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writingstoraes · 1 year

Text

three words, eight letters 💌

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: written imagine

word count: 4.01k (got carried away)

notes: ok ik there are several of this prompt here but i wanted to give it a whirl :]] also in a slump with my ig imagines so i figured i should finish this since its been a draft for such a looong time lolol no warnings, this is just very fluff-coded!

about: the three times charles almost said "i love you," and the one time he finally did.

Charles wanted to tell you the three aching words he's stored in containment. All he wanted was the right time and the perfect moment, but for the love of his and his alone, he just cannot find it.

He had been racking his brain on how to tell you - because when he looks at you, it's like those three words are just going to explode out of his chest. Every time you smile, laugh, or even breathe in his direction, he realizes just how smitten he was for you. He thought about just saying it out of the blue, unplanned but also when the time felt right. But he also thought about going about it as if it were a proposal because you deserve nothing less than the best he can give.

There were times he thought it was too early to say.

You had just been dating a few months in, and though he felt strongly for you and he did love you, he didn't want to say it too fast or too early out of the fear that it might drive you away.

It's no secret Charles was no chef. He gets a good laugh when other drivers tease him about it but he doesn't pay it any mind. Some people are just good at other things, like how he sucks at cooking but can drive a car that goes as fast as lightning. It is also no secret that he wanted to impress you with skills other than driving - so he doesn't know what entered his mind when he realizes he's on his way to the supermarket as he decides to try and cook dinner.

He scoured the internet for an easy recipe, finally smiling to himself when he finds a simple pasta dish he thinks he can do. To an average person, the dish was really easy to make. So simple that an unsupervised child could follow it. Directions were clear and the website had pictures - he just needs to make a simple sauce, cook some pasta, and grate some cheese. He tells himself nothing could go wrong, what he was about to cook was absolutely just elementary. But he's not an average person, he was Charles, and he is a terrible cook through and through.

Having convinced himself he could cook something so simple, he had forgotten how he messed everything up. He's pretty sure he blacked out, because when he came to his senses, the pasta was overcooked, and the sauce mysteriously evaporated into the air so the pan was just red drops with charred pieces of cheese on the side. He tried to taste it, and he deems it inedible. He was so occupied with cooking it had slipped out of his mind that you were coming over, so the next thing he hears is the sound of your soft knock on his door.

The kitchen was an absolute mess and the apron he wore was extremely dirty — he almost thought about pretending he wasn't home and not answering the door. Of course, he doesn't do that, so he lets you in and the first thing you smell, is cheese.

"Were you cooking?" was the first thing you ask him.

He didn't answer, instead, he planted a chaste kiss on your lips and hurriedly walked back to the kitchen.

He had expected you to laugh once you saw the mess he made by trying to cook just to impress you, but surprisingly, no chuckle erupted out of you.

"Sorry," he says softly, taking off his apron and quickly cleaning up the pots and the bowls he used up.

"I wanted to cook you dinner. I found this recipe online and I thought it was easy," he sighs. "Cooking absolutely hates me. You're okay with getting takeout for now?"

He really did expect you to laugh.

But the second sentence that came out of your mouth: "I'll help you clean up."

It didn't take a lot of time to clean everything up. Thanks to Charles' inability to measure things, he had a ton of extra ingredients, and since he seemed to really like the dish he aspired to cook, you decide to make it for him.

Charles sat at the counter watching you calmly cook the recipe he'd intended to accomplish, your hair parted to the side while you wear the ridiculously messy apron he had worn earlier. He watches you cook the pasta and the sauce at the same time, able to keep your eye on both without neglecting the other. To your defense — the recipe really was easy. But Charles didn't seem to think so, which was why he was sitting on the counter with heart-shaped eyes.

"See, this is what it should look like when the pasta is done cooking," you hold up a piece, cutting it in the middle to show Charles it has cooked through.

"It helps if you check it from time to time if you're not sure. For the sauce, I think you just had your heat on a little too high, but that's okay — you can do it right next time." you smile softly at him, eyes squinting before you shift your attention back to the pan.

Charles had tried cooking before. But up to this day, you were the only one patient enough to actually teach him how. And it didn't help that you looked so beautiful while doing so; hair parted to the side, apron hanging a bit loose on your body, and a smile so captivating it blinds him a little. You weren't perfect, you did laugh at him eventually, but not before guiding him through the recipe he'd chosen. And quite surprisingly, he could cook this same exact dish properly for Arthur next week.

It was clear Charles was no help in the kitchen, so he resorts to hugging you from behind, head resting on your shoulder, breathing slow and steady. He gets a whiff of your shampoo and your perfume he absolutely loved. Your hands soon make their way on top of his that rested on your stomach, thumb rubbing circles on his. Charles was pretty sure you could feel him smile widely behind you, a thought he chooses to ignore because he didn't care anyway, he was at his happiest.

"I lo—" he starts, catching himself off-guard. For a moment, time stops; and he's not sure what to say next. He thought it was too early, but he wanted to say it.

"I love pasta, you know that?" Charles continues, trying to save whatever he's left with. Thankfully, you didn't notice his desperate attempt to cover his supposed mistake.

He tells himself: maybe next time.

Charles' mother had been pestering him for a long time about meeting you. Every time he came home, he was greeted with, "When am I going to meet your girlfriend?"

Even his brothers, Lorenzo and Arthur, were all so ecstatic about meeting you properly for the first time. The two see you around the track for brief periods of time, but in their defense, you haven't introduced yourself properly to Charles' family. It didn't help that Charles himself talked about you like you hung the moon and stars, and made the universe using your own bare hands, because his whole family, mother and brothers aside, all wanted to meet you.

The two of you were finally headed to Charles' childhood home, finally about to meet his entire family. And the word entire was an understatement because everybody was there. From aunts, cousins, and his nieces and nephews, all of them were anticipating your arrival. A lump forms in your throat just by the thought, but you try to battle it with a deep breath as you fixate your eyes on the mirror.

"Do you think they're going to look at this dress and think it's too revealing? Or too short?" you shout from the closet, straightening out the creases of the crisp white dress you were wearing.

Charles enters the room and he swears he could have just died right then and there. How you manage to take his breath away with minimal effort remained a mystery to him.

"I think..." he drags the second word. "I think they are going to be completely in love with you."

"Hopefully not in the same way I am, because I don't plan on sharing you." he softly chuckles, giving you a reassuring smile.

Technically he had said the l word already but to him, it didn't count, only because he didn't say it to you directly.

An hour into meeting you, the entirety of Charles' family adored you wholeheartedly. He didn't want to give credit to himself but he knew they would find no reason to not love you, though he reminds himself to tell you he told you so when you get some time alone together later. He could listen to his family members praise you all day. You had managed to meet each and every one of his side of the family present at the dinner and Charles could not help but admire how carefree you were at interacting with people he held close to his heart. His mom could not stop raving about how great you were and kept asking why he did not introduce you earlier that it makes her slightly mad, which was followed by a hearty laugh and an assurance that she loved you to bits.

You just managed to dazzle and charm every person you talked to. His brothers adored you and you managed to get along so well with them even if your most apparent common denominator with them was racing. His aunts could not stop telling Charles how beautiful you were and how you seemed to be so kind and fit so well with him. They were already asking Charles when's the next time you visit and you haven't even left his home yet. For some odd reason, you got along well with his uncles, too.

But the cherry on top, the last straw, and the tipping point that tugged the heaviest on the strings of Charles' heart were seeing you with his nieces and nephews. He was fond of children, gleeful every time he sees one on the paddock, especially when they are clad in colors of red and yellow, his team's staple color scheme. However, he never knew how disastrous it would be for him to see you with children.

There you sat on the patio, his niece behind you as she messily tried to braid your hair. You had a big smile on your face, laughing at the somewhat theatrical act his other nephew was performing in front of you. In your hands was a glass cup with gelato and a small spoon, raising the spoon occasionally to feed the little girl tying your hair. His lips slowly form a smile and he feels his chest was bound to explode any time soon. He stood there and realized that he was completely, utterly, and irrevocably in love with all that you are. In other words, he was down bad, and he wouldn't even dare deny it.

After the festivities of getting to know each member of his family, you and Charles were finally given time alone in the kitchen. Everyone else was occupied setting the table and fixing everything up for dinner. You were part of it though, he just found you getting the pies in the oven after you volunteered to do so.

"I told you so," he says, slightly taking you by surprise, not enough you drop the pies though.

You turn to him with a sheepish smile, "Told me what?"

"That they would love you," he replies.

"Well, I am very loveable. Can't blame them."

"I know you are. That's why I lov-" he transitions into telling you what might be one of the most important things he's ever going to say in his life.

"Charles, dinner's ready!" Arthur calls out, cutting his train of thought. The two of you shift your gaze to the dining area, seeing Arthur and Lorenzo waiting for the two of you.

That's why I love you. That was what he wanted to say.

Charles sighs, telling himself that maybe getting cut off was a sign that this was not the right time. He'd repeat himself, but he thinks there are other times when he could tell you he loved you without interruptions.

"What were you saying?" you ask, not wanting to hang him out to dry.

"Oh. I said I know you're loveable. That's why I love seeing you charm every single member of my family."

Charles was not having the best day. His own team had botched his home race for him once again and on top of that, he had gotten a 3-place grid penalty in Monaco. Don't get him wrong, he was ecstatic to be home. The warm welcome of the fans was unbeatable. Banners, posters, and the Monaco flag waved around the streets of Monte Carlo.

This season has not been good to him so far. So just once, he wishes to catch a break.

The two of you were walking around the paddock as Charles was headed to the Ferrari motorhome to prepare for the race. His hand was on your waist as he guided you in the sea of people. The track was entirely at capacity - engineers, celebrities, VIPs, reporters, you name it. A few meters from the garage, a reporter from a well-known sports channel calls his attention.

It was routine, and Charles was used to it. You were standing not too close beside the cameraman, just watching Charles answer the questions he was asked. The reporter's inquiries were the usual, he had asked how Charles felt about the penalty, how he thinks the car will perform, what upgrades Ferrari is planning on implementing, and all the likes. You watch intently, giving Charles a small smile every time his gaze went your way.

Though the reporter fixated on Charles' "disappointing home race", his words, Charles knew how to handle the questions and answered them composed and professionally. After all, he has been doing this for quite some time. Deep down, it stirred you slightly as it seemed like the reporter was only recognizing the lapses on Charles' side and insinuating that it was entirely his fault.

You tried to pay it no mind until he makes a passing careless and offensive commentary that you could not just let pass.

"I guess some fans were right - monegasques today have nothing to look forward to. Wonder how they feel when their only driver is not only in a horrible car but is tussling with being nothing special."

Nothing special.

Nothing to look forward to.

Something in your ears rang and your vision went dark. You could see Charles' face drop from where you were standing and your heart absolutely broke for him. He proceeds to nod his head toward the cameraman and made haste and you did not hesitate to follow him right away. If you felt distraught and angered after that comment, you wonder just how he felt after hearing it, and at his home race, nonetheless.

"Charles, wait," you jog slightly, seeing as his pace was a lot faster than you. You could tell he just wanted to get out of there. You reach for his hand, tightly grasping it and he stops walking.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that," he says lowly, upset written on his face.

"Why are you sorry? It's his fault. He was offensive and careless. He humiliated you and worse, what he was saying was not true."

"C'est bon." It's okay. You two were finally at the garage, a little far from the reporter. Deep down, though Charles wanted to at least defend himself, he feels all the energy he has left had been sucked out of his body.

"No, it's not. He doesn't know what he's saying. I don't want to let him get away with that, he can't just go around telling people things like that. You may be too nice to tell him off but I'm not."

"You don't deserve this," you say with conviction, walking away from the garage and prepared to give the reporter a piece of your mind.

You don't plan to cause a scene, you knew better than that. You weren't going to shout or curse, but you wanted to get your point across. Soon after Charles follows you, clearly trying to stop you but was too late when he saw you already talking to the reporter. He had no choice but to walk closer to you, grasping on what you were saying.

Your voice wasn’t loud. From where he was standing, he could see how calm and composed you were while you gave the reporter the lecture he was probably not expecting. The track was fairly busy and noisy. You could hear engines starting, and conversations of people he doesn’t know, which caused his inability to understand and hear what you were saying.

He just stood there - watching you defend him from the asshole of an interviewer, your hands making small gestures for emphasis. The reporter’s face slowly displayed guilt and resentment as if he was clearly affected by whatever it is you said. Soon, the noise around him subsided and the only thing he was able to hear was the last thing you told the reporter.

“I don’t ever want to hear you talk like that about Charles ever again. If you’re only going to disrespect one of the most hard-working people I know, better to not approach him in the slightest. He did not pour blood, sweat, and tears into this sport just for you to utter those words to him.”

Your voice remained soft but it was steady. You turned your heel against the reporter and a cameraman who was clearly surprised by what he just witnessed. You walk back to him, giving him a small smile.

He wanted to just stand there and stare at you. No one has ever done that for him before. He had his fair share of disrespectful interviewers and questions that downright offended every fiber of his being but he always chose to not pay it any mind. It did not help that you were the kindest person he knew — so seeing you decide right away to defend him like that just made him feel all sorts of things.

The two of you proceed to walk back to the Ferrari garage, your hand tightly grasped by Charles. At the time, he desperately wanted to embrace you and whisper just how much he loved you. He wanted to drag you to a discreet corner and just hold your face while he tells you the three words he’d been keeping to himself.

But he remained frozen in awe of you, and so he fails to tell you once again.

“Can I-” Charles starts, trying his best to get up from the couch.

“I already told you. The answer is no,” you reply firmly, shifting your gaze to the man with the slightly swollen cheek.

He huffs a little bit loudly, wanting to show his disappointment.

“Baby, the doctor said no strenuous activities. You just had your wisdom tooth extracted, so no, you can’t go skiing with Joris.” you say as you walk toward the couch, fluffing the pillow his head rested on and putting a soft blanket on top of him.

“Please just rest. You lie down right where you are and I will be preparing dinner soon. I just have to finish something first.”

“My favorite?” he asks, putting on the sweet tone you were always soft for.

“Anything for you, my patient.” you smile, planting a kiss on his forehead.

“Okay. I’ll rest,” he sighs, adjusting himself on the couch to face sideways. “You take care of me so well.”

Charles was under a lot of painkillers. His dentist appointment had been rescheduled hundreds of times as he claims to be too “busy” to get his wisdom tooth extracted. If it weren’t for your incessant nagging because he was already in pain, he probably wouldn’t have pushed through with it. He tried his best to look tough in front of you, but as someone who drove cars that are as fast as lightning, you could tell he was nervous.

The doctor had to reassure him that there would be anesthesia plus painkillers to combat the pain he would be feeling after. After finding out he was medically allowed to eat a ton of ice cream after the procedure, he was more than happy to oblige.

However, the combination of Charles, anesthesia that’s wearing off, plus painkillers is not equal to a drowsy Charles. He had more energy than usual and was naughtier than normal. In other words, he was hyper. He was not muttering nonsense like the famous wisdom tooth aftermath videos on YouTube nor did he want to sleep all day. He wanted to do so many things he was about to get overstimulated. So no matter how weak in the knees Charles usually made you nor how you always give in when he asks you for something, skiing and going to the gym for a heavy workout after he just had his tooth extracted were just things you cannot say yes to.

Not long after, the ever so fueled with energy of a boyfriend you had was deep in slumber on the couch. He probably tired himself out from listing a thousand reasons why you have to let him go with Joris and his friends today. He was ceaseless, after all. His lower body was covered with the blanket that you put on him earlier, chest slowly heaving up and down, mouth slightly apart, and lightly snoring.

He looked so peaceful. For a while, you just sat beside him and went on to study the features of his face. The pointed nose, the tiny freckles that are most evident when the sun hits them, and the eyes that seem to contain galaxies and universes in it.

“I know you’re staring, chérie,” he quietly says, eyes still closed.

“No. I’m just checking to see if your face is still swollen.” you reply, playfully rolling your eyes at him.

“Not swollen. Just say you’re looking for an excuse to study my beautiful face.” he teases, shifting himself so he’s now in a seated position.

“That’s the anesthesia talking, Charlie,”

“Wore off already.”

“Fine, I was staring. You’re so pretty, how could I not?” you say, shrugging your shoulders before standing up to prepare dinner.

“I love you.” Charles says before you could even move away far from the couch where he was seated.

I love you.

You stop in your tracks, your back still facing the Monegasque who was clearly waiting for a response yet slightly relieved he told you what he had been wanting to say for a while now.

“I already know what’s going through your mind,” he says, lightly laughing. “This is not the painkillers nor the anesthesia talking. I’d spent so much time debating on when to tell you.”

“So many accidental “I love you’s” thrown away. Figured there’s never a right time. I love you every single day so why wait for a perfect moment?”

“I love you. So so much.” he repeats.

You turn to him with a smile you can’t contain, walking over to him and engulfing him in what seemed to be the tightest hug you’d ever given anybody.

“I hope you know I’m still saying no to the skiing.” you laugh.

Charles chuckles, and you could feel the vibrations of his laughter from his chest. His grip on you only tightens, sighing in relief.

“That’s okay. I’d rather be with you anyway.” he says, squeezing you once more before breaking away from your embrace.

“Hmm, swaying me with pretty words, Leclerc?” you raise a brow.

“Never!” Charles smiles sheepishly as he puts both his hands up in defense.

“For what it’s worth — though you’re like a child hopped up on sugar earlier, I love you too.”

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tagging: @slytherheign <3

notes: i think this is my first time writing something this long! i also have a 3.5k word work in progress but i cant find the will to finish it lol very angsty though!

thank u sm for reading and lmk what u think hehe <3 also pls send requests for ig imagines for charles! will try to do it as soon as i can!

2K notes · View notes

g1rld1ary · 3 months

Note

omg hiiiiii! just saw your requests opened, so excited! i was hoping you could write something for lockwood with the enemies to lovers trope. anything you feel like with that is awesome! and ofc if you don’t want to feel free to not write it 🩷🩷

-mel

what once was ; anthony lockwood x reader

➻ synopsis: you and lockwood hated each other, you had since you were just starting out as agents. when your team is made to work with his on a big case, deeper feelings might just get revealed

➻ word count: 10K (exactly, what are the chances?)

➻ warnings: swearing, mentions of kissing, angst maybe?, injuries

➻ thank u so much for this request lovely!!!! i am SO sorry this took almost a month, but it's the longest fic I've ever posted here so hopefully that makes up for it a little?? if this isn't what u had in mind pls let me know and I'd be happy to write something different! ik it might not be exactly enemies to lovers but I hateee when the dynamic has no respect or reason to be lovers. anyway thank u for the request lolol!!!! xxxxx

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You thought you were a good person. You dedicated your life to fighting ghosts, you helped old ladies cross the street, you recycled when you could. That was enough to be considered a good person, right? You were almost totally convinced, except for the all the vile things you had to say about Anthony Lockwood.

He was, with no exaggeration, the bane of your existence. You had known him all your life, but hadn’t been friends with him since you were both twelve, just beginner agents. And yet, despite all of this hatred burning up within you, it seemed like the universe wouldn’t give you a moment of peace.

You understood running into his company every once in a while — agency events, maybe the occasional case, but lately it seemed like it was every week you had to face Lockwood’s nauseating grin and infuriating attempts at being charming. Whether it was your respective teams being sent on overlapping missions, picking up more supplies or just trying to pick up a coffee after a draining night, you had started to see Lockwood everywhere.

When you saw him again whilst you were picking up some doughnuts for your team you couldn’t help yourself snapping at him.

“God, are you obsessed with me or something, Anthony?” You barely spared him a glance as you finished the transaction with the cashier, quietly thanking him as you left. Lockwood did the same, practically throwing down his cash to catch up to you.

“You wish I was obsessed with you! I am just as unhappy as you are, trust me.”

“So what, you chased after me just say something we both already knew? Or do you have something you’d like to say, an apology perhaps?” You chanced a look in his eyes. Hurt flashed through them, and you felt a sick sense of satisfaction.

“I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He cried, almost dropping his own box of pastries when he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. You didn’t try to hide the rolling of your eyes.

“Whatever,” You huffed, before being struck with an idea. “By the way, did you hear that I’m now a team leader? That makes me the youngest in at least ten years — maybe ever. Pretty good for someone not fit to be an agent, don’t you think?” You feigned an interest in his opinion. His face dropped for a moment, then contorted to become almost polite.

“That was never—” You interrupted him with another sigh.

“Anthony, I really don’t care to listen to you discredit my achievements anymore.” You left him on the side of the street, marching back to your dorm at Fittes. You didn’t need to hear him tear you down and ruin your self-confidence more than he already had — not that you would ever tell him that. Lockwood was similarly disgruntled. Every interaction between you two turned into a fight regardless of what he said; he just couldn’t win.

You had a week of blissful distance from Lockwood and Co before you ran into them, quite unfortunately. You and your team had been assigned to an apartment that allegedly housed a few Type Ones, nothing serious but the residents had complained of hearing noises at odd hours. You held a bit of doubt — living in the dorms had forced you to become accustomed to the most bizarre noises at night, and those were most definitely not ghosts. Plus, adults tended to be paranoid; the noise could be anything from rodents to their little children being awake in the early hours of the morning.

Still, you had a job to complete, so you trudged your small team up to the apartment in question, ready for a quick job and to be cozy in bed before midnight. When Lockwood and Co were standing outside the apartment next to your appointed one, your face dropped into a scowl.

“What are you doing here?” You snapped, talking directly to Lockwood. He hesitated for a moment before turning to face you, brilliant smile shining.

“Lovely to see you again too, sweetheart, we’re actually here on a job? Nice of you to come as our clean-up crew, but that really won’t be necessary. Run along now.” You had to hand it to him, Lockwood had perfected his condescending tone. You were going to respond when the girl behind him began to talk.

“Hey, I recognise you! You’re—” Lockwood cut her off quickly.

“Alright, Luce, I think it’s time we go inside, don’t you?” He was shepherding the girl through the apartment door before you could process what was happening. George, to his credit, looked highly amused at the whole thing. You always liked George, even when he was at Fittes, and seeing him was usually the only upside to your interactions with Lockwood and Co.

“Who’s the girl?” You asked, nodding your head to where she and Lockwood had disappeared to.

“Lucy Carlyle,” He answered, “She’s a Listener — still learning the ropes.”

“And she knows me how?” George just smiled, and you could tell he was keeping secrets.

“I’m sure you’ll find out one day.” He began to follow the rest of his coworkers and you pouted.

“I hate when you side with him!” You called after him, before composing yourself and directing your own team to start the night. They just went along with it, used to your behaviour, and set up your equipment for the mission.

It was not going well. You could all feel a supernatural presence, but no ghosts and no signs of what you’d thought might’ve been the source. Plus, all you could hear was the apartment next door — their stompy footsteps, their laughter over the tea you knew they always had, and one of them wouldn’t stop knocking on the fucking wall.

It was supremely childish, and you would put all of your bets on it being Lockwood trying to throw you off your game. Unfortunately, it was working. And your bad mood was spreading to your teammates. The mission was certainly not going well, all four of you picking fights and throwing digs at each other as you searched uselessly for what could possible be the source, all with no confirmed supernatural presence.

Just as you were about to say something really cruel to your favourite member of your team, the words died in your throat. The temperature rose a few degrees, and you could practically see all your negative thoughts floating away. By the looks of it, your teammates all felt it too. When the freezing shock of the change wore off, you all resigned to embarrassment, realising exactly what had just happened.

This was only furthered when Lockwood waltzed into the apartment, cocky grin practically blinding you.

“Guess that another successful mission for Lockwood and Co now includes saving the careers of egotistical Fittes agents too now,” He crowed, and you rolled your eyes so hard you thought they might disconnect from your face.

“Clearly,” You tried to keep your tone level, “The source wasn’t in this apartment, so we couldn’t have found it regardless of if you were here.”

“Plus they were just Type Ones. You didn’t save any lives, Lockwood,” Your best friend, Sarah, piped up and you smirked.

“Maybe not in the physical sense,” He conceded, “But I definitely saved the career of the ‘youngest ever team leader’ — don’t think you would’ve kept the position for very long if you couldn’t fight a simple Type One.” You turned red in humiliation. How dare Lockwood act so high and mighty, like you owed him the career you fought so hard for? You wanted to express all the seething fury that burned your tongue, but the only thing that came out was a vicious declaration.

“I hate you, Anthony Lockwood.” Lockwood at least had the decency to look somewhat hurt. Although you’d been arguing for years with the insults only getting meaner as you both grew up and developed more precise vocabularies, neither of you had ever vocalised any hatred before. It cut deeper than Lockwood thought it would. You didn’t wait to observe the intricacies of his reaction, storming out of the apartment, making sure your kit bag hit him heavily as you passed.

“Well,” Lockwood broke the awkward silence that fell over the apartment, “I think we’re all done for the night. Let’s go.” Lockwood and Co began packing up their kit bags and gear, Lucy sweeping some leftover magnesium dust under an armchair. Lockwood paused in the doorway, looking back to Sarah with a curious softness.

“Make sure she’s alright, yeah?” Sarah nodded, swallowing a curious look. With a final nod he was gone, leaving the rest of your team to wonder what had just happened to shift the dynamic.

Back in your dorm at Fittes, you were still fired up. Pissed off by Lockwood’s ego, his audacity, you had practically already paced a hole in the floor upon your short return from dinner. All of these years and he still didn’t believe you were a capable agent, let alone team leader! You may not have really hated him; it was hard to truly hate someone who you shared so much history with, but you were glad you said it. Glad you hurt him, even a little. Maybe then he’d know how you felt.

He had — probably unwittingly — saved you arse though. It was one of your very first missions and unfortunately Lockwood was right; a team leader who couldn’t defeat a simple Type One, or realise that their case was a goose chase in the wrong apartment, wouldn’t last. So although he was the one who had told you you couldn’t be an agent in the first place, you probably owed your current position to him, which only mad you more mad. It was an endless cycle of being angry at Anthony Lockwood.

When Sarah came in to sit on your bed, you still weren’t done, taking the opportunity to verbalise your stream of thought.

“He is simply the worst person in the whole world and has no respect for me! I mean, he wouldn’t have helped at all if it didn’t serve his own inflated ego ,” You said, throwing your hands in the air in anguish. Sarah simply watched, barely concealing her amusement.

“Ok, but have you considered maybe he just argues back because you hate him? I mean, where did it start?” You huffed, vaulting yourself back onto your mattress.

“When we were twelve years old, he told me I couldn’t be an agent. I said ‘fuck you’ and have worked my bloody arse off to be one despite it, and to become the youngest team leader at Fittes, and yet every time I see him he still tries to sabotage my career or make me look stupid! God, he drives me up the wall!”

“So you’ve said all these horrid things because he didn’t believe in you?” She laughed a little, eliciting a deep frown from you.

“You don’t get it,” You said, tone solemn, “He was my best friend. He was supposed to believe in me even when everyone else said it was dumb.” The dampened mood brought a premature end to your conversation, Sarah leaving you to your thoughts and feelings as you dwelled on the past in a way you would usually forbid yourself from.

You pulled a framed photo out from behind your stack of books on the shelf. You and Lockwood as children, smiling brightly on a day at the beach, a spade in your hand and a bucket in his, your free ones intertwined as kids often do. You didn’t know why you’d kept it after all these years, looking at any photo of Lockwood typically made you mad, but you felt a bit guilty discarding the keepsake, especially the handmade frame his parents had given you one birthday before they passed. Plus, the memory untouched was one of your favourites — one of the last of your carefree days in childhood when you and Lockwood were best friends and both your families were whole. You held it softly for a moment, indulging yourself in being swept away by memories before deciding enough was enough and returning to the present, distracting yourself with a novel you’d picked up.

You were given a few weeks to cool down, blissfully free from any trace of Lockwood. You thought he must’ve been aware of the heightened tension between you recently, since you’d seen Lucy shopping around Arif’s and ran into George whilst getting your usual Friday night takeaway.

Hearing your name being called from around the corner of an aisle you turned quickly, reflexes on edge. Seeing it was just the redhead you relaxed, making yourself smile.

“Oh, hi, Lucy. How are you?” You made polite conversation, continuing on with your shopping. She replied cordially, a vague awkward air between you that you were both trying your best to overcome.

“We’re all really sorry about the case the other day, by the way. We didn’t mean to take it over or jeopardise your job or anything.”

“It’s nothing,” You assured, “I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the best of me, every agent knows that.”

“Yeah, but if Lockwood hadn’t—”

“Lucy,” You interrupted, “You don’t need to condemn Lockwood, or defend him. We both know where we stand with each other and that’s ok. I hope that doesn’t stop us from being friends either; you’re sweet.” Lucy managed a smile, revealing a pretty sparkle in her eye.

“I’d like to be friends too. Maybe we just won’t tell him,” She giggled, and you nodded gravely.

“Sounds like a plan.” You left Arif’s with a bag full of groceries and plan for coffee sometime.

George was less forgiving than Lucy. As you bickered over who got the last can of Coke in the restaurant’s little fridge, he imparted some of his very much unwanted advice.

“You should apologise. I think you crossed a line,” He said and you rolled your eyes.

“He questioned my right to even be where I am — I think I have the right to be pissed at him.”

“He didn’t mean it,” George said quickly. Almost too quickly.

“How would you know?” You narrowed your eyes. George recoiled — he’d been caught.

“You know,” He trailed off, “Lockwood’s not like that. You should know that better than anyone.” You huffed again, fed up.

“I knew,” You corrected, “He’s shown me exactly how he feels about me now. And I am absolutely fine with that. I’m taking the Coke.” You ended the conversation abruptly, snatching the can out of George’s grip.

“But Lockwood doesn’t like any of the other flavours!” He called after you. You exaggerated a laugh, not looking back as you opened the restaurant door quickly.

“I know!” You yelled over your shoulder. George watched you leave, calculating look in his eyes. You said you hated Lockwood, he didn’t doubt you believed it, too. But he knew that most people didn’t remember which fizzy drinks their enemies liked.

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Thankfully, you got just the distraction you needed. Your team had been given one of the most exciting cases on the Fittes roster. One of those old boutique hotels with funnily named rooms and a long, terrible history that had you buried in fascinating research. You couldn’t believe your team had been given the assignment, it was a sign that you were really beginning to be respected as a team leader in the agency. So, you couldn’t screw it up.

You and your team had been practically camped out in the Fittes archives, researching as much as you possibly could about the old hotel. There were a smattering of unfortunate deaths across the years — some darker than others, but you were confident it was nothing you couldn’t handle. The owners hadn’t specified exactly what supernatural experiences they had seen around the hotel, just that it was clear there were several presences around and they wanted them all gone to reopen the hotel as soon as possible. This did admittedly make you a little apprehensive — you didn’t actually have a solid idea of how many ghosts you’d be dealing with, and it was anyone’s guess how many of them would be Type Twos.

Finally, you were confident you and your team had done as much research as you could, and you were prepared for anything. And so you packed your kit bags, took the train ride and rocked up to the hotel mid afternoon, confidence overflowing. By nightfall you’d been on a tour of the grounds, set up your base and had started brewing some tea to get you all in the zone. You took a glance out the front window, seeing movement in one of the windows of the house next door. It was owned by the people who ran the hotel and they intended to open it as a second venue, but delegated the job to some smaller agency since the stakes for it weren’t as high.

It was all going well for a while. You had a plan to go room by room, making each ghost free before finishing in the majorly haunted kitchen. You were inclined to believe there’d be a cluster of Type Twos there since it was set alight years ago, and the accident had been swept under the rug in favour of saving the business.

The entryway was easy; a few Type Ones that practically led you their sources, clearly just wanting to finally be laid to rest. There was one nasty Limbless that gave you all a fright, but your researcher, Ben, was always miles ahead of the rest of you and knew exactly who the ghost was and therefore how to put him to rest. You told him you owed him a beer later and moved on, crossing a single room off the floor plan and shifting into the library, which was not so easy.

You started to think things were not as great as you originally anticipated when you turned to face the mass of Type Ones. Not the end of the world, a little bloody annoying though. Sarah seemed to agree, kicking the leg of a couch in frustration. The four of you figured your way out of it, though significantly depleted of supplies.

You returned to your home base to recoup, physically and mentally battered.

“What’s the plan?” Sarah asked, chugging down mouthfuls from her water bottle. You bit the inside of your cheek as you thought hard, tapping your fingers insistently on the old wooden table.

“Alright, I think we’ve got enough for one more safely. Kyan, you go outside and get the rest of our equipment whilst we hit the second bedroom.”

“If we’re right then there should only be the one ghost there, right? The strangled woman?” You nodded in response to Ben, mentally drawing your plan.

“And if you’re wrong?” Kyan asked.

“We won’t be,” You affirmed, tapping twice on the table to get you all moving.

Kyan left the building to go fetch the spare supplies and the remaining three of you ventured into the second bedroom. Everything was as it should be; lower temperature, creeping feelings of unease and miasma. You’d put together your chain circle and were feeling good about the Type Two woman you were facing, well, as good as you could in those circumstances.

That was, until it wasn’t just one Type Two. Despite the research and preparation you’d undertaken, there was definitely more than one Type Two enraged by your presence in the room at that moment. There was the woman, an angry apparition of some sort — you didn’t have the time to exactly figure out which subtype she fell into when a man also appeared. Shit. He wasted no time showing you he was aggressive too, and your heart sunk into your toes.

Doing some quick mental calculations, you announced the new plan — to get out. As team leader, you refused to be responsible for an injury or something worse because you wouldn’t back down when you knew you didn’t have enough defences left.

“Soon as it’s safe, get the fuck out of here,” You said, feeling to make sure they were still both in the circle with you as you stood with backs inward. “Use your defences as liberally as you feel you need to — we’re all getting out of here tonight.”

“What about the sources?” Sarah asked nervously, “We’ve only got one or two so far.”

“Who cares? Most agencies get one or two a mission and we’re in a giant bloody hotel. We’ve got more nights to get this done. We can’t get it done if you lot go off and die, can we?” Ben shrugged.

“S’pose not. Let’s go.” With that the three of you made a run for it, bolting out the bedroom door and into the corridor.

“Oh fuck!” You yelled, dodging out the way of another phantom headed your way. Evidently your previous endeavours had attracted the attention of some of the other ghosts inhabiting the hotel, none looking all that happy.

Your swear words didn’t falter as you continued the escape, ducking and jumping and making an utter fool of yourself to ensure you all made it out alive. You’d been covered by Sarah a few minutes ago with one of her magnesium flares, and so returned the favour without hesitation, only faltering slightly when you realised it was your last. You tried not to worry about it too much, you were nearing the laundry where there was a back door you could get to.

The closer you got to your escape the fewer visible apparitions there were. That was a good thing, your chances of ghost touch reducing greatly. However, that didn’t mean you weren’t still being hunted. A poltergeist had found you somewhere along the way, and the stream of things being thrown at you hadn’t ended yet. You’d vaguely felt something heavy hitting the back of your head and shoulders, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins was withholding the pain for the moment.

You’d crossed the threshold into the laundry, the back door within your sights. Maybe you got complacent, believing the end was nearer than you thought. Maybe it was just awful timing. However, as your feet hit the tiles of the room, you were being swept off your feet by the washing machine sliding into you, crushing you between it and the wall. You cried out unintentionally, feeling a sickening crack inside your chest. Your teammates turned back, door wide open and safety in sight.

“Don’t you dare come back for me,” You croaked, the wind pushed out of you. “Or I swear to God I’ll come and haunt you.” Ben took the threat and ran, ducking out the door into the fresh air of the night. Sarah hesitated, turning back to lock eyes with you, regret painted across her features. With a final threat she left too, leaving you to try and push the machine away from you in order to make your own escape. However, in an unfortunate series of events, the adrenaline started to wear off after your chase and you felt the sharp pain running along your skull, a thick drop of blood making its way down from a strand of hair into your left eye. Plus, you were pretty sure the machine had broken one of your wrists as any pressure you put onto it trying to move the machine set your nerves on fire, leaving you just your legs to try and make an escape. Turns out it’s harder than it looks to push a stupidly heavy washing machine away from you with your legs when you’re incapacitated on the floor.

Seeing your best friend the strangled woman approaching you sighed, trying to resign yourself to your fate. There was no way you were making it out without a miracle, and you were never the lucky kind. As she spotted you, you sealed your eyes tightly closed, unwilling to watch your own demise. It never came. When you chanced one eye open all you saw was sparks, the unmistakeable smell of a magnesium flare filling the room. You didn’t know what to feel. Relieved, of course, pissed off that your team had disrespected your wishes and endangered themselves, faint from the adrenaline and blood loss. Mostly faint, you decided, as you lay your head back against the tile, a sleep sounding like the nicest thing in the world suddenly.

You must have passed out for a minute or two as when you opened your eyes again you were in the air, distant voices yelling over the explosions and lights, but you felt a million miles away. You cuddled yourself into the body of whoever was carrying you — they were warm and your body felt ice cold. Everywhere you looked appeared blurry (and slightly pink, presumably from the blood in your eye), so you granted yourself some mercy and simply closed them. You thought you heard a mumbled “Hold on for me,” But you couldn’t be sure, everything was ringing in your head and the weight of staying awake was heavy on your foggy brain.

The next time you woke up was about half an hour later, or so you guessed. The sky was fractionally lighter than you remembered seeing, inching towards dawn, and you were laid down on dewey wet grass. The cool of it was nice on your skin, though you knew it would do major damage to your hair. Not that that was your greatest concern at the moment. You pushed yourself up on your elbows slowly, looking around at the scene that was coming into focus. Your team were on one side of you, looking exhausted but mostly physically fine. Straight ahead of you was Barnes, not looking as disappointed as you thought he would after a failed case. To your left was Lockwood and Co. Why were Lockwood and Co here? Why was Lockwood looking at you so intently, and why did he look like he was worried about you?

Only the first of your questions was answered. Evidently Lockwood and Co were the ‘small agency’ the hotel owners had given a chance for the smaller house on the edge of the property. They heard the commotion your team had made and Sarah’s screaming outside the kitchen door and came to save the day — of course. You were about to put up the protest that you didn’t need saving but it died in your throat when you saw the serious looks of everyone around you. Clearly this wasn’t the time for any of your bullshit.

“Clearly this case is bigger than your team can achieve,” Barnes said, and the fire was reignited within you. He must have been able to see what you were going to say and cut you off, “But I’m not taking you off the case.”

“Thank you,” You said quickly, tension in your shoulders releasing slightly.

“Lockwood and Co will work with you until the hotel is ghost free.”

“What?” You and Lockwood cried in unison, and you felt his eyes fall back on you. You refused to meet his gaze.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sir—” You started, being cut off by Lockwood.

“We don’t work well together—”

“I happen to know you both need this case, or do you not care about the future of your jobs?” Barnes raised an eyebrow in the intimidating way only he could pull off. He had you there. Failing in a case, especially one that resulted in a near death experience would certainly jeopardise your trajectory at Fittes, and, unbeknownst to you, Lockwood and Co were pretty desperate for some good representation, unable to receive the praise deserved from the Combe Carey Hall case. You looked at Lockwood to find him already searching your face. After a moment of silent arguing between the two of you, you turned back to face Barnes, exaggerated smiles on both your faces.

“We’ll do it.” You smiled sweetly. A few more formalities sent Barnes and the other DEPRAC officer off, and only the two teams were left standing around, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of all the kit bags.

“So what do we do now?” Sarah asked, a thought very similar to the ones bouncing around your head at the moment.

“Breakfast?” George suggested, and you didn’t think you’d ever seen your team agree to something so enthusiastically. The group of you all headed back to the train station, but Lockwood didn’t let you continue in the line to get your ticket. Instead he pulled you away from the crowd, seeming to have already told Lucy what was happening, judging from her cheerful wave goodbye.

You glared at him, yanking your arm away then groaning at the pain.

“What are we doing, Lockwood?” You asked with an exaggerated huff.

“We’re going to the hospital,” He said, unbothered by your protests. “And don’t say you’re fine because it’s clear you’re injured. I’d say a broken wrist, concussion and maybe a cracked rib, but we can let the doctors tell us I’m wrong, I’d be happy for them to tell you otherwise.” That shut you up, not least because you knew he was probably right. You’d been given a shot of adrenaline and a few painkillers by the DEPRAC officer who accompanied Barnes over, but you probably did need actual medical attention.

It was a very awkward cab ride to the local hospital. You and Lockwood were so used to arguing by now that silence felt like the only other viable option. You couldn’t make small talk, what would you even talk about? The only thing you knew about his life was his childhood, and you sure as hell weren’t gonna talk about that. The tension was palpable in the backseat, and when the cab driver wished you good luck for the hospital visit, you figured he didn’t just mean because of your injuries. You did force yourself to thank Lockwood when he paid for the ride though, even if it was just for the sake of the day moving on faster.

At least the waiting room created its own noise; beeping and chattering and footsteps filling the silence between you two. You struggled with the form in front of you, inconveniently having your dominant hand be out of working order. You painfully etched out your information over an embarrassing amount of time before Lockwood huffed loudly and snatched the clipboard from your lap.

“Fuck’s sake,” He muttered, pulling his own pen from his suit pocket, beginning to scribble down the answers for you. You just relaxed, your tired, drug-addled brain being allowed to rest for a moment. It wasn’t until he asked about your health insurance that you fully realised he was answering the questions by memory and forced your eyes to focus on the paper. Sure enough he’d gotten it all right, birthday and middle name included. You glanced up at him curiously, but it seemed like this was the moment he refused to make eye contact. You only had to inform him of things that had changed since you’d fallen out, neither of you verbalising that fact.

Things didn’t change when you were called into the doctor’s office either. The mix of pain, medicine and sleep deprivation led you to embrace the exam table and bordered on falling asleep as Lockwood talked for you. He’d gotten the rundown of the actual events from Sarah and his brief moments when he saved you, and explained the night as you got an x-ray for your hand. Plus, as you were waiting for the cast (it was, in fact, broken), he explained your previous medical history — the knee you dislocated when you were nine and the broken pinky finger from the year after. You only had to participate to explain the injuries you’d acquired during your career as an agent; the ones from after you and Lockwood stopped being friends.

The whole trip was extremely bizarre and slightly unnerving, and you were glad to get on the train on the way back.

“You were wrong about one thing,” You said, pulling out your walkman from your kit bag.

“And what’s that?” Lockwood asked, and you got the impression he was bracing to be yelled at again — you felt almost bad.

“No cracked rib for me.” You grinned, beginning to laugh uncharacteristically. You didn’t know why, it really wasn’t that funny, but Lockwood followed suit soon after. The two of you laughed borderline hysterically, much too energetic for that hour of the morning when everyone else was still heading to work. It only tapered off when your poor ribs couldn’t take it anymore (not broken but aggressively bruised), and the two of you fell back into silence. You had your music and Lockwood had a magazine you suspected he’d stolen from the A+E waiting room.

The only other time you spoke during the trip was when you summoned the courage to utter a somewhat genuine “Thank you.”

“What?”

“Thanks. For not letting me die. And stuff.”

“Oh. You’re welcome,” Lockwood shot you a smile, the glowing kind you rarely got to see anymore.

As you got back to London and closer to Portland Row where your team was waiting, the air seemed to get thicker between the two of you once again. Maybe it was the proximity to the things that had torn you apart or the sense that you had predefined roles to play, but the carefree air between you had dissipated, leaving only the familiar tension that had been building over the last four years.

You followed Lockwood inside, trying to hide the out of body experience you were having returning to his family home after so many years. It had changed a little, of course, but still felt overwhelmingly the same, which both scared and comforted you. All the freaky foreign ghost hunting objects still littered the shelves, and you took the liberty of admiring them once again, remembering the stories Lockwood’s parents would tell about them and the adventures they’d had when collecting them. In your periphery you saw Lockwood hurriedly grab something off the wall by the stairs, shoving it in a drawer, but you really had no interest, choosing instead to reacquaint yourself with the house. The glimpse you got up the stairs showed a myriad of framed pictures of Lockwood and you scoffed — of course his ego would be on full display within his own home.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

It was surprisingly easy to get into the groove of working with Lockwood and Co. Obviously you already liked George and Lucy, but your team seemed to work unexpectedly well with theirs. You and Lockwood stayed out of each other’s ways, the few times you were left to work together resulting in another stupid argument. The first time when you thought he was calling you dumb, the second over something minuscule; who’d let the tea brew too long so it tasted shit. And then who had to subsequently get up and make the next pot. Despite both of you honestly trying to be professional and get on with the job, it was agreed by everyone that it was simply easiest to keep the two of you apart as much as possible.

However, when the hotel owners wanted the leaders of both teams to meet up for updates on the case, you couldn’t get out of it. The day wasn’t looking good. You’d shown up to Portland Row so you could get a cab together — the meeting being dinner in central London, and had already argued with him over his choice of socks. In your defence, the powder blue socks matching your dress did make it look like you were a high school couple trying to match at a formal! However, George had rolled his eyes and pushed the two of you back out and towards the waiting cab, effectively ending that argument. You’d also teased Lockwood for bringing his rapier to a business dinner, but that was neither here nor there.

You’d held it together for most of the dinner, both of you putting on your best fronts and using your most formal tones to convince the elder couple that you were confident about the case. You found yourself kicking his shins to stop Lockwood from making promises you couldn’t keep regarding the case, and he got you back with condescending remarks, correcting you when he disagreed with how you presented the case. Altogether though you thought you were pretty subtle, and the two of you were presenting a model image of your respective companies.

However, when you shot Lockwood one of your saccharine smiles under the pretence of friendliness — he’d just undermined your authority again and stolen the best piece of dessert that you were going for, as if he didn’t torture you enough — you were shocked to hear the woman across from you laugh.

“It’s so wonderful to see you two bicker like an old married couple,” She giggled, and both you and Lockwood’s jaws dropped. “I mean, it just seems so dismal to be dating in these times, but you two give me hope that the future generations will still be able find love despite the Problem.”

“And clearly you’re both sensible kids, which is very important for a lasting relationship. Working for two different agencies would surely diffuse tensions around all those dangerous missions and such you agents partake in — except for this one, of course,” Her husband chimed in, jolly glint in his eyes.

“Yes, yes, but it’s important to remember to be kids as much as you can. But you two playing footsies all night has proved that you’ve got that covered too. Silliness is just as crucial as being sensible, it’s how a marriage stays fun. We would know, we’ve had fifty odd years of it!”

You didn’t know how to react, and by the looks of it, Lockwood didn’t know either with his signature smile frozen on his face. First of all, you were not playing footsies with Anthony Lockwood — the bruise forming under his trouser leg was testament to that. Second of all, you had no idea how the woman could get your dynamic so incredibly wrong. Aside from all of Lockwood’s double edged comments and cocky corrections of basically anything you said, the two of you had hardly addressed each other directly all night, you might as well have been strangers!

The dinner wrapped up very soon after. The couple had taken a liking to you both and so trusted your teams to handle the case as you saw fit, only making you promise to take a romantic weekend getaway (or honeymoon! As the woman had remarked optimistically) to the hotel once it was completely ghost-free and renovated. For once you were glad that Lockwood was unable to ever shut up as he took the lead, seeming to believe that corroborating their assumption was the best choice in your situation. You weren’t sure you were entirely comfortable with lying to this sweet old couple, but you couldn’t deny that Lockwood was a better talker than you, and would probably handle the situation with more delicacy.

That was how you ended up being led out of the restaurant with Lockwood’s hand on the small of your back. You wondered if he’d ever done this before, and you didn’t know if you meant for a real or pretend relationship. You both said your goodbyes to the couple, flattered by the abundance of compliments they paid you — both personally and professionally, assuring you they were overjoyed to have your teams work the case. Just before they stepped into the cab the woman took you aside.

“Hold onto a boy who looks at you like that,” She said, “You might fight, but when he’s this in awe of you, you’ll find a way to make it work.” You didn’t know how to respond to that and so simply nodded, offering a weak smile as she slid into the back seat of the taxi.

That left you and Lockwood alone. You just looked at each other for a moment, unsure of how to proceed.

“Do you mind if we walk home? I really fancy some air right now.” Lockwood easily agreed, looking rather flustered himself, and off the two of you went into the night.

Neither of you spoke for a while, but you could tell he wanted to. Lockwood always chewed his lip when he was holding something back, he had since he was a child. You sighed and asked him, knowing it was the only way to make the habit go away.

“Nothing,” He said, “Just weird. Don’t you think?”

“Nah,” You lied, “Old people just say things like that all the time. They don’t care to know the full picture.”

“Which is?”

“We hate each other.” Hurt flashed through his eyes, but it didn’t make you feel as good as it did the first time you’d said it.

“I don’t hate you,” He said quietly, almost a whisper.

“What?”

“I don’t hate you. We don’t get along anymore, but I don’t hate you. I hope you know that.” You faltered for a second. Had his use of ‘anymore’ been intentional to create a stabbing feeling in your gut?

“Oh. I guess I don’t really hate you either, if we’re getting sappy about it.” You tried to diffuse the tension growing between you, not wanting it to evolve into a discussion about what estranged you in the first place. Lockwood refused to apologise and you refused to forget, resulting in the bitter stalemate you’d been locked in for the past few years.

Your distraction came with a glance over Lockwood’s shoulder, and the wisp of a phantom coming into view. Lockwood was trying to continue the conversation about your developing relationship, but stopped when he noticed you frozen beside him. Turning slowly he swore when he saw the ghost, going straight for his rapier.

“Put your hand into my coat pocket,” He said, effectively drawing you from your freeze.

“Excuse me?” You whisper-yelled, not in the mood for him to try and lighten the mood with whatever dumb joke he was trying to make.

“Just trust me, I have flares in the inside pocket, just reach in and grab them to defend yourself whilst I keep an eye on them.” Them? You wondered until you looked around, seeing other ghosts start to emerge from the shadows, attracted by the scene you were obviously creating. You wasted no more time, ignoring the intimacy of reaching into Lockwood’s jacket, grabbing yourself a flare for each hand. With you accounted for, Lockwood told you the plan, he’d fight a path back to Portland Row and you’d cover the both of you with the flares, since you weren’t good for very much else with a broken wrist and no rapier.

It was hardly the most intense situation you or Lockwood had been in, but as the primary fighter in the situation, Lockwood was still putting up a good show of skill. Despite yourself you were entranced, admiring the graceful way he moved with the rapier, so in tune with it you’d think it was connected to his arm. As much as you hated Lockwood — well, you’d just established you didn’t actually hate him. As much as you thought he was egotistical and irritating, you had to admit that you really admired him as an agent. Lockwood was undeniably talented with a rapier — it was the fencing competition that got him started in this business in the first place — but to watch him in action was really something special. If you didn’t know better you’d think it was easy for him, he fought with the same ease and elegance he might drink a cup of tea.

You were so caught up in watching him that you hardly noticed when you arrived in front of 35 Portland Row, both luckily un-ghost touched. You were also alerted to the proximity you’d found yourself in. You’d stayed close obviously, not wanting to be left to the ghosts, but when Lockwood had turned to make sure you were still with him safely inside the iron fence, you found yourself only inches apart.

At this distance you were alerted to just how much he’d changed since you were kids. He was taller, obviously, your chin tilted up to make eye contact. He’d lost the baby fat that used to fill out his cheeks, leaving his face defined and bordering on gaunt — you figured he wasn’t taking very good care of himself, judging on the dark circles that seemed by now permanent. Plus something had changed in his eyes. He didn’t look carefree anymore, something dark and tortured lay behind the charming smiles. It wasn’t hard to guess what it was, and you figured you probably had something identical. However, the small scar on his jawline from when you accidentally flung a plastic toy into his face was still there which drew a small smile from you. Something within you urged to run your finger along it, and you felt your fingers twitch before you realised how inappropriate it was. That instinct didn’t feel so bad though when you caught Lockwood’s gaze shift down to your lips. Only momentarily, but you saw it. And worse? The fact that you didn’t mind. After all of these years and the fighting and terrible words shared, here you were maybe about to kiss Anthony Lockwood. You would be disgusted with yourself if you didn’t have so many other feelings fighting their way to the top.

The front door opening was enough to make you both jump apart, you rushing towards it to get as far from Lockwood as possible.

“Hey Lucy!” You called, practically floating up the front steps you were going so fast.

“Uh, hey, guys. We thought we heard you outside so I got sent to check. Had to make sure you weren’t secretly making out or something,” She joked and you forced out a laugh, far too loud to be real.

“As if! Come on, I’m dying for some tea.” You slid past her, rushing straight to the kitchen for a minute to think.

Lucy watched you go suspiciously, before turning to Lockwood.

“What did you do?” She interrogated, all her scary Lucy-ness coming out.

“I don’t know,” Lockwood replied earnestly, still somewhat dazed himself. Lucy gave him one last look up and down before returning inside, leaving Lockwood to fix his smile on before rejoining the two teams.

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The week leading up to your team’s next attempt at the hotel was extremely weird. You and Lockwood hadn’t spoken about what had happened (or almost happened) out in the front garden, but you had had a long talk about your behaviour lately. Over a few cups of tea in the kitchen whilst the rest of your teams were working down in the basement, you managed to both admit you were being dickheads. There was no mention of the underlying factors of your resentment, but you both agreed for the sake of your jobs you would try and be friends, or at least civil. No more bickering, no more picking apart small comments, no more rolling eyes.

It worked for a bit, which was really complicating your emotions. On the one hand, Lockwood was lovely, like he’d always been, and it was kind of nice to be able to talk and joke with him again after so many years, although you both carefully avoided the topic of your personal lives. On the other hand, it made you sad to pretend that everything was fine when you knew what you did. He didn’t think you could be an agent; Lockwood didn’t think you were good enough. And you could both pretend all you liked to be friends, but as long as that was what he thought about you it could never be real. So, while you’d both stopped your rivalry on the surface and gotten on with the case, there was a tension bubbling behind your smiles that both of you could see whenever you locked eyes.

It all came to a head when you started discussing your action plan for the hotel. All seven of you were standing in the basement of Portland Row, staring at a blown up floor plan of the place, little figurines representing each of you. It didn’t take you long to realise that you weren’t being represented.

“Where am I?” You asked, an uneasy silence falling over the room.

“You’re not coming.” Lockwood took the fall, even though it had been a unanimous decision whilst you were on an Arif’s run one afternoon.

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t help the biting tone in your words, fury you’d worked hard to conceal bubbling back up to the surface.

“Your wrist—” Sarah tried to reason, but something in you had unlocked and you were not backing down this time.

“You and I know full well if this was a Fittes case I would still be out in the field, broken wrist be damned,” You spat, and you could practically see the gears turning in Lockwood and Lucy’s heads.

“They make you go into the field injured?” Lucy asked, but you weren’t focused on answering her — George nodded for you.

“So who’s barred me from being in the field, on what I might remind you, was my case first.” There were a few moments of silence where no one wanted to be the subject of your anger, but with a resigned sigh, Lockwood accepted the blame.

“It was my idea.” You couldn’t help the frustrated groan that came out of your mouth.

“God, this is so typical! You’ve never thought I was good enough, and now what? Sabotaging my cases? My career? Because you don’t believe in me,” Your voice broke on the last sentence, and you could feel the tears heavy behind your eyes, threatening to fall. You spat a final “Fuck you,” before running up the basement stairs, up to where you knew the bathroom would be for some privacy.

You realised when you were at the top of the stairs that in your time working with Lockwood and Co you hadn’t actually used their bathroom, and didn’t remember which of the closed doors it was. Choosing one blindly you shut yourself inside, finally letting the tears that blurred your vision roll down your cheeks.

You sobbed heavily, indulging all the terrible feelings you’d been concealing for far too long. When the tears weren’t so frequent the setting around you came back into focus, and you noticed with a start you definitely weren’t in the bathroom. The view from the window told you it was Lockwood’s late parent’s bedroom, but the used furniture and messy bed said someone was still living there. Your stomach dropped as you stood, wiping the tears from your eyes. Looking around you were sure this was Lockwood’s room, the suit jacket on the desk chair a dead giveaway. However, a picture frame on his nightstand attracted your attention the most. It was the same one you had in your dorm at Fittes, the one gifted to you by Lockwood’s parents for your birthday. Both of you grinning widely and carelessly joyful. It had been so long since you’d felt like that, even longer since you’d felt it around Lockwood. The thought made your heart ache a bit. His parents would be so disappointed in the two of you. That made you start crying a little again, picking up the photo to examine it closer.

“It’s been there since you left,” A voice from behind you said. “I couldn’t bring myself to put it away.” You hadn’t noticed Lockwood come in and you didn’t know how long he’d been standing there. You put the photo down with a start, turning away to wipe your face dry again.

“Go away, Lockwood. Just give me a minute and I’ll be back downstairs. I overreacted but I need to get over it, okay?” You snapped, praying your face wasn’t still red and splotchy (it was).

“No,” He said, and you turned to face him curiously. “Look, this has gone on long enough and we need to fix things.” You crossed your arms petulantly, a silent challenge for him to fix the damage you believed to be all his. “You said downstairs that I thought you couldn’t be an agent. Why?”

“Don’t you remember when I told you I wanted to be an agent like you?” You scoffed, “You all but laughed in my face! You said I couldn’t do it, that I’d be injured or killed and I couldn’t handle it. I’ve thought about that every case since, you killed my self esteem for years. I thought that if no one else, my best friend should have believed in me. But here I am, youngest team leader at Fittes with the highest successful case rate for my division. All in spite of you.” Lockwood stared at you, and you could practically see his neurons firing and making connections at a million miles an hour.

“That’s not what I said.” You could barely contain your bitter laugh.

“Does it matter? You didn’t believe in me, that’s what’s important.”

“No,” He said, “Because that’s not what I meant at all. I did believe in you — I do. I always have.” You scoffed again as he stumbled over his words. A little grovelling now couldn’t make up for all the years of anxiety and insecurity he’d caused.

“I mean it! If I didn’t believe in you, then what’s all this?” He led you to one of his dresser drawers. Opening it there were a stack of papers and you picked a few of them up, flipping through them. Every single one was about you. Photos from your childhood together, newspaper clippings of your successes throughout the years, the magazine article you interviewed for talking about women in power in the ghost hunting field. Lockwood had saved every piece of media about you, the ragged edges showing he’d ripped them out just to keep them. You remained silent, astonished by this new revelation. You looked up at him, and Lockwood could have cried at the look in your eyes.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t be an agent,” He explained, “Or that’s not what I meant. I meant that you shouldn’t, or more clearly, I was saying don’t. Asking. Don’t you remember? My parents were dead, my sister had just died. You were all I had left, and I didn’t want you to jump head first into the most dangerous job in the world. I wanted to protect you.” It was Lockwood’s turn for his voice to break and tears to arise, and you suddenly felt supremely stupid.

“Oh,” Was all you could say. After all of these years; the insults thrown and dirty looks exchanged, all your anger came from a misunderstanding? Not only that, a misunderstanding that twisted such an earnest declaration of care into something so awful.

“But you did it, and you weren’t just any agent,” He laughed slightly despite his emotions, “You were the best bloody agent Fittes has ever seen and all I could do was watch from the shadows and be proud of you silently. Why do you think Lucy knew who you were already? There were pictures of you all over the house before I made them take them all down when I knew we were working together. I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“But all the arguing…” You trailed off, still unable to completely process this information.

“Just because I love you doesn’t mean you don’t drive me up the wall, especially when you were being — or I believed you were — deliberately obtuse to my efforts to explain myself. But now I see we were just on totally different wavelengths.” You were really struggling, there was a lot of new information being revealed at such a rapid pace that was completely changing your perspective on your whole adolescence.

“You love me?” Lockwood did laugh this time, loudly and with the same charm he usually had.

“Yes, you idiot. I have since we were kids.”

Oh. Oh. You suddenly felt like an idiot. All of this time you thought that Lockwood believed you were weak, not good enough, not worthy of your successes, when in fact it was the complete opposite. And then you thought about how you felt about Lockwood. How his believed lack of faith in you affected you so much because you cared so deeply about what he thought of you. How you could never bring yourself to look away when he was fighting because he was so completely in his element. How nice it had been to be able to joke around with him during your research. Oh God. You thought you simply respected him and his skills as an agent, but evidently the truth had been just out of reach your whole life.

“Anthony?” He was already looking at you, eyes searching deep into your soul. “I think I might love you too.” Neither of you could help the kiddish smiles making their way on your faces, and he wrapped his arms around you tightly before you knew what was happening. It felt nice to be held by him again, the last time would have been after his sister died. These were much better circumstances.

When you both came down the stairs later, no one mentioned your intertwined hands. You all had a lovely dinner at Portland Row, warmth and laughter filling the space and making you feel at home like you used to when you were a kid.

It wasn’t until you were on your way back to the Fittes dorms that Sarah leaned over to you, mischievous grin on her face.

“Tell me you were making out up there, please,” She giggled, and you shoved her away lightheartedly.

“Shut up,” You laughed, “Besides, it wasn’t making out.”

189 notes · View notes

youunravelme · 1 year

Text

slowly, then all at once

author's note: i'm going through some shit and needed to alleviate it with fluff and also it's mat's birthday (or at least it was when i started this)! EDIT: this takes place in an alternative TATGYLB universe bc went an ENTIRELY different direction with this series (because i don't plan well lolol). (stole the title from the fault in our stars because that book had me in a CHOKEHOLD at 14)

pairing: mat barzal x reader

warnings: none? cursing?

summary: the stages of mat falling in love with you

mat saw how you were with ella, the way you'd smile and talk to her like she could hold a conversation. or the way you never chided him or condescended to him when he did something completely stupid.

which is more than what he could say about his teammates.

so when he heard your piece of shit boyfriend screaming at you over the phone? or when he showed up unannounced and trying to "win you back?"

mat was livid.

he was sure jason had never hit you, because if there was any indication of that, mat would be all over it.

so while he's sure jason never inflicted physical harm, he saw the way you kept to yourself and even the way you looked surprised at his invitation to lunch or the game.

it broke his heart a little, to think that you'd never once considered yourself now a part of his life. when, in fact, the second you agreed to watch ella, it was like he'd pulled you into the fold.

he was on a mission to prove it to you.

inviting you to his game was the first step in his original plan.

well.

it was the first non intimidating step. (tito mentioned that maybe meeting his mom and sister after only knowing him for like a week was not the smartest move he'd ever made.)

you still looked out of your element when he asked, but he's positive that it was his own enthusiasm that convinced you to say yes.

and he thought it was a great idea! he got you and jason tickets, thinking that maybe you'd be more comfortable with having him around. and perhaps that was true at some point, but when he saw you, standing with only ella and sydney with water lining your eyes, something in his chest twisted.

you looked shaken, like someone had stuck you in a blender.

"where's jason?" was apparently the wrong thing to ask because sydney changed the subject almost immediately.

you wouldn't even look at him.

and when you told him about your piece of shit boyfriend leaving you?

mat wasn't prepared for the burning in his chest. no one got away with treating a friend of his that way, but seeing as you just avoided the topic altogether, he dropped it.

until you went upstairs to your apartment and didn't text him. tito would say he has a habit of hovering at times and maybe he never really agreed until five minutes passed without a word from you.

if you asked, he would've denied the intense concern growing in his chest. but how else was he supposed to react when you seemed so dissociated the rest of the night?

thankfully, you picked up almost immediately.

"hello?"

mat cleared his throat. "hey, you never texted me to say you got in alright. you okay?”

now it could've only been a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime before he heard your voice.

“keep the car running, i’ll be down in a few minutes.”

mat was ready to grab ella and head upstairs, car be damned.

he couldn't hear what else really happened on the phone, he only knew that you came downstairs, empty handed, and frazzled. the sight alone had him contemplating going into your apartment to figure out exactly what was going on, but he knew the best decision was take you back to his place.

he'd figured it out when jason showed up with his daughter's car seat screaming at you for wearing his clothes. screaming at you like you were somehow in the wrong, like he wasn't the one who cheated on you.

you.

who had to be the most selfless person he knew (don't tell his mom).

you.

who had readily agreed to take care of his daughter on a whim because he was insanely scared.

you.

who was one of the only topic of conversation his mother wanted to discuss. it used to just be hockey and how he was doing. now the thirty minute phone calls turned into hour and a half long facetimes where ella and you are regular topics for discussion.

mat couldn't comprehend how someone could look at you and want to tear you down, but after you officially broke up with jason? he was determined to show you how much you deserved.

exhibit a

"it's five sugars, right?" mat called over his shoulder once he heard your footsteps coming into the kitchen.

you paused in the doorway. "what?"

mat turned around, two mugs of coffee in his hands. "you like five sugars, right?"

ella sat on your hip but didn't seem to give a flying fuck that he was in front of her.

"you--you remembered?" you tilted your head. "you only made me coffee like once?"

mat's face heated up at the implication but smirked anyway. "i have a great memory!"

"could've surprised me from the amount of times you get hit."

mat shrugged, still not completely used to the idea of you watching his games, even if they were just highlights. he held the mug out to you in exchange for ella.

"you wanna come to a game again?" he offered.

you looked at him before breaking eye contact and sipping your coffee. "i don't know if that's the best idea after last time. i don't want to embarrass you again--"

"woah woah woah," mat sat his coffee mug on the island before holding a hand up at you. it didn't sit right with him to see you so ashamed of something someone else did. "what happened at the game was not your fault. it was his, okay? you weren't to blame."

"you weren't even there to see it--"

"and i don't need to, okay? i know you." he meant it. but seeing as the conversation was getting a little too heavy, he changed the subject. "just think about it! and let me know what game you want to go to."

you didn't say anything, but just gave him a small smile and nodded.

he'd count it as a win.

exhibit b

it'd been about four months since you'd started working with mat, three months since you moved in.

not that he was counting.

there were things that were harder with having you around. mainly remembering to wear a shirt when he wakes up in the morning, or to not adjust his junk until he was in the bathroom or his bedroom.

but--

there were many more things that were significantly easier (and better) with you in his life (and apartment).

sleep training ella was easy as hell

keeping an eye on ella who was walking now

the apartment actually smelled nice? not that it smelled bad before, but now it smelled like a home.

and who knew decorative pillows made a difference?

but his favorite thing recently?

grocery shopping.

he was currently pushing ella around in a shopping cart while you scrolled on your phone through the list.

"so what do we need next?" he asked.

"if you'd give me a second, i'd have the answer for you," you snipped.

by now, mat was used to your snide comments, knowing that you were just a bit quippy when you were focused.

"ella, is your nanny being a little cranky?" he joked, ignoring the glare you were shooting his way.

you rolled your eyes and tossed a bag of bread at his head that would've hit its mark had he not had the reflexes that gave him a professional hockey career.

"excuse me?" an older woman spoke up from behind him. "as cute as your little family is, can you move out of the way? you're clogging up the aisle."

mat blinked. time froze. he'd never fully considered the implications of the three of you out in public together. but being the comment of you, him, and ella being a "little family" had his heart stopping in his chest.

"oh of course!" you spoke up and grabbed mat by the arm. the feel of your touch alone had him directing his attention to the physical contact.

he looked at you instead of the woman, watched as you mumbled to ella as you pulled all three of you out of the way. his brain went on overdrive.

god he never wanted you to let go of him ever again. he would give anything to just be able to hold onto you a little longer.

and he must've been thinking for too long because you were snapping your fingers in front of his face?

"mat? you okay? did i lose you there?" you had a cute pinch between your brows and a small frown on your face.

that wouldn't do.

so he smiled and nodded. "sorry, just thinking about something."

you.

exhibit c

you went out for the night with sydney while he hung out with tito and anders. initially, you said you'd look for a sitter to cover you, but mat laughed that suggestion off.

he didn't say it, but you were no longer a nanny to him anymore. and you deserved a night off without the stress of finding a replacement. anders and marty suggested a babysitter that he hired for the night immediately.

"are you sure you don't want me to wait until she gets here? i can help explain ella's routine!" you said.

mat rolled his eyes as he herded you towards the door. "i'll be fine, go have fun!"

you let him gently push you out of the door but turned around and looked at him. "if you need me, text me."

mat smiled. "if you need me, call me."

the babysitter arrived five minutes early which meant mat could spend that time kissing ella's cheeks and reiterating her schedule to the sitter.

he was the last person at the bar, anders and tito were already sitting in a booth, each with a beer in their hands, an extra one on the table for him (he assumed).

"didn't wanna leave ella?" anders asked.

tito scoffed. "more like he didn't wanna leave mama bear." mat rolled his eyes while anders cackled in response.

"shut up, beau."

"ah! but you didn't deny it!"

mat shook his head and took a seat in the leather booth. "what's there to deny? we're roommates and she watches ella all the time. we're friends."

tito made a noise in the back of his throat. "you and i are friends, barzy. you make goo goo eyes at her when you think no one is looking."

"no i don't."

anders piped in. "you nearly ran into me on the ice because you were staring at her wearing your jersey."

"no," he defended. "ella was making a really cute face!"

anders blinked at him before rolling his eyes. "sure, barzy."

mat grumbled under his breath and chugged half his beer.

two hours or so had passed with the three of them talking shit about other teams. anders had hinted at leaving, checking his phone just to make sure grace didn't text him. mat found himself doing the same thing to make sure the babysitter hadn't said anything, or maybe to see if you had.

tito didn't seem to give two shits about his phone. and why would he? he was the only one without kids.

they were in the middle of a conversation about the upcoming devils game when mat's phone started buzzing.

sydney martin.

mat picked up the phone, albeit a bit confused. "hello?"

"mat! hey!" sydney greeted. "are you busy?"

mat glanced at tito and anders whose brows were furrowed. "no, why what's up?" his swore his heart stopped in his chest when she said your name. "is she okay? what's wrong?"

"she's a little drunk and crying and asking for you. i don't know if you're sober enough--"

"i'm sober," he said. "only had one beer." he was already reaching for his keys in his pocket. "what's she crying about?"

sydney sighed through the phone. "we saw jason and her old roommate out at the bar tonight. he made a few comments."

mat's jaw clenched. he forced words out through his teeth. "what did he say?"

"mat--"

"no, if he said some shit, sydney, i need to know."

"no," she corrected. "what you need to do is get over here and take her home."

mat was already standing. "i'm on my way."

sydney hung up.

"everything okay?" anders asked.

"probably something to do with mama bear," tito commented.

mat sighed. "she ran into her piece of shit ex and is now inconsolable. i have to go pick her up."

anders snorted. "right. 'have to.'"

mat ignored the comment and said goodbye, already rushing out of the bar to get to you.

it was another ten minutes before he saw you, standing outside a bar with sydney. he could see your tears from the car.

mat jumped out and hurried towards you. sydney all but pushed you into his arms.

and it felt like the world made sense again. you fit perfectly in his arms, against his chest, head tucked into his neck.

"mat--" you sobbed. "i--i can't--"

he kissed the top of your head. "let's get you home, okay?"

exhibit d

ella was saying actual words now like most babies her age. mat used to look at anders, marty, and other parents a little judgmentally, he'll admit, because while babies learning to do things was incredibly cool, he didn't fully understand the hype.

until she said dada for the first time.

it damn near made him cry.

and like for all of her other milestones, you were there beside him with your phone recording the moment. you almost missed it, but you had a sixth sense for those things, figuring out when ella was going to do something incredible.

that was two weeks ago and it still never got old to hear her say his name when he came home or rounded the corner.

he'd been known as mathew, mat, barzy, barzal, gary, and a slew of other names, but dada had to be his favorite. to belong to someone who needed you so wholly was the best feeling in the world.

that and seeing you smile at him.

he'd accepted it now, there was no denying it, not after half the team was on his case about his feelings for you. and how could he not fall in love with you? you were gentle and kind and handled the shittiest situations with so much grace (he wasn't joking, he'd wanted to fight jason the second you came out of your old apartment looking like you'd seen a ghost).

you handled his friends with ease, never letting tito's teasing affect you. you handled the "mama bear" nickname with ease, even laughing at it at times.

you just made his world so much better just by existing in it.

which is why he gave you the day off while he and tito took ella around the city.

ella was fine for most of the day, though she kept glancing around.

"probably looking for mama bear," tito guessed. "i would be too if you were the one looking after me."

mat flipped him off behind ella's back. "i'm not an idiot."

"before you met mama bear, you kinda were."

he rolled his eyes. "sorry for not knowing how to take care of a baby as soon as i find out i have one. most people have nine months to prepare for the arrival of a child. ella literally showed up on my doorstep."

truth be told, he was parroting the words you'd said to him a week ago when the guilt settled in about how much of a shitty father he was. you were quick to correct him, saying the exact things he told tito, that for a man who found out he had a child only a few months ago, he was doing a great job, and he was even better than some other fathers who left the parenting to their partner.

"i'd never leave you hanging like that," he'd said to you.

but you shrugged off his comment. "it's a little different when it's my job to take care of your kid, mat."

"you've done a great job, barzy," beau said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "there's no doubt about it. you can tell because she loves you."

ella smiled at mat and pushed his cheeks together.

"what do you say we get back to mama bear, huh?" he asked his daughter who only seemed to smile wider at the mention your nickname.

it was another fifteen minutes before they were home, rowdy and disturbing the peace and quiet you'd created for yourself.

"we're back!" mat called as tito shut the front door behind him.

they were setting things down on the floor by the door when you walked out in sweats.

"mama bear!” tito cheered.

you smiled and mat couldn't breathe. "how was my baby?"

mat was embarrassed to say he almost answered for himself. "she was great," was what he said instead. "isn't that right, ella bean?"

ella was reaching for you, making grabby hands in your general direction babbling something he couldn't quite make out.

"what'd you say, baby?" you asked.

"mama," she said.

and the room went silent.

mat's eyes kept darting from ella to you like he was watching a game of olympic table tennis. ella kept reaching for you until you finally gave in and held her. it was then he saw the tears streaming down your cheeks.

mat immediately went into defense mode.

"i'm sorry, i promise i didn't teach her intentionally, she probably picked it up from us calling you mama bear all the time and--"

you shut him up by placing a small kiss on his cheek and squeezing his forearm before turning on your heel.

"let's take a nap, ella bean."

mat couldn't speak, not even when you left the room. tito clapped him on the shoulder before heading towards the kitchen.

"you're so gone for her."

exhibit e

"are you sure about this?" you called from the other room. mat was in the living room adjusting his tie in the mirror on the wall while the babysitter was playing with ella on the floor.

to be honest, when he was complaining to beau about not having a date to some charity event the islanders were hosting, he wasn't expecting beau to suggest you. though, given how beau kept winking and nudging him after every time you and mat so much as made eye contact, it shouldn't have been surprising.

it wasn't that he didn't think of asking you, it was more like he didn't think you'd actually say yes.

"sure about what?" he called back.

"bringing me."

"i've never been more sure about something in awhile."

"you're so dramatic," you laughed.

mat would give anything to bottle up the sound.

"does this look okay?' mat turned when your voice sounded closer than it was a second ago.

he couldn't breathe.

god you looked beautiful.

"oh," you said softly. "your tie matches my dress."

if he could've he would've looked down to confirm your observation, but he couldn't take his eyes off you. your hair was perfectly styled, your makeup, flawless. the navy of your dress was perfectly matched to his tie and pocket square, something that shouldn't matter as much to him as it did.

but it was you.

so it meant the world.

you looked like you were his.

"yeah," was all he could say.

"you never answered my question," you said. "do i look okay? because if it's too much--"

"perfect," he said. "you look perfect."

you smiled. "sydney picked it out." thank you sydney. "you look handsome too mat, though, your tie..." you gestured to his neck so he turned around to see it crooked still. "do you need help?"

"yes please," he sighed. "i've looked up videos, but tito usually helps me do it."

"aw," you cooed. "you looked it up? that's so cute!" your deft fingers began undoing the knot and redoing it way better than he could've.

"how are you so good at this?"

you shrugged. "when i was fourteen, i read a book where a girl tied her husband's tie and i wanted to be able to do the same for the love of my life one day. so i asked my dad to teach me. i'm a bit of a hopeless romantic."

the love of your life.

god he'd give anything to be loved by you.

and it would be so easy just to lean forward a couple of inches and kiss you.

right there.

give in to what he'd been feeling for months.

but the babysitter rounded the corner with ella who was chanting mama and dada which somehow ruined the mood and made him want to kiss you even more.

"be good, sweet girl. we'll see you tomorrow." you made your way to the front door while he kissed his daughter on the head.

"i'm not sure how long we'll be out, but i'll keep you updated," he told the babysitter.

the babysitter nodded, which to be honest, he barely noticed because his attention was back on you and how your dress, while it had sleeves, had a dip in the back. he didn't know that skin could be so alluring, but maybe it was the fact that it was you.

mat cleared his throat and bid the babysitter and ella goodbye before ushering the both of you out of the door.

the drive lasted longer than he wanted it to, mainly because he couldn't wait to get to the event just to show you off.

was this how he was supposed to feel with all of his other exes? the desire to show the world you were his?

"you okay? you're quiet, it's unlike you," you said.

mat shrugged, mainly so he didn't immediately profess his feelings. "just a lot on my mind."

"uh oh. that can't be good," you joked. you leaned over the console and placed your chin in your hand. "you wanna talk about it?"

mat's hands on the wheel tensed, mainly to keep himself from leaning over and kissing you immediately.

"i'm good, maybe we can discuss it later."

you shrugged. "if you say so."

the both of you arrived at the event shortly thereafter with mat passing his keys off to the valet. "stay seated," he told you before getting out and rounding the car to open your door.

"you didn't have to--"

"i know," he smiled. "i wanted to." mat offered you his arm and you took it, wrapping your hand around his bicep like it belonged there.

the two of you spotted marty and sydney first; the latter all but shrieked when she saw you.

"you look amazing!" she said before tugging you out of mat's arm and into her own. "i told you this dress was the one."

"you didn't say i would've matched mat," you mumbled, though he still heard it over the buzz in the room. he was always listening to you.

marty nudged him. "you seem pleased with yourself."

mat smiled. "i am."

you were laughing at something sydney said when tito came up and clapped him and marty on the shoulders. "let's get you a drink, barzy. you look thirsty." he leaned in. "in more than one way."

mat shoved him off and leaned towards you, gently touching your arm. "i'm going with beau and marty to get a drink, but i'll be back."

you smiled and nodded. "okay, don't worry about me, mat. i'll be fine in your absence."

he let himself be whisked away from you and towards the bar where a drink was placed in his hand pretty quickly.

"so," tito started. "you two match."

"it was syd's doing," marty explained. "she orchestrated the whole thing. picked out the dress based on the tie mat wears every year. it was her new project."

mat flushed but did his best to brush it off.

"i don't know how you did it barzy," tito continued. "she looks good. if i were you i would've--"

"watch it, beauvillier."

"i was gonna say--"

"i don't care what you were gonna say, i probably wouldn't have liked it."

"well then, maybe you should take a chance and ask her out finally. the pining was cute at first, now it's bordering on pathetic."

mat rolled his eyes while marty laughed into his drink.

"look, you have a good thing going, you brought her here as your date, ella calls her mama, you two are as good as locked in and committed. you just have to do the hard work of officially asking her out!"

his gaze travelled to the other side of the room where you were laughing along with sydney and grace. you looked like you belonged in his world.

effortlessly.

mat made a move to go over to you, but marty caught his arm. "this is not the place to ask her out," he said. "as much as you want to, you don't want her thinking it took a pretty dress to get you to take her out."

"that's not the case here--"

"does she know that?"

mat rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink.

it was another thirty minutes before he made his way back to you. he found you standing alone on the balcony with a glass of champagne in your hand.

"you okay?" he asked. "no one's bothering you or anything, right?"

you looked over your shoulder and snorted. "i'm not important enough to be bothered by the donors, mat."

"don't say that. you're important."

you rolled your eyes. "not what i meant, mathew."

god he loved it when you said his name.

"i just meant that the donors don't really pay attention to me, so i've just been hanging out with the wives all night since my date ditched me," you teased.

"okay to be fair, tito pulled me away, i would've stayed with you all night if i could've."

you blinked. "really?" you asked in a small voice.

he nodded until he found the words to speak. "i love spending time with you. you're one of my favorite people."

within a split second you were closing the distance between the two of you and wrapping your arms around his waist. your arms snuck under his coat so that the only thing separating your skin from his was the thin material of his dress shirt.

it only took him a split second to react to the hug and wrap you in his arms.

you mumbled against his chest. "you're one of my favorite people, too."

in conclusion:

in the end, there was nothing special about that day. it was a saturday in the middle of july back in coquitlam. by the grace of god, he'd convinced you to come to canada for him, not that you could really refuse as he was the one signing your paychecks, you'd joked (though he made it clear he'd continue paying you even if you didn't go).

and maybe he regretted it a little bit, seeing you bond with his family was another nail in his coffin of falling deeper in love with you. there was no way out now, not that he'd ever want one.

it was one particularly hot day in the summer that mat dragged you and the rest of his family to the beach. and maybe that was a mistake (seeing you in a red bikini in public should be illegal).

you sat in the sand with ella building castles, or at least attempting to, while he tried to drown liana in the water. it wasn't until liana finally dunked him, that he trudged back to shore, bent out of shape and irritated.

"you can dish it out but can't take it?" you teased as he plopped onto the sand next to you.

mat glared instead of saying anything mainly because ella was starting to pick up more and more words and she'd say "fuck" too many times thanks to his mouth.

speaking of, when she saw her dad, ella immediately called him before throwing herself into his lap, completely forgetting about you. it was funny to see mainly because it was a new trend of ella's, ditching you for him. it was even funnier because how put out you'd be about it.

just like now with your lip poked out and your eyes rolling.

"oh don't be a sore loser," mat said. "she used to love you more than me."

"well that makes sense, i'm way more likable than you are."

"i can't argue that."

liana came running into their direct line of sight with a polaroid camera in her hand. "i wanna get a picture of the happy family," she said as her explanation. "say cheese!"

mat froze but you didn't bat an eyelash at the idea of being called family. sure, he'd considered you a part of his ever since you agreed to watch his child, but he didn't know you felt the same.

"smile, mathew," you nudged him in the ribs.

he turned his head towards you, ignoring his sister's groans and chirps. he ignored the sound of a camera clicking and the subsequent flash that followed.

his focus was on you.

"mat, what're you looking at?" you asked. he could vaguely register liana walking away as your eyes searched his face for any hint of what could be going on, but all he could think about was you.

you wearing his jersey and holding ella at the stanley cup finals.

you in a few years with a ring on your left hand that he put there.

you with a newborn baby that was the perfect mix of the both of you.

you, old and crinkly, holding his hand on the couch as you told your grandkids stories.

you.

before he could even stop himself, he leaned forward and captured your lips with his.

you responded not a beat later.

and maybe it was embarrassing, how eager he was or how his hand felt like the perfect fit against your cheek. but he couldn't give a shit.

not when he'd waited so long for something like this. for someone like this.

and when you both pulled away, much too soon in his opinion, your eyes were wide.

"why'd you do that?" you whispered.

he shrugged and adjusted ella in his arms. "because my life is better with you in it. because i love you." he cleared his throat. "why'd you kiss me back?"

you smiled and leaned into kiss him again. this time though, instead of pulling fully away, you stayed close so that your lips brushed his. "because i love you too."

#mat barzal #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #tatgylb #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal x reader #my writing

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simphornies · 4 months

Note

I saw you drop a request in my askbox and bsksksjakdhkshd I love it- so imma drop an idea in yours too and what you do with it is up to you lolol

So what about Vox and a drunk fem!reader? Like they were kinda just chilling but Reader has one stupidly large crush on the TV man but is too shy to say anything- but it all comes out on a drunken spiel at some point?

Anyway have funnnn :D

A/N: SORRY FOR BEING INACTIVE. I got burnt out </3 But I hope you guys enjoy!

Word count: 1.2k (1,258) Contents: no mention of y/n, alcohol consumption, valentino being valentino

Drunk Confession [ Vox x F!Reader ]

After an extremely productive day, Vox decided to take out the employees that went above and beyond for their quotas, per your request. It took a lot of begging to convince the Vees to come along but Velvette denied, saying she didn’t want to hang around “lower class” demons. Vox agreed after you begged and pleaded repeatedly. Mainly just to get you to stop talking.

Everyone met up at the “Consent” club Valentino suggested. You show up, excited to have a day off and hang out with Val and Vox. One thing led to another and you got caught up in a drinking game with the employees. Vox watched you down shots after shots. Fifteen shots in and you were drunk out of your mind. You became a giggling, flushed, and drunken mess. You stumble over to Vox, draping your arm lazily over his shoulder.

“Hey, Vox!” Your words slurred as you spoke, a strong smell of alcohol emanating off of you. You give him a wide smile, “I’m so glad you came tonight. Made me really happy.”

Vox let out a chuckle, “I think you’re done for the night.” He says, glancing at his watch, “Let me take you home.”

You whined and pouted, “I don’t wanna.” As you tried to get up off of him, you stumbled over your own foot and fell. Vox caught you in time before you hit the ground and hurt yourself, shaking his head.

“Yeah, you’re definitely done.” He puts your arm around his neck and supports you. He turns to look at Valentino, “I’m gonna take her home. We’re done for tonight.”

Valentino smirked at Vox, “Don’t have too much fun, Voxy~” He teased.

Vox scowled in response, “Shut the fuck up. It’s not like that.”

Valentino laughs, “I’m just saying! But! if you do anything else…Record it for me.”

He grimaced at the comment. Who knows what Valentino would do with footage of you and him sleeping together? He stopped his own thoughts before he started to imagine it. “Gross! No.” Vox scoffed and walked out with you to his car. You were laughing at anything and everything throughout the whole car ride, pointing at every little light that interested you. Vox quietly admired this different side of you. You were always shy and professional around him, but this was new to him. He’d never seen you so open. He honestly liked it better than the front you’d put up at work.

You reach for the doorknob and miss it multiple times. “I can’t fuckin’ open it.” You whined, “Stupid door…Vox can ya open it f’me, please?” He sighed at your question and opened the door to which you wobbled over to your couch, nearly missing and landing on the floor. “Thankssss~” You look at him as he stands in your doorway. His arms were crossed and he was watching you with interest in his eyes.

Vox hasn’t seen you this wasted before, honestly it was entertaining to him. Usually you’d have a little bit of your wits but you just laid on your couch, giggling uncontrollably at him. He didn’t know if you would be okay to be left alone right now so he, reluctantly, shut your front door behind him.

“Why are you so giggly, right now?” He said as he walked towards you, joining you on the couch. You took this opportunity to stretch enough for you to have your head on his lap.

Your giggles didn’t cease unless you needed to catch your breath. You reach up and touch his screen, tracing the borders of his face with your fingers. “Because you’re sooooo cute~” You answered, “I looove being around ya all the time.”

He rolled his eyes, pulling your hands off of his face. He brushed away your compliments, writing them off as drunk talk. “You need to go drink some, I don’t know, water or something. And go to bed.”

You pout and whine, “I meannn it! I love workin’ with youuu.” You poked his screen.

“Yeah? But don’t you complain about work, which includes me, all the time?” He replied, crossing his arms. He didn’t want to admit to you that he liked your company and your help. Probably because you weren’t going to remember it anyways.

“Pfff-” You scoffed, “Youuuu…are what I look forward to~ I like you.”

Vox stared at you in silence. He heard what you said but he didn’t know if you were being honest or just drunk. His fans kicked up and his screen started to warm up. “W-Well…” He cleared his throat, attempting to stop himself from stuttering due to the curveball you just threw at him, “I like you too. You’re a good employee, you’re perfect in your work and hardly make any mistakes.”

You laughed at him, “Silly TV demon man~” You placed your hand on his screen, “I like like you~” As soon as you confessed, he warmed up even more under your touch. You giggled at this, “You’re hot.”

Vox became a flustered mess. You were just shooting curveballs at him at this point. He fiddled with his collar in an attempt to cool himself down before he crashed. He enjoyed your company and grew to like you over time. He didn’t really understand his own feelings until Velvette had to tell him, calling him oblivious for not realizing and an idiot for not understanding his own feelings. He managed to compose himself the best he could but his voice cracked as he spoke, “You need to go to bed.”

Your smile faded into a pout. You squint at him and cross your arms, “No! I dun’ wanna.”

“I’m not asking you to go to bed, you’re going to go to bed. You’re drunk.”

You sit up and scoff, waving your hand as if you were swatting his ridiculous statement away. “Who’s drunk?” You get up, walk around the couch just to end up on the floor.

He got up to look at where you fell, “You. Come on, let’s go.” He walked over to you, laughing a bit as you whined, lifting you up into his arms to take you to your room. He sets you down and begins to take your shoes and jewelry off. “You’re not doing any more drinking games after this.” He tucked you in but you were fighting the sleep that slowly crept up on you.

“I’m not even tired.” You say just to be proven wrong by your own body as a yawn comes after your statement.

“You worked and drank enough. Go to bed and get some rest. You deserve it.” His voice was softer this time. He shifts to leave but you grab him by his sleeve.

“Stay until I fall asleep?” You asked. He was internally screaming and malfunctioning but you were too drunk to notice. He simply nods and sits on the bed next to you, holding your hand until you eventually dozed off. He gives your knuckles a gentle kiss and smiles.

“Sleep well.” He leaves a bottle of water and some medicine in case you get a hangover the next day on your bedside table.

You wake up the next day to a single text from Vox.

VOX: We need to talk about last night. Meet me in the security room when you’re not hungover

You suddenly don’t feel your pounding headache as soon as the words register in your mind. You don’t remember anything after your 6th shot.

Me: what happened? VOX: :)

“I’m never fucking drinking ever again.”

Taglist: @froggybich @baizzhu @dickmastersworld @matrixbearer2024

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #vox hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox

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crackedpumpkin · 1 year

Text

|| ʙʟᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀɴᴠᴀꜱ || ᴘᴛ. ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ||

a/n: Hello loves! So sorry I kept y'all waiting for part three, I hope you enjoy this! Just wanted to let y'all know that I'll be flying off to South Korea for a vacation, and will only be back on the 22nd of June so updates will be paused till then. I'll try to continue writing on my trip, but there are no guarantees I won't be too tired lolol. Love, pumpkin.

[ ��𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

Blackmail — The act of attempting to force someone to do something or give up something valuable by threatening negative consequences if they don’t, especially revealing negative information about them.

That's what the online dictionary says anyway, which is perfect!

As such, it wouldn't be blackmail as much as it would be....persuasive negotiation. Which is the exact opposite of blackmail, which, again, is perfect!

Yeah, you’re getting nowhere with this.

You stifle a defeated groan as you collapse onto the plush mattress of your bed, dragging your hands down your face. Your phone beeps with a message, startling you out of your thoughts.

Nicole [ 7.15 PM ]: Did you find what you were looking for?

Nicole [ 7.15 PM ]: ?

Nicole [ 7.30 PM ]: Update me tomorrow.

Right. Nicole. Your hand falls limply to the side, fingers loosely gripping the device.

Crap.

How would you explain it to her? She’s always been good at sniffing out your lies. To tell, or not to tell. That is the question. Maybe you should just pretend nothing happened. That’d be the only reasonable thing to do in this situation, right?

But your art is at risk here. And if it’s anything you’ve learnt over your many years of living, it’s that you’re a stubborn bull that can’t back down once you’re set on something. And right now, you’re set on getting Spiderman to be your model.

You might get your mojo back if you draw him enough times. Maybe your art block won’t be so constipated anymore, and perhaps you might even get into the art school you have your eye on.

And maybe, just maybe, you might catch the eye of the art scouts at the end-of-year exhibition.

So there’s no way you can afford to give this up.

You’ll convince him. You have to.

— — — — —

“So, why’d you ignore my messages yesterday?”

You flinch away from the sudden hand on your shoulder, fingers decorated with rings glinting in the sun. Michael winces from where he’s standing opposite you, taking a long, slow sip of his juice box.

You stammer out Nicole’s name in surprise, the girl in question looking at you with a raised brow and serious eyes. She scans your nervous smile and flushed cheeks, letting go of you with a nod.

“You met him. How was it?”

Damn it.

“I didn’t end up meeting him,” You say with a defeated sigh, hoping it’s not excessive. Being under Nicole’s observant gaze is one of the scariest experiences in the world, with pigeons in close proximity a close second.

“Okay,” Her dubious tone gives you a slight sense of hope, only for your heart to drop at her next question. “So, why’d you ask me for Miles’s photo?”

“I, uh, ran into him and thought he looked familiar. So, I asked for his picture to double check,” You admit, hoping the truth mixed into some lies would be enough to convince her.

“Right…What’s your impression of him, then?”

“Cute?” You blurt out without thinking, recalling the framed picture of his young self with his parents on the small table.

“You think he’s cute?”

“M-maybe?” You try, but it clicks once you see the disgust in her eyes. “Yes! I do, in fact, find him very attractive. One might even say that he is now my…crush?”

You pray she doesn’t notice the underlying wince in your words. Nicole shudders, taking a small step away from you. “You need to get your eyes checked or something. I’ve known the guy since we were in diapers, and trust me when I say that he’s nothing but trouble.”

“I won’t do anything, I promise. Besides, I’m sure the crush is just temporary. It’ll blow over before you even know it!” Mainly because you don’t have a crush on the guy in the first place. But you do need to figure out a way to trap him to persuade him into being your model.

“Wait, you met Miles?”

“Why’re you glossing over the fact that she likes him?” Nicole says incredulously, gesturing to you with wide eyes. It’s probably the most expressive you’ve ever seen her, save for the time you invited them to go cafe hopping with you on a sweltering Monday.

You’d never heard so many variations of curses before, all of which Nicole unintentionally introduced you to. Since then, you’ve learnt to only hang out on cooler days with better weather and cafes within walking distance.

“So?” Michael shrugs nonchalantly, but the amused smile on his lips suggests otherwise. “Why are you so affected?”

“Because it’s my best friend liking Miles Morales - the guy I’ve known since we were babies. He’s not good enough for her.” Nicole decides with a frown. You turn to her, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes as you place your hands on your heart.

“I’m your best friend?” Nicole rolls her eyes at your words, crossing her arms. “You can drop from that tier anytime, so you better watch out.” She replies simply with a halfhearted glare, but her words have no bite to them. Her ears are tinted red.

“Aww,” You coo, throwing your arms around the girl who baulks in surprise, almost falling to the ground had you not steadied both of you. She wriggles under your tight hug, giving up quickly with a groan.

“Let me get in on that, chicas-” Michael is cut off when you kick his ankle, biting back a pained cry while you continue to hug Nicole, who has a satisfied smirk at your action. “Good job.” She pats your arm, and you reluctantly let go, dramatically wiping the tears away.

At least you succeeded in distracting her.

The rest of the day practically flies by, your body on autopilot and going through the motions of taking out your textbooks and doodling on them. Math, Science, and History were all meaningless in your eyes as you tried to make another plan to meet him. The past three attempts had shown you exactly how difficult it was to meet with the hero, much less alone.

You’re not one to give up, though. You stare down at the piece of paper filled with doodles and scribbled words — an outline of a plan, circling Spiderman’s name in red.

Okay, let’s try this again.

Attempt #1: Meet Him At The Park - The Friendly Way.

You take a tentative glance around. Good, No dogs are in sight. You look over to the park's far end, where you had set up a sign saying that dog treats were being given out for free if they assembled there.

Sometimes, lying is an essential means of survival. Another quick scan of your surroundings confirms that no one is in the path of the taco truck, and feeling only slightly guilty when you spot the owner’s surprised expression, wondering why his usual customers aren’t present.

However, you try not to linger on that, choosing to double-check if everything you need is on you.

Phone? Check. Earbuds? Check. Wallet? Check. Spiderman?

You grin once you spot the masked hero landing in front of the taco truck, right on schedule.

Check.

Standing up, you slowly make your way over, giving him time to place his order. Every step is light, your heart oddly calm as you approach him. Yeah. You got this. It’s just getting him to agree that’s the hard part.

Okay. You got this. Play it cool.

Walking up to the taco truck, you clear your throat, propping your elbow onto the small metal platform near the baskets of condiments. You casually glance at him, scanning his suit from head to toe before meeting his eyes.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies slowly with a slight tilt of his head, surprised by your sudden presence. He taps his fingers against the cold metal of the taco truck in a steady rhythm. You take a slow breath. You can take your time. It’s just a boy under the mask, after all.

“So, how’s being Spiderman going?” You ask absentmindedly, looking down at your nails and only now noticing that you’re in desperate need of a manicure.

“It’s going good. And you?”

“Could be better.”

“That doesn’t sound good. Is it anything your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman can help with?” His words are filled with worry, now giving you his full attention.

Got him.

“Well…” You trail off, barely managing to hide the excitement in your eyes and voice. Now’s the time to approach him carefully. If you’re careless, you could lose one of the few opportunities to get him to be your muse.

“Uh-huh?” He grabs the paper bag of tacos the owner hands him, handing him a crumpled bill from a hidden pocket in his suit with a quick nod of thanks in one smooth movement. However, he hears a slight commotion a short distance away, eyes narrowing as he tries to determine the source.

“I’m an art student, and I need a muse,” You continue, encouraged by his questioning hum and failing to notice the way his gaze is focused on something happening behind you. “So I was thinking-”

“Right, uh, miss. You seem like an absolutely wonderful lady. I’m so sorry, but we’ll have to continue this conversation another day. Duty’s kinda calling right now. I’ll pass by the basketball court tomorrow, and you can ask me your question there?” You can’t tell if he’s smiling, grinning, or even scowling under the mask. But it didn’t exactly sound hostile, so that’s that you suppose.

“Meet me at the sub shop on Fifth Avenue, two lefts after the huge statue and a right at the Lego store. Two-thirty P.M.,” You reply immediately. Why Mr Perez’s shop, in particular, you didn’t know. But you’re not about to chase after his ass again after the last few times. Not a chance in hell.

He agrees with a quick but apologetic nod, already swinging off with his paper bag of tacos and heading toward the angry horde of dog parents around the sign you placed earlier. You watch him land before them, trying to calm the group down.

Well, at least you got an appointment with him tomorrow. The problem now is how to make sure he accepts. Plus, him constantly running off isn’t the most ideal scenario in your situation.

So, you have to make sure he stays put.

You walk off, heading to the sub shop with the beginnings of an idea. (While simultaneously forgetting about the horde of dog parents who’re growing increasingly angrier from the absence of promised dog treats).

— — — — —

“Mr Perez, nice shirt! Did you separate the whites from the colours? It looks so clean!” You greet as soon as you walk in, taking a deep breath and smiling at the scent of pickle brine. The store is relatively empty, the last customer leaving through the door just as you walked in.

The store owner walks to the glass door, flipping the sign around to read Closed. He sends you a wary glance, walking back behind the counter to start cleaning up while you lean against the glass display case.

“What do you want?”

“Who said I wanted anything?”

“You only compliment my laundry when you want something.” It’s true. You do tend to do that. You suppose it’s time to be rid of the habit. But not today, for you have much more important goals to pursue.

“Okay. I need to borrow the storeroom for, like, a couple of hours tomorrow afternoon. No disturbances, complete privacy. Not even Didi is allowed in.” You get straight to the point, not bothering to beat around the bush.

“...Are you doing drugs?”

“That’s gross. And unsanitary. If I were doing drugs, I’d do it in the Science lab at school.” You point out, scrunching your nose in disgust.

“Are you smoking? Vaping?”

“No, and no. C’mon, Mr Perez, I thought you knew me better than that!” You huff, though you know that he’s just joking from the amused twinkle in his eyes.

“Fine. Just give me the signal. Besides, Didi’s at preschool tomorrow till five.” He says simply, wiping down his workstation with a clean cloth.

“Really? No takebacks!” You say with an exaggerated gasp, not expecting him to actually agree. The bright smile on your face makes him chuckle, shaking his head fondly as he washes up the kitchen knives in the sink.

“What time will you be coming?”

“Two-thirty. Remember, you promised no questions asked!” You call out over your shoulder as you exit while raising your hand in a quick salute. You saunter on home with your hands in your pockets, chest swelling with pride that you got a guaranteed meeting with the very boy you’ve been trying to convince to be your muse.

You’ve definitely got this.

— — — — —

Attempt #2: Kidnap Meet Him At The Sub Store - The Friendly Way.

Two-fifteen P.M.

You glance over at the IKEA clock hanging from the wall opposite you in the storeroom, tying the string securely around the metal shelf. Taking a step back, you survey the setup, scanning it for flaws in your otherwise perfect plan.

You arrange the chair to sit behind a wobbly table that’s about to break any day now due to countless playtimes with Didi’s mischievous ideas. (And maybe some of your own, but Mr Perez doesn’t need to know that.)

The bright light in the slightly cramped storeroom only adds to the ambience (of what, you don’t really know yourself). The punching bag hanging in the corner of the room is definitely no cause for concern. Maybe he’d think that you’re really into exercise. All that’s left is for Spiderman to get caught in your perfect trap. You’re pretty sure he won’t get hurt in the process.

The only thing left now is to wait. You head out into the front of the store, waving Spiderman over as soon as you see him enter. He follows with a skip in his step, only to slow down when you guide him into the storeroom.

“Uh…This is new, even for me.” He comments, looking around at the stacked boxes and metal shelves, unsure of what to make of this sudden change in vibe. You gesture at the chair, closing the door behind you.

“Sorry, I just needed a place away from prying eyes.” You sigh, discreetly watching him take a seat. He does so without hesitation, and you immediately grab the end of the string that’s hooked onto the metal shelf, using all of your strength (and the help of a pulley) to yank it.

Spiderman yelps, dangling from the ceiling by a tightly secured string around his ankle. “What the-? You said you needed help!”

“And I do!” You reply, a tinge of desperation in your words. “Just…just hang on.” You breathe out, taking the frying pan on the shelf next to you after securing the string and leaving him dangling still. You approach him, Spiderman failing to notice, too preoccupied with trying to escape.

“Michael better be right about this,” You mumble under your breath, taking a quick swing and hitting the spot on his head that Michael promised would knock anyone out instantly. Spiderman’s eyes close, his cry of protest cut off as his hands fall limply to his sides.

“Oh.” You stare down at him, squatting down and reaching your hand out to gently massage the spot where you hit him with a guilty smile. You hadn’t expected it to actually work. “Sorry, Morales. My goals aren’t to harm you, promise.”

Standing back up with a wince, you can feel the joints in your body popping from the sudden stretch. You never really bothered with exercise, categorizing your sketching and painting as such.

You huff, grabbing his arms and pulling him across the room after untying him from the string around his ankle. “But one of them might be to start working out,” You say through gritted teeth, finally reaching the punching bag. You take a deep breath, doing your best to pick him up and hold him against it while you tie him up.

“No-” Your muffled cry is cut short when your arms give out, and you fall onto your back with the unconscious hero lying on top of you. You groan, pushing him off you, eyeing the punching bag with distaste.

Another repeated attempt ends in the same result, and your back starts to ache from the impact of the hard surface against your back. You see him starting to stir, your eyes widening in panic, instinctively grabbing the frying pan and hitting him again. He falls back to the floor with a hushed groan while you breathe a sigh of relief.

You stand back up, eyeing the punching bag, before an idea hits you.

Finally, you sit in the chair in front of the punching bag, taking out your sketchbook from the bag you'd placed on one of the shelves this afternoon and beginning to sketch him leisurely. You spot him slowly blinking, regaining his consciousness as he realises that he’s tied up.

"So..." You drawl, leaning back in your seat with a lazy grin. The city's local hero, Spiderman, dangles upside down in your trap. You actually did it. You got him to stay put.

He struggles to get free from the tightly bound ropes, almost tugging off his mask in the process before giving up seconds after. “Not again…” You hear him groan in defeat, looking back up at you with a deadpan stare.

"I have to admit, I love the new suit." You comment, grabbing a pencil and doing a quick sketch, ignoring his earlier words.

"What do you want from me?"

You pause, looking up from your sketchbook. "You sound pretty young to be a hero." You purse your lips, trying to guess his age.

"W-what? No, I don't." His voice turns gruff, and you chuckle from how obvious he was forcing it to be.

"I don't really want much. Just to draw you is all." You hum, flipping a page and letting pencil meet paper.

"What?"

You don't respond, eyes trained on sketching the dimensions of his midnight black suit. "I like the spray paint."

"Thanks," He's surprised by your comment, hands still furiously working to free himself.

"Aren't you a villain?" He questions, unable to hold back his curiosity. You weren't really doing anything to him either, not like the muggers or robbers that roam the streets at night.

You were just... drawing him.

"I just thought the suit was cool." You respond simply with a shrug, looking straight at the white material on his mask that hides his eyes.

He flinches, surprised by the sudden eye contact. "And you trapped me because...?"

"I wanted to draw it."

"You could've just asked."

"I tried. You weren't really paying attention, or you weren’t available. Hero duties and all, remember? "

Now that you mentioned it, the hero does remember you from the mugging and the excuses he’d made, shrugging sheepishly in response.

"Oh. My bad."

The corner of your lips tugs upwards into a slight smile. At least he has the common decency to admit it.

"Could you untie me, though? It's getting a little uncomfortable." He voices out, fingers still trying to wriggle free.

"Sure, but I'll need something in exchange."

He sighs. Of course, you did. People always wanted something from him as Spiderman, be it a photo or to gain clout.

"What is it?" He's wary now.

You grin, hands closing the sketchbook with a loud snap as you place your pencil on your chair, getting up.

"That's easy," You walk towards him with ease, eyes filled with certainty. You're inches away from his upside-down figure, leaning in slightly until your lips are next to where his ear would be under the mask.

"Be my model, Miles Morales.”

He stills at the mention of his name. “Wh-what? I don’t know who this Miles guy is, but I’m obviously not him.” He laughs nervously, shaking his head.

You can practically see the waves of panic flooding through his mind. “You just changed the pitch of your voice,” You point out casually instead, leaning back against the wall with a smirk, your hands in your pockets.

“I’m telling you, I’m not this Miles guy you think I am. Though I’m very sure he may be cool enough to be Spiderman, I am not him.” He almost trips over his words, flinching when you move your hand close to his mask.

“Then I guess you won’t mind if I take this off?” You hum, spotting him trying to use his electric powers to break free. “Don’t bother. The strings are made out of insulated material.”

He flinches away from your fingers brushing against the side of his face, his eyes meeting yours and knowing he’s already lost this battle. “Fine.” He surrenders, his eyes narrowed into a hostile glare directed at you.

“Don’t be like that,” You chide, sitting cross-legged in front of him with a disapproving shake of your head. “Besides, I’m just here to make a deal with you.”

“Is this about the model thing?”

“Yeap,” You confirm, popping the ‘p’. “Here’s all I’m asking. Let me meet up with you twice a week. I’ll even pay you ten bucks per session. All you gotta do is sit there.” The intensity of his glare lessens somewhat, though you can still sense his wariness. Makes sense, though, considering you’ve just essentially ensured he can’t say no. Besides, your terms and conditions aren’t half bad either.

You wait patiently for his response, giving him time to mull over it.

“Deal. Now let me go.”

“Uh-uh, not just yet,” You tut, moving over to your bag, grabbing the makeshift contract you drafted last night, and showing it to him with a triumphant grin. “I even added two different lines for both of your signatures. Spiderman’s and Miles Morales.”

He rolls his eyes, and you take that as a good sign, cutting him loose. He falls gracefully to the floor, landing in a perfect superhero pose. You applaud, giving yourself a mental pat on the back for staying calm throughout the entire exchange. He takes the pen you hand to him, scrawling his name on the dotted line. You smile widely and keep the contract back in your bag, practically on cloud nine with this accomplishment.

Unfortunately, the euphoria makes you forget you’re still in a cramped storeroom.

Wincing when your elbow knocks against a loosely stacked box, you and Spiderman watch it slowly topple on its side, landing on the floor with a loud bang before looking at each other with wide eyes.

Okay, so maybe you don’t got this as much as you thought.

You freeze when the door opens, looking behind you to see Mr Perez with his hand on the doorknob. His eyes flit from you to Spiderman, his gaze settling on the open box on the ground with vegetables spilling out of it before looking back at you with furrowed brows.

As soon as your eyes meet, you smile sheepishly.

“I’ll babysit on Friday.”

— — — — — — —

taglist: (definitely not because I forgot I said I'd tag people lol)

@oh-kurva @brunnetteiwik @queerponcho @sleepingnova @1theestallionyas

#spiderman: into the spiderverse #Into The Spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #into the spiderverse x reader #spiderman: into the spiderverse x reader

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gg-neptune · 14 days

Text

Sev When Your Insecure

Title Says everything. Just how I imagine Severus Snape acts when his SO is insecure and doesn't think they are enough for him and low-key hates themselves (not projecting)

My Man My Man My Man My Man My Man My Man My Man Pls excuse spelling and grammar I checked for it, but I am currently losing my eyesight lolol. ( ͡o ͜ʖ ͡o)

Anyways hope you guys love it <33333 Feedback appreciated as always!

does not understand

like actually

he thinks he is hideous anyways and then here you are thinking you are not good enough or that you are not beautiful enough for him

especially the for him part

he sees you in your daily life every day and not once has the thought "ugly" ever crossed his mind

he thinks everything about you is perfect and he simply does not care what anyone thinks

and that includes you

it's not like he goes for looks primarily

he cares more about the fact if there is a genuine connection and if he loves them and if they love him

however, he does think you are the most beautiful person to ever grace the planet

you think your ugly?

that simply cannot be

he will spend hours upon hours praising and worshiping you and your body

days even until he is convinced you see what he sees

he will also try to find the root of all of this

maybe it was deep rooted trauma you haven't yet healed from completely, maybe you were just left alone with your thoughts and a mirror for too long, or maybe some asshole had the audacity to comment on your appearance

he will do his best to help with all of this regardless the situation

he will reassure you however many ties you need and when you deny you are not, he will argue with you as many times as he has to until you give

and he will do it without complaint or annoyance, because he knows what he has needed all these years

he'll press gentle kisses to your body focusing on certain parts of your body you might not like specifically

whispering gentle praise in between them

and if anyone has the nerve to call you ugly Infront of him or he hears you say someone did

that person is going to have a very scary 6'2 man on their front doorstep who "just wants to talk"

he knows what being insecure feels like and he hates the fact that you also feel that way

he's always there for you and your always enough for him

and after this he is always going to make sure you know that

always

#pro snape #severus snape #pro severus #professor snape #pro severus snape #snape fandom #snape #snape fluff #snape x reader #snape x reader fluff #severus snape headcanons #snape cute #overprotective snape #severus #snapedom

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rayroseu · 8 months

Text

HELP DEUCE JUST GOT FRENCHIFIED 🤣🤣🤣🤣 I really love the unique dynamics from this event lol

🥲🥲🥲 This made me sob... No one really can understand them like they do with each other... 😭😭

Outsiders like Azul and Idia thinks theyre just overreacting but considering how Malleus, Silver and Sebek ONLY has each other as they grew up...

(Malleus and Silver being isolated because of their status and obviously Sebek wasnt that accepted by his own grandpa either...)

So Of course any type of peril happening between them —no matter how trivial— would cause them all to immediately worry😭✨ I love it I love how they always try to care for each other at all times.😭😭💖💖

Yuu and Grim can relate XD

No but seriously the gargoyle and Malleus meeting reminds me of Yuu and Malleus meeting lolol 🥺💞💕💞Maybe I'm just reaching.... 😂😂

but I remember a long comment that Malleus most especially notices with us because were similar to a gargoyle— avoided because we're strange and our efforts and "function"(as prefect) are barely recognized.

It also doesnt help that the gargoyle's language sounds like Grim lol 😂 Gargoyle says he lives for eons now and that he never left the tower bcs he's a stone.... so why he speaks such a modern form of language??😂😂 He's using more slang than Malleus who's trying to learn to socialize.... 😂

Ohhh this part made me sad as well because We know in SSR Rollo's vignette that he was hating the gargoyles as he cleans them 😭😭😭😭

I want this text pasted on my study incase I'm guving up on the grind lolol

AAAAAAAHHHHHH HE SAID IT HE SAID IT‼️‼️‼️‼️ THE LINE WHERE THE GARGOYLES WAS ENCOURAGING QUASIMODO TO SAVE ESMERALDA BUT QUASIMODO WAS CONVINCED SHE DOESNT NEED HIM AJDJAJD 😭😭😭😭‼️‼️‼️

On another note, I think the gargoyle DOES REMIND me of Lilia because of these last lines .....🥲🥲🥲🥲

"He runs on little magic so losing a little power is fatal for him" Lilia running out of magic 😭😭😭

"He was worried about him till the very end even though Hes the one responsible" I CANT KNOWING THAT LILIA *WILL* CONFRONT MALLEUS ABOUT HIS OVERBLOT...😭😭

I hope he'll be the one to understand him 🥲🥲💞💞💞

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twistedwonderland #malleus draconia #disney twst #twisted wonderland glorious masquerade #glorious masquerade #lian notes #twst deuce #deuce spade #rook hunt #idia shroud #azul ashengrotto #twst silver #sebek zigvolt #twst event #twst en #twst malleus

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saey707 · 8 months

Note

*heavy breathing* pls, feed my thirst with a little heartsteel kayn pls I need him -I-I need to read some yandere heartsteel kayn *coughs* I can't breath I need him to be angry at me for his own feelings omg omg I need it I need the water

✿ Prompt: Kayn is a toxic boyfriend ✿

♡ champion focus: kayn ♡ tw: npd, yandere ♡ Gender-neutral reader

Author's Note: Your request made me laugh so hard that I had to respond as soon as possible LOLOL ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა I'm always down for writing toxic yandere boys! So let's get into Kayn ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ Enjoy!

Most days, you couldn't help but feel like you were trapped in a relationship with Kayn. Yes, you loved him, hell you even accepted him the way he was... But really, that was only because you feared what he could if you did try to speak up.

The warning signs were always there- People constantly reminding you... no, warning you that Kayn was toxic. But, you chose to ignore them. You wanted to believe there was some degree of good inside of Kayn. You wanted to love him like no one did before. You tried to convince yourself that you could even change him!

However, seeing Kayn in all his selfish, narcissistic colors made you realize far too late that you were stuck with him... and Kayn loved the power he had over you.

He loved having control over your shared relationship and felt like he could do as he pleased whenever he pleased. Time and time again Kayn would exercise unscrupulous control and influence over you. And you let him.

The control issues Kayn harbored at the beginning of your relationship were small. So much so, that you believed he was just obsessive-compulsive. He spoke devilish whispers that persuaded you to do things you would never do. He had you wrapped around his finger. He had you in his possession. His trap.

And as the devil's web unwound, it was only a matter of time before he was only just beginning to control every aspect of your life, from deciding what you wore out to events together to who you spoke to.

"I saw Aphelios looking at you the other day. You shouldn't trust him. You never know what the intentions of the quiet ones are..."

"I heard what Yone said to you the other day. You shouldn't listen to him... He has no idea how happy we are together!"

"I don't want you talking to Ezreal anymore!"

While the rest of the band felt it was wrong to enable Kayn, they kept quiet. They kept their distance when you all were alone. Because Kayn knew as much about them as he knew about you. And Kayn wasn't afraid to abuse the information he knew he sabotage all of them if they crossed him and his relationship.

The only sigh of relief you ever had was when the group performed interviews out of the country. Even though you could tag along, you chose not to. You made the excuse that you had work, and that saved you every time. Work was the only thing you had in your life that gave you some sense of control. Kayn couldn't take that away from you... yet, at least.

"Why aren't you texting me back? Are you listening to me?!" "Answer right now!!" "You're seriously going to put your phone on mute this long?! Who the hell do you think you are?!!" "Fine then. You did this to yourself. Keep that in mind." "LMAO" "When I get back you better hope that I'm fucking happy!!"

And he made sure to let the world know how frustrated he was.

"So Kayn, how is your relationship with your partner? You both are still together right?!" The interviewer happily questioned, your boyfriend playing the part, showing off that devilishly smug smile in front of his awestruck audience.

It made you feel sick to your stomach. It made you dread what he was about to say and what he could say.

"Oh, we are! Things between us are better than ever. We're both so happy..." His smile fell. "But..." He began to brood, looking off to the side for a moment. The audience ate up his vulnerability.

"They get so busy with work sometimes. I just wish they could respond to me sooner! Babe, if you're watching this, answer me!! Ahahaha!!" His smile returned, the others trying to hide their discomfort with joyful laughter.

"Well, I'm sure they'll be happy to see you when you get back Kayn. Don't be so discouraged!" The interviewer reassured him, Kayn rubbing the back of his neck, staring forward at the camera. Staring forward at you.

That was the telltale sign: That you were absolutely, most positively, fucked.

#saeybaewrites #request #short #headcanons #heartsteel kayn #kayn #heartsteel kayn x reader #heartsteel x reader #kayn shieda #shieda kayn #kayn lol #x reader #kayn league of legends x reader #kayn league of legends #kayn lol x reader #kayn shieda x reader #shieda kayn x reader #lol x reader #league of legends x reader

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jeannineee · 1 year

Text

NSFW Alphabet: Cassian (A Court of Thorns and Roses)

a/n: Cassian deserves nothing but the absolute best. Enjoy :)

nsfw under the cut (18+ please)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Literally so gentle and sweet. Will clean you up, run you a bath. He’ll massage your tired muscles, whispering sweet nothings as you relax against him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For him, I’d say his muscles in general. He has a nice body, and he knows it. Probably loves his arms the most, though. How easily they can lift you, hold you in place, etc.

For you, he loves your entire body, but especially your ass. You’ll catch him staring at it at the worst times, to which he only offers a shameless grin in response. He loves holding onto it as he pounds into you from behind, his calloused hands digging into the soft skin.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Lolol listen!!! I GUARANTEE this man has a breeding kink. He looooves filling you up. It makes him feral to see the way your eyes roll back into your head as he spills into you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Cassian is quite shameless when it comes to sex. I don’t think he would hide anything from you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s been alive for five hundred years. Let’s be real. He knows what he’s doing. He talks up a big game, and can one hundred percent back it up.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy. “Hold on to the headboard.” Need I say more? Also loves when you ride him. He’ll grip your hips tightly, and if you start to get tired, he’ll take over, and thrust up into you as you hold on for dear life. Safe to say he likes it rough.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

A bit both. In the beginning especially, when you were still getting comfortable, he’d crack the occasional joke to help you relax. But he knows when to take things seriously.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps it trimmed, nothing too fancy.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Again, while sex with Cassian can sometimes be lighthearted, he is more romantic than he lets on. He loves to take his time with you. He’ll make an entire night out of it.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Before you? This man was jacking off regularly. But once he met you, he didn’t have any need to do it.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Like I said, breeding kink, for sure. Also into bondage. He’d love to tie your wrists, and fuck you senseless. (You have a safe word, of course.) With enough convincing, he just might let you tie him up, too.

SIZE KINK!!!!! This man TOWERS over Rhys and Azriel (it’s canon). So even if you’re tall, your still smaller than him. Praise!! Loves encouraging you, telling you how well you take his cock, how pretty you look when you come for him. And if you praise HIM? You aren’t walking for a few days.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

You’ve fucked on pretty much every surface in your house. The bed, the walls, the dining table, the counters. He’ll take you wherever he can have you. But he does, of course, take your preferences into account.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. Everything about you. Your voice, your body. But what really gets him going is your wit. Give him a bit of attitude, or a sarcastic remark, and he’ll be putting that sweet mouth of yours to good use in no time.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He wouldn’t want to degrade you, or do anything that would cause you genuine pain.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Likes both equally. Loves the way your pretty lips look wrapped around his cock, the way your throat bulges as he fucks into your mouth (he has your permission, of course.)

Could also spend hours between your legs (and has.) He’ll lap and suck at your cunt until you’re a whimpering mess. Swears you taste like honey.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He definitely likes it rough. But on some nights, especially when he’s tired, the two of you will go slow, your legs wrapped around his waist as he lazily thrusts into you, his lips placing gentle kisses to your neck.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Prefers to take his time, but sometimes you’re both so busy that quickies have to suffice.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Will try anything at least once. Again, he’s been alive for centuries. He’s very open minded with you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can go all night, easily. He’ll need breaks here and there, but he’s got stamina for DAYS.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Hmm…I think he’ll try using them, if you ask. But he prefers making you come on his own.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s a little shit when it comes to teasing. You could be at dinner with friends, and he’ll slowly trail his fingers along your thigh, underneath your dress. He’ll pretend he doesn’t notice your glare, as he trails closer to your slit, his fingers barely grazing you. Don’t worry though, he can’t deny you for too long.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Mostly loud grunts and groans, with plenty of praise for you. He’s not afraid to express how good you make him feel.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Definitely wants to let you explore his wings. The idea that you could make him finish just by touching the right spot? He definitely wants to try it. And you’re more than eager to oblige him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s the tallest out of the three bat boys. He’s long, and thick. Good luck.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Very, very high. He always wants you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Fairly quickly, but he always waits until you’ve fallen asleep first, smiling to himself at the tiredness he’s caused you.

#cassian x reader #cassian smut #Cassian acotar #acotar smut #acotar cassian #female reader #acotar headcanon #acotar

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urmadiik · 5 months

Note

wait do u take requests? I have one if u do lolol :>>

Miles x childhoodbestfriend!fem!reader who, persuaded by miles, decide to watch a scary movie during a sleepover at his house. A really scary scene shows up and reader and miles scream and cuddle each other as they’re both under his blanket. This leads Rio and Jeff to walk into the room obviously concerned, but they (especially Rio) think to themselves about how cute the two of them are together lolol. Miles’s parents still scold him about putting on a scary movie, with Rio saying how he shouldn’t try to “scare her baby” lmao

I do !! Srry I didn’t make it clear (*^‿^*) , this idea is adorable

feel free to give me request !!

also srry it took so long for me to reply to this

disclaimers/warnings⚠️ !! : fluff, fem!reader x miles 1610, use of y/n, targeted towards black readers (but you can read if you’re still interested), can be platonic or romantic

— ★ 𝟑𝐚𝐦 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ★ —

You and Miles had been the bestest of friends ever since he moved to the complex with his parents. You don’t really remember how you started being friends, only being able to recall small moments. However, you can remember the first time you too met.

It was early in the afternoon and as a treat, your mom decided to take you to the park. When you arrived, you scurried as fast as your little legs could carry you to the swing set, wood-chips crunching under your shoes. You sat down on the little swing, the metal chains shaking and wobbling as you sat. You tried to push yourself over and over again, failing miserably with each try. As you were about to get up and ask your mom to come push you, disappointed with your failed attempts, you felt a small hand on your back. It pushed you gently, becoming more forceful overtime. You soured up and down, the colorful beads and clips in your hair clanking together as you giggled and giggled.

As the swing slowed and the sun dimmed, you hopped off the swings and turned around to see a little boy around your age. He was a couple inches shorter than you, big chestnut eyes looking up at you. He looked unfamiliar, and that was very unusual to you since you knew almost every boy and girl in the area.

“Hi, I’m y/n !” You beamed, sticking out your hand for him to shake.

He glanced down at your hand and shook it hesitantly.

“ ‘M Miles” he said in a gentle voice, a tiny smile on his face making his freckled cheeks rise up.

Almost nine years since then, you and him had been attached by the hip. Even though you switched from loose twist and lazy slick back ponytails to box braids with curly ends touching you waist, your carefree and outspoken attitude warping to a more shy and stoic one, nothing much has changed. The only thing being different about Miles was that he was a little taller than you, teasing you about it every moment of the day he got just as your did all those years ago.

Currently, you and Miles were sitting on his bed. You on your phone and him sketching out something, the pencil lazyily gliding against the thick paper of his sketchbook.

“I’m boredddd” you groaned as you flopped down on the squishy bed, your body bouncing up and down almost rhythmically before it finally settled.

“Well what do you wanna do?” He glanced over at you

Suddenly, your eyes sparked with an idea. An idea he knew and was putting off for the longest.

“A scar-“ “no”

“Come onnn. Scary movies aren’t even scary, their more for the thrill of it, y’know?”

“Y/n, 27.2% horror movies are based on real life events.” stated, trying to sound smart.

You groaned, not in the mood for his little “fun facts of the day”. After 15 minutes straight of convincing, he let out a groan.

“What movie..?” He grumbled.

You couldn’t help but chuckle a little.

“The Conjuring” You said as you sat up and leaned against him, backs against the head board as he draped the fuzzy blanket over the two of you.

A couple minutes later, he seemed intrigued with the story. To you, it was just another horror movie with the same plot and you were honestly a little disappointed. Until it got to the jumpscare.

Your eyes were draping close and you were tuning out the dialogue of the movie. All of a sudden, you heard a loud, horrifying screech coming from the tv. You open your eyes and to your horror, a ghostly white face appeared on the screen.

You and Miles both screamed loudly. You couldn’t help but hold him tightly, trying your hardest not to look at the tv. You felt him embrace you back, putting his head on your shoulder.

Just then, you heard the door slam open. You felt the yellow hue of the hallway light shine on the two of you.

“Are you two alright?” His mother said, out of breath like she had ran. Jeff being right behind her, scanning the room.

“Mhm, just watching a movie.” Miles said quietly, still shivering slightly from the almost heart attack.

As Rio looked around the room, he saw exactly what was you two were screaming about.

“Miles, what did I tell you about watching these kind of movies?” She scoffed.

“That their the gateway to hell..” He said as he lowered his head and sighed, knowing his parents were disappointed in him.

“And what were you doing showing my baby that?” She scolded, gesturing to you.

“But mami she-“ ‘No buts Miles” Jeff said as he shook his head.

You just sat there, covering your mouth with a hand to try and hold in a laugh as Rio reached for the remote and turned off the tv.

“You two, go to bed. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” She said as she sucked her teeth and closed the door.

But she couldn’t help but think about how adorable the both of you looked cuddled up like that, getting a feeling of nostalgia as she reminisced all the times the two of you would cuddle up when you were little. How small you two were, how much you changed. As the thought crossed her mind she couldn't help but feel a tiny smirk on her face.

feel free to give feedback !! sorry it got a little lazy at the end

#across the spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales 1610 #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #black reader #fluff #miles 42 #miles morales earth 42 #miles morales prowler #miguel o'hara

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ranhaitanisgf · 6 months

Note

congrats on 2k, hana <3 I would like to request a fluff scenario for "delinquent & class president" & "sneaking out to go on a date with them" with shinichiro <3

— shinichiro sano // delinquent & class president // sneaking out to go on a date

☆ ˎˊ˗ hiii key ! this was sooooo cute omg im sry this took so long my disappearance from tumblr was longggg 😭 i kind of didn't emphasize the class president and delinquent thing tooo much but its there if you squint lolol

☆ ˎˊ˗ wc ; 1.0k+

☆ ˎˊ˗ gn!reader implied

masterlist || 2k masterlist

“...are you sure you want to do this?”

“why not? you’re always telling me i need to loosen up more, right?”

“well yeah, but don’t you think this is kinda an extreme first step?” you took a moment to ponder on shinichiro’s words before responding.

“might as well, to be honest. i don’t really want to be home right now anyways. i’d much rather be with you.” you answered, smiling softly at the boy in front of you.

in any case, it might have been a bit of a risky move to still be outside your home twenty minutes after sneaking out of your bedroom, but you were completely sure that nobody would notice, so you weren’t too worried. you could tell by his somewhat worried expression that you hadn’t entirely convinced him, but you just dragged him along, swinging your connected hands back and forth.

“c’mon sano, show me something cool!”

“hey! i thought i told you not to call me that!” shinichiro whined, tugging you back. you turned around to face him, thinking that the somewhat displeased look on his face was rather cute.

“call you what, sano?” you teased, making him groan in response

“stop it! you sound so formal and i don’t like it!” you wrapped your arms around his neck, seeming to ponder something for a moment.

“fine, you win, shinichiro.” the lips you loved to kiss so much turned down into a pout, his hands moving to rest on your hips.

“you couldn’t have gone with something cuter? something like babe, honey, even sweet-”

“stop, before i change my mind!” you interrupted, rolling your eyes at the cheesy nicknames. “how about, i don’t know, we actually go somewhere?”

“leave it to me! just say the word and i’ll take you.” shinichiro said, his thumb jerking towards his bike. “this baby can take us to any place you want.”

you pondered for a moment, swaying back and forth a bit with shinichiro as you weighed different places.

“hm, what is there to do when sneaking out late? nothing’s open…” you murmured, thinking out loud. “we could go to the park, but if anyone saw me they would definitely think that i’m a good for nothing delinquent-ow! hey, i was joking!” you exclaimed, rubbing the spot on your forehead where shinichiro flicked you.

“so you’re saying i’m a good for nothing delinquent?! woow, and here i thought you loved me! oh my goodness! what ever will i do?!” you rolled your eyes at the dramatic performance from the boy in front of you, grabbing the flesh of his cheeks and squishing them together, (you found it cute how instead of complaining about it, he just looked at you the most love you’ve ever seen).

“you knowww i was just joking, shin! now take me somewhere! surprise me with your wily delinquent ways!” your demand was met with a laugh and ruffling of your hair from shinichiro.

“my wily delinquent ways, you say? hah, i guess i have no choice other than to fulfill your desires!” he teased, leading you to his bike. “this brilliant delinquent mind will think of a place to take you!” he plopped his spare helmet onto your head, bringing the strap under your chin to secure it properly.

looking at shinichiro up close was something that you would never get tired of; the darkness of night paled in comparison to his eyes, the inky shade so deep that you wished you could drown in it. contrasting the jet black color of his irises, the care and love that you could always find in his eyes was unrivaled, making it seem like you were the only person in the entire world, everything else fading into the background.

“what’re you thinking about?” shinichiro murmured, finishing clipping the strap for the helmet. it was strange how the two of you could go from teasing and having fun with each other to suddenly being soft and serious, but you didn’t mind it at all.

“mm, nothing much.” you answered, your lips upturned into a soft smile. you pecked him on his cheek, lips pressing against his skin for a bit longer than necessary before pulling away, taking a seat on his bike. “are we going to go?”

“jeez, and they call me a troublemaker. the real troublemaker is this little goody-goody!” shinichiro teased, seating himself in front of you and turning the key in the engine of his bike. his beloved motorcycle revved to life, rumbling softly in the background. “just so you know-”

“your bike is loud, shin! save the talking for when we aren't outside of my house still! let’s goooo-mmph?” the boy in front of you turned around quite suddenly, leaning forward and pressing his lips against yours. it was only for a moment, but just that moment was enough to keep more words from forming, your lips tingling as he leaned back again.

“(y/nnn), it’s not nice to interrupt people, y’know. i was gonna say i love you.” shinichiro pouted, turning back around and promptly ignoring you.

“wait, i’m sorryyyyy, i love you too!” despite your words, he kept ignoring you, kicking the kickstand back and beginning to drive. you wrapped your arms around his waist, propping your chin on his back as you tried to get his attention. “shinnn, i’m sorry! you have to admit, your bike is pretty loud, okay? hey, say something! i’m earnestly apologizing here!”

“hmph.”

“i’m not above tickling you, y’know.” you got no response at that, leading you to slowly poke his sides. you could see him shaking, but there was still no laughter or response, so you amped it up, full on tickling his sides.

“h-hey! do you, hah, do you want me to crash!?” he finally let out, laughs spilling out as he was driving.

“all you had to do was respond, so i’m happy now.” you responded, stopping your tickle attack and returning your arms to their position around his waist. he wasn’t going so fast that you had to hold on for any particular reason, but you liked to use it as an excuse to be close to him. resting your head against shinichiro’s back, the scenery of different buildings and cars flew by, the city lights filling your vision. the pretty sights combined with the faint beating of his heart that you could hear filled you with a sense of serenity; it was absolutely perfect.

yeah, you were pretty damn happy.

146 notes · View notes

m00nc4kes · 7 months

Text

A Chance. pt 2. (pacific rim! au)

hobie brown x gn!reader

word count: 4.2k

summary: You and Hobie drift for the first time.

warnings: me being inconsistent with hobie's accent (pls I tried), death, blood, mostly from the memories

notes: once again, reader is gn but if I gendered anything lemme know! my readers are always black coded even if its not said outright but anyone can read :3

[part 1] [part 2] (ur here lolol)

Apparently, the sparring match had been the easy part. Convincing Hobie to actually drift with you was the hard part.

Jess had approved you and Hobie to begin drifting, but he had shut it down immediately.

“No. Absolutely not. And ‘m not goin’ back ‘n forth with ya.” Was all he said before shutting himself in his room. You sat in front of his door and complained about him acting like a stubborn child.

“C’mon! Jess said that we stood a chance!”

“That means nothin’ to me,'' came the muffled reply. You sighed and leaned your head on the metal frame of the door.

“You’re not even a little curious about what goes on in my head?” You paused then grinned. “You don’t wanna know what makes me tick?”

“Coulda sworn I said I wasn’t goin’ back ‘n forth with ya.”

You kissed your teeth and rested your head on your knees. “Fine, fine. I’ll just sit here then!” you shouted then muttered, “All night. In the cold…” You allowed yourself to trail off as your dramatics continued to climb. “I’ll just be wonderin’ why my potential drift partner hates me—”

A loud click sounded behind you and the door creaked open. Hobie peered down at you with an unamused expression. “I never said I hated ya.”

“But you did say you weren’t gonna go back ‘n forth with me.” Hobie’s scoff had you climbing to your feet. You continued, “Won’t you at least give it a chance? We won’t even be going out into the field— just inside Hellion.”

“And you’ll be in my head,” he snapped, then caught himself with a grimace. “Why do ya feel the need to push it, hm? Can’t take no for an answer or somethin’?”

“No. I can’t.” You couldn’t stop your face from contorting into a scowl as you snarked, “Why are you even here if you don’t plan on drifting with anyone?”

“I already told ya—”

“Well, I don’t believe you.”

Hobie threw his hands up, signaling that he had nothing else to say, and stepped back behind his door. “Goodnight.”

Before he could completely shut the door, you pushed your hand against it. Your mind had been struggling to find an answer to why you didn’t completely believe Hobie. His reasoning didn’t fit his character. If he was truly done being a pilot, he would’ve just left. If he was concerned about his friends risking their lives, he would find a way to convince them to leave with him.

No, this was much much more personal than that. And he had already told you his reasoning: to make sure no one else pilots Hellion Riser.

“You don’t want anyone to replace Karl.”

That stopped Hobie completely in his tracks. He stared at you as if the words slapped him in the face. You had a horrible habit of pushing people’s buttons; sometimes you did it on purpose, while other times you couldn’t stop your mouth from moving.

“I’m not trying to replace him, Hobie, I swear it. I could never erase what you guys had— what you two did. Hell, y'all set records. I just—”

Hobie put his hand up to stop you. “I’d rather not have this chat outside.” His door creaked as he motioned you inside.

When the door closed behind you, you were met with the sight of Hobie’s covered walls. There were some posters of well known rock bands from before the war and newspaper clippings of different kaiju attacks. You wondered if they had some significance to him. Though, what had caught your eye was a sticker-covered guitar leaned up against Hobie’s nightstand.

“So, d’ya have a habit of bein’ an arse or is that jus’ wit’ me?” Hobie sat himself on his bed and crossed his arms. You stared down at him with a raised eyebrow.

“An arse? Me? Never.” You trailed your eyes along the newspaper clippings until one caught your eye. “I’m just… stubborn.” You tried to keep a steady tone but your mind had already traveled somewhere far away.

In your peripheral, you could see Hobie shift to see what you were looking at. “You have a personal history with Steelcutter, mate?”

You blinked yourself back into the present and stepped away from the wall, needing to physically distance yourself from the image. As you observed the clippings, their purpose suddenly made sense.

“These are all kaijus that Hellion has taken down.” It was a statement, no question about it.

“Yep. Majority of ‘em are from the old pilots.” He tilted his head. “You dodgin’ my question?”

“Yep,” you mocked, looking him up and down. You opened your mouth to continue, but it suddenly struck you that you were in fact alone in Hobie’s room. And he was staring at you with those champagne eyes of his and—

No, no, no. You weren’t going to entertain that anymore. You had one goal and he was actively stopping you from reaching it. Past infatuation had no place here. It hadn’t had one in a long time and it wouldn’t get one now.

Ignoring the heat burning at your cheeks, you cleared your throat. “So about the drift—”

“You were right, y’know.”

You felt your words die on your lips. “I… what?”

“I don’t want anyone to replace Karl. They couldn’t if they tried. But that’s only part of it.”

You blinked owlishly. You hadn’t expected him to be so outright with it.

He continued, “I don’t want to watch anyone else I care about die.”

“We don’t even know each other like that—”

“Yet.” He stood up. “That’s the part ya keep overlookin’. I’ll be finding out everything about you. I’ll be in your head and you’ll be in mine. Ya won’t get out of that without at least carin’ a little. That’s the whole point of a drift partner. Ya pilot the jaeger together, ya fight together, and ya expect to die together. I won’t get outta carin’ for ya and ya won’t get outta carin’ for me. Get it?”

Hobie’s words were passionate, borderline desperate for you to understand. And you were beginning to understand. You chewed on his words for a moment, letting the air settle. “But you enjoyed having that partner, didn’t you? You enjoyed fighting alongside him and allowing someone to be that intertwined with you, right? Doesn’t that mean anything?”

“It’s not tha’ simple.”

“Of course not. But every relationship comes with the risk of an ending. Avoiding companionship altogether will make you miserable, especially when you’re itching to go back into the field.”

An indignant laugh left Hobie’s lips. “And who told ya I wanted to go back?”

“You still train— which is how you beat me during the trials; and you don’t seem like someone who lets people die in vain. Don’t you wanna show those fuckin’ kaijus where they can stick it? Don’t you want revenge for Karl?”

There had always been a muted fire behind Hobie’s eyes. The embers of the flames would dance around his irises, refusing to turn into ash. Though, under his appraisal, you could see the blazing inferno that you had sparked.

It made you think that your insistence had pushed Hobie too far over the edge. Maybe your luck had run out.

To your surprise, Hobie backed down and released a heavy sigh as he plopped onto his bed. He dragged a hand down his face before asking, “D’ya have any confessions?”

You frowned. “Confessions?”

“Confessions, mate. Anything you’d like to tell me before I find out against your will?”

Your heart stopped in your chest. Disbelief rose in you like a climbing rollercoaster. “...you don’t mean…”

He gave you a look that told you everything you needed to know. He raised a finger. “We’ll try it once and only once. Let’s see if Jess knows wha’ she’s talkin’ about.”

The news about you drifting with Hobie spread like a wildfire. It morphed into a bigger event than you had anticipated. There were whispers about Hellion Riser finally becoming active again, while the in-your-face doubters approached you around every corner. The doubters were either shut down by some not-so-kind words or, to your complete and utter surprise, Hobie flat out telling them to shut the fuck up before there was a problem.

His reluctance to completely accept you as his partner was still present, but he didn’t seem too fond of other people sharing that same sentiment.

The day came when Hellion was ready for you two to test your compatibility. The nerves shook you to your core; even your steadying breaths couldn’t calm your racing heart.

There were people around you helping make sure your suit fit your frame properly. Beside you, Hobie was receiving the same treatment. You watched as he opened and closed his fist with some sort of fascination.

His eyes suddenly flicked toward you and he gave you a small grin. “You look like you’re gonna throw up.��

Your grin was strained. “I just might.”

Before you could say another word, a helmet was being placed in your hands. You put it on while the people around you adjusted it for you.

Then, you were led into the jaeger where the workers left you and Hobie to get situated. Hobie was quieter than usual as he made his way to the right side.

“Are you nervous?” you asked. You hated how meek you sounded

“Nervous?” The laugh that came from him was curt. “‘M fuckin’ terrified.”

The simulators had nothing on the real thing. Colorful displays and illuminated buttons hovered in front of your place in the jaeger.

Across from you, Hobie took the first step into the footholds and the machine automatically adjusted to his stature. He watched you expectantly and it made you bite the bullet.

You stepped into your foothold and several things occurred at once. The machine attached to your back to hold you in place then your wrists went through the same process, though they had more free reign than your back.

There was sudden laughter in your ears and you whipped your head around to see Hobie with an amused smile on his face.

“What’s so funny?” you snarked, already knowing that he was laughing at you.

“Your boat, that’s what.”

“My boat?”

“Your face, bruv.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve never had something attached to my spine before!” Your face cringed at the thought which made him snicker.

An automated voice cut through your banter.

Pilots on board and ready to connect.

In your helmet, you could hear Hobie take a deep breath as he reached forward to flip a few switches.

Next, Jess’s voice came through the speaker. “Alright, you two, we’re preparing for the neural handshake.”

It was really happening. Your heart was in your throat and you wondered if you were truly ready for this. To let someone— Hobie in your head. Could you handle something like that?

“Oi, bruv. Don’t go chasin’ R.A.B.I.T.s, got it? Just let ‘em flow past you, don’t let ‘em stay.”

Right, right. Rabbits. Some long ass acronym for memories. “Okay. Okay, I can do that.”

Neural interface Drift initiated.

Flashes upon flashes of memories that didn’t belong to you flooded into your mind. Voices and unintelligible whispers whipped past your ears.

You could see a smaller Hobie learning guitar from his mother. You felt the love and pride he had when he did something right. But then, you felt his desperation when his mother succumbed to alcohol.

You felt how he’d wondered what he did wrong to be neglected the way he was.

Then, memories that had been buried long ago were being unveiled before your eyes. Your parents cradling you as an infant, Your giggles as they made their silly faces.

You, as a toddler, wandering a desecrated city street. Ash and glass littered the street as you walked with a thumb in your mouth.

The memories clashed and overlapped with each other. Hobie’s time in the foster care system; you being taken in by an aunt; Hobie being accepted into the jaeger program— all of it. Moments you cherished like your introduction to being a jaeger technician and seeing Hobie for the first time.

You had admired him from afar. Someone who piloted your favorite jaeger and did it with pride.

And when he spoke to you for the first time, your head had spun in circles and your mouth couldn’t keep up with it.

Then, you saw Karl.

You saw Hobie and Karl meeting for the first time during the trials. Saw them reading their results and becoming drift partners— becoming best friends. You could feel the love they had for one another, how much they cared about each other. They were inseparable. Hobie would throw an arm over Karl’s shoulder and they would share a joke no one but them understood.

Karl was his best friend.

With a sharp breath, you were back in reality.

Right hemisphere calibrated.

Sharing a mind with someone was beyond jarring. You could hear the echoes of thoughts coming from Hobie, but none were coherent. Just feelings. You wondered if your mind was just about the same.

Left hemisphere calibrated.

You raised your right arm, perfectly in sync with Hobie, then raised your left. Together, Hellion Riser raised both of her fists in a battle stance.

Ready to activate the Jaeger.

A thought that didn’t belong to you streamlined through your mind and you laughed. Without a moment of hesitation, Hellion was raising two middle fingers.

A very unamused Jess cut through the speaker. “Very mature, you guys.”

Her displeasure only made your guys’ laughter bubble from your chests and echo into the cockpit.

Calibration complete.

There was something familiar about laughing with him. Something that didn’t belong to you.

Because it didn’t.

You weren’t in the present anymore.

“Did you see how I fucking blasted him, dude?” You were Karl Morningdew. No, you were Hobie. Fuck, it didn’t matter. They were sharing a mind. You were both of them.

“Bloke didn’t see it comin’!” Hobie had laughed, pride shining in his grin, and Karl joined him.

They thought the job was done, but the kaiju had disappeared in the waters below them. Hobie had been the first to notice.

“Oi, where the fuck did it—”

Hellion was being slammed against, nearly toppling the jaeger over. “Fuck! How’s it still going?!”

Claws dug into the cockpit and they both screamed. You could feel their bewilderment and their fear— because jaegers weren’t supposed to be torn into like this. It wasn’t supposed to be possible.

“We need to get it off!” Hobie had attempted to do so, but it had been too late.

With another swing, the kaiju tore into the right side and pulled Karl out.

You felt it all. Your senses were drowned with panic, panic, panic. Disbelief. And oh, the grief hit like a truck. It was hot in your hands— sent frigid chills down your spine.

And it hurt.

Being thrown back into reality sent your mind into a flurry. It came with ringing alarms and a distressed Jess.

“Hellion! You are out of alignment!”

You could hear Hobie apologizing— you could feel his grief clawing at him. At you. You’d felt like that before. You had.

Then you’d heard him calling your name. Telling you not to chase the rabbit.

You were confused.

What rabbit?

You and Riri never had a rabbit. In fact, a rabbit never crossed your mind as you two walked down the city street.

New York City was a place. A place you called home. It was filled to the brim with people that narrowly dodged each other on the sidewalk. Cars honked at each other nonstop and music played from somewhere you didn’t care to check.

Beside you, Riri nudged your side. “Hey, cousin. Whatchu think ‘bout this move?”

And in the middle of the sidewalk, she broke out in the butterfly dance. She moved her legs in a smooth in and out motion. Being fourteen, you were absolutely horrified that she was breaking out into a dance in public.

“Riri! Stoooppp!” you cried, shaking her arm. With her being two years your senior, she absolutely reveled in embarrassing you.

“Whaaat? I’m just dancin’!”

You had to avert your eyes as she began to tootsie roll. “I’m gonna tell Teetee that you’re using her lessons for evil!”

“You’re gonna tell my mom?!” She screeched. You laughed in her face as she playfully pushed you.

Everything stopped when the world started shaking. Your first thought was an earthquake, but the look on Riri’s face stopped you in your tracks. “What? What is it, cousin?” you pleaded.

The sound of screaming cut through the air then you were being pushed around by people running for their lives. You couldn’t tell what was happening but there was a dark cloud of destruction in the opposite direction.

Riri roughly yanked your arm and dragged you with the crowd. You wanted to ask what was going on, but a deep fear in your gut told you everything you needed to know.

Jets flew overhead, shooting missiles at the kaiju that was dragging itself through the city.

Through it all, you couldn’t help but get the inkling that someone was trying to get your attention. Muffled words bounced off your mind as fear clouded it.

The kaiju moved faster than you two could run, even with its long, slow steps that destroyed everything under its feet. You made the mistake of looking back.

The cloud of destruction couldn’t hide the grotesque thing from you any longer. It walked on all fours and was covered in a monstrous variety of spikes. It dragged itself through the street, tearing through buildings and bringing a storm of glass down upon its victims.

And it was nearly upon you. You wouldn’t be able to outrun it.

The terror took hold of your legs and you fell to your stomach. Riri tried to get you back up, but you couldn’t hear her desperate pleas over your screams. You were going to die. And there wasn’t anything you could refute that with.

What you hadn’t expected was your cousin to shield your body with hers.

The rain of glass sliced open your arms and any other part of your body it could reach. However, Riri took the full brunt of it.

The kaiju walked past you two, destroying what it could over the incessant attacks from the jets. All the while, you watched Riri’s life fade from her eyes as she collapsed on top of you.

You laid there, too scared to move. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, you’d wake up from your nightmare. But the glass that stuck itself into Riri’s body was all too real to even consider this a dream.

So you silently cried, too scared to cry any louder. Though, your weeping came to a solid halt when another pair of giant footsteps raced through the city. Was it another kaiju? Why was there another one?

Instead, a brilliant red and blue jaeger raced from the darkness and stopped the kaiju from causing any more destruction.

You couldn’t help but think: thank god. Because if the jaeger hadn’t come, you wouldn’t be able to scream and beg for Riri to—

Wake up!

The breath that you forced into your lungs dragged you back into reality. Your helmet had been discarded somewhere else and Hobie was holding you. His face was relieved when you finally looked him in the eye.

“You’re okay. It was just a memory. Just a memory,” he whispered to you. You could feel the tears burn in your eyes. Not only from the fresh memory buzzing around your head, but from the frustration of it all.

You fucked up.

And that disappointment followed you throughout the rest of the day. Everything had passed in a blur and somehow you found yourself here, sitting in the catwalk above Hellion. The base was deep into its night hours, with very few people still out and about. Unfortunately, you were one of them.

You hadn’t expected to be so shaken up, by why wouldn’t you? The last memory of Riri hadn’t been a pleasant one and it haunted your every move. Now Hobie knew it too.

You had one shot and you blew it.

There were footsteps heading in your direction. When you looked up, you saw the last person you wanted to see. Instead of greeting Hobie, you tucked your head in your arms and curled your knees close to your chest.

“That’s one way to say hello, innit.” Hobie’s voice did things to your soul that you hadn’t expected. Being in his head, knowing what made him who he was, gave you an entirely new outlook on who Hobie Brown was.

Hobie had been right. You can’t be inside someone’s head and expect not to care about them. But you didn’t need the drift for it to be established, no, all it did was build upon the foundation that was already there.

And you weren’t ready to deal with that yet. Nor ever.

Hobie came close to you, standing instead of sitting beside you. “Still shaken up?”

You clicked your tongue and let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, let’s go with that.”

“I don’t hold it against ya, it was your first time.”

“And my only time.” You let bitterness seep into your voice while your nails dug into your arms.

There was a sigh above you, then Hobie was sliding down to sit next to you. You could only focus on the way the side of his body pressed against yours and it did things to your heart.

“It was unrealistic to think nothin’ would go wrong our first time.” He leaned his head against the railing. “You weren’t the only one who messed up. I messed up first.”

You moved your head to peek at him. He stared off into the distance and you watched his eyes jump from place to place until they landed on you.

Being under his gaze made you shy and you hated that it reverted you back to your intern days. Your ears burned and you tore your eyes away. His laugh was kind and far from teasing. It only made the heat flare in your cheeks.

When his laughter died down, you two sat in a comfortable silence. Once you were able to get over Hobie’s proximity, your mind traveled back to Riri. You didn’t know if your somberness had leached into the atmosphere, but Hobie ended up nudging you.

“It’s not your fault, ya know tha’, right?”

You raised your head. “What isn’t?”

“Your cousin.”

You took in a sharp breath. “Is that so?” your voice wobbled, but you held firm. “I could’ve—”

“You did what you could.”

You wanted to get defensive, you wanted to deny him because what did he know? But he knew a lot. He’d seen it. He’d seen your moment of weakness and your failure and still said it wasn’t your fault.

You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping you wouldn’t cry for the umpteenth time today. You did what you could. And that was nothing. You couldn’t do anything but be protected.

Hobie placed a hand on your arm and squeezed it gently. It was a warm touch that sent your soul into a delightful spiral.

You wanted to say something, but everything died on your tongue. You just knew that there was no use in trying to argue with Hobie.

Instead, you smiled as you were reminded of something. “So you dream of being a rockstar?”

Hobie practically blinded you with his smile. “Everyday, mate. Gonna start a band after the war.”

“You already have people in mind?”

“Course! Got me a drummer and a few youngers lookin' to rock out.”

You muttered to yourself, “After the war, huh.” You were glad that Hobie was looking forward to something after the war— even if you doubted that the kaijus would be defeated in your lifetime.

“Yep. Which is why Hellion is gonna stick it to those fuckin’ kaijus.”

Your eyes widened. “Wha— You actually want to try again?”

“Second time’s a charm.”

“That’s not how the saying goes.”

“It is now. D’ya want to try or not?”

By this point, you had unfurled from your position and you were openly staring at Hobie. “I— Well, yeah! I wanna try again.”

“Good.” He rose to his feet and dragged you up with him. “We’re gonna need rest if that’s the case.”

There was something about the blaze in his eyes that told you that it was never anger. No, it was the burning desire to fight. To put an end to the war so he could live his life without fear. To be free.

He threw an arm over your shoulder and pulled you close. “Don’ worry. I won’t bring up the fact that you fancy me.” He poked your cheek and you could’ve sworn you were gonna faint from the sudden rush of blood to your face. “Not yet, at least.”

Steam could’ve risen from your cheeks and you wouldn’t have questioned it.

Hobie openly laughed as you batted him away. There was no way you were gonna get away with hiding it. He was in your head and you were stuck with him now.

You had asked for a chance and he gave it to you.

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taglist: @hobieszeze

thanks for reading you guys ^^ i can’t say for sure if i’ll write another part but i’ll be focusing on my molotov fic !!

#hobie brown x black!reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #atsv #pacific rim au #across the spiderverse #spider punk #writing

67 notes · View notes

legitalicat · 3 months

Text

Out of Time

Chapter 7 - "Letters of Life and Love"

AN: Sorry for the long wait, lots of stuff going on in the personal. Also I may update the picture now that we have a new hairstyle for Jace lolol

If you love this header go check out zaldritzosrose for more amazing work! She is tagged on the series masterlist and on my welcome post!

Find the series masterlist here!

Summary: Tales of the past can help shape the future.

TW: blatant talks of past self harm, canon typical incest, Jace being tooth rotteningly sweet, talks of basically everyone being in love with everyone

Relationships: Jacaerys Velaryon x Twin!Reader, talks of just about every other ship imaginable in this story

Word Count: 3.8k

Aemond did not take it any further as we flew on Vhaela. He told me it was so that I could focus on flying, since it had been so long. Whether that was the truth, I wasn’t sure but I wasn’t entirely convinced. Yet, I didn’t particularly care.

Soaring through the skies on Vhaela’s back was perfect. The chill in the air stung against the skin of my face. The supple leather of the saddle she wore rubbed against my inner thighs. We passed birds who moved out of the way in perfect time with our approach. Today was the day I was meant to take to the skies.

I truly believed that the gods, whether they be the old or the new, made certain moments perfect. There had just been too many moments in my life that were so good there were no other explanations. This flight on Vhaela, the first time I flew on her, the first time I slept with Aemond, and the night I lost my maidenhead to Jace. How could I expect that much good to come from anything but divine intervention?

Aemond accompanied me the rest of the week so that I may fly, though he did choose to fly on Vhagar. We never went far, never past Felwood to the south or Duskendale to the north. Though in my bones I longed for more. I don’t imagine I would ever fly enough to be satisfied. In the sky I was free. Free from obligation and duty, free from the pains of my soul.

Free from the wretchedness that is Mother preparing me for this feast.

It felt as though I should’ve never agreed to it to begin with. I didn’t want every Lord in the seven kingdoms ogling me once again. Especially if word got out that my betrothal to Jace was no longer official. Men would see me as an opportunity to get close to the throne, maybe even have their children sit it one day. The thought disgusted me.

“Daemon, Rhaena, and Baela have returned from Driftmark. Your sisters are very anxious to see you,” Mother told me as she braided my hair. We were in her chambers, the door being propped open once we were dressed to allow a breeze. Today was warmer than usual.

I watched her reflection in the mirror as she moved. Sometimes I wondered if she thought of me as a doll. That is not to say anything against her parenting or the care she has given me, but it does cross my mind. She took every opportunity to dress me and fix my hair until I was perfect. Or as perfect as I could be.

“Step sisters,” I corrected her.

Rhaena and Baela may view my brothers as theirs but they made sure that I understood I was not their sister. Mother and Daemon always assumed part of it was Baela having a crush on Jace and Rhaena’s loyalty to her twin. I tried to offer to her that she could marry him and become Queen one day, begging with her that I would give anything to be their sister. But it was never about Jace.

Rhaena had been too kind and timid to say it to my face but Baela never had any problems with such. It was all about Vhagar and the role I played in Aemond claiming her. They claimed I showed no loyalty. That we were cousins and I should’ve convinced Aemond to allow Rhaena the chance to claim her first. They never listened to me when I told them he would’ve done it whether I was there or not. And they also never took into account I did not know them at that point. Yes, we were cousins, but they grew up far from King’s Landing. I grew up with Aemond at my side. Was he not owed my loyalty more?

“You are all women grown now,” she told me. “Surely you can move past this.”

“Mother I love the way you love your children, Baela and Rhaena included, but you need to realize a lot of us are far more capable than you think,” I said so firmly her hands took pause. “They are not the victims in anything, not more than I or Aemond. Yes, Rhaena did not have a dragon as a child but neither did Aemond until he claim Vhagar, and I waited longer. Yes, Baela and Rhaena lost their mother as children, but the four of us lost both men who could count as our father and I wasn’t even allowed to mourn. Rhaena and Baela started the fight that night on Driftmark because of their entitlement and Aemond lost his eye. The three of us did not get along during our girlhoods but not because of anything that I could help.”

“Darling,” she whispered. Her hands continued their motions, finishing the intricate braid.

“I offered Baela to take my place, did she ever tell you that? I thought if it was about Jace and her then I could deal with not marrying him so I could have sisters. It was never about that, it was about me telling the truth of Aemond losing his eye,” I told her. Tears started stinging my eyes as I spoke about things I swore I would never admit bothered me.

My entire life I always felt I had to be perfect. The perfect princess who would be the perfect queen. This kept me from having many emotional outbursts. The closest I ever got to crying in front of others was when tears forced themselves into existence as they did now. My pain was my own and I did not need others to experience it.

Jace always called it unhealthy. He said one day I would explode with the years of feelings I kept inside. I had always thought he was full of shit until I began to realize that physically harming myself made the pain in my chest ease. When I made a fist so tightly that my fingernails became so deeply embedded in my palms I started to draw blood, I was concerned at first. Until I realized I felt better. I referred to it as my pressure relief.

It became a growing concern. Jace caught me taking a knife to my thigh once when he had come to question why I was avoiding him. He was appalled at what I was doing. I tried to explain it was nothing bad, that I was merely caring for myself. He did not see it that way. He held me that night late into the night.

That was the night I gave him my maidenhead. I wasn’t sure you could fix someone by loving them hard enough. But gods, that night he tried. Looking back, it was awkward and clumsy, neither of us really knowing what to do. We were fifteen, nowhere near marriage, and Jace had always said I would be his first, so neither of us had any experience or had been taught anything. Though, I would not change anything about it. Thinking about it made me miss him more than I had the entirety of these last few weeks.

“You always stand up for every other child yet you do not stand up for the ones who need it most. I do not know if it is because you think I am strong enough to handle it, but I need you to come to my defense too. Not allow Jace to punish me in the ways he always does whenever I have displeased him. Not assume I can handle Baela and Rhaena isolating me for doing what was right,” I whispered, blinking rapidly to get the tears to go away. “Does Daemon know how close Alicent and you are?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

Her jaw clenched for a split second. If I were not looking for any sign that I may be right, I would miss it. With that simple little movement, I knew that even if she denied it to me, I was right.

But then she eased and smirked at me. “You assume he is not involved?” she asked.

My eyes widened. That was enough asking questions for now.

“Aemond has asked I do not announce that your betrothal to Jacaerys is on pause,” she told me after a few moments of silence. I must have had a confused look on my face because she chuckled and then continued. “He says if other lords know, they will try something idiotic.”

“Smart man, he is,” I whispered. “But they will know something is going on when Jace ignores me as he has done for weeks now.”

“It was not my intention to ignore you, my sun,” Jace’s voice sounded in my ears. I turned to my left and saw him standing in the open door way. “Did nobody tell you? I got pulled away to Dragonstone and have only just returned an hour ago.”

“I think I would know if you had gone to Dragonstone,” Mother said before I had the chance to respond.

The more I thought, the more I believed that Jace had not been here. I had been at breakfast and dinner before anyone else and he had not been there. Whenever I sent someone to get him, they merely said they could not find him. Mother and I were so used to Jace being rather dramatic when his feelings were hurt, so his avoidance of anything to do with me had not come with questions. I was merely used to it.

He sighed rather loudly, an exasperated type of sigh. It sounded like an old man whose grandchildren were irking him and trying to get him to tell him stories of war. Perhaps he had grown.

“Then it is my fault for entrusting Joffrey to tell you both. He was there when I got the letter. I would have told you myself but the matter was urgent,” he said, walking over to us.

Mother had just finished pinning the braid. She had wrapped it around itself on the back of my head. It was a hairstyle her mother did for her before she had died, in fact doing it the morning of her death. She learned to do it and wore her hair this way the day she was named heir. It felt special

When I stood from my seat to face him, I noticed his jaw drop a bit. He looked me up and down many times over. When Alicent brought this dress to me this morning, I was a bit skeptical. It was a very fancy dress made of black silk and decorated with blood red rubies. It had a matching black silk cape that fastened around my neck, leaving only the area just above my cleavage visible. I wore earrings made of silver and a jewel called green tourmaline, a beautiful green with secondary tones of blue. It was, apparently, the closest one could get to a Velaryon House colored stone. I wore black shoes that bared the top of my feet, giving the style of my bed slippers but more durable. The outfit was modest, not showing enough skin to be considered indecent, but yet the fabric clung to my every curve in a way that felt completely indecent.

“You are so beautiful,” he said quietly.

“I feel a bit like a ham stuffed in a stocking,” I whispered, biting her lip.

“You are not a ham,” he said before offering a smile.

He was in a rather lovely outfit himself. His shirt was made of matching black silk, though it did not cling to him in such a way. It was fitted, giving him shape but hiding the further intricacies of his body. He was wearing fitted pants as well, making me blush a bit at how amazing his body looked in them.

“So what business did you attend in Dragonstone?” I asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“Sheepstealer was causing more trouble than usual,” he told the both of us. “As Prince of Dragonstone, the concerns of that island are mine own.”

Before Mother could say anything, I hugged him tightly. “Next time come get me yourself. If I am to be your Queen I need to be involved with your matters,” I said instinctually.

It occurred to me after I said it that I may not end up as his Queen. The possibility of that had never been present in my mind. It was always our plan in life that we would rule side by side, never one without the other. Any other reality made me ache.

My heart ached and it felt ridiculous. I am stuck choosing between two men that I love with everything in me. If I wanted to be really technical, I have three choices, though I could not name how I feel about Aegon. They love me the same. How silly it felt of me to be saddened by either possibility when no matter what I would love happily.

“I apologize, my sun,” he said quietly, hugging me to him just as tightly. “You are right, of course. I cannot hope to be a good King if I do not consider my Queen’s words on every decision.”

My heart fluttered against my chest. He still considered our marriage an inevitability, not just a possibility. He still thought of us being married and ruling together.

“Allow me to stay with you until it is time for your entrance?” he asked me. I nodded eagerly.

Mother looked between the two of us. Her gaze settled on me, her eyes searching my face. I gave her a subtle nod. She needed to know I had to be with him.

When she left the room, the doors still wide open behind her, I leaned into Jace’s arms. The world felt calm when he held me. The universe knew, somehow, that he was who I needed as my twin. He and I were balanced perfectly.

“You truly thought I was ignoring you?” he asked once I pulled away.

I looked down at the ground for a moment before looking back to him. He was looking at my with sad eyes. It hurt my heart to see him look like that.

“Yes. I thought you were upset enough that you were punishing me,” I told him.

He nodded and took my hand in his. “I’m sorry. Both for making you think that, and for what happened that night. It was not my place to act in such a way.”

“In truth, I think it is more your place than Aemond’s,” I admitted to him. I sighed quietly then looked to him. “You had a point. You are my twin, who I am formally betrothed to.”

He smiled at me. His smile was beautiful in a way that one had to see to understand. If you could imagine the way the prettiest sunrise makes you feel, that is how his smile makes me feel.

“You know, I like that you’ve grown your hair out. It’s quite curly, and you look amazing,” I told him. That simple of a compliment was enough to make him blush.

Jace and I felt so different than Aemond and I felt. With him there were no games. No constant battle for control. Our love for each other was simple and pure, uncaring of who was in control. I longed for the days when he was the only one who held a piece of me. It was so much simpler then.

“You always used to beg for me to grow it out,” he said with a smile on his face.

“And I was not wrong to,” I told him, smirking at him. “You look handsome. Classical. Like the prince from a fairytale.”

He reached his hand out towards me. I took it immediately, our fingers intertwining. He had somewhat of a sad smile on his face even though his eyes were sparkling like they normally did.

“It was never about us, was it?” he asked me. I couldn’t help the confusion that crossed my face at his question. “I mean…you are able to be complete with all of us, yes? Me, Aemond, even Aegon. The different sides of you that we all see, that is what makes you whole, and so it was never about one of us being better than another, but it was all about you feeling completed.”

As he spoke, he squeezed my hand. My throat felt as though it was beginning to close. All I could do was nod. I had no argument, no further explanation for him.

When Jace pulled me to sit on his lap, I could feel tears begin to prick at my eyes. The way he was so adamant about holding me close scared me. It almost felt like he was about to tell me he was done, that he didn’t want me anymore.

“I wish I could be the only one you need,” he said softly, placing his hand on my cheek. “I could never make you unhappy, issa dāria, and I thought giving you the time to find which you wanted would be the way to make you happy. But I realized something.”

“If this is your way of explaining to me you do not wish to marry me anymore, please just say it outright. This feels more cruel,” I whispered, letting out a shaky breath.

He shook his head softly. “Not at all. I could never love anyone else. I merely want to say that I have realized you have told me what would make you happy since we were children, and I was too selfish to ever consider it.”

My brain tried to understand what he was saying, to really grasp his meaning. But I could feel my heart banging against my chest as though it could already sense his next words. There was no way he was actually about to say it, was there?

“If marrying both Aemond and I is what will make you happy, I will no longer fight against it. I do not know how everything will work, I do not know how Aegon will fit into it, but I know that I love you and you love me. In the end, that is all that matters to me,” he told me, wiping away a tear that I had not been aware escaped my eye.

My entire life I had been begging for this. My entire life I knew that I was always meant to be with them, that my fate intertwined with theirs. I had convinced myself it was selfish and impossible.

I looked everywhere along his face, trying to find any uncertainty or reluctance. Yet, no matter how desperately I searched, there was none. He spoke the truth and his mind was made up.

“I imagine you already have thoughts as to how you wish it to work,” I whispered. He smiled at me and leaned forward to give me a gentle, albeit brief, kiss.

“Ideally we wait for certain things. You and I marry and give ourselves a couple of years so that we can have a child without question. I will not try to stop you from being with either of them in that time, I merely hope you will respect me enough to take precautions. Then after a couple of years, you and Aemond marry in the Valyrian tradition. Everything else I figure we will take it as it comes,” he said softly, running his thumb over my cheek again and again.

“And you truly love me enough for this?” I asked him. If there was any part of him that had any doubts, I could not ask him to do this.

“When I was in Dragonstone, I found letters. Many more than I ever thought had been shared, and in truth I should not have read any of them. But they were letters that Mother had received from Daemon, from our Aunt Laena, from our fathers, even from Alicent. All of these letters were discussing life and love in ways I had never thought of such,” he told me.

I placed my hand on the one of his that rested on my cheek. Simultaneously, I was pulling him further into me while holding him. He did not need to say anything else about them.

While I had not seen any from Alicent, I did once find nearly a box stuffed with letters. It was hard to piece together everything without Mother’s words, but I had an idea. Letters from Daemon and Laena talking about longing for Mother’s company, how they should have always been raising us and Rhaena and Baela together from the start. Letters from Ser Harwin, which I am almost certain he would hide for her to find instead of them being sent with a raven, describing her beauty and how she glowed when she was pregnant, thanking her for giving him such blessings. Ser Laenor’s were always phrased as though he was talking to his dearest friend, describing to her the beauty of the sea on the few trips out he went on after their marriage.

I could not honestly say I understood all the implications of them when I first read them. If I were being honest, they confused me more than told me anything. But when I thought back on them, I felt similarly to Jace. They teach more about love than most are willing to openly admit. That love does not always mean you find one person and that was it, after that person you were doomed to be alone.

“And your plans for you?” I asked him. I needed to know. If for no other reason, than if I felt too strongly about him talking about being with someone else, I couldn’t take him up on this. It had to be fair.

“I told you, I will never love anyone else,” he told me with a firmness that I had never heard from him. It was very Kingly of him. “I was not with anyone while you were away, but not because I never tried. After a couple of years, I tried. I tried to find love, I tried to find someone that could make the pain of losing you manageable. But after every person I met, I came to my chambers alone, still praying to every god imaginable you would be returned. I never even got so much as a kiss because any person I spoke with just made me ache more for you.”

“My darling, I never thought it could be so difficult for you,” I whispered. “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy.”

He kissed me softly. It truly was the best way to shut me up. And this kiss felt so good. It was like it was the beginning of everything.

#dividers by benkeibear #jacaerys velaryon x reader #aegon targaryen ii #out of time #aemond targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #daemyra #rhaenyra targaryen

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