#i do not forgive her for making me lose a behavior card when we were five

[to-be-a-dreamer]

Still salty about how during the last week of eighth grade I lent this one kid my pencil right before we went to lunch but then he got into a fight in the cafeteria and was suspended for the rest of the year so then I never got my pencil back

[ghostdrew22]

Angel || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No. Pairing: post-war Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: Lots of angst in the beginning, mentions of self-harm/self-destructive behavior, mentions of blood, quite a few mentions of the devil, ptsd, just a lot of dark themes ig (let me know if i need to add another warning) Summary: You’ve always been an angel in Draco’s eyes and now, years after the war, he’s reminded why once again.

WORDS: 3440

I’ve been wanting to write about the ‘devil on the shoulder’ trope for a while and I felt like @anchoeritic‘s 3K WRITING CHALLENGE was the perfect opportunity though i think i lost the plot a bit at some point and this probably isn’t what you had in mind.

i had to do so much research for this, probably the most research i’ve ever done for a fic. It’s a lot heavier than I’d intended for it to be (i almost cried at certain points) but I still really love it.

anyway this fic is inspired by ‘Angel’ by FINNEAS (which is a great song that I recommend listening to) and i hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

~~~

Anger.

So much anger that he doesn’t know what to do with it. Red, hot, fury just begging to be unleashed.

He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes. When he opens them again his fist collides with the wall. “Fuck!”

The miniature Mephistopheles that’s made home on his shoulder tells him to keep going, that this is the only rational response. Draco heeds the advice until his knuckles are bleeding and there’s a dent in the wall.

He lets out a frustrated sigh as he thinks about you returning in a few hours, then he punches the spot one last time out of frustration. Draco’s own love for destruction lies parallel to the myths surrounding Beelzebub, his own virtues bringing him to peril instead of an unseen force of evil. But it’s much easier to believe that the voice always telling him to do wrong, is not his own.

Maybe this is who he is, a fucked up kid with anger issues. Maybe this is all he’ll ever be, knuckles spotted in crimson and harmful thoughts being shoved down as to not raise alarm.

He feels violated by the mark on his arm. Sobs stacking up in his lungs at the very thought, but all he can express is anger- all he can understand is the resent that crawls beneath his skin and settles into his bones like calcium.

Was it his choice? No. Did it matter? No. Choice means nothing in a world run by circumstance. Intention holds no value when there’s no action to follow through. In another world, a better world perhaps, he would’ve had the right to choose and he hopes that he would’ve chosen the right side- the good side.

Forgiveness, they say, is often practiced by the strong willed. He’d tried to forgive, he really had, but Iblis had told him that it didn’t matter who he forgave because they’d still done this to him anyway- they’d still sold his soul to the Devil.

“Draco, when will you forgive me?” She pleads and he shrugs with a thin smile.

“I don’t know mother. I don’t know.”

“It’s been years.” He turns a steal glaze toward her.

“And yet I still can’t get the mark off.”

“What am I meant to do?”

“There’s nothing you can do. It’s too late to do the right thing.”

“What would the right thing have been back then? Huh?”

“The right thing to do would’ve been to protect me.”

“I did protect you. I took the Vow for you!” She yells as she stands out of her chair and points an accusatory finger toward him. He’s seen this scene so many times before that it’s permanently imprinted in his mind, but this time he’s not a scared teenager being scolded by his mother.

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” He stands as well, “I just asked you to save me. Why didn’t you save me?”

“What?” She’s taken aback,

“Summer before fifth. You told me that you’d had enough of him, you told me that we were going to leave and run away so that you could save me from him, from all of them.”

“So now you hate me because I couldn’t leave your bigoted father?”

“No, mother. I hate myself because you couldn’t leave my bigoted father.” He tucks his chair back into the table and pulls out his wand, “Thank you for dinner mother, it was lovely.”

Then he’s gone, and he doesn’t come back.

Draco had shut himself out from the world, hoping that his loathing would dissipate with time but it hadn’t. He still wakes up every morning with that tiny voice reminding him that he’s worthless, and he still believes it.

Why had he done it? Why had he allowed them to put the mark on his arm in the first place? Why had he put his own morals, his own principles, on the line to save a family who might not have done the same for him? Why had he allowed himself to succumb to the many ministrations of Diabolous, which dragged him further and further down the dark side?

Weakness. That’s the only answer he can conceive. Or maybe that’s the sound of Lucifer on his shoulder, consistently reminding him that he’s no match for the evil that resides deep within his soul. He can’t fight it, it’s who he is. He’s weak and he’s unholy. Bathed so often in sin that it’s sunk into his DNA. Does that even make sense?

Draco shakes his head and runs his hands down his face in an attempt to ground himself. But it doesn’t work, all he can see is red and all he can hear is his own conscience belittling him for continuously making the wrong choices. Why does he always make the wrong choices?

His throat so dry it feels as though he’s swallowed sand. His palms sweaty like he’s dipped them in oil. He paces around the room in a desperate effort to remember where you’d placed the box last time this happened. He can feel himself disconnecting from the world, feel himself sinking further and further into the dredges of his mind that torment him most.

That part of his brain that holds the memories, the shame, the anguish, is his biggest obstacle in recovery. It’s always on good days, days when… He blinks when he realizes that no fond memories come to mind. Does he even have good days? Or does this always happen, is this what’s become normal for him?

He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and steps back in shock, completely forgetting about his mission to find the box. The man in front of him looks clean, taken care of. When had he become this man and stopped being the terrified teenager that never ate and wore bags beneath his eyelids like name tags.

There is muscle on his arms, taut beneath the dress shirt that he must’ve put on that morning before going to classes… or work? When had he earned the right to stop looking the way he felt? Which of his actions had merited his beauty returning, when the dark mark still lays clear beneath the dress shirt that he’s got on? There are hickeys along his chest- one, two, three, littered around his torso like a map to his heart- and he can only assume that they’d been left in the wake of your last meeting, because he can’t seem to piece together the memory of them being made.

You. Where are you? Why can’t he remember where you are or what you look like? Did you finally leave? Did you finally realise that he wasn’t worth any of the pain and anguish that he’d put you through? Had you ultimately decided that Draco and the dark mark could not be separated, both physically and mentally? Maybe he never managed to redeem himself in your eyes, and it hurt so much to lose you that he made himself forget.

Redemption, he’d searched far and wide for it. He’d spent the months after the war trying to find some spiritual cleanse for the ailment in his essence, had dabbled in every muggle religion he came across in hopes of finding something that would provide him freedom from guilt. The Bible, the Qur’an, the Gita, the Torah, the Guru Granth Sahib, the Tripitaka- none of the holy books he’d read had promised him enough solace to feel deserving of love from a higher entity. They had all just reminded him of the purity and innocence that muggles embodied, the same qualities he came so close to erasing.

Redemption wasn’t in the cards for him. If it had been a game of Poker, Draco would’ve been the first fold with the knowledge that he didn’t stand a chance against the better players at the table. Who were the better players? He didn’t really know, he just knew that he wasn’t one of them.

His eyes drift toward his reflection once more and he feels disgust crawl through his anatomy. Nausea, a familiar friend in times like these, making itself comfortable in the barrel of his gut. Why had he even eaten today anyway? Sustenance won’t fill the emptiness that’s making domicile in his chest, it won’t make him less of a habitat to repulsive regret and desolation.

He walks toward the dresser and picks up a pocket knife that’s sitting in-between some make up and a music box. Then like deja vu he can already feel the weapon pinching, digging beneath his skin as if it’s trying to excavate bone. He recalls blood pouring out, drowning his pale skin in spills of vermillion and carmine, and dropping to the floor. The floor, chalky tile with tiny chards of black glass engrained in it, something that he hadn’t come up with himself but liked anyway. Who had come up with that again?

Screams, familiar but unrecognizable, had filled his ears soon after. He remembers his arm being wrapped in a bandage, him being carried off the bathroom floor and taken to the Hogwarts infirmary, no, it was actually St Mungo’s. He remembers being treated and loud cries settling down into comforting whispers beside him. He remembers feather light touches being placed on his face and kisses settling onto the skin of his palm.

He remembers something good, but he doesn’t know what.

He remembers the injury, and knows that it didn’t work.

Draco takes a deep breath and puts the knife back down. Staring at his reflection once more he sees that the man standing before him is not the same child that had stepped into battle way back when. When was that? Months? Years? He can’t tell.

The box. The box will tell him. But he doesn’t know where it is, he doesn’t even know where he is anymore. This room is definitely not his Hogwarts dorm room, it’s not in Hogwarts at all, and it’s not his room in the Manor either. Where is he?

His eyes shoot up when he hears a door shutting, and soon after voices follow suit. The voices are coming toward him, in this strange room that he’s in, and Draco struggles to identify them. His dorm mates potentially? No, this clearly isn’t Hogwarts. Friends? His mother? You?

Then there’s a laugh, from a child, from two children, and suddenly none of it makes sense any more. He knows those voices, he knows those laughs, so well that they might as well be his own, but he can’t seem to attach faces or names to them.

A few of the voices drift off, further down the hall, and one gets louder as the door to the bedroom opens. Draco holds his breath as the person walks in, not knowing what to expect, and feels a confused sense of relief wash over him when he sees you standing there.

You laugh as you enter the room, “If you can get an outstanding in Transfiguration then we’ll get you whatever your heart desires.” You respond to your daughter as you recall how both you and Draco had struggled with the subject during your Hogwarts years.

You furrow your eyebrows at the state of your bedroom- documents scattered across the bed, clothes in tiny piles all over the floor, and a tiny dent in the wall beside the bathroom door. A sigh escapes your lips as you process the mess and prepare yourself for what’s about to come. You turn and your eyes land on your husband, and your heart breaks at the sight of him. He’d promised this morning that he’d be fine, it was the only reason that you’d left him alone, but clearly he wasn’t.

“Love? Are you okay?” You ask softly as you take the shoes off of your feet and close your bedroom door behind you. He tilts his head to the side momentarily in confusion, but then realisation flashes across his eyes and he takes quick strides toward you.

“Oof.” You breathe out when he pulls you into his chest and rests his forehead on your shoulder.

“Y/N.” He muffles into your shoulder and you feel your heart swell with love for him- this man who recognizes you instantly, even when the entire world is nothing more than a distant memory.

“Miss me?” You ask with a small laugh as you bring your hands up to wrap around him tightly. He mumbles an agreement and you smile, “I missed you too.”

“Bad day.” He whispers and you nod, rubbing his back in an effort to soothe him.

“I know baby, wanna talk about it?”

“No. Can’t remember.”

“Okay, that’s fine.” You pull him away from you and kiss his forehead with a warm smile, “We can just lie down for a while.”

He obliges as you pull him toward the bed and shuffle the papers off of it, climbing on after you and setting his head in your chest. You run your fingers through his hair and hum, trying to your best to make him feel calm and prevent another breakdown.

But your efforts are futile, within the hours that Draco had been alone he’d thought every terrible thought that he possibly could, Al-Shaitan had already tormented your husband through a series of painful misconceptions. Draco had never really subscribed to religion or faith but after the war he’d identified quite quickly with the concept of the Devil- confessing that he believed he had an evil conspirator sitting on his shoulder- and felt that his own soul deserved to be damned. You’d tried to rid him of that notion, many times, but it never worked, he was in too deep.

You tense up when you feel a cry escape his lips and his fingers tighten into the space of your torso. “I’m sorry.”

He feels terrible, terrible for ruining all of your hard work. All the effort you’d put into rebuilding him now disintegrating in the blink of an eye. But you’re here now, you’re going to fix him again, he knows it.

You try to level your breathing so that you don’t cry too, so that you don’t fall into this pit of despair with him, because Merlin knows that any pain Draco feels takes as rough a toll on you. You pull him off of you and sit up, bringing him to sit as well, so that you can look him in the eyes.

“Sorry for what Bub?”

“For being broken. I-“ He feels another sob rock through him and you pull him into your chest. “Please fix me Y/N.” He pleads, a whimper following suit.

His fingers are digging into you again, he’s clinging so tightly to you like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t stay close enough, and it hurts you to know that even after all these years he’s scared that you’ll leave.

“You’re not broken Draco, there’s nothing to fix.”

“But I’m- I’m-“  Cries start to escape rapidly and interrupt him. He can’t see clearly anymore as tears form in his waterline and obstruct his view of you. It hurts, everything just hurts.

“You’re not broken, my love.” You whisper as you cup his face, “You’re not evil, you’re not bad. You’re good. You’re my husband, I love you. Did you open the box?”

He shakes his head, “Couldn’t find it.”

“Okay, let me get i-“ You’re cut off by your bedroom door opening and your children marching in.

“Dad, you’ll never guess what happened at school today- Oh, is this a bad time?” Ariel, your daughter, stops in her tracks as she raises her eyebrows at you.

You shake your head and gesture for them to come in. “I think it just got a little much for him this year. Please get me the box, love.”

Ariel goes to the headboard and pulls out the aforementioned box from the first drawer, before her and Cael, your son, get comfortable on the bed beside you and Draco. But Draco doesn’t need it anymore, he can already sense himself coming back down to earth. He knows where he is- with you, in your house, with your children, in your bed. He’s home, he’s safe.

He takes the box anyway and begins to unload its contents in silence, the three of you observing him with admiration. It’s a small circular box that your children made a few years back after witnessing one of his episodes for the first time, containing momentos from the last 18 years of you and Draco’s lives together. Pictures, notes, a few school projects.

“Tell him about what happened at school today, it’ll probably make him laugh.” Cael encourages his older sister Ariel, and she does as told.

Draco pays a significant amount of attention to the story, piecing together facts that he’s slowly starting to understand and recognize as a part of his normal life. He intertwines his fingers with Cael’s as Ariel continues telling the story from her spot on your lap.

Love.

So much love that he doesn’t know what to do with it. Bursts of it just choking him out.

Draco remembers everything now. He remembers this house of yours, the one he’d bought straight out of Hogwarts and begged you to live in with him because “It’s nothing without you in it”. These children that you’d had 14 years ago, that’d he’d been so scared to raise because he thought they’d resent him, and that made everything in the world just seem brighter. This life that he modeled with you on the embers of his haunting past, this life that reminds him he’s good.

Before you, he would’ve been terrified to show any one his vulnerable side, especially his children, but you’d taught him that loving someone means loving all the good bits and the bad bits, all the happy moments and the sad moments. Now he knows that when days like this happen, when he gets so lost inside the mental maze of his own construction, the three of you will always be waiting to help him out.

Ariel finishes her story and Draco bellows out a laugh, feeling thankful to have you three around in his moments of weakness.

His three guardian angels- the only people who can always lead him away from the shadow in his mind and toward the luminescence that he carries within him. “All the good within us is split in the middle, half from you and half from mum, just as it should be. I hope you remember that we wouldn’t be who we are without you both.” Cael suddenly speaks up and you smile pridefully at him.

“They wouldn’t.” You add once he’s done and smile, “I couldn’t have done such a bad job without you.”

“Hey!” Ariel accuses and you all laugh.

“She’s right though, I am the one who taught you hexes at age 7.” Draco grins bashfully and you roll your eyes.

“And look at us now, acing Charms!”

“See love,” Draco turns to you, “There is a method to my madness.”

“Mhmm.” You hum with a small smile. “Go do your homework, dinner soon.”

“Yes, I’m making pizza tonight.” Draco adds as he kisses both of your children on their foreheads.

They excitedly hop off the bed and run out of the room. “I can’t belie-“

“Harry called.” Draco interrupts you and your eyes go wide at his statement but you nod for him to continue, “He wanted to know how I was doing, you know with it having been 18 years since the war and all. Offered to come spend the day with me and make sure I’d be alright while you were gone.”

“And you said no?” You raise your eyebrows and he shakes his head.

“No, I told him that I’d come by his office instead. Then when I was getting ready… I just started having flashbacks again, and my mark hurt. I felt horrible all of a sudden, like there was huge weight on my chest and this fog obscuring my vision.”

There are few things that Draco has faith in, but you, you he never runs short on trust for. You’re a constant in his life, a shoulder that he can always rely on when he needs it, and as he sits here and tells you about his day, he feels love for you hit him tenfold.

You, this beautiful, kind, ethereal being that has no place on earth. You, the one who’s managed to convince him that saints are real. You, who has given him your entire life, along with all the love that you have to offer. You, Y/N, the love of his life.

You.

An angel.

~~~

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[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

What’s your opinion for Leo’s reaction to finding out the mc was immortal as well- not necessarily a vampire, maybe they’re some other type of supernatural. I’m really curious because Leo seems like he’s mainly in love with the mc bec they are human.

Hi lovely!!! Always wonderful to see you, hope you’re well! 💛💛💛💛💛

Tbh I think my opinion remains the same about something like this? I'm going to link to an ask I wrote up a while ago, only because it's v pertinent to the subject matter and good background for what I’m going to expand on here.

That being said, I'm happy to kind of tl;dr/expand on what I talked about there. Basically I had the feeling that Leonardo choosing MC as a lover was more circumstantial--regarding the state of his life in the moment, regarding his general feelings about vampires and vampire society, and regarding his unresolved trauma as a young kid.

I guess my answer to that question--and forgive me if it seems like a cop out--is that it really depends, I feel? I think his attraction has a lot more to do with the kind of person somebody is, their sensibility, more than it has to do with mortal vs immortal. If it was an immortal MC that showed ridiculous fortitude and self-control, measured patience and maturity, I really don’t see him not noticing that? I think he would be wary at first (assuming it’s all a front) but with time would likely feel a great deal of love if they were interested in a life together. If they were able to see and understand what he needs and answered those needs, I guess I just really doubt his ability to say no. It’s all he’s really looking for, and the fact that he hasn’t found it after so long really speaks to his frightened evasiveness and the rare nature of that kind of unshakeable strength.

I also think a lot of his hinging away from purebloods (true immortals, in other words) is that he 100% does not want his familia having any involvement in his meaningful relationships. Which might be why he shows more acceptance towards turned vampires, or potentially different supernatural beings.

But I also don’t like giving a vague answer without some kind of explanation as to how I got, to that conclusion, so a boatload of analysis follows below the content warning.

Spoilers for Leonardo’s route and a few mentions of JPN ver content:

I think he has less of an obsession with the idea of mortality, and more like a constant association of goodness and freedom and maturity with humanity. And while it's understandable, there are signs that--when he has the proper time and space to heal--his views seem to soften from those extremes. I mean his decision to live with Comte is pretty much his first step in that direction; it was him acknowledging for the first time that vampires aren't inherently loathsome or incapable of normal living. (On a revealing note, I think it says a lot that he agrees with MC that she is living in a “wolves’ den” but also feels the need to clarify the men are basically the domesticated equivalent. They don’t pose the same threat other vampires typically do to humans because of their lifestyle and sire.) Additionally, his tsun-like behavior towards Comte also seems to solidify this concept for me: Leonardo’s trying to come to terms with something he's sworn to reject since he was young, but also can't entirely deny that Comte is as chill and mature as purebloods come lmao

[There was also an event in the JPN ver–which seems to be approaching the ENG version rapidly, though only the first part is here right now–in which Leonardo fully offers to turn her. MC is essentially on her death bed, and Leonardo doesn’t want to lose her after so little time together; it’s MC that rejects the future as a vampire out of sheer principle. Even more noteworthy is that, when a reincarnation of MC is reunited with Leonardo in modern times, he is revealed to be exceptionally shaken by that loss. There are suggestions he can’t take losing her again, which could mean succumbing to the desire to bite her.]

Two things I feel are necessary to hit home:

The first being that, at least within the storyline so far, the most mature and human-like vampires we’ve seen are Leonardo and Comte. They seek to emulate the maturity they see reflected in the human beings they’ve known all their lives. Given how vampire society and their hierarchies work, I get the feeling humans are nothing more than amusing tools to them--a way to survive and creatures to exercise control over. There’s an objectification and delusion that comes with what I’ve seen, and I think it’s important in this discussion? If the vast majority of vampires behave this way (because I’m ngl, Leonardo and Comte don’t seem very keen on remaining in touch with other vampires all that much) then it only makes sense they prefer the company of humans who can at least share this sensibility of “been there, done that--stop hurting people bc you’re bored/repressed, grow up.”

One event story where this was exceedingly evident was actually Leonardo’s proposal story. If y’all remember, an old pal/acquaintance of Leonardo’s finds out he’s gunning for a human woman and basically goes “lmao not on my watch.” His name was Adam iirc, and he felt he had every liberty to try and pressure Leonardo into turning MC. Failing that, he insisted they should break up and not be together anymore. Now, on the one hand, it’s fair to say that he was looking out for Leonardo in a way–he didn’t want him to end up miserable and alone when she was gone. But at the same time I feel that Adam’s behavior is deeply revealing of vampire society as well lmao. He doesn’t really try to understand the situation, just immediately assumes it’s the only appropriate outcome. It does insinuate a lowkey cultural disdain for humanity: they are imperfect, they do not last or cannot have real value without preservation. If Adam was really Leonardo’s friend, wouldn’t he realize that Leonardo considers vampirism nothing more than a burden that he would wish on no one, much less his future wife? Additionally, wouldn’t he also keep in mind that Leonardo considers human beings beautiful just as they are? Since he fails these basic requirements to understand Leonardo, my impression is that he is influenced by the larger vampire culture to some extent. Furthermore, it underscores just how thoroughly Leonardo has been trained to keep his cards close to his chest for fear of ridicule/violent reprisal: no vampires know his true feelings on the matter because he would be vehemently rejected outright.

[One can also offer that maybe Adam wasn’t being malicious, maybe vampires find human women they fall in love with all the time and turn them (or any other permutation of companionship that occurs), so he doesn’t understand why Leonardo wouldn’t. But even then, to try to force them to break up if she doesn’t turn? A bit overkill imo but also revealing--Leonardo’s will is being ignored for the sake of upholding a kind of ill-founded superiority complex lmao]

While Leonardo does have a somewhat overbearing need to control the pacing of his relationship and who sacrifices what, I don’t think it’s wrong to be cautious--to want to think things through. I think it’s fair to be afraid that the person you’re with can’t handle what you’ve seen/known. But that also leads me to a core issue I have with MC: she doesn’t inspire much confidence that she can handle the life he’s lived, and that’s a problem of both incapacity and incompatibility. I have to wonder how he reacts when he’s with somebody at the same maturity level, or at the very least somebody with whom he can see her strength with time. When MC’s life was dying out he was desperate enough to accept biting her because he didn’t want to lose her–human or not. It’s MC that rejects this solution, which leads me to further believe that he just doesn’t care about the divide when it comes down to it; it has more to do with his difficulty with being vulnerable and fully trusting someone to care about him. (Assuming they also have the fortitude to stay hopeful and relatively strong over the course of a very long life.)

In line with that, the second thing I think it’s important to acknowledge is how deeply hurt Leonardo is as a result of his family treating him like a fool/black sheep. He outright says and heavily insinuates that his family would write her off as worthless, that they’d never accept her--that's his first thought:

Leonardo: “My familia would call you frail. I think you’re strong and beautiful. You do more with your time than we try to do with ours.”

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

MC: “And those letters were from your familia?”

Leonardo: “Yeah. I don’t talk to them or see them anymore. We don’t agree...on a lot of things.”

[Brief intermission here. But lmao. Who does that sound like? If any of you guessed Isaac, that’s exactly what I’m alluding to. Isaac says in his own route smth along the lines of “Why bother trying to get through to people when no amount of talking does any good or gets you any closer to being understood?” Which also explains the way they get along to uncanny degrees: they find comfort in making things/researching because it means being able to avoid the distress that comes with being blatantly misunderstood by others. Their pain simply comes in different dimensions; for Leo it’s about loss and hiding who he is out of fear of rejection, for Isaac it’s about betrayal and people turning on him--ultimately abandonment for both. But I digress, back to the main argument.]

Leonardo: “Once they discovered my location, they began hounding me with letters again. They don’t want me to be with just anyone...They want more purebloods. I’m no more than one half of an equation for them.”

There is a clear implication that his desire to choose somebody that truly makes him happy means jack shit to them. They keep talking over him and trying to wear him down to force him into what they want. It’s no wonder--imo--that he has such a hard time just saying what he wants in his life, to feel like he has the freedom to wish and pursue anything freely. It’s no wonder he just expects MC to spit on everything that’s important to him. It appears as though only other human beings in general and Comte have ever come close to understanding him.

At some point MC realizes that his insistence on being compagni provvisori was originally just another act of sacrifice, and that he was fine with giving up his time and a little privacy if it meant she would be safe. The thing she doesn’t seem to realize in the course of this--and he struggles to say it until later on--is that it stopped being blind generosity. He really did start to fall in love with her, and that’s the whole reason things became even more messy; because he didn’t anticipate not being able to let go on top of the vulnerability. And it’s a big part of why he’s hesitating to speak. He feels he has no right to those feelings, and that he’s imposing on her--not that he’ll be welcome.

And when she did finally admit those feelings were welcome, it was compounded by the parroted views of his family and larger vampire society as a whole. Saying that she herself wasn’t enough, that she had to become a vampire to make him happy. Imo that sounds very potentially retraumatizing given his experiences (people trying to force him into marriages with other vampires who didn’t remotely understand or care about him because it was “the right way of things”). It’s no wonder he freaks out and does something incredibly stupid and insensitive–which is pretty insanely ooc for him.

Leonardo: “...It shocked them. Quieted them down a bit. Hard to get peace when your familia is immortal. Grazie, cara mia.”

Leonardo: “You’re strong, and you’re kind. So probably you won’t cry while I’m here to see it. But when I’m not looking, you’ll cry. If I had done that to you (bitten her, in other words), you’d still be crying when I wasn’t watching... Maybe it’s selfish of me, after what I did, but I just wanted to make you happy. You always look pretty, cara mia, but your smile takes my breath away...It’s not your destiny to love someone who will only make you cry.”

This man literally cannot handle anyone deeply sad or in despair. He’s always going to try to cheer people up and care about them, but general tragedy/emotional discord affects him very powerfully--and it’s likely a reflection of what I’ve mentioned before. He can’t bear to see people feeling helpless or miserable because he’s just been there too many times to be able to cope. He wants to help and heal (even if he’s suffering from prolonged compassion fatigue), but he knows that his powers are limited--even if he is a pureblood.

And the thing is? While it’s misguided to believe she would cry alone when it comes to the context of healthy romantic love (bc the idea would be that you lean on each other when something upsetting happens) he has zero reference point. He was not born as a result of authentic love (his parents never married, he was the result of a procreative arrangement), his family talks over every wish and belief he has and they still claim it’s done out of love/honest concern for him. One can only imagine the serpentine and obnoxious lengths to which his family has deceived or tried to force him into reconnecting with them. Every person that ever did know him/care about him in a real way is gone. Love, for him, has only been a series of losses that left his heart hollowed out; I don’t really blame him for expecting further disappointment and isolation and exhaustion. 

He’s also not wrong in the sense that he partially saw MC do what he outlined, and it’s a big part about what he loves about her. When she was feeling alone and lost–powerless–all she did was shrug and move forward. That doesn’t make it hurt any less, but focusing on what you can do instead of what you can’t do is healthier. And they both have the tendency to hide when they’re in pain or feeling lost, all because they don’t want to trouble anyone. Remember that when he says this, it’s a reflection of himself too: because even if he was heartbroken beyond measure, all he would do is hide it every second; he would never expect anyone to see right through him or care.

I mean I tend think of that one post I saw that talked about how people often see themselves as a social burden when most of their life has just been a series of neglect and loss. They don’t really have a concept of “you’re not heavy because I want to stay with you. It’s my choice to care about you.” How do you feel worthwhile an existence when four hundred years later your family still won’t treat you with basic dignity. The men in the mansion also all look to him for guidance and soothing because of the kind of person he is–he’s either silent in the periphery or helping. He never betrays so much as an inkling of insecurity or distress. 

I mean the whole reason Leonardo comes to the mansion is because he has absolutely no issue helping Comte in a pivotal time of need without seeking much of anything in return. Remember that Comte explains how Leonardo came to the mansion in response to Comte’s distress about the future. This makes sense considering Comte was rapidly trying to stop Vlad by beating him to the punch, and had only enough time to plan the basics. He had no certainty things would work out, much less that his boys would thrive. But Comte, unlike the boys, has become acutely aware of how much Leonardo is hiding his fatigue and despair in the course of being helped. As such, he wants to return the favor--and tries to be a good friend to him as much as he can (handles his insane familia, keeps things light and silly time between them, takes him seriously as a person, doesn’t pry beyond what’s fair.)

[I also think of that psychology concept of “the good enough mother.” It’s not always about being perfect every second of your life. It’s about paying attention and acting where it really counts. I feel like people who grow up under an enormous burden of neglect or parental/mentor abuse have a hard time coming to terms with the idea. This notion that just trying is enough for a lot of people, that showing them they’re not alone is enough to make  difficult memories bearable. Because it’s the oppressive silence and apathy that tends to kills people, imo--not people who mean well. But Leonardo doesn’t really understand any kind of reciprocal or non-self-emptying model because the concept is beyond him. He has no experience with it beyond Comte and a select few humans he’s befriended.]

Let’s continue on this point of MC crying where he can’t see her, shall we? The reason this scares him so much is not because he doesn’t care, or doesn’t want to make the effort. It’s precisely that he cares to the point of madness. It’s that he is legitimately convinced nothing he has to say, nothing that he can do, no part of him is enough to ease what she will have to trade away to stay with him. The core issue is not one of disregard or objectification, I find it to be more about his belief that he just isn’t enough. He doesn’t trust that anyone can love him to the point where just the sight of him or time with him can heal. And while there is a foolishness to this belief, it’s understandable when you consider where he’s coming from. You can call it selfishness, but it just feels involuntary--he has a lot of fear when it comes to love.

I mean Comte even says it himself? His words here always strike me: “I want you to understand, it’s because he cherishes you just as you are--more than he cares about his future or his well-being.”

Comte is openly identifying the way that Leonardo has a tendency to give more than is healthy. That Leonardo isn’t hesitating because his feelings are lacking, he’s doing it because he knows it’s going to hurt like a bitch trying to love her and never ask beyond what feels reasonable. (Spoilers: no request is reasonable. That’s the problem here. He’s convinced he deserves nothing.) Therefore turning her into a vampire to stay with him is--consequently, to Leonardo--out of the question. This is the literal hingepoint at which Comte and Leonardo divide; Comte simply tells MC he’ll take full responsibility for asking so much of her. He intends to make her happy with every single resource and skill he has at his disposal. Even if he doubts his ability or fears losing her to vampire rhetoric madness, he’d rather try than live with the regret and immediate loss. Leonardo is more resistant because of his dour outlook, that her fear of immortality is never going to be something that either of them can overcome. And/or he’s likely afraid she’s only going to regret being together after so long, and might succumb to the ridiculous sort of power/greed complexes vampires seem so attracted to by nature.

I think Leonardo is still coming to terms with the idea that he isn't alone in the world in a lot of ways, and I think he's also coming to terms with the idea that immortality does not equate to evil. Sure, human beings on average are probably more open to flexible modes of thinking and living compared to vampires--their maturity is in some ways guaranteed due to the instances they're forced to adapt to survive. However, just one look at the ruling class and oligarchies of all kinds (even just stubborn human beings) reveals how they are not immune to the same sort of megalomania, arrogance, and thoughtless violence purebloods/vampires are capable of.

So I guess I hesitate when it comes to the thought that he only loves her because she's human. If anything, I think he loves her for the fact that she's very rooted in reality--not quite so bound by the extremes that trouble him. It's one of the many reasons I believe Leonardo needs a lot of maturity and patience; the ability to differentiate between his panicked/overwhelmed/hurt reactions versus his calm is a skill in and of itself considering his capacity for concealment. To say nothing of getting him to slow down when this happens, too.

I suppose I think about it in a way that’s similar to how Napoleon’s main story narrative is framed. While Leonardo’s route doesn’t focus on the grandeur of being a former emperor, there is a clear insinuation here that he also craves normalcy? Just a little life, with a person he loves dearly, where he can rest and be himself for once. I think because he gives off such an appearance of steadiness, people fail to see that he is barely holding on--not to mention the kind of experiences he’s been deprived of (the exact security and understanding he so expertly emulates).

Closer to your question, it’s worth mentioning that Leonardo’s life goal for a while was the creation of an immortal human being--in that he fully recognized human beings could not offer what he needed as they were.

He loves humans because of their adaptability, their frequent desire to keep seeking out hope and making the best of the broken pieces they have. But then again, it has more to do with the nature of how frequently that sensibility occurs in humans vs vampires (and immortality in general): mortality does demand some level of necessity to change and grow. Which is one of the largest trauma points for him; the vampires around him just refused to grow up, always demanding at him like children and obsessed with their power complexes.

Thing is I also don't know enough about vampire society to know how correct this perceived ratio is. However, given Comte's similar avoidance of other vampires and general inability to live with them (he and Vlad were literal childhood best friends and Comte can't stand him anymore lmao) I think Leonardo may have more validity here than people give him credit for. Which begs the question--why did he quit trying to make a human immortal? What was it that stopped him? Was it the horror of what needed to be done to achieve it? Or would a potential companion start to fall more in love with the idea of immortality than they do with life itself/him? I think it’s a worthwhile question to ask, given the disdain he seems to aim at Shakespeare in particular--once human, but now emulates all of the violence and insatiability marked by vampirism.

This is where the transition from human to vampire/immortal contains another hingepoint: is Leonardo so incapable of finding a middle ground because he feels like any choice he makes will be a wrong one? Marry a human, deprive them of a normal love where they can grow old together. Marry a human and turn them, what if they are reborn with immortal wounds/psychological harm? What if time proves they get bored of him or hateful, what if they begin to act like the predatory purebloods he hates so much? Marry a pureblood/immortal, and be hounded by his family for heirs--risk being with somebody who will never love him or their children, and only inspire more misery in the world.

Does it make sense how this can really start to become an anxious downspiral for someone like him? How the personal insecurity and life history comes together to just compound stress endlessly?

That's the thing that's important here, I think. Leonardo just needs somebody who is open-minded, firm, and not easily deceived. If one takes a look at Leonardo's main story route, the whole reason everything goes to shit so disastrously is because MC stops listening at a critical point. Granted Leonardo could have been more forthcoming for sure, but when she started assuming Shakespeare was right instead of seeing how Leonardo was feeling/reacting, she responded in ways Leonardo wasn't prepared for. He never wanted to shake her faith or insinuate whatever she is is not good enough for him, and tbh I think Leonardo downspiraled because it was just the same thing all over again. What he is--a vampire and immortal--keeps ruining everything he wants with his life. 

[joontier]

The King’s Guard | Chapter 7 

pairings: kim seokjin x reader ; jeon jungkook x reader ; min yoongi x reader

series rating: R(18+) | genre: angst, forbidden love, longing, immense pining 

warnings: none to note 

word count: 6.6k

g/n: HAHGFJFIE FINALLY!!!!!!!! that is all. ((also painfully and regrettably unedited)) thank you. THIS IS THE MOMENT WE’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR ASJDFOAWJEFI SEND ME YOUR THOUGHTS PLEASE? 

The King’s Guard - Masterlist  ||  navi.

The King’s Guard | Chapter 7

“Hoseok.” 

Yoongi keeps his voice low as he attempts to poke the general awake, vigorously, yet with the right amount of caution so as not to wake the naked sleeping court lady in his arms. Chaeyoung, was it? The southern king ponders on wistfully as he pulls the blanket up again to maintain the modesty in the room - if there was any left, that is. 

The young king of the south had already sensed the tension between the pair when they were first acquainted with each other. Yoongi, not a stranger to the wants of the flesh, already knew this was coming. If it only weren’t for the places they hold in the palace, they would have made a great couple. 

Surely though, the two were old enough to know that clothes were still warranted even after what Yoongi could only assume to have been a steamy evening between the two. It wasn’t appropriate to just go sleeping in the nude especially when one could easily barge in at any time of the day, just as Yoongi had done. 

The blonde-haired king continues poking at the general by the ribs, cursing when the latter won’t respond and instead rolls over to the other side, pulling Chaeyoung closer in his arms. 

Good heavens. Why does this have to be so hard? 

For one, he’d already wasted time this morning trying to locate Hoseok, who he reckons no longer enjoys sleeping in his own quarters; finding more comfort in the danger that lies with sleeping in the court ladies’ quarters instead. He makes a mental note to address this to Hoseok later as this was going to be a major headache later on. 

Should this relationship of theirs proceed with its imminent direction, not only the general will be facing the grave consequences of their actions, but the poor court lady will have to take responsibility as well. 

“Hoseok.” The young king of the south nudges him once more, this time stronger than the last. Yoongi hears the general groan in response, and lets himself sit back against the wall in relief. At least this reaction was better than the log he was trying to wake just moments ago. 

That is, until he realizes he spoke too soon. 

Hoseok rolls over and proceeds to lie on his stomach. Yoongi cards his fingers through his temple, jaw clenched as he tries to figure out a more effective way to get the general up on his feet. 

He spots a vessel on top of Chaeyoung’s dresser, and Yoongi smirks as an unorthodox idea of waking up someone pops in his head. Quietly creeping up from the floor, he grabs the clay container by its neck and tilts the vessel, pouring the water onto Hoseok’s bare back. This ought to do the job. Just as expected, the liquid had the southern general scrambling to his feet. 

Squinting his eyes as he looks around, Hoseok comes face to face with his king, eyes trained on him like a tiger waiting on his prey. Hoseok immediately sits up, cowering under the king’s daunting gaze, “M-my king…”

Yoongi promptly gets up, not wanting to bother himself with another look at Hoseok’s naked form. “Get up. Meet me by the stables,” the king orders, sliding the door open, “and next time, please maintain some dignity and remember to put clothes on before sleeping.” 

The general clambers from the court lady’s yo, taking his discarded clothes by the corner of the room as the southern king heads to the stables first. 

“Did she really knock you out that bad that you were harder to wake than a sleeping cow?” 

Even at dawn when the sun hasn’t risen yet, Yoongi sees the general blush under the sky’s soft shade of purple. “If I could say so for myself, she was quite flexible, your Highness…” Hoseok whispers shyly as he chews on his lip. Yoongi’s mouth falls agape at his general’s confession, grimacing at the awful mental images it brought to his mind this early in the morning. 

“General.” Hoseok straightens himself atop his steed, knowing that the king meant business when he calls him by his official title. “You should know that what I had said was a question I needed not answered.” 

“My apologies, my King.” Hoseok says, expression unchanging when he whispers under his breath. “It’s not like I’m the only one who’s getting frisky with the women of the palace.” Yoongi’s eyes narrow as he glares at the general, guiding his horse nearer to Hoseok’s, seemingly taunting the latter to say more. “Ah yes,” the general gets the message and bows, but Yoongi doesn’t miss the small smirk playing on the younger man’s lips, “this is the part where I keep my mouth shut.” 

Bored out of his wits (and disrupted from his very lovely sleep), the general turns to his king, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, jeonha, but where exactly are we headed to at this time of the day?”

“We’re already here.” Hoseok, with his question answered in the most unexpected manner, gives an awkward nod as a reply to the southern king. He studies the place where Yoongi had led him to in this early morning and in recognition, his would seemingly winces at him as he remembers the day they’ve faced death in the eyes, and luckily got away with it.

In subconscious reminiscence, Yoongi flexes his shoulders, a short tinge of pain stings through the breadth of his back. Hoseok, in similar thought, does the same, reaching over to his side to feel the slowly healing wound.

The small clearing was not as ghastly as it had been when they had first arrived at this part of the forest.  The previously horrific scenery was no more; the doltap shrine, formerly made from dead bodies toppled over each other was now replaced by actual rocks and other mementos of the deceased.

Yoongi dismounts from his horse, a small cloud of dust appearing as he lands on the ground. Just like that, he’s taken back to the same night he’d met Seokjin – the same night he and Hoseok had narrowly escaped the hands of death. The southern king closes his eyes, reliving the scene like it was just yesterday.

“Forgive me, jeonha, but why are we here? If I should say so myself, my king, we we’re lucky enough to get away last time…if we stay here any longer, I’m not particularly sure what or who could be waiting for us this time.”

“We have to look for something.”

“Which is?”

“I’m not sure too. Just… I don’t think Seokjin is dead yet.”

Hoseok looks at him, worry painting all over his features. Yoongi had never concerned himself with the capitol, all the more with its king. The southern general couldn’t quite put a finger on it yet, but he is sure that there is a missing piece of the puzzle he has yet to discover. It won’t be long before he does.

Jungkook watches you from the shade of another nearby tree, indulging himself with an apple he picked earlier on the way to the gardens. You’ve just finished teaching five new characters to the class, and as a reward for their exemplary behavior, you decided to treat them with a story – one you’re telling with such animation right now.

He joins the children in laughter when you imitate a creature: an elephant, he reckons, though he’s never seen one in real life. Subsequently, you use your arm as a trunk and even start to make the strangest sounds to mimic the animal. Peels of the sound of amusement resonate throughout the open space. Even the court ladies you’d initially came with join soon afterwards, making their best impressions of different animals.

The sight was most endearing. You’re a natural when it comes to children, Jungkook attests to himself. You were patient, caring, and kind – all the traits of a good mother already inherent in you. It was no question that you child will grow up to be just as wonderful as you are.

Being a widow though? Not so much.

Despite the bountiful radiance brought about by these children, he could still see the sadness in your eyes. Gone are your usually bright orbs, mirth and brilliance swimming freely in your pupils.

It’s only been a week since the news of Seokjin’s passing and the announcement of your pregnancy. You’d maintained your cheeriness but Jungkook fears it all might have been just a façade because your smiles never reached your eyes unlike before.

Jungkook knew you were strong. Even the whole palace would agree on that fact. You were stronger than anyone could ever admit and you were far stronger than you think you were. It was a trait of yours that even only the bravest could only hope to be bestowed with. Your resilience was one of your many characteristics that Jungkook admired so much.

But at the same time, he fears this mask of courage you put on was going to be the same thing that was going to destroy you slowly from the inside.

Jungkook understood where you were coming from. Truly, he did. He’s dealt with enough royals all his life to know that a simple display of weakness could be perceived for something far greater than it is. Royals are groomed and nurtured to perfection from the moment they are born, and in their lifetime, they are only afforded a specific set of standards they had to live by strictly, else they lose the respect of the council and subsequently, their people.

It was madness at the least, to think that royals are supposed to be as stiff as their forefathers now commemorated by figures made of stone or some precious mineral. How strangely ironic.

Crown aside, you are but a human being, a woman, who had just lost her husband, and is now burdened with having to deal with your pregnancy alone. On top of all the responsibilities of a queen, including those of which Seokjin had left you.

Jungkook knew he was a mere soldier in your eyes, but he wanted to help you in the hopes to alleviate the pain you were going through; he wanted you to know that he feels your pain and he knows the suffering of one who has likewise lost a loved one.

He knows you’re constantly pre-occupying yourself with these things, always looking for a distraction to forget your personal sentiments. Jungkook could only imagine what struggles you’re going through right now and how badly he wishes he could hold you in his arms and tell you it’s going to be alright and he’s going to be there for you no matter what.

“Jungkook? Captain?”

“Huh?”

Jungkook scrambles to his feet as he sees you looking down on him as he rested by the bark of the tree. “Jungjeon-mama!”

Chuckling, you remove a stray leaf that stuck itself to his pants. Jungkook’s heart flutters at the small gesture. “Are you alright, captain? I’ve been calling for you but you seem busy staring off into the distance…” He gulps.

“Alright. Will you accompany me to the doltap shrine then?”

“Of course, Mama.”

Just like before, the two of you walk in comfortable silence, although the captain beside you looks more tense than ever. “Jungkook. Are you sure you’re alright? If you’re unwell, I can just go on my own. You can head back to your quarters.”

The captain quickly shakes his head, but when you meet his eyes, there’s a heavy weight in his stare that you wish to mention, but you don’t want to push his boundaries any further, especially when the two of you had been closer than any of you would have imagined.

You look away as you reach the top of the tiny slope, the dock finally in view. Jungkook immediately offers his elbow for your support, and you place a hand on the same with much gratitude.

He steps into the tiny boat first, readying the oars where he can reach them easily for later. Extending a hand out, he beckons you over to the canoe. Due to an unknown factor, you miss the gap between the boat and the dock, tripping slightly as you get inside. “Mama! Our– the baby!” You laugh at your own clumsiness before placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’m fine! I’m fine… stop acting like I’m a porcelain doll…” you joke, settling yourself on the seat.

“I’m just concerned about your well-being,” Jungkook mumbles, not meeting your eyes as he fixes the oars with a pout on his face. What a big baby. Gently, you put a hand on his knee, urging him to look at you, “I know,” you give him a warm smile, “and I’m very thankful to have you nearby all the time.”

It was the whole truth. Ever since Minho came barging in with your husband’s clothes and until the announcement of your pregnancy with the council, Jungkook has always been there. Since then, you’d opted to stay inside your hanok most of the day, unless you had to come out for your official duties.

He’d always be there, waiting outside your hanok as you’re about to leave for your responsibilities. You’d even suggested having Yunho come with you instead but the stubborn captain insisted, telling you it is his greatest honor to be your personal guard.

The boat pushes forward and you tilt your head back slightly, enjoying the cool, crisp air. “It’s a beautiful day today isn’t it?”. Jungkook smiles this time, “Certainly, wangbi.”

You decide to leave the shrine late in the afternoon as Jungkook wasn’t able to bring a lamp with him. The sky is becoming a lovely purple, and as the captain manages to safely bring you both back across the river, you make your final request of the day from him. “Why don’t we sit here a while longer? Enjoy the sunset perhaps?” You’re already patting the grass beside you, leaving Jungkook no choice.

Jungkook finally gathers up the courage to ask you this time, “How about you, Mama? Are you alright?” Jungkook doesn’t know what kind of response to expect but he hopes that you will be able to recognize the true depth of his sudden inquiry.

You don’t answer at first. It seemed as if you were trying to gather your thoughts before you reply. “I’m alright,” you retort with a smile. There it is again – the ingenuine grin. “Taehyung had just visited me yesterday to recommend meals I could have prepared that will give me and the baby enough nutrition.”

Right, you were also pregnant. He almost forgot that for a moment. That was another reason he couldn’t sleep at night – could he possibly be a fath-

“How I wish my child’s father was still here to witness him or her grow up.”

Oh. Right. Jungkook chokes back a sob.

This was only one of the many times he’d realized he’d been a fool all along, but this realization had been the most painful yet.

Just as if on cue, Jungkook feels something cold hit his cheek from above. There’s a grey cloud reigning over them, like it’s giving a warning signal of the storm that’s about to come.

He turns to you, worry apparent in his features once more. “Mama, we have to go back!” Just then, there’s a downpour of water, evidently drenching you both. He extends his arm out, even offering you a ride back home on his back. You stand up on your own though, but you don’t take his hand, nor did you follow him back to the palace.

“Mama?”

“Let’s stay for a little while longer.”

“But you might catch a cold, mama.”

“Since when was a cold fatal?” The smile on your face is almost devilish and Jungkook finds himself powerless to say no. “Come on!” you urge, clapping excitedly. “When was the last time you played under the rain?”

“When I was a kid?”

“All the more reason to have fun then!”

The last time he purposefully stayed under the rain was with you, and he promised himself that he would never do it again if you weren’t going to be with him.

You were both young and your rendezvous at the southern forest were nothing short of cherished moments. There were days when the downpour was ultimately unavoidable, especially when you’re playing in the middle of the forest. Rain hadn’t stopped you both from meeting nonetheless. There were also days when he just waited at your designated meeting place, only accompanied by the angry clouds while his body shivered from the cold.

When the years had passed by, Jungkook didn’t find anything enjoyable with staying under the rain so he stayed indoors most of the time, unless it was part of his official duties. Besides, everything else seemed to lose its purpose if you weren’t in it.

Life for him was a storm he was waiting to pass, but since he’d met you that day in the forest all muddy, he learned that life was about learning how to dance in the rain. Ironically enough, you were also the sun that brought light to his life, providing him with enough energy to last for centuries.

You feel something by your feet, prompting you to jump into Jungkook’s arms in fright. The captain gets surprised by your actions, causing him to almost lose his footing. Jungkook looks down to see any damage and sees a brown slimy creature camouflaging with the grass, “Mama, it’s just a frog…”

You frown adorably, giving him a hard time with an irresistible pout. How he wishes he could just kiss you right now. “I’m not particularly fond of these creatures…” You gasp when another one croaks, tightening your grip around the captain’s arms. Jungkook’s mouth twitches in silent celebration at your touch. He may or may not have flexed his muscles too on purpose – but that was most likely a primary instinct when the woman of your dreams encourages physical contact, albeit subconsciously.

Jungkook’s jubilation is cut short when more frogs start to appear out of nowhere, causing you to squeeze even tighter, your grip bordering on pain. For some unknown, you’ve managed to latch on his back with your constant avoidance of the tiny, slimy creatures. “Jung!” you shout, now relentlessly slapping his arm; Jungkook huffs - so much for his fantasies. “We have to get out of here Jungkook!!”

The quick-witted captain crouches low enough, telling you to jump on his back. He didn’t need to actually tell you though, because the moment he’d turned around you already had your hands hooked over his shoulders, trying to get him to hurry. Because of all the movements and the noise, the frogs share the same level of alarm as you – one even manages to fasten itself on your shoe. You flail your foot about, subsequently making it fly about a few feet away and thus, making Jungkook burst into laughter.

He remembers the time he’d surprised you with a frog inside a box in front of the whole class, and now you’d managed to get a whole army of frogs chasing you both. It was a living nightmare – for you at least, Jungkook on the contrary though, is positive that he’s having the time of his life watching frogs terrify you.

Just as expected, Jungkook loses his breath from laughter, setting you down gently as you go over the slope. You’re a little bit too hesitant to let go though, that even when Jungkook has turned to face you, you’re still clinging onto his jeogori as if your life depended on it. It’s a relief when he hears you giggle in his chest, assuring him that you were no longer frightened.  

Only silence remained as the laughter dies down. There’s the muted croaking of the frogs in the distance, but other than that, you’re left standing in his arms, quiet as ever. “Is it alright if I hold you like this for a while?”

Your sudden request throws the captain off guard. He’s powerless to say no, not when this is the moment he’d been waiting and imagining for years. “Can we just stay like this for a moment longer, Mama?” His voice almost breaks, pleading at the least.

“Of course, Jungkook.”

It seems like a hug is what you both just need.  

Just as the rain pours over them, Jungkook feels his own tears rolling down hotly against his cheeks, contrasting the cold droplets of rainwater. His heart hurts. He’s crying.

Actually, you both are.

You find Yoongi lounging extremely close by the doors of your hanok two days later.

The proximity of the southern king startles you and as a gust of wind blows by, some of his bright yellowish hair fly straight into your mouth, “Yoongi!” He fumbles as he pushes his hair back over his shoulder. “Apologies my queen.” There are at least two strands left in your face and Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to reach out his hand, taking out the strands with such tenderness, shivering when you feel the cold pads of his fingers against your cheek.

It takes you a moment before you realize what’s happening and you pull away, turning on your heel. “What are you doing here anyways?” you ask, sliding your doors close. You’re meant to wake a lot earlier than you did today and if you don’t hurry, you might just miss your music class with the village kids.

Yoongi hurries after you, trying to keep up with your pace, “I was…um…wondering if I could come to your class today?”

“You?” you think out loud, not sparing him a glance. You don’t put much thought to it with your haste to make it in time, and you tell him he’s free to do whatever he wants. He doesn’t say anything else after that, so you quicken your pace towards the palace gardens.

You reach the reserved spot in no time, with the children already settled in, chatting and playing among themselves. Just as you’d requested the night prior, your gayageum has been assembled just underneath the oak tree.

“Jungjeon-mama, who is that ahjussi behind you?” Turning to see who the child was pertaining to, you come to see Yoongi standing behind you, seemingly offended at how he’d been perceived to be way older than he actually is.

“Ahjussi?!” Yoongi exclaims, face twisted into a grimace, “Who are you calling ahjussi, kid?”

The children are taken aback by the tone of his voice, unaware that he hadn’t taken any offense with the child’s question. The poor boy’s lips quiver in fear. You give the southern king a quick glare before calling the boy over and letting him sit on your lap. While Yoongi approaches the both of you with a softened gaze, the boy nuzzles his head by the crook of your neck, murmuring his fright over the man’s temper.

“Hey little bud,” Yoongi crouches, tapping the boy’s shoulder twice to get the latter to face him. The boy peeks slowly from your neck, eyeing the blonde-haired man warily. “I’m sorry about earlier son. I was just surprised because no one had ever called me that –“

He wasn’t actually going to explain it is he? You clear your throat, interrupting him. Yoongi’s mouth presses into a thin line.

“Right. Say, could you tell me your name?”

“It’s Jinseo.”

“Hello, Jinseo. It’s nice to meet you. My name is Yoongi. Could I make it up to you by playing a song?”

Jinseo paused, head titled slightly to the right as if in deep thought. “It isn’t mine to give you permission. You should ask Mama,” he says smartly, pointing at you. Kids are getting smarter these days.

“Jungjeon-mama?” Yoongi asks with an expectant look. With the other children following suit, you are left with no other choice but to say yes. Reluctantly, you lift yourself up together with Jinseo and taking a spot next to the other children.

“Let me just try to…” Yoongi adjusts himself on the seat, plucking the strings in an uncoordinated manner, “remember…” All of a sudden, he claps like he’d just produced gold from thin air, startling everyone around. “I got it! I got it now, don’t worry.”

You and Jinseo share a look.

If there was any discipline of the arts you could take pride for in yourself, it would have been music. Your father, King Daesin of the south, aside from occasionally practicing medicine, also had the ear for music. He had taught you how to play the gayageum, an instrument you’ve been acquainted with for as long as you could remember. Because of fair years of playing, you could freely boast to anyone that you’re quite exceptional at it, but now with Yoongi and his hands on your beloved instrument... Yoongi was tremendously better at it than you probably ever will be.

A smile creeps onto your face when you realize his acting earlier, pretending to be a beginner with the instrument when he could totally be mistaken for a musical prodigy. What a humble bragger. Yoongi had his eyes closed, pouring his emotion and soul onto the instrument, and even without having to enunciate lyrics to get the message across, it was clear to everyone that the song conveyed sadness in all forms. Each vibration of the string – every sound it made spoke in volumes, moving everyone present in class. By the time he’d finished, all the children were as silent as mice, rigid as statues. This was the first time you’ve seen them all well-behaved.

It also dawns on you that this was the first time any of you were deeply moved by music.

The rest of the class stay silent moments later, all in deep contemplation despite the differences in your ages. From your side, you hear a child sigh to the girl in front of her, “I came to class happy this morning. Now I’m sad.” All of a sudden, Jinseo scrambles out of your lap and rushes to Yoongi, hugging the older man’s side in an awkward manner. Yoongi is caught off guard by the gesture, patting the little boy’s head in a similarly awkward manner.

“Ahjussi,” Jinseo calls once more, maintaining his hold on Yoongi’s waist. The southern king heaves a deep sigh, knowing he’s going to have to deal with that a lot longer than he intended to be. “Why are you sad? You played sad music for us. Now we’re all sad too.” Yoongi is rendered speechless and looks at you with wide eyes, seeking for your help. “Uh...Jinseo, why don’t you ask your Yoongi-hyungnim to play us a happy song then?”

“A happy song!” Sheepishly, Yoongi cheers, clapping his hands in an attempt to get everyone back in high spirits. Thankfully, the children seem to enjoy the idea, so they goad the ahjussi on, wanting to see if he’s just as talented with cheery songs as he is with sorrowful ones.

With a small smile, Yoongi mouths a ‘thank you’ in your direction before placing his hands on the gayageum once more.

“Thank you for saving me a few times earlier during your class,” the southern king says, leaning towards you while he mimics your movements as you wave goodbye to the children. “You haven’t had much experience with children, haven’t you?” you raise a brow at him while a laugh escapes your lips.

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Yoongi replies, chuckling to himself.

“It’s good practice though, what you did earlier. One day, you’re going to be a father as well.”

Yoongi eyes you slowly from the side, checking if you realize the gravity of your words. His eyes lower down to your stomach, imagining if the baby growing inside of it was his own blood. Perhaps it was? Perhaps it wasn’t?

He’d been especially concerned about your well-being since last week when shocking news had been continuously delivered right to your arms. He wanted to approach you badly during those rough days, but you were far too pre-occupied to even spare him a second glance. The young king wonders how much of a difficulty it might be for you, but all he wanted was to show you that he was willing to support you in any way that he can.

Yoongi sees Hoseok approach with the jumeoni he’d personally prepared early in the morning. He sees his brother trail not far behind, studying the silk bag in Hoseok’s hands. The southern king had been nervous since last night, continuously practicing his lines to the point where he’s not sure why he’s doing it in the first place. It’s now or never.

“Jungjeon-mama?”

Yoongi winces inwardly as he hears his own voice wavering. Heavens. Why was he so nervous around you? You turn to him with a warm smile. Ah yes – that’s why.

“May I invite you for a walk?” The southern king asks as he beckons his general over who hands him the silk bag. “And lunch perhaps?”

You pause for a moment, recalling your thoughts if you had anything else planned after your music class with the children. Yoongi tries hard to not show too much excitement when he hears your yes. Extending his arm out, he motions for you to walk with him. He feels Jungkook follow you both, and he leans to your side a little, whispering, “I was wondering if we could perhaps…go alone?”

You look at him, as if studying his facial expressions. Turning around, you tell Jungkook to stay put. The captain’s eyes dart back and forth, giving his own older brother a steely gaze before nodding his head and bowing to you. “Don’t worry captain. I’ll scream loudly if anything bad happens,” you tell him as a reassurance.

“In all seriousness, Mama…” Yoongi says, putting on a stern face, even though you are both experiencing clear difficulty with keeping a straight face after hearing Yoongi’s stories. “…do I seriously look like an ahjussi to you?”  

You place a hand over your mouth, ineffectively hiding your giggles. Yoongi grimaces, clutching his chest to express his hurt over your reaction. “We can’t blame the kids though. And besides, Jinseo had a valid point.” The young king gives you a playful glare.

Yoongi had been expressing his sentiments over the whole ‘ahjussi’ situation earlier, arguing that he didn’t have enough wrinkles on his face to be even considered one. In Jinseo’s earlier defense though, he stated that only old people had white hair, and if he wasn’t old – why would he even have white hair in the first place. To which, of course, an agitated Yoongi replies: “It’s not white. It’s yellow…ish. And it’s bleach! It’s something I discovered during an overseas travel! A lot of people have this kind of hair color…”

“How are you feeling? Is your pregnancy going well?”

“How did you know about my pregnancy?” Yoongi shrugs as he replies, “Walls are never thick enough to hide news like that.” “Oh.” ‘Oh’ is an appropriate reaction, Yoongi reckons, as he’s had the same sort of response when he’d heard of the news.

“Well, for one, our royal physician Taehyung had scheduled regular visits to keep my condition in check. So there’s that. He advises that as long as keep a stress-free environment, my pregnancy will be just fine.”

Using your chopsticks, you fiddle with the mandu he’s made hours prior, deep in thought as you stare into the distance.

Yoongi hopes that the apparent death of your husband isn’t conducive of stress of a stress-free environment. He makes an inward scoff – as if that’s most likely going to happen. If he’s already thorned by occurrences that seem insignificant to those of the capitol’s then he could only imagine the sort of struggle you have to go through, especially when the backbone of your government is composed of vile men who are strongly displeased by the thought of having a woman on the throne.

The young man lies on his back, stretching out his legs to get rid of the tingling on his soles due to their prolonged sitting. With a long exhale, he closes his eyes, letting his thoughts drift along with the steady breeze.

He knows he’s neglecting his duties as the king of the south by prolonging his stay here, but Seokjin’s death won't settle with him nicely. He has to get to the bottom of this. Even if he’s still holding a grudge against Seokjin for taking you away from the south (and had even secretly wished him dead at some point) he could never plunge a sword to another king, much more to the same one who had taken care of the woman he wanted to call his wife.

He hears rustling from your side, and Yoongi opens his eyes a little to check on you. He watches you clean the bowls and reorganize them back onto the bag he’d brought. You slowly start to turn to face him and Yoongi quickly shuts his eyes, solely relying on his other sense to figure out what’s happening.

“Oh? You must’ve fallen asleep huh?” Yoongi hears more rustling around. “Maybe you could still listen to me even during slumber…” You inhale deeply, “You know…Seokjin was always good with children.”

Yes. Of course, speaking of the spirit.

“Jinseo was one of his favorite students. Jinseo was actually really shy and quiet at first – yet for some inexplicable reason, Seokjin had successfully helped him to come out of his shell and the little boy has been brighter since. Seokjin was always so playful yet so gentle at the same time that whenever he’d visit our classes the children would go crazy over him.”

Well, that’s nice to hear, especially when he’d made a particularly bad first impression with the children earlier.

There’s momentary silence. Yoongi hears a sniff – and a shaky exhale afterwards.

“I miss him Yoongi.” Another sniff. “I miss him so much that it hurts every day. Everything reminds me of him.” The sound of your silent crying rings throughout his ears, yet he can't bring himself to get up and wipe them away, fearing it might cause you to stop pouring your heart out.

Mourning was part of healing. You’d feel lighter after crying. At least that’s what he’d learned from having lost his mother too.

At the same time, Yoongi feels his chest constrict at your words. While you pour your fears out to his sleeping form, he struggles with maintaining a stoic face to keep his act up. His empathy is fighting to register in his features, and when he can no longer hold it in, he turns his back to you, swallowing back his emotions that threaten to pour out after years of hiding.

“Jeonha, I can't seem to find any sign of him anywhere.”

Hoseok slowly and carefully gets back up from his crouching position, groaning in relief as he hears his joints cracking as he twists his torso from side to side. Yoongi does the same, shaking his legs one at a time to get rid of the numbness.

It’s been a few hours since they’ve arrived and Yoongi is getting more hopeless with every passing moment. They have searched everywhere for anything – any sign that he’s still alive.

He’d promised you he’d find your husband and bring him back. Even though you hadn’t exactly heard the silent vow of the southern king, he was a man of his word and he’ll be sure to do everything in his capacity to do it.

Yoongi couldn’t even find the reason why he was going to do it or why he should do it in the first place – whether it be for his own peace of mind, for your happiness, or for the future of the country.

He knew they’d left Seokjin that night and the chances that his fellow ruler was still alive was almost slim to none. He knows that trying to look for a clue and actually succeeding was going to be a long shot, especially when it has already been quite some time Yoongi had returned this morning to make sure but after hours of looking, the place was clean and empty, thus pushing down that gut feeling that maybe, just maybe, your husband was still alive.

Else he’d be forced to prolong his stay and resort to more meddling to protect you from harm.

They’ve already gone through this area, Yoongi thinks, recognizing the same stump he’d seen earlier. He settles himself on the tree remainder and picks up a fallen leaf. Just then, something glimmers from the ground and the curious king bends over once more, picking it up. It’s a bracelet.

Yoongi scoffs to himself: an even more shocking discovery. It’s not just any bracelet – it’s the kind of bracelet only royals can have. And if that isn’t the most astounding part of it yet, etched in the gold pendant is the emblem of the south.

Besides you, there could only be one other person who’d be wearing the same. If he’s still alive that is.

The man’s wife places a comforting hand on her husband’s shoulder, massaging them gently to ease the tension on his muscles. She’s never seen him his distraught since…since they left their previous home. Eunkyung is unsure how to give her husband the least solace, not when the circumstances only allow them to hope for the best.

For a moment, they stay like that, quiet and observant. In fact, they had been for almost a full moon, just watching the man they had taken into their home. The man had been looking for firewood that early morning, and he’d found this severely wounded man barely alive in the woods.

He’d carried the man on his back and hurried back home, his initial quest and the pains that came with old age completely forgotten. He had closed off one of his rooms reserved for his patients to tend to this not-so-stranger and had let his wife tend to his other patients while he carefully worked this man back to life for weeks.

“Do you think he will still wake?”

The man is unable to answer promptly as he tenderly takes the sick man’s hand in his and says a short prayer to his ancestors, as well as incorporating a lesson he’d learned back when he was still an apprentice – that human touch was an integral part of the art of medicinal healing.

The physician faces his wife and pulls her closer, likewise placing her hand on top of his and letting her join in his silent prayer. His thumb runs over the ring on the man’s finger, remembering a similar one of his own possession quite a few years back.

“He will. That is what I believe and that is what we are also praying for,” the man replies, checking the temperature of the cloth he’d laid on his patient’s forehead. It’s warm when he takes it, and he makes a mental note to cite this observation in his notes.

“Daesin,” Eunkyung calls, touching her husband’s now bare wrists, “your bracelet…where is it?”

The man sighs heavily, deflated as he rests his weight on his calves. “I…I don’t know, really. I must have lost it when I carried him home.”

It was the only thing reminding him of his past, of you, especially. Now it’s gone – but it really doesn’t matter anymore, not when something, or someone else rather had come into his life so easily. His patient was far more important than any bracelet that proved his previous rule over the southern city.

“I really hope he will get better soon.”

“He has to,” Daesin reiterates, hoping they’d eventually come true, “He has to get better because he’s my son-in-law.”

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Tell me what you think? x

© joontier 2020

[thespiralgrimoire]

c-could u write smth with solid? n him being best problematic pretty boy? 🥺🥺🥺 tyyyyy <3 (dies)

Ohohoh it would be my pleasure~

I think I was both meaner and nicer to Solid than you wanted me to be but here’s Solid on his 21st birthday

--

On the morning of February 26th, Solid woke up with stars in his eyes. He dressed quickly and hurried to the dining room, sucking in breaths of air in search of the smells of his favorite breakfast. It wasn’t until the table came into view that he smelled anything at all, and when he did, it was only fresh waffles. No ham, or eggs, or even a quiche. Nothing out of the ordinary at all.

Nozel and Nebra sat at the table, browsing the paper over cups of tea and waffles. “Morning,” Nebra greeted, her pink eyes never leaving the paper.

“You’re up early,” Nozel observed in the same disinterested fashion.

“Yeah.” He padded into the room and sank into a chair. “I was expecting a big breakfast.”

“Oh? Why is that?” Nebra asked.

Solid glowered to stave off a hurt pout. “Don’t you remember what day it is?”

Nozel and Nebra exchanged a puzzled look, but didn’t dwell on the question long before returning to reading. “The Wizard King addresses the public today, but not until this evening, which definitely doesn’t warrant a big breakfast,” Nebra said. Nozel hummed in agreement.

Solid’s shoulders slacked. He picked up a waffle and drowned it in honey. “Yeah, I guess not.”

By the time breakfast was over, Solid decided that his siblings must be playing a trick on him. They’d never made such an error before, so there was no way that this faux pas was intentional. He’d bide his time, and wait for a surprise-- probably at work. Besides, surely his other friends would remember. This was nothing to lose his head about-- even if it was the most important day of his life in six years.

To his surprise, the Silver Eagles base showed no sign of knowing about his special day. He expected some cards on his desk, or a couple casual ‘Happy birthdays’ from other knights, but no one mentioned his birthday at all. There were no cards on his desk, and no presents delivered to his office. Not that he needed presents. He was royalty; he could have anything he wanted. But didn’t the Silver Eagles know how lucky they were for the chance to wish a royal happy birthday? Why wasn’t anybody saying anything? It hadn’t been this way on his last six birthdays, which were far less important. 

Maybe he wouldn’t have felt as bad if he had anything to do, but of course this was the day he had no work to catch up on. So halfway through the day, he found himself sitting in his office, glaring at his desk while no one paid him any attention. If he thought it’d make a statement, he’d leave. But it seemed like at this rate, no one would even miss him.

Finally, he decided that this could not go on. His siblings were too busy to notice, and he could dismiss the other knights forgetting (but not forgive them). But there was one person that he was sure hadn’t forgotten. And it wouldn’t hurt to do a little prodding on that front. He pulled out his communicator and dialed Langris’ number. Rubbing the desperation out of his cheeks, he set the communicator to visual mode and set it on his desk.

His boyfriend’s lovely face appeared in a magical hologram above his communicator. “Hello, Solid. What is it?”

“Hello, Langris.” He smiled easily, confident in what he was seeking. “You kept me waiting, so I called you.”

“Did I?”

Solid’s brow twitched. Forcing his smile to persist, he replied, “Yes, you did. Don’t you have something to tell me?”

Langris stared at him until the silence grew awkward. Then, he looked away. “I don’t think so.”

His smile cracked like glass. “You don’t? Are you sure?”

“I’m very busy today. If you want something, just say it.”

“Are you sure that you have nothing to say to me?”

“I have to go. Goodbye, love.” Langris severed the connection, and the hologram vanished.

Solid stared, mouth hanging open in disbelief. Anger clawed at his throat, but only heartbreak pricked at the corners of his eyes. This had to be fake. This could not be happening.

He pushed himself from his desk, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve. Solid had always cried easily; a quirk that he blamed on his affinity (even though Noelle didn’t share it with him). He slammed his door open and marched out of the base, straight past several surprised knights, including his brother and sister.

“Solid, where are you going?” Nozel called.

“I’m taking a long lunch!” he barked.

He decided that if no one else was going to treat him, he’d treat himself. He bought a large and luxurious lunch at his favorite restaurant, and wasted the afternoon eating it, alone, by himself. Although plate after plate vanished, he couldn’t trick himself into a good mood, and he couldn’t bring himself to have his first legal drink by himself either. When he was finished, he decided that he’d mope around until he was ready to go home. It was his birthday, and if he wanted to throw a pity party, by God, he was going to.

The evening loomed over him as he made his way back to House Silva. He plodded onto the estate without paying the servants any mind; their “Happy birthdays” meant little to him, and made it sting that much more that none of the people he loved had remembered. 

He was nearly to his room when a servant stopped him with an announcement. “Master Solid, Lord Nozel and Lady Nebra are waiting for you on the back porch.”

“Tell them I’ve gone to bed early,” he grumbled, shambling down the hall.

“...My lord, they insist on your attendance. I fear they may grow angry if you keep them waiting any longer.”

Solid clenched his jaw. Angry tears prickled in his eyes. Of course they would do something like this; adding insult to injury. He turned on his heel and stomped toward the back porch, angry mana broiling around him. They wanted to forget his birthday and threaten him with their bad moods? Well, he could threaten right back.

The back porch’s French doors were already partially open, and his mana threw them open with a bang. His voice rose to a livid boom, and then broke mid-sentence. “Who do you two think you are, treating me like this!?”

Nebra and Nozel’s heads shot up. They sat at the table, a tall pitcher of iced tea and cups neatly laid out before them. Despite his dramatic entrance, neither of them looked shaken. “We think that we are your brother and sister,” Nozel replied easily.

“And-- And that excuses your behavior!?” he cried, throwing back his head. The tears at the corners of his eyes finally made good on his promise, and hot, angry droplets dribbled down his cheeks. “I will not stand for it! I deserve better!”

“Better than being royalty?” Nozel replied incredulously. Behind her hand, Nebra giggled.

Solid stared through tear-blurred vision; his anger couldn’t keep up with his hurt feelings. “Y-Yes! How could you forget?” His mana coalesced into looming tendrils of water to hide his tears, but it did nothing to mask his quaking voice. “I’ve never forgotten your birthdays! Don’t you care?”

Nebra and Nozel exchanged a knowing look, and Nozel shook his head. With a sigh, he pulled out and turned around the chair tucked into the table between him and Solid. On its seat was a pile of cards and presents.

Solid blinked until his vision cleared. The tempestuous mana around him slowly, cautiously, settled. “Huh?”

“Solid,” Nebra chided, shaking her head. “You really thought that we would forget your 21st birthday?”

He stared.

“You are so immature.” Despite the scathing tone of his voice, Nozel wore a smile. “This bit was supposed to last for at least another five minutes, but if you ran away crying…”

Solid pressed his hands to his cheeks as he turned an embarrassed red. He scurried up to the chair and rifled through the presents. There were gifts there from everyone; from distant family, to royal knights. He dug until he found an envelope with Langris’ handwriting, and he eagerly ripped it open. The card was simple in classic Vaude fashion, with a note written inside, along with a receipt for a reservation at a high-end ski lodge.

Solid,

I apologize for not delivering this personally, but your siblings would not allow it. Forgive me for the part they forced me to play.

Love,

Langris

Solid bit his lip, beating back a wild smile. He balled up the envelope and threw it at Nozel. “Why did you do this to me? Aren’t I too old for this now?”

Noze flicked the ball aside with a smirk. “I did this to Nebra, and I will do this to Noelle. You are not the exception.”

“Sit down with us!” Nebra laughed. She lifted the pitcher and poured him a glass of tea.  “We can have tea and cake while you open your presents.”

Solid pulled out the fourth chair at the table. As he sat down, he took a big swig of iced tea, and nearly spat it right back out. He gagged down the gulp and squawked, “Ugh, what is this!?”

“That, little brother,” Nebra giggled, eyes flashing mischievously, “is Long Island iced tea.”

--

Now, don’t misunderstand. This is a completely asshole move on Nozel and Nebra’s part. They even at their kindest, bitches. But they didn’t expect Solid to lose his shit. Hope you liked it!

For those who don’t know, the legal drinking age in the United States is 21, hence why Solid is so excited!

[nevergiveupneverrun]

Bodyguard - Bonus chapter Sixty-Nine "Disillusionment"

Hello, how are you? It’s been a long long time. I'm truly sorry, it's been a crazy year. Here is chapter Sixty-Nine of my Story Bodyguard, yay! It’s the last bonus chapter and the last chapter of Bodyguard! I hope you will like this chapter.

I’m sorry in advance for the mistakes… English isn’t my first language and I do my best. Here is the link to the previous chapter: Click Here.

I hope you will enjoy this chapter :) 💛

–––––––––––––––––––––––

3 months later

How could you do that?

Why did you run away like this?

It’s the worst decision of your whole life… you lost so much with this choice… I’m not sure she forgives you…

Sitting in one of the spooky rooms of the Special Services Branch, Rosie’s words and questions see popping up like a nagging litany in my mind. Back in the United States, not without difficulty with my cover identity, Rosie was the first person I visited. The reunion was intense in emotion and tears… it was only after two hours that she managed to calm down realizing that I was alive and understanding what I was awkwardly trying to explain to her about the real situation.

My death: smokescreen.

My role of spy.

My identity was abandoned in favor of my homeland so that I endorse the characters necessary for my missions.

I spent a total of 4 days with Rosie, in this little locality of Canada that I love so much and which soothes me more. After a certain distance and reserve, she had ended after two days by returning to her usual behavior with me and fully integrating my presence at her side. And it is on these last two days that her questions and her words have completely come to light: no matter how hard I tried to justify my choice, she didn’t understand it. I tried for my part to collect some elements on Amelia… as if to prepare myself for this.

Rosie had thus revealed to me that Amelia visited my parent’s house at least once a year, probably using the key I had given her. She usually stayed there for a week, preferably in the spring, and enjoyed the moments she shared with Rosie, away from the hustle and bustle of the city and her occupation, because obviously, her status was unchanged: an essential artist of the American scene.

I realized, however, that Rosie was sticking to basic information and not telling me anything about what had become Amelia’s life: all the more specific and personal questions that I was trying to ask her, Rosie refused to answer, giving me for all feedback: "You must ask these questions to Amelia. It is up to her to answer you." The mystery was still there for me, as I was back in Seattle:

Is Amelia okay?

How had she lived these almost two years which have passed?

Has she found that hint of happiness that I wished for her when I decided to leave?

--

The cracking of the door takes me out of my memories… and the silhouette of my most loyal supporter appears and walks confidently into the room. A thin smile spreads over my face, like a relief to recognize a familiar face after these two years living in the lie, where I have known only threats and enemies. I get up and shyly take a step forward then take him in my arms for a long second.

- It makes me happy to see you, Nathan…

- Me too Owen… glad to see you got out of this mission…

We stay silent for a few moments, then I go back and take a little distance. I feel his benevolent gaze on me as if he was studying every detail to detect the differences left by time and by my cover identity.

- I see you adopted the three-day beard look… it changes you… he resumes smiling.

- Yes, the budding beard was part of the look of my blanket and I decided to keep it in… it seems fashionable, considering the number of men that I see in the streets of Seattle, I conclude with a smile.

Nathan nods then I can see his face take on a more serious and almost darker appearance.

- How are you, Owen?

The question seems the simplest possible… and yet the tone he uses lets me guess all the meaning he associates with it. I lower my eyes a few seconds before trying my hand at an answer.

- I’m glad to be back home… but the situation is much more difficult than I thought…coming back from the dead is not really a scenario that I have already had the opportunity to prepare…

- Logically, you shouldn’t go through this, given the choice you made almost 2 years ago…

- Yes, I know… and I remember very well that you warned me. But at that moment, 2 years ago, I was convinced I was making the right decision for everyone. And above all, I was convinced that I was the strongest… that the reason would be the strongest.

- I’m not here to lecture you, Owen… I’m here to help you if I can…

He slips a hand into his suit jacket pocket and takes out two items: an envelope and a bunch of keys.

- Here is the key to your apartment: I asked to keep it and not to sell it as you asked me before… I suspected you might change your mind.

I collect the keys, a look grateful for the lucidity of Nathan who knew me better than anyone… even myself.

- And in the envelope?

- In the envelope… that’s what I fought for a week and your call announcing your return. I managed to give you back your Owen Hunt identity, to have your death canceled after long discussions with the management…but you lose your agent status… they don’t want to hear from you anymore.

I was speechless for a few seconds.

What I was doing was completely outside the rules. When you sign up as a spy, it’s a lifelong commitment… the identity that you lose, you abandon it forever. I never imagined that I could have found my life before, back to my true identity…coming back I had prepared to consider an entire life under a new name. Nathan gave me an unexpected and invaluable gift.

- Ho…how did you manage to…

- Don’t worry, he interrupts me, pushing the envelope on the table in my direction. In there you will find all your papers: passport, identity card, license… for the administration, your death never took place and you are an American taxpayer like all.

- I don’t know what you say… I hope you haven’t risk for your situation.

- You know, my career is more behind me than in front of me… I have no more to lose, he says with a smile.

- Thank you, Nathan…

These are the only words that come to me. Words that I express in a breath, won by the unfailing commitment that he shows to me.

- On the other hand, you imagine the compensation…you have no interest in being noticed in any way that it is regarding the authorities and do no imagine having to ask for any support if you were considering becoming a bodyguard again.

- Of course, I understand… but anyway, I don’t intend to completely resume my previous life.

- What are you going to do then?

- I don’t know yet…I have enough money aside to be able to take the time to give another meaning to my professional life…but I know I won’t be able to be anyone’s bodyguard after this experience…

A silence of a minute or more suddenly sets in.

My gaze remains on the bunch of keys and the envelope that materializes this life that I thought was lost forever…I rediscovered my identity, my apartment, and my memories, and yet I knew that some things were different. Things that would be much more difficult to find.

- Do you plan to see her again? Is that why you came back?

Nathan’s question pierces the silence and targets precisely the biggest unknown of my return as Owen Hunt.

- Yes…I did not manage to forget her…I realized that I am more unhappy far from her, that I suffer more than in any other situation. Even if I don’t live up to her expectations…I need to know…to try to be who she expects.

- I won’t tell you anything about Amelia, you have to confront her alone…but know that two years is short and long at the same time…and your "death" was a terrible ordeal for her…I don’t know how she will react when she sees you again…but prepare yourself psychologically… she went through very difficult times.

Everything Nathan expresses to me, I was already anticipating. But hearing my fears and thoughts thus confirmed by a third party, one of those I trusted the most, only increased my nervousness.

- She…is she fine?

- Yes, she’s fine Owen… I haven’t stopped keeping an eye on her since you left as you asked me. Your return will however be a real shock. She’s been healing her pain for the past two years… she loved you really, you know…

The past that Nathan uses makes me tense despite myself, but I try not to pay too much attention to it. In two years, many things could have changed: for her, maybe I was just a memory…

- Just tell me, what do you hope by seeing her again? Why are you planning to see her again and come back to her life?

- I…I just hope to explain to her that I regret my decision…that this is the only outcome that I imagined, two years ago, I was not ready for anything else, unfortunately…that I blame myself for all this pain that I inflicted on her…

- And now are you ready for something else?

- Yes…beyond all that, I have this somewhat crazy hope, that she hasn’t forgotten me… that the feelings that you evoked are not completely extinguished…

I realize by expressing aloud my previously inner hopes that they may seem completely utopian…and at the same time, I’m in a state of mind to tell myself that I have nothing to lose.

I have already lost so much in the last two years.

I don’t want to have any more regrets, unanswered questions.

Even if I come out with a broken heart, I will know…I will have tried everything…to no longer live with these regrets and these doubts that consume me a little more every day.

- I hope the outcome will be happy for you Owen… but prepare yourself… the journey may still be difficult… and you risk suffering even more…

I nod, but my conviction is stronger than anything…a question burns me despite everything…

- Do you think it’s lost in advance… that I don’t stand a chance?

Nathan looks down as if to think, then quickly finds my pupils.

- I do not predict what may happen… I have never been good at guessing women's reactions, especially when it comes to love… he retorts, a smile in his voice.

I smile back, which relaxes me a bit, after these exchanges marked by a certain tension for me.

- How am I going to find her?

- She lives at an address that you know well…

He lets the mystery hover for a few seconds, before revealing the information I miss.

- Amelia returned to Madison Park… she had the house that was so dear to her rebuilt, as to foil the fate and misfortune that may have taken place there a few years ago.

The revelation made just now by Nathan leaves me wondering and admiring… she found the strength to start over in this place, which corresponded the most to a « home » which she missed so much during her childhood and adolescence. Her strength of character will always impress me… some things had not changed, and my hope is rekindled a little more.

- Good luck, Owen…

Nathan warmly shakes my hand, while placing his other hand on my shoulder.

- I hope happiness awaits you at the end of the road for both of you, you deserve it.

- Thanks for everything Nathan… sincerely…

--

Later in the night

--

The images from the talk with Nathan fulfill my expectations, shifting me from hope to despair.

Here I am again in Madison Park, a few steps from a house that crystallizes all my anguish but also my wishes. This evening in May is particularly sweet and brings back memories of times spent in the same neighborhood, a certain summer. I realize that in 3 months, it will be precisely 2 years since I left her life….that I officially died for her…

I get off my motorbike, the waiting motionless, sitting on my motorbike becoming unbearable. A glance at my watch reveals to me that it is 9 pm: I have already been waiting for an hour…the house remains desperately dark, with no sign of life.

Does Amelia have any commitments outside of Seattle?

Maybe I’m stupidly waiting for nothing and she won’t make an appearance tonight?

I doubt.

I hesitate.

The wait allowed me to observe the details of the house…it seems to have been rebuilt as faithfully as possible to the original building: the same porch with staircase and columns, same large windows to let in light. The only noticeable difference that I notice is the terrace which was built a little more in the corner and the back as if to be better protected from view and the outside.

--

The roar of an engine suddenly gets closer and I make out a taxi driving down the quiet street of this district of Madison Park until it stops in front of this house that I could have drawn with my eyes closed.

The beating of my heart activates immediately in a thousandth of a second.

Without thinking, like on autopilot, my legs start to move and slowly approach the house. I soon see a silhouette getting out of the car.

A female silhouette, dressed in a leather jacket, revealing a guitar bag on the back.

The detail confirms the identity of this young woman for good.

It’s her…she is there, a few meters from me.

My pace quickens as she climbs the steps to her front door. She looks for her keys in her bag for a few seconds, a reprieve that allows me to make up my delay and to place myself silently on the penultimate step of her porch.

I hear the clinking of her set of keys in her hand.

I take a deep breath, my heart seems ready to explode in my chest.

My lips finally let this name escape, which I have whispered every night for so long months while climbing the last two steps to find myself at her height.

- Good evening Amelia…

A metallic and muffled sound then rises.

My gaze catches the silver reflection of the keys on the ground, fallen a few centimeters behind her. The shock of my voice visibly made her escape from her hands.

Her back is still facing me. She stays motionless.

I recognize her silhouette much more precisely. The first detail that strikes me is her hair, which only reaches her shoulders…and this feeling that she is even more fragile and thin than before as if she had lost weight…

I perceive her hands to take place along her body.

Her left hand then starts to shake mechanically.

I speak again as gently as possible to dispel her anguish and shock.

- Amelia…calm down…I know it’s unbelievable at this moment…but it’s me…Owen…

I can see her breathing becoming more jerky and difficult as her shoulders and back jump slightly, and her strong, forced breath echoes up to my ears.

A little helpless in front of her paralysis, I immediately reveal the truth of the situation, the deception that I imagined.

- The truth is… it’s that I did not die at the Music Awards Evening…

Following these words, her body moves slowly in profile and she turns completely.

I discovered her for the first time of these long months, a few centimeters from me.

I recognize the details of her face, then discover this new haircut that looks great on her…but her eyes escape me as she keeps her gaze down. As if she refused to discover my image.

- What you saw almost two years ago… was a smokescreen…

An unexpected reaction then takes place before my eyes: she lifts her face in a sudden movement. But I hardly have time to discover her as a sharp and loud snap hits my right cheek. A slap where she seems to have put all her strength and anger. I close my eyes for a few moments in shock.

I hear her breathing still strong, but the rhythm is slightly different marked more by anger than fear.

I end up looking up and opening my eyes again.

She is there, in front of me, her eyes red and misted with tears. Her wide eyes reveal a vibrant intensity which studies me…observe me…almost rediscover me.

Her features are hard, her expressionless face. The reflection of hurt and shocked woman.

- I can’t go back, but…

- What are you doing here? She interrupts me, with a hint of aggression in her voice. Does your little smokescreen life no longer suit you? She continues with a touch of sarcasm, behind which however I perceive a sharp pain.

In the worst-case scenario I had imagined, I had not considered her first words to be so harsh and scathing…filled with blame and anger. Despite myself, I am destabilized by the turn of events. I was not prepared for this confrontation…for a meeting so fraught with tension.

A few seconds pass in an electric atmosphere.

I study her face, noticing a new emotion take place…anger gives way to pain.

And it is in a less assured and almost trembling voice that she takes the floor again.

- I can’t believe you staged your own death…after all that may have happened… all that I have been able to experience…

- I know it sounds completely illogical… and unforgivable, but just let me explain…

- It doesn’t matter, leave me alone…you are no longer part of my life… she whispers tiredly.

- Amelia, I understand the show this is for you, but…

Footsteps rise behind my back and a voice rings out, interrupting me in my explanations as a silhouette settles alongside Amelia.

- Amelia, everything is fine?

I recognize Andrew with surprise… and my eyes widen even more when I discover a baby, asleep in his arms.

Amelia silently nods to her question and stretches out her hands to take the baby.

She focuses on the arrival of Andrew and this toddler, behaving like I am no longer there.

I remain paralyzed in front of the scene and these exchanges, taken aback by the flow of information that accumulates and collides in my mind.

Andrew watches Amelia pick up the toddler, kiss his forehead, then finally turns his attention to me. I notice his feature wrinkle for a few seconds, then tighten as he recognizes me.

He observes me a little more intense but remains silent.

Amelia, the baby still in her arm, retrieves her keys from the ground and slips them into the lock.

The door creaks open and she steps into the house.

- Andrew…

A touch of exasperation and annoyance awakens in Amelia’s call, while Andrew remains as if fascinated by my presence.

- Yes, honey, I am coming, he finally responds by breaking the connection with my face and coming back in his turn.

The term of affection concludes to answer my questions and to tighten my heart a little more.

A heavy ebony door closes quickly and gradually in front of me while the gaze of the one, who has haunted my days and my nights so much, refuses me…ignoring me completely, as if to show me that I am only a memory for her… a forgotten past and that she does not want to relive.

Before the door closes completely, a few words reach me as the last connection with this woman whom I have betrayed and hurt deep inside.

- Goodbye, Owen…leave us alone.

–––––––––––––––––––––––

Thank you for reading this chapter and this story. It was a great journey with you guys! Hope you will like it.

I wrote a new story about omelia and I don't know if you are interested and if you want to read it. I can post the first chapter and you will tell me if you want to read it or not!

Stay safe and be happy 💛

[nicolewoo]

Please Daddy

Pairing: Joe Anaoi X Reader (Roman Reigns X Reader)

Warning: SMUT SMUT SMUT, SPANKING, SMUT SMUT SMUT

Scenario: High priced lawyer Y/N comes back after a 6 month out of town job, and finds a new face at her sex club.

Notes: Listen, it’s up to you, but I pictured Henry Cavill as the “Henry” in the story. Picture whomever you want, but it’s really nice to have Henry Cavill. It’s also hella long. 5,041 words. That’s either too long, or enough to really draw you into the story. lol

Here it is..... enjoy!

Y/N’s POV:

I was relaxed and calm. Being at my club for the first time in months was doing me good. Months of pent up stress and anxiety had been building inside me, and I wanted nothing more than to be around my friends who knew all about me and not only accepted me for who I am, but they shared my interests.

Truthfully though I did want more. I wanted a Dom. A night of wild crazy passion where I could just let go, and trust someone else to take charge. I needed that. I needed a release. I needed a new Dom, and this was the place to find him.

Suddenly the mood shifted in the room. My back was to the door, so I couldn’t tell why, but as soon as I turned to see what was happening, I understood. He was tall, over 6 feet, and dark, and muscled, and his demeanor screamed dominance. I couldn’t tell if he was Italian or Samoan, but looks like that were rare, and I was sure he was one or the other. I drank in his size, his long black hair tied into a tight bun, the fit of his pants over those thick thighs, and the way his muscles almost bulged out of his tight black shirt.

“Who is that?” I asked without moving my eyes off him.

My friend Meredith commented with a chuckle. “Where have you been? That’s only the hottest, richest, nicest, sexiest....” she sighed as she mentally undressed him with her eyes. 

“Ok.  But who is he?” I asked.

“Oh, that’s Joe.  Comes here every week on Mondays at 8 pm like clockwork. He drinks, does business deals, chats but NEVER chooses a sub, and trust me, most of us have tried.” Anna said.

“Never?” I was shocked.  The girls who were members here were beautiful, well educated, smart, charming, the cream of the crop... why wouldn’t he choose a sub?

“Not one.” Anna said just as he looked up from his conversation and his eyes scanned the room, landing on me. His eyes locked on mine and a slight smile (or was it a smirk?) played on his lips. He stared longer than was comfortable, and I could see the dominant in him.

My inner sub melted, screaming inside that she wanted him to be Daddy. I tried reminding myself that he’d never chosen a sub. Never, and tonight wouldn’t be any different, and yet, he kept looking at me, and his eyes were like magnets. I couldn’t look away from him. I was frozen in place, under the control of his gaze.

The other young women at my table were shocked into silence for a minute. Meredith said, “Looks like that streak might end tonight.” All of them laughed.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 Joe’s POV:

When I asked the bartender about her, he smiled big. He told me her name was Y/N, but when I asked who trained her, he sent me to talk to Henry.

I found Henry playing poker in a game room with a beautiful brunette kneeling on the floor beside him. He ran his hand dismissively over her hair while he scanned his cards. When I opened the door, Henry looked up. “Joe! Want to lose a little coin?” He gestured to an empty chair.

“No. I was actually wondering if I could get a few minutes with you.”

Henry obliged and players joked about protecting their chips as they got up. He led me to a bar on the other side of the room, placing his hand on my shoulder blade and turning our backs toward the rest of the room. “What can I help you with?”

“I was told you were the guy who could answer some questions about Y/N.”

The look on Henry’s face changed as he dramatically clutched his chest while turning toward the others in the room and said, “Gentlemen! He wounds me!” The other men smiled and chuckled, but I wasn’t sure if they were laughing about Y/N or about Henry’s little Shakespearian act. “He hath asked of the fair maiden Y/N.” Suddenly he smiled, checked his watch and called out “Who had 915? Oh! Yeah! That was me! Pay up!” He held his hand out as every man in the room laid a $20 bill in his hand. “Now give us some privacy.” He led me to a large side room which was filled with books floor to ceiling and various chairs and couches around. “Forgive my dramatics. She’s the one that got away. How can I help you?”

“What was the bet about?” I asked.

“How long it would take you to ask about her.” He smiled devilishly.

I ignored the answer. “Did you train her?” I asked.

Henry put a hand in his pocket, “No. She was trained when she got here about 5 years ago.” He mused. “I never found out who trained her. In fact, that was one of her hard limits.”

“But she was your sub?” I prodded.

Henry opened a humidor and pulled out a cigar. He offered me one, but I declined. “Yes.” It was obvious he was recalling good times. “For a year,” he looked and saw my apprehension. “Don’t worry though. Our time together ended 2 years ago, and then I met Ann. We’re extremely happy together.”

“What can you tell me about Y/N? Should I pursue her?”

He smiled at me as he pondered the question. “Yes. I actually think you could be a perfect match for her. She is incredible. Beautiful, smart, kind, successful, driven. She’s damn near perfect.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “If she was so perfect, why did the relationship end?”

He smiled at me, “We wanted different things for the future. She wants children, and I don’t.” He sounded okay with the decision.

“Ah. I see.”

“She’s a delightful sub. Well behaved, very attentive, very responsive, knows when to be bratty and when not to. She can’t take much pain though, and she doesn’t like humiliation. I suspect the answer to why is tied in with whoever trained her. If those things don’t bother you, she’s really the sweetest.” He looked to see if I understood.

I gave a knowing nod. We’d all heard about nightmare doms but didn’t allow such behavior in our club.

“One more thing. Her career is very important to her. She works long hours, often out of town, and nothing gets between her and work. you’ll have to be flexible about her time, because quite honestly, she’s one of the best attorneys in the country.” He rose and extended his hand to shake, and I grabbed it firmly. “You two will be great together, and you’re the only person I’ve said that to.”

An attorney? One of the best in the country? “You’re assuming she’ll say yes.” I pointed out as we left the room.

He scanned the main room and found Y/N. She was looking at me. “I know that look.” He patted my shoulder blade. “It seduced me on many occasions, my friend.” I knew what he meant. That slight smile, the upturn of her lips, the way she squirmed when I locked eyes in her. It was a seduction. “Let’s go introduce you two.”

 +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Y/N POV

His stare was melting me, and even though I was looking intently at him, it took me a second to realize Henry was with Joe and they were headed my way. Henry approved? That’s the only conclusion I could come to. Somehow Joe knew about Henry and me and approached Henry to ask about me.

I stood when they neared the table and I heard my friends begin to talk excitedly behind me as they got up and moved to another table. “Hi beautiful.” Henry said as he greeted me with a hug. “How was your trip? You look amazing. Got a little tan?” He kissed both of my cheeks.

“Henry. Good to see you. I got a little beach time in.” I smiled, but every nerve in my body was on edge, and I didn’t want to spend time making small talk.

“Let me guess. You read briefing memos on the beach.” He joked.

“How did you know?” I laughed and then looked at Joe. My head tilted down very subtly as a show of my willingness to submit to him.

“Babe, you’ve caught Joe’s eye. He started here right after you left for Florida. I’ve been very impressed with him.” Henry put his hand on Joe’s shoulder and pushed him a step toward me.

Impressed was not a word Henry took lightly, and I knew the full implications of his words. I nodded at Henry. “Ok. I’ll be here for a while if you need me.” He pressed a nice kiss on my cheek and walked away.

“Hi.” Joe looked down at me sweetly. Being this close, I realized he towered over me by almost a foot, and his body looked roughly the size of 2 of me. Couple that with the protective stance and my core clenched with desire.  

“Hello,” I said looking up into his eyes defiantly knowing he expected me to look down. The corner of his mouth twitched up in a smirk for the briefest second as he looked at me.

“Henry tells me you’ve been out of town. For work?” He pressed.

I leaned against the table now. “Yes.” I knew he wanted more information. I mused at just how easily my inner brat came out for him.

He wasn’t even hiding his smirk now, “You’re a lawyer? Henry says a good one at that.”

“I am a lawyer.” I said, again not giving him any more information than he asked for. I was making him work a bit at getting to know me.

He placed his hand next to me on the table and loomed in front of me very closely now. Dang! His low voice was distracting. “What do you specialize in?” He inquired.

I was drawn to this man like nobody before, not even Henry. His demeanor, his tone of voice, his incredible aroma… My natural submissive tendencies kicked in, and I couldn’t help looking down. I hoped it would break the spell he was casting over me, but it didn’t work. The second I looked down, he stood taller, prouder. He already had me under his control, and judging by his stance, I think he was enjoying it as much as me. “It’s boring. You wouldn’t want to hear.”

He leaned in close to my ear, and the delightful low timber of his voice took on a hint of dominant anger. “Don’t tell me what I want. I tell you what I want.”

Fuck me. I was done for. I didn’t even think about it, I just answered, “Yes Sir.”

He took a deep breath in. “Good.” He moved away a bit and offered me his hand. “Let’s talk.” He sat down at my table and signaled the bar tender to bring another round of drinks while he pulled me into the chair next to him. I looked to find Henry engaged in conversation, but he was keeping tabs on my interaction with Joe.

“Now,” Joe said. “Tell me about your career. What do you specialize in?” He was even dominant in the way he sat. Strong, carefree, but never relinquishing control of me.

“I… uh… I’m a defense attorney.” I tried to get back some of the brat that was having so much fun before, but she was in hiding.

We sat in silence as the bartender brought our drinks. Joe just stared at me. Not shyly, not nicely, but lustfully, and my body ached for him so much, I couldn’t sit still. When the bartender left, Joe leaned toward me. “There’s no need to be scared of me.”

I looked into his eyes now. “I’m… I’m not scared. It’s anticipation.”

He squinted his eyes a bit as if trying to size me up. “You’re not scared, but you keep stuttering.” He took a sip of his drink before continuing. “I’m surprised that one of the best lawyers in the country gets easily tongue tied.”

Of course, he was right. I was always unflappable… except with Henry and now Joe. His eyes challenged me, and mine challenged him back. “I’m simply not in lawyer mode tonight. It’s my day off.” The tone of my voice held the slightest bit of challenge toward him, and he flat out smiled when he heard it.

“Good to know.” He chuckled.

We stayed and talked about my job, his job as a CFO at an engineering company. We talked about morals, ethics, lifestyle and more. We laughed and teased and joked. Each minute spent talking made me want him more.

After a while he said, “I’d like to be alone with you. Do you trust me?” His steely gaze was melting me, and I nodded yes at the same time I looked over to see Henry. “Come with me.” He stood, offered me his hand, and pulled me to a standing position right in front of him, close enough that I could feel the heat coming off his chest. He hovered over me for a minute. No words, just pure dominance, and I loved it.

Joe’s first stop was at Henry’s table. I expected a conversation, but instead the two shook hands. Henry couldn’t resist saying “Joe, if you hurt her…” as he sat back down. Joe nodded that he understood.

When we got to his room, he kept the door open and brought me over to a desk. He opened a drawer and pulled out one of the two stacks of papers inside and a pen. There was nothing else in the drawer, and I realized, there wasn’t much of anything in the room. A bed, bench, and dresser. It was much different than Henry’s room, which had a much more lived in feel…. At least to me it seemed lived in, comfortable, home. This room had nothing in it to personalize the room. I wondered if he’d even used the room and remembering that my friends said he’d ever had a sub, I assumed he hadn’t. He’d probably come in to set it up, and probably hadn’t been back in here.

“I’d like to test how much chemistry we have. This,” He tapped the documents in front of him, “is a one-night contract. I scanned the paper quickly. “This says that anything done tonight must be consented to by both parties.”

I leveled him with a gaze. “Joe? I wrote it.” I wasn’t sure if I sounded bratty, but it was the truth. He just smiled.

“Of course.” He laughed at himself. “I should have known.”

Once we had both signed, he took my hand and brought me to the center of the room. “Stay here,” he said as he closed and locked the door. He turned to me, surveying me with his eyes. “Tonight, I want you to show me how I make you feel. Every noise, every moan, every sigh, every scream. Don’t hold out on me. It’s important we find out if we’re compatible tonight, because I really want you to be my sub.” I nodded yes as he slowly approached me, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt. “You are very beautiful.” His voice was so low, it was almost a growl, and he stood so close to me I could feel the heat coming off his body as he slowly circled me, drinking in every inch of me. Once behind me, he leaned in, so his mouth was close to my ear. “Can I kiss you?” When I felt his breath on my ear, my head lolled to the side instinctively and I sighed.

I moaned out a yes, and his lips brushed against my ear lobe then lower on my neck, and around to the side. My body responded to him in every way. “Can I touch you?” he asked, and I moaned out another yes. He brushed the tips of his fingers down my arm so carefully he barely touched the skin. Goosebumps formed on my arm, and I felt his smile as he kissed my neck again. “That’s very good.”

He ran his hand up my arm and ghosted his fingers over my collar bone. He kissed my neck again, and I felt his fingers ghost over my side like he had my arm. It was pure, delightful torture. I wanted him. Everything in my body wanted him. Everything in my mind wanted him. He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me roughly against his chest and grinding his cock against my ass eliciting a moan from me. His free arm wrapped around my throat gently pushing on my pulse points. “Do you like to be strangled?” Geesh, the tone of his voice made my core clench.

“Yes sir.” I said demurely.

“Very good.” He said as his hands ghosted across my collar bone again and then lower and lower until he was near my nipples. I expected his fingers to find my nipples and tease them, but instead, his hand went to the back of my dress agonizingly slowly pulling the zipper down. He pulled the fabric away from my shoulder enough to see my bra strap. “Black lace? Perfect.” His lips lowered to my shoulder and he kissed a trail from my bra strap to the back of my neck. I moaned in delight and expected him to remove the dress. Instead, he pulled the material back up on my shoulder and he circled me until I was face to face with him.

He slowly unbuttoned the front of his shirt. Immediately, my eye spotted the tattoo that started at his chest circling his entire pectoral muscle in bold patterns. Then I knew, he was indeed Samoan.  He slid his shirt off, revealing his incredibly tanned toned chest and my eyes drank in the whole tattoo, which went all the way down his arm and around to his back.

“May I touch you?” I asked, and he pondered for a second before nodding yes. Tentatively, I reached out to touch the tattoo, and I circled around to his back to see the rest, my fingers idly tracing the intricate patterns on his arm, back, chest. He moaned at the touch.

As I made my way around him, he hooked his fingers in the collar of my dress and pulled it down slowly, drinking in every inch of my body as he removed it. “Go hang this up.” He handed me the dress and pointed to a closet. I did as asked and he followed me to hang his shirt up.

He took my hand and brought it up to kiss the knuckles. “Come here.” He led me to the couch, and he sat, pulling me down to straddle his lap. He eyed me hungrily as I lowered myself onto his lap. “Baby, you’re so responsive to me.” He slid his fingers up my side as he leaned in to kiss my neck. Again, my body clenched as he kissed my collar bone and circled my waist with his arm, roughly pulling me until I was pressed against him. He kissed my lips now, softly but urgently, sliding his tongue in and devouring me. I could feel his rock-hard dick against my groin, and when he involuntarily bucked, I cried out with need. “You want this?” He asked bucking again.

I realized I was panting with desire now. “Yes, Sir.”

He ran his hand down my back, gently squeezing my ass. “Daddy. I prefer daddy, and you’ll be my baby girl.” He kissed me passionately, and my body melted against his. I moaned in his mouth and ground my pussy against his dick. “You need a daddy bad, don’t you?” He smiled as we kissed again.

“Yes daddy.” I buried my head in his neck, and kissed it gently then let my tongue roam over his veins before sucking on a spot for a second.

He ran his hands back up my back and grabbed a handful of my hair. “How long has it been since you had a daddy?”

He pulled my head back and attacked my neck with his mouth. “Daddy…” I cried out in need.

“Answer me, baby girl.”

I tried to clear my head, but I was lost in a daze of desire. “Two years.” I managed to squeak out.

He hummed, “Two years? So, Henry was your last daddy?” I nodded my head as much as I could. “Did you have vanilla sex, or have you been alone all this time?”

“Alone,” I moaned out.

“I’m here now, baby girl. Daddy is going to take good care of you.” He kissed me passionately as his hands drifted smoothly from my knees up my thighs, nearing where I needed them the most. I squirmed in his lap. “Daddy is going to take care of everything.” Suddenly he wrapped his arms around my ass, stood up while carrying me and laid me down on the bed. “Are you ready?”

Ready? I was about to explode, and he’d barely even touched me. His eyes drank in my body as he gently caressed my legs. He laid down beside me and caressed my stomach before sliding his hand up and slipping a finger under my bra strap. “May I?” I nodded excitedly, and he smiled as he pulled down the strap, kissing my skin as it was bared, until finally taking my nipple in his mouth. I moaned again as his tongue teased my nipple. He slid his hand behind me and unclasped my bra, tossing it on the floor beside the bed.

His hand slid down my body and into my underwear. I cried out in joy when his finger found my clit, softly circling it around. How could this giant of a man touch me so gently? I could feel him trying different pressures and styles before quickly settling on the pressure that elicited a moan from me. “Is that it, baby girl? Is that how you like to be touched?” I couldn’t answer. I cried out in joy and was getting close to exploding when he stopped his fingers. He left them there, not moving as he sucked my nipple.

I squirmed with desire. “Please Daddy!” I hadn’t meant to yell, but I did. He was torturing me with desire.

He smiled and looked into my eyes, smiling. “Ok baby girl. I won’t make you wait any longer.” He slid his fingers lower, easily sliding one inside me. “Look how wet you are for me. Good girl.”

My head snapped up and away from his mouth when he slid a second finger inside me and curled them to brush against my G-spot. He growled as he heard me cry out. He kept talking, but I couldn’t focus on his words. He was praising me, telling me how good I was being, telling me how much he wanted to fuck me. I completely lost myself, and I fell quickly over the edge, cumming with a violent cry. He kissed me, covering up my cry. “There you go. You’re doing so well, baby girl. So fucking tight.” He continued to croon at me. The edge in his voice telling me how I was turning him on.

Once my orgasm was over, he removed his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth and tasting my juices. His contented hum told me all I needed to know. He kissed my collar bone before slowly trailing kisses down my body.

“Nooooo.” I grabbed at his arms, trying to get him to stop. “I want to please you,” I begged.

He slipped his fingers in the sides of my underwear and pulled them down slowly. “Please don’t tell me you don’t like oral sex.” He almost begged.

“No…. I mean yes…. I love oral sex. I just,” He slid his hands up my thighs, pressing his thumbs softly against my slit and massaging. “I want to please you.”

“Trust me, you ARE pleasing me.” He licked his tongue over my slit and I groaned in delight.  “Can I?” he asked.

“Yes.” I cried out, and he dove into me, licking sucking, massaging. When he pushed his fingers into me while flicking my clit with his tongue, I came again.

He was all smiles as he kissed a path up my body, “You did so good, baby girl.” He ran his hand over my hair. “So good for Daddy.” He kissed me softly, sweetly until he was sure I was done cumming.

“I NEED your dick, Daddy.” I moaned in between kisses.

He grinned ear to ear, “Ok baby. Where do you want it?” he asked.

“Everywhere.” I laughed, and he laughed too. He got off the bed and started to unbutton his pants. “May I?” I asked as I grabbed his hands and began undressing him. He moaned his approval. I disrobed him quickly and climbed onto the floor in front of him staring at his hard cock as I took it in my hands, stroking him softly. His moan told me he loved it. I opened my mouth wide, stuck out my tongue and peeked up at him, willing him to fuck my mouth.

I didn’t even have to ask, he pushed his cock in my mouth slowly, carefully until he had filled my mouth and part of my throat. I moaned in delight, and he groaned out an approving noise. “Good…” He tried to talk but I sucked hard until he couldn’t. He ran a hand through my hair as he watched me swallow his cock. He gathered my hair in a ponytail in one of his hands and pulled my head back. “Take it.” He said calmly as he pushed my head onto his cock again. I choked as my fingers ran up his legs, settling and caressing his balls. “Fuck!”

After a couple of minutes, he pulled me off him. “What?” I looked up at him for a reason.

He smiled down at me, “You are excellent, baby girl, but that’s not how I’m going to cum today.” He held one hand out to help me up as the other hand held my hair, ensuring I couldn’t fight against him. “Bend over.” He commanded when I was standing. I did as he asked and bent over the edge of the bed, wiggling my hips a tiny bit as he watched me.

He ran his hand over my ass and across my slit, sliding a finger inside me playfully before grabbing my hips in one hand and his dick in another. He slid his foot between my ankles and pressed out until my feet parted. “More!” He commanded. “Spread them more.” I obeyed and put my feet as far apart as I could without losing my balance. He pressed his dick right up to my slit. “Can I?”

I wasn’t even done saying yes when he pushed inside me in one long stroke. I screamed in joy and he moaned too. “So tight,” he growled out. “So fucking tight.”

I tried to moan, sigh, anything. He wanted to hear me, but I couldn’t make a noise. He leaned over my back and kissed my shoulder blade. “You ok?” I nodded.

“Y… Yes.” I sighed out.

“Ready for more?” He chuckled at my enthusiasm.

I groaned, “Daddy, please!”

He started fucking me, slowly at first and building faster and harder with every thrust. His hands grabbed my hips, fingers digging in until I could feel his fingernails pushing at the skin. He pulled me back onto him over and over, bottoming out with each thrust. His huge cock filled me completely. He released one of my hips and slapped my ass hard. I came quickly, crying out. “Good girl.” Joe slowed his thrusts. “Good girl.” He soothed.

He flipped me on my back and pulled my legs up over his shoulders. He was so deep. Impossibly deep. Almost as painful as it was pleasurable. He fucked me until I came again. Then he came with a wild growl, stilling inside me.

We were both out of breath, and he flopped on the bed next to me, pulling me onto his shoulder. He kissed my forehead softly and ran his fingers over my arms and back. We laid there for a few minutes before he got up, scooped me into his arms bridal style and took me to the bathroom. He set me on the counter as he started the shower. He came back and pulled my legs apart so he could hold me tight against him. He kissed my forehead again. He was being so soft, so careful with me. “I’m going to give you a moment to go pee. Do you need help standing? He asked, and I smiled at him.

“No. I can handle it.” I teased, but in truth, I wasn’t sure.

He kissed my lips softly, “Ok. I’ll come back when you close the shower door.”

My legs were wobbly, but I was able to do as he requested. I peed and climbed into the shower. As promised he came back and climbed into the shower with me. He came behind me, kissing my shoulder and neck as we let the water run over me. He hummed a sound of contentment as he grabbed the soap and began washing me, focusing a lot of time washing my oversensitive parts.

When he was done, he wrapped me in a huge, fluffy towel. “We’ll need to get you a robe, and whatever shower things you want, shampoo and such,” He paused as if realizing something. “That is…. If you intend to sign a contract.”

“Yes” I said it before he finished the sentence. He chuckled lowly at my enthusiasm.

Please Daddy Part 2

Please Daddy Part 3

@mindofasagittaruis​ @lclb13​

[goldenspecter]

Forgivness

Summary: “I was possessed! Da-A ghost took over my body!” Tucker shouts and that’s the moment he breaks down, pulling his hands away from his parents and holding him close to his chest-if he holds his chest, then no one can enter his body. That burning in his chest is back as he sobs brokenly. Here he was, breaking down over something Danny did to him and here he is, still holding on to Danny’s secret. Where was the fairness in that? “I didn’t want to!”

Valerie doesn’t know how to forgive someone. She’s never really had to, because people usually don’t hurt her this badly. Usually they apologize on the spot for some minor thing and Valerie instantly forgives them because she knows that they meant her no harm.

In which we see how Tucker copes with the events of Parental Bonding and Valerie gets some closure.

Archive of Our Own | FFN

Notes:

Here's the first side story in the AU! I'm quite happy with how this one turned out and hopefully plan on doing more of these as the AU progresses!

I knew I had to write this after writing that confrontation scene between Tucker and Valerie in the French Braids and it's been something I've been wanting to write anyways. Not to mention that I'm currently having some form of writers block when it's coming to writing the next part of the other fic.

- I've seen plenty of works within the fandom that addresses how overshadowing/possessing someone fucks them up but I don't think I've quite seen anything that talks about how it personally affected Tucker. It's really, really, really fucked up for Tucker to explicitly say no and not consent to be overshadowed and Danny, his best friend and someone who's the narrative says is a good person, ignore Tucker and do it any way and deeply violate his agency and consent. Even more fucked up that the narrative plays this for jokes at the end of the episode. This is literally a Vlad move my dudes, this is something that we should expect of Vlad because we know that he doesn't really view people as actual people, just pawns that he can use to meet a goal. Danny doing shit like this multiple times throughout canon(and it being played for jokes) only makes him more like Vlad. A more interesting concept would have been Danny asking to overshadow someone/not using except for dire circumstances but canon said fuck good ideas right?

-Valerie deserves closure. She deserves good things, good things and she deserves closure for being stood up at home coming.

-Re: Self-Harm Tag: Okay so Tucker has a certain behavior in this fic where he picks at scabs in his hair until they bleed but the thing is, Tucker doesn't really have a choice whether or not he wants to do it but rather it's compulsive. He doesn't really realize he's doing it and doesn't intend to cause physical damage(whereas its the opposite with self-harming) but he knows its a thing. Trichotillomania (hair pulling) and skin picking are commonly seen in autistic people. It can serve as a way to self-soothe and self-stimulate the individual in day to day life. Some Autism Specialists can classify this behavior as a SIB(Self-Injurious-Behavior) since it is harmful to the person's body. Also I do this a lot, have been for several years and once again the projection is real.

-Also Tucker in this AU has a really hardcore squish(friend crush) on Valerie but doesn't really understand/realize that he just wants to be friends with her and thus pursued her in a romantic manner.

Timeline wise in the AU: The first half, in Tucker’s POV, takes place right after Parental Bonding, through One of a Kind and mid way through pt one of French Braids. The second half, Valerie’s POV, is after pt one of French Braids and in between Attack of the Killer Garage Sale and Splitting Images.

-----

When Tucker fully comes back into his body, he's at the homecoming dance. Dragon Sam’s been subdued and back to her normal self and the three of them are standing in the middle of the dance floor.

“Dude, sorry your date didn't pan out. Where is Paulina anyway?” asks Tucker, the words taste bitter in his mouth as he says them.

Sam shrugs, “Ah, who cares? Look, the DJ's still playing. I think there's time for one last dance?”

“Sure, I’d love to,” Danny turns and hands the amulet to Tucker. “Keep an eye on this will you?”

Danny doesn’t bother waiting for an answer before dropping the amulet in Tucker’s hands. Tucker’s fingers instinctively curl around the amulet and Tucker turns away from Danny’s smile because all he can see now is Danny’s green eyes smiling at him before Danny took over. How come he didn’t get an apology for being forced to stand up Valerie? How come he’s the only one who doesn’t get a happy ending this time around? How come Danny gets to pretend like none of this ever happened while he was stuck with the aftermath?

Tucker swallows the lump in his chest, “Wait a second,” he begins,  “I’m dateless again?! What does a guy have to do to get hooked up around here?”

“I want to go to the ball!” wails Dora.

He doesn’t know why he had to turn his feelings into a mere joke. He does of course. Because no one here really thinks his feelings matter and jokes are the only way he has right now to process it. Tucker knows this but can’t help the heartache and nausea bury when Danny and Sam laugh at his misfortune. Can they not see that he’s hurting or do they just not care ?

The fourteen year old forces a smile on his face as he steps away from Dora. “Maybe I don’t need a date that badly,” he says and runs away from the blooming romance and the burning in his chest.

~~~~~~~

Home should be safe. Home was safe. Home was where it happened, so how safe was he? Tucker opens the door and both of his parents are there, sitting at the table waiting for him.

How safe were they? Were any of them safe anymore?

His parents look up from the card game they were playing, “Tucker?” his mom asks, with confusion in her eyes. “It’s pretty early, you shouldn’t be home for another hour or two.”

Tucker shakes his head, kicking the door behind him. “Wanted to go home early.” He turns around facing the door and locks it, and with it, his emotions.

Maurice blinks, laying down his cards. “Did something happen dear?”

Tucker shakes his head even harder. “It’s nothing,” his voice cracks slightly and he can feel his parents' looks of concern.

Maurice stands up and slowly walks towards him, “Something happened dear,” he says softly and Tucker just knows that he can’t keep up this facade any longer. “Whatever happened, it’ll be okay.”

“No it won’t,” he says in a rough whisper. Maybe, if he keeps his eyes down then he won't lose it. “It won’t ever be.”

Maurice tries to wrap his arm around his son but steps back when his son roughly pushes him away. He tries again, but this time, he gently takes one of his son's hands and holds it in his. “Please, just talk to us.”

It’s the desperation in his dad’s voice that does it for him, that finally gets him to talk. “I stood up Valerie,” he says, voice cracking and thick with emotion, growing more and more panicked by the second. “I didn’t want to, I didn’t want to, I didn’t have a choice.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t have a choice?” Angela asks, coming up to him and taking his other hand in hers.

“I was possessed! Da-A ghost took over my body!” Tucker shouts and that’s the moment he breaks down, pulling his hands away from his parents and holding him close to his chest-if he holds his chest, then no one can enter his body. That burning in his chest is back as he sobs brokenly. Here he was, breaking down over something Danny did to him and here he is, still holding on to Danny’s secret. Where was the fairness in that? “I didn’t want to!”

Maurice gets over his initial shock at Tucker’s outburst, before he jumps in to help his hurting son. “Tucker, can you take deep breaths with me?” he takes exaggerated deep breaths, “Follow my breathing.”

“I can’t,” he manages to say through a sob, “It’s not safe, you aren’t safe, none of us are safe.”

“You’re safe honey, you’re safe,” Angela says, sliding off his hat and gently stroking his hair in an effort to calm him down. “Maybe we can go to the Fentons-”

Tucker reels back and the panic kicks into overdrive, “No!” The sobbing grows into deep and broken wails. They can’t go to Ground Zero, where the source of this misery originated from, because then all three of them definitely won’t be safe. Home is safer, Home has to be safer, Home needs to be safer.

Maurice and Angela look at each other in confusion, unable to understand why their child was so adamant about not going to the Fentons. Both parents put aside their confusion to help their son calm down, taking nearly 45 minutes to do so. Once Tucker was calm, they gave him some water and some medications to help him sleep through the night. Maurice walks his son upstairs,  stands outside the door as he changes into pajamas and personally tucks his son in for the night, turning out the light and leaving Tucker’s door slightly ajar.

Tucker doesn’t leave the house for the rest of the weekend.

~~~~~~

Tucker wants to stay away from Danny, he doesn’t feel safe near him anymore. He doesn’t know when his best friend is going to overshadow his body and take control of him.

He’s just on the brink of telling Danny to leave him alone, to not talk to him anymore when Danny says he needs them both to help him with ghost hunting and studying for the test.

Tucker feels the no on his tongue, practically taste it, but instead a sour yes spills out instead.

The incident with the Purple Back Gorilla happens and the week passes by quickly. Tucker can not help but feel uneasy, thankful when the weekend comes by.

Somehow, someway he’s at the grocery store and he comes across Valerie pushing a cart with a little kid inside of it. Nerves garble his voice even as he clears his voice, “Valerie? I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while.”

“Go away Tucker,” she says and he can hear the anger boiling in her.

“I know I messed up-”

She whips around, her green eyes narrowing at him in anger and he feels so small right about now. “You left me!” she hisses, “I was alone!”

Tucker winces, rubbing his neck. “Let me explain Valerie.”

"You don't get to explain how you stood me up at homecoming," Valerie starts, her voice tight. "You don't get to waltz in here-" Her shoulders deflate, the anger leaving her body and soon washes her over with sadness. Tucker knows that she’s holding herself back and he can only assume it’s because of the kid in the cart.

"Go," she points down the aisle, "I don't want to hear your excuses."

Tucker bows his head in shame, walking down the aisle and out of the store with the few items he bought, his chance to repair...whatever he wanted to have with Valerie gone.

~~~~~

Valerie doesn’t know how to forgive someone. She’s never really had to, because people usually don’t hurt her this badly. Usually they apologize on the spot for some minor thing and Valerie instantly forgives them because she knows that they meant her no harm.

But with Tucker? She has no idea where to begin. The only reason she’s considering forgiving Tucker in the first place is because Clockwork told her that Tucker didn’t want to stand her up, that he didn’t mean to hurt her, that Clockwork knew what happened that night but couldn’t tell her.

Clockwork leans over her shoulder as she contemplates sending Tucker a text. “What are you doing?” they ask, sipping on their juice.

“Trying to send a text,” she says, “To Tucker to talk about...you know.”

Clockwork tilts their head before nodding in realization. “What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t know what to say!” Valerie says, throwing her hands up in frustration. “That’s just it!”

The small child shrugs, “Mmm, just go with what feels right?” they question in a stilted voice.  

Valerie raises an eyebrow, “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I picked it up from someone on one of the TV shows you were watching,” Clockwork says, “I thought it was appropriate.”

It was appropriate, she has to give them that, no matter how stilted and unnatural they sounded while saying it. She encouragingly rubs their back, “You did good, though.” she praises, pulling them in close to her for a side hug.

Valerie’s thumb hovers over the keyboard, typing and retyping her message until she’s satisfied with it and pressing send.

You: I’ve thought about it and I’m giving you one chance to explain yourself. Meet me at the park at 5:30. I’ll be at the tables near the swings.

Several minutes pass by before she feels her phone vibrate, looking down to see the notification.

Tucker: Okay, meet you there.

Valerie sighs, pulling away from Clockwork. She sits up, checks the time on her phone. It’s 4:45 now and the park was only a five to ten minute walk from the Nasty Burger. Then again, it didn’t hurt to be early, Clockwork could play on the swings while she waits for him to meet her.

“You finished with your food?” she asks Clockwork, who nods. “Come on, we’re heading to the park.”

“Whoo!” exclaims Clockwork, eagerly sliding out of the dining booth. Valerie shakes her head with a smile, picking up their trays, dumping the food and sitting the trays on top of the trash cans as they walk out of the diner. Traffic was a little heavy, which only set them back by five minutes and the two managed to get to Amity Park in a timely manner.

Once they’re in the park, Valerie hunts for the set of swings. She quickly finds it, the tables she mentioned earlier close by. She sits down at the wooden tables and tells Clockwork to go play on the swing, which they do without a fuss. Valerie checks her phone again, the time now 5:05, leaving her with only twenty five minutes till Tucker was supposed to be here. She decides to scroll through her social media, occasionally breaking away from her phone to check on Clockwork.

Valerie feels the table and bench groan and shift under new weight, she looks up and Tucker is sitting right across from her.

He looks nervous and uncertain. So is she.

Turning her phone screen off and placing it face down on the table, Valerie sits there in silence for a moment before speaking.

“Uh, speak your truth,” Valerie says awkwardly and she wishes that she had gone over what she was going to say. “Don’t bullshit me.”

“I got possessed by a ghost,” Tucker says, looking away from her and throwing his hands out. “I don’t remember what happened when I was possessed.”

“We’re her best friends! We should have known.” Danny laments.

“It’s not our responsibility to read and protect Sam’s emotions, she should have said she wanted to go to the dance from the beginning,” Tucker says back, straightening his tie a bit. “There’s nothing we can do about it now anyways.”

Danny thinks for a moment, then a mischievous smile appears as green eyes flash at Tucker.

Tucker realizes what Danny wants him to do, “No way. Forget it. Absolutely not. No!” he loudly protests and the next thing he knows, he’s feeling a gaping hole in his chest as his consciousness is taken over by Danny.

“You were possessed….by a ghost?” Valerie asks incredulously, she feels something tugging her arms. Looking down, she sees Clockwork looking up at her with their big eyes, silently saying “He’s telling the truth.”

Tucker’s nods, “I know that sounds absurd and it sounds stupid but it happened and I’m so sorry that I stood you up.” Tucker pleads, holding his face in his hands, one of them crawling up to his head and pulling at the short curls. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m so, so sorry.”

Valerie notices how distressed Tucker sounds, how his voice cracks a tiny bit after he shields his face from her and how broken Tucker looks and sounds. There have been plenty of ghosts attacks in the city and it sounds just as likely he was possessed by one of these ghosts. He didn’t have a reason to make any of this up;  it wouldn’t have made sense if he did since he was too excited to be her date to the dance.

Clockwork’s words ring in her head, “If it helps, he didn't want to hurt you.He didn't want to though," and she gets it. She finally gets it.

Valerie reaches out, uncertain as she pulls Tucker’s hands away from his hair, not saying anything as she notices blood staining the pads of his fingers and holds it in her hand. Tucker stops shaking, stops pleading, simply stops and looks at Valerie, waiting for her to confirm his worst suspicions.

“That possession stuff? That’s some weak shit fam,” she says, “But I forgive you.”

Tucker’s body sags with relief, and the unheard ‘Thank You’ is loud enough for all three of them at the table.

Clockwork reaches forward, takes one of Tucker’s hands and holds it.

Valerie grabs a tissue and some hand sanitizer out of her book bag, squeezes some on the tissue and begins gently wiping the blood off of his finger pads. He tries to pull back but Valerie tightens her grip on him.

“Let...let us handle this,” she says softly, continuing to wipe the blood off his fingers. “Why so much blood?”

Tucker looks away in embarrassment.  “I have a thing where I can’t help but pick at the scabs in my hair,” he explains, “It gets really bad sometimes.”

“I bet what happened hasn’t helped any,” Valerie says, silently gesturing for Clockwork to give her his other hand so she can continue. “Do you remember the ghost who did it?”

Tucker shakes his head, “No,” The lie comes too easily. The little kid sitting next to Valerie eyes him with some scrutiny, and Tucker resists the urge to pull away from Valerie while wondering if this kid knew more than they let on. “What would you do if you ever found them?”

“Punch them in the face,” Valerie says without skipping a beat, oblivious to Clockwork’s and Tucker’s simultaneous wince. “No ghost gets away with possessing my friends.”

“Friend?” Tucker repeats back, “We’re friends?”

“Well, yeah,” Valerie answers, as if it wasn’t obvious. “You’re my friend now.”

Tucker blinks several times to make sure he heard her properly. “Oh, okay.”

Valerie finishes wiping the blood off of his fingers and he slowly pulls them back towards his chest. “I should go home now,” Tucker says, standing up and pulling away from the table.

“Why don’t we go with you? Me and...Isaiah can keep you company while you walk home. Ghosts probably won’t attack if all three of us are together.” Valerie says, standing up to wipe the imaginary dirt off her orange skirt. Isaiah follows suit, tightly holding her hand. “You in?”

“Sure,” he stutters. The three begin the walk to Tucker’s house and as they walk, he can’t help but focus on how safe he feels with Valerie and Isaiah and feels that gaping hole in his chest slowly begin to heal.

[transjoyblog]

The Many Astonishing Ways Abuse Can Affect Your Money

Photo by Darío Martínez-Batlle on Unsplash

People will use money, and your need of it, to manipulate you in various ways. Some are relatively harmless, and extremely common i.e. an otherwise neglectful parent buying their child lunch to get some time with them. However, some are more nefarious, and insidious. Here are a few common tactics people regularly use to control you financially:

Manipulation- This category is comprised of various types of manipulation including emotional appeal, constant desperation, and the use of younger siblings/dependent adults i.e. grandma against you.

Most everyone has been on the receiving end of an emotional appeal before. We use this to declare our love for each other, ask someone we have hurt for forgiveness, and so many other very positive interactions. But emotional appeal is also regularly used to try to influence a reluctant person to continue offering support with which they have become uncomfortable. A common use of emotional manipulation is for the dependent person to respond with an outburst of anger when support is threatened. They may genuinely feel that they have a right to be angry, and that may in fact be true, but that doesn't change the fact that the person providing support also has a right to their feelings, and ultimately, to their own time, energy, and money.

Another type of tactic that is very similar and often used in conjunction with emotional appeal, is for the person receiving support to be in a constant state of desperation. This person will often come to you at the end of the month to say, "Can I just borrow a couple hundred to get us through the month? I'll pay you pack the second I get paid." This is essentially asking for a payday loan from you, which we all know, is just a cycle of debt that actually benefits no one. This type of manipulation can be difficult to extract yourself from because there is probably a genuine need. However, it is ridiculous to expect anyone to loan you money on a frequent basis. If you cannot support your lifestyle on your own, reduce your lifestyle to the best of your ability.

If you have dependent family members, constant desperation becomes all that more effective. If grandma is on a fixed income, and Timmy is only 12 years old, they come with fixed expenses. Anyone knows this. And therefore, anyone should be able to plan for these expenses. If you are not living in the home, you are not responsible for grandma, or baby brother. I know this sounds harsh, and if the need is true, you can always offer other material support such as taking baby brother school clothes shopping, or asking only grandma what she might need from the store. But you do not need to provide money to people who may or may not be spending it in the way that they say they are.

Use of access to credit- Directly taking money out of an account they have access to, taking out a credit card in your name (or a joint one, if married) and using it indiscriminately or without permission.

My father was a big fan of this type of control. By the time my mother left him after 8 years of abuse, he had taken out something like 13 joint credit cards and run them all up to the limit. Not to mention all of the cards he took out in only his name or my mother's. He used my mother's maiden name and social security number to take out cards without her knowledge. He then chose to reveal the existence of these cards in moments when my mother was seriously considering leaving, claiming that if she left she would have nowhere to go because he had ruined her credit. This is obviously abusive behavior and should not be tolerated in any relationship, whether that is a relationship between adults, or a parent/child relationship. If you find yourself in a situation even close to this one, I highly recommend contacting the National Foundation for Credit Counseling (nfcc.org), as they may be able to provide concrete guidance on how to challenge behaviors like these in court.

Another form of manipulation could be pressuring you to take out a card and let someone else use it. This has actually happened to someone I know. Their parents put a lot of pressure on this person, basically the minute they turned 18, to take out a credit card in their name and let the parents use it, and pay it off. Or so they said. Ultimately, they were not able to make the payments on it, even the minimums, and destroyed this child's credit. The parents also convinced this child to take out payday loans in this child's name, and then just "loan" them the money. Please do not fall for this. This is manipulation, pure and simple. No reasonable person asks another to take out a loan for them, regardless of if you can afford it, or if they'll pay you back right away. Forget it. Any money loaned out is not a loan. You should be comfortable with the concept of never seeing that money back, and it should be an amount of money that you can afford to never see again. Regardless of how close you are, if not getting paid back would ruin your relationship with this person, you cannot afford to lend them money.

Monitoring- Keeping track of how you spend money, not allowing you a say in the family finances, or being cagey with their personal finances, while expecting you to be completely forthright with yours, usually perpetrated under the guise of "handling the finances", are all tactics that many people in long term relationships use to control their partner(s) or sometimes parents use to control their young adult children. This behavior can usually be spotted early on in the relationship.

1. Do they check up on you when they know you have other things to do?

2. Do they expect an unreasonable level of communication?

3. Do they ask to move in together pretty quickly? (This can be a tactic to more fully control your environment, or to begin the process of isolation, or dependence.)

4. Do they regularly ask for small sums of money, and always pay you back? (This can be a way to warm you up to the idea of giving them access to your accounts, or to loaning them large sums of money, which they will likely never pay back.)

5. Have they asked to share bills or accounts early on in the relationship, or before you have moved in together? (This could be a dependence or control tactic, because if they are on the account they are entitled to control and monitoring of the account, whether that is a cell phone bill, or a bank account.)

This is just a small selection of the types of questions that could come up as you negotiate the financial terms of your long term relationships. There are tons of questions that pertain to specific situations, people, and relationships. A great rule of thumb is to ask yourself whether you can communicate regularly, openly, and safely about your feelings with this person. If you do not have solid communication, trust, and safety with any person, they do not deserve access to or control of your financial life.

"Losing ambition" or other types of dependence- This can best be described as someone depending on your money while refusing to work when otherwise able - and this one comes with a huge caveat. Many people are truly dependent, and truly cannot work or find work for reasons beyond their control. But this needs to be communicated. Usually, the people who use dependence as a tactic to control you do not keep a regular conversation about finances going because that would reveal the extent of their use and abuse. My fiancee is pretty much entirely dependent on my income due to a chronic illness. I do not resent this because we have had tons and tons of conversations about our finances, and she has her own money and bank account. She contributes as best she can around the house, and constantly has ambitions of making her own money. She even buys me dinner sometimes. She is still driven and ambitious, it has just had to change in scope and degree from where she was before she was ill. That being said, refusing to work, find work, or otherwise contribute around the house can be a way to manipulate you into continuing to take care of someone. Keeping themselves dependent on you can make you second guess your desire to leave because "What would happen to them, they aren't working, I'm the only one paying the rent, where would they go?" This is a spiral that they want you to have because as long as they have nothing, you have to stay with them. The way to deal with this behavior is to do your best to sit with them and discuss their goals, what plans they have of achieving them, and how you and your money fit into that picture. Both parties should come to an agreement that feels ok for both parties. This will not feel good, do not expect it to. But this plan should offer both of you some level of psychological relief, and guidance on what the next steps could be for the dependent person. If someone is resistant to making substantive change in themselves and their lives, when they are otherwise completely capable of doing so, you do not need to feel responsible for their life, even if they do not feel responsible for it themselves. At this point you are forced to accept that this person is resistant to change right now, and will probably continue their pattern of behavior and manipulation regardless of anything you may or may not do. So, it would be in your best interest to distance yourself from the dependent person as much as possible. Ultimately, I encourage everyone to seek the professional help of a therapist, psychologist, or psychiatrist whenever possible. It always helps to have an objective lens through which to view a difficult situation such as manipulation or abuse.

Actionable Advice:

1. If you take nothing else from this article, always remember the 3 C's: Consent Communication Consideration. - Every partner in any relationship has a right to these three C's.

2. Protect yourself - we are raised to extend our trust, love, and vulnerability to the people who are closest to us, but this does not take into account the reality of toxic relationships and family members.

3. Educate yourself - Continue to advance your knowledge of personal finance and relationships. None of us are perfect. We all have gaps in our understanding, especially when it comes to interpersonal relationships, and getting along with others. Kindergarten can't teach us everything.

[gustafsnightangel]

Shattered Lives Ch 20 Pt 1

She woke with a start to Gustaf’s lips kissing the nape of her neck that hovered between arousal and tickle. His scent wrapping itself around her, that comfort and calm she’d missed. Those strong but gentle hands fanning out over her body, his touch always alluring.

“Time to get up and dress for work love.” He murmured, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, the kiss finding that sport just below it that always had the arousal warm through her. “The kids are up and ready, I let you sleep late.” It was the least he could do after keeping her up well past 1 am.

She turned in his arms and looked at him. “What’s the time?” She asked scrubbing her hand over her face to dislodge the last cobwebs of sleep.

“Seven. You have time for a shower, to dress, eat, and go. The kids are ready and if you want I can take them to school in your car and you can go to work in mine if that works better.” He’d do anything to smooth it all over, to take that pain he’d caused her away.

“You... I... I’ll drop them off.” She said slightly taken back.

“You needed sleep before court and I kept you up late last night.” He shrugged and kissed her sweetly.

“Thank you.” She took his face in her hands and pulled him in further for a blazing lip lock.

“Go shower.” His voice husky as he let her go. “And Sildie?” He said as she sat up.

“Yeah?” She turned to look at him as he sat on the end of the bed, those shoulders slightly slumped.

“I should be on my knees kissing your feet for pulling me back from the brink.” He choked, he should be groveling at her feet begging for forgiveness he thought.

She smiled and leaned back to kiss him. “You are my everything Gustaf.” She whispered. “I’ll pull you back from the brink again and again if that’s what you need.”

He nodded. “Thank you.” He breathed and kissed her with all the love he’d buried deep down inside him. He let it out for her, let her see it, feel it.

“Anytime love, you know that. You’ve done the same for me time and time again.” She whispered and had to pull away or she’d be kissing him on an entirely different level and be very late for court.

“Go shower.” He chuckled at her unsteady breathing.

He sat with Brendan while Sildie got ready. The boy was reserved this morning at seeing him here and Gustaf knew he had to make it right between them. This would only escalate if he didn’t come clean today and he didn’t want to be walking on eggshells around the kids either.

“Brendan can we talk this afternoon?” He asked softly and watched the kid carefully. He didn’t want him imploding right before school. “I need to chat with you about some stuff.”

“Am I in trouble?” Brendan asked and his face fell.

“No, I just need a man to man chat with you about something.” No, the kid wasn’t in trouble, he was. He’d let Brendan down, he’d let Sildie down and put her in the crappy position of lying to the kid to save their bond. Why did he let it get that bad he wondered, why had he let Ana get the upper hand? He couldn’t let that happen again.

Liam crawled into Gustaf’s lap and hugged him tightly as Sildie came out of the bedroom. She took his breath away, in a dark navy suit with pale blue pinstripes, a dusty blue silk shirt that when she moved he could see the black lace under it whisper to him seductively. Her hair up in that blasted clip, light makeup, and a beaming smile as Lily wobbled and walked to her for her morning hug. How could he have been so fucking stupid to shut her out, he thought? Push her so far away she had to verbally beat him over the head to get him to talk, to realize that she was nothing like Ana.

“You ok little man?” He asked quietly as the kid stayed attached to him.

He nodded. “Better now you’re back. Don’t go away like that again.” He said and hugged Gustaf tighter.

“I won’t, I promise.” And he wouldn’t, he couldn’t go through that again, the thought of losing all this was unbearable. “Up you hop and let me get some breakfast for Ama.” The kid jumped down and Gustaf headed to the kitchen to cook the pancakes he’d already got a head start on earlier.

“Already done love.” He chuckled as she went to start making the kids lunches as Gustaf cooked.

“You already made their lunches?” Her hand dropped to the bench as the words sunk in, she wasn’t fully awake yet.

“Yeah.” He smiled at her shocked expression. “Eat.” He said handing her a pancake.

She took it and sniffed it before shooting him a smirk as she bit into it. “Thank you for this morning.”

“You needed your minimum six hours. I think I got you five. I’m sorry.” He brushed a knuckle down her cheek before his kiss stole her breath.

“I’m ok, with the extra sleep in I’ll be ok. It’s a shorter day in court and the first section of this hearing should be done at the end of next week if things go the way they’re going, maybe sooner if we get lucky. I’ll be fine.” She took another bite and watched as he cooked. Her man was still hurting but he seemed more relaxed than the past few weeks, and at least he was here, talking to her, engaged not retreating inward.

“What’s your plan for today?” She asked, taking another pancake from the stack. She was a little apprehensive at leaving him alone today after last nights emotional rollercoaster.

“I am going to make plans for our getaway. Do some stuff around the house and then talk to Brendan after school. I have some shit to sort out with him.” He looked at her and saw the slight smile of approval.

“You’re a good man Gustaf.” She kissed him tenderly. “Don’t forget that love.”

“I’m trying to be better.” He murmured, his kiss lingering softly.

“I just want you love.” She smiled as she sipped the tea that had been cooling on the counter. “Just you, as you are.”

“You deserve me to be better, they deserve me to be better.” He stole another kiss before turning back to the pancakes. “I need to be better for them, for you, for myself.”

“Then you will be love. You’re stronger than your demons.” She kissed him and chuckled as the kids did their usual eww and gross.

“Ok, get your stuff kids.” Sildie called and Gustaf found he suddenly didn’t want her to leave. He couldn’t be clingy or needy, they had lives and she had a career, but he wanted her here with him today. To touch, to hold, to mend the rift.

“See you tonight?” She asked and watched him carefully. She was trying to take it slow, give him breathing room, but in all honesty she just wanted things to go back to normal right this instant. It was like walking on eggshells, the pain still clearly reflected in those ocean blue eyes.

“I’ll be here when you get home. Usual time or you working late?” He asked and could see the dark circles under her eyes regardless of makeup. It made his heart ache knowing he was responsible for them.

“Usual time.” She stood on her threshold and rested her hand on his chest. “Call me, text me if you need to today, ok? I’ll have time at lunch.” She didn’t want to leave him like this. She knew all too well the toll of the emotional upheaval took on body and mind. “I’ll check my phone every chance I get.”

“I’ll be ok.” He kissed her sweetly. “But I’ll text you.” He kissed her hard as the elevator dinged.

“I’d like that.” She kissed him quickly and stepped in the elevator. She gave him a smoldering look from under her lashes, heard the thump of his head against the door as he groaned. The slight bite of her bottom lip earning her a wicked smile and a faint “one day love” as the doors closed. He was coming back to her slowly.

She dropped the kids off and headed to the courthouse, thoughts of the case running through her head. She stopped dead in the office they’d been assigned and smiled at the huge bouquet of yellow gerberas and white daisies. The guy moved fast she thought. She set her bag down and plucked the card stuck to the vase.

You mean the world to me love. I’m sorry.

She choked back a sob, his sweetness undid her at the oddest moments. Maybe things were getting back to normal, time, she thought, time would see their world right itself. She sent him a quick text as her client entered the room. Putting her phone on silent she stuffed it into her bag and got down to the business of the day.

He smiled as her text came in.

You are my everything Gustaf. You are enough.

He spent the day cleaning his apartment, cleaning Sildie’s, grocery shopping, which was expensive with four kids he noted. He needed the physical tasks as well as the mental ones today. He’d not felt this fragile in a long time and he didn’t like it, the vulnerability, the fear of losing her, losing himself. The meltdown with Sildie last night had cleansed him further but he felt shattered with little hope of piecing himself back together.

He would though, he’d pull it all together, for himself, for Sildie, for the kids. She would bend, she would listen, she would support, she would be understanding, but she wouldn’t tolerate shitty behavior. He’d been a prick to her these past few weeks and it had been unnecessary. He should have just talked to her, next time he would. He would be better for all of them.

He texted her so she’d know he was ok, he knew, could see, that she was concerned about him this morning, something else he was kicking himself for. He had no right to worry her like that. Put that god awful fear into her, her grief for her brother was bad enough.

He sat at his desk and started to plan their weekend away. He would mend the rift between them, he would say those three little words and be the man she deserved.

He called Alice and she agreed to watch the kids. The girl was amazing and he would make make sure that her Christmas stocking had a substantial bonus. He’d found a secluded cabin in the mountains. He wanted Sildie alone in the snow, naked in front of a fire. He’d make it up to her, with romance, with love, with everything he was.

With all that out the way he tidied up and went to work the bag. It felt different strapping his hands, pulling on the gloves. He smiled at the memory of making love to her on the mat under his bag last night. That gorgeous woman saving him from himself, again.

Even with his first swing he found his head was clearer. Thoughts of Ana flittered in and out but it wasn’t soul destroying like it had been. He’d moved past it, let it go. As fist met bag thoughts of Sildie and their future drifted into his head and made him smile.

His workout had changed from a desperate search for answers, a purge of the poison that was Ana, to being one of intense reflection. A meditation in its own right. Instead of his emotionally charged sessions that resulted in dealing with trauma it became time to hone skills and focus on his future with four kids and the only woman that had ever made him feel completely at ease, loved, a sense of belonging.

“Time.” He breathed and smiled. “Give it time.” That smiled turned to a grin. “I’m going to marry her one day.” He breathed quietly. “Have kids of our own. Well maybe.” That was a huge maybe and he knew it. His body flexed as he worked the remainder of the past few weeks out of his system.

He finished up sweaty, achy, and happy. After he showered he sat to meditate and checked his phone smiling at her text.

The flowers are beautiful.

And so are you my love.

He texted back. He had enough time for a quick meditation before he had to be back in her apartment, he wanted to be there when they all got home, family, together. He breathed deeply and settled letting the quiet of his apartment clear his mind.

Once his emotions were dampened and under control he let the night with Liam bubble up. “You’re the only dad I’ve got left.” He murmured repeating what the kid had said. In the kids mind he probably was.

He blew out a breath at what that statement actually meant. “I’m not replacing you Quinn. That was all Liam.” He said softly. “I promised you I’d take care of them and I will. I’ll do the best I can. Help Sildie, work with her to be the best parent like person to them as I can. But what Liam said was all him. I’m ok if that’s what he wants but just don’t hate me for ok?”

Liam didn’t worry him as much as Brendan. He knew it was going to hurt the teen when he spoke with him tonight. “I fucked up with Brendan and I’ll set it straight. I broke my promise to him, was responsible for Sildie lying to save my sorry ass. She did that to preserve our relationship and I’m in her debt for that but I need to make it right. I’m sorry Quinn, I fucked up and I’m sorry.” He breathed and let the anxiety bubble up and dissipate, the calm following. He needed that calm to talk to Brendan, he couldn’t have a fucking panic attack while trying to apologize to the kid. He knew he had to straighten out that mess, he just had no clue how to go about it, how much to divulge to him. How did he explain that an ex girlfriend got in his head again and fucked with him?

“Just tell it to him straight.” He muttered. “He’s a straight shooter like Sildie. Talk to him like the man he almost is. He deserves your honesty, your respect.” He breathed out. “He’s going to be so fucking angry and disappointed.” He sighed. “And he has every right to be, you fucked up and it upset him. Coming clean will hurt him.” He sat for another fifteen minutes formulating in his head what he was going to say and how he was going to say it. As his alarm sounded he got to his feet and went to collect some clothes before heading to Sildie’s.

He made a pot of tea, sat at the table, and pulled out the leather bound notebook. He smiled at the photos, the pressed daisy in the back and began to write about the good things in his life. Sildie, the kids, his work, his family, little things that made him smile. The way Sildie made him feel as if he was the only man in the world for her. It was so different, this feeling of belonging, of family, their family, or at least the family they were becoming.

He thought about the Christmas present he had started working on for Sildie and the kids and hoped the plan wouldn’t backfire, especially after the past few weeks. Even with the logical and realistic nature of it he was still concerned she’d balk and run in the opposite direction. And if he was being honest and logical, she’d had a perfect opportunity to run like the wind because of his behavior and yet she stayed. She decided to stay, fight for their relationship, fight for him, and she was right, he’d fight for it too. Deep down he’d fight for it, for her, for the kids, he wanted it all. He was reading through a script when he heard the key in the door and the kids outside it laughing.

They came flooding through the open door and he suddenly felt overwhelmed with the amount of love they all carried with them, for each other, for him. Brendan with the high five, the twins with bear hugs, and little Lily who wobbled as she walked to him with a screeching dad dad.

His heart swelled to bursting at her words, and her tiny face lighting up on seeing him. He pulled the little lady into his arms and kissed her until she was giggling. He looked at Sildie, tired and slightly frazzled, the love of his life, that gorgeous woman standing in the doorway smiling yet weighed down. He’d been too caught up in his own head to see it. Weighed down with her own grief, and now with all his shit he’d just dumped on her without a care for her emotional state. He’d been an asshole to her.

They both needed time, this getaway to relax and reconnect, he’d make sure it was perfect. He went to her and lifted the messenger bag off her shoulder onto his, gripped her behind the neck and kissed her like it was his last.

“Hi.” She said breathlessly, her head was still spinning as he let her up for air. The guy could kiss like no other.

“Hi back.” He growled softly, that low rumble that did things to her.

“That’s some welcome home kiss.” Her voice soft but he could hear the tiredness.

“Want another?” His grin was wicked.

“Wouldn’t say no.” She shrugged and bit her bottom lip. He kissed her again and the usual chorus of thats disgusting drifted around the apartment which had them both grinning. “One day love.” He murmured in that low timbre that made her instantly wet.

“Thank you for the flowers.” She said holding them up. “The note made me cry.” She tweaked his nose playfully. “Right before court.” She chuckled and her smile lit up his world.

“Good day then?” He asked, placing her bag on the table and heading to the kitchen to find a vase for the flowers.

“It was ok. The case will adjourn for discovery Tuesday. Vase? Bottom left cupboard.” She said seeing his silent question. “When we resume is anyone’s guess.”

“Keep the weekend of December 6 through 9 open. We leave Friday, back Monday.” He said as he filled the vase and placed the flowers in it all while trying to keep Lily’s hands out of them. “It’s in a couple of weeks. I’ve put it in our calendar.” He would try to keep that updated. He’d also given Daisy access to it so she could change his work schedule when needed.

“Where are we going?” She asked cheekily knowing full well he wouldn’t tell her. He was trying she thought, he was trying so hard to make it right.

“Away.” He growled and kissed her brow. “And that’s all you need to know for now.” He’d say those three little words, with all the love and romance she deserved from him. “Now, I need you to take Lily for a moment. I have to chat with Brendan after I see how much homework he has before I go ruining his evening.” He was nervous, and the anxiety was starting to surface. He knew this could potentially be worse than last night. Their entire relationship was suddenly very fragile and he needed to remember that.

“It’ll be fine love. Be straight with him, he’ll understand.” She kissed him tenderly. “Come here Lily bear lets get dinner started and make our shopping list.” She bundled Lily to her and Gustaf smirked as he walked to Brendan’s room. She’d realize soon enough he’d already beaten her to the punch with groceries.

He tapped on Brendan’s door and waited for the kid to look at him. “Got a moment or are you neck deep in homework?” He asked gently, those long fingers twitching nervously.

“Kinda neck deep.” Brendan said quietly.

“Talk when you’re done?”

“Sure.” The kid hesitated. “You sure I’m not in trouble?” He asked.

“You’re not, but I maybe. Come get me when you’re done?”

“Yeah sure.” The kid was puzzled now but Gustaf wouldn’t keep him thinking he’d done something wrong.

He came back into the kitchen with Sildie tending to dinner, Lily sitting on the counter beside her helping stir and empty pot.

“Don’t think for a moment I didn’t notice you went grocery shopping.” She said irritably. He knew how she felt about him spending money on them.

He snaked an arm around her and held her close, Lily chattering to him. “I’m eating and sleeping here Sildie my turn for groceries. You’ve spent the past month feeding me.” He kissed the nape of her neck and Lily squealed and clapped her hands together. “Please don’t be mad at me for helping out. I’ll buy food for this month, you can do the next month.”

“Fine.” She conceeded, their agreement was food and presents were off limits but he was meeting her half way and she had to suck that up. “It’s just... you know how I feel about it.”

“I know, and I’m trying not to just pay for it all, but I can’t ask you to feed me on top of everything else you have to take care of.” He could have just bullied her into letting him buy the groceries every month as per their agreement but he knew there was a line and he was wasn’t going to cross it, not after last night. “That smells really good.” He said and kissed the spot below her ear. “You smell better.” He growled. Her chuckle was wicked as she turned to face him.

“You’ll just have to cool your jets there love.” She purred and kissed him sinfully.

“Illegal.” He groaned.

“Still gonna do it.” She quipped and turned back to the pan.

“Fuck I hope so.” His tone equally playful.

“Can you clear and set the table?”

“I can, right after I kiss you some more. I’ve missed you.” He murmured and ghosted the nape of her neck with his lips causing her to shiver. His low throaty chuckle making her pussy tingle.

“Go. Set the table.” She laughed as he pulled his hand away from her waist, touching her seductively along the way.

“Come on Lily, come and help. You need to start pulling your weight around here missy.” He said playfully as Lily squealed at him. He set the table and got Lily in her chair before calling the kids for dinner. They sat and ate as a family unit and it felt right he thought. Something for him had clicked into place. Maybe Sildie unleashing on him last night was what he needed. Maybe he’d needed to almost lose this to realize he needed it so much.

The kids cleared the table and Brendan took care of the dishes as it was his turn this week while Sildie started on her reading. With Lily snuggled in his arms he set the kettle onto boil for tea.

“I’m done with homework so when you’re done with tea we can talk if you still need to.” He said to Gustaf a little hesitantly. The kid looked slightly terrified.

“Cool, I’ll get a tea for Sildie and we can chat.” He said quietly. “You’re not in trouble B.” Gustaf found he was incredibly nervous. Maybe that was because he knew this could blow up in his face and fuck up their entire relationship. And not just Brendan, what would Sildie do if things went to shit with the boy? He couldn’t think on that just now, one clusterfuck at a time.

He made the tea and sat it on the table with two cups. Brushing his finger against her cheek he waited until she came back to him from lawyer land.

“Tea steeping for you. I’ll be back in a little while, I’m going to talk with Brendan.” He murmured and squeezed her shoulder as he kissed her hair breathing in her scent to calm him.

He passed Lily to her and the little lady snuggled into her with a mum mum. “You gonna help me little lady?” He heard her say as they went to Brendan’s room and shut the door. Mainly for privacy but he wanted the kid on his turf where he was in control.

“So I’m really not in trouble?” He asked sitting on the bed while Gustaf sat in his desk chair and leaned forward resting his massive frame on his knees with his elbows.

“No you’re not in any trouble B.” He rubbed his hands together and chose his words carefully. “I need to be honest with you about something and would like you to just hear me out fully before you decide to get angry or be upset with me ok?”

“Ok.” The kid agreed, not really sure what else to do.

“I fucked up yesterday with your hockey game.” He said evenly and looked at the kid, eye contact was important. There was no room for error or bullshit with this. He needed to get it out, come clean, and do it calmly which was a mission because he wanted to throw his dinner up the anxiety was so high. “The past few weeks I’ve been going through some emotional shit. An ex girlfriend of mine messed me up and I’ve been trying, and failing, to get that sorted out and move past it for Sildie, and for all of you. It beat me up pretty good and I completely forgot I had promised you I’d be there at your game and to bring you home. My mind hasn’t really been focused on anything outside of what I’ve been dealing with.”

He breathed out carefully finding the calm and burying the emotion from last night. “I only remembered when Sildie came over to my apartment last night and ripped into me. She told me how you’d called her in tears because you thought something had happened to me and for that I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am that I put you through it. I feel like shit for it B. She also told me that you had a shutout and was devastated I wasn’t there to see it and I’m sorry for that too.”

He paused and chose his next words with care and tact. “Sildie also told me that she lied to you, told you I was in the stands and I’d just forgotten to pick you up. Now before you get angry at her for lying to you please let me explain why.” He said quickly, seeing the flash of anger bristle in the kid. “She lied to protect you and also to protect the bond that you and I are still working on, still forming. She didn’t want to see you hurting and if you want to be angry at her for that it’s misdirected. I’m the one that fucked up Brendan. If you need to be angry at anyone it should be me, I’m the one who put her in that position.”

“I can’t turn back time to make it right. I can only ask that you accept my apology and I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. I broke my promise to you and that was a shitty move on my part. I’m sorry, there aren’t enough words to tell you how sorry I am. I’d really like another chance to try again at being the bigger brother you deserve.” He let out a slow steady breath and waited, he could see the kid was chewing over his words, the anger settling with his explanation. So much like Sildie he thought and probably so much like his father.

“I knew there was something going on with you.” Brendan said softly. “Something had changed, you weren’t your usual goofy self.” His huffed chuckle set Gustaf at ease. “Ama was really mad yesterday.”

“Oh believe me kid, I know exactly how mad. She had every right to say what she said last night and kick my ass to the curb and back again.” He said and looked at the teen. “I hurt her B and I promised I wouldn’t. I’m doing everything I can to make it up to her.”

“Did you sleep with your ex?” The teen asked not really sure if he should be asking but he knew of dads that did and he didn’t like the thought of his aunt being hurt like that.

“No. I haven’t seen my ex in over a year and god willing never will. I would never cheat on Sildie. I’ve been cheated on B, know how that feels and I don’t want to ever do that to someone I love. My actions hurt her enough, I shut her out, didn’t talk to her about what was upsetting me. It all goes back to the emotional crap my ex put me through and that’s no excuse for being a complete prick to her.” He saw the kid nod as if he were connecting the dots.

“I was scared something had happened to you, like mum and dad.” His voice was quiet as a mouse.

“I’m sorry B, I never meant to freak you out like that and I can’t begin to explain how shitty I feel about it.” He did, the kids grief was bad enough he didn’t need that on top of it.

“I’ve lost my dad, I can’t lose you too.” His voice choked but he didn’t break. “You’re the only dad we have now.”

His words hit Gustaf like a brick to the side of the head making a sob catch in his throat. First Liam now Brendan he thought, the kids had been talking. “You know I love you guys like you’re my own.” He smiled and let the tears fall with a huffed laugh. “I’m still learning all this stuff B, I don’t know if I can be half the man your father was.”

“You can’t.” He said simply, shaking his head looking at Gustaf. “Because you’re not him. You’re you.” He smiled. “We love you, just as you are, the goofier the better.” He smirked as Gustaf looked at the kid a little dumbstruck.

“Are you and Ama ok?” He asked as his fingers fidgeted in his lap.

“We will be. I’m not proud of it Brendan, I hurt her and fuck I...” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I never wanted this part of my life to touch her, to touch you guys.”

“You’re not splitting up are you?” The teen held his breath, Gustaf could see it.

“No.” He shook his head and the kid sprung off the bed and hugged him tightly.

“Good.” He sniffed. Gustaf closed his eyes and hugged him. The teen had been worried they would split and he wouldn’t be in their lives anymore. He let the quiet sigh of relief out as the kid let go.

“No were not splitting up. I can’t lose her.” He said as the kid sat back down. “I can’t lose her because I think it would actually kill me. I’m a wreck without her Brendan.”

“She’s been really upset and stressed. Especially when you weren’t sleepinghere. I could hear her crying at night.” He said softly. “Don’t tell her I told you though. She’ll be mad.”

“What we say in here is just between us.” Gustaf said and the teen nodded in understanding. “Are we ok Brendan? You and me?” He asked gently, fully prepared for the kid to tell him to fuck off.

“Yeah we’re ok. On one condition though.” He said and Gustaf could see that same steel that Sildie had in her last night creep into the kid. “Don’t make her cry like that again.”

Gustaf was proud of him. It took balls to say that to an adult in that tone. A tone that clearly said don’t fuck with her.

“I have no intention of making her cry ever again unless it’s happy tears. I really fucked up Brendan and I know my promises don’t mean shit to you right now but I promise you I’ll make it up to her. Let me make it better?” Gustaf held his breath, this would make or break them.

He nodded and seemed to relax. “I just don’t want to see her hurt again.” He said softly.

“Me either B.” Gustaf breathed out gently. “We ok?”

“Yeah.” The kid smiled and Gustaf could feel the tension leave the room. “Can you come next week?” Brendan asked hesitantly.

“I’ll check my calendar but if I’m open, I’m there.” He said gently. “Work trip coming up.”

“Ok.” His smile beamed. “If you can’t I get it.”

“I’ll certainly try though. Thanks for hearing me out.” Gustaf said honestly. He feared there would be more anger and tears from the kid toward him.

“Thanks for being straight with me.” He shot back.

“You are more like Sildie than you think.” He chuckled. “And I would assume more like your dad considering they were twins.”

“I guess.” He shrugged with a smile.

“Homework done?” He asked heading for the door.

“Yeah I’m gonna take a shower and curl up to finish my book.”

“Good plan.” He nodded. “Night B and thanks.”

“Night and no problem.” He grinned.

Gustaf came out to see Sildie busy taking notes and her tea still sitting there, probably stone cold by now, he thought with a smile. He stood behind her, rested his hands on her shoulders gently and kissed her head breathing in that scent that made his world function right side up. He felt the tears prickle his eyes, tears of relief more than anything else.

“You ok love?” She asked as she continued to write.

“You talked to him didn’t you?” He murmured into her hair as he got his emotions under control and massaged the rocks that had taken up residence in her shoulders.

“Yes.” She said gently, as he kissed her head and sat down to look at her. “I didn’t do it for you.” Her eyes came up off her paper to lock onto his over the top of her reading glasses. “I did it for him. He needs you Gustaf and I couldn’t have that fragile bond broken and in turn break that kids heart, again. Breaking it was bad enough the first time around with his parents.” She could see her words had made their point. He’d done the right thing, it was time to move on. “Everything go ok?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and drank his cold tea. He hadn’t thought about the repercussions of shutting her out, they spread further than he’d realized. “What did you say to him?”

“I told him you were going through some grief of your own, different to ours but grief all the same. I asked him to hear you out and to think about everything you said before getting upset or angry. I basically asked him to keep and open mind and not be judgmental. We all grieve differently, for different things.”

“I guess I owe you for that one too.” He said quietly. How was he ever going to make this right he wondered?

“No, you just paid in full. You righted the wrong and it’s done. We don’t hang past deeds over peoples heads for leverage in this house. Never have and we’re not about to start that bullshit now.” She knew where his mind was going and had read in the few pages of his notebook that Ana had done exactly that. He looked at her and saw the lawyer sitting before him, and she was scary as fuck when she pulled it out.

“Thank you.” He murmured and brushed a knuckle against her hand as she started writing.

She hooked her finger in his. “It’s done now love. We move on, we move forward, we move past this.” She tugged his fingers for him to move closer to her, he was still so fragile. Those fingers gripped his chin gently and his eyes looked into hers. “Together, you and me.” Her voice gentle. She kissed him, that loving kiss that filled his soul.

“I know.” He whispered as she got back to work with a smile. “Can I sit here with you and read?”

“Of course.” She said absently.

“Lily go down ok?” He asked softly.

“She did. A few dad dads later.” She smirked and he smiled to himself as he went to make a fresh pot of tea.

She was stronger than she gave herself credit for and took no shit either, he thought as he watched her from the kitchen. He was grateful that she was a straight shooter, called it how she saw it. It was what captured his mind the first time they really spoke over their Friday tea dates. Maybe it was time they started having those tea dates again he mused. They were the reason they’d become so close in the beginning, it might help to bring them closer together again and heal the wound he’d inflicted on her.

With a fresh, hot, pot of tea he sat with her and read his script. He absently poured her a cup, chewing over the characters and plot line in his head. Brushing a finger against her pen arm she eventually stilled and came up for air.

“Fresh tea, drink love.” He said still reading, a slight smirk tugging those talented lips.

She looked at him, then the tea and smiled. He was so good to her. She would have been in lawyer land until she fell asleep mid sentence had he not pulled her back to reality every now and then. She sipped her tea and watched him over the rim of her teacup.

He was fragile, she could see it just below the surface, a brittleness that’s threatened to shatter him if she pushed. The past few weeks had torn him apart and he was struggling to pick up those pieces. Maybe it was a good thing they were having a few days away together to reconnect. He would heal though, she’d see to it, tend him like he’d done for her. She she would stitch that kind generous heart back together a kiss at a time.

She tidied her work and stacked it at the end of the table for the morning. She really did need an office but Lily needed a bedroom before that. After Christmas she’d have enough saved to section off part of the living area into a small bedroom. Time, she thought, all in good time.

With her tea half finished she got up and took the teapot over to rinse out for the morning. He was still lost in his script when she let her hands rest on his shoulders and drift over his chest. She kissed his temple and waited. That hand soon left the paper and rested over hers.

“I’m done for the night.” She whispered. “My brain is over lawyered and I need sleep.” She kissed him again.

“Go shower I’ll be there in a minute, I want to finish this scene.” His hand snaked around her neck and he craned his head back to kiss her sweetly. “Then I’ll come snuggle with you.”

“See that you do.” She kissed him, that sinful promise on her lips.

“Illegal.” He choked with a grin.

“I think I can swindle a deal to get us out of trouble.” She smirked and headed for a shower. “Or into more depending.” He watched her walk to her room, those hips sashaying, her curves beckoning. He felt his cock twitch and groaned softly.

He finished his scene, made his notes, and tidied his work up at the end of the table with Sildies. He smiled at their bags nestled together and felt his heart flutter, normal, their normal. He checked the front door was locked and turned the lights off before pulling a daisy from the vase and bringing it with him.

He found her naked and barely covered by the bedsheet. Those curves enticing him. He placed the flower on the bed and stripped. Twirling the daisy between his fingers so it spun he grinned and climbed in beside her kissing her shoulder. He trailed the petals down her side and watched as her body shivered.

She was squirming by the time he brushed it over her hip. “That’s tickles.” She giggled quietly.

“Does it now?” He kissed her neck and nipped her jaw as she rolled slightly to look at him.

“Yes.” She breathed out as he gently bit down on the spot below her ear.

He lazily stroked her body with the flower, kissing a trail lightly over spots he knew made her lose control. He left her comfortable on her side as he dipped lower and lower with each pass of the petals over her curves.

Gently he straddled her lower leg and rested the other on his hip. He tormented her inner thighs with flower and finger, and groaned as he brushed her heat finding her soaked for him. He gripped her by the ankle and brought it up to rest on his shoulder opening her wide. His fingers destroyed her system as they caressed the length of her leg, lips kissing her calf.

Her hand gripped his thigh as he took hold of her ass and hip gently pulling her to him. She could feel his cock pressed against her entrance, the hardness and heat causing her to softly whimper for him. She’d never been taken in this position and knew the change in angle would likely send her over the edge quickly.

He toyed with her, brushing his engorged head over her clit, circling it around her entrance. She whimpered into the pillow as he slid his tip in and rested there. No words were needed, the pleasure was written all over her body, hands already fisting in sheet and pillow.

With a slow thrust he inched inside her, his hands pulling her onto his cock until he bottomed out.

“Sildie.” He breathed, as he sheathed himself deeply.

Her fingers dug into his thigh as he found that slow torturous rhythm. He felt like he’d stretched her beyond anything she’d ever felt before, his girth erotically destroying her. That thickness and length caressing every secret spot inside her.

He watched as she fell apart at his touch, gave herself to him, to the pleasure. Her body trembling deliciously as he thrust harder. Her muffled whimper into the pillow made him smile as he slipped a finger over her clit and felt her tense, her fingers digging into his thigh as she fought to control her climax.

With a cry her body spasmed, shaking and writhing as his cock continued it pleasurable assault as she came. Leaning forward slightly on his knees he quickened his pace, hips pistoning.

“Gustaf.” She whimpered as her second orgasm crested so quickly her body shook violently, hands frantic as the euphoria took her. It crashed through her and his groan only made her third build quicker.

He looked down at her as he took her. Curves trembling, hands scrambling for purchase, body writhing. The feel of her tight pussy squeezing him, pulsing around him had his release crest. He felt her tense, the soft cry and whisper as she begged him to tip her over the edge.

“Go over love, take me with you.” He growled gently.

His fingers gripped her and flicked her clit, destroying her system with an overload of stimuli. She screamed into the pillow as she shattered around him. Her pussy clamped down on his cock hard and he erupted. He pounded into her, enjoying her tightness, drawing out their pleasure.

Slowing to a stop, panting hard, his release making him see stars, he pulled out of her gently and eased her leg down massaging her hip. He lay beside her and spooned her as their heart rates came down from the high.

“Now you’ll sleep well.” He snickered playfully.

“No doubt.” Her giggle equally mischievous. She rolled over in his arms and kissed him. “That was some position.”

“You like that one?” He kissed her, tongue teasing, tasting.

“I do. I like all of them but that might be a new favorite.” She grinned.

“I’ll remember that.” He murmured and kissed her sweetly.

“I do have to sleep now though.” Her pout made him groan before he kissed her roughly. She filed that reaction away for later, she was learning what made him tick, what could possibly make him lose control.

“Yes you do. Court tomorrow, you need to be sharp.” He couldn’t keep her up any later tonight, not after yesterday.

“You doing ok?” She asked gently, her finger trailing his scruff as she snuggled against him.

“I’m doing better. Still have some shit to sort out but it’s not as bad.” He kissed her with that love he had buried deep. “You’re the light in my darkness Sildie, you burn so brightly love.”

“And you’re mine.” Her kiss was long and sweet.

“Sleep now. Don’t want my lawyer all grumpy and not at her best.” He curled her in and brushed the flower petals against her cheek which made her laugh softly.

“They smell pretty.” She sighed.

“So do you love.” Kissing her head he lay the flower on the nightstand and breathed her in.

He felt her drift and then plummet into sleep, her entire body going lax almost instantly. He smiled and kissed her head as he lay there thinking. Things were better and would continue to get better, he’d work on it. He would do better for her, for the kids.

“You’re my home.” He whispered.

***********************************************

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam

[outlivespast]

“are you high?“ / christian & rose

his eyes roll the second she speaks; of course she would think that. it makes sense given their history, of course, and he’s a little surprised she isn’t asking if he’s crazy. ( he thinks about her episode on the plane, her and lissa’s anxiety about vlad and anna, and suddenly he thinks she’s more afraid of that word and what it could mean for her ). he expected as much coming back from Lehigh with lissa. she wasn’t stupid, and even without the bond, she probably knew about him teaching lissa fighting moves. with the bond, she knew that they had help. he doesn’t think that’s what she’s thinking about right now though.

the first thing he did when he returned was hug her. it was overdue with her return from wherever she flew off to, and he was worried about her even if his worry for lissa took over. he knew rose could take charge and protect herself, and there was no doubting lissa’s strength...but she wasn’t the lissa he knew anymore. even knowing about avery, it was still hard to forgive her behavior. it was one of his worst fears ( perhaps shallow, but he doesn’t give a damn. lissa becoming one of those royals and losing everything that makes her her... it’s a fear that comes the closer they get to court too. how long until the lissa he loves is gone and what’s left is just the perfect princess they all wanted her to be? she was so much more than that. she was so much better than what they wanted. ). 

he’s getting over it and this trip was one of the first steps. he misses lissa, and with lissa came rose, but they were more than that too. so he hugs her, and then he smacks her arm. 

“look. i like eddie.” he does; it surprises him how quickly he was able to let eddie in. he supposes spokane was bound to do that to them, but it didn’t change what came next. he likes eddie, he and eddie are friends, but he and rose... they’re connected. they don’t need a bond to determine that, and it was starting to feel like it wasn’t just lissa that connected them. “but he never should have been the one to tell me what you guys were up to or why.” he can’t play the boyfriend card right now; maybe lissa should have told him, and he would have expected it if they were together especially since it involves spirit. he knew better, but he thought rose did too. “it was stupid, risky, insane. and just about everything the two of us have gotten into since we started talking.” it hurt. he can’t tell her that in so many words, but it did. rose has known eddie for longer, and his fighting skills would come in handy during a trip like this, but christian didn’t like being on the outside. he didn’t like how easy it seemed that he could be replaced if anything happened between him and lissa. he finally had friends; he didn’t want to lose them if he wasn’t dating her. 

“i get it. why you didn’t tell me. i wouldn’t have gone along with breaking the bastard that tortured lissa out....” maybe he would have, though. if they could save strigoi.... it was crazy but it might have just worked. “not on some baseless theory.” isn’t it all they do, though? spirit was new and every day they learn a new ability that comes with it. he and lissa were also supposed to be at each other’s throats so maybe that didn’t factor into rose’s opinion at all.. he’d like to think it did but he knows better. “i know we’re not.. best friends.” he wouldn’t know what else to call her...she’s just. rose. “and that you’ll have to be on lissa’s side no matter what.” because they were best friends, and that’s what the two of them do. it’s rose and lissa against everyone else, and just because this past year has been different doesn’t change every year it wasn’t. “but i don’t stop caring.” could have fooled them, but he never stopped caring about lissa-- even if right now all he’s thinking about is rose. “if lissa and i aren’t together... it doesn’t change you and me. i’m still here for you; i would have gone with you. i wouldn’t tell anyone - i won’t. we’ve been through too much shit for that.” vulnerability is winning, but after spending the weekend with lissa, there’s no other way for him to appear. “i thought you knew that.” 

@tocomefirst​​ / ✰ * º ❛   the o.c. sentence starters.   ❜ / accepting

[emmyrosee]

nooooooo 🥺🥺🥺 part 3 part 3 part 3 part 3 part 3 pretty pretty pretty pleeeeeeaaaaaase

part one/part two

tw; descriptions of a deep, unintentional cut and stitching

—-

It’s incredulous to you how hard this is.

How hard anything is at this point. 

This was merely day one- no, hour, 12- and you can barely find it in your wiring to function. 

The sun was still high in the sky as you finally worked up the courage to stand, though you’re not even sure how long you were stuck in your head for, standing there like a stature, mind stuck in a shrieking match as well as static with silence. It’s funny to you, how difficult this is, and as you shamble over to the sink, another torturous thought wracks against your skull.

Why did it affect you so much?

Why should it?

His loss, it’s not like anyone put a pistol to his head and made him go out with that woman.

Who was she?

Were there any intentions?

Why would he just talk for the sake of hearing himself talk?

Your thoughts are interrupted as a deep, sharp sting courses through you, resonating from your submerged palm. Shakily, you pull it out, the deep crimson water telling you everything you need to know before you see it.

The massive gash in your hand sends watered down droplets of blood everywhere, and as your heart rate increases, you sloppily wrap your hand in a dirty dish towel and scramble to the bathroom. The towel does nothing but sting even more, 

“Motherfucking bowl,” you whisper, voice quivering from the shocking amount of blood, as well as the unbelievable sting impaling your hand. You have absolutely not a clue how to patch it up, let alone with using your opposite hand. 

What was one more thing to ruin you? What was another thing to add to the list of stupid pieces of shit’s in your life? What was Axel being right about one more bull shit little thing before potentially driving out of your life forever?

What if Axel realizes he’s too good for you? He seems to think you’re the one too good to be with him, but you would argue the opposite, if he were here.

That’s not what’s important right now. You’re losing a lot of fucking blood, worry about Axel later.

If only he were here to patch it for you. Maybe he would even take you to the hospital for how bad it is.

Why the hospital? How bad is it?

Oh. It’s that bad. You need Axel.

You don’t need Axel, you just need help. You’d accept it from anyone-

But no one would be as gentle as Axel-

“SHUT UP!” You shriek suddenly. It’s the first time your brain goes fully silent, and around you, medicine bottles rattle at the intensity of your wail.

The silence howls in despair as you patch yourself up. There’s nothing. No voice in your head dare speak, no thought dare cross your mind. You could only work on patching your hand in a mediocre fashion, adding obscene amounts of gauze and band-aid layers to your skin.

It’ll have to do, you think to yourself, wordlessly grabbing your keys and a sweatshirt before storming out of your apocalyptic, empty house and to your car, not even bothering to lock the door.

———-

It only takes 2 rounds of knocking to make the skeletal-like man fill the door frames height with ease as he looked at you, looking even worse than he did this morning. You wonder if he’s done anything but hide in the small attached apartment, and judging by the pale, ill-looking tone to his skin, you know the answer.

“This is far from a forgivement,” you say firmly. “I don’t want you to think that this is what this is. Because god knows how long it’ll take for this shitty feeling to heal, and for god’s sake, this is not an excuse for your shitty behavior.”

“Yes,” Axel says plainly, eyes wide as he nods in agreement. “Absolutely. Yeah.” You’re unsure if he’s even listening to you, but at this point you don’t even care.

You sigh shakily, “But I hurt my hand really fucking bad and I can’t stitch it back; I can barely look-”

“What did you do?” He yells, voice pinched in worry. Blood’s already soaked through your less-than infallible layers of bandaging, and you angrily shake your head, “will you help me or not!”

He doesn’t say another word; he merely steps to the side and lets you in his office, where he keeps loads and piles of medical equipment. You wonder what OSHA would say about how yes, he has all the materials, they’re just not easily accessible.

If it were any other scenario, you would tease him for it. 

The rest of it is a blur; you wonder if your mind just shut off because of the high;y unpleasant burn of the alcohol on your hand, only to then snap back as he wraps an ace bandage around it. You can’t help but watch him as he stays concentrated on your hand; your heart aches as it knows that no one will ever be as gentle, take as good of care of you no matter the scenario, as Alexander Cluney.

“I’d go to the doctor’s tomorrow,” he mumbles, not looking up. “Make sure the stitching is effective or if there are any antibiotics that you’ll need from the towel.”

“I’m sure it just stung because of how open it was.”

“Can never be too sure,” he says flatly. Finally, he looks up at you and sighs, and you finally get a good glimpse of his eyes, exhausted and red. They’re swollen, sunken, he looks like he’s moments away from passing out. He doesn’t look good.

But given the circumstances, you can’t imagine you look like a prize yourself.

You can see it in his face that he’s holding back himself. Wants to smother you in kisses and pull you in for a spine-cracking hug, he wants to make this better. But he’s holding back, giving you control over the situation.

“Are you hungry?” He asks softly. “I was about to whip something up when you came so… you’re welcome to stay, if you’d like.”

You nod, picking at the skin of your lips. The last thing you ate was the bowl of cereal, and your hand throbs at the memory. Shamefully, you twist your arm to nudge your sleeve down, covering the newly stitched wound.

Copying your nod, he steps to the side to allow you his garage, and you slowly pass the threshold of it. It looks the cleanest you’ve ever seen it, cars washed and waxed, the windows spotless and the concrete two different colors, assumed to be from when he stopped sweeping to answer your knocks. In the corner, his mustang, half covered with a tarp; what you can see is smashed, the bumper hanging limply with the hood dented in random patches.

“What.. happened?” You ask, pointing to the demolished vehicle.

Axel sighs, “ya know, I couldn’t tell you. Drove it here, picked up a hood prop to work on it and then suddenly the hood prop was in my hand and she was destroyed.”

You can’t help the giggle that bubbles from your throat. You know it’s a dick move, and that the mustang was the most precious object to him, but you can’t help the giggle of irony that works past your lips. You cover your lips quickly and look at him with wide eyes, but his eyes hold no anger or offense.

Joy, if anything. Joy at hearing your giggle.

“I’m so sorry,” you say behind your palm. “That was not fair of me.”

“No no,” he protests, scratching his beard. “I deserve it, it’s fine.” He sighs and leans against the front desk. “Probably going to scrap ‘er, anyways.”

“But that’s your baby,” you say, pouting your bottom lip out playfully. 

“Not my only baby,” he says. From your peripheral, you can see his green eyes fixed on you, sending a shrill down your spine.

“What’s for dinner?” 

Silence and crappy game shows on TV seem to be the most comforting soundtrack over your shared dinner of mac n cheese and Pringles, with a dessert of a 3 Musketeers for dessert. He doesn’t dare say a word, though his eyes seldom leave you. Yours, however, stay focused on the small TV propped in his office, desperate to stay glued to Alex Trebek in the third consecutive episode of Jeopardy that plays. 

Axel finally sighs, “you still hun-”

“You honestly didn’t think me seeing you with that woman would upset me?” You ask numbly. You voice doesn’t even break. Your eyes refuse to hold tears. 

You just want answers.

Clearing his throat, “so you’re not still hungry?”

“Answer me.”

 “I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Me either,” you assure. “I just feel like if we have any chance to salvage this, all cards need to be laid. All questions asked.”

“I didn’t expect you to see me with her,” he says flatly. 

“Who is she?”

“Charlie’s uncle’s whore. Prissy little asshole; always used to things going her way. So when it came down to me telling her that not only was I not going to be fixing her car but I wasn’t going to pay to get her a new one, I had to be charming.”

“That’s your excuse?”

“It’s not an excuse, it’s the truth. I told you this morning, I couldn’t give you this super dramatic reveal because that’s all that happened. The touching, the flirting, that was all her; I didn’t do anything because it wasn’t you. I don’t want to act like that with anyone else.”

“So why didn’t you just tell me?”

Axel quirks a brow before smirking, “oh yeah, that would’ve ended so much better; ‘Hey baby, gotta go out to a meeting for work- With who? Just Charlie’s uncle’s sugar baby- why yes, I do know that I look like an absolute fuckhead, it’s part of her aesthetic- oh, I’m also taking the Mustang because she won’t like me if she sees me roll up in my Chevy- I have no idea why, this is just the plan Charlie’s uncle gave me- oh, don’t text me either, she might flirt with me to help the deal progress and I need to pretend I’m interested.’” 

“I would’ve listened,” you mumble, cheeks heating up as you hide your creeping smile.

“I’ll bet,” he teases, laughing. 

Silence fills the room again, although it doesn’t howl in agony against your ears like it did every other time; it’s airy, light, and you physically feel your shoulders ease up at the confession. 

After four more episodes, Alex Trebek finally becomes shitty infomercials, and at the sudden switch, Axel stretches and yawns.

“It’s really late; want me to drive you home?”

“I’m a big girl,” you remind him. “I can drive myself.”

Axel chuckles and holds his hands up in defense, “I’m just trying to be polite. Can you just.. text me when you get home then?”

Fiddling with the lint on your sleeves, you avoid his gaze as you shrug. “I can’t spend the night?”

He merely smiles.

——-

“You stay on your side,” you demand, tucking your hair in your hood as he finishes making the small bed in his apartment. It hadn’t been used in years, and it smells stale and thick. Car show memorabilia, broken tools, a pile of cd’s, everything that Axel once held true to him before he met you is in this apartment, it’s like a part of history you find beyond fascinating.

“Hate to break it to you, but I’m a big guy,” he smooths out the sheets as he stands up, eyebrows raised in amusement. “I took up this whole bed two years ago, I’m willing to bet there’s even less to the ‘sides’ now.”

Teasingly, you stick your tongue out at him, only to yelp and hide it back as he reaches out to pinch it.

“Freak,” you mumble affectionately. He waggles his eyebrows at you, and as you reach across the bed to swat at him, your sleeve slips, revealing your heavy injury.

“You ever going to tell me what happened to your paw?” He asks, sliding off his shirt and stripping down to his briefs. You cross your arms and grip your biceps, avoiding his gaze. He snickers, “did you cut yourself on the bowl?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you grumble, though the smile on your face betrays you. He chuckles, “if you seriously want to get it checked out tomorrow, we can do that.”

You hate how much his use of “we” makes your heart flutter. You hate how much better everything feels, back into place almost. What happened happened, and there was nothing to change it. All you could do is slowly mold everything back into place.

“Yeah,” you nod, smiling sleepily. “That’s fine.”

“Come on,” he hums, easing himself in the too-small bed. “I’m fucking tired.”

“You’re tired,” you snort, crawling in after him. You both can’t help but laugh at the arrangement on the bed, causing you to have half of your body on top of his in order to fit almost well enough, and you really, really hate how good it feels to be so close to him.

“Little miss Stay-On-Your-Side,” he teases, resting a massive hand on your hip.

You huff in annoyance, “I will leave this bed and sleep on the couch if you don’t shut up.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” he says sleepily, tightening his hold on you.

The same light, airy silence fills the air again, and next to you, Axel’s breathing slowly evens out, and you can’t help but stare at him. He just looks so at peace, so much stronger and better since this he opened the door to you a few hours ago.

He always did call you his perfect remedy.

“Quit staring at me, freak,” he mumbles sleepily. You laugh and shove his chest weakly, drawing shapes on his chest absentmindedly.

“Axel…”

“Yeah baby?”

“I missed you…”

Without missing a beat, he leans over to kiss your head, “I missed you too, pumpkin. More than you could ever know.”

“We’re gonna be okay?”

“We’re gonna be okay, babydoll,” he assures. A small smile cracks over his face again, “now do me a favor and go the fuck to sleep, nerd.”

-----

Tagging (last time I swear don’t hate me)

@gothguitargal @madamaholmes @walkxthexmoon @billofourtime @kathryn-jane @dreamtherapy @jadelynlace @multi-fan-lover @shenevertricks1831 @tabseus @dragsraksllib @hecohansen31

[aala-13jellychocolate]

THEY NEVER KNOW (Chapter Nineteen)

This GIF is not mine……

Author’s note: This is my first time writing, so I hope you all will forgive my mistake and grammar too. I’m hoping for comments on my writing. Thank you…    

This story has taken little inspiration from Sehun web story “ Dokgo Rewind”.

I’m sorry, yesterday tumblr was not working, hence I couldn’t update sorry.

Summary, One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven(M), Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen

-Sehun pov-

Things were out of my hand. On my way to find my brother's killer, and I caught up with Choi gang. How? Jinwoo trapped by Junsu.

Jinwoo on his way back to my place after accepting Wang's leader another letter for me. Junsu somehow manages to convince Woo-Shik(Choi gang leader.) that Jinwoo has stolen their new drugs package. And asshole brings 10 of his members to hurt Jinwoo. Taeyong has reached to help Jinwoo. And Yuna informs me. It won't be a big deal, but they were actually waiting for me, why? Y/n comes up. How? Junsu knows about My/Sehyun and her relationship. And he challenges Woo-Shik to win Y/n, to be specific for one night. And I've learned, asshole doesn't play by rules. The good thing about Jaehyun, he never touches women without their full consent. He flirts, intimate but never go too further. And I think Wang leader is also the same. While Woo-Shik already has many harassment and three molestation cases too. He is an authentic evil. Y/n need to stay protected, I'll do it. If I'm not wrong, if Woo-Shik cannot get hold on Y/n, he would try to go after Yuna. I have to make sure Yuna also have someone around all the time. Or I have to convince Y/n, and Yuna stays together most of the time. It will be easy to protect also save time and energy for me, Teayong and Jinwoo.

I cannot neglect, it would be challenging when jealousy is involved. Y/n is jealous of Yuna for some unknown reason. Or maybe because I was Sehyun for her, for a while, and another girl has my attention bothered her. And sensing Yuna's current loving behavior toward me, she is also the jealousy of my attention to Y/n. Did I mention I miss my brother again because I want to run away from this situation? If not, I DO MISS HIM LIKE HELL.

Back to the point, when Yuna called me about Jinwoo, Y/n saw demon through my eyes. I ask her to come with me, know a bit whatever I and my brother associated with, where unintentionally she is also involved. I was frightened. There will be a fight for sure, bloody too. I'm sure Y/n has never seen any fight. I hope after seeing she don't be fearful of me. It is the last thing I need after her hatred.

However, I was hoping to find anything on Jaehyun. Or something related to Wang leader. I sigh and suddenly notice Y/n was staring at me. I give her 'What' look.

"You know this car is a gift from my parents. I didn't say, but I love my car." I nod.

She huff and said, "Then DIRVE SLOW. If anything happens, small or big, I'll kill you." I have to admit. I'm fearful of her. I begin to drive slow; then we stay in silence.

I park her car far away from my place. We got down of the car, start walking toward my home. Y/N stop and ask, "The guys we are meeting killed Sehyun?" I can hear angry and agony in her voice. "I don't know, nothing is clear," I answer her truthfully.

"What's up with these people?"

I sigh, "Y/n, these people are connected." I smile and continue, "This gang leader may know about Sehyun case. No guarantee. We're here because they have Jinwoo." She nod.

I reassure her, "Y/n whatever occurs trust me, you will be safe. I won't let any harm to you, ever." She gives me a sarcastic chuckle, "I know. Let's go." I wasn't able to say anything. We started walking toward the meeting point. In the halfway, I hold her hand in mine. Before she starts her protest, I said, "You are my girlfriend. Please just follow the act." She is mad, she tries squeezes my hand, tightly to hurt me. I wanted to laugh. How should I tell her, her soft hand cannot hurt me? Her every and very small act make my heartbeat fast. She continues trying to hurt me as we walk. While I hold hand with affection.

We reach the destination and my luxuriate feeling dies, seeing Jinwoo in knees, near some black car, beaten. Taeyong continues protecting Yuna with the teaser, who was trying to touch her. My blood boils, if I wasn't holding Y/n hand, I would have attacks second I saw it.

Woo-Shik sees me from inside of his car. As he comes out, everyone gets alert. Taeyong and Yuna coming rush to me. I didn't utter a word. Yuna understands my silent question and tells me she is okay. Taeyong nod. Jinwoo gets up and walks toward me. I let go Y/n hand, look at her, and smile. She looks confused. I turn toward Jinwoo, reaching to him, I exams his body a bit. Taeyong comes and takes him where Y/n and Yuna was standing. He makes Jinwoo sit on the ground. Yuna sits beside him too. Taeyong was coming to help me, I silently tell him no with eye contact. He gets it. Y/n was chaotic.

I turn back to Woo-Shik, he comes closer along with his company and smirks while saying, "Sehyun, long time." He looks toward Y/n "You have an attractive girl, I have to admit." Shamelessly staring at her, "So, here is a deal. Give me your girl for a week and I will forgive you and your friends for my drugs." I keep calm with a blank face. I was aching to rip off his tongue for asking Y/n like property, however, my angry won't do any good. He looks here and there, and snickers, "I know, I said one night, but look at her. I need at least a week to completely know her." People behind him were silently smirking. Like dog waits for his owner to complete meat and pass reaming born of it.

I took a deep breath, firm and gentle voice I said, "If I say no?" Woo-Shik smirk, go to his car, sit on the car hood, and orders to fight. Now I smirk, they don't know what is going to happen once the fight starts.

-Y/N P.O.V-

You don't know why, but your heart was beating fast as something unpleasant will happen. And way the Sehun was driving, your fear was increasing. You don't have any will to die with a car accident, it made you scold Sehun a little.

When Sehun holds your hands, you feel annoyance. His hand hold was like Sehyun, only Sehun's hand skin was rough. Not wanting to go back again, there. You clutch his hand tightly, to show your irritation with his touch. He didn't even flinch. It didn't pester, it was playful maybe. You keep trying hard to hurt him while walking, like a child trying to build a card house when wind continuously blows.  

You feel the change in Sehun's hold. It was gentle but reserved. You look up and see where you are. Yuna comes stands next to you. She gives you one, unsmiling look. Sehun let go of your hand. Surprisingly, you feel the loss of warmth, you were enjoying it.

Everything was confusing for you, and when the guy in brown start talking, you felt nausea. You didn't know if he was talking about you or Yuna. You know the fight will start, you have heard about it a lot Sehun's fighting skill too. But you never thought it would be like this.

It was hard for you to keep track, whose hand was moving, whose leg was. But Sehun was able to. You were okay until you saw a baseball bat, chains, and things you cannot name. Soon you saw blood. Sehun takes something metal thing from someone's hand and punches on his chest, maybe near to his chest, you don't know, but he fell on the ground in the worst pain and scream. Then a guy with the twisted wrist falls near your leg. You couldn't move, he was crying in extreme pain. Taeyong, push him away from you, harshly.  Your eye widened, fear, hard to breathe, heartbeats faster, and numb. You can only see blood and scream and hitting noise. Everything makes you remember Sehyun, you image his scream while getting beaten. You can imagine his pain, screams, blood. He was killed mercilessly. You couldn't see anymore, your eye was blurred with tears. Before you can forget the real world and see more pain, Taeyoung stands in front of you, blocking sight. "Hey, look at me. It is okay." He keeps calling you. You may not able to see but you can hear everything, clearly. Your mind was imagining Sehyun, while it makes you remember Sehun. You try to ask Taeyoung to go and help  Sehun, he is outnumbered, but words didn't come out of your numb frame. Your heart breaks thinking something will happen to Sehun too. You will lose him too. You wanted to know why, what, and how are things happen, you were losing your small world.

You want to deny your feeling. You want to lose your memory and have a new start. A new world, where there is no pain of losing people you love. Your phone was vibrating in your jeans pocket. With your numb hand, you take it out. Myung was calling, you couldn't pick up knowing your surrounding and your lost voice. You got a few notification asking, 'where are you?' and 'call back.' You have no idea how long you been staring at your phone. You look up when Yuna call Sehun loudly. And he was coming toward you.

-Sehun pov-

It got over sooner then I thought. Woo-Shik sneaks out while I was busy with others. I want him that most, he was my answer key but next time. I had a small cut near my stomach and arm due to shape knuckles besides that I prefect. I called Taeyoung to drop them in the hospital. I'm not a killer however I can kill if I want. I kept two of them in condition to drive. After helping Taeyoung put people in the car carefully; finally, I turn toward Y/n. I didn't look at her during the whole fight, not wanting the distraction. She was standing still with tears. While Yuna helps Jinwoo to get up from the ground. Me and Taeyoung go to them, I asked, if they are okay or not. I order them to go to my place and do necessity, I will be there in a while.

Y/n was looking at me whole while with widen eyes. I stand in front of her, two-steps away. I didn't speak to her, keep looking at my friends walking away. When I ensure they are okay and no one else is there seeking at us. I called Y/n. She didn't utter a word, keep looking at me from up to down. "I'm not going to hurt you. Don't be scared of me. Please." She was still. With all my courage inside me, I hug her. I know, she doesn't like me touching her. But she was shocked. To my surprise, she hugs me back after a few seconds. I can feel her getting better in my arms, warm feeling pass to my blood. She is not afraid of me. I pull her closer, she didn't protest. After a while, she utter, "Are you okay?" I assure her, I'm fine. She goes out of the hug. I thought maybe we will be friendly for now, but no, "Don't think too much out of my concern. I was worried for Sehyun's brother, not you." My heartbreak with her words, but I smile with a nod. We stand silently, for a while until we both got control. She starts walking toward, my place. I look at her in confusion. Before I could ask, she speaks, "I don't want to stay alone. I will sleep in the Sehyun bed."  We silently reach to my place. She didn't utter a word went to my and Sehyun's room without looking at my friends, like she owns this place. Taeyoung and Yuna's face turns sour while Jinwoo was lying on my sofa. I clean up his treated his wounds properly. I took a detail of Woo-Shik, what he said when he cames and stuff. Ask Jinwoo to rest properly and avoiding to talk about Y/n which my other two friends wanted. I clean up my wound while Taeyoung sets up a bed for everyone.

I went to my room, to change my clothes. Y/n seems to use my bathroom without asking. She was wearing my brother's hoodies and my sweatpants without asking. Eating my pack of chips, on my bed without asking. She sees me and casually says, "You sleep upper bed, I will sleep in down one." She keeps her half-eaten snacks on the table, drinks water, goes to bed, and orders, "Off the light." I was at the door speechless. I don't remember allowing her to use my house and things like hers. If Yuna has behaved like this I had scolded her but I didn't know what should say to Y/n. The person I love plus my brother's girlfriend.  I was busy in my thoughts, she called me again, "Sehun change, turn off the light and sleep. Aren't you tired?" I nod. After taking a shower, gone to bed, and slept.

Next morning, I feel good after a healthy and peaceful sleep. It was 9 am, I get down from the upper bed and see Y/n was still sleeping. I thought of waking her up, however, hearing her soft snore, I let her sleep.

When I go down, my friends were up and breakfast was also there. After breakfast, we start our discussion. Jiwoo was good, he didn't have anything major. I warn them for not starting the topic of Y/n's behavior. As per the condition, it was right to stay together. If Woo-Shik wouldn't have run away, we could have avoided it. Yuna was ready but seeing Y/n's unpredictable behavior, I don't know how to tell her; from today onward, me and my friends will be with her 24/7 when she couldn't bear me even for 24 seconds.

[fortunatelylori]

Thoughts on Otis Molyneux

I hesitated somewhat before making this post because the fandom seems to have settled on Otis being “a good man who made one terrible mistake” and who am I to rain on anyone’s parade?

Inner goddess: A very opinionated woman … that’s who … No one keeps baby down!

Well … since you put it that way …

My very first meta on Sanditon revolved around the idea that this show is Andrew Davies’ homage to Austen’s entire body of work. And since I discovered a very interesting link between Otis and one of the more misinterpreted Austen characters, I couldn’t resist. Particularly since every time I read a remark on Otis, I end up going:

He is a most fortunate man! Everything turns out for his own good! He meets a young woman at a watering place, gains her affections, she consents to an engagement! He treats her abominably, she bares it like a saint! His aunt is in the way, his aunt dies! He has used everybody ill and they are all delighted to forgive him! He is a most fortunate man indeed!

Emma is perhaps Jane Austen’s most transgressive novel and, while it is not my favorite (that’s Persuasion in case anyone was wandering), I think it’s the clearest indication of her genius. In Emma, Austen not only spoofs herself, as the old maid Miss Bates, but also pulls off a master stroke in concealing her villain, Frank Churchill, not only from the characters but also from the audience.

Austen villains are usually charming, fun and attractive, most of the time far more so than the hero that will eventually win the heroine’s heart. What Austen does with the likes of Wickham and Willoughby is show that superficial charm and a pretty face are poor substitutes for substance, integrity and a value system.

In order to drive that point home, her villains usually suffer a fall from grace: Wickham gets exiled to Newcastle (the degradation!) and is stuck with Lydia for the rest of his life; Willoughby gets ousted by his aunt, told off by Eleanor and publically canceled by Mrs. Jenkins.

Whatever it may be, all of her villains suffer some consequences (even if it’s just not getting the girl as is the case for William Elliot in Persuasion). All except one: Frank Churchill. As Mr. Knightley’s frustrated speech above shows, Frank is so fortunate that by the end of Emma, he gets everything he’s ever wanted and everyone continues to love and cherish him as if nothing had happened (with the exception of Emma and Knightley).

And because the characters move on from his betrayal so quickly you can barely get a glimpse into their POVs, so does the audience. By the end of the book, most of the readers are as pleased with Frank as the people of Highbury.

I can just imagine Jane Austen cackling with joy at our silliness.

Just because there are no consequences for Frank and because all ends well despite his efforts to the contrary, it doesn’t follow that he should be absolved of responsibility. For all his professed love for Jane, Frank involves her in an imaginary extramarital affair, flirts with Emma in front of her and ultimately humiliates her at the picnic. For all his friendliness and affability, he is less than generous to his father, uses Emma for his own motives and is secretly chopping at the bit to see his aunt, the woman who raised him, dead so he can inherit her fortune. Despite what his endgame would suggest, Frank Churchill is an immature, selfish man who is used to getting his own way with little thought or care about how that might hurt other people.

Which brings us to Otis “I fell in love with your soul” Molyneux.

But, but … I hear you say … Fortunatelylori, he did suffer consequences. He lost Georgiana!

To which I say don’t bring out the pity parade just yet. Because in losing Georgiana, Otis’ actions are reduced to an unfortunate youthful indiscretion by the characters (Georgiana and Charlotte) as well as by the people watching. Because he shed some resigned tears and spoke prettily about how much he loved Georgiana’s soul, everyone is “delighted to forgive him”.

But just as with Frank, is his love for Georgiana enough to absolve him of his wrongdoings? Should we cheer for their potential reunion or think she deserves better, the way Mr. Knightley thinks about Jane? And while we’re on the subject, what are Otis’ crimes? He clearly never meant to cause Georgiana’s kidnapping so what’s the big deal?

What gets lost in Charlotte’s “you are insensible of feeling” rebuke of Sidney is that Otis isn’t a victim of circumstances nor is him honestly being in love with Georgiana a get out of jail free card. Otis is a gambling addict who has amassed debts so vast that the man who is trying to collect them resorts to kidnapping a teenager to get his money back. And that’s just one guy he owes money to.

Does he love Georgiana? Yes, in his own way he loves her just about as much as he loves losing money at cards. What do you think would have happened if they married? Because me thinks Otis would run through that 100.000 real quick while simultaneously loving the hell out of Georgiana’s soul.

Which brings me to Otis’s less than agreeable character traits: lying and manipulation. He lies to Georgiana from the first moment he meets her. Worst yet, he takes advantage of her vulnerability and he encourages her to rely solely on him for emotional support:

Georgiana: I was uprooted. Lost. In despair. Otis restored me to life. Those 3 months were the happiest I’ve known.

That sounds great and all but what happens after he’s gone from her life is that Georgiana feels like she suddenly has no one and nothing. Because her entire sense of self was tied to Otis.

He also allows Georgiana to believe that her guardian is a racist monster who is keeping them apart because of the color of his skin when he knows full well that’s not the case and also that Georgiana needs to have a good relationship with Sidney for the foreseeable future at least.

In order to keep up the charade, he takes active part in poisoning Charlotte against Sidney and very much enjoys playing the wronged party in this whole scenario:

Otis: But then your friend, Mr. Parker, took it upon himself to rip us apart.

Charlotte: However painful that might have been, Mr. Parker must surely have had Georgiana’s best interest at heart.

Otis: Then you clearly don’t know Mr. Parker as well as you think.

 Lying is so ingrained in Otis’ modus operandi that he can’t help himself from doing it even when there’s not even the slightest chance that he can get away with it:

Beecroft: Oh, yes! The famous Miss Lambe! Mr. Molyneux speaks of little else. Miss Lambe this, Miss Lambe that.

Otis: That is a lie! If I mentioned her it was only in passing …

Beecroft: I’m not the liar here. You told me a wedding was imminent. That her fortune was as good as yours. I never would have let him run such a debt otherwise.

Otis: All I wanted was to buy a little time … If I had known even for one moment …

What was that about Sidney not having good reason to keep you away from Georgiana, Otis?!?

Also look at him running the eluding responsibility obstacle course like a pro:

Otis: He’s sold her! The villain has sold her!

Charlotte: What?

Sidney: In return for a promise to buy his debt, she’s been handed to some dissolute named Howard. Even now he’ll be dragging her to an altar.

Charlotte: An altar? But that cannot be allowed without your permission.

Sidney:  No. They have no such laws across the border. There they will marry you with impunity.

Otis: Had you only allowed us to marry!

Otis has gambled himself silly, bragged about Georgiana’s money to the worst possible people, disappeared from public view (he hasn’t picked up his mail in weeks because he’s in hiding from the debt collectors) and his reaction is to put all the blame on Sidney. That is not the behavior of a well-balanced adult. This is the behavior of a gambler who thinks he can talk his way out of anything because he has “game”.

This brings us to his last scene with Georgiana when everything comes into focus. If you really think about it, there is not a single moment during their relationship where Otis isn’t lying to her, including the romantic separation that hit everyone in the feels:

Otis: I’ve gambled. That is true. But whatever they tell you, I never gambled with your name.

Notice how the first thing out of his mouth is manipulative. “Whatever they tell you” i.e. turst no one but me. I’m the only one who is telling the truth so listen to me as I lie my ass off right now.

Otis: I never boasted of your wealth. I boasted of you.

Two lines in and he’s already lied twice. You can actually do a play by play of what he says here and what he says in the Beecroft scene.

And then comes the coup de grace!

Otis: It was pride. That is all! And Lord knows, I have paid for it!

As consequence of his gambling, hiding from his creditors and running his mouth about Georgiana’s fortune, the woman he loves was kidnapped, Charlotte almost got raped and Sidney is however many thousands of pounds lighter for paying off his debts. So bring out the waterworks for Otis, guys! Let’s not forget who the real victim in all of this is!  

Alexa, play Despacito.

Otis lies so much he has ended up internalizing his lies to such an extent that he has turned himself into a victim. His narrative is ultimately rejected by Georgiana, leaving him pained but that shouldn’t fool you into thinking he’s a good guy. Neither he nor Frank are moustache twirling villains but their flaws and the way they allow those flaws to affect the people they supposedly love speaks volumes about their character.

Maybe, eventually, they both grow up. Maybe Frank becomes more selfless and starts treating others with respect. Maybe Otis never gambles again and becomes the responsible civil rights leader he wants others to see him as.

But as things stand at the end of their story line, I, for one, am not willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. It’s sadly too late for Jane to pick herself another husband. But I haven’t given up hope that Georgiana will shake Otis off like a spot of English rain.

[renaroo]

Some Times (Time and Time Again) (6/8)

Disclaimer: Booster Gold, Blue Beetle, and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: Canon shaken not stirred, Heavy canon references to Booster Gold (2009-2011) and Blue Beetle (2016-2018) Pairings: Boostle Rating: T Synopsis: Booster Gold and the rest of the Time Masters are still straightening up things in the wake of the most recent universal Rebirth. But Rip Hunter is still missing in the aftermath, leaving Booster in charge with Skeets, Michelle, and Rani. But there’s a distraction for Booster, one he can’t keep himself from ignoring.

Ted Kord, miraculously, is still alive. And that makes everything more complicated than Michael could have ever imagined.

A/N: My gosh we are so close to completing this thing! Just two chapters left, hard as it is to believe!

And of course a wonderful thanks to @shibascarf, @babybatbrat, @bibliofilariidae, @mcbangle, @secretlystephaniebrown, arouraleona, and boopinbabbit for your lovely feedback and support!

Michelle Carter

“God, I’m such an idiot sometimes!” Michelle hisses to herself, feet stomping down the corridor toward Rani’s room.

Her conversation with Ted Kord is still rattling around in her skull and she can’t tell what half of her she’d like to strangle more — the overly sharing side unable to keep a coherent secret or the crude and cryptic mistress of time she feels no right to even claiming.

Coming to a stop mid-stride, Michelle closes her eyes and lets her shoulders droop. She tilts her head back with a sigh. “No wonder Rip and Mikey trust me with next to nothing other than babysitting duty,” she groans. “Throw one little moment of emotional conflict and I utterly lose those salutatorian's brains.”

Opening her eyes, she looks toward Rani’s still distant room and feels a wave of conflict and shame that hasn’t pestered her in a while. But this is the feeling she should be used to by now — it’s just like their father used to always say when he bothered to be around.

“Been playing second best to nothing since the womb, huh, Michelle?” she mutters under her breath. “Could place second in a game of solitaire.”

She takes a moment to suck in a deep breath, steeling herself for a smiling face and positive disposition when a single voice knocks the wind out of her lungs yet again.

“What’s solitaire?” Rani’s tiny voice questions.

Michelle blinks in surprise just before Rani’s mousy haired head pops out from her room’s doorway.

Despite herself, despite everything, Michelle manages a softer and more genuine smile than the one she has been building up to and shakes her head slightly. “A really boring card game,” she answers easily. “Should have known better than to think you would be asleep.”

Skeets, the ever unhelpful bot, hovers out from Rani’s room and bops in the air. “It would have been an unlikely scenario even in the most forgiving of circumstances, Michelle! Which, unfortunately for us, the last twenty-four hours or so have not been.”

“Try the last twenty-nine years for some of us, Skeets,” Michelle jokes, closing the distance of the hallway and scooping Rani into her arms with a simple bow.

“That is much too small to be your correct chronal age, Michelle���“

“Skeets, shush,” Michelle snaps as she enters the bedroom. “Or I’ll give you to Batman to dissect. Again.”

“Three experiences too many, I will heed the warning,” Skeets banters back.

As they enter Rani’s room, Michelle slows her approach to Rani’s bed and adjusts her hold on the younger child. Her thoughts are nearly as heavy as Rani is getting as she lives and ages with them. It’s not going to be long before picking her up isn’t an option for Michelle or Michael.

“Are you going to make me go to bed?” Rani asks critically.

“Eventually,” Michelle admits, turning to sit on the edge of the bed while still keeping her grip on Rani. The girl sits easily in her lap and leans away, giving enough space for them to look into each other’s eyes. “We need to have a talk about everything that’s happened first.”

Rani’s cheeks grow slightly pale and she squirms uncomfortably. “Oh,” she says. “I think I’d rather sleep.”

“Well, that’s tough, kiddo, probably should have put yourself to bed before I got over here then,” Michelle jokes, poking at Rani’s stomach playfully.

In response, Rani turns and twists, but the enthusiasm is slow and dull compared to Rani’s usual behavior.

It’s one of many signs Michelle, Michael, and Rip have learned to pay careful attention to with Rani. She is a sensitive little girl, and her traumas are numerous. When she’s not bopping around she’s almost assuredly in some state of regressive isolation or pure shock.

Watching the man she loves as a father get beaten to a pulp by an evil man they have encountered before is, at the very least, a trigger. Michelle can be certain of at least that much.

“Rani, listen to me,” Michelle says, firmly but without any heat to it. It’s enough to draw Rani’s wide eyes to her. “We love you, and we want the best for you. You know that, right?”

After a moment of clear confusion, Rani manages a small nod.

“Good, because we do,” Michelle reinforces. “And we know you love Rip and want to find him. We do too! But you are a very little girl and this is a very dangerous multiverse we live in. You absolutely cannot, under no circumstances, leave Time Lab without either Mikey, myself, or Rip.”

“I had Skeets,” Rani says quickly.

On instinct, Michelle turns her head to acknowledge Skeets’ floating presence. She immediately turns her eyes back on Rani but it’s a moment too late as Skeets already feels acknowledged.

“Young Rani does have quite an argument on that account,” Skeets says supportively.

“Yes, Skeets, you did a great job,” Michelle says with a roll of her eyes that threatens to continue right out of her sockets. “What were you even doing allowing any of this, Skeets? Aren’t you programmed with safety protocols and whatnot?”

“Yes I am, Michelle, however, there are no proper babysitting protocols. And while I advised against rash action, it was best to make do with the situation at hand,” Skeets returns promptly. “Might I point out, this is not far off from my calculations when dealing with your brother.”

There isn’t much she can give to deny that fairly abundant fact so Michelle releases a groan instead. “Why can’t anything just be simple?”

Rani squirms and meets Michelle’s gaze. “Please don’t be mad at Skeets, Michelle,” Rani pleads. “It’s my fault. I just wanted to find Boppy, and he did leave me a message.”

Michelle feels her chest tighten and she squeezes her grip on Rani sadly. “We all want Rip back, Rani, believe me.”

“In further defense of both Rani and myself,” Skeets spoke up, hovering closer to eye level with Michelle, “following clear instructions left by Rip Hunter is often an important and practical step for all of us here in the Time Lab. And those newly chalked directions were fairly direct considering the usual clues.”

Blinking, Michelle thinks it over.

“That’s… actually pretty true, Skeets,” Michelle remarks thoughtfully. “And it did lead to saving Ted… and getting a bunch of us almost killed, but definitely the saving Ted part.” She presses her lips together, still deep in contemplation. “But even then there wasn’t any sign of Rip, even when Michael was almost certainly in trouble. And that’s not like Rip at all. I can’t even count on my hands and toes how many times, when Mike’s taken too much, Rip has shown up and tipped the scales for him. It’s almost his signature at a certain point.”

Following the conversation, Rani draws her own brows together in concern. “Michelle, you don’t think Boppy wrote the message? But who did? I’m the only one who’s ever written on the board before… and Boppy made me switch to making my unicorns and butterflies on paper so I don’t do that anymore.”

Sighing, Michelle shifts Rani’s weight to her other knee. “I’ll be honest, honey, I’m not sure yet what exactly I think about anything.”

Rani’s bottom lip puckers out as she studies Michelle carefully. “If we don’t know what’s going on, how do we know I did the wrong thing?” she asks pointedly.

“No, no, missy, you’re not philosophizing out of this one,” Michelle stops her quickly. “This isn’t a matter of right or wrong at the moment, it’s a matter of keeping you and everyone else safe so that we can all be together again as a big, happy family. And if you’re flying around to random times and places without us, we can’t do that. Because I know for me and Mike, losing you is the absolute worst thing imaginable these days, and I’m not going to let it happen. Okay, girlie?”

While she ducks her head down to avoid Michelle’s gaze, a coy smile finds its way to Rani’s face. She knows when Michelle says these things that she’s speaking from the bottom of her heart. She has to know by now.

And if she does, considering the emotional mess Rani was when she first came into their lives, maybe that means they’re doing something right after all.

When Rani breaks the silence again, it’s with a deceptively simple question. “Is Ted Kord now in our family? Like Boppy?”

Thinking about it, Michelle takes a breath and then leans back. “I honestly don’t know what’s in store with those two, Rani, love,” she admits. “I don’t think he’s going anywhere any time soon. Either because Michael and he need to sort things out or because of the whole… assassination stuff. That makes it kind of difficult to picture this arrangement ending too fast.”

Before Rani can respond, there is a loud shout followed by laughter.

“Welp, that’s the nose, and no sounds of murder,” Michelle jokes. Rani looks at her questioningly so she rubs her shoulders. “What I mean is, things are definitely looking like we can be expecting to see more of the former Blue Beetle.”

“Okay,” Rani nods. “And if he’s family, then Boppy will be okay with him staying here, like me, so that’s good.”

Michelle has a hard time arguing with Rani’s peculiar logic on that accord.

That is until Michelle looks over and notices the little girl is still furrowed in thought, her eyes darting back and forth as if she’s reading something on her room’s wall. Then, looking at Michelle cautiously, Rani asks, “If he’s not family… how is Black Beetle able to always get in and out of Time Lab? Or write on the board, if it’s him?”

If Rani hadn’t always been so innocent and young, Michelle thinks the questions would have been laced with more accusations. It’s already enough to make Michelle’s heart seize.

They are, after all, very good questions.

Playing up to the role of an adult, Michelle looks toward Skeets instead. “Skeets… how is all of this stuff possible from Black Beetle?” she asks, more worry in her voice than she intends to let on.

For once, Skeets’ response is not immediate and overly explanatory. The droid hovers, a strangely ominous look to his screen in the wrong lighting.

“Apologies, Michelle,” Skeets says in a flat and altogether unapologetic tone. “Information about my scans and records for Rip Hunter and Black Beetle are blocked as of update two-two-seven-dash-eleven-dot-thirteen. Courtesy of Rip Hunter.”

“What?” Michelle asks, aghast.

“Why would Boppy do that?” Rani asks again, only now her pointed questions are accented by the shake of Time Lab’s very infrastructure itself.

The little girl in her lap screams and throws herself into a fit before Michelle can even blink. She can’t draw a single coherent thought before leaping to her feet, Rani in tow, and looking at Skeets.

“I am receiving an intruder alert!” Skeets says loudly, a red exclamation popping up on his screen.

“You useless, toaster!” Michelle sputters in frustration. “Tell me where this is coming from!”

“I believe it does not require much deductive reasoning,” Skeets answers, following Michelle through the door and out into the corridor, “to assume that the laboratory is the most likely option!”

She would die before admitting it out loud, but Michelle knows that Skeets is right. She turns on her heels and takes off to follow the continuing noises of clattering and shaking.

Their home is under attack, their family, everything they still have of their old world and time — and Michelle cannot be nearly as upset with that as she is with the haunting premises that Rani and Skeets have given her.

Black Beetle or not, the real attack is on the understanding Michelle has had of their everything in the last few congruent years. And as much as she wants Rip Hunter safely back with them, she needs a serious word with him about that alone.

[ladyfogg]

Cold is the Night - 10/20

Cold is the Night - 10/20

Fic Summary: You and Pat have known each other for years but this summer, everything will change. As the two of you start to grow close, your matching tempers threaten the foundation of your rocky friendship and prevent both of you from realizing your true feelings. Cold is the Night Masterpost. 

A/N: You guys have been so amazing, I am blown away by your messages and responses. I can’t believe how quickly this has taken off! I love this story and it makes me all warm and fuzzy that you guys seem to love it too.

Fic Song: Cold is the Night by The Oh Hellos. Fic playlist can be found here. 

Pairing: Pat Murray/Female Reader

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Language, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Multiple Chapters

Gif by @joemazzellos-blog

By some miracle, you didn't get fired. Mostly your boss wanted to make sure you were okay and to ask for the complete story so he could write up a report for the managers. Drunk Guy wasn’t allowed anywhere near the bar and he was determined to let the others know why. 

You were still furious with Vinnie and Pat. You had had the situation under control until they jumped in and made everything worse. 

Vinnie stepping in was understandable. He was your big brother and though you and he fought constantly, he would be damned if someone else tried anything. 

You were more bothered by Pat stepping in than you thought you would be. Part of it definitely had to do with possibly losing your job. But it was much more than that. At least it felt like it was. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it and you didn’t want to get into a discussion with Pat until you could fully explain your feelings. 

So, you did what you always do. You turned your phone off and gave yourself time to fume.

When you turned your phone on Monday morning, you had several missed calls and texts from him. But they didn’t keep coming, and you weren’t sure if you were happy or bummed about it. You distracted yourself with work and arranging your house. It helped. Somewhat. 

On the day of the game, you couldn't bring yourself to go. You wanted to, badly, but you were worried about getting into another fight with Pat. Or worse, seeing him and instantly forgiving him. You had done that in the past before and it always came back to bite you in the ass. 

"Nellie, it's all a fucking mess."

You were currently slumped over your kitchen table as Nellie cleaned the coffee mugs you two had just used. It was the day after the game and while you wanted to talk to Pat more than anything, you still couldn’t figure out your feelings.

"Yes, yes it is," Nellie said. "You want to know how to fix it?"

"Yes, please tell me."

"Fucking call him."

“You know I can’t do that. Not yet.”

“Why not?”

You sighed heavily and sat back in your chair. “Because I honestly don’t know what to tell him. Every time I think about it, my anxiety goes through the roof and my mind goes blank. Also, what if he doesn't want to hear from me?"

"He does."

"How do you know? I was pretty bitchy to him."

"He’s crazy about you, he’ll understand. Besides, he’s been more than bitchy to you on numerous occasions.”

You were torn. One part of you told you to hold strong to your feelings, another said to let them go and just forgive him. The latter part of you came from years of keeping your emotions bottled up and you were working on telling that part to fuck off. Your emotions were valid, no matter how confusing they were. 

“He's going to want to know why I reacted the way I did. How can I explain it?" you asked.

"Just be honest," Nellie said. "You were right to be pissed that he picked a fight at your job."

"It's more than that though," you said. "When he threw that punch, I just had a flashback of my ex doing the same thing."

"Pat's not your ex. And if he says it wasn't jealousy, then you should listen to him."

"My ex said the same thing too."

Nellie sighed your name. "Don't blame Pat for the past actions of someone else."

“That’s easier said than done. I can’t just undo years of emotional abuse.”

“And I’m not asking you to. No one is. But you can’t approach Pat like he’s your ex. He doesn’t deserve that. He’s his own person, this is a completely different situation. You have to try to remind yourself of that. I’m not saying to up and forgive him. I’m just telling you to talk it out.”

She was right. Pat had reacted instinctively. He had no idea what you had been through. How could he? You hadn't told him. 

But what if you did tell him and he didn't understand? What if he thought you were too much work and decided he wasn't up to dealing with your baggage? 

While talking it out seemed like the most logical step, anxiety didn’t play nice with logic. It took your worst fears and convinced you they were the truth, no matter how hard you tried to remind yourself they weren't. 

Just then, a knock came at the door. Confused, you went to answer it only to find a delivery woman holding a large bouquet of flowers. She said your name in confirmation before she handed them over.

"These are for you."

Stunned, you took the bouquet, your heart racing. “Um, I didn’t order any flowers.”

“Someone ordered them for you,” she smiled. “He was pretty insistent they be delivered today.”

He.

Pat.

It had to be. He was the only one to ever give you flowers. 

Burying your nose in the rose petals, you inhaled their scent with a smile. “I’m sure he was.”

“Where should I put the others?”

“The what now?”

Ten minutes later she left and you found yourself in the living room, every surface covered in various flower arrangements. They were a rainbow of colors, all bright and fresh as if they had just been cut that morning.

In the largest bouquet, you found a small card written in untidy handwriting. All it said was: I’m ready to talk when you are.

Nellie came in from the kitchen just as you set the card down. “Vinnie just called, he’s--holy shit! Who died? Oh my god, did one of us die?”

You laughed, face flushed. “No one died. They’re from Pat.”

Nellie gave you a smug smile and crossed her arms. “I told you he’s crazy about you.”

“Apparently so.”

She plucked a flower for herself, tucking it behind her ear. “I was going to ask if you wanted to come with Vinnie and me to dinner but I think you have a phone call to make.”

“Yes, yes I do.”

"What are you going to say?"

"I have no fucking idea."

Nellie left a short while later, but it still took you some time to work up the nerve to grab your phone. Even when you did, you quickly put it back down. You admired the flowers, realizing Pat must have ordered every arrangement they had. While it was overkill, it was incredibly sweet. And very Pat.

You glanced down at the sweatshirt you were wearing, the one he had left the day after your party. You had worn it every time you were home. At first it was because it smelled like him, even after you had washed it. Once that faded, you kept wearing it because it reminded you of him.

Finally, unable to stand it any longer, you took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and called him. 

It only rang once before he answered breathlessly. “Hello?”

Just the sound of his voice made your heart skip a beat. You swallowed thickly before answering. “Hey, Murray."

He paused, almost as if it took him a moment to register it was actually you on the other line. "You called."

"I just got your little presents.”

“Do you like them? I didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked so I just got them all.”

“Uh, yeah, I can see that.”

There was a beat of awkward silence before he spoke up. “I’m really glad you reached out,” he said, sounding relieved. “I thought you wouldn’t.”

“I’m sorry for ignoring you. I just...I needed to work some stuff out.”

“Are you home? Can I come over? I want to see you.”

“I want to see you too,” you said. “But, we shouldn’t right now. I still need some space.”

“Oh...okay. Of course. Whatever you need.” Pat sounded like he was trying to come across as understanding but you could tell he was hurting just as bad as you were.

It brought tears to your eyes and you squeezed them shut, trying to will them away. The last thing you wanted was to hurt him.

Hearing his voice was so much worse than you thought it would be. How had this happened? How had Pat Murray become so important to you that just hearing him made your heart try to leap out of your chest?

Pat said your name when you didn’t respond for a while. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m here, sorry,” you said, clearing your throat. 

“We don’t need to talk right now if you aren’t up for it,” Pat said. “I don’t mind staying on the line. I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “You just want to sit in silence on the phone with me?” 

"Yes."

"Why?"

“Because at least I know you’re there.”

“Murray, why do you have to say such cute shit when I’m being emotional? How dare you?”

“I’m terribly sorry,” he teased. “Let me fix it.” He cleared his throat before speaking in a forced, nonchalant voice. “It’s whatever, babe. I mean, you can just call me later. It’s cool.”

“Ugh, never talk like that again. You sound like Barone."

Pat chuckled, speaking regularly. “Noted. I wanted to punch myself if that makes you feel better.”

“A little.”

Silence followed again, this time more comfortable than before. You absentmindedly played with one of the roses, thinking of how the softness of the petal reminded you of Pat’s lips. 

“For what it's worth, I really am sorry,” Pat said in a soft voice. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

“I know you didn’t, Pat. Besides, I didn’t actually get in trouble. So it’s okay.”

“No, not it’s not okay,” he said. “People are always telling me to get a grip on my anger and I don’t care if it affects me personally, but I care if my anger affects you.”

In that moment, you realized how incredibly different Pat was from anyone you had ever been with before. His consideration in the face of his own shitty behavior made you want to take stock of yourself and make sure you also owned up to your actions. 

“Thank you. It means a lot to me to hear you say that.”

“You’re welcome.”

More silence.

"So…" You didn't know what to say but you felt like you should say something. "How was the game?"

"Ugh, fucking miserable."

"I'm sorry. Did you guys lose?"

"No. We won."

"Then why was it miserable?"

Pat didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was quiet. "I was distracted."

Well shit.

"I'm sorry, Pat. I didn't mean to…"

"Don't. It's not your fault," Pat interrupted, stopping you from blaming yourself. "If I was better at baseball I wouldn't get distracted so easily."

"Don't do that. Don't put yourself down. You know I hate when you do."

"I can't help it."

"Well try. For me."

"For you? Anything."

You smiled, hugging your knees to your chest. You happened to look at the clock and sighed when you caught sight of the time. “I need to get ready for work,” you said sadly. “I should probably hang up now.”

“Can we...are you comfortable texting me again? I miss talking to you.”

You almost said no, but you knew deep down it wasn’t what you wanted. You missed talking to him too much. “Yeah. We can text again.”

“Cool...great.” You could hear him smiling. “Have a good night at work.”

“I’ll try.”

When you hung up, you felt much better. There was still a lot you needed to figure out on your own, but knowing Pat would be there waiting made all the difference.