

Someone loved her back.

And she was about to reveal her identity to Chat Noir.

Marinette froze.

She was about to reveal her identity to Chat Noir.

What was she thinking?

She couldn’t do something like this. She and Chat were fine the way they were. Right?

Opening the clasp to her purse, she ducked into an alleyway and did her best to not hyperventilate. “Tikki!”

Her Kwami zipped into view. “What’s wrong? Is there an Akuma?”

“No...it’s just…”

“Yes?”

“Just…”

“Marinette, what is it?”

She clenched and unclenched her fists several times before finding the words to say. “I can’t do this. No, I shouldn’t do this. How could I have possibly thought that this was a good idea?”

“What?” Tikki squinted. “Are you talking about meeting Chat?”

“Yes! Didn’t you always say that we had our secret identities for a reason?”

“Yes, but that was before. You’re the Guardian now, and you’re supposed to know where every single Miraculous from the Miracle Box is at all times.”

“But what if-”

Tikki cut her off. “No what if’s! This is the right thing to do, and you know it!”

Is it? Worry still clouded her mind. Am I going to regret this?

“I don’t know.” Marinette fiddled with the strap on her purse, fighting the urge to turn around and run home. “What if everything goes wrong?”

“It won’t!” Tikki nuzzled Marinette’s cheek. “Also, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. Don’t forget...I already know who Chat Noir is.”

“That’s right! You do!” She cupped her Kwami in her hands. “Will you tell me a little bit about him? It’ll make me feel better about all of this. Please?” Tikki shook her head. “Marinette, you already know everything you need to know about him.”

“I do? But I thought the Miraculous magic was supposed to make that impossible.”

“The suit masks your features, not your heart, and trust me, you know Chat Noir’s heart inside and out. He’s never tried to hide who he was from you.”

“I guess you’re right.” She fixed her eyes on the pavement below. “But I’m still nervous.”

“And you think he’s not? He’s most likely freaking out as we speak, and it would probably make him feel a lot better if you actually showed up.” And once again, Marinette knew Tikki was right.

She had to do this.

If not for herself, for Chat. Her partner deserved the support that came with knowing her identity. She never wanted him to find himself in a position where he needed help from the Guardian and didn’t know where to find it. Chat needed her just as much as she needed him.

And now it was time to meet him.

Doing her best to shake off the sinking pit in her gut, Marinette smoothed out her skirt and straightened her back. “I can do this.”

“Yes, you can!” Tikki threw her tiny paws into the air. “This is so exciting!”

“Sure, if by exciting you mean that nauseous feeling in your stomach, but I can do this. I’m Ladybug.”

“And more importantly, you’re Marinette Dupain-Cheng. You’re the girl who’s an amazing designer, class president, and friend. You are kind, and you always stand up for what’s right.”

Marinette could feel her confidence grow. “That’s right...I am! I’m great in and out of the mask. Just like Chat is.”

“Just like Chat is.” Tikki smiled. “And I’m sure he would love to know your name.”

“And I would love to know his.”

“And all you need to do is walk into that cafe.”

“And find the boy wearing the black hoodie and the silver ring.” Marinette held up her purse for her Kwami. “C’mon, Tikki. Let’s go have dinner with the boys!”

“Boys?” Tikki cocked her head to the side. “As in more than one?”

“Are you telling me that you’re not excited to see Plagg without having to sneak around?” Marinette couldn’t hold back her laughter when she saw Tikki’s face light up before she enthusiastically dove into the bag.

With a renewed spring in her step, Marinette made her way to the cafe. Within minutes, she found herself standing outside the glass door, gripping the metal door handle. She took a deep breath, opened the door, and crossed the threshold.

A blast of warmth hit her face as she walked into the intimate dining space. She scanned the room and felt a rush when her eyes landed on a hunched figure clad in black.

Chat.

If it was indeed her partner, he was sitting at the far end of the cafe, facing the wall and scrolling through his phone. He had a hood pulled over his head, so she couldn’t see the color of the person’s hair. During their last patrol, Chat had divulged that his hair was actually blond so she would recognize him when she saw him. While this stranger wasn’t making it easy, there was almost no one else it could be.

And there was only one way to find out.

It’s now or never, Marinette. She psyched herself up as she walked over to the hooded stranger. Just walk up and ask…

“HEYISTHISSEATTAKEN?” Marinette slapped her hands over her mouth when she realized how loudly the garbled strand of words had come out. “I mean…”

The cafe had gone quiet, and she could feel all eyes on her.

This is a disaster. What am I doing? If this is Chat, he’s going to think I’m such a weird-

“Marinette?” A hand wrapped around hers, bringing her catastrophizing to an end.

Wait.

The hand was warm and familiar. “My sweet, beautiful Marinette. Come here.”

I know that voice.

The hand tugged her closer. “Come here, my love.”

Adrien.

A pair of green eyes filled with love and surprise locked with hers. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Her brain continued to short-circuit. “What are you doing here? And why are you hiding under that hoodie?”

“Ahhh, yes.” Using his free hand, he scratched the back of his head. “I’m meeting my friend here, and I really didn’t want anyone taking pictures of me meeting with a girl who wasn’t you and getting the wrong idea. Having another media presence conversation with my father is the last thing I need.”

“I totally get that. I remember you telling me about the last time your dad sat you down for one of those talks.” She smiled, but confusion continued to swirl around her mind.

She could have sworn it was Chat; however, she couldn’t have asked for a better outcome to her mistake.

“I know it hasn’t even been an hour, but I’m happy to see you.” A gentle kiss pressed against her knuckles. “So, what are you doing here? You’re not following me, are you?”

Marinette rolled her eyes and took a seat across from him. “No, my days of following you are far behind me, thank you very much, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t remind me of all my embarrassing pre-dating decisions.”

“They’re so cute though!” He rested his head in his hands. “I’ve never had someone care about me as much as you do before.”

“Adrien, stop!” Her cheeks started to burn. “My friend is going to be here any second, and I can’t look like a tomato when he shows up!”

“Ohhhh, so that’s what you’re doing here! Wow...what a crazy coincidence!”

“You want to know an even bigger coincidence? My friend said that he was going to be wearing a black hoodie when I met up with him. I thought he was you.”

Adrien leaned back in his chair. “Wait...really?”

“Yeah.” Marinette nodded her head. “He said that he would be wearing a black hoodie with a silver ring. He wanted me to be able to recognize him.”

“Hold on.” He opened and closed his mouth several times before continuing. “Have you never met your friend in person before?”

“Uhhh.” Panic started to settle in her gut, but luckily she knew how to keep a straight face. “Well, it’s complicated.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, we've met in person, but our outfits were kind of weird.”

“Uh-huh, and what’s your friend’s name again? I don’t think you ever mentioned it.”

“Umm...you see, we’ve only been using nicknames, so I’m not totally sure.”

He held up a hand. “So let me get this straight. You two don’t know each other’s names, and there was a chance that you wouldn’t recognize him because you were dressed weird every time you saw each other before today.”

“Yes.” Marinette looked away. “That’s right.”

“And I’m guessing that means that you gave him something to look for to help him know that it’s you?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

She swallowed, sincerely hoping that she wasn’t giving too much away. “My black earrings.”

His eyes immediately locked on her ears, sending him into a near trance-like state. Several emotions passed over his features before his eyes grew wide.

“Oh my God.” His voice was barely a whisper. “Oh my God.”

Her cheeks grew hotter as his unrelenting stare continued. “I-is there something on my face?”

“It all makes sense now.”

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

He grabbed her hands from across the table. “I was close a few times but you always shook me off your scent. You’re so clever, but I guess you already knew that.”

“What are you talking about?” She pulled her hands away. “Adrien, I don’t understand.”

“You’re joking, right?” Without breaking his stare, he leaned in and curled his mouth into a smirk. “Oh wow, you’re not.”

The panic and confusion that clouded her thoughts began to melt away as her annoyance grew.

Why would Adrien freak her out like that and then...laugh?

He was laughing.

Why was he laughing?

“Would you care to share what’s so funny?” she asked with a huff.

He wiped a tear away from his eye as he attempted to compose himself with several deep breaths. “I just can’t believe it!”

“Can’t believe what?”

“Marinette.” He got up, walked around the table, and knelt in front of her. “Don’t you think it’s interesting that you’re waiting in this cafe for a boy in a black hoodie and you ran into me?”

“Yeah, it’s a funny coincidence. Great minds think alike, right? Wait...speaking of friends.” Her eyes scanned the cafe. “My friend still isn’t here.”

“I guess we’ll have to do this a different way then.” Adrien stood up and grabbed his phone off of the table. “Can you do me a favor?”

“If I do, will you finally tell me what’s going on?”

“Yes, but I think you’re going to figure it out soon enough.”

“Fine. What do you want me to do?”

He pulled her onto her feet. “I’m going to go call my friend because she’s not here yet either. While I’m gone, could you call your friend, as well?”

“What, no!” Marinette did another scan of the cafe before turning back to Adrien. “I have to stay here in case he shows up. If he gets here and I’m not here, he’ll think I stood him up.”

“He won’t. And don’t you want to see if he’s okay?”

She bit her lip and watched as a pair of giggling girls walked through the door. “Yeah, I do.”

Relief washed over his face. “Thank you! And then when our friends get here, maybe we could all eat together?”

“And you’ll tell me what’s going on?”

“Yes, I promise that if you haven’t figured it out by the time we both return, I will tell you everything, but you’re going to facepalm when I do.”

His sincerity calmed her agitation. “We’ll see about that!”

Adrien laughed again and disappeared into the men’s room. Following suit, Marinette pushed open the door to the ladies’ room, checked that she was alone, and transformed.

Before she had the chance to pull out her yo-yo and make the call, it started to ring.

She grabbed the device and held it up to her face. “Chat, where are you? Are you okay?”

“Can you meet me on the roof?” She could hear a hint of mischief in his voice.

"Right now?"

"Yes."

“Why?”

“Purr-lease, my lady? Do it for me?”

"Is this something I'm going to regret?"

"Nope! I purr-omise. Cat's honor!"

She rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

“Awesome! See you there!” Before she could respond, the line went dead.

Great.

Now she had two boys who were acting weird.

After finding a window that was big enough for her to squeeze through, she leaped through the opening and hooked her yo-yo around a chimney. With a tug of the wire, she flew into the air and landed on the edge of the roof.

“Hey, Ladybug!” She whipped around and was met face to face with the most excited-looking Chat she’d ever seen. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“You asked me to come up here, you silly cat!” She sheathed her yo-yo and rested her hands on her hips. “What are you up to?”

“Even after saying the same opening line? Really? Nothing?”

“Chat, what are you talking about? I swear, between you and my boyfriend…”

“Your boyfriend?”

“Oh, right.” She pressed her pointer fingers together. “So, my boyfriend is here, and he’s also waiting to meet with a friend, but he’s acting all weird right now...just like you are. But anyway, I know that today is a big deal for us and we have a lot to talk about, but since he’s already here and I don’t want to make it any weirder than it already is, do you think it would be okay if we ate dinner with my boyfriend and his friend?”

He took a step closer. “That sounds like a lot of fun. I would love to.”

“That’s a relief! I was worried you’d get mad and say no.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “But we may have to get our stories straight before we go back in there. I kind of told him that we only knew each other by nicknames until now, so unless we want to tell him that we’re the heroes of Paris, we should do the reveal here.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“Oh, and one more thing. My boyfriend is kind of famous? He’s Adrien Agreste.”

“The model whose face is plastered all over the city?” Chat’s expression was unreadable. “Does that mean you’re the girl from all his Instagram posts?”

Marinette hoped it wouldn’t be a problem. “Yeah, that’s me. He’s wearing a hoodie so no one recognizes him, so I hope that’s okay.”

“That's fine with me.” He took another step closer. “So, would you like to do it on the count of three?”

“Do what?” They were so close.

“Drop our transformations.”

“Right! We should do that!”

He was now inches away from her. “On the count of three?”

“Sounds good to me.” Her heart hammered against her chest.

This was it.

It was now or never.

She took a deep breath and counted with him.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

They spoke their detransformations at the same time, and Marinette’s brain ceased to work as the magical green light left her boyfriend in Chat’s place. Taking a step back, her foot slipped off the ledge, and everything went in slow motion as Adrien yelled, grabbed her hand, yanked her back onto the roof, and fell with her into a heap of tangled limbs.

Without letting go, Adrien sat up and pulled her into his lap. “Are you okay? Please tell me you’re alright!”

Still stunned speechless, all she could do was nod.

“See? I told you I’d always be there to catch you when you fall.” He gave her a once over before wrapping his arms around her and holding her against his chest. “Sorry, I thought it was a good idea. I should have moved us to the middle of the roof.”

Her brain began to sputter back to life.

Adrien was holding her.

And Adrien was Chat Noir.

Which meant Chat was holding her.

Which meant…

“I’m in love with Chat Noir.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Yes, you are.” He rested his mouth against the crown of her head. “And I fell in love with the same girl twice. Best. Plot twist. Ever.”

Marinette thought back to earlier that day, a time that now felt like a thousand years ago. “How did we not see this?”

“I don’t know, but now it all makes sense why you never agreed to go to the movies with me as Chat Noir. We were too busy living in our own movie.”

“We have so much to talk about.”

He held her even tighter. “Yes, we do, but we have a whole lifetime to talk. Let’s just enjoy dinner tonight.”

“Dinner sounds perfect.” She let all of her muscles relax and allowed herself to melt into his embrace. “I’m surprised you’re not freaking out right now.”

“Oh, trust me, I am, but I’m just going to focus on how amazing it is that my girlfriend and my lady are the same person and worry about the rest later. How are you holding up?”

“I’m still processing, but there’s a good chance that I will freak out and scream into a pillow later.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“What makes you think that you’ll be there to see it?”

“What makes you think that I’m going to leave you alone tonight?”

“And how do you plan on doing that after I go home after our date?”

“I was thinking that purr-haps a certain cat could come and visit you on your balcony? It sounds a lot more interesting than a boring phone call if you ask me.”

Of course, they were the same person.

It all made sense now.

This was Adrien. This was her Chaton. This was her best friend. This was the love of her life. This was her everything.

“Fine.” She pulled away and tapped his nose with her pointer finger. “But the cat has to bring hot chocolate if he wants to stay.”

“Deal!” He leaned in and rested his forehead against hers. “And may I just say that I am so excited for our next patrol.”

“Oh, no…”

“I wonder what the pictures on the Ladyblog will look like when Alya captures Ladybug turning into a blushing, stuttering mess after Chat Noir flirts with her!”

“Don’t think that I won’t end you just because you’re cute.”

“Awwwww!” He nuzzled her nose. “We can be cute together!”

“I said it before, and I'll say it again. You’re going to be the death of me, Adrien Agreste.” She buried her face against his hoodie and shivered.

“Nope! Not on my watch.” He got up and lifted her into his arms, prompting her to squeak. “Let’s get you warmed up inside.”

As he called for his transformation, Marinette found herself unable to look away. Here he was, holding her like she was his world, ready to do seemingly anything for her.

How did she get so lucky?

“Alright, hold on.” She braced herself against him as he leaped into the alleyway below.

He set her down on the ground and called off his transformation once again. After telling Plagg to join Tikki in Marinette’s purse, he took her hand and began walking towards the cafe.

Before they reached the door, Marinette stopped in her tracks. “Hey, Adrien?”

“What’s up?” He turned to look at her. “Did you want to go somewhere else to eat?”

She shook her head. “No, that’s not it. I’m just really happy that it’s you.”

“Oh, Marinette.” He pulled her back into his arms and dipped her into a kiss. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but knowing that it’s you is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I thought having me as your girlfriend was the greatest thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“Life would be boring if that stayed my favorite thing. Besides, if we’re going to be together forever, do you really want to stay just my girlfriend?”

“We’re only sixteen, Adrien.”

“And that means that we have many, many years to experience even more plot twists and greatest moments with each other.”

His declaration warmed her from her head to her toes, but to her surprise, she managed to keep herself composed and stutter-free.

“I guess that means we’re still in this together? Just you and me?” She snaked her arms around his neck.

“Always.” She couldn’t help but smile as he kissed her again.

[1994sunflower]

heaven to you. ii (m.c)

pairing: michael clifford x reader

genre: smut, angst, a bit of fluff

word count: 7.4k

involves: bad boy!michael, college!au, jealous!michael, established relationship, language, oral (f receiving), fingering, exhibitionism, dirty talk, daddy kink, choking, size kink, face slapping (consensual), hair pulling, spitting kink, praise, degredation/name calling, innocence kink, virgin kink, mentions of drinking, michael is kind of really cruel in this one

summary: michael trusted you. but it was hard to feel comfortable when the picture-perfect man was trying to move in on his girlfriend. it was even harder to think that y/n would probably be better of with him than with michael. so he did what he had to do, even if it was cruel, even if it could end with his girlfriend thinking he was the monster everyone else saw him as.

part one

+

It was sufficient to say that Michael had been pissed off for weeks. Even more than he usually was. And he knew exactly what the cause was. Which somehow made it worse, because he couldn’t do anything about it. Not unless he wanted a very angry girlfriend on his hands.

Michael was proud of his distance from most people, he didn’t like the drama or the vulnerability that came with them. Unfortunately, his best friend Ashton, did not share the same sentiment. No, when he took a liking to someone, he was around them often. And, unfortunately, Michael was often along for the ride.

So even though he hated Justin from the moment he saw him, which was only invigorated when his connection with Michael’s girlfriend was revealed, he still had to see and hear an awful lot of him. Even after all his attempts to block him out, including demanding that him and his two friends no longer be allowed over. Too bad he was demanding it from the only person that didn’t seem to be scared of him.

Every time Michael finally decided to go to class, after much begging from you, he saw the guy walking around and touring campus. Every time he went out to eat, he saw the guy on the same street walking out of another store.

Every time Ashton had Chis and Charlie over, he would hear about who Justin was. He had a feeling Ashton did it on purpose, to push his buttons, asking those two about the one person Michael did not want to hear about. Even when he wasn’t in the room, Justin was still there.

He heard all about how intelligent he was - top of his class in high school, valedictorian, student council president - and how rich he was - living in a mansion in the best neighborhood, neighbors with the fucking governor. He even heard about his philanthropy work - how he networked with multiple charities even as a teenager (including founding his own) and was the planner of any and all fundraisers in the area.

And frankly, Michael was sick of hearing how you and Justin were perfect for each other. Sick of thinking how much better off you would be with someone like him. Even if they never explicitly said it, he could tell by the uncomfortable glances thrown his way that they were all thinking it.

It had gotten so bad that the only moment where he didn’t feel angry was when he was with his girlfriend. It felt so solid, real, when he had you in his arms that he nearly felt content. Which is not an emotion he felt often. So as he sat then, with you next to him on the patio of a campus cafe with his arms draped across your shoulders and you sitting half on his lap and half on your chair, he didn’t have an angry scowl on his face. Instead, he had something that could likely pass as a smile and soft eyes that looked down at his small girlfriend lovingly.  

He watched you pick at your muffin gingerly, eating only bits of it at a time as you read from a notebook in front of you. But he could tell your mind was somewhere else. You had that faraway look in your eyes that you always had when you were thinking. Or daydreaming. Your black hair was pulled back in a high ponytail with two long strands in the front to adorn your face, the wind blowing them peacefully. He pushed one of those strands behind your ear so he could take a better look at your face.

Even though it’s not something Michael would say in public, you looked beautiful. But you always did, really. Every time he looked at you, he couldn’t help but admire you. Even when he didn’t see you. When he just saw your name light up his phone in a text or call, when he just heard your voice, it was enough to have his heart start beating just a little faster.

He would do anything for you, anything to keep you happy. He was whipped and proudly so. You were, quite easily, the best thing that ever happened to him.

But if hearing about Justin from his acquaintances or seeing him a couple yards away bothered Michael, he hated when he heard his precious girlfriend mention his name. You didn’t mention him often, because you knew how much he didn’t like it (though that didn’t mean you understood it).

“Don’t forget that Justin’s going away get together is in a few days.” You said casually as you placed a bit of muffin into your mouth, looking up at him expectantly. You spoke in that sing-song voice that always seemed to calm him.

It would have in that moment as well, if it weren’t for your words. He looked down at his small girlfriend, taken aback. “When did I agree to that?” His words sounded harsh and Michael wished, not for the first time, that he could be kinder, at least to you.

But luckily, you knew him well enough not to be offended by his tone.

“Mikey, you know he’s my friend. I haven’t seen him in years so I want to go to say goodbye, and I want you by my side.” Your eyes were so bright and pleading and as he set his colder ones to yours, he knew he couldn’t refuse.

You smiled brightly, kissing his cheek in a thank you. Michael didn’t miss the glances the couple were sent by passing by students, likely in surprise that the Michael was so calm and allowed someone so close. But you were the only person that really mattered to him at that moment.

Michael watched you close your chemistry notebook and slip it into your backpack. “Don’t forget, you have class in 15 minutes, you should head over there now so you’re not late.”

Just like you helped him study for his classes, you reminded him every time his class was about to start. You knew his schedule better than he knew it. There was no doubt in his mind that he wouldn’t go to any class if it weren’t for your constant reminders and begs. Even with those, he still likely would’ve skipped if not for the fact that he didn’t want to disappoint you. There was a lot about him that could disappoint you, he didn’t want to add to the list.

Michael nodded obediently at his girlfriend. Partly to appease her but also partly because he was actually planning to go, even if he was just going to be wasting 55 minutes of his time since he lacked any materials for class - including a backpack.

You smiled lovingly as you slipped your own backpack onto your back, your own chemistry class was about to start.

“Love you.” With one final kiss to his lips, a kiss that Michael very much wished was longer and deeper, you stood up and began walking to your class like the good student you were. You were the embodiment of goodness.

Michael waited until he couldn’t see you anymore before he stood up himself and began walking in the opposite direction. Though he went to such a large university, he never really had an issue with crowds or foot traffic. No, people made way for him without him having to get to that point. Maybe it was his reputation that did it, his ripped attire or maybe it was his sleeves neck full of tattoos that were in full display under his black t-shirt.

As he walked, he noticed the usual whispers that traveled everywhere he did. Many coming from girls that smiled at him flirtatiously as he walked past. Though he didn’t so much as glance at them as he passed by them, uninterested. Even if he did, he would look with angry eyes that made them flinch and couldn’t help but worthlessly compare them to his Y/N, knowing no one could really pair up.

Instead, his mind traveled to the blond boy that was getting to close to his own good. The boy that had once captured the heart of the love of his life and though he knew he should probably let it go, just the reminder of how Justin gazes at her, how he was everything you could want, had Michael clenching and unclenching his fists.

You had tried to stop his violent habits. But in moments like these, the only thing that Michael needed was to punch something and to punch something hard. He needed to get out the anger that was bubbling up in his body more and more by the minute.

So as a brunette boy on a skateboard hit into him roughly before falling to the ground, Michael watched him crawl to pick up his skateboard and apologize in a shaky voice before he set out, walking fast to behind the university gymnasium building.

He wasn't really lying to you when he told her he was going to class, Michael reasoned to himself as he followed the boy behind the building. He was just going to be a little late due to a detour.

“Hey!” He called out in a gruff voice

All it took was the kid to turn around for him to throw a heavy punch, with the hand whose fingers read out ‘Y O U’,  smirking wickedly when he heard a satisfying crunch.

+

“What happened?” That was the first thing out of your mouth when you saw Michael again.

He didn’t flinch when you picked up his hand, though you certainly would’ve expected him to. His knuckles were bloody, bits and pieces were missing skin and you could see hints of gravel.

But instead, he just regarded you stoically, cooly. “I told you I’m fine.”

You squeezed his hand sharply to which he finally let out a small hiss of pain. You shook your head, “Fine, huh?”

He leaned closer to you, smirking. “Now, you’re just trying to turn me on.”

However, you didn’t let yourself get swept away by his sweet voice. Instead, you moved out of his room to the bathroom. He was constantly getting into fights to the point where he had plenty of gauze lying around. When you came back, he just held out his hand again in defeat.

You graciously began to cover his injury up. “You’re unbelievable” You chastised. “I tell you to go to class and what do you do? Beat someone up. You were fine when I left you!”

Michael was in a strangely good mood, maybe it was because he had let out all of his frustration or maybe it was something in the way you were doting and attending to him, but he did something he rarely did. He said a joke. “In my defense, I went to class.”

When you, not only didn’t laugh, but made a move to leave, he actually even laughed and collected you in his arms. His laugh was so lovely that you smiled, even if you didn’t want to.

“Come on, baby. I’m sorry.” His wrapped hand came up and he used to thumb to pull your bottom lip down, “Let me make it up to you.” His eyes got slightly darker as his eyes trailed down to your lips.

You’re eyes trailed down to his tattoos that made him look like a piece of art, tempted. But you refused to give him a reward. It was actions like what he did that day that made him so feared and the object of so many horrifying rumors. He had been more restrained with his violence since you started dating. He fought less and less and it was only to keep you happy. But he didn’t stop completely, and you understood that, though that didn’t mean you liked it.

You didn’t even let your mind wander to the poor kid he did this to. You think your heart would hurt to think of it, it would hurt even more to think the guy you were so in love with, the one right in front of you was the one that inflicted that pain.

“Great then, make it up to me by going to my house and picking up my textbooks, I’ll work here and help you study today.”

That was not the answer Michael was expecting or wanting. He looked confused as he stared into your eyes, looking for a hint of humor to indicate that was a joke. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope, hurry back.”

+

Michael wished he could say he couldn’t believe he was doing this. He hated leaving his house when it was unnecessary. He hated even more to go to your house where it was surrounded by people who didn’t fear going outside and listening to loud music on their yard, unlike his neighbors who had gotten to know Michael’s preference of silence a long time ago.

But it was for you so he could definitely believe he was walking by the annoyingly crowded yards to the modest apartment at the end of the lane.

As he climbed up to your floor, he already had the spare key you gave him in his hand, separated from the rest of the keys in his keychain. It was easy to distinguish as you painted it your favorite color - baby pink. He just looked up when he was about to get to her door when he saw something he definitely did not want to see.

Justin. Fluffy haired, blond Justin standing in front of his girlfriend’s apartment door. He was wearing boat shoes and a salmon polo shirt. At that moment, Michael hated him. He wanted to punch his face in.

Justin was fidgeting, moving his feet left to right in a pacing manner. Small murmurs left his mouth as if he was practicing something.

‘Like…I like…no, that’s not right…I…’

But Michael had heard enough so he made his footsteps very loud and noticeable as he closed any distance between them.

Almost as soon as he reached them, Michael had all but thrown him against the wall behind him. His fist was buried in the collar of Justin’s shirt, twisting. Any and all anger he had released that day came back at double the force.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Michael sneered in his face and he took only slight satisfaction at seeing Justin’s eyes widen in fear and his mouth floundering pathetically trying to figure out what to say.

“I-I just came to give Y/N my organic chemistry notes.” He held up a green notebook as proof, “I already took the c-class so I wanted to h-help.”

Somehow, the thought that he could help Y/N in something Michael couldn’t, academics, made it worse. He was furious, furious that Justin was so perfect while Michael was so damaged, so fucked up.

Michael pulled and pushed him by his shirt, causing Justin to hit the back of his head against the wall, “No, I heard you. ‘I like’” Michael mimicked, before pushing him even harder again, “You like what?” His voice escalated and when Justin didn’t respond, he was all but yelling when repeated, “You like what?”

“Y/N” Justin yelled back, but more out of fear than anything, “I like Y/N.”

He didn’t know whether or not to be impressed that blondie finally grew a pair to tell him the truth, despite knowing what Michael was like. All he knew was that he had also grown confident enough to be willing to tell you about his feelings. Michael wanted to beat the shit out of him, even worse than he beat that skateboarder a few hours ago, worse than he’d ever beat anyone in his life.

But he couldn’t, so he didn’t. He knew you wouldn’t be as easy to forgive him for that like you did in the past. If he was a less selfish man, he would probably give Justin a fair chance. You deserved better than Michael and everyone knew it. Even Michael.

But he was never known for being selfless.

He leaned in closer to hiss out his words, so only he would hear. “You will never be with Y/N. Do you wanna know how I know? Because I ruined her, I ruined her for you and I ruined her for all other men.”

“When I met her, she was a blushing little virgin. Do you want to know what she does now?” Justin looked away at that point but Michael grabbed the back of his neck to force him to look him in the eyes for his next words. He wanted to see the impact they had on him.

“Now, she begs me to fuck her with my cock while she calls me daddy.”

Justin curled his lips and his expression was that of pain that Michael loved to see. “I took her virginity. And it felt so fucking good. She was so tight that I could barely fit inside of her. She was a blushing mess under me, it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.”

“I’m the only one who’s ever touched her. She gave me the thing you’ve always dreamed about. Me. The monster with tattoos, anger issues and a bad past. I took away that innocence you liked her so much for. She fucking creams when I call her my bitch and my whore, when I tell her I’m going to knock her up.”

“I know exactly what she likes. She’s so submissive for me.” He couldn’t stop. Michael couldn’t hurt Justin physically so he wanted to hurt him every other way he could. “I’ve fucked every part of her that you fantasize and jack off to. And when she talks to you, know that I fucked that mouth just moments before.”

He spat his final words. “So I want you to know that she would be nothing but unsatisfied with you, she would always be thinking of me, wanting me, needing me to get her off, to make her happy. She’s mine.”

When Michael finally let him go, Justin’s eyes were glistening but he didn’t move from against the wall. Even with the freedom to leave, to run out of there like Michael expected him to, it looked like he was in shock. He was barely blinking and he couldn’t seem to get his mouth to fully close.

Even after Michael went into your house and picked up all your textbook and notebooks, Justin was still out there, staring out into space.

Michael didn’t stay and watch as he silently abandoned Justin to the cruel words echoing in his mind.

+

Michael had been acting weird for two days. Every time he saw you he would ask if you’d heard anything interesting. Considering he never really asked about anything deeper than how your day was, preferring to live in the moment, it was concerning. It’d gotten to a point where you were worried he did something illegal, or worse, if that were possible.

But each day, it was the same answer. No, you hadn’t heard anything new and he seemed to drop it just like that.

“Alright, what did you do?” You asked one day as you laid with your head on his lap on the couch. Ashton was a few seats away from you two, staring at the tv. You glanced up at your boyfriend quickly before knowing he wasn’t going to answer so you looked at Ashton. “What did he do?”

“I thought you already knew he beat up that freshmen.” Ashton swatted at your foot.

You kicked him in retaliation, “That’s it? That’s all he’s done?” You weren’t convinced.

Michael ran his long fingers through your hair, soothingly. “What other kind of trouble did you want me to do?”

An embarrassed blush dusted over your cheeks, “N-Nothing, I just thought…”

At the sight of your red cheeks, Michael tugged you up to sit on his lap, “Thought what, baby girl?”

Ashton stood almost immediately, “You guys are disgusting, I’m going to the Union.”

Michael didn’t look back as the front door opened and closed. Instead, he stood with you still in his lap, making you squeal and wrap your laps around the middle of his torso. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. With his hands holding you up by your ass, he guided the both of you to his bedroom, only putting you down once you were directly in front of his bedroom.

Now you stood directly in front of him, your eyes just reaching the level of his upper torso so you had to look up to see his face. His figure was eclipsing your entire body. Something about seeing you below him, so much smaller than his figure and so easy to manhandle, definitely did something to him.  He wanted to destroy you. It didn’t help that your blushing face made you look like a school girl about to get fucked for the first time.

“God, you’re so innocent” His rough groaned out, making you wet almost immediately. “Sit down for me, little one.”

But you shook your head, your arm raising just slightly, enough for your hand to rub over the bulge in his basketball shorts, feeling the outline of his length. You looked back up to him seductively, “Let me suck you off.” You bit your lip in a plea.

To your surprise, he shook his head, looking down at you, and pushed you to a seated position. He wasn’t one to say no to a blowjob so this really took you off guard. You were almost laying down, holding yourself up just by your elbows when he leaned closer to you. Two fingers, each one with the letters ‘F’ and ‘U’ tattooed respectively on them with further ink details trailing to his arm, prodded your lips. You opened your mouth to take them in.

He moved them in and out and your head bobbed accordingly with his pace. His light eyes watched your every move hotly and you couldn’t help but moan against his fingers.

Without double thinking it, you took a hold of his wrist with both of your small hands, stopping his movements. Your big eyes were kept on his before taking his entire digits in your mouth, effectively deep-throating his fingers.

“Fuck.” He whispered before standing up to his full height again. You smiled at the fact that you pleased him.

He pushed you down to fully be laying down as he got down on his knees in front of you. You were wearing shorts this time so he undid the buttons and pulled them off of you, along with your black underwear. He threw them behind him distractedly.

You couldn’t really prepare yourself when he put in the still glistening fingers that were in your mouth into your entrance. You pushed yourself up as you arched your back in pleasure.

When his mouth found its way onto you to lick your sensitive nub while his fingers thrusted in and out of you, your face scrunched up in pleasure and your hands searched anything to try to hold onto. One of your hands clutched the blanket under you while the other found its way into his dark hair, pulling with the intensity of the pleasure.

But as you pulled and as the pain it caused him increased, so did his actions. He pulled away just enough to watch your face as he thrust his fingers in and out of you faster. His fingers curled just slightly inside you which had you gasping and then moaning louder in pleasure. His free hand came up to slap your pussy sharply. You gasped and jumped to close your legs in surprise but he held you in place by your inner thighs.

He spit down onto your cunt before starting to eat you out again. His tongue flatly licking your every crevice ravenously before sucking on your clit, making your eyes roll back in pleasure. Your head was thrown back onto the mattress as you closed your eyes.

“Please, please.” You felt your release approaching and as you sat up slightly, your back arching in pleasure, to look at him. You pushed his face deeper to you, which he graciously accepted. His nose sometimes rubbed against your clit which sent a shock of pleasure through your body.

All it took was for his fingers to separate inside of you for you to come directly onto his fingers and face. You didn’t even get to feel embarrassed before he stood, chin shiny with your wetness and cum, and placed those very fingers into your mouth and you had to taste yourself on them. It was so dirty but you couldn’t help but blush harder.

But he wasn’t done with you. At the sight of your blushing and trembling figure, he took off his shirt and shorts easily, letting them pool at his feet before he took a hold of your hips. “Bend over for me.”

He grabbed you by both your hips and forced you on all fours, pulling you back so you were right in front of him. He was strangely quiet when he spread your legs just enough and placed one of his legs onto the bed, the other staying on the floor. Like he was savoring the moment.

You felt him line up to your entrance from behind you and you cried out in pleasure when he finally entered you, his position somehow putting himself at just the right angle. You whimpered out, “So big.”

He moaned at your tightness and held onto your hips roughly as he began thrusting at a bruising pace. One of his hands gathered both of your wrists and pinned them behind you, causing your face to fall down to the mattress. Your moans and screams were muffled by the blanket below you.

The pleasure was almost overpowering, making you writhe forward, almost away from him at, your hands reaching out to the mattress in front of you. But he kept bringing you you back by pulling on your hips and wrists. You pushed your hips back in rhythm with his thrusts, or as much as you could in the steel grip he had you in.

Michael moaned loudly, “Good girl.” He praised as he let your arms go and slapped your ass hard, making you moan louder. “Fuck yourself on my cock.”

And suddenly he stopped his thrusts. You picked up your head to look behind to him, whining at the loss of friction and desperately thrusting back on him, moving yourself up and down on his hard length. Your hair was sticking to your face uncomfortably but you didn’t care. His hand found its way to your neck, choking you from behind deliciously. Every sensation suddenly felt heightened. The tattoos circling his hands and fingers looked beautiful adorning your neck.

He leaned himself down, pressing his front directly to your back, covering much of your body with just his upper half. He whispered into your ear, “Look at you getting yourself off like a bitch in heat.”

“Please.” You whined in response, needing for his rough thrusts to start back up again.

“Beg for it.” He stayed completely still.

“Please fuck me, fuck me.” You moaned loudly, “I need you to fuck me, fuck this pussy daddy.” Your words were filthy enough to make you blush but you were almost delirious with desire at that point that you didn’t care.

Michael chuckled at you tauntingly, “Look at you blushing like a shy little girl even when you’re begging for me to ruin you."

He had just begun thrusting again, thrusting at an almost violent pace when a phone rang.

“No!” You cried out in desperation at the interruption. You could barely breathe with how wanton you were.

You felt Michael pause for a moment before your phone fell in front of you. You picked your head up just to read the name on the screen: ‘Justin’. You went to toss it aside but Michael’s voice stopped you.

“Answer it.”

“W-What?” You couldn’t believe what he was suggesting.

But he had an enticing smile as he persuaded you, “Come on, you don’t have to say anything, just let him listen. Doesn’t that make you wet to think of someone listening to how good I make you feel?”

You couldn’t believe you were even considering it. “If he asks about it, you didn’t even realize you answered.”

You wanted to say no. It would be gross and disrespectful, but you couldn’t deny the large part of you that was turned on with what Michael was saying. So your fingers swiped the answer button before you could change your mind.

As soon as you answered, it was like something snapped in Michael because his hips pounded into yours with a new vigor. The sound of skin slapping against skin loud and obvious. You were planning on just burying your face in the mattress as you had been doing to mask your moans but Michael grabbed a hold of your hair in a makeshift pony tail and pulled, forcing your upper body in the air.

Instead, your loud stuttered moans filled the air as Michael’s showed you no mercy. It was even hotter knowing someone was listening. With your face pulled back, you tried to keep your eyes open and level with Michael’s, which were staring directly at you, examining your face.

Michael’s gravel voice sounded through the room, “Keep looking at me like the submissive slut you are. Let it out.” His tone had become almost soothing, “Look what I made you become.”

“Harder. Fuck me harder.” You screamed out, unashamed but barely managed to get the words out out.

His hips shifted, allowing him to get even deeper than before, fulfilling your wish. He was nearly growling when he spoke, “That’s right, fucking take it, bitch.”

Then he grunted, “Who’s cunt is this?” He spanked your ass once again to put emphasis on his question.

You whined and moaned at the same time, “Y-yours, it’s yours, your pussy daddy” He pulled harder at your hair which caused a particularly loud moan to come out of you, “Only yours, Mikey.”

Michael pulled your hair enough to have your face directly below his and kissed you hotly. He sucked and pulled at you bottom lip. His tongue finding its way into your mouth, kissing you gently, a contrast to how roughly he was currently fucking you. When he pulled back, you opened your mouth before he even said anything. He spat into your mouth, some of his spit landed on your chin.

“You’re such a fucking slut, look at you covered in my spit.” You gave a naughty laugh, biting your lip, to which he responded by slapping your cheek, the sting making you let out an elongated moan and clench around him.

“Yeah, you like that?” He moaned out as you clenched around him. “That’s good, princess.”

“Yes, yes, yes.” You closed your eyes in pleasure.

The sound of a call disconnecting sounded and a sickening realization dawned at you. You assumed Justin had hung up the moment he heard the sound of slapping skin or your moans. But he had just heard all of that.

Michael didn’t give you much time to dwell on it though because he hit a particular spot that had you seeing stars. “Cum for me, think you can do that, little one?”

As he said that, his hand reached down to your pussy, masterfully stimulating your clit, which, along with his thrusts, made you gasp out. You came around him almost instantly as he continued thrusting. But he didn’t stop hitting that spot, but instead rode out your orgasm by thrusting even deeper. He didn’t even stop when his thrusts slowed down and become sloppier. So by the time he was coming in you, you were practically sobbing at the overstimulation as you came for the third time that night.

“Beautiful.” He let out a satisfied moan as he pulled out, letting you drop fully down to the mattress, as you didn’t have enough strength to hold yourself up.

Michael patiently moved you to a more comfortable position, giving you the best spot on the bed as he dressed again.

You looked over at him sleepily, body glistening. “I honestly don’t know what’s gotten into you lately.”  

He gave you a secretive smirk before nodding silently before leaning down to give you a languid, gentle kiss as he was holding your face in both hands. It was a loving kiss and it was moments like those that reminded you why you loved him so much.

+

Justin’s going away party was tomorrow and Michael couldn’t believe his luck. The rich kid would leave soon enough and everything would be back to normal. He wouldn’t be constantly on edge and he wouldn’t have to leave the house every time Ashton had Chris and Charlie over.

And, as it turned out, Justin was too big of a pussy to tell you what he did after all. He was on top of the world. He hadn’t even gotten into a fight in days because of it. To top it all off, his girlfriend texted him that afternoon.

my girl

Come over, now.

He was on his way to your apartment, forgoing any classes he had at the middle of the day. Not that he would know if he even had any. Even if he did, he would drop everything and anything for you.

He didn’t expect, however, to hear your angry voice as soon as he walked through the door.

“How could you?” You yelled. He was usually the only one that yelled, the only one that got angry. That was when Michael knew he did something wrong, bad enough to get his sweet, soft-spoken, girlfriend to yell with an angry expression on her kind face.

And he had a feeling he knew exactly what he did.

You knew it too because you continued, keeping a big distance between the two in your spacious and clean living room. “How could you say those things to Justin? Do you have any idea how personal those things are? How embarrassing it is to know you said something so private and intimate about me to him?” You were yelling and by the end of it, Michael could swear he saw some tears.

He stepped forward just to have you put your hand up, palm facing him to stop his movement. “And to top it off, what we did to him over the phone?” You were definitely crying now, “Michael, that was just cruel. I never would have agreed to it if I knew what you had done.”

Your hand went up to cover your mouth, as if to stop the cries from pouring out.

Michael, on the other hand, felt like he had just gotten kicked in the gut. The sight of your tears and knowing he had single handedly caused them hurt him more than he could imagine. He wanted to blame Justin, blame his stupid big mouth, but he couldn’t.

“Just, w-why would y-you do some…thing like that?” You were looking at him like he never wanted you to look at him. You looked at him like he was a bad person, like you were finally seeing him the way everyone else always had.

He wanted to wrap his arms around you and apologize, not letting you go until you forgave him. To stop you from looking at him like that. But he let you get out your thoughts. You deserved at least that much.

“When Justin told me, I wanted to disappear. You made me f-feel so small. Like I was just some sex trophy you can show off like a poss-ss-ession.” You shook your head, your tears streaming freely down your cheeks, “Why would you take something so intimate and make it so awful?”

Michael couldn’t even respond. Why would he do that? Was he that big of an insecure asshole that he couldn’t think of how his actions would affect the one person that mattered?

“I’m sorry.” His voice was soft and he took a few tentative steps closer. “He was going to tell you he liked you and I thought you’d choose-”

“-I told you he’s just a friend!” You exploded. Your eyes were still filled with tears but there was a definite anger in your expression. “Why can’t you just trust me and feel confident that I’d choose you even if he did confess.”

He wasn’t good with non-violent confrontations. With you, he wasn’t good with confrontation, period. You never fought much, and never to this extent, so his instincts were off.

“Why would I?” He yelled back but with a lower level of anger and a higher level of desperation than usual. “Why would I think in a million years you’d pick me? When he’s fucking perfect for you: you have a history, he has the brains, the looks, the money. He has the life I could never give you!”

He was talking fast and breathing faster because he felt like he was about to lose the love of his life and he couldn’t let that happen. You couldn’t break up with him. He loved you too much and he wasn’t planning on letting you go, ever.

You opened your mouth but he continued talking, his hands swiped at each of his arms, “Look at me, am I someone you want to take home to your mom? You want to show her how you’re dating a big, inked up, fuck up who has been to juvie more times than he can count and barely made it into college?” He shook his head, “But I bet your mom loves Justin, doesn’t she?”

You didn’t answer so Michael repeated himself, he needed you to understand him. “Doesn’t she?”

“She likes him but-”

Michael cut you off, “Exactly. You deserve someone that actually has the emotional range to be there for you, someone you have more things in common with.” He looked away before sighing, “Look I fucked up, I’m sorry, but…please, don’t leave me.”

You couldn’t believe it when you heard his voice crack at the end.

It was one of those rare moments he let his guard down, where he was vulnerable to you.

Maybe that was what made you change your tone because the next time you spoke, your voice was much softer and your expression held a hint of pity.

“Mikey…” This time, it was you who moved closer to him and while it wasn’t a lot, it meant the world to Michael who felt like the cracks in his world were slowly starting to pull themselves back together. “Don’t you think I feel the same way sometimes?”

The confusion Michael felt was obvious on his face.

“I see the way all the girls on campus look at you, more experienced girls that can probably please you a lot better than I can. Girls you’re probably more used to since you’re a lot more experienced than I am.”

Michael’s jaw dropped “What?”

How could you possibly think he would want any other girl or that any other girl could possibly measure up to you in bed? He wanted to tell you that he loved how inexperienced you were in the beginning, that it was a turn on. How he loved to be the one to teach you everything you knew while knowing he was the only one who’s ever touched you. Sure you were different, but that’s why he liked you so much.

But you continued, reaching up to cup his cheek. He couldn’t help but lean his face into your touch. “But I know you love me so I don’t even flinch when you go out to parties by yourself or a girl flirts with you in front of me, because I trust you. You have to do the same for me instead of psychologically torturing people.”

He couldn’t think of a time a girl flirted with him in front of his girlfriend, or it was more likely he was just not paying attention. When he was with you, he often stopped thinking of much else.

Only one thing was on his mind as he lifted your hand and kissed your palm. “Do you forgive me?”

He wasn’t one to apologize, ever. But he was willing to go on his hands and knees for the woman in front of him. He was willing to beg for you. Fuck everyone else.

His heart constricted just a tiny bit when you didn’t answer right away. But then, you nodded gently.

For the millionth time since they started dating, he couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

When he wrapped his arms around you, holding your small frame tightly against his own, he definitely felt a difference. You didn’t melt into him like you usually did, but you didn’t push him away.

“I know I’m mean and aggressive and that I should probably treat you better, take you out more. But I love you, you’re all I have.” It was true. He didn’t have much but he had Y/N, the sweet girl that found a way to look past his rough exterior. That was all he needed.

+

When Justin’s party finally arrived, Michael wished he could say your words made him change his mind about the guy. But, as he thought of the everything the tall boy personified: uncertainty his visit caused his relationship, the very real threat of taking his girlfriend away, he didn’t think anything could change his mind about the blond boy.

So he couldn’t help the twisted satisfaction he got when he saw Justin’s face light up when you entered Chris’ dorm room, where the party was held, wearing a pretty pink dress, only to watch it fall when Michael walked in right behind you. He watched it grow even darker at your interlocked hands (because though you forgave him, you were still not happy enough to let him wrap his arms around your shoulders or waist like he would’ve wanted).

The two of you didn’t speak but Michael kept by your side anyway, silently drinking the beer that was handed to him when they came in. One had been offered to you but he stepped closer threateningly to the guy holding it out. The drink was promptly removed. He saw you give the guy a heart-warming smile as a token of your apology for his actions.

You were never interested in drinking or drugs and he was not going to allow your exposure to them because of him be your downfall, he couldn’t deal with knowing he was the bad influence he never wanted to be for you. You were the best thing that had ever happened to him, the best thing in his life, and he didn’t want to ruin that like he ruined everything else in his life.

Many guys tried to approach him, speaking to him as if they were friends and that was all they needed to start up a friendship. He barely talked, his words coming out short and snippy. They were taking time out of his night to spend with his girl. Usually, they took the hint and left, but others, like Charlie, stayed for longer. When Michael’s cold glaring eyes finally moved to meet his, Charlie’s face got visibly whiter before he quickly excused himself. Michael had told you that he should be nicer, but that only really applied to her.

When you left his side to say goodbye formally to Justin at the end of the party, he smiled, a mix of cruelly and victoriously.

Justin had lost. Michael had won.

So when he finally left through the door and out of their lives, he wrapped his arms around your body from behind you. Feeling much relieved to be able to still do so, to still have you. Even more so when you leaned against him.

Leaning down, he pushed strands of your loose hair away from your ear with his nose before whispering, “Let’s go home.”

+

end of story 1

—

again, i’m planning on making a second part to this series but it will focus on a completely different obstacle! it’ll be a brand new plot just with the same characters and dynamics as this one. like another big moment in their relationship.

@imagines-to-die-for

[reyescarlos]

you and i || a buddie fic

for my yeehaw darling @buckleys-diaz who has a heart bigger than her home state. i’m wishing you the absolute happiest of birthdays! forever grateful the fates decided to let our paths cross. ily 💕💜

word count 4.7k || read on ao3

We can meet in the middle Bodies and souls collide Dance in the moonlight When all the stars align

There are few people Eddie would drive six hours for on a Friday afternoon but with one goal in mind, for one person in particular, the journey— he knew— would be well worth it.

Putting a label on what Buck was to him now was a difficult thing to do. They were exes. They were friends. They were co-workers. But they were so much more than all of that combined. Those titles did not begin to tell the story of what Buck meant to him. But finding the words, let alone saying them out loud was just as futile a task as trying to parse through what he felt each time Buck so much as said his name.

Eddie’s feelings were many and varied and he wasn’t particularly skilled at speaking his mind. But what he could do was show a person what they meant to him and today would be no different.

Six hours behind the wheel was exhausting but it was worth each and every second to see the look on Buck’s as he pulled up to Mysterious Galaxy Bookstore in San Diego.

Buck had stared for a moment up at the shop. A line was starting to form

“You drove us six hours to go to a bookstore? There are so many great ones back in L.A.,” he said, confusion coloring his tone and features.

“True but none of them are doing an in-store signing with Andy Weir today, now are they?”

Eddie had thought Buck short-circuited with the way the man held his breath, jaw slacked, and eyes unblinking for a moment.

“No. No way,” he finally said, tearing his eyes away from Eddie and swiveling back to look at the store. He’d craned his neck a bit closer to the glass, taking notice of the poster in the store's window advertising for Andy’s latest novel.

“Eddie,” he breathed, shaking his head. “Are you serious right now?”

“Like you said, I drove us six hours. Do you think I’m kidding?” he laughed. “Come on, let’s grab a spot in line before it turns into a complete zoo out here.”

Eddie had gone into the backseat and retrieved an item he’d hidden back there this whole time. He came around to where Buck anxiously stood on the sidewalk

“I wish I had my—,” he started to say but stopped short as Eddie held out Buck’s personal copy of The Martian.

“I may or may not have nicked it off you the last time I was over at your place.”

Buck took the book from him and smiled so brightly it made Eddie’s heart ache. To be able to make Buck smile like that even after they called it quits felt like a gift.

“Unbelievable, thank you,” he remarked holding on closely to the well-loved book.

Eddie knew how much he loved it, so much so that Buck had made it a goal to get Eddie hooked on the novel. Buck was a huge fan of Weir’s but had unfortunately missed out on his signing back home due to work. Eddie had happened across an ad online promoting Andy’s new book and had clicked around to see more about it, the author’s name etched into his mind thanks to Buck’s repeated mentions.

Watching Buck get the chance to meet his favorite author and chat briefly was something he would never forget and Eddie knew for a fact that Buck never would either. Eddie had stood off to the side, taking pictures of Buck with the author,  practically beaming with Buck as the writer expressed how happy he was to see Buck’s well-loved copy of his first novel. Buck’s copy had tabs and annotations in the margins. There was no doubt that he’d read the novel repeatedly.

As they leave the store now, Buck’s happiness just seems to roll off of him in waves, the edges of it reaching Eddie until he’s consumed entirely by it as well. It’s something to relish in.

In the car Buck still clings to his books as if they're a lifeline of some kind. Eddie looks at him for a moment, a perfect snapshot of the man he loves reveling in the high of a perfect day before he starts the engine and merges with traffic.

“I still can’t believe you did this for me, Eds,” Buck reveres, staring down at the books in his hands. He opens up to the title page once more where his name is scribbled alongside Andy’s message and signature.

Eddie pulls his gaze back to the road, Buck’s enthusiasm rubbing off on him as he smiles to himself. It does something to his heart to see Buck this happy, moreover to know that he’s the cause of that joy. It’s a comfort to know he’s capable of such a thing.

“I know how bummed you were when you missed his L.A. stop and he’s your favorite. It only seemed right. It was nothing.”

“Wrong. So wrong, Eddie. It’s everything. Thank you,” Buck says as they pull up to a red light.

Eddie takes advantage of this short reprieve to look over at Buck again. He feels that all too familiar twinge in his heart that he always does when he stares into Buck’s eyes for even a second too long. All those feelings he tries so hard to stifle live so close to the surface. Eddie feels like it’s a full-time job trying to keep them at bay. Times like this really put him to the test, especially when he can see something mirrored back in Buck’s expression. If he was a braver man, he would ask but fear is a worthy adversary and Eddie is left with no other option than to concede defeat.

He offers up a small smile before pressing his foot against the pedal the moment the light turns green. It serves as the perfect break to the trance.

“I will get you to read The Martian one day, if it’s the last thing I do,” Buck jokingly warns.

“I’ll watch the movie and we’ll call it even.”

Buck scoffs and falls silent again. Eddie can hear the rustling of the book’s pages as Buck combs through it once again. The ease to which they’ve always been able to move around each other is something that Eddie will never grow tired of. Considering the fact that they’re no longer together, he’s even more grateful for the fact that they’ve been able to maintain a close relationship.

Far too often Eddie is wracked with guilt and doubt over his decision to end things. They hadn’t even been official long before he broke them up. He had surrendered to fear and succumbed to the voice in the back of his head that told him he wasn’t good enough, that he would inevitably find a way to screw things up. He felt Buck deserved better and had decided to set him free.

It’s a moment in his life that Eddie revisits constantly. He remembers with stunning clarity the way Buck’s face had fallen when Eddie had him over that night to talk. Eddie had been selfishly glad when Buck said he wanted to remain friends. He wasn’t sure how that would work or if it was simply Buck trying to ease the tension but it’s been a few months now and they’re still so tight-knit. Eddie knows how lucky he is for it, that so many people in his shoes would simply just miss out on maintaining any connection to their ex.

Eddie never wants to lose this. He isn’t sure how he’d be expected to carry on if he didn’t, at the very least, have Buck in his corner as a friend. But he also knows that he will always long for what they had. It might not have lasted long but the feelings they both had were quite real and serious. They’d had a solid friendship before getting together, one built on love and trust. It made dating seem like the only logical next step but Eddie had retreated.

He tries not to think about that now. Dwelling on his missteps never leads to anything good. He opts to focus instead on the fact that he’s still able to bring a smile to Buck’s face and do something special for him.

Eddie has only been driving for about thirty minutes when smoke begins to billow from the hood. He turns on his indicator, pulling over onto the side of the road.

“Just great,” he mutters as he kills the engine, unbuckling his seatbelt and exiting the car. He heads to the front and unlatches the hood, fanning the smoke away from his face as he peers inside.

Buck is right beside him seconds later, trying to gauge what’s the matter. Eddie leaves him to investigate; between the two of them, Buck is the more mechanical one. Eddie watches with furrowed brows as Buck pokes around for a bit, tracking a bead of sweat as it races down the side of Buck’s neck and disappears into the collar of his shirt. Eddie quickly shifts his focus. The priority right now is tending to his vehicle, not getting distracted by his ex. It’s far easier said than done as Buck stands back and wipes at his brow. He looks particularly rugged, his fitted t-shirt hugging his frame just so. It’s enough to make Eddie’s throat feel dry.

Eddie reins himself back in, all too glad when Buck speaks so that his thoughts can get back on track.

“I’m sorry, Eddie. I think we’re going to have to call this one in,” he says with a sigh. “Looks to me like you’ve got a cracked cylinder.”

Eddie purses his lips but nods, taking his phone out of his pocket and pulling up the number for a local car service. He explains the situation they’re in to the man on the phone who assures him that he’ll get a tow truck out to their location as quickly as possible.

“And now we wait,” he says to Buck, heading back to the car to take a seat.

Buck is grinning as he settles back into the passenger seat.

“And I know just how you can kill the time,” he replies, holding up his tattered copy of The Martian.

Eddie jokingly groans but takes the novel from a smug Buck before turning to the first page. The opening line couldn’t be more accurate to how he feels about being stuck on the side of the road with an ex-boyfriend he’s still very much in love with:

I’m pretty much fucked.

He steals a glance at Buck but quickly sees there’s no reason for him to try and be covert. Buck is already engulfed by his new book. Eddie can’t help but to silently observe him, taking notice of the way Buck’s whole demeanor changes when he’s relaxed and zeroed in on the task of reading. It’s such a familiar expression and once again, it makes Eddie feel wistful for their relationship. How many nights had he spent in bed beside Buck, nose in a book swearing that he just needed to finish off a chapter before turning off the light? It’d always been endearing to see Buck in his element, soaking up as much from a story as he could before calling it a night.

If Eddie could go back in time and stop himself from ending things, he would in a heartbeat. At times Eddie would get the crazy idea in mind that he should just tell Buck he’s made a mistake, that he wants for them to try again. But to do so would be to disrupt the balance they’ve been able to find and maintain for themselves.

He can’t risk that nor would he place Buck in the awkward position of being put on the spot. This was Eddie’s error and he has already resigned himself to the fact that he’ll just have to live with the consequences of his decision.

They sit in a silence so comfortable for so long that Eddie has made significant progress on the book by the time their tow truck arrives. Buck’s copy is so dog-eared and well-worn that Eddie has to use a random receipt from the center console to mark his place. Buck reluctantly sets aside his new book, careful to put it back inside of the bookstore bag to keep it protected before hopping out.

Eddie climbs out of the car yet again too and greets the mechanic. The man gives the engine the onceover and confirms Buck’s theory.

“Can you fix it here?” Eddie asks. They’re hours behind schedule and the last thing he wants is to be delayed any further by having to go down to the shop.

“No, ‘fraid not. I can take it in overnight and let you know in the morning or early afternoon.”

Eddie blows out a breath and runs an impatient hand through his hair but Buck doesn’t seem bothered by the sudden change in plans at all.

“Is there somewhere nearby that we can crash for the night?” he asks.

“There’s a motel just up the road there. I can drop you fellas off and give you a call tomorrow when your car’s ready,” the mechanic says.

“Works for me,” Buck replies with an indifferent shrug. “I like a good adventure.”

That was one of the things Eddie had grown to love most about Buck. His optimism could almost be blind but it meant he chose to see good in people and situations. That was a trait Eddie would always respect. Looking on the bright side wasn’t always easy for him but with Buck, he had learned how to let the light in. That kind of thing left its mark on a person and Eddie’s life hasn’t been the same, in the best ways imaginable. But holding on to good wasn’t a skill Eddie had ever truly mastered, even when he had someone so perfect for him right within his grasp.

He fights the thought from lingering now. He’s spent the last few months falling down that spiral and it’s yet to assuage him of the regret he feels.

Instead, he follows after Buck to the car to grab their stuff before piling into the cab of the tow truck.

This evening isn’t going at all like Eddie envisioned; the last thing he pictured for either of them was being smushed in the front section of a tow truck or having to stay overnight in San Diego. But life, he knew better than most, seldom went according to plan. What mattered most was that this day was still special for Buck and wasn’t overshadowed by the sudden turn of events.

The mechanic drops them off at the motel and Eddie trades contact information with him before thanking him and parting ways.

“Do you think we should have called ahead to make sure they even have rooms available?” Eddie asks, suddenly realizing the gamble they are taking.

“Maybe but I’m sure it’ll be fine. If they don’t have any vacancies, we can always try somewhere else. Come on.”

Eddie nods and follows Buck inside. As far as off the road motels go, this one isn’t too sketchy which comes as a mild comfort to Eddie. Their night is already feeling like some kind of parody.

He marches to the receptionist counter where a middle aged man is writing something down on a notepad.

“Hi, excuse me,” Eddie greets. “Would you happen to have any rooms available for the night?”

The man looks up and glances between Eddie and Buck. “For you two?”

Eddie stands up a bit straighter. “Yes.”

“Lucky you; I’ve only got one free one left. Everything else is booked up solid.”

Eddie sighs in relief. “That’s perfect. We’ll take it.”

He hands over his card for the man to charge before taking it back and the key he hands to him for their room. Eddie leads them both over to their room, toying with the motel keychain attached. It’s silly to feel nervous when he’s spent so much time around Buck but he hadn’t been planning on spending the night with him like this. The plan was to just drive straight through, maybe trade off if he felt tired and let Buck bring them back to Los Angeles. Nowhere on the itinerary did he expect to be sharing a room with his ex.

Eddie opens the door to the room once they arrive and falters for a moment. He retraces his conversation with the receptionist, suddenly realizing he hadn’t been clear in seeing if the room had two beds. When the man asked if they would be sharing the space, Eddie realizes now that the clerk hadn’t been prying or being standoffish. He must have assumed that Eddie and Buck were a couple who wouldn’t have any qualms about sharing a bed.

He steps further inside and drops his bag down on the floor at the foot of the bed, staring at it as if it’s something he has to decode. He then looks to Buck to see if he’s just as taken aback as he is but he can’t detect any unease or discomfort at the situation they’ve now found themselves in. They haven’t shared a bed in months, not since they broke up and Eddie doesn’t know if this is pushing boundaries.

“I can take the floor or see if they can bring up a cot or something.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t bite you know,” Buck teases. But Eddie’s face heats up thinking about all the times that wasn’t true when they both got carried away in bed. Buck must realize the inaccuracy same as Eddie because he laughs and says, “Well, not always, anyway.”

Eddie laughs in spite of himself and shakes his head, stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

“Alright. If you’re cool with it then I am, too.”

Buck smiles reassuringly at him before setting his duffle bag on top of the bed and scrounging around for a change of clothes. He manages to find something and Eddie lets out a breath when Buck takes his findings to the bathroom to get changed for bed.

This is going to be a long night, Eddie thinks to himself as he follows Buck’s lead and grabs a change of clothes for himself. He makes quick work of swapping out his jeans for pajama bottoms. As he’s tugging down his new t-shirt he hears a small creaking sound of a door to the left of him.

“Sorry,” Buck mumbles where he stands frozen in the doorway of the bathroom, pulling his gaze away from Eddie’s frame.

Eddie stays in place, rooted to his spot as well. “You’re fine.”

He wonders at how long Buck may have been standing there but he casts the thought aside. It’s ridiculous to think that he could have still have that effect on Buck. What they had was over and done with. It didn’t matter if his heart still wanted Buck, if every part of him still longed for his ex. He wouldn’t drag Buck back when they already agreed to move forward.

Buck taps his fingers soundlessly against his thigh before he joins Eddie in the main space of the room.

There’s an odd energy between them now, living in the silence that cloaks the room. Eddie can feel the weight of it pressing against him but he has to wonder if it’s just all in his head.

“We should get some sleep. With luck we’ll be able to get out of here early,” he says with a small yawn.

It’s been an extremely long day of driving all the way up from L.A. and the thought of closing his eyes and getting decent rest sounds appealing. But once again he looks at the bed they’re going to have to share and suddenly his fatigue dissipates.

“You’re right, yeah.”

Buck braves climbing into bed first, taking a spot on the left side of the mattress, his usual place in bed. Just the familiarity of that makes Eddie feel nervous but to dawdle would be to raise suspicion and the last thing he wants is to make Buck feel as if he can’t be around him.

Eddie shuts off the bedside light as he lays on top the covers. His mind is a storm sending his thoughts crashing around his head. It’s all so loud and disorienting, so much so that all Eddie can do is stare up ahead at the darkened ceiling above him and wait for it to pass.

He doesn't hear the usual soft sounds of Buck’s breathing, the telltale sign that sleep has found him. He knows what this means, that beside him Buck is wide awake too. He wonders about what Buck could be thinking of. A part of him— all of him, truthfully— is hoping that Buck is awake now for the same reasons he is. There’s so much on the tip of his tongue that’s been trying to come out. But for months now, Eddie has been able to hide it safely behind friendly smiles. It’s been taking its toll though and now, laying beside Buck, being close enough to feel the warmth of his body, it feels like he only has seconds left on the clock before this little game is over.

“Are you awake?” Buck asks.

Eddie sits up a bit and turns on the lamp before shifting to see Buck.

“What’s on your mind?”

Buck turns his head to look at him. All Eddie can do is stare silently, studying the features he’s long since grown accustomed to. It’s how he knows there’s a hesitancy in Buck’s eyes, that there’s something he wants to say but isn’t sure how to.

“I’m just thinking about how awesome today has been.”

“You mean car trouble and impromptu overnight stay aside?”

Buck laughs softly. “Maybe even more because of it. I actually wasn’t ready to go back home yet. I really like having this time with you.”

Buck holds his gaze and Eddie’s traitorous heart beats faster at the implication of these words.

“Yeah, me too. I wanted today to be special. You deserve that. I’m glad you had a good time.”

Buck opens his mouth to speak but just sighs instead, casting his gaze downward to where Eddie’s hand rests in the small space between them. Eddie holds his breath to see what his ex will do, silently praying for some kind of contact, some kind of sign that Buck wants to get closer too. Eddie knows he can’t be alone in feeling this pull.

Silently Buck places his hand over Eddie’s and gives it a soft, barely there squeeze.

“It means more to me than I think you’ll ever know. The fact that you went out of your way like that...I don’t know. I’m just lucky to have you,” Buck says. “I mean, as a friend. I’m uh, I’m really...um, grateful.”

Buck frowns a bit to himself and it’s obvious to Eddie that there’s more Buck wants to say. If Buck could be brave enough to breach the conversation that’s apparently long overdue, Eddie knows he can be too and take the baton from Buck and continue this race.

“Friends, right.”

Eddie clears his throat and braces himself for what he’s about to say. Jumping in headfirst is terrifying but if it leads to complete transparency and the chance at speaking honestly, Eddie decides it’s more than worth it.

“I don’t think we’ve ever really gone back to being friends. At least I know I haven’t, not completely. You know, sometimes I’d think it’d be easier if I could just move on from this. But I know how lucky I was. I don’t ever want to forget what we had or how it felt to be loved by you,” Eddie says boldly, cutting right to the chase.

The weight of the truth off his chest is an instant relief though, quickly in its place, comes the worry that he’s said too much too soon. With him it always seems to be all or nothing, one extreme or the other. But Eddie feels that he’s been quiet for too long about this as it is. These last few months have been torture with the true nature of his feelings eating away at him. Now isn’t the time to cower anymore.

There’s something about being out of Los Angeles and miles away from home that makes him feel brave, as if he and Buck are somehow on a different plane of existence. Whatever is spoken now is truly just between the two of them now. There isn’t any concern of anyone coming along and interrupting. True to form, with Buck he can be his full self. He can be candid and vulnerable with him in a way he would never even dream of letting his guard down around anyone else.

“Past tense,” Buck notes quietly. “You say that as if I’m somehow over you.”

This comment catches Eddie off guard and he knows it must show in his face from the way Buck smiles at him.

“Are you really surprised by that? I didn’t want us to break up. I just respected the fact that you weren’t ready just yet. That didn’t mean I stopped caring about you in that way. I could never.”

“I’m sorry I got scared,” Eddie says, intertwining their fingers and pulling Buck’s hand to his chest.

Buck shakes his head. “You don’t have to apologize; I’ve never been upset with you. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

Eddie cups Buck’s face with his free hand, watching the way his stunning blue eyes drift closed, lashes casting shadows on the apples of his cheeks. Another snapshot from this already perfect day: the sight of Buck in what could only be described as bliss from his touch. Eddie takes in Buck’s expression, the softness of his face, the openness and trust being expressed here.

In a word, it’s perfect. And in this moment, it’s his.

Eddie leans in tentatively and Buck’s eyes open once again, tracking Eddie’s movement, his lips parting in anticipation. Eddie breathes him in as he closes the distance, allowing himself to free fall right into this kiss.

He strokes Buck’s cheek with the pad of his thumb, tracing the contours of his face like a sculptor. This moment is a masterpiece and Eddie wants to give it the time and care that it rightfully deserves.

Buck matches his pace, his mouth roving over Eddie’s with such ease. This is nothing new to them and yet in some capacity this feels different. Second chances don’t come around often too often for Eddie but this time around, he’s certain he can get it right. These last few months without this level of access to Buck had been trying. So many weeks stretched out before him, each day fading a memory of what he once had.

Kissing Buck now is like breathing new life into him. The void that had taken up residency in the center of him is being filled with each touch, each soft sound leaving Buck and being entrusted with him. Eddie kisses him back deeply, letting go of all those fears that plagued him before, that he would somehow turn out to be the opposite of what Buck wanted. This man was very clearly choosing him, and has deemed him worth the time it took to wait for Eddie to finally accept a good thing that was being presented to him.

Now that they’ve crossed this threshold, there’s no turning back and that’s precisely how Eddie wants it.

Eddie pulls away to draw in a clean breath after a few moments, his chest heaving. Buck’s face is flushed, his lips slightly swollen and upturned in an almost embarrassed smile but Eddie doesn’t think he has any reason to be bashful. He leans in once more and places a gentle kiss on Buck’s lips, feeling the smile wipe away as Buck grows serious and wraps his arms around Eddie, holding him tightly.

This day has turned into something he couldn’t have ever seen coming but Eddie knows one thing to be true:

The safest place he could ever dwell is right here in Buck’s heart.

[loseyoutoloveme]

will you do a song by song review for life support? i really liked the ones for sweetener and thank you next!

oh absolutely, i’d love to! thank you for asking and being interested 🖤 all thoughts below.

the beginning:

this was such a great way to open this album, it’s so cinematic and really sets the mood so perfectly. one of my fav instrumental intros i’ve ever heard.

9/10

good in goodbye: “you put the over in lover, put the ex in next.”

the lyrics are so wonderfully corny and i’ll love this song forever, like the chorus is literally just so fun to sing along to.

i do think it feels a little... shallow compared to the rest of the album, and the album being released so long after this song came out makes it feel disconnected from the rest. but i love it so i don’t care.

7.5/10 

default: “i know, i know this must be coming for me, i swear, i swear i will be the end of me, the end of me.”

this song is just sooo...... OUCH!

i’m obsessed with the way the chorus just SOUNDS like an emotional spiral, like her life falling apart, like falling into a deep depression, and then the outro builds like destructive racing thoughts.

also i never noticed the wave crashing and the bubbles at the very beginning until really recently, and i love that little touch. the whole song feels so underwater. cloudy and fuzzy. it does a good job of depicting certain symptoms of various mental illnesses.

8.5/10

follow the white rabbit: “is it haunting, baby, that i’m wanting, baby, that i’m wanting, wanting you?”

i actually was fully not expecting to like this that much based off the snippets she’d shared, but omg this left me WEAAAAK on first listen, which was the best surprise

there are definitely so many layers to these lyrics too, despite it being just a bombastic sexy toxic love song on its surface, particularly when thinking about the album as a commentary on mental illness, and some of the breakup/love songs as metaphors rather than straightforward love songs. definitely about infatuation and toxicity and perhaps knowingly entering a bad relationship as a bad coping mechanism, a way to avoid dealing with your pain or (as we see in effortlessly) a way to just feel anything at all.

9/10

effortlessly: “i hold my breath to breathe, hurt me so i feel, used to do these things so effortlessly somehow.”

oh god this song is just a punch in the stomach

i ALSO didn’t really expect to love this one based on snippets but the lyrics are just devastating and perfect and i hope speak to anybody who has struggled with self-harm and medication.

i don’t even have thoughts on this song, it just makes me go jsn*@(#nkdasdnkasd7*@U#j2k3n

love that this is such a fan favourite. it deserves!

10/10

stay numb and carry on: “truth is it was never love, your fault if you thought it was.”

the reverse “i’ve become emotionless” at the beginning >>>

also love the “i was gin and you were toxic . . . wish we’d just stayed plaTONIC” like a platonic relationship would be the opposite of toxic. it’s such fun wordplay.

also “i don’t feel like anyone” makes me emo, she really just slid the most simple but heartbreaking lines in everywhere and you don’t notice them until they hit you out of nowhere one day and you’re like ...OH

AND THE WAY HER VOICE STARTS TO GO MONOTONE AT “i’ve become emotionless” 

in conclusion, madison beer is a vessel for god

10/10

blue: “you could be as sweet as honey but i knew the darkness in your mind.”

this is my least favourite on the album but it’s still fantastic

the lana influence is clear without being too copycat, like it’s still SO madison. sorta like lana’s video games modernized and adapted into something truer to madison’s vibe.

love love love the whole outro

glad that this wasn’t a single like it was planned to be

7/10

interlude: “would you do that shit for me too?”

VOCODER RIGHTS

this album in general is just not really for people who don’t like vocoders and lots of technical effects. i looove that she leaned into it so hard bc it’s so HER.

this song also has so much depth for an interlude, relaying the experience of feeling SO hard about people, and realizing like you’re putting in way more than you’re getting back.

the post-chorus is like... 🤩🌌💫☄️🌠

7.5/10

homesick: “these humans speak my language, still don’t understand it.”

THIS SONG...... IS MY BABY......

oh god it just breaks my heart on every listen. the image in my head is of a little girl talking to the stars.

and why does the line about her mom and dad make me wanna cry every time? i have no idea.

I BELONG IN SPACE...... FLOATING WITH DEBRIS.......

i’m sure she’s not the first person to ever use this metaphor for mental illness, expressing the alienation of mental illness (especially one as stigmatized and misunderstood as bpd) by talking about LITERAL aliens sdkjfsdfksd, but she does it SOOOOO well and sincerely that it feels like it’s uniquely hers.

the rick & morty sample is so funny and so weird and so madison. i will probably never watch an episode of that show in my life.

10000000000/10 this song is the loml

selfish: “shouldn’t love you but i couldn’t help it, had a feeling that you never felt it.”

my absolute favourite of all of the singles, noooo question about it. it’s a perfect, perfect, perfect song.

two years, alone on new years’, nightclubs, gemini... women writing lyrics with very specific details about the shitty men that the song is about... it’s everything to me.

this song will just NEVER age. every time i listen to it, it’s like the first time all over again.

10/10

sour times: “don’t know what song of mine you heard that made you think i’d want to spend the night with you.”

home with you’s big sister<3 

not the strongest lyrics, but the concept and production are more than strong enough to carry the song.

she came on this bitch mad as hell

also love that this have been another fan favourite, seemingly??

men gross

9/10

boyshit: “don’t know how to talk or communicate, we’re so on and off, to you it’s a game.”

it took me awhile to get into this when it was a single ngl, probably because it came out the same night as evermore sjdknfsfnkjsd, but once i got into it, it became the best song ever

she’s soooo reliable with her “men ain’t shit” songs ugh

8.5/10

baby: “i’m a handful but that’s what hands are for.”

when this came out as a single it was the only thing i listened to for a solid week and a half. just an excellent song. the chorus is evvverrryttthhhiiinnnnggg.

WHAT IS IT SO CATCHY FOR?

9.5/10

stained glass: “my life’s a still fading memory of what i can’t have, and everything ’round me is starting to fade into black, but black and white is so much better, i’m learning how to hide my colours.”

i’m so surprised by how much non-stans seem to love this omg, it’s never been a fav of mine, as much as i still love it

but i’m obsessed with how different and distinctly madison it is

also this is a much more genuine take on the “pls stop being mean to me just bc i’m famous / you don’t know what people are going through” type of song than most of the others i’ve ever heard. her pain is evident, and the soft “i just might break” is just..... </3

the glass breaking and little scream are so good

she loves a good metaphor and so do i!

7.5/10 

emotional bruises: “how do i word this? was about to write you this letter, but it was just curses in cursive, you probably deserve it.”

this was definitely my most anticipated song along with everything happens for a reason, like i listened to the snippet on repeat CONSTANTLY lmao. and the full song definitely lived up.

the scribbling sound is so fun, i love her obsession with little real-life sound effects

10/10

everything happens for a reason: “i still can’t find a reason you’d wanna hurt me so bad.”

THIS SONG IS VERY MUCH EVERYTHING

again, this was for sure one of my most anticipated songs and just kjsadsdkajsm god i love love love it

i think she posted a video one time of the song over a clip of the mermaids from peter pan and it was so pretty and i still picture that video when i hear this song. it’s just soooooo hazy and dreamy and retro and perfect.

also the song on the album where she got to show off her vocals the most. she found her niche with this song, truly.

100/10

channel surfing/the end: “YOU’REBADFORMYHEALTHISHOULDPROLLYKEPTSOMEHELPICANTCONTROLMYSELFIMADDICTEDOTHEHELL”

oh my god i was FLOOOOOORED at the dear society clip. dear society was and is one of my FAVOURITE songs, and i appreciate her reasoning for not including it on the album (just wanting some space for a new song instead of one we’d already had for so long), but it did hurt a lil. i was so happy she found a little way to include it :’) rip to hurts like hell tho since she didn’t get the same treatment sjdnksd.

the channel surfing is also just such a fun concept for an outro.

and her laughing with her producers at the end followed by such a sweet calming tropical instrumental...... oooo it’s so nice, it feels like the calm after the storm.

10/10

overall, this album was just SO worth the wait, it’s so fantastic, it’s the loml, one of my favourite albums ever. i LOVE that it’s helped anyone with BPD feel seen and understood, and as someone who doesn’t have bpd but has a couple of loved ones who do, the emotions she expressed in these lyrics have helped me to understand this disorder more too. just such a special album.

most of the criticism i’ve seen of the album has been that it’s overproduced, and that’s definitely criticism that i understand, bc it IS heavy on the technical side and some people just don’t like very heavy production, buuuut... some people do! i do! madison does! and heavy production does not automatically make an album bad. this type of production isn’t something that i expect her to move away from, because it’s clearly her thing, and maybe that just means her place in the industry will be more with the heavy heavy pop fans and maybe even in more hyperpop circles. i also think it’s SUPPOSED to be overproduced; it’s supposed to be a mess of emotions and sometimes a little chaotic. she executed it very well.

i hope by the time her next album is out, people will stop comparing her to like every single artist out there. some reviewers seem determined to pigeonhole her and compare her to every female artist under the sun, which feels like an absolute disservice to me. she is influenced by many different people and they comes out in her music, as it does any artist’s because everybody has their inspirations, but her sound is VERY much her own. as someone who has liked her for years, i can absolutely feel her essence in each song and nobody else’s.

a 10/10 album and such an amazing, promising debut<3  

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me - Chapter 4

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @thunderintheshadows​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​

While it is a more peaceful existence, it is often a lonelier one. The safety and security of seclusion at times feeling like isolation. Their property…their home itself…is beautiful beyond anything she could have imagined; surrounded by the sights and sounds of nature, the dense and lush woodlands and the pristine beach and majesty of the ocean. Aside from the noise and activity of their own residence, they are very much shut off from the rest of the world; two hundred yards from their closest neighbour, tucked at the very end of a three kilometer stretch of recently paved road. Weeks can pass by before she even sees another human being, let alone speaks to them.  There’d been scares and complications during the last three months of her final pregnancy and she’d had to relegate herself to living the life of a ‘shut in’ for the sake of both her health and that of her unborn daughter; never leaving the property aside from specialist appointments. Addie had been an incredibly determined little girl; wanting to make her debut long before it was safe for her to do so. It had been nothing short of a miracle when the doctors had managed to tide things over until week thirty-four, and everyone that had been providing care had thought she’d been in the NICU for the long haul. Only for her to prove them all wrong; being released after only a week and a half.

 A fighter. All five pounds, ten ounces of her.

 Normally Esme would spend the first part of her morning -after the older kids had been shipped off to school-  on the beach; Addie in the carrier strapped to her body, Declan toddling along beside them, allowing him to stop every so often to splash and stomp in the water or play in the sand. Today they walk the road instead, Mac’s leash secured around her waist, one hand pushing the baby in her stroller, the other tightly gripping Declan by the wrist. He is quick and has no fear and won’t think twice about bolting into the woods or onto someone else’s property.

 The pavement is hot but comfortable against their bare feet. It was one of the things that she had found so unusual at about Australia at first; no one ever seemed to wear shoes unless going into businesses, and even then, occasionally footwear would be noticeably absent. It is one of the charming ‘quirks’, going hand in hand with their laid-back natures and accents and hilarious slang words. An entirely different way of life; a refreshing and welcoming change of pace. Everyone seeming much more relaxed and calmer.  Friendly. Always willing to help one another out, whether friends or strangers. And while Colorado had been lovely in its own right, it often felt too ‘fast.’ That life was constantly hectic, barely given you a chance to catch your breath, never mind admire your surroundings. Everything about Australia is incredible to her; the scenery, the people, the way you just take time to enjoy everyone and everything around you.

 But it is still lonely at times. Outside of her own family, she doesn’t really have a life; no relatives that can visit, no friends to talk to or hang out with. It has been that way for years; long before she’d ever met Tyler. Once her first marriage had disintegrated, she’d begun the long and arduous journey of ‘rediscovery;’ more than content with the job she had, jumping from place to place, and living out of suitcases, never forming bonds, or putting down roots. She’s older now though; almost thirty-six. And lately she’s found herself craving more.  She had thought that she was perfect content with just being a wife and a mother, but her heart has begun to yearn for something extra.  Mom friends that she can talk to whether it be face to face or through a text, other women she could have lunch dates and engage in ‘girl talk’ with. Needing to be more than that someone’s spouse. Someone’s mother. Needing…wanting… to exist outside of the comforts of those two realms.

 And she feels guilty for that. As if she’s taking every thing she already has for granted. That she is makes her selfish for wanting more and she should just be happy with the way her life already is. She has a lot more than a lot of women in the world:  a supportive, loving, and helpful husband, five beautiful and amazing kids. Shouldn’t that be enough?

 ****

 It is a beautiful morning. Brilliant sunshine, the sky a vivid shade of blue and cluttered with enormous, pure white clouds. The temperature is always cooler where they are; a few to several degrees lower thanks to the abundance of trees and the winds that roll in off the ocean. And she is comfortable in a pair of tattered and weather jean shorts and a hoodie over her t-shirt, one of her husband’s ball caps pulled low over her eyes. It’s become a habit that she wishes she could break herself of; a hat used more for disguise than a cute accessory or protection from the sun. That paranoia still lingers; that there could always be someone out there watching, hell bent on revenge and looking for the perfect opportunity to enforce it.

 The walk is slow going; Declan routinely stopping to investigate things, whether it be rocks and sticks he finds particularly interesting, or wildlife that lingers at the tree line that he wants to watch. He is infinitely curious about the world around him, noticing everything and anything, big or small. He hasn’t met and animal or person he hasn’t liked, and vice vera. Out of the five, he’s the ‘charming’ one; able to melt hearts with those striking blue eyes and mischievous smile. Extremely affectionate and loving to everyone he meets, even old ladies in the grocery store who always seem to be enamoured by the thick red hair and the outrageously long eyelashes. While Esme may be biased -as all mothers are- he is just damn cute. A sweet little personality to go along with an even sweeter face. And she can’t resist pausing to take pictures of him with her phone; so adorable in his backwards baseball hat, loose tendrils of hair sticking out at the ears.

 She sends one of the photos -of Declan holding a baby garter snake and flashing that trademark smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes (his father’s smile)- to her husband’s cell, along with a text that reads: see what cute babies you make?

 The house closest to them has been up for sale for three months; a one-story white stucco place with elaborate Japanese inspired front gardens and an interlocking brick driveway. The property itself is much smaller that what they own, but no less stunning. She notices that not only has the ‘for sale’ sign been taken down, but there’s a bright blue Suzuki hatch back in the driveway; tailgate up, surrounded by boxes being unloaded by the home’s new owner. A tall, statuesque blond with vibrant pink, purple, and aquamarine highlights in her shoulder length tresses. And she watches -albeit briefly- as the woman continues to remove items from the back of the car. The couple that had lived there before had been in their eighties and absolutely hated kids and would complain about Millie and the twins ‘running wild and unsupervised’ in the road despite the fact that their father would have been  less than ten feet away. Never directing the complaints to Tyler himself, but waiting until they’d see him leave and then knock on the door to confront her. So it’s nice to see someone younger. That hopefully won’t be such a miserable asshole.

 The front door of the house has been left open and a pug comes waddling out; immediately noticing them at the end of the driveway, which starts off a round of barking from both the smaller dog and Mac and absolute excitement from Declan who begins repeatedly shrieking ‘oggie!’ and tries to yank his wrist out of her grasp. He’s incredibly strong for a little guy; heavy, solid, and powerful. And Mac -still barking yet thankfully not bolting- parks himself right in front of the toddler to block his path.

 The woman in the driveway smiles and waves to them in greeting, and that’s when Esme makes the ultimate mistake; letting go of her son’s hand to wave back. He seizes the opportunity; taking off up the driveway the second he feels his mother’s grasp release.

 “Oh my god Declan! Get back here!” she bellows, and unleashes Mac from around her waist, allowing the dog to chase after him. At the most he’ll grab the toddler by the back of the shirt or knock him to the ground. He’s done it before with each one of the kids; showing an incredible instinct -and with no training- to protect the little humans. “Declan William!” she hollers as she hurries after him and the dog. The latter now making friends with the initially startled pug; the new homeowner scooping Declan up and settling him on her hip.

 “Well hey there cutie,” the blond gushes, gently taking hold of his hands as he tries to tear the unique and colourful glasses off her face. “Who are you?”

 “This is Declan,” Esme responds. “And he’s not usually this much of a shit head, I swear.”

 “You’re just a curious little man, aren’t you! You just wanted to come and meet Stan-Lee. Here, let me introduce you…” their new neighbour drops down to one knee and places Declan on her thigh, taking his hand in hers and then running it over the pug’s fur. The toddler giggling with the dog licks at his hand. “See that? He likes you already! He loves to meet new friends. Especially little ones.”

 “I am so sorry,” Esme can feel the blush in her cheeks. “I’m usually not that stupid. Letting him get away like that. Especially on the road. Although no one but us ever comes down this far. We used to get people that would speed down here and park on our property to get into the woods. But we own all that, so my husband went out and scared the crap out of them with a hunting rifle and they never came back. You must think I’m a shitty parent.”

 The blond waves off the mere suggestion. “Not at all. They get away sometimes. No matter how hard we try to stop them. Not to mention he’s crazy strong! Two? Two and a half?”

 “Seventeen months. I know. He’s absurdly tall. But so is his dad. I am sorry he ran over like that. Bothering you and your dog and…”

 “It’s no bother. Honest. I’m Salena,” she offers a hand, and Esme accepts it warmly.

 “I’m Esme. And that’s Mac,” she nods at the German Shepherd as he playfights with the pug. “It’s actually Macaroni. Don’t ask. My son named him. And this is Adeline,” she gestures to the stroller. “Be we call her Addie.”

 “Is this your little sister?” Salena speaks to Declan as she places him on the ground and takes him by the hand, leading him to the stroller. “How about you show me your little sister. I bet she’s a cutie, just like you. May I?” she asks Esme, taking hold of the corner of the blanket that covers the buggy.

 “Of course.”

 She peels the blanket back, then places a hand over her chest. “Oh my gracious! Look at you, pretty girl! Aren’t you just a darling! You’re just new.”

 “Very new,” Esme confirms. “Only two weeks.”

 “And you already look like that?”  Salena looks over the top rim of her glasses as she eyes Esme from head to toe.

 “Please! The clothes hide everything, trust me. I’m huge. And I feel gross.”

 “You’re crazy! You look amazing. Are these your only two?”

 “No. There’s three more,” she says, and the neighbour’s eyes widen. “Five-year-old twin boys and a soon to be six-year-old daughter. I know,’ she laughs. “I’m crazy.”

 “I just can’t believe that body’s had five kids. Five’s the limit?”

 “Four was the original limit but by husband wanted one more. I don’t know who is more insane. Me or him.”

 “Well if these two are as beautiful as they are, I can only imagine what the other three look like. The red hair comes from your husband?”

 “His mother. Declan’s the only one with it. The other three are blond. Or light brown. Whatever you want to call it. And the last one is all me. Which I feel I deserved after having four that look and act exactly like their father. All that work and getting fat and I don’t get one that looks like me? That is some bullshit.”

 “Would you like to come in?” Salena inquires, nodding towards the house. “I have a breakfast casserole in the oven, and it is way too much for just one person, even with leftovers.”

 “We shouldn’t. We were just on a walk before lunch and we don’t want to impose or…”

 “You won’t be imposing at all. We can sit out back and chat some more. You’re the first person I’ve met since moving to Cookstown. I was staying a hotel right in town while waiting for the house to close. It would be nice to have a friend that’s close by.”

 It’s tempting, and as much as she loves the idea of having a friend…especially a neighbour…she knows Tyler will be hesitant. He’s severely overprotective. Beginning after Dhaka and becoming increasingly worse over the years, hitting its peak after the McMann incident. In his mind, everyone is a possible threat. Including the neighbour with the funky glasses and the colorful hair.

 “Just stay for a little while,” the other woman urges. “Just for something to eat and a little chat. I don’t bite. I promise.”

 “It’s not that and it’s not you, believe me,” Esme attempts to explain. “This is going to sound really weird, but things went really bad before we moved here and I’m a little…apprehensive…when it comes to new people. It’s not personal. I swear. It’s all my own issues.”

 “I promise I am not a serial killer. Just come in and have some lunch and let me spend some more with this cutie pie,” she tickles Declan’s stomach until he’s giggling hysterically and beaming up at her with the utmost adoration. “Just an hour,” she says. “If I bore you or I annoy before then, you can leave. I won’t hold you hostage.”

 “Okay,” Esme finally agrees, as Salena scoops Declan up once more and leads the way towards the house.

 ****

He receives the text message just as he pulls his truck up in front of his father’s new place; a small, cottage style bungalow in a newly established retirement and nursing care community in Port Douglas. It had been bittersweet when he’d eventually found out that the old man had sold the family home. The years there hadn’t all been horrible; there’d been a handful of good memories made between those four walls. That house was the last physical tie that Tyler had had to his mother, and the new owners had bulldozed it with plans on custom build for the lot. The demolition had finally erased all the dark secrets that the place had once held. All the cruel words, all the tears, all the holes in the walls, all the beatings.

 Killing the engine, his pulls his cell from the side pocket of his cargos and checks the message. A slow smile spreading across his face when he sees the picture of his youngest son, and the words that his wife had sent afterwards. If there is one thing they excel at, it’s making beautiful children. And the activities that help with the actual creation of them. He texts her back, telling her that they’ve just reached his dad’s place and have two stops afterwards close to home. That he loves her and the kids and will see them soon.

 He begins to ask where she is but decides against it. It will only irritate her if she feels as if he’s keeping tabs on her and attempting to control her. She claims he’s overprotective to the point of suffocation, something that the therapist had said they’d touch on in the next session. Why he is the way he is and what he can do to either control it or stop it altogether. Tyler doesn’t necessarily want to be that way; he doesn’t want her to feel as if he’s locking her away in the house and controlling every move she makes. But he’s already come so close to losing her. Twice. And he doesn’t want to take the chance of there being a third time.

 So he doesn’t ask. Even though it gnaws at his stomach that she’s out there. Off the property. With two of his kids in tow. Instead he pockets his cell, pulls the keys from the ignition, and then finishes the coffee that sits in one of the cup holders between the front seats.

 “How are we going to explain me?” Ovi inquires. “Am I just going to be some guy that you hired or…?”

 “He already knows all about you.”

 “How much does he know? Or what does he know?”

 “Your folks were friends of mine and Esme’s, they died, left us you in their will. Nice and simple. It doesn’t need to be complicated.”

 The lying never stops. Not when it comes to the old life. To the old Tyler. But at this stage in the game -with his father not functioning properly in the first place- he doesn’t see the need to burden the old man with the truth. Chances are he’d be extremely pissed and/or disgusted and wouldn’t even remember what he’d been told the next day.

 “And you think he believes it?” Ovi asks.

 “Mate, I don’t even know if he knows who I am anymore. Chances are he doesn’t even remember I have a wife and kids. Or that I even told him about you already. But if he asks, that’s what we tell him. Got it?”

 Ovi nods.

 Tyler opens the compartment between their seats and fishes out the extra bottle of anti anxiety meds. It’s always smart to have them on hand; never knowing what situations or environments will bring on an attack. But he can already feel the heaviness in his chest and the dryness in his mouth, and he takes three of the pills and places them under his tongue, waiting for them to full dissolve before putting the bottle in his pocket.

 It’s a hell of a way to live. Having to dope yourself up just to be able to get out of the goddamn car.

 And he’s plain fucking sick of it.

 ****

 The personal support worker greets them at the front door; a short and stocky Aboriginal woman clad in brightly patterned scrubs and bearing a name tag that identifies her as Maggie. She as kind, almost sad eyes, and a soft, pleasant smile and her grip is deceptively strong when she shakes their hands.

 “You must be Trevor,” she addresses him.

 “Tyler,” he gently corrects, and removing his sunglasses, hangs them on the neck of his t-shirt.

 She offers an apologetic smile. “He told me he was expecting someone named Trevor.”

 “Trevor was his brother. My uncle. He died twenty years ago. But I’m Tyler. His son.”

 “This happens, you know,” she sighs. “Moment when they can’t remember the people in the present, but they remember the ones from the past. It isn’t personal. It’s just the disease. It’s a cruel thing; what it does to people.”

 He nods in agreement, trying to at least appear sympathetic. But he feels nothing. No empathy. No pity. No sorrow that his father is slipping away. No regrets that they’ve let the years go by without even attempting a reconciliation.

 “You just moved back, I hear,” Maggie comments, as she leads them from the front foyer and towards the back of the house. “Were you gone long?”

 “Five and a half years.”

 “That’s a long time to be away from home. What made you come back?”

 “I came into some money and I was able to retire early,” Tyler explains. It’s not a total lie; that part did happen. It just wasn’t as easy as he’s making it sound. “My wife and I decided this was the best place to raise our kids.”

 “Well I can’t argue with that. Is this them?”  Maggie pauses in the hall between the living room and kitchen, nodding at the frame photographs on the wall. “Your kids?”

 It’s their school pictures from last year when they’d still been in Telluride. Before they’d ever heard of Michael McMann. And one of Declan when he’d just been a baby; not even crawling or walking yet.

 Tyler nods. “They’re a year older now. And we added another. A little girl. Two weeks old.”

 Maggie arches an eyebrow. “You’re telling me you have five kids?”

 “Yup.”

 “Five kids,” she breathes and shakes her head. “Boy, you’re either both brave as hell or you’re both just plain crazy.”

 “Maybe both?” Ovi suggests, and then laughs when Tyler directs a playful elbow into his stomach.

 “I actually have six kids,” Tyler says. “If we count him,” he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “When he’s not being a smart ass.”

 Maggie looks Ovi up and down. “You’re one of his…” she nods at Tyler. “…kids?”

 The young man nods.

 “And just how does that work? When you look like you do…” she looks at Tyler, then at Ovi. “…and you look like you do.”

 “They took me in,” Ovi explains. “Six years ago. After my parents died. It was in my mother’s will. That I was supposed to go to Tyler. So…. here I am.”

 “Here he is,” Tyler confirms, and tousles Ovi’s hair. “Congratulations. It’s a boy. All six foot one and two hundred pounds of him.”

 “He’s not my father, but he is my dad,” Ovi says. “And that’s good enough for me.”

 Maggie gives a slow nod of agreement, and then once again leads the way down the hall. “Your father insisted we put those pictures up as soon as he moved in. He’s extremely proud of his grandkids.”

 Tyler doubts it. On both counts.

 “He’s having one of his ‘okay’ days,” she says. “Woke up knowing what day is, what month, what year.”

 “But thinks his dead brother is going to show up,” Tyler tosses out. And again, nothing. Not even the slightest hint of sadness. The man doesn’t deserve any. Not after the life he’s lived. Not with all the things he’s said and all the things he’s done.

 “He may have just screwed the name up,” she suggests. “I mean, you’re his son. He obviously knows your name.”

 “I haven’t been his son in a long time,” Tyler says. It doesn’t hurt to admit. It just is what it is. In the same way that Ovi may still bear the Mahajan name, but his father had stopped being a part of his life a long time ago because of his own selfish and evil choices. Just as Tyler’s old man had destroyed their relationship with the use of a belt or a fist or whatever else his father could get his hands on.

 “You’ll always be his son,” Maggie’s tone has a scolding tone to it. “He helped give you life.”

 “That’s about all he did. He knocked my mum up. That’s it. I know you mean well, but you shouldn’t be lecturing about how things are between him and I. I lived with him. You didn’t. So how about we just cut the chit chat and you mind your own business.”

 She holds her hands up un surrender, then nods towards the sliding glass door that leads out onto a small patio. “He’s out there. Likes to sit in the sun and listen to the birds. He’s a very sweet man. Very gentle. Very good to us.”

 Tyler gives a derisive snort. It will be a cold day in hell before he acknowledges any of those traits. Because before the old man’s brain started going on him, he was a tyrant. Controlling and manipulative. Drinking far too much. Treating his mother like a slave and then degrading her and beating her if she dared stand up for herself. And when she’d died, all that cruelty and abuse had been turned onto his only child. He could forgive what his father had done to him, but there’s no goddamn way he’d ever forgive him for what he’d done to his mum.

 ****

 His father sits in an old porch swing; frail and sickly looking, a far cry from the man he’d been the last time Tyler had seen him six years ago. When he’d still carried himself with a hint of cockiness and superiority; shoulders still broad, eyes still icy and intimidating. He’s a shell of his former self, and Tyler almost hates himself for viewing this as a form of karma. That after years of treating people horribly, the old man has been reduced to needing help from complete strangers to perform even the smallest of tasks.

 “William, “ Maggie speaks from the doorway. “You have company. Your son and your...” she looks at Ovi for clarification as to just who he is.

 “Grandson,” Tyler finishes for her.

 “Your son and your grandson are here,” she continues. “They’ve come to visit.”

 Tyler gives her a small, appreciative smile and then waits until she steps back into the house and shuts the door before turning to Ovi. “Why don’t you go and find that list he supposedly made of the things we need to fix. Probably on the fridge or the kitchen table or...”

 “TV,” his father speaks up. “It’s by the TV.”

 Tyler smirks. “Go check there. See what you can do on your own. I’ll be in in a few.”

 Ovi nods, then gives a nervous smile and a small wave when he notices Tyler’s father watching him, a puzzled look on his face.

 “Go on,” Tyler encourages. “I need a few minutes here.”

 “Okay,” Ovi agrees, and slips back into the house.

 “Hey dad,” Tyler greets, as he grabs one of the patio chairs and places it facing the swing, sighing heavily as he sinks down into it. “You know who I am right?”

 His father nods, then leans forward and takes a hold of Tyler’s chin, turning his face to one side, then the other. “They let you keep that fur in the army?”

 “I’m not in the army anymore. I haven’t been in it for a long time.”

 “The war is over? They sent you home? From Afghanistan?”

 “I was in Afghanistan sixteen years ago. The war’s been over for a while. That one at least.”

 “So you’re home now?”

 Tyler nods.

 “I don’t know if I have enough room here for you. There’s not a lot of space. I had to get rid of the old place and downsize and...”

 “Dad, I have my own place to live. In Cookstown. With my wife and my kids.”

 He looks puzzled. “You have more than one now? When did that happen? Wasn’t Sarah just getting ready to have Austin?”

 Tyler sighs and runs a hand through his hair, then over his face. “Sarah and I haven’t been together in a long time. Since Austin died. That’s almost sixteen years ago now.”

 His father cocks his head to the side, confusion in his eyes and lining his face. “It is?”

 “I got married again. You were at the wedding. In Sydney. Same little place you and mum got married at. Near the opera house.”

 “Tiny little dark haired thing?”

 “Esme. You made a joke about her having a weird name.”

 “Esme...Esme...” his eyes squint as he tries to remember. “...cute wee thing. I like her. She’s a sweetheart. You’re still married to her?”

 “Six years and counting. She’s still putting up with me somehow. Do you remember meeting your granddaughter? Amelia? I brought her to the old house.”

 His father nods.

 “She’s going to be six in a couple months. I’ve also got twin boys that just turned five. Tyler and Tanner and another boy that’s seventeen months, Declan. And we just had another baby two weeks ago. A little girl. Adeline.”

 The old man smiles. “Your mother’s name.”

 “We call her Addie for short.”

 “That’s nice. Real nice. That you named her after your mother. She loved you so much, you know. Your mother. You were her pride and joy. The light of her life. I’d never seen her so as happy as she was the day you were born. She was a good mom to you. A real good mom.”

 “Yeah....” Tyler clears his throat noisily, trying to rid himself of the lump of emotion that sits squarely in his windpipe. “...she was.”

 “She’s a good mom? Your wife?”

 “She’s an incredible mom. I couldn’t have asked for a better mother for my kids. Or for a better woman to give me children.”

 “Six years?” his father asks. That you’ve been together?”

 “Six years and a couple of months,” Tyler confirms. “I haven’t screwed this one up. Not yet, anyway.”

 “Must be a good woman. A strong woman. To put up with the likes of you. You’ve always been a handful.”  It isn’t said with malice; there’s a soft smile curving the old man’s lips.

 “She keeps hanging in there. Keeps giving me another chance every time I screw up. Which has been a lot, unfortunately. But she never gives up on us. On me.”

 “Don’t let her get away. You’ll regret it if you do. And treat her right. Don’t make the same mistakes I did. You’re better than that. You always have been. You’re better than me. Thank Christ.”

 “Well I guess that’s one thing I do have to thank you for,” Tyler muses. “Showing me how not to be.”

 “And you’re back home? In Australia?”

 “We were in Colorado. We just move back six months ago. We should get you out to the house. You’d love it. It’s right on the beach. Awesome spot. And you’d get to see Amelia again. And meet your other grandkids.”

 His father smiles. “I’d like that.”

 “Maybe for Amelia’s birthday,” Tyler suggests, and then stares down at his hands; palms up, studying all the callouses and scars that years on the job have left behind.

 There’s so much he wants to say. Things that he needs to get off his chest in regard to the nightmare that he’d lived through growing up. He wants to punish his father; make him feel even the slightest bit of regret and remorse for all the things he’s said and done.

 But he doesn’t. Because whatever he says will never come close to the torment that’s always taking place in father’s broken mind.

[ladyboltontoyou]

Arthur Morgan x Reader: Farmer’s Daughter. 2

Warnings: Cursing probably. Smut. 

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

A/N: HELLO AGAIN. Listened to ‘Home’ by Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros while I wrote this lmao.(Okay I listened to it like three times in the span of the three hours it took me to write this) You should all listen to it, gave me young Arthur x reader vibes tbh, it’s super cute and happy. RIGHT OK so I hope you guys like this one as much as you enjoyed the first one, didn’t plan this to be more than a one-shot but more than one person wanted it to be so here I am. Hope the smut didn’t feel too rushed! I was going to do a few time skips but this just felt right to me. Thanks so much for your notes, comments, and reblogs, they mean the world to me.

It had been a week without any sign from Arthur, and on the seventh day you had almost given up hope. But he showed up right when you were about to fall asleep, knocking over a vase on your table when he climbed through the window it sat in front of.

You sat up in bed and pulled the sheets over you, frozen solid in fear for a good ten seconds before your eyes adjusted to the light and you made out Arthur picking up the vase from the floor. 

“You scared the daylights out of me.” You whispered as you calmed down from the near heart attack.

“Your doors were locked, so I uh, knocked on the window. You didn’t wake up and, well, here I am.” He sounded slightly embarrassed, taking his jacket off to put on the floor. “Sorry about that.”

“You don’t need to do that, a little water is okay.” You said as you climbed to the foot of the bed, but his jacket had already soaked up the spilled liquid. 

“Exactly. I’ve got other coats. At least it ain’t leather.” You both laughed a little at that and then you lit your bedside candle. 

“Close the curtains, will you?”

He looked over his shoulder and realized he’d not only left the window open, but he gave a good view to anyone who looked up at the balcony. He quickly did as you asked, closing the window too. “You draw anything while I was gone?” He asked as he walked back over and sat in the chair at your table. 

Another reason he was such a good man, he sat a respectable distance away from you when there was a whole bed he could have taken advantage of. 

Which damn, you wished he would. 

If there was anyone in the world who was sexually frustrated, it was a tie between you and Arthur. You had sex only once in your life, and it wasn’t even good. You had many other opportunities with pretty attractive people, but your family was almost constantly on you so you had no time to sneak away. And for Arthur, well, it’s self explanatory. 

“A few things.” You admitted and crawled back to the head of your bed and pulled out the drawer of your nightstand. Your brand new sketch pad laid in there, your father had bought it for you a few days before since you had already filled up your last one. 

“Really? Well, I’d love to see them.” He hated how vulnerable he felt then. Snuck into some girls room, knowing damn well he was a fool for being there. He fawned over you a little too much for his liking, last time he had butterflies over a girl he was very, very, very young. But that was the last thing on his mind for once. All he cared about now was the farmers daughter in her silk night-dress with the sketch book in her hands. 

You opened to the first page where a simple sketch of a cat waited to be praised. “This is my cat Scully.” 

Arthur got up from his seat and walked over to where you sat on the edge of the bed, squatting down at your knees so he could see properly. “Well, look at that.” He grinned and you handed the book over to him, which he gladly took. “How’d they get that?” He pointed to the right ear which was missing the top half. 

You leaned over to look at what his finger pointed to and sighed. “One day when I was real young, I was playing outside and the neighbor's dog came over, guess he didn’t like how I smelt so he started growling at me. Scully, she saw me crying and came over, kicked its ass then chased it off.” You laughed when you remembered how your parents treated the cat afterward, taking her to the most expensive vet they could find. She was queen of the house from then on out. 

Arthur snorted, his head bobbing slightly as he did so. “That so? She’s braver than any man I’ve ever met.”

You smiled and nodded in agreement. “You can go through them, there's only two more in there.” Your heart sped up in excitement when you remembered the last picture was something you’d done for him, a silhouette of him standing on your balcony overlooking your farm land. 

He turned the page slow as to not wrinkle the expensive paper. When he saw the next one he raised his brows. “Christ, girl. You need to be selling these.” 

The one he was looking at was a more detailed sketch, one you had done the day before. You still needed to do a little more shading on it, but it was mostly done. It was your parents sitting outside at the bench in your garden, they were both laughing and holding wine glasses. Your father had told your mother something funny and she was almost doubled over, one hand in front of her mouth and the other holding the glass outwards so she didn’t spill any on herself. They were surrounded by their roses and jasmine. 

“How do you remember something like this?”

You shrugged with the biggest smile on your face and a blush in your cheeks. “Something like that just sticks.” 

He looked up to you and shook his head before looking back down. “You’ve got me speechless.” He flipped to the next page and completely froze. He didn’t say anything for a minute, which worried you, but then he just let out a huff-like laugh of disbelief. “This me?” He knew it was him but for some reason he felt like he had to ask, just to hear you say it.

“Yes, it’s not weird, is it?” You asked while you chewed on your bottom lip nervously. 

Arthur scoffed and stood up before sitting down on your bed next to you, his eyes on the paper the whole time. “I’ve never seen myself the way you draw me. Even though this is just my damn figure.”His words really hit you. You knew what he meant by it and although you wanted him to explain it himself you knew it was something he wouldn’t go into detail about. He probably didn’t even mean to say it, it was most likely a slip of his tongue. 

After what seemed like several minutes he closed the book and handed it back to you. “No, this is for you.” You opened the book back open and cleanly tore the page out, handing it to the man sitting next to you. 

“I appreciate it. I really do.” He said and walked over to the table, setting it down on top of his satchel. His hand lingered there momentarily, considering taking out his own journal and giving you the paper he had spent days perfecting. Anxiety gnawed at him and he pulled his hand away, turning back to you. “Sorry I didn’t come back earlier, by the way. Got caught up in some business and ended up in Valentine for a while.”

“No, don’t apologize.” You waved him off. “You didn’t even have to come back, we barely even know each other. You got what you came for the first time anyways, you could have taken my hundred dollar drawing and sold it to make yourself a rich man.”

He laughed and sat down at the foot of your bed, making sure to keep a proper distance from you so he wouldn’t scare you off. If only he knew you wanted the complete opposite. “Now, a hundred-dollars isn’t very rich, why do that when I could keep coming back and get more? That would be one hell of a business.”

Where on this cold earth did this man come from? How were you so lucky to know such a good person? Given, you had only seen him two times, but he had still made a name for himself. He had a good sense of humor, he was polite, and goddamn he praised your art like it was god. If there was one sure way to your heart it was through that. And not to mention he was incredibly attractive. Fit as could be, well-groomed yet he had this dangerous look about him that said he could put you down in two seconds flat if you tried him. 

You wished he would.

In an attempt to clear the dirty thoughts that had flood your head you brought up a new subject. “The last time you were here you said my drawing was better than yours, you never answered me when I asked if you drew too.” You said and tried to look casual as you watched him for a reaction. 

He cleared his throat and looked away from your gaze, his eyes landing on everything in the room besides you. “I said that? Of course I would. That sounds like something I’d say.” He laughed to try to chase his anxiety off. “Sure, I do. A little bit.”

“Do you have anything you could show me?” You asked and pulled your legs back up onto the bed, making yourself comfortable as you continued watching him. It was hard not to, every single thing he did was mesmerizing.

He scratched his chin and sighed. “Yeah, I do.” He reluctantly grabbed his satchel from the table and pulled his own journal from it. “They’re not the best, but, well, look for yourself. There’s some writin’ in there too, pay no mind to that.” He handed you the worn leather book and you flipped through it. It was mostly full of wildlife, plants and scenery. 

“These are really good. This wolf looks like a photograph.” You said as you went through the pages. Some of his work was way better than anything you could ever dream of drawing, but he probably thought the same about yours. There were a few small doodles that made your heart melt, like one of a poodle that looked like he drew under sixty seconds. 

You had gotten so wrapped up in looking at the pages you didn’t even notice the way he was looking at you. He looked at you like he was seeing something so magnificent, and if he dared look away he would miss something. The way your eyes scanned over the paper, the way you would smile when you saw something you found his drunk doodles, it made him feel like he was drunk then and there. He had almost forgotten about what he drew you, on the newest page. When your expression changed to something unreadable his heart sped up and he shifted anxiously on the bed.

“This is me?” Your voice was barely a whisper. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing, it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Not because it was you, but because you knew it was the way he saw you. You were wearing that pretty white sundress you had worn the day he first saw you and you had jasmine flowers in your hair. You looked like you were in the middle of walking, your left hand trailing through the tall grass he had drawn you in. You had a small smile on your face and you were looking directly in front of you as if you knew you were being drawn. It looked amazing, so beautiful you couldn’t believe that was actually you. But sure enough it was identical. “I look so pretty.”

Arthur scratched the back of his head, torn between feeling utterly in love with you and feeling disgusted at how sappy and vulnerable he was. “I draw what I see.” 

That was all you needed. You set the book down beside you and threw all your inhibitions out the window, crawling to the foot of the bed to kiss him. You took his face in your hands and pulled him towards you. His trimmed beard felt rough in your hands but you loved every bit of it. His lips felt even better against your own, they were hot and tasted raw as if he had been chewing on them for hours. 

Arthur inhaled sharply through his nose, his eyes wide and his hands raised off his lap in surprise. He wanted to push you off because he knew it was wrong and you’d regret it later. He told himself you had to have been drinking, there was no way any woman like you would kiss someone like him. 

You were the one to end the kiss, but only because you were running out of breath. It seemed he had been too, since when you parted he sucked in a breath. 

“Now why did you do that?” He asked immediately, his voice faultering.

“I don’t know.” You admitted with a shrug and a soft laugh. “I just wanted to. I’m sorry, I should have asked. I just, really… really like you, Arthur. I know we haven’t been in the same room as each other a total of ten hours… but I don’t know. I’ve never felt like this. I don’t know what the normal thing to do is when you like someone like this.”

Arthur shook his head and sighed. “Don’t do that. Please. Don’t.” 

“Give me a reason.” You were still so close you were practically touching, your knees a hair length apart. “Because I don’t see any good reason not to.”

“(Y/N), I’m not a good person. I don’t know if I’ll stay around here long, I don’t normally stay in one place for too long. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, you’re a young beautiful woman. You could have any man, hell, any man or woman you’d ever want.”

“Really? Well, I want you.” 

He sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head again. “Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true, I want you, Arthur. I don’t want anyone else, not right now at least. And right now is all that matters.”

At your words he groaned, hearing the sentence ‘I want you’ coming from your mouth was too much for him. “But-”

You shut him up with another kiss, this one shorter but more heated. “Listen Arthur, I’m a big girl, okay? I won’t be heartbroken if we never see eachother again. I’ll be sad for a while, sure, but like you said. I’ve got my whole life. I’ll get over it.” You smiled and took off his hat, setting it beside him. “You think pretty highly of yourself if you think one night will be the end of me.”

Arthur laughed and finally looked at you. “You’re stubborn. You know that?”

“Of course I do. But now you’ve got me interested, what’s so good about you that you want to protect me from missing?” You questioned with an innocent smile, placing a hand on his knee. 

He grew serious again and the playful smile disappeared. “(Y/N), I don’t think this is such a good idea.” He warned while he still had the mindset to think that deeply. Your hand on his knee wasn’t helping his good intentions. “If your folks-”

“Don’t worry about them. They sleep on the other side of the house with the river right outside their window. The only thing that will wake them is screaming, or the dogs outside. But don’t worry, I can be quiet.” You winked and took his hand in yours, impressed by how huge they seemed compared to you. “Please?” 

There was no way of explaining how you got the idea to start kissing his fingers, it just felt right. Arthur closed his eyes and groaned in the ‘What have I gotten myself into’ type of way. There was no way he could say no to you, not when you were doing… that. “Christ, woman.” He hissed when you pulled him forwards towards the head of the bed. 

He took a quick second to take his boots off and blow out the candle, providing you with a more comfortable sense of safety. There was no way anyone besides the two of you could see what was going on in your room.

He climbed back on the bed and kissed you, one hand on your cheek and one on the bed beside you. Arthur kissed so sensual and deep that you felt like you were kissing someone you had been married to for your entire life. Your heart swelled and all the blood made its way between your legs in a hurry. “Take this off.” You whispered against his mouth as you unbuttoned the front of his shirt. 

He finished the rest of the buttons, sitting up on his knees to pull his arms out of the shirt. Once it was off he hurried back to kissing you like his life depended on it. He loved the feeling so much he totally forgot about the rest of his clothes and only stopped when you placed your toes on his belt buckle and gently pushed him back. 

You smiled when he laughed and shook his head at you. “What? Don’t like taking your time?” He teased and lowered his hands to unbuckle his belt. The imagery mixed with the gentle clink of metal as he took his belt off drove you mad.

“I do once the clothes are off.” You meant to tease him back but you sounded far too serious. He had nothing to say to that so he just finished taking his belt off, laying it with his hat at the foot of the bed. When he leaned forward again you stopped him with your foot on his chest. “Keep going.”

“Maybe you should've been the one warning me.” He breathed and pulled his pants down his hips, standing from the bed to pull them off the rest of the way.  “There’s no way I could have you just once.” 

Good. You thought. You didn’t want him just once either. 

Once he finally got his pants off you felt it was unfair that you were still fully clothed so you reached under your dress and pulled down your panties. He watched as you pulled them off of your raised feet with a look that just screamed sex. “Am I dreamin’?” He asked with a laugh, sliding back onto the bed in front of you. 

“Come here and find out.” You grinned and spread your legs a bit, just enough to notice but not enough for him to see anything exciting.

“Jesus, woman.” His voice was barely a whisper and he leaned back into you, grabbing your waist gently to pull you flat on your back, his hips pressed flush against you. You could feel how hard he was through the thin fabric of his underwear and it drove you fucking crazy. He finally started taking the lead then and he slipped his hand between the two of you, sliding his fingers down your slick folds to your entrance. When he pushed a finger inside of you the both of you gasped, he didn’t expect you to feel so good around him. 

“Oh, fuck.” You muttered and closed your eyes, grabbing onto his biceps. His arm muscles tensed under your touch, mostly his right arm since that was the one with its fingers inside you. 

He kept at that for a while, curling it inside you in sync with the beat of his heart. You came just from that. When he felt you tense up around him mixed with the feeling of hot cum oozing down his hand he lost any patience he had left. He took his hand out from between your legs and kissed you again, using his right hand to take the last article of clothing he had off. When he pressed back down into you the breath hitched in your throat. 

“God.” You moaned and moved your hands from his arms up to tangle into his hair. “I want you so bad, Arthur.” 

As if he couldn’t be in any more of a hurry, you had to go and say that. 

“You have no idea.” He said with a grunt and used a hand to guide the tip of his cock against you. He rubbed it up and down your slit a few times and you let out the filthiest sound he had ever heard. You locked your ankles around his back and pushed him into you, catching him by surprise. 

The feeling of his cock fully inside of you was indescribable. You arched your back and rolled your head back into the pillows. He groaned and grabbed the bottom of your nightgown to pull off of you. You had to help him get it off your shoulders. After it finally came off he sighed, looking down at your body.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” He whispered and leaned back down into you. His thrusts were slow, but only for a few of them. Once he was sure you were ready he let himself go completely. You pulled his head down to yours and kissed him again as his cock drove in and out of you at a quick steady pace. He felt so amazing inside you, the feeling of his cock rubbing against that one special spot gave you your second orgasm. 

Your third came when he rough handled you a little bit for the first time, he had grabbed your thighs roughly and slammed himself inside you about four times. The sheer force of it all knocked the air out of your lungs and left you paralyzed. The fourth time you came he had flipped you onto your stomach. The way he could manhandle you to easily was so hot to you that you swore you fell in love with him then. 

When he pushed his cock back into you at the new angle was when you came, and god, he felt it. He almost came with you but he thankfully had the will to pull out and give himself a few seconds to calm down. Once he had enough time he continued fucking you into your mattress. 

This all went on for what only felt like a few minutes. You had no idea that you’d actually been at it for nearly two hours. You probably would have gone longer if you didn’t decide to sit in his lap, that had been what finished him off. 

When you were on top of him his cock reached deeper inside you than it had ever been before. He was stunned for a second, unable to move as you rode his cock and pulled his head back by his hair. When you sunk your teeth into his neck was when he truly lost it. He came undone in you, grabbing you by your hips and forcing you down further onto his length. 

The noises that came from him sounded so primal it led you to your final orgasm. Thank god you came with him because there was no way he’d be able to go again after that. He’d be surprised if he had the energy to climb down that lattice and onto his horse. 

No one said anything for a good while but that was okay. You couldn’t talk if you tried. You were too busy gasping for breath to form words.

Arthur was the first to speak. “I should probably leave now, I told Dutch I’d only be out a few minutes.” He sighed when he remembered that the older man had told him not to stay out too long since the law was keeping an eye out for them. You had no idea who Dutch was but you nodded anyways. 

“Alright. I should go to sleep anyways, I’ve got to wake up early in the morning to go to town with my mother.” 

Arthur nodded and ran a hand through his sweaty hair, noticing how messy it had become. Before he came over he had made sure it looked nice but now he was sure it looked as if he had no idea what a comb was. 

You watched him pull his clothes back on, almost forgetting his hat and belt. He slipped your picture for him in his journal and safely secured it, sliding it back into his satchel. 

After he gathered his things he gave you one last kiss at the doors, full of more passion than any others you had previously shared. “Could I come see you again sometime?” He asked after you parted with the most adorable smile on his face. 

God. He was right in his warning, there was no way you could get over a smile like that.

“Arthur, you know the answer to that.” 

[dazzledbybooks]

Fifteen-year-old JL Markham’s life used to be filled with carnival nights and hot summer days spent giggling with her forever best friend Aubrey about their families and boys. Together, they were unstoppable. But they aren’t the friends they once were. With JL’s father gone on long term business, and her mother struggling with her mental illness, JL takes solace in the tropical butterflies she raises, and in her new, older boyfriend, Max Gordon. Max may be rough on the outside, but he has the soul of a poet (something Aubrey will never understand). Only, Max is about to graduate, and he's going to hit the road - with or without JL. JL can't bear being left behind again. But what if devoting herself to Max not only means betraying her parents, but permanently losing the love of her best friend? What becomes of loyalty, when no one is loyal to you? Gae Polisner’s Jack Kerouac is Dead to Me is a story about the fragility of female friendship, of falling in love and wondering if you are ready for more, and of the glimmers of hope we find by taking stock in ourselves. Early Praise: "Jack Kerouac is Dead to Me is an absolutely real, raw and emotional read, and it's a book that touched my heart with every page." - Katie McGarry, critically acclaimed author of Only a Breath Apart"Gae Polisner has done it again. I absolutely loved this beautiful, heart-wrenching story about friendship, family, and first love, and what happens when they all fall apart. Jack Kerouac is Dead to Me is a truly special book." - Lauren Spieller, author of Your Destination Is on the Left Buy link: https://wednesdaybooks.com/the-real-deal/jack-kerouac-is-dead-to-me/ Review: Jack Kerouac is Dead to Me by Gae Polisner is definitely an emotional tale. This novel is pretty raw. IT is telling about the struggles of JL's (Jean-Louise) life. JL's mom suffers from dissociation disorder so she is in a depressed fog constantly. There are days that she barely gets out of her bed. JL's dad is on a business trip. JL's best friend Aubrey has shunned her. JL has a boyfriend named Max that is a bit rough around the edges but he is really smart. Max wants to go to California after he graduates and he has invited JL to go with him. JL doesn't want to leave her mother alone. As the reader you see JL struggle with what is going on in her life. She doesn't know what to do. She is having to be the caretaker of the family when it should be one of her parents. JL feels pressure from Max especially with their age difference because he is ready to have sex and she isn't. Then she is also being put into situations that she is uncomfortable with. I just feel like this book had some really odd mature content in it. The fact that it eludes to the fact that Max sleeps with JL's mother. Like Why? Did that really need to be in a young adult book? Was that added for shock factor? I found that this wasn't my favorite story to read. It had some moments that I just didn't understand. Excerpt: LATE JUNE BEFORE EIGHTH GRADE The day is hot. We’re running through the sprinkler in my backyard, dodging in and out of the cold spray that fans over us, shrieking as droplets rain down onto our sun-warmed, tanned skin. You push me closer as the arc of water returns, and I fall onto the grass, wet, laughing, taking you down with me. The sod under us is new and soft, and the freshly cut blades stick to our limbs, our faces. We are giddy with summer, with each other. We are still on the cusp of everything. Afterwards, you turn off the hose, and we lie on faded chaise lounges we drag to the middle of my yard, our chests heaving with rapid, satisfied breaths in our barely-filled- out bikini tops. You reach out and take my hand and an indescribable sort of electricity shoots through me, real and palpable, as if I could reach out the fingers of my other hand and touch it, some white-hot charge that holds us together. We are friends—best friends—but more than that. We are entirely, platonically, in love. “See that cloud, JL?” You let go and point off beyond the top of the tallest sycamore branches. “It looks like a giant mushroom, doesn’t it?” My eyes follow your finger, my hand cold from the loss. “Do you see it there?” I bust out laughing. “What’s so funny?” you ask, your voice defensive. I lean all the way over, tilt your face a bit with my hand to change the angle. “It looks a lot like something else, Aubs. Look again.” You sit up and squint to see clearer. After a second, you say, “Oh my god, it’s a giant penis cloud, isn’t it?” and we both fall apart laughing. When our stomachs hurt so bad we have to fight from laughing more, you lie back down and ask softly, “Have you ever seen one for real, JL?” “A penis? No.” I think for a minute. “I mean, pictures, yes, but not in real life, in person. Why? You?” You nod and look at me, eyes big, mouth covered by your own hand like you’ve revealed some dangerous se- cret, making me sit up and demand, “Okay, spill! Whose?” You shake your head hard, your eyes round over your still- cupped fingers. I run off a few names, guessing. “David Brundage?” “Scott Silvestri?” “Matthew Flynn?” You uncover your mouth. “God, no! I hear it’s giant, though. Like a grown man’s . . .” “Well, tell, then.” “No one from school,” you say, covering your mouth again and adding through half-open fingers, “closer to home, JL. Come on.” “Ew, Ethan’s?” I squeal too loudly, and you nod, and we both shriek and shudder in exaggerated, disgusted delight. “Oh my god!” I say. “Why?” “By accident, obviously. I wasn’t trying! I walked in on him in the bathroom. He forgot to lock the door, and—” “Ew! So gross! Don’t tell me!” I cry, but I have a thou- sand questions. Ones I will never dare ask. “Right? Totally. That thing is, like, burned into my brain!” We shudder one more time for good measure. After, we’re quiet for a while, and the clouds shift and the mushroom one feathers out and disappears. I take your hand this time, feeling the electric bond re- turn as I swing our clasped fingers together in the space between our chairs. “I love you,” I say. “Me too,” you respond too quickly. I roll my head to the side and smile, and you add, “Your boobs are getting big- ger than mine. No fair.” “They are?” I glance down my chest toward my two pa- thetic, barely-there mounds beneath the bikini fabric. You nod. “Yes. And you’re so pretty—too pretty—you’re really perfect, you know? I’ve never had a friend as perfect as you.” It should be a compliment but, instead, the electricity fizzles as if short-circuited, and my chest fills with an in- explicable sense of dread. Your admiration feels somehow fragile and conditional, and impossible to live up to. “No I’m not, don’t be stupid,” I say, irritated. I want to untangle my fingers, get up, and sprint across the lawn, but you squeeze harder to hold on. “Yes you are. Admit it.” “Aubs—” “Well, I think you are. I wish I were more like you. Pretty and free, and not afraid of anything, like your mother.” It feels worse when you add this, because you don’t know me if you think I’m like her. I’m nothing like her, off-kilter and unfettered, nor half as beautiful. I’m plain, but I’m solid. And, yet, it isn’t about me, suddenly. It’s what you have decided. You have judged me as one thing, and at some point, I will disappoint you by proving you wrong. “I am not,” I say again, to right things. “Are too,” you insist, making my face redden in protest. But you don’t notice. You don’t see. And even if you turned and looked at me, you couldn’t tell the flush of anger in my cheeks from too much sun. “I just wish I could be more like you. Geesh, that’s all.” “You do?” You nod, and squeeze my fingers even harder, and we both close our eyes. I leave them there in yours even though a few are starting to go numb. “So much,” you say. “Really?” “Yes. Really.” So, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you’re not judging me at all. I squeeze back, letting go of my unease, wanting to hold on to whatever spell has you enamored with me, instead. Or maybe I’m weak and don’t have the heart to call out the lie, and tell you how afraid of everything I really am. About the Author: GAE POLISNER is the award-winning author of In Sight of Stars, The Memory of Things, The Summer of Letting Go, The Pull of Gravity, and Jack Kerouac is Dead to Me. She lives on Long Island with her husband, two sons, and a suspiciously-fictional looking dog. When Gae isn't writing, you can find her in a pool or the open waters off Long Island. She's still hoping that one day her wetsuit will turn her into a superhero.

http://www.dazzledbybooks.com/2020/04/jack-kerouac-is-dead-to-me-blog-tour.html

[ofchlve-blog]

hiii everyone ! i’m lily, i’m nineteen years young, living in the est timezone, and my preferred pronouns are she/her ! i love everything about harry styles, trash reality tv, and my miniature dachshund :~) as a srat queen, i was so excited about this rp and now that i’ve been accepted i can’t wait to rp with yall ! below is information on my baby, chloe crawford ! if you’re interested in plotting, you can hit me up through tumblr ims or on discord @𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐧𝐨. 𝟏#5964 !!

⋆ ╰  another  year  at  hollingsworth  ,  another  year  of  the  big  six  rivalry  .  i  hear  that  CHLOE CRAWFORD  is  ensuring  KAPPA KAPPA DELTA  gets  a  solid  pledge  class  and  stays  at  the  top  of  the  ranks  .  oh  ,  you’re  not  familiar  with  HER  ?  CC  is  the SCARLETT LEITHOLD  look  alike  from  CHARLESTON  ,  SOUTH CAROLINA  .  apart  of  PC  ‘16  ,  she  is  majoring  in  DRAMA/THEATER  and  has  plans  to  STAR IN HER FIRST MOVIE  after  undergrad  .  it  makes  sense  they  pledged  their  house  ,  their  CHARISMATIC  &  ROMANTIC  attributes  make  them  perfect  matches  .  however  ,  their  FLIGHTY  &  SACCHARINE  attributes  keep  their  name  alive  on  greek  rank  .  if  you  don’t  catch  them  dancing  to  POST MALONE  -  SAM FELDT  at  a  fraternity  band  party  this  year  ,  you’ll  be  sure  to  catch  them  nursing  their  morning  hangover  at  THE KAPPA HOUSE  .  cheers  to  another  wild  semester !

ok i wanted this to be short but i LOVE intros so no promises >:)

chloe harper crawford was born on july 23, 1998 in charleston, south carolina. she is a cancer-leo cusp. her mother is savannah crawford nee harper, an ex-pageant queen, and her father is andrew crawford, of the charleston crawfords.

the crawfords are a veeeery old-money charleston family, and chloe’s father was one of their most successful outputs, running the family business perfectly. chloe and her younger brother braden (born three years after, and the heir presumptive to the crawford throne) were the crown jewel of their picture-perfect family.

chloe’s mother started training the girl the day she was born to follow in her footsteps as a future miss south carolina. despite having the perfect blonde curls and the big blue eyes, the pageant lifestyle didn’t come easily to chloe - she didn’t have the edge, that certain bite needed to slice someone open with a razor-sharp smile.

however, in this training chloe realized that she truly loved the stage, the spotlight, the adoration of the crowd. it didn’t take her long to channel that energy into acting.

though chloe struggled in school, acting made her feel at home. it gave her an outlet, a place to shine, unlike the classroom where she felt awkward and slow. as she grew, she learned to channel the confidence acting gave her into her social life, and suddenly she was the center of attention. being a pretty, rich blonde didn’t hurt either.

as chloe approached college age, it was practically a given that she would go to hollingsworth, rush kkd like her mother, major in something safe like communications or pr, marry a good southern boy, and return to charleston to continue the family legacy. however, she went against the wishes of her family and instead applied to nine different schools, all for their drama programs. she got into all nine, but ultimately decided to go to hollingsworth anyway.

hollingsworth proved to be a place chloe could thrive, that provided her with tons of opportunities. one such opportunity was a short film, written and directed by a semi-famous hollingsworth alum. chloe auditioned and got the lead role, filming over the summer before junior year.

she thought it would be nothing, just a bit of experience for her resume after she finished college and started the hard stuff. but when the film was shown at the new york film festival, it got surprise rave reviews and a lot of attention. suddenly, chloe was a hot commodity, and she’s had offers from major film studios, including a signed contract for a role she’s supposed to play just after she graduates from hollingsworth.

just as chloe’s fortunes were going up, however, her family’s were going down. the summer before her senior year at hollingsworth, the family business was exposed as having corrupt practices, and is on the verge of shutting down. though chloe’s father claims he knows nothing about it, he’s being investigated for fraud.

she’s very VERY nervous about interviewing, press appearances, and the general business of being a rising star. although she acts like a social butterfly and is a very charming girl, it doesn’t necessarily come easy to her. deep down, she still feels like the awkward kid in class, who doesn’t quite fit in or get it, no matter how hard she tries.

despite her high social standing due to being in kkd, she’s one of the sweetest girls you’ll ever meet. she definitely doesn’t subscribe to the idea that kappa girls are better than anyone else -- unless you cross her, she would never hurt a fly and in fact goes out of her way to be nice to people. she truly believes in the idea that everyone’s fighting their own battle and you don’t need to make it any harder for them.

despite that, if you do cross her, and do something major, the claws can come out. she’s not afraid to stand up for herself although she tends to wait a little longer than she should to speak out.

she’s a hopeless romantic and falls in love so fast. she loves being in love just as much as she loves the person she’s with. mostly, she loves being in a relationship and she gives her heart and soul to the person completely.

she’s not the brightest but she is truly kind and sweet.

she’s probably super involved in kkd! she lives at the house and like... probably is that girl who wears her letters everywhere and constantly talks about formals and frat boys. idk whether there’s like ‘positions’ in the rp but i could def see her as recruitment chair or social chair!

chloe is HEAVILY inspired by serena van der woodsen, cher horowitz, elle woods, and bianca from 10 things i hate about you !! she’s a bubbly blonde who has this magnetic appeal you just can’t say no to.

some wanted plots i have for her:

ok so i really want a squad !! like her best friends, ride or die, would do anything for each other ! they could be from any srat or frat, idc !

in the same vein... ex friends / enemies ! honestly chlo prob doesn’t have a lot of these bc she’s too much of a pushover to actually stop being friends w someone but like... maybe something big happened ? let’s plot it out !

party buddies / go-to formal dates ! just some people she really vibes with but maybe aren’t on the level of bffs

crush ! someone little hopeless romantic baby chlo has her eye on :~)

friends to lovers ! i am a SUCKER for this and would love it for chlo. give me a best friend who knows all her secrets and they end up... ~in luv~ ! bonus points if they’re both crushing and don’t know it

secret hookup ! is it an opposites attract thing ? do they just not want anyone to know ? PLS bring me this it would be so fun

(ex) - friends with benefits ! could be either current or a past connection, but would def be fun to work with !

exes - good terms or bad terms ! i love some fun romantic drama and this could def provide that !

co-stars ! ok so i posted THIS but like... imagine how GOOD this wld be... playing love interests but in real life they hate each other or have a crush or something jdfhksjdhf

[likeshipsonthesea]

Nurseydex + 21 + 25. :D

from the mash-up thing, 21. Dystopian AU and 25. Fairytale AU

okay i promised myself i wouldn’t write anymore of these, i have homework goddammit, but i saw these numbers and got THE PERFECT IDEA so here we go

it’s the year 2123. the world has been run over by machinery. there are small pockets of the earth left preserved with grass and trees and stuff, but they are controlled by the super-rich and typical people cannot see them. machines produce the oxygen needed to survive, the streets are littered with tall buildings and pipes and all the kind of steam-punk aesthetics you can think of

enter; dex. a small town boy from maine, in one of the last towns left on the water. he knows he’s privileged to even see the water, but fuck he wishes he could see the trees. maine was one of the last places to be taken over, and his grandparents remember the days of the environment, and show dex scrapbooks with pictures of trees and grass and moss. fuck dex really wants to see moss

and he’s out one day after a job fixing up someone’s O2Buddy (the things that make oxygen) and his car breaks down. it’s broken down a bunch in the past few weeks and he’s waiting on a new part (the post office has gone Downhill in the past hundred years) and so when he gets out to check the engine, he can’t do anything to fix it. it’s fucked beyond repair.

he’s pissed–still angery, 100 years later– and kicks the bumper before walking off in a fit of rage. the side-streets are full of buildings (overpopulation really skyrocketed) but he navigates between the twisting alleyways, furious and not paying attention, when he comes to a dead end.

in his anger, he kicks the wall. he probably would have broken a toe if the wall was solid, but it wasn’t. the wall shivers, and a square of its scrap-metal composition comes loose. dex blinks.

from within the sliver the scrap reveals, there’s glowing. dex cautiously takes a step closer and peers through the crack. his heart starts racing. it’s– green?

he peels back the metal and–he was right. it’s–it’s grass. from the pictures. holy shit.

he pulls back more of the metal until he can fit his body in through it and is suddenly transported into another world. a circular enclosure, maybe twenty feet in radius, full of grass and flowers and–and fuck, is that a tree? the walls of metal stretch up to the sky, where sunlight falls in, unfiltered. dex takes a deep breath– he smells nothing but the air.

it’s so beautiful. he laughs and falls to his knees in the grass. how is this possible? why is there here? what is this–

that’s when dex sees the casket.

okay, it’s not a casket, but it’s basically one. it’s made of glass for some reason? and it’s on some kind of pedestal. dex stands up and makes his way closer and–

“holy shit.” dex stumbles back. there’s a fucking body in it!

…

except it’s perfectly preserved. he gets closer again. this place–preserved and gorgeous as it is– has to be more than forty years old– 2081 is when the last maine preservation bill was struck down, and the machines moved in. how could the body be this perfect if it’s had forty years to decompose?

dex doesn’t realize that he’s still getting closer as he thinks, and all of a sudden he’s right next to the casket. there’s an engraving on the side, with beautiful lettering. ‘for the other half, the simple soul, the touch that will restore what the darkness stole’

..the fuck?

looking away from the engraving (golden and cursive and way dramatic) he finds himself staring at the body. the man. he’s–well, beautiful. this dex has no idea what homophobia is except for the weird fringe people that no one talks to anymore, so he’s v comfortable in his liking of the peen.

the man in the casket has an elegant nose, beautiful slightly parted lips, high cheekbones and a jaw prettier than even the best working engine (dex still loves to Fix) but dex keeps finding himself staring at the black, fanning eyelashes, the soft closed lids. he wonders what color the man’s eyes are.

unthiking, just wanting to get closer, dex reaches out to touch the glass, and the man’s eyes promptly open. (they’re green)

‘what the fuck’ they both yell, simultaneously.

this is where the story really gets going.

nursey is, obviously, really fucking confused at why he’s in a casket with this beautiful ginger boy staring at him with eyes like amber and so many freckles that nursey misses the stars. then, when they both calm down enough for dex to get him out of the casket and– a little later–for dex to tell him the year, nursey freaks out again.

‘it’s 2123? that’s not even a real year!”

“um, yeah it is.”

“oh my god.” … “trump didn’t implode the world?”

“…trump? that guy that got impeached in his third year?”

“oh thank the lord.”

after a brief recap of the 21st century–the capitalists that took over, the strides to protect the environment that turned into hiding it away, the rise of big business and the dissolution of the middle class– nursey is reeling.

“oh my god,” he keeps saying, over and over again, and dex watches him, so confused (and a lil bewitched bc, come on, it’s nursey) and after nursey seems to have settled, as much as one can in this situation, dex asks.

“so, like… why were you in a casket for a hundred years?”

“oh yeah.” nursey blinks. “that dude.”

‘that dude’ turns out to be this asshole elder wizard who didn’t want nursey to become the next ranking wizard– a combination of racism, homphobia, and power-grapping assholery– so he put a curse on nursey’s mind and heart– he wouldn’t be able to survive without his soulmate.

“and, like, even the guy’s curses were antiquated,” nursey says, complaining and gesturing avidly with his hands, “no one did love curses anymore! he could’ve hexed came out of my mouth whenever i tried to talk, but no! he’s gotta go all bs true love. god. no creativity.”

dex just blinks because, like, magic. magic is a thing. wow. okay.

and so long story short, his parents tried so hard to find someone who would work as his soulmate– “because no one has just one,” nursey explains, having read a bunch of books on it bc he’s a Romantique, “there are a bunch of people who sooth your soul, magic or whatever, it has a lot to do with timing and willingness and–i’m losing you, anyway back to the story”– but his parents found no one, and nursey was fading fast

before he could wither away completely, he gave his parents consent to put a stasis spell on him. “they probably put me up here to keep me safe,” nursey says, shrugging, suddenly so sad. his parents, dex realizes, are probably dead.

“maine was one of the last places to go mechanical,” dex says. “they probably kept you close as long as they could.”

nursey nods, and his eyes go all glassy, and dex wants to comfort him but, like, they just met, so he settles with patting comfortingly at nursey’s shoulder. then nursey looks up, eyes wide.

“wait. you woke me up.”

dex squints. “uh, yeah.”

“you’re my soulmate.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

well.

then a lot of other stuff happens– dex takes nursey home, which causes a bunch of fun antics with out-of-our-time nursey interacting with a plethora of ginger aunts, uncles, and little cousins. nursey tries to relearn living in a world without grass or trees or fresh air. he and dex learn, bit by bit, about one another, and figure that the soulmate thing is probably correct–though they argue constantly, about big things small things and anything else they can find.

(the arguments, the good ones, always come with real good sex, so they’re both p happy about that)

and of course nursey is mourning the loss of his time and friends and family, and he tells dex stories of his teammates and classes and parents, until dex mourns them right along with him. “i think i would have liked them” he says, quiet, one night, while staring up at the glow-stars nursey found in a retro store and put up.

“i think they would’ve liked you too,” nursey says, quiet, pressing a kiss to dex’s starry cheek.

it’s not all cuddles and smiles, though. nursey reawakening sends a ripple through the magic world and guess what–asshole elder wizard is still alive! he siphoned the life source of others or nature or little baby bunnies or something, idk, he’s evil, okay?

turns out he’s living in one of the last green places and, as power dicks are, is very insecure about his place. when he finds out nursey woke up, he immediately sends people to find him and kill him. obviously, it doesn’t work.

so nursey ends up getting tired about all the assholes that show up when he’s trying to just life his best gay life, so he tracks down the elder asshole and challenges him to a duel, or whatever, and the elder loses bc his life source is so weak from siphoning for so long, and nursey wins!! hurray!! and he and dex kiss and it’s great!!! (the screen cuts out before it gets Too Kissy, you know, bc we’re good christians here on tumblr, no tongues for us, no no)

and then nursey and dex make the elder wizard’s patch of green open to the public, and everyone sees the world they could have (maybe the gov was keep everyone in the dark about how good nature was?? the machines are better, less death? idk this isn’t for world building it’s for the Gay) and because everyone loves grass now, they rebel and dismantle all of the machinery and reveal the beautiful (suffering but alive) greenery underneath and everyone starts recycling again and it’s great!

dex finally gets to see moss in real life and he loves it don’t get him wrong, but, like. nursey’s eyes are still the best green he’s ever seen.

and they all lived happily ever after

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

Love Is Alive Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry took so long for an update guys trying to work on an angle and still not sure how many parts doing as of yet but please enjoy!

I didn't fall in love with you. I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way. I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do the things that we'd choose anyway. And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.

~ The Chaos of the Stars, Kiersten White

There is a stillness about Y/N that Jim can't work out. Most people fidget constantly - hair-flicking, smiling and jiggling and generally breaking his train of thought. But she's not like that, not at all.

It's rare, these days, to meet anyone who can sit still, shut up and listen. A valuable quality. She's beautiful, too. Nice eyes.

He had fallen for her at first sight, literally, fallen hard, fallen fast, they were meant to be no question about it.

Y/N can picture it. Kisses long and slow. Tender touches, lingering glances, and secrets deep and dark; hand in hand with the man who captured her heart. Still nights walking under distant stars that light the way. Cheeks blushing to pink, breaths synchronizing, hearts pounding, lips connecting with the young man she loves.

For the first time, Y/N feels genuinely happy and complete. Three months. It's been three months now. Jim Mason the sound of his voice or its many shades, ranging from sweetness to sarcasm. Three months with the touch of his gentle hands, the brilliant sparkle  in his blue eyes, shy crooked grin, strong arms, and tethering presence.

Three months with seeing that look – the one he is giving her right now. The one that fills her with warmth on even the coldest night. The one that makes her entire body tense and soften at the same time. The one that makes her excited and a little bit scared. The one that brings the butterflies and tugs at her heart like a magnet. The one that parts the clouds, reveals the sun, pulls the moon a little lower, and makes the stars shine a great deal brighter. The one that silently shouts I love you across any distance, great or small.

Three months since their entire bodies collided in the most passionate kiss she had ever experienced; when she willingly gave her breath to him, and Jim expanded her lungs and her life with his own. Their mouths fit together like puzzle pieces, and his hands were everywhere – drawing her nearer and nearer until their bodies were one. All the feelings were there – overflowing, and spreading, and mingling together.

He is right there with her, passion matched for passion as he grips her waist, his fingers dipping into the curve of her spine as she presses up against him. He relaxes into her mouth, muffled moan vibrating against her tongue. He kisses her, and he kisses her…until she is dizzy and breathless, clinging for balance with one hand at the nape of his neck and the other gripping soft cotton shirt.

When their lips part, a new memory has been made…leaving her smiling…and hoping…and waiting for more.

//Love took me by the hand

Love took me by surprise

Love led me to you

And love opened up my eyes

And I was drifting away

Like a drop in the ocean

And now I realize that

Nothing has been as beautiful

As when I saw heaven's skies

In your eyes//

Y/N distinctly recalls Jim's hand, extending towards hers as if he were aware of her need, and how she accepted it without a second thought. The long sleeves of her jacket briefly hindered them both. Jim swept the thick fabric away with a swift flick of his fingers, his hand quickly finding hers and completely enveloping it, surrounding her cool skin with his warmth.

She remembers the breath getting lodged in her throat and the feeling of his soft red t-shirt grazing against her cheek as she whispered I love you for the first time.

When Jim turned towards Y/N, the weight of his regard slowly settled over her. It made her feel safe, as though his very awareness of her shielded her like being in a bubble. She remembers him hesitantly reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear…for the very first time, and how her heart skipped beats as his hand skimmed the rim of her ear.

“Y/N, I…” he began.

She looked over her shoulder, ready to speak, anxious to speak to him. He put his index finger to her mouth, letting it linger at the center of her bottom lip, pad of his long digit still hot from the coffee that heated his hands.

“I love you Y/N, I always have and I always will.” He paused, letting his finger fall away from her lips, then put both of their cups aside. She remembers how he took her hand, and with it…another piece of her heart.

She remembers how intensely Jim observed her – like he could see into her soul. Much to her surprise, she wanted to let him, even though it scared her to allow someone so close.

He lowered his voice to a whisper when he spoke the next time. The sincerity in his tone like the ocean on a clear day – so pure, and deep, and expansive that she had no doubt Jim meant it when he said, “Y/F/N Y/L/N, you are something... You’re…incredible.”

She remembers his lips, silky and slightly parted. She remembers his minty breath ghosting across her face, his lashes casting long shadows over angled cheekbones, his skin dotted from the light of the moon that put the constellations to shame. Her heart was made vulnerable by his eyes, sparking blue in the moonlight. She remembers thinking she had just caught a glimpse of what heaven must be like…followed by the unrelenting need to look away…before thinking  herself to he could be hers.

When she dropped her head to his shoulder, he released a contented sigh and rested his cheek atop her temple. She thinks she felt the corner of his mouth turn up against her skin. She pictured Jim flashing his perfect crooked smile…and it made her smile too. They remained in their embrace for a while longer…

Jim is standing before her. Y/N glides one hand around his neck and grabs hold of his shirt with the other, pulling him into a deep kiss. Without the slightest hint of surprise, he dives right in with her; tongue tickling the roof of her mouth, lips playfully reshaping around hers, strong arms looping around her body. He holds her tightly to his chest…tighter and tighter…until there is no space between them.

When they part, they are left entranced by each other; breathless, eyes glassy, hearts rushing.

He nudges her nose with his. “Not complaining here – at all – but what was that for?” he asks, tone soft as an early summer breeze.

“It’s a thank you.”

“For…”

“Showing me what heaven looks like,” she answers.

Jim blinks at her a bit awestruck, question hanging at the tip of his tongue. Y/N lifts her head and kisses him once more, light and deliberate, then lingering at the corner of his mouth.

“There’s something different about you today…” he notes, peering thoughtfully into her eyes. “Good different?” she inquires. “Definitely good. You seem more……yourself. I can feel it...right here,” he continues, picking up her hand and placing it over his heart. “Can you?” “I feel different…and today…I don’t know… I mean…it doesn’t feel like an end. It’s more like…”

He completes her thought. “The start of something?”

“Exactly.”

“Y/N...”

She gazes at Jim, blush rising in her cheeks as she waits for him to continue.

“I love you,” he tells her. Like it’s the easiest, most natural thing in the world for him to say.

She smiles brightly, eyes misting ever so slightly, and her heart so full that she can’t wait to say it back. “I love you too.” And it feels like the easiest, most natural thing in the world to admit. Because she does. She loves him – so much.

She remembers the rush of nerves that affected the tenor of her voice. “I… I love you too Jim Mason.” He kissed her again this time more intense.

They both grasped for the hem of his shirt, hands brushing against each other, then stilling.

“I should let you do that,” she corrected, silently scolding herself for her inability to keep her hands to herself.

He reached back, pulling the formerly white cotton shirt over his head by its collar...and everything slowed down. She remembers watching his lean muscles stretch and contract as he moved, the elegant lines of his body gradually being revealed to her like the unveiling of a new sculpture in a gallery. She blinked with awe realizing that for the first time, she was alone with Jim…in near darkness…while he was only half-dressed. It seemed almost dream like how it happened.

Mesmerized, her eyes wandered over every inch of him. The surface of his skin practically glowed in dispersed lunar light. Y/N remembers the sprinkling of moles that adorned his shoulders and torso. It never even occurred to her to stop when her hands connected with his chest; smooth, and warm, and solid. She was touching Jim – she needed to – and with nothing separating her fingertips from his skin, it felt better than she ever even dreamed it could feel. Her left hand settled loosely over his heart and the digits of her right hand slid down toward his abdominal muscles.

But before she could recoil, his hand covered hers, pressing it nearer until she could feel his erratic heartbeat below her palm.

In silence, they held onto each other. Jim drew Y/N closer, and she relished in the sensation of him surrounding her so perfectly. His embrace made her lose all sense of time, all care for it too. She remembers wishing they could disappear. Just the two of them. Together. No song writing, no demos to record, no record execs to impress. Just Y/N and Jim alone together.

“Jim. Jim. Jim,” she repeats, rising to the tips of her toes and kissing every inch of his face; his cheeks, his eyelids and lashes, his brows, his nose, jaw, and chin, then finally his lips, as he pants into her mouth.

His hands come up to take hold of her face, and he gazes in to her eyes in a way that somehow uncovers the moon and the stars......even from behind a dense layer of clouds overhead. He replaces the ephemeral darkness of night with something more powerful, something enduring…

She presses closer, wanting to connect with every part of him. Her heart bangs wildly against her sternum, wordlessly chanting his name within the chambers of her rib cage. Jim. Jim. Jim.

He kisses her again, and when he stops, Y/N doesn’t even bother to stifle a disappointed moan. It hangs in the stillness of the night air, but she is desperate for more and she wants Stiles to know it. She never wants him to question her feelings for him. Ever.

She releases his shirt and winds her arms around his neck. “Jim... Will you?” she asks, looking at him through her lashes.

He arches his eyebrow, then slides his hands down her body, lifting her up and wrapping her legs around his waist. “Better?” he asks, softly nudging her nose with his.“Much,” she replies with a smile.Then he gives her a chaste kiss and carries her inside the house.

As Jim approaches the living room, Y/N speaks up. “Is it okay if we don’t watch a movie right now?”

“Sure. You wanna talk for a while?”

Tightening her legs around him, she can hear the desire in her own voice when she speaks to him in a breathy whisper. “Later. Right now……all I want is you.”

He touches his forehead to hers and weaves his fingers into her hair. “I want you so much Y/N.”

He turns them around and heads for the open doorway of his bedroom. Then, he steps across the threshold and closes the door behind them. Bracing Y/N against the grain, he explores her mouth with his, smiling as she parts her lips for him.

Within seconds, one of his hands leaves her back, and when she hears the lock click…her entire body clenches with anticipation because she knows the night is about to get infinitely better. Being with Jim makes everything better.

[jastenes-league-unlimited]

How A Single Music Can Change The World

There's this someone who told me that "A poetry can't stop a battle nor can stop a war tank." But little do we know that the song Silent Night / Sille Nacht impromptly made a history of ceasefire for a day in World War I and made soldiers sang Christmas songs in the midst of cold night?

In WWI 1914, a German soldier named Walter Kirchhoff sang the said song in top of his lungs, following some of his buddies, his fellow soldiers, and also their enemies. And troops crawled forward into no man's land, shook hands with their fellow British enemies, ended up playing football and giving some souvenirs.

*the original photo of German and British met in no-man’s land*

The day after, soldiers wrote home to their families, wives, and parents...

What was happened?!

"It was a beautiful moonlit night, frost on the ground, white almost everywhere; and about seven or eight in the evening there was a lot of commotion in the German trenches and there were these lights – I don't know what they were. And then they sang  'Silent Night' – 'Stille Nacht'. I shall never forget it, it was one of the highlights of my life. I thought, what a beautiful tune."

- Private Albert Moren of the Second Queens Regiment.

"I shouted to our enemies that we didn't wish to shoot and that we make a Christmas truce. I said I would come from my side and we could speak with each other. First there was silence, then I shouted once more, invited them, and the British shouted: "No shooting!" Then a man came out of the trenches and I on my side did the same and so we came together and we shook hands - a bit cautiously!"

- Captain Josef Sewald of Germany's 17th Bavarian Regiment

"Suddenly a Tommy came with a football, kicking already and making fun, and then began a football match. We marked the goals with our caps. Teams were quickly established for a match on the frozen mud, and the Fritzes beat the Tommies 3-2."

- Lieutenant Johannes Niemann of Germany's 133rd Saxons Infantry Regiment

Then, it ended up in afternoon...

"I fired three shots into the air and put up a flag with 'Merry Christmas' on it on the parapet. He [a German] put up a sheet with 'Thank You' on it, and the German captain appeared on the parapet. We both bowed and saluted and got down into our respective trenches, and he fired two shots into the air, and the war was on again."

- Captain Charles "Buffalo Bill" Stockwell of the Second Royal Welch Fusiliers

The epic story became an advertisement. You may see it YouTube with the title  1914 | Sainsbury's Ad | Christmas 2014 or you may just click this link https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NWF2JBb1bvM , and ready your tears because you it get eventually emotional to those soft hearted people like me. These are some of the original letters of Christmas truce from soldiers to their families... 

A full summary of Christmas Truce from “Tom” to his sister “Janet”;

Christmas Day, 1914

My dear sister Janet,

It is 2:00 in the morning and most of our men are asleep in their dugouts—yet I could not sleep myself before writing to you of the wonderful events of Christmas Eve. In truth, what happened seems almost like a fairy tale, and if I hadn’t been through it myself, I would scarce believe it. Just imagine: While you and the family sang carols before the fire there in London, I did the same with enemy soldiers here on the battlefields of France!

As I wrote before, there has been little serious fighting of late. The first battles of the war left so many dead that both sides have held back until replacements could come from home. So we have mostly stayed in our trenches and waited.

But what a terrible waiting it has been! Knowing that any moment an artillery shell might land and explode beside us in the trench, killing or maiming several men. And in daylight not daring to lift our heads above ground, for fear of a sniper’s bullet.

And the rain—it has fallen almost daily. Of course, it collects right in our trenches, where we must bail it out with pots and pans. And with the rain has come mud—a good foot or more deep. It splatters and cakes everything, and constantly sucks at our boots. One new recruit got his feet stuck in it, and then his hands too when he tried to get out—just like in that American story of the tar baby!

Through all this, we couldn’t help feeling curious about the German soldiers across the way. After all, they faced the same dangers we did, and slogged about in the same muck. What’s more, their first trench was only 50 yards from ours. Between us lay No Man’s Land, bordered on both sides by barbed wire—yet they were close enough we sometimes heard their voices.

Of course, we hated them when they killed our friends. But other times, we joked about them and almost felt we had something in common. And now it seems they felt the same.

Just yesterday morning—Christmas Eve Day—we had our first good freeze. Cold as we were, we welcomed it, because at least the mud froze solid. Everything was tinged white with frost, while a bright sun shone over all. Perfect Christmas weather.

During the day, there was little shelling or rifle fire from either side. And as darkness fell on our Christmas Eve, the shooting stopped entirely. Our first complete silence in months! We hoped it might promise a peaceful holiday, but we didn’t count on it. We’d been told the Germans might attack and try to catch us off guard.

I went to the dugout to rest, and lying on my cot, I must have drifted asleep. All at once my friend John was shaking me awake, saying, “Come and see! See what the Germans are doing!” I grabbed my rifle, stumbled out into the trench, and stuck my head cautiously above the sandbags.

I never hope to see a stranger and more lovely sight. Clusters of tiny lights were shining all along the German line, left and right as far as the eye could see.

“What is it?” I asked in bewilderment, and John answered, “Christmas trees!”

And so it was. The Germans had placed Christmas trees in front of their trenches, lit by candle or lantern like beacons of good will.

And then we heard their voices raised in song.

Stille nacht, heilige nacht . . . .

This carol may not yet be familiar to us in Britain, but John knew it and translated: “Silent night, holy night.” I’ve never heard one lovelier—or more meaningful, in that quiet, clear night, its dark softened by a first-quarter moon.

When the song finished, the men in our trenches applauded. Yes, British soldiers applauding Germans! Then one of our own men started singing, and we all joined in.

The first Nowell, the angel did say . . . .

In truth, we sounded not nearly as good as the Germans, with their fine harmonies. But they responded with enthusiastic applause of their own and then began another.

O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum . . . .

Then we replied.

O come all ye faithful . . . .

But this time they joined in, singing the same words in Latin.

Adeste fideles . . . .

British and German harmonizing across No Man’s Land! I would have thought nothing could be more amazing—but what came next was more so.

“English, come over!” we heard one of them shout. “You no shoot, we no shoot.”

There in the trenches, we looked at each other in bewilderment. Then one of us shouted jokingly, “You come over here.”

To our astonishment, we saw two figures rise from the trench, climb over their barbed wire, and advance unprotected across No Man’s Land. One of them called, “Send officer to talk.”

I saw one of our men lift his rifle to the ready, and no doubt others did the same—but our captain called out, “Hold your fire.” Then he climbed out and went to meet the Germans halfway. We heard them talking, and a few minutes later, the captain came back with a German cigar in his mouth!

“We’ve agreed there will be no shooting before midnight tomorrow,” he announced. “But sentries are to remain on duty, and the rest of you, stay alert.”

Across the way, we could make out groups of two or three men starting out of trenches and coming toward us. Then some of us were climbing out too, and in minutes more, there we were in No Man’s Land, over a hundred soldiers and officers of each side, shaking hands with men we’d been trying to kill just hours earlier!

Before long a bonfire was built, and around it we mingled—British khaki and German grey. I must say, the Germans were the better dressed, with fresh uniforms for the holiday.

Only a couple of our men knew German, but more of the Germans knew English. I asked one of them why that was.

“Because many have worked in England!” he said. “Before all this, I was a waiter at the Hotel Cecil. Perhaps I waited on your table!”

“Perhaps you did!” I said, laughing.

He told me he had a girlfriend in London and that the war had interrupted their plans for marriage. I told him, “Don’t worry. We’ll have you beat by Easter, then you can come back and marry the girl.”

He laughed at that. Then he asked if I’d send her a postcard he’d give me later, and I promised I would.

Another German had been a porter at Victoria Station. He showed me a picture of his family back in Munich. His eldest sister was so lovely, I said I should like to meet her someday. He beamed and said he would like that very much and gave me his family’s address.

Even those who could not converse could still exchange gifts—our cigarettes for their cigars, our tea for their coffee, our corned beef for their sausage. Badges and buttons from uniforms changed owners, and one of our lads walked off with the infamous spiked helmet! I myself traded a jackknife for a leather equipment belt—a fine souvenir to show when I get home.

Newspapers too changed hands, and the Germans howled with laughter at ours. They assured us that France was finished and Russia nearly beaten too. We told them that was nonsense, and one of them said, “Well, you believe your newspapers and we’ll believe ours.”

Clearly they are lied to—yet after meeting these men, I wonder how truthful our own newspapers have been. These are not the “savage barbarians” we’ve read so much about. They are men with homes and families, hopes and fears, principles and, yes, love of country. In other words, men like ourselves. Why are we led to believe otherwise?

As it grew late, a few more songs were traded around the fire, and then all joined in for—I am not lying to you—“Auld Lang Syne.” Then we parted with promises to meet again tomorrow, and even some talk of a football match.

I was just starting back to the trenches when an older German clutched my arm. “My God,” he said, “why cannot we have peace and all go home?”

I told him gently, “That you must ask your emperor.”

He looked at me then, searchingly. “Perhaps, my friend. But also we must ask our hearts.”

And so, dear sister, tell me, has there ever been such a Christmas Eve in all history? And what does it all mean, this impossible befriending of enemies?

For the fighting here, of course, it means regrettably little. Decent fellows those soldiers may be, but they follow orders and we do the same. Besides, we are here to stop their army and send it home, and never could we shirk that duty.

Still, one cannot help imagine what would happen if the spirit shown here were caught by the nations of the world. Of course, disputes must always arise. But what if our leaders were to offer well wishes in place of warnings? Songs in place of slurs? Presents in place of reprisals? Would not all war end at once?

All nations say they want peace. Yet on this Christmas morning, I wonder if we want it quite enough.

Your loving brother,

Tom

[onisionisacanceronthisearth]

Greg vs Alleged Classmate Part 5: Skipping information and Relationship With Skye

So this one is hilariously suspicious, Greg totally skipped over the section about Skye, this was one of the biggest things in M’s posts and honestly one of the biggest parts of this interview. I’m not sure if Greg accidentally skipped too far or if this was deliberate but either way I’ll mention all that he skipped before going onto his rebuttals again. Also, this is two-thirds into the video. We’ve got half an hour left. FINALLY. Wow, I didn’t realise just how long this would take. And it isn’t just cause I’ve got one hand. This is a long one. Greg doesn’t actually counter anything but goes into detail of his relationship with Skye and reveals a lot about his personality. Spoiler alert: it’s disgusting!

What Greg skipped:

Skye was ignorant to Greg sleeping around and using girls

She also didn’t know about how he acted with other students

When they started dating, he suddenly changed as a person for a while. He was acting nice, no mood swings, and treated her as an equal

This apparently changed when he started doing things online but M doesn’t know much of that as he was busy doing other things in life. He just knew he went to his old manipulative ways (Greg listened to the tail end of this, just the superiority and manipulation part)

You know, one part of this is a bit suspicious, Greg said he met Skye in computer class the first time but didn’t really notice her because he was dating Shiree at the time. I wonder why Skye didn’t know anything about Greg if she did know him before dating (or at least of him). Too bad Greg totally skipped this cause he could have brought this point up himself

Greg is manipulative and his influence on Skye

Greg doesn’t counter him being manipulative, just asks for specifics. He then takes M saying he saw less and less of Skye to mean she didn’t ever go to school and went into a big thing debunking that thing instead of listening to the rest of this section where M explains it as Skye spending all of her time with Greg and none of her other friends anymore. We get it, Greg, you’re a moron. (oh my god he’s googling the number of days a person can miss per year wtf??)

OH MY GOD GREG YOU IDIOT, HE’S NOT SAYING SKYE DIDN’T GRADUATE OR THAT SHE MISSED CLASS. YOU ARE ACTUALLY THE DUMBEST PERSON ON YOUTUBE HOLY SHIT

Ok, now he’s talking about how terrible M is for just giving up and not reporting the abusive relationship to the authorities and how “isn’t M playing hero?”. M never said that, while yes I wish that if he is real that he had actually reported this issue, I can understand feeling defeated and not knowing the best course of action when you see someone in a relationship like that at that age. Or any age for that matter. I can say with certainty though is that if you see a friend in a situation like this, please talk with them about it. And if they’re too far gone that they even stop being friends with you over it, please talk to your, or their guidance counsellor. It’s hard, but it could save them.

Also Greg, please keep in mind that hearsay isn’t all the same. To say someone has sex with goats for no reason is different from saying that they heard (but cannot confirm) that Greg started controlling Skye because he was scared she might leave him. Sure it’s not as solid as if they witnessed it themselves, but that’s why they gave that disclaimer. Especially as they said everything after the first story is based more on hearsay than events witnessed

Greg is now acting like people talking about how they stopped seeing Skye after high school took place in high school and is saying “with what money” could he have taken Skye. But it’s well known she went to Korea with you so....? Also, his dispute that he was living with Skye doesn’t actually dispute him potentially stopping her from going out and seeing her friends. It doesn’t matter where you are as long as you have influence over her. And I’d say living with her gives you that influence, even in her own home. During high school you spent all your time with her, then afterwards you stole her away to Korea and she didn’t see her family for a while. Not all that wacky when you take Lainey in mind. She spent all her after school with you, then when she graduated you stole her away to Washington and got married while her parents thought she was in university. Is it true? No idea, but it isn’t outlandish for Greg. Especially when his defence is that he, Skye, and her sister constantly played games together which plays into the idea that when they started dating her whole world had to be him.

Now Greg is going into the old videos he made with Skye and her 14-year-old sister where they pretended to have sex. Lovely

Side note, Greg mentions he can’t remember exact details of a story involving Skye and the order or date things happened yet apparently M needs to remember everything. And if he doesn’t, he’s a liar based on that. Oh btw, I’m guessing Greg doesn’t like Skye’s dad cause he just called him a perv, how routine of you Greg. Can’t you come up with some better character slander than “he’s a pedo and a perv”?

Greg keeps up the narrative that M is saying he literally kidnapped Skye instead of her dropping contact with friends and arguing that that would be illegal. Good thing M didn’t claim that, cause that would be stupid

Greg dodges how he treated Skye

Greg is avoiding the point of how he treated Skye by still talking about kidnapping her despite it being clear we’ve moved onto M’s opinion of events he found out about later through people’s videos on Greg.

Greg is now victim-blaming by saying he told Skye he could never make her happy. True, but cheating on her and telling her you were in love with her younger sister is still out of left field and crazy to experience

Greg is also still showing that despite his experience with a chronically depressed Skye, he still thinks one just gets over depression by getting happy things. He even pointed out that buying her a house because she liked it wasn’t enough (no shit Sherlock, that’s why rich people can be depressed). This whole thing makes me feel so much worse for Skye, she was a person suffering from depression and she gets Greg of all fucking people. How fucking terrible

“We made love before I left [for the military], but we were still broken up”. You had just broken up with her to go to the military then still “made love” with her. Damn, that whiplash. You made loveless love. Something tells me that this wasn’t entirely loveless, at least on her part. Then you asked her to be at your graduation and made love in the hotel room. According to you it wasn't loving, but it was a relationship where you felt like “bros hanging out” and you made love. I’m sorry but the way you’re describing it doesn’t sound like a friends-with-benefits situation. Especially when you shit on Adrienne for having had casual encounters in the past. Also, I love how the picture during this section is a picture of Lainey and Greg together. Nice one to have while talking about your first wife. The one you took to Korea (for work, but still) and bought a house for and felt like “best bros” with. And the one you are currently describing your former sexcapades with.

Ok, so the reason it wasn’t true love to Greg was that he didn’t simply lust after her (complete with sound effects, thanks Greg). He’s literally throwing away how great of a person she was, how well they got along, the fact that he felt love towards her and love so many aspects of her because he didn’t feel, and I’m trying to quote here, “she’s so hot, ugh, oooogh”. And he didn’t feel like she was as hot as Thor, Andy Biersack, and Jensen Ackles is while saying that “it’s saying something” that he listed all dudes. Wow, I can’t tell if this is insulting Skye because he’s basically just saying she was perfect but it didn’t matter because she wasn’t hot, or insulting Lainey by him saying Lainey is only attractive to him because they look like a 30-40-year-old dude. Or he’s saying that Lainey just isn’t hot to him. Or maybe this was a mix of all of these, plus he had gone too long without a gay joke.

Ok, he’s saying a person isn’t a friend if he’s aroused by them and he married Skye as a friend because she didn’t arouse him but he loved doing “these things, making love things” to her. I just can’t. I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to offer much more than variations of “this makes no sense” on this, but I just can’t. What on earth is wrong with this guy, and why is his defence of treating Skye like shit just shitting on her more and saying that it’s fine because she was a friend he liked “making love” to but didn’t find arousing. Yet is now going into “[his] arousal, and her arousal and their mutual arousal”

New picture of him kissing Lainey in the background over: “what would be better than marrying this person who I had a friends-with-benefits relationship with, and living off [military] base with them, and watching anime with them, and playing video games with them, etc. So I proposed this to her, I said ‘hey, we should get married so we can hang out all the time’. And so we continued this friends-with-benefits relationship where we loved each other, and we made love, and we were exclusive”. But then goes onto how it wasn’t “typical” because it wasn’t (said in a monotone voice versus animated up until this point) “ever since I met you, my soul has been complete” but instead “ever since I met you I’ve felt content and complete, for the most part”. “We would make videos together like friends would” but it wasn’t passionate, and “by the end of the relationship we wouldn’t make love that often”. I had to write down the above because it needs to be heard/read. I have no idea what Greg thinks love is, but by the sound of his voice and what he’s describing here, this is it. I don’t know why making videos seems to only be a thing which friends do. I also don’t understand why he states he wasn’t aroused by her yet later says he was. It wasn't loving, but here’s why it is, oh wait but we made videos together like bros do.

Finally, Greg has come to his point which is that their relationship wasn’t the love M describes it as being. But this now contradicts the point he made at the beginning of this video to defend his remembering all his past girlfriends, even from grade 2. He said it was because he is a passionate person who falls in love fast and hard. So he told this whole story only to contradict himself and make himself look even worse with all this extra info on Skye. I can understand not being in total passionate love with a person but they’re comfortable, but what he describes is so weird it isn’t that. Especially with his weird reasoning that he ended up contradicting

“You know who I was really in love with? Shiree” Said over the Lainey picture. Lol. Also, he slips up then talks about his love in the first person. Anyways he goes onto talk about losing his virginity to her at age 14 and talked on the phone for 9 hours which was “real passion” vs Skye where when together you “simply played games together”. Cool bro, guess my marriage is passionless cause gaming is something only friends do

Sharnell confirmed?

Minor thing but Greg suddenly partially remembers the name of his long-distance ex as Shannon or Sharon or something. I suspected this ex was Sharnell and the name seems similar enough that this is likely it as there are no other girls listed which are similar enough in name, and no one matches the bacne story of him breaking up with a girl because of it.

Greg skips details again:

Greg finally realises this is all post-high school and skips forward because he decided against talking about the Shiloh situation, coward

He also accidentally skipped details on the girl he cheated on Skye with in high school. By the description, this sounds like either Tanisha or Shiree due to him calling them “a trashy whore who does drugs” one minute and their best friend the other which is kind of how he describes Shiree. Tanisha was another ex at that school who apparently did drugs though so I figured I’d add her here too. It’s a shame he skipped this part, I’d have loved to hear his response.

The contract

Oh boy! Greg’s talking about the stupid contract he tried to get Skye to sign! I’m sensing an alimony statement :D

For those who need a refresher:

Either live with him for two more years

Or get 1000$ a month from him for one year (using the youtube money he was raking it in the 6 figures that she helped him achieve while he prevented her from getting her own job)

Greg is now showing off his lack of humanity by getting mad at her and saying how he doesn’t understand why she didn’t want to live with her cheating ex-husband for two years while he made all the money on the channel she helped create. He’s now acting very confused and is trying to parse her words which were that “she still loved him and it was too painful to live with the person she loved but couldn’t be with”. But he still doesn’t get it because he was fine coexisting with her (right after explaining that he never loved her for about 20 minutes) and he was the one who broke it off and he wasn’t mad at her and is now talking about how he didn’t want to be married in a passionless relationship with his friend. This guy is legit really confused right now. He has his answer right there but he’s still confused and sounds like it. It actually sounds like he’s still trying to figure this out, what? 7 years later? Wow, that was an emotional ride. I almost feel bad for the guy, he actually doesn’t understand empathy, he doesn’t understand that just because feels one way, doesn’t mean the other party feels that way too.

And is now talking about his 6 years of alimony payments. I’m glad Skye got them. She made your channel Greg, you made millions, she got nothing while in the relationship but a partner who confesses to using her while she loved them, and who she worked as an employee for free. She was entitled to half this creative property and you basically gave her pennies compared to your wealth.

Now he’s saying the reason this happened was because she didn’t sign a prenup. Yeah, cause it’s a shitty thing to do, especially because it’s not like you had money then. Your prenup was “if we make any money together I keep all of it when I divorce you, which I expect to do”. Both of you made the channel, she did the editing and taught you how to do it while you stopped her from getting her own job and shut your depressed wife in (depressed people should not remain shut-ins, that’s the last thing they need). Prenups are for rich people so, in the case of a divorce, your former partner can’t take money made before they came in the picture. Yes, it’s used for other clauses too but those people are all assholes or are in a relationship just for the vanity of having a hot person as their partner for sex and will drop them when they get too old. The later one is basically sex work. “Marry me and for the time of your employment (our marriage), I’ll buy you expensive things and give you pocket money in exchange for sex and various other work”

“It’s pretty mean to cry so someone loses more money” (in reference to the prenup) Fuck you Greg

Next part is the final one until I make my condensed summary which I think would be useful for future use. It will include fixes and come out within a couple days. I need a break from this video after this so I’ll focus on the appeal instead