#anyway i do my best to stay far away and have as little contact/engagement as possible with that nightmare so this all i'm gonna say | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

x-childish-x · 3 years

Note

(part 1) i am loving these anakin x mother figure concepts 😄 could i also request one haha, after order 66 reader survives and becomes a grey jedi. while on a mission, she runs into darth vader. they fight for a little bit, but soon stop after they recognize each other through the force. surprisingly, vader isn’t hostile towards her while they talk, but he’s not calm either. reader refuses to keep calling him vader. after their convo reader slowly approaches him and

Something You're Not

Pairing: Darth Vader x fem!reader

Fandom: Star Wars

Warnings: Darth Vader, female!reader, mother figure!reader, crying, mentions to feeling like a failure, fighting, mentions to Order 66

Word Count: 1,352

A/N: Hello lovely! Wow I loved writing this request! First Darth Vader request, woo! It was so fun to write because the entire time I felt I could see this all playing out! Thank you for the request and support! I appreciate it so much! Feedback is always welcome and appreciated, I really hope that you all enjoy this one!!

Summary: You finally reach the force signature that had been reaching out with you for weeks, only to realize it's none other than Darth Vader, the boy you once raised.

PART TWO, PART THREE, PART FOUR

(gif! not mine!)

"Rex, take care of Ahsoka for me... I know how badly she wants to be on this mission. I can't risk it," you mumbled through the holo-comm as you carefully landed your ship.

"You know I always will. She's busy with Ezra right now anyways, so hopefully, he'll keep her mind occupied. Just be safe. If this is Maul, we need to know why he's been reaching out to you," Rex replied, his voice sounding tired.

You sighed, clicking everything off before standing, "Don't worry, Rex. It'll work out. I'll be home within a rotation."

"You better be," Rex joked lightly, "Be safe (y/n). May the force be with you."

"And with you."

Clicking off the holo-comm and leaving it on the ship, you quickly set off outside. Pulling up the hood on your grey cloak, you looked around cautiously, taking in your surroundings and using the force to reach out.

You could feel the dark side of the force more prominently now that you were here. It was almost strong enough to make out a force signature, but not completely. Despite the fact you still seemed far away from the dark force energy, it felt incredibly familiar, and that was what lead you to believe it was Maul. After all, he was the only Sith whose force signature you were familiar with.

It didn't take long for you to find the correct path leading to the Sith. Following the dark force signature proved to be an easy task for you. You trekked through the forest for what felt like hours. You carefully avoided all unknown plants and made sure to keep your presence as obscure as possible. You were using the force to the best advantage you could, mapping out your path while still trying to identify the oddly familiar Sith signature.

Finally breaking out into a clearing, you held your breath at the sight of Darth Vader's back. His cloak swooshed in the light breeze as you watched him, quickly thinking over everything you'd ever heard about him. You felt like you were in a holo-film, at the big climax moment when you face off the main villain. Fog would be piling in, surrounding you and Darth Vader as you prepare to fight.

Undoubtedly he knew you were there, and despite the fact, the two of you had never encountered each other before, your force signatures were incredibly familiar. Dancing around each other like fawns, trying to figure out why the unknown was so incredibly welcoming, like coming back to an old friend.

"I did not know you'd survived Order 66," Vader's ominous voice broke through the silence, venom, and hatred surrounding each word.

Slowly you stepped out from the faint protection of the trees, "It wasn't of my knowledge that you even knew me."

"I don't," Vader replied curtly, allowing a pause as your signatures moved around one another, "You're a Jedi unaccounted for."

"I prefer it that way," You snarled.

Dashing forward at the same moment Vader's force signature delivered a harsh prod to your own, you unsheathed your lightsaber. Leaping into the air and slashing down on Vader's back, you made contact with his lightsaber, sparks of grey and red dancing in the calm aura of the planet. He was quick to spin and send a counter swing at you, but you blocked it quickly. You locked sabers and spun him around, doing your best to throw him off.

Despite the situation of your fighting, you found each other still dancing within the force, trying to identify each other's signature. Your fighting was incredibly familiar to him, and his defense was familiar to you. Akin to a thunderstorm, you both fought quickly and powerfully. Neither obtaining the upper hand, you matched perfectly clash after clash, block after block.

Your fierce fighting was like a tornado destroying a small town. The planet around you was calm and peaceful, undisturbed by the fight for life you'd engaged yourself in. It certainly wasn't Maul who'd been trying to connect with you over the past weeks, and you found yourself wishing that it had been the Dathomirian instead. You'd overcome enough and lost too much to not give up now.

Finally flipping away, your hood fell as your force signatures connected, a gasp tumbling from your lips, "Anakin?"

"Master (y/l/n)," Vader responded softly.

A silence fell as you stared at one another. Of course, he was familiar. You trained Anakin, helped Obi-Wan raise him. You'd been Anakin's mom ever since he'd joined the Jedi, and he, your son. You'd assumed he'd died in Order 66, as Obi-Wan refused to talk to you. But now, staring across at Anakin in Vader's armor, you felt more like a failure than you'd ever had.

"You traded the purple for grey," Vader noted, causing you to look down at your blade.

Looking up at Anakin, you fought to keep your voice strong, "You traded blue for red, Ani."

"Anakin's dead," He snarled, turning off his lightsaber.

You mocked his actions, tilting your head slightly, "If Vader was here, he would've killed me already, Anakin."

"I am Vader! My name is Vader," The man huffed, "I killed Anakin myself!"

You shook your head, "I will not call you something you're not, Anakin. I trained you to be honest... true to yourself and your emotions. I will do the same now."

Vader seemed to falter, his hands repeatedly clenched and unclenched. The soft whir of machinery filled the air as you stared at the man in front of you. You took a step forward slowly, your eyes filling with remorse as you used the force to search through Anakin.

"What'd they do to you, my sweet Ani?" You whispered, "Why didn't you come to me? I could've helped you."

"Nobody could've helped him!" Anakin raged, yelling in anger that seemed directed at himself, "He was lost! Gone! Anakin would've died regardless! I, Vader, would've killed him regardless!"

"No," You mumbled, looking around at the planet you'd been called to, "You wouldn't have died, Ani. It would've been like any other mission, any other obstacle before. I would've helped you get through it, like always."

"Anakin is dead!" Vader cried out, his voice breaking, a hint of desperation sneaking through, "He's gone."

Slowly, you stepped forward, watching the way Anakin's chest rose and fell with each mechanical breath, "No... you're not gone, Anakin. You're not gone, and like all the times before, I'll be waiting to help you."

Taking in a deep breath, you anxiously wrapped your arms around Anakin, noticing how much taller he was. His arms remained by his side in shock, trying to sort out his emotions. Anakin's mechanical breathing filled your ears as you squeezed the boy you raised. Tears fell down your cheeks as you held him to your chest, wishing you had been able to help him. Wishing you'd stayed by Anakin more during the Clone Wars. Wishing that you could turn back time and save the little boy you loved so much.

Squeezing tighter for a brief second, you whispered, "I love you, no matter what, Anakin."

Letting go of the man, you stepped back quickly, hoping that the powerful Sith Lord hadn't seen your tears. But you knew that you'd been too slow, and you knew Anakin knew you better than that. Watching as you walked back and disappeared into the trees you'd come from, Darth Vader wondered if he would ever see you again. He'd reached out to you for weeks, and he wondered now if you would ever reach out to him, remind him you were still alive, waiting for Anakin to return.

Boarding your shuttle, you let out a cry as you reached for your comm. There were so many regrets you held and so much you wished you would've done. But the past was not something you could dwell on. You could only hope that you'd been able to reach Anakin quickly enough.

"Rex?" You called weakly into the comm. You waited patiently for Rex's reply until you heard your name called worriedly, "I'm coming home."

Taglist: @nowthisisdark

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eideticmemory · 3 years

Text

TWO GHOSTS IV | MATTHEW GUBLER

It’s been 15 years. 15 years has to be long enough . . . right? Read PART 3.

Set 15 years after the end of Ever Since New York, so give that a read first!

Word Count: 3.9k.

Warning: Usual angst, porn, and poor communication amongst characters.

SOUNDTRACK:

Love Affair - UMI

Debt - Eliza McLamb

Sometimes Sunshine - Seasalt

A nonstop flight, from New York City to Los Angeles, is three hours long. On a good day. And May 16 was supposed to be a good day. A great day. The best day of Matthew’s life. He tries not to think about it, not to reminisce too often. About the way he walked through the airport with a little jog, a little pep in his step. And the way he smiled through security, and constantly checked behind him as if you would magically appear. The roses he bought for you in a gift shop near the terminal.

See, a nonstop flight from New York City to Los Angeles is three hours long. On a good day. But Matthew wasn’t looking for three hours. He wasn’t asking you for a few hours of your time, or even a good day. He was asking you for a lifetime.

And that day, he had booked you two a connecting flight that totaled over six hours, with a two hour layover in Colorado. There was a little ice cream shop in the Denver airport, and they served blueberry ice cream. Matthew remembered it was your favorite, and saved just enough money to get your tickets and an entire pint. He couldn’t shake the thought of flying across the country with you, seeing a few small parts of it at a time. A few small parts at a time, until someday, you two had seen the whole world together.

He bought a blanket for you and, while waiting at the terminal, he sat it in the seat beside him, keeping it warm for when you would arrive. He had a little itinerary written in his notes app, and so far everything was going to plan. He had a bouquet of roses in his lap, and he killed time by looking up engagement rings online.

He didn’t start to worry until maybe, an hour, an hour and a half before the plane was set to depart. He called you, just to check in, and it went straight to voicemail. But he was still hopeful. There was very little that could destroy his peace that day. His hope. His happiness.

He tries not to think about it. The way the seconds inched by like a caterpillar moving across the limb of a tree. Slowly, painfully. The way his hope dwindled, and dwindled, and the insane amount of times he heard,

Hey, it’s [y/n]! Leave a message!

He can’t think about it anymore. The way he spents those six hours alone. Bawling his way through flight after flight, and eating a pint of blueberry ice cream by himself. He spent hours on his own. And weeks, months, hell, he spent years thinking that maybe, just maybe, you would find your way back to him.That the universe would magically correct itself.

And you’d come home.

Fifteen.

It took him fifteen years to find you again. It took fifteen years for the universe to bring you back together, and Matthew spent the first five thinking it was all some really shitty nightmare. It took him fifteen years to get close to you, to hear you say his name again, to get inside of you again.

And he managed to fuck it all up in a matter of twenty-four hours.

His body is paralyzed. His mind is moving a mile a minute, and he can’t take his eyes off the ceiling. His chest feels tight, like he can’t breathe properly. He knows he should not feel sorry for himself. That he, alone, is responsible for this wreck. But he can’t seem to shake it. He can’t seem to move.

“What the hell did I do?”

A knock at your door wakes you up. You don’t remember falling asleep, you don’t know how you were able to. But now, it’s all you want to do. You want to stay in the bed, in a state of unconsciousness and dreariness where you can’t remember your mistakes. But someone is knocking. Incessantly, loudly. And they won’t stop.

You roll out of bed, and drag your body across the floor. Zombie like, your shoulders are slouched, your eyes are hooded. Your feet shuffle along the floor like they’re weighted to the hardwood. Your footsteps are slow, hesitant. You don’t know what you’ll do if Matthew is on the other side of that door. You just . . . you don’t know. The very thought of it is making your stomach churn, and you suddenly feel very, very nauseous. The banging continues, and it’s as someone is using all their force. Like they’d break the door down if they could.

“[y/n]!”

You instantly relax at the sound of her voice. You speed up, hurry to the door, “[y/n] [y/l/n]! I know you can hear me! Open up!”

The door swings open and you catch her with her fist in the air, ready to strike the door once again. She’s pissed, doesn’t try to hide it, couldn’t hide it even if she tried.

“Good morning,” you rasp.

“It’s one in the afternoon,” she corrects you, pushing her way into your home.

“Please,” you say, shutting the door behind her. “Come on in.”

“Y’know,” Everest starts, clasping her hands in front of her as a wild look graces her face. “You’ve always been one of the good ones . . . hell, you’ve been . . . great, if that’s the word. You’re better than the others. The ones that really write my checks. But, um, you’re testing me, [y/n].”

You don’t even have to ask.

“Now, if there’s is some magical relationship blooming, or a monumental disaster about to strike, then you need to tell me now, so I can fix it. I’m a fixer, you know, that’s what I do. So, why are you making this so hard for me?”

“If it . . .” you clear your throat, cross your arms as you stare at her feet. “If it makes you feel any better, um, this is hard for me, too.” You attempt to joke. But you just sound sad.

“Yeah?” she raises her eyebrows. “So hard that you come out of his hotel in tears? And what the hell were you doing over there anyway? Was there a plan? Did he call you to come over?”

“I don’t see how any of this matters.”

“It matters because I woke up at seven in the morning — on a saturday — to all sorts of choas and speculation, and picture evidence of you doing exactly what I told you not to do!”

“Yeah, well, I’m a idiot. Don’t worry, that’s been established.”

“The internet is undefeated. Okay? People are . . . great at making up stories, making assumptions. And as your publicist, I need to know the whole story, the real story, before it gets twisted even further.”

You sigh, and walk over to the couch. As you sit down, you pull a pillow into your lap for just a little bit of comfort. “What do you mean the whole story?”

“Wrong choice of words,” Everest says. “The important parts of the whole story. Like are you dating him? Are you fucking him? If so, how long has this been going on?”

You can’t make eye contact as you speak, “I . . . fucked . . . him . . . a few times, a long time ago . . .”

She nods. She motions at you to continue, “. . . And?”

“And . . .” you breathe out. “I fucked him, again. Recently.”

“Last night? At the hotel?”

“Last night . . . not at the hotel.”

“Sooo, when? — Oh, my God,” she lowers her eyebrows at you, purses her lips. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did,” you nod. It’s a shameful nod. “You know they say there’s no sex like sex in a dressing room.”

“They also say polka dots are making a comeback, you believe everything you hear?”

“Sorry.”

“So you fuck him in the dressing room, and?”

“And . . . we go our seperate ways . . . again. And, then I realize that’s a lot easier said then done, so I . . . I go for him. I go for him . . .” Everest can hear the way your voice is cracking, the way the weight on your shoulder is slowly pushing the air out of your lungs. “And, uh,” you clear your throat. “Yeah. Yeah, it didn’t work out. Hence the . . . photos of me crying, I guess.”

“Mm,” she nods, crosses her arms. “And the other girl?”

You freeze, cut your head up at her. “What other girl?”

“What do you mean? The girls that came out right behind you. Same sad face? Kinda got a Natalie Portman look to her?”

“I . . .” you shake your head. “I didn’t know she came out after me, I must have left by then.”

“Who is she?”

You give her a shrug, “I don’t know.”

“His girlfriend?”

You huff, “Guess so.”

“Ah, so, some people online actually got it right. Huh, look at that.”

“Look, if the point of all of this is to keep me away from him, you can stop now. I don’t plan on seeing him ever again.”

The doorbell rings, as if on queue, and Everest instantly gives you a look. “What?” you ask. “I don’t know who it is. Your guess is as good as mine.”

She scoffs at you, and turns around, marching towards the door with a certain determination. She pulls it open, and immediately puts her hand on her hip. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Oh,” Matthew gasps. “Uh, oh . . . fuck . . . sorry, I must — I must have the wrong house.”

“You sure do, Romeo.”

You stand from the couch, your face laced with shock and anger and confusion, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Don’t engage, [y/n], what the hell?” Everest interjects.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “How the hell did you find my house?” you direct at Matthew.

“Oh, what?” he scoffs. “Like you’re the only one around here who can play stalker?”

“Go home, Matthew.”

“Five minutes. I’m asking you for five minutes. You can time me if you want.”

“Go back to California, Matthew.”

“Look, I know I fucked up. I know, but —“

“Do you?” you snap. You take slow, calculated steps towards the front door, and your voice is lowering to a rumble. “Do you know that you fucked up? Because, if you did, if you truly knew just how badly you fucked up, then you would leave. You would get on a fucking plane and leave, and you would never come back!”

The way Matthew is looking at you right now.Like he can’t fathom what’s happening. Like he is trying his very best not to feel defeated. “Can I . . . can I just —“

“No.” Everest says. “You heard her. Fuck off, string bean.”

You walk away, retiring to your kitchen. You try to keep yourself busy, but you’re trembling like mad and you can barely breathe.

Matthew leaves. You know because you hear the door close. Everest comes into the kitchen, and you feel stuck. Frozen to the spot and position you’re in. Your back is to her, and you can’t begin to imagine or guess what look is on her face right now.

She’s quiet for a moment, eyeing you with her arms crossed at her chest. She leans against the entryway and sighs, “Tell me more.”

Ramona walks up your driveway, and it isn’t until she looks up from her phone that she sees Matthew. She notices him, and he notices her, and Ramona tries to act like it didn’t happen, But when Matthew opens his mouth to speak, she blows past him, “I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

“I know,” he says instantly. He is well aware, but it doesn’t stop him from running in front of her, blocking her from your front door. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, but . . . please, can you give this [y/n]?”

Matthew holds out an envelope. It’s bright red, your name is printed on the front of it in his handwriting.

Ramona glances at it, but she quickly glances back up, “Do I look like a mailman to you?”

“She won’t take it from me. She won’t talk to me. She might take it from you.”

“Yeah, or she might fire me for even taking it from you in the first place.”

“[y/n] wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s usually pretty amazing, except for when you’re around, or when you’re brought up, or when you’re fucking with her head. You make her a different person, dude. I want no part of it.”

He nods, looks down, “Fair enough . . . I’ll put it in her mailbox.”

“Yeah, why don’t you do that?” She shrugs, and she continues on by him.

“Damn . . .” Everest says. “You ghosted the guy at the airport?”

“Basically,” you shrug.

“Well, fuck,” she scoffs. “That is some serious great gatsby shit.”

“Yeah, we’ve always had a flair for the dramatic.”

The doorbell rings, and you both turn your heads sharply towards the entrance. “You don’t think he would come back, do you?” Everest asks as she walks to the door.

“Well, he never listens much to anything I say, but he’s probably a little scared of you.”

She laughs, and when she opens the door, she tells you it’s only Ramona, who walks in quickly, looking for you. She gives you a soft smile, and joins you in the kitchen as Everest follows close behind.

“So,” Ramona pips. “What’s the game plan?”

“You and [y/n] come to my office in the city and we’ll figure it out. Hey, did you pass him on your way out?” Everest asks her.

“Uh, who?”

“Matthew,” you tell her. “He was just here, you didn’t see him?”

“He was here?” Ramona questions, putting on a look of bewilderment. “When?”

“Just now. He left right before you got here.” Everest explains.

“Holy shit,” Ramona says. “What’d he want?”

“[y/n].”

“So,” you interrupt. “Your office? Now? We can go ahead and get going.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Everest stops you in your tracks, throwing her hands up. “Not so fast, you . . . you need to shower first.”

You look down at your outfit. You’re still dressed in Claire’s clothes and they’re completely disheveled. You haven’t showered or brushed your teeth since the last time you had sex, and the very thought makes you feel dirty. You look exactly how you feel. You sigh, “Fair enough.”

“We’ll wait in the car,” Everest nods, and motions to Ramona to follow her.

“What are we gonna do with her?” she says to Ramona as soon as they’re out of the house and walking down the driveway.

“I don’t know, she’s my boss . . . I can only help so much.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve known [y/n] for a long time now, and she’s never needed saving. But, something tells me we’re going to have to keep her away from this one.”

“From Matthew?” Ramona stops in her tracks.

“Well,” Everest stops, turns around to look at her. “She’s a grown woman. She’ll do what she wants. But, that zombie in there,” she motions to the house. “Who walks around the city in her pajamas for a man, is not [y/n]. Atleast, not the world’s [y/n]. People love her. She’s one of the few celebrities that’s kind and passionate and isn’t problematic. I’m just being proactive here.”

“Proactive?”

“She says she’s done with him. She told him she’s done with him. Now, we will just keep her on that path. Few months later, she and the rest of the world forget this ever happened and everything is back to normal.”

“You sound very sure of all of this.”

“Yeah, well, I like my schedules and I happen to like [y/n] so I better be sure. Come on, our ride’s further down the driveway,” Everest continues walking. While Ramona is stuck in place.

“Hey! Uh,” Ramona stutters, suddenly, loudly, causing Everest to turn around once again. “I think I left my water bottle in the house. I’ll meet you in the car?”

“Okay,” Everest eyes her. “It’s just around the corner. And tell [y/n] to hurry up.”

“I will!”

Ramona waits for Everest to continue down the driveway, and when she’s just far enough, Ramona turns around and acts as if she’s walking back up to your front door. When she’s positive Everest has made it to the car, she runs over to your mailbox. She opens it slowly, so it doesn’t creak as loud. The bright red envelope is the only thing in there, and she takes it out quickly. She looks at it for a moment, asks herself what the hell she’s doing. But she doesn’t have time to think right now, you could walk out at any moment. She closes your mailbox, shoves the envelope in her bag, and walks down the driveway.

Matthew Gubler, himself, is a disruption in the space-time continuum.

When you start tallying up the days, it just doesn’t make sense. Some days, every second feels like it’s crawling by. You’ll be in class, at the head of the class, and you’re surprised when your lesson plan ends atleast ten minutes early. And some days, time moves too fast. You find yourself running late for things, events, important people or things, which isn’t like you.

You call it Matthew Brain, and you keep that term to yourself. It happened fifteen years ago. And it’s happening now. It’s a slow, steady descent back to earth, back to reality. Time isn’t real with him, and you think that’s the reason you can’t remember much of your senior year. It’s a rush, a high to even be near him, and it’s the ultimate collapse when he’s gone. Really gone. Out of the life, for the second time.

Time has reset.

And what feels like one month with Matthew Gubler, only turns out to be four days.

You’re on a journey back to earth, and you haven’t even reached the bottom yet. It’s coming, but not now, you thought. You have time to prepare. And this time you’ll be ready. Ready to hit rock bottom, and spend another fifteen years digging yourself out. You have time, you’re sure of it.

Then Ramona comes into your office. She notices you crying, and you have to twirl around in your chair while you wipe the tears away. “Shit, Ro,” you try to laugh. “What’s up?”

“Uh, your afternoon class?” she reminds you. “With the girls at the community center? . . . What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

A lot. Not anything that you can really talk to Ramona about. And each day is something different. Like today, you’re feeling like a fucking idiot. You feel unbelievably stupid and lost and question why anyone in their right mind would choose to learn anything from you. You feel defeated, and you can’t get the look on that girl’s face out of your head.

You turn to Ramona with a soft smile, “I’m fine. I forgot about the class, thank you for reminding me. I just have to grab a few things before I go.”

“Well,” she sets her bag down in one of the chairs on the opposite side of your desk. She takes a seat in the other, “You’ve got some time, I haven’t even called the ride yet.”

You eye her, suspicious furrowing your eyebrows, “Oh, don’t do that.”

“Do what?” she seems genuinely confused.

“Sit there and feel sorry for me. I don’t need pity. I’m alright.”

“I’ve never seen you cry before . . . I’m just worried.”

“And I appreciate that, kid, I really do. But you don’t have to be, alright?”

“. . . okay.” she shrugs.

“Anyways,” you change the subject. “How much time do I have until I’ve gotta be out of here?”

“Um, I can call you a ride now, it should be here in about, ten minutes?” Ramona pulls her phone from her pocket, and holds it up as she dials the number.

“Sounds good,” you nod.

She leaves the room to make the call, and when she closes the door, you release a big sigh. As if you’d been holding it in the whole time she was here. You get up from your chair, and walk around the desk. Not paying attention, you stub your toe into the adjacent chair, so hard that the chair falls to the ground.

“Ow! Son of a b—“ your yelp is cut off by a painful groan, and your reach down to hold your foot. You look out in front of you, and Ramona’s entire bag has spilled out across the floor. “Fuck,” you mumble and instantly begin to clean it up.

It’s bright red. And it sticks out like a sore thumb. You reach over to grab it, but only because you recognized his hand writing. You run your fingers over your name, and your head is starting to hurt from the amount of pure confusion.

The door swings open, “Okay, they’ll be here in fifteen, but you have some wiggle room —“ Ramona stops when she sees the item in your hand.

You stand up straight, look her in the eye. She’s shaking. She’s trembling, and there are already tears in her eyes.

“I . . . can explain,” she says.

“Then explain.”

“Matthew . . . wanted me to — to give that to you.”

“When?”

“When, um, when he was at your house on Saturday.”

“You said you didn’t see him. You acted like you didn’t even know he had been there. You took this from him?” your voice goes up at slight octave. Not by much, but it stills cuts Ramona like a knife.

“No! No, I didn’t take it from him. I told him to put it in the mailbox. Which he did, but then I . . .”

“You? You what? Went into my mailbox and took it? Are you kidding?”

“It was crazy! I know! It was absolutely insane of me! But—But Everest was saying all these things about protecting your image, and being proactive, I just wanted to help. I thought —“

“Everest? Everest knew about this?”

“No. No. I took it when she wasn’t looking, and I just, I thought maybe if you didn’t know about the letter, you would be able to move on, y’know? Heal.”

“That was not your decision to make.”

“I know. [y/n], I’m so sorry. I can’t — I can’t even begin —“

“You’re right,” you interrupt her. “You can’t.”

You look down at the envelope in your hands, and shake your head. “God, Ro, I can barely look at you right now.”

“I’m sorry . . .”

You nod.

“I’ll . . . go wait for the car,” she nods, sadly and apologetically exiting the room.

You close the door behind her, and press your back against it. You slide to the floor, and bring the evelope close to your face. The day is not over, and you may need all night to take this in. You are not mentally prepared for whatever is in your hands, but, you rip it open anyway.

There’s a thin piece of paper inside. You pick it up, and it feels so frail that you worry it might rip. You set it on top of the envelope, and examine it. Your eyes dot over the page, until you realize, it’s not a letter at all.

American Airlines

[y/n] [y/l/n]

Seat: 14A

May Sixteenth, 2002

It’s a plane ticket. From fifteen years ago.

One you’ve never seen.

One you’ve never touched.

And now that it’s in your hands, you wish you never knew it existed.

#mgg #esny #tg #mine

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vannybarber · 4 years

Text

The Prenup: Part Three

Summary: After four years of being together and finally being engaged, Chris wants you to sign a prenup.

Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, chris getting his ass handed to him, a lot of pain.

Part One Part Two

After Chris' little sob moment, he got his shit together and went back to where his family was. There was no way he was going to get you back crying like a baby when he was at fault. He needed to fix this, but you had to be on board in order first

He sits back on the couch, his mother and siblings not even realizing he entered the room, for they were having their own squabble. Scott's voice being the loudest out of everyone of course.

He sees his phone and goes to grab it. Carly notices him and speaks up.

"Chris is there anywhere you think she could be? Any place you guys have gone that's sentimental or something?" She's trying her best, but it wasn't enough. For all Chris knew, you could've been in numerous places. Everywhere you went was special.

When you both aren't working, you're on an adventure after another. You both loved to explore and were the perfect partners for each other to do it. You guys had traveled everywhere.

"I have no idea. I really fucked up and I don't even know where to begin to fix this" he breathes out, voice wavering gradually at every word. "Why do I always do this?"

It's Lisa's turn to speak up. "Do what?"

"Why do I always sabotage everything good in my life? Specifically love. It's like whenever it gets too good to be true, I back away. This time, I decided to wait four years to mess this up."

"Chris," Shanna calls. "You have a good woman." She pauses. "A great woman. She has put up with your shit and gave up so much to be with you. That's exactly what you wanted. Someone to really prove their love for you and she did that. You cannot go back on that now."

"Look how that's going." Scott doesn't fail to add a snarky remark.

"Scott I'm not going to tell you again. Quit it." Lisa barks and pops the back of his head. Scott goes silent.

"Okay but what if I messed up for good this time?" He looks up and straight at Shanna. "I have never seen her like this. I don't think anyone has ever hurt her this bad before." And he was right. You'd never experienced this much emotional pain before and the love of your life is to blame.

"Well you don't know that unless you find out. You can't just sit around here and feel sorry for yourself because believe it or not, you have no reason to." Shanna is completely right. Now it was up to Chris. But first he needed to figure out where you were.

He grabs his phone and goes to your contact. He finds you and clicks. All your info pops up and he debates on whether he should call or message. As he's deciding, his eyes wander lower to the location box. He sees your icon on the map.

His mouth opens, but nothing leaves it. Your location was on. It had been on the entire freaking time.

"Chris what's wrong?" Lisa walks over and the kids perk up.

"Y/N's location has been on all this time. I can see where she is now!" He clicks your icon and waits for it to load. A little hope has risen inside of him. One step closer.

"Well this is good. Now you can go to her. I just hope she doesn't want to kill you when she sees you." Shanna scratches the back of her neck because she knows what you're capable of.

Last year, your sister's boyfriend was messing around with your cousin's girlfriend and it got exposed at the dinner table infront of everyone.

Chris and his family had been invited and everything was going great. But then one of your other cousins decided to start some mess and pointed out how it was so strange that they were so close and always hung out together. They weren't wrong either.

Turns out they've been hooking up behind their backs for a while and all hell broke loose. Your sister and cousin are both very sensitive people. Their feelings get hurt fast and this absolutely tore them to pieces. That pissed you off and you went straight for the girlfriend. Then you went for the boyfriend but only got a kick to the spleen before Chris snatched you up.

She went to the hospital with a broken nose and dislocated jaw. The boyfriend had pain in his spleen for weeks on end. You apologized to the Evans' for your riveting hospitality, but Scott backed you up and stated that 'you did what you had to do'.

From that day forward, they did not get on your bad side. But you'd never hurt them. You had a great relationship with all of them. Something rare with in-laws. But not the Evans'.

Your location finally loaded and you were pinned at the Liberty, almost an hour from where you guys lived. Chris didn't even need to ask himself why you were so far away. He knew why.

"Okay I found her. She's at a hotel about about an hour away. Who knows what she'll do next, so I need to go right now." He moves to get his jacket and shoes. Slipping them on he grabs his keys and heads out the door, yelling an 'I'll be back soon' just before closing it.

Pregnant, tired, once again and alone. This should not be the case. You should be at home with your fianceé discussing how you'd break the news to your families about your new addition. But instead, there you are eating Domino's and binge watching the first and only season of a new show you found to get your mind off of things.

Its about a district attorney who's son had been found as a suspect for the murder of his schoolmate. What didn't help was the fact that the father, Andy Barber, looked almost identical to Chris. And the way Andy would interact with his son had you thinking about how he would react to your little surprise.

Would he be happy? Would it be too much for him? Seeing that you guys had just now got engaged after 4 years, you didn't see him too excited to add a baby in just yet. You hadn't even gotten married. Not to mention you just pushed that off the table.

You got your mind racing again, so you turned off the show and just sat quietly, succumbing to your thoughts. First, you guys needed to solve your problem before you tell him anything of the current events. Should you call him and tell him to come over? How were you gonna approach him?

Staying mad was off the table as soon as you saw the pregnancy results. You had to be mature for your new family. That meant pushing aside your anger and solving this prenup issue. Then you'd tell him about the baby. You just needed the chance.

And your chance had arrived when Chris pulled up to the parking lot of the hotel. Your icon was still at the location. He rushed to get out and inside, heading to the front desk.

"Hi! Is a Y/N Y/LN checked in here?" His fingers tap the counter in anticipation. The clerk is taken aback but checks the computer infront of him anyway.

"Uh, no sir there isn't anyone here by that name." The clerk shook his head and looked back up at him. Chris sighs and thinks. An idea comes to his head. It doesn't sound reasonable, but he had to at least try it.

"Okay um..how about a Y/N Evans?" The clerk looks back at the computer and types.

"Yes! There's a Y/N Evans in room 263 on the 3rd floor." Chris' heart leaped. You used his last name. After all that went down, you still went by his last name. He was gaining hope by the minute.

"She's my fianceé. Is there a way I could have a key to her room? It's super important" he begged.

"Well we're not allowed to give room keys out randomly. It's policy. But I could call up to confirm with Ms. Evans, if you'd like?" Chris accepted the offer, but not before correctly the clerk to calling you Mrs. Evans.

You jump slightly when you hear the phone ring. You stretch your arm and pick it up from the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hi Mrs Evans! I have a-"

There was a pause before he continued,

"Mr. Evans down here at the lobby that wants to see you. Should I send him up?"

You swear in that exact moment all the saliva in your mouth dried up and your mouth was sealed shut. He had found you and and wanted to see you. But how? Anyways, you had to face him sooner or later. You freaking live together and you can't stay at that hotel forever.

"Mrs. Evans? Are you alright?" You snap out of your immobile state and clear your throat.

"Um..yes. You can send him up." You scold yourself for not putting up a bigger fight. But what for? It would only make shit worse than it already was.

"Alright ma'am. He'll be up shortly."

"Okay thank you." You quickly slam the phone on the receiver and let your body hit the mattress. Well, there's no turning back now.

You don't know how long you were laying there, but it couldn't have been long because you heard a knock at the door. You shoot up and stare at it.

Another knock.

"Y/N?"

You move your body towards the door taking a deep breath. You can do this Y/N. Get it together. This is Chris for goodness sake.

You turn the knob and pull the door back, Chris coming into view staring right back at you.

"Hi baby."

pls- this dramatic ass ending 😭 this was gonna be the last part, but dialogue/ just kept coming at me as I was writing 🥴.

tags:

@flattykawa1 @mayafatimakhan @attitude-times @shawn-youth @traceyaudette @fantasticinternetpizza @kyraroseficreblogs33 @radi0active-thoughts @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @ohbarracuda @katelyneannxo @jennamarieee623 @nicochantez @craycraycraic @ilikeurdad @ppal3 @captainson-of-coul @joanne-stan @ilovetheeagles @cristinagronk16 @kelbabyblue @onyourgoddamnleft @jessycatth @misz-adrii @geminievans1 @saltyflowermakertaco @a-moment-captured @harrysthiccthighss @greatbatprofessordragon @dauntless2022 @f12sfm @allboutdatmarvel @ineedpineapple @illyrianprincess @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @rubyztimetobeme @marianas-studyblr @icycheerleader @obliviatevamps @thevelvetseries @coffeebooksandfandom @shamelessfangirl-3 @quietmyfearswith @jennmurawaski13 @kissme-hs @lvgllre @secretmysteriousperson @arabescapr

#cevans #chris evans #avengers #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #andy barber smut #steve rogers smut #captain america #chris evans fluff #chris evans smut

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sparklingchan · 3 years

Text

Ruby Eyes|| Seo Changbin (Stray Kids)

Pairing : Reader(fem.) X Changbin

Word count : 7.3k+

Warnings : Mention of an accident, cuss words, divorce, a single kiss.

Genre : Romance, Soulmate AU, fluff, angst, best friends to lovers.

Description: Seo Changbin has done everything in his capacity to remove and replace you, yet fate seems to have different plans for the both of you.

A/N : Hello everyone ahhh I know it’s been so long y’all. So many things have been going on including exams and internships and I just didn’t have the patience to write :(( This one shot was written as a part of a collab event by wonderful, dear Ro!

I hope y’all like it!

"So, how's it being back, y/n?"

Your dad looks older now than he did the last time you saw him - probably two years ago, when you were leaving the country.

You missed him, really. You missed his warmth and his wisdom and how he was a sharp contrast to your mother, more calm and composed. Sometimes you wonder how your mother had even managed to get your custody after their divorce.

"Okay, I guess." You lie.

You didn't want your father to know how your feelings are all over the place, ranging from sadness to anger and longingness.

It's a weird thing to be experiencing such a cocktail of emotions when you'd convinced yourself these feelings had disappeared the day you left the old neighborhood, seven years ago. You had not felt any attachment towards the new neighborhood that you and your mother then went on to live for the next two years before you moved abroad for your studies. Yet you feel nostalgic now, as your father drives you through your old old neighborhood.

"How's mom?" He asks, taking a left to a road all too familiar to you, "Is she still going to therapy?"

You nod, "She's getting better, I think. The new country seems to have changed her. The therapy is helping too. She has many friends there now. "

At first when you were offered a job at one of the biggest publishing companies in the world, you were ecstatic. But everything soon died down when you found out you were posted at a branch in the country you'd left behind. It was your mother who'd convinced you to take it.

"I know you don't like being back, y/n." Your dad smiles sadly when he pulls over infront of your old house.The house that contains years of secrets, tears, lies and whispered confessions in front of the mirror stands in front of you, as grand and pretty as ever. It looks different but similar enough to make you tear up a tad bit.

"But I'm glad you're here. I really am." He says, "I renovated the house a little when you told me you were moving back. I hope it's okay."

You smile at the old man, wrapping your arms around him, "Thanks, dad. I missed you. I'm glad you're here, too."

He pecks your forehead, "I missed you, too, love."

Moving in doesn't take a lot of time since your dad had already set up everything. You just had to get some of your stuff and you were ready to kick start your stay.

That evening, your father leaves after making you promise to call him if anything happens at all and when the front door closes, you find yourself in the company of your old room.

You lie on your bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling as you hum an old tune to yourself. And without meaning to, you find yourself thinking about him; The man you hadn't seen or talked to for a whole seven years. The man who'd tried his best to stay in touch with you yet gave up when you didn't reciprocate the same.

A horrific realization then dawns on you,

He'd obviously replaced you now.

The familiar clouds of grief loom over you, threatening to engulf you any moment now.

No. Not now, please.

Getting up from your bed immediately, you shake your head as you make your way to the mirror- the mirror that had encountered more honest tears and smiles and words than any human ever had. You stare at your reflection as tears escapes your eyes, the bright red iris of your right eye staring back at you when you rub your tears off.

You shiver.

"Shit, I forgot to wear the contacts."

Quickly grabbing your lenses from your bag, you put them on, concealing the scary blood red color of your right eye. You take two long strides across the room and pulling your favorite black hoodie over your head, you walk out of the door.

By the time you manage to leave the house, it's already 10:30 in the evening. A quiet calmness has fallen over the town, as the shops and restaurants near the market square slowly start closing up. Your feet are as if on autopilot, taking you to that one place you know would still be open; Yang's Café.

And rightly so, the smell of freshly brewed coffee reaches your nostrils when you walk through their main door, past the group of chatty teenagers waiting outside. This place hasn't changed much, you realize, the brown and golden hues of the place and the vintage coffee cups collection in the far corner of the Cafe are still the same. The only difference is that you're no longer here with your best friend right after school, you are here all alone on an evening too quiet for your liking.

"Y/n? Is that you?"

When you turn around to face the owner of the voice, you are stunned.

"Jeongin?"

Jeongin's family has owned this Cafe for three generations now, from his great-grandparents, his grandparents, his parents and soon enough it'll pass down to him. As a kid, you remember often playing with Jeongin at the park and teaming up with him during quiz competition. He was always sweet and always smiley.

But the handsome young man that stands in front of you doesn't resemble the Jeongin you once used to know, not even a little bit.

"What..what happened to you!" You exclaim, taking his face in your hands, "Where are the braces! And the specs and wow, would you look at the blue hair!"

Jeongin can only let out a few giggles as you continue squishing his face and complaining how big he's grown in only over seven years.

The customers give you weird stares but only the heavens above know how genuinely happy you are to see Jeongin, albeit the fact you almost couldn't recognize him there for a second.

"What have you done to my child?" You mutter when you've finally calmed down and Jeongin takes you to your seat.

"I have a mother, y/n, thank you very much," he laughs, taking a seat opposite to yours, loosening the Barista apron around his torso, "And I missed you too."

You attempt to pinch his cheeks but he is quick to dodge.

"So how have you been?" He asks through giggly breaths.

You sigh, "I'm good... I feel weird being back here, honestly but I think I'll get used to it soon. What about you?"

"I've been good. Graduated a few months back, now I'm working here full time." He ushers over a waiter, "What would you like, y/n?"

You don't even think for a second while responding, "An iced Americano, please."

The waiter notes your order and walks away before Jeongin pinches your arm teasingly.

"Ouch. What?"

"Old habits die hard, huh? You always used to drink an iced coffee whenever we hung out here. I am glad to see nothing much has changed," Jeongin laughs, "You and Changbin, too!"

That one name sends your entire mind into a frenzy. Changbin. Seo Changbin. The love of your life. The man who you wouldn't even go to school without, the man who had saved you from a terrible accident, also the man who probably no longer even remembers you.

And you realise, despite everything, your heart yearns for him, still- for you wouldn't be in so much pain at the mention of his name otherwise.

Jeongin seems to have noticed your discomfort because he immediately changes the topic, "Anyway, you have to try our new chocolate cake. It's heavenly, I'm telling you."

Your reason to leave the neighborhood wasn't a secret, really. It was public knowledge that your mother had blamed Changbin for the fatal accident you almost had.

You're grateful for what Jeongin does, and try your best to engage in conversations about the neighborhood and old gossip you'd missed out on. Yet all you want to do is drive out of the damn Cafe and find changbin.

"Y/n?"

Or maybe, Changbin will find you.

Behind Jeongin, you see the blurry image of a man that had once caused you great misery yet you had never felt as happy as when you were with him.

"Hi..hi, Changbin." You stammer as you see the said man walk towards your table.

The seven years have as if done some magic on him, because the Changbin that walks towards you in no way resembles your high school best friend.

With thick buff arms, new ear piercings and silver jewelry gracing his wrists and fingers, you have a hard time actually accepting the fact that Seo Changbin is really there, in front of you.

"Been long, huh?" He grins, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes and somewhere in the depths of your conscience, you realize it might have been your fault. You'd done everything in your capacity to break apart from this friendship, ignoring his calls, changing your number, even going as far as blocking him on all social media.

So, did you really expect him to welcome you back with open arms when you had caused him so much pain?

Jeongin brings an extra chair for Changbin to sit on and soon, the three of you are talking, maybe not like the old, happy days but it's still better than nothing. Changbin looks at you everytime you throw your head back and laugh, your eyes squeezing shut as his heart clenches in his chest.

You are really back home.

"So what have you been doing? I told you guys about me." Jeongin says, stealing a bite off of Changbin's cheesecake.

"Oh..you know," Changbin giggles, the tip of his ears turning a light pink shade.

You raise your eye brows in confusion.

"Been busy with the wedding and all."

Your heart drops. "Wedding? W-whose wedding?" You try to laugh it off but it's very evident from the way you're gripping your glass of iced Americano that it has affected you. A lot more than you actually thought.

"I'm getting married, y/n," Changbin smiles, "I'm so glad you could be around for the wedding."

Your grief stricken self has not gotten up from the bed since last night and you're thankful to Jeongin for finally checking up on you or else you would have gone deeper into the spiral hole of despair.

"Are you really going to be like this, y/n?"

You hate being miserable on the very second day of your stay. You hate depending on Jeongin. But you can barely move without bursting out into tears,so it seems as though there's no better idea than have someone take care of you at the moment.

"I'm sorry, Jeongin. " You manage to speak when he places a bag full of snacks and drinks on the dining table, "And thanks."

Jeongin chuckles, "Don't thank me, just yet. Guess who wants to meet up with you?"

Your eyes widen for a split second as you sit up on the couch, "Who?!"

No, he wouldn't, would he?

"It's not the person you think, y/n. Calm down." He laughs, "It's Bang Chan. Your senior, you remember?"

Oh, yes, the infamous Bang Chan. Shy smiles, dimples, curly hair, angelic eyes. Yeah, you remember the school's heartthrob. Very clearly.

"I was talking to him this morning and he said he'd be very glad to catch up with you again." Jeongin settles beside you, "It's not a date, y/n. He's an old friend. It wouldn't hurt, would it? You can't possibly sit here all day long crying about him."

You open your mouth to argue, but only air slips out and you realise you don't have anything to defend your miserable state with. You knew this was coming; when you cut off all ties with Seo Changbin, you knew this was coming.

Jeongin is right; you need to go out and meet new people.

You roll your eyes before pinching Jeongin's cheeks, "Fine. Give him my number."

He responds by pulling your cheeks as well.

The first day of work is weirdly gut wrenching.

You hadn't expected yourself to be this nervous but here you are, muttering under your breath as you make way towards the office.

"You'll be okay, y/n," you breathe in, "You've worked hard for this." And breathe out.

A few more minutes of self pep talking and you see all your hard work and expectations go down the drain as you feel a few droplets of rain fall onto your head. You look up and the dark, heavy clouds greet you.

Bloody brilliant.

You see the office goers around you jog quickly to the nearest shelter but you're short on luck today as your gaze falls on your watch and you realize you don't have enough time to wait for the rain to pass.

So you grab your office bag, cover your head with that and make a run for it.

The sole of your high heel shoes dig into your feet and a throbbing pain shoots through your body, as you wince. Note to yourself - never wear heels to office again.

You also secretly pray to the gods that your contact lens don't get washed off. Turning up at your new office on the first day with a blood red iris doesn't feel too fun, really.

"Do you need a lift?"

You had been so busy running to your office that you don't notice when a black car drives toward you and the driver rolls down the window, offering you a smile.

Seo Changbin.

Your heart skips a few beats.

"Y/n, do you need a lift?"

You blink back to reality when he clicks his fingers in front of you, "I-I mean if that's okay with you."

Changbin smiles, pointing to the passenger's seat, "Come on in."

When you're comfortably seated in his car, using his spare towel to wipe off the water from your face and hair, his questions start-

"So.." He steps on the break when the traffic light turns red, "How have you been?"

You look at the digital clock displayed on the cars' LED, and sigh. You're late to work and you're stuck in traffic with the one man you'd rather not be stuck in traffic with. Brilliant.

"Good." Your eyes are focused on the cars outside the window, "You?"

There's a moment of silence before he speaks again, "Fine."

Fine? Just Fine? Shouldn't he be over the clouds, now that the wedding is finally around the corner?

"Okay.."

"Actually, I meant to ask you earlier, y/n." He turns to you, a gentle smile playing at his lips, "I am throwing a party this weekend. I'd love it if you could come by. And I could introduce you to her."

You sink back into your seat, biting your lip, wondering if you want to ever know who her is. Your peace of mind is more important than meeting your ex crush's fiance, right? And if you do end up going to the party, whom would you hang out with? It's not like you know any of his rich friends and cousins and there's no way you'd hang out with Changbin and the said fiance.

You are about to respectfully reject the invitation when a sudden, seemingly good idea pops into your head.

Bang Chan.

You nod, shrugging, "Okay. I'll be there."

You clasp your hands together as he continues driving and you look out the window, unable to suppress the bubbling excitement.

"Great, then." He replies, suspiciously.

The evening of the party finally arrives, much to your dismay, you find yourself seated next to Chan. He's just the same as the guy in your memory; a gentleman.

"You look pretty, y/n." He had greeted you as he held the car door open for you, "I'm glad we could meet up."

His words turn your cheeks into a darker shade of red but your heart doesn't beat quite as furiously as you'd expect it to.

Muttering a small thank you, you seat comfortably in the car while Chan drives towards Changbin's family's old Farmhouse on the outskirts of the city. You've been there before - during summer holidays, he would take you there with his family. That place was only filled with happy memories of sunshine, swimming pools, watermelon juice and bonfires.

You swallow the grief that comes along with these memories.

"Are we here already?" Chan pulls over in a familiar driveway not even ten minutes later, jogging up to your door and clicking it open, like the gentleman he is.

"Yeah, we're here." Chan smiles, "Very less traffic tonight."

You guys walk through the huge metallic gate, making your way through the main door of the house.

"Uh..." People are crowded mostly around the front door and in the front yard, so you and Chan have to push and squeeze your way into the Farmhouse. You hate the feeling of sweaty bodies pressing against you (or holding Chan's hand for stability) but desperate situations call for desperate measures.

"I hate it here." You mutter when you later find yourself by the pool side, swirling the drink that you don't even plan on drinking and looking at all the flushed faces having the time of their lives.

Thankfully, Chan happens to be on the same boat as you.

"I'm sorry I dragged you here, Chan. We could have just gone for a movie."

Chan giggles, "Hey, it's alright. I don't mind, I'm glad I could spend some time with you after so many years."

His eyes shine and dimples deepen.

You whisper, "Yeah, me too."

Chan is a handsome man, good at all kinds of sport, good at arts, very smart and intelligent yet there's a part of you that knows you'd never be able to reciprocate his flirtatious words. It's sad, really, but that's just how life is.

"Wow, those two seem to be having the time of their lives." Chan chuckles, pointing at someone behind you.

It's quite dark outside, the only source of light being a few decorative fairylights hung at random places haphazardly.

Hiding behind a huge, tall bush, you see a couple, kissing each other like it were the last day on the planet.

The guy's hands roam all over the woman's body and the woman is so loud that even you could hear her sighs and moans. When she pulls away to catch her breath for a second, Chan asks you, "You know her?"

"Nope. I don't know either of them."

You look away; what kind of creep looks at a happy couple like that? (Not a creep, just a lonely and touch starved person)

"Should we check out the dinner table?" Chan suggests and you agree with a nod, "I hope there's no crowd there."

As expected, there actually isn't a crowd there - there's only Changbin, sitting and nibbling on a pizza slice while scrolling through the phone.

The moment your eyes land on him, your feet as if stop on their own and your heart bangs furiously against your chest.

He's breathtakingly gorgeous.

By the time you debate in your head whether or not you want to sit there and fill your stomach, Chan has already made his way to Changbin.

"Hey, Bin!" He greets him with a smile.

Changbin looks at Chan with an unamused smile, the same one from your high school days, when these two were named the biggest rivals on campus. You wonder if somewhere deep in his heart, Changbin had still not let go of that rivalry.

"Hey, Changbin." You manage to whisper before sitting beside Chan.

He looks almost angry.

"You should have the pizza. It's good." He mutters, turning to pass you a slice of pizza on a plate, "Help yourself, Chan."

Yup, there it is. The Seo Changbin that would kill to be on top. You feel worse about dragging Chan here now when neither of you were having a good time.

"Thanks, mate. " Chan replies.

Your ears ring with the sound of approaching footsteps, and when a pretty girl comes walking in and takes Changbin in her arms, your heart stings. Like a fresh wound.

"Y/n.." Chan whispers to you as you watch the two collide in a loving embrace, Changbin smiling at her and running his fingers through her hair.

Your heart hurts at how happy and content he looks.

You could have had that, a part of you thinks, if you weren't such a coward, it would have been you instead of her.

"Y/n," Chan calls you again.

"What?" Your tone is harsher than you intended, "What happened?"

You think Chan is about to give you the whole it-is-time-to-move-on talk but he doesn't, instead he points at the girl and whispers,

"It's her. The girl we saw earlier."

The rest of the night is blurry to you, all conversations, all gazes, all thoughts just feel ....like an awkward dream.

"We have to tell Changbin."

You're sitting at Yang's Cafe at 1 am the same night, watching Jeongin's brother guide his staff to clean the place up.

"I agree." Chan says, biting the inside of his cheeks.

While you, on the other hand, are completely zoned out, staring at the glass of water placed in front of you and watching the droplets on its surface race each other.

"Y/n, what do you think?" Jeongin asks when you don't take part in their discussions.

You sigh, "I don't know. I really don't. As much as it troubles me that Changbin is being cheated on, I don't want to get involved in their personal relationship. "

"Let's not tell anyone for now, then. But someday in the future, before that goddamn wedding, we have to tell him. He deserves to know." Chan agrees.

You purse your lips and close your eyes.

Chan is right.

Changbin deserves to know the truth.

"So, how's it being back in town, y/n?"

"It feels good. Weird, but good." You smile at your old teacher, "How have you been, Miss Oh?"

Your teacher adds sugar to the cup of tea in her hands and then looks at you, smiling - the same old smile, except with more wrinkles now, "I've been good. I'm retiring next year so I'm glad I could see you before that, huh?"

You nod your head, "I'm glad too. The school hasn't changed much, unlike what I had expected."

Other than the addition of some new labs and libraries, and the change in color of the walls, everything was still the same. No place in this old school building feels foreign to you.

"Ugh, these administration people I tell you, y/n, they're cheap idiots. They won't spend a single penny on infrastructure unless it's absolutely necessary." She complains as you giggle in response,

"They've always been like that."

Miss Oh gulps some tea from her cup, "Anyway, y/n, I have a class now. I would have loved to stay and chat, really, but I'm afraid that might get me in to trouble."

"No issues, Miss Oh. Go ahead. I'll just roam around the school a little more though, if that's okay."

After Miss Oh leaves, you step out of her cabin and walk the familiar corridors, reminiscent of the memories you have here. Studying a few minutes before tests, bunking classes, running to class when you're late, hanging out with your friends- these corridors have seen you grow in love, in friendship, in life. There's absolutely nothing that could ever replace these memories.

Mindlessly, you wander around the third floor, walking toward the end of the corridor before stopping in front of an old door, way too familiar to not try and push open.

While a part of you tells you it might not be a good idea to go into that room again, there's also a part of you that thinks it's a bloody brilliant idea.

Pushing the door open, you walk into the old dusty room, sighing in relief when you see a particular set of letters still carved on the wall.

CB and YN were here.

You finally let your tears run free, as you crouch down to touch the letters.

Your heart aches at how much you miss Changbin being an important part of your life and how much you miss being his top priority. And your heart aches for Changbin, who is so in love with his fiancé and has no idea he's being cheated on.

You almost want to leave this town and go back to your mother, away from this terrible mess. Yet you don't find it in yourself to act on those thoughts.

Maybe, it is your fear of abandoning him once again that stops you. Or, maybe it is simply the unconditional love you harbor for him.

* Surprisingly, Yang's Cafe is near empty that afternoon.

"Did something happen, y/n? You look really worried." Changbin has his arms crossed over his chest, looking at you with a tense frown.

"Um..it's kind of complicated." You sigh. For a second, you see the genuine concern and innocence on his face, and you wonder if it is worth telling him the truth at all because it would kill you to see him lose his smile but then, his engagement band shines on his ring finger and your stomach turns unpleasantly.

He has to know. From you. In person.

"Changbin, that day at your party...I saw something. " You whisper, "Something I shouldn't have. I should have turned a blind eye really but I can't. My conscience won't allow it. I'm sorry, Bin."

"Y/n, it's okay, just tell me," he reaches over and wraps his fingers around yours, soft and gentle, "You're scaring me."

"Changbin, your fiance is cheating on you. I-I saw her kissing another man that night. Chan saw it too." You feel sick even having to say this to him, "I think you should confront her."

He sucks in a deep breathe, his face completely void of any emotions as he extracts his hands from yours.

"I know." Is all he says.

His eyes drill into yours, as if accusing you of a crime. He looks angry. Just how he looked the day you brought Chan to his party.

"Why are you still marrying her then?" You question.

He sits up straight, "Y/n, I wish I could explain. But I can't. I'm sorry. And please, stay out of this, okay?"

"Why? Why should I stay out of it?" Your voice threatens to break, "I cannot watch my best friend marry a woman who's not loyal. You deserve better than this, Bin."

A sarcastic chuckle leaves Changbin's lips as he taps his foot against the floor, "Let me correct you, y/n. You were my best friend. Seven years ago. You're not anymore."

Your heart shatters.

A part of you knows you deserve this after ghosting him for seven long years. You were the center of each other's world at one point of time.How could you have been so selfish to ever think that your absence and lack of communication wouldn't hurt him?

"Changbin, I'm sorry for everything I did okay. B-but I never stopped thinking or worrying about you. Even for one second. And I still do."

Changbin pushes his chair back and stands up while you stay frozen in your seat.

"It doesn't seem like that though. "

"What do you even mean!"

"Chan. I mean Chan, y/n." He grabs his phone and purse, "Goodbye, y/n. I hope Chan turns out to be a better friend than I ever did." With that, the love of your life walks out of Yang's Cafe.

And for once, he doesn't even look back.

* "Y/n, don't let go of my hand!"

Changbin is panting heavily, his voice shaking with fear as he desperately tries to hold onto you.

He should have known it would be a bad idea to play badminton near the infamous cliff in your town yet when you had showed him your innocent smile and pleading eyes that day, he just couldn't say no.

Your sweaty hands clutch his, legs dangling over the edge of the cliff. Your free hand grabs the rough surface of the rocky cliff to keep yourself from falling.

You want to cry; but you're too traumatized to even let out more than a few terrified grunts. "Y/n," he yells, "I'm going to try and pull you up one more time, okay?."

You don't even remember how you had ended up in this situation; one second you were happily giggling, playing badminton with Changbin and in the next second, you found yourself hanging by the cliff, praying for your dear life.

With all the energy he has left, he tries to pull you up onto the surface.

"Y/n, you have to free the other hand. Let go of that rock." He pants.

You shake your head vigorously, you know you would not survive if you let go of the rock, you'd fall thousands of feet below into absolute nothingness.

"Y/n, please listen to me." Changbin pleads, now crying, "Please. I'll catch you, I promise. I'll not let you die. Just..please."

Changbin sounds like he's about to give up and in all honesty, you couldn't blame him really. Everytime your eyes fall on what's beneath you, a part of you loses hope.

"Please, come on, y/n," he's still pulling at your free hand, while his right hand awaits desperately to grab the other hand. A mixture or sweat and tears grace his face, making him shine under the bright afternoon sun. Your heart aches at the mere thought of never seeing him again- your friend, your childhood crush, your partner in everything.

Well, here goes nothing then.

You suck in a deep breath and let go the Rock, immediately reaching for Changbin. He is quick to grab both of your arms and in one swift movement, he pulls you up onto the surface.

You fall onto his chest, "Y-you saved me."

Changbin let's out a sob mixed with a relieved giggle, pulling you into his arms.

Your eyes feel heavy, as darkness slowly begins to engulf your vision.

"Oh God, I am so sorry this happened, y/n. It's all my fault." He cries, rubbing your back softly, "I'm so sorry. I thought I was going to lose you, oh God. Fuck!"

You want to tell him that it was never his fault, and that you wouldn't even be alive if not for him but your body betrays you and your body goes limp against his.

"I'm not leaving this neighborhood."

Your hands rest angrily on your waist as your mom frantically walks from your closet to where the suitcase is spread open on your bed, shifting all your clothes. She dumps them inside the suitcase, not bothering to fold them even.

"You will do as I say! That Seo Changbin tried to push you off of a cliff and heaven knows what he might do next!" Your mom yells back.

You sit at the edge of your bed, trying to keep yourself calm, "Mom, I told you it was an accident. I fell because I was going after the shuttlecock and didn't notice the cliff. Moreover, why would my best friend want try to kill me!"

Your mom let's out a sarcastic laugh, closing the suitcase roughly. She looks at you with eyes full of contempt and a part of you knows that there's no point in trying to convince her. Her mind is already made. Yet you refuse to go down without a fight.

"You're just sixteen, sweetie. You don't know anything about the cruel world, " your mother sighs, "Rich people are not friends with anyone. Changbin may be nice to you but he only sees you as a pathetic poor girl."

"Mom, we're not even poor!"

"Yes, I know. But those filthy rich businessmen consider everyone below their economic status poor. His family probably doesn't like him being friends with you which is why they asked him to get rid of you."

You think of Mrs. Seo's face in your head, always smiling and always welcoming. You remember Changbin's sister and how she'd promised to let you borrow her dress for this year's winter prom. And you think about Changbin- his face, his smile, his passion for music and his protectiveness towards you. Why would these people ever want to hurt you?

"Mom, you're being ridiculous right now! Do you even hear yourself!" You stand up from the bed, now beyond frustrated.

She walks upto you and grabs your arm tightly, nails digging into your skin as you whimper slightly. "You will listen to me. I am your mother and you will listen to me. " she growls, "Pack the rest of your stuff. We're leaving tomorrow."

When she finally walks out your bedroom, your first instinct is to dress yourself in your black hoodie and track pants, and quietly slip out of the back window of your room.

The cold air nips at your skin, goosebumps slowly appearing on your arms and legs but you're too preoccupied to pay too much heed to it.

You reach Changbin's house and like always, walk up to the backyard and climb upto his room through the emergency staircase.

When Changbin hears knocks on his window, he quickly removes his headphones, "y/n?"

He walks upto the window and let's you in, his heart more at peace now than it's ever been the entire day. The guilt from the accident you had earlier was clawing at his conscience.

His room is mostly dark except for his table lamp. You notice the lyrics notebook lying on the table, open with some scribbles and random phrases on the pages.

"How are you feeling?"

You sit at the edge of his bed, cross legged while he kneels on the floor to get to your level. His hands find yours naturally.

"Fine," you swallow the tears that have been accumulating since you left the house, "Changbin, I- we're leaving tomorrow."

Changbin is taken aback; his heart shattering into billions of pieces at your words.

"Leaving? What do you mean Leaving?" his voice trembles.

You lick your dry lips and tell him everything your mom had told you earlier. When his face twists bitterly, a part of you wishes you'd held your tongue yet a bigger part of you wants Changbin to know the truth now; you didn't want him sending you off with lies in his mind and the fear of him finding out some years later just killed you inside.

"I'm so sorry, Changbin. Mom's just not been okay after the divorce." Your voice breaks when Changbin refuses to look at you, "I know she's speaking bullshit. But there's absolutely nothing I can do to change her mind, I've tried I swear. I'm sorry, Changbin."

When Changbin finally does look at you, even in the dim lit room, you see the tears glistening on his face, mirroring the ones that roll down your cheeks. "Why are you sorry, y/n? I don't blame your mom." He mutters, "It was partly my fault. I should have taken more care, I-"

You cup his cheek, "Shh. Bin, are we really going to spend my last night here crying and blaming ourselves? We might never see each other again."

The words sink deep into his soul, and he nods. He wills his tears back in as he grabs your hand tighter.

"Okay. What do you wanna do?"

You smile a little, "You're not gonna like it though. "

"Stargazing it is then." He giggles a little as the both of you make your way to balcony attached to his room.

It is quiet outside, unlike the noise in your head and you feel the calmness spreading to you when you look up at the stars.

Changbin brings a picnic mat from inside and spreads it out on the floor, along with two pillows and a blanket.

"We'll stay in touch, yeah? If you ever need anything, I'll be right here." He reassures you, lying beside you, hands behind his head.

You smile yet you cannot bring yourself to promise him the same because you know your mother would do everything in her power to push the two of you apart, even to the point of physically hurting Changbin. You would never want that so you'd rather distance yourself and let Changbin forget about you. And maybe, just maybe fate would be a little nicer to you and decide to bring you into his life again. Many years later.

He presses a soft kiss to your head, "You'll always be my best friend, y/n. I don't care how far we are."

It takes everything in your being to not repeat the words.

"Changbin, come on we're getting you to the hospital this instant, okay?" Mrs. Seo is furious next morning, running from room to room, looking through the list of doctors she'd saved just in case of emergency.

When she looks at her son, sitting on the sofa with one of his eye irises turning a glowing red, she is reassured that this is an emergency.

"How did this even happen, mom? I swear I didn't try to do anything funny with my eye." He murmurs, scared, "It feels so itchy, gosh!"

Mrs.Seo looks at him with concern just when the doctor picks the call, "Oh, hello Dr.Lee! Thank god you picked up!"

After his mom walks out of his room, Changbin quickly types you a text,

Binnie: Hey. Did you leave already?

Y/nnie: No not yet. We've stopped at the doctor's.

Changbin's eyes widen in alarm.

Binnie: What why?

You look at your face in the decorative mirror at the doctor's waiting room, one of your irises burning into a bright shade of ruby.

Y/nnie: Mom's running a cold.

You close the messenger app before he even replies, deciding to change your number and deleting all your old contacts as soon as you move into your new house. And as much as it hurt you, this one text turned out to be the last time Changbin and you ever talked.

It has been raining all day, which means you were stuck in your goddamn house with nothing to do but cry about Changbin and your lost friendship and your broken heart.

After you manage to get some food into your body during dinner time, you crawl back to your room and look into the mirror as you comb your hair and moisturize your skin.

(Self care is important, y'all)

Your red iris stares back at you, taunting your mistakes and calling you a coward.

If only you had still tried to keep in touch with him, if only that stupid accident wouldn't have happened in the first place, if only.

Suddenly, a knock on your balcony door makes you jump in your place.

Shit. Is it a burglar?

You grab the closest thing that could be classified as a weapon - which happens to be an umbrella.

The knocking continues.

"Y/n, it's Changbin." He yells, "Can I please talk to you?"

You freeze in your spot.

Why in the world is he here? Does he have anything worse to say? Is he here to invite you to his wedding? But why would he sneak in through the balcony when he can easily ring the main door bell.

"Y/n, are you in there?"

You quickly walk upto the door and slide it open, revealing Changbin, completely drenched in the rain. His wet hair stuck to his face and "Shit. What the- God, come inside!"

He obeys and tiptoes inside your room, a guilty expression plastered on his face.

You guide him directly to the bathroom and offer him a towel.

"What are you even doing here, Bin?" You lean against the door frame, hands crossed over your chest.

He is drying his hair with the towel when he looks up at you as if to answer your question but he stops. His mouth hangs open as his eyes remain glued to your face.

And that's when you realize why he looks so surprised.

"Shit- fuck." You turn around immediately, "my lenses," you mutter to yourself.

But before you can even walk upto your dressing table, Changbin has caught your wrist and spun you around, pulling you closer to his body.

"Your eye." He let's out a shaky breath.

"Yes, I know. Please don't freak out. It's always been like this after -"

"After the accident." He finishes your sentence, "I know."

Your mouth runs dry as his face draws in closer, "What do you mean you know? What do you know?"

He let's go of your wrist and takes a step back, turning around so that his back faces you.

And when he turns to look at you again, you swear you could have passed out there and then.

"Y-you have it too." You whisper, weak in the knees, "You have a red iris too."

Changbin gives you a small smile, "Yes, y/n."

"But why? What does this mean?" You say, "Is it a symptom of some chronic illness?"

"It's a soul mark."

"What's a soul mark?"

"It's a mark that exists on the bodies of soulmates."

You feel a pang in your chest; like someone was squeezing your heart out of your chest.

"Right," You fall back onto the bed, dazed with the sudden piece of information, "And how do you know all this?"

Changbin kneels down in front of you, hands finding yours. He looks more relaxed than he did since the first day you come back to town.

It almost feels like you had been given back your old friend.

"I've been doing my research, y/n. After you left, this is all I've been doing." He says, "This is also the reason why I had gotten engaged. By that time, I had given up on finding a soulmate. So I just settled for whatever I got. I didn't even feel bad when I found out my fiance was not in love with me. For the world, we might look like a happy couple, but truly, it was just a marriage of convenience for our parents' business."

You bite your lips wondering how to respond to these words. He'd laid bare his heart in front of you, something you never thought he'd do ever again.

"What now?" You say, tired.

He intertwines your fingers, "Also, I'm sorry for yesterday. I shouldn't have said all that."

You nod, "It's alright. I know you didn't mean it. And for the record, I and Chan have nothing going on."

"And for the record, I also broke off my engagement."

Your eyes widen as a gasp leaves your lips, "What? Why?"

"Because when I told my parents that I do not love my fiancé, and that I have only ever loved you, they said my happiness was more important than their business."

When you don't reply to his words, he looks worried, "Hey, you don't have to feel burdened to like me back and all okay? Literally, if you want me to leave you alone, I will. I understand-"

You pull him by the nape and place the softest, gentlest, most sincere kiss on his lips.

"I feel the same way, dumbass." You sigh as you pull him into your arms.

He muzzles his face in the crook of your neck, playing with your hair from behind, "So what now?"

"Let's start with a date." You say, "Let's take it slow."

Changbin wraps his arms tighter around you, kissing your cheek, "As you wish, my love. "

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 3 years

Text

@sicktember Prompt # 8: Contagious

Title: Unexpected Developments

Fandom: Pride and Prejudice

Prompt inspired by @chezsnez . The prompt: “What if in P&P when Jane gets sick at Netherfield, the other guests catch her cold and Lizzie ends up having to take care of Darcy. Kinda like enemies to lovers but with enemies to caretaker.” Thank you as always for the wonderful ideas, my friend!

Jane Bennett’s cold has spread to all the guests at Netherfield, hitting some worse than others. How will Lizzie respond when she finds proud, arrogant Mr. Darcy sneezing miserably and running a fever?

Elizabeth stepped out into the hall, closing the door on Jane's sickroom behind her. Jane was lying down to rest, so Lizzie was left to her own devices for the next hour or two. With no obligation to visit with the rest of the guests today, she had decided to wander a bit to stretch her legs and familiarize herself with more of Netherfield. As she walked, she let her mind wander as idly as her feet.

"We're certain to never be asked back here again," Lizzie sighed to herself after a bit. While Lizzie herself didn't much care, Jane and her mother would be devastated.

The cold Jane had caught on her ill-fated horseback ride to Netherfield had proved to be very contagious. Charles and Caroline Bingley had succumbed to it quickly. At luncheon the day after Elizabeth arrived to care for her sister, the siblings were seen to have dark circles under their eyes, with nostrils tinged a raw-looking pink. Caroline was forced to press a handkerchief to her dripping nose more than once through the course of the meal, while Charles kept painfully coughing into his. Caroline retired immediately after the meal, complaining of a headache and did not return. Charles sent his apologies down just before supper, saying he too had taken ill and would be staying in his room. Walking past Caroline's door later while checking on Jane, Lizzie heard her sneezing so miserably that Eliza felt a touch of sympathy for the unpleasant woman.

Mr. Darcy had been the one to carry the news of Bingley's illness to the rest of the party, but Elizabeth had hardly seen him since. She gathered he was either passing the time in his own room or else keeping Charles company. It seemed his immune system was hearty, for he hadn't seemed ill when she had last spoken to him.

Several days had now elapsed since the onset of Jane's illness, and the eldest Bennett sister was doing much better, and in fact really had no need of a caregiver anymore, though she had said more than once that she was glad Elizabeth was there for the company. With any luck, the sisters would be able to go home in a few days, as long as the others had recovered as well. Elizabeth found this thought encouraging as she continued to explore.

Eventually she came to a hallway at the far side of the house that she was sure would be a dead end and likely empty, but she preferred to look at it anyway, for perhaps it would have a nice view out the window. The hallway was in fact a dead end, but was far from empty.

Coming around the corner, she stopped short, for at the end of the hallway and facing the window was Mr. Darcy. With some amusement she realized he was about to sneeze, for he was hunched over with his handkerchief pressed to his face and his breath hitching desperately.

"Heh-ZZZIIIH'shieww! HIIHHK'choo!" He did his best to muffle the sound into his handkerchief, but was mostly unsuccessful. The sneezes were wet and miserable-sounding, and while Elizabeth couldn't see his face, she could imagine his equally miserable expression, for he sneezed like someone with a thick, burgeoning head cold.

She had a choice to make. She could very easily walk away and pretend she had seen nothing, leaving him and his cold to their own devices. After all, the fact that he had hidden away in this corner indicated that he didn't want to be discovered, and while he had been overall civil to her since she had come to stay here, his haughty pride and past treatment of her were not quickly forgotten. Or, she could offer him aid.

"Hih'GEHH'shuuh!" This 3rd sneeze, whether part of the trio or on its own (it was hard to be sure) was the most desperate and miserable sounding of them all. His shoulders slumped wearily as he tended to his nose in the aftermath, and she thought she heard him say something like "ick" as he did so as well.

"Bless you, sir," said Elizabeth boldly, coming fully into the hallway. He leapt around as if he'd been shot, his face reddening. She could see him frantically trying to think of a way to explain himself.

"My apologies," he muttered at last, gruffly. "That was most undignified."

"You have no need to apologize, for you didn't know I was here. It is I who should apologize for startling you. However, I wanted to ask after your health, for you sound most unwell."

"I am fine," he muttered, clearly uncomfortable. Looking closer at him, Lizzie saw the flush over his face might not be due entirely to embarrassment, but perhaps also to fever, for his eyes had the same unhealthy cast she had seen in Jane's eyes only a few days before. He was also swaying slightly where he stood, and had a dampness of sweat along his hairline.

"Might I offer to accompany you to your room, sir? You look as if you needed to lie down for a spell."

"That is… unnecessary. I can…." He cut himself off with a rough cough. She could tell he was desperately trying to think of an excuse as to why she shouldn't be the one assisting him. However, they both knew that Charles was sick (quite sick, if the murmurs she'd heard from the staff were to be believed), and that all the servants were overworked as it was with taking care of their master and his sister.

"I'm sure you're quite busy with your sister. You need not concern yourself with me," he finally rasped.

"On the contrary, she is resting peacefully, while you are positively trembling and look to be on the verge of collapse from fever. Take my arm and we shall see you to your quarters."

Mr. Darcy hesitated another moment, still casting around for some excuse. Knowing what needed to be done, Elizabeth moved to his side and gently linked her arm around his. She felt her heart flutter as their hands made brief contact. The fleeting thought crossed her mind that this was the first time they had touched. She had certainly imagined it occurring under different circumstances. Shaking away such thoughts, she started to walk, leading the much taller man toward his quarters. Mr. Darcy was enough of a gentleman to follow without further protest.

As they walked, both of Mr. Darcy's arms were occupied, for the hand that wasn't linked with Elizabeth's was busy pressing his handkerchief to his face. Every few steps his shoulders would twitch, either from a stifled cough or a thick sniffle. She could sense he was desperately trying not to sneeze again. Between that and the fact that his large form was positively radiating heat, Elizabeth found herself quite distracted by him, and watched him intently out of the corner of her eye. The walk was a quiet one, for Elizabeth didn’t want to burden him with conversation when he was clearly otherwise engaged, not to mention ill.

They made it to his room without interruption, sneezing or otherwise. She allowed him to open the door, then she ushered them both in, with more than a little awkwardness on all sides. Mr. Darcy went immediately to sit on his bed, sinking down as if compelled by gravity, leaning his head into his hands as he continued to tremble.

"A headache troubles you as well, then?" she asked after observing his motionless form for a moment.

He nodded pathetically, not looking up. Out of nowhere, and startling them both, his breath hitched violently before a pair of sneezes erupted out of him. Thankfully they were directed at the floor. He pressed his damp handkerchief to his nose hastily, glancing at her and looking embarrassed.

"Forgive me," he muttered thickly, which was followed up with a cough.

"You need not waste your breath asking forgiveness every time you sneeze when you have a cold, for you have precious little breath to spare as it is. However, I must ask, why did you not alert someone of your illness? You are quite unwell, Mr. Darcy. Anyone can see it plainly."

"I did not want to be a bother, as everyone else was also ill. I thought it best to tend to myself."

"Whether or not you alerted someone, you shouldn't have gotten out of bed today. You've certainly made yourself worse by doing so."

He only groaned softly.

Elizabeth sighed to herself. "Please, if I may, let me help you feel more comfortable. You need to rest."

Hesitantly she approached him as he looked up to finally meet her eyes. With a gentle touch she guided him to sit up straighter, then deftly removed his cravat. She sensed more than heard his sigh of relief once it was off, and found herself letting her hand rest on his hot cheek under the pretense of checking his fever. He seemed to enjoy the touch immensely. Her eyes lingered on his face as he sat with his eyes closed, and many thoughts and feelings competed for space in her mind. She did her best to suppress them all.

After a moment though, she broke the spell, and continued to help him remove his jacket, waistcoat, boots and stockings. He assisted as best he could with these attentions, but said nothing, merely following her every move with his guarded, intense gaze. Once the garments were set aside and he was looking much more loose and comfortable, if also embarrassed to be seen in such an undressed state, she pressed a glass of water into his hands and watched as he drank it down.

She took the glass from him, and setting it down, took up a cold, wet rag. She placed it against the back of his neck and was rewarded with a relieved sigh. From there she bathed the rest of his neck and the bit of chest that was visible, ensuring her gaze stayed far from his, but unable to help a bit of a blush creeping over her cheeks at such acts of intimacy with such a person. With continued gentleness, she pressed him back against the pillows. The movement of course made him cough pitifully. Soaking the cloth once more, she laid it on his forehead and left it there as she straightened the pillows around him.

That done, they simply surveyed each other for a moment. Mr. Darcy looked ill and altogether unimposing, lying in bed as he was, with tired circles under his eyes, a hacking cough, and a dripping nose.

"Are you feeling any better?" she asked hesitantly.

"Some," he grunted. "Now that I'm lying down."

"Excellent. Are you hungry at all? I think perhaps you should eat something."

His intense stare and large, warm presence were making her nervous all over again and causing her to seek escape from the small room.

"I suppose I could eat," he murmured.

"Yes, good. Then let me go fetch you some soup. I'll be back soon." She bustled out of the room immediately, a blush rising to her face, of uncertain cause. She did her best to quiet her racing thoughts as she sped toward the kitchen.

Mr. Darcy, for his part, was totally smitten with her. He was now convinced her fine eyes were the centerpiece of her completely wonderful countenance and figure. He watched the space where the corner of her skirt had disappeared intently, waiting for her return and recalling again and again the feel of her cool hand on his face.

(Part 1 of 2)

#sicktember2021 #sickfic #everyone is hotter with a fever #prompt 8

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angeloroki · 3 years

Text

broken engagement. 2. — i. midoriya

— part one.

— character ; aged up!izuku midoriya x gn!reader

— genre ; angst

— warnings ; curses

— a/n ; part 2 bc you wanted it, but i never said it'd be fluffy :(

please let me know if there are any female pronouns (i'm doing it unintentionally sorry :/), i want to keep this writing as inclusive as possible!!

« hey.., it's me, again.

please call me back. i never wanted this. »

message deleted.

this was at least the 10th time you repeated the process. your ex-fiancé would leave you a voicemail, you'd listen to it all the way through, even though your friend advised you long ago to block him, and then you'd delete it, reluctantly.

maybe that's why he's been so insistent for the past month. the fact that you haven't blocked him or deleted him from your contacts could only give him hope.

and yet, you'd like to pick up the phone and tell him what an asshole he is. and that it was over, that you could never love him again, and even why not lie to him and tell him you were seeing someone else, and blah blah blah.

but it was all wrong.

you still loved him, even after crying for days.

" i don't know if my feelings for you are strong enough to satisfy you. "

he had made you believe for weeks that the fairy tale you were living with him was real. it was a change from the cheesy endings in disney movies. what a bastard.

you sighed to yourself, gazing at the engagement ring that lay far away on the bedside table.

it gleamed in the moonlight, beautiful, representing the love izuku had for you. now it was just the bearer of the bitter words he had spat in your face.

you looked away.

« y/n hun, i'm going to a friend's house. it's my date i've been telling you about for two weeks now, i hope he's worth it or else you'll hear me complaining, she says in a weary voice. i left the dish in the fridge for you, and please don't resume your series on my netflix account, it's too boring to know where i left off. » your friend shouts from the front door.

you smile slightly.

« i'll try, but i can't promise anything. »

« hahaha, no but for real, i'm serious. anyway, see you later honey, and wish me luck. »

it's been a month since you moved in with your friend, she insisted that you stay with her until you find another apartment. and she was a good cook, so how could you refuse ?

you sat down in front of the tv, and resumed the series you had started. a pathetic love story, the married boy who falls in love with a woman who is pregnant, even though she is a virgin?

you rolled your eyes before turning off the tv. everything was about him, when you're on social media and you see a couple of friends already married, or when a jewelry commercial would be airing right when you turn on the tv, and of course the dates that are coming up on your best friend's side.

it's as if fate didn't want you to forget him.

you were going to have a piece of cake, and you were going to start a horror movie. just to chase away that too sad cloud over your head.

of course, your new roommate had finished the raspberry bush, and so it was her fault that you found yourself at 11pm, in the 24 hour supermarket, in front of an old shop window wondering if ice cream was better after all.

with a Ben & Jerry's in hand, you headed to the cash register to pay and quickly return to your blanket cave.

« ouch ! » you exclaimed.

you had just bumped into someone, who was strangely tall by the way. you were about to apologize and ignore the stranger, when his scent shocked you. it couldn't be possible ? he couldn't be standing in front of you, at 11 pm, in a supermarket, and especially more than 25 kilometers away from your old apartment. argh. obviously this is the only store in town that sells his favorite snacks.

« y/n... »

you finally dared to meet his eyes. he hadn't changed, no wonder, it had only been a month since you left, but you expected something huge when you saw him again. his well-shaped jaw made you want to cover it with kisses. no, stop, y/n. but he smelled so good. " i don't even know if i want to get married ! " that truth echoed in your head. fuck, you had almost forgotten that he had broken up with you.

« what ? » your voice was as hard as a rock.

without giving him time to answer, like last time, you left him hanging and headed for the exit. never mind the ice cream, you'll come and buy it another time.

« what do you mean what ? i've been trying to call you for a month. »

he followed you, leaving his groceries behind too. a breath came from your lips, forming a small cloud of coolness in front of you.

the situation was so cliché that a dry little laugh escaped from you.

« how strange ? i've been ignoring you for a month now. » you said with sarcasm in your voice.

he took your hand gently and suddenly at the same time.

« stop this, and let me explain. »

you felt the melancholy in his voice, his expression camouflaged by a big scarf couldn't hide all the tears he had already started to cry. you just wanted to hold him, to tell him that you were going to get through this together.

you repressed the urge.

no, he was being unfair to you and your feelings. so he didn't deserve your pity.

you disengaged yourself from his grip, and it was with some regret that you saw that he did not try to hold you.

« there's nothing to explain, midoriya. i was stupid not to see that you didn't love me as much. or that i loved you too much. so please let it go. »

« how can you ask me to let go of the love of my life ? stop being so sutpid. »

your eyes widened. did you hear right ?

« i beg your pardon ? was it me who said I didn't want to get married anymore ? was it me who rejected her fiancé for months for absolutely no reason ? was it me who broke your fucking heart when i was patient, and patient ? so don't talk to me about the "love of my life". »

he didn't answer, and a long silence fell between you. you had to bite your lip to keep your tears where they were, in the corner of your eyes. he just needed to say a word, a phrase or even a fucking onomatopoeia to make you stay.

the absence of an answer made you smile sadly.

« midoriya please forget about me. »

« you still have it? the engagement ring, i mean. »

you felt your throat tighten. no need to lie.

"indeed, yes."

a faint smile settled on his face, reddened by the cold. silently, you slipped your hands into your pockets. he was cute that way.

« ...miss your cooking, too. » he said half amused, half saddened.

your exhausted laughter echoed in the street.

« izuku, don't make it worse for yourself. » you said in a tired voice.

the fact that you called him by his first name brought the stars back into his eyes. your tongue came to moisten your lips, you wanted to feel his against yours. just once, before you went home. because you knew that your story wasn't a fairy tale. that even though you loved him madly, and maybe he loved you too, his sweet words couldn't erase the obnoxious behavior and insensitive words he'd thrown at you for weeks.

and most importantly -

a sweet warmth invaded your body, and his scent filled your nostrils. his lips against yours, you could only respond to his ardor. you melted under his caresses that flooded around your waist. your hands met his collar, and you drew him to you. deepening your passionate kiss, the air quickly ran out.

you abruptly pulled away from him. a look of bewilderment painted both your faces. it was unexpected.

« y/n, please... »

« i'll give you the ring back, but it's over. thanks for the kiss. »

yeah, thank you for the kiss izuku, it was a beautiful bitter farewell.

tagging ; @holykvn @iluvvhewer @0lissa0 @animesuck3r @dekusassistant @cyjstars @softbkg @bobbatea-and-hotchocolate @vegaolive @awizuku @maltese-sparrow @erens-s1ut @djmbgbeast @yyuuna @iliketobullydeku @tecna09 @sxmmio-o @lotusxcos @superblyspeedydragon @taceticbitch @joonie-centric @mishe-qm @ab456123cd @pluviophilefangirl @number1cokewhore @stans-nami @ravngers@quillvinrune

#bnha x reader #izuku x reader #mha x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #chloe;writing #bnha angst #izuku x you #izuku x y/n #midoriya x you #midoriya x y/n

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clairecrive · 4 years

Text

“Voodoo doll” - Billy russo x reader

A/n: and here’s another one for Billy. I got the idea from a request I got for another character and I thought it perfectly fit Billy. As if Ben Barnes could ever be considered anything but beautiful, *scoff* please.

Warnings: a bit angsty, fluff though, jigsaw!billy, season 2 billy

Prompts(loosely): “Please don’t say that about yourself. Please don’t believe that. You’re so much more than that. You’re so…”

(let me know if you want to be tagged to any of my writings)

“Oh, hi you’re up.” You let yourself inside Billy’s hospital room smiling when you saw that the back of his bed was pushed up. He was sitting instead of lying down and that usually meant that he was awake.

“How are you feeling today? The nurse outside told me that she gave you something for the pain but that everything is healing nicely.” Billy recovery looked like it was going to be long but after the impossibly long surgery you were just happy to see him alive and breathing. He didn’t look like he shared your optimism though. Granted, he was bound on a hospital bed, his body probably ached him all over and above all, his face was completely covered in bandages. It was the part that had taken most of the hits and Billy was one lucky bastard to even be in a hospital bed instead of being underground. That’s what the doctors had told you, at least.

Still, you could see how hard it was for him to see this whole situation in a positive way. It was taking its toll on him and you knew that no matter how many bruises and broken bones he had, his psychological health was the one which was in the worst shape.

You tried to offer him all the support you could. Sometimes that meant cheering him up with jokes and terrible puns, others simply required you to be next to him.

Seems like it was one of those days because Billy stayed silent.

“Billy?” you tried again, setting your bag on the ground and taking your usual place by the side of his bed.

“What are you doing here, y/n?” His voice was hoarse from how little he used it these days but hadn’t lost that gruff edge that you loved so much.

“Visiting his majesty of course.”

“You shouldn’t be here. It’s a waste of time anyway.”

“Waiting for the bus for 20 minutes before they tell you that the run has been cancelled, now that is what I call a waste of time.” You complained recalling what had happened that morning.

Since you had entered his room, Billy hadn’t moved. Not that he could manage any big movement given the restraints they had put on him but at least he could move his head. It had been laying on his pillow up until now. He lifted it to try and look you into your eyes.

“I’m not your Billy anymore.”

“Why? Has anyone made their claim on you? Is that what this awful smell is? Your new playmate’s piss?”

Billy made a noise, it sounded a halfway between a laugh or a sob but since his head was covered in bandages, you couldn’t really tell. You hoped for the first, Billy had always loved your sense of humour- he had told you it was one of the reasons why he had noticed you- even if it consisted of terrible jokes. You thought they were hilarious, Billy thought you were adorable. Whatever.

“Listen, I can see how hard you’re taking this whole reversed beauty and the beast plot. But just so you know, I’m willing to let my facial hair grow if that makes you feel like a princess again.” You added on a more serious note, kinda, hoping to convince him that his face wasn’t the only thing you loved about him.

This time, the sound that left him was most definitely a sob. Startled, you didn’t know what to do.

Could he even cry? Wouldn’t it mess up with his bandages? Why was he crying though?

Still unsure on how to go about this, you reached for one of his bound hands only to see that it was tightly close in a fist. Your hand wrapped around his anyway, hoping that this small contact could soothe him in some way.

Fuck, you must be really worse at this than you thought. You were trying to make him laugh and here he was crying.

“Billy?” you tried again in a whisper.

All jokes aside, something must have happened this morning to make him feel this on edge. Had someone been rude to him? Well, he was a wanted person of course people weren’t going to respond to him like they did before. Billy couldn’t even count on his charm and good looks and you knew how good he was at using them to get what he wanted.

Wait, could that be the problem?

You thought about the best way to word the question when Billy spoke again, saving you from the embarrassment.

“I don’t think this is going to work.” Uh, what? Oh no no, he doesn’t get to do that.

“I agree, I’m not a fan of facial hair myself. We could buy you a tiara though. That is definitely going to do the trick.” Completely refusing to acknowledge his words, you kept going along with your previous joke.

“I’m serious y/n.” He insisted, his voice straightening to highlight his intent but still to no avail. Still clueless to it, he had laid on a silver platter your next pun.

“I thought your name was Billy, not Sirius. Wicked name though.” His hand tensed in your hold and you knew that he was getting angry.

“Would you stop joking around for one second? I’m trying to tell you that you shouldn’t waste your time around me.” His voice grew rougher, not exactly the high and strict tone he used to use at Anvil, but you could see he had strained his vocal cord to even attempt a stern voice.

“I’m going to look like a butchered voodoo doll, forget the beast.” He added in a quieter voice. A confession laced with guilt.

“Oh Billy, don’t say that. You’re so much more than your looks, you know that. Besides, I’m sure you’re still going to be the one with the dashing looks of the relationship.” Your voice came out all wobbly and squeaky but you couldn’t help it, hearing Billy’s words, a far cry from the man he used to be made you emotional. You wanted nothing more than to help him but you didn’t know how. And here he was, trying to push you away.

“There’s no relationship, y/n.”

“I know that you’ve taken a big hit on your head, the doctor told me about your memory loss. It’s okay, they told me that some things are going to come back and you remembered my name when you woke up so that’s a good sign.”

Billy contemplated the idea of making up a story about him not remembering about you and come up with someway for how he knew you name when he first saw you after the incident but even though he wanted you to see his point, he couldn’t do that to you.

He did remember you and he knew that the first part of your relationship had been based on lies. About his work, about his past, about his whereabouts when you asked him where he was going to late at night.

He also remembered how that almost had cost him your relationship entirely.

Billy wasn’t one to make promises but he had made one to you. To at least try to be open and honest with you. There were still things that Billy didn’t talk to you about but this time around, instead of coming up with an excuse, he openly said that he couldn’t tell where or what he was doing . That, in the long run, had gained your trust back. You knew it was for your safety and that every time he told you you couldn’t know something, it was work-related.

And despite the fact that Billy was trying to self sabotage himself and your relationship, there was a part of him that didn’t want to see you go.

Yes, he still thought that you deserved more. Not only for his looks but for the things he knew he had done but couldn’t remember. If half the things he was accused of were true, then that didn’t make him a good person, did it?

“I do remember you. There is nothing more vibrant in my mind than my time with you. That’s not the problem.”

“Then I wholeheartedly refuse your attempt at breaking up. You can say whatever you want but I assure you it isn’t going to work.”

“I wish I could say that I did not remember you being this stubborn but we both know it would be a lie.”

“Oh, honey we both know that you enjoy it quite a bit when you want to.” You wriggled your eyebrows, trying and completely failing at making a suggestive face. You were successful, however, in making him laugh.

“Fuck don’t do that y/n, I can’t laugh.” he groaned, his head resting back on his bed.

“Well that is going to be a problem, ‘cause all I’m good at is being a huge cosmic joke.” You smiled at him, happy that he was finally done with all that nonsense he had just tried to pull. Instead, you dived into your back to show him what you had brought him.

It was his favorite comic book.

Apparently, a successful CEO of a security firm had an extensive collection of comic books which was also his most priced possession. The first time he had come around after the surgery, he had asked about them. He was worried that in searching his place for clues and whatnot the police had ruined it or something. You couldn’t see his face but the long sigh he let out when you told him that you had taken care of it personally looked a lot like relief.

What were hundreds of expensive tailored suits in comparison?

You started reading one of his favorite ones, including a very poor but very engaging representation of every sound of action in the story which made Billy smile under all those bandages. He felt like the luckiest voodoo doll in the world.

#billy russo #billy russo imagine #billy russo imagines #billy russo x you #billy russo x reader #billy russo angst #billy russo fluff #marvel the punisher #the punisher #the punisher imagines #ben barnes #ben barnes imagines #ben barnes x reader

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stupendousconnoisseurpuppy · 3 years

Text

The son's warmth

Yandere! Hinata x Reader

Notes: This is my entry for @seijorhi's Deal with the devil collaboration~

Warnings: DARK CONTENT, Violence detail, injury detail, manipulation, kidnap, yandere.

Please refrain from reading if you are uncomfortable with the above!

That said, please enjoy!

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

Generosity. You suppose it could be a bit of a double-edged sword.

Although in hindsight, all you had wanted was to care for the exuberant ball of sunshine you had believed was dealt a bad hand. Parents and younger sister deceased, orphaned at the tender age of 14 and placed in a less than ideal environment - one devoid of love.

You had always been one of a large sympathetic capacity and it had always been a goal of yours, born of the principle’s kindness and compassion, passed on by your parents and sanctioned by your entry into adulthood; allowing you to action your desire to care for a young child struck by tragedy…

You’re not exactly sure, however, how that’d landed you in the basement of your own house with a broken leg and shattered kneecaps.

It was to be expected you'd reasoned at first, you had defied common sense and made a deal with a less than savoury entity.

Too bad you hadn't considered the fact that demons could come in the shape of fair seeming, walking tangerines with an aptitude for overbearing affection.

To his defence (something you’ve now come to consider a very ironic concept) Hinata wasn’t exactly - as far as signatories go - the one you'd even made this... deal with. It had been his orphanage, an institution shrouded in fraud and doused in the bitter aroma of embezzlement that had sealed your fortunes in the form of crisp white adoption papers.

You didn’t mind his clingy nature, the crushing strength of his grip when his hand found - sought - yours… actions that could and would have seemed to untrained eyes like a misplaced and overwhelming sense of desperation, like the shock of betrayal carved upon his features when your focus wasn’t solely trained on him, or the unnerving intensity pooling beneath glittering brown iris’ whenever they met yours during his volleyball matches. Again, this was something you’d chalked down to an amalgamation of a passion for the sport, desire to win and an appreciation for the fact that his beloved mother had come to show him the support he had clearly lacked in the early stages of his teenage years.

After all, what was a guardian without unconditional devotion to their child?

He was the coolness of your eyes whilst paradoxically, providing an all-encompassing warmth (much like the sun) and with an ostensibly boundless supply of energy. Such was the ardour that made your heart swell with pride. It was just a terrible pity – in your case at least - that this energy he had was now being put towards severing your contact with the outside world.

Wanted to go outside? He’d want you to help him practice.

Meeting someone? He’d pout and complain.

How could you refuse? You’d naively attributed such possessiveness to the trauma of losing his family and would excuse such behaviour in consideration of the circumstance. It was only natural. You’d decided to be there for him, accepting the responsibility as soon as you’d inked your name on the dotted line… if he needed a little more attention, that’s what he’d get.

And so, the story progressed until towards the end of his third year of high school, he’d decided the affection you were providing him with, however plentiful, wasn’t nearly as satisfactory as he knew it could be. For you still to be surrounded by others must mean his slice of the pie was diminished in size and a growing boy such as himself needed all the nutrition he could get. He’d reasoned that the entirety of said “pie” belonged to him, anyway. Surely no one could chastise him for exercising a due right over his own property?

He didn’t want to be the occupant of most of your time, he wanted all of it… And it was to be brought to your attention as soon as he arrived home from school.

No sooner had he entered through the front door than he was skipping towards your location (in the kitchen) with a blinding smile on his face, proceeding to grip onto your shoulders with a force that clearly betrayed his cheery demeanour.

“What’s wrong Shoyo?” You queried.

He’d went on to detail how neglected he felt whenever you enjoyed the presence of anyone other than him “It feels like you don’t love me anymore!”, like he’s not good enough, y’know? But it wasn’t your fault, all you needed was the chance to see that he was fully capable of being the only one you needed to depend on.

You were, at first, inclined to think of such proclamations as some silly prank, followed by laughter, declarations of how well and truly you’d been fooled and fabricated in boyish mischievousness. You’d managed to ask as such, but the speed and surety of his response had you becoming increasingly concerned.

“Nope!”

You forced out a nervous puff of laughter, clutching at the rapidly burning straws of denial because surely, he couldn’t be serious, but your dismissal had only served to become the source of his irritation and he squeezed you harder, fixing you with a determined stare that could only have been described as no less than peering into your soul.

You had ignored the red flags and were getting your just rewards.

“Sho- stop that hurts!”

“Reeeeeally Okaa-san?!” He quipped with insincere concern “It hurts more when you don’t care for me…”

It was at this bitter intonation that you’d scrambled back in shock and had prepared your body’s primal function of flight in the direction of the nearest exit.

But were you really going to run away from him? Shoyo, your own child, the coolness of your eyes and springtime in the haggard winter of your life?

Yes, yes you were.

And you would have gotten away with it too, had not the subject of your internal conflict taken advantage of your moment’s irresolution. For in a ginger blur of motion you were on the ground, he had taken a hold of your leg…

SNAP

He roughly covered your mouth to silence the scream, pinning you down with the weight of his own body as hot, fat tears rolled down your cheeks. The pain was excruciating, but you wouldn’t feel it for long, as with a swift hook to the jaw you were out cold. It hurt for him to have to utilize violence on the one he cherished; however, it’d seem a tad counterintuitive for him to give you the opportunity to run away.

You’d forgive him, you’d come around. You always did.

He’d swept you up and carried you to the large basement of the house, gently placing you on a worn settee; sickly ochre in colour - the one you’d been meaning to dispose of for years. His actions were soft and caring and his thoughts clouded almost entirely with his overwhelming love for you.

In passing hours he observed your peaceful state mindfully as his core pulsated in the cosy warmth of his rib cage, imagining what a future found solely in each other’s embrace would hold… eventually you’d stay of your own accord, he reasoned. He’d have no need to harm you or to keep you under the low, flickering lights of the basement. Defiance would become a thing of the past. You’d realise how happy you are he’d made the decisions for you, both of you, together…

“Why?” That was a question you sometimes took to asking yourself; more out of pure, unadulterated boredom than anything else. Something you’d already explored the answer to but thought it better to keep your mind occupied with trivial matters than to succumb to insanity (or the intensifying ache of your battered legs).

On that same note, though, contact with the world outside wasn’t the only thing he’d severed.

At the time, such an observation had very nearly made you laugh (and you could probably blame it on the fact that you’d always been quite partial to the more gruesome forms of satire). It was in an impulsive burst of inappropriate and rather facetious humour that you’d wanted to entertain yourself in the recital of depressing hymns (expected, given the nature of your surroundings), to congratulate your stupidity and wallow deeper into the marshes your own self-pity; only to be met with the simple fact that you didn’t have the option.

Your tongue? Gone.

And it hadn’t been the work of the proverbial cat, but your own son, who – cheery as always – had explained that it was another necessary action to stop you from hurting yourself, done behind the ever-wise teaching that prevention was indeed, better than cure. Could you not see he only wanted what was best for you?

It was then you were sure he’d dangerously distorted his self-awarded role as your protector and had lost his mind.

“Okaa-San, Its aright…” He beamed whilst you’d engaged in silently cursing your weak will “You won’t feel a thing!” - he flashed a guilty smile - after I knock you out…again.

And you didn’t. He’d sutured the wound (with what you really didn’t want to know) and made sure you didn’t choke on your own life juices, patching you up like the loving, doting son that he is… It was your job not to worry about the extremity of his actions, as a mother that should do everything in their power to put their beloved’s mind at ease.

Saved from the fate of Exsanguination… shows how much he adores you right? Not that you'd had half the courage or audacity to end your own life in such a macabre fashion, but even if you hadn’t been relieved of the burden of speech; you weren’t one to shatter another’s fantasies - especially if they were high school athletes with inhuman amounts of strength.

In the passing weeks, your mind had dawned upon the realisation that no one was coming to save you - and did you even need saving? – for your parents were far too busy, friends far too distant and dashing officer that’d do everything in his power far too non-existent. Shoyo was the only one who had cared for you, providing you with physical and emotional sustenance you’d never thought you needed - maybe for the reason that he had made himself the only source.

Another thing you’d come to realise, this time regarding unintelligible murmurs, is that they are very much open to interpretation. So even though his barrage of saccharine words were met with your limited arsenal of what might be considered responses, they been understood as absolute agreement, alongside the reciprocation of his affections. Which, to be honest, wasn’t that far off from the truth, as it was by that point, you’d learned the path of resistance was futile and that you were beginning to get used to (and even bask in) the flattery and praise he showered you with, silently and psychologically solidifying the notion that he was yours and you were his.

“You’ll stay with me forever right, Okaa-San?”

He giggled, placing a soft, lingering kiss upon your lips as if he were certain of your answer. And so were you. However, when he looked at you, tenderly caressing your form there was something amiss, a dormant hunger that hadn’t been there before, one that when coupled with the intensity he’d always regarded you with gave birth to towering waves of nausea and accentuated the persistent throb of your injured legs as if in subtle warning…

But you could deal with that later.

Because, despite the fact that his, short, brilliant orange hair had grown long and luscious with time and his scrawny figure had evolved into a mass of lean muscle, he still looked to you … like he did the first day he entered your care. Young, innocent and without fault. Unfairly dealt a bad hand and with you tasked to be the provider of everything he never had. So, as per the contract signed…

You nodded.

After all, what was a guardian without unconditional devotion to their child?

#deal with the devil collab #yandere #hinata shoyo x reader #hq hinata #hinata shoyuo #yandere hinata #yandere x reader #yandere haikyuu #hinata shoyo x you #haikyuu hinata #yandere hinata shoyo #tw yandere

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fairestwriting · 3 years

Note

slams open your door/ one angst request for a childhood g/n reader with deuce, ace, jack, ruggie and vil coming right up! "if we're still single by 30, let's get married! (for housing benefits lol)" it was a childish promise made in jest, but the boy never forgot. in the end, it ends with unrequited/pining feelings from one/both sides that cant be returned due to bad timing/prior engagements/etc when they reach of age (go hogwild with the scenarios lis!!)

(slams my hands on the table) yes yes yes yes YES i love this trope

+ if you like my writing, you can buy me a ko-fi to support me!

Deuce Spade

You make the promise to him after you confessed to your crush sometime in 7th grade and got rejected, left to cry by yourself behind the school. Out of all your friends, only Deuce came to comfort you -- And so you, in your dramatic childish glory, feeling like you’d never find anyone to love, tell him the two of you should get married if you’re single by 30.

Deuce remembers every detail of that event down to how your eyes gleamed with the tears, how the light of the sunset casted that golden glow on your hair -- It was when he knew he loved you. It took him a while to find the right words to describe the feeling, but he’d been feeling it for a long time.

He doesn’t pursue you because he feels like he’ll grow out of it. You go to NRC together, the two of you against the world, and it’s like everyday he falls in love a little more. You support him through his attempts of being a honors student, and on the day of your graduation, the first thing you do is hug each other tight, cheering about how you made it, you finally made it.

You don’t lose contact with each other even after school. Deuce and you are basically attached to the hip, meeting up every other week to talk about college and then your jobs. Through all of this time you’re friends, both of you go through a handful of relationships each, but none of them are really serious. As you approach 30, Deuce remembers that promise from back then.

When your birthday comes up, you’re sort of gloomy over recent breakup, and Deuce, naturally, is the first one to be there for you. He shows up in the morning with a gift and makes you breakfast, your dear best friend warming your heart once more. You rant about your latest partner and exchange anecdotes about how last week went before everything goes silent, and suddenly his hand is hesitantly on yours.

“D-Do you remember, um.” He begins, face flushed. “That promise we made in middle school? That if we were single until 30...”

You blink. Really, that? It felt like so long ago -- It was hard to remember even. You can barely catch what he was going to try to say before you laugh your middle school self off, snickering at how naive you were -- Something in Deuce seems to shatter, then, and his hand retracts. It’s so fast you can barely tell what’s happening.

And he stays with you through the birthday regardless, of course he does. He’s your dearest friend, isn’t he?

the rest is under the cut cause... its long

Ace Trappola

You hated Ace, initially. You met in kindergarten and he was the worst, literally. Always pulling pranks on everyone and acting just so infuriatingly cheeky, your 5 year old self learned real rage through that little redhead boy who always hid your things just to get a rise out of you.

One day you decided to prank him back, causing massive trouble in the classroom that ends with the two of you getting intensely scolded, and that’s how, somehow, a beautiful friendship blooms. Ace gets this sparkle in his eyes when you’re done getting yelled at, and says that the two of you should be friends and work together on doing this to other people.

Since then you two became inseparable. You’d never stop bickering, but you also never left each other’s side. The two of you were a menace, an absolute terror to your teachers -- Whether you were a good kid before meeting him or not didn’t matter, Ace is great at being a bad influence.

Near the end of 4th grade, you begin hearing about how one of your classmate’s single parent was getting married again. This sparked a big conversation between your class, somehow, with everyone declaring who they wanted to marry. It was a silly childish thing. When your turn comes, you proudly announce that when you grew up, you’d marry Ace if you hadn’t married anyone else by 30, ‘cause no one else would choose him but me! You snicker after making the comment, amused at how mean you were being, but somehow your snarkiness seems to fly over Ace’s head.

It’s a thing that happens that you two never really talk about again, but it ticks in the back of his mind for his whole life as you two grow up. Even entering middle and then high school, he always remembers it when he goes through some sort of romantic disappointment. You really were the only one who always stuck around, after all...

Years go by and somehow you’re still by each other’s side. Every birthday that passes Ace thinks about it a little more, he wonders if that promise from ages ago was true. When your 30th birthday comes up the promise is constantly in his mind, he’s driving himself up the wall with expectation. And he doesn’t even know why he’s feeling like that, really, you two are just childhood friends, right? There’s no reason for him to be feeling so... like this.

Eventually, he just blurts it out, a couple days after said birthday. You two are probably just hanging out and ranting about work when he goes “Hey, you remember that stuff you said in 4th grade? About, uh, us getting married?” And you go silent for a beat. His heart races as he wonders what the hell he’s doing, even.

But you laugh it all off. What, that stuff about marrying you? Yeah, I was such a dumb kid. I was right, though, look how you’re still single, you joke, and it feels like a punch to the gut to Ace. He laughs awkwardly with you. Yeah, sure, how foolish the two of your were for thinking of something like... you two... being together like that...

Jack Howl

Jack was, before everything, the scary boy in your 2nd grade class. Beastmen weren’t exactly common at school, especially wolves like him, so he ended up sticking out quite a lot. Most kids, your friends included, thought he was far too scary to approach. And Jack himself seemed to be fine with that, not really interacting much with anyone.

That was all he was for you until, one day, an older kid gets mad at you during lunch for bumping into them and staining their shirt with juice. They’re about two or three years ahead and so much taller than you, you’re genuinely scared -- And who would know that in a moment like this, the one kid in your class you weren’t very fond of would stand up for you, convincing the bully to go away.

Afterwards, Jack asks if you’re okay, you two end up eating together, and the rest is history. You find out he was actually really sweet, despite seeming so tough, and you get comfortable with it. Jack was always a reliable, loyal friend, someone you knew you could count on.

This included when your friends started being weirded out by you for getting close to the scary boy in class. They get it in their heads that you have a crush on him and tease you for it, which makes you upset, but Jack stands up for you again. This was enough for you to be pretty starry eyed at the age of 7, so you declared that, hey, who cares about what these mean kids are saying! Maybe you and Jack should be together anyway. Actually, if you two got to 30 and you were still single, you should get married! Jack gets just as starry eyed as you, and you seal a pinky promise that day.

What you never knew, though, was that he wouldn’t grow out of it -- Because as time goes by and you two grow up alongside each other, it ends up slipping your mind. You meet new people and learn new things, getting into some relationships here and there, and though you’d taken the promise seriously for a bit when you were a kid, it was just something you laughed about now.

You don’t even remember it on Jack’s 30th birthday. You’re one of the first people to show up to the small gathering, naturally, you had known each other since forever. You’re teasing him about how he was so perpetually single even now, that you were reaching “marriage age”, and this seems to fluster him a bit.

“Well...” He starts, his ears going slightly limp. “I wanted... to keep that promise, you know. From when we were kids.” His voice is quiet, uncertain. It’s different from how you usually hear him talk, and you have no idea what he’s talking about. You question him about it, and he’s wide eyed when he realizes that you actually forgot.

He questions you about it. How could you forget? You two actually made a pinky promise about it -- But you’re just confused as to why he’s bringing this up, saying that of course it wasn’t a big deal, you two were just kids when it happened! Was he really expecting something from that? And when you ask him that, he’s silent.

Needless to say, the birthday is soured. Jack asks for you to leave, it’s a mess. You don’t know what you did wrong, exactly, just like you’re not sure how you could possibly fix this.

Ruggie Bucchi

“Partners in crime” was the only possible way to describe what sort of relationship you had with Ruggie. It starts in elementary school, you’re walking around in a farmer’s market near the slums and you catch him taking a handful of apples from a stand, without paying. Your eyes are wide as you remember who that boy was, a classmate of yours, and despite what your family had taught you about stealing, you walk up to the person taking care of the stand, and start chatting with them to distract them.

You’re not sure what really made you want to help this boy you barely knew, but it turned out to be the one thing in your life you’re the most grateful for, because the next day, when he sees you again in class, he runs up to you to thank you so many times in a row. And since then, you two started spending time together.

And you got along so well! Ruggie got along with most of the other kids and you had some friends of your own, but nothing was compared to how close the two of you were. You two scheme your way in and out of trouble through your school days, and at one point you can barely imagine your life without him.

Sometime mid 6th grade, your classmates start talking of crushes and dating and such, which gives you a lot to think about. You’re a bit upset that you seem to be the only one who isn’t in on the new fun, so one day, when you’re hanging out with Ruggie, you complain about feeling like you’d be single forever. Ruggie laughs and says that if no one wanted to be with you, then no one would want to be with him either. You still wonder what that meant.

In a fit of childishness, you say decisively that if you two were single until you were 30, you’d get married. Looking back on it, you can’t tell if you were kidding or not, but Ruggie and you shake hands mid-laughs, like you’re sealing a deal.

So time goes by. You don’t think too hard about that promise and Ruggie... doesn’t seem to, either, you actually wonder what’s going through his head often, because he rarely tells you what he’s thinking. You end up going to NRC together, to both of your families’ joy, and that just ends up making you closer, as two kids from the less-privileged side of the Afterglow Savannah in such a prestigious academy...

Your bond ends up really fire-forged after those four years, so it’s no surprise to anyone that you’d still be close even after you graduate, even as adults. Nothing could break a friendship like this.

You think about it on the day of your 30th birthday, when you’re out for drinks with Ruggie to celebrate. Really, how the hell did you stick to each other’s side for so long? You ask him as you loop an arm around his neck, and he grins. “Well, maybe we should get married like you promised then, y’know... when we were brats.” He says, a little quieter than your previous conversation. There’s a hint of some kind of different feeling there that you don’t catch at the time, scoffing at him and going, yeah, in your dreams.

The rest of the night goes normally, though you don’t hear from him for a couple days afterward... and when you do, he barely looks you in the eye. You wonder if anything bad happened, if you did anything wrong.

Vil Schoenheit

When Vil Schoenheit moved into your town, everybody was talking about him before he even really set foot into the classroom. Everyone had seen him somewhere -- The poster boy of villainy in all your favorite movies, a kid with a pretty face and a haughty aura.

You’re as curious as everyone else to meet him, though you don’t really share that strange vindictiveness the other kids seemed to have, angered at Vil himself for what his characters put others through. It’s so stupid, you thought, isn’t he just the actor? He might actually be nice.

When he arrives into the classroom, people are about as annoying towards him as you expected. Their disdain towards Vil bothered you, he’d barely said anything to others and yet they were already pegging him as a mean, arrogant person. So stupid, you repeat to yourself, and you decide to talk to him normally, and that’s how your ages-long friendship came to life.

Vil wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met. You come to find that he’s rather haughty, yes, and very strict with pretty much everything, but he was also very kind deep down, and willing to help you with anything you needed. He was a good friend. He was also, as you came to find out as you grew a little more, astoundingly pretty. With people disliking his “villainy” or not, by the time you’re starting middle school, he already consistently gets confessed to.

You’re a bit jealous. Not because you wanted Vil for yourself, no, he was just a good friend, but you wished people would find you as attractive as they found him, sometimes. You express that to him when you’re walking home together one day, and he laughs it off, saying it wasn’t as good as you thought it’d be. Still, you make him promise that if you were single by 30, he’d have to marry you, because if he just let you die alone, he’d be a bad friend. Vil seems strangely mesmerized by that, but he agrees.

Time goes by, you get to watch each other grow. Even with all the people going in and out of Vil’s life, he seems to keep you closer to his heart than everyone, and you never really lose contact with each other. Even when he’s busy, with movies or modeling or school, he still makes time to check up on you, and you see each other often.

When you’re actually nearing 30, Vil has reached a sort of stardom that burned your eyes just looking at, and you were so goddamn proud of him it was real. Somehow, he still makes time to show up for your birthday, after about a month of not really seeing each other -- And he spoils you to death on that day, the two of you spending all of it together and talking until it was late at night.

As the sun is about to rise, though, Vil’s chattiness subsides. About as sleep deprived as you, he says, softly “So since we’ve gotten there, and we’re both still single... maybe we should fulfill that promise from years ago, shouldn’t we?” You take a moment to process it, it’s tough remembering exactly when you made such a promise, but eventually you do. You feel like that should’ve been a joke, but the way Vil looks at you isn’t saying joke at all.

You sort of laugh it off either way, though. What, that silly promise? You ask, are you rubbing it in that you’re prettier than me? I can still find a partner looking like this, y’know. You think it’s funny, but Vil suddenly falls completely silent.

He then sighs, almost wistful, and says “Sure you can” before the conversation progresses... you’re not sure what happened, but life goes on after that like nothing happened. Deep down, Vil is feeling stupid for having taken the promise to heart, like he should have known better... but if you never really meant it, then what could he do but give it up? Even though it was the thing he wanted to do the least... he valued your friendship too much to do something that could possibly ruin it.

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twst imagines #twst x reader #deuce spade #ace trappola #jack howl #ruggie bucchi #vil schoenheit #deuce spade x reader #ace trappola x reader #jack howl x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #lis writing

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rattyoakenbitch · 3 years

Text

❝𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠❞ ─ 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐦

after all this time, i start asking why i'm staying

were you ever mine?

are we something that's worth saving?

❥ content ; gn reader, eventual fluff, angst, happy ending

❥ warnings ; cursing, themes of cheating

❥ synopsis ; you're will's s/o. when he comes home from work, you can tell he's off. what you didn't expect was him to kick you out.

❥ a/n ; none!

"Will?"

You call out after hearing the front door to your house open and shut. When you don't get a response, you get up from your laying position on the couch and approach the front door.

There, Will stood. His back was turned to you as he hung up his coat, and although you could not see his face, you could immediately tell he was off. Even the energy around him felt dark and tense.

"Oh, hey, hun.." You said anxiously, trying not to set him off in any way.

Will didn't react to your voice. Instead, he backed away from the clothing rack and walked past you, not even bothering to spare you a look. This wasn't the first time Will acted out like this, especially considering he was exhausted all the time from the work Crawford gave him. But he would at least greet you soon as he walked through the door, not flat out treat you as if you didn't exist.

"Will," you sighed dejectedly, more to yourself than to your boyfriend. You quietly followed him upstairs to the master bedroom, where he began to strip off his work clothes, changing into something more comfortable. Still, he ignored your presence. You had to make another move.

You slowly approached him from behind, placing your hands on his shoulders. You were immediately taken back when he forcefully removed himself from your touch and walked away to another corner of the room.

"Will, I just-"

"What?" he scoffed mockingly, "You just want to help?"

"You're my boyfriend, Will, of course I want to!"

He laughed.

"It certainly doesn't help when you breathe down my neck every fucking minute."

Tears pricked in your eyes, Will's vicious tone scaring you. You searched Will's own eyes, trying to find any trace of remorse or regret. He had none. You didn't even know who you were looking at.

"What are you talking about, Will? When you want space, I give you space. When you want love, I give you love! What more do you want from me?"

"I want you to leave."

And then it was quiet for a moment. You both stood there silently, feet away from each other, eyes burning holes into the others.

"..What?" You stared in disbelief. "Wh- What are you saying right now, Will?"

"I want you to leave. I want you gone, Y/N. I don't need you anymore."

"No," you bit your quivering lips, hot tears spilling down your cheeks. Will averted his stare from your crying form, the floor suddenly becoming more interesting.

"No, you're lying. You're just saying that. You can fool everyone else, but you can't fool me."

"I'm sorry, Y/N." Lies. "It's best if you just leave."

You choked on a sob. "What?! Where is this coming from all of a sudden? We were okay just the other day!"

Will remained silent, still not daring to make eye contact with you.

"Is there someone else?"

"I- No, Y/N. I don't owe you an explanation."

"So this is it, then? You're just gonna kick me out?"

"Please, Y/N. Don't make this harder than it already is."

"This is hard for you?! You're not the one getting kicked out!"

Will sighed, somehow managing to remain calm while you screamed at him.

"I'm sorry." And the conversation ended there.

You began to pack your bags. You also phoned a friend, asking them if you could crash for a bit until you had a stable job and a home. You were not about to sleep on the sofa tonight.

You opened and slammed drawers, taking your anger out on furniture as you took your belongings with you. You also did it to spite Will, who attempted to get some sleep. But he did not complain. He continued to act as if you didn't exist.

It made you wonder. Where did it all go wrong? How long has he thought about leaving you? Was there another person?

Will wouldn't answer your questions. At this point, you didn't wanna know.

You were able to finish packing up within an hour. Will was still wide awake during that time, listening closely to the angry banging of furniture, quiet sniffles and shaky inhales as you tried the best you could to keep your composure.

You loaded all your bags into your car, getting ready to head to your friend's place. You went back inside to get a couple more things and look around the house a final time. You stopped by the front door as you were about to leave, your eyes landing on a picture on the windowsill of you and Will. Your already tired, red eyes welled with tears again. You opened up the frame, sliding the picture out and folding it into your pocket. Not like Will would want it in his house anyway.

And so you left.

You didn't say your goodbyes. You just left.

A week had gone by. Will carried on with his job as usual, attended his therapy sessions, but he never once mentioned you. Not a lot of people knew about you and Will's relationship, or what was once a relationship. Since his coworkers already knew so much, or what Will deemed to be enough information about him, he wanted to keep your relationship secret. Not that you minded.

The only person who knew of your relationship was Alana Bloom and Jack Crawford, but even when it ended, he didn't tell them anything. He didn't tell them how guilty he felt the night he kicked you out. He didn't tell them he still had nightmares about you being harmed. He didn't tell them how he was the one harming you in his nightmares. He didn't tell them how empty he felt when you blocked his number and social medias (ok sorry but like little headcanon here?? will has an instagram and it's just pictures of him fishing / or of his dogs fnsmdnskdjsk).

He never told them how he tried not to stay in his house as often, because it reminded him of you.

He was definitely acting strange at work. It was easy to tell. Even Bev pulled him aside to inquire about his health. But he continued to keep his mouth shut, until he couldn't.

Will rushed to the front door when he heard little taps on the metal screen. Secretly, he hoped it would be you. But when he opened it, there stood Alana Bloom. Will always thought Alana was beautiful. But how could anyone disagree?

Her long, dark waves that framed her perfect, slim face were never unchecked and unkempt. Makeup or none, preppy work uniforms or pajamas, she always seemed to look her best.

You even found yourself feeling small and insecure when Will invited her over for you to meet. But he assured you that she could never even compare to you. You believed it.

Alana's thin lips curled up into a soft smile. "Will. Can I come in?"

"Y-Yeah, sure." He let her in and she walked through the front door for the first time in forever.

"Jeez," she chuckled. "How long as it been?"

"Maybe too long," Will simply replied.

Alana walked around the house, scanning every detail while Will patiently trailed behind her. The dogs were playing outside, so it was just the two of them.

"Why did you decide to come over today?"

"I've been worried about you." She turned around to face Will, who stopped a few feet in front of her. "But now that I'm here in your house, I can see why you've been acting off."

"What's your diagnosis, Doctor?" Will joked, an attempt at lightening the tense air.

"Y/N. They left, haven't they?"

There it is.

Technically, Alana wasn't wrong. You did leave, but Will never clarified in what circumstance.

Will looked at the ground.

"Yeah.. Took all the photos too."

"Hey," Alana began, her finger resting under Will's chin, prompting him to look up at her. "You don't have to hide from me."

A week had gone by. A long, lonely, miserable week. You crashed at your friend's for two nights before your parents invited you to live with them while you worked on getting back on your feet. They didn't live too far, so you thanked your friend for their hospitality and moved in with your parents.

As you finished unpacking your stuff, you realized you were missing some things. You cursed at the realization you would probably have to pick up some stuff from Will's.

You still had the key, so you would have no problem getting in, unless he had the lock changed of course. You were only worried about running into him.

What the hell?

You got dressed. You didn't wear anything fancy, but in case you ran into Will, you felt obligated to look presentable and show him that you could still make it without him. You decided on doing a bit of makeup. Again, nothing fancy. Just enough to conceal the dark circles under your eyes and make your features pop.

And then you headed on the dreadful drive to Will's place.

When you got there, you were too nervous and too focused on making the trip quick to even notice Alana's car in his driveway.

However, what did catch your attention, were the many dogs Will owned. They ran up to you as soon as they recognized you. They panted as they jumped and wagged their tails, expressing their happiness the most they could. You tried your best to pet them all, your mouth lifting up into a smile. You didn't realize it but you really missed the dogs.

You dug around for the key in your pocket and pulled it out, quietly unlocking the front door and letting yourself in.

"You don't have the hide from me.."

Your eyebrows furrowed together at the sound of a female voice.

When you walked into the living room, you were horrified to see Will with another woman. Alana.

Their lips were locked, engaging in a passionate kiss, not even noticing your presence. You felt sick as you put the pieces together.

"Now I know why you kicked me out," you whispered, half to yourself and half to Will, who almost about pushed Alana off him at the sound of your voice.

Both their cheeks heated up in embarrassment when their eyes fell on you.

"Y/N! I'm so sorry, I thought-"

"Look, I only came to pick up some stuff. Then I'll be out of your way." You didn't once look away from Will, deciding to totally disregard Alana's presence and apologetic mutters.

With that, you rushed out of the living room and into your bedroom, searching under the bed and in the closet for your missing items.

You heard faint talking from the living room but tuned out most of it, deciding it wasn't worth your time or even your business in the first place. Then you heard the front door shut and a car start from outside.

Before you could process what might've happened, you heard Will's footsteps stop outside the bedroom.

"Y/N, we should talk."

"No, we shouldn't."

"You blocked my number."

"What good would it do if I kept it?"

"Please, hear me out."

Disgruntled, you turned to face Will, sending a cold glare his way.

"Look, unless you found a way to make a time machine and give me back the time I wasted on you, I don't want to speak with you."

"Why won't you just listen to me?!" he snapped.

You scoffed, "Well surprise, douchebag, I have feelings and you hurt them!"

"Well, I'm sorry, alright?" he calmed down now.

"Are you? Really?" You shook your head. "A sorry won't fix this, Will. Not after what you did. Gods- I can't even look at you right now."

You laughed. "You know what fucking sucks? After all you did, after the cheating and the lies, I'm still in love with you."

Will teared up. "I was never with Alana, Y/N. It's always been you."

"Then, why, Will? Why did you throw me out so coldly like that?"

"I began to have dreams, Y/N. Nightmares," Will admitted, his voice beginning to break. "Nightmares about people hurting you. Criminals. It was too real. As much as I loved- As much as I love you, I never wanted you to choose me. I don't want people using you as a weapon against me. To hurt me."

You slowly walked towards Will, stopping a foot away from him. You looked up into his glossy bambi eyes as he spoke.

"It was when the nightmares got worse, when I was the one hurting you, that I realized you weren't safe with me."

You cried. "Oh, Will. I wish you had told me."

"I couldn't. I didn't want you to remember me that way."

You laughed. "Well, I ended up remembering you as the asshole who kicked me out, instead."

Will managed to give you a smile through his tears.

He brought his hand to your shoulder, and gently lead it up your neck to the side of your face, cupping it lightly and brushing his thumb across your cheek.

"I would never hurt you, Y/N."

"I know. I know, Will. You aren't a monster for having nightmares you can't control." You brought your own hand up and placed it against Will's, leaning into his warm touch. "I'm still here. I'm alive. In your hands. And I feel safe with you."

Almost hesitantly, Will leaned in, connecting his lips to yours. His body felt tense, but when you kissed him back, you felt his worries disappear into the air.

He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

"Stay with me tonight?"

#will graham x reader #will graham fluff #will graham angst #will graham #hannibal nbc #hannibal tv show #hannibal gifs #will graham gifs #will graham oneshot #will graham imagines #rattyoakenbitch #alana bloom #angsty #hannibal fandom #hannibal fanfiction #beach bunny #lyric prompts

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the-final-sif · 4 years

Note

I was thinking about different way the league could try to kidnap Katsuki and thought what if they just adopted him. Like got the paperwork filled it out (using an alias) and just battled the Bakugous for custody. Yeah, they're villians, but the paperwork checks out, and they can provide all necessary essentials, and maybe the Bakugous aren't the best parents.

This idea is extremely funny to me, and so I tried to think of a way it could work out that even kinda makes sense. After talking about it in the discord, I think I figured it out. (Set after USJ & sports festival, but pre-any kidnapping stuff)

We’re going to assume Bad Parents!Bakugous, with the situation being bad enough Katsuki is removed from their custody. The plan was for Aizawa / UA to take custody of him after that.

Only, there’s 1 tiny flaw in that plan. Katsuki’s quirk.

See, Katsuki’s quirk is considered a ‘dangerous’ quirk. 99% of the time this doesn’t matter, but there’s an old law regarding child custody that comes into play with dangerous quirks.

The law basically says that if a child has a ‘dangerous’ quirk, and their removed from their birth family’s custody, other relatives MUST be contacted to see if they are willing + capable of taking custody of the child. Even distant relatives.

Furthermore, if a relative wants the child (and passes a few other criteria), then they are all but guaranteed custody, even if there’s other circumstances that would usually prevent it. If the relative has a similar quirk to the child, that boosts their chances even further / offers extra protections.

The law was created during an earlier period of quirks, when ‘dangerous’ quirks were extremely hard to handle, and usually only family members with similar quirks could do it. It’s not a great law, but nobody’s gotten around to removing it since it doesn’t come into play often.

But of course, Katsuki isn’t so lucky. He has three relatives that have to be contacted and decline custody of him before Aizawa can claim it. He’s never met any of these people, has never had much contact with any extended family, but now he has to wait for them to say no before he can move on with this bullshit.

Two are easy enough, both are great uncles or something similar and live in assisted living facilities. Neither have the interest / capacity for Katsuki.

And then there’s Katsuki’s distant cousin on his dad’s side.

Honestly, it’s such bullshit. The guy went missing ages ago. His whole family was confirmed dead, but apparently the guy himself wasn’t, and since he’s still considered alive, they have to at least try to contact him.

A newspaper ad goes up for “Tenko Shimura”, there’s a 15 day waiting period while the ad runs, and then they should finally be free to move on.

Except, holy shit, turns out the guy isn’t actually dead.

He saw the newspaper ad, and actually calls in out of curiosity.

Katsuki is taken off guard and relieved, because the guy will say no, and then they can finish this, right?

Right?

Only, the guy doesn’t say no.

He doesn’t say yes either, but he asks to be put in contact with Katsuki so he can discuss it.

Katsuki is so done with all of this, but he agrees to talk to the guy hoping to convince him it’s fine for Aizawa / UA to take custody.

Tenko & Katsuki talk on the phone for an hour, and by the end of their first conversation, Tenko isn’t convinced it’s fine and now Katsuki isn’t either.

Because, fuck, the guy actually sounded nice. And nothing he said was wrong either. Tenko was worried about the sports festival (and Katsuki has to admit, hearing an adult express concern for him & tell him what happened to him was bad for the very first time took a weight off his shoulders he hadn’t known he was carrying), he was worried about how UA had handled him so far, and he was worried what would happen if Katsuki didn’t have any outside figures to turn to in the future.

Several long phone calls later, including one between Aizawa & Tenko, and it’s been decided. While Katsuki will be staying at UA and living primarily in the dorms set up for international students (since Tenko lives quite a ways away), custody of him will be going to Tenko.

Aizawa isn’t exactly happy about it, but that law gives Tenko the first claim, and he has to admit that Tenko raises quite a few good points. After having spoken to him at length, Aizawa feels like he has Katsuki’s best interests in mind too.

Paperwork goes through, things are set in motion, and in the meantime, Katsuki keeps calling / texting with Tenko, slowly growing closer to his cousin. Turns out the two have a lot in common.

Tenko also have family issues and was adopted, which is why he appeared to go “missing”. In reality he’s just been living under a different name. His quirk is apparently related to his hands and also considered ‘dangerous’ although he doesn’t like to discuss it, and he and Katsuki are both very blunt people, meaning they get along great.

Finally, everything is said and done, and Katsuki is going to go on a weekend trip up to where Tenko lives to meet him in person for the very first time. He’s given a train station and told he’ll be met there, and he’s honestly kinda excited for it.

Throughout the court case, Aizawa was the only one from UA allowed to have access to all the records / be in contact with Tenko. He couldn’t even discuss things with anyone else.

Now it’s all over though, he’s in the staff room and only half engaged in the current planning session. Mostly focused on his phone / checking in with Katsuki.

Mic teases him about being worried, and Aizawa just mumbles that he’s still kinda unsure of this ‘Shimura’ guy.

All-Might, who is also at this meeting, does a spit take.

It takes several seconds for him to regain himself.

He’s sure he must’ve just misheard though.

"Ah, I'm sorry, I just got confused about something for a moment. What did you say the name of Katsuki's new parent was again?"

“The guy’s legal name is Tenko Shimura, although he apparently stopped going by that awhile ago, which was why he came up as missing. He responded to a newspaper ad though and was able to verify his identity."

All-Might.exe has stopped working.

It has to be a coincidence. There's no way.

"Tenko... Shimura? His name, uh, well I used to know someone by that name. How old was he again? And why was he chosen?"

Aizawa is a little confused, but still not concerned, he just assumes All-Might happened to know the guy.

"He's 20, which is young to be taking on a kid, but he's properly prepared for. It was the quirk-relation law that set it in stone. Shimura is a distant cousin and has similar quirk to Katsuki, the specifics were a little hazy, but a dangerous hand-related quirk. Why?"

All-Might needs several seconds before he can speak.

“Tenko Shimura is Tomura Shigaraki.”

“... What?”

“Tenko Shimura, that was Tomura Shigaraki’s birth name. That’s- That’s him. There’s nobody else that could be.”

“WHAT?!”

Yeah, so they try to get in contact with Katsuki but it’s too late, Kurogiri already ‘picked him up’ and his phone is not working in the underground area he’s in.

Anyways, so Tomura introduces himself, and Katsuki spends awhile trying to fight him but not really getting anywhere until Tomura is finally able to convince him to let Tomura explain himself.

Katsuki is Upset, but also wants Answers.

Tomura reveals that he never lied, he was Tenko Shimura, and everything he told Katsuki was true. Truths were certainly omitted, but he never lied. And he has no bad intentions towards Katsuki.

He saw the newspaper ad, and having seen what happened at the sports festival, felt compelled to step in. He promises he just wants to be a good guardian.

And Katsuki does not want to believe that. He doesn’t.

Except, at the end of their scheduled time, Tomura just,,,, lets him go. No demands that Katsuki can’t tell anyone what happened, no threats, nothing.

Kurogiri just teleports him back out to some place near UA and bids him goodnight, very pleased to see Tomura taking this seriously & that he now has a grandchild.

Katsuki shows back up at UA, after 12 hours of them searching for him frantically, and he’s just as confused as they are.

Obviously, they try to remove custody from Tomura after that.

Problem: They can’t.

Between the bullshit law from before, and the fact Tomura has never actually been caught / arrested / charged with a crime, they legally cannot remove Katsuki from Tomura’s custody.

He would have to fail as a guardian for Katsuki in order for them to remove him. Until then, he’s got custody.

This is just something they’re going to have to live with.

Katsuki Is So Done.

When he goes into class on Monday, a very excited Kirishima greets him.

"So dude? How did visiting your cousin go? What was he like?"

"You know that guy who attacked us at USJ? The guy with the creepy hands who almost killed Aizawa?"

“... Uh, yeah?”

“Turns out that’s my cousin.”

"Oh my god! What the hell dude! Are you okay???"

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Welcome to the Katsuki Shimura AU, where Katsuki’s life is weird and Parent-Teacher conferences get fucking awkward.

#katsuki bakugou #tomura shigaraki #shouta aizawa #dadzawa #bnha crack #mha crack #kurogiri #bnha #mha #Katsuki Shimura AU #sif speaks #my headcanons #sif answers #Anonymous

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disgruntledspacedad · 4 years

Text

The Rules of Engagement (4/5)

part of the The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader/ofc (Ears)

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do.

words: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ for alcohol, language, smut, violence, general trauma.

a/n: unbeta’d. Yeah, I know - I can’t count. This is gonna be five chapters.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Murphy nearly bowls you over on his way down stairs, pulling up short when he sees you.

“Shit!”

You glance down at yourself. Your clothes are rumpled and covered in ash and bile. You don’t even want to know what your face looks like. There’s rubble in your hair.

Murphy is still staring open-mouthed.

“The pharmacy below my apartment got bombed,” you explain hollowly. “I’m fine, I just need a shower.”

“You look like you need a hospital,” Murphy counters, eyeballing you with something akin to worry. “Fucking Christ, Ears, if Javi -”

You snap your eyes up at the mention of Javi. “Have you heard anything?”

For the first time since you’ve met him, Steve Murphy cracks a grin at you. “On his way home now.” He looks as relieved as you feel. “We got him.”

You manage to smirk back. “Good.”

“Congratulations, by the way. This one’s on you as much as anybody.”

“Thanks.” You sag against the side rail, trying to be subtle about it. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, your legs are shaking, and you think it’s only a matter of time before you fall over.

Murphy notices, because he reaches for your shoulder to steady you. “I really think-”

“No.” You cut him off forcefully, glaring at him with all the energy you have left. “No, Steve. I’m tired, that’s all.”

He sighs. Narrows his eyes. Frowns. “You’re bleeding.”

What?

Murphy gesturers to your temple with a finger that you have to stop yourself from flinching away from. “You’re bleeding, Ears,” he repeats, as if he’s expending a great amount of patience by pointing it out to you.

You reach up, wincing as you notice for the first time that your head hurts. When you draw your fingers back, they are coated in blood.

Murphy moves closer to get a better look.

“It’s just a scratch, Murph,” you tell him wearily. As far as you can tell, that’s true. There’s no gaping hole or giant gash, just a stinging little cut right at your hairline. “You know how head wounds are.”

He’s still glaring suspiciously at you, and you let him, meeting his gaze in silent challenge.

Eventually he sighs. “Okay, your funeral, I guess. Gimme a minute.”

Before you can retort, he ducks back inside, leaving you standing awkwardly on the front step. The walls are thin - you can hear him rummaging around in the kitchen. He’s back seconds later, key in one hand, a slip of paper in the other.

He hands you the paper first. “This is my pager number. Javi’ll be back soon, but I want you to contact me if anything crazy happens.” He motions to your head with his thumb.

“Okay,” you promise.

“And here’s this.” He presses the key into your hand.

You look up at him wide-eyed. “Murphy, you can’t just give me Peña’s key.”

“What, you think it would be any different if I stepped across the landing and did the honors for you? I’m already late.” He runs a hand through his hair with a huff. “Besides, he’d want you to have it.”

Somehow, you seriously doubt that.

Murphy fixes you with a stare. “Trust me.”

“Hardly,” you mutter, taking the key from his hand anyway. You hold it up for emphasis. “But you’re taking the fall for this one, alright?”

Murphy rolls his eyes. “I think I can live with that. Stay safe, Ears, and page me if you need anything.”

♠

You resist the urge to flop down on Javi’s sofa and sleep for a thousand years, instead making your way to the shower. Peeling away your dusty clothes feels so incredibly good. So does the hot water. You take your time, exploring the lingering aches and pains in your body as you scrub them with Javi’s little sliver of Irish Spring. Aside from a few bruises and that one little slice on your temple that won’t quit oozing, you’re not injured anywhere. You think you might be a little sore from being thrown backward tomorrow, and your lungs still feel funny and raw from having the air knocked from them, but otherwise, the bombing of your apartment is more inconvenient than anything.

You try very, very hard not to think about Emilio.

You step out of the shower only when the water runs tepid, the cold jarring you awake. Javi only has two towels, it seems - one left out to dry on the towel rack, the other crumpled in the corner with a pair of boxers. Nice. You opt for the one that’s on the rack, wiping yourself down then wrapping up your dripping hair.

There’s something deliciously deviant about sneaking naked through Javier Peña’s apartment when he’s not home. You shake away your guilt, trying hard not to be too weirded out or too turned on as you rifle through his dresser drawers. You’ve got to wear something.

Eventually, you come away with the green t-shirt and the only pair of sweats the man owns. You eye yourself in the mirror, considering. Javi’s clothes are ridiculous on you - you have to roll the sweats three times at the waist just to keep from tripping - but hell, at least you aren’t naked. Looks like that cut finally stopped bleeding, too.

Carefully, you pull your hair into a sloppy braid and gather your dirty clothes, doing a cursory sweep of the apartment to see if Javi has anything else that needs washing. Other than the little pile in the bathroom, you find a t-shirt and a pair of mis-matched socks in the corner by the nightstand. Not bad for a single guy living alone, you decide.

You make the trip downstairs to the communal laundry room quickly, noting the time on the kitchen clock when you return. You don’t feel like waiting beside the machine today. Flopping on the sofa has lost it’s appeal - you’re bone weary, but every time you close your eyes, you see fireballs and charred bodies.

Sleep is not on the agenda.

Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, glancing at the clock for the umpteenth time. 9:42. You put the water on, then shuffle downstairs to switch the laundry to the dryer. 40 more minutes, and then you can get out of here.

And then what?

You examine your options and find that the list is short. You aren’t going to stay here any longer than necessary - you’ve intruded on Javi’s privacy enough. Your only friend in Colombia is Ana, and that’s off the table for obvious reasons. Murphy isn’t at home, and Connie had left for the States just weeks after you’d arrived. Back to work, then.

You decide that’s best anyway. Somebody fucking bombed your apartment. Well, the mark was probably Emilio’s drug store, but still. Bombings don’t happen in Bogotá - that’s a Medellín thing. Especially a civilian target.

The rush of anger that consumes you is staggering. Who did this, and why? Bombing a business is a very Pablo Escobar thing to do, but a small pharmacy? In Bogotá?

Ana and her father are good people. You know deep in your bones that they aren’t involved in the drug trade. You also have major doubts that this was an accident. So, what the fuck?

The injustice of it all makes you feel small and cold and helpless.

You’re missing something big.

Javi doesn’t have a television in his apartment. Even if you did have access the news, the information that you’re seeking is hardly going to be broadcast on live television, and certainly not so soon.

Work really is the best option, then. Between the bombing and Verdugo’s arrest, the sicarios must be on red alert. Maybe you can pick up on some chatter.

Besides, you probably need to let Stechner know about your situation as soon as possible.

You glance at the clock. 10:07.

Ugh. You rise up on your tiptoes, bouncing in frustration. Caffeine and adrenaline have made you jittery. There’s something really cringe-worthy, too, about being alone in Javi’s apartment without his knowledge, especially given the way things ended between you.

The memory chafes, and you shake your head hard enough that it throbs.

Goddamn this day.

A shrill beeping jerks you from your thoughts, and you barely manage to stifle a shriek. Your pager! You’d forgotten all about it. Your stomach swoops as you pick it up.

The number that flits across the screen belongs to Javi.

You take a breath. Weird. Aside from that one brief conversation yesterday, you haven’t spoken to him in weeks. It probably has something to do with Verdugo, you decide. Maybe he wants to inform you personally. That would be nice of him. After all, this was a pretty big arrest for you, too.

You locate the phone in the kitchen, dialing the number with trembling fingers. Damned coffee.

“Peña.” His voice is terse, clipped.

“Got your page,” you say warily. He sounds like he’s in a mood. “Is there -”

“Where are you?” he demands, cutting you off harshly.

You blink, startled. Forget ‘a mood,’ Javi sounds fucking livid. You’d assumed he’d be pretty relaxed, considering. “Umm, I’m actually at your place,” you speak slowly to hide the shakiness of your voice. Fuck, of all the times to get emotional. “Listen, my apartment was bombed. I just needed -”

You’re interrupted again by a sharp sigh. “Stay there,” Javi grinds out, and then there’s nothing but dial tone.

Slowly, you place the phone back in its cradle, processing the conversation.

What. The. Fuck.

Bits of plastic clatter to the floor as the pager smashes into the refrigerator - you’re hardly even aware of throwing it. You sink to the kitchen floor, cradling your head in your hands and doing your damnedest to just breathe.

It’s not fucking fair. He was the one who stormed out slamming doors. You haven’t pressed him, haven’t been a nuisance. Well, aside from basically breaking into his apartment and borrowing his shower.

But fucking hell, somebody - probably Pablo Escobar - just bombed your fucking apartment. You’re living in a foreign country and you don’t even speak the fucking language. There’s nowhere for you to go, and your clothes were a mess, and goddamn, you are just tired.

What were you supposed to do?

Footsteps thunder up the stairs. God, that was quick. You manage to leap to your feet just as the front door slams open with a bang.

Javi stops dead when he sees you, and your tirade dies in your throat.

“Hey.” It’s awkward, but it’s all you can manage.

He’s just staring at you, standing stalk still in the open doorway. He’s breathing heavily, like he’s been running. His expression is tight, carefully closed off. One fist is clenched at his side, the other still gripping the doorknob.

“Murphy let me in,” you babble. You knew he was on his way, but still, his sudden appearance startled you. “My place, I mean, the drugstore -”

“I know.” He’s toneless, expressionless, frozen except for his eyes. They rove over your face and body, and you’re reminded suddenly of watching him read reports - quick, efficient, and exacting, like he’s taking in every detail in an instant.

Fuck. Heat rushes you as you remember that you’re still wearing his clothes. “Okay,” you breathe shakily, hardly aware of speaking aloud. This is getting weird, and you really don’t have the emotional capacity to deal with Javier Peña’s shit today.

Your laundry is probably dry anyway.

“Where are you going?” Javi demands, resting a hand on your shoulder as you attempt to push past him.

That does it. “To get the laundry!” you bite back, twisting away from his touch with a lot more drama than is really necessary. “My clothes are dry!”

He pulls away as if burned, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

You stand there like that for a long moment, just assessing each other. You’re glaring up at him warily, sizing him up, while he watches you with an expression that you don’t recognize.

“I’ll go,” he says softly. There’s something quiet, almost regretful in his tone, and it shatters your defenses. You bit your lip and nod shakily, and then he’s gone, descending down the stairs without another word.

Jesus.

You exhale another shaking breath - everything you do seems shaky, today - and pour another cup of coffee.

♠

You feel like you’ve got a little more control of yourself once you’re back in your own clothes. Javi is lighting a cigarette at the kitchen table when you exit the bathroom, a fresh butt still hot in the ashtray next to him.

“Rough night?” you ask, dropping his half-folded t-shirt and sweats onto the counter.

He huffs sarcastically.

You sigh. Your patience is wearing very, very thin, but you decide to try one more time, just for the hell of it. “Congratulations, by the way. Murphy told me about Verdugo.”

He blinks up at you, like you’ve pulled him from deep thought. “Yeah,” he says slowly, still staring at you with an intensity that’s starting to really freak you out. He pulls hard at the cigarette, and the moment breaks. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

You nod, suddenly tired.

He notices. “Ears?”

“I need to go back in,” you cut him off before he can ask whatever he was going to ask.

He frowns. “Didn’t you just leave this morning?”

Frazzled as you are, it doesn’t occur to you to ask how he knows that. “Yeah, Peña, I did,” you snap. “But then some fucker bombed my apartment, and I’ve got a nasty feeling that it has something to do with Pablo Escobar. I can’t go home, and I can’t get any sleep, so I might as well make myself useful and see if there’s anything worth listening to today.”

His gaze had drifted during your speech. He’s resting his jaw on his his palm, staring off into the middle distance.

Ugh.

“So, will you drive me, Peña, or am I calling a cab?”

“Sorry,” he says softly, breaking himself out of whatever stupor he’d been in. He stands and extends a hand like he might like to reach for you before deciding against it and grabbing his gun instead. “Of course I’ll drive you, if you feel like going in.” He catches your eye as he tucks the gun into his belt, serious now. “I really am sorry about your home, Ears.”

God. All Javier Peña has to do is throw you a tiny bone, and you fucking melt. The relief you feel is palpable. “Thank you,” you whisper, closing your eyes for a long second.

You hear him rustling around with keys. “Let’s go, then.”

♠

The car ride to headquarters is silent. Javi smokes three more cigarettes, tossing the butts out the open window before you even hit the parking lot, one after the other. You wonder what the fuck is going on with him.

He makes a point to let you out of the passenger side door, a little quirk that had been hit or miss before, depending on his mood. You walk together up the embassy steps, him hanging close to your shoulder but not quite touching you, and you wonder if this is his strange way of apologizing for the weirdness before.

You’re halfway to Stechner’s office when you realize that Javi is still following you. You arch a curious brow in his direction. He pointedly ignores it.

Okay, seriously. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” The question comes out a lot harsher than you intend, but hell, it’s been a terrible day.

He glances down at you, almost apologetic. “It can wait a minute.”

“Ears!”

Oh, fuck. Steve Murphy is running up the hallway, gaze zeroed in on you.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, just whirls on Javi. “Javi, what the fuck is she doing here?”

You bite the inside of your cheek in an effort to keep from screaming. “I’m trying to go do my job, Murphy, if the fucking DEA will let me.” Thankfully, your voice comes out pretty level.

Javi’s looking at Murphy with a narrowed gaze, head cocked, hands on hips. “What do you mean, Murphy?” he asks in a low voice.

Murphy throws his hands up in consternation. “I mean she should be in bed, or at a fucking hospital. You should have seen her this morning, Javi. Looked like she’d come straight from a war zone!”

Javi whips around to stare wide-eyed at you. “Wait. You didn’t say…” All of the color is draining from his face. “You were there?”

Something about the breathlessness the words, like they’d been punched out of him, sends little shocks of electricity zinging across your skin. “I’m fine,” you manage. As protests go, it’s pretty weak.

“God, Ears, you’re still bleeding.” Goddamn Steve Murphy and his fucking preoccupation with your blood. “Now get out of here, please, before I call you an ambulance. Jesus.”

Javi’s face is a storm cloud of emotions as the pieces continue to click into place. “Ears,” he growls, more horrified than angry. He grips you carefully by the shoulders, looking you over again. This time, he brings his fingers gently to your temple. They come away bloody.

He sucks a sharp breath, glancing up at Murphy. “You’ll handle Verdugo?”

Murphy’s lips are pressed into a fine line. “Absolutely, Javi. Get her out of here.”

♠

He escorts you from the building with a hand pressed firmly against the small of your back. It would be sweet, if not for the blistering pace and the stony expression that’s frozen on his face. People take notice, leaping out of your way, craning their necks to watch as you storm by. By the time you reach the doors, your cheeks are flaming.

“Agent Peña!”

Oh shit. You hadn’t even noticed Martinez and his entourage milling around the entrance.

“Yeah?” Javi bites out.

Martinez raises a brow at the scene the two of you make - you, bleeding and shamefaced, Javi damned near parading you into the parking lot with all the subtly of a thunderclap.

God, there’s no way this ends well for either of you.

“Verdugo is in interrogation room three,” Martinzes says, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Javi doesn’t even slow. “Stick Murphy on it,” he snaps over his shoulder. “I’m busy.”

Nobody dares argue with him.

♠

Instead of getting into the car, Javi leans heavily against the door.

You pause, opening your mouth to question him, but he reaches for your jaw before you can speak, carefully tilting your face up into the sunlight.

“Are you okay?”

His voice is soft, but he’s looking at you in undisguised concern, eyes roving over you with an intensity that tempts you to drop your gaze.

You shiver. You can’t help it - you’re exhausted and emotional, and things with Javi have been so weird for so long, and now he’s staring at you, sharp and worried, running his thumbs across your scalp to gently assess for injuries.

No, you are not okay.

He notices the little tremor that darts through your body and rests one hand on your shoulder, leaning in to look you straight in the eye. “How far were you from the explosion?”

“Across the street,” you tell him, breathless for all of the wrong reasons. It’s only half-way true, you’d been crossing the street when the bomb had gone off, far closer to the blast zone than you’re leading him to believe. But he’s so close, cupping your cheeks in his hands, leaning forward to shield you from the traffic-side of the parking spot with his body as he continues to draw his fingers across your skin, gently assessing for more damage.

“It just knocked me off my feet,” you continue. Your throat is suddenly so dry. “Startled me, more than anything.”

Javi reaches with one finger to expose the wound on your temple. It’s still oozing.

“And this?” he asks, pinning you with another piercing stare.

You reach up, catching his hand as his fingers begin to drift down your cheek. He twitches reflexively. “Just a little scratch,” you promise him. “Falling glass, or shrapnel, I guess. Something grazed me. I never hit my head.”

This is not a lie. You never blacked out; you’re not hurt.

He blusters a sigh, scrubbing his face with his palm for a brief second. “I should really take you to the hospital.” His jaw tightens as he speaks.

“I just said I didn’t hit my head. I’m fine.” You indicate the wound on your temple. “This is nothing. You know how head wounds like to bleed.” You look up at him, projecting as much wide-eyed, awake, vibrant woman as you possibly can after walking away from a fucking bomb, and squeeze his hand in reassurance. “Please, Peña. I just want to go -”

Home, you almost say.

You stop yourself just in time. There is no home, not anymore. And you won’t make the mistake of referencing Peña’s place as anything other than ‘Peña’s place.’ That would be supremely stupid, given all of the recent drama.

“To bed,” you manage instead. “I’m just tired.”

And god, that is the truth.

If Javi notices your faux pax, he doesn’t mention it. He’s hardly taken his eyes off you. He’s near enough that you can feel the heat of his skin, one hand still twined in yours.

It’s all you can do to avoid resting your head on his chest.

“Okay,” he mutters begrudgingly, and then shakes his head like he hadn’t meant to agree. “I’ll take you home.”

You smile wanly at him. “Thanks.”

♠

author’s notes/confessions

I know you still have questions. I promise you, I will answer them.

Steve Murphy is a good bro.

Y’all hit me up if you want a little Javi one-shot after this next chapter. I wrote it for my own reference, but it might be a fun read, if you’re wondering what’s happening inside his head right now.

@tiffdawg, look what you made me do. ;)

#Javier Peña x reader #javier peña #javier pena x reader #narcos #pedro pascal #narcos fanfiction #Javier Peña fanfiction #Javier Peña imagine #javi x you #javi x reader #reader insert #angst #hurt/comfort #slowburn #friends to lovers #the rules of engagement #better love #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction

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cacoetheswriting · 4 years

Text

champagne problems, ch.2

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Two: Cherry: The engagement party. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: mild cursing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, very angsty, jealousy, mentions of alcohol, this chapter is a lil fluffy, this series is going to be a real slow burn babyyy

series masterlist

A/N: thank you all so much for the kindest feedback to the first chapter! i am so glad you liked it, genuinely it means so much to me!! you are all so sweet!

Things between you and the hazel-eyed doctor have been strange to say the least. On most days, Spencer would avoid you like the plague. He no longer came into work before everyone else, he no longer walked you to your car at the end of the day. Your conversations were not only rare but also short and most often work related. He refused to sit next to you on the jet, and stopped going out with the group for afterwork drinks if he knew you’d be there.

Overall, Spencer didn’t engage with you at all unless it was absolutely necessary.

Of course the team immediately picked up on the shift in dynamic between the two of you. Profilers profiled. Even though Spencer and you haven't officially said anything was going on, everyone knew. It was obvious.

You were glad however that they all kept their thoughts to themselves. The last thing you needed was for everyone to get involved with something that was simply between you and the brunette doctor.

“What’s this?” Spencer asked confused as you placed a brown paper bag on the desk in front of him.

“It’s breakfast.” You replied. Shooting you a hesitant look, the brunette doctor opened the bag and peeped inside. “I brought you a scone. I baked them myself last night, and this one is for you.” You added shrugging your shoulders lightly while Spencer retrieved the pastry.

“You didn’t have to. What about-” Knowing what he was about to ask, you cut him off. “Don’t worry genius, everyone got one this morning before you came in. This one is rightfully yours.”

Spencer looked up at you, and half-smiled. “Thank you.” You immediately smiled back. “Don’t mention it.”

It was a strange feeling, being this nervous around him. Even after your breakup, you remained close. The two of you continuously dangled on this thin line between less than a relationship, more than a friendship. To an outsider it was definitely weird, but it was unique to your situation since neither of you really wanted to break up in the first place. The circumstances forced you too.

Spencer was your go-to person for pretty much anything, just as you were his. Which is why his current cold shoulder hurt your feelings.

Truth be told, you found his attitude to be quite childish and immature. Yes, how he was feeling about your recent engagement was completely valid but as selfish as it may seem in your eyes there was no need for him to completely cut you off.

“Look, I know things have been odd between us.” You began, resting your body weight against the edge of his desk. “But I just want you to know that I-”

He shook his head. “Please don’t finish that sentence.” “Spencer...” “No Y/N, I mean it. I don’t want you to tell me that you will always care about me, or that I will always have a place in your heart because that frankly doesn't make me feel any better about any of this.” He stated.

“O-okay.” You breathed and turned your attention away from him, breaking eye contact. “So I guess that’s it then? You don’t want to be my friend anymore?” You asked without looking back at him.

Spencer didn’t say anything. What could he say? That he didn’t want to be your friend because he wanted more? He couldn’t say that. That would make things even more complicated because as far as you were concerned he already moved on. As far as you were concerned Spencer wasn't in love with you, so he couldn't tell you now after all this time that he was.

Which is why he distanced himself these last few weeks. It was easier to ignore you, to not talk to you unless he had to. It was easier to pretend you didn’t exist because if you didn’t exist the pain in his chest was imaginary.

“Fine.” You snapped your head back to look at him. “I knew that you wouldn't take my engagement well, but never in a million years would I have thought that you would act like a complete dick about it.” The tone of your voice jarring. “I know that maybe you’re hurting Spencer, but like you said we both moved on so honestly grow the fuck up.” You spat before walking away. Only once has he heard you speak like this, back when he decided to break your heart and end your relationship.

Spencer cursed under his breath; something he didn’t do very often. He sunk back in his chair, and ran one hand through his already messy hair before sighing. You were right. He was being a dick, but again it was easier. It was easier to be an asshole than to deal with the turmoil currently going on inside of him.

Although it may not seem that way, the last thing Spencer wanted to do was to hurt you. He was unhappy, yes. In retrospect he could have shown it less, he could have tried harder to truly be happy for you, because not once did you ever wish him unwell. Your breakup was hasty, and messy, and you had every right to hate him forever because of how it went down. But you didn’t. Apart from the initial shock, you were never angry with him. You stayed by his side, as a friend.

It dawned on Spencer in that moment, that’s why he was so vexed. It wasn't because of you; a friend. Spencer was angry with himself. He was the one that ended it despite your pleas. He was the one that cut you off. He was the one that pushed you into Ethan’s arms. It was because of him you were now engaged to someone that wasn't him. And he unfairly took that anger out on you.

Tonight was your engagement party. He decided that he was going to go. It will be painful to see you in the arms of another, but he will show his support because that’s what friends do. Friends.

The restaurant you picked wasn’t that far from where he lived. For a moment Spencer found your choice to be quite odd, given the history the two of you had with the place. But he quickly shook the thought away - it must be a coincidence.

He stepped inside, and his gaze instantly landed on you. Wow. Gorgeous didn't even began to describe how you looked right now. You wore a figure-hugging white dress with a plunge neck, and floral appliqué detail. Spencer was mesmerised. And if it wasn’t for the fact that you were in a public place, surrounded by people that were here to celebrate you and your fiancé, he would have kept his gaze on you the whole night.

Steadily, Spencer approached to congratulate you.

It was then he noticed how Ethan’s jaw was locked. How even though Ethan had an arm around your waist, the two of you weren't standing right next to each other as a couple in love should be. When he got a little closer, Spencer also noticed how the makeup under your eyes was reapplied almost as if you had been crying. And that the smile currently present on your face was fake. Despite the occasion, you didn't look happy at all.

“Spencer.” His heart skipped a beat at the sound of his name coming out of your lips. Your eyes locked, and he could have sworn they lit up. “I- Thank you for coming.” You reached out your hand to gently squeeze his forearm, and smiled at him warmly. A real smile.

The brunette doctor couldn't help but smile back. “I wouldn't miss it.” He replied. It was a lie, but it looked like one you needed to hear. You let your hand fall back to your side, just as Spencer turned his attention to the surgeon.

“Nice to see you again Spencer.” Ethan uttered, a hint of vexation in his voice. “You too Ethan, and congratulations.” “Thank you.” Ethan glanced down at you briefly. “I’m a lucky guy.” He kissed the side of your head, before excusing himself to talk to another guest.

Of course Spencer noticed that even though you leaned into Ethan’s touch, a small act that stirred the jealousy inside of the brunette agent, your body relaxed the second Ethan was out of sight. Sudden concern flooded through him. But before he could ask what was on your mind, you reached out your hand to straighten his tie.

"I’m glad you’re here Spencer.” A soft smile circled your lips. It took every fibre of his being not to take your hand in his, and hold it right there on his chest. “I am really sorry about what I said this morning.”

“No, I’m sorry Y/N.” He responded. “I hope you know that you will always be my friend, no matter what.”

“Good.” You let your hand fall and looked around the party. “Well, I better go and mingle.” You glanced back at the hazel-eyed doctor and sighed. “Wish me luck doctor.”

Spencer wanted to stop you, but he knew better to bring up whatever was bothering you now. Knowing you, you wouldn't say anything anyway. Not in front of all these people.

“Good luck.” Spencer smiled kindly. He watched you disappear into the crowd before heading off to find his friends.

An hour in and the party was in full swing. Chatter, drinking, and even dancing. Everyone seemed to be having a great time. Everyone but you.

You did your best to keep your head up and enjoy yourself but no matter how hard you tried, the feeling just wasn't there. With a drink in hand, you talked to your guests one by one. At this point in the night you have heard it all. From congratulations, to wedding planning suggestions, and even tips on having a successful marriage.

Which is why you were glad that Ethan came up behind you and asked you to step outside. Even if the feeling was short lived.

“Listen babe, I have to go.” He stated. You furrowed your brows confused. “What do you mean you have to go?” Ethan sighed. “The hospital called. It’s an emergency.”

“You told me that if anything happened they had you covered.”

“Y/N don’t do this right now.” He breathed.

“Don’t do what? It’s our engagement party Ethan.” You stated, annoyance levels rising. “My family flew from across to the country to celebrate with us. My dad is here to get to know you and you’re just-” “The hospital called Y/N. You know how this works, or did you forget the time you were supposed to meet my parents you got hailed away on a case.” He gritted.

“That’s different!” You snapped, taking a step toward him. “How is that different Y/N?! Work is work!” Ethan grumbled. “Because you told me that if anything happened they had you covered.” You repeated sternly.

“I don’t have time for this.” Ethan waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll stay at the hospital tonight.” And just like that he began to walk away. You wanted to yell after him but you knew it wasn't a good idea to get involved in his theatrics. So instead you wiped the single tear that was currently trailing down your face, and headed back inside.

Thankfully no-one even noticed the two of you were gone - or so you thought. As you let out a deep breath, Penelope appeared in front of you. The bubbly blonde linked her arm with yours and eagerly pulled you gently across the restaurant to a table where the rest of the girls sat.

“Sit, sit.” She pointed to one of the empty chairs. “You look like you need a break sweetie.” “Thank you.” You breathed while plopping down and making yourself comfortable.

“So, how’s your night going?” Tara asked while taking a sip of her drink. “Are you having fun?” “Honestly, I’m exhausted. If I hear another comment on how you should never go to bed angry with your spouse I am going to throw myself out a window.” You replied making the girls laugh.

“It’s only uphill from here.” JJ joked. You rolled your eyes at her playfully. “Way to cheer me up honey.” “Anytime.” She shoot you a wink just as Luke and Spencer joined. Luke placed a tray of tequila shots on the table and pulled up a chair next to Penelope.

“Hey, where did Ethan go?” He asked while sitting down. “I saw you guys leave when we were at the bar and only you came back.” Garcia nudged his arm, and he instantly knew that he shouldn't have said anything. He smiled at you apologetically as an inaudible sigh escaped your lips. “He got called to an emergency at the hospital.” No-one said anything. They just glanced between one another.

“Excuse me.” You muttered getting to your feet, and as you walked away you heard Garcia say to Alves: “Way to go newbie.”.

The brunette agent suddenly jumped out in front of you causing a halt in your step. He placed his hands on your shoulders, and you hesitantly looked up to meet his comforting gaze.

“Stopped me to say I told you so.” You mumbled fighting back tears.

“I would never do that.” He affirmed even though he didn't have to because your statement was only rhetorical. Spencer was not the kind of man to gloat, or make you feel even worse than you already were. “I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I’m not.” You replied honestly. “I mean my fiancé just left our engagement party, he told me he's not coming home tonight, and to top it all off he-” You bit your tongue. You couldn't tell him that last part. “Never mind. I don't want to bother you with my problems.”

“You could never bother me. Never.” Spencer reassured.

A tiny smile circled your lips. “That’s sweet Spencer, and you have no idea how much it means to me.” He smiled back. “However, this is a party, so we best go and try have a little fun.” “Y/N...” He wanted to protest but you lifted up your hand and placed it on top of his. “I promise one of these days I will unload all my shit on you doctor. Tonight is just not that night.”

Spencer nodded slowly agreeing with your promise. You smiled at him, still holding his hand. The two of you stood completely frozen and soundless; as if there was no-one else in the restaurant, no party.

Spencer’s heart was thumping so hard in his chest he thought it would burst at any given second. And even though his mind was racing in circles, there was a permanent image stuck vividly. You. He wondered if in that moment you felt as strong of a connection as he did.

His question was answered when you dropped your hand and broke the eye contact. The imaginary glass shattered; he was brought back to earth.

He dropped his arms too, and cleared his throat.

“Pumpkin, just exactly where is that fiancé of yours?” Your dad asked, suddenly appearing next to you. “He was supposed to-” His eyes landed on Spencer. “As I live and breathe, Dr. Reid.” Your dad smiled. “I would shake your hand but I remember you’re not the biggest fan of that.”

“That’s alright Mr. Y/L/N.” Spencer responded reaching out his hand. “Good evening sir.” He greeted while shaking your dads hand. “Please son, we’ve known each other long enough, just call me Anthony. Plus if my memory serves me correctly I think I’ve asked you this before.”

Spencer smiled softly. “Right, of course. How’ve you been Anthony?”

Your dad smiled back. “Ah you know son, I can’t complain.” “Dad’s retired now, so he is spending a lot of time reading, going on walks.” You chimed in making your dad roll his eyes. He looked at Spencer. “Truthfully son, I am bored out of my mind. Retirement is boring.”

“Dad, it’s well earned rest.” You noted.

“I’ll rest when I’m dead pumpkin.” Anthony joked causing you to gently nudge his arm. “Dad!” Spencer couldn't help but chuckle.

Anthony waved his hand in front of his face before changing the subject. “Now, where is that fiancé of yours?” He asked again. “He had to go to work.” You answered, and Spencer could see that although he didn't say anything your dad wasn't impressed.

“Well pumpkin, if he’s gone then would you mind calling me a cab back to the hotel? I’ll leave you kids to enjoy the rest of your night, and I will see you tomorrow for brunch as planned.” You nodded, kissed his cheek, and stepped away to call the taxi leaving Spencer and Anthony alone.

Once you were out of earshot, Anthony turned to Spencer. “Keep an eye on her for me, won’t you son?” He asked. “I want what’s best for my only daughter, and between you and me Dr. Reid, she doesn't seem happy.”

Spencer didn't know what to say. He felt slightly guilty for not being there fore you these last couple of weeks. After tonight, and noticing the odd dynamic between you and Ethan, he agreed with your dad. Maybe if he hadn't been so distant he'd have noticed earlier? However, Spencer knew that if he told you how he felt you’d only go back to arguing and that’s the last thing he wanted.

“I know it is a lot to ask given your history, and I will completely understand if you decline but quite frankly son, you’re the only person I can count on.”

“Don’t worry sir.” Spencer began. “I will keep an eye on her.” Anthony smiled at Spencer’s response. He placed a grateful hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gratefully. “Thank you Dr. Reid.”

You rejoined them shortly after that. As your dad said his goodbyes, you asked him to text you when he got back to the hotel safely.

Soon you and Spencer were alone once again - well not entirely given the party was in full swing.

“Let me buy you a drink.” Spencer offered. You giggled looking back up at him. “It’s an open bar doctor.” You pointed out making Spencer chuckle. “Then let me order you a drink and keep you company.” He corrected himself. “Maybe ward off crazy relatives. How does that sound?”

“Given that my aunt May has been eyeing me for the last fifteen minutes, and she’s quite the talker, it sounds good doctor.” You replied. With a wide grin, Spencer extended his arm and pointed in the direction of the bar. “After you.”

No matter what his assumptions about your relationship with Ethan were, Spencer’s priority from this point on was going to be keeping that promise he made to your dad.

Maybe it wasn’t over for him yet. Maybe he could still win you back. Truth be told he really wanted to try, but that was no longer important.

Being your friend was. As much as that would potentially suck.

I confess I can tell that you are at your best I'm selfish so I'm hating it

A/N: hello friends! i hope you liked the second chapter of this mini-series. i’d love to hear your feedback and what you think will happen next! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life

masterlist | series masterlist

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

Text

How to Calm Your Demon Boyfriend; Vol 2

So You Pissed Him Off, Have You?

Notice: Due to an impending lawsuit for libel and misinformation, Mammoney, Inc. has filed for bankruptcy. All past guides from their company have been revised and re-released. All future printing will be handled Solo Man, Press.

Oh? Is there trouble in your devilish paradise? Well, there’s bound to be a spat or two between lovers but things can get... complicated if one half of your pair could easily wipe out a nation. Attempting to calm down your demon can be tricky, however in this volume of How to Calm Your Demon Boyfriend we will be covering the best methods available for you to do just that! With our instructions and a deft touch, you’ll manage to avoid your boyfriend’s hellish rage and get right back to enjoying that tender, sacrilegious relationship you’ve come to love!

This volume only covers if your demon boyfriend is mad at YOU. If there is SOMEONE ELSE making him mad, please consult Volume One!

Lucifer’s mad at You

You are in a very tricky situation so treat your next actions with the utmost care…

First, ascertain who is at fault for what has occurred. If it’s you, then figure out the severity. A minor infraction can be smoothed over easily enough with some explanation and sincere apology.

More severe breaches of trust will be harder get past. Plead your case but don’t attempt to excuse your actions. Acknowledge fault and, again, apologize. If he seems receptive, attempt to touch him in some way like on the hand or arm but no higher. This a literal demonstration of your attempt to reconnect.

This is the best that you can do for now, but he should acknowledge your efforts as long as you approached it correctly.

If it’s his fault… as far as he’s concerned it’s still your fault, unfortunately. It’s the pride in him speaking.

Ask him what he believes you’ve done wrong and assess from there. Some things may be better to give a brief apology to, but no more. You don’t need to explain yourself for something you didn’t do. It may be best to leave him for a few hours after this and let tensions cool.

If the accusation is too egregious, you have the option to not apologize at all. This will likely anger him further if you give no explanation, though. Explain why you don’t think you should have to say sorry, then leave. Call for his brothers if you need someone there to intervene.

Now you wait. Unfortunately, it's an inevitability. Lucifer will need time to process and do a post-mortem on what happened. If he was truly the one at fault, he’ll acknowledge it to himself but never admit it out-loud. He may extend an olive branch in the form of a gift (the size and expense of which will be directly proportional to how much he messed up) but that will be it.

If you forgive him, then life can return to normal. If not, consult our other material: Can I Breakup with My Demon Boyfriend?

Mammon’s mad at You

It is first important to discern between his usual “anger” and actual anger.

If you see any of these signs: Blushing, stuttering, overly defensive denials, general tsundere-ness then you are likely only dealing with “anger.” Feel free to tease appropriately.

If these signs are not there then something is very wrong. Find out what it is, he will be forthright with a little persistence. (i.e. bug him until he says something. He will likely want to tell you anyway)

Attempt to remedy the problem as quickly as possible. This will no small matter. A truly upset Mammon should not be ignored.

If you have done something wrong, an apology may be in order. Do be sincere if you can because Mammon will appreciate the effort.

Cheer him up with either compliments or physical contact, head pats and cuddles work most effectively. If his face is red, though, you’re likely on the right track in general.

He isn’t one to hold a grudge so this should settle any brief irritation that’s derailed your relationship. Take care not to upset him this much again in the future.

Leviathan’s mad at You

Again, he’s probably jealous but now he’s going to be jealous and possessive. Admittedly, not the best combination.

Stay. Calm. If he’s already hysterical then adding onto the situation won’t do anyone any good. Patience may be difficult to hang onto, but it’s crucial to getting through this on the other side.

Physical contact is still important but NOT TOO EARLY. If he has his guard up he may just slap away your attempts to touch him.

Chances are he’s already built up a narrative in his head. This will not be easy to combat, especially if his suspicions aren’t true.

Denial will be tricky. You don’t want him to accept his false narrative as truth, but there’s going to be only so many times you can say, “No, that didn’t happen” before he stops believing you.

Deny his story first, firmly and with no room for doubt then redirect the conversation to asking why he’s so worried about it. Get to the heart of what’s making him feel so self-conscious and start soothing him from there. He’ll be feeling vulnerable, so a delicate touch is necessary.

NOW is the time for physical contact. He still needs to know you’re there so you should get as close to him as possible. He’ll probably be holding onto you pretty tightly. He won’t mean to bruise you if he does.

Hold him close and don’t even think about letting him go until he’s ready. He needs to know that you'll stay with him even if this is what he has to offer. Your embrace is not just reassurance, it’s a promise. I hope you're prepared to keep it.

For more on how to comfort Levi, please seek out: How to Comfort Your Demon Boyfriend.

Satan’s mad at You

Oh my, aren’t you in a pickle? The focus should be on the immediate concerns first, then the long term. Don’t try to resolve both at once.

The immediate concern is that you have a very ticked off Wrath in front of you and he will make his displeasure known. Apologize. Apologize now. Is it actually your fault? Who knows. That's a long term concern and you should focus first on getting him to calm down fast.

Satan will not listen to reason right now, especially not if you're the only one offering it so don’t even try.

Do not, I repeat, DO NOT attempt to touch an angry Satan. He's going to be far too gone for cuddle time to smooth things over.

You should give him space. He likely doesn't want to be mad at you and is very aware of just how dangerous this situation is for you both. If you take a step back, he'll do what he needs to in order to calm himself down (which is probably going to involve property damage of some kind but better it a bookshelf than you).

Wait until he is no longer shouting, then you may approach and carefully plead your case. You better have some airtight logic if you want to convince him he's actually the one in the wrong about something, but if he is he will apologize.

Of course, if you are at fault then you should apologize and attempt to explain. Even if you don’t have the best justification, you can still win him back if you can prove you had good intentions.

Unfortunately, even if he understands your reasoning he may still be a little miffed... Speaking candidly, if there's still residual anger left it may be best just to f*ck it out. This is not a joke, it's a legitimate way to redirect lingering negative emotions in a relationship. So have at it, I suppose. Just have a safe word ready because you'll need it.

Asmodeus’ mad at You

Again, reason and logic will fail you, especially at the very start. He WILL be upset and he WILL lash out. Likely verbally.

DO NOT engage in a fight of insults with Asmodeus. Not only will you lose but the situation may escalate to the point that your relationship will suffer permanent damage.

Remain calm, but you need not take the abuse. You are well within your right to tell him that you will leave the room if he does not cease the hostility. Don’t mean this idly either because your presence will be very important to Asmo. He hates to be ignored.

If you must leave, do so. Don’t turn back even if he pleads. Wait for him to come to you, because he will, and then a civil conversation can commence. Apologize if necessary.

After his initial anger has passed, Asmo will be very quick to feel remorseful. Despite his ferocity, he should be rather forgiving (at least to you anyway).

He will want make-up sex, for his own comfort if nothing else, but as always he will not force the matter. It may be much sweeter than usual, though, because that’s his way of saying “I’m sorry.”

Beelzebub’s mad at You

Oh dear.... You have either denied/stolen his food, hurt his family, or somehow just really ticked him off...

If you denied him food, get more.

If you hurt his family, plead for mercy.

If you’ve just really, really ticked him off, I’m not even sure what you did but you probably ought to apologize and maybe rethink your life choices... They must not be very good.

Belphegor’s mad at You

This will happen, but again Belphegor is pretty lazy. He’s more likely to give you the silent treatment than he is to blow up in your face.

Your challenge now is to get him to talk to you. Unlike with Mammon, he won’t be itching to say anything so a slight nudge isn’t going to cut it.

Start by trying to be frank about the situation. Attempt to sit him down and say that you wish to talk things out. Be empathetic, approachable, and sincere. This should elicit at least some attention from him for most issues.

If he intends on holding out further, then you have already done your part to the best of your ability. Leave the door open to that discussion, but go about your day until he’s ready for it. It won’t be easy, nor will it feel good, but it’s important to set boundaries and not allow his silence to punish you when things could be worked out more productively.

I assure you, Belphie does love you and he will miss you. It may take a little time, but he will eventually approach you to have that talk. Resolve what happened together and then things can return to normal, cuddles and all.

If you are looking to calm down your demon before he hurts someone else, please consult Volume One: Tame Demons, Save Lives!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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newtonsheffield · 3 years

Note

Can you do Anthony’s reaction when someone disrespects Kate at work or in her personal life about her relationship with Anthony or her job position? Anthony defending her and Kate loving him all the more and/or maybe slightly annoyed.

Hello! I’m so sorry that this request has been just... collecting dust in my inbox I’m truly the worst! And I’m doing something even more reprehensible and combining it with another request ugh! I know! I know! I Will get better at this I promise!!!

Another Anon asked: Can you write about Kate defending the Bridgertons? I feel like someone would bad mouth them and Kate would totally stand up against them and everyone would be impressed.

Okay! On with the show this is also kind of related to a post I made ages ago about a dude objectifying Kate at her University reunion but I can’t find it. Anyway, Dudebro David is back.

“Oh Fuck!” Kate had sighed when Lucy had handed her her schedule this morning, glancing down the list, her eyes rolling when she saw the name David Warner listed as Mr Smith’s divorce attorney. Lucy’s eyebrows widened, her hand fiddling with the engagement ring on her left hand a little nervously. “Is something wrong?” Kate sighed “No, I just... I know Mr Smith’s attorney from university. We... didn’t date exactly we just...” Kate trailed off awkwardly. Lucy made a surprised little noise. “Oh. Well. This should be... interesting.” She said, a small smirk starting on her lips. Kate had tutted. “David is a professional, I’m a professional. It’ll be fine.”

It was not fine. From the very moment he’d arrived David Warner, his square jaw set, his hair swept back with a little too much product, had been... snarky at best. He’d pulled Kate in by the arm leaving a kiss against her cheek that had made her want to cringe. “Sheffield! It’s good to see you!” He’d said, a smirk on his face, his hand dropping to her waist. Kate had pulled back, nudging his hand from her and said sharply, “David. I trust you’ve been well.” hoping to discourage him. It did not work. His eyes had flicked over her as they’d sat at the conference table, settling on the rings on her left hand, narrowing a little. And then he’d really started, He’d shot down every attempt at civility, glared at her, made several unseemly inferences. And Kate couldn’t help but wonder if he’d always been this disgustingly misogynistic. She was relieved when Lucy finally stood and said briskly, “I’ll show you out Mr & Mrs Smith.” And yet David Warner had lingered as they’d walked through the hall

“I can’t believe Kate Sheffield sold out!” He said, smirking irritatingly, and Kate could feel the thin strand of her patience fraying slightly further. “You also work for a well known firm David, I can’t imagine your billable hours are worth much less than mine.” She said, a tight smile on her face, desperate to end this interaction. David laughed a little humourlessly “We both know I was always going to do this. Kate Sheffield was going to save the world.” Kate bit back a tut, forced herself to remain civil as she said “Well circumstances change David.” her voice cold when she thought about the real reason she’d come straight back to London after graduating. David opened his mouth to say something else, a sneer forming on his lips though what he was going to say she would never know. “Kate, honey, there you are I was just going to pick up Edmund from-” Anthony said appearing in the bullpen from his office rather suddenly his eyes widening in surprise ad slightly odd recognition as he took in David. Perhaps they’d worked opposite one another before. “Oh! Sorry!” Anthony finished awkwardly. David’s expression dropped into something curiously like disgust forming on his face. Anthony cleared his throat. “David wasn’t it? We met at your reunion I believe.” Anthony’s voice was tight, a warning almost, as his hand went out in front of him. Kate felt her eyebrows shoot upwards in surprise. David eyed Anthony’s hand, the sneer coming to his face all over again as he looked between Kate and her husband.

“And here he is. The second way you sold out Kate: Mr Anthony Bridgerton!” David’s voice was dripping his derision, his jaw set, his eyes narrowed Kate felt her mouth open in surprise a little at the statement, felt Anthony’s arm tighten protectively around her waist. “Was it getting on your knees for the most notorious man in London that changed your circumstances Kate?” David continued, chuckling to himself a little “You know, they say law’s a bit of an old boys club but it sure must be easy for you girls to sleep your way into a partnership. And The Bridgerton’s? Of all people Kate I mean come on!” Kate felt her patience finally snap, but apparently Anthony’s patience had frayed much quicker. His voice was cold fury when he spoke “Mr. Warner, I’m afraid I’m going to ask you not to speak to my colleague that way, I don’t tolerate disrespect towards the employees of this firm in any way. Even less do I tolerate it towards my wife, Sir. Kate is extremely capable, far more than some and was promoted on professional merit alone, I assure you.” He finished coldly, his jaw set, his arm moving as though to move Kate behind him to shield her from what was being said. Kate refused to move, anger building in her chest., she could see Gregory moving closer towards their small group, his arms crossed. David sneered again,

“Come on Bridgerton, pretty honourable for you to marry her afterwards I’ll admit, and I’ll admit from what I remember it might have been worth-” He said, cutting himself off as Anthony lunged towards David his hand thrown out, likely to throttle the man, stopping only when Kate caught his arm, her voice surprising even her in its softness “Anthony don’t.” Anthony’s posture relaxed, turning back towards her, his eyes softening immediately, Kate felt her own anger ebb away as their eyes caught.

“He’s not worth it.” She said softly, and then turning towards her former acquaintance “David, if you’re a tenth as smart as you pretend to be you’ll stop talking.” His mouth opened, sneer still fixed in place, Kate shook her head “David, maybe my life did go down a different road than I thought it would, but you’re exactly where you were ten years ago, tearing other people down to make yourself look bigger, and I feel sorry for you. My life is absolutely none of your business, and it has no impact on my ability to do my job. Which by the way, one of us graduated top of their class, the other scraped out of the bottom ten.” Kate finished, feeling a little smug at David’s mouth falling open in surprise. Anthony arm wrapped around her waist again, she could see the smug smile on his face, his thumb rubbing along the rings on her left hand.

“I am extremely proud of my association with the Bridgerton family, David. And we look out for one another.” Kate said lightly, turning towards Gregory who was standing behind Kate, his arms crossed, doing his best to look imposing despite his bowtie with Mario and Luigi in a jumping high five, their hands meeting at the knot. “Gregory, could you show Mr. Warner out, please.” Kate finished, tugging Anthony from the scene as Gregory gave her a kiss on the cheek before gripping David Warner tightly by the upper arm.

Anthony remained unnervingly silent as Kate pulled him into her own office. His jaw still set in anger as Kate slowly collected her things before turning to her husband, whose eyes were glistening. Her stomach swooped uncomfortably. “You shouldn’t listen to the things he said about you, Anthony.” Kate said, reaching her hand out and running her fingers through his hair. Anthony’s eyes, which had closed at the contact, shot open again at the end of her sentence. His voice came out choked. “Kate, I’m upset because of what he said about you. I’m trying to stop myself from running after him and strangling him.” Kate’s heart clenched at the earnestness in his voice “Anthony, I don’t care what he says about me. I don’t care what anyone says anymore.” And it was true, truly the only emotion she’d felt as she’d stood listening to his words was surprise. David had never really been the type of person to say insults to someone’s face, if he hadn’t insulted Anthony’s family, truly she would have been more impressed at the guts it had taken to say what he’d said about her. “We both know what really happened, right?” Anthony nodded quickly in response “And that’s all that matters. I really do love you you know.” She finished standing slightly on her toes to kiss him lightly as Anthony hummed happily, his posture relaxing. “I love you too, Kate. And you, really are the most incredible person I know.” He said wrapping her in a tight hug, his chin resting on her head, they stayed wrapped together for several moments before Kate chuckled to herself. Pulling back, with a smirk on her face she said,

“And besides Mr. Bridgerton, we both know only one of us has gotten on their knees in this office, and it wasn’t me. Now let’s go and collect our Son.” tugging Anthony from the office laughing as he puffed his chest out and said “You’re damn right. And I’d do it again.”

#bridgerton and sons au #kathony #anthony x kate #anthony bridgerton #kate sheffield #kate sharma #dudebro david #anthony is ready to throw down #molly's asks and answers

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