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mrskurono · 3 years

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title: Something Soft || Uraume x curseFem!reader a/n: bruh I dunno I just wanna steal Sukuna’s things and spit in his face and Uraume is the top of things I wanna steal word count: 1.9k tags: past au(?), Sukuna mentioned, corruption kink, handjob, vaginal penetration, premature orgasm, creampie, praise kink, dirty talk, some body dysmorphia mentioned on Uraume’s part, reader is kinda snarky, Uraume with they/them pronouns but they have a penis, size kink ish, ironically kinda soft character(s): Uraume (jjk)

nsfw undercut ⇾ ⇾ ⇾

Uraume always smelled of spices and wore the softest robes.

You might say reeked if you found the smell distasteful. Instead you found it endearingly human of them. Each night the grand little curse user would slip away to meet you. Bringing with them the scent of labor for another curse. Introducing your senses to a new creation left clinging to their robes from the day.

Food was such a human construct. It amused you to no end really. The act of preparing it didn’t interest you in the slightest. But watching the white haired curse user recite to you what they made that day. It brought a softness to your day that could only be so human in nature.

“King of curses can’t stomach under done flesh?” Words like satin from your lips, your hands draw along Uraume’s shoulders as the curse user stayed still amidst your casual circling, “Seems awfully weak of him.”

Teasing for the day reaching it’s peak with Uraume finally broke their silence, “Lord Sukuna is not weak he-”

“Calm down,” You interrupt them quickly, lip pressed to their cheek as you drape your arms over their narrow shoulders and grin against their pale skin, “Leave work at work, come play with me tonight already.”

Uraume remained ridged. As stiff as they were every night for the past few weeks. Their time their own when Sukuna didn’t need them. Why then they found themselves tied up with another curse left the human fuming with themselves. Uraume internalized their own demand to know why they did this to themselves. But it was when your hand slipped down past their robes. Finding the soft warmth of their semi hard cock hidden away in the fabric. Suddenly the each night they snuck out to meet you was worth it.

“...look at you, already so hard,” Lips dancing along their neck with faint kisses here and there. You barely needed your entire hand to engulf the curse user’s cock. Stroking them slowly when Uraume’s bottom lip turned white from a taut bite and they leaned back into you. No noise between the two of you so you fixed that with a little playful praise, “You taste as good as you smell you know....and yet its such a waste.”

Feeling their cock twitch in your grip. Smirk curling on your lips. Uraume’s cock hard within no time from your touch and words.

“Such a good little curse user....wasted away to a meager cook,” By now you’d pulled Uraume’s robes away. Revealing the neglected cock between their legs. Glistening with precum you had to stop stroking them so they wouldn’t cum yet. Switching to just your fingertips dancing around their tip as you hummed in their ear, “Dress you up like a maid....demand you cook meals....when really you should be with a real curse.”

There it was, the first moan.

Uraume’s breathing quickened. Just the slight edging of your fingertips massaging their cock head was too much for the inexperienced human. Inhaling their scent you let your hand disappear from their cock entirely. Something of a protested whine leaving their throat. Mostly though Uraume tried to steal their composure before another curse.

You weren’t Sukuna but they understood they didn’t have a chance in defying you. Perhaps that’s what was found so alluring. Or it was the simple fact your touches left their body caving in on itself with need. Uraume already looking down to find their legs trembling and you hadn’t even disrobed yet.

“You’re needy tonight,” You off handedly comment as you push your own robes off your shoulders. Grinning to see the curse user glued to you like a starving dog. Once more you let the clothing dip down past your breasts. Never undressing all the way. But Uraume never seemed to notice with the soft look in their eyes. You come up to them and trace your fingers down their jawline, “Look how pretty you are, pretty just for me. When will you just stay with me instead hmm?”

There was no answer. There never was. You liked that in fact. Part of you wanted the trophy but another part of you liked the hunt. Uraume didn’t answer like they did every night. Leaving you to pull their face to your breast as your hand moved back down to their cock.

“M-Mphm-” The second moan be it muffled. Louder than the last but that’s because Uraume knew your skin would dampen it. Little thought to it the curse user wrapped their arms around your torso. Lips finding your nipple to suckle at as your hand moved up and down you visitor’s length, “P-Please-”

An eyebrow arched up on your end as you lazily stroked them, “Please what?”

Uraume pried themselves on few words. Just like Sukuna liked. But around you it was like a totally different set of rules. Rules they didn’t even have to think about because they didn’t feel like rules in the first place, “....please....let me make you feel good ma’am, please.”

Rolling your eyes with an bemused smirk there wasn’t anything you loved more than this toy. Never tiring of them in the slightest even after all this time.

“Of course.” You indulged them. At your leisure as you pulled away from Uraume. Feeling their eyes on you without reservation tonight. Particularly needy in fact. You were smug about it when your back was turned for a second.

Only for only a second though. In the dim lit home you lay back on your very self indulgent mattress. Like most things in the little cabin you didn’t need them. Curses needed very little. But you liked having things. Having nice things on top of that. So when Sukuna’s personal aide kept coming back to you. Well, Uraume was going to be added to your nice things as well.

A finger to beckon them over. Only having to clear your throat once to get Uraume’s attention away from just staring at your exposed core as you lounged with your legs spread, “Come here then.”

Obedient, that you might have to thank Sukuna for, Uraume got on the bed and between your legs in a flustered hurriedness. Like you would revoke your invitation at a moments notice. Sure it was fun but watching the curse user exhaust themselves was also enjoyable.

Pulling them close, you lock your legs behind Uraume and smile. Not letting them do anything as you rub their cock up and down your soaked slit. A happy thrum in your chest as the pleasant sensation of their cock swiped over your clit. Something about having stolen this human’s first time nightly fueled you.

Untouched like pure soft satin. You had left something akin to a big ink mark in the middle of it all pureness. For no one to know about the corruption save for you. Uraume was yours even if they were to leave. Nothing could take that stain away for as long as they lived.

“Mmm perfect, right there,” You pull your hand away as the tip of their cock pushes into your soaked core. Legs still doing the most to guide Uraume in with more confidence than they had. It took a little more but when your hands come up and touch down their neck and shoulders, its like they understand to start moving.

Much smaller than you in stature, Uraume did their best every visit. Cock buried in you until your juices soaked their navel and dripped down both your thighs. You’d certainly had bigger and probably better. But the way Uraume fucked themselves senseless on you made you tingle with excitement you hadn’t felt in centuries.

“That’s it~ Oh you’re doing exceptionally good tonight~ Humans learn so quickly and you learn better than any of them do Uraume~” Words soft as your skin under touch.

Uraume admitted they were exerting a little more roughness than previously. Waiting for you to tell them no. So when the words of praise came instead the white haired curse user’s mind and body had no idea what to do.

Each snap of their hips into yours. Cock being enveloped in the warmest softness Uraume could conceivably think of. It was too much when your playful words turned to sweet praise. Fisting the cotton blanket under the two of you Uraume bowed their head. Dreading the overwhelming feeling already cascading down their spine. Inevitably stopping wasn’t going to help anything.

“M-Ma’am-!” Uraume’s choking cry more like a moan staved off half way through. They couldn’t control the shudder to their body. Or anything else. Grinding their hips into yours Uraume hide their face as all the human could do was rut into you as deep as they could. A gush of cum with each twitch of their cock. Not even five minutes in and already Uraume had lost.

Ready to pull out ashamed. You surprise them by linking your legs back around. Refusing to let Uraume pull out. Catching the curse user by surprise as they look up at you with an equally shocked and horrified look. Certain punishment for the lack of control was next.

“Look at you,” What should have been a sting to the cheek. Instead was your soft palm pressed against their cheek. Uraume’s breathing hitched and they could feel a buckle to their elbows like they wouldn’t hold them up any longer. Your thumb swiped over their cheek and you smile, “You needed that huh?”

Ashamed Uraume refused eye contact with you. Which was fine with you. You weren’t letting them go just yet. Pulling them off their propped up arms. Bringing Uraume into your bare chest with a head to rest against your breast. The hum of your laugh could be felt against their cheek as Uraume froze. Not once had they laid against your skin like this. So much....so much of it was soft.

With their cock still buried in you, you press your lips to the top of their white hair and mumble something softly, “...how about you grind in me for a little bit huh? Seems like a good night for that.”

Utterly stunned to not be in trouble. There is no question that grinding into you was something they’d thought about since the very first night spent here. Eager to comply Uraume’s hips do the best job they can to shift their still hard cock inside you. Needing to grip your waist twice as hard and press their face into your chest. The sensation of pleasure on another level now that they already climaxed. Uraume couldn’t think of anything to do but let their hips move mindlessly into you as they panted against your chest.

Coy grin stuck on your lips. You relax into the bedding beneath you. Enjoying the curse user’s little attempt to please you. Even as you felt their cum drip out of you and their grinding turn into slow frantic thrusts once again. You weren’t going to stop them. Uraume welcomed to stay in this softness forever tonight.

The idea of Sukuna’s things leaving him were enough to bring you euphoria more than a climax. Uraume was simply something else you were going to add to your collection after tonight. And all you had to do was show them something soft.

#no one asked for this but here we are #yeah i wanna fuck uraume and steal sukunas things so sue me #threethirst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #uraume #jjk uraume #uraume x reader #uraume smut #jujutsu kaisen uraume

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mandoalorian · 3 years

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I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Three: Beauty

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person’s relationship with his son. You’ve heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You’ve felt his pain and anguish and you’ve never been able to relate to anything more. But things don’t come easy for you, and they certainly don’t come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: 18+ description of male masturbation, descriptions of blood and injury, mention of childhood trauma as well as legal battle of custody over a child.

Word count: 5,200>

Masterlist

I Believe In Love Masterlist

Previous - Chapter Three - Next

Maxwell had to stifle back laughter from your comment. A hero? There wasn't a chance he was a hero. You didn't know what he had done. How he'd almost destroyed the entire planet without even realising. The guilt was eating him alive, it was all he could think about at any given second of silence. How could he have let himself become so power corrupt— to the extent he'd forgotten what really mattered? Alistair might have forgiven him, but there wasn't a chance the rest of the world would. It had only been a day and Maxwell didn't know how he could possibly live with himself.

"I need help." you announced, breaking the silence. Maxwell looked at you momentarily in curiosity but then looked away, sighing with discontentment.

"Look, whatever it is, I'm sure you don't want my help." Maxwell told you with a frown. You admired the deep shade of brown that was his eyes. It was so easy to get lost in them, they were hypnotic.

"You're the only person I know," you explained to the businessman sheepishly. "You and Alistair. And Raquel too, who is lovely, but I sense that she doesn't like me very much," Maxwell raised an eyebrow. You had wandered into Black Gold Cooperative wearing a crazy brown tunic, and you were covered in mud saying words like Themyscira, Hestia, hearth… jargon that not even Maxwell could understand. It didn't surprise him one bit if Raquel was a little put off by you. Until he learned the truth, he was borderline about to call you crazy and run ten mile. He believed you now. He had no reason not to. "I'm looking for someone." you told the man as you nervously bit your lower lip.

"Yeah, the thing is, I'm not going to be able to help you look for him, if that's what you're suggesting," Maxwell hummed. He wanted to get out of here. It wasn't your fault— you weren't doing anything wrong, but since seeing the lasso and remembering what had happened in the bunker just a day ago… a mixture of guilt, anger and hurt consumed him. "I have to go." Maxwell gasped feeling the desperate urge to get some air.

Of course, you chased after him. "I shouldn't really need any help finding him, I shouldn't really ask anyone for help either…" you mumbled, fumbling with your fingers as you shimmied through the revolving doors that led out of his office. "As the goddess of home and hearth, it would be my duty to see the man, and his child, myself."

"So you're looking for a man and his kid?" Maxwell asked, relishing the feeling of relief washing over him as the cool air hit his skin. He wasn't a smoker, he hadn't been since before he moved to the U.S., but in this moment of pure stress and anxiety, he had never craved a cigarette more. He turned to you for comfort. "I'm afraid ‘the world of man’ is full of those."

"That's what I was afraid of," you sighed, running a hand through your hair. "There's not a single man on Themyscira, we are all children of Zeus, sculpted in his image only,"

Every time you mentioned your homeland of Themyscira, or one of the Olympian Gods, Maxwell's curiosity piqued greatly. He had so many questions— so much he wanted to learn about you. He wondered if you'd even give him the time of day to answer them.

The delay in a response from Maxwell prompted you to speak up again. “As I was saying… I don't know anyone in D.C., I don’t have a place to stay… so I was wondering...”

Maxwell’s head snapped to face you, his eyes going comically wide. “I don’t know.” he said quickly and almost defensively. Yes your beauty was unimaginable and he had so much he wanted to ask you, but was now really the right time? What would happen once you learned about the terrible things he had done, how he was an awful father? And why did he care so much about what you thought of him when you were merely just a stranger? You looked down at your feet, your toes beginning to feel fuzzy as the evening grew colder. He couldn’t just let you stay out on the street, alone. Without any further prompting for you, he pulled out his car keys and tilted his head in gesture for you to follow him. Unlocking the car, he slid into the driver's seat as you waited outside. “Are you coming or not?” Maxwell huffed.

“What is this?” you asked after sliding into the passenger's seat. You were completely awe inspired by your surroundings.

“It’s a car,” Maxwell said hesitantly. “Wait, let me guess. You don’t have cars on Themascream, you have unicorns.”

“It’s Themyscira,” you corrected again, feeling only mildly irritated and wondering if he was deliberately just being that obnoxious. “And no, don’t be silly, unicorns don’t exist. We ride horses.” you sighed, shaking your head. Maxwell almost had to stifle back an incredulous laugh. Everything he once believed to be mythological was turning out to be true, he wouldn’t even be surprised if you had a license in Pegasus flight.

As he turned on the engine and began to reverse out of his parking space, you gasped, clutching onto the gear stick. The same gear stick that Maxwell was holding as he pushed the car into reverse. Your hand grazed his, and the skin on skin contact practically took Maxwell’s breath away. You grabbed onto his hand in fear as the car moved, and you stared out of the window. Of course, this was your first time in a car. Maxwell’s eyes flicked between the road, the frightened delight on your face and the way your soft hand enveloped his. He wanted to curse at the feeling of your touch and how it went straight to his manhood - this was the second time you had him feeling things he shouldn’t. Was there something in the air? It’s not like he wasn’t that touch starved. He shouldn’t have been reacting to you like this, but he was, and he didn’t know why. Swallowing the lump in his throat he gently removed his hand from yours and placed it back on the wheel. He wondered if the sexual tension was one side, if only he could feel it. He saw the innocence in your pretty eyes. You were just an oblivious girl trapped in a new world, seeking guidance from Maxwell, out of all people.

“Is this car… dangerous?” You asked nervously, the palm of your hand resting against the window.

“Not as dangerous as a horse,” Maxwell chuckled, taking his sunglasses out of the glove compartment and pushing them up the bridge of his nose. “I once knew a girl back home who fell off a horse and broke her leg. Couldn’t walk for a month. But, she deserved it.”

You gasped in horror at his statement, your eyes widening as your lips parted into a perfect ‘O’ shape. “How could she deserve it?” you asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“She wasn’t a nice person,” you watched as Maxwell’s face hardened at the memory.

You frowned but chose not to question him further. “So, you aren’t from here?”

“Wh- what makes you say that?” Maxwell asked, feeling a well of familiar anxiety.

“You said ‘back home’.” You acknowledged and Maxwell’s grip on the steering wheel tightened so hard his knuckles turned white. You were certainly right about that. You’d caught him out.

“Yeah uh, that’s just something we say over here. In the ‘world of man’.” Maxwell muttered, hoping you wouldn’t question him further. And thankfully, you didn’t.

“I think there’s a lot you can teach me about the world of man,” you smile pleasantly at the businessman who is doing his utmost to keep his concentration on the road ahead, rather than getting lost in your divine beauty. “Mr Lord?” You asked when he didn’t reply.

“You- you don’t have to call me Mr Lord,” Maxwell said awkwardly, turning at a junction.

“That is your name, isn’t it?” you quizzed.

“My name is Max Lord.” he was a little taken aback upon realising he hadn’t yet introduced himself to you. He’d just made the assumption you already knew exactly who he was, just like the rest of the world did. He’d come to think that maybe that wouldn’t be the case.

“Well then who is Mr?” “I’m Mr,” Maxwell furrowed his eyebrows. “Mr Max Lord.” “Why does Raquel call you Mr Lord?” you quizzed further, and Maxwell could feel an onsetting migraine. He actually hated talking about himself.

“She- because- I-” Maxwell stammered out, before shaking his head profusely. “Doesn’t matter okay? Just call me Max.”

“I’m sorry if I’m being annoying.” You admitted timidly after another silence.

Max sighed. “You’re not annoying. Look, we’re almost home.”

The final five minutes of the journey were sat in complete silence. You spent most of the time looking out the window, trying to find clues and wondering how you were planning to find Lorenzano. There must be a way. You contemplated asking Maxwell for help, but you knew, as the daughter of Zeus and the goddess of home and hearth, it was your duty to find him and help him yourself. And that’s exactly what you were going to do. Of course, it was hard to ignore your mother’s word’s before you left Themyscira, regarding Romulus and Dolos. The God of Lies. You looked over at Maxwell who was staring dead ahead. You wondered if you could poke his brain about that… or even about the two dreamstones. Might he know something?

While you were thinking about your objective, Maxwell simply couldn’t stop thinking about you. Ashamed to admit it, but his cock was still semi hard and it was becoming difficult to ignore when he couldn’t help glancing at your reflection in the rear view mirror. He’d known you for barely an hour and he could already feel himself growing attached. Maybe it was the glitter in your eye or the way you spoke every word like it was your last. You had such joy and passion in your soul. Maxwell didn’t have any of that. All he had was his deep, dark secret as well as the anxiety and guilt which was eating him alive. There was something so perfect about you. Maxwell had sworn that nobody could be perfect, but he had also sworn that places like Themyscira, magical lassos and Gods and Goddesses weren’t real. He could be wrong about one more thing.

You followed Max as he slipped out of the car, and you found yourself absolutely astonished by his large D.C. home. Like everything else you had seen so far, it was beautiful. It seemed extensive in size, especially for just one man and possibly Alistair, but you refrained from making a comment. The exterior of the house was framed with beautiful greenery, tall trees, blooming bushes, and flowers that you only assumed could be native to the world of man. You knelt by a bush, admiring a red flower, as Maxwell fumbled with his keys to unlock the front door.

“What is this?” You asked, unpicking the flower from the bush.

“Be careful.” Maxwell gasped, his eyes widening when you hissed and saw blood trickle slowly down your finger. “It’s a rose, and they have thorns and if they prick you it’s gonna hurt like a bitch. Are you okay?” He grabbed your hand and pulled it to his face. You swiped your thumb over the wound, cutting off the bloodstream and healing yourself within seconds.

“I’m okay.” you confirmed, pulling your hand away from Maxwell’s. His vision crossed you in bewilderment.

“How did you?” He stammered, rubbing his eyes. “You just-”

When Maxwell saw you shiver from the cold, he ushered you inside his home and shut the front door behind him. He walked behind you, taking in your every step as you looked around his home. You admired all the little things, like the oil paintings that were hung upon the cream coloured walls and the ornaments scattered around on every surface. He supposed he could tell you to make yourself at home, but as you bent over and let your fingers grace the softness of the living room carpet, he figured maybe you already had. You stood up again, taking a deep breath before turning to face Maxwell.

“Us Amazons aren’t like humans,” you began, your eyes still scattering around his spacious living room. The sofa, although not as big as the one in the lobby of Black Gold Cooperative, was still extensive in size and made from the same plush velvet, this time in a coppery colour. It seemed he had a television too, which just so happened to be the biggest one you had seen yet. He had so much stuff, but his home was so big it still felt kind of empty. You found the mismatched patterns and colours endearing and you wondered if he had decorated himself.

“I’ll say,” Maxwell mumbled, walking over to the mini bar in the corner of the living room and pouring out a glass of whiskey. “Can I get you anything?” Max offered.

“No thank you,” you hummed, looking at all the paintings on the walls. “We’re immortal.”

“Immor- so you mean, you can’t die?” Maxwell looked at you dumbfounded.

“Immortal not invincible,” you laughed, and Maxwell felt his cheeks heat up slightly. There was no reason for him to feel embarrassed, this was all extremely new to him, and yet, he didn’t want you to think any less of him. He wanted you to believe he was smart and knowledgeable. “We don’t age. We’ve lived on Themyscira for centuries. We have enhanced strength, coordination, agility, stamina…” Max listened intently as you educated him about your kind. “If the injury isn’t too bad… I can heal.” you explained nonchalantly but then frowned.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, putting his glass of whiskey down on the grand piano and walking over to you.

“My powers aren’t as refined as the other Amazonians,” you said weakly. You had been so used to being made feel inadequate by the warriors around you. They'd judge you and call you for being the goddess of home and hearth— telling you your powers were pointless and would never lead to greatness. Maybe not their greatness, but you had truly found your calling and maybe this time, just for once, things could be different. With a sudden bolt of confidence, you felt Maxwell take your hands. You looked up at him with a doe-eyed expression. "Are you judging me?" you couldn't help but ask him. It wouldn't surprise you. Everyone else judged you.

"No," Maxwell replied almost breathlessly. He was too lost in your eyes, too enamoured with every word you spoke. "I think you're… sensational."

And with that, your lips curved into a small smile. He was so entranced by your beauty. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to lean in and kiss you. He tried to shake away the feeling, like it wasn't all he'd imagined since the moment he laid his eyes on you. It was wrong of him. Besides you had only just met, and once again, he was swarmed with guilt. If you found out about what he'd done, you'd want nothing to do with him— nobody would— he was certain of it. It was only a matter of time before even Alistair walked out for him. Alistair. That's when Maxwell remembered the letter Theodore had given him, which was sitting on the kitchen cabinet.

"Zeus brought me to D.C, he will bring me to the man from my dreams. And with the lasso of Hestia to aid me, it shouldn't take me long at all," you told Max. "I'll be out of your hair in no time."

Maxwell wanted to tell you to stay. He didn't want you to hurry. He'd come incredibly lonely over the years and he was really beginning to value your company.

"Zeus is your father… right?" Maxwell asked, trying to recall the way you spoke about him earlier.

"Yes."

"What's he like?" Maxwell prodded further with genuine furiosity.

"Oh, I've never met him," you replied, rubbing your eyes.

So he's a deadbeat— Maxwell thought. Max knew exactly how that felt. "But he's king of the Olympian Gods, the ruler of the skies. He crafted us all in his own image and gave us a purpose."

"And your purpose is to find this man?" Maxwell quirked an eyebrow.

You nodded in affirmation. "It may seem simple and unimportant, but I assure you, it isn't. This man is special. He's unlike any other man and Zeus will bring me to him for a reason. Before I left, my mother Hestia told me of two Gods, Romulus and Dolos… they were the God of Lies,"

Maxwell's eyes widened. He had heard of them, very little, but he'd heard their names through researching the dreamstone. "They were deceiving and created a darkness amongst the world. They harnessed the power of wish-granting and were responsible for death and destruction… the world of man had to be rebuilt from scratch." you explained, a horrified look on your face as you recalled the events that your mother, Hestia had educated on.

For Maxwell, this was hitting far too hard. Things weren't adding up but he did deem it to be more than a mere coincidence that you had shown up just a day after the world had gone to hell. He didn't understand— he couldn't fathom the connection he had to you, or that laying on his sofa was a beautiful Amazonian goddess. He hoped that he could figure it out soon enough, but for now, he had his own troubles. He has to focus on fixing things with Alistair.

"I'm tired," you announced with a yawn, breaking Maxwell out of his thoughts. You raised your hand and cupped Maxwell's cheek, mirroring his own actions to you back at the office. "Your home is beautiful." you whispered lovingly.

You found the crinkles in the corner of his eyes so handsome, and you even pondered if the perfect curve in his nose had been sculpted by Zeus too. He wasn't like the Themysciran depictions of 'man', he was worn and slightly miserable, but there was no denying the connection you felt to him. For a second, you wondered if he was your reason. If he was your purpose. You'd grown so attached to him in just a matter of hours, you'd even grown attached to Alistair without even realising. Alistair was the first person you had met upon waking up in the world of man. But there was no way, you were looking for Lorenzano. Lorenzano…

You slipped your hand away from Max and sat on the soft couch, relishing the same feeling you loved so much back in the office. You took off your tiara, placing it on the coffee table, and unbuckled your sandals. You went to remove your tunic and skirt, but were cut off by a yelp from Max as he diverted his eyes.

"What- what are you doing?" Maxwell gasped, looking away.

"I'm undressing," you replied simply. "Amazonian clothes are so uncomfortable to sleep in."

"I- I'm sure," Maxwell nodded his head, feeling himself become flustered. "But uh- you can't just- I mean, I don't know what it's like in the Themy place-"

"Themyscira." you deadpanned.

"-Right, well I just think. You know. Maybe don't get naked, right now. Not yet anyway," Maxwell wanted to curse out loud. Not yet anyway? What was he saying? "Let me find something for you to sleep in okay? Something comfortable."

"You don't sleep naked?" you asked, tilting your head and readjusting your skirt so you were covered up again. Maxwell turned back to you.

"I- I do, sometimes." Shit, Max was definitely blushing.

"So why can't I sleep naked?" you shrugged your shoulders.

"I just… don't want you to be uncomfortable." Max trailed off.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" you questioned further.

No, it didn't, but the thought of you laying naked on his couch went straight to his cock. "Let me get you a shirt." he said, avoiding your question.

While he was gone, you turned to the small side table to the left of the sofa. There, in a small frame, was a man who, although younger, was very clearly Max. He was sitting in a chair, smiling holding a newborn baby in his arms. You picked up the photo and analysed it, admiring every part. You guessed the baby was Alistair. It was hard to see the child's face, being that the photograph had aged and was slightly blurry. It dated ’1978 in the corner. Six years ago. That would make Alistair only six years old.

Maxwell was back in no time with a folded pinstripe button down. You took it and muttered a thank you before going to undress yourself again. Seeing this, Maxwell turned back around and figured he could grab you some soft blankets from the guest bedroom. When he returned, you were already sleeping peacefully on the sofa, wearing his shirt.

Maxwell thought he could've spent hours just watching you sleep. You were so peaceful. He watched as the way your chest rose and fell with every shallow breath, he admired your little snores and the way you stirred slightly now and again. He'd never been so entranced with anyone in his entire life. Not even Julianna.

And shit— he was still semi-hard. He was going to shower, he'd decided. He'd shower away all these feelings, all this anxiety and he was going to be okay. He'd wash his hair, brush his teeth— he'd make an effort. He couldn't keep sulking around. He had to try for his son.

Maxwell gasped as he stepped in the shower. His hunched up shoulders became relaxed and he was able to unclench his fists as he let the hot water envelop his body. His eyes fluttered closed as the image of you scattered his thoughts. He tried to shrug it off, but he couldn't. Just knowing you were laying on his sofa in one of his dress shirts stirred something primal within him. He dropped his hand down to his cock and began to jerk himself off, his fingers rubbing against the small slit in his tip as he wiped the precum down his length. The hot water felt so good, and Max had forgotten to open a window so the steam from the shower made the air foggy and moist.

He dragged his fist down his throbbing length, his movements becoming fast and erratic as he squeezed his eyes tight shut, trying to hold out moans. He couldn't let you hear. He couldn't let you know. He hadn't done this in so long. He'd always had his assistants at his beck and call, he never needed to relieve himself in the shower since his and Julianna's marriage broke down.

You consumed his every thought. He imagined your pretty lips wrapped around his cock, he imagined you giving him sweet kitten licks as you massaged his balls. He imagined you gagging around him as you took his long, thick length to the back of your throat. He imagined fucking your mouth. The thought of him being able to get a literal goddess to choke and whimper really urged his power complex enough to throw him over the edge. In only a matter of minutes, Maxwell spilled his milky white seed over the tiled bathroom walls, gasping your name as he came.

And when it was over, he felt a familiar remorse. A familiar guilt. He knew he did not deserve you.

Maxwell had to force himself to get washed, using his apple scented shampoo and even conditioning his hair. He was satisfied with his minty fresh breath as he walked into his bedroom in only a towel that was wrapped loosely around his waist. Since it was approaching night, and fast, he picked out a pair of light grey sweats and a wooly sweater before combing through his unnatural dark blonde hair which just so happened to be naturally wavy.

He sighed, padding into the kitchen quietly being careful not to wake you. He knew what he had to do next, what he'd been putting off since he received the damn letter. The envelope was staring at him on the cabinet. He picked it up, an anger engulfing him as he read the name ‘Maxwell Lorenzano’ on the paper. He ripped it open furiously and opened up the letter.

Dear Maxwell Lorenzano

I, Theodore Thomas IV, attorney of Miss Julianna Grey, present you with a civil lawsuit case regarding full custody of Alistair Lorenzano in favour of my client, Miss Grey.

-—- please see proceedings below -—-

I, Theodore Thomas IV, share a bond with Miss Grey and recognise that she is a caring and devoted mother. We are in full belief that Alistair Lorenzano would be better off, in the care of his biological mother.

Mr Maxwell Lorenzano and Miss Julianna Grey divorced on the seventh month of 1980 after being married for two years. Miss Grey notes that their relationship was strained since the beginning, with Mr Lorenzano too preoccupied with his career to focus on his family.

I have known Miss Grey since 1980, after working on her and Mr Lorenzano's divorce case. As not only her partner, but also a trusted lawyer of our capitol’s legal enforcement, I can whole-heartedly ensure that sole custody of Alistair Lorenzano must be granted to Miss Julianna Grey.

-—- proceedings concurred -—-

Please find us at the District Columbia Court, D.C., in one week from the date stated on the letter. If you make no effort to show and fight your case, you will be banished from seeing Alistair until he turns eighteen years of age.

Sincerely,

Ted

Maxwell screamed as his face turned bright red with astonishing rage. He crumpled up the letter into a ball, throwing across the kitchen. Tears fell from his eyes in complete and utter disbelief. No, this was the worst thing that could ever happen to Maxwell. He'd rather die than not be able to see Alistair. His heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces.

It was ridiculous and down right unfair. Max began to laugh manic as he swept the plates and glasses that were standing by the sink into the floor. He'd forgotten about you, sleeping in the other room. He didn't care. He was done being considerate.

Maxwell had made a lot of mistakes in his life— a lot, but he loved Alistair so much and Alistair loved him. He couldn't let Julianna and her stupid lawyer boyfriend rip him away from his son. If that happened, he'd be no better than his own father. Maxwell let out another scream of frustration, clenching his fist until his knuckles were white. This was nobody's fault but his own. He was too much like his own dad— too much like his own fucking deadbeat, abusive dad. Max had tried his whole life to make Alistair proud, to be different, a good different. But he wasn't a Lord, he was a Lorenzano, and maybe blood was thicker than water. He was nothing but a low life conman who had almost singlehandedly destroyed the entire world and now, he was about to lose his son.

How was he ever going to win this case? Julianna literally had one of the best family lawyers in the state on her side, and Maxwell wasn't even sure if he could afford a lawyer given the circumstances. What he had failed to think about, was the fact he had a literal goddess sleeping on his sofa. A goddess who’s purpose was to reconcile families.

A shatter of broken glass awoke you from your nap. You rubbed your eyes tiredly, lifting up onto your elbows before hearing a thud and a crash. Alerted, your eyes snapped open and you swung your body out of the big warm bed, bolting into the kitchen where you had heard the noise. Fragments of a broken vase were scattered over the tile floor, soil spilled everywhere and some daffodils that looked like they had been dead for at least a month already. The sound of gushing water drew your attention to Maxwell, who was standing at the sink. Stepping over the broken glass, you padded over to him and placed a hand into the small of his back. He jumped slightly at your touch. You peered over his shoulder and saw a really deep cut in his hand, blood dripping into the sink. Not even the water coming from the faucet was enough to wash it away. It trickled down his arm and you looked up at him, noticing he was pale in colour.

“Are you okay?” you asked him, your voice smaller than it intended to be. Your gaze trailed along the kitchen surface tops until you spotted a roll of kitchen paper. Taking plenty, you ripped it and gently wrapped your fingers around Max’s wrist, maneuvering his still bleeding hand away from the sink. A few drops of blood fell to the tiled floor, but you quickly wrapped the paper around his wound and applied pressure. “That looks really deep.” you hummed, looking up at your friend with concern.

“It’ll be fine.” Maxwell mumbled, watching you intently as you cared for his injury. It was a strange feeling. No one had ever looked out for him the way you did, and you’d only known him for a few hours. Your soft was gentle, he even noticed the way you subconsciously began to rub comforting circles into his skin, like it was just natural for you.

You frowned, slowly lifting up the soaked tissue paper and discarding it in the waste bin. The bleeding had settled down, but it still looked incredibly sore. Dampening another paper towel, you tried to clean around the edges of his cut. He hissed in pain as your finger accidentally grazed over the wound and you shot him an apologetic look. Maxwell was like putty in your hands. He let you do whatever you needed to - and he absolutely wasn’t like that with anyone else. “You might need stitches,” you sighed, taking a closer look. “If only we were on Themyscira, I have a friend who could heal you in a matter of seconds.” Themyscira - there it was again, the mystical place Maxwell had never even heard of. “What happened?” you asked eventually, your gaze meeting Maxwell’s.

“Uhm-” his eyes flicked around the room, searching for something that would fuel the white lie. "Was changing the flowers and dropped the vase."

His lie didn't account for the broken glasses and plates that were also on the floor. You looked at him in bewilderment, knowing he wasn't being entirely truthful to you. He couldn't stay. He couldn't stay with you right now. He had to go see Alistair. "I- I gotta go." Maxwell said quickly before bolting out the house.

He left you standing alone in the kitchen amongst all the mess. As you began to pick up the pieces of the broken vase, you noticed the scrumpled up ball of paper in the corner. Picking it up, you slowly unravelled it in hope it would give you a clue regarding Maxwell's behaviour.

Your heart practically sank when you read the first three words.

Dear Maxwell Lorenzano,

Lorenzano. He was Lorenzano.

-----

Taglists - let me know if you wish to be added: I Believe In Love: @mrschiltoncat @thebloodrobin @greatvaluedazzler @bxxbxy @marydjarin @the-feckless-wonder @typicalnerd98 @biharryjames @thwiso @pedrolorian @julieteagk @starsandmando @kishie8 @supernaturalcat7 @depressedchillipepper @galaxypox @cocastyle @welcometothepedroverse @galactic-rhi @honestlystop @walkerchick007 @winchesterxxl @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @why-cant-i-hold-all-my-husbanda @criminalmind1927 @seasonschange-butpeopledont @lola-max-sugar @thesadvampire @wonder-jedi @eternallyvenus @way-too-addicted-to-anime @spacedaddydinn @mack4676 @vonschweetz @tanyaherondale @thisis-theway

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #max lord #maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #pedro pascal smut #maxwell lord smut

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wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 3 years

Note

I'd like to see how you think Vinca would admit she has feelings for MC, as if she couldn't take it anymore and admits to being in love with her.

“So you didn’t come to nag at me? At all? You’re just… just going to sit there? Silent?”

As she had done for the past hour, Vinca thoroughly ignored you. Never mind the fact that this was your shop, during your shift. You had gotten accustomed to Vinca hanging out here, to her snark and jokes and intense gaze, but today she was…

Weird.

“I like this silence,” you muse, tinkering with the price tags on some of the bikes. “I feel like I can actually think, for once. It’s amazing what not being insulted every second does for your humor. Didn’t think I’d ever feel peace with you on the same room.”

The silence stretched, thick. It irks you, makes you shift uncomfortably.

“Then again, having you like this is just so weird. Did something happen? Something must have happened. Was it Laz again? What did he do?”

You turn your head just slightly. Vinca jerks her head to the side, blue eyes as hard as little diamonds, staring into the door so hard you’re afraid it’ll burst into flames.

Did you just catch Vinca staring at you…?

“Okey, what’s up? You’re creeping me out.”

Vinca was the sort of person to run you over with her opinion or thoughts, never afraid of the consequences, her pride a stubborn shield. It didn’t make sense for her to hesitate, to keep silent.

“If you don’t tell-”

The bell jingles. You sigh, standing up, going to greet the costumers. It’s a little boy, vibrating in place, eyes darting around everything offered in the store. His mother walks in a moment later, giving you a small, apologetic smile.

As you help the boy decide what bike he likes the most, your gaze wanders towards Vinca again, catching how fast her gaze drops towards her phone.

You’re so kicking her out for creeping you out later. Once you finish your shift, you might coax what’s troubling her so much with some ice cream and that movie she likes.

“Will I faster than mum’s car with this, miss?”

You blink down, a delighted smile spreading over your face. “What?” You giggle, crouching, too focused on the little kid to notice how Vinca reacts to the sound, eyes snapping towards you, wide with wonder. “Oh, I don’t know. How fast are you?”

He puffs out his chest. “Faster than The Flash!”

His mother gets this blank expression, probably recalling some sort of accident. You recognize it well enough – it’s the same expression your mom always gets when she talks about the pot incident you had had when you were small.

The next few minutes are spent lightly teasing the boy, his mom admonishing him from running around so much, and a successful purchase moments later.

“Remember to drive safe!” You shout, just before the door closes.

“He’ll probably crash,” Vinca huffs, somewhere behind you.

“Oh, so now you’re talking?”

When you turn, your first thought is that Vinca probably is sick and that’s why she has been acting so weird. After all, how else would you explain the red tinting her cheeks, spreading down her neck?

She’s a full-body blusher, huh, you muse, momentarily distracted.

Hold on… full-body… Blush? Wait, Vinca is blushing?

“Is everything-”

“You’re- You’re good with kids.” She interrupts, gaze wandering.

“Not really, he was just…” Your eyes narrow, catching the way she’s moving. Slow. Uncertain. “Don’t change the topic. Why are you-”

“Shut up for one second, okay?” She snaps, back to her usual self. You blink, confused but not startled, used to her abrupt change in humor. “I just.” A pause. Her eyes flick towards you, and she takes a deep breath. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

“I’m in the middle of my shift-”

One snap of her fingers, and a demon materializes near the counter, expressionless.

“You have to be kidding-”

Her hand snaps towards your arm, claiming it in a vice-like grip. Vinca proceeds to drag you out of the store and into her car, occasionally adjusting her grip and making it gentler, and you only sigh and follow her, deciding do keep silent for now.

Seems like we’re getting that ice cream a bit sooner.

Curiously, Vinca doesn’t head to that ice cream parlor you usually frequent, choosing instead to lead you out of town. The place she wants to go instantly clicks in your mind, memories of a fight – the fight where you had first learned of demons’ existence – flashing behind your eyes.

“Are you going to perform another ritual?”

“No.” Vinca says, dryly. “I would never do something to hurt you.” There’s a pause, but you don’t make any comments. You can tell she’s not quite done talking. “When… when I did it the first time… the ritual, I mean. And it- when it didn’t work out, and you got hurt – cursed with being Dorran’s vessel, I felt so… miserable. I’m not any better than him. Considering how I acted, and all.”

“Hey, you helped me get exorcised. That must count for something.”

“I could have done it sooner.” She huffs. You can see her eyes darken, lost in memory

You shrug. “You were desperate, back then. And you’ve changed a lot. You actually care about me now, for one.”

Her lips thin. “Yes.”

That makes your thoughts skid into a stop. You expected her to huff, glare at you, and say something similar to ‘don’t let it get to your head, pipsqueak, you aren’t that important’.

But Vinca doesn’t look like she’s going to add anything of the sort, so you just stare at her, mouth agape.

“Did you just admit you care about me?”

You see her take a deep breath, feel how her grip tightens against the steering wheel. Her gaze is locked on the road, resolute. “Is that too hard to believe?”

You begin to say yes only to clam up when you detect the edge on her voice. “I’m just… surprised. You don’t usually admit how you, uh, how…”

“That’s going to change, starting now.” She says, guiding the car to a gentle stop near the abandoned factory where everything had transpired. She motions at you to get out of the car and heads inside at a brisk pace. You fumble with your seatbelt and hurry to follow.

The shadows loom, threateningly. Your gaze is drawn towards the center of the room, the traces of a circle barely visible. “I’m listening, then. To everything you have to say.”

You join her, sitting just a few meters near the entrance, backs against some boxes left there a lifetime ago. Vinca closes her eyes and sighs, deeply, and you only watch her. Watch the arch of her back, the knives on her dress glinting against the pale beams of light that manage to sneak through the windows.

“Just a heads up, but I didn’t expect this.” She finally says, after minutes of silence. “I thought I had better tastes.”

“In… what? Abandoned factories?”

“No, in- agh, just listen. I used to think you were someone I’d enjoy breaking, you know? In the show.”

“Oh yeah, I remember all your challenges.”

“But you turned out to be tougher than you look. And smarter, too, even if you sometimes make dumb decisions. Like following me to an abandoned factory minutes before a ritual.”

“I didn’t know you were going to-! But okey, yeah, fair point. It was a bit stupid. I should have called the cops on you.”

“Right, well. And then you powered through Dorran’s manipulation – I have to hand it to you, that was pretty badass. And throughout it all, you’ve… I used to think you were after me because you wanted an adventure. I mean, I’m hot, I’m rich. What more is there to love? But-” She throws you significant glare when she sees your mouth open, and you obediently close it so she can continue, “I understand now that it was never about the adventure. You just… wanted to get to know me. Not Pride, just me. Not the woman involved with demons, and not the woman involved with ghosts. You just wanted me, as I am, imperfect. And you never… you were never pushy about it. I could see it in your eyes, how you were connecting the dots about everything, but you never used it against me.”

“I never would have,” you mutter, gently. Vinca’s breath comes out in quick puffs of air. She’s visibly nervous, twirling one of her tiny knives between her fingers, her blush beginning to spread over her chest.

“You… somehow, you… I’ve felt it before, you know. Flings. Something destined to shatter when the other person can’t put up with me anymore, but with you, it’s… it’s different. I don’t feel like it will shatter. You keep me on my toes but I never feel like I will fall. You make me feel alive when all I want is to hide myself from everything. Somehow, I…I’ve come to love you. I’m honestly impressed, pipsqueak. I really thought I had better tastes.”

“What can I say?” You shrug, trying to be smooth but failing because your heart is thundering against your ears, your voice too soft out of the sheer wonder you are feeling right now. “Doing the unexpected is my passion.”

“You are too damn dorky.” Vinca hisses, turning her head just slightly. “I am ashamed of myself for loving- for falling in love with someone like you.”

You reach for her, and she lets you guide her so your eyes meet, sparkling blue against warm chocolate. You inch a bit closer, feeling her warmth envelop you. “Didn’t you just say I’m impressive?”

“I’m taking it back.”

“No can do, Wren. You fell in love with me despite, or should I say because, of my dorkiness. I’d say your bitchiness and my dorkiness complement each other quite nicely.”

Vinca groans. You can feel the vibrations of her voice travel down your hand, making you smirk even more, leaning closer, closer-

“Why did it have to be you?” She laments, but closes the distance despite it all, her movements intense and sure and glad. You can feel the heat of her skin, of her blush, pressed against yours as she quickly takes control of the kiss, pushing you backwards, curling herself around you.

Happiness surges inside of you. You smile into the kiss, melting against her.

You’ve both come a long way. This place, gray with memories of a fight, quickly takes on another meaning. One of acceptance, of overcoming challenges that kept both of you rooted into the past. With Vinca, you feel like you can finally leave it all behind.

#Anonymous #answered #vinca wren #swm vinca #lovestruck #lovestruck swm #sin with me #swm #lovestruck vinca #fluff #touching thursday #vinca x mc #lovestruck fanfiction

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definitelyseven · 4 years

Text

before you go

summary: on your fifth year anniversary, you send your beloved husband, Park Jinyoung on a trip to reminisce your most memorable moments together.

The sun was shining brightly through the curtains - so bright that it had woken Jinyoung up. He quickly glanced over at his clock; 8am it read. Jinyoung reached over to your side of the bed; empty and untouched. He took a big breath in and exhaled slowly. He got out of bed and went down the hall to the other room; no one. Worried, Jinyoung quickly went to the kitchen to see if there was anyone in the house with him. All he found was a note that read:

“Jinyoung,-ah, my lovely husband, happy five year anniversary! Can you believe it? It’s already been five years. Despite all the hardships we’ve been through, we’re still together. You’ve planned every anniversary since we’ve been together, please let me do it this time. Go to the place where we first met. Love, your beautiful wife, Y/N.”

His lips curved upwards, smiling ear to ear after reading your note. Jinyoung got dressed immediately and headed off to the first place he met you - the bus stop by your old house, the one you took everyday on your way to work. He arrived at the bus stop he was so familiar with. He sat down reminiscing the first time he met you.

It was the first rain in Spring and just like everyone else, you were unprepared for it. You ran to the nearest shelter you could find which was the bus stop by your house. It was already crowded with people who were doing the same thing as you. You were standing their minding your own business, trying to take up as little space as you could. People pushing and shoving each other, trying to stay dry. You lose your balance when someone pushes you to the side. And just like in the movies, the most handsome guy you’ve ever laid eyes on catches you from falling.

This was how you met the love of your life.

“Mr. Park,” the bus driver called from inside the bus. Jinyoung looked up, smiling at the familiar face.

“Mr. Kim, I told you to call me Jinyoung,” he greeted politely as he got on the bus.

“I haven’t seen you and your wife take this bus in years,” he commented. Jinyoung smiled subtly, nodding in agreement. “I was told to give you this,” he said handing Jinyoung the second envelope.

“Thank you,” he replied before taking a seat at your usual spot. He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly once again. Jinyoung opened the white envelope with the second note:

“I’m happy that you still remembered the first time we met,” the note read. How could you possibly think he would forget? He remembered everything about you. The moment he laid eyes on you, he knew he was going to spend the rest of his life loving you - the way your hair stuck to your face from the rain and how you were afraid to speak up when someone pushed you. He knew he had to protect you for the rest of his life. “You’re sitting at my usual spot, aren’t you?” Jinyoung chuckled at how predictable he was. “I knew you would. Do you remember our first date? Meet me there.”

Jinyoung got off on the very last stop and walked towards the street vendor that you were both so familiar with. This wasn’t supposed to be your first date. He had something extravagant planned, but there was an emergency at the hospital and he had to rush his patient into the OR. He didn’t eve have a chance to call you. He thought he was done for sure; that you’d be pissed at him and never want to see him again, but he was wrong. You waited for him at the bus stop like the both of you had agreed, but after waiting for him for two hours, you left to get something to eat.

“I’m so sorry I stood you up,” Jinyoung said as he ran up to you, who was busy stuffing rice cakes in your mouth. You choked, surprised from seeing him here.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, swallowing the food in your mouth.

“I was just getting off work and I tried calling you, but you didn’t pick up. I saw you here and I had to explain.”

“Jinyoung it’s okay,” you assured him. “My phone died so I didn’t get your call.”

“Really? You’re not mad?”

You shake your head, “People need your help. You’re saving lives and our date can wait.” Jinyoung smiles at you, not only at how understanding you were but also because of the sauce leftover on the corner of your lips.

“Jinyoung-ah,” the owner of the rice cake shop called, pulling him back into reality.

“Auntie,” Jinyoung smiled.

“It’s been so long. How are you?” she asked, pouring him a cup of water.

“I’ve been good,” he lied. “How are you?”

“Happy that I still have energy to maintain my shop,” she joked making Jinyoung chuckle. “Do you want some rice cakes?”

“That would be nice, thank you. Do you by any chance have anything for me?” he asked politely.

“Oh yes. I was told to give you this!” she exclaimed, reaching for the envelope in her pocket.

“Thank you,” he said as he grabbed the envelope from her hands. He opened the third envelope and it read:

“I still remember the taste of these rice cakes. They were the best I ever had, even better than my mom’s but don’t tell her I said that. It wasn’t our ideal first date, but somehow with you by my side, it was the best first date of my life. Remember how we would always take the bus to the very last stop just to eat at this rice cake shop. After eating to our stomachs were about to explode, we would rent bikes and bike back to my house. Those days were much simpler back then, weren’t they? Meet me at the place where you asked for permission.”

“Auntie, I’ll take the food to-go, make it double size, and add in some fries please.”

Just like when you were dating, Jinyoung rented a bike and biked to the next location. He was always busy at the hospital, but when he was off he wanted to spend every waking moment with you - even if it meant taking the bus further away from your house and then biking you back. He loved the way your head laid gently on his back and the way your chest pressed against his body with your arms wrapped around his waist. Feeling your body against his made all his stress go away, it made his heart flutter.

He was nervous about the next location because he hasn’t been back in over four years. He didn’t know how to face them. Jinyoung stood outside the door, unsure of whether to knock or to use his keys.

“What are you doing here?” someone said from behind. Jinyoung quickly turned around, coming face to face with person he was most afraid to see.

“Mother,” he greeted politely.

“I’m Y/N’s mother,” she bitterly answered before walking inside her house. She purposely left the door ajar for him to follow behind. Jinyoung sat nervously in front of your parents. Truth is, he hasn’t spoken to them in over four years. You would never have let that happened if you were still here.

“I brought some lunch for you both,” Jinyoung smiled subtly as he set the rice cakes on the table.

“It was unfair for us to have blamed you,” your father said to Jinyoung.

“No it was my fault,” Jinyoung replied with his head low. “You were right to blame me.”

“Our daughter was stubborn. We knew that and we knew that once she made up her mind, no one could change that. We were angry and we needed someone to blame,” your father explained. “We’re so sorry.”

“Father, please. There’s no need to apologize,” Jinyoung responded. He felt like a heavy weight was lifted off his chest. He was finally able to breathe. Jinyoung glanced over at your mother who was crying quietly. “I loved her so much. I never stopped.”

She nodded in agreement. “She left us a letter too and told us to give you this,” your mother finally spoke.

“Thank you,” Jinyoung said as he reached for the envelope on the table.

“Bring her over to see us more often,” your mother tells Jinyoung.

“Yes mother,” Jinyoung answered. He watched them both walk away from the table, leaving him alone to read the note you left.

“I know how hard it was for you to come here. Thank you, Jinyoung. Thank you for everything and thank you for going on this crazy adventure for me. For the last destination, let’s meet at the place where I said yes.”

Jinyoung’s heart felt heavy as if he was suffocating. He never thought your little trip would take him back to the place where you said yes. He hasn’t been to this beach since you left.

“You’re here,” you said with a smile once you saw him. “You found me.”

“I always do,” Jinyoung replied with his eyes glossy with tears. “Am I dreaming?”

“Jinyoung-ah, it’s been five years,” you exhaled, reaching out to grab his hand. “If everything went as I planned, our daughter should be four now”

“She’s four and a half,” he clarified.

You nodded slowly with a smile, “It’s time to move on.”

“No,” he simply stated.

“Jinyoung,” you called out but quickly got interrupted by him.

“No!” he shouted at you, flicking your hand away from his. “You don’t get to do this!” he continued to shout. “When we got married, we vowed to love each other forever, for sickness and for health. We vowed to make every decision together as a married couple, but you broke your promise. You made the biggest decision of your life without me. So no, I can’t move on. I won’t!” he shouted through his teeth.

You looked down at your feet, ashamed of what you did. “Jinyoung...” you called out. “You have every right to be mad at me, but you’re a doctor. You should know better than anyone else that what I had was incurable,” you explained.

“I was a doctor. I’m not a doctor anymore. If I couldn’t save you, I don’t want to save other people.”

“Jinyoung...” you called his name once again. “You have to know, there was nothing you could do. The disease I had was incurable,” you comforted, but he didn’t listen. “Three months into our marriage, I found out that I was three months pregnant with your child and that I was dying on the same day. So yes, I made a decision without you because I wanted to leave a piece of me in this world so you wouldn’t be lonely while I was gone,” you whimpered with tears rolling down the side of your face.

“If you had told me,” Jinyoung tried to reason. “If you chose not to have the baby,” he cried. He couldn’t imagine life without you or your daughter. The thought that he had to chose between you and your daughter would have killed him and you knew that, so you made the decision for the both of you.

“And what?” you argued. “I would have three months? Six months? I wasn’t willing to do that, to put you through all that for me to leave in the end.”

“I would’ve had time,” he explained. “I would’ve had time to figure out how to save you.”

You shook your head, “Sometimes you do everything right, everything exactly right, and still you feel like you failed. That’s life, Jinyoung.”

“I refuse to believe you’re gone,” he whimpered. “I won’t...”

“I’m dead, Jinyoung! This...the conversation we’re having is all in your head,” you explained to him. “Jinyoung-ah, we went back to every important moment we shared together today. It’s time to let me go,” you repeated. “Don’t let our daughter grow up not knowing the man I fell in love with. Don’t let our daughter grow up without a mother.”

“I’m not ready,” he sobbed.

“You and I both know, I was never your first love. She was,” you nodded at the figure behind him. Jinyoung turns around to see his best friend and his daughter making their way towards him. “The timing was never right between you two and then I came into the picture. But she’s alone now, and you no longer have me anymore.”

The truth was before you, he did love Jisoo. He loved her up until the very moment she told him she was getting married. That’s when he knew he had to move on. That was the day he met you.

“You may not know this now, but I was never meant to be your last love either.”

“I love you,” he said.

You stroked his cheek gently, “I know and I never doubted it. I love you too which is why I hate to see you like this.”

“Does this mean I’ll never see you again?”

You shake your head. “I’ll always be here, Jinyoung,” you said pointing at his heart. “I just won’t be first anymore and that’s okay.”

“I don’t want to forget you,” Jinyoung whispered. You smiled softly at him as you leaned down to peck his lips gently.

“I’ll show up when you have arguments with our little girl. I’ll show up when you mistreat Jisoo. I’ll still be here, Jinyoung. That’s my last promise to you.”

“Y/N...” he called out for the last time before you disappear in front of his eyes. “Y/N!”

“Daddy...” his little girl calls out after seeing Jinyoung scream out your name. “Daddy, are you okay?”

Jinyoung smiles at his little girl before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yes sweetheart. Daddy’s alright, daddy was just dreaming.” She climbs onto his lap and hugs him by his neck.

“Why are you crying daddy?” she asked reaching to wipe the tears off his face.

“I’m not crying baby. These are happy tears,” he lied.

“Why are you happy?” she asked, innocently. Jinyoung pulled his daughter into his arms for a tight hug. “Daddy...too tight,” she whined.

“Sorry princess,” Jinyoung chuckled. He watches a figure sit down beside him, his best friend Jisoo. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Jisoo asked, reaching to brush your daughter’s hair out of her face.

“What you did today...everything you’ve done for me.”

“She was my friend too,” Jisoo reminded. “ A couple of days before she died, she gave me those envelopes and specific instructions for your fifth year anniversary. What did she have to say to you?”

He smiled softly, looking at his daughter who was occupied with the seashells on the sand. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?” she asked.

“Tomorrow’s the day I move on,” he tells his best friend as he reached to hold her hand. Jisoo smiles wide, happy that he was finally willing to move on.

97 notes · View notes

barnesbabee · 4 years

Text

Alejandro || S.M

Pairing: Song Mingi x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

⚠ mentions of emotional abuse, mentions of cigarettes, violence, alcohol ⚠

Reblog the fuck out of this one please, it’s a big one. Enjoy xx

ᴀᴛᴇᴇᴢ x ʟᴀᴅʏ ɢᴀɢᴀ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ || ᴘ3

ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴀʟᴇᴊᴀɴᴅʀᴏ ᴍᴠ

You tried so, so hard for everything to be perfect. So why was everything shit!?

Sometimes, when the stress building up became too much you’d find yourself pathetically sitting in the shower, with the warm water running down your back and dripping from your hair while the black mascara stained your cheeks.

But you’d recompose yourself as quickly as you broke down. You had to maintain the pretty smile and the perfect front for all of the outsiders. You were ashamed, you didn’t want people to know about your situation, you dreaded that someday someone would understand the unbelievable amount of control going on inside those walls.

There was no love anymore. Unbeknownst to you, the romance would be gone the second he’d promised you his life.

Your husband had never gone as far as to hit you, but there were days that you felt as if it couldn’t get any worse. You were trapped and there was no sight of an escape.

The two of you were part of a very conservative community, therefore a divorce would only serve to put you under a bad light in everyone’s eyes, so you just stayed quiet and endured it, hoping that something would go well for you.

And it was a simple, stupid incident that set you on the road to freedom.

It was in your brother in law’s wedding.

Your head rested on your first while your index finger traced the curves of your fourth martini’s cup. You were beyond bored: the music was mostly slow and ballad-like, and unlike all of the other young girls or old ladies you didn’t feel like dancing with your ‘sweetheart’.

Alcohol-fueled tears brimmed in your eyes as you thought about your current situation, and how unfair it was, but before any of them could be spilled, someone spoke to you.

“You’re either too drunk or not drunk enough.”

Your gaze lifted to look at the tall man leaning against the bar’s counter. He had blonde hair (obviously not his natural colour) and shaved sides, which you thought was unusual, at least in a place like that.

“Somehow, both…” You told him with a sigh.

His deep voice was more noticeable when he chuckled. He sat down in the velvet stool next to yours and signaled the waiter to bring in two of whatever you were having.

You eyed him curiously. You could see some colour underneath the thin, white dress shirt. You couldn’t help but become curious about it.

“Do my arms pique your interest?” He asked teasingly, raising an eyebrow at you once he realized you were staring.

You cocked your head and looked him in the eye.

“I was just wondering what the colours were.”

The male quickly put his drink down to roll up his sleeves so he could proudly display his colourful, tattooed arms. He turned both of them so you could fully see the artwork, and you were truly mesmerized.

Just as you were about to comment on how beautiful they were, the groom came running in and pulled down the man’s sleeves to cover up the pretty drawings.

“Mingi you fucking idiot I told you not to show these. My mom already hates you enough!” The groom whisper-yelled, through gritted teeth as he smacked the back of you companion’s head.

Mingi raised his arms in defeat.

“I’m sorry man, I’ll keep them hidden.” He said jokingly.

The groom walked away as he signaled to Mingi that ‘he was watching him’. You laughed and took another sip of the drink he had kindly ordered for you.

“His mom hates you? Wow, you must be a nightmare…”

Mingi laughed and brushed his hair back with his hand.

Hot.

“Yeah… She kinda caught me smoking and she’s been trying to push us apart every since then.”

“Oh, a bad boy then?”

You winked at him playfully and laughed. After both of your laughs died down Mingi sucked in a breath and placed his hand high on your thigh. He leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“Are you into that?”

A weird yet pleasing sensation spread through your body, and an unwanted blush appeared in your cheeks.

He sat back where he was and brought his drink to his very appetizing lips once more, while locking his gaze with yours.

You snapped back to reality quickly. You raised your hand, showing the meaningless yet very real, gold wedding ring. You shrugged and gave him an apologetic look.

Mingi rolled his eyes and scoffed (much to your confusion).

“As if you’re content with your marriage.”

You looked at him, offended, as you couldn’t believe the nerve he had. You crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“And what could possibly lead you to that conclusion?” You asked, indignant.

Mingi smirked.

“Well, for starters, the love of your life left you by yourself in a bar while every other couple is being corny on the dance floor, second, because if you weren’t the slightest bit interested in me you would’ve already left, and last but definitely not least,” Mingi leaned dangerously close, so you could hear his victorious whisper “if you were really happy with him you would’ve swatted my hand away the second it laid on your thigh.”

You suddenly became very aware of his touch, and his fingers burned on your skin. You stood up abruptly and walked quickly towards the exit. You felt like the air was choking you and you needed some air.

Before you could walk very further, Mingi gripped your wrist for a second.

“The tattoo parlor in front of the mall, find me there.”

And just like that, he let you go.

“You fucking bitch! You’re so goddamn worthless! I swear to God the only reason why I don’t kill you is because I don’t want to go to jail over something as useless as you.”

You snapped. It had finally become too much to take on all by yourself. The shock and fright you felt prevented you from crying, or from doing anything really. You just stood in the middle of the living room, staring at him wide-eyed and frozen, not sure of what to do.

You were only able to turn around and start running when your husband stepped towards you. The fear enveloping you pushed you to turn around and run out of the house to the only destination you trusted: the tattoo shop.

How sad was it that the person you trusted the most was someone you had spoken to once?

Life isn’t always kind…

Your legs almost went numb from all the running, and the cold air hitting your face felt as if it was slicing your skin. When you eventually spotted the red, neon open sign shining in the dark street you stopped.

Was this even a good idea?

You were way past caring when you hurriedly pushed the heavy door open and entering the shop.

The little wind chimes hanging right beside the door announced your arrival.

“I’m sorry, but we’re closed now if you’d like you can return tomorrow at 9am.” The familiar, deep voice warned.

You were a little unsure of what to say. Fuck, what could you say? What, in this situation, would be acceptable to say?

“Mingi?” You called, simple and straightforward.

His blonde head quickly peeked from the back of the store. He revealed his whole body as he walked towards you.

“Wow, I didn’t actually expect you to show up, if I’m being honest I-”

You shut him off by standing on your tippy-toes and pulling him down to kiss you. It was a very rough and sudden kiss, and to say you were just as shocked as Mingi about your behavior was no understatement.

When you pulled away Mingi’s hands rested on your hips. You two shared the most intense staring contest as your faces were just mere centimeters apart.

“Please…” You begged “I just need to feel something.”

The man immediately kissed you, as if he was in a hurry, as if he’d lose you if he didn’t do it right then and there. It started slow and passionate, moving to a much rough pace soon after.

The kiss was messy and sloppy, a type of kiss that you had just found out you loved.

“That’s all you needed to say, doll.” Mingi told you as he caressed your cheek, once you pulled away for air.

You bit your lip as you looked up at him.

Mingi hit a button on the wall that turned off the big, shiny sign outside. He grabbed your hand and lead you to a small room in the back. It only had a red couch, a mini-fridge, a microwave and a dark-wood coffee table with a pack of cigarettes and a silver ashtray on top of it. The room reeked of smoke, but that surely wouldn’t be your focus.

When the door clicked behind the two of you, he pushed you against it. His hands roamed all over your body, hungry for every curve, as his lips worked on your neck.

You felt embarrassed at how quickly he got you moaning. All it took were a couple bites and a cheeky whimper had already left your mouth.

You slapped a hand over your mouth when his large hand found its way inside your underwear, but he was quick to remove it. He pecked your lips sweetly.

“Oh no doll, I wanna hear every little moan that comes out of that pretty mouth of yours, okay?”

He caressed your lower lip with his thumb, and all you could do was comply with his request. Mingi picked you up bridal style and threw you on the beat-up, surprisingly comfortable couch.

His lips devoured yours hungrily as he desperately undid your jeans. Mingi’s hair was messy from the way your fingers played with it, but you two were far from caring about appearances, you were too absorbed in each other’s moans to pay attention to it.

Mingi gripped the waistband of your jeans and pulled them down roughly. Your underwear came off right after, and you watched as he threw them somewhere in the room as he worked in undoing his sweatpants.

He noticed the way you closed your legs slightly, a little embarrassed about the situation. Mingi smiled softly and spread you with one of his hands.

The male leaned down and kissed the spot just below your ear.

“You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You blushed at the comment, more than you already were, and pushed away the thought that Mingi had made you feel more like a woman in twenty minutes than your husband had in your whole marriage.

Mingi lined up his cock with your entrance and waited for your consent. You gripped the cushions in anticipation, and nodded.

Once he had the green card, Mingi bottomed inside of you, and moved slowly. When your face started twisting with pleasure, Mingi sped up. He hovered over you, each hand on the sides of your head, accentuating how much bigger he was than you, how tiny and secure he made you feel.

He lost control over his body, and he could no longer regulate the way he thrust into you. It was wild and violent, something you’d never experienced before, something you now loved.

You gripped Mingi’s shoulder, leaving clear nail marks on him (but little did you know he loved them), as you moaned and whimpered underneath him.

“F-fuck I think I’m gonna cum Mingi-”

The way you said his name made his cock twitch inside of you, and he nearly came, but Mingi was focused on making you cum first.

He bit on your neck once more, carefully as to not leave any noticeable marks, and the mix of feelings combined the desperation you felt made you climax, and you didn’t hold back in the way you moaned his name as you walls tightened around his member.

Mingi immediately pulled out, releasing all over your stomach and inner thighs in the process.

You both didn’t move for a second, both trying to catch your breaths. And although it never took Mingi too long to regain his energy, he surely was enjoying the work of art in front of him.

From that night on, you had to pretend you were miserable. You had to hide your joy and glee from your husband so he wouldn’t catch onto your unbelievable happiness.

Mingi treated you like he only had eyes for you. He treated you like you were the only one in the world. He treated you like a human, he respected you. That’s all you could ask for in a man, and so your little tattoo shop visits became longer, and more often. It became hard to hide, but every bit of it was worth it.

You’d often find yourself smiling, at the thought of Mingi’s silly jokes or crazy antics that never failed to amuse you, and you’d been caught once or twice by your husband, but it was never anything significant for him to suspect something else.

Everything almost went down the drain when you and Mingi ran into each other in a café, justly when you went out with your husband. You tried to avoid him, because you were sure he wouldn’t remember how your ‘significant other’ worked, but it was no good.

The second he laid eyes on you, a wide smile spread across his face, and suddenly it was as if the sun was shining inside the café.

You wanted to run into his arms and kiss him as a hello, but you couldn’t. You maintained a serious expression and shook your head negatively, but it was no use.

“Y/N! Hi!” The man greeted you.

You immediately panicked, as the grip your husband had on you tightened.

“Y/N, baby” the nickname didn’t sit well when he said it “who is this?”

Although his voice was sweet in front of strangers, you could sense the undertone.

You rummaged through your head, trying to find a passable excuse.

“Well, Mingi was at your brother’s wedding and he approached me because he needed some legal advice concerning his shop.”

Mingi was a little confused, but he went ahead and fed the lie.

“Oh, well then I’ll let you discuss that while I go wash my hands, Y/N find us a table.”

He never said please…

You waited for him to be in an acceptable distance so you could comfortably talk to Mingi.

“Don’t call my name, Mingi!”

“What!? Why?”

You held the bridge of your nose between your index finger and your thumb.

“Listen-” you looked towards the bathroom door, and your husband was coming back “I’ll explain later tonight, okay?”

Mingi was visibly upset, but still agreed.

The clock on the wall ticked slower when Mingi waited for you, or so it seemed. A minute without you felt like an hour for him, he was absolutely head over heels for you, and most of the time of your face and your laugh was all that was present in his head.

You were just intoxicating.

When the wind chimes echoed through the shop, Mingi immediately peeled his body from the couch and went to meet you.

You both shyly smiled at each other, as if you were two teenagers in love for the first time.

Mingi grabbed your hips and brought you forward, pressing your lips together softly.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

They weren’t dry hello’s, no, but bashful ones instead.

You gripped onto his biceps and bit your lip, unsure of the correct way to approach him about it.

“Mingi, listen, you have to pretend you don’t know me in public…”

He furrowed his eyebrows together and cocked his head.

“What?”

You sighed, a little sad about having to explain the motives behind your request.

“We have to pretend to be strangers in public Mingi, you know how my husband gets and-”

“Then leave him! I don’t understand!”

You didn’t like the way he cut you off, to say the dumbest thing of all, on top of that.

“Do you think I wouldn’t have already if I could!? What would I do then!?”

“Live with me! Come with me! We still have our whole lives ahead os us Y/N! I love you and it hurts seeing you being mistreated yet still settling for it!” He yelled, gripping onto you as if he was afraid you were slipping away.

“I know that we are young and I know that you may love me, but I can’t live like this anymore Mingi, I have a life already built, I have a job and if I leave him everything will change and I will-”

Mingi shut you up with a kiss.

“And what, Y/N? Are you like them? Are you like those stuck up motherfuckers that side-eye me because I dye my hair and wear leather jackets, hm? Do you want to have a nine to five job, have kids, be stuck in a marriage and then die knowing that the most fun thing you ever did in your life was fool around with a tattoo artist for a couple of weeks!?” He exclaimed, visibly frustrated, as he stepped away from you.

“I want a secure life! I want the guarantee that tomorrow I’m not gonna starve! And if that means that I’m just like my parents then maybe I am!”

“Y/N you know damn well why you’re not like all of these people! Why won’t you let me have you!? Is it because I live in a flat, not a house? It is because I buy my clothes on Primark, not Tommy Hilfiger!? Is it because I have a bike instead of a car!?”

“It’s because I don’t fucking know what to do! The life I live is miserable but at least I know that I’m not gonna be struggling tomorrow…”

There was a long silence. A long, heavy silence. Mingi placed his hands on his hips and huffed. He looked around for a second, before laying his eyes on you again. It was like talking to a wall, he couldn’t understand how comfort won over happiness, and it stressed him out.

“Give me one reason, one good reason, that’ll make me walk out that door with no regrets of leaving you.” He said, pointing at the glass exit.

You looked at him. There was no reason. There was absolutely no reason as to why you should stay in that place. A comfortable life didn’t compensate for the fact that you had been threatened and mistreated almost every day.

Upon hearing your silence, Mingi stepped towards you and cupped your face, making you look at him.

“Exactly, you can’t, this plave isn’t for us. Run away with me Y/N, let’s leave, I promise I’ll make you happy for the rest of your life…”

You didn’t know if it was the rush, the adrenaline, the glisten in his eyes or the sheer adoration you felt for him, but you kissed his lips, and grabbed the extra helmet for his bike, with no further questions.

“Next you need to let me tattoo you.” He said, as you two got on the bike with whatever you had in your pockets.

You chuckled, encircling his waist with your arms.

“In your dreams, big boy.”

“I’m already living my dreams.”

250 notes · View notes

otherthingsinhead · 5 years

Text

Not Without Me

Pairing: Reader x The Mandalorian

Warnings: vague spoiler/violence/nudity

Words: 1120

Request: @poisvns

[...]"The Mandalorian" x fem!smuggler!reader and the relationship kind of resembles that of a Han and Leia thing except Y/N isn't associated with any royal princess title/general title, just simply a smuggler.[...]

A/N: I am so grateful for your kind feedback! The amount of love and appreciation I’ve received since I published my first Mando fiction ( Kissing a Stranger ) is unbelievable! You guys are all amazing! Thank you! 🤗💖

It seemed to him, the end was coming. With his body leaning over the child, protecting it from debris and projectiles, he looked through the helmet to the stormtroopers. They didn't stop coming. The power that the little one used to hold them up gained time. But time was not enough.

With every heartbeat, he was closer to death and only will was keeping him alive. His lungs demanded air, but instead, he breathed fire. He felt the pain spreading through his body. Another explosion. Another sting of pain in his side.

Darkness.

Silence.

He opened his eyes and sat up with a grunt. Inhaling deeply and squinting in pain he tried to gauge his surroundings. Suddenly, as if the view wasn’t convincing, he raised his hands to his face and seemed relieved when he touched cold metal.

“I knew a Mandalorian once.”

The voice was light but powerful enough to dispel the clouds still softly enveloping his mind. He winced and turned his head to your figure, sitting in a dark corner of the room. A stab of distress shrank his stomach.

“Where is it?” His voice was more hoarse than usual.

“The kid, you mean? Sleeping.”

“And... my armor?” He asked, his nervousness creeping in his voice and without waiting for an answer, he jumped out of bed.

As the cool air bit into his skin, he realized his body was uncovered. He quickly grabbed for the blanket and covered the lower part of his body. You didn't see his face, but there was an obvious question that just radiated from the naked Mandalorian. A mischievous flicker gleamed in your eyes, and a naughty smirk pulled at your lips.

“What? You were soaking in blood.” You explained, spreading your arms innocently.

“You undressed me, cleaned my body from the blood but... you didn’t remove the helmet?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. “Not once?”

“I’ve told you. I knew a Mandalorian once.”

You left the room to let him get dressed and fix himself under the helmet. Meanwhile, the child also woke up. It toddled to you on tiny, clumsy feet and stared up with his eyes glittering with hunger. You smiled and embraced it into your arms. The tiny body barely weighed anything and if you hadn't seen it with your own eyes, you wouldn't believe that such a small, soft creature could shape and control such force that can blow up the half valley and destroy an entire army.

“You know I was wondering what kind of person would send an army of stormtroopers against a single Mandalorian with a kid? Then I saw it... Your wounds healed as if they never existed.” You said and the man immediately understood why he didn’t feel pain at all and why the wounds have disappeared from his body.

“You could have taken the kid, my armor, my ship and leave me to die. But you didn’t. Why?”

“I’m a smuggler, not a looter.” You snapped. “And this child is far more valuable than all the beskar in the universe.” You mused, letting your gaze to absorb the stunning beauty of the huge-eyed child, cooing quietly in your arms.

“What do you want then?”

“Offering my help.”

“For what?”

“For you, to make sure the child is going to end up in good hands.”

There was some kind of sadness in the way you spoke which the bounty hunter couldn't help but notice. He wanted to know the reason but the child became excited and fussy as it saw him and wanted to climb into his arms at all costs.

“Here you go, little buddy, right into your daddy’s arms.” You chuckled and tucked the kid into the Mandalorian’s arms. The name you chose to call him startled him but before he could object you cut him off.

“I hope you guys are hungry! Your ship is a wreck and we can't get to work on an empty stomach.”

It took only a few days to repair the ship. And those few days were enough to plant confusion in the bounty hunter’s heart as well.

He often caught himself staring at you from behind his helmet. It was easy to act like he was watching something in front of him while his eyes were fixed on your beautiful face. It wasn't that your sneaky comments and teasing didn't annoy him, but that cute timbre of your voice, the way you pressed your lips into a hard line when you were concentrating, your caring kindness, your laughter, and dreamy eyes simply enchanted him.

The storm swirling in his chest became more intense as the time approached for the farewell.

“I think we’re ready.” He said, breaking the rustling noise of the breeze that rushed under the tall trees. “Thanks for everything.”

“It was my pleasure. Are you sure there is nothing else I can do to help?” You asked. Again.

You wished he would invite you to accompany him but it would be strange to offer. Anyway, it had to be that way. You knew you wouldn't join them just because of the kid. You had feelings for the masked man, feelings that excited you more than they should have.

“You've already helped more than enough.”

His heart was heavy as he walked slowly across the wet grass, each step a fresh reminder of the upcoming departure. A few more steps and he disappears forever, leaving whatever you set ablaze in his heart behind him. He nodded and the ramp began to rise. Then suddenly, it fell on the ground with a thud.

The ramp wasn’t broken but before he could say anything, something caught you. Some invisible force captured you, lifted you up into the air and slammed you into the ship with tremendous force, right in the arms of the Mandalorian. You groaned at the impact, hissing, rubbing your forehead where your head clattered with his helmet.

“It wasn’t me.” He explained as if he needed to clarify himself.

You turned your gaze towards the child. The little green creature was staring at you, blinking heavily with its big, dark, rounded eyes. You bit your lips and finally managed a smile.

“The kid is right. We could use a crew member.” The Mandalorian said and instantly felt a surge of tension over you.

Your eyes moved nervously right to left as if looking at his eyes behind the helmet. Nonetheless, you were in no hurry to break free of his embrace which he was pleased to acknowledge.

As if you were suddenly ashamed, you pushed yourself out of his arms then hiding your excitement behind a chuckle you shrugged.

“You couldn’t protect it without me anyway.”

MASTERLIST

2K notes · View notes

serenlyss · 4 years

Text

Parallel

Fandom: The Owl House Rating: G Relationships: lumity, luz & her mom, amity & her family Summary: Luz and Amity have more in common than just their favorite book series. Crossposted to AO3: Parallel

This one-shot is set between Enchanting Grom Fright and Wing it like Witches. I just can't stop thinking about how Amity and Luz are kind of foils for each other and how their families are so different but similar in certain ways. I feel like they'd bond over their respective parental drama. Anyway this show has stolen my heart and Lumity slays me so have some gay bonding.

---

Something’s off with Luz.

It isn’t difficult for Amity to notice. She’s a perceptive young witch; it’s a quality she’s always considered to be a strength of hers, and she knows more than she lets on, but Luz is also notoriously easy to read. She wears her heart on her sleeve, and she doesn’t mince her words--not when she really means it. It’s a trait of hers that makes Amity feel simultaneously warm and envious, but it also means that Amity is acutely aware of every shift in her friend’s moods and mannerisms. Today, it would seem, her balance is especially skewed.

The two of them had retreated to Amity’s library hideout after classes for their now-frequent reading sessions, a tradition Luz had dubbed the “Azura Book Club” despite the fact that Amity’s personal collection is far larger than just a handful of fantasy novels. Over the past few sessions, Amity had begun to introduce to Luz a few of her favorite novels that originated from the Boiling Isles itself, and for the last few sessions, the human girl had been practically glued to her side while she eagerly read over Amity’s shoulder. Amity would swear up and down that the close proximity definitely does not make her so nervous that she can hardly focus on the page in front of her, but if Luz notices her slower reading pace and persistently flushed face, she has yet to comment on it.

This afternoon, however, Luz is keeping her distance. She still sits close enough to Amity that their knees touch where they’re sharing the same giant beanbag chair, and it’s still intimate enough to set off the alarm bells in Amity’s definitely-not-distracted mind, but she’s been uncharacteristically quiet all afternoon. There are no excited comments, no involuntary noises in response to the surprising events happening in the narrative, not even a quiet chuckle at the book’s various jokes and hijinks. In fact, now that Amity reflects on the prior school day and even into that morning, Luz has been kind of spacey and distracted all day. Well, more than usual, and in a different way than Amity has learned is typical of her. She keeps pulling out her phone and fiddling with it, unlocking it with some kind of purpose only to hesitate and return it to her pocket every time. Even now, when Amity turns her head to see if Luz has finished the page they’re on, she sees that her friend isn’t even looking at the book at all, and she’s holding her phone in both hands. Her gaze has wandered over to a shelf to her right, but when Amity tilts her head to get a better look, she sees that Luz isn’t looking at anything in particular at all. She seems lost in her own head, unfocused. From this angle she even looks a little sad, her mouth turned down into a persistent frown that Amity doesn’t see very often.

Amity swallows, contemplating what she should do. Should she play dumb and act like nothing’s wrong, try to smooth things over? She’s never been a very… emotionally intimate person, at least not on the outside, and she doesn’t want to pry into anything personal Luz might be experiencing for fear that it might drive her away. Stop overthinking things so much, she mentally berates herself, recognizing her bad habit and attempting to squash it. Luz isn’t the kind of person to get angry over something like this. It’s Amity who dislikes the prying.

“Um,” she finally speaks up, attempting to grab Luz’s attention. It works, and she watches Luz blink and straighten up in her seat, as though awakening from a trance. Immediately, the sad fog that had been enveloping her gaze subsides, and she musters a meaningful--if unusually small--smile, quietly prompting Amity to continue. Once again, Amity considers playing it off, turning the subject to a new book or a happier, more lighthearted conversation, and again she corrects herself. “Are you okay?” she asks instead, nervously thumbing the corner of the book’s page to release some of her apprehension. “You’ve been spacing out, and you keep pulling out your phone. Are you expecting a call or something?”

Amity’s never seen a person stuff their phone into their pocket faster than Luz. Her smile turns sheepish, and Amity almost misses the flash of guilt that passes through her expression for just a moment. “Oh! Nah, I’m not expecting anything. Just antsy, I guess,” she deflects. It only serves to make Amity more worried.

“Are you sure? You just seem… out of it, I guess.” She turns her gaze down to the book still open in her lap, frown deepening. “I mean, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, especially if it’s something personal, but, um…” She trails off, feeling the telltale rise of a blush on her face. What a time to start feeling bashful! “W-we’re friends, right? You can tell me if something is bothering you. Because we’re friends.” She stumbles over her words a bit, wincing internally at her own lack of tact. Could she be any more awkward?

Still, Luz does look a bit relieved to hear this, and she nods her head. “Yeah, of course,” she says immediately, with full confidence in the statement. It eases Amity’s nerves every so slightly, but it also brings with it a tinge of disappointment. Somehow the word “friend” doesn’t feel quite right. But now isn’t the time for that, Amity reminds herself, pushing that thought out of her mind for the time being.

Luz lets out a loud sigh and flops back on the beanbag, jostling Amity in the process. “I really am okay,” she continues, her voice more self-assured this time. “I just… I’m worried about my mom.”

Amity blinks, a little surprised by the admission. Luz doesn’t talk about her parents very often; it seems to be a sore subject for her, and Amity doesn’t dare bring it up with her, not after Grom. Apparently it’s been eating at her more than she’s let on, for it to lead to this. “What about her?” she prompts, swallowing back her own worry. She slips a bookmark between the pages of the novel they’d been reading to mark their place, then sets it aside to focus all her attention on Luz. “Is she not responding to you?”

Luz musters up a wry smile. “Kind of the opposite, actually. She sends me texts almost every day,” she replies, an obvious fondness creeping into her voice.

Amity is… confused. It’s obvious that Luz loves her mother, and from what little Luz has said, her mother loves her just as much. “I don’t understand,” she says with a shake of her head. “Do you not like getting messages from her?”

“I do!” Amity says quickly, almost in a panic, like she’s afraid of anyone thinking otherwise. “That's not what I meant.” She lets out a groan of frustration, giving her legs a kick and scrubbing her hands over her face. She’s silent for a moment, hands hiding her expression, before she finally peeks out from under them to glance in Amity’s direction. “Hey, if I tell you something, can you, um, keep it between us?”

Her voice is quieter now, layered with an air of secrecy, and it just makes Amity more curious. Still, she suppresses her inner gossip for the sake of respecting Luz’s feelings. “Of course,” she responds honestly. “What happens in the club, stays in the club.” She recites a line Luz is fond of repeating whenever their club discussions turn more personal, but this feels like an extra weighty secret for Luz to be sharing.

Still, her attempt at humor pays off, winning a genuine smile from Luz, who immediately blurts out, “My mom doesn’t know I’m here.”

Amity blinks, shocked, and is quiet for a few seconds as she processes this information. “Wait, what? How does she-I mean, she knows you’re not home, right?” she presses, frantically trying to wrap her head around this situation.

“She thinks I’m at summer camp,” Luz clarifies, clear disdain for the camp tinging her words. “She’d freak out if she knew I was here!” Guilt starts to take over her expression again, tugging her lips into a deep frown. “You saw her at Grom, right? That’s what I’m afraid will happen when she finds out I ditched her camp. I’m supposed to be learning boring adult stuff, like how to be polite and not say weird things and, I dunno, file taxes? Adults do that, right?” She throws her hands up in the air, huffing.

Amity shakes her head, a little overwhelmed. Sure, she’d suspected something was up at Grom, but she hadn’t known just how deep her rabbit hole goes. “Taxes?” she mumbles to herself in confusion, then gives her head a shake. That isn’t the important part. Staring down at Luz’s expression, Amity feels bad. Luz is obviously agonizing over this on the inside, and has been since the day she’d arrived at the Boiling Isles. Something in Amity really hates seeing the way Luz avoids her gaze, like she’s ashamed to be admitting this. She’s twitchy, too, looking for any way to let out her nervous energy. At the moment, she fiddles with her fingers, crossing and uncrossing them, and picking imaginary dirt from underneath her fingernails.

Amity lets out a long breath, steeling her nerve, and flops back onto the beanbag at Luz’s side. The force of it jostles them both, and despite herself, Luz can’t help but let out a little laugh when she’s nearly thrown onto the ground. She wiggles around to reposition herself, and Amity nearly chokes on a breath when Luz’s arm presses against hers and comes to rest there. She’s suddenly very aware of how hard her heart is beating, sitting so close to Luz like this, but she doesn’t dare move, for fear of disrupting the moment. Her voice cracks just a bit when she says, softly, “Why are you so intent on hiding it from her? I don’t know much about humans, but is it really so bad for you to be spending time here, with us?”

Luz sighs dejectedly. “That’s the thing. Everything about this place, everything that I love, is the reason she wanted to send me away in the first place!” she says. “You may not get it, but I’m not just a weirdo here, Amity. I’m a weirdo on Earth, too.”

“Of course you’re a weirdo, I already know that,” Amity says before she can stop herself. She can’t hide the snickers that bubble up in her throat when Luz hits her on the shoulder good-naturedly.

“Not funny,” Luz complains, but Amity can see the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Amity swallows down her laughter. “Sorry, sorry. It’s not an insult, promise. I like your weirdness,” she admits, hastily turning away before Luz can see the easy blush that comes to her face so often these days.

She hears Luz laugh softly beside her, and takes it as a victory. “Thanks,” she murmurs. “I wish everyone could accept it like you and Willow and Gus do. My mom sent me away to camp because she wanted to fix my weirdness. No fanfiction, no cat ear sweaters, no fantasy novels. I know she’s just worried about me, but it’s not like I’m hurting anyone! Is it really so bad that I like nerdy things and want to geek out about them?” Turning to look at Amity, she forces a grin. “Don’t answer that. I promise it’s no big deal, it’s just something I worry about sometimes-”

Luz keeps talking, but Amity is frozen. She hesitates to admit it out loud, but Luz’s words hit a little too close to home for her liking. Flashbacks of her younger self being scolded by her parents crop up in her mind, punishments for silly things; associating with the wrong people, participating in activities they didn’t approve of, ditching her studying in favor of something fun. Instances where her parents had pushed her away from what she wanted and towards their own ideal. It all made so much sense now. “I totally get it,” she blurts out, surprised and astounded that she and Luz, from two completely different worlds, maybe even different dimensions, could have something so intimate and personal in common.

Luz looks surprised, too. “You do?” she says.

“Yeah, I really do,” Amity echoes, and a smile breaks out on her face despite the heaviness of the topic. Of everyone she’s ever met on the Boiling Isle, only her own siblings have really related to her family’s… complicated dynamic, and Edric and Emira aren’t exactly people Amity is keen on confiding in. “My parents do it too. You saw them, in Willow’s mind. They do stuff like that all the time. I’m a Blight, after all, I have a reputation to uphold on their behalf. If you don’t do things their way, you get scolded, right? Can’t go giving off “the wrong impression” or it reflects badly on them. Your mom wants you to do what she wants, not what you want. That’s exactly how my parents are with me and my siblings.”

Luz is staring at Amity in stunned silence, sympathy clouding her gaze. “Yeah, that’s exactly what it’s like,” she sighs. “It’s hard, trying to live up to her expectations without feeling like I’m giving up everything I love. Is it hard for you, too?”

Amity shrugs. “I guess. My parents are easier on me than on my siblings, though,” she admits, clasping her hands over her stomach. Her elbow rubs against Luz’s in the process, but her friend doesn’t seem to notice. “Ed and Em were under super strict control when they were younger. I guess they coped with it by rebelling wherever they could. They still do.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Mom and Dad still try to keep them under control, but, well, you’ve seen them. They don’t take orders easily.”

Luz giggles softly at this, nodding her head. “I’m an only child. I think Mom feels like if I keep going down the path I’m on, that I’ll somehow ruin my life and make her out to be a bad mother, but it’s not true. I don’t know how to explain to her that I’m just fine the way I am, and that I’m not going to end up a failure just because I still like to read fantasy books.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Amity reassures her. “In the meantime, you can be as weird as you want around me.”

To her surprise, Luz actually blushes at this, her tan face going ever so slightly darker. It’s so unlike Amity’s own pale skin, which could and would turn bright red at the slightest provocation, that she can't help but stare. “Thanks, Amity. I'm really glad that you're my friend,” Luz confesses.

Humbled and more than a little embarrassed, Amity opens her mouth to deflect, but her words get tangled up in her mouth when Luz suddenly reaches into the space between them and takes her hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. All coherent thought immediately leaves Amity's mind, and she's certain that she's red to the tips of her ears from the way her face burns. “N-No problem,” she manages to stutter out breathlessly, and she thanks whatever gods are watching that she’s able to string together a reply at all.

Amity has held Luz’s hand before, but it’s never been like this. She sees now how big of a difference there is between grabbing someone’s hand to help them stand up, or to steady them, or to keep from being separated in a crowd, and holding hands just because you want to. Luz’s palm is warm and firm against her smaller, daintier one, and she’s fitted their fingers together in a way that is decidedly, unnecessarily intimate. There is no practical reason for Luz to make this kind of gesture, she just does it because she wants to, and because it feels right to her. Amity can’t help but admire how brave she must be to make such a gesture so casually, when Amity herself can barely share the same space with Luz without combusting into a stuttering, rambling, disorganized mess. “Did you, uh, want to keep reading?” she asks, her voice soft in the hidden room, but the close proximity means her voice doesn’t have to carry far.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to stay like this for a little while,” Luz replies. It’s not often that Amity hears the rambunctious human speak so quietly. Luz shifts to get more comfortable, slipping her cell phone into her pocket and out of sight. Her shoulder presses against Amity’s and stays there as the two of them stare up at the glow-in-the-dark stars Amity had once climbed the shelves to stick on the ceiling.

“Okay,” Amity says, turning to give Luz a small smile. She wonders if Luz notices how red in the face she is. She wonders if Luz recognizes what it means, if she’s known all along, or if she writes it off as some magical quirk or another, oblivious to the way her actions make Amity feel.

Right here, in the moment, Amity can’t bring herself to care whether or not she notices. She holds Luz’s hand, looks up at the ceiling, and feels that everything is going to be okay.

#the owl house #luz noceda #amity blight #lumity #serendipitousfics #love these gals

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ghostsray · 4 years

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danny grows baby fangs

truce gift for @phantomofprocrastination!! happy new decade :)

word count: 3,080

____

Being friends with a rival ghost has its pros and cons. The pros are that Danny can call on them whenever he needs help fighting a bigger, badder ghost. The cons are that this does nothing to stop his ally from attacking him whenever they like.

He was awoken in the dead of night (pun intended) by his ghost sense escaping his throat. He quickly transformed and flew outside, preparing to fight a ghost wreaking havoc. Instead, he was met by Johnny, who asked for a spar.

Danny sighed and ran a hand across his face. "Really? You couldn't have picked a better time for this?"

"Of course not!" Johnny delightfully replied. "All the humans are asleep, so you don't have to worry about hurting any of them."

That was...surprisingly thoughtful. Still didn't make it any less annoying. Danny fixed him with a glare and said, "Johnny. I'm half human. I also need to sleep."

The ghost's eyes widened, and his mouth formed a circle. "Oh."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Can you go back to the GZ so I can get back to bed?"

Unfortunately, he already knew the answer he would receive when Johnny's face twisted into a wicked smirk. "But you're already here, aren't you? And I do have some energy I need to let out..."

"Dude, I swear..."

Danny didn't have time to finish his threat because the biker ghost was already sending his shadow to attack him. Inwardly, Danny groaned. Here he thought that he was making good progress this year in befriending his previous enemies, but it turns out they're too trained in Hating Danny On Sight to fully stop torturing him.

Danny blocked another swing from the shadow. He formed a ball of ectoplasm in his hands and used its light to fend the phantom off. As he watched it retreat, he bared his teeth at Johnny with a growl, trying to convey clearly that he wasn't happy.

For some reason, Johnny had the opposite reaction. He held up a hand to hold his shadow back and stared at Danny. "Wait, do that again," he said.

Danny frowned, confused. "Do what?"

"Bare your teeth."

Danny was Hella Confused, but he did as he was asked. Johnny clapped his hands and laughed.

"You're growing baby fangs!"

"...What."

The older ghost got closer until he was floating right in front of Danny's face. He pointed at the halfa's mouth, and his face adopted the kind of expression Jazz would make if she saw a baby animal. "Right there," the ghost said with a smile, "the cutest, widdwest baby fa--"

All of a sudden, a light enveloped Johnny, and he looked down to see the halfa sucking him into a Fenton thermos. "Hey! Not fair!" he whined, his voice shrinking as he went in.

"Sorry, but you deserved it," Danny spoke into the cylinder before he closed it.

He sunk from his spot in the air until his boots touched the ground. As soon as he did, he thought about what Johnny said. Now that he noticed, his gums were hurting. When he touched them with his tongue, he felt something sharp growing among his teeth. What did Johnny say? Fangs?

Danny looked at the building sitting across from his home. The lights indoors were all turned off, and the windows perfectly reflected the street and Danny on it. Danny let himself hover an inch off the ground and floated toward the glass. Once he got close enough, he studied his reflection.

Over the years, his ghost form had changed into something a bit more...ghostly. Before, the only parts of his appearance that changed were his eye and hair colors. Now, his hair became wispy, his skin grew tinted green, and even the freckles that had long ago faded from his human skin now literally glowed in ghost form.

Danny ignored these details. (He especially ignored how uncomfortable he felt seeing himself look less and less human.) Instead, he opened his mouth and focused on the trait Johnny pointed out to him.

Sure enough, two small, white points were growing from where his canine teeth should be. Danny stared. Were those really going to grow into fangs? Honestly, he's not sure why he was surprised. Pretty much every ghost he knew had fangs. Even Vlad did, and he's a halfa too.

He grinned at his reflection, and the reflection grinned back, showing off his brand new pair of fangs. Danny tried to imagine what the would look like on him once they grow, replacing the small points with something longer and sharper.

This was a mistake.

Suddenly the image before him seemed eerily familiar. Wispy hair, almost like fire. Greenish skin bordering on teal. Growing muscles underneath his jumpsuit. And fangs.

The grin was gone from Danny's face, but the reflection still smiled. Since when had its eyes turned red?

Danny took a shaky step back.

It was him.

The thermos slipped from his hands with a clunk. He gulped.

He was turning into him.

Fire entered Danny's nose. Fire, and the smell of burning flesh. He whipped around, eyes out of focus. The Nasty Burger. It was gone. The flames licked the sky and danced on where the building once stood.

His family. His friends. He couldn't save them.

"No," he softly said, as if that could erase the scene before him.

He dropped onto his knees on the pavement. The smoke stung his eyes and filled his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

"No," he repeated, gasping and gripping onto his hairs. "No, no, no."

His eyes fell on the thermos next to him. The metal surface reflected Danny's face, but it wasn't the face he saw in the mirror yesterday. It was his face from tomorrow. Red eyes, wispy hair, and grinning at him with long, sharp fangs.

An ecto-blast shot past his ear, jolting Danny back to reality. He looked up, his eyes finally focusing on someone standing over him...someone wearing a teal jumpsuit and red goggles...his mom?

But he saw her die, didn't he? There was the explosion, and...and she was blasted apart like everyone else...and then...oh, right.

It felt like he was finally waking up. The air around him was clear. He wasn't in front of the Nasty Burger, he was in front of his own house. And even if he was there, the restaurant would still be standing. The explosion never happened. Clockwork erased that timeline.

His family was still alive. Maddie was still alive.

A fact that helpfully made itself apparent by the gun she was pointing at him.

"Why are you doing that?" his mother asked, snapping him out of his reverie.

"Doing what?" he replied.

"Pretending to cry."

Danny touched his cheeks. Was he really crying? Sure enough, his gloves came back wet.

"Answer me, phantom," Maddie's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and bitter.

Danny let his hands fall onto his lap and gulped. "I'm not pretending."

"Of course you are," Maddie stated matter-of-factly. "Ghosts can't shed genuine tears. After all, it's not like they can feel--"

"Yes, they can," Danny suddenly snapped. "They feel! All they do is feel! That's why they're aggressive. Not because they lack emotion, but because they're created from it! Not that it matters to you, since you never listen to what I say."

Maddie's jaw dropped. As soon as the words left Danny's mouth, he knew it was out of character for him. Phantom was a smooth ghost who only spoke to tell bad puns and mock his enemies. He never snapped at anyone like that. A part of him felt ashamed for yelling at his mother, but he wasn't in the mood to feel guilty about it.

He averted his eyes and wiped at his tears. Man, he must have looked pathetic. Why was Maddie even out here? Of course, he had forgotten that his parents had almost as little sleep as he did. She was probably pulling an all-nighter working on some new invention to kill him when she noticed the ghost having a breakdown outside their house.

Danny tried to ignore the embarrassment he felt and pushed himself to his feet. If Maddie noticed the way he shook as he pulled himself up, she didn't comment on it. He took a deep breath. The smell of fire still lingered in his nose.

"Never mind," he said, not looking at her as he spoke. "I'm not in the mood to deal with you tonight." He turned away and prepared to take flight, but a hand suddenly gripped at his wrist, and he turned back to see Maddie holding on to him.

"Wait," she said. After a moment of hesitation, she let go and...lowered her gun? "Let's assume I believe what you said, about ghosts feeling emotion. Why are you crying?"

Danny had to assure himself that he wasn't dreaming. Talking and not shooting? That was new. He must have stared at her for a long time in surprise, because she frowned and urged, "Well?"

He blinked and looked down. "It's nothing."

"So you are faking?"

"What? No!"

"Then what is it?"

He bit his lip. How could he even begin to explain it? Hey, no biggie, but I sort of saw an alternate timeline where I went evil and killed you, which happened a long time ago but apparently I'm not as over it as I thought. Yeah, no. Instead, he asked, "Why do you care?"

He looked up and saw something soften in her face. Her brows knitted, but in an I'm-willing-to-hear-you kind of way, just like the days in his childhood when she sat next to him in bed, ready to soothe him as he woke up crying from another nightmare. It made him meet her eyes, forgetting for just a moment that they were supposed to be enemies. She was not Maddie the ghosthunter, but Mom.

Then the illusion broke when she said, "With how much power you have, it is my duty as a ghosthunter to make sure you dont step out of line. Anything that would cause you to act differently from usual should concern me."

His chest crumpled. Of course she didn't care, and why would she? He was a ghost. This was nothing more than another duty for her as a ghosthunter.

He tried not to show his disappointment, but it must have shown anyway because Maddie asked, "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," he lied. "Of course not."

She sighed. "Of course not." She crossed her arms and turned away, then muttered under her breath, "I don't know why I thought I could help a ghost. I can't even help my own children."

Danny guessed he wasn't meant to hear that last part, but he did. He stared at her incredulously and asked, "What?"

She stiffened, then quickly said, "Nothing. I don't need to tell you about my family life."

He took one step toward her, then immediately took a step back when she aimed her gun on him. Right, he forgot she didn't holster that.

"I mean it," she warned. "This isn't about me."

He stumbled and fell onto the pavement. Maddie stood over him, still aiming her weapon at him. Were they not just having a moment? Obviously not. Maddie Fenton was never one to have moments with a ghost.

"Really, quit breathing. I know you don't need to do that."

Danny only then noticed how hard his chest was rising and falling. He gulped. "I can't keep doing this," he suddenly spoke.

The hand holding the gun faltered. "Doing what?"

His eyes stung, but he held back his tears because he knew she would tell him he was faking again, and he didn't want that to happen. Instead, he fixed his eyes on the red goggles that covered hers and said, "Fighting you, being your enemy, until the day you die."

Maddie remained calm as she said, "You're a ghost. I'm a ghosthunter."

"That doesn't mean we have to fight." He gestured between them and added, "I mean, we were just having a conversation. At least until you pulled out your gun again."

"Is that why you brought me out here?"

"I didn't. You came on your own."

"You were acting strange," she replied. "You still didn't answer why."

His core thrummed against his chest as he continued to stare into her gun. Why are you crying? Because he's still scared of becoming his evil self. Because he doesn't want to hurt his family. Because every time he closed his eyes, he saw their scorched remains, and he doesn't want to be the person to cause that to happen.

"I don't want to be a bad ghost," he answered.

Maddie tilted her head. "That can't be it," she spoke in her snobby scientist voice. "Ghosts dont have a sense of right and wrong--"

"Would you stop making assumptions about ghost morals? I'm the ghost here, not you."

That was the second time he snapped at her. He tore his eyes away from her, instead choosing to glare at the street. Maddie was quiet. "...You're serious," she finally said.

"Yeah, no shit."

She lowered her gun...just slightly. "That still doesn't explain things," she said. "Why the sudden reaction? The tears?"

His eyes landed on the thermos that lay a few feet away, reflecting his green skin and wispy hair and glowing eyes on its surface. His gums hurt.

Danny shut his eyes and gulped back bile. "I...I did something bad, okay?" he said, his voice small. "I thought I could forget about it, but I can't. I--I don't want it to happen again."

A moment of silence hung between them, broken only by the soft whistle of the breeze. He hoped she wouldn't ask, but he knew the question was coming anyway. "What did you do?"

His hands shook. He gripped them into fists, but that did nothing to ebb his emotions.

"Phantom," Maddie urged. "What did--"

"I killed people!" The tears escaped his eyes, which opened to reveal toxic green irises that shone brighter than the streetlights. He faced Maddie, his expression contorted in guilt and pain and Ancients why do his gums still hurt as he cried, "I killed people. They died, and it was because of me. I killed them."

He waited for her to get angry at him, to shoot him. Instead, she gave him a reaction he didn't expect.

"Now I know you're faking," she said, lowering her gun completely.

He blinked away his tears. "What?"

"Feeling guilt over someone's death? Ghosts can't care about that." She held up a hand and continued, "Before you argue again about whether ghosts have morals or not, I'm talking about the concept of life and death. You're dead, so you shouldn't be able to bother over whether others are, too."

Danny sat back and let those words sink in. Was that why his alternate self had seemed so heartless? He had removed his humanity, and along with it, any sympathy he had left toward life. If Danny had fully died in that portal, would he...?

He shook his head. He didn't want to think about that. "But I don't want others to suffer the same fate I did," he argued.

"That's not what other ghosts seem to think," Maddie pointed out. "Even if your obsession was saving others, it should be easy for you to get over a few deaths after some time has passed. It simply doesn't make sense for you to care." She crouched until she was at eye level with him and inquired, "So tell me, Phantom. What makes you so different?"

"...I don't know." What else could he say without revealing his secret? He truthfully told her, "I never asked to be this way."

She scrutinized him, as if looking at him could somehow reveal the truth. After a while, she sighed and stood up...and holstered her gun.

"I can never understand you," she said. "You're just...so human. Your emotions, your thinking, your morals, even your appearance."

He perked up. "You think I look human?"

She looked at him as if he just said the dumbest thing on the planet. "Of course you do," she answered. "Even if you've changed since your first appearance, the change isn't nearly as much as it should be for such an increase in power as yours. Other ghosts your power level would look much more monstrous. But not you. You may grow claws and fangs, but you can still pass as a person."

Danny was dumbfounded. Here he was worried that he might be losing his humanity, and now he was proven wrong by none other than one of the world's leading ghost researchers, his own mother. He thought that was as much relief as he could feel, and then she said,

"You're not a bad ghost, Phantom."

He bit the insides of his mouth to keep himself from crying again because dammit he's already cried enough times this night already. Instead, he blurted out the thing that was on his mind in that moment, which was, "You're not a bad mom."

Mom faltered. For a second, Danny worried that he screwed up. He should not have said that, now she's going to try shooting him again and then everything that just happened would be a waste... But she didn't do that. He couldn't read her face well from underneath her mask, but something crossed her face. She observed him silently, and he squirmed, wondering what she saw. She opened her mouth to say something, but then changed her mind and turned away without a word, leaving the halfa behind as she went back indoors.

Danny sat in the middle of the empty street, watching his mom leave. What just happened? He wasn't sure, but Mom just left without leaving him an injury, which he didn't think could be possible. The world lit up around him as the sun rose from the east.

Shit, he had to return home before someone could walk into his room and find it empty. He fumbled around until he caught the thermos, then paused to look at his reflection. He saw...himself. No evil alternate self. No monster from the future. Just Danny Phantom, existing in the present.

He grinned, showing off his brand new pair of fangs.

Now that he thought about it, having fangs sounds pretty cool.

#holiday truce 2019 #Danny Phantom #danny fenton #maddie fenton #angst #fic #mine

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that-good-trash · 4 years

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I’m Not Okay- Chapter Two Midoriya x Reader/Bakugou x Reader

Izuku Midoriya x reader/ Katsuki Bakugou x reader

Summary: You have struggled with mental health your whole life so why can’t you seem to get it under control. Will you be able to keep the same mask even though two of your classmates have seen under it?

Warnings: Depression, Angst, Anxiety.

Word Count: 4,247

Comment: Thank you all for reading the first chapter! I tried to get the second chapter written as fast as possible. I’m so happy that the first chapter was well liked. Enjoy part two, I’ll try to get part three done as soon as possible.

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Morning wasn’t the worst part of the day it just was never better than okay. You didn’t experience the same euphoria as some of your morning classmates like Tenya Iida, Yuga Aoyama, and Koji Koda. Iida gets up early to set an example, to make sure everyone gets to class, and to better sell himself as the proper class representative he is. Aoyama needs time to get ready for the day since he had a routine to look as gorgeous as he does. You remember one time that you had gotten up early to turn in an assignment that was late before class and Aoyama was doing his lashes in the large mirror in the living area. There was a silent understanding before you had left the flamboyant male alone. Koda got up with the birds speaking gently with them, saying little good mornings to them as the sun rose. You almost wish that you had the same kind of drive they had. Maybe if you got up early you could face your problems then and feel better later. It seemed like it would work but you knew all to well that you couldn’t sleep your problems away and you couldn’t wake up before them.

“Maybe if I just didn’t wake up.” You spoke to the girl in the mirror. She stared back with dark circles that would need to be hidden before going to class. She was losing color to her cheeks and her hair was unruly. The worst part about this girl wasn’t her physical appearance. It was the raw emotion in her eyes, the exhaustion that urged some other worldly being to come end all this suffering. The girl in the mirror was crying causing your hand to reach up and catch the tears off your cheeks before they could fall. You and the girl in the mirror had everything in common except when she wasn’t visible, when you weren’t in your room or near a reflective surface she didn’t exist, she didn’t feel pain or sadness, yet you did. You felt every painful breath, every break in your facade.

You had wondered before had it always been this hard to breathe, to exist, to wake up. You were finding that the answer was inconclusive. It was hard before; it’s just getting worse.

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“Y/N!” Mina’s voice loudly cut through any thoughts swarming you as you pushed your breakfast around on your plate. You weren’t going to make yourself food but when you came downstairs there was a plate already waiting for you and you knew exactly who made it, Midoriya.

“What’s up?” You could never fake a smile at the alien featured girl. She was all the pep and excitement that you wish you could show, that you wish you had in you. Instead you relish in her cheerful disposition happy that you are able to at least do that. Your smile makes her own stretch wider and shine brighter. A squeal leaves her before you are enveloped into a hug. Shock isn’t exactly how you feel. More like slightly puzzled at the abruptness of her physical contact. You lean into the hug cherishing the skin to skin contact and you are almost disappointed when she pulls away. You hear Kaminari wolf whistle at the two of you causing you both to roll your eyes.

“I missed you girl! I barely survived yesterday with you gone. I tried asking what happened but just got told that you weren’t feeling good and then you didn’t even come down for dinner last night. You didn’t answer my texts either. I was so worried but you just smiled at me and.” A squeal leaves her lips again before she’s squishing your face between her hands.

“And your just so cute and it made everything better. You are okay right.” She’s still got your face between her hands when she asks the taboo question. The one that seems to always get the same response from you. How easy would it be to just say you weren’t okay? She would understand, right? But what if she didn’t. what if she found you gross or hated you for being broken? Children don’t like broken toys so you weren’t very liked as a kid but does that same feeling extend into teenagers. Would she still hug you and love you as a sobbing mess? The answer was simple and obvious but you couldn’t risk the minuscule chance of losing your best friend so you lied.

“I’m good.” I’m okay, I’m fine, I’m alright. It was all the same thing just a different word each time. A smile helped serve the words with false honesty.

“Well if you say so. If you need me, I am here for you.” Your teeth bite down on the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from crying. You searched her expression but found nothing but love and admiration for you. She kissed your cheek before running off to bother Kaminari and Sero as they left on their journey to class. Your fingers brushed across the warm spot she kissed and a genuine smile appeared. Your heart felt like it was pumping normal and you could breathe. It was a temporary state but you’d take anything at this point.

“Time to get to class everyone.” The class rep’s voice cut through the remaining chatter and like a sheep dog started herding them all out. You stood up sliding the cold food into the trash. You felt bad for wasting it but you had never asked for it to begin with. As you moved to join the stragglers a hand grabbed your wrist pulling you back into the seat you had previously been occupying. You could feel the heat from his skin before you saw his face. Bakugou was squatting in front of you with your leg in his hands.

“Um, Bakugou. What are you do-?”

“Shut up. You never came by my room so I assumed you got raccoon eyes to bandage your leg. You tried to do it yourself and it looks like shit.” You would have been sarcastic but you once again lacked your usual spirit. Bakugou looked up waiting for the old you to resurface. He sighed while unwrapping the bandaging. You went to say something, anything at this point to break the weird tension and silence but instead a hiss escaped at his rough pull of the bandage as he finished wrapping your knee. You couldn’t help smacking him.

“The hell Bakugou, that hurt!” Bakugou rubbed the spot you had just hit him snarling before looking at you with intense yet playful eyes.

“You gonna whine like a bitch or you gonna go to class.” He was fast to dodge your second attack and you huffed before grabbing your bag and storming off ahead of him. He followed you with a smirk on his face. It wasn’t much but he got you to react. To show some kind of emotion that wasn’t sorrow or emptiness.

“What the hell were you eating this morning. I was going to tell you to stop playing with it but I got closer and thought something died on your plate.” You had to cover you face when you snorted at the sheer abruptness of his comedic insult to Midoriya’s cooking. You knew that he had to know that Midoriya had made it since Bakugou was the king of waking up early. You had reached over to shove him but never made contact, he moved away from you. “Tomorrow you will eat breakfast. I always have extra so you can have it.”

“Bakugou. I can’t just take your food.” Your voice is small. One minute you had been stifling laughter and now you felt ashamed that he even felt obligated to feed you. You were starting to feel like a charity case. A gasp erupted when Bakugou blasted part of a metal beam you passed. He didn’t face you but you could tell he was irritated.

“Listen up extra, I don’t do hand outs or fucking charity. I offered you the damn food and your gonna take it. You insult me taking that shitty nerd’s food but turning your nose before you even get to try mine. I’ll force the damn crap down your throat.” You couldn’t figure him out, he was mean one second then trying to be considerate? Nice? He was trying to be something other than his over the top aggressive self even if his kindness still was yelled with profanities.

“So. You admit your food is crap.” Of all the things you could have responded with. You could have cried because he was trying to care or cried because he was overbearing. You could have not responded. Yet you felt the flicker, the embers of your former attitude were still burning just low. They needed fuel and fanning and Bakugou was giving you kerosene. His red eyes were wide at the smirk across your still dry lips. The way that he could slightly see your teeth as if you were ready to cackle like an idiot at your own retort. He raised his hand to spark another blast but both of you were stopped by a too familiar voice.

“Both of you are late to class.” The words were laced with exhaustion and you could see the dark bags under his eyes before you even looked at him, Mr. Aizawa. You nodded and Bakugou scoffed before the two of you followed the hero into the classroom.

You hated being the center of attention, which is why you typically walk into places under the cover of your friends. Right now, everyone was staring at you, there eyes shifting between you and the class asshole. Bakugou paid them no attention and sat down. You felt like you couldn’t move. There were questions and speculations about why you were late, why you came in late with Bakugou. Midoriya made concerned eye contact with you before you shifted your gaze back to the floor and sat at your desk. Your hands fumbled with taking out the necessary supplies and a slight yelp accidently escaped when a hand placed itself on your shoulder.

“Um, you dropped this.” Todoroki handed you back your eraser that had escaped your bag without your knowledge. Your cheeks flushed at the state you were in. The frantic and anxious behavior you showed him made you feel like a maniac.

“Thank you.” His fingers were cold against yours as he pushed the eraser into your hand. You pulled your hand back and hoped he didn’t think rude of you for doing so. He just blinked before turning his attention back to the board. To anyone watching they’d have thought you had a crush on him with how your cheeks were pink and how fast you were to avoid contact. You didn’t though. Your avoidance was a precaution. You already had two students that were getting close to your issues. You didn’t need Todoroki involved as well. Your pencil moves across the paper in front of you while two pair of eyes watch you with different emotions. Red eyes with a glint of anger at Todoroki touching your hand. He was already irritated that Midoriya was getting close to you, there was no way in hell he wanted ‘icy hot’ involved with you. Green eyes watched you waiting for another sign of pain. He was waiting for even the slightest glossiness and he would be there at your side offering you a handkerchief and his shoulder. After you ran away, he wanted so badly to show you that he was sorry and that he cared.

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If there was a class you could skip today it would be lunch. While every other student seemed to be enjoying this breaktime between learning and training, you felt that pressure again. Your legs had stopped moving and this time you had to grab the wall for support. There were so many people going in and out of the cafeteria. A few of them gave you strange looks but you didn’t care. You closed your eyes trying to figure out how to stop the rush of dizziness that came over you. You wanted to be able to breathe but found yourself holding back doing so. You were literally causing yourself pain and were beginning to feel faint. Mina was already inside the cafeteria sitting with a group of classmates. You didn’t know who it was today but probably Kaminari and Sero, or maybe it was Jirou and Yaoyorozu. Regardless of who she was sitting with today you couldn’t be one of them. You couldn’t sit there and listen absentmindedly to conversations you had no interest in. It wasn’t that you were a bitch who didn’t care, even though it sometimes came off like that. You just couldn’t fake it today. You wanted to go to Mr. Aizawa and be dismissed for the day but he would just send you to Recovery Girl and you didn’t want to do that all over again.

“You don’t have to go inside if you don’t want to.” You hadn’t even noticed Midoriya walk up to you until his voice drown out the ones inside you head.

“I was gonna go in. I was just waiting and.” You couldn’t figure out a good enough lie but realized you didn’t need to lie. Midoriya was staring at you with his big kind eyes that spoke. His eyes told you that it was okay to be upset. “I actually don’t want to eat in the cafeteria. I really don’t feel like eating at all.”

You rubbed your arm the same way you had when he had first caught you the day prior. No eye contact because you knew that the second sentence you had said was concerning, especially since he was assigned to be your personal nutritionist. You waited for him to speak or attempt to comfort you but no words were spoken. Instead your wrist was gripped and your legs were once again moving along with his. Panic began to settle into your chest and head. Was he going to take you to Recovery Girl? Was he going to take you to Mr. Aizawa? Neither of those options came true. Instead you found yourself outside a staff room that, once the door was open, you found was empty.

“Um Midoriya. I don’t think we are allowed in here.” You cautiously followed him into the room waiting for a teacher to catch you both. Though you’d be lying if you said this wasn’t cool to be in a room that students couldn’t just barge into.

“I have permission from All Might to eat lunch in here. Usually I eat with him but he has a meeting and I’d rather eat with you.” To anyone the words I’d rather eat with you would be some lame pick up line, however with Midoriya they meant something different. The romantic/deep part of his sentence was that he chose you over his idol. Your chest tightened in a way that you were unfamiliar with. There was no pain or feeling of panic. Just a sense of mattering. You had felt something almost similar when you were bickering playfully with Bakugou that morning.

“Also, um you can call me Izuku or deku.” You look up and realize you are standing awkwardly in the doorway still. You move allowing the door to close before sitting on the couch across from Midoriya.

“Okay, Izuku.” Even though he had told you to call him by his first name it didn’t prepare him for how it would sound coming from your mouth. He covered his face trying to hide the flushing of his cheeks. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just wasn’t expecting you to use it so soon.” A smile spread across your face at his shy behavior. “Are you really not gonna eat?”

“I don’t feel like eating.” You sounded like you had some kind of eating disorder but you didn’t. You just felt like you wasted energy that you already lacked on something minor. Your stomach did groan against your hand that you had placed against it in order to muffle the sound. After your failed attempt at silencing your hunger the sound of something being pushed across the table toward you caught your attention. It was a prepackaged sandwich, simple and plain yet so enticing.

“I’m not going to pry but I think you should eat. We have training later and I don’t want you getting hurt. You don’t have to worry about the taste either. I didn’t make it.” Midoriya laughed after mentioning his inability to cook. You almost felt bad since you had thrown away the breakfast he made.

“I’ll eat it, but because you asked me too and I can’t say no to my personal nurse.” The first part of your sentence got him blushing again but by the end he was flushed from embarrassment. Midoriya eats his lunch while you unwrap the sandwich and take a bite. It is dry and doesn’t have much flavor and yet you have to hold back not devouring it. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were till now. A few crumbs fall onto your lap so you brush them off as you push the last bite into your mouth. You look up while chewing and see Midoriya staring at you. He doesn’t look away and you both make silent eye contact.

“Why do you look so sad?” His voice is barely above a whisper and you almost didn’t hear him, almost.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. Yesterday you were crying, you looked so tired, you still look tired and like you’re ready to cry. You seemed scared when Recovery Girl questioned you. I don’t know what you are going through but you don’t have to do it al-”

“Don’t. Please don’t say it. I’ve heard it so many times that I just might lose it if I have to hear it from you.” You don’t mean to sound rude and you probably don’t. You just didn’t need this right now. Lunch was finally going well, you had eaten and got to enjoy the silence. Midoriya meant well but you couldn’t let him in now. He was already in deeper than he should be. However, despite wanting him to stop you were once again contemplating what could happen if you told him. Just like you had wondered about Mina you wondered what he would do. He wasn’t judging you and yet you couldn’t help feeling like he was. The demons whispered their tormenting words invoking your insecurities. This was no longer a lunch between friends. You felt trapped, a cornered animal afraid of capture even if it meant a better life.

“Y/n. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you again. That isn’t my intention. I want you to trust and rely on me. I want you to be able to tell me what’s wrong. It might help.” The way your head swung upward made him regret pushing you. You stood up on shaking legs and slammed your hands down on the table.

“I DIDN’T ASK FOR YOUR HELP! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M GOING THROUGH SO STOP TRYING TO ‘FIX ME’!” The words aren’t necessarily yelled but are spoken in a harsh booming voice that has cracks in it. The words lash against Midoriya as if you had physically hit him. He doesn’t flinch but does back into the couch to avoid some saliva that flies out with your words. He knows that once again he has messed up but he also knows that you didn’t want to push him away. In spite of all that was yelled he could see in your eyes, the regret and agony you felt. He didn’t pursue you as you fled the room knowing that you needed time. He would see you in class later hopefully.

Running away has become a regular occurrence. If only you got graded on running away, then you wouldn’t have to worry about grades ever again. The weird thing about this new hobby of yours was that you didn’t do it before. It was new and strange. You never liked facing issues before but you never really had to. Before you just lived in harmony with your anxiety and depression. You could cry and then go and hang out with classmates like it was a casual routine. Now you were afraid to be around people with how unstable you had become. You knew you could only run for so long before you had to return and play hero with the rest of the class.

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“Where were you during lunch?” Mina had asked seeing as no one else seemed comfortable with asking. You were MIA during lunch and completely checked out during the last few classes. Now you were changing into your gym uniform with the rest of the girls.

“I was with Midoriya.” It was a mistake to mention Midoriya because the girls weren’t actually listening to you and Mina before and yet now all eyes and ears were on you. Jirou lifted an ear jack in your direction while Yaoyorozu stared at you with a curious smirk. You could have sworn Uraraka looked at you with slight pain, or maybe jealousy?

“OoOoooOh, what were you doing with Midoriya?” Mina meant well with her waggling eyebrows and kissy faces. You push her face away. Even though you had a mental breakdown earlier Mina still found a way to make you smile.

“I was eating lunch. He thought I could use some alone time since I’ve been kind of tired and being around you guys is draining.” Mina gasps at your comment about her being draining and feigns offence. “I am not draining.”

“So, you were alone with Midoriya during lunch?” You don’t catch who asks the question jut that it was asked. You sigh wishing that humans weren’t naturally curious and that teens weren’t always looking for gossip. You don’t reply, which looks even more suspicious, as you leave the locker room.

Everyone is paired up with someone to spar with. You see Mina wave from her spot across from Tokoyami beyond her you can see Midoriya with Kirishima across from him. He doesn’t look this way and you wonder if what you said hurt him. You wonder if he will begin to hate you. You look around to see of you can spot Bakugou, your hand reaching down and rubbing your bandage through your pants. You turn when your name leaves your sparing partners lips.

“Sorry Todoroki. I’m ready whenever you are.” You get into a fighting stance and wave him forward beckoning him to attack. His expression never changes as ice dances across his skin and slowly spreads around him. You shouldn’t have underestimated his abilities nor should you have let yourself fight while dehydrated.

You wouldn’t say that you were hurt enough to go to Recovery Girls office however you did find yourself stumbling into the locker room shower. Once you shed your uniform the bruises on your body become visible to you. You whimper as your fingers press into the tender wounds. You let the shame and sweat rinse off you before you slowly sink. Sob escapes as you curl up on the floor. The locker room is empty and has been for a while. You had laid on the floor of the gym defeated for longer than you had meant to. Todoroki had originally tried to help you up but you wouldn’t move. Just lying there pathetically wallowing in your own failures. It was a simple match and yet you never landed a single hit and your dodging was useless. Your failure to match Todoroki’s strength lead to you sobbing on the dirty shower floor naked and bruised not just physically but your ego as well. You had assumed everyone had left back to the dorms or to go about their day like normal but you were wrong. Someone had noticed your absence, actually that person had witnessed your distracted fight and wanted to beat the living hell out of Todoroki for going so hard on you and not noticing you weren’t in a good state to fight. This person also watched you drag yourself to the locker room. He waited to make sure no one else was around before following the sounds of your sobbing. The steam covered every mirror blurring his image as he passed them to get to the stall you were breaking down in. He leaned against the wet tile wall. He let himself slide down until he was squatting, his knees jutted outward and his arms laying inward against his thighs between his legs. He moves his left hand toward the curtain making himself known.

“You’re not alone dumbass… It’s okay to not win every battle. It’s okay to not be okay.” These words coming from the most prideful guy you’ve met made your chest tighten. He was the last person you’d expect to be outside your shower while you broke down. He was the last person you’d expect to tell you that you didn’t need to win. Yet here he was saying this and being here for you. You try to hold back another sob but fail. Your hand reaches under the curtain and your fingers entangle themselves with his as you continue to weep against the cold tile.

#bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #boku no hero x reader #midorya x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #izuku x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha midoriya #mha imagines

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slightlymore · 4 years

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Pride | Part 6

GUYS OKAY, so, if you’re suprised by the plot, you have to know that I’m as suprised as you are lmao I didn’t expect this either, I was just writing then I was like “what if” and then “naah” “yeah but what if” “no okay no” “okayyy but w h a t if?” and this happened

What is it called when you almost dated but you actually didn't? When you look at each other from afar and you know that you're in love with each other even if that might not really be love? When you see his chest rising, pupils dilate, hands twitching, lips opened for the massive amount of oxygen his heart needs, and you know that he’s a mirror of your own face? When it's awkward to be friends but you can't call yourselves strangers either?

That's what you were thinking as you locked eyes with Doyoung, again, from a distance, before he looked away. You’ve been doing this for weeks now. You didn't expect this. When Doyoung came into your life you had no idea it would come to this. "Doyoung, I love you," you wanted to say once, just like that, weeks after he was released from the hospital. He was standing, crutches under his arms, talking to his friends. Those friends probably knew, and they would just walk away, leaving him alone in front of you. You would gulp seeing his face so up close. Maybe you've never noticed it. Maybe you didn't want to pay attention to it. Maybe it was love talking, confusing your eyes. But you would be so inebriated by looking at him as if for the first time. You've seen the way he kept his distance, stopping as you walked in front of him, changing direction. You would felt like panting. It would be the first time you’d talk to him since you had to leave his hand in that white and sterile hospital. He would look down at you as if being hit again and again then would look up and let his eyes roam above your head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about” he would whisper before leaving you there, standing, trying hard to move your feet.

You were aware that Doyoung was like a scared cat. Affectionate but hard to win over. He was there, walking elegantly around you, as if almost dancing, with his shiny and intense eyes. He let you as close as to touch him, he let himself be caressed by your hand, and then you abandoned him. He won’t do that mistake again. You knew that. You had nothing to offer him, you told him that, you knew that if the moment came, you wouldn’t be able to tell him that you were in love as you were day-dreaming about. But what was that then? Why were you so obsessed with him if it wasn’t love? And if it was love, why was it so hard to promise him that? When you were feeling the most desperate, when it was too hard to bear, your mind couldn’t stop itself from thinking that it was for the best. You weren’t that brave, your heart couldn’t take it, maybe it was right to just let go. Start a new chapter. Because maybe he already did. Maybe you were the only one struggling. Maybe his wounds were already closed and your intervention would just open them up again, causing nothing but pain. That time, it was a late afternoon. Funny, you thought, but you’ve always seen Doyoung under the last dying rays of the sun, making him ethereal and soft. No one was in the library besides him, head rested on his arms, face hidden by his crooked glasses, lips slightly open to let out a tiny breath. You shivered looking at him like that, only a t-shirt to keep him warm from the chills of late autumn. And so, you didn’t think. Your feet walked lightly to stand beside him and although you wanted to do it quickly, to not be caught, afraid that he’ll look at you with that hurt expression haunting you day and night, you still stayed a little bit in his presence. You were about to put your sweatshirt on his shoulders, but firstly, just a little bit, please just a tiny second, you wanted to just be in his presence. You looked at your hand while rising slowly as if you were a spectator watching from above. You were full of anxiety and hurt for this girl, as she got her fingers as close as to almost touching the back of his neck, to feel his spine, but you stopped her. This was so risky. Why were you like this? You promised yourself and him to not lose control anymore if you weren’t ready to own your actions. Your hand clenched in a fist and swallowing your nervousness, you let your hoodie on his body and left quickly, afraid to look back. Doyoung could see everything. Your face was always in his peripheral vision, the fragrance of your hair always making him turn his head and look at your back as you walked away. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy. He was prepared for war. But he didn’t know how his enemy would act. He expected everything but silent care. As you’ve given up. No, as if you didn’t want to try. But not for your sake. For his. It was even harder to live like that, Doyoung thought. He was thankful but at the same time, he hoped for something different. For you to change your mind and suddenly profess your undying love, or, for you to suddenly hate him. It would be easier. This way it was just like before, gray, confusing. Were you letting him go or keeping him close? He wanted to keep you at a distance but why were you everywhere? Was he still hoping? Was he that weak? What if, just what if, he suddenly grabbed your hand and held you against his body as you walked in front of him? Would that be another mistake? He already did so many lately, what’s another one? Will you just hug him back? Or will you put your hands on his chest and slightly push him away with “no, Doyoung, you misunderstood, you were right, I’m just sorry, this is not love, this is guilt”. As you walked into the library he stopped from breathing, afraid you’ll go away if you saw that he was awake. Your feet stopped, uncertain, and you just stared for a little while. His skin shivered and he knew it wasn’t because of cold, but you still approached him, as if worried, and he couldn’t stop himself from letting out the air he was holding as he felt your warmth around him. He didn’t move even after your left, light like a feather. He stayed like that, motionless, with tightly closed eyes, just breathing. He just kept on breathing your perfume until he actually fell asleep, dreaming of you. You didn’t mean to stop and eavesdrop. Your arms were holding your hoodie, warm and delicate to the touch, impregnated by the fabric softener Doyoung decided to use on it. It was on your desk, carefully folded, waiting for you. He couldn’t have known whose that was. It was almost impossible for him to have seen you wear that before. But yet, he knew. On top of it was laying a small white piece of paper. The tight and thorough calligraphy said a simple “thank you”. You sighed walking around it, afraid to place your fingers on it as if it was Doyoung himself, waiting there for you. Then you sat down and raised your eyes to look around you, worried about someone seeing you as if doing something wrong. But no one was there, so you raised your hand and outlined with the index finger the little paper. You felt sad for no reason and sighed again. The fabric caressed your forehead when you let your face down, trying hard to keep in the headache you got when forcing yourself not to cry.

Now you were quickly walking towards him, sprinting through the campus, after seeing him making his way towards the road. You had no idea what you were doing. You didn’t know how much time has passed after you cuddled with that sweatshirt when, with the corner of your eyes, you saw his figure going down the stairs, wobbling on his crouches and you just stood up and got out of the building. Didn’t you say your last goodbyes already? Then why were you still feeling so full of hope? You were about to call out his name, then walk quickly around him, facing him, opening your mouth and just talking without thinking. Telling him everything you’ve wanted to say. But then he stopped so you stopped as well, lingering behind him at a certain distance. You eyed the black car that braked gently in front of him and you waited to see who was going to come out of it. A friend? A parent? When you saw the man that walked out, you felt like hiding, so you did. Your feet walked quickly towards the corner of the university building, back pressing on the cold brick wall, gulping and panting. But then you shifted slowly towards the edge and peaked, too curious to see what was going on. It was a tall man, in a black suit, black sunglasses, gloves, little wire connecting his ear to something underneath his clothes, things you’ve only seen in movies. “Sir” he said while getting out and just walked around the car to get to Doyoung. He then stopped, hoovering slightly above him with a plain white letter in his hand. You saw the way Doyoung’s shoulders dropped imperceptibly, the way his lips opened up to let out a sigh. His eyes stared at the envelope for a little as if deciding what to do. Then he just took it. The man waited in front of him with hands clasped together. “A phone call would have been enough” you heard Doyoung talk with a monotone voice. The man didn’t comment on that. Doyoung opened up the letter and read it there, in front of him, as if the man had to witness that, no emotion leaking through their expressions. You squinted your eyes to see what might that be but they were too far away. Then that was it. Doyoung put it inside his books and just left, with no greetings and no more words. The man didn’t seem to mind. His head dropped slightly as if greeting him, although Doyoung wouldn’t be able to see. Then he got inside the car and left. You’ve been tailing him for a while now, ashamed that you were doing it, but also lying to yourself that you’re weren’t tailing him at all. That was the direction you had to take to go home anyways. Doyoung walked slowly and you wondered why he didn’t take the car from before, or the bus, or ask his friends to drive him home. So you walked behind him, stopping a little when you were too close. On your left ran the park, almost naked but still very much dark. Doyoung didn’t waver and just entered it. You stopped suprised. Was that some shady business? Was he meeting someone there? Maybe you shouldn’t be there at all. You shifted your body weight from one feet to another, unsure. He was injured though. Whatever was going to happen, he was defenseless. Maybe he needed help. Taking in a deep breath you walked in as well. “I’m here,” he said as soon as you made a few steps and you jolted hearing his voice. He was sat down on a bench, crouches laid beside him, hands resting loosely in his lap, head tilted to the side, looking at you. You looked back, breath hitching from anxiety, not expecting him to know you were there. “You’re not good at hiding” he spoke again, a little amused. You gulped down and just walked towards him slowly, after making sure no one was around. As you sat down, his eyes shifted to look in front of him, where, in the immediate distance, a little lake shone under the afternoon cold sun. You looked at him for a second, at his profile, then imitated him. It got silent for a while and the only thing you could hear was the sound of the last birds, about to leave the country for the winter. “What was that about?” you asked with a little voice, almost if hoping he wouldn’t hear you. In other circumstances you would have been embarrassed that he cought you tailing him, but the scene from before made you too curious to care. “I took my last exam this morning,” he said as if explaining everything. You thought about him, staying late in the library, falling asleep on his books and your hands hardened the grip on the hoodie you lent him, that you were still holding. “So, you’re graduating?” you asked, unsure what that was about but at the same time having everything clear in front of your eyes. “Yeah” he replied shortly and handed you the envelope he received earlier. You stared down at it before taking it with your fingers. Congratulations, from Mom and Dad, was everything that was written on it. You were about to laugh but Doyoung wasn’t amused at all so you didn’t. You looked up at him as if waiting. So what does this mean, Doyoung? you wanted to ask. “So they’re congratulating you for graduating?” you asked instead, although knowing there was something else underneath all of this. You noticed how his family didn’t come to the hospital, not even once. And you weren’t stupid. He was so rich and that creepy car from before? Just to deliver a piece of paper with congratulations on it? “Yes,” he said, looking at the card in your hands then up to see your expression. His gaze was intense underneath his hair. The sun got hidden by a big dark cloud, deepening the shadows on his face and you felt chills down your spine. You were waiting for him to speak but he looked as if he waiting for you as well. So you looked down again at the piece of paper as if it would unveil all secrets in the world. And that’s when you noticed the corner of a photo, poking out from the envelope. You furrowed your eyebrows and dragged it out. It was the photo of a girl you’ve never seen before. She was anonymous-looking but conventionally pretty. Her lips were stretched in a big sunny smile as she looked at the photographer. You flipped the photo and you read the back. Her name, age, company her father was working for, a phone number. You flipped it back again to see her face. “What does this mean?” you asked with a plain voice. Even if you knew. You couldn’t express it with words, but you knew. “I also landed a job, in my father’s company” Doyoung spoke again after a little while. You looked at him as if angry. Just say it already, damn it. “And I’m getting engaged” he finally whispered. You looked at each other. Not saying anything. Not being able to add anything else to that. Then you forced yourself to open your mouth but no sound came out of it, like a little fish, opening and closing your mouth multiple times, paralyzed.

Doyoung had no reason to share that. He could have just entered that car and left. Leaving for good. Not seeing your face. Starting over in the new city, with new stuff to roam his head. He knew this was coming. He was aware of everything. It was inevitable. “I’m not saying that you can’t date, son,” said his father once over dinner. “You can come home with a respectable girl and we’ll judge on that and let you date her if you want”. “It’s just, dear” his mother added, placing her hand on top of his with a little smile, “you know how this works. You’re such a smart and responsible young man. You can do what you want but if your father one day finds a perfect match for you, ideal for our company, you would marry her, wouldn’t you?” she asked, even if to Doyoung’s ears it sounded like a command. “We’re doing this for you, son” his father spoke again. Doyoung nodded.

“It’s called guilt trip,” his therapist said once. “It’s used to manipulate people into doing something they wouldn’t normally do” he added. Doyoung just stared out of the window contemplative, chin resting on his hand. “It’s psychological abuse, Doyoung” the man talked again as if with that Doyoung would shake and agree to change something about it. He knew what that was. He didn’t need any therapist to tell him that. “You mentioned before that you want to misbehave,” the man said after a pause during which Doyoung didn’t speak up. And he did want to misbehave. He was so ready to misbehave. He thought he finally had something to fight for. Sitting down, on that bench, looking at you, so shocked and so hurt, he wanted to fight for you. But were you ready to fight for him? Fight for real? He wasn’t sure about that. He hoped it would have been love. But it wasn’t. Was it? Wouldn’t that be guilt-tripping as well? Date me so I don’t have to date another girl. Be with me even if you’re unsure of your feelings, now, if not, you’re losing me forever. You would do that for him. That’s what he was afraid the most. That you would do that, because you were that kind and you were feeling that guilty of having hurt him, to be ready to call that love. Doyoung could see you both in a few years, unhappy as you were slowly realizing that you didn’t love him at all. And he was more afraid of himself. That he would accept that. He would accept your proposal because he wanted you that badly. But he couldn’t do that you. He could have just entered that car and leave but you were there, staring at him, lingering around and he knew he had to talk to you first. He wanted to think he was doing that for you, but he was doing that for himself. If he really was that generous, he would have just left, leaving no trace behind. You would have suffered for a little why, confused and hurt, but then you would forget about it completely. Maybe dating Johnny again. Maybe being finally happy. “Do you know her?” you finally asked with the littlest voice and Doyoung felt like his heart was breaking into a million pieces. “No” he replied. “Are you okay with this?” you asked again, slowly getting to your senses and showing your anger through your warm cheeks. Doyoung didn’t reply to that. “Doyoung!” you exclaimed. “Are. you. okay. with this?” you asked again as if shocked by the fact that Doyoung wasn’t reacting to that as a normal human being would. “I knew it was coming” he explained with a calm voice, making you even more irritated. “You knew?” you accused him. “You knew! and yet you-” you started to talk but you choked on your words, not knowing what to say. Doyoung understood what you were talking about though and sighed. “Don’t misunderstand. I wasn’t playing with you” he said. His gaze was so intense that you closed your mouth. “But you weren’t in the position to guarantee me anything, so this was the right choice” he added. You huffed. “You talk like a businessman already. This is not a contract, Doyoung. We’re talking about feelings here. This is love” you explained, feeling your voice raising from the exasperation. “The right choice? You think so much Doyoung. Can you please start to feel for once?” you asked. Doyoung closed his eyes for a little as if talking to a child and it made you even angrier. “So let’s say that I refuse to marry that woman for you,” he said opening them up and staring at you again. The wording, the gaze, his deep voice, all of it made you blush for no real reason. “Will you risk anything for me as well?” he asked. You opened up your mouth on a whim, wanting to say that yes, you would, just to prove him that you were right, that feelings don’t have to be thought, that if he actually loved you, you would be together now, with all of the risks involved. But nothing came out of it. Just like the last time. He was right. He couldn’t make other mistakes. Especially not now. He saw your inner fight and smiled bitterly. “You’re not in love with me, Y/N” he added, this time more softly. “You want all or nothing Doyoung,” you said, lowering your voice as well. “People don’t have zero feelings or all of them at once. People are not white or black” you told him. “And if I’m here, acting like this, there must be something inside my heart, don’t you think?” you asked. He sighed again and looked over the lake as if not wanting to go on with the conversation. You were about to go there again, but you wanted to just say it, even if for the last time. “How do I know if I will fall harder or not? If I don’t try? I know I’ve hurt you before but now-” you spoke again. Doyoung’s fingers got tight around his thigh. “-now I’m openly asking for a chance” you ended. “And I don’t promise that I will love you the way that you want me to, and I’m not promising to never break up, because we don’t know that. But this time, I will try. This time is different” you spoke again, almost panting. That was a lot. You were still not giving what he wanted but you still refused to let him go. Closing your mouth you were already feeling guilty. You hoped to move him, maybe he would want to risk it for the last time? Or maybe you should just let go? He was right. You weren’t talking about mere feelings now. His whole life was at risk. For what? For your little crush on him? What if you got together then you suddenly discovered that you weren’t in love with him anymore, just like it happened with Johnny? Would you be able to handle it? Would you be able to look at him in the eyes and apologize for realizing that you’re not in love anymore? Or would you just pretend that you were, afraid of the pain you would cause, and just act like a comedy your whole life? Doyoung didn’t speak and didn’t look at you. He let you stare at his jawline, at how his hair was getting ruffled by the wind. You calmed down. “I’m sorry. I’m just being selfish now. Again” you talked after a while. Doyoung breathed in and out. “Can I be selfish for a minute as well?” he asked with a little voice. It tickled your ear as he turned his head towards you. You looked at him, wanting to tell him that it was okay if he wanted to be selfish. Was he having a change of heart? Did your words help? But you didn’t manage to as he leaned in, putting his hands on the bench between you. That was the reason he stopped talking to you. He didn’t have any hope. Not anymore. And he wasn’t trying to get tempted by you. It was just that. Just a single last kiss. It was a goodbye. A real goodbye. You thought it was the end in the hospital. But now you knew that you still had hope. You both had. You were both unsure of what that meant, but you still had hope. But now, feeling his lips on yours, so delicate yet so intense, it tasted like a real goodbye. You wanted to kiss him for a long time, you wanted the time of him letting go would never come. But it arrived. And as he let his lips linger on yours, you felt something falling in your lap. It was a bottle of water and you tightened your fingers around it as the only anchor you had while he got up and walked away slowly. I’m not crying this time, I don’t need this, you wanted to say but you choked, feeling the tears rolling down your burning cheeks.

#doyoung #doyoung angst #doyoung fluff #doyoung smut #doyoung imagines #doyoung scenarios #nct #nct angst #nct fluff #nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct 127 #nct u

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hecohansen31 · 4 years

Note

(I have a few of these so please don’t feel like you have to do them all but) Loveyyyy!! Could I bug you for #43 of the little one prompts with Roman??🥺❤️❤️

WARNINGS: Mention of Roman’s Past/Curses/Roman Being An Idiot/Child Crying.

Little one settling down after you finally figure out what they need.

Roman didn’t know what to do anymore.

The child had been crying for the entire night.

And she didn’t seem to have any intention to stop, scaring away even the nanny, which left Roman all to himself to take care of a newborn baby that wouldn’t just shut up.

And he didn’t know how to properly approach the small girl.

He had barely been able to hold her after his mother had revealed the way she had been conceived.

He couldn’t help but feel like she remembered him of his own sin.

Hence, he couldn’t just approach her, because he felt and deep down he didn’t want to contaminate something so pure and yet already marked by the loss of her mother and her father’s sins.

And yet the suffering cries made him unable to focus on anything else or simply sleep, although he knew that the baby had been both fed and didn’t have any medical problem, since he had called the doctor to give her a quick check up, revealing that nothing with the baby was unwell.

He was tempted to call you.

Honestly, it was all he had wished to do since the last time he had heard of you.

But then he had remembered that he had chosen to leave you in the past, alongside Peter, to shield you from the monstrosity that he was, underneath everything.

But you had always been more stubborn than him.

He certainly had loved this side of you.

Hence when he heard the doorbell being ring, he had a few ideas on who it might be.

So, he wasn’t surprised when it turned out to be you.

“What the fuck?” he had commented, still trying to seem surprised for your presence there, although you minded him no business, immediately focusing on the child’s cry coming from the private room.

You had been there at Letha’s funeral, so you knew for sure that the child had been assigned to Roman, although you didn’t know the full details.

“… I was checking your whatsapp entries, and who the heck is still on his whatsapp at 3 a.m.” you mumbled, as you looked impatient to get to the baby, meanwhile Roman tried to push himself between you two, as he took in your hurried assemble.

You could have worn a potato sack and he still would have thought you were his own personal Adriana Lima.

“… fucking insomniacs” commented Roman, before trying to shush you away, although the temptation of letting you handle everything was high “… now don’t make me call the police on you, it’ll probably ruin that perfect record of zero crimes you have…”.

“It’s the child, isn’t it?” and he knew that he was busted.

“No” he commented harshly trying to make you physically leave, but you were far stronger than Roman had originally thought and resisted against him, although he would have blamed it all on the sleepless nights on his shoulders “… what will it take to make you run off of my property, you psycho”.

“Oh, I am the psycho, now” you retorted, taking Roman straight up by the metaphorical balls and pushing him finally to his side, letting yourself in the house, as you immediately seemed to know what to do, moving towards the room, as Roman trailed on your tail.

He couldn’t just fucking grab you over his shoulders and push you away.

Although he was tempted to.

The most he could do was let you follow your own stubbornness.

Trailing behind you.

“… when was the last time you got a night of sleep?” you commented, attempting to make small talk, meanwhile you walked in the private room, left open in order for Roman to be able to check on the child.

He had also hoped that keeping it open might lull the child back to sleep.

But it didn’t seem to work in the slightest.

Nothing seemed to work honestly.

“… the last… ohhh… let me think… when I was in that bitch’s womb” he commented harshly, making you send him a glare, as you reminded him ‘not to swear in front of the child’ “… she is a few months old, she won’t even fucking remember”.

“When she grows up to have a sailor’s mouth at least you’ll know who is to blame” you mumbled back softly, as you lowered your tone, moving towards the small crib where the agitated child was laying, looking at her for a few minutes, in which the child seemed to finally give her lungs a break.

Roman just watched you from the side, looking at you carefully, as you handled the child with expertise, remembering that you used to babysit a few of the babies in your neighborhood, when you were both in school to try to save something up for your own future college.

He knew that he should have searched for your help before.

You had actually offered it to him.

But he had just been too ashamed and hurt to accept it.

He was worried you would have been exactly like Peter: you would have fucking run away as soon as you saw the child.

But no, instead, you were pushing stubbornly to get him to let you stay, as you held the small child in your arms, lulling her softly as you sang her a bit, asking her with a softer voice how she was feeling and why she wasn’t ‘letting her daddy sleep’.

“He becomes even grumpier when he doesn’t sleep” you let her know, as if it was your secret and Roman Godfrey’s dark and rotten heart, at that, swell.

In answer the child cooed some mumbles that were impossible to understand but to which you nodded “… oh you are right, sweetheart, your daddy is always grumpy”.

The child finally seemed to calm down, and you put her down in the crib, adjusting a blanket around her tiny body and gently letting her envelop a small fist against your finger, till she eventually loosened her grip when she fell asleep.

Peacefully and innocently.

That is when you turned to Roman, whose eyes had never left the idyllic portrait that you two were.

And then you turned to him, because although you had solved one thing with the smaller Godfrey, you had now to focus on the bigger one.

Which would be quite the challenge in itself.

But Roman knew that you would have stuck around for it.

And his heart fluttered with a feeling that he had long forgotten.

---

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#Roman Godfrey #Roman Godfrey Reader #Roman Godfrey x Reader #Roman Godfrey Imagine #Roman Godfrey Fic #Roman Godfrey Fluff #Fluff #roman godfrey ask #Roman Godfrey Drabble #Roman Godfrey Blurb #Roman Godfrey Moodboard #Hemlock Grove #hg #Hemlock Grove Imagine #HG Imagine

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sneezehq · 3 years

Text

Frayed

Turns out you can only keep everything bottled up for so long before you explode.

Fill for a request by stardoesnthaveaname, who requested Ruby having an emotional outburst a la Ren after the events of Gravity. Please check them out on AO3! Their writing is amazing.

I immediately fell in love with this prompt and jumped at the chance to write it, but I won't deny that I struggled with it quite a bit. Firstly, because I loved the idea and wanted to make sure I was doing it justice, I was very nervous while writing it because I wanted everything to be perfect. And second, because writing an angry Ruby is very very challenging without making her completely out of character, but I think I eventually established a good balance. While it didn't turn out perfectly, I'm happy with how it ended up, and I did have a lot of fun writing it.

This is set after the end of volume 7. Enjoy!

"Ruby? Are you feeling okay?"

Ruby stifles a groan. The last thing she wants to do right now is talk about how she's feeling. Their encounter with Salem left her feeling disoriented, her emotions a tangled mess. It feels like something reached into her head and stirred around her thoughts, bringing her fear and anger worry and hurt and grief to the surface from where she had carefully hidden them away. Salem's words about her mother's fate keep echoing in her ears, filling her mind with terror. She's honestly not sure if she can make it through a conversation without crying or embarrassing herself with some other outburst.

Her head is still pounding angrily, and all she wants to do is sleep until everything goes away. But the best she's going to get right now is a few minutes to collect herself before she's forced to step up to the plate again and come up with a plan to get them out of this. She's the leader, after all. There's not exactly time for her to be wallowing right now.

"Ruby?"

Belatedly, she realizes that Blake is still staring at her, waiting for an answer. She shakes her head and forces a pleasant smile on her face, hoping that it looks less strained than it feels. "I'm fine, Blake."

"Are you sure?" Weiss asks, a concerned frown creasing her face.

"Yeah, you seemed pretty shaken up earlier." Yang folds her arm across her chest. "I'm worried about you, sis. I've never you freak out like that before."

"I said I'm fine," Ruby snaps, more harshly than she intended. She bites back a sigh. She's so on edge right now that if she tries to talk about it, everything will come out wrong, twisted. Best to just bottle it up, shove it down, and ignore it until it goes away. That's worked out for her fine so far. "I really don't want to talk about it."

She glances around at her teammates' worried faces. They don't seem convinced. And her attempt at hiding out in the corner of the airship to get some time to herself has backfired—Blake, Weiss, and Yang have surrounded her, cutting off any escape from this conversation. Can't they take a hint?

"You know that you can talk about things that are bothering you, right, Ruby?" Blake says quietly, her tone gentle and soothing.

Ruby refuses to be soothed. Now they want to talk, after everything that's happened? Could they have picked any worse timing to decide they want to communicate?

She scoffs at the suggestion. "Yeah, right."

Blake looks hurt. "Ruby?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" snaps Weiss.

Ruby laughs, but it's dull and hollow, not a happy sound by any means. "I mean that you guys refuse to talk to me about your problems, so why should I come to you with mine?"

Now Yang looks angry. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, let's see." Ruby is angry too, poisonous rage seeping out of the cracks of the happy mask she's been wearing for so long. "Every time you guys have a problem with what's going on, you never come to me about it. Instead, you go behind my back and try to undermine my attempts to deal with things, or you snap at me for trying to help. And that's if you don't just run off as soon as things start to go wrong." Blake flinches at her last comment, but the words won't stop spilling out now that she's gotten started. "So, tell me, why should I trust you with my problems when you won't trust me with yours? Do you know how much it hurts to see my friends suffering and not be able to help?"

She looks up. Her teammates are staring at her in shocked silence. Yang is the first to recover. "Ruby, come on. Don't be ridiculous." Her sister is scowling fiercely now. "You know it's not like that."

"But it is!" Ruby snaps back. "Just because you don't want to see it doesn't mean that it's not true. You should know that better than anyone—you start snapping at the rest of us the second things don't go your way." Yang opens her mouth to retort, looking absolutely furious, but Ruby ignores her. A part of her is dimly aware that she should stop talking, that she's making things worse, but she can't. Now that she's gotten started, the words tumble out of her like an unstoppable flood. "Plus, if I let you guys see that I'm not sure what to do, I know you'll just give up."

"That's not true," Weiss argues. "What are you talking about, Ruby?"

"After Jinn showed us the truth about Salem, did any of you think that maybe I was scared too? That I had no idea what the right thing to do was either? But you all gave up the second you heard that she couldn't be killed, so I had to keep pretending like I had a plan, or we never would have been able to keep moving forwards."

"None of us were thinking clearly," Weiss points out, looking slightly ashamed. "We were being influenced by the Apathy."

"You gave up well before we got to the farmhouse." Ruby refuses to back down. "And if had let myself waver for more than a few seconds, we'd all be dead. So no, I can't come to you with my problems, because I've seen what'll happen if I fall apart."

She's breathing hard when she finishes her rant. The pressure in her chest has eased slightly, but it still feels like there's a weight sitting there, slowly suffocating her. At some point, she must have started shouting, because she realizes that the quiet of the airship has shattered. She can feel everyone's eyes on her.

"Ruby?" Nora's eyes are wide.

"Ruby, are you okay?" Penny fidgets nervously with the hem of her dress.

Panic surges in her, and her throat feels tight. Not only did she just reveal her deepest fears and secrets that she's managed to keep buried for so long, she did it loud enough for everyone to hear her. Her breathing picks up as she racks her brain for a way to fix the damage she just did, to move past this without revealing any more of her shattered pieces. Dark spots dance in front of her eyes.

She startles when she feels a hand on her wrist, and whirls around to come face-to-face with Ren. He's trying to use his semblance on her, to make her calm down. She rips her arm away, jerking herself roughly out of his grip. "Don't touch me!"

Ren flinches at her harsh tone, and Ruby immediately feels guilty. Why does it seem like everything she does lately just makes everything worse? "I'm sorry," she mumbles, fury fading away, quickly replaced by exhaustion. Her head throbs angrily. She's so tired, tired of fighting, tired of losing people, tired of not being able to help anyone—

"No, we're sorry, Ruby." Weis' soft voice interrupts her train of thought. "We should have realized how you felt sooner." What?

"I—no, I—"

"We should have noticed how much this was affecting you before things got this bad." Blake. "We should have talked about this a long time ago."

"I—"

"We're sorry for hurting you, for pushing you away." She hasn't heard Yang sound this gentle since her sister came to her in tears and explained that her mother was gone. "We'll do better from now on, I promise."

"I—" She wants to say that she's fine, to shove them away, to ease their concern, fix the mess she's made of everything, but the words get stuck behind the sob lodged in her throat. "I'm not okay," she says finally. The admission makes her eyes sting harshly, and tears quickly blur her vision. "I haven't been okay for a long time."

She starts to cry in earnest as her sister steps forward, pulling her in to a tight hug. Ruby feels herself melting into the warm embrace. "It's okay," she murmurs, tightening her arms when Ruby sobs loudly in response.

They're quickly joined by Weiss and Blake. Ruby finds herself enveloped by her teammates, arms surrounding her on all sides. But this time she doesn't feel trapped or exposed, just loved.

"It's going to be okay, Ruby," Weiss says, her voice choked with tears of her own.

"We're here for you," Blake murmurs.

For the first time in a while, Ruby lets herself believe them.

It doesn't take long for Ruby to cry herself to sleep, slumping bonelessly against Yang, utterly exhausted from her outburst. They huddle around the sleeping girl, as if to protect her from anyone who might disturb her. Even with her eyes shut, half-curled in Yang's lap and snoring quietly, Ruby still doesn't look peaceful, her face still marred with an anguished frown.

Her teammates feel unsettled as well, plagued with guilt and worry.

"How did we not notice this sooner?" Blake asks, ears pinned flat back in distress. "How did we let things get this bad?"

"Ruby has always been good at keeping things to herself, bottling everything up until she can't take it anymore," Yang says, running a gentle hand through her sister's hair. "But still, we all know that, and we still didn't do anything about it. This is on us."

"We'll do better next time," Weiss vows, voice quiet but full of determination. "But the most important thing to focus on is how can we help her now?"

"We stay by her side." Blake's reply is immediate. "Make sure she knows that we're here for her. That she can come to us when she has a problem."

Yang nods. "We talk to her, make sure that things don't get this bad ever again."

Weiss smiles sadly. "Then let's prepare to do our jobs. To be a real team. For Ruby."

"For Ruby," the other girls echo her.

Things are looking bleak, but they're always better off when they face their problems together.

#rwby #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #volume 7 #fanfic #hurt/comfort #my writing

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writemywaytoyourheart · 4 years

Text

BTS Reaction: You Have An Asthma Attack | Maknae Line

Requested: yes! @sweetbtsboys I hope you like this! Sorry it took literally so long.

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none :)

Hyung line coming soon <3

PARK JIMIN:

You stand there in shock as confusion and dread washes through you. You have no idea what to do and all you can focus on is the back of your best friend, the only boy you've ever loved, as he walks away from you dejectedly.

He just took you by complete surprise by confessing to you. You never thought he'd feel that way about you, so you've always pushed your feelings down again and again for years.

"Y/n...I think I'm in love with you. No, no I am in love with you."

"I- what?"

"I mean-...yeah."

He wrings his hands anxiously awaiting your answer, while your head is spinning as you try to find the right words to accept his confession. After a minute of silence Jimin sighs and hangs his head, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. I'm such an idiot, gosh I'm so stupid." You look up in shock and shake your head, the words still stuck in your throat. But, Jimin doesn't see your panicked expression as he's staring at the ground in embarrassment.

Then to your horror; Jimin sucks in a shaky breath and moves to turn away. "I'm really sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have said it. I ruined everything didn't I? Just- just pretend this didn't happen...please." Jimin turns away before you can grab him. Why won't the words you want to speak come out? Why can't you call to him and tell him to wait? Tell him you feel the same and have for years.

When the shock finally wears off and your head clears, you shake your it and blink. Then, you see Jimin disappear behind a corner.

No.

No no no.

You spring into action and run after him as fast as you can.

"Jimin! Jimin wait!" You call out to him, but he doesn't hear you. You turn the corner and see a bunch of people walking here and there as you scan the crowd in a panic.

You start to push through people carefully, when you see the back of his brown head going further away as he walks at a brisk pace.

The crowd finally breaks and you sprint for all your worth, not giving your asthma a second thought.

How is he so fast?

You think desperately as you run, your lungs already starting to ache and burn. Then it hits you like a wave; there's a horrible pinching in your chest and you gasp for air, but you can't stop running. You won't.

"Jimin! Park Jimin, stop!" You holler with the last of your breath. He stops suddenly and turns at the sound of your urgent voice.

"Y/n?" He looks at you in confusion, then he hurries toward you when he sees the state you're in. He takes your hands and helps you to a bench.

"Oh my gosh, y/n are you okay? Why were you running?" You mime to him that you can't breathe and he nods, rubbing your back gently.

"You're having an attack, aren't you?" You nod and he bites his lip in worry. "Do you have your inhaler?" He feels guilty that you rn to catch up with him, and panic as he sees you struggling to get a breath in. You shake your head and his heart drops, then he pulls himself together and takes your hands gently.

"Ok then. Just breathe with me, alright?" At your nod of confirmation, he starts to take slow deep breaths, counting and blowing out again and again. Eventually you're able to keep pace with him as you two look at each other and breathe deeply. After a couple minutes you can breathe, but you're still wheezing a bit.

"Are you okay, y/n?"

"You're an idiot, Park Jimin." You choke out and he looks down at the ground.

"I know. I'm sorry, I ruined ev-"

"No. You're an idiot to think I don't feel the same about you."

Jimin's eyes nearly pop out of his head and you try to bite back a smile. "W-what? I don't- you don't-... You don't hate me?" You roll your eyes and surprise both of you when you wrap your arms around him and hold on tightly.

"Of course not. I-...I love you."

Jimin hugs you back and blinks back his tears, not wanting you to know about them.

"We should probably go get your inhaler, love." You blush at what he calls you and nod awkwardly, "Yeah, that's a good idea." Jimin takes your hand and envelopes it in his, helping you stand.

"You shouldn't have run after me like that."

"What was I supposed to do? Let you go thinking I hated you?"

"We have phones you know. You could've called or texted me to come back."

"Oh shut up."

Either way, you can bet he isn't going to let you be running again anytime soon.

KIM TAEHYUNG:

"Jagi, I told you a thousand times. Get off that scale right now." You pout when your husband walks over and lifts you off the little scale in your bathroom, carrying you into the living room and plopping you on the couch. "But, Tae! I gained another pound and a half. I just need to-" Taehyung cuts you off with a look, a very angry look.

"You need to stop this. I'm not kidding around y/n." You can tell he's hurt and you feel ashamed of the way you've been acting. You skipped a few meals and kept checking your weight, making comments about how fat you are. You never considered the fact that maybe it would have an affect on your husband too. He always tells you how beautiful you are and how much he loves you, but you never accept it.

That has to weigh on him a lot.

Suddenly you're crying, out of the guilt you feel for putting him through all that. Taehyung kneels and wipes your tears away softly, "y/n, baby. Please just talk to me." You sniffle and shrug, "I don't know. I just don't feel good in my body. I don't feel healthy." Taehyung nods in understanding, "you mean because of how tired and cruddy you always feel?" You nod and he stands up to pull you to your feet.

"Then, we'll both start eating healthier and we can go on morning jogs. I don't feel my best these days either. Sound like a deal?" You nod excitedly and hug him tightly, "yes! That'll be fun!" Tae laughs as you two go to the room to get some sleep before your first jog the next day.

You're totally hyped up and ready; you've got your tennis shoes on and your headphones ready. You're a little nervous because you have asthma, but it shouldn't act up if you two take it easy.

Apparently that doesn't matter though, because the cold air gets to you about five minutes into the jog. Tae is going like a pro, headphones in his ears and he's not struggling at all. You on the other hand; are struggling to breathe as you stop to catch your breath. You hold your hand up to tell Taehyung to slow the heck down, and he sees you aren't next to him. Tae stops and jogs back to you, "you alright, jagi?" He looks at you knowingly and takes your hand, leading you to a bench. When you both sit down he pats your back gently, "asthma attack?" You nod and he pulls out your inhaler from one of his pockets. You look at him in surprise and he shrugs, "I know you better than you know yourself, baby. This cold air is a bit-"

"Taehyung!" You laugh and he chuckles along with you, smiling sweetly at you as you take a few puffs from your inhaler. After a couple minutes you give him a thumbs up and he nods, "all better?" You shake your head yes and stand up, "I'm okay, let's go now." Before you can start jogging again, Tae grabs your hand and starts to walk slowly with you. You look at him, confused. He smiles and shrugs, "I think maybe we should do daily walks instead, and for the cold weather we'll take shorter ones." You nod in agreement and smile at the warmth his big hand envelopes yours in as you two stroll and watch the sunrise.

JEON JUNGKOOK:

You can't stop the laughs bursting from your lips as you run as fast as you can away from your boyfriend. Jungkook and you decided to have a picnic today, so you packed up some food and came to this big field that's always empty. You two found the field one day and now it's your special place.

"I'm gonna get you, y/n!" You squeal and pump your arms harder than before, your sundress flapping in the wind while Jungkook laughs behind you at your cuteness. As you're running around in circles avoiding his grasp, your chest starts feeling tight and your breaths get shorter. You know an asthma attack is coming on, but you unwisely ignore it. You don't want it to ruin your fun day with Jungkook. Besides, you have your inhaler in your purse and a few puffs will fix it all.

Another minute passes and you start to slow down, grabbing your chest to help the air go in. Your chest has a sharp pain everytime you breathe in.

Jungkook notices your change in behavior and slows to a stop, "y/n? You okay, baby?" You nod and smile while waving him off with a laugh, "I'm fine! Just hungry." Jungkook smiles and points at the basket on the blanket laid out, "Ok then, let's eat! Come here." You walk into his open arms and he kisses your head, wrapping his arms around you. Suddenly, you're coughing uncontrollably and the wheezing has started. You sit on the ground and try to breathe slowly, but it's not helping. You can't get enough air in and the pain in your chest is excruciating. Jungkook plops down next to you with concern written all over his face, "y/n? What's going on? How can I help you, baby?" You never told him about how bad your asthma is; you usually use your inhaler and you don't run a lot, so the poor boy is at a complete loss of what's going on right now.

You point to your chest and manage to wheeze out, "a-asthma..." Jungkook's eyes widen and he scoots closer to you, "what do I do? Baby, tell me how to help you." You point at your purse and mouth 'inhaler' before another coughing fit wracks your body. Jungkook quickly crawls over the blanket to your purse, opening it and pulling out your inhaler, then he rushes back and hands it to you gently. He rubs your back soothingly while you take a puff.

But nothing comes out.

You look down in a panic, it can't be out already!! But it is. The little inhaler has a "0" on it while you stare at the place where the number of puffs is. Jungkook sees your face and looks down at it, "what's the matter? Is it not working?" You shake your head and cough out, "it r-ran out." Jungkook tries not to panic, but his mind is spinning in circles.

Then he takes a deep breath and nods, "ok well, we don't need it. All we need is to stay calm until we get another one, ok?" You nod and he tells you to take as deep breaths as you can, counting with you as he cleans up the picnic. Then he stands up, grabbing the basket and blanket and motioning for you to stand.

Jungkook has you get on his back while he holds the picnic stuff. You climb on and he walks you to the car, counting your breaths the whole way. He even carries you up the stairs to your apartment where you grab your spare inhaler and take a couple puffs.

"Thank you, Kookie." You hug him once your breathing has regulated again, and he kisses you gently.

"Love you, y/n. Make sure you tell me anything else like this, I just want to help you." You nod and he embraces you softly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: I'm sorry this took so long. I hope you guys that requested these things are still here and see them :((

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nunonabun · 4 years

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Turnadette #20?

20 …on a scar.

Something of a follow-up to this. Fairly long, so it’s under the cut.

He set his bag down heavily. Sister Frances had been nervous about the labour of a first-time mother that was running a bit long and he’d opted to go and assist her. His presence ended up being more helpful for morale than for any medical assistance, but he was happy to help in any way he was needed. And he joyfully wet the baby’s head with Mr. Allen before returning home for the evening. Though the work had been far from demanding, he was thoroughly exhausted. A concern pricked at his ego, such a calm call-out wouldn’t have taken so much out of him even five years ago. Mr. Allen’s jovial comments about how relieved the good doctor must be to have left this trying experience behind him years ago would have been water off a duck’s back when Tim was still running about in short trousers.

He shrugged off the troubling thoughts along with his coat, turning his attention to what supper Shelagh had left for him in the oven.

Nothing. He sighed. She knew he’d been called out.

He made himself a sandwich and wolfed in down before making his way upstairs.

Shelagh was just coming out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her hair, a slight cloud of steam emerging from the open door. She seemed to glow in the moonlit bedroom. He probably smelled of sweat and the smoke of the pack of Woodbines Mr. Allen had puffed through during his wife’s gruelling labour.

Frustration at the contrast of their evenings sharpened his words.

“Looks like you had a relaxing evening. Is there any hot water left, or did you go through that along with the supper?”

Shelagh had the nerve to look affronted. “I’m sure there’s enough for a bath, and I’m sorry about your supper, there wasn’t any food left.”

Patrick pursed his lips, dissatisfied with the explanation. “You always cook for five, six when Timothy’s home, it couldn’t have been to hard to make enough for me as well.”

“Well, I apologize but I didn’t realize just how much Teddy would decide to throw on the floor and onto myself and his sisters, nor how much they would throw back before I managed to calm them down.” Her voice carried all of the tension he could see in her body. “I could make you something simple if you’re hungry.”

“No, no, I’ve done it myself while you had a nice soak.” That was unkind, he knew that, and he was mildly ashamed of himself, but it felt so good to let out his frustration.

“I’m sure it wouldn’t be preferable if you found me in bed with cottage pie in my hair,” she retorted sharply.

“I wasn’t aware it took hours to clean off a bit of cottage pie.”

“It takes a good while if the pie has been used to decorate the kitchen and you have three crabbit children to clean up and settle on your own.” Her eyes were reproachful, arms folded.

Patrick scoffed, “Oh, so now I’m at fault because I was out doing my job?”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind having a bit more support around the house. It’s past time you thought about taking on a young doctor to help with some of the work,” she forced her voice back down to a whisper, words coming out almost as a hiss.

“I’m not fit for the dustbin just yet,” he snapped. “Sister Julienne is older than I am and you don’t go about telling her to give up work!”

“Patrick,” the forced conciliatory tone frustrated him while also making him feel exceedingly childish. “I never said you should give up work. It’s just that you have many calls on your time and for you especially being overworked is… unhealthy.”

He snorted and ran a hand down his face. “So I’m old and fragile then?

Shelagh was visibly struggling to restrain her own frustration. “No, that’s not what I’m saying and you know it.”

“Do I?” He fixed his eyes on her again, exasperated. “My war neurosis is in the past, we’ve established that. Yet you manage me like I might become an invalid at any moment.”

She blinked and frowned, recoiling as though the words had been a physical blow. “I thought that was helpful, reducing the stressors that might put you in the state you were in that time - ”

“I got out of much worse than that state on my own after the war, you don’t need to witter on about it every time I have a long day.”

“I’m not wittering on about it, I’m just trying to take care of your health.” She looked hurt, and he harnessed his anger to push through the guilt.

He rolled his eyes. Could she not just let it go? “I don’t need to be taken care of, for goodness sakes, I’m your husband not your patient.”

“Yes,” she agreed, her accent, thick with the emotion of the situation, stretched the ‘e’ to a melody of its own. She was very distressed now. “And that’s why I care so much about your wellbeing. I would have though you might as well, if you didn’t let your ego become more important than effect your absences have on our family.”

His words caught in his throat. His thoughts were moving to fast to catch ahold of. Patrick turned quickly and walked out of the room, out of the house and into the blissfully quiet night, leaving them each to their own grievances.

-*-

He had closed the door softly, thankfully mindful that this argument would be even worse with upset toddlers joining it. Shelagh was on the brink of tears. They’d grown in leaps and bounds since the early, confusing days of their marriage, but new challenges were never shy to present themselves. He needed space to process their argument, she knew that, but she needed him to talk to her. Not to talk at her and then close in on himself when she pushed back. Perhaps it was selfish of her to resent the feeling that he didn’t consider her needs. Had she properly told him that sometimes the way he took space hurt her? Or that she felt her own work never stopped?

But why should she always have to tell him these things? She figured out what he needed when he struggled to communicate. She was always looking for ways to manage his stress and make things easier for him. Why could he not try to do that for her? That thought stood out loudly in her mind, and she disliked herself for it. Perhaps she had become selfish since she left the Order. Men often struggled to communicate their feelings and perceive those of their wives, was it not part of her role as a wife, as someone who loved and was loved, to facilitate that communication? And in any relationship each partner had different strengths, it was ridiculous to assume they were equally balanced in every element of their personality. That they complimented each other in many ways was as much of a strength as the qualities they had in common. But there were things that needed to be shared equally, she had learned that over the course of her marriage, and communication was one of them.

She longed to speak to him about these thoughts, to have a discussion about it without their anger flaring up and ruining what understanding they’d managed to build up between them. Perhaps they still could this evening. Shelagh hated going to bed angry, and she knew Patrick did as well. He would be back from his walk soon enough, cooled off and likely more able to talk about these things. Perhaps she should take the time to stabilize her own emotions. She put on the kettle and began to hum the Vespers service to herself, emptying her mind of all but the calm the music brought her.

It was misting lightly, the small particles of moisture diffracting the light of the streetlamps and causing the cobbles to shine.

He couldn’t rid himself of the memory of her face. She had looked hurt, tired and defeated, a look he sometimes saw if the children were being particularly trying and every other facet of her life conspired to add to the chaos. Normally he wasn’t one of them. A wave of guilt washed over him. He didn’t add to the chaos, but he didn’t help with it either. Not as much as he ought. Dr. Kenley had commented recently about how unnatural it was that wives were pursuing careers after they’d had children and husbands were assuming more responsibility for child-rearing, demeaning themselves, he’d said. Patrick had thought his family to be beyond those old-fashioned strictures. He and Shelagh were a modern couple, equals, sharing every element of their lives with one another. This honesty and closeness was something he cherished deeply. But was it also something he took for granted? Many of their conversations recently had been practical, solving problems and preventing disasters only on the level of scheduling, engaging with the emotions beneath that. He’d neglected to explain the concern he felt at growing older while his family was still young, and he’d neglected to ask about the troubles that weighed on her mind. He stared up at the moon, suddenly longing for closeness with his wife, to explain what he’d been feeling and apologize for what he’d been blind to. He turned back, his pace accelerating as he neared his home.

-*-

She met him at the door, looking much as though she’d gone through the same introspection as he had. He gently took her in his arms, relief enveloping him as her arms encircled him.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I took my frustrations out on you, and it was completely unfair.” He held out the olive branch, knowing that as the instigator, it was his responsibility to do so.

She accepted it. “I certainly didn’t help the situation. I should have asked you to take your space before we talked.”

“And I’m sorry for taking it the way I did. I know it hurts you when I run off in the middle of a conversation.”

“It does,” she admitted. “But it’s nothing that talking it over now won’t heal.”

He nodded and pressed a kiss to her hair. “I’d like that too.”

She sat on the couch, and he removed his wet shoes and joined her.

“Do you really feel I treat you as an invalid?” She asked immediately, her face lined with concern.

He thought about his answer, trying to untangle his own emotions. “Not exactly, that was overstating things. I love that you look out for things that may… trigger me,” he started slowly, “but there are moments when I feel it’s a bit much.”

She accepted this revelation. “Would you tell me then, when you feel that way?”

“I will, absolutely. And much of the time I really do appreciate it. I wouldn’t have gotten through my last relapse, wouldn’t be able to be as open and comfortable as I am about it now without you, I want you to know that.”

She smiled, her eyes warm and soft now. But her brow remained furrowed. “So when I reproached you for working so much -”

He cut her off, “That was completely justified, both for my own sake and for you and the children.” He took a deep breath and held her hands in his own. Their warmth, and the gentle way her her thumb stroked his fingers soothed him. “If I’m being honest, you were right about my ego. I was feeling sensitive about my age, often am, really, and I think I’ve been trying to prove something to myself, and to everyone else, by working more.”

“Oh Patrick,” he could hear the pain in her voice. He pushed on, “It is self-destructive, as you pointed out, and it’s getting in the way of spending the time I want to spend with you and our children. And it leaves you with all of the burden of work and family. That’s not the life I want to be leading. That’s not what I want for us.”

Her soft hand on his face drew him into a healing embrace, the understanding and love they communicated through their lips, through the acceptance of the feelings they’d shared with one another a balm to old wounds. Their conversation continued long into the night, the sleep they lost was well worth the understanding and closeness they gained. Such an argument might happen again, they both knew that, but both learned from it, worked to be better partners. And they grew closer, as they knew they always would for as long as they loved one another enough to work through the problems they encountered and any friction that arose. Until death parted them.

[send me a number and ship and I will ship you a fic]

#lunalove-blr #call the midwife #turnadette #Shelagh Turner #Patrick Turner #ctm fanfic

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