#is stressing me out a little. like. if the cake needs to cost an extra $5 I would've rather you added that to the price up front | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astrella-writes · 4 years

Text

prompt | anonymous asked: Could I get some general relationship headcanons (with some fluff please!) for Chishiya, Arisu, and Kuina 🥺👉👈 let me know if you need a more specific ask! :)

warnings | written with the intention of female pronouns but can be read as gender neutral, very minor suggestive implications, mentions of alcohol, nicotine and eating habits, might be considered kinda cheesy oops, the use of the pet name ‘bunny’.

word count | 1.4K

author’s note | ‘m loving this request. this is written with the intention of it being pre-borderlands.

Shuntarō Chishiya

- Frequenting local cafes for routinely study dates. He helps you with topics that you may struggle on and you buy him the bizarre flavored ‘treat of the week’ as a thank you. He jokes around that you’re probably using him as a test subject, because who would order sweet potato brownies with the premise that they would taste good. Much to his surprise, they actually do.

- Visiting a cat cafe once, but not getting around to completing any work. The image of Chishiya cradling a fluffy kitten close to his chest and holding softened eye contact with it is now your permanent lock screen. He has a matching lock screen of you holding a kitten from under the armpits and touching noses with it.

- Learning new skills together. Chishiya is pretty much down for anything that he considers interesting enough. That’s how you ended up frustratingly trying to follow along to a complex origami cat tutorial at 2 in the morning as Chishiya worked quietly with his earbuds in, listening to a different tutorial. Only once he presented you with a perfect paper flower did you smile for the first time in the past hour, the frustration dissipating. That very flower has claimed its indefinite place on your bedside table, something that didn’t go unnoticed by him.

- Doing escape rooms together every so often. It baffles you to some degree how he figures things out so easily, but then again, you’ve known how smart your boyfriend was since the day you met so it shouldn’t really come as a surprise. You just can’t help but admire him, and voice these admirations out loud. Your compliments being the only ones which truly affect him.

- Despite how genius your boyfriend is, you remain concerned about the mental toll college might have on him. If he is stressed, he barely gives it away, but you’ve grown to read through his indifference and pick up when something is wrong - even if he’s attempting to hide it for your disburden. You allow him to de-stress in your arms, playing with the tips of his hair and speaking through what has got him so troubled.

- Late night dates that consist of trips to the corner store where you buy your favourite snacks and walk down to the beach together. It’s a relaxing way to wind down after a stressful week filled with work and college. If it’s not too cold that night, you substitute sitting on your usual bench for a stroll along the sand. If he finds a pretty seashell, Chishiya will give it to you wordlessly.

- He buys you a lot of small things that reminds him of you. A cute keychain he found by chance while buying groceries, splurging his money on a random claw machine because he spotted a plushie character from that show you really like, buying your favourite snacks to calm you down before a big exam that you’ve been studying really hard for. It’s the little things that show how much he really loves you.

Ryōhei Arisu

- Offering him a place to stay for a few days if he needs a break from his family, Arisu will pack up his gaming laptop along with him and you two will game with each other side by side. He anticipates the moment you rest your head on his shoulder and once you do, he rests his own head upon yours with a small: “you tired, bunny?”

- Being extremely supporting and non-judgemental on the topic of him getting a job. You search listings almost daily and send any promising ones through to him, leaving an encouraging message afterwards in hopes he gets the right intention. You care for him deeply and don’t want to see his father eventually kicking him out the house for being unemployed and making the situation ten times more difficult for him.

- Helping him get out more and introducing him to places he quickly grows to love. A quaint coffee shop with a grassy roof hidden deep within the cracks that he never would have found if it weren’t for you. It’s become your usual spot for dates, and Arisu enjoys the tranquility of it all.

- Going on trips to the game store together, even though Arisu usually just buys all his games online, and he’s pretty sure you do too. Regardless, it’s an excuse to meet up and hang out for a few hours after, something he’s found has become more enthralling than gaming.

- Staying up on video call into the late hours of the night as you both battle it out on some mmorpg. You’re confused when you see his idle avatar and look over at your phone screen to find him staring at you in a trance. It catches you off guard at first, but seeing him snap back to reality upon getting caught and getting all flustered left you replaying the scene over in your head for days later.

- Dates to the arcade, because of course. You two definitely hog a specific game with a line of pouting children waiting impatiently to get their chance. Arisu only agrees to move on when you mention a new game you spotted earlier. There is no new game, you just feel bad for the kids. Once he’s caught on, you merely give his lips a quick peck and you’re instantly forgiven.

- Playing in one of those immersive game machines with the curtains on both sides, only for Arisu to stare at you dumbly, leaving you a flustered and confused mess. This usually leads to a one-sided lean in and a small make out, only for an innocent kid to pull back the curtain and run away mortified. Their screams are the highlight of your boyfriend’s day, and you swear he’s holding some mental record of how many kids he traumatize through doing this.

Hikari Kuina

- Working at the same clothing store and having Kuina intervene whenever you’re faced with a rude customer. She might not be all too friendly if they insulted you, and if getting fired is the cost of standing up for you, then so be it. You’d quit alongside her and find some place new to work.

- Helping tend to her sickly mother in hospital, whom you had made speechless upon your first visit. She was delightfully thrilled upon finally being introduced to her daughter’s significant other, Kuina sharing to you afterwards that she hadn’t seen her mother smiling so brightly in a long time. You always present her mother with gifts upon each visit, whether it be flowers or a small cake. She’s become like your own mother, and so you help pay towards hospital bills as well.

- Comforting Kuina if she ever gets upset about her past (especially her relationship with her father) or her mother’s current poor health. You make her feel so valid; it leaves her a sobbing mess in your arms as you comfort her with soothing strokes and affectionate mumbles. Once her wailing has calmed, you offer to make her favourite - hot chocolate topped with cream.

- Constant sleepovers, which include wearing face masks, ordering takeout, watching some sappy romance before switching it over to an action movie and sipping on some cheap beer. The buzz of the alcohol always makes you more daring as you suggest showering together, and you’re never turned down by your equally audacious girlfriend.

- Helping her overcome her nicotine addiction and being the initial person to suggest chewing on a dummy cigarette whenever she felt the urge to smoke. Her mother couldn’t thank you enough for getting her into this, expressing her hidden fear of having to watch Kuina smoke herself into ill health or worse, a premature grave.

- In return, she looks out for your own well-being: reaching out to hold your hand before you both cross the street, showing up with lunch the next day at work if she thinks you haven’t been eating as much lately, keeping headache pills in her bag ever since you complained about a migraine that one time, keeping an extra umbrella in the break room just in case it rains later that day and you’ll need one.

- It’s never a dull moment dating Kuina, always planning fun and exciting dates like getting drunk in a private karaoke room only for it to lead to sloppy make outs. The one time she was so insistent on riding the kiddies train at the amusement park, only for the both of you to fall off once you reached the sharp bend in the tracks. It left you both a giggling mess, but the pain afterwards definitely made the whole situation regrettable.

#chishiya x reader #arisu x reader #kuina x reader #alice in borderland #alice in borderland x reader #aib fanfic #aib scenarios #chishiya shuntaro #ryohei arisu #hikari kuina #chishiya shuntaro x reader #alice in borderland imagines #chishiya

544 notes · View notes

scarletwinterxx · 3 years

Text

End to Start pt. 3 - Jaehyun AU

Hello lovelies! this part took awhile to write but she’s here, i hope you like it! I enjoy reading your feedbacks😊🤍

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

taglist: @the-universe-in-you-jjh @undevotedfangirl @dumplingley @halbae

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2020 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

PREV || NEXT

“But like how rich is he?”

“Rich enough to buy this building three four times over” you mumbled, not really paying much attention to Jungwoo and more on the cake you’re trying to decorate

“And you broke up with him? Wah noona” you looked over at him with a glare, signaling him to shut up.

It was the day after the gala, you were supposed to take the day off but you’d rather keep yourself busy than overthink at home. Thus why you’re here now at the cafe with a very nosy Jungwoo beside you with his 100 questions after finding out you dated the Jung Jaehyun.

“I’m three seconds away from kicking you out of this store permanently”

“That’s the third time I heard that, this month” he smiled at you, walking back to the kitchen to grab the other pastries to be displayed. It’s still pretty early and it’s the weekend so you don’t expect that many people right now.

“So is he the guy you dated when you were in college?”

“Yes”

“You didn’t say he owned a big company”

“Are we playing 20 questions right now? Go serve the customers” you pushed him to the side when you heard the bell right, going back to what you were doing and letting Jungwoo deal with it.

“Goodmorning, what can I get you today?”

“Two iced americano please”

Hold up, you know that voice. You don’t even have to look up to see who it was, “Is that all? Would you like to try some of our cakes and pastries? It’s good to pair with the coffee” Jungwoo said, still clueless about who he’s currently talking to

“Is that green tea with pistachio? I’ll take a slice of that” it just so happens it was the cake you were currently setting up.

“Sure thing, is that all?” After taking his order, the guy walked to a vacant table.

“Noona, should I set you up with that guy? He was looking at you, plus he looks handsome and rich”

“Jungwoo”

“Mhm?”

“Shut up”

You were preparing the order when the bell rang again, “Goodmorning, welcome to the cafe” Jungwoo greeted happily.

“Oh, looks like he’s with someone” that made you halt for a second but quickly shaking it away. Passing the tray over to Jungwoo, “Here, go serve this and please stop being nosy”.

Jaehyun wanted to visit the cafe for some time now, but he didn’t want it to seem like he’s stalking you. He already knew you know how to bake, your cookies were his favorite. You used to bake those for him after exams as a way to cheer him up.

He didn’t know the first time he’ll be visiting here is when he’s about to break-up with his current ‘girlfriend’, with you standing only a few meters away. But after last night’s gala, Chungha called him suddenly asking if they could talk.

“Here’s your order, is there anything else I could get you?” Jungwoo asked him and Chunga but the girl just shook her head with a smile, “Really? green tea cake? Your taste is so weird sometimes” she chuckled at the sight of cake on the table

“It’s one of the more unique flavors, we also have a chocolate one. It’s our bestseller” Jungwoo added, “Maybe later, thanks”

After Jungwoo walked away, the two were left alone to talk.

“Go on, just say it”

“You don’t have to act all tough all the time you know”

His eyes landing on hers, as if he was telling her to just get on with it. “We had a good run” she chuckled, “What will your parents say when the word gets out?” Jaehyun asked. He might seem like a cold guy but he does still have some empathy left in him,

“I’ll deal with it. Happiness comes at a price, it just took me this long to realize I’m willing to pay for it no matter what the cost. Maybe you should too”

Jaehyun can’t help but look over at you, you were having a conversation with the guy that took his order and was laughing at something he said. Jaehyun’s gaze made Chungha look over at the side too, in that moment she knew

“So that’s her?”

“No” he cleared his throat before drinking his coffee, “You know you can’t lie that good, not to me atleast. Or her it looks like. Word of advice though, if she’s worth it just do it”

You were doing your best to ignore the two people on the far side of your cafe, Jaehyun and the girl looked like they were having a very serious conversation. When the girl stood up you immediately busied yourself again, then someone was standing infront of the counter on the other side.

“I heard the chocolate cake is the best seller here” she said, her voice gentle and sweet. She seems like a lovely lady.

“Yea, and the chocolate chip cookies too. Would you like to try it?” you asked her with a smile of your own

“I’ll take both to go” you packed the treats yourself, passing it over to her as she hand you her payment

“Green tea cake, sounds different” she chuckled, looking at the cake with a single slice missing “Oh yea, I just like trying out flavors here and there”

“What are you talking about? You always make that, if you want to try something new, you can order that. We always have extra” Jungwoo butted in, “Will keep that in mind, my friend loves that flavor”

“Oh, friend” Jungwoo said then looking over at you, “Thanks by the way” the lady said then walked out the door.

“Friend” Jungwoo repeated with a wicked grin on

“Stop”

“But this is your chance at finally landing someone! Jihyo may be bad at setting you up maybe I can”

“No-”

“Let’s just try, see he’s walking over here”

“I said-” “Uh can I have this cake to go, please? I’ll also get the rest of it” Jaehyun said looking back and forth between you and Jungwoo

“Sure, would that be all?” you asked as if you didn’t know him

“Uhm so my boss here-” you elbowed him on the stomach, trying to stop him from continuing. “I’m here! Sorry I’m a bit late, class finished later than I thought” Sungchan announced as he enter the shop, making the three of you look over at the tall boy

“Oh, hyung what are you doing here?” he asked Jaehyun when he spotted him, “You two know each other?” Jungwoo asked from beside you

Then it clicked, you almost wanted to slap yourself. How can you be so stupid, you’re not sure.

“You’re related, how come I never put that together” you looked back and forth between the two

“You two know each other?” Sungchan asked back, “Something like that” Jaehyun mumbled. That made Jungwoo look over at you then Jaehyun then at you again, “Oh, Jung Sungchan. then you must be-”

After that stressful encounter, you chose to just call it an early day and leave the boys at the cafe. Jaehyun didn’t say much afterwards, just waited for his order then left with a few words said to his younger brother.

Add that to the list of things you were thinking about. After the gala yesterday, after seeing Jaehyun’s mom again you can’t help but overthink about things again. A big part of you itching to do what you’ve always been meaning to do, something you wish you never did.

Unable to stop yourself, you opened the door of your closet and rummaged through until you find the box stashed inside. Stuffing it in your bag before shruging your coat on, took your keys and drove off.

You've only been at their place once, that was the first and last time.

It’s what you see in movies, the typical huge mansion rich people have in movies. The Jungs were no exception, their home looked like something straight out of a magazine. Until now you feel like you shouldn’t be here.

Parking your car on the driveway, you walked towards the front door. Knocking twice and wait for someone to open the door, when it did it was just the person you wanted to see,

“Can we talk?”

Jaehyun didn’t expect the turn of events this day had, after finding out his youngest sibling works part time at your cafe ofcourse he had to know more. Telling Sungchan he’ll wait until his shift is over to drive him home.

“You didn’t tell me you work at the cafe”

“Why? would you stop me just like mom?” the younger one asked, he knew what his brother meant. With their mother there’s almost little to no room for freedom, their lives were planned out for them. As kids they were told what they should be when they grow up, expectations they had to meet, things they needed to accomplish.

“No, it’s close to my office. You could’ve just worked for me” he answered, the older brother tone gone

“Then what’s the point? Like I said, I wanted to atleast see the world on my own before mom and dad stops me. Or atleast until college” Sungchan mumbles

“If you don’t want to study the course mom and dad are making you study just tell me, I’ll help you”

“Why? They’ll just get mad at you too”

“Then they can be both mad at us, don’t make the same stupid mistakes I did. Don’t take too long to decide that this isn’t the life you don’t want to live. Just... just be you. If they won’t have that, then you’ll have me” he sincerely said, meaning every word he just said.

He wished he had someone to say that to him back then, in a way he did. You told him that.

Even if the world is against him, he’ll have your hand to hold on to.

“So, how did you know Y/N noona?”

“We went to same college” he answered, keeping it brief. After that Sungchan didn’t ask anymore questions. When they finally arrived at their home, there’s an unfamiliar car on the driveway. Assuming that it was one of their parent’s visitor,

“Are you staying the night?” Sungchan ask as they walk towards the house, “No, just came to talk to mom about something”

“Okay, well see you later” the two brothers went their own ways, Sungchan skipping up the stairs to his room while Jaehyun walk around the house looking for his mom.

What he didn’t expect was to see who she was talking to, they were at the foyer, sitting at opposite sides of the table.

“Even when I didn’t have anything to my name, I never touched a cent in that envelope. I’m ashamed I even took in the first place, that was my mistake. And I’m still paying for it until now, you got what you wanted. Jaehyun hates me”

You were talking about him with his mother?

What envelop were you talking about?

“Then why did you take it?”

“Because it was the only way you’ll stop, I thought if I took the money and disappeared you would atleast spare him, you’d let him live the way he wants to. I don’t care if he’s angry at me, he has every right to be” you answered, no sign of intimidation or fear in your voice.

But he does hear the pain, and he hated it.

“Your son is worth more than whatever you give me, that money is bitter reminder of my lowest point. But even then, I’d rather starve and have no roof over my head than spend a single cent you gave me. It’s up to you if you tell him what you did, I think we’re way past the point of going back anyways. He can’t even stand being in the same room as me. One way or another, you got what you wanted. All I want is my peace, I don’t want that with me anymore, I don’t want to keep that in the corner of my closet like the monster I’m too scared to face”

Jaehyun was trying to take all of your words in, struggling to process the truth he just accidently uncovered.

All those years he thought you left him because you didn’t love him was in fact not what really happened, His mother, surprisingly but not really, manipulated his life yet again.

“All of the money is still in there, I haven’t touched that since then. I was just waiting for the day I could finally give it back to you. I’m pretty sure you don’t need it, but neither do I” you said your final words then rose from your seat.

When you turned around to leave the place you didn’t expect to see the person standing by the door, a gasp leaving Mrs. Jung’s mouth

“Jaehyun” she said but his gaze was on you

You didn’t have to ask him, you already knew he heard it. How much? probably enough judging by the look on his face.

You looked at him with same intense stare, trying to say your apologies without saying anything at all. It feels like there’s this weight lifted off of you after you gave the envelope containing the money back to his mom. Like this time you can look him in the eyes without thinking about the money stashed away in your closet.

There are still questions floating in his mind, you could tell. But Jaehyun didn’t look as troubled as he should be, even with the overwhelming amount of questions in his head he knew this time it would be okay. You were the only answer he needed.

199 notes · View notes

twistedmusings · 4 years

Text

A/N: Riddle is always so weird for me to write because I do see him as baby but the moment things get romantic I can so see him as the type that just...is more than ready to explore the romantic territory with you? Like yes he is baby but he would be so gentle with the smooches... But I digress. I am making my way through requests, currently have five in my inbox so I might close it up once it reaches ten. Just to get the ball rolling since I am a baby blog u wu. Warnings: None! Just tooth rotting fluff! Straight from the cookbook section of our bountiful library, @lunalasolaris!

Let me get that book for you!

“Hey Riddle?”

“Hm?”

“What does a pinch mean?”

Grey eyes look up from the cup of flour he was meticulously trying to measure as you hold up the recipe book in front of him.

“Does it mean that we just put a little bit of the salt into the cake?” you point at the specific line, tapping it twice to emphasize your point, “Or we grab a pinch with our fingers and just...toss it in there?Cause I can grab a lot of salt in between my fingers if I need to.”

Riddle frowns as he tries to remember how Trey used to bake some of his previous Unbirthday cakes. It was easy to break down his process but with how quickly he moved the Heartslabyul dorm leader found himself at a loss of what a pinch looked like. Of all the executive decisions he had to make, why was this one so difficult?

He locked eyes with you, blushing when he saw how close you had gotten before pulling away and dumps the cup of flour into the small mixing bowl.

"We don't want them to taste salty so we'll put only a small amount. What comes next?"

"Eggs...three I think. Oh and we need to add them to the dry mix while it is being sifted." you grab the eggs and scoot closer to him as Riddle grabs the sifter, turning around to see you so close once again.

You hold up the eggs and smile.

"Ready?"

It was nerve wracking being here with you. Not just nerve wracking, it was also stress inducing and blood pumping to have you so close after Riddle had come to a definitive conclusion about his feelings about you. It had come at a cost of many sleepless nights and the certain teasings of some of his oldest friends but once Trey sat him down and asked him how he truly felt about you, the words slipped so easily out of his mouth that even he was surprised at the lack of thought in them.

Riddle likes you. Alot.

It was the way you talked with him during Unbirthday parties, unbothered by rules and manners as you plopped yourself down next to him and spoke about whatever you had going on that day. Riddle thought that it sort of reminded him of Chenya, his friend always appearing out of nowhere with a similar grin yet his was always filled with mischief while yours was nothing more than a way for you to show how happy you were to see him.

Or at least he hoped that was the case.

You smiled at everyone. At Ace and Deuce whenever they did something silly, at Cater whenever he pointed his camera at you, even at Trey whe he would lean down and offer you one of the many pastries he had baked that day. But, and it might just be his own subconscious silently hoping for this, Riddle believed the smile that you had for him was special. The moment your eyes landed on him it was like watching a rose bloom. Those cheeks of yours would turn a soft shade of red as you approached him and pulled him into whatever activity you found yourself doing.

Maybe that is how he had been roped into this situation with you. He had only dropped by Ramshackle to drop off something you had left in Ace and Deuce’s room but he knew that the moment you tugged on his wrist and pulled him inside, he was more than willing to do whatever it is that you were doing before he showed up.

That activity being something you two weren’t particularly good at...baking.

Riddle finally answered your question with a nod, having already dumped the contents into the silver sifter and grabbing onto the small handle. “I’ll start then.”

It had all turned out a mess. Your hands either tended to crack the eggs too softly that they wouldn't crack on the first try or they would be too harsh and immediately break the egg on impact, leaving both of you to fish out the remnants of the shells before Riddle went right back to sifting. Then came the mixing of the ingredients, Ramshackle not necessarily having the fanciest of gadgets you two instead had to mix everything by hand. It was a bit of a chance for him to show himself off for you but the moment he hissed at his muscles cramping up, you took the bowl from him and poked his cheek. “Chill out, dorm leader Rosehearts, I’ll take it from here~”

How odd. Riddle was used to people calling him by his official title but in your cause it was almost alarming how much he liked it.

A few more mishaps, staring at the cookbook and one call to Trey and soon you two were on the floor with a bowl of strawberries in between you as the cake baked in Ramshackle’s tiny oven. “Thank you for going along with this.” you munch on the end of a strawberry before continuing, “I was panicking when I first started so it was a heaven sent when you came along.”

His heart skips a beat as Riddle clears his throat.

“This is just what a dorm leader should do for another. I’m merely completing my duties.”

You pout for a moment but grin as you scoot closer to him, “So if I wasn’t a dorm leader I would just be another face in the crowd?” It is like a shock of electricity shoots straight up his back, straightening him out as he corrects you.

“No! You are still a student here...and someone who has attended many Unbirthdays and tea parties in Heartslabyul! I’m sure that if it wasn’t for that mishap in the dorm selection ceremony, you would have certainly been picked to be in Heartslabyul! To me you are not just someone in the crowd! You are--” He barely registers how close he had gotten, the bowl of strawberries pushed out of the way as you both stare into each other’s eyes. You hadn’t moved back. Your gaze was holding on strong to his as the hum of the oven became the only sound in the room.

Hands so close, fingertips almost touching. “Riddle--I--I like--”

A ding interrupted your words, the little invisible bubble you and Riddle had created suddenly popping as you stood up and grabbed the oven mitts.

You grin as you put the small container on the counter, Riddle cutting into the sides with a dull knife in order to unstick it from the pan. How wonderful was it when things came together that when you both watched the warm baked good slide out of its silvery confine you let out a sigh of relief and started to decorate.

“We almost ate half of the strawberries.” Riddle frowns as you grab the bowl from the floor. “I didn’t hear you complaining when I put them down! You are just as guilty as I if Trey doesn’t like the finished product.”

He stops cutting the fruit into smaller pieces as he watches you spread the whipped cream along the sides of the cake. “...you...are you giving this to Trey?”

Why was he so nervous? Trey liked to test everybody’s baking skills if they seem to have any or he just liked to tease those who couldn’t cook by teaching them how to figure it out all on their own. Besides, Trey was a third year and needed to concentrate on his future internship and not be issuing challenges to first years--!

“Yeah? He said that tomorrow’s tea party was going to be a ‘bring your own’ kind of thing?” you scoop a dollop of whipped cream on your finger and lick it off, further distracting Riddle. “Tea party…”

“Yeah...he said you were having one tomorrow. Did you cancel it?” you give him a surprised look, “Have we been struggling with this baking stuff for nothing?”

No. Riddle knew every single tea party that would be having throughout the academic year. And yes, they were having one tomorrow. There was one detail that didn’t sit quite right with him, however.

Never in the history of the Heartslabyul dormitory had there been a ‘potluck’ tea party.

Either those good at baking made the pastries for that day’s tea party or they would not be any tea party at all.

Great Seven’s knew what would happen if any first years, Ace and Deuce specifically, tried to cook in the Heartslabyul kitchen. There probably wouldn’t be a kitchen anymore.

Yet Trey had gone out of his way to trick you into baking a cake while also telling Riddle that you had left something behind in the first year’s room and that it was his duty to give it back--had he planned all of this from the sidelines and expected it to work?!

“...no there is a tea party happening. I guess I just--Trey must have not told me about that certain detail.”

“Well at least we have something to bring now!”

You both look at your cake, the cutting of the strawberries a little sloppy as they somewhat slipped on the rushed icing job you had done.

“...you know I don’t think anyone will notice if I do this.”

Riddle’s eyes widen when you grab a spoon and dig into the top of the cake. “Hey--!”

The spoon presses to his lips as you grin while holding it up to him. “Say ‘ah’”

Was Crowley sure that you didn’t have any sort of magic? With the way he quickly opened his mouth Riddle would have thought he had been hypnotized. “So?”

He nods at the taste, smiling when he notices the soft sweetness that came with a good slice of strawberry shortcake. “I--I think we did a really good job.”

You grin and stand on the heel of your feet as Riddle licked his lips to get any extra whipped cream, eyes going right back to staring at you as you tug on his bowtie and bring him closer. “You got some right...here.”

The pressure of your hold is light as your lips meet his, his body suddenly going lax as he drops his hold on the knife he had been using before so he could turn his body to meet yours. His hold is immediate, a hand touching your lower back and pressing you a tad closer to him as you both pull back to gauge each other’s reaction.

You are both red as roses, cheeks flushing and hearts beating so fast you were sure you could hear each other’s matching rhythms.

“...did I get it?”

He should be pushing you away and apologizing for such a needy display. Riddle hadn’t necessarily spent his time doing anything else besides studying and trying to bring pride to Heartslabyul dorm so this territory was rather new to him.

“Try again...please.”

Your lips met his again, this time his hold pulling you into the kiss as you cup his face and let him press your back against the kitchen counter.

His second year was still starting, why not explore this path a bit more?

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle x reader #Heartslabyul #twst mc #request drabble #this request made me fall for him just a tiiiny bit more no lie #book requests

333 notes · View notes

whump-town · 3 years

Text

You Dance With Tears In Your Eyes

Summary: a college AU set up in the late 80s/early 90s with football star and quarterback Derek Morgan and his secret boyfriend Hotch-- it's not a happy story but I don't think I really have to warn you guys about that anymore

Also, a little based on a story my grandmother told me about my great uncle and his partner. Never met my great uncle but everyone says I'm a lot like him, I think they just mean gay but don't know how to say it

Warnings: homophobia, violence, racism *I mean it when I say homophobia*

Pairing: Derek Morgan/Aaron Hotchner

@yourlocalheartbreaker

The title is from Frank Ocean's song Self Control

Now and then you miss it, sounds make you cry Some nights you dance with tears in your eyes I came to visit, 'cause you see me like a UFO That's like never, 'cause I made you use your self-control And you made me lose my self-control, my self-control

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

Living shouldn’t be reduced down to what it is, the bare bones of things that don’t even make Derek Morgan who he is. He lives by them anyways, stupid rules. Social norms, Aaron always clarifies because even when those silly rules drown them Aaron needs to be concise. Social norms dictate every inch of life and for once Derek wishes he were the type of person who could be given that inch and take a mile. They’re the reason he can’t hold his boyfriend’s hand in public. Why he can’t kiss Aaron on New Years’ and why he is reduced down to loving his roommate. Why, at this rate, he’ll never marry or adopt children, or why he could lose any career he goes into because some nosy asshole finds out his partner isn’t a woman. And, yes, he knows there are anti-discriminatory laws but he’s a black gay man. The world is stacked against him.

It makes him so angry. He’s blinded by the irrational of it all, why nothing can just be simple for them. Aaron tries to comfort him but Derek’s anger scares him, he doesn’t understand it. Aaron has long lost the ability to decipher the complexity of human emotions. Still flinches at loud noises like he’s expecting each bump to be accompanied by the pain that laced his childhood and has to ask, around every turn, if Derek’s angry with him. He can’t tell. Everything looks like anger. With Derek, it frequently is. They cope in very different ways, Aaron chooses nothing. Shutting down all his emotions until he cracks and that’s worse. It’s worse than Derek’s anger. That doesn’t mean Derek doesn’t hate the way he quakes with fury. If not because it feels childish to be blinded by emotions then because it scares Aaron.

There are a million other things, at twenty there always is. It’s his philosophy class with all this bullshit reading he doesn’t understand. He has to ask Aaron for help and Aaron has to ask him for help with things too but it makes Derek feel stupid. It’s philosophy, it can’t be that hard. That’s the same way Aaron feels about calculus. There’s maintaining rent and going grocery shopping and football (games, practice, gym, and training).

College had been a learning curve. Getting up at four in the morning to go to the gym for football had been the hardest thing in the world without his mother flicking his bedroom lights on and off or Desiréecoming in to smack him in the face with a pillow. There’s no one in the entire world in charge of getting him out of his bed other than him and, in his freshman year, while he had thought sleeping on that impossibly hard mattress would leave much to be desired, and it did, he found himself glued to his every morning. Not wanting to leave the safety of its flimsy comfort.

Sharing an apartment worked wonders, having a workaholic boyfriend was really the best trick. An unexpected answer to his problems but, also, a very cute one. He managed to add one person to the list of people that cared about where he was, that made sure he got up in time to make it to the gym and practice, and asked if he had a bad day or rub at his sore muscles.

Derek rolls over in bed, not as surprised as he should be to find the other half empty. “Aaron?” He still searches, runs his hand over the sheets as if he doesn’t know that if Aaron were in the bed he’d be right there. Hogging the bed and the blankets, pressed up against Derek’s back snoring like there’s no tomorrow. “Aaron?” Derek sits up and squints, grimaces at the light trailing in from the open door.

Aaron’s hunched over the beginnings of an essay, pen ink smeared across his left palm and steadily chugging along. He can write a full essay in the span of a night, five hours for about 3,000 words but if it’s a short synopsis sort of thing then about an hour. Despite this astonishing gift, Aaron still makes himself write all his essays weeks in advance and spends days upon days proofreading and combing through them for the tiniest mistakes. He’s a straight-A student so he’s doing something right but Derek gets mostly As too with far less hastily. Aaron is just extra.

Derek steps up to the desk, doesn’t make a sound as he leans up against the side of the chair. He wraps an around Aaron’s shoulders, leans down to kiss his head. “It’s two,” Derek informs him, “come to bed. Please?” Derek’s exhausted. He feels the regret of being pulled from his warm bed. Each second feels like twenty minutes, the world sluggish and too cold. He leans closer to Aaron, wrapping himself around him. “You always smell so good,” Derek whispers. He presses his face into Aaron’s hair, catching the mix of scents.

“Bakery,” Aaron grunts. His answer as simple and concise as he always is but even more so now that he’s tired. Aaron had worked an on-campus job for the entirety of their freshman year but after he got a scholarship that would roll over each year after that (so long as he kept a certain GPA) he started at a bakery down the street from their apartment. Derek had always liked the way Aaron smelled, gently masculine in a way only Aaron could ever be, and it had mixed with the scents of softly, perfectly made baked goods he works around all day. Cookies and cakes. He’s picked up a few tricks, Aaron can make moist cakes and perfectly round cookies but his bread… It’s the best food Derek has ever eaten.

The first time Aaron made bread Derek got down on one knee and confessed “Aaron Hotchner if I could marry you I’d take you to the damn chapel right now”. To which he was lovingly pushed and told to “shut up” but fresh-baked bread (even if Aaron had taken a single bite and concluded he hadn’t ratioed the sugar right) is heavenly. He’s gotten much better since and it’s really hot when he’s standing there in one of his dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up taking his stress out on the dough.

And he can’t tell anyone. Can’t boast about his hot ass boyfriend or the bread he makes from scratch.

Derek crouches down by the chair, knows he’s winning when Aaron breaks from his work just enough to glance at him out of the corner of his eye. “Can’t this wait just a little bit?” he asks. “I want to sleep with my boyfriend and he’s out here writing an essay that isn’t due tomorrow and likely isn’t due for the next month.” Derek reaches up, strokes a strand of hair back behind Aaron’s ear. His fingers graze an open wound and Aaron flinches away, the pain unexpected.

The bare bones of Aaron Hotchner are the along the same in principle to Dereks-- all things that he cannot change. Even as he stands as tall as Derek, their bodies are not the same. Derek is lean from years of football, his arms stretch his shirts. He looks like an athlete, has the benefit of the doubt whenever he’s around men. His teammates walk naked in front of him, no one for even a second thinks anything of it. No one suspects him of the atrocities he commits within his apartment.

Aaron doesn’t have any of that. His hair is a little too long, hangs down in his face when he’s studying or reading. Nothing about him is hulk-ish, he’s delicate with his movements and while it had been something that Derek was immediately drawn to it also draws other’s attention. Bad attention.

The same boys that play around with Derek, snapping towels at him while he walks, terrorize Aaron.

Derek wishes there was something he could do because if this were anyone else- if Aaron were a girl- he could. It wouldn’t be dangerous, not the sort of thing that would cost him his football scholarship or get him stabbed and left to bleed out in an alley or beat within an inch of his life. He would have to out himself to protect Aaron, to stand in front of his teammates that coach keeps calling his family and tell them to keep their fucking hands off his boyfriend. No. No, because something like that would be death. It would be worse than what’s already happening. And Aaron won’t allow it.

All Derek can do now is await the next attack, leave Aaron someplace to come home to. Give him a place to be, without burden, without hesitation. It’s not enough. They’ll kill him. Derek knows they will and it’ll be fun for them, only a matter of time.

“Come to bed with me,” Derek asks one more time. He doesn’t want to sound entirely needy but he really doesn’t want to go to bed without Aaron. The bed is lonely.

With a sigh, Aaron nods and Derek stands up, moves out of the way so Aaron can throw pens in his textbooks to mark his place. He steps away, from the desks, yawning as he makes lazy lurches forward towards their bedroom. “Turn the damn--” Derek rolls his eyes and reaches over and turns off Aaron’s desk lamp.

He passes Aaron in the doorway, places his hand on his hip, and reminds him of their objective. “Bed,” he mumbles and Aaron nods, jerking back to life as he steps further into the bedroom.

Derek lays down on the bed, crawls over to his side, and gets comfortable while he watches Aaron lazily strip down to his underwear. He gets caught in his head again for a moment, standing there just blankly staring at the dresser. Trying to figure out if he should put on pajamas or not. Derek calls his name and opens his arms. “Come here, “ he says and Aaron smiles. Sheepishly he comes, blushing as he crawls into the bed and where Derek instructs him. Humming, pleased, when Derek brings the blankets up over them. His eyes are already closed, head tucked under Derek’s chin when Derek wraps his arms around him. Pulls him close, tight.

He’d read in a book about deep pressure, its effect on the parasympathetic nervous system. He’d studied Development Psychology for some time, thought about all the ways in which it checked every box of his interests. He thinks he might want to be a teacher. That’s where he learned about the importance of the bond between guardian and child. Where he learned a hug sometimes really is a fantastic answer to the most startling problems.

It’s also the fastest way to get Aaron to sleep.

“Tighter,” Aaron whispers. He can’t quite feel Derek’s bones pushing into him, the hammer of his heart still too strong. He groans, choking up a laugh when Derek does just that. Holds him tight, makes him ache with the proximity, his inability to move.

Derek doesn’t mind, he’s got an armful of bakery boy. Couldn’t be more content with anything else.

0000000000000000

All things considered, Derek didn’t actually face that much scrutiny when he told his mother about the stupid twisting and turning feeling in his stomach when Martel Harris put his hand on Derek’s back. Leaned in too close and Derek could smell the cologne he wore and feel his proximity like lightning across his skin. He’d thought it was just nerves but at the end of a football match Martel lifted him up, threw him up in the air, and God that had felt better than flying. Lit him up inside like he was something, someone.

Desiréecried and Sarah wouldn’t speak to him for a week, opposite reactions because of the same fear. Their mother always said the two of them were two halves of the same coin-- too alike to get along and too different to ever get away. They came around, their mother’s gentle hand always the voice of reason. Three stubborn as all hell kids, too much like their father. That’s what she tells the three of them, tears swelling in her eyes as she proclaims that none of it matters. Orders Desiréeto stop crying tells Sarah to get over herself. She loved and married a black man despite the death threats that followed them everywhere they went. Despite the people that called it blasphemous. Called it sin. As if love could be such a thing.

Her mother told her not to come home, not to call. She wouldn’t do that to her son, she knows it won’t change a thing. There’s something about love that makes you blind to the small pains. She never looked back twice, never reached out to her parents. She chose love and Derek will too.

But that doesn’t mean the fear goes away.

It doesn’t actually change a damn thing.

Standing in the tiny bathroom attached to Derek’s friend’s bedroom Aaron leans over the sink, letting Derek rub

shampoo through his beer-drenched hair. “I just don’t understand why they have it out for you,” Derek mumbles, his voice has deepened, his frustration laced confusion evident. They’re in a rather suggestive position, Derek’s body keeping Aaron bent over the sink-- ass to groin. Aaron shoots him a look out of the corner, a pretty clear “look at us right now and take a guess at why”. Derek ignores the look, he’s rather good at ignoring Aaron’s sharp looks. He shakes his head, grumbling some more to himself and gently working the shampoo out of Aaron’s hair. He leans closer, Aaron groaning as the sink bites into his stomach, and smells his hair. Derek groans, unsatisfied with what he finds. “Smells like strawberries with a slight undertone of beer.”

Sounds about as close to a win as they’re getting. “That’s as good as it’s going to get,” Aaron mumbles, grateful when Derek sits back up. While Aaron’s come to terms with the particular hand he’s drawn in the terms of college social lives Derek isn’t as quick to accept. He feels hopeless, a feeling he thought he’d escaped upon leaving Chicago and everything Carl Buford. Aaron can’t stand to see that look, the one he’s grown so used to seeing after events like this.

He pulls a towel down off the rack, starts trying to dry his hair. This isn’t the reason he keeps his hair short but it’s certainly a helpful addition to keep in mind. “Don’t overthink it, it’s not your fault.” Aaron could go blue in the face trying to keep Derek from coming up with a mile-long list of all the reasons why that’s simply not true. The truth is, it’s really not Derek’s fault. No one even knows about them. Their relationship isn’t the reason why Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is poured his cup of cheap, smells like piss, beer over Aaron’s head.

Not that what happened downstairs can just be so beautifully summed up as just that. Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is had grabbed Aaron as he was walking in, doing as Derek instructed by coming in the screened-in door at the side of the house. “Who’s dick did you come to suck?” and Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is cupped Aaron’s cheek. Dug his thumb into the wound he created and smiled, grinned happily at the sight of Aaron trying so hard to getaway. Hunter’s grip relaxed and as soon as it did Aaron was blinking the beer out of his eyes. “Get the fuck away from me,” Hunter shoved him, hard. “Faggot.” Aaron hit his hip on the counter but said nothing, he’ll leave the bruise for Derek to find another night.

“I should say something to that pig,” Derek’s distracting himself with putting everything back in the bathroom the way it was before they came in. Straightening out the rug and fixing the other towels. “Let me catch him trying something--”

Aaron can’t take it, all of Derek’s pointless anger, his stupid guilt. He’s just had beer poured down his back. He can’t even accept Derek’s sweatshirt to replace his smelly shirt, can’t walk out of here wearing his boyfriend’s sweatshirt without getting shanked. The beer smells awful but he’s fairly certain getting stabbed is a whole lot worse. Derek doesn’t have to deal with that. No one messes with him because no one thinks to. “It’s because of how I look!” He’s shaking, bangs hanging down in his face still damp but no longer dripping water down his face. “You? You look normal. You get to walk around with all your football buddies, no one bats an eye at the quarterback, Derek. At least you like women too!” He points to himself, digs his finger into his own chest. “Me? I look the part. I can’t even pretend. Everyone knew, the whole world knew before I did!”

Derek just stands there, caught in the headlights trying to figure out what to say.

He wipes his eyes, jerks away from the hand Derek tries to put on his arm. “No. No!” he can’t do touch right now. Not like this, not when his body won’t hold still and his knees keep trying to buckle. It happens, this panicked cornered feeling, and usually Derek would hold him down. They’d sit on the floor and Derek would hold his arms down to his chest and they’d just sit like that until Aaron can breathe again. Bones against bones until Aaron feels the fractures of his humanity coming back together but for now, right now? He can’t do it. He can’t be touched.

“I want to go home,” he manages, lower lip quivering despite how much he wants to hold it together. “Please take me home.”

Derek just stares at him, stands there, and watches Aaron cross his arms over his chest and curl in, trying to squeeze the panic out himself. “Okay,” he caves. “Go on, I’ll follow you down.” It’s degrading, humiliating the fact that they can’t even leave this room together. Aaron’s upset and Derek can’t do anything about that right now. It’s not safe until they’re home.

It’s never safe.

With his hair dripping into his face Aaron stumbles in the dark. His shirt is soaking wet, stuck to his skin, and freezing him as tramples down a thin stretch of grass between houses. He wishes he had Derek’s sweatshirt. Something warm. At least something to cover his arms. It had been a stupid idea coming here right after getting off work. The bakery is so impossibly hot and after getting off his shift all he wanted was to be with Derek. To sit in whatever little room Derek could guarantee was safe and drink whatever cheap crap Derek brings him from downstairs. Just sit and listen to the music filtering in from downstairs.

“Hotchner!”

He freezes-- a deadly mistake.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

He knows what happened to Derek. In the hush of the night, laying facing each other in the dark, Derek had told him. Each word a puff of hot air against Aaron’s face, hitting the hot tears rolling down his cheeks. It was supposed to be even, Derek’s intention was to express alikeness. He’d seen the scars, no matter careful Aaron was about the light when he thought things were headed in the direction of nakedness, Derek saw them. He hadn’t said anything that time, run his thumb over the one on Aaron’s chest but kept up his ministrations. Acted as if he didn’t until that moment in bed.

Aaron still hasn’t found the courage to be honest about his own childhood.

Derek comes around the back, half-expecting tonight to go like it always does. Except Aaron hasn’t had any alcohol and he doesn’t come stumbling around the porch to greet Derek from the darkness. There are no stolen kisses or hushed laughter. No Aaron. Derek has half a mind to shout out for him, he couldn’t have gone off far, but then he sees him. Derek sees them. The moonlight shining down casting this awful hue between the houses. He sees Hunter draw his foot back and he can’t hold it back. Won’t let this go on. “Hunter!”

The second that Hunter’s attention is away from him, Aaron slumps to the ground. His blood smeared against the house. He’s still breathing, awful ragged breathes that shoot blood off his lips. He sees Derek in the moonlight, rushing past him. Aaron wishes he wasn’t a coward. Between each blood speckled breathe, he wishes that he wasn’t a coward and had just told Derek. That way he would understand Aaron can take it. He spent his childhood taking beatings for just being alive. At least now it was something coherent. Being beaten for being gay requires at least knowing something about him. His father couldn’t even bother with that.

But Derek doesn’t understand.

Aaron never told him.

He’s pulled down, out of orbit, and back to Earth when Derek squats down beside him, cradles his head in his hands. “Aaron?” he calls out, but Aaron can’t force his eyes to move from the dirt. “Can I--” Derek doesn’t know where to put his hands. If he can put his hands anywhere. “I’m going to-- to lift you, okay?” It’s not a matter of if he’s strong enough. He benches more than his own body weight and that’s significantly more than Aaron’s. He’s just not sure if Aaron’s going to fight him and if Aaron fighting him is good or bad.

“Lean forward,” Derek whispers, cupping the back of Aaron’s head and directing it into his shoulder. He turns, manipulates both their bodies and winces each time, no matter how gentle and calculated his movements are, Aaron still cries out. He still hurts him. “I’m sorry,” becomes his mantra. The only words he can manage out around the tears, the only thing he can get past the thickness in his throat.

Sorry he didn’t stop this sooner.

Sorry that he keeps hurting Aaron.

Sorry they couldn’t be other people. In other places. In another time.

Sorry that it’s all for nothing, that there’s no way this ends well for either of them. They’re going to end up dead or alone but certainly separate.

The second Derek has him in his arms Aaron grips his shirt tightly in one blood-stained hand. He rests his head on Derek’s shoulder, soaking in his warmth. “Home?” he asks, voice breaking.

“We’re going home.”

Aaron wakes up alone in bed.

He’s completely naked, laying with three blankets pulled up over him. One that he recognizes is from the living room. There’s one of Derek’s homemade sock heating pads digging into his sore ribs where he rolled over onto it, he can feel more of them underneath him. He’s been laying here for a while. None of the socks are warm anymore. He’s on Derek’s side of the bed, facing his nightstand, and watches Derek’s blurry alarm clock change time. 1:36 passing to 1:37 to 1:38 just waiting for the fuzzy fingers in his brain to ease up. To allow him to think.

It’s Saturday.

Derek’s off at a football game, not due back for hours. Not until tonight, long after Aaron’s gone to bed.

For an overwhelming moment, his eyes fill with tears, desperation, and solitude creating an awful twist in his stomach. He doesn’t want to be alone. Protectively he draws his knees up, tries to knot himself up, and create a mangled ball. His heart picks up, anxiety increasing as he lays there. He wants Derek. He doesn’t want to be alone.

On the phone’s first rings he curls in tighter, overwhelmed by his own crying that he presses his face into Derek’s pillow and ignores it. He’ll let the machine catch it-- that’s the whole reason Derek bought it. With a sharp end, muffled by the blanket he pulls up over his head, a voice comes through. The machine catching the voice mail.

“Aaron, sweetheart? This is Fran, Derek’s mom? I’m sorry to keep calling sweetie but Derek’s awake now. He’s worried, says you should have woken up by now. I can send Sarah to come get you, Derek told me what happened last night. Please call me back? I hope you’re okay.”

He lays in confused silence, trying to process why Derek’s mother would call him. She calls all the time and occasionally he answers to tell her she’s just missed Derek-- he’s off with friends, at the gym, or at class. They know of one another Derek talks about him to Fran as much as Derek talks about Fran to him. But Fran call him? That’s never happened.

Then he catches it-- “Derek’s awake now”-- and he sits up. Pushed from his mind is the pain, his ribs scream and the blood he can see he’s left on Derek’s pillow. Derek’s awake now. Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is is on the football team. An offensive lineman. A guy whose entire job is to protect Derek but now he knows, he has to know.

Derek’s awake now.

He throws himself out of bed, clipping his already sore hip on the nightstand and staggering for the phone. Tears spilling over his face. What happened while he was sleeping? What did Hunter do?

Fran picks up on the first ring. “Aaron, is that you sweetheart?”

He sniffles, rubbing at his nose with his finger. “Yes, ma’am.” He knows she can hear him crying, his choked sobs as he falls in the direction of the closes chair.

“You had me worried sick,” she says and he can hear that unmistakable fondness in her chastising tone. That must be where Derek gets it from. It makes him smile, even if it’s weak. “How are you feeling, baby? Derek told me what happened. I’m sorry. If I see that boy I’ll wring his neck. Give him a piece of my mind for bothering my boys.”

He just nods, despite the fact that she can’t see that. He knows he should answer her question but he has no idea what he feels. Nothing. He feels nothing as he sits here holding his breath as he waits to ask about Derek. To know what happened because of him. “Is Derek okay? What happened?”

Hunter told a few other team members what he saw. Most brushed him off, Hunters a douchebag, and they like Derek. Others just hate Aaron enough for it to matter to them, enough to what to do something. Or, rather, not do anything. It only took one tackle, a limb bent the wrong way under the weight of three boys.

It was Derek’s knee. A career-ending injury.

A scholarship losing injury.

“Can I--” Aaron chokes. He’s afraid of what happens if Fran says no. “Can I see him?”

“Of course you can.”

Aaron turns away Fran’s offer of a car ride but Desirée still shows up.

He answers the door in a sweatshirt and jeans and knows immediately who it is when he opens it up. Desirée just stares at him for a moment, he can feel all of the seventeen-year-old judgment sizing him up. “You look… awful,” she tells him. She lets herself in, walking past Aaron with one more look. “Mom says I can drive but if you want to do it I have to let you.” She puts the car keys on the counter, sighs as she looks around. “Derek says…” she chews her lip, as she sizes him up again.

He wonders how intimidating he could possibly look to her. Hunched over and wearing a sweatshirt that’s too big for him.

“Would you teach me how to make bread?”

He can’t help but smile, nods without any hesitation.

“Really?”

Aaron nods, “it’s not that hard. More of a-- a waiting game. You have to give the yeast time to rise.”

Desirée has no idea what that means but she nods, “cool.”

He lets her drive. Mostly because his vision is swimming but because he tosses the keys back to her, a clear okay that she can drive, and she beams at him. She likes him. That’s so weirdly important to him.

She has to wake him up when they get to the hospital. The first thing she tells Fran is that he let her drive and Fran smiles at him, shakes her head, and says “you must have a death wish.”

Aaron blushes under the attention, eyes falling to the floor. He barely manages, “drives just like Derek.”

Fran laughs, nodding her head, “she does. Too heavy on the brakes.” Her smile fades a little when she sees Aaron’s sweatshirt, recognizes it from home. Knows it’s Dereks. “Will you let someone look at that,” she asks, too many of his wounds look deep. Cuts that need stitches and a nasty black eye that she knows he hasn’t iced. She’s reminded a little too quickly that Aaron and Derek are still very much kids. Tricky kids. Too old to be told what to do but still wanting direction.

Aaron nods, shying away again from the attention, but nods.

They leave him when the nurse steps in, doesn’t need to say a word. Fran sees him hesitate to lift his shirt and knows. Derek had managed to tell her most of what happened but the morphine made his speech slur, made him emotional. He’d sobbed, high and in pain. Told her what he’d seen the night before. Hunter hitting and kicking at Aaron, the way Aaron slumped forward. How he’d carried Aaron home. Washed the blood off him with a rag. She knew what was under Aaron’s shirt wasn’t something for them to see.

Derek wakes sometime in the middle of the night. The drugs from the surgery are wearing off and with it his blissful escape from the pain. Licking his dry lips he looks around the room, spotting his sisters and frowning as he tries to find his mother. She’s leaning over another cot, on the other side of the room. He watches her, hears the familiar chorus of Blackbird, and watches her stroke Aaron’s forehead, following the line of the relaxed brow.

It makes him smile, his mother used to sing Whitney Houston to him and his sisters to sleep. He told her about Aaron’s obsession with The Beatles, how of all the records the two of them own that’s the only one Aaron will play. Desiréebought the album, his mother told him a week later. She saved up to get it and was eager for her moment to speak to Aaron about it. To be able to befriend her brother’s boyfriend. That’s about the same time Fran began to hound him about bringing Aaron home, to Chicago. She wanted to meet him.

Fran kisses Aaron’s forehead, waiting another moment just to make sure Aaron’s truly asleep before she stands. “He was having a bad dream,” she tells Derek. In truth, he’d been crying in his sleep. In pain, she could tell, and restless. He’d settled with her there and it made her sad to think that maybe he’d just grown too used to sleeping beside someone else. She’d pulled his blankets closer and sang, just as she did with the other three when they were little. Even when they’re twenty, it still works like a charm.

Fran smiles, tries to soothe Derek’s nerves so he doesn’t worry about Aaron. He’s fine for now, sleeping soundlessly. She sits down on the edge of Derek’s bed, cups his cheek, and asks “how are you feeling?”

Derek just looks over to Aaron, his pale parted lips parted and the bandages holding him together. “Is he okay?” He’d been so scared last night watching Aaron sleep. No amount of Tylenol was doing a thing for his pain. Several times he’d sat up in the night and searched for a pulse, counted the far too many seconds separating each of his breathes. Derek thought Aaron might die right there beside him but he’d been more afraid of what might have happened if they went to the hospital.

Fran sighs, stupid love. It’s cute, she has to admit, but so senseless. “He’s sleeping, he’s okay.” She tries to redirect him, “how do you feel?”

Derek looks back over to Aaron. He looks. There’s more than just those pale lips and the bandages. It’s Aaron. He’s sleeping under multiples blankets and looks like himself. How he always looks when Derek rolls over to face him. He believes his mother, she never lies. “My leg hurts,” he whispers, voice cracking. It’s like the entire thing is pulsing, a continuous stabbing feeling. He cries but not from the pain. They betrayed him. The people he so stupidly thought of as his friends. They hurt him like they’d been hurting Aaron.

He should have known better.

He shouldn’t have been so stupid.

This is his fault.

“Derek?” Aaron sits up, hesitating under the combined attention of Derek and Fran.

Fran stands up, nods Aaron over. “Sit with him,” she offers. “I’ll go get a nurse.”

Aaron nods, still waiting, still hesitating to be where he wants to be. Derek motions him closer, manages to move his body over in the bed. Just enough room for Aaron to squeeze in beside him.

“I don’t think I”m supposed to--”

“Lay down.” Derek can see all the bruises and cuts up close again. He brushes his fingers through the hair above Aaron’s ear, turning his palm to his cheek. Gently tracing the outline of a bandage. “Runaway with me,” he whispers. He thought about it all night long while he watched Aaron sleep. “There’s only four more weeks left of the semester.” Aaron’s smart, he’ll get in anywhere he applies. “We’ll transfer someplace else, anywhere else.”

Aaron frowns, he doesn’t like the idea of this impulsivity. Mostly the number of uncertainties that it creates and the questions. Where will they go? How will they know it’s safe? Are they dropping out? Where will they transfer to? What Aaron can’t get into the college that Derek does?

“Hey,” Derek hushes, he strokes his thumb across Aaron’s cheekbone. “Hey, whatever you’re thinking stop. I’m not leaving, not going anywhere you don’t. We do this together, alright?” He smiles, leans forward, and softly knocks their foreheads together. “Four weeks and all of summer break, okay? That’s plenty of time for a smarty pants like you to figure out where we can go.” It had taken less time for Aaron to conclude Illinois was close enough to home for him to go if something happened to his mother but too far away for her or his brother to come to him.

They’ll figure it out.

“Runaway with me?” he asks one more time.

“Okay.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #mortch #hurt hotch #tw homophobia

60 notes · View notes

ayellowcurtain · 4 years

Text

how about this AU where Robbe and Sander realize they're soul mates and that they can hear what the other is thinking?? It's a little stupid and cheezy, but I'd like to see how it would go.

Sander keeps pressing his fingertips against the palm of his hand in an attempt to distract himself, aware that his leg won’t stay still for a second. It’s hard to hide how nervous he is and he finds it ironic that he’s even worried about it.

Being able to hide anything from Robin.

The living room is full and it’s extremely awkward and Sander knows that if he let himself, he’ll only hear Robbe even though he’s as quiet as Sander, avoiding meeting his eyes at all costs.

He focuses on the sound of Jens opening his beer, the gas bubbling for half a second, then he moves on to hearing Amber’s long nails click against her glass of wine. He tries to stay hyper-focused, struggling to keep himself in place and not going to Robbe, dragging him out of there so they can talk.

When he sits back in defeat, trying to relax against the couch to see if it helps with the back pain, Sander realizes that he can control what he hears but he can’t be sure if Robbe is doing the same.

He looks up like he’s been caught and he finds Robbe’s gaze on him, moving away a second too late. He feels stupid for going through every action in his head first. Robbe probably heard him stressing over how to sit, how to ground himself with following the lines in the palms of his hand, how to not stare so he wouldn’t make Robbe uncomfortable in his own house. And he’s thinking stupid, useless things again instead of focusing on what Robbe is thinking.

I love you.

Happy birthday, Robin

I put my gifts on the pile because I know you don’t really wanna talk to me right now

But I have extra gifts too. Stupid sketches, you know me.

Fuck, I miss you so much. It’s hard to be friends or to pretend we can be just friends.

I know you’re upset and I know I can’t say what you can or can’t be upset about but it’s just so stupid, Robbe.

Please.

We were made for each other.

Or you wouldn’t be listening to my thoughts.

This is not something anyone can do. Just you.

Robbe gets up suddenly and everyone looks, waiting for something to happen, for them to get their shit together already and get this over with but Robbe leaves the living room instead of talking, fighting with Sander to stop getting inside his head. He whispers that he’s going to get more beers and leaves.

Sander looks at the sad cake in front of him on the coffee table, starting to melt in the improvised white plate, the rainbow-colored confetti bleeding into the white icing, painting it slowly. Everyone is back to talking and he’s there, looking at the door, not able to keep up with any conversation because he just wants to fix things.

He grabs the cake carefully and rushes out of the living room too, finding Robbe in the kitchen across the hall, walking from one side to the other, stopping when he sees Sander, acting like he was just grabbing a glass to get himself some water.

Sander puts the cake down on the kitchen table, acting like he’s not following Robbe anywhere he goes.

Why do I have to love him so much?

It’s hard for him to keep a straight face when hearing that, swallowing his nerves down to pretend it’s possible he wasn’t hearing it, “Milan asked me to put this in the fridge...”

Robbe doesn’t say anything, just leans against the counter behind him, drinking his unwanted water, looking at the cake still on the table, melting. He watches as Robbe moves closer to the other side of the table, cutting another piece of his cake for himself.

I love you more.

Robbe stops with his mouth open, the first bite staring right in front of him before he drops his fork back on his plate.

“Stop!”

“What?!”

“You know what! I’m asking you to stop, so please…!”

“You know that’s not how it works! I can’t help it!” Sander ignores Robbe’s anger still very much boiling over him and stands closer, leaning his back against the counter too but giving Robbe some safe distance for him not to feel cornered.

He tries very hard not to think anything, focusing on his heartbeats instead, beating so fast just because he’s sharing a small space with Robbe after almost a week since their stupid fight.

“I miss you.”

“You said that earlier.”

Sander smiles because he didn’t really say it but he understands the confusion. He puts his head down, hearing the mess inside Robbe’s head, how he’s struggling to stand his ground, how he misses Sander just as much as he misses Robbe. He’s just too proud!

“Robbe, you asked for time and space. I gave you both but it’s been a week of no contact, no text, no nothing.” He moves a tiny bit closer, his hand holding the counter just a few inches from being able to wrap around Robbe’s waist and pull him closer.

“I didn’t know it had an expiration date.”

“We never stayed this long without talking. We can barely keep our thoughts to ourselves for a few minutes on a normal day!”

The second Robbe puts his plate back on the table - tired of playing with the piece of cake just to keep his hands and mouths busy, not really hungry - Sander turns himself around Robbe, standing in front of him, cornering him against the counter.

“Come home, Robbe, please. It’s your fucking birthday. I wanna be with you.”

“It’s not my home.” He says matter-of-factly, now looking around Sander’s face but not in his eyes.

“Of course it is! What is mine is yours, stop playing hard to get.”

“Fuck you,” Robbe complains, gently pushing him away and Sander steps back, sighing.

The amount of birthday plus make up sex we’re missing…

And that makes Robbe look at him, blushing all the way to his neck, his worn-out shirt letting Sander see his collarbone, “Sander!”

“I can’t help it!”

Sander melts forward slowly and lets himself press against Robbe, resting his forehead against Robbe’s.

I love you.

It’s our bedroom. Like your bedroom is ours too. I miss you. I miss you so much.

“You’re being repetitive.” Robbe’s voice is a little softer, and Sander feels more at ease, recognizing a piece of his Robbe slowly giving him another chance.

“I warned you since day one: my brain is messy.” Sander puts his hands carefully on Robbe’s waist, squeezing it carefully, “Come on, search anywhere you want, you never heard me thinking, wanting, loving anyone else. Ever. Not even when I was with Britt. And you know this is only for you and me. Soulmates.”

“People can have more than one soulmate.” Sander pushes himself back to see Robbe properly, snorting, noticing how much Robbe is blushing still, looking down again because they both know they don’t believe in that.

“You, Robin, are the most monogamous person I’ve ever met besides myself. There’s no way you actually believe that.”

“Do you think you can be monogamous? For the rest of your life? Living with your old friends, having old crushes…”

Sander rolls his eyes, pulling Robbe a little closer to see what he does. Robbe lets him and Sander is so close to just kissing him until their lips get sore.

“That’s temporary. Until you’re in college too and we can have our own place, just the two of us…”

“Why didn't you tell me before?” Sander doesn’t know what he was supposed to say.

It was in the past and Robbe, of all people, should know how he doesn’t like talking about things he can’t fix. He never thought that moving with his friends would be such a problem. Robbe’s insecurities were never about him or their relationship before so Sander needed time to understand what was Robbe mad about and how to fix it and reassure him that there was no problem in him living with his wild friends.

They know Sander is as gone as a man can be and he wouldn’t bother him too much about it. It was better than living with his parents, he thought Robbe would be happy to have more privacy, finally.

“Because there’s nothing to tell. I thought we were over dealing with dumb drama and you understood everything wrong.”

“That’s not exactly right, Sander.”

You were jealous, he thinks, and decides to explain better when Robbe looks at him a little mad again, “And I understand, my past leaves room for questioning but nothing ever happened. I never had feelings for anyone else. I love you. You’re mine and I’m yours, in every universe. Now and forever.”

I love you, I miss you so much it hurts, he hears the soft whispers like Robbe is actually saying those words in his ear instead of the straight connection between their brains.

It’s his turn to feel the weight off his shoulders when Robbe finally feels it too. He thought he had really lost a piece of Robbe and hearing those words feel better than any of Bowie’s songs.

He presses his forehead against Robbe’s again, slowly moving from one side to the other, letting Robbe get used to the idea that Sander is about to kiss him. Robbe rolls his eyes with his little dance and Sander kisses him, more like smiling against his lips, hearing his heartbeat so fast.

He puts his hands on Robbe’s neck to give him some support, caressing his cheeks with his thumbs, “You taste like cake, birthday boy.”

#wtfock #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #robbe x sander #sobbe

67 notes · View notes

tuanhood · 4 years

Text

the property manager

pairing: landlord’s son!mark tuan x reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff, kinda everything, strangers(?) to lovers

warnings: 18+, language, power imbalance (kinda yes?), oral sex (male receiving), face f*cking, thigh riding, dirty talk, unprotected sex.

word count: 7,400+

summary: when you get a letter from your landlord about a rent increase, you decide your only option is to try to talk to his property manager and son, Mark.

a/n: um i have nothing to say. actually yes i do. this is kinda of ALL over the place so i’m sorry about that and if it doesn’t make much seNSE but i just had a craving to wrITE THIS! leave me alone. thx bye.

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

It had been a stressful day at work. You wanted nothing more than to go upstairs to your apartment and climb into bed.

You had been all over the city looking for a specific kind of cake that your boss had consumed almost a year ago and couldn’t remember where it had been. More often than not, you found yourself doing ridiculous chores as a personal assistant and after the first year you had told yourself it would get better, but it hadn’t. You thought you could prove yourself and get more recognition, possibly working your way to a bigger role at the entertainment company you worked for, but as time passed it seemed more like a dead-end.

Which is why you were considering quitting and looking for something else. You had connections through friends and old contacts, but you weren’t sure if it was worth it to see if they would ultimately pan out or not.

Checking your mail, you flipped through the letters finding mostly bills, until your eyes settled on a letter addressed to you from your landlord and his son, the property manager.

NOTICE OF RENT INCREASE

Dear Tenant,

Due to general cost increases, we are required to increase your rent. This letter is to advise you formally that your rent is being increased to $1,250 per month as of next month.

This increase does not affect any of our mutual obligations under your lease. For example, your rent due date will remain the first of the month or before.

Thank you for your understanding of the cost pressures on us as we do those upon yourself. We appreciate your tenancy and hope you will remain for a long time.

Best regards,

Raymond Tuan | Landlord

Mark Tuan | Property Manager

You read the letter three times. How could they increase your monthly rent by almost three hundred dollars? You had just enough each month to pay for your already overpriced apartment. But perhaps what annoyed you the most was the short notice and their attitude in the letter. They thank you for your understanding and appreciate you, and yet gave you barely any notice for a $250 increase in rent.

It took you a moment to collect yourself, especially after such an exhausting day, but somehow you found yourself marching upstairs to the second floor and angrily knocking on the door of Mark, the landlord’s son and property manager.

There’s no response at first, and you swear you hear noises coming from the apartment, but soon all that’s heard is silence. All of a sudden you hear a “Just one sec!” being yelled through the door along with shuffling.

Before today you hadn’t really paid much attention to Mark. Being the property manager, you of course had met him when you first moved into your apartment over a year ago and often saw him in the building. You would exchange pleasantries when you passed him in the hallway or ran into him when he was getting his mail. But you had never really known much about him besides the fact that his father was the owner of the building and he was there to make sure things ran smoothly in case tenants needed anything.

There was supposedly one interaction you had with him that you found yourself barely remembering. It had been a late night after drinking and your friends had decided to dump you in the hallway of your building, leaving you to fend for yourself and make your own way upstairs to your apartment. The memories you had were hazy, but you could picture yourself sitting on the floor inside of the building’s entry way, drunkenly sobbing about how you were never going to make it home.

The only reason you thought you had interacted with Mark was because the next thing you knew you woke up in bed with a note resting on your bedside table.

Y/N,

Remember to take an ibuprofen or two when you wake up, along with A LOT – and I repeat – A LOT of water. Thanks again for the… uh compliments and I hope you feel better.

- Mark

That was months ago and you had no clue what “compliments” you’d said to him or he fact that Mark was even the one who helped you up to your apartment and into bed. After that you were very adamant about avoiding conversation with him.

When the door finally swung open you were met with Mark’s sweaty face, some of his hair sticking to his forehead and his breath a little shallow. You wondered if he had been working out based on his appearance. Craning your head, you attempted to look past him into his apartment to locate any evidence that could confirm or deny this suspicion, but he followed your motions, blocking the view inside.

“Um what’s up?” He asked.

“It’s about this letter,” you began, but Mark soon stuck his finger out and began shaking it as if remembering something. “Apartment 8A right?”

You nodded simply, “yeah… that’s me. Anyways-”

“You have that cute doormat out front with the kittens on it,” he stated more as a fact rather than a question. You found yourself nodding again and his interruptions led you to believe that he may never let you speak.

“Listen Mark… I got the letter from you and your dad-”

“The landlord,” he corrected and you felt your teeth clench at another intrusion of your sentence. He waved his hand as if to say “go on,” which inherently caused you to crack your knuckles in frustration.

“I got the letter from you and the landlord,” you repeated, this time correcting yourself which Mark smiled at, “and I don’t see how you can increase rent starting next month.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms, leaning against his open doorway, “what do you mean you can’t see it? We wrote it in the letter.”

You looked at him blankly, and couldn’t understand if he was teasing you or if he was actually dumb. Judging by the way he had a slight frown on his face, head tilted to the side and lines forming between his eyebrows, you had your answer.

“No yes, I see that. I just don’t understand how you would even decide to increase the rent $300.”

“We didn’t. It’s only a $250 increase.”

Only?

That made you angry.

“Do you understand that to some people that’s a lot of money? It’s not easy for everyone to just find an extra $250 a month. I already overpay for my shoebox; I don’t see how I’m going to be able to give you an extra $250 this month at such a short notice or really… every month for that matter.”

Mark clicked his tongue as if thinking of some sort of solution for you until he simply shrugged, “then find a new place to live I guess?”

The tone of his voice didn’t come off as rude or with an attitude. More or less, he said it as if he was just thinking of an “easy” solution to your problem. It almost seemed like Mark had no perception of actual issues that people are often plagued with.

“Mark how the fuck am I supposed to find a new place to live by the end of the month?” He doesn’t flinch at your tone or language, but simply countered back, “okay then… so stay.”

You groaned in frustration. You couldn’t imagine how the other people in your building dealt with broken appliances or faulty plumbing if this was who they had to come talk to.

“Can’t you talk to him about it? Or at least give more of a notice?” You found yourself willing to even be okay with just an extension of the increase. Maybe you’d finally get a promotion or recognition at work, or maybe you could look into getting another job as an assistant.

“Sorry… My hands are tied,” Mark murmured, uncrossing his folded arms as if he thought the visual of seeing his hands would make the statement more believable.

“He’s your dad! He owns the whole goddamn building. What do you mean your hands are tied?” You jabbed.

His face shifted, and it almost seemed like he felt sorry for you, “that stuff isn’t really up to me… It’s up to him.”

You found yourself tapping your foot in irritation and as you found perhaps a new way to reason with him, “I mean you don’t really want to pay that much more a month, do you?” Mark just looks at you confused, once again, “I live here for free… I’m the property manager.”

“Okay yeah or do you live here for free because he’s your dad?”

He shook his head in protest, “No I definitely live here for free because I’m the property manager.”

“Listen let’s just talk about this more. Can I come in? I’m sure I can convince you that it doesn’t make sense to raise the-” Just as you were about to push yourself past him, he positioned himself forward to stop you.

“Is there some kind of problem?” You asked.

“I- You can’t come in,” he frowned.

“I just want to talk!” You explained, throwing your hands up in desperation. What was this guy not understanding? Wasn’t he supposed to be here to answer to the tenants needs and make sure things were running smoothly? Even if it meant you having a nice sit down in his apartment to chat about how you were going to murder him if he kept acting so clueless about the rent raise?

“We can talk out here.”

“Well I have a lot to say.”

“Oh, I know that,” Mark pressed, rolling his eyes a bit. He thinks back to when he found you drunk in the hallway crying. He panicked because he thought you had been hurt or something bad had happened, but you were just completely wasted. As he had hoisted you up off the ground and into his arms, carrying you – not completely willing – to your apartment, you had begun to talk his ear off.

Most of what you had blabbed on about was how miserable you were at your job and how much you just wanted to quit, but soon as he reached the second flight of stairs, he heard you change subjects. Instead, the topic of conversation became about him and his dating life.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You had asked. Mark remained silent, using that as his answer, “because I never see you with one. Which is crazy since you have such a well-defined jawline.”

“Um thank you?” Was the only response he had found to be acceptable.

You continued, “If you were my boyfriend – but you’re not don’t worry – I would tell you how good your jaw was all the time. Aren’t I nice? Wouldn’t I make a nice girlfriend? I think so, but some people don’t think so…” You drifted off; the sadness evident in your voice.

Mark had found the conversation you were having – pretty much with yourself – funny and by the time you reached the front door of your place, he realized he didn’t want it to stop. You had begun to search your bag for your keys, which you would stop doing ever so often to begin talking about something else, getting distracted and ultimately forgetting about the task at hand.

By the time you had both made it inside, it felt like hours had passed and you wandered to the kitchen, Mark following behind closely, wanting to make sure you were okay. “Do you want something to eat? It’s around that time, huh? Like for a late-night snack?”

He shook his head at you, “Y/N, I think you should head to bed,” Mark was concerned to say the least for your body as you had told him somewhere between the first flight of stairs and the second that you had work in the morning. You had ignored him, “what kind of animal do you think you are in a relationship? For me I think I’m… a cat. No, no actually I’m more like a kitten, because I can be playful and energetic, but I still have that “leave me alone” energy, ya know? I bet you’re something cute like a puppy or I don’t know gopher?”

He hadn’t even argued with you about what being a gopher in a relationship meant or how it was a cute thing to be. Somehow, he had convinced you amidst your next rant that heading to bed was indeed a good idea. As soon as your body had hit the mattress, you were fast asleep and he managed to find a piece of paper to leave you a note for the next morning.

After that, Mark thought maybe the two of you would become friends. Which looking back at, Mark suddenly thought it was a lame thing to think. He didn’t have many friends or people he truly knew in the building as most tenants just saw him as an extension of the landlord – his father – and didn’t really treat him like an individual. More like a spoiled brat.

However, as months went by and you avoided his gaze in the hallway, he could tell that your drunk escapade had been forgotten altogether. Now looking at you frustrated, a raise in rent being the only reason for you to come and talk to him, he felt sick to his stomach, because he thought you were different somehow.

“It’ll only take a second I swear,” you muttered, and somewhere lost in his thoughts, Mark didn’t have a moment to react at your swiftness to push pass him into his apartment. “Wait stop, don’t!” He protested, turning around quickly to see you looking around his place.

You took it in and you were surprised. For some reason you had pictured it to be much bigger since he was the landlord’s son, but it was probably only a few square feet bigger than your own apartment. The next thing that left you bewildered was how clean and organized it was. Every apartment that you had been that belonged to a male, often looked ransacked as if a thief had been through. However, when you turned your head towards his living space, a simple couch and coffee table positioned in front of a TV, that was when you felt your eyes widen the most.

Up on the screen of the TV was a paused video of a woman on her kneeling in front of a man, mid blowjob. Okay so he wasn’t working out when I knocked on the door, you conclude. Seeing the image on the screen and Mark’s bright red, panicked face looking for the remote on the couch, surprisingly doesn’t make you feel disgusted or awkward. It makes you feel… intrigued?

“I- uh, fuck- I- I’m sorry. I don’t- I don’t know what to say,” Mark stuttered after he finally finds the remote and switched off the television.

“I’m guessing that’s why you didn’t want me to come in?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, clearly nervous, “yeah…”

You suddenly felt bad for barging into Mark’s place uninvited when he had clearly been in the middle of a personal moment, so you figured it would be best to make the situation as uncomfortable as possible. You wanted to show him that you didn’t care about what he had been doing before you knocked on the door, and there was no reason to feel weird about it. It was natural after all. So somehow you found yourself flopping down on the armchair perpendicular to the couch, making yourself comfortable, attempting to “lighten the mood.”

“Sorry,” you apologized, “but don’t worry, I don’t care. What you do on your own time is your own personal business, not mine.” Mark brought one of his hands to the back of his neck and massaged it as if the new found situation causes him enormous amounts of stress. Which he certainly believed it did.

You didn’t want to come across as rude or nosey, but for some reason that original impression of being intrigued finds its way back into your mind, “aren’t you supposed to be available 24/7? Shouldn’t you be prepared for something like this? I don’t know shouldn’t you always be expecting someone to knock on your door?”

For the first time since entering the apartment, Mark gave you attitude, “It’s not like I’m expecting them to barge their way into my place.”

“Still you should at least turn off your TV! Or I don’t know watch it on your laptop or phone? I honestly don’t know anyone who watches porn on their TV anymore,” your back and forth diffuses the situation somehow as Mark finally moved closer to where you’re sitting and he leaned against the side of the couch.

“Well why else would I use the TV?”

“I don’t know to watch literally anything else?” You yelled out to him. He moved around the couch to sit down, “that was a joke,” he explained.

You laughed and he joins you, grateful that this isn’t as terrible as he expected it to be. It’s when the laughing finally subsides that you feel your eyes drift down to the crotch of the grey sweats he’s wearing. You know it should be the last thing you’re thinking about in this moment, but as he shifts his weight on the couch to get comfortable, you swear you can just make out the outline of his cock. It causes you to squirm in your seat and you instinctively pressed your legs together not wanting to think about it.

After a moment, “Um… back to the rent… Like I said there’s really nothing I can do Y/N.”

As he brings the discussion back to the original topic at hand, he runs his hands through his hair once again, and it’s then you take notice of the veins that are clearly on display on his forearm. The sight of them makes you press your legs together even more, your mind soon drifting to how breathless Mark was when he first opened the door. You wonder how close he had been before you had interrupted him, how his hair had probably stuck to his forehead and how hard his hand must have been working to pump himself at the sight of the porn actress blowing the guy she was in the scene with.

What was Mark into? What kind of porn was it? How did the woman in the scene find herself in that position? So willing and compliant? Had she needed something from him? Like you needed something from Mark?

You feel yourself grow wet at the thought of what situation you and Mark would be in if this was porn. He would be your only option to getting what you want and being able to stay, so you’d put him in your mouth and let him fuck your face to convince him.

“Hello? Are you there?” Mark asked suddenly, waving his hand in front of your face from the couch.

Getting lost in your erotic haze, you feel as though you should think twice for what you’re about to do, but you feel so turned on by the idea and sitting here knowing what Mark had been doing right before you entered couldn’t make you stop yourself.

Mark watched you get off the chair you had been sitting on and slipping yourself in between the couch and coffee table. He looks at you with his head tilted to the sight and eyebrows furrowed, unsure of what you were doing. As you sink down to your knees in front of him, he feels his cock twitch in his sweats. He thinks he surely must be mistaken.

“W-What are you doing?” He asked, his breath hitched.

You looked at him innocently, placing your hands on his thighs, “what does it look like I’m doing? Let me convince you that you shouldn’t raise the rent.”

He feels like his heart has stopped beating and that maybe this is all a dream, an erotic fantasy and his mind is just drifting off. That he’s actually still fixated in front of the video he was watching earlier with his hand rubbing up and down his length.

Mark had to be honest with himself, he had never been a situation like this before and his mind was running a thousand miles a minute trying to figure out what the right way of going about this was. Not that there is a right way, he thought to himself.

He knows that he shouldn’t even be in this situation and that it’s his own damn fault for somehow not stopping you from entering his apartment, but he can’t help but look at you so willing for him and wonder what if?

Immediately he shook his head and decided to put a stop to this. He didn’t want this to take advantage of you.

“Y/N, I-I don’t think we should do this. I don’t want you to think that I’m using you or taking advantage of you because of-” you cut him off, sharp as a knife. “If you don’t think we should do this, then why are you hard?”

At your words, Mark finally acknowledges how hard he’s become at the sight of you being so obedient for him and he feels his cheeks grow red, “I-I-” he began to stammer, perplexed by the uncertainty he felt.

He wanted this, oh god how he wanted this, but he didn’t want you to feel like you had to do this.

As if you read his mind, you interrupted his daze, “Mark I’m doing this because I want this, trust me,” you found yourself rolling your eyes at him, “just let me play the role of desperate tenant who’s willing to do anything to stay, okay?”

Mark nodded wordlessly, and realizes all he can do is take your word for what it was and trust you. Allowing himself to do so, he felt freed from his thought filled head and finally be in the moment. The moment where all you wanted was to suck him off.

At this allowance, you drifted your hands up Mark’s thighs to the elastic waistband of his sweatpants to finally expose his hard cock. Your tongue darted out to lick your lips instinctively, feeling a pulse in your core at the sight. He positioned himself closer to the edge of the couch as you moved forward enough on your knees to breathe on the head of his cock, “fuck,” he hummed.

Licking your lips one last time, you parted them to suck lightly at the tip. Your tongue slipped out from your lips to lick around the head, moving in slow strides and glancing up to find Mark staring down at you. At his gaze, you felt yourself involuntarily whimper at how innocent he looked as if he couldn’t believe that this was happening which to a certain degree you couldn’t either.

Never had you imagined in all the times you passed by him in the building that you’d be in this position, your tongue dragging up and down his length slowly. Now, you would let him fuck your face however much and however hard he wants.

You take more than just the head into your mouth, coating his length with saliva and letting your lips glide against the sensitive skin. “So good,” you heard Mark softly murmur and the quiet praise made you want to take even more of him into your mouth.

It doesn’t go unnoticed to Mark at how you move a little faster or take more of his length in every time he words how good you are. He wonders what else you would want to hear. You continued your rhythm, bobbing your head up and down, forgetting about everything else. All that mattered to you was hearing Mark’s moans and his praise he hoarsely whispered. You were pulled out of your trance as Mark gripped a handful of hair to pull you off of him. You whined, but liked his sudden force.

He chuckled and you noticed how different his eyes now looked. Before, his hesitancy to the situation shined through them, but now they were glossy and much darker. It was almost as though Mark had been replaced while you had him in your mouth.

“Just look at you, so fucking eager. So ready to get down on your knees for me to get what you want… so greedy to have as much of me as you can. As much as it takes.”

This new Mark was certainly doing things for you.

“Mark fuck my face,” you practically groaned. For a moment you see a glimpse back to the Mark who had been looking down at you innocently just a little while ago, but soon you’re once again met with this new Mark who was so sure of himself and seemed like he enjoyed being in control.

He smirked, “what did I do to deserve such a good girl?”

Without hesitation, Mark stands up in front of you and shoves himself back into your mouth, slowly wanting you to feel him in every part of your mouth the same way you would feel him later.

“How bad do you want to stay?” He asked, pushing himself in further until all of him was in your mouth, feeling him at the back of your throat “I know you can take it all kitten.”

At the pet name, you moaned around him, not being able to hold it back. Your reaction caused him to begin thrusting himself into your mouth, his hand going to grasp the back of your head, setting a harsh pace and thrusting quickly, he groaned at the sound of you choking on him. As tears began to form in the corner of your eyes, Mark wondered if he should ease up and began to slow down. You noticed this and simply reached your hand up to rub his leg gently as a sign for him to continue.

He soon returned to his original pace and kept his eyes fixated on himself going in and out of your mouth. He felt himself grow closer and closer to release, especially when he thought about how compliant you were being for him, how you had been the one to initiate this and how if your mouth felt this good, your pussy would feel even better.

The thought brings him to cum in your mouth, and he becomes embarrassed at how sudden his climax was. Part of Mark thinks you’ll be mad, but part of him also thinks that maybe that’s what you wanted all along.

The latter thought proved to be correct as you took all of his release in your mouth with ease and swallow, showing him your tongue as proof of a job well done.

Mark’s heart skipped a beat.

You smiled at the bewildered look on Mark’s face and used the back of your hand to wipe the saliva and cum that had dripped onto your chin and lips during Mark’s brutal plunge into your mouth.

Mark felt overwhelmed with exhaustion as a result from his orgasm and collapsed onto the couch behind him, spreading his legs and shutting his eyes after pulling his sweats back on. At his actions, you stood up from your space on the floor in front of him and watched him for a moment.

Fuck, he really is beautiful, you found yourself thinking. How peaceful and pristine he looked post-climax made you want to take care of him and just run your fingers through his hair until he was fast asleep.

The sudden want caused you to feel like that maybe it was your cue to leave Mark’s apartment. However, just as you turned to go, you feel Mark grabbing your wrist from his spot on the couch. “Hold on just give me a minute,” he mumbled with his eyes still closed.

You scanned your eyes back and forth around the room, and noticed the “best uncle ever!” drawing sitting against one of the bookshelves in the corner. You took this as your second sign to leave this man’s apartment.

“Fine if you can’t wait one minute while I put myself together, just have at it I guess,” Mark stammered, gesturing to his lap as he felt your attempt to leave once again.

His eyes are still closed, therefore you’re not sure if he’s even aware of his words and movements, “uh… what?” In that moment, Mark shot his eyes open quickly, “My thigh. Ride it,” he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Being honest with yourself, you hadn’t expected this little rendezvous or whatever it was with Mark to include more than him fucking your face. When you had seen the length and size of him through his sweatpants along with what he had been watching before you angrily knocked on his door, all you could think about was getting him in your mouth. You hadn’t considered your own needs for even a second. The sudden realization of this made you think you were going insane.

Mark pats his lap and set you into a blur of removing your pants, hesitantly setting yourself down on his thigh. It’s almost as though he could sense your uncertainty and he positioned you down onto him, grasping your hips to move them back and forth slowly. He does this for a moment and you let out a groan at the friction you feel against your core. “Can I kiss you?” Mark asked you with his head leaning against the back of the couch, hands still grasped on your sides.

Your practically snorted at his request, “asks the guy who’s already had me swallow his cum.” He brings his head up instantly as if shocked and ready to defend himself to you, “I’m sorry okay!? I couldn’t help myself,” he paused and quietly, “you were too good.”

You feel yourself smile at his praise once again and you nodded your head, “of course you can kiss me Mark.”

“Okay I just had to make sure!”

“You know I’m not a prostitute, right?”

“I-I know! That’s not what I meant! I meant-” You cut him off laughing, stopping your movement on him completely to collect yourself, “Mark I’m fucking with you. Don’t worry.”

“That’s not very nice,” Mark huffed.

You placed your hands at the back of his neck and pull him closer to you, “now kiss me you idiot.” You could have sworn you heard him mutter something like “that’s still not very nice,” but as soon as his lips reached yours for the first time of the night all other thoughts left your head. The contact was enough to leave you lightheaded, and with every lick and bite of your lips you felt yourself instinctively begin to move your hips again.

Mark’s kisses trailed from your lips to you jaw to your neck, and his soft sucking, along with the feeling of your clit rubbing against him through your panties caused you to forcefully grip onto Mark’s broad shoulders. The feeling overcoming you from the way grinding on just Mark’s thigh felt and the way he was sucking that spot on your neck, caused you to what nothing more than to reach your high fast and hard. You wanted to completely fall apart from riding this gorgeous man’s thigh and let him know how good it felt.

Mark unattached himself from your skin and simply laid his head and arms back down on the couch as he had done when he was exhausted. He became so transfixed in your grinding on him and all he wanted to do in the moment was enjoy the show.

Arms still on his shoulders, “Mark,” you moaned, suddenly wishing you had even less than just your panties between and his sweats between the two of you.

“Show me how much you want it. Show me how much you want to stay so you can ride my thigh every single day,” at his words, Mark tensed his thigh and your eyes immediately shoot open at the new feeling that overwhelms you further. Mark is already hard again at the sight of you getting yourself off by using him and he realizes that he would be okay with you using him as much as you want, whenever you want.

Mark’s hands wander forward from the couch and begin to trail themselves up and down your body, playing with your breasts through your shirt and palming them softly. It’s when he reaches around to the back of your panties and pulls them tighter against you body that you feel the high you had been chasing begin to hit you. The material riding up, gives your clit the final bit of friction you need to send you spiraling into an orgasm.

You let out a final “Fuck!” as exclamation as your fingernails dig into Mark’s shoulders, your head falling backwards and causing your breath to catch in your throat. Mark’s hands returned to your hips, grinding you down onto him to make you ride out the aftershocks that course through you.

“Fuck,” you heard Mark say as you fell forward into his arms, “that was so fucking hot.”

He rubbed your back soothingly and you smiled into his shoulder at his response to you just having an orgasm from his thigh. “Hotter than the porno you were watching?”

He playfully hits your back, “Way hotter, trust me.”

When you finally regain strength, you lifted yourself off of Mark’s chest and looked down to notice the dark patch on his grey sweats where you had been pressing yourself against him. You looked away from him, face growing hot from embarrassment. Mark tilted your chin towards him, “aw did my kitten leave behind a mess?” he asked you cooing in a soft voice.

Despite reaching orgasm only moments ago, you feel the space between your legs begin to drip with arousal once again and judging on Mark’s demeanor, he can sense it.

He pressed himself further against you until you can feel his hardness against the side of your own thigh, “does she want more?” Once again in a Mark Tuan induced trance, you nod your head mindlessly.

In a haze of motions and movement, Mark pulled you off of his lap to remove his sweats, his cock springing free and looking painfully hard and ready to be inside of you. You lick your lips at the thought and it’s not until Mark pats his lap for you to get back on that you realize he wants you to ride him.

Any other situation you would jump at the opportunity, loving the control, but you whined at him still feeling a bit spent from working yourself against him before, “can we do more of a ‘you put most of the work in’ kind of position?”

He puts his hands up jokingly as if surrendering, “okay, okay, okay.”

You lay down with your back against the couch, removing your shirt and bra as Mark goes to the bathroom to retrieve a condom, but to your dismay he comes back holding an empty box, flipping it upside down to show you the issue.

“Wow are you that busy?” You asked Mark, then suddenly it occurs to you that maybe you should have asked if he as a girlfriend. Mark didn’t really seem to be the kind of guy that would do that to someone.

He shakes his head, “no, it’s just… It’s been a long time okay? And there used to be more than half a box left, but I’m pretty sure all of my friends have secretly been taking them when they’re here, because how else could they disappear if I haven’t had sex with anyone in forever?”

It’s clear that Mark’s worked up by the situation and isn’t sure what to do, so you try your best to calm him down, giggling at his demeanor, “Mark it’s fine. I have an IUD, don’t worry.”

“What?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes at him, what was up with this kid? “An IUD… an Intrauterine d-”

“I know what an IUD is! I just meant… you still want to have sex with me even though I’m dumb and all my friends apparently take my condoms?”

You swear your heart swells at innocent Mark appearing in front of you once again and you laugh again, “well I have to show you how much I want to stay, right?” You wiggled your hips at him from down on the couch and sighed contently, “plus I just really need you inside of me or else I feel like I’m going to explode.”

Mark laughed at you and throws the empty condom box to the side of the couch, which he climbs back on positioning himself in between your legs, “yes ma’am.”

He gently ran his index finger up and down, over your clothed entrance, the feeling causing you to shiver. Mark smirked at your reaction and pushes underneath your underwear until he rubs his finger directly over your slit, letting it collect your wetness. When he removes it, you whimper at the feeling and he places his digit into his mouth to taste you.

He let out a lustful sound at your taste, “my kitten tastes just like candy. I could spend all day with my head in between your legs and I will, but I need to be inside you. Now.” At his emphasis on wanting to sink into you, Mark for some reason decided that it would make more sense to use his hands to rip apart your underwear to grant him entrance rather than simply taking them off of you. You made a mental note to give him shit for it later. $250 and new underwear? No thanks.

Delicately, Mark lifts both of your legs up until they’re situated on each of his shoulders. You feel yourself exposed to him in a new way, his cock brushing against you slit, making you feel the need to beg for him to enter you. At his pause, you tried to slide yourself down towards him impatiently, but he holds in you in place, “I thought you were tired?” Mark smirked right before he enters you slightly. Only part of him is in, but you groaned at the stretch.

“Fuck kitten, are you even going to be able to take me?” Mark wondered out loud.

He continued to push into you, and your body adjusted itself to get used to the way he was stretching you and the way he was filling you so deliciously. You barely ever went without a condom despite your IUD, but with a lack of barrier separating you and Mark and the sensation it brought, you found yourself wanting him to enter you like this as many times as he wanted.

He pushed himself forward until he bottoms out, fully inside of you and groaned. He starts off slow and you whimpered, just wanting to feel him pound into you already. You think you’re going to cry at how you can feel him practically everywhere and in every single part of your body, when he has barely even moved. Mark feels himself go dizzy at how tight you are around him. It’s bordering on painful, the squeeze of your walls around his cock, but he doesn’t really care as he listens to the sounds leaving your mouth asking him to move faster.

Mark’s pace picked up and as he thrusts into you at a faster and faster rate, your lifted legs move with him and your knees practically begin to hit your chest every time he pulls back to delve into you again. With the angle his plummeting into you at, it’s not long before he hits your sweet spot and as you shutting your eyes tightly, unable to focus on anything except how good it feels. It’s when Mark’s hands leave your hips and wander to your breasts, cupping them, swirling your nipples in between his thumb and index finger that you feel yourself clench dangerously hard around Mark. He moaned, feeling like he could cum again at any minute, but he held himself off wanting to make sure he had taken care of you first.

“Are you sure you don’t just want me?” Mark asked in his gruff, low voice, his probing into you giving no sign of stopping, “Are you sure you just didn’t want to feel me inside you this whole time? You don’t care about staying or going, you just wanted to feel yourself wrapped around me. Be honest.” At his words you let out more lustful sounds, unable to form any real response due to how fucked out you felt. Mark, however, wouldn’t take your silence at an answer as he thrusts in even harder, “Be. Honest.”

It’s then when he pushes you over the edge, and you feel your second orgasm of the night course through you. “Mark… F-fuck Mark, oh god I- fuck,” you pant at the same time your walls squeezed around Mark one final time, your lower body arching off of the couch. For Mark, that’s all it takes for him to reach the peak of his own orgasm, the sight of you falling apart in front of him. You feel him release himself inside of you, feeling him make you so full with his warm cum coating your walls.

As you caught your breath from your own climax, you watch Mark come down from his, making note of the final noise he lets out before he almost collapses himself on top of you. He pulls himself out of you and lowers your legs from his shoulder, a soreness that wasn’t present during the fucking starting to make itself known in your body.

You feel more exhausted than you had after your first orgasm and you don’t even realize you closed your eyes until you feel Mark nudging your shoulder gently with his hand, “huh?” you mumbled, half-aware.

“I’m going to clean you up, is that okay?” Mark asked tentatively.

For probably the hundredth time of the night you wanted to laugh at the boy. He had already fucked you, but he still felt the need to ask if it was okay to do things like clean you up.

Okay he was cute.

Nodding at him, you feel Mark wiping up the mess he made inside of you that was beginning to seep out. When he’s finished, he lifts your legs and sits down on the couch beside your laying body, dropping your legs over his lap. He caresses them.

There’s a peaceful moment between the two of you and it’s nice, it soothes you and you feel yourself drifting off once again, but Mark interrupts your fall into slumber, “you know I probably could talk to my dad about everything.” At this point you didn’t care about the money anymore, and you hoped Mark truly knew that the rent wasn’t the reason why you fucked him.

Using your legs, you playfully kick Mark, “I really don’t care about that anymore. This was worth way more than $250.”

He chuckled, “Like how much? $500?”

You hummed in thought, “I honestly couldn’t even put a price on it if you held a gun to my head.”

“Dark… but I get it.”

There’s another moment of silence and you take this as your chance to fall asleep, but suddenly you feel yourself being lifted off of the couch and into Mark’s arms, “where are you taking me?”

“My room, so you don’t have to fall asleep on an uncomfortable and overpriced couch.”

Your eyes shoot open, “so you think it’s overpriced too!” He shakes head at you playfully in protest and lays you down on his bed when he enters his room. You can’t help but inhale the scent around you. It smells like him.

He sits down beside you and places a kiss on your forehead, “I’m still going to talk to my dad regardless. It’s kind of ridiculous.” A smile slowly starts to creep up on your face just as you agree with him, “Okay, okay. Fine!”

“Now get some rest.” You felt the weight shift up on the bed, signaling Mark’s departure, but instantly with your eyes still closed, you reached out to grab his wrist, “wake me up in twenty minutes for another round, okay?”

He clicked his tongue at you, “It’s going to cost you.” You opened your eyes and smiled up at him, thumb gently stroking his wrist.

“I’m not worried, you’re priceless after all.”

#got7 fanfic #got7 smut #mark tuan fanfic #mark tuan smut #mark tuan

348 notes · View notes

smol-fatale · 4 years

Link

GN Reader x Ace, Angst with a Happy Ending, TW for mentions of self-harm, depression, and the result of arson (involuntary of course), ~1800 words

Person A wants to bake a cake for Person B’s birthday but ends up lighting the kitchen on fire instead.

Ace really wants to bake you a cake for your birthday. However, instead of him cheering you up, you cheer him up. After all, he's more important than your birthday anyway.

This is for @burnthoneymint‘s b-day event. Happy birthday my dear! Also read down below.

Involuntary Arson

Ace would be the first to admit that he had an obsession with fire. He was a pyromaniac though he never lit any living thing on fire and nothing bigger than a flatscreen TV. However, he hasn’t lit anything on fire in the past nine months which is an accomplishment for him. He has found other ways to relieve his stress, some of them including you.

You had done much in the past to care for Ace and Mr. Freckles over here was dying to return the favor. Your birthday was at the end of the week and the genius that is Ace thought it was a great idea to make you a cake, even though there is a literal five-star chef in the friend group.

Ace pestered said five-star chef until he caved and taught him the basics of making your favorite: chocolate cake. Ace practiced in Sanji’s kitchen, writing down all the steps and committing each of them to memory. By the time the cake was done, Ace was confident, maybe overly so, that he could recreate the dessert perfectly the next day. He even suggested for Sanji to give away the cake they made together since his was going to turn out better. (A joke of course as Sanji is the most talented chef in the world.)

***

On the day of your birth, Ace was ecstatic to show off his baking skills.

Ace laid out the ingredients neatly in a row and got started on melting the chocolate chips on the stove first. Sanji suggested for him to use cocoa powder instead since the man was fire-prone but he refused and insisted on following Sanji’s recipe exactly. Surprisingly, he managed to melt the chocolate perfectly without burning it. Becoming a little more confident in his skills, he set the chocolate on the lowest flames (as some more had to be melted) and started sifting the dry ingredients in a bowl. Afterward, he folded the chocolate into the bowl, just as Sanji had shown him. Finally, he added avocado which was weird sure but he did trust Sanji with anything food-related. (The cook insisted on it as it was healthier than oil or butter and makes the cake richer in comparison.) Ace then spooned the mixture into a cake pan and placed it in the oven for thirty minutes.

Fifty minutes later Ace woke up to not only a burnt chocolate cake but the stove on fire as well as everything else between it, the kitchen sink, and the window. The smoke is what woke him up and his fire training kicked in as he immediately ran to get the fire extinguisher to put out the flames. He then called down to the station insisting that he was fine and there was no need for the team to come over, except maybe Marco who was a fire inspector.

Luckily they lived in a brick building so the structural integrity was saved. However, the same couldn’t be said for the kitchen. The entire thing had to be excavated and revamped. Anything metal and plastic melted. The rest burned to ash. It was found that the fire was caused by the oven being almost seventy degrees hotter than it should’ve been causing the cake to cook faster than intended. The entire process would take weeks and it cost thousands in repair. Ace considered just buying another apartment but that was cowardly as he would only be running away from his problem. Plus, he still had to pay for the damages regardless.

***

Ace was devastated. He knew you were indifferent to your birthday but he wanted it to be extra special for you because he was so damn happy that you were born. It took everything in his power not to start a fire in another part of the apartment due to how stressed he was. He kept a match between his teeth and flicked a lighter nervously waiting for you to come home from your half-shift.

After what felt like centuries he heard the click of the lock as you arrived home. The loud gasp you took as you walked inside reminded Ace that the kitchen was the first thing one encounters when walking into their home. That made him recoil into himself more in his place behind the couch.

***

Meanwhile, you took the time to survey the damage to the kitchen. It was hard to tell that the color scheme was navy blue and stainless steel as everything was charred black. The sink worked but just barely and most of the cupboards were...well...half were burned away leaving nothing but an imprint on the wall and the other half were hanging on by a nail. The oven was the worst of all. It was so badly burnt and mangled, it was only due to its place in the kitchen that you even recognized what it was. You stood in the kitchen until the smell aggravated your nose. Then you left to find your boyfriend.

You searched everywhere: in the bedroom, spare room, and bathroom before finding him behind the couch in the living room. He wasn’t crying but he was shaking. He had a lit match between his teeth that was dangerously close to burning his lips. This was an internal “game” he played when the stress became too much. He would light a match between his teeth and if he put it out, then he knew he wasn’t worthless. If he didn’t and got burned, then he felt as though he deserved every negative thing that happens to him, whether it was his fault or not. It took years for you, with therapy, to convince him that he was worth living and to stop this dangerous “game.” However, he still did it occasionally when his dark thoughts overcame him.

You crouched down next to him and blew out the flame. His unseeing eyes then snapped towards yours as he broke and started to cry. You scooped your boyfriend into your arms and soothed him as the tears freely flowed.

“I fucked up.” He sniffled into your chest.

“We all make mistakes Ace.” You combed your fingers into his hair allowing him to calm down after the tears stopped.

“What happened?” You whispered into his ear as to not disturb the unsteady peace that surrounded you two.

“Iwantedtobakeyouacake.” He squeezed you impossibly tight to muffle the words and to hide his shame.

You looked to the island in the middle of the kitchen. Half was a beautiful blue. The other a smoldering black. You squinted and spotted a medium black disk in the center.

“Thank you. I bet it tasted delicious.” You were grateful for his attempt and the honesty in your voice sparked a new round of tears.

“Why are you with me?” He asked quietly after settling his face into the crook of your neck.

It broke your heart to hear the love of your life sounding so despondent as if he wasn’t worth every single star that speckled the night sky. You knew that he had issues of self-worth. That he appeared as confident and strong as a maverick wave but was just as turbulent as the ocean on the inside. Somedays, he felt as though he didn’t even deserve life itself and you always, always, contradicted that statement. Yes, he made be reckless and make idiotic mistakes but he had the biggest heart you’ve ever seen. No questions asked he would give you the shirt off his back. You’ve witnessed him give his boots to a total stranger and then proceed to walk the streets barefoot for half an hour in search of a shoe store. One time he missed a date with you because a child was lost in the park and he waited with them for over two hours for their parents to pick them up at the station. He became a firefighter because no matter how much he wanted to burn himself with flames he wanted to rescue people from them even more. His heart shone brighter than the sun and the world would be a much colder, let alone darker, place if he wasn’t around and you made sure he knew this.

“Because there is no one else I’d rather be with. Your heart rivals the sun and I’m eternally grateful for every single millisecond that I get to spend with you. Out of 7.5 billion people in the world, I choose you. And I will continue to choose you until the Earth drops out of rotation and the sun dies out. Do you understand?”

Ace didn’t say anything but gave a small nod into your shoulder confirming he heard all that you said. You two sat in a calm silence until an idea popped into your head which was sure to perk up your boyfriend. You softly shifted him out of your arms and he watched you silently in confusion. You went into the kitchen towards the fridge that was miraculously undamaged from the events of the day. From it, you pulled a small package that contained two chocolate snack cakes with white icing in the middle. You then went back to sit in front of Ace. You gestured for him to splay out his legs so you could sit on his lap and he did, albeit a bit warily. You unwrapped one of the cakes and placed a match in it. Then you took the lighter from Ace’s limp hand and lit it.

“Thank you for making this the best birthday ever,” you said holding the small cake between the two of you before blowing it out.

Ace studied you carefully as you took the match out and broke the cake in half exposing the icing. You took some and smeared it on your boyfriend’s lips, covering the various little burn marks on them, before kissing him. It was sweet and wet, reminiscent of the first kiss you two shared in the rain. You pulled back and though the smile you received was small, it was the most ethereal thing you have ever witnessed. You repeated this process with every single freckle on his face, including eyes and nose, before moving on to his neck. By the time you finished you completely rid the cake of its icing. The result was an Ace softly chuckling as your little kisses tickled him. He took you into his arms and laid back so your head rested on his chest. One hand was on your back while the other slowly massaged your scalp. You laid still in his arms until his arms went lax and his breath evened out. The stress of the day finally drained him of his energy.

Was this truly your best birthday? Well, that’s subjective but it does have the top spot as of now. Who’s to say what will happen in the future. What you do know is that you aren’t a liar and you loved the man beneath you more than life itself. Every birthday was the best if it was spent with him no matter what happened that day. With that, you kissed his chest, over his heart, and settled down to sleep on top of the man of your dreams.

Masterlist

#birthdaycheer #one piece #Portgas D. Ace #ace x reader #one piece x reader #OP Ace #words of ki

43 notes · View notes

dredgenridge · 4 years

Text

My situation is still really fucking terrible. It's gotten worse. Please. I am only asking one dollar in donations. Just one dollar.

My name is Victoria Douglas. I do not give a shit that this is a long read. I have a lot to say and I have kept quiet for too long. Way too long. I am in desperate need of help. I have needed help for a god damn long time and I have always been too scared to ask for it becaise I was shot down when I was little.

I am a 21 year old asexual that is the youngest of five children if you count all half siblings. I am stuck living under the same roof as my toxic family of my biological parents who are always fighting after over 20 years and my older brother who didn't suffer as much as I did since they were almost always watching him because of his visual impairment. Yeah, I get but for fuck's sake, my emotional needs were never met.

Since I am the youngest, I never got a say in anything. It has always been "You are the youngest. You have no say." or "You are too young." Which led to me bottling up asking for help or suggesting things because I became terrified that I would have a negative response.

They told me to "Get over it." when it came to me getting hurt emotionally. They thought I could handle myself, the five foot seven year old where peers were afraid of me. I am sure the teachers were afraid of me because I was already unusually tall for my age and I was emotional.

My brother's birthday is in the summer when there is no school so what the family could do was like little trips for his birthday. He got the handheld game systems. My birthday is during school and close to Christmas. We did the same dinner every year until I learned my mom didn't like the cake I liked to eat. It sounds stupid but that had an effect on me where that was the final straw on celebrating anything.

Speaking of, I already hate holidays because it was always me being the catalyst of something going wrong. I did something that directly caused it or I did something that caused someone to have a fight. I hate the holidays. For me, it is just regular days. Nothing more.

I hate surprises too. I hate them. I never could stand it. I hate even trying to make plans because it is always convenient that it is all good and then the gut feeling happens thay everything is going according to plan and then I get smacked in the face that the other party forgot or they agreed to do something else or soemthing just manages to happen to where they can't make it. Not all my friends. Not all of you. Some of you are legitimately busy.

Just fucking tell me up front if you can't do it so I don't feel like I got it all prepared and then I feel like utter shit when you say you can't do it. I feel like I just waste everyone's time. What's another crack or piece falling off me.

I have made a few posts already about this. I have PMDD, depression, anxiety, and possibly a slew of other mental disorders that do I not know I have. I live in the south of North America, so very religious and homophobic in the family. I am the only person in the house that is not cishet and they make it known they despise me. I have had no privacy in over five years and it feels like they are trying to cram the bible down my throat.

I have trauma from how I was raised. I have a horrible relationship with food. That is my addiction and some foods do not work with my body. It costs money to feed me alone because I am intolerant to a lot of the foods in the house. Most of it will not settle with me. I can eat some of the stuff but it has to be limited. It is literally- "Do I feed myself or get some new clothes?" I choose to feed myself and I eat when I actually can get myself to eat.

No therapist is wanting to talk with me here. I haven't had a confirmation on any of them wanting to see me. I can't just take an hour in my work day. I am working over 50 hours a week. I have met my limit and still yet, I am burning myself out working because this is the only time I can make extra money at my job and we are understaffed. I've cut my lunch time short and staying an extra hour to make a bit extra.

My blood pressure is pretty high and I have had one nosebleed from all the stress already. I am not getting many hours of sleep in. I may get three full hours a night, if that. I am too stressed from earlier in the day to even sleep.

I am developing problems in my other foot now. It hurts to be on my feet all day. I have plamtar faciatis in my left foot and I have no idea what is going on with my right foot. I hurt too much to even make any proper meals for myself which is causing me to get sick.

I have had suicidal ideation for over a month now. I have been depressed for years. I hate myself. I want to be better but I can't do that. Not without escaping here and never looking back.

I am crying out for help. Gofundmes have never worked or any of the sort. This is my last spot to try and privately. I don't know what will happen if my family finds out about this. I am scared that they will kick me out and try to take the donated money.

I'm scared.

#signal boost #tw suicide #suicide mention #abuse tw #domestic abuse #child abuse #emotional abuse #i need help #anything please #slight rant

142 notes · View notes

stevenuniversallyreviews · 5 years

Text

Episode 133: Dewey Wins

“But...I’m hurt.”

I started reviewing the Week of Sardonyx in late 2017. It was slow going thanks to grad school and student teaching and licensing tests and my job (boy do I not miss those days), but I’d clawed my way through Cry for Help in October and Keystone Motel on the first Sunday of November. In those reviews, I wrote at length about how this was the most devastating arc of the series, a massive argument spanning multiple episodes with no easy answers.

Then the Friday after my Keystone Motel post was uploaded, Cartoon Network dropped the Breakup Arc on us all at once, and I had to make some edits.

There’s no official name for the span of episodes between Dewey Wins and Kevin Party, but considering it features not one but two breakups, with only one reconciliation by the end, I think my nickname is apt. Just under a fifth of Season 5 is devoted to six consecutive episodes designed to make us miserable, and on top of being an outstanding sequel to the Week of Sardonyx, it’s the best precursor we’ve got to adolescent trials of Steven Universe Future.

The Week of Sardonyx is strengthened by numerous previous episodes where Pearl does bad things without consequence, making it something of a shock when her actions are finally addressed. In a similar way, we’ve been taught from Log Date 7 15 2 and Kindergarten Kid and The New Crystal Gems that emotionally draining arcs are followed by cooldown episodes, and Dewey Wins sounds like the name of a fun adventure with our goofy mayor. There’s no situation where the Breakup Arc would be a pleasant affair, but the pattern adds an extra layer of angst as our anticipated relief period ends up more stressful than the arc we needed relief from.

But not every big arc gets a cooldown. Our very first, ending with Jailbreak, is followed by one of the Breakup Arc’s major prequels: Full Disclosure, an episode about missed phone calls and the importance of keeping friends in the loop regarding space adventures. The ghosted party is flipped, as Connie now refuses to talk to Steven, and watching his struggle gives an even greater appreciation for Connie’s own turmoil (not just from Full Disclosure, but Steven’s reckless self-sacrifice).

We know something’s wrong from the moment we see her, in a way that’s different from Greg and the Gems’ wide-eyed concern. Her discomfort manifests just as it did in Mindful Education: a downcast expression and curt demeanor made more apparent by Steven’s cheery chattiness. But because she’s the only one of them that has truly taken the lessons of that episode to heart, she soon expresses her feelings outright (after a brutal “Of course I’m happy to see you”—Grace Rolek only needs one scene to be the episode’s MVP). Her complaints are all valid: this is not the first time she’s been left on Earth, and her sense that Steven isn’t taking her seriously is confirmed when he can’t even take her seriously within the conversation. She’s as direct as she can be, but when Steven refuses to acknowledge her pain, her anger takes over and she shuts him out. Lion’s side-eye is icing on the cake.

My biggest issue with Dewey Wins, however, is Steven. I’m torn, because it’s easy to justify his behavior throughout the episode as a result of recent trauma and the relief at surviving such a harrowing experience (and, later, the same sleeplessness that made him snap in Rose’s Room and Warp Tour). It makes sense that his martyr complex is intensified by his experience with Lars, that he falls back on helping others at the cost of his own well-being on instinct. But his flippant dismissal of Connie’s emotions still feels off, especially because it comes with a heretofore unseen swagger about his own heroism. She pours her heart out, making it clear that she wants to keep being Jam Buds but he’s making it really difficult, but every word goes right over his head. This is a version of Steven that somehow doesn’t get that “hurt” can refer to emotions instead of physical damage.

Throughout the episode, but particularly in this opening scene, Steven feels exaggerated for the sake of honing Connie’s argument. Perhaps it’s necessary, considering how easy it is in first viewing to see his sacrifice as noble rather than selfish; we need to see a more extreme version of his behavior to understand that going it alone was a bad move, or else Connie’s arguments seem small against the scale of the stakes. It’s further complicated by the fact that Steven’s sacrifice was noble, even if it was selfish at the same time. This isn’t a case where Steven is fully right or fully wrong, so it’s bound to be confusing to hear that his traditionally heroic move wasn’t as great as he (or we) first thought.

So yeah, I get why Steven is acting this way for the sake of the show. And, again, I can find reasons to explain his sudden emotional idiocy, making it leagues better than a true Annoying Steven episode. But it still comes across as clumsy to me; I can see the wheels turning to move the plot along in a way that’s normally hidden better on this show. His final monologue where he realizes that Connie felt the way he feels about Dewey abandoning the race feels like something from another show, a show that’s way more on-the-nose than Steven Universe is at its best. It was probably the right move, because as much as I can’t stand it when media is patronizing to young audiences, this lesson is complex enough that it’s worth a little clunkiness to ensure that the message gets through to smaller viewers. But compared to the elegance of our recent space adventure, Dewey Wins sacrifices polish for clarity when we usually get both.

But enough about what doesn’t work for me, because so much of this episode works for me. Even if his behavior feels forced, Steven provides seamless in-universe exposition recapping his space adventure. His follow-up conversation with Sadie has the same kind of douchey detachment that he shows Connie, but in a way that’s far more consistent with his character: dismissing Connie’s emotions is out of left field for him, but it makes plenty of sense that he’d see Lars as “okay” despite being trapped in space, considering the alternative was a very real death. And, of course, there’s the matter of the episode’s actual hero.

Nanefua Pizza has been my everything since Beach Party, and it’s thrilling to see her gain more prominence in the tail end of the series. Her beef with Mayor Dewey has been running since Political Power, the Dewey episode that established all the flaws that drive him out of office in Dewey Wins. Then, she responded by rallying rioters to tip over his truck, but now she takes a more civic-minded approach to effect real change. Still, she’s driven by the same anger at Dewey, and can only become a true force for good when she gains a new appreciation for his struggles.

While the correlation between Dewey and Steven is obvious well before Steven straight-up says there’s a correlation (a moment that’s made easier to swallow when Dewey points out he has no context for Steven’s friend troubles), the general conflict between Nanefua and Bill(iam) is a more fascinating study on blame. At first, both candidates believe in the power of blame, with Nanefua laying all the city’s troubles on Dewey’s inaction and Dewey arguing that taking the heat is his greatest strength: in his mind, there’s not much he can actually do about the cosmic misfortunes that befall Beach City, but giving its citizens somebody to blame gives them a sense of control that’s necessary in a chaotic world. And both of these viewpoints can be found in Steven’s self-image.

Steven, like Nanefua, is quick to lay blame when anything goes wrong. But Steven, like Dewey, sees the absorption of blame as a virtue. So he loops between those two positions, looking for someone to blame at the drop of a hat and only finding himself. The ensuing guilt make him want to fix the problems of others to atone, rather than focus on the underlying cause of his own issues, and if that sounds familiar it’s because Steven Universe Future is entirely about how important it is to break this loop.

But obsessing over fixing things is also how Pearl tries to solve her argument with Garnet in the Week of Sardonyx: she focuses on finding Peridot instead of doing anything about her own actions until she has no choice but to talk things out. And, as I said back in my Friend Ship post, it evokes something Pearl once said about humans (which it turns out applies to Gems):

“They want to blame all the world's problems on some single enemy they can fight, instead of a complex network of interrelated forces beyond anyone's control.”

When was this said? In Keep Beach City Weird, in regards to Ronaldo. The same Ronaldo who poured gas on the fire in Full Disclosure by presenting the idea that heroes are aloof and keep their friends at a distance. So in a way, the Breakup Arc can be chalked up to ignoring the good Ronaldo lesson but taking the bad Ronaldo lesson to heart. But more on him in Gemcation.

Steven’s turmoil lends a somber edge to Nanefua’s powerful change of heart, where she rejects her past choice to blame Dewey. She apologizes for her own part in pointing fingers, because blame is a lousy substitute for getting things done, and forgives him for not being perfect. She pitches the act of helping as a community effort, rather than something that any one person must do alone; she remembers that the lyrics are “we can be strong in the real way.” She’s giving Steven all of the answers well before Steven Universe Future shows how much his guilt loop will continue to plague him, but he isn’t ready to listen yet, and leaves the debate dejected instead of empowered. (Considering Jenny’s appeal to taking breaks during trying times in Joy Ride, and an adventure with Kiki about not spreading yourself too thin on behalf of others in Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service, this is the third time a Pizza woman’s fantastic advice has gone ignored by our hero.)

Even Dewey seems better off than Steven, accepting defeat by acknowledging that Nanefua would make a better mayor. And he’s right! She sets up actual services to account for alien threats, services that end up changing the universe in a way Dewey’s brand of keeping the peace never could. He may need a new job (Sadie foreshadows both his fate and her own imminent career change in one fell swoop), but there’s a sense of calm as he passes the torch after a full episode of Joel Hodgson’s hammy anxiety.

I appreciate that Dewey is allowed some points in his favor even as he flubs his way out of office. Yes, he should be more thoughtful and attentive: his vow to find a new donut shop kid when presented with news that Lars is trapped in space is even broader than Steven’s reaction to Connie’s pain, but the mayor has always ridiculous so I don’t mind at all. Yes, he should try and do something to address the concerns of his citizens beyond saying everything will be fine. But it’s not lost on the show that it isn’t easy running a town that’s a lightning rod for alien encounters, so Dewey remains sympathetic even if his ineptitude must be addressed. After all, if he’s gonna stand in for Steven in a metaphor that’s clear enough to be monologued about, it’s important to point out that it’s okay when you fail against impossible odds. Neither Dewey nor Steven can do everything on their own, no matter how much power they wield.

Steven might skip a few crucial lessons of Dewey Wins, but he at least learns one. Perhaps in an earlier season, that would be enough to mend fences with Connie. But time makes you bolder, children get older, and she’s getting older too. She’s been more than patient with being treated like an afterthought, so the moment she’s had enough is bound to be a big one. Thus, we end with a cliffhanger, one that pulls Steven into the same landslide that’s surely consuming the rest of the town after his kidnapping. The Barrigas are missing a son, and Sadie’s missing a romantic friend. Bill Dewey is no longer Mayor Dewey, and Nanefua has a whole new set of obstacles to face. Greg and the Gems have their son back, but his kidnapping was traumatic for them as well, and Connie gets that trauma on top of her stated complaints. And Steven had learned two lessons instead of one: it’s important to take your friends seriously, and timing is everything.

It’s gonna be a rough week.

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

I do like it, really. But Steven’s behavior takes it down a few notches, regardless of my ability to find ways to explain it. Great episodes don’t require the audience to seek ways to justify a character’s weird behavior. There’s more good than bad here, but I’d be lying if I said I loved Dewey Wins.

Top Twenty-Five

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

Last One Out of Beach City

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Mindful Education

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Earthlings

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Bismuth

Steven’s Dream

When It Rains

The Good Lars

Lars’s Head

Catch and Release

Chille Tid

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Beta

Back to the Moon

Kindergarten Kid

Buddy’s Book

Gem Harvest

Three Gems and a Baby

That Will Be All

The New Crystal Gems

Storm in the Room

Room for Ruby

Lion 4: Alternate Ending

Doug Out

Are You My Dad?

I Am My Mom

Stuck Together

The Trial

Off Colors

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Bubbled

Adventures in Light Distortion

Gem Heist

The Zoo

Rocknaldo

Dewey Wins

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

Know Your Fusion

Future Boy Zoltron

Tiger Philanthropist

No Thanks!

6. Horror Club 5. Fusion Cuisine 4. House Guest 3. Onion Gang 2. Sadie’s Song 1. Island Adventure

(No official promo art for most of the Breakup Arc, given the way they were released, but I can’t be too mad when we get brilliance like this from ajora.)

#dewey wins #steven universe #su #steven universally #review

43 notes · View notes

izayoichan · 5 years

Photo

Rylan takes Lobo with him, calling his dad, asking him to come pick him up and help him get some gifts, looking at Lobo with a smile.

“According to dad, your kind likes this way of travel, hopefully, he is right”

River, on the other hand, does like Rylan told him, and messages his mom while he waits for the train. She calls him, which means he gets around 15 minutes of his mom yelling at him over him sneaking out and disobeying her. Once she gets tired of yelling he finally speaks.

“Can I still spend Christmas with my boyfriend or am I grounded?”

There is a complaint on the other side followed by a fairly unhappy:

“Okay, you can” “Thanks... My train has arrived, I'll call you later.”

Hanging up his phone, he hurries so he catches the train, finding a seat by the window, waiting for it to take him where he wants to be.

“Okay, that's all of it.”

He smiles at his dad, the three off them vanishing and reappearing outside his home.

“Just need to wrap it all, come on Lobo, you'll have to be introduced to the house overlord.”

Chuckles, taking the large dog with him to introduce him to Felix, hoping the two off them will get along.

River sighs his train stopped in Windenburg due to their being reindeer on the tracks, stressing slightly as it means that he might not make it. Taking up his phone, quickly messaging Rylan.

“Train is delayed, stuck in Windenburg. But I'll be there in time for dinner, maybe? Do you guys celebrate Christmas eve or just Christmas day? I never get that.”

Rylan looks at the message, having an idea, messaging him quickly while at the same time walking to see if he can find the person who would need to agree to do it.

“I can ask if Hayle can pick you up if you want, travel by dragon flight? Oh and a bit of both, but mostly tonight with opening gifts and such..” “That would be awesome! Just try not to scare the train driver.”

Erased the part of the message where he complained about having already spent the rest of his savings on the train ticket before he sends the message, getting off the train quickly. Walking up to his dad, he notices Felix sitting there with him.

“Hey dad, could you do me a favor and pick up River in Windenburg? The train is stuck there, something about reindeer on the tracks.”

He notices Felix come walking, looking at Lobo, then ignoring Lobo

“Well.. that went decently.”

He lets Lobo off the leash so he can wander around the house getting to know it. Felix following him around as if making sure he doesn’t do anything bad.

“Oh, sure. He would just have to find somewhere a bit hidden, then I'll find him.” "Thanks, I don't quite want the reaper portal thing to be sprung on him just yet.”

Picks up his phone and messages him.

“My dad is on his way, just find somewhere a little hidden and he will be able to find you, sorry I didn't suggest it earlier, not quite used to my dad letting anyone but us on his back.”

“Okay, on the alleyway next to the station.” “He should be there in no time, so see you soon.“

Waves at his dad as he flies off, knowing he doesn’t really use much time when he has no passengers. River sits on a box waiting, playing games on his phone when he is suddenly interrupted by a police officer.

“Hey kid, what are doing back here?”

River looks at the man and gets up, cursing under his breath, this was really not what he needed right now.

“Huh... waiting for my friend." “Back here? What's in the bag."

He takes out the package and shows him, internally begging for Hayle to show up, knowing just how this normally ends. Hayle flying quite high above, finding River simply by his smell, noticing someone else there with him landing out of sight, and for the first time in more years than he can remember, changes into his fully human form.

“Ah, there you are River, sorry it took so in that last store, and they still did not have it...”

He smiles at River and the police officers.

“Perfect, I see you at least got your’s that's good.”

He looks at the police officer.

“Is there a problem?” " Mister Hayle?...”

He is at first surprised to see him without his horns, or scales then rushes to him past the police officer

“Sorry, just wondering what a child was doing alone in the alleyway. Good to see you have adult supervision, no need to take you to the station, I will, however, still want to see that package!”

Holds out his hand for the package

“Come on, it's wrapped! I had...”

starts becoming honestly distressed, as he looks for the receipt.

“See, I bought it today, it's a DnD set it's for boyfriend I” “I need to check it for drugs... “

Takes the package from his hands and rips the wrapping off then shakes the DnD box in front of them, almost as if mocking them. River looking on horrified, magical energy starts lifting up, becoming clearer he is going to zap the officer.

Hayle shakes his head, noticing the magical surge in River as the police officer keeps acting like a douche, putting a hand on Rivers's shoulder. His magic suddenly dissipating, Hayle's magic field nulling his.

“So let me get this right, you are accusing my son's boyfriend of having drugs in a D&D box... am I understanding this right? If I am, I would like your name, your badge number, and the name of your superior officer so I can make an official complaint about your behavior.”

Although his voice is calm, there is something about him, in general, that would make almost anyone's skin crawl slightly.

“So, I suggest you give that back, and walk away, or I can promise you this won't end well for you.”

The police officer flinches standing back, suddenly immensely frightened by the man in front of him. Quickly shoves the box back into River's hands.

“Sorry, sir! No need for that! It won't happen again!”

He walks away very quickly leaving the two behind, River just staring at the box and knees down picking the ruined wrapping and ribbon he had so much work making perfect his body starts trembling like he's about to cry. Hayle kneeling down putting an arm around him.

“Hey, it's okay, we can stop by somewhere and get new paper and a ribbon. I'm sorry I wasn't here faster, I thought people like him only existed in movies my husband has made me watch.”

River holds his breath and gets up, clearly holding back the tears.

“I-its okay... “

Puts the box inside the bag alongside the ruined ribbon and sighs

“I... I don't want to be a bother. I already made you take human form and... Calm my magic I don't want to bother further.” “You are not a bother River, and it's kinda nice to take the full human look on occasion.

Put’s his arm around River's shoulders.

“So, where do we get paper and ribbon, want to go to another town maybe, or should we mock the policeman by getting it here?

smiles gently at him, hoping to undo what that asshat has done. A part of him still wanting to scare the hell out of him before leaving, knowing his dragon form would do just that. He also knows what his husband would think off it if he did.

River looks up at him and smiles nodding.

“There must be some store nearby with wrapping paper. If no, I can always use a newspaper sheet. Won't look as fancy as the paper that that idiot ruined but... Or just a pretty Christmas bag, that can work too.” “Well come on, let's see what we can find, who knows, maybe we can find something randomly extra for my husband, to actually surprise him. He is horrible with gifts, he always finds them and manages to guess what is in them.”

Pulls River with him out into the street, looking around, noticing what he guesses is some sort of book store.

“Ah, there, they have to have stuff like that there.”

Vy sits close to the window looking outside to the snow, licking his lips in anticipation of the tasty treats to come.

“Ice in cakes? Is it good?” “Yeah, it's macaroon, small flat cakes, with icecream slices in the middle, you can try one if you want?”

Looks at Vy, letting his mind wander slightly, the many what if's that he keeps asking himself playing on his mind.

“Can I?”

He looks at the food that gets delivered as they talk, then picks one macaroon up and smells it with curiosity, finally takes a bite, taking in the taste, let's go of a small chirp.

“Tasty! I like it!”

Hayden chuckles, just watching Vy taste the cookies.

“It's fascinating how they can make them, warm cookies, cold ice cream. Now, you need to taste your cake. Oh and the coffee!”

Vy licks his fingers to get all the sugary goodness of the macaroon and nods

“Do you want to... oh... it's true, warm... They need to make a pistachio ice cream cake! That way the two of us can eat it because it's cold! Though, I like these macaroons”

Grabs his cake slice and coffee, and takes a bite of cake, chirps louder, making people look around for a bird. Covers mouth giggling.

“Sorry, just! gooood!”

Hayden chuckles as people turn their heads looking for a random bird in the cold. “Hmh... well you know they do make things if you ask. We should ask, so we can share someday. And I can eat cake, even if it's not cold, just not warm coffee.”

He smiles honestly just enjoying watching Vy be happy and enjoying the cake and for at least a short while, not worrying about the people around him. Vy smiling at him, actually glowing green as he takes a piece of cake and holds it out for Hayden.

“Try!” “ Wow... that is really sweet, but still good”

finding himself chewing on the many layers of taste from the cake, the frosting and everything surprising him along the way. Vy nodding eating a bit more and drinking the coffee

“It is very nice here. Cozy and nice! Thank you for bringing me here! How much is the cake?” “Ehm... I didn't really check, why? You want one more?” “We could take some for your parents and Rylan but I don't know if I have enough.” “Oh... how about we just buy a cake and share it after dinner? We could split the cost, or I can just pay for it?”

He notices Vy looking through his money, figuring he might not have enough money Vy looking up at him and nods happily.

“Yes! But... I only have... 5 simoleons...I need to make new trinkets to sell in caster's alley.” “Hmh.. how about we get a cake, you pay five simoleons I pay whatever is left, then it's from both of us right? I think they would love to have that as a surprise.”

“ Okay. I pay 5!” “Okay, I'll go order one, and we can finish our tasty treats while they pack it and make it ready? If you are okay to sit here for just a little while I order?”

He did notice how he shrank a bit when they entered, not wanting to just leave him there if he didn't feel safe.

🎶

Beginning - Previous - Next

13 notes · View notes

seeaddywrite · 5 years

Text

so, based on the poll i gave this afternoon, & on the fact that this could easily stand alone, if it had to, i’m going to post now. this can stand alone as it’s own scene, but it will be part of a bigger series called aftermath. [I’m guessing five parts max, but we’ll see how it goes?]

this is Michael & Isobel, a week post-finale. heavy emphasis on Malex, though Alex does not appear in this fic. warnings for grief & canonical character death, & mentions of Michael/Maria, because you have to acknowledge it to change it.

many thanks to @soberqueerinthewild who made sure i didn’t repeat myself a thousand times & helped me make sure michael’s thought processes seemed true to character! <3

The glass doors and the surrounding wall at Max’s house are still wrecked.

Michael surveils the situation with a critical eye, mentally adding up what it’ll cost to fix it, and a timeframe. He’d come here to lock everything down, to make sure that Max’s house and belongings would be safe and waiting for him when they figured out this resurrection stuff and could remove him from the pod. At least, that’s the excuse he’s using, and a more honest version of the one he gave Maria when he left her this morning. They’ve been together for less than a week, and already, the lies are piling up between them. About his magically healed hand, about what really happened to Max, about why he and Isobel are suddenly so tight with the newly-reunited Ortecho sisters — and of course, Rosa herself, and how she could possibly be standing in front of Maria at all after ten years of death.

He does his best to keep it as honest as he can, but Michael doesn’t want to drag Maria into the mess that is their lives, even if the others would go along with it. With her mom, and everything else going on in her own life, Michael’s pretty sure it would be too much, even as strong as DeLuca definitely is.

And, even more selfishly, he wants her as far out of it all as possible because Michael went to her for her normality. For the simple, flirtatious affection between them. She doesn’t know what he is, or have a father who is the cause of some of the most painful moments in his life. Maria doesn’t come with post-traumatic stress or the idea that Michael needs protection from her. Being with Maria is as easy as breathing, normal. And isn’t that what everyone wants? Isn’t that what Michael wants?

There are some moments, the better ones, usually when he’s pressed up against Maria’s naked skin, that he can say ‘yes.’ This is what he wants. Simple. Affectionate. Great sex. Something that lets him think clearly when she’s around, and something that doesn’t make it hard to breathe when she’s not. Other moments, though — most of the days, when he’s so feeling so empty and desolate without Max’s presence in the back of his mind that he can’t stand it, or the moments when his mother’s last words echo above the noise in his head, that’s not what he wants. He wants rough, adrenaline-pumping sex, with a connection so deep that it can only ever be terrifying and awe-inspiring. He wants something cosmic, something so impossibly overwhelming that all he can do is enjoy it in the moment and hope that when the inevitable crash comes, it doesn’t break him.

Deep down, beneath that new desire to be normal, Michael wants the same fucking thing he has since he was seventeen and learning how to truly trust a human for the first time.

He wants Alex Manes, God help him.

It’s the first time he’s allowed himself to acknowledge that truth since deciding to go to Maria, and Michael shoves it away almost violently. He puts himself to work picking up the debris and remnants of the wall still littering the ground, and unwillingly allows his thoughts to drift to Max, because that, at least, is a hurt he understands. It’s inevitable; he knew coming here that there would be no way to avoid thinking of his lost brother while standing in his home, and Michael feels the disconnect keenly. He’d never noticed the connection between himself and Max while they were alive — not aside from the usual flashes when the other man was in danger. It’s strange, that he couldn’t notice it until it was gone. Michael felt alone in his own head, more isolated than he’d ever been — and he’d found himself reaching for the connection he shares with Isobel more than once in the last week, trying to ground himself.

Whether he likes it or not, Max has always been a grounding presence in his mind, and Michael doesn’t know how he’s supposed to get used to living without it. Even as he resented the hell out of his brother, he’s always understood that he was there. Maybe he didn’t always understand, and maybe he could be stupid and oblivious as hell, but Max is Michael’s brother, his family, and Michael will not forget that again.

When he’s finished gathering trash, Michael takes the replacement siding and glass he’d bought from the bed of his truck and begins the process of fixing the hole in the wall. As he does, images of their fight flash through his mind; what had hurt so much in the moment seems distant now, insignificant. Tossing Max through the wall was on him, so he’s going to fix it. It’s the least he can do, since Max’ll need his house when he comes back —

Michael swallows, shoving back the wave of grief that threatens when he remembers that Isobel’s plan is a long-shot, that it took years for Max to become powerful enough to resurrect Rosa Ortecho, and he’d had the extra shot of power from killing Noah. They’re not murdering anyone; Max would never forgive them if they did it just to bring him back, and Michael doesn’t think they could go through with it. Not really.

With two good hands — and fuck, if that isn’t going to take a while to wrap his head around — Michael sets about replacing the sliding glass doors. It’ll take some time, but Michael’s got nowhere to be, and he can’t leave this place. Not with Isobel curled up on Max’s couch, determinedly trying to tap into whatever part of her brain would allow her to bring their brother back from the dead. Michael hasn’t had the heart to point out that it’d taken Max’s life to resurrect Rosa. And no matter how much the emptiness in their lives might hurt, Michael’s never going to let Isobel pay that price.

He’s been sawing and installing for just over two hours in silence when Isobel shrieks in frustration, causing two of the lamps in the living room to shatter. Michael glances us, sweeps the pieces telekinetically into the trash, and returns to his own work without a word. He’s used to these outbursts, by now. Isobel’s had a lot of them. And talking or trying to help never works, so Michael just keeps his mouth shut.

Apparently, that’s not what she wants this time, though, because a moment later, she’s standing in front of him, her hands on her hips and eyes brimming with fire that Michael hasn’t seen from her since the day they lost their brother. Isobel’s a shadow of her former self in the wake of all of her losses, looking wraithlike and small beneath one of Max’s old hooded sweatshirts, and there’s no makeup caking her skin to cover the redness of her eyes or the deep shadows beneath them.

“Hey,” he greets uncertainly.

“You told Max you wanted to be happy,” Isobel says out of nowhere. Michael blinks a couple of times to try to make sense of it, then reluctantly places the saw back in his toolbox. Apparently, they’re talking now, though about what he hasn’t quite figured out. “You told him that it was time to move on and be normal, and be happy.”

Michael stares at his sister silently, because what the hell does she want from him? He knows that’s what he said. He doesn’t need an instant replay. But he knows that Isobel wouldn’t say anything without a point, and something in the back of his mind tells him that he should be wary of whatever it is that she’s driving at.

“This isn’t happy, Michael. You’ve been here, or with me, and —” her lower lip quivers, and Michael stands up to touch her shoulder. “Well, I’m not exactly the right person to help you with happy right now, am I?”

Michael processes that slowly, and frowns back at Isobel. “Like I’m going to take off and leave you alone,” he scoffs, the soft circles he’s drawing on her shoulder belying the roughness in his voice. “It’s you’n me against the world for right now, Iz. I’m not going anywhere.”

But the blonde is shaking her head before he’s even finished, looking more like herself than Michael has witnessed since the evening they realized that Noah’d been playing them for fools for the last ten years. “But you should,” she says firmly, pulling away from his hand. “You can be happy. You finally have the chance, with Maria, and Max wouldn’t want -”

He’s been holding too tightly to control, the past week, and the iron band he’d put around his emotions snaps when she pulls away from him and mentions Maria, of all fucking things. Like sex and a hug is going to fix the aching emptiness inside of him, or the overwhelming grief of losing a mother and a brother all in one fell swoop. As always, anger is his default, his one and only defense against the world that hated him — and later, Michael knows he’ll regret lashing out at Isobel, but for now, she’s the only one there. The only one he can trust to always come back, no matter how awful he is.

“Max is dead, Isobel,” he snaps back, and hates himself a little for the anger in his voice. He regrets admitting that he’d been with Maria, when he felt Max die, or telling Isobel that he wanted to try things with her — because now, looking back, it’s so fucking obvious that it was never going to work. “I didn’t care what he wanted when he was alive, so I don’t give a shit what you think he’d want now that he’s gone!”

Instead of deflating after the eruption, Michael’s fury only continues to build. And it’s not just Isobel; it’s everything. It’s Alex and his god-awful timing, and his psychotic, genocidal father. It’s Liz’s happiness to have her sister back, even when it cost them Max. It’s Max himself, and his goddamn savior complex — and how is it fair to be pissed at the dead? But Michael is. He’s furious with Max for doing this, for not listening to Michael or Isobel and fucking sacrificing himself to bring back Liz’s sister — did he seriously think that Liz needed Rosa more than Michael and Isobel needed him? Did he think that having her sister back would replace the love of her life? Did he think it was some sort of necessary penance for that night?

There are so many questions Michael may never have the answers to, and it only infuriates him all the more. He should know. He and Max were best friends, once. Inseparable. The keepers of one another’s every secret, until Rosa. There had even been a time that when Michael was scared or hurting, Max was the first person he sought out — but it hadn’t been that way in a long time, and the regret was poisonous. And Michael hates Max for making him feel that, too.

Isobel’s crying in earnest as the sheets of plywood around Michael begin to shake with the force of the maelstrom raging in his chest, and he has to turn away to breathe through it before he ends up ruining everything he’d fixed that day. It’s hard, almost impossible, but Michael’s had a lifetime of keeping his powers hidden under pressure and threat of exposure, so eventually, physically, everything regains its place. Inwardly, Michael’s fairly sure nothing in his mind will ever go back to the way it’s meant to be.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, still facing away from Isobel. “I just —”

Isobel’s only response is a hiccuping sob. There’s no snark or sarcasm, no dry rejoinder like, “Maybe you’re just an asshole,” as he’d half-expected. The silence is by far worse. Slowly, Michael turns back to face his sister, shame and guilt adding themselves to the storm brewing inside of him.

“I’m mad at him, Iz,” he admits, swallowing around the lump building in his throat. “And I actually fucking miss him, and I can’t —” Michael rakes agitated fingers through his tangled hair and tries to figure out the right words, but all that comes is a psychic outpouring of everything that he can’t keep contained anymore. Isobel stands firm and takes it all, her expression shuttering until she’s as still and blank as a marble statue. He hates that he’s doing this to her, that he’s the one adding to her suffering, but as always, Isobel is a safe place for Michael to crash-land. Even when she’s the one who really needs the support.

When it ends, Michael feels hollowed out and empty. Drained physically by the emotional onslaught. He slumps to the floor in the middle of Max’s kitchen and draws his knees into his chest to hide his face in them. Drywall dust and splinters of the old wall still litter the tile around him, but Isobel slides gracelessly into position at his side anyway, ignoring the mess.

A soft hand finds its way to his back, and Michael inhales sharply, but doesn’t pull away. “I’m pissed at him, too,” Isobel tells him quietly. “And I miss him so much that I can’t breathe when I think about it.” Her breath trembles, as if an example of her words. “And I’m always — I’m always cold, now. I’ve never really been alone before, you know? Max was always there. And then Noah. And now I’m …”

“Still not alone,” Michael says, though it feels like a poor substitute, him for Max and a husband, even if he was always a liar and a killer. But it’s the truth.

Isobel smiles wanly, and nods. “I know,” she says, and presses her shoulder against his. “Can we talk about you, now?”

Michael groans, and finally lifts his head from his knees. “Thought we just did,” he says, but he’s already resigned to allowing Isobel to speak her piece. There’s no stopping her once she gets an idea in her head, and at this point, Michael would do just about anything to make her stop crying.

“Not about you and Maria,” Isobel points out, and Michael can’t help the wince. He expects surprise at the reaction, but his sister only nods once, like she’d been expecting the reaction. “I thought so. It wasn’t what you thought it’d be?”

Michael shakes his head, and answers honestly, “It was exactly what I thought it’d be. Easy. Normal. Comfortable.” he pauses, thinking through how to explain it, both to himself and to Isobel. “But — I told you a while ago that I was tired of secrets, and there’s so much I can’t tell her. And it’s not — she’s not —”

“She’s not Alex Manes,” Isobel finishes, one eyebrow quirked.

This time, he shakes his head a little harder. “It’s not just that. It’s not like I don’t care about her, because I do. But…” God, this is all so hard to articulate, and he know he looks like some kind of sleaze, dating someone while he knows good and well that it’s not going to work. He doesn’t want Isobel to see him that way, but he doesn’t want to lie to her, either. Not now. “I see Liz, and the way she’s trying to be happy with having her sister back. And how much she still wants Max, you know? No matter how much he fucked her life up, or hurt her — she still loves him. Is still fighting to bring him back. And I thought I wanted Maria, but I really just wanted something that didn’t hurt, you know? Something that didn’t scare the shit out of me. But it turns out that love’s pretty fucking scary. Letting someone in, letting them really know you? It’s like falling off a fucking cliff, and I —”

“And you want Alex Manes to be the one to catch you,” Isobel supplies, and to his surprise, there’s a small, sad smile on her face when he looks at her. “I know, Michael. And I think maybe I gave you bad advice, when I said we needed to stop looking back.” She swallows, and her slender fingers wrap around the inside of his arm, clinging tightly, as if Michael is anchoring her to reality. “I need to stop looking back, at Noah. Because he was a murderer, and he used me, and he was never the man I thought he was. But Alex isn’t a monster — right?” She looks uncertain, and the idea that anyone can even think Alex’s name in connection with the word monster at all is abhorrent.

“God, no,” he tells her vehemently, curls bouncing with the force of his head-shake. “His old man is, and he’s tangled up deep in a government project full of ‘em, but Alex isn’t like them.”

“Okay,” Isobel says thoughtfully. “But he keeps leaving, right? That’s what you’re scared of?”

Michael wants to tell her he’s not scared, but that makes him sound like a teenaged boy with an ego, and he’s above that. At least, he hopes he is. “His dad messed him up,” Michael says frankly, with only a pang of guilt for saying that about Alex. “When he broke my hand in high school, Alex just — Alex couldn’t fucking handle it. He enlisted, he left, and I thought it was done. But he kept coming back while he was on leave, and every time, I thought we were good. And every time, he left, and I didn’t hear from him until the next time he was knocking on my door.” Michael’s expression is pinched, and he wants this subject closed. “I didn’t even know he’d lost a leg until he showed up to take over the land on the ranch. And we just fell into bed, I didn’t ask questions — and then he walked away again.”

His eyes have drifted closed at some point, and Michael forces them back open and looks at Isobel. “And now he knows everything. About my mom, about our secrets, about everything, and I don’t think I could take it if he walked away again.” He scrubs irritably at a tear that’s escaped and tracked down his stubbled cheek; he can’t be embarrassed, because neither he nor Isobel are at their most emotionally stable right now, and they’ve spent the better part of the week crying. “Because this time, he knows me, Iz. If he walks away, it’s gonna be because I’m not what he wants, or I disappointed him somehow, or I’m too much, or not enough, and how am I supposed to deal with that?”

Isobel doesn’t have a response, and Michael didn’t expect her to. But she does take his hand, the one he’s still used to calling his bad one, and tangles their fingers together tightly. “But what if he doesn’t walk away?” she asks, after a long, terribly silent moment in which Michael barely resists getting up and putting himself back to work. Physical exhaustion might be enough to get him to sleep, something he’s been sorely missing the past several days, and it’s so tempting to work himself until every muscle aches, to use his telekinesis until he sweats and passes out — but he can’t do that to Isobel. Not yet.

“Noah never loved me, Michael. I was always just a means to an end with him, or a … a weapon.” Horror shows in Isobel’s eyes, like it does every time she remembers what was done to her, and Michael doesn’t have any idea how to help. “And I’d do just about anything to have someone who loves me as much as Liz loves Max, or as much as you love Alex.” She holds up a hand, stopping Michael from insisting that Isobel is his family, and he loves her more than anyone — and yeah, he guesses that’s fair. Platonic love is important, and the three of them have always depended on it. But it’s not the same. Max had never been happy, without Liz, no matter how Isobel had tried to be there for him. And Michael — well, part of him went to Baghdad with Alex Manes, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get it back. So he gets it, that Isobel wants that for herself.

“All I’m trying to say is that if I had that in my life? I wouldn’t be wasting my time looking for easy, or safe. I’d fight tooth and nail to keep it.”

And that’s Isobel in a nutshell, Michael thinks. She fights for what she wants, and she’s so fucking strong. That’s why she’s sat in the living room in Max’s house for the past six days practicing with her powers to become strong enough to bring him back. It’s why she’s held it together, despite two devastating losses, and why she’s still sitting here, holding Michael’s hand when she should be the one falling apart. It’s a little humbling, and puts things in perspective for him more than any of her words managed.

He nods, once, and sucks in a deep breath. Isobel’s right. At the very least, Michael knows he can’t keep pretending with Maria. She deserves better than that, especially from him. She deserves her own cosmic romance, one that will scare and thrill her as much as Alex has done for Michael. And he’s going to put a stop to this thing between them before it has a chance to grow, before either of them ends up seriously hurt, because he wants to keep her in his life. Michael’s short on friends; he doesn’t want to lose this one.

And maybe, after they’ve figured out whether or not they can bring Max back, and after they’ve managed to come up with an explanation for Rosa Ortecho’s sudden reappearance and keep themselves safe …. and after he’s sure Isobel can be alone for a while… maybe, just maybe, it’s time to go see Alex.

#my fic #post-finale #isobel & michael #malex fic #[alex not in story #but heavily referenced and discussed]#roswellnm fic #X. Aftermath

59 notes · View notes