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wardenparker · 2 years

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The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Dating Your Ex - ch 4

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Marcus unexpectedly runs into his ex-wife he is plunged into a world of complications where rekindled attraction and deep-seated insecurities reign. Unfortunately for him, it is also a world where his ex-wife is not the only ‘ex’ around, as a new case crosses his desk that will require all hands on deck. ✨💖Inspired by and based upon absurdthirst’s Tequila💖✨

Rating: T, I guess? But this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 6.9k Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this series include: divorce, break ups, collegiate Greek life, underage drinking, food/alcohol consumption.** Ex-significant other stress. Teresa and Jane come with their own warning. Summary: There is no blissful morning after for these two - in fact, things are about to get a lot more complicated. Notes: Apologizing in advance to anyone who is actually an expert in antique photography, but I’m having fun researching this, so I’m just gonna keep going!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3

Marcus hates his ringtone. It’s loud and obtrusive, which is the entire point when he had it turned on, but he immediately frowns when it breaks through his sleep. “Wha—” he’s disoriented for a moment, cracking his eyes open and looking around for his phone since his nightstand isn’t in the right place. “Shit.”

“Mmm?” Without even cracking your eyes open, you snuggle more deeply into Marcus’s side and mumble something indistinct when he reaches over you to get his phone from where he left it on your nightstand last night.

“Pike!” As soon as the call connects, the voice on the other end chuckles heartily. “Sorry to interrupt your beauty rest, princess.” His supervisor’s voice is cheerful despite his usual seriousness. It must not be early anymore. “But we need you to come in. We’ve got agents from the field landing in a half hour, and they requested you specifically.”

Marcus groans as he sits up, hating the way his body immediately gets cooler away from your warmth. He swipes his hand down his face and pulls the phone away to check the time. “Yeah.” He rasps out. “Give me twenty minutes.” He tells the infuriatingly cheerful man.

“Good man.” The commendation comes through loud and clear, but he hangs up without further preamble.

“Something wrong?” You managed to peel your eyes open when Marcus sounded unhappy, and now he looks unhappy on top of it.

“I’ve got to go.” Marcus twists around and gives you an apologetic look. “They called me in, apparently there’s a new case.”

"Ah. Duty calls." You can't say you're thrilled about it by any means, but you do understand. He has an incredibly demanding job. Still, you can't help but pout. "Do you think you'll be able to leave the office for dinner tonight?"

“Yeah.” Marcus is still half asleep as he leans in to kiss you before climbing out of the bed so he can start pulling on his slightly rumpled clothes. “I shouldn’t be too long.” He shoves his legs into the suit pants and pulls them up.

"Do what you need to do. I'll probably take a shower after you leave and go to the Farmer's Market since I'm up." It's a damn shame he has to get dressed, but you're going to enjoy the view while he does. "You could just come back here after you're done?" You suggest, hopeful that he might want to spend the night together again.

“Shit.” Marcus pulls out his phone to order an Uber since he hadn’t driven over here. Luckily there is one around the corner. “Yeah, I’ll swing by my house and grab some clothes.”

"Okay. Go to work and be a superhero and I'll be waiting for you when you're done." He seems rattled and you don't want him to be stressed because of you while he's working, so you just smile and offer him one more kiss before he has to head out the door. It's unfortunate, but you won't let it ruin the day. You still got to wake up beside him and you'll see him tonight, and that is what matters.

******

Marcus hates wearing the same clothes again, but there is no helping it. He has a small toiletry bag in his desk for those late nights so he can at least brush his teeth. The Uber ride is quick, and he is at his desk and scrolling through his messages before he remembers he didn’t get your number. “Shit.”

"Uh oh." The cocky, amused voice from his open doorway drips with sarcasm. "Director Pike seems disturbed this morning. Perhaps we should go back to Austin and try again later?"

Fucking Patrick Jane. Marcus looks up from his phone to find the man who his ex-fiancée, if you could call her that, had thrown him over for a year ago. “Jane.” He murmurs evenly, not getting up from his seat. “They didn’t tell me it was you coming in.” He would have taken a hell of a lot longer if they had.

"We thought it would be a fun little surprise." Jane strolls inside with unearned confidence and his typical arrogance, followed barely a moment later by Teresa, who is wheeling an evidence suitcase at her side and sporting a small but very noticeable baby bump.

Marcus feels like if he hadn’t spent the night in your bed that the sight of Teresa’s baby belly would have been a fiercer blow. Instead it’s a dull pang that he hadn’t been deemed good enough, an old wound that just makes his brow arch. “Congratulations are in order it seems.” He says after a moment. “Hello, Teresa.”

"Marcus." She smiles but it's tight, and she positions the suitcase inside his office door before letting go of its handle. "Thank you. It's—we're excited," she admits, albeit a little sheepishly. She knows she should have ended things better between them, but that doesn't diminish the happiness she has now. Not to her. "You look good. Happy, I mean." Despite looking tired and like he's possibly wearing old clothes; Marcus Pike does have an undeniable warmth to him that she hadn't necessarily expected.

“Thanks.” Now Marcus stands, but it’s to take the evidence case from Teresa. He doesn’t mention that perhaps her husband should have been wheeling the heavy case instead of leaving it to her. Their dynamic wasn’t his issue any longer. “You have that pregnancy glow they talk about.”

“I’m halfway there,” she tells him, rubbing the underside of her belly with one hand as she sits down in one of the chairs across from Marcus’s desk. “So…we’re sorry to call you in like this, but we needed some help on a case and the guys in Austin Art Crimes are lost without you.”

His lips curl slightly and he nods. “Tell me what you’ve got, and I’ll see how I can help with the case.” He looks from Teresa to Jane, not missing the smug expression in the other man’s face. Like he was right about something, but that was usually his outlook.

“We’ve got three dead and a collection of old daguerreotypes that seem to be the primary cause of the arguing.” She tells him, glad to see Patrick start to unzip the suitcase for her. “We were hoping you could help us figure out what’s so damn special about these things.”

Marcus hums as Patrick hands him a file, flipping it open as he skims over the details of the case. Later on he will be studying the particulars. “Daguerreotypes?” He looks up at the two of them and mentally sighs, wondering how the hell this has come about so quickly. “I know someone who can examine them.” It’s the last thing that he wants, but this is for work.

“Excellent.” Jane leans on the corner of Marcus’s desk like a throne, surveying the office around him. “We knew you could help. Reliable Marcus, we said. Sitting up here in DC in your fancy director’s office.”

Marcus’s jaw tightens and he almost opens his mouth to say something. “That’s me. Director.” Which means he doesn’t have to help if he doesn’t want to.

“Is the person you know available on short notice?” Teresa asks, sensing the tension in the room like a house on fire.

“They should be.” He’s thinking about Silvia and wonders if you would be the one that wanted to work on this as her boss. “Let me make a call, since it is a Saturday.”

“Of course.” Jane shrugs carelessly, but goes to sit in the chair beside Teresa. “It’s your office.”

Marcus shoves down the annoyance that they aren’t going to leave and give him some privacy to make the call. He ignores them and picks up his phone so he can select Silvia’s number and hit talk.

“H-hello?” Silvia’s voice is uncertain on the other end, obviously confused to see Marcus’s name pop up on her caller ID a few days after breaking up with him.

“Ms. Harper.” He keeps his tone neutral, not wanting to make her think that he’s calling her for personal reasons. “This is Director Pike at the FBI, have I caught you at a bad time?”

“Not at all.” Her voice evens out when she hears his work voice and even though she’s still confused, she no longer is worried about something dramatic. “What can I do for you, Director?”

Marcus picks up a pen off his desk and clicks it as he thinks of how to phrase this. “I have some agents from our Austin field office who require an expert on Daguerreotypes. You were the first person that I thought of.”

“Oh.” Silvia cringes so hard it’s nearly audible. “Well, this is awkward. Actually…the person you really want is—is Dr. Pike. Daguerreotype conservation is her expertise…”

Shit. Marcus doesn’t react but his heart leaps before his stomach twists at the idea of his ex-wife meeting his ex-fiancée. “Okay, would you mind giving me her number?” He asks, reaching for a notepad. “Or would you rather call her and have her reach out to me?”

“I can call her, if you want.” Not knowing what sort of awkwardness might sit between them, Silvia swallows a sigh. “If she needs an assistant, she’ll be calling me anyway. So it might be both of us. When do you need the help?” Sorting through the idea in her head, Silvia is already up and moving around her apartment to put on something work appropriate to wear. Dr. Pike will definitely want an assistant.

“As soon as possible.” Marcus sighs slightly. “I appreciate it, and I’m sorry for interrupting your weekend.” He tells her seriously.

Teresa smiles when Marcus hangs up the phone. “You don’t seem very excited to see whoever that was,” she observes, trying to make light. “I hope they’ll be helpful. Thanks for making the call.”

“You’re welcome.” Marcus answers neutrally as he stands. “The conference room down the hall is available if you would like to set up there.” His office is not going to be the headquarters for this little reunion.

“Sure.” Teresa nods, lifting herself out of the chair and smiles awkwardly. “Thanks, Marcus. We really appreciate the help.”

“No problem.” His answer is just as awkward, and he looks over at Jane to see him smirking. “There is tea in our break room if you’re off caffeine.” He offers.

“I’ll let Teresa know.” Jane practically winks as he sashays out the door, leaving it wide open as he goes.

Marcus sighs and looks down at his phone, wanting to talk to you now more than ever. It’s going to be a long day. “Well shit.” He grunts, shaking his head at his shitty luck.

******

It’s about thirty minutes later that you’re meeting Silvia at the elevator in the Hoover FBI Building, dressed in nice clothes but something a little more fashionable than a suit, just because you’re heading to see Marcus again. No one can blame you for wanting to look nice today. “Let’s head up.” You tell your young team member, affixing the Guest badge to your Smithsonian employee lanyard that denotes you as a federal employee.

Marcus keeps extra dress shirts in his office, along with a casual outfit in case he needs to be in plain clothes. He decides to change into the latter, wondering if you will be disappointed that he’s in jeans and a t-shirt. It was that or his suit from yesterday and a new shirt. He walks into the conference room after changing and freshening up to start sorting through the evidence Teresa brought. “The experts should be here soon.” He tells Teresa and Patrick before he moves over to the coffee pot in the room to set it up for a fresh pot.

“Where are they from?” Jane is leaning back in a chair at one end of the conference table. “Private sector? University?”

“Smithsonian Institute.” From the doorway, You adjust your work bag on your shoulder and smooth a wrinkle in your shirtsleeve. Marcus is standing on the other side of the room making coffee and you have to bite back a smile. Even in a plain black t-shirt and jeans he’s a dream. “From the department of photographic conservation.”

Marcus wants to smile but he also doesn’t want to make things uncomfortable for Silvia. Instead he nods and motions for the two of you to come in. “Thank you for coming.” He offers. “I just put a fresh pot of coffee on and later on I’ll order some food as a small measure of thanks.”

“Thank you, Director Pike.” Keeping things professional is key, you know that, but in the moment you’re also surprised to realize that the title is actually kind of a turn on. You’ll have to remember to tell him that later. “Now. How can we help?”

Patrick Jane looks between the three of you and smirks knowingly, leaning back in his swiveling chair. “Before we begin work, I think we should be introduced? Right Marcus?”

“Dr. Pike,” you make no mistake about your title and glossing past your shared last name as though it doesn’t matter at all, because for the purposes of work it doesn’t. This man, however, you already don’t like. “I am Director of Photographic Conservation for the Smithsonian Institute. My colleague is Silvia Harper. Her expertise is development methods.” Looking between the two agents seated at the table, you remind yourselves that first impressions aren’t everything. Perhaps the blonde man is simply having an unusual day. “And you are from the Austin field office, I understand?”

“Doctor Pike?” Patrick’s eyes light up like a kid in a candy store and it’s all Marcus can do not to audibly groan. Those smug eyes shift to him with an amused glint in them. “When did you discover your ex-wife was in D.C., Marcus?” He asks with a smirk.

Marcus straightens slightly and clears his throat. He decides to ignore the question and introduce Teresa and Patrick. “Dr. Pike, Ms. Harper, this is Agent Teresa Lisbon – er, Jane now, I guess, and professional consultant Patrick Jane.” He says.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Agent Teresa Jane stands to shake your hand and you cannot possibly ignore the small baby bump she is sporting.

“You as well,” you tell her politely, though something is tickling at the back of your mind that tells you everything is going to go sideways very quickly.

Patrick’s eyes are flickering between you, Marcus, and Silvia and after a moment he chuckles. “You are in a hot seat, aren’t you Pike?” He muses cryptically. “Director Pike, I mean.” He clarifies, grinning at you.

“Perhaps we should focus on the case.” Trying to deflect the attention off of Marcus is the best you can do right now until you can get home alone to ask what the hell is going on, and you don’t like feeling like you’re on the defensive when meeting new people. Especially new people at work.

“Patrick.” Teresa turns and shoots her husband an annoyed look. “Stop.” Patrick sends her an innocent look and shrugs his shoulders like it’s not his fault.

“I just find it interesting that he’s slept with every woman in this room.” He answers as he stands up to move over to the coffee pot. “It’s fascinating to imagine what is going through his mind right now.”

“Alright, if you’re really not going to talk about anything else until we get this out of the way, then yes. Marcus and I divorced twelve years ago.” You practically sigh and barely keep from having to shake your head. “Would it be possible to focus on the case now?” It just completely breaks your heart for him, to see the embarrassment on Marcus’s face. Whoever this man is, you officially do not like Patrick Jane.

“I’m going to apologize for my husband.” The look Teresa Jane shoots her husband would kill a lesser man, and she shakes her head. “He likes to push, and doesn’t seem to realize when he’s crossing a line into ‘asshole’ territory.” She huffs before she looks at you with an apologetic smile. “Marcus said nothing but wonderful things about you.” She promises. “He and I were—”

“Teresa was my fiancée for all of two minutes.” Marcus interrupts, done with the dramatics. “And Silvia and I were dating before I found out that her boss was my ex-wife. Now can we please focus on the case?” His tone is short, clipped, and his jaw is clenched. Furious at the tension Jane has added to the room unnecessarily.

Oh. You find yourself standing silent for a long moment while you process the information that you were just offered. That this woman in front of you is the one who last broke Marcus's heart and she did it for this intensely disagreeable, self-absorbed man with this smug smirk and shitty attitude and now they're already married and expecting a baby? The worst part of that might be that you're actually jealous of Teresa Jane for the last part of that thought. Happily married and starting a family. You really need to talk to Marcus later.

"If you would please show us the daguerreotypes? And let us know what you're looking for?" At this point you're just eager to start working and do less of this awkward talking.

There is a moment of complete silence before Teresa starts talking. “Yes, right.” She clears her throat and pushes herself awkwardly out of her own chair and leans over the conference table to pick up an evidence bag. “These are the items that we are needing – I don’t really know – examined for importance? Why are these being killed over?”

"We can do a preliminary examination here, but if there is nothing obvious, we may need to do further analysis in our lab." Glad to not have any more bullshit spewed around the room, you nod and lean over the table beside your ex-husband's – current boyfriend's? – ex-fiancée. Fuck this is complicated.

“If need be, we can sign over custody of the evidence to you.” Marcus nods before he taps a file. “I am going to go order some food. Sandwiches okay with everyone?” He needs a moment, just a few minutes to compose himself.

"Thank you." You desperately wish you could follow him out into the hall, or even send him a text, but you can't leave Silvia to deal with these vultures from the Austin office just yet. Patrick Jane would eat her alive.

Marcus strides down the hall, closing the door to his office with a sigh. Of all the fucking agents to come to D.C., it had to be Teresa Jane and the walking windbag she married. He closes his eyes and gives a low chuckle. He doesn’t even want to know what you think of him right now.

It's only about five minutes later that a rhythmic knock sounds from the other side of Marcus's office door and you stick your head inside. "Hey..." The expression you offer him is pure sympathy. "One Jane had to take a phone call from Austin and the other one had to use the ladies' room. Can I come in or are you hiding from me, too?"

“Hey.” Marcus stands and wipes his hands on his jeans. “No – I’m not, it’s okay – you can come in.” He shuffles awkwardly and shakes his head. “This is not how I imagined my Saturday going.”

"Me either." Slipping inside, you shut the door carefully and take an awkward step toward his desk. If it were anyone but his ex-fiancée out there, you probably wouldn't have any problem going straight to his arms for a kiss, but it is. So things are awkward. "So...that's her, huh?"

Marcus blows out a raspberry and reaches up to rub the back of his neck in embarrassment. “That’s her.” He murmurs quietly. “Of all the rooms I never wanted to be in, that was in my top three.” He jokes weakly and flashes you a grin. “So now you know who left me and who she left me for.”

"He's awful." Screwing up your face into a fairly disgusted expression to hopefully make him laugh, you end up just shaking your head and stepping closer, making it easy for him to slip into your arms if he wants to be there. "I can't be mad that she left you, though. If she hadn't, that would be your baby she's carrying and not the narcissistic blonde's. And we wouldn't be...whatever we are now."

You have a very valid point. Marcus hums, leaning in and pressing his forehead against yours while he wraps his arms around you for a much-needed hug. “Can this be a bad dream and we are actually still wrapped up in your bed?” He pouts playfully. “Please?”

"I'll get their evidence analyzed and send them away again as soon as I can." Having him back in your arms again, even after only a few hours, makes you hum happily, and you give his waist a gentle squeeze. "Tonight we'll do whatever you want for dinner and then exhaust ourselves with more sex." You grin up at him. "Sound good?"

“Sounds perfect, but I have a feeling the Janes are here for more than a day.” Marcus huffs. “I’m sorry.” He leans in and kisses your lips. “He is…something. And I know he embarrassed you.”

"He's smug, but honestly I feel worse for Silvia than anyone else. She got wrapped up in all this by accident." A kiss from him, especially right now, makes you nearly melt into the floor. It's soothing and reassuring all at once. "You don't have to apologize, love. Just don't mind me if I'm a little extra lovey when we're not working? This is...it's so new. And it's more than a little awkward in that conference room."

“I don’t mind.” Marcus promises. “I think you need to buy Silvia’s drinks during brunch with my credit card.” He huffs. “As an apology from me.”

"That's extremely sweet of you, and I'm sure she knows you didn't pick all this." Placing a kiss on his cheek, you give him another squeeze and really do your best to keep smiling. "Have you ordered lunch yet or have you been stewing in here?"

“No, I ordered lunch.” Marcus promises. “I might kill Patrick Jane if I am around him too long on an empty stomach.”

"I'll throw a shovel in the back of the Mini Cooper and we'll drive the body up to New Jersey. Nobody thinks twice about finding a body in New Jersey." He manages to smile at the joke, and right now you can't ask for more than that from him. "I'm sorry today isn't the relaxing afternoon we had in mind, baby. But at least we're together, right?"

Marcus sighs, nodding at your logic and holds you close for another second before he reluctantly lets you go. “Did you find anything interesting about them?” He asks. “Anything that stands out right away?”

“Nothing jumped out at me.” You shake your head, feeling frustrated that the answer was not easy so you couldn’t just send them away again. “I’ll have to take a look at them at the lab.”

Marcus nods with a small sigh. Disappointed that he can’t send the Janes back to Texas quickly, but he’s not surprised. “Thank you for giving up your Saturday.” He can’t help but caress your back as you both turn towards the door.

“It’s okay.” Before you reach his door, you flash him a grin and shrug one shoulder. “This super hot FBI agent that I kinda have a thing for needed my help, so I’m glad to do it.” You tease, always working to put that smile back on his face. “I’d do anything for him.”

“Yeah?” His grin is slow to arrive, but it blossoms beautifully on his face and there is almost a shy quality to it. “That’s good to know.”

“Yeah.” The nod you give him has no hesitation. There is a lot to say, but it’s a good start for now.

“I need to go back in there.” He admits with a small groan. “I’m sure Patrick Jane would find it more amusing if I hid in my office the entire time.”

“We’ll go together.” It may not be office appropriate to stroll down the hall holding hands, but you’re not going to leave his side when he’s having a hard time. You’re stronger than the girl you used to be.

“He’s not going to bother me.” Marcus decides, opening the door for you to walk out first.

“Well, well.” The second you want back into the conference room, Patrick Jane is smirking again. “Ruffled feathers all smooth again, Doc?”

“Mr. Jane,” you shake your head and move back to the evidence on the table. “Not everything needs to be made into a circus act. Let’s just focus on the case, shall we?”

Patrick’s brow arches up and a slow transformation takes his smirk to a grin. “I like you.” He tells you before he looks at Marcus from where he is sitting with his feet up on the conference room table. “How did you let this one get away, Pike?”

“That isn’t relevant to the case, I’m afraid.” You’re not going to let this infuriating man get under Marcus’s skin. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to have you sign over custody of the evidence to the Smithsonian, Agent Jane.” Looking up at the other woman – the one who had turned Marcus over for a man made of arrogance and hair gel – you almost shrug. She clearly isn’t pleased with Patrick Jane’s behavior either. “If you would be good enough to leave me your card, I can contact you when I’ve found something.”

Teresa fishes into the pocket of her suit coat, pulling out a card holder with brand new cards inside. Proudly proclaiming her ‘Special Agent Teresa Jane’ on the stiff card stock along with her numbers and her email address. “Maybe—” She hands you the card and glances over to Marcus before meeting your gaze again. “Let Patrick pay for dinner for you and Marcus tonight. To apologize for his behavior and to thank you for your assistance.” Silvia is across the table from you, eyes studiously on the photos as if she could block out the scene around her.

“Sil?” There is clearly some conversation that needs to happen, and you hate that you couldn’t have had more than a few minutes with Marcus in his office. Your young colleague’s head pops up and you offer her a half-smile knowing she must be overwhelmed. “If you could go back to our office to open and prep the lab for when I bring the evidence back, I would appreciate it.”

“Yes ma’am.” The look of pure relief on her face is palpable. “I will do that right away.” She doesn’t hesitate to peel her gloves off and gather her things as if the hounds of hell were on her heels and nipping. “Nice to— uh, bye.” She manages before she dashes out the door.

It does the trick in a way you never expected, and you actually find yourself holding back a laugh at how fast Silvia just bolted from the room. “I don’t blame her,” you admit finally, shaking your head and producing one of your own business cards from your work bag to hand over to the agent from Texas. “And I appreciate the apology, Agent Jane, thank you. The situation seems to have taken us all by surprise.”

“My husband seems to think that his brilliance makes up for his appalling lack of manners.” She throws a glare over at Patrick who is completely unrepentant with a slight shrug as he slouches in his chair and plays with the pen that Marcus had brought in.

“More sandwiches for us.” He points out. “You said you were hungry.”

“Of course I’m hungry,” Teresa laughs unexpectedly. “I’m always hungry now.”

“And our reliable Marcus remembered your favorites and made sure to order it along with whatever was Silvia’s and the former Mrs. Pike’s.” Patrick hums. “He’s a Boy Scout like that.”

“It’s called having manners and a good memory.” If you don’t just straight-out smack Patrick Jane before the end of this case it will be a miracle. And maybe a shame.

“He’s just trying to get a rise out of you.” Marcus rolls his eyes and huffs. “Annoyance lets details slip and he’s dying to know the story. Beyond what I told Teresa.” He had no doubt that his former fiancée must have talked about their relationship with Jane. Even going so far as to impart seemingly obscure facts, but Jane had the memory of an elephant.

“We ran into each other again by accident a few days ago.” While you won’t go into detail about the past until you and Marcus have been able to check in with each other about it, the present is a fairly easy tale. “I’m sorry it’s not a more interesting story.”

“Patrick, stop.” Teresa’s tone turns stern. “Or you’ll sleep on the couch at the hotel.”

Marcus has to look down at the file in front of him so he doesn’t laugh, enjoying the way Jane suddenly looks a little more repentant than before.

Considering he miraculously had not opened his mouth this time, you have to assume that he was bothering his wife under the table and you barely bite back a smirk of your own. “So where did these come from?” You ask, motioning to the daguerreotype cases. “Or is that not information you can share?“

“It was found in the house of one Marquis De Sade - not the French nobleman, obviously.” Teresa smiles at the unique name that had made her scratch her head until she placed it. “De Sade was 87 when he passed, and the case involves his will. The people who are set to inherit his estate have been dying. And these daguerreotypes seem to be at the center of the conflict.”

“Interesting name.” You raise an eyebrow but studiously avoid looking at Marcus. That will only feed the flames of teasing. “So far the only unique thing about them is that many are of locations instead of people. The vast majority of daguerreotypes were portraits. Perhaps these locations mean something to the family?”

“It doesn’t seem like it from the case file.” Marcus tells you, looking over at Teresa. “Is there anything you can tell us?”

“There were some papers in the case containing the images that I can have scanned and sent over to us.” Teresa nods, remembering the stack of decaying pages that they had considered too fragile to transport. “I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Looked like poetry and journal-style writing. But maybe it might make sense to you in conjunction with the images?”

“We can try.” You nod your head and look back down at the plate in front of you. It shows a break in a river with a small grove of seedlings surrounding it and the sun low in the sky. It’s beautiful, but not typical for a daguerreotype image.

Marcus hums. “Are there coordinates on the plate or maybe a location written?” He asks, wondering if they can plot where the images are from to come up with a map.

Carefully flipping some of the wooden cases over in your gloved hands, you find to your dismay that not all are marked with information. Some bear names that you can only assume are the surnames of the subjects, others have initials, and some have nothing at all. But one box bears the inscription ’Johnson’s Ranch’ in scrawling, decaying pencil. “Johnson’s Ranch,” you read out loud, looking at the three others in the room with you. “Does that ring a bell to anyone?”

“There have been thousands of ranches over the years.” Teresa shrugs slightly. “If we had a region, maybe we could dig through property deeds.”

Begrudgingly you have to admit that that makes sense, but you appreciate the fact that three more heads bend over the small wooden boxes containing the antique forms of photography. “J.R.C.” You read the initials from another box out loud, and then from another: “Truck L.k. This one looks like letters have rubbed off over the last century and a half.”

Marcus writes it down on a notepad and nods. “Okay, that’s a start.” His phone buzzes and he looks down at it. “That’s the food.” His eyes slide to Patrick Jane. “Play nice.” He warns before he stands up to walk out of the conference room.

“J.R.C. May be Johnson’s Ranch and a state or city designation?” You look up from the boxes before pulling out your cell phone to collect images. “Is it alright to take pictures of the cases?“

“Whatever you need, just remember that this isn’t public.” Teresa cautions. Marcus might trust you because you are his ex-wife, but she hasn’t worked with you professionally.

“Of course.” You would never post any of this to social media, that would be ridiculous. But this way you can take snaps of the writing on the case to look over while the four of you eat. The daguerreotypes won’t be safe on the same table as food.

“All of this will need to go back to your lab.” Patrick muses. “Which must mean keeping in touch with the former flame.” He smirks slightly. “Interesting he was in yesterday’s clothes when we arrived and yet he does not have your number.”

“Is that interesting?” You arch one eyebrow at the insufferable blonde who clearly has no intention of behaving like Marcus requested. “You like to infer things. Don’t you, Mr. Jane? To see how much you can trick people into giving away.”

Patrick gives you a smile. “I see what he likes about you.” He muses, leaning forward and reaching for a notepad to write something down on.

And I see what he does not like about you, you think as loudly as you can without saying it. Instead, you reach into your work bag when you have discarded your gloves and extract one of your own business cards to give to Agent Jane. “Since it looks like you’ll be here for a few days, this is how you can reach me.”

“Thank you.” She huffs and rolls her eyes towards her husband. “He’s not as bad as he first seems when you get to know him.” She says quietly as she rubs her baby bump. “He’s a little insecure since it’s Marcus that we need help from.”

“I see.” It’s juvenile to say the least, but again, you can’t really be upset. Teresa Jane’s poor decision to marry Patrick meant that Marcus was single in D.C., and that had opened the door to the two of you ending up in bed together last night. “Well, I can’t say I understand the urge to be mean spirited, but seeing your spouse’s ex can be stressful.”

“I’m not trying to be mean.” Patrick almost pouts, frowning slightly. “I like Marcus Pike. I was jealous as hell of him while he was with Teresa.” He tells you. “It took getting on a plane to beg her to stay to get her to choose me.”

“I’m sure the pilot must have loved you for that.” Despite yourself, you shake your head to hide a cracked grin. It might be a romantic story to anyone who wasn’t currently in love with the guy who got dumped because of that stunt. “Marcus is a good man, and he will always do anything he can to help. It would be kind of you to be professional, that’s all.”

“Okay. I will stop making remarks.” Patrick sighs and it’s Teresa’s turn to grin evilly. “I know how you can make it up to them.” She teases, almost in a singsong voice.

“Really, Agent Jane, it’s fine.” You don’t know if you want this can of worms to be opened, and you especially don’t want to know why they just assume you and Marc are back together so easily. While true, it’s irritating on a base level that there are strangers in your business.

Teresa heard nothing but annoyance in your tone, so she decides to back off. “Alright.” She nods and holds up her hands.

“I—I apologize.” Realizing what you must have sounded like, you sit yourself down at the table and take a deep breath. “I’m afraid I might be a little…on edge.” It’s not your favorite thing to admit, but if anyone should be able to swallow their pride about Marcus, it’s you. “I find it unsettling to have my circumstances read as quickly and easily as you and your husband have apparently been able to do. I’m very sorry if I seem standoffish because of it. There is no reason we can’t be friendly.” If nothing else, it would probably help the case go more smoothly.

“No, we were in the wrong.” Teresa insists. “I know personally, I was just happy to see the spark back in his eyes. You can just tell, you know? When he’s in love?” She gives you a small smile. “He can’t hide it and he lit up for a second when you walked in.”

"He's never exactly been subtle." It makes you laugh a little, how true that is, and you end up nodding in acceptance. "I suppose you're right. That would be a dead giveaway."’

“At first I thought it might have been the other woman, but then – I just knew it was you. Especially since—” She gives a small shrug. “I won’t intrude on your personal life anymore, but I’m glad to know he’s happy.”

"That's all I want for him." You admit, hearing footsteps approach in the hallway. "Just to make him happy."

Marcus is happy to see that you haven’t started brawling with Patrick and he holds up the bags. “Food’s here!” He tries for a jovial tone, knowing a full stomach can go a long way to soothe tensions.

"Thank you." There's no hesitation or mannered politeness when you smile at him this time. The cat is out of the proverbial bag, so you can just let yourself be happy to see him.

He wonders what’s been said while he’s gone, but again, he’s just thankful he’s not having to pull you off Patrick. He sets the bags down. “Patrick, you got the pastrami on rye, extra mustard.” He says as he searches for the sandwich. “Teresa, the Turkey club with extra bacon and no tomato.” He grins and looks over at you before he pulls your sandwich out and hands it to you, “Did I get it right?”

Unwrapping your lunch from the waxy deli paper, you grin when the dietary staple of your college years - a chicken Caesar salad wrap - is unveiled before your eyes. "Extra parmesan and pepper?" You grin, unable to stop yourself even the tiniest bit. Not that you care anymore. It's been years now since you've had one of these and the nostalgia is so warming. "It's perfect, Marc. Thank you."

“Ma— oofffff—” Patrick flinches and grabs his side from where Teresa throws a judiciously placed elbow to stop him from commenting. “Owww.” He complains, but his wife just rolls her eyes and ignores his dramatics.

“If there’s salt and vinegar chips in that bag, I will name the baby after you.” She jokes, her grin making sure Marcus knows it’s supposed to be a lighthearted jest. The added fun is that it makes her husband immediately frown.

"I hope it's a boy, then." Amused at the dismay on Patrick Jane's face, you hand the bag of kettle cooked salt and vinegar chips over to Agent Jane before dumping the other bags out onto the conference table. One of those bags of Baked Lays is definitely for you and it only makes you smile harder.

“There’s also a tuna on wheat here with extra onions.” Marcus offers, knowing Silvia won’t be back.

“0h gimme.” Teresa makes a grabby motion as Patrick groans at the idea of onions. “What? I’m eating for two.” She huffs at her husband.

"I'll have to put some extra snacks in my office for the week, so there's something there if you need a snack while you're at the lab." Marcus's ex or otherwise, a pregnant lady needs access to snacks. That's just how things work.

“Oh, bless you.” Teresa nearly salivates at the idea. “You are really kind. I’m constantly hungry or tired.”

"I have a couch in my office, a mini-fridge, and a basket on my bookshelf filled with snacks. You're welcome to rest or grab something to eat anytime you need. Just let me know if you have any aversions, okay?" When Marcus looks at you like you've sprouted an extra head, you can really only shrug. "My sister had really bad food aversions when she was pregnant with my niece. I had to get creative with my cooking when she came to visit."

Teresa grins at you. “I like you.” She hums before she unwraps her sandwich and starts tearing into it like only a hungry pregnant woman can. Moaning at the first bite and immediately reaching for the chips to add more flavor.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger

tCIGtDYE: @missmarmaladeth @afro-hispwriter @rosmarinus @mythrielofsolitude @jxvipike @avaleineandafryingpan @hnt-escape @supernaturalgirl20 @scorpio-marionette @bobafvcker @midnightevermore @dinoflower @pearl-aqua-tears @itsbaehyungbitch @pepperminticedcoffee @anticipayosbot @girlofchaos @speedynana @loveslide @noisynaia @just-here-for-the-moment @goodgriefitsawildworld @curiouskeyboard @iarellanouus @mymistery09-blog @seasonschange-butpeopledont @thenightdreamsballad @pondsofravenclaw @sherlock221b114679797 @pimmyxyone @theredwritingwitch @ghostinhours @timpletance @strawberryjamcheesecake @amb11 @a-little-shade-of-kiki @wildemaven @tuquoquebrute @supernaturalgirl @ellenmunn @iceclaw101 @toxicfrankenstein @catsandgeekyandnerd @missmarmaladeth @theincredibleinkspitter @agiroflee98 @lyonessofnarnia @we-could-have-been @totostits @scorpio-marionette @kikis-writing-world @trappistmonksofthefuture @danichz @88dragon06 @scorpionerd @myrealmofchaos @movievillainess721 @firekissed13 @qseomik @acollectionofcells1 @captain-of-my-game1992 @alician87 @lovesbiggerthanpride @justgonewild @hiyorinatsuki @pinkrosethorne @apocalypticwafflekitten @groovycass @rebel-fanfare @d0cthunder @gooddaykate @purplerain04 @astridflowers @frasmotic@dornish-queen

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x female reader #Agent Marcus Pike #ex wife reader #The Mentalist #Mentalist fanfic #Teresa Lisbon #Patrick Jane

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olath124 · 6 months

Text

Wednesday WIP whenever

Thank you @ouroboros-hideout for the tag!

Art

I'm still working on the last part of the Kvio over the years… still missing 2077 and 2078, but I’ve to admit that I am steering toward other stuff!

Like this little doodling of young Kvio, I’m coloring!

Writing

Still going on with my fiction! This is where I am at (still unedited, so there’ll be a bunch of mistakes!)

“Don’t call me by my name.” she watches him in cold anger, then shakes her head. “Sorry.” She covers her eyes with her hands, “I’m sorry. Of course, you can. You can call me by my name… It’s just that…” She can feel his arms wrapping her in a tight hug.

“You hoped it was over.” She nods. “Well, it isn’t over. But you’ve got six months. After what you’ve done in one, what will you accomplish in six whole fucking months?”

She nods laying her head on his shoulder, then quickly raises it to watch him.

“But I’ll be alone! You won’t be here anymore!”

“Oh, come on Violet, you won’t be alone!” He chuckles “You’ll have your Viktor, and Misty, and Mama Welles, and Judy, Panam, your fucking fuckboy and his whole fucking circus…”

“But you’ll be gone.” He takes her by the hand, slowly walking with her to the well Alt pointed them to.

To her own life.

“I will.” he raises his shoulder. “But wasn’t I already dead anyway?”

They sit, together, on the edge of the well.

“I will find a way to get you back. You’ll be here, somewhere.” She tightens his hands on the edge “I will get you back.”

“Or no.” He snaps his fingers in front of her “Or maybe you’ll figure out how to survive and then you’ll live a happy, normal fucking life. Not everyone has to go out in a fucking explosion.” She frowns her eyebrows observing him.

“Or do what you want! I’ve never had a choice with you anyway!” She laughs, then watches the void in front of her.

“Don’t wanna go.” She whispers, turning to him with a half-assed smile.

“Me neither. Just…” he turns to watch her “Do me a favor…Scare the shit out of him when you get back…” She laughs, then gets closer to him, watching him in the eyes. He lays his forehead against hers, smiling:

“So, goodbye, Violet.”

“Goodbye, Johnny.” He leans forward to kiss her softly on the lips. “We’ll meet again.” She whispers and, pushed by him, jumps down, into the depths of the well.

Virtual photography

Yeah, I’ve just managed to make my first pose! The process so far is: me chilling on Blender (I've made a course on it, so it's not that terrible). Me crying on Wolvenkit. Crying a bit on any single file. Crying in the game because something doesn't work as it's supposed to. Rinse and repeat. Oh, of course, the vibe of my poses is... ✨kinkydrama✨ as you can see in the next pic.

That's all for now! Thank you again @ouroboros-hideout for the tag! It's always fun!

Tagging: @blackrevell @cybervesna @dustymagpie @cyberholic77 @theviridianbunny @aggravateddurian @wanderingaldecaldo and whoever wants to do it!

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk #my v #kurt hansen #v is for violet #cyberpunk 2077 fanfic #fanfiction #phantom liberty #violet #johnny silverhand #virtual photography #illustration #drawing #artwork #original art #artists on tumblr

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mangoisms · 1 year

Text

i'll be the dangerous ledge (you be the parachute)

━ chapter three: like the world makes sense | read chapter one | read chapter two

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 5.3k

━ warnings: mentions of explosion, injury, and death (within the usual canon-typical violence parameters)

━ masterlist

You and Tim continue to hang out.

Through the week, after school lets out, you are often too tired to go and do anything, but this suits Tim fine as the two of you continue to think of movies you like that the other has not seen.

You make him watch Mamma Mia, which he says is ‘okay’ but you think he likes more than he wants to let on. You do what he wants, too, and terribly dated as it is, The Devil Wears Prada is certainly fun enough.

Every time you see him, you learn something new about him. His favorite color is blue. He used to play tennis when he was younger but not anymore. He also used to like photography, but he doesn’t do it much these days. Not because he stopped liking it. He doesn’t say that but you can tell.

You wonder about that, about the things he used to do but no longer does. What does he do now, then? You ask him that, and he says he helps out with WE, with their R&D department, with IT, or wherever they want him. Not always but most of the time.

He doesn’t talk about his parents and he doesn’t talk about Bruce Wayne or his adopted siblings. He’ll talk about Alfred, the butler (not the cat), who was also the one to do his laundry.

You don’t mind. You’re more interested in him, in what makes Tim Tim. And on a lighter note, while you admit to having expected him to be a poor cook, he is actually decent.

“I’m only good at breakfast foods,” he admits to you one evening, having commandeered your kitchen to make breakfast for dinner. “And pasta. I can do pasta. But mostly breakfast.”

Better than most rich boys, you think.

You tell him about yourself, too. How you came here because tuition at Gotham University is dirt-cheap, largely because of the city in which it resides in, but the programs are still good. Good enough for what you wanted — public education with a small dash of child psychology. You worked at one of the elementary schools for two years before landing a job at Gotham Pointe.

“Will you ever leave?” he asks one day, the two of you eating ice cream and watching Zathura. His pick today. “Most do.”

You swirl your Oreo ice cream, the ceramic bowl cold against your palm.

It’s a good question. One your family wonders.

You got the degree. You got the experience, too. And experience in Gotham is gold everywhere else because if you can withstand the kids here, you can handle them anywhere.

With the fine print being that Gotham kids are what? Uncontrollable troublesome kids who will inevitably turn into criminals? Inherently evil? Your kids can annoy the hell out of you on a bad day but they’re your kids. They talk to you, they tell you about their lives, about what they like and don’t like, and they listen to your stories, too, and they show you that while others think living in Gotham is like living in some kind of barren wasteland… there is hope. So easily within reach.

If Gotham was as bad as people tried to make it out to be, no one would be here.

“I don’t think so,” you eventually say, looking at him with a small smile. “I like my job too much to leave. I like living here, too. And the company isn’t so bad, either.”

Tim smiles when you say that. “I would miss you.”

And what a thing to say. What a thing for you to have the privilege of. That someone, not just your kids or Ms. C, would miss you and your presence.

Well, you think. You would miss him, too. Maybe more than you would like to admit.

Friends.

Still hard to quantify or believe.

The city starts to ease into something like spring as mid-March creeps on you. Mornings and nights are still frosty but your breath no longer comes out white and you don’t have to watch out for patches of ice. The time in between is even more comfortable, allowing you to be outside mid-day without a jacket. You’re still in a long-sleeve but it’s a win in your book.

You and Tim keep spending time together. He learns, with the onset of March, that you like baseball and used to play softball when you were a teenager. Semi-seriously, too.

Gotham has its own major league baseball team, too — the Knights. It shares the name with your football team.

The baseball team isn’t any good, but that’s fine with you. Tim prefers their football team, which has the best track record out of all of them.

So, with that, Tim surprises you with tickets to their Opening Day on the last day of March. Well, the tickets are from one of WE’s partners, trying to suck up to him, he says, but it doesn’t matter that much to you since he didn’t technically pay for it.

However, there is something to be said about the buyer’s wealth.

“Look, I’m genuinely not trying to be picky or ungrateful but where, exactly, are the seats?”

“It’s not the Diamond Club, relax.”

“Okay, thank god.”

That would be too much. Mostly because of the notoriety around the seats themselves. Plus, with them being right behind home plate, your faces would most likely be caught on TV and that would be… a mess.

No, the seats are in the second row in front of the Knights’ dugout. Still excellent but not the Diamond Club, thankfully.

Tim comes dressed in jeans, a forest green long sleeve that meshes well with his pale skin and dark hair, and a nondescript ballcap.

“Just a precaution,” he tells you.

But upon arriving at the Knights Stadium up in Otisburg, you book it for the nearest merch stall and grab two black Knights caps — modeled like the iconic LA Dodgers and NY Yankees emblem except with GK — and shove one into his hands while putting yours on backwards. He acquiesces you with a smile and then leads you to concessions, happy to foot the bill, with you happy to let him do it, too.

(Drinks and food are far too expensive for a team that loses more games than it wins. Seriously.)

But like the universe is looking out for you (and the Knights and all of Gotham, really), the Gotham Knights win their Opening Day match against the New York Mets. The first time they’ve ever won an Opening Day game, actually.

Even Tim feels some pride, which is why, you think, after the game, he lets you drag him off to take a picture with the Gotham Knights’ mascot, King Arthur. One of his handlers takes the picture with Tim’s phone.

“Hey,” he says, scrutinizing Tim’s face even as he casually adjusts the bill, pulling it lower over his face. “You seem familiar. Do I know you?”

You panic, because this hasn’t ever happened to you two before, what with how you two mostly spend time inside, but you know you shouldn’t be surprised. Tim is careful to make himself as boring as possible to the tabloids. Even while grocery shopping earlier in February, he had a cap on and made sure to blend in as much as he could.

So, of course, Tim is the one to get out of it.

He looks at you, mock confused, and says something equally as befuddling in… Russian?

You match his look, raising your shoulders, and the handler decides this is not a situation he wants to be in as he shoves the phone into your hands and waves his own, enunciating, “Never mind. Never mind. It’s nothing.”

You and Tim leave them, making sure to look as confused as a pair of Russian tourists with not a lick of English would. It’s only when you are home free of King Arthur and his handler do the two of you break down into a mess of giggles.

“What did you say?” you giggle, nearly stumbling over the curb.

“I said, My publicist is going to kill me.”

You laugh all the way to his car and then on the ride home, too.

(“You know Russian?” you ask at one point, finally realizing that.

“Some,” he says, and you learn he knows a handful of languages like Russian, French, Spanish (the stuffy kind, though).

It’s cool, though he admits it’s from tutoring he had, so you have to make fun of those rich boy tendencies again.)

It’s one of the best days you have in a while.

But you find most of your days shape up to be like that.

Even long ones where the kids refuse to listen to you and lesson plans are thrown way off course. Tim will leave you to it if you need the space but other times, he’ll come over, make breakfast for dinner, and you two will watch some Ice Age and you go to bed in a much better mood.

And while you and Tim continue to hang out, your brother remains in awe of that fact, too.

He has some preconceived notions about who, exactly, Tim Drake is but you shut those down quickly. You know why he thinks like that and it would be a lie to say you didn’t think like that, either, but people are so much more different than they portray themselves. Especially ones like him.

Your brother understands, then, and is happy for you.

Not without a few well-placed jokes, of course.

You should steal his debit card info

i’m not stealing his debit card info

Dude he’s a millionaire it’s like his civic duty to society

Which is fair and you’ve certainly made that joke in regards to… some of the wealthier figures in Gotham before. (You flush thinking about your college friends’ jokes about being Bruce Wayne’s sugar baby. Tim will never find out about that as long as you live, thank you very much.)

Even Tim starts to foot the bill if you get takeout or something. And he says exactly that.

“It’s my civic duty,” he manages to say to you with a completely straight face. (Which is funny because he’s also apparently not straight, much like you.)

But it is true that Tim is decidedly well-off. Most of Bruce Wayne’s children are.

You carefully prod Ms. C and the other teachers and aides about information on them, because the internet can only tell you so much.

They rehash most of the info about Tim you already knew — the drama when he was seventeen with the CEO thing, the engagement thing, and the attempted assassination thing. (So many things.)

Tim is the only middle child, though, out of five.

The eldest of them is Dick Grayson, taken into Bruce Wayne’s care after his parents died. He doesn’t live in Gotham, though. New York, you think, is where he currently resides. Then there is Jason Todd, who is a bit of an odd case, because he ‘died’ when he was fifteen then came back when he was older, but the real story is that Bruce Wayne was, apparently, in so much grief at the thought that he misidentified the body in Ethiopia, meanwhile Jason Todd was still alive but kidnapped. He would be until he escaped and came back to Gotham at nineteen. You have faint memories of that media hellstorm from college but these days, they don’t focus on him much.

Cassandra Wayne, the most shrouded in mystery out of all of them; a cryptic figure that paparazzi only manage to capture every six months. She shows up for the occasional charity gala but most can’t actually find or talk to her. The only trace of her existence is other people saying they saw her.

After her, there is Tim, and then there is Damian Wayne, the youngest of them. A teenager now and a model student at Gotham Academy. The one that economic magazines and tabloids say will one day take over Wayne Enterprises. Damian is also the only of them not adopted. He is, much to Gotham’s collective shock, Bruce Wayne’s biological son. You idly wonder about his mother, though, since he does have black hair like his father, but the brown tone of his skin and hazel green eyes sets him apart from his father’s obviously white ancestry.

And well, there is Bruce Wayne, too.

Starting to go grey, he is less of a playboy these days and more of a fatherly figure. Apparently, he’s on the Parent-Teacher Association for Gotham Academy. It’s an amusing thought.

(It still doesn’t mean the Gotham populace isn’t drooling about him. If anything, the fatherly vibes seem to do something for, ah, certain cohorts. You did at once think he was attractive — really — but after knowing Tim… it just feels a bit odd.)

You are certain your prods for info go unnoticed. And they do. It is… something else that gets Ms. C’s attention.

“You seem more happy these days,” she says offhandedly one morning, the two of you preparing the assignments for the day, as well as the tests the kids had taken last week that are now ready to be handed back.

“I have a new friend,” you decide to say, because it shouldn’t hurt.

She nods distractedly. “That’s nice. You did seem a bit lonely before.”

Which is funny because she never let on about it. And also because it’s so direct, you don’t know what to say.

“Nothing wrong with it,” she says after a minute. “I like to be alone. But there’s a difference between being alone and being lonely, isn’t there?”

“I suppose so.”

“It’s good, then, that you have someone now.”

“He’s just a friend,” you chuckle, scratching your cheek awkwardly.

“I didn’t say he wasn’t,” she says, finally looking at you, amusement twinkling in her hazel eyes.

“Right.”

“Well… good for you.”

“Thanks.” You smile at her and mean it.

It is good for you.

Really good for you.

Which is why, you suppose, things take a sharp downturn one Thursday evening.

Truthfully, you have no idea how you made it back to Rose Oaks.

Your fingers shake as you try to lock your bike to the rack. It takes you a couple tries to get the lock into place.

You straighten, your body aching as you do, and you limp through the entrance. The doorman does a double-take at the sight of you.

“Have a good night,” you mumble to him, going over to the elevators. You press the button. Your eyes catch the shredded skin on your arm, red and raw. You let your hand drop.

It happened too quickly for you to do anything.

All you know is you’d been biking down Cameron, the sun setting, others starting to make their way home for the day, then there was a boom that rattled the street and buildings and people panicked, because this is Gotham and any unusual activity is dangerous activity and you don’t stick around to play the hero, and if people start running, you start running, too. Doesn’t matter if you don’t know what’s happening, just do it, because it could be the difference between life and death in a world like this.

You know all of this.

But you never stood a chance against the rush.

You barely managed to scrape yourself off the ground, grab your bike, and break free, trying not to think about how you very well could’ve been stampeded to death and that’s not a very fun or dignifying death at all, is it? But it’s Gotham. Death is not fun or dignifying here. It’s miserable and painful and a cautionary tale to those that live to see the next day, just another addition to the fine print of living in this city.

Ding. The doors open. You step in. Your legs feel weak.

“Hold the door!”

Your hand shoots to the panel, holding down the open doors button. Someone rushes in in the next second.

“Hey, thanks for that —” the polite gratitude is swapped out for frantic concern in the next second, your name wrapped up in it.

You blink and find Tim in front of you, eyes wide in concern, hands hovering over you, as if afraid to touch you. It confuses you, because it’s not like you’ve ever shied away from him. If anything, you’re horribly, horribly touch-starved. If he let you, you’d be plastered to his side twenty-four-seven. Or, not twenty-four-seven, but you know. When you two are watching a movie or a TV show and he lets you throw your legs over his lap, you have to be really normal about how he rests his hands on your legs.

(He isn’t even doing anything, it’s just the pressure, the touch, that makes you want to sidle up beside him and never let go.)

Oh. Where did that come from?

He says your name again and you shake your head.

“What?”

“You can let the doors close,” he says softly and you turn and realize you are still pressing the button.

You let it go.

The doors close.

You hadn’t pressed your floor, though, so he does it for you. The elevator starts moving in the next second.

Tim looks carefully at you, concern still clear on his face.

“What happened?” he asks gently.

“I… I got knocked off my bike. It — it was an accident. People were just… panicking. There was…” Your chest tightens, until every breath feels like a struggle and why are you so cold? “An… an explosion. I… I don’t know.”

He realizes something. “Off Cameron?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Can I —?” He gestures to your arm.

Strange to ask. Unsettling in a way.

“You… you don’t need to ask.”

He softens at your response and his hand finds your left one, turning your hand up, where your palm is a little scraped up from your spill. Your forearm is worse off, road rash peeling the skin off, exposed and throbbing.

Tim’s fingers are warm against your cool skin, his hands calloused but still soft.

“I’m fine,” you say, though you aren’t sure why.

He looks up at you, the look in his eyes… You have to look away, shaking your head.

“I’m fine,” you say again.

“You’re hurt,” he counters gently. “Let me take care of this. Do you have a first aid kit?”

“It’s old. I don’t… Haven’t used it since I got it a few years ago.”

“Then why don’t we go to my place so we can grab mine?”

“Okay.”

He turns to the panel to press the button for the fifteenth floor.

The elevator pauses at the fourteenth floor but you two stay on.

Tim’s hand holds onto yours, gently, avoiding the scraped skin of your palm. He leads you out, to his apartment. His is bigger, better, than yours. But it just feels more empty when you come inside. Alien in a way you don’t like. You’ve spent a lot of time here but you want your apartment, with the crabitat, your fridge with drawings from the kids, your messy coffee table with tests and assignments that need to be graded, your sometimes clumsily-made pottery pieces on display.

He can tell, you think. Because he lets go of your hand at the door and moves quickly, murmuring for you to give him a second.

He disappears down the hall. Your feet ache from work and your knee and thigh aches from the road rash you sustained there, too, the material of your slacks torn. Because it’s already April and the days are growing warm, you’re in a short-sleeved blouse, which accounts for the scrapes on your arms.

More than that, you want nothing more than to lie down and sleep for the next week.

But no… You have work tomorrow. The thought burns through you, frustration and exhaustion sparking hot in your chest. Your eyes sting and you close them, swallowing down the emotion.

It’s fine. It’s fine. You can handle it.

You will.

Tim returns, then, first aid kit in hand. He pauses for a second, gazing at you, and you turn away first, opening the door. He follows you.

You take the elevator back down.

Soon, you’re stepping into your apartment. The light in the crabitat is the only thing on, glowing in the darkness like a lighthouse on the shore guiding you home. Something inside you unwinds.

Tim turns on the light. You take off your shoes and drop your backpack near the coffee table.

“Take a shower,” he suggests. “Then I’ll patch you up. I’ll be in here, okay? Want me to feed the boys, too?”

You blink, starting to return to yourself. “I… Yeah. If you wouldn’t mind.”

“What is it today? Fresh or canned?”

You blink. “How do you…”

Tim cracks a smile. “I’ve seen you do it a bunch of times, the way you alternate. But I’ve also done my own research. I was curious.”

“Right… um, canned today. They had fresh food yesterday.” You pause, starting to feel this strange creeping feeling inside your chest. You don’t like it, so you try to push it away. “Thanks, Tim.”

His face softens. “Of course.”

You head for your bedroom while he heads for the crabitat.

You pull out a fresh change of clothes, a pair of white linen shorts, heeding your scraped up knee and thigh, then an old high school softball t-shirt.

You have a door to the bathroom in your room, then another door from the living room. You lock both and turn on the shower.

Inside, you finally get a look at yourself. Your breathing stutters as you understand why the doorman was concerned, then why Tim was — is — too. Your cream-colored slacks are smudged with dirt and a few tire tracks from your bike when you fell. The fabric at the knee is torn, too, edges turned red from the blood. More fabric at the side of your thigh is torn, skin scraped and raw. Your pale blue blouse is in a similar state. Your arms are scraped up, rubbed raw from the sidewalk.

You look like a mess.

Hot humiliation bubbles inside you, along with fresh terror as you replay what happened inside your head.

Your eyes burn as you strip. Your scrapes burn even more when you step into the shower, the hot water making them throb, and you finally let your tears fall.

You work to keep your cries silent, though, wary of how noise echoes inside the shower. You don’t want Tim to know. You don’t want him to worry more than he already is.

It takes a while for you to piece yourself back together, but after washing your hair and body with your familiar smelling shampoo and soap, you manage to do it. Your injuries ache, though, especially when the towel brushes against them as you dry off.

Soon, you are reluctantly stepping out of your bedroom and into the living room.

The TV is on, playing season one of Spongebob. Tim, in the kitchen at the stove, turns, smile flitting across his lips.

“Hey, you’re just in time. I hope you didn’t mind me using the kitchen but I figured you hadn’t eaten dinner yet.”

Something spasms inside your chest.

You shake your head.

“Take a seat,” he says. “I’ll bring it over.”

You go to him.

He doesn’t say anything, ladling tomato soup into a bowl cushioned by a potholder. A grilled cheese sandwich sits on a plate on the counter. You pick up the plate, then take the bowl and a spoon as well.

“Water?”

You nod and seeing as you no longer have the hands for it, decide to just let him do it and head over to the couch. Your knee protests as you sit down. Your whole body protests, actually.

Tim brings a glass of water for you, along with a bottle of Tylenol, then sits down.

“You should eat, too,” you say.

“I can eat after.”

“Tim —”

He says your name. You stop. He grabs the first aid kit. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

But you do worry about it. You worry about this, about him making you food, about him putting off his own meal to take care of you, about him taking care of you.

In that moment, you feel terribly, terribly burdensome.

He inspects your hands first so you can eat and deems the scrapes not bad enough to cover, then moves to your leg.

You sip your tomato soup and take bites of the grilled cheese, oddly famished.

“It’s the adrenaline,” he says. You imagine you must’ve looked confused at your own hunger for him to say something.

“Huh?”

“The adrenaline,” he says again. “Coming down from it, you get hungry. And tired.”

You have fuzzy memories of your psych classes. That is true. Also probably why you are still cold.

How does he know that, though?

At your question, he shrugs. “You know how much time I have to myself. I have to do something to occupy it.”

“Maybe you can take up knitting.”

“Nah, I already know how to sew.”

“So, you know how to sew but not do your own laundry?”

He flashes a smile at you. “Exactly.”

You laugh despite yourself.

His smile softens, then he looks back to your knee, grabbing a piece of gauze.

“Aren’t you going to disinfect it?”

“Rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide aren’t great for cleaning cuts, actually. It kills the bacteria but it kills the normal cells, too. You need those to heal. Did you wash it well during the shower?”

You nod.

“So, that works, and we can do something else, too.”

He pushes up from the couch, heading over to the kitchen, riffling through your cabinets. You turn your eyes back to the TV and take a drink of your water. Your fingers itch to change it to the news, to see what happened, to see if there were casualties.

But Tim returns before you can grab the remote.

He has a bowl of soapy water in hand, setting it carefully on the coffee table, then sitting next to you again.

“This might sting,” he warns, dipping one of the pieces of gauze in the water then gently dabbing the edges of the scrape.

It does sting but not as bad as the alcohol might’ve.

“So, how do you know this stuff?” you ask quietly.

“I was clumsy as a kid.”

You wonder if that clumsiness has much to do with the scars you’ve seen on him. Some on his knuckles, on his arms. He sports fresher ones sometimes. The shadow of a bruise hidden under the hair that falls sharply over his forehead, the occasional cut. He always blames it on his clumsiness and you have no choice but to believe him. What other option is there? He isn’t dating anyone that could be doing that and he hangs out with his friends and siblings sometimes but they wouldn’t do things like that.

Well. You don’t actually know them. But… still.

He finishes cleaning the edges of the scrape, then he applies a little bit of Neosporin and tapes gauze over it. He does the same with the one on the side of your thigh.

Tim works attentively, not even sparing a glance at the TV once. You should know by now, the way he dedicates himself to things like this, how he will listen to you talk about something to do with school or with the crabs or with a movie or TV show. Every iota of his attention and concentration is on you. It flusters you sometimes, to be paid so much attention, but you would be lying if you said you hated it.

Now, with him turning that familiar concentration to taking care of you… you don’t know.

He has to have better things to do than doing this.

“Are you going to work tomorrow?” he asks, gently taping a piece of gauze over the scrape on your arm.

“Most likely.”

He nods wordlessly in acknowledgement and moves back, leaning forward to collect the used pieces of gauze and trash from the tape.

You chew at the inside of your cheek. “It’ll be fine. It’s… it’s fine.”

“Just don’t strain yourself,” he says gently. “Did you want a ride? I don’t —”

“No.”

An awkward silence follows your abrupt denial. You don’t miss the flash of hurt on his face. It stabs you right in the heart. You look away.

“I mean, thank you, Tim, but, um, it’s okay. I’m fine. You don’t have to do that. I get up pretty early in the mornings and… Yeah.”

You stand, your knee — your body, really — protesting but you ignore it, stacking your plate and bowl, then grabbing your empty cup.

“You didn’t have to do all of this,” you continue, dropping them into the sink. “And I appreciate it, really. Thank you. But you don’t have to do any more. So, if you have… other things to do. You know. Go ahead.”

“I have nothing else to do,” he says, surprising you as he appears by your elbow, throwing away the trash from the gauze and the tape. The look on his face is hard to describe. Caught between some cross of disappointment and determination. A part of you shrinks at it. At the thought of disappointing him.

“Let me wash it,” he says, stopping you before you can turn on the faucet. “Give your hands a break. Give yourself a break, okay?”

Some part of you wants to fight it. Wants to say he should try that, too. As if you don’t see how tired he looks sometimes, staying up late to do reports for WE. For whatever reason, he’s working more with them. A few weeks ago, he had to fly to New York. Something about R&D. He returned exhausted from the trip.

But you clamp the impulse. That’s not necessary. It’s not about him. It’s about you. This is… It’s unnecessarily difficult to let yourself be taken care of right now. You have an inkling as to why but the energy needed for that kind of introspection is lost on you. So, you let him take care of the dishes and slink back to the couch, slouching into the cushions, feeling exhaustion tug persistently at you.

Yawning, you pull the blanket hanging over the back of the couch onto your body. The Tylenol you took before has already kicked in and with your hunger satiated and your pains taken care of for the most part, you are ready to go to sleep for the rest of the night.

You fight the impulse, though, sparing a glance at the kitchen.

“Tim.”

“Yeah?”

“You better eat.”

He laughs and your chest warms at the sound.

“Alright,” he says, tossing a smile over his shoulder at you. “I’ll eat.”

You nod and turn back to the TV, picking up the remote and switching to the local news channel.

The poised voice of the GNN news anchor replaces the Spongebob theme song.

Tim pauses in turning on the stove.

“An incident in the Upper West Side tonight, a laundromat off Cameron Avenue went up in flames after a dryer exploded. Miraculously, there were no casualties inside the laundromat, however, the explosion caused much panic on the streets, resulting in at least one person dead from the rush and many others injured. No doubt, people believed it to be some kind of attack, especially with the recent news that the Joker has broken out of Arkham again and police have been unable to track him down —”

You change it back to Spongebob.

A laundromat.

Just a laundromat.

No real danger. No threat of death.

All this… because of the collective anxiety Gothamites hold. You aren’t holding it against them, you’re just…

Tired. Exhausted. That’s what this city does sometimes.

A lot of the time.

You swallow past the uncomfortable tightness in your throat, close your eyes, and let yourself be whisked to sleep, where things are easier, simpler, and you can just… forget. If only for a little while.

━ end notes

1. it was brief but i largely prefer the thought that gotham is not as evil or horrible as people like to make it, or better yet, that the city does stink but people still stay there and they still try to be kind in spite of a horribly corrupt government that is in fact the root of almost all the problems. it's really just the sociologist in me (seriously, that's my minor!)

2. reader briefly mentioned the diamond club, which are typically the seats directly behind home plate and they are crazy expensive. here is the seattle mariners' diamond club prices for reference

3. technically, in canon, i don't believe the knights' have ever mentioned a mascot and what kind. i also admittedly did indulge in letting both the baseball and football team be called the knights but let's ignore that. anyway, i made up the king arthur mascot thing on the fly. couldn't think of anything else knight-related that would work, other than an actual knight. for mlb teams, it isn't always on the nose. like the seattle mariners' mascot is the mariner moose. so, that's why i went with king arthur.

4. dick is not living in gotham or bludhaven anymore and instead in new york because i think he deserves a little (a lot) of space from bruce for his own peace of mind and um general mental health

5. also yeah jason is alive to the public here. i know that is the same in rebirth (i think) but i don't know the details, so if the story behind that is different, that's why, because i also made it up. but it is slightly inspired by this fantastic au on if talia brought jason home after restoring his mind with the lazarus pit, seriously read this, the characterizations are so fantastic; also it's important to me that you all know i am the number one talia truther ever and that shit about him sleeping with her in lost days is blocked from my mind.

ANYWAY. continuing point number five. i have too many thoughts on jason. in my mind and in this, i've changed a lot but that won't Actually be discussed here. there isn't much batfam interaction at all other than these mentions. steph, cass, and duke do appear towards the end (as well as some very very brief appearances by cassie, kon, and bart) but that's really it. it's not very batfam-centric at all, it's more centered around tim and reader.

6. and this is my last one i SWEAR i know the order in which the kids were mentioned in reader's narration was dick, jason, cass, tim, and damian, but if we were going by ages, it's dick, cass, jason, tim, and damian. it is again important to me that cass is a few months older than jason for no reason in particular other than i think it would annoy him and please her.

reblogs are appreciated!

#red robin #dc comics #tim drake x reader #tim drake x y/n #tim drake x you #red robin x reader #red robin x y/n #red robin x you #dc comics x reader #dc comics imagine #tim drake imagine #batfam x you #batfamily x reader #batfam x reader #batfam x y/n

143 notes · View notes

e-dubbc11 · 2 years

Text

Take a Lap Pt. 3

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google. Bottom left and bottom right are actually mine, I took them in my hometown.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: A couple of swear words, fluffy bunnies and unicorns. Some angst and tears and a cheesy yet happy ending.

Word Count: 6.9k-ish

Summary: Part 3 of 3. You and Billy are becoming very close, training together, he gets to know your family, and spending more time together not training but of course, it wouldn’t be a Billy Russo fic without conflict before he competes in his very first triathlon.

A/N: A couple of the pictures in my moodboard I took myself, one of my hobbies is photography. It’s just so pretty where I live. I had a lot of fun writing this series, and I hope you enjoyed it also.

PART 1

PART 2

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

After a relatively successful first open water swim on Thursday morning, you and Billy spent the late morning at his hotel and in the early afternoon, you took him to lunch and for a nice walk in downtown Mystic.

The two of you took some pictures together overlooking the water. It was a typical July day in New England, hot and humid. The sun was out from behind the fluffy white clouds and even though it was hot, your body temperature seemed to stay cooler because of your early morning swim in the river.

The water was still a little chilly but not bad so it kept your body temperature down while everyone else walking around, you could see the beads of sweat on their foreheads, the sweat stains on their shirts, and their sunburned faces.

“Ya know, baby. It’s really hot out but I don’t really feel it.” Billy said.

“Your body will take a little longer to heat up thanks to the swim in the river this morning, Billy.” You said with a warm smile.

He stopped to take in the view, the sunlight dancing across the water, the large wooden ships in the distance, and the kayakers paddling towards you heading for the overpass. Billy looked…content.

“It’s beautiful here, y/n. I remember you describing it but you really do have to see it.” He said, reaching for your hand and bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

“Yeah, this is home for me. I really do love it here.” You stated, still holding Billy’s hand.

He didn’t want you to leave him, he kept you at arm’s length all day, and you would even catch him staring at you sometimes whether you were reading the menu at the restaurant or watching the boats go by in the river. He never took his eyes away from you.

“I have to let you go soon, don’t I.” There was no hiding the disappointment in his voice.

You didn’t want to leave him either but this weekend was supposed to be about seeing your family but maybe there was a way to do both, aside from the birthday party.

“Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? Ease into it because my entire family can be a bit much so you could just meet my parents and my brothers. That could be a nice warm up for you.” You said nervously, not knowing if he’d go for it or not.

“A warm up, huh?” He asked. “Do you ever stop coaching?” He asked, laughing a little.

“It’s too soon, isn’t it. I’m scaring you, aren’t I.” You choked out.

He continued to laugh. “No, no you’re not scaring me, sweet girl. I’d really like that.”

Billy drew you in close to his chest, he pulled his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose so his eyes weren’t hidden away anymore, he wanted you to see them and he wanted you to know that he was more than ok meeting your family.

Looking up at him through your dark lashes, you knew he wasn’t lying. Billy brushed under your chin with his fingers, tilted your face towards his and delicately pressed his lips to yours. The scent of his cologne was intoxicating, it mixed with the light scent of sunscreen and salt water that hung in the air.

“You would?” You asked him nervously.

He flashed you his perfect smile. “Of course I would. I just have one question.” He said.

“What’s that?” You said with a concerned tone to your voice.

Billy kissed you on the forehead. “What kind of flowers does your mom like?”

“The kind that smell nice.” You said with a wink.

You made him laugh again. “I think I can work with that.”

**********

Dinner with your family went pretty well. Your brothers and stepfather seemed to approve, your mom did too although she did wonder out loud why someone like Billy, who was handsome, polite, charming, and successful, wasn’t dating someone more in his “league.” She basically took a jab at you for working at a job you love instead of doing something that she approved of or considered “successful.”

Billy stood up for you even though he didn’t have to. “Your daughter is a wonderful person, ma’am. She’s funny, a hard worker, giving, she’s beautiful inside and out, and she’s an excellent teacher and coach. I’ve learned so much from her, and you should be really proud of her.”

It was the first time in a long time your mother was actually speechless.

You found yourself alone in the kitchen for a minute while everyone else was outside by the pool, Billy stepped inside and caught you brushing the tears away from your face.

“Oh so you’re hiding in here…hey what’s wrong, sweet girl?” Billy asked.

You tried to put a smile on your face. “You didn’t have to do that, Billy. I’m kind of used to being a disappointment to my mother, at least she has two other kids that she’s proud of.”

“Look at me, y/n.” He said firmly. “I didn’t say anything out there that wasn’t true. If she can’t see that, then that’s on her but you’ve NEVER disappointed me…NEVER!”

His thumbs caught the fresh tears that streaked down your cheeks.

“Alright, maybe a little bit when you suggested I wear a Speedo but that’s the only time.” Billy joked.

You cracked a smile and even chuckled a little bit.

“There it is, there’s that beautiful smile.” He said.

Pushing yourself up onto your toes, your lips met his and your nails scraped gently against his scalp. You could tell he loved it when you did that, he always closed his eyes and lightly pressed his forehead to yours.

“Thank you, Billy.” You whispered in his ear.

If you weren’t in love with him before, you definitely were now. Billy wasn’t the only one who had a hard time expressing his feelings, you weren’t sure that your feelings would be reciprocated so you held back even though it pained you to do so. You wanted to tell him more than anything how you felt about him but it scared you so you just kept it to yourself…for now.

You just enjoyed the moment of him holding you, picking you up and placing you on the kitchen counter, looking up at you with his deep brown eyes and kissing you with a passion that told you he never wanted to let you go.

You were interrupted by one of your brothers walking through the door and saying “Ummm, we put food on that counter ya know.”

“OMGoodness, you have the WORST timing, ya know!” You snapped but couldn’t help cracking a smile.

Your brother extended his arm to shake Billy’s hand. “Thank you for sticking up for my sister, Bill. Our mother doesn’t always realize the things she says are sometimes hurtful and not helpful. I try and remind her of that but you beat me to it this time, so thank you. It’s definitely cool if you date my sister.”

The look on Billy’s face as your brother was talking to him was priceless. You could see he really appreciated being told that he was “good enough,” after going through his entire life thinking he would never be good enough for anyone. Tears of sorrow were replaced with happy tears and your brother hugged you until he squeezed all of the air out of your lungs.

“Alright, good talk. I’ll see you guys out there. Ready…BREAK!” Your brother said as he walked outside and left you and Billy in the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear.

**********

Your visit home had turned into a balancing act of training, alone time with Billy, and quality time spent with your family which you think you did a pretty good job of.

Friday morning’s swim was better than Thursday’s. You pushed him a little harder, pushed him to go a little bit faster and he still only went off course a couple of times. Billy was still disappointed in himself for going off course but his time improved anyway so you praised him for that.

“40 minutes this time, Billy. And that’s even with you losing your way for a minute. You’re doing really well.” You said.

A sly smile spread across his face. “So do I get a reward, sweet girl?” He asked.

“Mr. Russo, I’ve ‘rewarded’ you plenty of times so far this weekend and it’s been two days.” You pinched his chin with your forefinger and your thumb before kissing him. “I do have to help set up for the party so I can’t stay out with you all afternoon. You can come help too if you don’t have any other plans.”

“Well, I just have to get a birthday present for your brother but I could come by after that.” He said.

His answer surprised you. “Billy…that’s very sweet of you but you don’t have to get him a present.”

“Uh, I was invited to a birthday party, of course I need to bring a gift.” Billy said.

Aside from the little bit of tension between you and your mother, the weekend so far had been more than you could have ever dreamed it could be. When you agreed to help Billy train for the triathlon, you didn’t expect to fall for him. He made it hard not to, especially once he started opening up to you when he didn’t have to.

Guys like Billy didn’t form attachments because they could be used against them, he was taught they made him weak, and he never wanted to be appear defenseless. The perfect soldier wasn’t emotional, never left themselves unprotected, they did their job and walked away. Billy Russo is the perfect soldier, or rather he was the perfect soldier until he met you.

“Ok handsome, let’s hit the showers and you can take me to lunch.” You said with a slight smile.

Billy smiled back. “Sounds perfect.” He said.

**********

Saturday morning’s swim, Billy did even better than the day before. He improved his time by another five minutes and even came close to catching up to you but the smile that stretched across his face when you told him his time was so pure, like a child on Christmas morning.

“So close! I almost caught you, y/n!” He exclaimed.

You weren’t sure you had ever seen him that excited before and it’s not like you weren’t trying or letting him catch up to you. He was pushing himself harder each time to try and beat you, and if Billy was going to beat you, he was going to have to earn it. You never let anyone win.

“Almost isn’t winning, Russo. You know that! But you’ve improved so much, Billy and I am SO proud of you.” You said throwing your arms around his neck, catching him a little off guard. When he caught you, he fell backwards, taking you with him and landing with a big splash.

When you finally recovered from your laughter and finished drying off, Billy kissed your forehead and said he wanted to tell you something.

“Baby, I can’t remember the last time I had a weekend like this. It’s just been so—nice. I almost don’t want to leave tomorrow.” He said staring out at the water, his toes wiggling in the sand, and you observing how happy Billy looked.

He just stared at the view in front of him in amazement, squinting a little from the glare reflecting off of the water, little beads of water dripping from his raven colored hair and marking the sand with small round indentations and then washing away with the incoming tide.

For a brief moment, you were frozen in time, not wanting the weekend to be over yet either but you still had one more day and one last open water swim before you leave tomorrow. Both the river and Billy’s face were calm and quiet, you almost didn’t want to disturb him.

“We have one more swim tomorrow morning, handsome. But you’re right, it has been nice. I’ve had a really great time with you.” Your voice hitched a little.

Billy turned away from the water to look at you, the sun hitting his face and warming the color of his eyes. They never veered away from you as he closed the gap between your bodies, your pulse quickening and the butterflies stirring, waiting in anticipation for him to place his lips on yours.

The comfort you felt in Billy’s embrace was soothing, you were safe in his arms and he was safe in yours as he captured your lips with his own. The sun warmed your faces, drying the water on your skin as your lips parted slightly, tasting the salt on his soft lips. A slight moan escaped your lips as he placed gentle kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

“Mmmmm…we have a party to get to, Mr. Russo.” You hummed, with a slightly disappointed tone to your voice.

“Alright beautiful, I guess we should get goin’.” He grumbled, matching your disappointed tone. “Oh I got your brother a really cool drone. You think he’ll like it?” He asked.

“Oh he’s a giant man child, so he’s gonna love that. You did good, baby.”

You gave Billy a quick kiss on the cheek and he took you home so you could get ready for the party while he went back to his hotel to get ready. You couldn’t wait to see him later.

**********

Everything about the party was a success. There were a lot of laughs, good food, games, and music. Billy never let you wander too far, he just wanted you to stay close and you couldn’t blame him. Your family could be a bit aggressive with the questions and there were a couple of times where you mouthed to him “I’m sorry.” But he handled himself really well. Even your mother seemed to behave for the most part.

Your brother was ecstatic over the gift that Billy gave him. “Sis!! Bill got me a drone! It’s fuckin’ awesome!”

Your mother was quick to jump in. “LANGUAGE!”

The evening was capped off with a fireworks display in the front yard. Your brother wanted fireworks for his birthday because, why not?

Billy leaned in to tell you he had a great time. “Everyone made me feel so—welcome, baby. I don’t know how to thank you or thank your family.”

“You just did, handsome. And you’re very welcome.” You snaked your arms around his waist.

He kissed the top of your head and you pulled him close to whisper in his ear. “How about we get outta here and go make some fireworks of our own?”

He smiled a wicked smile and said “I’ll get the car.”

**********

Sunday morning you said your goodbyes to your family, then Billy picked you up for one last open water swim before heading back to the city. It was so good to see everyone and you told them you would be back next month for the triathlon.

Billy posted his best time that day, he felt confident that he would be able to finish the swim with a decent time and you were certain that he would do well.

“I just wanna take in this view for a little longer, sweet girl.” He said.

You bit down on your lower lip, smiled, and nodded. “Ok Billy, but we still have to shower and you need to check out before we head back.” You stated.

He kissed you on the temple. “Just a few more minutes, baby.”

The ride back to the city was a lot like the ride out of the city. There was a lot of talking, laughing, and singing along with the radio. But you still couldn’t bring yourself to tell Billy how you truly felt about him.

He knows you care about him and he cares for you too but he doesn’t know how deep your feelings are for him. The two of you were having fun together, what if he doesn’t want to put a label on it? What if he doesn’t love you back? You just don’t want to mess up what you have with him.

So for now, you’ll just continue to do what you have been doing. It’s back to training in the pool on Monday.

**********

Monday, 3 o’clock.

Billy was always very punctual, he was never late. He texted around 3:15 saying he was sorry and stuck at work so couldn’t train today and tomorrow wasn’t looking good either with his work schedule. He said he would call you later.

But he didn’t.

A week had passed and still nothing but a bunch of “I’m sorry” texts and he blew off your workouts. Why? He said he had a great time and liked being around your family. What could have changed?

At first you were upset, you let Billy in and this is what he does with your heart? A few texts here and there and that’s supposed to be ok? Something is up and you were going to find out what it was.

While sitting at home one night, a text came through. Hoping it was Billy, you picked it up only to see it was from your friend Rachel, she worked at the pool also. Her shift was usually after yours. It said:

I figured you’d want to know that lieutenant hot stuff has been coming in for the past week around 5 every day. He just got here. You want me to punch him in the mouth for you?

You were furious but you just texted back:

No, it’s ok. I’ll do that myself. I’ll be there in a few minutes.

You were so angry, you couldn’t see straight. White hot rage burned the back of your eyes while in the Uber on your way to the sports club, going over what you wanted to say to him in your head, not sure if you were going to be able to keep it together long enough to give him a piece of your mind.

Humiliation was the word that came to mind at the moment. It hurt so much that your knees were shaking uncontrollably as you walked down the stairs toward the pool, grabbing on to the wall when you felt like your legs were going to give out. The powerful pain in your chest was crushing, like Billy had a hold of your heart and was squeezing until there wasn’t anything left.

The thick air in the pool area made you nauseous and seeing him swimming in the far lane had you seeing red as you hurriedly walked over to him.

He knew he was caught.

“Ok, before you yell at me, lemme explain.” He started to say.

“SAVE IT RUSSO!” You yelled and didn’t care who heard you or that you were making a scene. “Ya know, as far as I’m concerned, you can keep coming in when I’m not here. You have made it very clear that you got what you needed from me—“

He cut you off. “Y/n, listen—I just—well I needed some time—“

You interrupted him. “Hey! I wasn’t finished! You got what you needed from me professionally AND personally so congratulations, well played MR. Russo! I trusted you and I fell for you, I thought I was—“ You stopped because you were choking on your tears. “You shared things with me that—ya know what? I can’t do this—goodbye Billy.”

You quickly turned on your heels and headed back toward the locker room. Jumping out of the pool, Billy immediately followed you, trying to catch up to you. When he finally caught up to you, he grabbed you by the wrist and turned you around to face him.

“I wanna explain myself baby, please.” He pleaded.

“Don’t you dare ‘baby’ me. Let me go, Billy. NOW! Have a good time at the triathlon, I won’t be there.”

You pulled yourself free from his grasp and he watched as the door closed behind you. Realizing that he broke your heart, he was in pain too. It was a strange feeling for him, it almost made it hard for him to catch his breath.

The constricting feeling in his chest was painful enough to the point where he needed to sit down, he saw the hate in your eyes and his were filled with sadness like he had just lost his best friend. You were right, he shared things with you that he never really shared with anyone else, you knew about his scars on the outside as well as the ones on the inside.

He trusted you with his heart, with his soul, the feeling of vulnerability was a new sensation for him and he got scared. He was not prepared for anyone to tear down the wall he had built, he said he would never be hurt like that again. If he doesn’t get close, he can’t be hurt, it can’t be taken away if you don’t have it in the first place. That’s what he always told himself.

It’s why he didn’t “do” relationships, but you were different. He couldn’t stop himself from sharing his stories with you, they escaped from his mouth like blood from an open wound. He didn’t want to stop himself, it was just easy with you. You were his best friend and he was in love with you.

Only he was alone now. Staring down at the tile floor, he could still see your shoe prints that you left behind, remembering the time you playfully yelled at him for having his street shoes on the pool deck.

Your words echoed in his head “I trusted you and I fell for you, I thought I was—“ You stopped before saying the only word that came to his mind…“special.” You were special to him and he wanted you back. He wanted to tell you he was in love with you too, but how was he going to do that now? He blew it. No…he couldn’t give up. That’s not what a good soldier does. He’ll find a way, he always finds a way.

**********

The next three weeks consisted of working, swimming, and not much else. You continued to swim to try and get your mind off of Billy Russo but you failed, you were constantly thinking of him. He tried calling, texting, and sending flowers. All of them went unanswered and it hurt each time you declined his call or left his texts unread but you were upset, angry, frustrated, and confused.

Some days you had thought about waiting for him to come in to swim. Rachel told you he continued to swim in the early evenings around 5 but you decided against it. He messed up, not you but it didn’t stop you from missing him.

Billy’s smile, his laugh…you missed those the most. You loved making him laugh, seeing the laugh lines around his eyes crinkle every time he cracked a smile. You missed the way he caressed your face before he kissed you, when he would keep you close while walking together, your fingers laced perfectly with one another like you were made for him and he was made for you.

The shared salt water kisses from your weekend together played on a constant loop in your memories and him defending you against the harsh criticism from your mother just made you love him that much more. “You’ve NEVER disappointed me…NEVER!”

What changed? Maybe you should have let him explain himself but you were just so angry with him, maybe he deserved that chance. And you lied to him when you said you weren’t going to be at the triathlon, you made a commitment to work it so you couldn’t back out now. They needed all the help they could get for the amount of people that participate.

And even though you didn’t open his text messages, you always saw the preview of each one. “I’m sorry…please call me…I need to talk to you…I miss you.” You wanted to answer, you were drawn to Billy like a magnet, it was difficult to stop yourself but you refrained.

He wouldn’t try this hard if he didn’t care, right?

The day before leaving to go home for the triathlon, you stopped to pick up your mail before going upstairs for the night. After thumbing through countless pieces of junk mail and a couple bills, you found an envelope with your name handwritten on it. The return address was Billy’s, you felt your pulse jump and warmth spread across your chest. You decided to wait until you went inside your apartment to read it.

After throwing your things on the kitchen table, you ripped open the letter. The Anvil logo appeared at the top and his apologetic words stretched across the page.

Dear y/n,

I know you’re angry with me and I don’t blame you. I’m angry with myself. The time we spent together, with your family was one of the best times I’ve had, probably ever. Obviously I don’t know what it’s like to have a family and the night we drove back to the city, I had to be alone with my thoughts. I didn’t like it, I didn’t like that you weren’t right next to me but it made me think what if we don’t work out? You brought me into your life, into your family, your whole family and I thought, what if I could never be part of that again?

My entire life, almost everyone that I’ve ever cared about has been taken from me or left me. You know about my mother, but my friends I had at the group home, they either died or ended up in prison. With the exception of Frankie, most of my marine buddies died in combat or I lost contact with. I thought it would be easier just to push you away so I wouldn’t have to think about the possibility of you leaving me. I know I’m not the easiest person to get along with.

And you’re right, I shared things with you that I normally don’t tell people about. You words play over and over in my head like a broken record. “I trusted you and I fell for you, I thought I was…” And that’s when you stopped but I knew you what you were going to say. You were going to say “special” and I want to tell you that you are.

I fell for you too. It’s not easy to make me laugh but you do, I find myself grinning like an idiot when I think about you (Frankie makes fun of me when he catches me) and you never let me get away with anything when you were training me. I love how hard you pushed me to help make me better and the fact that you took time away from your vacation to help me, no one has ever cared enough to do something like that for me.

I know I don’t deserve another chance, I hurt you and I’m so sorry. I don’t want all those hours we spent training to go to waste so I’m still going to do the triathlon. I don’t have anyone to blame but myself that you won’t be there, but just know that I love you and I hope one day you can forgive me.

Love, Billy

Your tears dripped on to the letter causing the ink to run a little, all of his feelings written out in front of you on that piece of paper, it must have been incredibly difficult for him to write this. The pain in your chest eased when you read the words “I love you.” He does feel the same way you do, you were special to him, and he needed to know that even despite him being difficult at times, driving you crazy, questioning you every step of the way during your training sessions, you still love him.

The ride home was a lot different than the last time. The train was loud and uncomfortable but thinking about those three words again “I love you” brought you to a place that you never wanted to leave. You never deleted the pictures of you and Billy off of your phone, he was still your lock screen and you’d catch yourself looking at it from time to time.

His handsome face, those liquid brown eyes of his, sometimes you swear you could still feel his beard tickle your cheeks. It would make you chuckle to feel it brush against your skin, he knew that so he would do it on purpose and really make you laugh.

You were thankful your parents didn’t ask too many questions about Billy when you arrived home, they didn’t really need to know anything yet so Friday and Saturday were uneventful but you had quality time with your family and saw a couple of old friends while you were in town.

Trying to sleep on Saturday night was challenging. Your nerves were firing all throughout your body and the butterflies in your stomach were not the good kind. It was more like a wave of nausea crashing in the pit of your stomach over and over again. Every time you closed your eyes, you would see Billy’s face, remembering all the times you made him laugh, the times he would question you and you would have to ask him “Who’s the teacher here, me or you?”

He was the one used to being in charge and this time he wasn’t which bothered him a little at first but he wouldn’t be asking for help if he knew what he was doing. He liked being challenged and liked that you didn’t back down when he would push back.

You were excited to see him tomorrow but also very nervous, the last time you saw him was when you gave him an earful and every fiber in your body hurt to do that but he had to know that he hurt you. What were you going to say to him tomorrow? What would he say to you? In a matter of hours, you would find out but for now you should try and get some sleep.

**********

Even though it was early, it was already hot and humid as you walked across the parking lot to meet up with the other guards you were going to be working with. You made sure to get there really early, hoping to not run into Billy yet. You wanted him to finish the race first, as to not distract him from doing what he needed to do.

And the earlier the better because then you would get to choose where you wanted to be whether that’s out on the water or if you wanted to be on shore. So you chose to be out on the fire department’s boat. High up on the bow of the boat you would have the perfect view of all the swimmers in the water.

After gathering all of your equipment, you heard a low gravelly voice call out your name.

“Y/N?” He said.

You turned around to see a man with dark brown hair, brown eyes, and his nose looked like it had been broken a handful of times but he was still ruggedly handsome. You thought this had to be Frank.

“H—Hi.” You said, nervously.

He extended his hand to shake yours. “Frank Castle. It’s really nice to finally meet you.”

“Yeah, it’s nice to finally meet you too. Billy talked about you a lot.” You said.

“Bill said you weren’t going to be here though, he told me what happened but I saw you walk through the lot and I recognized you from the pictures that he showed me.” Said Frank.

You had that sick feeling in your stomach again. “Well, I did make a commitment. I would have felt really bad if I backed out so I needed to be here. And full disclosure, I wanted to surprise him.”

Frank smirked. “Well he’ll definitely be surprised, kid. He hasn’t really been himself lately, he misses you. I don’t blame you for being angry though, told him he was stupid for pushing you away but he’s stubborn as I’m sure you know.”

You chuckled a little and nodded as tears stung the back of your eyes.

“But I’ll let him speak for himself, you plan on talkin’ to him when this is over, yeah?” He asked.

Your hands were shaking a little. “Yes I do but don’t tell him I’m here, Frank. Please? I don’t want to distract him, I still want him to do well.”

He nodded. “Yeah alright, I won’t tell him. I better get back to him before he comes lookin’ for me. He just wanted someone here to support him, ya know?” He said.

“Well now he has two people.” You said with a warm smile.

Frank smiled back.

“I hope to see you too after the race, Frank. You’re a good friend to Billy.” You said.

He pulled you in for a quick hug. “I’ll see you after the race, kid. Oh he’s number 081, by the way. Don’t let my boy drown.”

“Never.” You said and headed off toward the boats.

The swimmers would go in two heats as to not have too many of them in the water at once. It made it easier on the guards to better keep track of everyone in the water.

You asked if you could borrow the fireman’s binoculars to look at everyone standing on shore, they were all ready to take off as soon as the gun went off. Almost frantically, you searched the crowd looking for number 81. It would either be pinned to his chest or if he’s not wearing wet suit, it will be on his swim cap.

You found him standing off to the side, not close to anyone but then watched him move closer to the inside of the crowd. Maybe he remembered your advice to stay toward the inner arc rather than the outside, he doesn’t want to make the swim longer than it has to be. And there will be less of a chance he’ll see you on the boat.

The lifeguard in charge gave you a bullhorn in case you needed to get a swimmer’s attention if they were going off course, sometimes the whistle wasn’t enough.

They were getting close to starting, the swimmers took their positions, pulled their goggles down and waited for gun to go off. As soon as it went off, the first heat of swimmers plunged into the water.

It churned with the amount of splashes between arms and legs furiously moving through the water, the bay was full of bright green, blue and white swim caps dancing across the surface of the water and the reflection of the sun bouncing off people’s goggles made it a little difficult to see them as they turned their heads to breathe.

Billy was in the first heat. You saw him take off but lost him just as quickly as you found him but you had to concentrate on keeping everyone else safe and on course. About a third of the people in the first heat had passed you on the boat, then it was up to the guards in the kayaks to keep an eye on them.

One swimmer in particular was swimming toward the boat you were on. Shouting into the bullhorn, you told them they were off course. As they got closer to the boat, you saw the number on the swim cap, 081. Your heart moved from your chest into your throat when he stopped to tread water in front of you which made you a little angry because that was messing up his time.

“What the fuck are you doing?!!!” You shouted at him.

“I thought you said you weren’t coming.” He said, flashing his perfect smile at you.

“I’m gonna drown you myself if you don’t get goin’!!!” You yelled.

He laughed a little. “I love you.” He finally said.

You brought the bullhorn up to your mouth and aimed it right at him. “I love you too, Billy. NOW MOVE IT, SOLDIER!!!! GO!! GO!! GO!!!”

He laughed again and started back towards the rest of the swimmers and just like that, you lost him again in a sea of swim caps. It would be awhile before you would see him again as it was only the first leg of the race, he still had biking and running to finish.

**********

The fireman brought you back to shore after all the swimmers were out of the water and you couldn’t do anything except wait until he crossed the finish line. So you found Frank and waited for Billy together, he told you stories, you told him stories and before you knew it you started to see people cross the finish line.

You had to wait a little while longer before you could see Billy get closer to the finish line and as he crossed, he didn’t slow down or stop. He ran right to you, his lips crashing onto yours, and picking you up in a tight embrace.

“I am so, so sorry baby!” He mumbled into the side of your neck.

A smile stretched across your face, you raked your fingers through his wet hair and told him “I know, my love. I know. I got your letter.”

Breathing heavily, he just continued to stare at you, not caring about anyone else around him or what else was going on, he didn’t even care about what his overall time was. He was just happy to have you in his arms again.

He pulled away briefly to talk to Frank.

“Frankie.” He pulled him in for a hug. “Thank you for being here, man. It really means a lot.”

“Proud of you, Bill. Really. I’m gonna go wander around so you two can talk, yeah? I’ll be back.” He said.

You found a shady spot under a tree so the two of you could sit and talk, Billy could catch his breath and you could rest your legs because you’ve been on your feet all day.

“Did you really mean everything you said in that letter, Billy?” You asked him.

Billy ran his fingers through his damp hair and focused his eyes on yours. “I meant it all, sweet girl. All of it. I love you…I’ve just always been afraid of people leaving me so I just do it before they can.” He said with a hitch in his voice.

“I get why you would think that. If that’s all you’ve ever known, then I understand. You still hurt me, Billy.” You said. “But I love you too.”

You gently brushed his beard with your thumbs and leaned in to kiss him.

He took your hand in his, gingerly touched your knuckles with his fingertips, and looked down at your hands when he started to speak again.

“Ya know, a lot of people know where these scars came from.” With your fingers, he started to trace the scars left behind by the bullets. “But no one really knows how…” He placed your hand over his heart. “How I got these…except you.”

His words broke your heart, he had shared those feelings with you and now you understood that his outside scars weren’t the ones that hurt the most, it was the inside ones. He couldn’t bear the thought of possibly adding to the deep scars on his heart.

“I want to help heal your heart, not break it, Billy.” Immediately, your eyes welled up with tears, they spilled over and ran down your cheeks. “If you’ll let me.” You said.

Before you could say anything else, Billy’s lips were on yours, his hands tangled in your hair, and he whispered against your mouth. “I love you…so much.”

“I love you too.” You replied.

As if right on cue, Frank reappeared after his walk.

“Alright lovebirds, I’m starvin’. Let’s go get somethin’ to eat but we’ll let Bill take a shower first, I’m not takin’ him anywhere smelling like he does right now.” He joked.

You let out a chuckle. “Yeah ya know, you are a little ripe, handsome.”

Billy looked at Frank and back at you. “It’s that bad, huh?”

You winked and smiled at Billy.

“There is something I wanna ask you y/n.” Frank said.

“Sure. Go for it.” You said.

Frank narrowed his eyes and looked slightly confused when he asked “With that many swimmers in the water, how do you know if everyone made it out alright?”

You smiled before answering him. “By the bikes.” You said.

Billy and Frank looked at each other with confused looks on their faces.

“If all the bikes are gone, everyone made it out of the water.” You said.

Billy and Frank pointed at one another and in unison said “Ohhhhhhhhh.”

You shook your head and let out a soft laugh.

With the early afternoon sun beating down, Billy collected his bike and walked away from his very first triathlon not knowing what his final time was. He wouldn’t find out until later that he placed 50th overall among a crowd of over 300 but he didn’t care. As long as you were walking with him—it didn’t matter what his time was. He knew he had already won.

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @idek-what-to-put @anastasianeedstoread @on-ya @k-marzolf @nutmeg17

Others that might enjoy: @fluffyprettykitty @itwasthereaminuteago @officialjanetsnakehole

If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #billy russo fluff

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pascals-doll · 6 months

Text

meet muñeca

nice to meet you ♡ °

>HOMEPAGE >MASTERLIST

—ⓘ unfiltered asf | social | work-driven

(thas the best way id describe my ass osrs)

thank you for clicking on my blog ! here's a little get to know me !

muñeca is what i go by on here but my real name is Melanie! but my people call me Mel ! i speak 3 languages (english, spanish, and Xocoa (my native language another form of NAHUATL ) !

i am mexican indigenous & born and raised in cali baby AKA xicana (chicana) 🩷 im 18 years old 彡 she/her and bisexual with a very very heavy preference for women !

my birthday is in late January BITCH IS A BIG AQUARIU$ ♒️ ☀️ | cancer 🌕 | virgo rising

i am a freshman in uni ! i have the cutest cat lol and currently employed full-time as i got my first big girl job not too long ago :) ! i often spend my weekends at my local tribal administration working with native youth its sm fun.

MY HOBBIES ARE— are danza (danza azteca is a practice for the indigenous people of mexico) its my meditation, besides writing. i try to go as much as possible to my practices i love it sm.

i love graffiti art, a little bit of spiritual practices, show-binger, embroidery, painting/sketching, cooking, i love music like i love all things music, scrapbooking, film/photography, shopping, and most of all video games !

i grew up with my dad having all types of video game consoles like the nintendo 64, gamecube, ps2 and 1, etc so i grew up with the love for games and was my biggest blessing growing up :)

i lately only been playing the sims and animal crossing cus of how busy i be ! one thing ill call myself is work-driven 😭.

i smoke my medicine and love of my life is that 💰my favorite color ? isn’t it obvious yet 💕 pink

EXTRA FACTS ✩

FAVORITE ARTISTS— kendrick lamar, j.cole, erykah badu, lana del rey, kali uchis, yung lean, the drums, 2PAC, MF DOOM, bryson tiller, brent faiyaz, childish gambino, kid cudi, & curren$y. when i tell you i listen to everything im not kidding but these are some of my favorite artists; they always finna b playing when im driving.

i had went to visit my dad and we hooked up our old ps3 and played OG TLOU tg and it got me nostalgic asff 🥲 when i first started THIS blog it was just a test-drive ? but not anymore teehee

i first started writing on tumblr in like late 2019 early 2020 😭 I WAS IN 8TH GRADE LOLLL it was about vampire diaries too, yeah that shit did not last long.

i thought ab it & i think its insane ppl trippin on minors for reading/writing smut when my ass was 13 logging onto wattpad soo IDGAF IDC IDGAF

my ass been 18+ since i was 12 i cant say shit LMFAO

I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH AND YOUR SUPPORT MAKES MY HEART SWELL UP

i am bad at talking about myself but i hope you babies were able to get a jist of my vibe and explained who i am as good as possible 😭!!

#Spotify #༊*·˚muñi’s homepage

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sdr2lovemail · 1 year

Note

I just recently rewatched the mugen train arc and fell in love with Enmu again! I forgot all about him when I saw the Hantengu clones...😳

If you write for kimetsu gakuen could I request just relationship stuff with gakuen Enmu with a really chill partner? They hardly bat an eye at all the weird stuff he does. They're also a photography teacher at kimetsu academy. Totally not like my oc 😋I hardly see writing about the kimetsu gakuen universe.

If you write this thank you so much!

Kimetsu Gakuen Enmu x (GN) Reader

Synopsis: General dating scenarios with Enmu!

Notes: Non consensual picture taking, Enmu is his own warning. Gakuen Enmu is so silly and strange. I hope we see more of him in the spinoff manga. I'm trying out a new mix of headcanons and little scenarios for some requests.

Inbox is open!

●Your first meeting was downright creepy. Despite the rocky start, you continued to talk to the man against your better judgment and warnings from friends and family.

●Enmu himself didn’t know why he was so entrapped with you. His whole life, he only cared about a few things: photography, dreams, and trains. Maybe it started as a simple curiosity that turned into infatuation.

Sitting on a bench at the station, you waited for the train. You looked up from your phone’s screen upon seeing the flash of a camera. Standing uncomfortably close was a man with an eerie smile. He was dressed formally and had square tattoos on his cheeks. He didn’t say anything, only looking between you and the camera.

“Did- Did you just take my picture?” You looked at him with a questioning gaze, leaning away as he approached.

The man giggled. “Oh no. I was taking photos of the train. You just happened to get in the way.” He was lying, not even trying to hide that he had taken another photo.

“Oh, well, I wish you would’ve asked me first.” You shrugged. This city, especially the school you worked at, was full of strange characters. One more wouldn’t be much of a difference. You’ve heard stories about a man who stalks around train stations; never did you think you’d actually meet him.

With a sigh, the man sits down on the bench. “Isn’t this station just lovely? It’s so fancy and clean. Newer train models come through here as well!” He was ignoring anything you said, opting to ramble on.

You hum, taking a moment to think about his question. “I guess I never thought about it. It is a pretty nice station.”

He lets out another airy laugh as a deep blush coats his cheeks. He felt spurred on by your laidback personality. Offering you a handshake, he introduces himself. “I’m Enmu Tamio. Say, do you take this line often?”

Accepting his handshake, you introduce yourself as well. “Yeah, this route takes me to my job. I’m a photography teacher at a nearby school.” The man next to you smirks. He’d have to come by this station more often.

Enmu leaps up with a joyous grin, stepping in front of you. “You enjoy photography as well? How wonderful!” His fingers idly fiddling with the buttons of his camera. He wanted to get to know you better. To know your likes, dislikes, what you do for fun, everything. Enmu had never felt this way about another person; he was simply excited.

“Perhaps you’d be interested in my train lovers club. We specialize in photographing the rails.” Enmu hands you his business card with a phone number on it.

Soon, a train pulls into the station, and Enmu visibly perks up. “It was wonderful talking with you; we should do it again sometime. Can you hold this for me?” He shoves something into your hands before running into the train with a wide smile. Stopping at a window, he takes the time to wave goodbye. Looking down at what he pushed into your hands, it was a leather belt.

●Once the two of you start dating, you’re the one Enmu calls when he gets arrested. His club members were thankful they weren’t the ones getting called anymore. Not that they ever answered.

The police officer guides you to a holding cell, navigating with ease. Like they had done it many times before. Once the door slides open, Enmu is already by the door and clinging to your arm.

“My love, you came in record time. Always so quick to my aid, never asking questions.” Enmu sighed as he rubbed his cheek into your sleeve.

With a bleak look, the officer hands Enmu his camera back. “Please, keep your clothes on next time. We can’t keep doing this.”

Enmu barely pays the officer any mind as he continues to fawn over you, not even looking at them as he snatches his camera. “I’ll try my best. Come, my love. I must show you the pictures I got before I was detained.”

●On the topic of the members, they often try to ask you to reel Enmu in when he’s acting out in public. Whether he’ll be trying to nap in the luggage compartment or taking his pants off, they’ll look to you for help. However, he might start taking his clothes off faster when it comes to you.

●Enmu often asks his members to take candid pictures of you; the club members attend a university near the school where you teach, so it would be easy for them to snap some photos. They decline because they’re railroad fans, not stalkers. That’s fine with him. He takes enough pictures to last a lifetime.

●Along with his photography, Enmu likes to scrapbook. Though his books are pretty barebones, he feels like too many decorations will take away from the beauty of the pictures. He has many scrapbooks dedicated to you with different types of photos. Ones from dates, ones you’re aware of, ones you’re not. Enmu just loves to flip through them.

●Enmu would love to go on photography dates with you. While trains are his passion, he’ll take you to many scenic places out of the city.

●More often than not, you’ll have to pull Enmu back to reality. He struggles with differentiating his dreams from reality; he’ll look for you to help ground him. However, there are also times when he prefers to be off in his own world, blankly staring off as he’s curled up against you or in bed.

●He will tell you about every dream he can remember, often calling you first thing in the morning so he doesn’t forget any details. When you’re unavailable for his lengthy calls, he writes his dreams down in a journal so he can tell you all about them next time you’re available.

#demon slayer x reader #enmu x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kny enmu #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer #x reader

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f0point5 · 9 months

Note

I get the whole Lando thing but, for the next season I’d still like it if you chose him as a main. Especially If there’s going to be photography involved.

I feel like I’m going to get hated for this, but I really don’t like Daniels vibe since he came back. It feels like he isn’t even trying anymore, he’s there for the money and the fun (kinda like Valtteri), not to truly compete. And it makes me so angry, cause he had so much potential and he wasted it. Instead of making space for some promising and young talent, he’s hogging the only available seat (in the only junior team, whose purpose was to develop young drivers)

I just don’t think we should glorify he’s path.

Yeah, I mean honestly the vibe shift would be sooo good for the plot lol because now more than ever I feel like he could do with someone who makes him get offline a bit more and stop listening to the noise.

On Daniel…I agree but I also don’t. I don’t think it’s his responsibility to make space for anyone. If he wants the seat and it’s offered to him he has every right to take it.

On the other hand, I don’t like that he’s in AT. If RB were that desperate to have him back they should have bit the bullet and bought checo out at the end of ‘24 (I think they would have if Daniel had had the full half-season and shown consistent pace). But I also feel like they use AT more as a recycling bin than a junior team now. Pierre was there for years just to bring in consistent points, Yuki is there to satisfy Honda, now Daniel is there as a placeholder, it hasn’t been a junior team for a while. I’d love to see it get back to that, but I’d also like to see Sauber get back to that as well. But, I digress.

The problem is I think Daniel leaned into the celebrity thing when he didn’t have a seat and now he can’t really back out of it, and can’t afford to. He’s not going to be a world champion, so he has to be securing his future bag. I get it, but it can be a bit cringe to watch sometimes. I have a love/hate relationship with the idea that drivers have to be super focused. On the one hand I think there’s nothing more fascinating (and hot ngl) about someone like Max who just lives and breathes racing and exudes confidence in his talent. On the other hand, not everyone has his talent, not everyone is in their prime. If Daniel was still fully on the grind like “I’m ready to be a wdc next year I’m going beast mode” I’d be like, please join us in reality, so, in some ways I’m glad he can admit he’s just having fun.

All this to say, yeah there’s a lot of cringe in the way Daniel handles himself but I don’t think he has a lot of other ways to maximise his opportunities.

#f1 #formula 1 #lando norris #daniel ricciardo

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harrisonarchive · 2 years

Photo

Billy Preston, Willie Weeks, and George Harrison onstage during the Dark Horse Tour, November/December 1974. Photo by Jeffrey Mayer, © Jeffrey Mayer Photography.

“I mean, I’d rather have Willie Weeks‬ on bass than ‪Paul McCartney‬. I mean, that’s the truth, with all respect to Paul.” - George Harrison, pre-tour press conference, 23 October 1974

“George absolutely took the press to heart [during the Dark Horse Tour]. […] But in spite of all that, he remained very kind to all of us, always. He’d pull little surprises. You’d check into your hotel room, and there was no telling what would be waiting for you there.  It was the classiest tour I’ve ever been on, the best hotels, the best everything. He wanted to make everybody happy. It was beautiful.” - Willie Weeks, Here Comes The Sun: The Musical and Spiritual Journey of ‪George Harrison (x)

Q: “The 1974 tour came under a lot of criticism.” Jim Keltner: “Yes it did. People didn’t know what to make of it. They paid to see George, they didn’t know Ravi Shankar, they didn’t know that Ravi had India’s finest musicians up there with him. It was like seeing Ravi with a big band, no one had seen that before. The only way you could see that is if you went to Bombay, on some sound stage. He literally brought those guys all together and put them on a big stage in America. It was something! There was a lot of criticism, but there were probably a lot of people won over as well, people who were awed.‬ […] By the time I joined, it was already different. George had to tell Ravi about the criticism that it was taking too long. They were doing it the proper way, setting it up and playing the very quiet and introspective stuff in the beginning, and they were losing the audience. So he had to do away with some of that. And it broke George’s heart, he knew it upset Ravi. But in any case, even with what they cut out, what they did leave in was more awesome than most of what those people will ever be blessed to see. Those people saw something very special.”

Q: “Why did you join the tour late?” JK: “I had been on another tour prior to that, and I really didn’t want to tour anymore, I didn’t want to leave home again. I told George I was tired of it. But George wanted his friends about him, he was very much a people person. It still just beaks my heart to think of him being gone… he was one of my closest friends. He cherished our friendship, and I cherished the fact that he cherished that friendship.” - The Dawn of Indian Music in the West (x)

“[During the Dark Horse Tour] he would look you in the eyes and wanted to know, ‘Do you like this? Are you having fun?’ [George] cared, he wondered how everyone was doing, and he wanted to know, ‘Are you happy on this tour, is this fun for you? This isn’t just a job, is it?’ You see, George was never relaxed, he was a worrier, and he was often preoccupied with worry. If something was wrong, he was always thinking, ‘Someone’s unhappy, what have I done wrong?’” - Andy Newmark, While My Guitar Gently Weeps: The Music of George Harrison (x)

#George Harrison #quote #quotes by George #quotes about George #Dark Horse Tour #Dark Horse Tour 1974 #Willie Weeks #Billy Preston #George and Billy Preston #George and Willie Weeks #Jim Keltner #George and Jim Keltner #George and Ravi Shankar #George and Andy Newmark

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in2thenewworld · 8 months

Text

matchup for xio / 🫠 anon

loading your match! ପ( •̤ᴗ•̤ )੭ु⁾⁾.｡.:✽・ﾟ＋

your match is…

VERGIL!

As soon as you gave me free reign and I read a bit of your description, I put you two together immediately. (So happy that I get to write some DMC, it’s my all time fav 🤞)

Vergil is someone with a hard shell that takes a long time to crack. He’s not easily trusting and he’s very picky with his company. Thanks to your initially quiet nature, though, he takes a chance on you; he’s drawn to your mystery and you don’t overwhelm him in the way that some others might do.

Then you start to open up slowly. It’s as though your personality blossoms. Funnily enough, this is the point where he starts to see you as more than a friend. Getting to know you is steady and sweet, plus he finds your happier, more easy-going side to be endearing. Once you come out of your shell, it’s easier than you think to get him out of his. You might assume someone like Vergil would be annoyed by any sort of loud nature, but he’s already attached to you by this point, and he doesn’t find you obnoxious like some people he knows… Ahem, Dante. He finds himself missing your jokes more than anything when you aren’t around. You make his life so much less dull, it’s like night and day.

You won’t get to know that for a long while though. He pushes it out as much as he can until he cannot deny his feelings anymore, and then he goes through the phase of consciously hiding them from you. He might even avoid you until he realises that this could actually upset you, and that’s not what he wants at all. It’s hard to say who would confess first, but someone has to make the move eventually.

Speaking of Dante, you two very quickly become friends, down to that very same sense of humour. Dante will try and befriend anyone, in all fairness, but with you two it definitely sticks. He probably makes fun of Vergil when he’s not in the room, or he’ll tell you some embarrassing story about him from when they were kids. Oh, sibling love, what a thing.

You’d also get on with Nico and Kyrie! It might be a while before you cross paths, but those two will be your girls through thick and thin when they do. A friend of any of the Spardas is a friend of theirs. Girls day out? You betcha. Kyrie will back it up with the idea that Nero and Vergil need to get closer after so much time apart, just so you guys can all hang out more often.

Vergil isn’t afraid of confrontation. He much prefers to avoid it when unnecessary, not wanting to argue pathetically with people like children, but in much of his journey through life, it has simply been a need. Like a chore one has to get on with. Defending you isn’t a bother at all, though. It’s more this idea that because he’s grown so used to doing this by now, it’s a sixth sense. He will not let anyone do you any wrong. Many people are too intimidated by him to attempt it in the first place. If you so decide you can handle yourself though, he’ll step back as you wish.

Unfortunately, he’s not good at dealing with emotions. When it comes to his own, he blocks them out altogether, or tries to overcome them by physical means- aka, a fight. He’s spent his life searching for power in order to forget what it’s like to feel weak. He’ll still stay by your side though, for as long as you need him. Just tell him if you need anything at all, he’ll do his very best to oblige.

Vergil would absolutely love to see your photography and would share your passion for certain music genres. Vergil has an eye for some art forms- especially poetry, which has been a passion of his from a young age. It heals the emotional damage he’s got shoved down in his soul somewhere. There’s a reason why V was so reliant on it when Vergil split into two forms. It captures his feelings; his human side. He’d love to share that with you once he feels comfortable

Your colour scheme literally matches. Dante will probably call you both emo to make fun of you, but he means no harm. If anything, he’s the emo- haven’t you heard the music he listens to? Um, hello?

He appreciates that you can balance logic and feeling. Vergil often acts on impulse when emotions are high, despite his highly analytical nature. He tries to take note from you to not rush into things so much.

Vergil is also not too experienced in the department of relationships, so you don’t have to worry about that. You both just take things as they come, without feeling pressured to behave or move forward in a certain nature

Lastly, Vergil will be extremely loyal and devoted. He doesn’t give his heart to just anyone, so although it may take some time to earn, it’s a very worthy prize.

I hope you enjoyed this matchup! :D It came to me very naturally, super fun to write !!

#matchups #stella does matchups 💐#matchups open #matchup blog #dmc #devil may cry

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astererer · 2 years

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🍓 🎡 🌌 📸 👖☁️ 💘

tell me thingssssssss

ohhhhohoho hi renee!!! ty for sending an ask in :))

🍓 - do they eat their fruit & veg? what is their favourite fruit or vegetable?

aster isn’t always the best at eating her 5 a day, but she loves tropical fruits like mango and pineapple — they work great in savoury meals as well as desserts or on their own!!

🎡 - are they someone who wants to kiss at the top of the ferris wheel?

if you asked her to her face, she’d laugh and say who cares about stuff like that!! tho really that’s just bc she genuinely hadn’t thought of that kind of scenario before. after thinking on it a bit, maybe an hour afterwards, it doesn’t sound that bad….. maybe she would like to try it out……

that being said if she was with someone else who wanted to try kissing atop a ferris wheel she would be like “okay let’s do it.” no shame. she just wants an excuse to kiss whoever she’s dating haha

🌌 - what was the inspiration behind your oc? what was the first thing you decided about them?

ngl aster came from me being like “okay what if i was in the pokemon world and also way more talented/cooler” — blatant self insert/wish fulfilment stuff haha :)) she’s changed a lotttt over the years bc i kind of remade her each time a new pokemon game came out 😅 the first thing i decided about her originally was that instead of focussing on battles she’d actually be both a figure skater and ballroom dancer, and her team would take part in her routines she is neither of these things anymore

📸 - do they enjoy having their picture taken? what’s their go-to pose? do they like taking photos? what do they take photos of?

she used to hate having her photo taken, the gym challenge was fun and all but she was a very shy kid and did not like that her matches were televised/people rooting for her started to want photos w her. these days she’s still pretty “no cameras please” if random people approach her but she’s good w being photographed with friends :)) she doesn’t really know how to pose so usually goes for something silly on purpose or assumes people will just take candids that are somewhat flattering.

as far as her own photography skills go tho, aster is….. a very lazy photographer. like just lets her rotom phone take the photos for her lazy. she doesn’t really feel the need to take photos in the first place unless she thinks it’s important, but does enjoy going through her camera roll when her rotom phone has gone on a snapping spree to see what it captured

👖 - what is their go-to outfit?

aster likes trying different styles out, but her main wardrobe staples are mini skirts, boots, and an interesting top/sweater :)) she’s the kind of person who, 9 times out of 10, would pick a dress over jeans most days.

☁️ - a soft headcanon

muffin, her perrserker, is one of her best friends. after she caught him as a meowth and he warmed up to her, she’d carry him everywhere. once he evolved and got too heavy for her to pick up, she’d hold onto one of his paws and they’d be inseparable. they still are, really. he still curls up next to her every night :)) if aster feels nervous or stressed at any given time she’ll start holding his paw again. muffin, meanwhile, is ready to throw hands at who/whatever decided to upset his bestie

💘 - what traits do they look for in a relationship? do they believe in love at first sight?

she doesn’t look for relationships they just happen to her. jk jk but for real, she’s not really a super romantic person, but is open minded about the possibility of romance, so while she isn’t against against the concept of love at first sight she’s kind of sceptical about it happening to her, specifically. as for traits she looks for in a relationship…. patience is a big one — she’s pretty impatient herself, and knows having someone to balance that out and reign her in on occasion would be ideal for her. there’s also a need for the other person to be able to keep up with her, whether that’s on an intellectual level, in regards to battling, or physically ;)), it doesn’t matter, as long as she feels like there’s something stimulating about spending time with the other person. if they can make her laugh and get along w her pokemon, even better!!

——

this was funnnnn tysm again!! i want to write more about aster tbh…. perhaps i’ll put a fic out hehe

#emoji game #oc aster #and now i go to sleep it is gone 4am and i am still wearing makeup

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msannabiz · 10 months

Text

Trigger warning. Pet Loss/Grief

On Sunday, something happened with my best little friend. After evaluation, it was determined that she is really sick. Basically, I have to say goodbye next Friday after Thanksgiving.

My heart has never been this broken before. Every time I look at her I just smile or cry. I have one week until I have to say goodbye. I’m kind of just writing on here because nobody really looks here. I have a few followers who follow me because of my Astro photography but right now I need a journal where I can just write how sad I am.

All I’ve been able to is write about how much I’m going to miss her. I had a therapy session yesterday, and we got really deep into it. From that session, the biggest conclusion that I have come to is that I didn’t save her, she really saved me.

She came from an abusive beginning, being forced to live in a crate after she wasn’t cute anymore, barely being fed, being left out in 112° weather, to a loving, fun, exciting and exploratory life. I got to take care of her for almost 2 years. I have only had her living with me for five months. in those five months I have had some of the happiest, most satisfying moments that I’ve ever had in my entire life.

She is my first dog that I have ever had, due to my parents banning dogs from the house when I was growing up. She is a reactive dog, so it’s hard for her to meet new people or new dogs. She didn’t get to socialize when she was younger, but I have tried to socialize her and it hasn’t been a success.

As I write this out, she is laying on my bed, on my blue comforter, taking heavy little breaths, and snoring just a little bit. I am tearing up right now, just as I’m writing this. I think this is one way to get grief out. I can say I have been in denial for a while, and I have been angry with myself. I’m at the point where I’m bargaining with God, just asking for him to take her home. I can only hope and believe that everything we love here will be up there. I don’t mean the materialistic things I mean the things that have true value. Each day I’m going to do something more. I think I am fortunate in knowing that I have a week left.

I think I’m actually one of the lucky ones who knows that they get to do whatever they want for the next week with their dog. There are so many things that I wish I could’ve done with her but her quality of life would not be high if she continue to go on, she is a dog that could not be rehomed or taken in. It’s not that I would feel like I had abandoned her. If I did that, it’s that something might happen if I do that with her. She would be scared and nervous, and wouldn’t know what to do. Therefore, she would be reactive with anybody else.

I begged and pleaded with God that there was another way. But there isn’t, and I’ve come to that conclusion on my own. It’s not that he didn’t listen it’s just that it’s a different perspective than what I know. I know that probably sounds shitty but maybe I’m the only one that’s supposed to understand.

I have written so many poems and drawn so many doodles. I have uploaded every single photo on my phone to my computer so that way I have them saved if they ever get deleted from my phone or my iCloud. I have printed off photos in a poster of her so that way I can have it in my room. So that way when I open that door, I can still say “there she is, there’s my little girl” because that’s what I do every time I come home. She gets so excited and begs me to hug her and pet her and play with her and I do.

Ever since I brought her home, she has done nothing but sleep in my bed at night right next to me. That is something that I have been missing for the past three years. A warm body sleeping right next to me snoring just as much as the other person I wish was there.

I realized last night or more at 4 o’clock in the morning that I do live in a safe area but it’s also not super great. There have been incidences that have happened around the campus and the apartments that are actually quite scary but I could sleep through the night, knowing that if anything happened, she would bark and bark to let others know that this place is protected. She protects me, every single night every single minute of every single day. She protects me from things are out of my control, and she protects me from myself.

Because I have to put a muzzle on her when I take her outside I get a lot of looks and stares from people. My neighbors rushing into their apartments when they see me out with her. It’s not too bad, but it definitely feels some type of way. I don’t really know how to explain it, but it can make me unapproachable. don’t give me wrong. I’m fine with being alone literally alone by myself in a city that I’m not familiar with with no friends or family. But I think I was really OK with it because I had her.

I don’t know what I’m gonna do when I come home and she’s not here. I’ve never had to experience that and I think I’m really scared to do that.

She knows that something is wrong because she is asking for the pets and rubbing up against me, being more interactive with me, putting her little paw at me, and turning upside down on her back because she’s comfortable and she trust me.

It’s not that I can imagine life without her, it’s that it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. I don’t really have a way to make this organized as I really don’t care just doing this is helping, but not really. I don’t know if I can write every single day about what’s going on but I want to so that at least I have some type of memory that can remind me.

This morning I literally took 25 minutes of video of us just walking around the park that we go to every morning. I plan on still walking around that park maybe not every morning but walking around the park with my headphones on just walking the same path that we always did. I have a little bucket list that I’m able to do with her.

Of course she gets all the food. Of course she gets anything she wants. I went out and bought a peanut butter bone that she’s already halfway through.

my doctor let her be my emotional support animal, and as a joke I always say that I am actually her emotional support human. But looking back at it all the past two years she’s really actually been my emotional support animal. And not just that she’s been my best friend. She taught me what unconditional love is. She’s taught me what’s good for me. She’s taught me to have a routine and take responsibility and really take care of myself. As I’m writing this, she’s looking at me with closed eyes a little Paul up in the air, almost on her side and back, with her little ears up and back. Just trying to hear what I’m saying. It looks like she’s slowly falling asleep.

One of my favorite parts of her is that she is a pitbull. She is a American Staffordshire pitbull. She is orange Brown and white. Both her eyes are covered in that brown and there’s a white streak that leads from her neck to her nose. Her nose is a little brown but what’s really great about it is there looks like there’s a spot that’s on her nose and a little bit on the white part that isn’t her nose, her paws are all white with some brown running down the side of her legs. We always said she looks like a little cow just because of where the brown is all located on her body.

She has these little sounds, she snores, she says, she pouts, and when she wakes up in the morning and yawns, you can tell that she’s talking to you with her little vocal cords warming up, letting you know what she wants to do. She loves to go on walks. She knows so many words, she is such a smart dog.

I’ve decided to get her cremated and put her in a urn that isn’t made out of glass. So that way maybe I can still sleep with her at night. I can’t help it cry I can’t help it. It just hurts so much. I’m gonna add a little picture just so you see what she looks like right now in this moment. So that way I can remember what she looks like in this moment.

I wish there was some other way, but there isn’t. And I have to believe that I will see her again otherwise, I don’t know what I would do. She’s my best friend and I feel like I’m betraying her, even though I’m doing this out of love for her.

Her mind the way her brain works is her own worst enemy. I hate that she hast to be on medicine like me just so she can be calm. I hate that the medicine makes her so sedated that sometimes she can’t be a dog. I hate everything about the situation. I can’t help but think it’s my fault. But it could’ve happened sooner or later.

The vet, my therapist, and a few other people have told me that I have done more for this dog than anyone else in the world would have done. And I think that’s true, but I would walk to the end of the earth and back and forward in through hell if I had to just to see her again Just to have her, live her life and be happy with chasing squirrels, eating all the food she can, and being healthy with no fear.

I’m going to continue to try and do this. I want to remember the little things I want to remember the big things I want to remember it all. This hurts so much.

I was in my car, the other day driving home by myself and I think that I screamed and yelled the loudest I’ve ever done. So much that even to me, it didn’t sound like myself. It actually sounded like pure grief and sadness and anger. So much anger But I don’t even know who. I’m not angry at the world, I’m not angry at God. I’m not angry with myself I’m just fucking angry.

But as the days go on the anger comes and goes, but the sadness keeps staying. I don’t know what I’m gonna do when I come home and her cage is here with her water in her bowl. And her two beds and toys all over the place. I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to sleep in my bed or if I’m gonna stay in this apartment anymore But if I leave it’s like I’m leaving her. One day I’m gonna have to leave and it won’t mean I’m leaving her just means that the place I’m going to is where I’m moving on and where I would’ve gone with her. It just sucks because she didn’t get to Liv, more than five years she only got to live to be three years and four months. She’s looking at me and struggling to get up and rolling over on the pillows. I think I’m gonna go hang out with her or do something maybe do my homework. But I’m gonna stay with her until I can’t at least until I have to let her go.

This really sucks. I know I’m not gonna be OK for a while if not forever. My heart will always be broken by this. It’s not that it will repair or it will be OK one day. It’s just always gonna be hurt by this specifically.

I hope one day I actually get to see her again.

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