#we have to keep her down there when we visit my parents bc otherwise she WILL attack my sisters rabbit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

isa-ah · 2 years

Text

big long bluhhgg under the cut lol <3

idk i woke up in my feeilngs this morning so i figure its worth like. talking about i guess. i havent really gone over this again in a couple years so like. yknow. my life story or whatever

so my mom was a kid when she got pregnant and bc of that my grandma took over raising me & even as my mom grew up and moved out i staid put bc as far as i was concerned, my grandparents were my real parents. my mom went on to marry a guy and have two other kids, who she treats like her only kids lol she has her family unit, i have mine, fine. whatever.

when i was a little tiny thing my grandfather was a truck driver. hed only be home once in a blue moon but hed always bring back the coolest little things for me from his buddies and travels. (he had a LOT of stories, about long haul truck driving, being a shrimper til his boat capsized and he nearly froze to death, being stationed in okinawa, all the way back to being raised by an incredibly abusive drunk who ended up blowing his brains out. he used to get all starry eyed in a way id never see him otherwise when hed talk about how cool his dad was, taking him as a young boy to all the local bars. hm.)

my grandmother had a plethora of stories to the same. her parents were both prisoners of war; my great grandmother would tell me about eating snails off the toilets for nourishment while she was in the concentration camps, and my great grandfather idealized the american soldiers that liberated them so greatly he ripped his family up and moved to america the moment they were freed. they would eat hamburgers and hot dogs for dinner nearly every night "like a real american family." they had two kids together- my grandma, and her little brother.

her father enlisted in the american military when they landed here and so she was an army brat. she never got to set down roots really, and was deeply bullied by her peers and beaten to the point of having scars to show me in her late fifties. shed detail the horrible things he did to her, and how it pushed her to sitting in a bathtub alone one night, trying to slit her wrists when a warmth brushed up her back and asked gently against her ear; who do you think will have to clean this up? and after realizing it would be her little brother, she picked herself up and marched on.

(its funny. at one of my lowest points i had nearly the same experience.)

her father would go on to cheat on her pregnant mother, accusing her of infidelity and abandoning her with the baby, my grandma and her brother, and marrying another woman the moment the divorce finalized. the children he would go on to sire with her would create a wide rift in my family of in-fightng and nastiness, as his children believed without doubt that my grandmothers little sister was a bastard and not one of his own.

(at my grandmothers funeral, her sister would confront their ancient ninety-something father, lost almost entirely to his alzheimers as he clung to his wife and cried, with a DNA test proving she was always his daughter. it was really bad.)

my family is known for that in fighting now. the hedrics vs the brodeurs vs the nothern virginia family vs the florida family vs the- on and on and on. always fighting, bickering, cutting people off at the arm. nastiness. its how i was raised, to be angry and cruel, and its difficult to maintain sometimes.

so on we go- my grandfather developed diabetes too severe to keep trucking, and so he lost his job. he sat down in his recliner in front of the TV when he got home from work for the last time and in that recliner he sat til the day he died. nearly twenty years, and id say he left the house maybe a dozen times. no friends, no trips, only attending holidays that were hosted in our tiny home and only speaking to people who were there to visit my grandmother. he would wake up around 9pm and the sound of his tv would blare through the wall of my bedroom until nearly 4pm when hed toddle off to bed. i still cant sleep in silence.

my grandmothers diagnosis wasnt far behind; breast cancer. likely from some hormones shed taken decades prior before the effects of such things had been seen. she was scared, but she was strong, and her best friend moved down from massy to live a couple minutes up the road and help us on the daily. his name was jimmy blackbar, but we always called him jimmy black bear because he was a huge man with a frothy mane of black hair. from then on, we did everything as a unit; every errand, every outing, he even joined my karate dojo when i was forced to learn self defense following the abduction of a local girl.

and on life went. doctors appointments, whispered conversations, attending every susan g komen for the cure event in a wide radius around where we lived. we volunteered relentlessly; my grandmother wearing the "survivor" shirts, and me, a tiny thing in third or fourth grade, pushing her wheelchair and wearing the "caretaker" shirt. jimmy always in tow.

there came a week where we hadnt heard from jimmy in a few days and so, upon leaving the dojo to head home, as we passed his house i asked if we could check on him. my grandmother placated me, saying a man needs his space, and clearly he did bc he hadnt been at practice. just let him rest.

now, that was fair enough. while we did nearly everything together- even spending the autumn in massy with his mother once, arguably one of the most beautiful memories i have as my grandmother and i fed the koi out back then laid in a hammock for hours staring up at the orange and yellow canopy above- he had an explosive temper and had lost it frequently on the both of us. i loved him, but god he could be scary, and hed whip shit at you if he was particularly hot. maybe that was all he needed then, a little space.

a week later my mom picked me up from elementary school and burst into tears in the parking lot. "its jimmy, baby. his heart stopped."

hed had an aneurism and they found him face down on the floor of his bathroom. hed been laying there like that for days, clinging to life; hed been laying there, even, when we drove past a few days prior. i never forgot that.

life went on. it felt empty without him, and i started living up to that caretaker role more and more. heavy lifting, picking, moving; echoed even in my late twenties with my crippling sciatica. every doctors appointment, medication change, every cup of coffee. i was on call.

"jo-bear." "lucy." "goose." "trouble." "brat."

like clockwork, eternally being called up. can you do the dishes? laundry? sweep, mop? can you get this for me? can you help me? can you get my meds? and the less enjoyable; my shingles are flaring, can you put this on there? my drainage tubes are clogged, can you help me flush them? my port needs to be accessed, can you administer this?

why, you ask, would a 13 year old be well versed in clearing, accessing, and administering to a port in their grandmothers chest? well, easy. the nurses we paid to drive well out into the boonies to do it for us said it was too far. it fucked up their schedules. it was a waste of gas. and so they looked around at our home, tiny, with only a woodstove for heating, nicotine dripping down the walls and bare cabinets and pantry, and then they looked at me and asked; do you want to know how to do this instead? and dutiful, because i was a caregiver, because thats what everyone told me, i learned.

being poor is hard. being poor and sick is impossible. the cost of chemo, radiation, insulin, the gas to drive back and forth nearly five hours round trip to visit the hospitals, the doctors- we would only go grocery shopping once a month. my grandmother got social security and my grandfather got disability. wed bundle up what money we could and drive out to the nearest city to buy staples in bulk and pray. it meant i spent most of my childhood eating cereal for meals, or scraping together mayo on bread, or just outright nursing ketchup. i honestly can only remember maybe three instances of my grandmother cooking for me, cooking her special mac n cheese, and my mother told me years later that she always wondered how i got enough to eat.

the local food bank helped, i guess. a small church in town would gather the things the stores were about to throw away, like expired or moldy produce and bread, and then lay it out on the tables and have us all stand around them with our hands at the ready. theyd count down, then call "go!" and we would scramble to gather up anything we could reach to take home. it only happened once a month, so we tried to make the best of it.

after years of battling, my grandmother finally got the formal title of "remission." shed done it! it wasnt easy; there was mishap after mishap, infections, complications, her chest was a mutilated plane of ridges and folds that had at one point burst open and sprayed blood across the bathroom mirror as she screamed my name and sobbed for my grandfather. but finally, she was in remission.

for a few months, anyway. she began to grow uneasy, asking doctors for advice, for scans, because she could feel it encroaching. they all told her she had no insurance and was just paranoid from her battle. it took her months to finally find a doctor that took her seriously enough to humor a scan, and by then the cancer was everywhere. her ribs, her spine, her skull; it was everywhere.

the only person who took the news harder than her was my grandfather. he didnt want to watch her die, so he decided to do everything in his power short of killing himself to make sure he died first. his insulin shots were regular, but his sugar intake was not. he refused physical therapy, stopped going to his doctors appointments, and left our house to smell like the decomposition of human flesh as his feet began to rot.

"rot" sounds like a strong word. the decay was really happening; dry and wet gangreen, his toe coming off in my grandmothers hand at the lightest tug, and an extended hospital stay in which he was deeply deeply lucky not to succumb to sepsis. it was bad. but he was alive.

my mental health had at this point deteriorated to such a point i wasnt sleeping anymore. my grandmother was put on ambien, and as such began sundowning; wandering the house like a brittle confused ghost of a woman. she had dropped weight as she went back on chemo, rapidly dipping from 300lbs down to nearly scraping the bottom of 100lbs. she was shaped like a paper doll by then, wide from the front but she would turn to the side and disappear. i could hold my elbows around her. her head was bald and her feet were cold. she had a soft spot on the top of her skull that malformed her head where the radiation had eaten away the bone alongside the cancer. the knot on her forehead persisted.

she would never recall what she did at night, and while at the time i was indignant- i wasnt sleeping because she would call in a slurred haze to cancel taxis that werent due for several more hours but she thought had never shown up at all for doctors appointments she needed; she would fumble with the locks trying to wander out into the snow in the middle of the night, confused; she would yell my aunts name at me and berate me for trying to coax her back to bed; she would pull down what meager things we had in the kitchen and slurry them, ruin them, then blame me come morning; or, worst of all, she would simply find a place to stand. at the oven, by the small yellow light of its hood, staring into space for hours unresponsive- how dare she not remember how hard i had to work, how tired i was trying to keep her safe, and blame me for it too? it wasnt until reflection years later that i realized her denial was probably born of fear.

the ambien was my own waking nightmare, but it wasnt the worst of it. with my grandfathers rotten feet and my grandmothers mindless stumbling, falls were frequent. i had to be alert. i had to be ready. i never know when one of them would fall wrong and crack their head open on a corner. the mental image is as potent to me now as it was as a child, terrified in the half second of bone chilling silence that would come between the staggering of someones steps and the thundering peels of a body clattering sprawled across the floor. id be up and out of my room in a heartbeat to help, lifting people bigger than myself on pure adrenaline alone back to their seats so i could assess them.

the emergency squad, as you can imagine, was well acquainted with us. most falls had to be documented at least, hospitalized at worst, and so they would begin to come out every few months- then weeks- then days. they knew all of our pets by name. they regarded me with warm sadness. i think they must have said something to my grandfather, as in the thick of it hed tried to pack me up and throw me out. "this isnt a place for children," but if i left theyd have no one left. who would pick them up? check their medication? call the doctors, the emergency line, the taxis? who would make their coffee?

and so stubbornly i staid. i was a caregiver, after all, i was trained by the nurses and professionals who couldnt be bothered. i had to stay. i had to stay. i had to stay.

i stopped spending time with any of my friends beyond taylor. i stopped sleeping over with family. i stopped making day trips. eventually, around 13, i dropped out of school entirely.

i was falling asleep at my desk every day, horrified every bus ride home that id walk in to blood and gore and death. i was too distracted to learn anything and too afraid to really enjoy myself anyway. school wasnt an escape anymore when i was needed so desperately at home.

and so i stopped leaving the house really altogether, unless it was to go somewhere with them or to visit taylor (my rock). id thought at the time that her mother was my saving grace, the only adult in the world who understood me, who would drop everything to help me. i found out later that she hated me, and only did it to martyr herself to her peers and daughter.

as my grandmothers health declined over my teenage years, my grandfather became more erratic. he would throw fits, thundering around the house, slamming shit and crying, yelling at me because, "i'm dying too! im dying and nobody CARES! im dying and no one will even MISS ME!" as i sobbed and tried to reassure him. "my WIFE is DYING and theres NOTHING I CAN DO!"

and at the other end of things, my grandmother; wailing behind locked doors that my grandfather didnt love her anymore, that she was hideous, mutilated, she wasnt a woman anymore nevermind a human at all. i would lay against the door and beg her to unlock it so i could hug her, hold her, promise her that wasnt true. she never did let me in.

and so on life went. winters were always the hardest; we only had a woodstove, so my room was nearly perpetually the outdoor temperature. id sleep bundled in layers, wearing three pairs of socks to try to keep the frigid ache out of my feet, bundled up right up to a hat and hood over my head buried under three blankets to try to keep in some of the heat. it only worked so well when i was up and down all night anyway, looking after them. my grandmother was so withered she hardly produced her own heat anymore, and my grandfather had lost all feeling in his feet; often, hed find, they were resting against the broad side of the fireplace and burning, or the dogs were chewing on them. it was bleak.

now, throughout all of this i had tried my best to stay positive. id been raised in a southern baptist church that i had, at the height of my faith, been visiting four or five times a week. if anyone was going to help me save my grandparents, to be a good caregiver, it would be god right? even if no one else on the planet gave a shit, at least he would, right? at least, so long as i was good, and pure, and holy. no drugs, no alcohol, no self exploration, no expressions of sexuality- nothing. i did absolutely nothing, but try to focus on being a good christian and taking care of my grandparents.

at least, until the tension between my desperate dysphoria and my faith hit a breaking point when a gay couple joined our church and the pastor threw his sermon out the window to preach hellfire and death to faggots. they left in tears in the middle of the sermon and i was spun out and listless thereafter.

i dont honestly remember much from the time i dropped out until nearly 18. i was accused often and loudly of being a drug addicted whore, a liar, a slut, of being inappropriate with my grandfather, with my brothers, entirely baselessly, all thrown at me as a confused and hurt child by my family. it was my first real point of contention with my identity. while id gotten away with looking entirely ambiguous and using male names, male haircuts, male clothes, male interests and male friends to soothe my permeating wrongness at being called a girl, puberty was not kind to me. and with the unease over my gender and sexuality with seemingly no out (as who in a small christian town would have informed me of trans mens existence?), and with the deeply seeded feeling of utter failure as a caregiver whos patients were dying in front of them, and with the loss of my faith that had taught me near lethal levels of self hatred, i had no idea who i was anymore. no name felt right. no role. no place. i was nothing and no one.

and then my grandma died.

it wasnt a surprise. shed been declared "dying" twice before, and had survived. and while shed finally been moved to live with her son as he was right up the road from the hospital a good two and a half hours from us, and had been formally enrolled in hospice, and had withered into the skeletal apparition of a woman, i dont know how serious any of us could take the finality of her, once more, being declared "dying." she wouldnt live to see sunday. it was wednesday.

we went to visit her that day. she lay near motionless in bed, her voice soft and airy. id felt sick, nauseous, unsure of what to even do with myself. i laid with her. i held her. i told her how much i loved her. but the reality of it just kept bouncing off of me. i said my goodbyes, temporarily, until we visited again on saturday- i told her wed be back soon. and i walked out to the living room.

my mom and uncle talked a while longer, and so a good fifteen minutes had elapsed before we turned to actually leave. from her room down the hall i heard her calling. "i love you." and i was so exhausted, so callous in that moment, that from the living room i called back, "i love you too!" rather than taking that opportunity to see her one last time. we were coming back after all.

well. we didnt make it in time.

my grandfather had been hospitalized for the last week or so nearby, and his visit the night before ours hed told her gently, kindly, that she didnt have to keep holding on. it was okay to let go. wed be okay. and so she had, only a few hours after he left. i never got to see her again- she was cremated too soon after.

i have never, never forgiven myself for that. for not going back to see her when she called to me. i had no idea then what it would mean for her to truly die. to never see her, hear her, speak to her, hold her again. never. i didnt know any better.

my grandfather didnt find out until twelve hours later. my grandmother died november fourth, 2014, at around 4am. we visited him in the hospital as a family that same day, around 4pm, after wed all figured out what to say. when he saw us walk in the door, grim and pale and together, hed started hitching as if to vomit or sob or both before anyone had said a word.

after they told him he screamed at us, berated us, why would we wait so long to tell him? why wasnt he there for her? why didnt we call? and as he screamed his kids left one by one until it was only me at his bedside as he broke down. i held him in my arms as he wracked sobs and spit and sweat into the crook of my neck and clutched my shirt like he was a dying man himself.

i spent hours in bed with him, and every nurse, and every doctor who came through to check on us thereafter, and every aid at the nursing home he was sent to recover in received the same monotone greeting; "my name is roland brodeur, and my wife is dead."

i was alone for the week after. i didnt know what to think, or feel. relief, more than anything, at the time. it hd been so hard for so long to try to keep her together, keep myself together, keep our family together; no longer did i need to be up every night to make sure she wasnt hurt. no more wailing and vommitting in the bathroom. no more port flushes, or bandages, or wigs, or hair chunks in the food, or laughter, or her smokers cough, or the way shed say my name, or,

my grandfather successfully broke himself out of that nursing home three times in the week thereafter. only once did he reach the street without falling, and while he had no idea how to get home, he began walking anyway. they caught him, of course, but he was discharged soon after.

and so it was the two of us. wed never been exceedingly close, but without my grandmothers boisterous personality to fill the quiet crevices we began to spend more time together. it was slow; her memorial service was very very hard on us as i, 17, had tried to play host to people twice or thrice my age, and hed refused to come then changed his mind too late and missed it entirely; but we began to spend nearly all of our time together in the living room.

finally, for the first time in my life, he began to take his health seriously. she was dead, and he was alive, and i was still here. so our diets shifted, and he began attending his doctors appointments and bringing home small items for his physical therapy. we were going to be okay.

i turned 18 that december. the holidays were solemn; i was driven out to my aunts where my grandfather had promised to soon follow, but he never showed up. i spent christmas crying to myself, surrounded by family, and he spent it alone in our tiny rotting house.

come new years eve, he, taylor and i sat around trying to enjoy ourselves. this would be a fresh start. this would be a clean late. a month out from her death, maybe we could recover. taylor went to bed, he staid at his post in front of the tv, and i found things to occupy myself until i got tired enough to sleep. (it was hard, sleeping).

come 4am, i crossed the hall to get ready for bed and to say my goodnights to my grandfather. even at a distance though, i could tell something was wrong. he was pallid, sweaty, head hung and eyes glazed. i rushed to his side, turning on nearly every light in the house in the process, trying to get his attention.

he replied in garbled quiet syllables. i called my mom. she told me she was coming. he had a seizure. i called the emergency squad.

and so i staid there, kneeling in front of him and holding his hand, promising over and over again that i was here, im here, im here, im here, theyre coming and im here, its okay, im here.

they arrived nearly simultaneously; bursting through the front door to see what was wrong. over the course of their visit they realized his sugars were off the charts and pumped some insulin into him. as the levels came down he came back to himself, his vision and speech clearing until he was shrugging off their concerns and even cracking a joke. the tension began to ease. hes okay.

and then he had another seizure.

there was a beat of absolute silence before he sucked in a breath and the medic in front of him dropped to his knees to check on him. he was okay. a little out of it, but responsive. thank god.

and then he had another seizure.

and this time, the breath didnt follow. the medics voice pitched up as he repeated his name over and over again, calling him, checking his pulse, his pupils, and as a flurry of yelling began my mom started screaming at me to go to my room. i was gutted, breathless, silent, staring at my grandfathers limp body as the medics swarmed back through the front door and began using the paddles to try to bring him back.

i did relent to my mothers keening, stumbling numb back to my bedroom to where taylor somehow slept peacefully. heavy with grief already weighing in my chest, i crawled up her body and fell face down and sobbing into her stomach. i didnt know what else to do.

the ambulance took him to be air lifted. they did everything they could. he was dead before he ever left our property, though.

the image that still stands out to me was of my mother. it had been with my grandmother too- id been sleeping on her couch as she paced through the living room, crying quietly into the phone, and as i woke up, i knew. and here to, she was on her knees on the living room floor, sobbing and begging god not to take both of her parents so soon. i held her while she cried and told her it would be okay, even if i didnt believe it myself.

its a long drive from so far out in the sticks to reach the hospital. the wait seemed even longer once we were there. they stuck us in a quiet side room, isolated, seemingly endlessly. my mother and i had been crying on and off but taylor had remained stony faced and strong for me. it was only when i looked to her, feeling nothing but coldness in my soul and whispered, "i dont want to be an orphan." that a single tear rolled down her cheek and nothing else.

i think in all the time this happened, taylor was the only person who ever held me.

when the doctor finally arrived, it was with the news we all expected. "im sorry," as he handed my mom a box of tissues, "we did everything we could. he was dead long before he arrived here."

he lead us to see my grandfathers body. it was surreal, to see him laying there, tinted purple and bruised all over. his eyelids were ruddy, and the hand id been clutching hours previous was like ice. his skin still somehow pliant, while his joints had begun to stiffen. i just stood there and held it for what felt like hours. my mother told me later he looked like he was smiling, but i never saw it.

and so. on life goes. my mom drove taylor and i back to my empty terrible little home and dropped us off. we milled around, exhausted, but sleepless. she helped me rearrange the furniture to put less of an emphasis on my grandparents favorite places to sit, as they were plainly visible from my bedroom doorway and the torment was endless as my head turned to smile at them every time i left to use the bathroom. it was awful. when taylor had to leave, i was just left there, alone.

i had failed as a caregiver. i had failed as a grandchild. i had failed as their youngest. i had no one in the world in that moment. that winter was bitter, and i couldnt bring myself to be present enough to keep the woodstove lit. the animals and i all froze for it, but i could barely climb out of bed. no heat, no cable, nothing to comfort me left beyond my own meager devices. i had the first two hobbit movies on dvd and so i stuck them into my xbox and they played nonstop on loop for months. it was the only way to fill the silence. the only voices i could listen to. i dont remember eating a single thing. my family just left me there. i was no ones responsibility, and so i would be no ones burden. as an adult i learned they all felt so guilty over what id been put through they didnt want to face what i would have become after that.

it was in this time the nightmares really began. there was one, one specific nightmare, in which i was in my house in the dead of night with nothing but pitch black outside, and i would run door to door trying to keep them locked and the horrible cruel things outside at bay. i never did see them, whatever i was desperately trying to hide from, but it was omnipresent and i was terrified of it.

at every turn the doors would again be unlocked and open. the latches would give at the lightest tug. the darkness would seep through the cracks. the only variables were my grandparents, like props- sometimes they were there in the living room, unresponsive to me as they stared into the television. sometimes only one of them. sometimes i was alone. but over and over again i had this nightmare, every single time i fell asleep. regardless of the time of day, of if i was sleeping or napping or just resting my eyes, i had this nightmare. and i had it for nearly three and a half years thereafter. sleep deprivation was my only solace from it, driven to such an extent that i began having prolonged hallucinations and severe paranoia.

my only solace was after the pipes froze and burst in our little cement basement. they couldnt justify leaving me there much longer, so my aunt told me- just another two weeks. if i staid in the house she would come to get me to move in with her. at that point i was so happy just to have an out that i begged my neighbor to periodically stop in on the remaining animals in the house so i could go stay with taylor until it was time to move.

my aunt called me LIVID when she found out. she berated me at the top of her lungs for disobeying her. maybe that should have been a red flag, but i was so consumed in my own self blame for my grandparents death that i assumed she was right to feel that way.

i got little say in what was kept when we went back to clean the house out after. in fact, i got almost nothing of my grandparents. to this day, all i have is my grandmothers favorite hoodie. somewhere in the process, the cleaning solutions we had been using must have gotten in my eye because the pain was bad, and the effects would be lasting.

living with my aunt was a nightmare. she was unyeilding; scolding and punishing me for not getting out of bed because the infection in my eyes was so bad i couldnt see and it hurt to have any light hit them. insisting it was my fault i was left nearly half blind, and that my lack of recovery was because i wasnt trying hard enough. (i was told later i had had severe chemical burns and infection that have left my corneas riddled in holes and craters, and severely light sensitive. all of it could have been fixed with a single doctors visit in the worst of it.)

and on it went; i had no time to grieve, as she forced me out the door and into terrible fulltime jobs. they became my only reprieve from her, as any time i was home i had a chore list of no less than four hours worth of cleaning that she would accuse me up and down of lying about on the daily. shed gaslight me, set traps, pull gotchas, until i began to believe her. i genuinely thought i was making up the hours id spend working on cleaning, that i was a lazy liar, and that i deserved the slow recession of any right to food in the house she imposed.

my most beloathed of chores was dishes. every night after dinner, of which i was allowed to eat less and less until not at all, i would have to come down to clean up after the families meals. her pampered chef knives were her prized possessions, and her rules for cleaning them were strenuous. the closest ive ever come to killing myself was standing in that kitchen, over her sink, with one of her favorite knives pressed into my wrist as the depths of sorrow and grief id had to pave over to maintain what she wanted me to do began to crumble.

the only thing that stopped me was the gentle realization that if i killed myself here, the first person to see it would be one of my younger cousins. that that would be something he would never be able to forget or move on from. its the only thing that stopped me.

i would go on to climb the railing of an overpass at around 1am in the dead of a december night. i was bitterly cold, having no winter jacket, a two hour walk from home, being punished by my aunt because the job shed hoisted upon me had kept me later than she felt like coming to get me. so i had no choice but to walk on broken feet after nearly twelve hours of standing, with no winter clothes to deal with the whipping icy winds, and no street lights or sidewalks to follow. i couldnt do it anymore. i was so tired, in so much pain, with only blame and alienation from my family. i just wanted to die and be done with it.

two rungs from flipping my legs over the railing, movement caught my eye. at the far end of the dark overpass was the vaguely visible outline of a golden retriever whos owner was walking it down the long road i had to walk to get home. and i thought, maybe, if i could pet that dog, maybe i could keep going. maybe id be okay. the road was across a wide flat area, prepared for development that had yet to start, so the visibility was a near quarter mile in the moonlight. and so.. slowly.. i stepped down and began to trudge on.

yet, when i reached the end of the overpass, they were nowhere to be seen. there was nowhere to go, mind you, but forward; there were cliffs to either side of the overpass that went down into the highway, and then this single stretch of road forward with no trees or houses for the duration. they had simply vanished. i still dont really know what happened.

and on i trudged. nothing else to do but survive day to day under my aunts open hostility. i wasnt allowed to eat family meals, no, but then rules came about keeping my own food in the house. it would be doled out to my cousins and uncle if i dared to, and food in my bedroom was prohibited. the best i could do was hide a few cereal bars between my mattress and the wall for the days i couldnt eat at work. it was miserable.

"just get over it. youre bumming everyone else out." told to me, six months after the death of both of my parents. no one had asked me if i was okay in that time. no one had held me. no one had told me it wasnt my fault. taylor was the only silver lining i had. she was always there for me at a moments notice, she kept me sane, and god i love her so much. i dont think i would have survived it without her.

i managed to scrape by until i met Lo, the man im due to marry next month. this was nearly seven years ago now, but i still remember the nervous jitters the first time i packed a bag and bought a train ticket to make my first solo journey from virginia all the way down to florida to meet in person. id go on to make the 20 hour trip frequently, falling into his arms and having the brightest points of my life, only to be left sobbing and wracked with fear the morning of my return to my aunts home. it was hell. but i was starting to find reasons to pull through.

even if my aunt had outed me as trans and gay while i was visiting him, effectively burning my bridges with most of my family behind my back and then lying to my face about it for weeks after. my mother wouldnt look me in the eye. my extended family has never once spoken to me since. my own brothers wont come to my wedding because im a faggot, rooted in the reaction my mom had to this and how its grown nasty and dehumanizing since.

(i have a very strong feeling that the majority of the years i spent this way are locked up tight in an alter who hasnt fronted in years. i frequently broke down over depersonalization and being convinced i truly wasnt myself then, in a way i have not felt since. i really cant remember most specifics, but the cadence alone would give it away, i think. at the time i was too afraid to face it head on and define what was happening to me, but in retrospect im nearly positive.)

and so on i trudged. my aunts aggressions would gradually grow over time, until a night where id let my guard down around my brothers visiting us and shed gotten me by the nick of my hoodie and dragged me down my the throat to hiss and growl and snarl nasty things to me over an argument wed had days prior. shed blocked me from the internet and ignored my very existence in the elapsing days. it all came to a head with this interaction, a nasty game of parroting that i was lucky to have her, that i love her, that im grateful she forgives me for the things i do, and punctuated with a hug i was forced to initiate. when i told my coworkers the next morning, in tears, i was told if she put her hands on me once shed do it again. i told my mom the next day i needed her to come get me right now.

the day we went back to get my possessions was the last day i ever spoke to my aunt. she was purple in the face, veins stood out against her forehead and screaming wrathful nasty things at my sobbing mother about me as i tried to gather my things- thrown into a haphazard corner of the garage after id pleaded with her to just leave my room untouched and let me organize and gather my belongings.

my mother hyperventilated on the drive home, and told me through gritted teeth that shes worried my aunt may have been abusing me. i told her exactly what she had done to me, and she had to pull over to stomach it. a week later she told me my aunt was trying to get in touch and i should go ahead and give her a call. (the betrayal and fear i felt in that moment was rivaled only by my mom freely inviting her over to visit without warning me first.)

my mother would ask often when i was planning on moving out. she didnt want me there, that was plainly clear, and the raw edges of my recent outing didnt help. i was given a mattress on the floor in the kitchen, in plain view of everyone at all times, covered in ants with the cat box beside my pillow. my only reprieves were times i spent with taylor or lo, anywhere i could find to be that wasnt her home.

lo was already planning a move with his mother to phoenix by this time, as neither of them could afford a place of their own, and so i was invited along. i dont think ive ever said yes to something so quickly in my life.

phoenix ill elapse; i spent two years making a three hour commute to a job that did horrific things to my mental and physical health. my sciatica was so aggressively hurt by the ways in which i begged my managers for accessibility that they refused that i would often collapse off of numb lightning struck legs, scattering anything i was carrying. my longest shift worked there began at 4am and ended at 12:30am. twenty and a half hours. i got two thirty minute breaks, a single compensated meal, and had to work the next day.

tensions with los mother, a deeply traumatized neuro divergent woman who wasnt aware of any of the above, finally hit a fever pitch and over the course of a week we were rendered homeless, sleeping on taylors floor. while her mother welcomed us in with open arms, her nastiness was prevalent and constant. bitter and put upon by our very existence under her roof. we were kicked out later so her transphobic boyfriend would be more comfortable coming over to visit.

from there we landed a disgusting single room in a frat house in maryland that hadnt been properly cleaned in the years preceding our arrival. it was so bad we left within a month to move in with who would later turn out to be an absolute psychopath of a woman in a slightly nicer house. after a year of trying my best to be friends with her she turned on us, blew up our living arrangement, called the cops on us, got the wifi cut for a week, took all the locks off our front door so we couldnt lock her out & eventually got us evicted entirely. why? because i asked her to buy some food for her cats because in the weeks she hadnt been home and id been taking care of all of her animals (not that shed asked me to) theyd run out of kibble.

and that rounds us out to now. los mom drove up to get us, two years out from phoenix and a lot of self discovery later, were now out here in the sticks of alabama. lo and i have been together nearly seven years now and were slotted to get married next month, so life really has begun to look up for me, but man. sometimes its all just so fuckin much. i went through so fuckin much and for what? yknow? my family is still shit. i dont speak to my aunt, my mother and brothers refused to come to my wedding, my grandparents and jimmy are still dead, and so my entire world has been condensed down to a handful of friends- taylor, elliot, ofc my fiance- and really nothing else. i dont really feel like i have any family anymore. its a grieving process still, to accept that, loss after loss like that, but it gets a little easier every day.

& anyway if youve ever wondered why i have a system, i think it oughtta make a little more sense now. lol.

#in which isaiah spends 3 hours writing out the most boring story youve ever read in your life #if you have any triggers theyre probably in there somewhere! watch out lol!#fuck knows if this is even accurate my memories and perceptions of my life are absolutely fucked #did you know cptsd eats holes in your brain and ruin things like memory and comprehension #on top of having segmented alters that carry so much of it themselves like. man. idk #thats rough buddy! lol

12 notes · View notes

sappynapper · 3 years

Note

Could you write cc!dt x fem!reader (romantic) comforting crying reader on the phone after they got followed home?

sure! ❤️‍🩹 all of these are kind of long distance vibes? which is why they can only comfort them via the phone ya feel? bc otherwise i just think most people would go over straight away

cws: descriptions of being followed, implied reference to assault, crying, panicking, fem!reader

Comforting you on the phone after being followed home (LDR) x DT

Dream

when you tell him you were followed home by a random guy this man immediately goes full action stations practical what-can-we-do protective mode

“did you call the police??”

“yeah, they have his description”

“and right now? are you alone?”

“mal’s here-“

“what about a guy friend or a neighbour-“

“she brought her boyfriend just in case it’s ok”

and so on until he’s satisfied you’re safe, then he takes a breath

“are you ok, baby? that must have been really scary”

the question makes you choke up a bit bc it was scary and it’s only just sinking in

and that gets dream pacing around his room, tugging at his hair in frustration, bc he just wants to hold you and keep you safe, make you feel safe

“i’m sorry i’m not there”

you take a steadying breath, “it’s ok. i’ll be ok. i think i’ll go to my parents tonight so i’m not alone when mal leaves”

“good idea. let me order you an uber though, and call me back and stay on the phone while you’re on the way so i know you’re ok”

“yessir” you joke weakly at his protectiveness

“i’m serious” he admonishes, “i can’t stand the thought of something happening-“

“i know, i know” you settle into a comfortable silence, soaking up the comfort his presence provides, even over the phone

a few days later i think you can expect to get a parcel in the mail with an assault alarm key chain, whatever self defence weapons are legal where you’re from (eg. pepper spray), one of those front door stoppers, and a bunch of other safety stuff (and probably another of his hoodies)

he’d also probably encourage you to take a self defence class or something and check in on the phone more, memorising your schedule so he can call and keep you company when he knows you’re out after dark

Sapnap

he’s in a vc with punz and sylvee when he picks up your call

“hey peaches, what’s.. hey, what’s wrong?”

he can hear you sobbing at the other end, trying to catch your breath

he’s panicking a lot, straight away

“are you hurt? what’s going on??”

“i- got- followed- home” you manage between sniffles

“What!?”

“what’s going on?” punz asks

“y/n got followed home”

both punz and sylvee cry out various questions in concern for you but sap ignores them, muting and deafening to talk to you

“a guy on my bus, he got off at the same stop and he was walking behind me all the way home, i was so scared, it was getting dark”

“are you home now? how d- is he gone?”

“yeah, yes sorry it’s fine, it’s fine now. i went next door first, to the family with the noisy kids? and they scared him off. i was there for a while. they made me tea but i just wanted to call you so i left” you ramble

“baby..” he doesn’t even know what to say, just listening to your occasional hiccup as you calm yourself down “i wish i was there right now”

“i wish you were here too” you murmur so sadly it hurts his heart

“you know i’d have beat the crap outta that guy for you” he tries to joke, in hopes of cheering you up

he feels relief wash over him at your, albeit watery, giggle

“yeah?” you ask with a small smile

“yeah! you know i know like, kung fu, and judo and, what’s the, tai-kwan-do?” he sounds out

you laugh again, “you’ll have to teach me one day”

“when i can come visit, i won’t need to teach you, i’ll be your scary dog privilege”

“i can’t wait” you tell him, sincerely

“why don’t you hop in vc with us, sylvee’s here, we were gonna watch a movie or play uno or something” he suggests, “it might take your mind off it”

“yes please”

“ok, whenever you’re ready princess, love you”

“love you too sap”

George

your call wakes him up (inevitably) and when he hears you freaking out saying you got followed home he kinda thinks you’re not serious?

like he’s not really thinking tbh bc he just woke up and what you’re saying is so unbelievable he doesn’t consider it may have actually happened? ?

basically i’m saying he awkwardly laughs and goes “what?” (this fucking guy)

“george, i’m serious, some guy was following me on my way home, i’m freaking out”

… processing…

“WHAT? ARE YOU OK?” he shoots up in bed so fast, he’s definitely awake now

“yeah, i think so? my roommates are here and we’ve locked everything. i’ll file a report later, i suppose?”

“yes definitely do that”

“yeah, ok, it’s..” you take a shaky breath

“y/n…” it’s moments like these he wishes he was better with words

“i’m ok, sorry, i just wanted to hear your voice”

“i’m here” he tells you with as much sincerity as he can muster “and don’t say sorry” he adds quietly

“sorry. i mean..” you laugh lightly at yourself “thank you”

“of course. and i’m sorry, for, you know, laughing, i-“ he huffs “i was sleeping, before you called… ugh i’m an idiot” he groans

you laugh again and he’s so relieved to hear it

“of course you were sleeping” you sigh again “can you just talk about stuff? i don’t know, distract me?”

“sure” he agrees gently, thinking for a second before launching into random descriptions of his plans for the next 24 hours and the stuff he’s excited to be working on etc

you do your nighttime routine and get into bed while he’s talking, interjecting occasionally, and eventually you slip into sleep

george stays on the phone with you while he works until you wake up and thinks about when he’ll be able to watch you wake up in his bed every morning

#mcyt x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #sapnap x reader #georgenotfound x reader #dream x reader #gnf x reader

838 notes · View notes

animeomegas · 3 years

Note

MY FELLOW ANON ARE VIOLATING MY EMOTIONS TODAY 😂 god I’m acc crying. Your writing is amazing. I’m gonna combat the sadness with a wholesome thing of them finding a pup in a bin (or something) a few months after the loss of the first pup (Neji is currently shut down entirely) is like “lol gimme”. Proceeds to take the pup home, put it in his nest scent the lil bean (gender is your choice) and just be like “yeah this mine now”. Any nay sayers are ignored bc it’s still his baby (maybe almost like his pup reincarnated 👀👀) regardless of how baby was obtained. Idk I just think my guy needs some positivity after life kicking the ever loving shit out of him

This is beautiful and you’re right, Neji deserves the world, but I’ll settle with a quiet life and some happiness for my boy!

Okay, so things haven’t been…good with Neji since you had to let your pup die to save him.

It has been two months and still he lays in his nest every day, sometimes crying, sometimes whining, but mostly just staring at nothing. He had incorporated a bunch of baby stuff (blankets, toys etc.) into his nest before he went to the hospital, in order to make his pup feel more at home in the nest when he was supposed to bring them back. You had tried to take them out to stop him having to be confronted with what happened in his safe space, but Neji almost attacked you for doing so, so you let him keep them.

But it’s very concerning when he spends hours at a time just stroking the pup's blankets and staring at nothing.

So, you decide to take Neji on a walk to get him out of the house. It would be his first time leaving the house since the funeral.

You go at night time, because Neji is still refusing any contact with anyone he knows and this way he’s less likely to be confronted when he isn’t ready for it. To make extra sure that you can be alone, you decide to walk around the edge of the woods around one of the quieter training grounds.

Neji doesn’t speak much, but he doesn’t whine or cry either, and the night air brings a little colour to his cheeks, and you’re so happy at the small improvements. It doesn’t matter how long it ends up taking him to feel better, you’ll be here with him the whole way.

…

“I was thinking about cooking something special next week,” you make idle conversation, not expecting Neji to reply. “It’s our anniversary after all, do you have any preference?”

Neji stops walking suddenly. His shoulders are tense.

“Neji?”

He hushes you harshly.

“I can hear…”

Without another word of warning, Neji makes his way a little further into the trees. You follow him, confused and worried.

“Byakugan!” he calls, scanning the area. He gasps as he scans over a nearby bush and immediately he drops to his knees beside it.

“Neji?” you ask, now more than a little concerned. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You watch as Neji pulls something out of the bush. He turns around with a bundle in his arms.

“It’s a pup,” Neji says, obviously shocked. You can’t blame him, you’re feeling more than a little shocked yourself. What on earth was a pup doing out here? “They’re freezing. Give me your jacket.”

Without hesitance, you quickly slip your jacket of and hand it to Neji who promptly bundles up the pup in it and brings them to his chest. The pup is making small whimpering noises that had been almost impossible to hear over the wind. Neji must have hear them, thank goodness.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Neji coos to the pup. “You’re safe now, I'll take you home and make it better, I promise.”

“We need to get them to the hospital asap," you say, shaking your head. "They must be freezing and they look underweight as well. We’re not mednin, Neji.”

“Our home is closer.”

“Neji…”

“We need to make sure they’re warm,” he argues. “We can bring them home and alert a medic to make a home visit.”

You look at the earnest look on his face and know that he won’t back down, and now isn’t a time for arguments anyway.

“Okay,” you swallow nervously. “We’ll bring them home.”

…

You bring the pup back to your home and before you can protest, Neji brings them into his nest with a mumbled ‘they’ll be warm in there’.

Neji bundles himself and the pup up in the corner of the nest, turning on a little heater beside him, and tucking the pup into his shirt to share body warmth.

“We’ll get you nice and warm, it’s okay, you’re safe, I won’t let anyone harm you,” he whispers while stroking their cheek with a finger. The pup wriggles around, already looking more energetic, and starts mouthing at Neji’s chest.

“Are you hungry?” Neji laughs softly before turning to you. “Go and heat up a bottle for the pup, all the supplies are in the… the nursery.”

You nod dumbly and do as you’re asked, astounded at how much life is in Neji’s eyes. It’s the most life you’ve seen from him in months. But you can’t help but worry. What if Neji gets attached and you can’t keep the pup? Of course, you want nothing more than to keep the baby, it almost seems too good to be true that she literally fell into both your lives at this trying time, but what if it is too good to be true? What if they’re sick? Or their parents are looking for them? Or… something else. Neji doesn’t deserve another heartbreak, and you don’t want to destroy the small amount of progress he’s made in the last month.

But for now, all you can do is heat up the bottle.

…

“Here, it’s a good temperature, I already checked,” you pass Neji the bottle. He checks it again anyway and you can’t help but smile at how overprotective and parental he's being. It's so bittersweet to see him like this.

“Here you go sweetheart, just for you,” Neji smiles, cradling the pup as they latch onto the bottle with fervour. “Shh, shh, shh, slow down, it’s not going anywhere.”

Neji feeds the pup and then burps them, and you pretend you can’t see him smiling when he notices that they are starting to smell like him. You need to know you can keep her before you let him get even more attached.

“I’m going to send a clone for a medic, now.”

The room became tense all at once.

“They’re fine, I’m looking after them,” Neji protests.

“I know, and you’re doing a good job, but we still need a medic, Neji.”

Neji holds the pup more tightly to his chest, tucking an extra blanket around them. He's using the special blanket you had got commissioned for your pup. You can feel your heart break at the sight. He's already attached. Now you just have to hope you can keep them. For his sake.

“I don’t want them to take the pup away like last time,” Neji admits softly. "I can look after them, I won't let anything happen like last time, I promise. They'll be safe, we don't need a medic."

“We need to know their primary and secondary gender, omega, and we need to make sure they aren’t sick after being left in the woods…”

Neji hesitates but nods his consent in the end after you explain that your pup could become ill if left untreated. You don’t tell him that you are also sending a clone to the Hokage. Naruto will be able to grant you and Neji the right to keep the pup, and you hope that as Neji’s friend, he’ll be able to see how much he needs this.

…

You have to move Neji and the pup downstairs to wait for the medic, because Neji would not appreciate someone unknown seeing his nest he made for his pup. He’s not expecting Naruto to show up as well so you go to the door to intercept and prep them both.

“Thank you so much for coming, Naruto, I can’t tell you how much this means to me and Neji,” you say, hugging him as he walks through the door.

“I’m going to do everything I can,” he promises. “If the medic finds signs of long-term neglect, I can take the parental rights away from the biological parents straight away, even if I don't know who they are, and transfer you the rights.”

Your face visibly brightens, but Naruto continues.

“But if the only injuries are from laying in the forest for a few hours, I’ll have to try and find the parents first, because the child may have been taken from them by force, when the pup was otherwise a healthy baby being looked after sufficiently. In that circumstance, I’ll have to take the child back with me and put them in foster care until a three-month window has passed. And if the parents are found…”

“I know,” you sigh. “Let’s just get this done as soon as possible.”

The three of you walk into the living to see Neji cradling the pup tightly against his chest.

“Hey Neji,” Naruto greets softly with a sad smile. “I haven’t seen you around for a while.”

Neji tenses upon seeing Naruto.

“Naruto? Why are you here?” Neji clearly misinterprets the situation, holding the pup even more tightly and turning accusatory eyes against you. “Why did you bring him here?”

“I’m here to determine whether the pup was abandoned or kidnapped to the best of my abilities, once we have that done, we can decide how things are going to happen, okay?”

“How do you decide that?” Neji asks with distrustful eyes.

“The medic will give them a check-up, completely routine, I promise,” Naruto speaks with a soft voice like he’s talking to a cornered animal. Well, you look at Neji for a moment who is coiled as tightly as spring, he’s not far off.

It takes about five minutes for you to convince Neji to let go of the pup and hand them to the mednin, and then the next fifteen minutes involve you holding him in your arms to stop him wrestling the pup back from the mednin.

And then, rather ominously, the mednin pulls Naruto aside to talk.

Neji is shaking in your arms.

“It’s okay, calm down, Neji,” you try to comfort him.

“I can’t-“ Neji chokes, hands fisting in your shirt. “He has our pup, you let them take our pup.”

You don’t bother to correct him on his use of ‘our’, knowing it would only upset him more.

“I know baby, but they need to see that they’re healthy, nothing’s wrong, just breathe.”

Neji doesn’t take your advice.

"Last time they took them-"

"This isn't like last time, omega. Come one, try and settle down a little, that's it."

...

Naruto eventually walks back in, holding the pup securely, the mednin nowhere to be seen.

“So,” Naruto says seriously. And then his face breaks out into a wide grin. “Am I right in thinking you want to adopt?”

You can almost feel your relief in the air. Thanking every power that be for this stroke of luck. Losing this pup could have easily meant losing your mate, and the gravity of the situation all comes crashing down at once. Neji looks as though he is feeling much the same.

“Give me them,” he orders, arms out.

“Her,” Naruto corrects. “The mednin said she’s a female alpha.”

Tears start welling up in Neji’s eyes as he takes her. Their bio pup was a female alpha, too.

“Thank you,” he whispers to no one, holding his new pup as tightly as he dared. “I’ve got you now, you’re safe and sound with me, I won’t let anything hurt you ever again.”

Naruto slips out of the house without a fuss, dropping the mednin’s recommendations for feeding the underweight pup on the coffee table.

...

You and Neji take your new pup upstairs and bundle her back into the nest. Neji lays down with her, stroking her cheek as he watches her sleep.

“You need to get some rest too, omega,” you suggest, running a hand down Neji’s back.

“Guard?” he asks in response.

“Yes," you smile at his protective instincts. "I’ll guard the nest while you sleep, I promise.”

“Okay, alpha…” Neji settles down, still with one hand resting on the pup. “But if I don’t wake up when she cries, wake me… I want to be the one to feed her.”

You laugh gently, “Of course, now get some sleep. I’ll guard you both.”

#neji x reader #omega!neji #alpha!reader #alpha reader #a/b/o #omegaverse #tw:grief #reader insert #headcanons #naruto #alpha x omega #gn reader #gender neutral reader

448 notes · View notes

yoditorian · 4 years

Note

okok ignore that i already requested one but since you’ve got all the other triple frontier boys requested i’m here to request will because i love him 🥺 and i couldn’t pick a prompt that i loved most so,,, dealer’s choice?

we decided in the chat on number 14 bc of Personal Headcanon reasons and u know what?? u can pry them out of my cold dead hands

14. when one of them has never had a proper birthday party for whatever reason, and their lover makes it their mission to give them the best day ever, followed by “you didn’t have to do all this for me. just being with you is enough.” “i know. but i thought you deserved ?’’ and their lover smiles, a kiss is shared

word count: 967 // warnings: like 2 swears and a very very brief suggestive implication, otherwise this is Just Vibes

main masterlist // request masterlist

follower celebration requests are now closed

“Can you move that one over there?”

You direct Benny and the box of decorations to the far corner of the garden, barely missing getting smacked in the face as you duck under the banner that Santiago is hanging over your back porch. Frankie strides past with an oversized speaker in hand, trailed by his three year old almost completely hidden by the bundle of wires she’s carrying. She gives you a beaming smile when you ruffle her hair and check off a few more boxes on the list.

The cake should be arriving in ten minutes, a giant chocolate orange monstrosity lovingly crafted by Benny’s girlfriend. You’ve ordered enough pizza to feed a small country and, if all goes to plan, the rest of the balloons will turn up at the same time. If there’s one thing that always fucks up your planning strategies, it’s balloons.

“We brought extra blankets!” Your next door neighbours, Pat and Angela, appear by the back gate with several different patterned picnic blankets under their arms. You thank them, leaving Benny to explain the setup as the doorbell goes again and you run up the back steps into the house.

Things hadn’t always been easy for Will and Benny growing up. Their parents never had much, but worked their asses off at every opportunity to provide for their boys. Will had told you once, late one night way back when you first got together, that he’d more or less raised his brother. Their parents just weren’t around as much as they’d have liked to be, working two or three jobs each more often than not simply to make ends meet. There was never anything spare to go around when they were kids. As such, sometimes things like birthdays weren’t always the priority.

You’ve never gone all out for his birthday yourself, he’d always stressed that he liked to keep things low key. Just you and the boys, maybe a visit to his parents out of state. Nothing flashy. And you’d agreed for a while, but this is his first birthday after your wedding. He’ll forgive you if you go a little crazy, just this once.

His mother kisses your cheeks in a brief greeting and breezes past you to the garden, a blur of bright pink and gift bags. You laugh when his father gives you an exasperated look, a hug, and follows his wife through the house. Savannah pulls up in the driveway just as you’re about to close the door, a little early, and you rush down the front steps to give her a hand.

“You’re an angel, oh my god.” You squeeze her shoulder as she laughs and opens the back door, revealing the birthday cake to end all birthday cakes. Layers upon layers of chocolate and orange cake, it’s about as tall as Frankie’s daughter. Probably weighs about the same too, by the looks of it.

“You say that now, she’s heavy as all fuck.” Savannah grins and grabs a corner of the box as you do the same. God, she’s not lying.

It takes a few minutes for the two of you to shuffle up the drive with the cake, pausing every time it begins to wobble precariously. But you manage it, settling it safely on the kitchen island and you both breathe a sigh of relief. The doorbell goes again almost the moment your ass hits the seat of the barstool to take a break, for just a minute.

“I’ll go help set up the projector.” Savannah pats your shoulder and heads on out back. It’s a good idea, it almost ended up launched into the pond in Pat and Angela’s yard the last time that the boys tried to work it out. Thank god for American architecture, while the front of your house is picture perfect, the back is a conveniently blank space. Exactly the right size for outdoor movie nights in the summer.

“You know, you didn’t have to send me the next town over if you needed me out of the house for a couple hours.”

Your stomach drops to the bottom of your shoes when the voice calls out from behind the stack of pizza boxes. He’s amused, at least. So you don’t have to worry about that. You take a few of the boxes off the top of the pile to reveal his face, grinning at you.

“I stopped the kid in the drive, it was kind of hard not to miss every single one of our friends’ cars parked in the street.” Will slides the boxes onto the island beside the cake and cups your face the moment his hands are free.

“Happy birthday, baby.” You mumble, unable to keep up your frown when he’s looking at you like that. Like you put the stars in the sky. He presses a soft kiss to your lips and takes the remaining pizzas from you.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

It’s later, when the sun has set and the fireflies come out, when everybody is lounging on cushions and beanbags in your backyard. Savannah and Benny are barely distinguishable tangled in their blankets, Frankie’s daughter snoozes on his shoulder, laughter echoes as Ferris Bueller hops fences in an effort to get home first.

“You didn’t have to do all this for me,” Will’s low voice in your ear makes you shudder, “Just being with you is enough.”

“I know. I thought you deserved it.” You smile and nestle into his arms a little further, fiddling with the ring on your left hand. He readjusts, just enough to lean over and kiss you. It’s mostly smiles, the barest touch of his tongue on your lips hints at what’s to come once your guests are gone. He’s happy, and that’s all you could ask for.

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@bee-dameron @keeper0fthestars @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean @darnitdraco @greeneyedblondie44

#liz's follower celebration!!#triple frontier #will miller #will miller x reader #will miller x you #liz does words #sfw

50 notes · View notes

sxfterhearts · 4 years

Text

wounded

24. [7:25 pm]

➳ pairing: yugyeom x reader

➳ genre/warnings: slow burn, fluff, slight bad boy!yugyeom, triggers; mentions of violence, injuries, physical abuse

➳ word count: 2,504 words

➳ summary: 24. “Just because,”

➳ author's note: this will probably turn into a two-shot, inspired by new era yugs. all creds for the gif below to @jinyoungot7, thank you so much 💖 i’ve been sitting on this idea for a bit too long + rewrote it 3 times (bc my dumb self forgot to hit save) so i really struggled to form the right words. i hope you’ll forgive me for this! any form of feedback will be very much appreciated 💕 (also: imo = aunty)

wounded // scarred // healed

A rush of stiflingly hot summer air pummeled through the double doors of your family’s restaurant, disrupting the once cool atmosphere created by the air-cons. Being reminded of this season’s unforgiving behaviours urged you to lift the straw of your cool drink to your lips.

The sip of iced Americano, however, got stuck in your throat when you laid eyes upon the restaurant’s newest patron.

Yugyeom. Kim Yugyeom, with his untucked shirt and loosened tie, took confident strides across the dining area in the direction of the kitchen window where chefs would place finished dishes, ready to be served. Your brain short-circuited for several moments as you did nothing but watch him from your position behind the cashier. His actions were that of a regular’s as he arrived at the window and stuck his head through the opening in the wall, his hand coming up in a small wave to catch the chefs’ attention.

It was then that you registered, quite belatedly, the bruises and splotches of crimson littered across the back of his raised hand, tarnishing the fair skin.

You distinctly remembered that you saw plasters wrapped around his fingers earlier today when you sat beside him in class. His current wounds made the older ones seem like insignificant paper cuts. It wasn’t unusual for Yugyeom to turn up covered in fresh cuts and purple bruises, though. In fact, you had grown so accustomed to this that you started stocking up on assorted Rilakkuma plasters. Since the start of the semester when you were assigned the furthest desk from the whiteboard, you learned how to disinfect open wounds with saline solution and cover it properly with pastel-coloured dressings, all courtesy of Kim Yugyeom.

“Imo, can I please order takeaway? One bibim naengmyeon and one mul naengmyeon, double serving of pickled radishes, two eggs and extra-”

“Yugyeom-ah!” Your mother’s unmistakeable voice pierced through as her head peeked out of the little window, coming face to face with your desk partner. She addressed him with such a warm and motherly tone, which left you surprised and confused. “Oh, oh dear… It’s best if you take a seat, you can have your dinner here. I’ll pack Mark’s in a takeaway container, don’t you worry.”

“But Imo, I need to get back, Mark-”

“No buts, Yugyeom. I already memorised your orders. Sit down, your food will be ready in a second.”

“Imo, I can’t-” Yugyeom protested weakly, waving his hands in refusal, but you knew it was all for nought. Attempting to deny your mother’s orders were an impossible feat.

A short silence ensued. You guessed this was caused by your mother’s signature death stare. Having been on the receiving end countless times during your lifetime, you were well aware that it could make anyone’s skin rise with goose bumps or a chill to run down their spines.

“Okay, Imo…” Came Yugyeom’s resigned voice as his lanky legs dragged himself over to the vacant seat closest to the kitchen.

You took this as your cue to question your mother in detail about how she became so familiar with your class’ bad boy. Unfortunately, you were met with a curt reminder of the first-aid kit in the cupboard under the counter as she busied herself with blanching the buckwheat noodles. When she was in her element, there was no way to deviate her attention from the task at hand.

Rummaging through the cupboard, you fished out the white box with a red cross stuck on the top of the lid. Taking a few moments to steel your quickening heart rate, you were struck by the realisation that this would be the first time seeing Yugyeom outside of school in the entire five years you spent as classmates. He was a quiet boy, never uttering a single word in school, even when the teachers were asking him questions, landing him a semi-permanent spot in detention. Most days, he would plug one earphone into his ear and rest his head on folded arms, taking frequent naps as the class learned about organic compounds or Punnett squares. He was also handed multiple demerits for breaking the school rules, which ranged from getting into fist fights with seniors who bullied students for their lunch money, or wearing one too many piercings (especially the shiny ones), to refusing to get a haircut when his fringe began to grow past his eyebrows, obscuring his eyes.

The most intimidating aspect about sitting next to Kim Yugyeom, however, was that nearly every week you were forced to come face to face with angry gashes and wounds that he seemingly gained overnight. He always turned a blind eye when you succumbed to your curiosity and inspected his injuries from your seat, mere inches away. Wordlessly, you would clean the damaged skin with practiced hands, then patch it up with a plaster. Rilakkuma, you decided, suited him best. The plasters matched his yellow Rilakkuma earphones. You even caught him occasionally staring at the plasters when you stayed in class during lunch, the only period in which he remained awake.

“Y/N,” Yugyeom called as you drew the seat next to him. He stared at the table, refusing to meet your eyes.

Your ears perked up the moment your name left his lips; you were not used to this. It was a rare occurrence for the two of you to speak. Usually you went about your everyday tasks silently, with little words being exchanged. It was a silence that grew comfortable over the semester, and you found yourself appreciating the peace it brought during stressful times.

Conversations between the two of you had only started up recently. This was largely attributed to your father, who worked front of the house, being ridiculed by your classmate’s parents when they visited the restaurant. They complained about your father’s complete lack of competence when they had to wait forty-five minutes for their food to arrive, only to receive the wrong dishes in the end. Furious, they shoved the plate of food off the table and stormed out of the restaurant, not even bothering to settle the bill. Your father was left to clean up the scraps in front of all the other customers, severely damaging the restaurant’s reputation.

The classmate, a snobby, pampered girl, confronted you in school the next day by rudely pushing your books and stationery onto the floor, just like her parents did. You held back angry, frustrated tears as she ridiculed you and your family in front of all your other classmates, tearing you down to shreds. Yugyeom, rousing from his nap, caught the girl’s wrist before she had the chance to slap you across the face with a notebook.

Everyone grew quiet then. The boy had never done anything to gain attention, always preferring to remain behind the shadows in perfect silence. “Keep it down, you’re ruining my sleep.” Yugyeom hissed threateningly. She cowered in fear and backed off, never to provoke you again.

“Look up, Yugyeom.” You instructed, returning to the task at hand. With a concerned gaze, you conducted a thorough examination of his injuries. The cuts on his hands and the bruises on his knuckles were fairly standard – a quick clean and plaster should do the trick. You got to work, pulling out the alcohol-free cleansing wipes and dabbing over the torn skin with gentle fingers. The boy flinched slightly upon the first contact but behaved rather well as you continued to tend to his hands. Your gaze flitted over the two spherical scars on the underside of his left forearm as he reached forward, closing the distance between the two of you. They were cigarette burns, you figured. You could feel Yugyeom’s fingers brushing against your temples as he pushed strands of your short hair back to rest behind your ears, the tips of which glowered pink at his actions.

“What happened this time?” You asked, somewhat rhetorically. You knew full well that Yugyeom would never divulge the events that led up to his injuries, no matter how persistent you were.

He hummed in response, as though that were an appropriate answer, and scrunched up his face slightly to express his reluctance in answering your question.

The wound smack bang in the middle of his nose presented itself as a bit more of a challenge. While Yugyeom was no stranger to facial injuries, often sporting shallow cuts close to his brow or near his chin, this was much deeper; much larger. It drew unwanted attention and tarnished his otherwise handsome features.

A dull thud sounded as a bowl of cold noodles landed on the table. Your mother stood over the two of you, shaking her head as she handed you a warm towel. You accepted it, still utterly clueless about how your mother was so well acquainted with Yugyeom and his injuries. “Y/N-ah, use this to clean the wound. If it’s still bleeding a lot, apply some pressure to it.” She then turned to the boy, tutting in disapproval. “Yugyeom, I’ve always respected your privacy when you show up in my restaurant covered in cuts and bruises, but this is where I draw the line. Your injuries are getting more serious. You and I are going to have a serious talk once you finish your dinner, young man. It’s been two years and I can’t watch from the sidelines any longer, are we clear?”

You watched as Yugyeom nearly heaved out a sigh, but decided against it in the last minute. “Yes, Imo. Thank you, Imo.”

Your mother, with her hands perched atop her waist, nodded gravely before strutting over to the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone once more. A million questions swarmed in your head as Yugyeom took the towel from your hands, pressing it onto his wound as he began to devour the bowl of cold noodles. This has been going on for two years? You wondered to yourself. Two long years, and yet I’ve never even ran into him in the restaurant. There’s no way, he must’ve been here when I worked over the summer. Maybe he was just sitting in a corner, eating in silence… As usual.

“You’ve been coming her for two years?” You asked before you could stop yourself, your curiosity getting the better of you. “But why?” Why didn’t you tell me? You thought silently, the rest of the sentence unable to leave your mouth.

Yugyeom shrugged as he picked out two halved egg yolks from the boiled eggs with his chopsticks. “Just because,”

Because you pitied me? Because you were ashamed of me? Because you couldn’t face me in school without thinking about that incident caused by the girl’s parents?

“It’s not like that.” The boy said flatly, his eyes meeting yours with a resolute gaze when he noticed you withdrawing, getting lost in your thoughts. “This is the only place that sells naengmyeon all year.”

“What?” You muttered in disbelief.

“I have naengmyeon every Friday, even in winter. The food is good and I only live five minutes away.”

You nodded at his explanation. Perhaps you were overthinking the situation.

“I was also trying to hide most of my injuries from you.” He admitted in a low voice, barely audible above the white noise of the restaurant. Yugyeom took another mouthful of noodles into his mouth, chewing appreciatively as the refreshing flavours soothed his senses. “Fridays…” He paused, eyes wandering vacantly around the vicinity of the restaurant. “Fridays are gambling days for my uncle. He’ll gamble, lose, drink and come home for dinner. You know my older brother, Mark?”

“Yeah, I know Mark.” It was hard not to know about Mark. Before he graduated four years ago, rumours about him spread like wildfire throughout the entire school. The one rumour you distinctly remembered as a first-year student was that he maintained good grades by doing, for a lack of better word, favours, for his female teachers.

“Mark would rush me out of the house before our uncle got home. He acted as my uncle’s babysitter by cooking him dinner, and then as his punching bag when he had to take out his frustration. I was home once when it happened, some time last year. After that I made Mark agree for us to take turns.”

Your head started to spin as your brain worked to process this new information. “Wait so, the cuts, the bruises, the burns, all of that…?”

Yugyeom nodded, still staring beyond the double doors. The sun was beginning to set. In the back of his mind, he registered that his uncle would be home soon. “Honestly, Mark had it worse, especially in the first few months after.”

He meant after his parents passed away two years ago. A car accident. They were coming home from their anniversary dinner. It was raining. There was a truck going around the corner at insane speeds, towards their car. It swerved. Their car plummeted off a cliff. They died instantly, the aunties gossiped as they filtered in and out of the restaurant. Poor kids, they would remark, casting pitied looks at the brothers.

“Your mother, she’s really something else.” He said with a small smile while picking up a few pieces of cucumber and radish. “The first time I came in, the restaurant was about to close. She took one look at me and forced me to press a piece of frozen beef on my bruise. She talked to me the entire time she was dressing my wound, I swear my ears nearly fell off.”

That sounded exactly like your mother. She loved to nag, but it always came from a place of genuine concern. “Imagine being her daughter.” You joked, grateful for the slight comedic relief from the heavy nature of the words you shared. It was one of the few proper conversations you had with your desk partner.

“Sometimes I have to remind myself that she isn’t my mother.” Yugyeom said, his tone so broken and devastated that you felt your heart ache within your chest.

You placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder, trying your best to provide him with some form, any form of comfort. “I’m sure she cares for you like her own son. Especially since she’s been making you dinner every Friday for the past two years.”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“She even nurses your injuries.”

“But you do that too.” He pointed out without missing a beat, a teasing glint in his eyes as he finally turned to look at you.

“I…”

“Nevermind, forget I said anything.” Yugyeom replied with a knowing grin, returning back to his dinner.

I care about you too, a lot. You confessed silently, resting your heavy head on your palms as you watched him eat. The golden shine of the sun casted upon his pointed features. Despite the old scars and the new wounds, he glowed.

A part of you realised that after so many months, you had finally broken-down Kim Yugyeom’s iron walls. School would be very different from now on.

151 notes · View notes

disorganizedkitten · 4 years

Text

Surprise reminder I am not in fact dead. Happy whatever. I’m brainspewing a bunch of aus, mostly DC/batfam and Harry Potter atm and wanted to share some of my favorite moments from the HP planning sessions. These are... sort of from the same story? It’s evolved enough that I could split it into multiple stories based off which update/version it’s from.

Welcome to my Regulus Black Survives and ends up Raising Harry au that eventually melted into a very fun Twin Au that I hope I finish.

Harry: I CAN DESTROY HORCRUXES BY BLEEDING ON THEM

Reg also sends him with a communication mirror because it's been four or five years, he's not going to be so callous as to deny he loves his kid.

So they, being 12 and dumb, end up going in after her/him.

Upon seeing Riddle leave the diary, Harry and Theo, who were raised by a Black and a Nott respectively, freaked. Theo didn't know what it was for sure, but could tell it was Bad, and Harry saw 75.9% sure it was a horcrux because really. What else can a person materialize out of?

Riddle proceeds to monologue about how he hadn't expected this, Slytherins and Gryffindors working together? And aren't you a Nott? I wonder how your forefathers would feel. Etc. While Harry and Theo dodge the curses and continue to try to destroy the diary.

"How can you be so powerful if you were defeated by a baby?!"

The Basilisk ends up trying to listen to both of them, and then Connor tries to help, and Riddle tries to kill Harry w/ Ukri and Connor tries to take Riddle down, and Theo is darting around and tripping Ukri and Riddle up, while Ron has given up on his wand and is trying to wrestle Riddle, which leaves Harry again to take the diary.

When Sirius breaks out, Harry makes a lot of comments about just… cutting off his left arm. After all, no dark mark, no loyalty to the cause. Crippled, even if he was a loyal follower before. This is also his first elective year, which means that Reg sends him an old prosthetic to unravel for Ancient Runes. Draco screams when Harry gets an arm in the mail.

Also Theo gets kidnapped by Sirius summer of 95 after he runs away to escape becoming a baby Death Eater. It's in broad daylight and causes so much panic

("I was wondering what that unholy shriek was" "a horcrux dying,")

This leads to all sorts of hijinks because due to it being accidental, young, and without due process or practice, Fay is essentially an inferi. Except she still has a soul. It's weird. The necromancy-gone-sideways means that they're bonded.

Neville Longbottom and the Suspicious Letters - the Godbrother letters begin!!

“I thought my brother was supposed to be raising you.” “I can go?” “Absolutely not, someone has to keep you alive.”

Regulus is a panicked box of nerves who accidentally acquired a child who should by all rights be his brother’s, and now he has to keep him

Harry grew up around Reg who has Very Dangerous Magic™ all over the house, and has the time of his life watching things blow up

“Harry you’re going to singlehandedly give me grey hairs”

“Honestly if it wouldn’t get more attention than I need I’d just kidnap you, they’re such horrid guardians. And I’m a Black, so that’s saying something!

(The Black Family Madness isn't inherited, it's learnt)

Adrian is a mortician because I really liked the idea of a murder basement except no one has ever actually died in the basement.

Fay Dunbar vs the natural order

Neville Longbottom and the wallflower society

Charlie and Ginny Weasley are Parselmouths bc it makes me happy

Happy Hogwarts day, Harry! Or should it be Happy Hogwarts Hour, Harry? Since you like alliteration? (I clearly remember Mass-Machete-Murderer). I’m sad there’s no chance of running into you in diagon today, but hey! Hogwarts is coming soon! And then we can hang out whenever, right? Well, maybe not whenever. I guess we’d have to attend classes and make more friends. But otherwise! No more sneaking around! Unless you're a Slytherin. Then there might be some sneaking. But not as much! (Have we talked about that yet? I’m pretty sure I’m a shoe-in for Gryffindor, but… yeah. If you’re not, that’s completely okay!) (^letter between Harry and the Other Potter Twin(tm) )

Hey, Harry. Mum just learned you’re a wizard (forgot to ask how, sorry, I’m sure she’ll tell you later) and has decided you need to come live in the wizarding world with us. I didn’t tell her anything. You and your Axe-bear uncle need to figure something out and fast. I’ll see what stalling I can do. XX, your lovely brother. (On the upside, we get 2 c e/o b4 Spt1!) (^Another actual letter from version 2-3 of this au)

"You know," Theo says to Conner at one point. "It's a bit like Harry was raised by a Black." Conner shrugs. "He was raised by an ex-death eater with one arm. Close enough." Theo does research and pretty much just figures that whenever Harry says he was raised by a dead man, he means legally. Theo puts his money on Regulus Black early on.

Theo’s a very smart cookie

Harry also writes letters to Regulus using a constantly changing code which is really just pop culture references.

We have a bunch of parselmouths this generation. See: Charlie Weasley, Ginerva Weasley. Henry Potter/Peverell. Connor Potter. Fay Dunbar/Black. (Also, Theo Nott, Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, and a few others learn it for the sake of keeping up with them). Bry is… one of those groups.

Bryony becomes a Basilisk Breeder

There are five prophecy children bc I can

‘Tuney rushed out “He's not here." No duh, Connor thought but didn’t say. He hoped the adults had a plan for this, because if Harry and Connor had to come up with stories on their own (lie to their parents) there was no way it would end well. Three years of letters and visits and Connor still didn’t have a name for Harry’s adult figure. He wondered morbidly if that was going to change today.’

‘Connor decided with a new thread of despair that yep, the adults were going to be lying to each other for the foreseeable future. Ugh.‘

‘When Reg catches Barty, the only one who does, neither of them attack. "Why, Barty?" "What else can I do?" "Join us?" "That won't be safe. Won't be fair. I'm trying to send one of those boys to their death." "You're also helping keep them alive. Let me get you out." Barty switches allegiances that night. The moment he has a choice.’

There are a lot of people who are willing to step away from Voldemort but don’t know how. They got in over their heads decades ago and now they’re stuck.

That doesn’t mean they’ll sit around and watch their kids make the same mistakes.

#Aus #planning #jaymeow writes #Hp aus #Harry Potter #Chaos and Children #This au is also known as the one where half the cast is dead but everything is good anyways

18 notes · View notes

kewltie · 4 years

Text

in the midst of a battle w/ members of LoV, pro-hero ground zero save a rookie journalist who LITERALLY threw himself middle of all the chaos to grab photos & after yelling at the ignorant fuck, katsuki doesn't think he'll see him again but then HE SEES HIM EVERYWHERE. his name is midoriya izuku & he has some sort of death wish really bc katsuki keep finding him in the middle of all these hero vs villains battles and ONE TIME he tackled down a villain right???? and he doesnt even have a fucking quirk & yet he is seemingly unafraid of everything.

needless to say, katsuki is v smitten bc the litle awkward death defying shit. also, anyone who accidentally send katsuki to the hospital several times a month bc he keep getting into trouble and katsuki have to come rescue him and THEN YELLING AT KATSUKI FOR INTERFEARING W/ HIS JOB – may be katsuki’s true love.

katsuki get so fucking rile up at this quirkless man, who shown no fear and easily go toe to toe w/ him and yet is so incredibly humble and hilariously awkward, he is just into this badass idiot who is entirely devoted to his job and cursed w/ severe stubborn???? feels relatable. so yea, katsuki ofc taps that ass right the fuck away bc he knows a good one when he sees it bc izuku is indirectly responsible for three broken ribs after katsuki had pulled him out of ANOTHER TROUBLING SITUATION. he's a trouble magnet and shit-stirrer and katsuki's heart is moved.

so they start dating and it goes SO WELL. izuku still get in major shitstorm for his job and katsuki still drags him out of it w/ a few bruise here and there, but afterward they go grab a bite and crash at each other place. super romantic and sweet and it's so v good. but!!! there's something weird about izuku. he doesn't talk much about his family, to katsuki anyway. BUT HE'S SUPER CLOSE TO THEM. his parents seem to call him daily and he go visit them often, but he never bring his parents up to katsuki esp his dad & izuku kinda got a stalker??

it's not like katsuki didn't notice right away, but HE THOUGHT IT WAS HIS STALKER. one of his super creepy fans probably but nope this person only tails izuku and when katsuki tell him about it, izuku is like, 'oh that's just toga'. apparently, izuku knows his talker v v well. the stalker apparently is sent by izuku's father to watch out & protect izuku and katsuki pauses bc who the fuck does a journalist who lives on takeouts and shitty cable TVs need a bodyguard?!!! so yea katsuki's new bf background is fucking weird and mysterious.

katsuki has his agency dig into izuku's background (not that they hadn't vet izuku's before for katsuki's safety) but they comb through the archives and izuku's history and it's comes out v v v v clean, sparkling even. honestly, katsuki doesn't know WTF IS UP W/ HIS NEW BF. so he confront izuku about his weirdo stalker/bodyguard, his avoidance about his family & his dad in particular, and his eerie squeaky AND CLEARLY SCRIPTED papertrails. izuku get shifty eyes and is like, "you won't believe me." And katsuki says tersely, "fucking try me."

Izuku drops his gaze to the floor and says, finally, "my dad is the leader of the league of villains." and YEA, KATSUKI'S BRAIN SHUT DOWN FOR SEC bc his deku?? stupid suicidal stubborn bleeding heart deku??? FUCK NO. but izuku just nods his head and grimaces. the LoV is the largest criminal org in the world w/ long list of crimes & longer list of criminals that make its their home. their roster are made up of terrifying people w/ dangerous quirks... and IZUKU, quirkless and softhearted izuku is the leader's most precious son. the idea itself is COMPLETELY ABSURD! HOW does that ever make sense? izuku is a civilian who works normal if a bit dangerous job & doesn't seem to have any *evil* inclinations at all yet he hail from the worst kind of genetic source possible. maybe he's just faking it all along.

which made katsuki absolutely furious that izuku might been some kind of sleeper agent from the LoV sent to trick spy & kill him or something and izuku's eyes wide, immediately protests, "no, no, i swear! i dont have anything to do w/ my fathers... org." but katsuki has a hard time accepting it esp with the truth bomb thrown at his feet now that he realizes HE'S DATING THE ONLY SON OF EVIL OF THE MOST VILE CRIMINAL IN THE WORLD. so yea, he walks out on izuku, saying he need some space & izuku was looking so heartbroken as he left

for the next few days, katsuki stews in his thought. he doesn't tell anyone about what he had found out, but he doesn't contact izuku either. This last for couple of weeks until, one day just as he in the middle of patrol there's some commotion that attract his teams and katsuki is separated from them. he's cornered by several LoV members, outnumbered five to one and katsuki lost his comms in the ensuring scuffles but instead of kicking his ass bc well they're foes, one of them break ranks toga (the blood queen) approach him w/ a bloodthirsty grin & a knife pointing toward him.

"hey, pretty boy," she coos w/ a flicker of edge, "stop ignoring our young master! you made him cried & he won't come out of his room. I hate seeing him so upset bc Izuku-chan should always be smiling! if you dont fix this ill rip your hide from your bones and wear it as a cape."

the group behind her make various grunt of agreement, all promising him death and disembowelment for... apparently breaking izuku's heart. katsuki is so outrage that he nearly explodes on the spot bc these dumbass villains think they CAN BLACKMAL/THREATEN HIM?! HIM, GROUND ZERO?! also, even more furious by the fact that they insuate that HE BROKE UP WITH IZUKU?! wtf, he never said that!! needing space meant just a temporary break s he gets his bearing on wut to do next... but not like a perma break, but izuku's ppl thought their relationship ended.

katsuki is even more offended by that notion bc izuku is even a bigger idiot than he thought. HOW could someone that much of crybaby over just temp break is some manipulative coldhearted spy?? right now his instinct says, izuku is telling the truth. he isn't tricking katsuki.

izuku is seemingly sweet, humble, & awkward but he got that rebellious streak a mile wide. loud in his opinions & shit-stirrer by choice, he faces down villains & heroes alike like they're on equal ground even though izuku is defenseless. he respect the law but only when it applies. katsuki has never seen such a fucking firecracker like izuku who loves people & the world but have little respect for any gov entity or laws and think they're good only when they're helping ppl but otherwise they're abritary (lmao). he such chaotic force for good it's hilarious. so yea, he believes that izuku is the SON OF AFO now bc that lil shit is a menace. A GOOD MENACE, but still a goddamn menace. he seems to stay firmly on the side of 'good' as it is which make his relationship with his villain father a fucking mystery & headache for katsuki.

so katsuki, gritting his teeth, clichely demands the LoV group to take him to their leader so he can verbally kick his bf's ass for keeping his fucked up secrets and stupidly mistaken that they're broken up. the group happily ties up him and blindfolds him bc well SECRET LAIR. katsuki is crazy, ok. like, STUPIDLY CRAZY to go blindly and no backups w/ some of the worst villains in history so he can meet up w/ his stupid bf and his crazy father. he could end up dead tmr or some shit bc it all could have been a trick to lure him in w/ his guard down but if izuku can be an idiot for dating a hero when he's a son of a villain than KATSUKI CAN BE A BIGGER IDIOT FOR GOING TO MEET HIS BF'S VILLANIOUS FATHER AT HIS SECRET TORTURE FORTRESS OR SOME SHIT. love can make ppl dumb and they're both a perfect example of it.

so katsuki get blindfolded and escorted to the LoV hq and it's a suprisingly sweet ride to there. no bumps, no abuse, no torture shit going on. he get offer food and drink and it's FUCKING WEIRD. his kidnappers start some casual convo w/ him about izuku and his job of all things. they even joke about how katsuki arrested one of them one time and almost kill another THE OTHER TIME & it's all happy bs??? it's even worst than torture. katsuki just want this to end already!! eventually they arrive and katsuki is let out. he get inside & his blindfold is off.

it's... nothing like he expected. it's traditional japanese house w/ sprawling garden, koi ponds, & beautiful woods. it's pristine, homey, and terribly normal. "ha, you thought we were going to take you to some kind of evil lair, right?" twice says, grinning bc he's an ass. "that's next time! we save that for official bsn." he jabs Katsuki's in the shoulder playfully. "you're meeting sensei and the mistress so of course it got to be at their house and not the 'office'."

katsuki's hands start twitching like he's going to explode someone or something but he's quickly drag away before he could do anything about it. lead through some hallways before depositing inside a tearoom where there's a SHIT TON of pics of baby!izuku & his childhood accolades on the wall. this look less like a room to greet visitors but to show off izuku. just as katsuki goes to examine a cute pic of bb!izuku playing in a field of flowers & holding one up towrad the camera, the doors slide open and a couple walk in. one of them is an older woman who looks eerily like izuku and the young woman also ft. in many of the wall pics.

she smiles warmly at and goes to greet him right away. "hi, bakugou-kun! welcome to our home, i'm inko, Izuku's mother," she introduces herself. while she's a source of happy energy and warmth, the other man beside her is another story. he gives katsuki's an icy stare. katsuki already knows who he is before he even say anything. AFO looks younger in comparison to his reported age, notably handsome, and he carries himself like some warlord from the warring periods.

"I should kill you," is the first thing he says. "my son should only cry in joy, over his terrible taste in romantic media consumption, & dumber things." spoken like a man who dealt with midoriya walking crying machine izuku his entire life and also a hopelessly devoted father.

"hisashi!" inko scolds. which is strange to katsuki bc he didn't even think AFO even have a name but in front of him isn't some evil man who mastermind gov't take over & ruin so many ppl lives but astupid father overprotected of his son.

"but i won't," AFO admits regretfully. "Izuku would be even more sad and if you're dead your death will haunt him needlessly more. he won't be able to forget you and move on." he frowns, like he actually had CONSIDER THAT ROUTE DEEPLY before casting that idea aside.

What the fuck, katsuki thought and says exactly that, "what the fuck. there's something seriously wrong with you," he points out what he think is v obvious.

AFO shrugs. "I love my son. He's my-" Inko's frown and he clears his throat, "our most precious treasure and we do everything to ensure his happiness. do you understand us, bakugou katsuki? inko and i have raise with love and care for 20yrs and i won't have some rough neck capers try to destroy his smile. i dont care who you are or wut you can do bc i can put you ten feet under w/ a snap of my fingers & nobody will be able to save you but like i said i won't."

Katsuki grind his teeth, fists clenched at his side, before lowering his head. this isnt time to fight, they're not on the field & on the job. this isnt about their respective stance on moral superiority but izuku. izuku is why they're both here. "i came here for him. i want to fix it," he says. "just let me see him." he pauses & grimaces like the taste of whatever he say next disgust him. "please."

AFO frowns, staring at katsuki for a beat, two. like he can pull apart katsuki's motives and tears into his rib to see w/e make him tick. "fine," he waves katsuki away, "you may see him now but if he cry anything beside in happiness i'll have your head and your entire agency." it's not a threat. it's a warning lace with truth that katsuki has no doubt he will carry out if a single tear slip pass izuku and fall.

inko claps her hand happily. "great, i'm glad you guys are geting along so well!" she says, like threats of murder haven't been thrown at his feet. clearly, she's used to the fact that her husband is a completely psychopath and whipped for their son. this fucking crazy family.

katsuki grunts, not knowing what else to say beside, 'have you ever thought of fucking divorce bc yea maybe you will be less crazy by then' but he holds his tongue bc they're still izuku's parents and he already made a bad impression on them even though technically not his FAULT.

AFO doesn't promise anymore murder in his future but the dark look on his face is enough as inko's lead him out & toward izuku's room. she drops him right outside it and gives him an encouraging smile before heading off, but katsuki has no doubt the parents are lurking around. katsuki sucks in a deep breath before raising his fist and knocks. he hears unhurried footsteps on the other side and slowly the door is slide open.

"Papa, I already said--" izuku whines, and stops as soon as he sees who ACTUALLY on the other side. "K-Katsuki?! What are you--?"

Katsuki blinks, trying to get his fucking brain to grapple with the thought of AFO as 'papa' and his head nearly explode. he drags a hand down his face and once again thinks, THIS FUCKIN' FAMILY. "Look, you idiot," he starts in lieu of any answer. "We didn't fucking break up."

Izuku looks haggard, buffy red eyes and the dark circle under it, speaking of how upset he was. he clearly didn't get any good rest these several days they were apart. he lifts an accusatory brow at Katsuki. "you didn't pick up my calls or answer any of my text," he retorts.

Katsuki rolls his eyes. "what part of I needed space, time to think didn't you get?" he snaps back. "It didn't mean go cry and sulk your parent's home like a damn coward because you were too dumb to think of anything beside we may have broken up!"

"But--but," Izuku's lips wobble and katsuki nearly jump out of his skin bc jfc don't cry here or i'll be skinned alive, "i was scared that you really mean it! that's why i didn't want to tell you in the first place bc then you wouldn't want to have anything to do w/ me."

Katsuki sighs, a bone deep tired sigh. "Now, why would you think i would have any problem with dating the son of my nemesis?" he says dryly. Izuku's brows furrow. "All Might is Papa's nemesis," he unhelpfully point out. "I don't think Papa even knew you existed until we dated."

Katsuki scowls. "that's not the fucking point," he shouts, temper rising w/ every word. "Your dad is the fucking boogieman who wants to sow discord in the world & it's my job to catch him &lock away for good. Do you see my moral crisis over this when im dating his beloved son?!"

"I-" Izuku's face falls, "dont you think I dont know that? I've lived with him for over 20yrs, I know exactly what he's capable of." he looks away. "But, he's my Papa & im terrible for still choosing him over the world. So," izuku says solemnly. "i dont expect the same from you."

Katsuki grits his teeth and steps right into izuku's space, up in his face. "Look, im only going to say this once so listen the fuck up," he starts. "I like you. A lot. Stupidly. Gods know why when you drive me up the fucking wall all the time, but here I am standing before you."

"A lot, huh?" Lips twitching, Izuku's eyes go soft.

Katsuki scowls. "Dont make me repeat myself, but yes fucking a lot that your fucking groupies & your old man threatened to kill me several times over did not deter me from coming here," he says, hand cradling Izuku's cheek.

"It's because I'm dating you and not your father. Whatever crimes he'd commited is not on you, you don't have to carry his sins," he tells Izuku, leaning in to press a kiss too fast and fleeting on izuku's forehead. "just stay true to yourself and i'll fucking deal with it."

Izuku's close his eyes and lets out a shaky exhales, the air of relief that passes through him is shuddering. "Ok, ok," he murmurs, opening his eyes to look at katsuki. there's a twinkle in them as he smiles, soft and sweet, the kind you can stupidly drunk on & never let go.

In that hazy moment, katsuki thinks, AFO doesn't need to plan any premeditated murder in case things go v wrong bc this is how he'll die w/ izuku's smile right in his front his eyes, cutting him down one curve lips at a time. Fuck, he's just as whipped for izuku as AFO.

it's good that izuku not a fucking psychopath like his father bc this would have gone v v v wrong. izuku would make a terrifying villain. Worse than his own father bc it's not fear & intimidation that will get ppl to follow him but izuku's own magnetic personality that move them.

"don't ever become a villain, ok?" katsuki insists suddenly, grabbing his shoulder tightly.

"where did that come from?" izuku laughs, eyes crinkling. "And dont worry, papa had tried. many, many times but i haven't turn over to the darks ide if that's what you worry about."

"Good," katsuki says firmly, and thinks the world better for it. one less crazy midoriya to raise hell. izuku is trouble enough as it is when katsuki thought he was just a quirkless journalist w/ a death wish but now there's a chance he could go rouge any moment and--yea. no.

"Sooo," izuku says, bouncing on his heels. "are we back together now?"

katsuki flicks him on the forehead. "we never broke up in the first place, you dolt."

izuku grins and suddenly throws his arm around katsuki. "ah, i miss you so much kacchan!!!" he declares excitedly.

and after they made up, katsuki interrogate izuku about wtf is wrong w/ his father bc how did AFO of all ppl get a villain son who isn't all about /that/ kind of bsn he's in. turns out izuku always have a healthy regard for heroes so he never thought of joining his father's organization. though AFO would have been super happy to take izuku in bc izuku is terrifyingly clever & resourceful but he lets izuku go & do his thing anyway. they just mutually agree not to talk shop when it's family, keeping their jobs outside &not in the home to keep both of their sanity.

so izuku knows shit about the 'family bsn' except wut everyone knows bc he's not involve with any of that and in his everyday job as a journalist izuku often times clash w/ his father AND expose some of his schemes bc it's part of his job & he doesn't shy away from it. AFO wasn't upset at all having his plans ruin by his own son. nope. he was SUPER PROUD OF IZUKU!!! to able to accomplish such thing on his own even if it's against him lol. but izuku is still his father's so so he doesn't take on just AFO, other villains, & dark org. he takes on the gov't, hero association, and even other heroes themselves if he ever catches on if they didn't live up to his ideals of being 'proper hero' like all might. he fiercely chases and exposes anything that he deems corrupted and wrong not caring which side they're on.

which makes izuku kind of chaotic good. he acts on his own whims & sense of justice, disregarding all rules & barriers. which is why he admires katsuki so much bc katsuki stands by his rule staunchantly & won't ever move from it, izuku knows katsuki wont ever be sway by the dark. kinda like izuku's father who stands firmly by his belief & does everything to reach his goals. WHICH IS NOT EXACTLY WHAT KATSUKI WANT TO BE COMPARE TO ESP BY A NOTORIOUS VILLAIN LIKE AFO lol. but yea, now that he got izuku's motive and why he's the way he is, it get easier.

they continue dating, izuku continues getting into trouble 120% of the time, katsuki keeps bailing him out, and sometimes IZUKU BAILS HIM OUT bc izuku may be quirkless but he got an army of the world's most terrible villains on his side so yea izuku IS TERRIFYING. and they aren't just dating but they're 100000% serious w/ each other bc now katsuki go to izuku's parents house for dinner every sunday and have to put up with AFO and play nice w/ each other for izuku's sake bc they come ton an understanding they will be IN-LAWS one day lol! their dinner convo is mostly the two of them taking jab at each other bc katsuki trash of AFO's plans or AFO's sends katsuki's ppl to the hospital and got away with it. they never stop being enemy even for izuku bc of where they stand on but mutually agree not to kill each other. they're both fiercely devoted individual who are obsessively workaholic, stubborn, vainglorious, and loves just as much as they breathe for their ppl and though they never agree on anything, this they will agree on bc izuku's happiness is everything to them!!!

#bakudeku #not!fic

63 notes · View notes

foolgobi65 · 4 years

Note

Ram/Sita + spy au+ friends to lovers + “you know i’ll do anything for you”

lol this...AGAIN....spun out of my control.....and is apparently 6020 words while still having massive massive holes in characterization and plot and ...general stuff..lol. anyways hope u like it? it ended up being way less Spy Spy and more ....arranged marriage au...... because everything i’ve written has basically been that now lol and raazi is the only spy movie i could think of that works bc rama and sita dont have mr and mrs smith vibes to me. love u!!!!!!

----

“Are you serious?”

The face on the screen is somehow almost as familiar as Sita’s own -- she’s never been one for the gossip rags, but at some point, it’s almost harder not to know the features of someone who’s been famous since his parents announced his conception.

“You know him, then.” Sita’s handler Kaikeyi seems remarkably even-tempered for a woman charging Sita, her top recruit, to attach herself to the arm of Kaikey’s stepson -- a boy that the papers seem to believe Kaikeyi prefers even to her own Bharata. Sita raises an incredulous eyebrow before realizing that Kaikeyi does actually expect Sita to recite what she knows about her newest target.

“Ramachandra Raghav,” Sita recites from memory, “but the papers call him Ram. Only son of Dasaratha and his first wife Kausalya, sole presumptive inheritor to the Kosala industries fortune. Dasaratha Raghav and his wife publicly struggled to conceive and adopted a daughter, Shanta, nine years before they had Ram whose birth coincided with the release of Dasartha’s final film and his entry into politics.” Sita purses her lips, unsure if she should continue, but Kaikeyi remains impassive. “Dasaratha and Kausalya divorced when Ram was five, and three months later Dasaratha married you.” Judiciously Sita chooses not to include the fact that Kaikeyi, who during her acting days had only been paired with the already greying movie star, reportedly delivered her eight-pound son Bharata three months early.

Kaikeyi rolls her eyes, still the same striking green that had made her first film such a hit. “Of course I was pregnant when we got married. What else.”

Sita racks her mind. “The custody case was unusual -- Kausalya shifted to America with her children, but Dasaratha petitioned for them to stay with him in India. Shanta was 16 and decided to finish school abroad with Kausalya, but the courts decided that Ram would spend alternate years with each parent until he reached his majority.” It was the oddity of the arrangement that kept the Indian public so desperate for news about what otherwise might have been just another star-turned-politician’s son: pictures of Bharata, who was constantly being presented at building openings, movie premiers and other assorted Party functions went for nearly a quarter of the price as those of Ram whose arrival at the Delhi airport became more and more of a national event in sync with his father’s increasing political power. The exoticism of his American English was viewed with as much pride as his unaccented Hindi which the Party often used to great effect, having him canvass his father’s constituents on camera the year Dasaratha was put forward as the party’s candidate for Chief Minister and releasing them online.

But it has been a few years since Ram was last in India for more than a month or so’s vacation -- at 16 he graduated from school and sent the Indian media into near paralytic shock when he decided to attend university in Delhi. Not even three years dimmed the public’s fascination, which quickly turned into genuine discontent when it was announced that Ram had accepted an offer to do his doctorate in California and had barely been seen in India since.

“You want me to investigate a Chief Minister’s son?” Again, Sita leaves unsaid the rumors that swirl even in headquarters -- that Dasaratha’s relative competency at state-wide management has made him a viable candidate for even higher office. That after the last election’s dismal results, it is apparent that Dasaratha might be the only remaining Party figure popular enough to lead a coalition that would bring them to power in the Centre after nearly a decade at the periphery.

Kaikeyi laughs. “Not quite,” she says, still perfect red lips twisting in a faint smile, “Ram is in New York now working for the UN, and it seems that he will have a long and illustrious career in diplomacy which will bring him into contact with all sorts of people of interest to our national security agencies. We need someone at his side to make sure that those contacts are being utilized to their full potential.”

Sita frowns. “He’s too young to need a trusted aide or a secretary.”

“Correct. That’s why we’re sending you to New York as his wife.”

When Sita is 18, a woman comes up to her on the street asking if she’d like to be a model. As a laugh Sita shows up at what the woman’s business card says is the head-hunting agency’s main office only to be quickly moved to a backroom, divested of her backpack, phone and shoes and investing her with a new lifelong wariness of strangers with offers too good to be true. Her father is the aging yet venerable University President -- they don’t have the money for ransom, but Sita just as quickly rules out potential trafficking since her father has one or two connections that would raise quite the fuss if he informed them that his daughter was missing. But before she can think of another reason behind her apparent kidnapping, the door opens, and Sita’s life changes with the incoming rush of bright light into the dark room.

“You’re..” she splutters, eyes raking up and down the perfect figure of the woman in front of her.

“Yes,” Kaikeyi Raghav says, sunglasses perched delicately at the top of her head as she adjusts the pallu of her elegant chiffon sari. “I’m sorry for all the confusion, but we really needed to get you alone before we could try and talk to you.”

“Talk,” Sita rasps, suddenly hyper aware of her own dry throat. Kaikeyi sighs, clapping her hands once before taking a bottle of water that appeared almost instantly at the door’s threshold, opening the cap and offering it to Sita who gulps it down. “Talk about what?” Sita asks.

“One of our associates brought you to our attention about a year ago thinking that with some work you could be turned into something quite extraordinary.” Kaikeyi brings up her right hand to pull down her hair from its updo, the cascades only making her more breathtaking to Sita, whose father always had a soft spot for the old Dasaratha-Kaikeyi films. “I’ve been observing you ever since, and recently came to the same conclusion.”

Sita can’t help but glow at the praise, even as she tries to keep her sense of rationality -- she’s been kidnapped after all, even if by one of the nation’s most illustrious figures. First: “Are you trying to traffick me into sex work?”

Kaikeyi laughs, and the sound is clear and captivating like a bell. The more Sita watches, the smaller details begin to stand out -- a mole just slightly to the right of Kaikeyi’s collarbone, the green of the embroidery that brings out those colors in her eyes, the red fingernails that perfectly match Kaikeyi’s lips.

“Do I look like a pimp?” Kaikeyi’s tone is one that does not truly seek a response, though Sita is not sure she even has one. The proclivities of the rich and powerful are rumored to skew to the truly scandalous, and there is no reason that an elegant woman could not be the front for the procurement of such services.

“Then is this supposed to be recruitment for politics?” Sita has never thought herself particularly gifted at deception, which seems to be the first requirement for a fruitful career of public service.

“No,” Kaikeyi laughs again, “but I find it interesting that you didn’t consider that I might be signing you on as a heroine.”

“I don’t have a face for film,” Sita says, “and I have no intention of leaving Delhi.”

“You have exactly the face for film,” Kaikeyi counters, “but I agree -- your mind would be as wasted as mine in Bombay.”

“Then politics?” Sita, who was born and brought up in Calcutta before her father was given a position in Delhi had never given much thought to the Raghav’s stronghold Ayodhya -- she can’t imagine what Kaikeyi could possibly see in her.

Kaikeyi shakes her head. “What do you know about this country’s intelligence services?”

Sita blinks. “You want me to be a spy?”

Five years after their first meeting, Sita has learned how to handle all sorts of weapons including her own body, how to speak a dozen languages, how to scope out a room. In some strange way, Kaikeyi seems to have filled the gaping hole left behind by Sita’s long-dead mother Sunaina, who Sita is not entirely sure would approve of what her daughter decided to make of her life. There isn’t quite a bond of affection, but there is loyalty beyond even what Sita would have given her own mother -- no better proof than the fact that here Sita is agreeing to marry Kaikeyi’s stepson entirely because Kaikeyi demanded it, where Sunaina would have had quite the shock if she had tried to suggest a man for Sita to wed. Sita had dreamed of marrying for love, but loyalty she reasons is close enough.

Ostensibly, Sita has finished her MA with high honors and works at an NGO that enjoys Kaikeyi’s patronage -- this, they decide, is how the papers will be told Kaikeyi knows Sita. There are a few strategically leaked photos of Kaikeyi first paying the NGO a visit, then taking Sita out for a series of lunches. Sita finally travels to the ancestral Raghav mansion in Ayodhya for Diwali, bringing along her father to meet and pay his respects to his favorite screen star.

“You must be Sita’s father,” Dasaratha booms when they approach, somehow brimming with the same vitality and presence that drew such crowds to the theater in his youth. He grins, left arm wound around Kaikeyi’s waist at his side as he turns to speak to Sita. “My wife has grown old and taken up matchmaking to pass the time, but from what I have seen you would be a fine choice for my Ram.”

Janaka stiffens at Sita’s side, hearing about such an arrangement for the first time, but Dasaratha’s charisma pulls him into its orbit as Dasaratha reaches out his hands. “I confess that I was never well educated myself, but I believe it would only bring me and my family honor to be able to call someone as learned as yourself ‘Brother.’”

Janaka is sold. Sita, who has never been quite sure about the real dynamic between Kaikeyi and her husband, realizes with some relief that there is genuine fondness, even love, in the smile she flashes her husband. Perhaps there might be hope for Sita herself.

Dasaratha insists that the informal engagement is enough to justify Sita and her father’s extended stay at the mansion. After one day, he calls Ram himself informing his son that Dasaratha has found him a wife. Within a week, the news reports that Dasaratha’s eldest son has found himself back on Indian soil.

Sita finally leaves the mansion two weeks after Diwali with the instruction that she must treat the property as her own home whenever she returns to India -- after all, Dasaratha booms, she is his beloved Ram’s wife now, and Dasaratha’s daughter now as much as Janaka’s.

“So,” Sita says on their first night, sitting on what's supposed to be their marital bed, “what name should I call you?”

Her husband raises an eyebrow, silent just as he has been for almost the entire week since he was called home. Kaikeyi, when Sita asked for details, had not elaborated on the character of her stepson nor had she offered details about how Sita might best seduce him.

“Follow your instincts,” Kaikeyi had said, smiling at Sita’s frustration. “You’ll know what I mean when you spend time with him.”

Well, Sita thinks perversely, her instincts are telling her to confess everything to the man she has promised herself to in front of her father, and God almighty. Somehow, she is meant to maintain a lifelong relationship with a man she is only now speaking to, and to mine his contacts for information to send back to her handler, his stepmother.

“The papers call you Ram,” Sita says, only a little sullen at the thought of the task ahead of her, “as does your family. Is that what you prefer to go by?”

“My father’s family,” he corrects mildly, and Sita immediately flushes at the mistake. Kaushalya and Shanta had of course come, but arrived only the night before the wedding -- Sita had met them both the morning of, but only enough to touch their feet and have Kaushalya cluck, teary-eyed, over the beauty of Sita in her wedding sari.

“Of course,” Kaushalya had said off-handedly to Shanta standing at her side, “Kaikeyi has always had excellent taste.” Sita had not trusted herself to answer.

“Will we live with your mother in America?” Sita has been provided with what she considers shockingly little information regarding her future living situation -- Kaikeyi insists that, largely, this assignment requires Sita to effectively live her own life and as such being more information than provided a new wife would only detract from her performance.

He shakes his head. “My mother and Shanta live in New York too, but Shanta needed to be closer to Columbia and...” he looks away, suddenly just slightly awkward. “Things changed so much for Mother throughout my life that I think she was finally able to find some type of stability when I was away at university. When it turned out that I was moving back, I didn’t want to be the one to throw her life back into flux.”

Sita nods. “Are you close?”

Her husband hums, fingers of one hand slightly worrying at the hem of a blanket. “As much as I can be, having spent every other year away.”

Sita can’t imagine -- for years, the story of the boy caught so explicitly between two worlds has always been interesting or amusing, but now that she’s confronted with him in the flesh she knows that it must have been sad, too. She tries to imagine a mother committing to the notion that the child she waves off at the airport gate would not be the one who returned, and finds that it’s impossible.

“It must have been difficult,” she offers, not elaborating on whether she is speaking of her husband’s family, or himself.

He nods. “Father and Mother Kaikeyi always had Bharata, and the Party. I was glad when Mother found Sumitra and the boys.”

Sita’s eyes widen. “A friend?”

He turns his body to look at her for the first time head-on. “No,” he says, eyes boring into Sita’s, exuding the same gravitational force as his father. “Her wife. The boys are my Father’s during a...period of disagreement with Mother Kaikeyi, and when Sumitra decided to keep them Mother brought her to New York to have the children. They fell in love.”

This is a test, Sita realizes, and for the first time, she realizes the wisdom of Kaikeyi’s lack of preparatory material even as she curses Kaikeyi in equal measure. She would have liked to have not been blindsided, but there is a truth to her reaction she could never have mimicked so effectively. Her mind roils with the amount of information relayed in such few sentences -- Dasaratha, already so old, still fathering sons. Kaikeyi and her husband having a disagreement so strident it sent him into another’s arms. Kausalya, raising more of Dasaratha’s children as her own. Kausalya, in love with a woman.

Her silence has drawn on too long during her contemplation, and her husband’s eyes have gone cold as he leans away from her.

“You call her Sumitra,” she decides on, “but if she’s your mother’s wife, should I call her mother in law as well?”

Her husband is wide-eyed himself for a moment, but then his face cracks into a smile just dripping with sudden, unexpected delight. Sita’s heart skips a beat at the sight.

“It would make her very happy if you did,” he says. “And as for me, my mother has always insisted on calling me Ramachandra and none of my siblings use my name at all. You can call me whatever you’d like.”

---

“Rama!” Sita exclaims, trying to rise from the chair behind her desk and managing to trip on the hanging sleeve of the sweater she had been sitting on. She laughs, picking herself up off the ground. “Oh, and you brought the boys too!”

It’s been a year since Sita moved to New York, a year in which she’s found fulfilling work at a South Asian women’s shelter, learned how to navigate herself via subway to find the best of ten different cuisines in New York, read three books related to Shanta’s new area of interest, featured in the boys’ Instagram Lives over 20 different times, and found herself a best friend in the form of her husband.

Ram, she had decided, was how the public knew him even if his father’s family chose the same. Ramachandra was much too long. Rama was short, sweet, vowels easy in Sita’s mouth.

“No one calls me that,” he’d said when she’d first used the name, his tone again one of unexpected delight. “I’ve always thought it was strange that they never did.”

Sita’s due a lunch break, but she’s always been prone to eating at her desk unless she’s eating out -- a budgeted, once weekly expense she keeps track of after the humiliating exorbitancy of her first month’s bill.

“We have money,” Rama had said, bemused at Sita’s profuse apologies. “I’ve got a trust fund, but my salary certainly pays well enough for this.” He’d glanced at the bill Sita had handed him as she had wrung her hands in front of him, so unsure of how she’d managed to spend so much. “It looks like this is mostly just restaurant charges anyway, and,” he’d looked up at Sita with a smile, rising to hold her hands before she could twist them again, “you live in New York now. I’m glad that you’ve spent the last month trying all sorts of the things the city has to offer. It’s exactly what I did when I moved back, except I probably spent twice as much.”

Sita had felt the first of many twin pangs at his kindness -- one pang of joy, at being with someone so well suited to herself, and another of sorrow when she thought of how their relationship was founded on a lie. Kaikeyi had told Sita that there was no need to actively seek out contacts for at least the first year, and so the extent of her real work was having regular conversations with Kaikeyi that easily blurred the line between professional and personal relationships.

“Is he any good at sex,” Kaikeyi had asked one day after asking for a report about Rama’s “family situation” which Sita found distressingly similar to the inquiries of a second wife wondering about her husband’s former paramours. Sita had hung up.

“Sita?” Sita starts, bringing herself out of her reverie and smiling.

“Sorry,” she says, grabbing her coat. “I was just thinking about something.”

“Something interesting?” He takes the coat and holds it out for Sita to slip her arms into, smoothing down the lapels when she turns around. “I spent the whole morning stuck in the single least productive set of meetings, and knowing them they’re probably arguing about what appetizers to get for lunch. I’ve never felt as lucky as I did when I told them all that, unfortunately, I’d already logged that I was taking a half-day to take care of my brothers.”

The boys scowl. “We’re thirteen years old,” Lakshmana says. Shatrughana nods in agreement. “We could have gone home by ourselves!”

Sita flashes Rama a smile, leaning down with an expression as if in deep thought. “That’s true enough -- if you’d like we can send you home and just join you after I finish work, but aren’t your moms on a health kick right now?”

Lakshmana, always the more suspicious of the pair, crosses his arms. “And?”

“Well,” Sita drawls, hearing Rama snort softly next to her, “your brother and I were thinking of taking you to the greasiest joint we can find in walking distance, and then to 7/11 after to find you both snacks for when you spend the weekend at our apartment. But if you’d rather not, that’s totally ok too!”

The boys fall for the line, hook and sinker.

“Oh,” Lakshmana says, voice suddenly a pitch lower than usual as he squares his shoulders in what Sita doesn’t think any of the three recognize is his best imitation of Rama, “that’s ok.” He looks over at Shatrughana, who nods. “Family is important. Let’s go eat!”

“Thank you,” Rama says softly after they’ve finally decided where to eat and are walking in the correct direction. Sita raises an eyebrow. “You’re good with the boys,” he explains, shrugging his shoulders. “I was expecting to have to take them out on my own, and stay at my mother’s when I wanted to spend time with them but --”

Sita interrupts him before he says something truly embarrassing about what she only sees as a pleasure. “It’s easy when they’re such good kids,” she says, “and I would have done it even if it was harder. It’s the least I could have done for you, after everything.”

Everything being the credit cards he’d given her when they landed, his insistence that he wouldn’t monitor her spending and would set up a bank account for her that he would periodically transfer money into but not be able to access. Everything being the books he shared with her and the books he read on her recommendation, in turn, the concerts they’d attended together, the plays and musicals and movies and street festivals. Everything being the conversations they’d had on the couch until late at night, the meals he learned to cook because they reminded her of home.

The one similarity underlying all others between them, Sita realized one day, was that they had both grown up lonely, without anyone person, they could claim truly, entirely understood them. Neither of them had had a best friend until they met the other. By unspoken agreement, they had not consummated their marriage that first night, nor during the first few hectic months of Sita’s acclimation to New York. Eventually, it became easier to simply maintain things as they were and to enjoy the novelty of a companion before things became ... complicated.

If a part of Sita insisted that she hold off from sex so as to not build even more on an inherently unstable foundation -- if that same part screamed that her husband had given her trust beyond all else and she squandered the gift every day she didn’t tell him who she really was -- then that was something for Sita, and only Sita, to think about.

---

“Oh,” Sita hears from the bathroom threshold, glancing through the mirror at the figure Rama cuts in his tailored tuxedo. It’s been nearly a year and six months since their marriage, and what Sita thought of as friendship has since bloomed into a wild, uncontrollable love. Yet, she keeps her love to herself, knowing that it would be cruel to offer him fruit with a rotted core.

He cares too, she knows -- only a fool could willingly ignore the little signs of it he offers so freely, long and lingering looks, kisses to her cheek, forehead, the corner of her lips and the edges of her knuckles. She knows that her resistance to further intimacy must confuse him, perhaps even hurt him, but still, she can’t help but think that things would be worse if she gave in only for him to find out later. Sometimes, she wonders if Dasaratha knows about Kaikeyi -- if Lakshmana and Shatrughana owe their existence to a revelation of the truth which so discomfited their sire that he sought another woman to drown in.

Sita is selfish, far too much so, to allow the truth to poison what she now has, half-life as it is. So she smiles over meals Rama cooks for her, meets the contacts Kaikeyi has started sending her way during lunch breaks she takes less frequently at her desk and begins preparing her heart for when things will inevitably fall apart. Today, she and Rama will attend a gala meant to raise funds for refugees which will double as a drop-point for some dissident’s data collection from the last five years on the inside of their regime’s surveillance operation.

“You look beautiful,” Rama says, walking in. Sita’s hands, haphazardly smoothing down the last wisps of hair that refuse to curve to her skull in their updo, pause when he places his own over them. “Is that my mother’s sari?”

Sita nods. “The style has come back,” she says, reaching out to the counter for the strand of jasmine Sumitra had sent to their apartment to be paired with Kausalya’s sari. “Even Kaikeyi approved, which means that this outfit technically has the approval of all three of your mothers, and your sister as well.”

Rama smiles softly, taking the jasmine and pinning it up with a deft hand that speaks of experience. “I’ve never been one to keep up with fashion trends, but I think you wear it very well.”

“Kaikeyi says it makes me look like a movie star.” In order for the drop to be successful, Kaikeyi had demanded Sita pull out all the stops possible within the relatively demure confines of charity-wear. Sita’s blouse plunges at the back, skin unobstructed by a pallu or bra, and she shivers slightly when Rama’s left-hand traces lines.

“I suppose she would know,” he says absently, eyes raking up and down at Sita’s reflection in the mirror they both face, passing over her eyes rimmed with kohl and her dark red lips. His right-hand falls to his pocket, searching for a moment before he finds what he needs, pulling out a pair of beautiful earrings Sita hadn’t known he had.

“Mother Kaikeyi had me get these from storage a few weeks ago, but I wasn’t sure if they would suit what you were planning on wearing.” They look at the pieces in his hands, realizing together how well the earrings will look with Sita’s sari.

“Will you put them on me,” Sita asks, voice thin and breathy despite herself. His hands are gentle, just slightly cool to the touch as they gently thread the earrings into her lobes, tightening the screws and caressing her ear before moving to ghost over Sita’s hips. If Sita moved into his touch, allowed him to grasp her body so hard that she bruised if she turned her face just slightly and brushed her lips against his -- her entire body is one flame, but even now she is attending this gala with her own motive, even has a small gun she plans on holstering to her left leg as insurance. She can’t.

She can’t. Sita takes one step forward, Rama’s hands falling back to his own sides.

“We’ll be late,” Sita says, moving them back into purgatory instead of choosing heaven or hell.

Rama shakes his head slightly, taking a breath. “Yes,” he replies, tone never betraying a sense of the frustration he must feel. He smiles again, holding out a hand. Sita will tell him one day, she tells herself. He deserves that much.

“Let’s go.”

One day, it seems, will be sooner rather than later. Sita’s very first drop of this assignment, after nearly two years of prep, and it seems like she’s going to end up just another statistic, shot in the head for all her efforts.

Worse, she thinks, she’s going to break Rama’s heart. The dissident was less careful than they’d thought, trusted someone they shouldn’t have, and now they’re both being held up against a wall and being told to recite any final prayers for their souls. Sita’s single measly gun at her hip wouldn’t change the odds of 10 against 2, especially since no amount of physical training will significantly change the realities of her smaller physique going up against larger numbers of even better-trained muscle.

She only wishes that she’d thrown caution to the wind once, had told Rama the truth and let the cards fall where they may. She wishes she could see him one more time and apologize, reassure him that her love was true even if her initial motives weren’t.

“Hey,” she hears from somewhere in the distance, away from their cluster of a firing squad. Her heart simultaneously sinks and soars to realize that the voice is Rama. “That’s my wife!”

The leader laughs, just as the dissident sobs. Sita clutches their hand tighter. “Then I’m sorry to say that she hasn’t been much of a wife,” the leader sneers, “just another one of Kaikeyi’s little rats meddling where they’re unwanted.”

“Run!” Sita screams, deciding that she’d rather Rama be alive than hear her confessions before he too is killed. “For my sake run, before they decide to kill you too!” In the back of her mind, she knows that it’s already too late -- people are executed for far less than what Rama is doing, which is continuing to walk forward.

He sighs audibly, not even pausing his forward momentum. “I’m sorry,” he says, and for some reason, Sita genuinely believes that he is. “You know I’d do anything for you, but there’s something I haven’t told you yet about me.”

Shouldn’t that be Sita’s line? “What,” she croaks, captivated by how he’s somehow holding the group hostage, each of them curiously watching as he walks right up to wear Sita and her companion stand against the wall. “Please,” she sobs, breaking her own vow to face death with dignity, “if you’ve ever cared about me, you would leave.”

Rama’s fingers come up to trace Sita’s bruised eye, her puffy lip, the cut at her cheekbone. “Concussion?” he asks, completely ignoring Sita’s plea.

“It hardly matters,” she says, “when I’m going to die in about five minutes. Just like you will if you don’t leave right now.”

Rama hums, right hand shifting down to her thigh, where her gun is strapped. Sita’s eyes widen as though the fabric he seems to be easing the gun out and up to where the fabric wraps around her waist. Left hand still caressing her cheek as the right holds the gun in place against her stomach, he leans in to gently kiss Sita’s forehead.

“All three of us are going to live tonight,” he says, so confident that it seems as if it would be absurd for Sita to think anything else as if even three against 10 the odds are stacked firmly in their favor. “Hold this for me?”

Sita’s hand shifts down to the gun still hidden in the fabric as Rama steps away and turns, his hands now busy divesting himself of his tuxedo jacket and the bowtie Sita had so painstakingly learned how to tie for him earlier.

“Now,” he says casually, as everyone watches him worry at his cufflinks, dropping them in the pile now at Sita’s feet, later followed by his wedding ring. “Unfortunately for you all this means that you will not be surviving this encounter. Do you have any last words?”

The leader laughs. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Rama’s left-hand reaches out behind him. Sita, as if in a trance, dutifully fishes out the gun and places it in his hand before realizing that she has something she needs to say before it's too late. His own confidence gives her some of her own, but still how could he possibly win? How will they possibly survive -- and if, against all odds they do, what on earth is she going to say? So: “I love you,” she blurts out, smiling slightly when Rama’s head twists to look at her, incredulous, but before he can respond the first bullet fires and he explodes into action.

For the first two minutes, the fight is 10 against 1 and still, Rama makes it look like child play. Weaving in and out, every shot he fires taking down at least one if not more of the men against him. At some point, he grabs another gun and tosses it in Sita’s direction, whose entrance into the melee serves to turn the tide even further. At least she’s always been a good shot, she thinks to herself, taking a man out even when her head rings with what she knows her husband accurately diagnosed as the beginning of a concussion. Part of her can’t do anything but watch as her studious, gentle husband breaks someone’s nose before shooting them through the heart.

Within five minutes, it’s over. Just like Rama said, all ten men are dead at their feet. The gun drops out of his hand, slippery now with other people’s blood. Sita’s kill count is 2. He’s just killed eight men.

“I...” Sita starts, realizing she doesn’t know what to say. She swallows, looking at the carnage around her and tries again to reconcile the sight with Rama’s soft sweaters, old fashioned glasses, and aversion of horror films. “How?”

Rama purses his lips. “Same as you,” he says, wiping his hands on his pants with a grimace. “Mother Kaikeyi trained me, and while I was in India I was sent on assignment.”

Sita pauses. “You’re a spy?” Even as she says it, she knows that she’s in no position to speak with such scandal in her voice -- yet, she thinks, she had thought she knew him, that he had trusted her.

Rama laughs as he never has: short, hollow, bitter. “No,” he says, “not anymore. And even when I was, I was more of a hitman than anything else. I quit and moved away, and I assume that’s why Mother Kaikeyi sent someone to make sure I didn’t step too far out of line as a rogue element.”

Somehow, Sita thinks, this is worse than she imagined. “No,” she says, rushing forward, hands wringing as if he’s looking again at her first credit card bill. “I asked at the beginning. It was never about you.”

Rama is silent for a moment that seems to stretch endlessly as the adrenaline wears off for Sita, and her aches start to make themselves known. Her face throbs, her head spins, and there’s something in the vicinity of her ribs that twinges while she stands still -- not broken, she doesn’t think, but maybe bruised? Rama’s hands, almost as if it were against his mind’s will, come to stop her hands and tangle his fingers in his own as they do nothing but stare into the darkness over the other’s shoulder. “I’m glad that that’s what you were told,” he says eventually, and Sita suddenly realizes that there is an entire lifetime’s worth of complication she hadn’t known existed.

“I wasn’t told anything,” she says, sure now that Dasaratha knows at least part of Kaikeyi’s truth, because why else would Kaikeyi have made sure that Sita walked into her relationship as transparent as possible. “Everything we shared was real.” She pauses, uncertain. “At least from my end.”

Rama’s hands are like vices, clutching Sita’s fingers so hard it feels like he’s cut her circulation. “From mine as well. So when you just said--”

“Yes,” Sita says, unable to say now what fear of imminent death had so successfully inspired. “Before, I was afraid of you finding out about me, but yes of course.”

Rama exhales. “I’d hoped that’s what was stopping you, but I was never entirely sure that you really were one of Mother Kaikeyi’s recruits,” he smiles with a hint of self-deprecation. “You’re a good actor, you know.”

“No,” Sita says, bringing her hands up to cup his face, finally deciding to be brave. “I’m really not.” She leans in.

Their first kiss is gentle, tastes just slightly like blood, and ends quickly when Sita’s lip is irritated and makes itself known. It’s perfect.

“I love you,” Rama breathes into the sliver of space when they part, one hand drifting to hold her at the waist, another rubbing small circles into the nape of her neck. Sita’s head spins, and not only from the concussion.

“Hey,” she hears from somewhere behind. “I’m glad you two seem to have made up...and also .... that we’re all alive. But can we go now?”

Sita laughs, and then immediately regrets doing so. “Yes,” she says as Rama holds her still, “let's go.”

#ramayana #maya writes #avani008

54 notes · View notes

raysofcrosby · 5 years

Text

LITTLE DO YOU KNOW PT. 7

"𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦–– 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘦'𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵." – 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐀𝐦𝐲 & 𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐜 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐫

gif credit (x)

series masterlist

requested: yes | no

warnings: slight *unprotected* smut, implied sexual situations, otherwise its just fluffy convo.

word count: 10,282 [it’s a fucking novel ladies and gents, better buckle up]

authors note: FIRST AND FOREMOST, i’m going to apologize for the horribly written smut. i never write smut bc 1) i suck at it and 2) it makes me feel awkward lmao [sidenote: safe sex is great sex!!!]. also, if a boy did for me what tyler did for baby benn in this– then homeboy could like...get it. ALSO this ending wasn’t supposed to be the original ending, but i feel like it adds a little more oomph when it comes to small things involving the storyline– so i hope it doesn’t flop. i hope you guys’ enjoy! i love reading your comments, seeing your tags in the reblogs and just seeing that you guys’ enjoy this story as much as i enjoy writing it! without further ado, here’s part 7!

Your weekend with Tyler was exactly what you needed as a break away from school and of course, the biggest blessing Dallas was about to receive– the rest of the Benn's. Jordie was in town with the Canucks and your parents, Jenn, your brother-in-law, and your niece were all flying down to not only have a small visit with you before you traveled home for Christmas but to also see the two boys play against each other. Sure, they were able to see Jamie and Jordie play against each other only a few days ago when the Stars stopped in Vancouver, but there was one thing that the game didn't have– you. And you were never one to toot your own horn when it came to your siblings, but you were the favorite– second to Jenny at times. She was the firstborn and she had blessed your parents with a grandchild way before the rest of you. But you were the baby, and that was always a prize.

The rest of your family all got into Dallas around the same time, but since you had class and Jamie and Jordie had workouts, you guys didn't plan to get together until lunch, which unfortunately for Jamie, cut into his pre-game nap– but at least he'd get a free meal out of it, thanks to your parents. Until then though, you were suffering in your classes, too busy thinking about this past weekend and telling Kennedy everything you'd learned from Brandon about this Maisy girl. Kennedy didn't know who she was, and being the best friend ever, kept you out of your own worst thoughts by assuring you that if the relationship was as serious as Brandon said it was– Tyler wouldn't have played it off as nothing.

And that kept the bad thoughts out of your head for most of the day, until it came time to pick Jamie up at his place. The conversation in the car between your parents, you and Kennedy also kept you distracted– it was easy to talk about how school was going and how her family was doing, but when they mentioned your internship, it was hard not to immediately think about Tyler. Thankfully, by the time that came around, you guys were pulling up to Jamie's. Before your dad could even put the rental into park, you offered to run up and grab Jamie, that way they didn't have to get out of the car. You ran up the front steps and rang the doorbell an obnoxious amount of times and when the door opened, you were pleased to see Jenn standing there with a smile on her face.

"You know, there's a child sleeping in here," she joked, wrapping you in in a hug.

"Sleep is for the weak, Jenn. Kennedy is in the car with mom and dad, just send her to the back of the SUV so you guys can make room for the car seat."

"That's okay, Y/N. I managed to snag a sick rental," Andrew, your brother-in-law smiled, walking past with the car seat in his hands and giving you a one-armed hug.

"And by sick, he means a red 4runner," Jenn rolled her eyes as Andrew carried the car seat to their rental in the driveway. "He really just left without letting you see her, didn't he?"

"I'll see my favorite niece at lunch, that's fine," you laughed, watching as she put her purse on her shoulder. "Is he inside?"

"Jamie? Oh yeah, he's almost ready. We'll go ahead and follow you guys to the restaurant."

You nodded and walked inside as she walked out to their rental, closing the door behind her. "JAMIE EVERYONE'S READY BUT YOU!" You yelled out, unsure just where he was in his house.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N. You don't need to blow a guy's eardrum out like that," he groaned, walking from around the corner. "I just need to finish my hair and then grab water and I'm ready to head out."

"J...why are you even bothering to do your hair when you'll mess it up during your nap?"

He stopped in his tracks as if the thought never even crossed his mind. "Well, fine. But let me grab a hat at least so I don't have to brush it."

You sighed and leaned against the stairway, looking around his house aimlessly. When your eyes landed on an old picture of him and Tyler with Dude Perfect, a thought entered your mind. "Hey J? Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, why not?"

You bit the inside of your cheek, wondering whether or not you should ask. Would it make Jamie suspicious to...whatever the hell you and Tyler had? Would he tease you for even wanting to know? "Do you know who Maisy is?"

"Huh?"

"Maisy! Do you–" You started to yell, only to see him come back down the hallway with a hat in his hands. "Do you know who Maisy is?"

He didn't even bother to stop this time, only walking away and into his kitchen. "Like, Tyler's Maisy?"

Your stomach dropped then and there straight into the bottom of your shoes. 'Tyler's Maisy.' You weren't sure if it was the nonchalant way that he said it or the fact that he just confirmed that Brandon wasn't lying that made you feel so uneasy– but either way...you were.

"Yeah, where they like...a thing?"

He came out of the kitchen holding onto two water bottles and tossing you one. A genuine look of concern on his face sent your heartbeat into overdrive as you tried to keep your expression as neutral as possible. "I mean, yeah. I don't know if they were ever really official, but she was his man hookup all last season."

He walked away again, this time coming back and shoving his wallet into his short pockets. "She also kind of played a roll in why he had to pick his new house so fast. Granted he already had two settled, but I guess she accidentally leaked his address on Instagram or snapchat or something after order postmates." He opened the front door, grabbing his house keys off of the hanger. "Also, there was this huge spamming thing from random accounts on twitter, some sports forum and other crap saying he needed to go public with her. They'd even comment on Candace and Cassidy's stuff."

As you followed him out of the door, it all started to make sense as to why Tyler didn't want you to ever post that you were at his house– it wasn't fully out of fear that Jamie would know you were there...but because he was scared that maybe you'd leak his address. And while that revelation made you feel a little more at ease, you couldn't help but acknowledge the hint of sadness when you connected Brandon's comments about Tyler not letting Maisy post stuff, to what Jamie just confirmed.

"I think he broke it off in the summer though, why?"

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and walked ahead of him. "Oh nothing, I just heard some frat guys talking about her when I dropped Cole's stuff off."

"Yeah, well I wasn't the only one who warned Seggy about getting involved with a college girl. I mean, I got lucky with Katie, but there's also a three year age difference between us." You were shocked at Jamie's reply as he walked ahead of you this time. "Tyler's going for girls now where the age difference is like six to seven years– I mean, maybe mentally he's right for them, but it's just...I don't know it never works out and we keep trying to tell him that, but you know how he is."

You just smiled and nodded as he opened the car door for you and you saw Kennedy climb into the next row of seats. You followed suit, saving a seat for when you went to pick up Jordie and ultimately ending your conversation there. The conversation picked up between everyone in the car as you made your way to your lunch destination, but you were lost in your little world, resting on the things both Brandon and Jamie have said...plus the fact that Tyler would be joining you guys for the post-game dinner in just a few hours.

How bad could it all go?

❒❒❒❒

Dinner was going to be a fun time and it would only be because you were going to be witness to Jamie rubbing it into Jordie's face that they beat them twice in less than a week. Little brother beating big brother– the theme to their entire childhood, was enough to entertain your dinner for 11. They spent a good five minutes arguing about who would cover the check, Jamie or Jordie and for a hot second, they both agreed that you would cover it– but a quick reminder that you were a college senior with no job and an unpaid internship, shut them down real quick. Otherwise, dinner was fun and heartwarming.

Your parents had invited Big Rig and Tyler along– Big Rig once they learned that he and Kennedy were an item, and Tyler because he was like another son to them, and Jamie's best friend. Luckily for you, the way everyone ended up being seated around the table, you had Kennedy and Big Rig to your right, and Tyler to your left, before it moved on to Jenn at the end of the table with your niece. The conversations were flowing all across the table and seemingly never-ending, everyone around the table, at least once, having the conversation focused on them. With Big Rig, it was his sister and if he liked being back in Dallas versus being in Pittsburgh.

With Kennedy, it was how her family's work is going and whether she was ready to deal with the Canadian cold come Christmas. Jamie and Jordie were tied together, the same with Tyler when they weren't asking about how his family was doing. With you, it was school and how your internship with the team was going– and God the conversation seemed never-ending. But you weren't sure if it was because you hated being the topic of everyone at dinner or if it was Tyler's hand resting on your thigh.

The entire night, beneath the table Tyler had been touching you. At first, it was knocking his knee against your own now and then before full on pressing his leg against yours. Then it escalated to him touching your leg and eventually keeping a hold on your leg throughout dinner. Acts that seemingly everyone around the table was oblivious to. And during dinner, the two of you kept up your chirping at one another like it was another day in the locker room, though there were few moments that slipped through, where it was like you were the only two in the room. A time, that once or twice, Kennedy had to nudge you with her knee to warn you that your flirtationship with Tyler was starting to make its presence known in front of your family. You would then nudge Tyler with your leg, signaling for him that the two of you needed to cool it down a little, but then you'd place a hand on his thigh, letting him know that a little touch was still okay. While keeping it on the low was a high priority, you couldn't help but feel reassured about Tyler's feelings towards you with those small touches– for they cast away any doubts you'd been thinking only hours before.

Everything was fine until you got up to go to the bathroom just before Jordie handed off his card to pay the bill, at least you thought it was. Because the moment you walked out of the bathroom, Jordie was leaning against the awning for the bathroom hallway, waiting for you. "Creeper isn't a good look, Jordie." You joked, brushing by him as you continued to shake your hands dry of the water that the air dryer didn't get.

"Is there something going on with you and Seggy?"

The question stopped you in your tracks, both because you had feared that maybe he had picked up on something during dinner and because he had asked so blatantly that you were scared someone else would hear. "What?" You asked, turning around.

He moved off of the wall, still crossing his arms and walked up to you. He looked around before looking back at you again. "Is there something going on with you and Seggy?"

"What?" This time, the question didn't come from you, but from Jamie who had just walked towards the bathroom awning. "No way, that's ridiculous!"

You looked between the two Benn brothers, Jamie looking at Jordie as if he was insulted that Jordie even suggested it, and Jordie giving you his 'I'm your big brother, I'm not as oblivious as this idiot so I already know the answer' look. "What are you three talking about?"

We looked to see our Mom coming around the corner with everyone else slowly trickling behind. "Jordie seems to think that Y/N and Tyler have something going on, which is stupid and he's probably just still bitter that he lost."

Your mom just looks between the three of you with raised eyebrows before nodding her head. As if he had perfect timing, Tyler came strolling around the corner and plopped two hands on Jamie's shoulders. "I'm going pee and then I'm headed home, the dogs need to be fed and let out."

You sent up a silent prayer to the Universe at the fact Tyler hadn't offered to drive you back to your dorm, especially after Jordie had seemingly connected the dots. "I'm going to catch wait by Big Rig's car, he's taking Kennedy home...so I'm catching a ride." You smiled, before removing yourself from the situation and walking out into the crisp, night air.

It felt too stuffy in that restaurant all of a sudden and for the first time all night, you were grateful that your parents were staying with Jamie at his place instead of a hotel. That way, they had no choice but to take him straight home before they called it a night. They weren't obligated to drive you back to your dorm and both the Stars and your family were heading out of Dallas the next day.

"Hi, Sweetie." You turned around to see your mom making her way over to Big Rig's vehicle, pulling her cardigan across her chest. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," you huffed, nodding towards the restaurant. "It was just a little hot in there."

She nodded, seemingly accepting your pathetic excuse. She barely let the silence settle between you before she spoke again. "You know I love you and that no matter what it is, you don't have to keep secrets from me...right?"

You tried not to let your face give it away, that you knew where she was going with her conversation. "Y-Yeah, I do..."

She took a deep breath before turning to look back at the restaurant, making sure the coast was clear. "Is Jordie right? About you and Tyler? Is there...something going on between you?"

When Jordie had asked, you were fearful– scared that he would judge you on being with Tyler, your brother's best friend, hell...a close family friend in general. That if he knew, all of a sudden he'd see you as just another one of Tyler's playthings and not Y/N...his younger sister. But when your mom asked, it was like the pressure of hiding it, mixed with a huge swell of emotions just washed completely over you, drowning you if it could, and you started to cry.

"Y-Yes..." You let out a small gasp as you went to speak immediately after your confession, "but please don't be mad at me mom– please don't–"

She took you into her arms and hugged you tightly, a hand resting at the back of your head and shooshing you to calm you down. You closed your eyes, taking in her embrace as you felt your shoulders feel a little lighter at the confession. When you pulled away, she held onto both of your hands before smiling at you. "So you and Tyler, you're...dating?"

"Yes...No..." You sighed, wiping your cheeks and shaking your head. "I don't know."

Your mom laughed, which was a reaction that you didn't expect from her. "I'll never understand this generation and your definition of relationships. Just tell me one thing...do you like him?"

You looked down at the ground, thinking about the last few days that you'd spent with Tyler and smiling at the way he made you feel and the funny moments in between. "I do...a lot. We have fun together, you know? It's just...it's easy."

"And I assume that Jamie doesn't know?"

You looked away from her again, nodding your head in shame. "We haven't told him yet...I'm just, scared of what he'll think."

"He's your brother, Y/N. I'm sure he'll think no less of you because of who you're dating." She sighed, squeezing your hand and gaining your attention. "And Tyler, well he is quite the step up from Cole."

"Yeah," you laughed, smiling at her. "He really is." As your eyes skimmed her face, your heart and brain prepared you for the 'but' that you knew was coming.

"Tyler's just..." Your mom shook her head, sighing again. "He's a little too old for you, don't you think?" She must have seen the look on your face when those words left her mouth because she held onto your arms and looked worried.

"I'm only saying that because well, the two of you are in very different stages of your lives. He's almost 28 and he's been in the adult world long enough to find out who he is and what he wants for his life. And you...you're barely 22, about to graduate college and experience the real adult world for the first time. You still need to find out who you are and what you want."

You understood what she meant and took her fear into account because if you were being honest...she had a point. Besides the summertime, you were in school for 9 months out of the year, living to a strict class schedule and figuring out your day to day routine without the fear of bills lingering over your head. You've had your little taste of the adult world, but come May you were about to get smacked in the face with reality...whereas Tyler's already figured out his life.

"Just...be careful, okay? You can have your time and relationship with Tyler, but don't lose yourself in this."

"Thanks, Mom, I love you." You whispered, hugging her close and wishing with everything that she didn't have to go back home tomorrow.

"I love you too sweetie." She pulled away and cupped your face, kissing your forehead. "Now promise me that you won't hide this from your brother forever, okay? It'd be a lot worse for him to find out from someone else rather than hear it straight from the both of you."

You only nodded in reply as the rest of your dinner group walked up, saying their goodbyes before separating to their cars. You lingered your goodbyes with Jenn and Jordie, telling them that you'd see them come Christmas time before hopping in the back of Big Rig's car and burying yourself out of sight. The entire ride back to the dorm, you were playing countless scenarios of how you'd tell Jamie about you and Tyler, hoping that there'd be the magic one that would solve every worry you had.

Only they all ended horribly wrong.

To make matters a little more stressful, when you got to your room, Kennedy had asked if she and Big Rig could have some private time alone. You agreed because at least one of you was going to get laid after that stressful dinner. So you did what you always did, packed an overnight bag and sent Tyler a text, wondering if he'd mind some company.

Of course, be there soon! 😁 All of your boys miss you (me included if you weren't aware)

Oh also, pack a bathing suit 😏

You quickly shoved your hottest bikini into your overnight bag and wished the two lovers goodnight, not failing to remind them to stay safe because you were too young to become an aunt again. They laughed you out of your dorm room and you raced down the stairs and out towards the parking lot where you knew Tyler would be waiting.

When his headlights shined on you, you felt a little burst of happiness rush through your veins as you climbed up into his jeep and immediately greeted him with a kiss before he could even say a word. "Wow, not that I'm complaining but...what was that for?" He laughed, waiting for you to put your seatbelt on before driving away.

"For saving me from having to wait hours before I could sleep in my sinful dorm room."

He threw his head back and laughed. "Wow, sinful dorm room? Is it that bad?"

"Tyler...we barely got two steps into the room before she straight up said 'I need to get laid, can I have the room?'" You joined in with his contagious laughter. "They're lucky I love them so much."

"Well, I for one am grateful for their horny actions," he reached and grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours and bringing your hands up to his mouth, kissing the back of yours. "Because now I get to spend the night with you and show you my surprise."

"Does it have anything to do with me needing to pack a bathing suit?"

He wiggled his eyebrows and kissed your hand again. "It has everything to do with a bathing suit. Speaking of," he let your hands rest on the center console. "Did you pack the...what did Kennedy call it? The raunchy red bikini?"

"Shut up, that was so embarrassing!" You leaned over and smacked his shoulder with your free hand as you felt your cheeks warm up. "And for your information...yes, yes I did. But if you keep teasing me, you won't get to see it."

Tyler coughed, this time trying his best to hide the fact that he was getting a little bashful. "There are two ways I could take that statement...and I'm not sure which one you meant."

God the two of you were practically downing in the awkward, sexual tension that surrounded you. You knew which two ways he was speaking of, too– either you don't do whatever activity involved your bathing suit, or you go full-on nude during whatever activity. And in all honesty, the thought of being naked with Tyler has been lingering in the back of your mind since the weekend when Kennedy asked if the two of you had had sex yet.

Plus, let's be honest...you've seen his ESPN body issue shoot...and seeing him naked wasn't the worst thing in the world.

When you guys got to his house, you greeted the dogs before he could manage to usher them all away from you. He handed you your bag and kissed your cheek before nodding at you to go upstairs. "Go ahead and drop your stuff off and get dressed, then meet me outside."

The chill he sent down your spine lasted well into your trip up the stairs and into his bedroom. You could only wonder what he had planned but made sure to keep your imagination tamed as you stripped off in his bedroom and put on your bathing suit. Which, until Kennedy said so, you didn't perceive as all that raunchy. It was your favorite, simply because its fabric hugged you in all the right places– making you feel like you could take on the world...if you were going to take on the world half-naked. When you left his room and walked back down the stairs and outside, the cool night air greeted you and the light wind blew some of your hair into your face. When you looked out for Tyler, you heard mumblings of music and saw lights stationed around the jacuzzi.

Holy shit, he put fucking candles around his jacuzzi and had music playing nearby? Cheesy? Everyone else would think so. But the fact that you had just broken up with a boyfriend who never really did anything like this for you...it was cute and romantic. It got better when you walked closer to the jacuzzi to see that the little candles were electronic and you couldn't help but laugh.

"I know, I know, it looks stupid, but the wind and fire hazard," Tyler said, keeping his back to you, across the way in the jacuzzi as he adjusted the volume on the Bluetooth speaker– before turning your way and smiling. "But its the thought that counts, right?"

"Tyler, what is this?" You laughed, sliding off your shoes at the edge before stepping in.

He walked across and reached out his hand, holding onto yours and making sure you didn't fall in. "You've been studying like crazy lately, plus dealing with us needy assholes almost every day...so I decided that you need to relax."

You had to admit, the moment that your body was engulfed by the hot water and jets– you were relaxed. It felt like if Tyler wasn't holding on to your hand, you'd probably slipped under and let the water swallow you up. You never realized just how tired your body was. You sat across from him, extending your legs out and letting them float as you closed your eyes and felt the jets against your back. "Is this what you do after every game? Come here and forget your troubles?"

"Usually," he laughed, moving his arms in the water. "Though sometimes I'll take an icebath upstairs or when you're here, I just kind of chill out. It all depends on how much energy I have left."

You sighed, letting the feeling of the water take over your mind as you laid there listening to what seemed like a top 50 hits playlist. "I wish I had one of these in my dorm room. God, I think I'd go from the library to my bathroom and never leave. Studying is stupid, don't ever do it. It's hard to believe finals are only–"

"Ah, ah, ah!" He said, interrupting you and reaching out for your leg, tugging you out of your relaxed state. "No school talk. This is why we got into the jacuzzi, now come here."

You sat up and walked over to where he was. He grabbed onto your shoulders, turned you around and placed you in front of him in the space between his legs. "Loosen up and relax, Y/N. I'm not going to drown you."

You took a deep breath and sighed, closing your eyes and anticipating what he was going to do. When you felt his calloused hands on your shoulders, you stayed relaxed. Only when he started to add pressure with his thumbs did you realize what he was doing. "Okay wow, did you go to massage school or something?"

He laughed, moving towards the center of your neck. "No, but I've had enough done that I remember a few things."

You felt his breath along the back of your neck as he continued to apply pressure with his hands and dig into your shoulders with his thumbs. It felt good, really good and you had to bit down on your lip to prevent a moan from coming out of your mouth. It was one thing that Tyler was giving you a candlelit massage in his jacuzzi, but it was another thing for you to moan out just how good he was doing. Your mind wandered down the road of no return as his hands kept doing the Lord's work. You couldn't help but wonder how his hands would feel if they were touching and massaging other parts of you and how bad you wished that they would just linger a little bit lower than their current location.

"See, now isn't this better than talking about school?"

You were too lost in your daydream until you heard the moan you'd been holding back, escape from the back of your throat. You felt embarrassed because the moment you let it happen, Tyler had paused his hand movements for only a second, before picking them back up. You sat there, biting the inside of your cheek and focusing on how fast your heart was racing against your chest.

Should you do it?

What would he do if you did?

"Fuck it," you whispered, stepping out from under Tyler's hands and turning to face him.

"What?" He laughed, "Did I suck that bad?"

You didn't say anything as you moved closer to him and crawled onto his lap. You felt his quads tighten and watched as his eyes went wide, almost as if he was too afraid to move because he was too focused on what you were doing. You were nervous as hell, never really one to make big moves like this, but you were tired of just dancing in circles with Tyler and more than anything, you were hoping that taking the leap on this one...wouldn't bite you in the ass.

You wrapped your arms around his neck before leaning in and pressing your lips solidly against his. It was like the first time he kissed you, nothing crazy, just a kiss. And when he didn't kiss you back, you felt yourself begin to get swallowed up by a hole on embarrassment. No sooner than you went to pull away, Tyler grabbed your lower back and pulled you further onto his lap, groaning quietly before kissing you again. This time his mouth moved with your own, setting the pace that you were more than pleased to follow. You were the first to tease, dragging your tongue slowly across his bottom lip before he took it up a level and teased your tongue with his own. Your fingers looped around the back of his head, tangling themselves in his curls, just as he brought one of his hands down to your hip and tugs you against him once more.

Goosebumps erupted over your entire body the moment his hands started to wander across your skin. One stayed beneath the water, constantly guiding you across his lap as the other wandered across your belly before landing on the side of one of your breasts, his thumb rubbing over the front of your top. It was like he had well-timed the entire ordeal, because the moment you moaned at the sensation coming from beneath your top, Tyler stuck his tongue back into your mouth before biting down softly on your bottom lip. When you went to kiss him again, you untangled your fingers from his curls and untying the back of your bathing suit, taking the material and blindly tossing it aside before pressing your bare chest against Tyler and kissing him harder.

You were desperate to get him to understand just how badly you wanted him and when you could feel all of him brushing against your inner thigh, you sped up your movements, rolling your hips against him as he held onto your hips tightly. "Oh Fuck Y/N," he groaned, letting his head fall away from you.

You took the opportunity to reach your hands down into the water and grab onto his swim trunks, searching for the tied strings. You started to feel embarrassed at how you couldn't find them until you felt Tyler stir and you looked up to see him staring blatantly at your chest– reaching for a breast and cupping it. "You weren't wrong," he looked up at you with his childlike smile cupping the other breast and massaging them both. "Your boobs are pretty great."

You laughed before leaning in and kissing him, running your hands down his stomach and coming to a stop, once again at the waistband on his swim trunks. "No strings, you just tug em," he pulled back and reached his hands beneath the water, shifting as you felt the fabric of his swim trunks brush against your bottom. "It's easy science."

You rolled your eyes as he brought you back into his chest and you let your hands continue their journey down his body. To your, happy, surprise, the waistband of his swim trunks was no longer blocking your way. He kissed down your neck as you felt his hands wander down to your bottoms, twirling with the strings on either side of your hips. "Yes," you breathed out before he could even ask the question, even nodding your head in case he wouldn't get the signal.

His tugs on the strings of your bottoms were in synch and you felt him pull the fabric away from your body, leaving you vulnerable and naked beneath the water and on his lap. His hands traveled down to your butt as he tugged you closer against him, to the point where you could feel his cock resting between the both of you.

As he continued his assault on your neck, one bite caused you to moan loudly and he pulled away with wide eyes and a smile. "Not going to lie, that was kind of hot, and I’m definitely a big fan of the red raunchy bikini..."

You smiled, before the reality of your situation set in and you looked down at the water. The adrenaline was running through your veins, making you feel on top of the world– this was it. You and Tyler were going to finally have sex.

"I-I've never done this before," you blurted out, swallowing the small nervous knot in your throat.

Tyler stopped kissing down your chest and pulled back, looking at you. The look on his face could only be described as one that was worrisome as his hands cradled your lower back. "I thought...I mean...you and Cole never..."

"Oh no! No, no, no, we did!" Only then did you realize what your statement had made him think and you wanted to do nothing more than drown yourself in the jacuzzi. "That ship sailed a long time ago, like a lonnnng time ago. Junior winter formal, Jack Makenzie at Jamie's cabin– post formal party. Though, don't tell him that because I kind of lied and said it would be only girls, but it was actually–"

Tyler leaned forward and kissed you softly, a hand coming up to the left side of your face and cradling it. When he pulled away, his thumb was rubbing along your cheekbone. "Relax, Y/N, it's just me. If you don't want to do this, we don't have to. We can cuddle in bed and fall asleep."

"No, I want to do this, I want this..." You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes only for a moment before looking back at him. "I want you, I just...I've never done it in a hot tub before so..."

Tyler tried so hard to hide his dire want to laugh, but as always, he failed and burst out into laughter. He kissed you once, twice and pressed his head against yours. "You're such a dork, you know that? And I love that about you."

Your heart fluttered when he said it, and while you know that he probably didn't mean the big L...it still felt the same. You pressed yourself against him and kissed him until you were out of breath. When you pulled away, you kept your forehead pressed against his as the both of you tried to catch your breath.

It should be noted that hooking up in a jacuzzi, will leave you just as breathless as the hooking up itself– and you were going to be sure to mention that to Kennedy as a lesson learned.

Tyler's hands traveled up your sides, resting on your ribs before you looked at him. His eyes were staring into yours as if he was trying to find any hint of regret– that you weren't choosing to do this because it was a spur of the moment thing. You nodded before breathing out a breathless 'yes' and his hands traveled back down to your waist and beneath the water.

You were waiting for the touch of his you'd been longing for and when it'd yet to come you looked at him to see he has a sheepish smile on his face. "Do you want to uh..." his eyes traveled to the water, "I just don't want to um...I want it to be comfortable for you and you can set it at your own pace and–"

This time, you cut him off with a kiss before laughing and nodding your head. You took a short, but deep breath as a way to calm yourself before dipping your hand beneath the water and finding Tyler's wrist. You followed it to his hand, lingering your touch against his fingers before grasping his cock in your hand. He coughed to cover up his groan at your added touch but kept his eyes on you as you positioned yourself over him.

The both of you took sharp inhales of breath as you suck down onto him, one hand grasping onto his chest as you felt your head fall back slightly in relief. You took your time, taking him in and admiring the slight burn of him stretching you out. You needed to go slow, it's been months since you've had sex and Tyler was considerably thicker and longer than Cole.

"Y/N..." He whispered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear and kissing your neck. "You need to breathe, babe."

"Sorry, it's just...it's been a while and you're so..." His hips tugged you down softly the last few inches and you moaned, falling into his chest. "Oh fuck."

You stayed pressed against his chest, focusing on breathing as he told you too– all in the while, he was stilled within you, rubbing your sides and switching between kissing your neck and your shoulder blades. As soon as he turned his face into the crook of your neck, you relaxed and pulled back nodding your head. "You ready? Can I move?"

"Yeah," you leaned in and kissed him hard, a clash of teeth and lips before moving to his neck and nipping just below his jaw. "Go ahead."

He thrust his hips up, pushing himself further into you and hitting a spot that made your legs feel like jello. When you felt him smirk against your neck, you laughed to yourself and knew that it was game on. You weren't one to toot your own horn, but little did Tyler know, this position was your expertise. You always had Cole melted like putty in your hands whenever you topped him and unfortunately...or fortunately for Tyler, he was about to find out.

You raised your hips and circled them before sinking back down again, grinding down onto him hard. "Oh fuck that..." his head fell back as his grip on your waist loosened, giving you more control. "That feels so fucking good."

You grinned to yourself as you placed your hands on his shoulders, pushing him against the wall of the jacuzzi, earning wide eyes and a smirk from Tyler. "Oh, shit Y/N...are you trying to dominate me?"

Your only reply was a flirty grin and your hips grinding down against him harder before clenching down onto him, causing him to choke on the breath he'd been holding. As you quicken your pace, Tyler started to meet you halfway but keeping his focus on his hands massaging your breasts.

"Tyler...fuck." You moaned, pressing your face into the crook of his neck and focusing on how good he was making you feel...until a jingling sound tore you away. "Did you hear that?"

"Huh? What?" He mumbled, thrusting his hips up again, completely enamored in you to even pay attention.

You heard more jingling, this time your eyes focusing on the house. You grabbed Tyler's face and turned his head towards the backdoor. "It's coming from over there...wait..is that?"

"Oh no, you've got to be kidding me," He groaned, stilling inside you and bringing you closer to his chest as the two of you watched the three figures get closer. "No! Go, bad boys!"

The three furry Seguins came running up to the two of you, tails wagging and tongues out. Gerry attacked Tyler's face with kisses as Cash and Marshall tried their best to get to you. Tyler wrapped one arm around your waist, pulling you into him as he shooed the dogs away with the other. "Go away, you're ruining it!"

You laughed, pulling your face out of his chest before patting it. "I don't think they're going away any time soon."

He looked at you, pouting before groaning. "I just got cockblocked by my own dogs, man's best friend my ass."

"Who said we were done?" You replied, climbing off of his lap.

He raised his eyebrows and let his eyes linger on you before he tugged up his swim trunks and climbed out of the jacuzzi. He picked up a towel and unfolded it, holding it up for you.

You stepped out of the jacuzzi, easily feeling his gaze linger on you before stepping towards the towel and letting him wrap you up in it.

He picked up his towel, wrapping it around his waist and touching your elbow. "Meet me in our room while I go deal with these," he turned his attention towards the dogs, who were all sitting down and staring at you both with big smiles. "Very bad boys."

You watched as he walked the dogs back into the house and took that time to not only collect your bathing suit but to turn off all of the lights and grab the Bluetooth speaker. As you made your way into the house, you couldn't wrap your mind about what just happened. Every time you tried to, the result was always the same:

Holy shit, you just had sex with Tyler.

And the butterflies haven't left your body at the way he called his bedroom, your bedroom or how slow and gentle he had been with you. It's only been a few moments since the dogs interrupted you, but you swore that you could still feel his touch and you were more than positive that you'd never forget the way he felt. When you got to the bedroom, you walked into the bathroom and laid your bathing suit over the tub before placing the speaker onto the counter and walking back into the room.

Now it felt like a waiting game and you could feel your nerves start to return– mainly in the fear of, what if he doesn't want to continue? You were beginning to pace around the room, clinging to your towel before you saw it– his jersey. The jersey he let you wear on Halloween, the one Jamie said he was waiting to get boxed up in a shadow box. You smiled, dropping your towel and walking over to the jersey, picking it up and letting it fall down your body. As you heard his footsteps coming up the stairs, you quickly walked back over to the bed, standing at the end of it and kicked the towel away.

"I don't know how the hell they even got out! I could've sworn that I left them in the–" He stopped in the doorway, his eyes glued to you in his jersey and you could tell that he was seconds away from drooling.

"So?" You smiled, raising an eyebrow as he made his way over to you.

"I wanted to have you the first time I saw you in the jersey," he smiled, making his way over to you. "With nothing but spandex, heels, and those cute bunny ears."

"Aw shucks," you pouted jokingly, "no bunny ears."

His hands traveled up the bottom of the jersey and ran across your bare skin, coming to a stop on your hips. "I like this outfit much, much better."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling up at him. "Even without the ears?"

"Hell yeah," he replied, pulling you into him and kissing your cheek, moving down to your neck. "But I can always go and buy another pair."

"No need," you grinned as he playfully nipped your neck and you pushed him away. "Well, I think we've got too many clothes on, Seguin. What about you?"

"I think we can fix that," he replied and you watched as his childlike grin took over his face before he pounced on you, playfully tackling you onto his bed and sending you both into a giggle fit.

❒❒❒❒

When you woke up the next morning, the two of you were intertwined in mess of limbs and bedsheets. He had his face smashed into his pillow and he was drooling a little bit, add in his slight snoring and you knew that he was still sleeping hard. And you couldn't blame him, because last night was the most physical activity you had in a long time and if it wasn't for your immediate need to pee, you'd still be sleeping too. You snuck out from beneath his arm and he immediately stirred away, glaring at you with sleepy eyes. "No, come back."

"We have to get up, Ty," you groaned as he pulled you back into him. "We have to be at the arena in an hour for morning skate and we both need to shower."

His eyes shot open and he smiled at you. "Shower sex?"

"If you get up now, then–"

He practically jumped on top of you and kissed you before rolling off and running into the bathroom, stark ass naked. "I've got the water, you bring yourself and we're all set!"

"You're insatiable, Tyler!" You laughed, leaning up on your elbows and looking into the bathroom.

He peeked out from around the corner, still with a smile on his face. "I don't know what that means, but it sounds kind of hot so thank you." He disappeared back around the corner, the shower door opening. "Now get your cute ass in here so I can wash your hair."

Your time in the shower cut your 'get ready' time short, but Tyler made up for it by practically speeding to the arena. Luckily for Tyler, the morning skate wasn't going to be a normal practice, seeing as the Stars flew out to Nashville later that afternoon. When the two of you got out of the car, you told Tyler to walk ahead of you and that you'd wait for Big Rig, that way it wasn't suspicious of you to arrive with him rather than Tyler. When Tyler went to leave, Big Rig pulled up and you waved him down. You were leaning against Tyler's car when Big Rig walked up to you, adjusting the duffle bag on his shoulder. He stopped in front of you and took in your appearance before getting the biggest grin on his face.

"What's your problem, Teddy Bear?" You asked, looking back down at your phone to reply to a text from Kennedy.

"Oh yeah, you so got laid." He picked at a wet piece of your hair and smirked. "Last night and maybe some shower sex this morning I assume?"

You almost dropped your phone with how straightforward...and quite frankly correct, he was. "Don't say it so loud, you ass!" You smacked his stomach and he just laughed. "But how do you know?"

"You've got that post-sex glow," he waved his hand at you as the two of you made your way into the building. "Plus your RBF isn't as bad this morning like it always is."

"Oh shut up," You said, bumping into him as he kept laughing. "Don't think I don't know about your post-sex routine."

He gasped, looking at you with wide eyes. "She told you about that?"

You smirked and patted his chest. "We're best friends, Teddy Bear. I know everything." You eyed him up and down before patting him on the chest again and walked ahead of him.

"Wait! What do you mean everything! What did she say?"

You kept mum all while trying not to laugh as he kept begging you to spill the details on what you knew, your entire journey to the training room. And just when you were about to tell him, Jamie came jogging down the hall. "Y/N! I need you to grab my foam roller from the car, pretty please?"

"There's like five foam rollers in the room, why do you need yours?"

"Because everyone's using one and I forgot to bring it inside with me and my hamstrings are dying," he tossed you his car keys. "I'll tell Dave you're there, please!" You groaned, but ultimately agreed to go to his car and he smiled. "You're the best little sister ever!"

You turned to walk down the hallway, giving him a deadpan stare. "I'm your only little sister."

"Fine. Best sister!"

"I'm telling Jenn!"

He and Big Rig ignored your comeback and continued their way to the locker room as you made your way back out to the parking lot. On the bright side, this little detour gave you a little more time to yourself to absorb everything that happened last night, without having to do so in a room full of hockey players. Your busy night replayed in your mind and you pushed back the blush that so desperately wanted to make an appearance on your face. One thing that you couldn't help but wonder, is whether or not last night with Tyler and everything you guys did meant you were official on some kind of level.

"Nope, don't do that," you shut Jamie's car door, tucking his foam roller under your arm as you shook your head at yourself. "Don't be that girl who falls in love with a guy the moment you have sex."

Though to be fair, it was some pretty great sex. The best you've ever had and it only made sense as to how Tyler maintained to get so many girls throughout the years and kept them coming back. When you reached the training room, you stood outside of the door for only a few moments and composed yourself before opening it and walking inside.

You were immediately greeted with wild laughter and chirps being thrown left and right, the focus mainly being on Big Rig. "What's going on?" You asked, tossing Jamie his foam roller and walking over to your designated desk to grab the bands for Big Rig's stretching.

Dickinson smiled, wiggling his eyebrows in Big Rig's direction. "Oh nothing, just asking Big Rig how his trip to the zoo was."

"The zoo?" You came to a stop in front of Big Rig, handing him one end of the band. "When the hell did you go to the zoo?"

Big Rig looks at you before tugging onto the band and starting his stretches, trying his damndest to hide his blushing. "Not the literal zoo, Y/N," Pavs chimed in from across the room. "We're just pointing out how it looks like he jumped into an animal cage and got bit quite a few times."

You were confused as hell as you looked around the room to see everybody still laughing at Big Rig. When you turned your attention to him, your eyes widened the moment they landed on his neck. He had been wearing a sweatshirt beforehand, hiding the purple bruises that traveled below the shirt collar. "Holy fuck, what did she do to you?"

The boys' laughter roared again before fading as Big Rig finally looked at you with a groan. "She just wanted to celebrate the win." He tossed his towel at Rads and Dickinson. "At least I'm getting good sex, assholes."

You cringed, hitting him on the shoulder before moving towards your desk. "Please don't talk about that."

"I thought you already knew everything?" He replied, obviously mocking you.

"Yeah, but I don't need to hear YOU talk about it to your teammates, including my brother," you shuddered, shaking your head at the thought. "Ew."

"Hey Y/N, can you grab me two ibuprofen?" Jamie asked, raising his arm into the air.

You nodded and turned your attention over to the medicine cabinet, your back to the now relaxed and chattering group of men. The door opened again, followed by a whistle. "Looks like Big Rig wasn't the only one who found himself in bed with an animal, boys."

You rolled your eyes at Rad's comment, trying your best to mute out the guy talk as your eyes skimmed the shelves for the ibuprofen. "Jesus Seggy, did you and Big Rig take trips to the zoo together?" Miro chimed in, probably still a little confused at the metaphor.

"What the fuck are you on about, Miro?" Tyler asked, moving about the training room.

"Ha, got ya!" You smiled, reaching into the back of the cabinet and grabbing the bottle. You kept your focus on opening the bottle as you closed the cabinet and turned back to face the room.

"I'm talking about the sex scratches all over your back. It looks like you bedded a fucking leopard!" Dickinson laughed. You looked upon instinct to see him tugging on Tyler's shoulders and eventually forcing him to have his back faced to the room.

The moment your eyes landed on his muscled back, your body froze and the bottle of ibuprofen fell from your hands and onto the floor. Your eyes lingered on the bright red scratches that decorated the entirety of his back– evidence of your night together and just how good Tyler had made you feel.

"Let me see!"

"No, I want to see! Are they that bad?"

You watched, horrified, as his teammates kept tugging him around, trying to get a glimpse of the so-called 'sex scratches', their laughter bouncing off of the walls. Your cheeks were no doubt a deep scarlet color by now and they only got hotter when you saw Jamie bend down and pick up the ibuprofen in front of you. "Jesus Seggy, you're telling me that you didn't know those were there?" He asked, opening the bottle and grabbing two pills before handing it back to you.

"I was uh, a little distracted I guess."

You made quick eye contact with him before tucking your head into your chest and turning away, trying to prevent yourself from any more humiliation. You kept your back to the rest of the boys, looking up only for a moment to see Big Rig looking at you with a smirk. As you walked by him, you reached out and pinched his inner thigh hard, quickly rushing by him and going to the cabinet.

"Let me guess the number for the o-scale...three for four?" Pavs called out, silencing the roaring laughter.

"No fucking way, I say one and done. He's getting too old.." Dickinson chimed in, elbowing Tyler. "There's no way he can hang on that long."

You bit your tongue as an effort to prevent yourself from saying just how many times Tyler had made you cum last night, instead, choosing to focus on helping Big Rig continue his stretching– though it wasn't needed. "Yeah Seggy, tell us!" Big Rig said, keeping his eyes on you and the smirk on his face. "Three for Three? More than four?"

If looks could kill, Big Rig would be buried in a casket six feet under right now and you made sure that he knew it. You grabbed the elastic around his foot and snapped it back, only making him laugh.

"The gel's over there, Tyler. Grab it for me and I can get out those knots." Craig said, paying no mind to the conversation around him.

Tyler was turning red and rubbing the back of his neck in an effort to try and hold them off and you were silently praying that he wouldn't cave into their pressure. "Four for four..." He mumbled and you could feel his gaze scrape over you.

The hollering from the boys around him was deafening as they all congratulated him and patted him on the back. Meanwhile, it was all you could do not to die from embarrassment while dealing with the plaguing smirk coming from Big Rig.

"Damn Seggy," Jamie laughed, patting Tyler on the back like some proud dad. "You've got a real keeper there, don't you? She managed to scratch you up that bad? She must've been doing all the work for you."

Big Rig couldn't hold back his laughter anymore, making a noise that mimicked an elephant as he let go of his side of the band and fell back onto the table, clutching onto his stomach. "Oh my God," he whispered, his face turning beet red.

You were too busy focusing on anything but the nauseous feeling you started to have the moment Jamie unknowingly congratulated Tyler on having sex with you, his younger sister. "Yeah, she is..." Tyler replied.

You kept your focus on the band around Big Rig's foot, constantly tapping his shins in an attempt to try to get him to sit back up. Before he made it known, you could feel Tyler's presence and were sure of it when Big Rig finally sat up, still with a grin on his face. "Well, isn't this a lovely sight? At least I'm not the only one getting chirped."

Tyler laughed and looked at you, seeing that you were extremely embarrassed. In an effort to calm you down, he moved closer to you, pretending like he was asking you a question. "I'm sorry. I forgot they were there and I need to get scraped and I just...came in here without a shirt."

You shrug it off, focusing on Big Rig. "It's fine. Though I'll admit, hearing my brother talk about us having sex is something I never thought I'd experience." He laughed and you looked at him, leaning against the table. "So what do you need?"

"I need a lot of things," he whispered, smiling at you. "A massage like last night, for one." He scoffed when he saw you roll your eyes in reply. "Okay yeah, don't act like my massage last night didn't do something for you."

"Man," Big Rig laughed, shaking his head at the two of you. "These Copeley 206 girls, am I right Seggy?"

You pinched Big Rig again, this time on the inner knee and he flinched away from you as he and Tyler laughed. "Well, he's not lying. I mean have you seen what you and Kennedy have done to us? Ruined our beautiful, athletic bodies with your...sexual marks."

"Yeah, well if Big Rig doesn't stop and you don't stop encouraging him," you turned to Tyler and gave him a sarcastic smile, batting your eyelashes at him. "You'll be getting none of my services from last–"

"A mini towel and some gel!" Tyler blurted out, his smirk falling and his eyes looking panicked. "I just need one of those towels and the gel. Craig said it was over here somewhere with you?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, shaking your head slightly. "What are you–" When you saw Tyler move his eyes to your left, you pretended to look for the stuff he needed and that's when you saw just how close Bishop was standing by your area, doing his band exercises.

You felt yourself begin to panic, but took a quiet, deep breath and exhaled before clearing your throat and bending down beneath the table, grabbing a towel. "I have towels, but the gel is probably with Dave. You must've heard him wrong."

Tyler nodded, taking the towel from you. "Probably, seeing as I didn't get much sleep last night." You saw the mischievous gleam in his eyes before he nodded at Big Rig. "Nice marks, did you cross paths with a squid?"

Before Big Rig could smack him with his free band, Tyler ran off laughing. You kept working with him, adding in new stretches until Bishop finished with his and left the training room. When you reached another point that Big Rig was done with his stretches, he leaned up and put both hands on your shoulders. "You need to breathe Y/N, because you look like you could pass out at any moment."

"I think I'm going to, what if..." You looked around the now, less crowded training room, collecting the bands from him. "What if he heard something? Anything or all of it? I'd be dead! My own brother would probably murder me with his hockey stick..maybe even his skate if he was angry enough."

"You'll be fine, Y/N." Big Rig patted your shoulders before hopping off of the table. "Bish has old man hearing, I doubt he heard anything."

He gave you a reassuring smile and you felt yourself start to relax. He was right, there was no way that Bishop could've heard your entire conversation, and now that you thought about it...he wasn't really all that close to you guys after all. Your gut feeling was wrong this time, you were sure of it.

"Hey Y/N, can you help me real quick? I just need my ankles taped." Miro asked, walking over to your table before hopping up and greeting you with a smile. "Best ankle taper in the game."

You smiled, before walking over to the cabinet and grabbing some pre-wrap and tape. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, opening them once you exhaled and closed the cabinet.

Everything was going to be fine...perfect, even.

#tyler seguin oneshot #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin writing #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #nhl writing #hockey imagine #hockey oneshot #hockey writing #ldyk fic #my writing

241 notes · View notes