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chaedomi · 11 months

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𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍 ✦ twtptflob

fem!child!reader x the blue pedelian (platonic!yan), kidnapping, mild injury, implied violence, unhealthy relationships; flowers don't attract butterflies alone. suddenly, others are gravitating to you, expanding your long list of obsessive admirers. pt. 1 ꨄ — masterlist

HOW DID it end up like this? It all happened in the span of one night while you were asleep. And when you reopened your eyes, you quickly discovered that you were no longer inside your bedroom. You had time to explore every place in your manor, so when you couldn’t identify which part of the manor you were in, you began to panic and overthink.

Your distress got worse when a silver-haired female burst into the room and grabbed you into a hug as if there wasn’t some problem with this. At this point, you began to cry, fully convinced that you were kidnapped, pushing the woman away from you, and startling her. It was in chaos for a while, your screams mixing with your words as you wailed for your freedom. The woman tried to reassure you with sweet words, inclusive of the maids present who stepped in to assist by dangling pretty jewelry in front of your face to distract you.

Unfortunately, their efforts to appease you only increased your wails. When a masculine figure barged into the room this time, it was only then you stopped crying, in favor of blinking at him while the stray tears fell from the corner of your eyes. Staring at the male, you knew he looked familiar, your panicked mind just couldn’t identify who.

When he approached you with a gentle smile, patted your head, and began this monologue of ‘protecting’ you, you finally put the pieces together; this male was no other than the heir of The Blue Pedelian, CASSIS. Oh, boy…

In truth, your kidnapping was all ROXANA's fault, and she had no choice but to admit that. God forbid if her family found out that she was the whole reason for your disappearance, it would even make her kind-hearted mother hold some form of grudge against her and result in her execution. Luckily, no one was able to trace the doings back to her… except her red-eyed freak of an older brother.

Satisfying her curiosity was not worth it. As they say, it killed the cat. Now, she was stuck reaping the consequences of her stupidity; distraught over your disappearance, and additional work that could have been avoided, in her plan.

…If her life didn't depend on his, you bet she would have already retaliated without mercy. How foolish, she gave him an inch and he took a mile.

But, who is to blame other than herself? To explain, it was a fleeting thought that crossed her mind one morning to which she initially paid no mind… till it stubbornly stuck inside her brain. From what she remembered, in The Abysmal Flower, Sylvia displayed extreme and obsessive feelings toward you, despite being the enemy, willing to risk her safety to keep you by her side. Due to her intervention, however, Sylvia remained out of the picture. Still, she began to wonder.

If Sylvia wasn’t immune to your adorable charms, could it possibly be the same for Cassis? And thus, it marked the beginning of her little experiment. It came as no surprise to her that Cassis was on guard when she first introduced you to him. After all, almost every Agriche child was a demon spawn.

Regardless of the precautions Cassis took, his guard quickly crumbled once he was exposed to your innocence and purity, much to Roxana’s amusement. His hostile attitude quickly evaporated, he even held you on his lap (with Roxana’s permission), reciting stories that would intrigue a child your age. …She wished he was that cooperative with her as well.

She continued this pattern for a few weeks… every day, she would spare some time to take you to Cassis and observe how it played out in the distance. And each time, it never failed to entertain her. A righteous and kept man like him becomes nothing more than a slave for a child, an enemy’s child. She was long satisfied with her discovery, it’s just that Cassis was always in a better mood and more willing to listen after he spent his time with you.

But the day Cassis got too comfortable and had the guts to refer to you as one of his SIBLINGS, she realized, she may have spoiled him too much. She never had a problem when Sylvia referred to you as her ‘little sister.’ However, that was BEFORE she was thrown into the novel world. Now that she had the opportunity to experience your kindness herself, anyone who tried to make their claim on you outside the family is nothing LESS aggravating. And that was the end of your little visits.

That’s when it went downhill. Of course, Cassis was quick to pick up on your sudden absence throughout the days. He tried to ask, but once Roxana's tone progressively got more aggressive the longer he persisted, he finally got the hint. He wasn't seeing you again.

Roxana was grateful that Cassis had shut his mouth after a while. But, she found it odd how compliant he remained without your presence. More so, she hated the way he stared at her, a hidden intent she couldn't figure out in his eyes. It intensified when she gave him a map of the manor, a faint sighting of a smirk ghosting his lips. …Out of all people, Roxana would have never expected Cassis to kidnap someone. Trust no one, as they say. What an arse… Repaying her good deeds with this.

And so, the manor of The Black Agriche was thrown into a frenzy, having lost something very precious. Unless Roxana wanted to stir more trouble with hasty actions, she must sit quietly for now. …At the very least she didn’t need to worry about your safety. Unlike The Black Agriche, The Blue Pedelian will never torture their captives, let alone a young child like you…

Meanwhile, you were having your own crisis. This was a very drastic change. Although the violent nature of your family often terrifies you, you have grown used to it… kind of. Now, with the serene environment of The Blue Pedelians, you've grown antsy, anticipating some form of chaos to arise.

Ignoring how he took you without your agreement (no matter how hard he tried to justify his actions in a good light), you felt more comfortable being around CASSIS than the rest of the family. You weren’t sure if the times spent together back in your manor contributed to your lack of fear around him or relieved over the fact that your situation could have been very worse, and you didn’t care all that much. Cassis's attitude toward you didn’t change from when he was held prisoner, instead, his doting habits only increased now that his actions were not limited and monitored. He spoils you a lot, more than he spoils his younger sister. He will try his hardest to provide whatever you want, as long as it stays within the 'reasonable' range.

And by 'reasonable' he means, stop asking him to return you home. Suddenly, he understood Roxana's frustration. Is this what she felt when he continuously persisted? He doesn't get why you would want to return home out of all places; your family is vile.

It's not like you wanted to return, you had to. Although you wished to run away and never return, the odds were still not in your favor for you to make your escape plan. Something also told you that residing in The Blue Pedelian Manor was its own kind of hell…

The possible feud that can brew if your whereabouts were revealed made your skin crawl with fear. Knowing your value between the two families as well, you would be caught in the crossfire, and who knows what would happen to you then… You were trying to make things better for you, not destroy all your chances.

Cassis still didn't listen to your concerns (he never does), shutting down your complaints with a stern glare. …You just hope whatever war was to break out, it would happen later rather than sooner…

Just what was wrong with you? He’s trying his hardest to get you accustomed to your new surroundings, spoiling you with gifts, spending time with you along with his sister, anything to put you at ease. Yet, you just didn’t care! All you did was flush his efforts down the drain. He thought he was making progress with you, so he would never expected it, hell, even imagined it. But, when he caught you creeping around the exit gates, your freaked-out expression said it all. Now, here you were, leg chained to the bedpost back inside your prison-like bedroom. Seeing you chained up reminded him of himself, and it was interesting to see the roles switch to some extent. Truthfully, your tears pained him, but, he didn’t see the point in you crying. He wasn’t doing anything bad and he wished that you’d stop acting as if he was.

"Why can’t you understand that this is for your benefit?"

Oh? SYLVIA adores you? Why, that's no secret and is obvious to anyone who witnesses the interaction between you and her. Why wouldn't she love you!? You're everything she ever wanted in a younger sister… well, minus the looks, but, she can get past that!

MORE doting than Cassis, it's overbearing, honestly. Ever since your first encounter, you don't remember a time when you were left alone; it's always some lousy excuse to be around you. She hugs, kisses, cuddles, squishes, and any affectionate gesture she can think of, she does it to you. It was like she was trying to merge herself with you.

Honestly, her compassion spooked you. Her behavior reminded you a lot of your second stepmother, Maria. So, you weren't surprised when she had some hostile reaction whenever a maid would unintentionally interrupt your 'bonding' time. The sweeter they are, the more aggressive. Well, at least there weren't any dead bodies scattered on the ground…

Have you ever been so upset that you began to cry? Sylvia is a perfect demonstration of that. Perhaps you were right to compare her to Maria, the rage evident on her face was akin to the deadly glare your stepmother wore when she was furious. Flashbacks clouded your mind of how Maria snapped when a servant accidentally spilled milk on your gown. This situation was much different; a maid somehow cut your hand with the teacup. The one time Sylvia thought it was a good idea to let you get some fresh air outside your room, the fun atmosphere was ruined by something silly as this. It’s no surprise if your family lashed out, but to see a sophisticated woman such as Sylvia spew out words of profanity and behave so hostile was unexpected. At the very least, you appreciated she held back for your sake. With the way her hands shook with rage the longer she chewed out the maid, you had the impression Sylvia wanted to do much more than a stern talking to.

“There you are! I looked for you everywhere. I was beginning to worry that you’ve run away, but, you won’t do that to me, right?”

Your fear of RISCHEL was reasonable. Given his position inside his household, you two never met that often. However, the rare times you do meet, his piercing gaze never fails to make you shrink back on yourself. If you think about it, his hateful attitude made sense. You were one of the many offsprings of his biggest enemy, Lante, and said enemy kidnapped his son and tormented him mercilessly. Some of his son’s many torturers included Lante’s children, so you could just imagine the many scenarios that went through his mind. You don’t blame him if he was tempted to torment you, solely for Lante having a taste of his own medicine.

While Rischel’s expression came across as wanting to bury you six feet under, in truth, he was very much intrigued by your existence. It was confusing to see his son return with an unconscious child after escaping. And for a moment he feared that his son went mad when the child held in his arms was an Agriche and pleaded for your protection.

He was hesitant (for good reason) but ultimately agreed in the end. If his son saw something valuable in you, then there must be some worth in keeping you around. However, it didn’t mean he automatically trusted you. Without your knowledge, he monitored you, planting eyes everywhere. Any suspicious activity he was informed of would be enough validation for him to throw you out with no hesitation.

…So how exactly did his wariness morph into overwhelming softness toward you? (like father like son) The feeling just dawned upon him and he noticed it all: your mannerisms, your innocence, it slowly rubbed on him in a positive light. This was strange. He wonders if you had used a spell on him, no one should fall under anyone’s whims so suddenly as if you possessed this charm that melts even the hearts of the cold-blooded. But, oh, did the feeling around you feel so nice. And soon, he simply gave in to the desire to love you and protect you.

You realized how much more tolerable he became of your presence, to your relief. Even so, the feelings you saw on the outside couldn’t begin to compare to the rapidly developing obsessive feelings he harbored for you. And by the time you began to pick up on the dangerous signals, the damage was already done.

You were beyond speechless when you looked into the reflection of the mirror, staring at someone else entirely. Her hair was a shade of pure silver, and her eyes resembled the golden rays of the sun. As you reached your hand out to touch the glass, your body froze as reality sunk in. This was not another person, but rather you, with a new appearance and identity you were forced to carry. Looking over your shoulder, you glanced at the faces of Rischel, Cassis, and Sylvia, hoping for all of this to be one big joke. But, the pleased glances they returned alerted you that this situation was far from a joke, and you had to accept your new fate.

“Sylvia was correct. This look suits you perfectly.”

You were stressed and rightfully so. How could all of this happen? And why did it have to be you? You were still young and didn’t deserve to deal with these problems. In such a short amount of time, along with new obsessors formed, you temporarily resigned to a new lifestyle, switching from agriche to pedelian.

©chaedomi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of the works published.

#🥛━ 𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐄 #the way to protect the female lead's older brother #twtptflob #twtptflob x reader #manhwa x reader #manhwa x you #yandere manhwa x reader #yandere x reader #platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #child reader #female reader

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natsaffection · 29 days

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I’m sorry if this is too much to ask

I recently went through a breakup with my girlfriend (recently as in last night) and I need some Natty fluff and comfort. For an idea reader and nat are bestfriends and have been through S.H.I.E.L.D for many years before Nat was promoted to an Avenger and reader was left behind as an agent.

Reader broke up with their relationship a day before Nat got home from a mission(clarification that nat n reader share apartments) injured and its just the two worrying about eachother to mindlessly cuddle and comfort eachother.

could add in soft sex for plot but ill let you decide the rest 😞✊

Held Together. | N.R

Warnings: friends brake up, injury

Word count: 2,3k

A/n: Hey you. I know this isn't going to help you much, and I definitely want to lend you my ear if you ever want to talk about things like this. I know how it feels, and I also know that saying it will get better doesn't exactly help. So please don't hesitate to write to me. 🩵

The first time you saw Natasha, you were both in the S.H.I.E.L.D. training facility, hidden deep within the confines of a classified location. The facility was stark, all concrete walls and fluorescent lighting, with the faint scent of sweat and determination lingering in the air. You were new, just another recruit with a mysterious past, handpicked for reasons that weren't fully explained to you. But then again, secrecy was the foundation of S.H.I.E.L.D., and you had learned quickly that questions were often better left unasked.

Natasha stood out immediately. Not just because of her striking red hair, which seemed to catch the light even in the dullest corners of the room, but because of the aura of quiet confidence she exuded. She moved with a precision that spoke of years of experience, each step deliberate, each movement economical. It was clear that she was in a league of her own. But it wasn’t her skill that drew you to her, it was the look in her eyes. Beneath the stoic mask, there was a flicker of something familiar, something you recognized in yourself. The guarded pain of someone who had seen too much, too soon. The training sessions were brutal. S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t coddle its recruits, and you were pushed to your limits, physically and mentally. But every time you faltered, Natasha was there, a silent presence at your side, pushing you to keep going. She wasn’t the type to offer comforting words or a reassuring pat on the back, but her actions spoke louder than any words could. She trained with you, sparred with you, and when you were both covered in bruises and gasping for breath, she would sit with you in the quiet moments, a rare smile tugging at her lips.

Over time, what began as mutual respect grew into something deeper. You found yourself seeking her out, not just in training but outside of it. Late nights in the common room, nursing cups of coffee and talking about everything and nothing at all. You learned that Natasha wasn’t just a hardened spy. She was fiercely intelligent, with a dry wit that could cut through any tension. She had a past that she kept close to the vest, but in those quiet moments, she would let slip little pieces of herself, and you would do the same. It was during one of those late-night conversations that you both discovered just how much you had in common. You shared a dark sense of humor, born from lives that had demanded you grow up too fast. You both knew what it was like to be used as a tool, to have your choices stripped away, and to fight tooth and nail to reclaim some semblance of control.

The turning point in your friendship came during a mission in Prague. You had been sent in as backup for Natasha, who was deep undercover, trying to extract a high-value target from an enemy compound. The mission had gone south, bad intel, compromised routes, everything that could go wrong did. Natasha was pinned down, outgunned and outnumbered, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment, you thought you might lose her. But you didn’t hesitate. You stormed the compound, using every skill you had learned, every lesson drilled into you during those grueling training sessions. You fought your way to her, the two of you battling side by side, back to back, until you managed to extract the target and make your escape.

When you were safely back at the extraction point, covered in dust and blood, Natasha had turned to you, her eyes fierce with a mix of adrenaline and gratitude. She didn’t say anything, but the look she gave you was all you needed. From that moment on, you were partners in every sense of the word. There was an unspoken understanding between you..a bond forged in the heat of battle, one that neither of you questioned. Over the years, that bond only grew stronger. You became the team that everyone wanted on their mission, the pair that could get the job done no matter the odds. You were the calm to her storm, the steady hand that balanced her fierce determination. And she was your anchor, the one person you knew you could rely on, no matter what.

But it wasn’t all about the missions. There were moments of light in the darkness inside jokes that no one else understood, late-night movies when you both should have been sleeping, and the kind of trust that only came from knowing someone inside and out. You knew her favorite coffee order, the songs she hummed when she thought no one was listening, and the way she always checked her weapons twice before a mission, even when she didn’t need to. And she knew you, knew the nightmares that woke you in the middle of the night, the reason you kept your distance from most people, and the way you always carried that one memento from your past, a small token of a life you barely remembered. She never pushed, never pried, but her presence was a constant reassurance, a reminder that you weren’t alone in this world.

Then came the day when everything shifted. Natasha was summoned to Nick office a meeting that would change the course of both your lives. When she emerged, she looked different, as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, but there was something else too a distance, a sense of something slipping away. She told you about the Avengers, about the offer Fury had made. You could see the excitement in her eyes, the way her posture straightened as she spoke about it. And why wouldn’t she be excited? It was a chance to be part of something bigger, something that could change the world. You listened, nodded in all the right places, and when she asked what you thought, you plastered on a smile and told her how proud you were.

But inside, your heart ached. You knew that things would never be the same. You didn’t want to hold her back, didn’t want to be the reason she missed out on something extraordinary, but the thought of losing the connection you shared filled you with a dread you couldn’t shake. And slowly, that fear began to materialize.

As Natasha got more involved with the Avengers, the calls became less frequent, the visits even more so. You found yourself spending more time alone, throwing yourself into missions to drown out the loneliness. The once unbreakable bond you shared felt like it was fraying, the threads pulling apart one by one. The more you tried to reach out, the more distant she seemed, until one day, you realized that the Natasha you knew was almost a stranger to you now. She had new friends, new responsibilities, a new life. And where you once stood side by side, you were now watching from the sidelines, unsure of where you fit in her world anymore.

But the memories remained. Every time you walked past the training room, you could almost hear the echoes of your past conversations, the laughter that once filled the empty spaces. The ghost of what you had once had lingered, haunting you in the quiet moments. You didn’t know what the future held for you and Natasha, but one thing was certain: the bond you had shared was changing, evolving into something you couldn’t yet understand. And as much as it hurt, you knew that you had to find your place in this new reality, even if it meant doing it without her by your side.

The apartment felt too quiet, the silence oppressive as you sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the empty walls. Your things were mostly packed, boxes lining the hallway, and the last remnants of your life here waiting to be sealed up and carried away. You had made your decision the day before, the weight of it still sitting heavily in your chest.

You had ended it. Ended the friendship, the partnership, the life you had built with Natasha. The pain of watching her drift further away into her new life as an Avenger had become too much to bear. Every day had been a reminder of how much you were losing her, and it had finally reached a breaking point. You couldn’t stand being the one left behind anymore, always wondering when or if things would go back to the way they were. So, you had left a note on the kitchen table, explaining as best you could, trying to make her understand why you needed to leave, why you couldn’t keep living in the shadow of her new world. You couldn’t bring yourself to say it to her face, not after everything you’d been through together, so you had written the words, packed your things, and left the apartment.

But now, sitting in the empty space you once called home, the reality of what you’d done settled in, and it hurt more than you could have imagined. You didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to give up on what you had with Natasha, but you didn’t see any other way to protect your heart from breaking further. It was supposed to be simple. You would leave, and Natasha would come back to an empty apartment, read the note, and understand. She’d move on, and so would you. That was the plan.

Except plans never go the way you expect them to.

The sound of the front door creaking open jolted you from your thoughts. Your heart stopped as you heard footsteps heavy, uneven. Natasha was back. You weren’t supposed to be here. You were supposed to be gone, far away, already beginning the process of moving on. But you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Not yet. You stood up, feeling your heart race as you heard Natasha’s familiar footsteps drawing closer. When she finally appeared in the doorway, your breath caught in your throat. She looked exhausted, her skin pale, and there was a grimace on her face that she couldn’t quite hide.

But what really terrified you was the blood on her jacket and the way she was cradling her side as if trying to hold herself together. “Natasha..” you whispered, the word barely audible as the shock of seeing her like this hit you. Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, and for a moment, she just stared, as if trying to process that you were really there. “Y/n..?”

“You’re hurt.” you said, your voice trembling as you took a closer look. "It’s not as bad as it looks..” she replied, trying to offer a reassuring smile, but it faltered as she winced in pain. “Stop pretending.” you snapped, though your voice was laced more with worry than anger. “Why didn’t you go to the medbay?”

Natasha shook her head, letting out a strained sigh “I just..needed to come home.” she said softly, her eyes flickering around the room, taking in the packed boxes, the half-empty closet. “I thought you would be gone..?” The words hung in the air between you, heavy and filled with the tension of everything that had happened, everything that hadn’t been said.

“I was supposed to be..” you admitted. “Come here, let me help you with that.” She didn’t resist as you guided her to the bed, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she tried to stay composed. You carefully unzipped her jacket, wincing at the sight of the blood-soaked bandages underneath. It wasn’t the worst injury you’d seen her with, but it was bad enough to make your hands shake as you reached for the first aid kit. She winced as you peeled the blood-soaked fabric away, revealing a nasty gash along her side. It wasn’t life-threatening, but it was deep enough to require stitches.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” you asked, your voice thick with emotion as you began to clean the wound, trying to keep your hands steady. “I didn’t want you to worry..” Natasha replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I guess that plan didn’t work out too well.”

“Damn it, Natasha..” you muttered, blinking back tears as you worked. “You can’t just..you can’t just keep doing this. Keeping things from me. Pushing me away.”

“I wasn’t trying to push you away.” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “I just..I didn’t know how to handle all of this. You, the Avengers, everything. I thought I could balance it all, but I was wrong.” You paused, your breath hitching as the weight of her words settled over you. “Nat-” you started, but she cut you off.

“I read your note.” she said, her eyes glistening as she looked down at you. “I know why you left, and I can’t blame you. I’ve been so caught up in everything else that I forgot about the one person who’s always been there for me. And now I’m scared I’ve lost you.” Tears slipped down your cheeks as you finished dressing her wound, your hands lingering on her skin for a moment longer than necessary. “You haven’t lost me.” you whispered, your voice shaking. “But I can’t keep living like this, Natasha. It’s tearing me apart..”

She reached out, her hand trembling as she cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing away your tears. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice breaking. “I never wanted to hurt you.” You leaned into her touch, closing your eyes as the warmth of her hand seeped into your skin. “I know.” you whispered. “But things have to change. We can’t keep going like this.”

Natasha nodded, her own tears spilling over as she pulled you into a gentle embrace, her arms wrapping around you as if she was afraid to let go. You buried your face in her shoulder, the scent of her familiar, comforting even through the layers of blood and sweat. You both held on to each other as if it was the only thing keeping you grounded, the only thing keeping you from falling apart. For a long time, neither of you spoke. The silence was filled with the sound of your combined breaths, the rise and fall of your chests in sync, the steady beat of her heart against your ear. “I don’t want to lose you..” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you hadn’t said.

“You won’t.” she promised, her voice filled with quiet determination. “I won’t let you.” There was a moment of silence, thick with unspoken emotions, and then, before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in, pressing your lips softly to hers. The kiss was tender, hesitant, as if you were both afraid to break the fragile connection between you. But the moment your lips met, it was like something inside you both clicked into place, the distance and the pain melting away, replaced by the familiar warmth of being with each other. Natasha kissed you back, her lips moving slowly, carefully, as if savoring the moment. When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against hers, your breaths mingling in the small space between you.

“I’m sorry..” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Shh..” Natasha murmured, her hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. “We’ll figure it out.” You nodded, unable to speak as you felt the tears slipping down your cheeks. Natasha gently wiped them away, her touch so soft it made your heart ache. You didn’t know what the future held for you both, but in this moment, with her arms around you and her lips still tingling from the kiss, you felt a glimmer of hope.

Carefully, you helped her lie down on the bed, her head resting on the pillow as you pulled the blanket over her. But before you could move away, Natasha caught your hand, her grip surprisingly strong despite her exhaustion. “Stay with me.” she whispered, her eyes pleading. You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion as you crawled into bed beside her. Natasha immediately curled into you, her head resting on your chest, her arm draped over your waist. You wrapped your arms around her, holding her close, as if you were afraid she might slip away if you let go.

The two of you lay there in silence, the only sound the soft rhythm of your breathing and the steady beat of your hearts. The tension, the hurt, the fear..it all seemed to fade away as you held each other, the warmth of her body against yours a balm to the wounds that had been festering between you for so long. You pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, your fingers gently stroking her hair as she sighed contentedly against you. “I love you, Nat..” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “I love you too.” she murmured, her voice filled with so much tenderness it made your heart ache. You tightened your hold on her, burying your face in her hair as you let the weight of the day finally slip away. For the first time in a long time, you felt a sense of peace, a sense of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back to each other. And as you both drifted off to sleep, wrapped up in each other’s arms, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha

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barcaatthemoon · 5 months

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should be me || leah williamson x reader ||

leah gets jealous when the team tease you about the obvious thing going on between you and rachel daly.

you sat silently in your cubby, ignoring the looks of your teammates. this game against aston villa wasn't overly important, no more than any others you'd played this season. still, you were incredibly nervous about it. your captains were all picking up on it, but they had different approaches for trying to help you.

leah tried to comfort you the best that she could, but it was little more than an awkward shoulder pat and reassuring comment. kim was much more motherly in her attempts to calm you down a bit. however, it was unfortunately katie who was the most effective with her knowing and teasing comments.

"are you excited to see your little girlfriend?" katie asked as she nudged you with her elbow. both you and leah snapped your heads towards katie to glare at her. leah's glare was all anger, but yours was annoyance. "she's been asking a lot about you. i think you've really got a chance."

"whatever," you huffed. truthfully, you would have been more than happy going out with rachel. however, there was a slight problem. she wasn't leah. nobody else was leah, and that was why all of your dates led to absolutely nothing. you wanted to be with leah, but leah didn't want to be with you.

"seriously, she's interested," katie told you.

"drop it mccabe," leah grumbled. katie put her hands up in surrender, muttering about how she only wanted to help her friends. katie didn't understand why leah always got so upset whenever arsenal played aston villa. leah and rachel were friends, at least they were until the teams met up. leah was friendlier with her national teammates who played for chelsea than she was with rachel. "you good?"

"i'm fine leah," you promised her. she smiled as she ruffled your hair a bit. you groaned as you tried to fix your hair again. you were just finishing up whenever kim called everybody to huddle up for a quick pre-game pep talk. you knew that arsenal had this game in the bag, but you still appreciated the little boost to everybody's confidence.

"quick hug before we become sworn enemies?" rachel asked. you hadn't expected to see her waiting for you as the team shuffled out of the locker room. admittedly, you had been a bit eager as you launched yourself into her arms. behind you, leah scoffed as she walked past the two of you. "i'd tell you good luck, but my mates would kill me."

"we don't need it anyway." you gave rachel a cheeky smile before you joined your team. the girls all started to tease you a bit as you found your mascot and spot in line. you knew that you had done it to yourself, but their words still made your cheeks burn bright red with embarrassment.

…

arsenal's win over aston villa was unsurprising. you hadn't scored any goals, but your two assists brought you all the pride you could handle. usually, you found yourself right by leah's side after games like this, but katie was excitedly pushing you away from the team. you were about to question her whenever she directed you towards a downtrodden rachel daly.

"go on, give her something to smile about," katie told you. she gave you a good shove, which leah missed. all the blonde saw was you walking over and sitting next to rachel. the two of you sat on the pitch for nearly 10 minutes together before you got up to take a shower.

you liked longer showers, but a good amount of the hot water had been used up. you walked back into the locker room to the stares of your teammates. this time, instead of katie starting the teasing, it was steph and caitlin. even kim joined in, which was when leah finally lost her cool.

"for the love of god, will you lot stop talking about rachel? i am sick and tired of hearing her name! we get it, she's into (y/n) and maybe (y/n)'s into her too!" leah shouted. you flinched as she stormed out of the locker room, slamming the door behind her.

"what the hell was that about?" katie asked as she glanced over towards you. in all honesty, you had no idea what leah was on about. she had never been a big fan of the jokes, but it had never seemed like something that would result in such an outburst.

"(y/n), honey, i think you should talk to leah," kim told you. she placed her hand on the small of your back as she guided you onto your feet. you didn't know why, but you were incredibly nervous as you looked for leah. she wasn't mad at you, but there was a chance that she'd blow up on you too. you didn't want to smother her, but the team had decided that you were the best person to find out what was wrong.

"leah?" you called out as you found her in an empty trainer's room. "can i sit with you?"

"surprised you're not off comforting your little girlfriend," leah grumbled. you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as you stared at her. at the look of confusion on your face, leah suddenly felt a bit guilty. it wasn't you who had been making all the jokes after all. if anything, you were the most innocent in the whole situation. you didn't seem to understand the situation, unlike kim and alessia, who definitely knew all about leah's feelings.

"i don't have a girlfriend. rachel and i are just friends, leah. we grew up in the same neighborhood, we're like sisters," you told her. leah had heard it a million times before, just like most of the team had. "why does it bother you so much whenever they talk about rachel? you two are friends."

"it's not just rachel, it's you and rachel that bother me. this is embarrassing to say out loud, but i get jealous," leah admitted. you didn't understand what leah could possibly have to be jealous about. the two of you weren't dating, and even if you had been, you never ever would have hooked up with rachel. you meant it whenever you said that she was like your sister.

"i'm not yours, so why are you so jealous?" you asked, a teasing lilt to your voice. leah caught onto it, and instead of getting defensive, she decided to play along. if you wanted her to stop, you were more than comfortable telling her so.

"because maybe, i think that you should be mine," leah said. she grabbed onto your jaw and leaned in close enough for you to feel her breath against your lips.

"don't play with me like this," you warned her.

"i'm not playing love," leah told you. you swallowed as your eyes flicked down to her lips. leah caught your gaze and took the hint. she didn't waste any time in teasing you, opting to press her lips against yours instead. you kissed leah back, opening your mouth just enough for the tip of her tongue to dip into your mouth. leah's hands moved to the back of your head as she pulled you even closer.

"take me home." you had been reluctant to break the kiss, but if things had gone any further, you wouldn't have been able to stop yourself. leah seemed to understand that, sighing as she got off of the table.

"not tonight, not yet. i want to do better than that for you. i'll pick you up tomorrow morning for coffee and breakfast. we can see how things go from there, okay?" leah offered.

"i never thought i'd see the day leah williamson turned away such a willing bedmate," you teased.

"trust me, it's not easy by any means, but you deserve better," leah said. you pressed a kiss to both of her cheeks before you leaned in for a final one to her lips. this kiss was softer and sweeter than the one you had just shared, neither one of you pressing too far in any direction. "i'll miss you."

"i never thought you could be such a sap, it's cute."

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader

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notthecutesttrash · 1 month

Text

Mascara and Tears

Content: You’ve escaped him before, and this time you’ve made a life for yourself. You decide one day to go out with another man and risk him finding you.

Warnings: 18+ Dark bloodlust Gojo, kidnapping, death, blood, implied noncon, yandere stuff you know.

Word Count: 2.5k

It’s been months after the first escape attempt.

Gojo had been on a mission and left his door barely locked, it was enough for you to devise a plan to make a run for it.

You were caught in half an hour.

It’s been weeks after your second.

You managed to drug him when he least expected it, leaving you to escape as quietly as possible.

This time, you left no trace. This time, you’d be happy.

You’ve studied him well enough to know that he was capable of finding you. But he hasn’t, so you know you’ve done a good job. Still, you find yourself terrified even in the cold nights. Occasionally you’re overcome by fear and restlessness as paranoia surges through your mind.

You’re angrily pressing your fingers into dough before your coworker Andy pats your back and saves you from the contemplation. “Treat the dough with a little respect (Y/n), it’s your friend, not an enemy,” he jokes and you force a small chuckle.

“Sorry, just got too into it.”

He laughs in response and begins to knead at one of his pieces. “I get it, sometimes it’s fun to play with and throw around. You can make some pizzas, bread, or sweets. You can do anything with dough, and that’s the beauty." He’s nearly beaming at you, and you're stifling a chortle, breaking out with a “nerd.”

“Hey!” He points accusingly and you snicker.

When a comfy silence erupts and you’re both drawn into your work, after a few minutes, Andy clears his throat. “So, (Y/n).”

You turn to him, and there’s a small blush on his cheeks. Your heart drops a little, and you’re begging silently. Please don’t say it.

“Do you maybe want to get drinks after this shift?”

He said it.

Inwardly sighing, you squint your eyes as if lost in thought and he stammers. “I mean, I know you always have a busy schedule, but I just thought- I don’t know, it’d be nice to get your mind away from things for a change. You always look so tense.”

No matter how many times he or your other coworkers would ask, you were always busy. One day your sister had to be picked up, you had to run to the hospital, or your dog needed walking. Meanwhile, in reality, you’d sit at home and cradle yourself in fear. Sure that the one moment you're caught off guard, you'd find Gojo sitting quietly in your room with the lights off, ready to take you just like the last time.

Humming in response, you agree, you are always tense.

Maybe just one day of going out would do you good. He wasn’t bound to find you just from a chat at the bar right? There’s only so much sitting and moping around in lonely shivers that you can partake in.

Besides, if you’re actually free now, you can finally have friends. People to make you happy, to have conversations with, and to freely walk around with wherever you want. Rather than just being kept in a locked room that was no bigger than a dozen feet across.

Maybe if he finds you again, you’d at least be happy with just having this bit of freedom.

Shaking yourself out of the thoughts, your brows knit together angrily. You’re not going to let that happen.

Turning to Andy, you give him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, that’d be fine.” He gasps and practically bounces in the joy that he attempts to so poorly conceal.

He works with the dough a little less focused now as the grin stays glued to his face. “Awesome, so there’s this place around town that just opened up, heard it’s fancy though, don’t know if you want to go there.”

You shrug. Truthfully because you never went anywhere or did anything you had a bit of spare money saved up. You didn’t mind splurging for today.

But what if Gojo finds your records? What if somehow has your bank account information? Or finds you had gone there with another man?

“(Y/n)?” Andy calls out when you don’t answer.

“No no, I don’t mind, sounds great. But don’t know if we’re really well equipped for that after work.” Gesturing to your clothes filled with baking powder, Andy glances to his own and shares a laugh.

“You’re right.” A blush scatters to his face again and you’re exhaling a small sigh.

“I guess I can pick you up after..?” He trails off expectantly, his hand brushing against his neck as he timidly averts away. If only Gojo hadn’t ever been involved, then you’d think about having a possible romance.

“Sure.”

You press your hands into the substance for what feels like hours until your wrist feels like it’s going to fall off. And when you go home, you’re holding your breath, a stammering in your chest as you walk through the door. Your first instinct is to always immediately click the lights and when you'd notice nothing, you'll slump in great relief.

You refuse to allow the thoughts of this kidnapper to ruin your day out. You’re free now, that’s all there is to it, and you dress yourself up real pretty to prove that. Even having the liberty to apply makeup which you’ve never done for Gojo.

Not even if he tortured you and rubbed the bottom of your lip, declaring just how pretty you’d be if they were stained red just for him to ruin. Even if he forced you on your knees and implied just how much he’d love it if he could see the mascara rolling down your cheeks while you cried.

This time, you were going to be beautiful to no one else's enjoyment but yourself.

Andy had been patiently waiting and when you stepped out his heart sped into his throat. You smile at him and his skin burns red.

“Now I almost feel a little underdressed,” he mumbles awkwardly glancing down at his attire.

“Don’t worry, you look fine. Anything’s better than the baking powder.” Sharing a giggle, you two begin walking, the clack of your heels echoing against the sidewalk.

Andy is continuously glimpsing to you, then at the ground. His bottom lip draws into his mouth. “You look.. amazing by the way,” he finally breaks the silence, and you turn to him, gleaming.

“Thanks.”

He gazes at you too long, gawking in amazement, and you lightly poke him out of the concentration. “Relax, I’m not that good-looking.” You joke, and he instantly shakes his head.

“That’s not true (Y/n), seriously, you are.. you’re beautiful.”

It's been awhile since you had a genuine compliment that wasn't so creepy sounding.

You would’ve rolled your eyes at the twinkling in his orbs. But this time you’re flattered and a light pink forms.

“Thanks.. I don’t typically get pretty for events or anything… I don’t really go out in general.”

“Why not?” He’s quick to ask, brows knitting in worry.

You cuss beneath your breath. Too much oversharing. Not talking to a person in a while will do that to you.

“Nothing- I just don’t like to. More of an.. inside person I guess.” Your eyes avoid his peering and he breaks out into a small smile.

“I get it, my sis is like that, introvert right?”

You nod. That wasn’t remotely the reason, but you'll let him think that.

“I’m a bit of both, you know, I like talking but not too much. Sometimes it can be draining, sometimes it can be-“

“This isn’t going to be like your rambles about dough is it?” You cut him off jokingly and he shyly averts.

“No no- sorry.. I have a tendency to talk too much.” Andy grazes his arm awkwardly, and you feel him distance himself a little. Perhaps that was a bit mean.

You try to ease the heaviness in the atmosphere. “I like hearing your rambling. I was just being sarcastic, don't worry. Maybe it wasn’t the best time to joke like that,” you admit, and you notice him visibly relax.

“That’s okay.” He beams and you mimic the expression.

When you reach the bar you’re in a nice little section by yourselves, and you’re surrounded by comfortable lighting, modern decorations, leather brown chairs, and relaxed people doing their own things.

It was amazing.

“You act like you haven’t seen people in years,” Andy chuckles as he takes a sip of his drink.

An evident frown shifts your expresion and he notices. His hand carefully touches your wrist and you shift to him.

“Sorry, did I offend?”

Shaking your head, you force a small smile and declare an excuse. Whether it be along the lines of “just tired,” “lost in thought,” or anything else, it was all the same. The truth was too horrid even for you to bear. Seriously, how unlucky did you have to be for that?

There was only so much you could do for yourself. You’re ecstatic you managed to escape. You have a life now. You can see all these people, revel in the laughter, maybe even fall in love and have children. Though, maybe you were getting too ahead of yourself.

You made sure not to get drunk. When you walked home that was always the scariest part of the day. Whether it be at night, or in the morning, it didn’t make too much of a difference. A dangerous fear you have is walking pass a certain tall figure with white hair.

Though he’d more likely take the scarier approach. Stealthy. Watching you from the shadows and contemplating when he’d take you. You wondered many times if this was the case already. Perhaps he is just toying with your freedom.

Repeatedly you force away from the anxieties. You can’t think so negatively. You have a life now. It’s already been a few weeks. You bested him whether he liked it or not. You won.

Andy fortunately isn’t too drunk either, maybe a bit tipsy, but nothing unsafe. Man or not, having another person beside you made you feel comfortable. Even if Gojo was watching, he or any rational person isn’t likely to just snatch a person when they’re with another. It’s just too suspicious. No one can risk that.

“Are you okay? You look scared,” Andy asks, and you fake a tug at your lips, a pouring discomfort in you.

“I’m okay, it’s just the night can be a little creepy you know." You quickly reason.

Andy purses his lips, pondering a moment before draping his arm over your shoulder. Surprise rushes to you, a swarm of butterflies swooning at the gesture. He was warm, and his grip unlike Gojo’s was gentle. It was like you’d break if he held you any harder.

“Don’t worry, I’m here.” He speaks with a determined but sweet tone and you giggle, leaning into his touch.

“How sweet.” A mocking voice behind your form makes you stop dead in your tracks, eyes going wide.

“(Y/n)?” Andy turns when you aren’t keeping up with him, and you’re frozen, still as a plank of wood. His eyes blink up at the cause, surely meeting your worst nightmare.

You're terrified, but instinctively you whirl around, tears brewing in your eyes as you shout, “Don’t hurt him!”

Gojo’s blue orbs are shining down at you, and he’s smiling wide.

“Oh?” He muses, raising his brow as he walks over to you. Every step he made caused you to flinch in place, and your hands were shaking as he rounded closer.

Suddenly his lips press to your ears and he whispers, “Should’ve thought about that before you ran off and made new friends.”

Instinctively, Andy rushes to shove him away and Gojo holds out his hand, forcing him to stop in place. He grins, and you step back, fixating on those eyes you dreaded so much. “Don’t..” you plead.

Snickering, he strolls to Andy whose almost frozen, and he casually observes his features with a dark gaze. “Hm, I at least expected you to pursue someone better.”

You open your mouth to speak, and blood splatters over you, gushing atop your pretty makeup. Your throat is unable to let out a blaring scream, instead your shaky hands move to your vision. Red. Red liquid splotched against your fingers, staining your skin.

Gojo lets out a tired exhale, and he starts caressing your hair in the way you hate so much. The way he’d pet you without an ounce of care once he'd finish giving you a punishment or would cause you to heave out with sobs.

He's scanning you for a second until he moves and you instinctively shift back. Repeating, you step and something big crunches beneath your heel, causing you to fall back.

Finally, the scream escapes, and you’re rushing to crawl away from the horror. Blood is decorating the ground, the walls, the trash that lays around, everything, anywhere but on him. Gojo is sauntering, and there's a grin spreading his features wide.

Your desperate movement leads to no avail when your back hits a wall and Gojo eventually crouches down to you.

“Get away from me!” You shout as Gojo tugs your hair forcefully back.

His blue orbs glower at you. “Huh?” His grip tightens, and you whine from the pain searing in your scalp. “What was that?” He tugs harder and you scream.

Tears start to cascade, and you plead desperately. “Please d-don’t take me back.” The force pulling your locks lessens, and he stoically observes the scene.

You’re hiccuping through your sobs as you keep going, “P-Please… I don’t want to go back, I’ll do a-anything, p-please don’t take me there, please.”

A grin finally breaks out as he speaks, “Now, where’s the fun in that?” He evilly snickers in a way that has you crying more. Even if you know pleading with him will do nothing, you’re desperate.

But it’ll only further amuse him.

“I don’t want t-to go." You’re whining pathetically, and he exhales a disappointed sigh as he ignores you to study the mascara falling in streams at your cheeks.

“Man, what a waste,” he mutters to himself then presses a hand to his chin, tilting his head as he loses himself in thought.

“I’m surprised you even managed to avoid me for a whole month, I’m almost impressed.” His view is fixated on the sky as he continues.

“Looks like the first punishment wasn’t enough. So hm, what am I going to do now?” He fakes a curiosity while a glimmer shines in his eyes. He knows, and so do you, and you’re sniveling through the choke in your throat at the thought.

“I was gonna be all nice to you too. Even when you don’t deserve it,” he sighs. “I was gonna take you back home, have a sweet dinner date since it’s been so long, but.. since you decided to get all pretty for that guy there,” he motions to the corpse behind him, then zones in on you.

“I’ll have a bit of fun with you first.”

You’re exploding into a fit of panicked tears, desperate begs falling from your lips. “P-Please don’t do this.”

“Aw,” He mockingly coos, wiping a few tears from your eyes.

“Don’t worry. You’ll love it.”

·:*:· ★ ·:*:· ·:*:· ★ ·:*:·　

A quick sketch for my girls out there.

#x reader #fanfic #angst #fanfiction #anime x reader #dark x reader #x female reader #dark fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #slight smut

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 8 months

Text

Bad Faith Part One

Masterlist | Part Two

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Rating: Mature (Part 2 will likely be explicit)

Notes: Not beta-read because when is it ever. Welcome to part one of two!

There will ONLY be two parts! If you ask me at the end of part two where part three is, I'm going to point you back to this notes section!

If you asked me where part three is and you've been linked here, hi!

Length: 8k

Warnings: Angst. Angst angst angst angst; reader is going through a divorce; Reader's married surname is Hayward; unhealthy coping mechanisms; lovers to enemies to allies to lovers....did I mention angst by any chance? Cause—

Summary: There were so many resources about Steven Hayward from the last decade—interviews, profiles, filings. In all of them, Steven came off as a self-assured, cocky, pompous asshat, but a decent strategist. Those same profiles had described Mrs. Hayward as the trophy wife, the little woman behind the man, tending to the arrangements for their multi-million, 3,000 square foot penthouse overlooking Central Park. For as much as Harvey had forced himself to forget about her, he couldn’t forget her spirit, her determination, her desire to build a life, not to be handed one. None of the credit was given to her. None of the glory, none of the acknowledgement of what Harvey was certain were her blood, sweat and tears in that man’s holdings.

The tears that she had seemed set to shed in his office were all the indication that Harvey needed.

It was a long, harrowing moment of silence as Jessica processed all that you’d told her. You fought not to sniffle into the quiet, but your eyes had steadily been leaking tears for the last twenty minutes. Jessica finally stood from her armchair, patting you on the knee and murmuring, “You need a drink.”

You spluttered a weak laugh, watching her stride over to her luxe kitchen.

“Gin and tonic?”

“I would drink the gin straight at that point," You failed to tease.

“Things aren’t all that desperate yet.”

Yet. How reassuring.

You looked down at the damp, crumpled tissues in your hand before you raised one, dabbing at the few remaining tears. It was another few moments before you heard the click of Jessica’s heels crossing back to you.

“...Thanks for holding back.”

She frowned as you looked up at her, taking hold of the glass that she proffered.

“Holding back?”

“The I told you so.”

Jessica’s lips pursed, her head tipping with what you could only assume was a blend of indignance and pity.

“I did, for the record.”

“I know.”

“I told you nothing good could come from tangling your entire life up with that man.”

“You know, I think those were the exact words that you closed your toast out with at the wedding.” You took a swig, wincing at the overwhelming tang of gin. “Christ, that’s strong.”

“Too much?”

“No. It’s perfect, actually.”

Jessica smiled, lowering herself to sit beside you.

“Do you have lawyers in mind?”

“For the divorce? No.”

“I’ll give you recommendations.”

“I appreciate that, but that’s not why I’m here.” You glanced doggedly toward Jessica. “I need your help…Untangling a few holdings. Things that I can live off of, or break apart and sell for scraps. I can’t even afford a divorce lawyer right now—let alone whoever you’d suggest.”

“What?”

“Steven locked all of my credit cards and froze our joint bank account. I tried reaching out to him, but he won't answer me, and the bank won’t unfreeze it. He seems to think that I’m going to drain the entire thing.”

“Why does he think that?”

“Probably because that’s what he would do.” You sniffled, looking down into your glass. “I have some money in savings, but not a lot. Not enough for me to live off of beyond a few months.”

“Holy hell,” Jessica sighed. You grunted, head hanging as you felt the weight of her judgement. “Do you have any idea which entities you want to go after?”

“Yeah.” You set your drink down, reaching out to where you’d set your bag down and drawing out a bland beige file. You’d spent the morning working up your courage to come over and tell Jessica the awful truth, and had also spent that time putting together the data to do it. You flipped the file open and passed it over.

“This is every single property and holding company that I have my name on. I circled the apartment buildings that I want to sell, and the companies that I think would be best suited to my purposes.”

“Is Steven on all of these?”

“Only the ones that I put an asterisk beside, but I wouldn't be surprised if he came after the others.”

Jessica hummed, nodding. “You knew exactly what I’d ask for.”

“Well, I know you.”

She smiled, closing your file and setting it on her lap.

“Then I’m sure you know what I’m going to say next.”

The implication made your stomach churn with discomfort. You took the glass up again, taking a deep pull from it.

“I do,” You admitted, nose wrinkling again from the sharp juniper taste, “And I know that you’re going to say that it’s the best course of action—”

“The only course of action.”

“That’s patently untrue. You have more than one lawyer at your firm.”

“Not one that could handle a case of this magnitude.”

“Not even Louis?”

“Louis is like a french bulldog. Harvey is a pitbull.”

“You know, that’s actually a really harmful stereotype.”

Jessica’s brows lowered in chastisement, and you looked back down into your drink for safety.

“Wouldn’t it be a conflict of interest?” You added.

“How could it be? You’ve barely spoken to or looked at the man in eleven years.”

Eleven years. Had it really been that long?

“I know that you and Harvey parted on bad terms,” Jessica offered softly, and continued over your disbelieving scoff, “But you need to come out of this with the funds and the strength for a good divorce lawyer. Harvey can give you that.”

“What if he doesn’t take the case?”

“He will.”

“But if he doesn’t?”

“He will.”

“Jessica.”

“He won't have a choice.”

“Oh, he’ll love that. There’s nothing Harvey likes more than being backed in a corner."

“That’s when he comes out swinging the hardest.” She plucked the emptied glass out of your hand, heading toward the kitchen again. “Would you like another one?”

You sighed, slouching heavily against the couch and scrubbing your tired eyes.

“I’d really just like that bottle of gin—and a straw.”

“Would you stop fussing? You look fine.”

“I don’t care how I look,” You grumbled, though that didn’t stop you from reaching down and adjusting the skirt of your dress. You didn’t want to admit that Jessica was right, though you both knew that she was. She always had you nailed dead to rights, and that morning was no different.

You had a slight headache from the drinks you’d had at her apartment the night before, but it was hardly the worst hangover that you’d ever had. You were already two coffees in and you were itching for a third, but you already felt like shit. A third one would just make your heart pound harder, your hands more sweaty, and probably send your anxiety through the roof. You were certain the conversation you were about to have would do all of that for you, so no additional coffee was needed.

You drew in a deep breath, standing and tugging your dress down again as you walked over to look through out over the city. You could hear the ringing of phones behind you, the clicking of heels, the chatter of conversation. You were just waiting for his voice, waiting for his bravado to enter before he did, to suck the air out of the room.

“...What’d he say when you told him?” You asked.

“I haven't yet. I thought it would be more effective if we told him together.”

“So not only is he being forced to take my case, but it’s an ambush.” You cast Jessica an unimpressed sidelong glance, brows quirked in disbelief. She simply gave a small shrug.

“I know my associates.”

“Mm, I bet.”

“I understand I was summoned? Have I been so terribly missed? Whaddaya say we play hooky, go to the batting cages?”

There he was—each question was just punch after punch after punch. Your mouth and throat went dry as your body seemed to divert all available liquid assets to the sweat beginning to wet your palms.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know we had company,” He added.

“It’s alright. Harvey, you know Mrs. Steven Hayward.”

Hayward. You had always hated the name. Hell, you couldn’t even believe you’d taken it, but you’d been so damn afraid of putting a foot wrong, wary of having someone change their mind again about marrying you.

You turned to face Harvey, leaning back against the window and folding your arms across your chest, pressing your slick palms to your sides. It shouldn't have been so vindicating to see Harvey looking so gobsmacked, to watch the color drain from his face as his eyes caught up with his mind—as he came to realize, yes, that Mrs. Steven Hayward.

“Mr. Specter,” You greeted flatly.

“I—What’s going on?”

It’s nice to see you, too. You bit the inside of your cheek to silence your snide remark.

“Mrs. Hayward needs to dissolve and sell a few of her holdings, and I told her that I had just the lawyer for the job,” Jessica announced.

“...Is that lawyer in the room with us?” Harvey shook his head a little.

“You are that lawyer. You’ll be taking the case pro-bono.”

“Pro—Jessica, those cases are reserved for people that actually need help, not for multi-millionaires.”

That stung in a way that it shouldn’t have—but he was right. There were surely cases that were more worthy of his attention. Still, you couldn't deny the fact that you needed his help, and that your pockets weren't nearly as deep as they used to be.

“My husband is the multi-millionaire, not me,” You argued.

“Bullshit.”

“You wanna see my bank statements? I have a little over three hundred in checking, a few thousand in savings.”

“Mrs. Hayward needs this resolved as quickly as possible, and without any of your usual pomp and circumstance,” Jessica cut in.

“Why don’t you do this through a divorce attorney?” Harvey pressed.

“Because right now, I can’t afford one.”

Harvey pursed his lips, looking between you and Jessica. You watched his jaw tick, saw the thick bob of his adam’s apple shift his collar a little.

“You have a list of holdings?” He asked, glancing toward you.

“Twenty,” You nodded.

“To be chopped up and sold for scraps?”

“Yes.”

“Seems a little ruthless for you.”

“It’s what needs to be done.”

“And you expect me to do it?”

“I expect you to do your job. If you can’t get over the fact that it’s for me, then you’re in the wrong business.”

Harvey’s gaze narrowed, his eyes darkening irritation. Oh, you knew that look—like it or not, you had a flash of it like it was yesterday.

“...Where’s the file.”

Jackpot.

“On the desk.”

You weren’t about to hand it to him. Hell—you weren’t about to hand anything to Harvey Specter on a silver fucking platter. He walked slowly to Jessica’s desk, eyes dropping to the file that had been thickened with information on each of the holdings. He opened it, gaze scanning your original sheet before flipping a couple of pages.

“I’ll need time to look this over,” He argued.

“Obviously.”

“I’ll call you.”

“Great.”

“Number still the same?”

Bastard.

“My new number is on the inside of the folder.”

“Great. Is there anything else that I should know?”

“Just that Steven and his cadre of sharks will likely stick their noses in the second they smell blood in the water.”

“We’ll be ready.”

“Good.”

Harvey gave you one last look, one long, sweeping, analyzing look before he turned away, striding out of Jessica’s office. You slowly released a long breath, shoulders untensing as he got further and further away. You lowered your hands, shaking them out and blowing cool air across your shaking, sweating palms.

“Are you sweating?” Jessica asked.

“Are you not? It’s boiling in here." You yanked your collar away from your neck, fanning over your heating skin.

“You can relax. He took the case.”

“Because he had to, not because he wanted to.”

“He’ll get over it, and he’ll do his job.”

“He’s such a grumpy asshole,” You sighed, walking over to the chair that you’d left your jacket and bag on. “But if you say you’re gonna keep him on the straight and narrow—”

“I will—”

“—Then I believe you. I’ve gotta go.”

“Where to?”

“I have to go look at an apartment.”

“Work never ends.”

“This is personal. I need to find a new place. I've been in a hotel for the last few nights, and I can't afford to keep that up."

“Don’t you own your place?”

You shook your head, averting your gaze as you pulled on your coat.

“The penthouse is in Steven’s name.”

You’d had a few hours to forget the weight of Jessica’s judgement, but you felt it again in full force as she shook her head.

“...I thought you were smarter than this,” She said after a moment.

You looked toward Jessica, giving her a small, weak smile. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Do you want me to call you a car? On the firm, of course.”

“No! No, but thanks. I should reacquaint myself with the subway. I’m going to be using it more often.”

You managed to hold it together until the real estate agent gave you a moment to ‘get a better sense of the space’. She clearly had no idea who you were, which was a boon, and hardly looked away from her phone as she waved with one hand and typed with the other thumb. You turned to look around, heard the snick of the door closing, and just…Lost it.

Your tears poured out like someone had reached into your head and turned on a faucet. You buried your face into your hands, uncaring of the fact that your makeup was going to run together. You’d given eleven years of your life to a man that was throwing you to the wolves, as if you’d never meant a thing to him at all—as if you hadn’t put your blood, sweat, and tears into building his empire—into what you had once thought was your empire, too.

And what the hell did you have to show for it? You stood in a $3,200 392 square foot studio apartment of a six-floor walk-up in the West Village, wearing a $4,900 dress, standing in $600 shoes, a your $1,200 purse shifting on your arm as your shoulders shook with sobs.

You sniffled roughly, chest hiccuping tightly as you finally began to calm. You reached into your purse, drawing out a compact and flipping it open. You swiped at your run makeup, taking up the pressed powder puff and dabbing beneath your eyes, and over the tear tracks in your foundation. God, just pull it together for the snot-nosed realtor outside. Tell her that you wanted to take it, get the keys, and start figuring out how you could get your things from Steven. You would need to make money in the meantime.

You looked down, shifting rocking back on your heels to get a better look at your shoes.

You never did love this outfit, and you couldn’t have worn it more than twice. Resale couldn’t be too far below purchase, could it? Come to think of it, you had closets full of hardly worn designer outfits at the penthouse. You looked around the studio. You could spring for a few wheeled clothing racks, find a few reputable resellers. You could get good money for your dresses, your shoes, probably even more for the jewelry that you almost certainly wouldn’t be keeping. Steven always had brought you home a trinket from the trips that he frequently took without you—beautiful gems that you knew now were trinkets for guilt, or something like it. You were almost certain Steven didn’t really feel guilt, but he could play-act at it well enough.

But you didn’t have to worry about that at that moment. And as soon as Steven did rear his ugly head, he would have Harvey to deal with. Considering your history, that shouldn't have been a very comfortable thought—but you had Harvey and Jessica in your corner.

You closed your eyes and drew in a deep breath, deeper than you were able to draw before. You held it for one...two...three...And pushed it out slowly as your heated face began to cool.

Deal with the realtor first. Sign the lease, get the keys, and start getting your life back together.

“This isn’t going to be an easy one," Harvey warned.

“Of course it isn’t. If it was, you wouldn’t have agreed to take the case.”

“I didn’t take it, it was given to me.”

“You poor thing.”

It left you without any sympathy, your gaze stone-heavy as you watched him. He narrowed his eyes, a smile set in place as he rocked back and forth in his chair. He tapped his pen on his lips for a moment before he rocked fully forward. You watched his gaze skate across the file in front of him.

“The way I see it, there are four easy wins here,” He turned the file toward you, and you scooted forward in your seat to get a better look at them. “The two apartment buildings on the upper East Side, the one in the Village, and the brownstone in Park Slope. We can hack away at the other sixteen down the road, but we should move on these.”

“Okay.”

“The easiest win is going to be in the Slope. The assessed value is…” His brows furrowed, and he leaned over the file and squinted, as if he wasn’t quite seeing the number correctly.

“Seven million?” You filled in. Harvey’s gaze darted to yours, brows raised.

“Nice chunk of change.”

“I want it listed for ten.”

“That may be a little unrealistic.”

“I’m looking for 8.5 in cash, if possible, so I’m expecting some haggling. I already told the broker as much.”

“Alright. Which of these buildings are you staying in?”

“I’m not staying in any of them.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not staying in any of them.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m pairing down, staying somewhere else.”

“You could stay in any of these rent-free.”

“The HOA and utilities are more than I can afford right now.”

“We could bake the HOA into the contract.”

“If Steven found out I was staying in any of them, he’d find a way to tank the deal from the outside.”

Harvey’s expression tightened a little before he nodded: “Fine. I’ll need your new address for the paperwork.”

“May I use your pen, please?”

Harvey pushed the file closer, passing the pen with it. You could feel him watching you as you jotted down your address, name, and number. Harvey draws the file back to himself, sweeping over the information.

“Keeping your married name?”

“I’ve put in the paperwork to change it, but that could take at least a couple of months.”

“I have a friend that clerks for the Supreme Court of New York, I could put in a word.”

“That’s a kind offer but don’t worry about it. Is there anything else that we need to discuss today?”

“No, that about covers it. I’ll call you if our real estate department or my associate comes across anything that could be beneficial to your situation.”

“I may have just uncovered something.”

You turned at the sound of a new voice, catching sight of a young man standing in the doorway.

“This is Mike Ross, my associate,” Harvey introduced, standing and holding a hand out toward Mike. “Mike Ross, this is Mrs. Steven Hayward.”

Your name left him with a vinegary annoyance that you’d been hoping would be absent from this meeting. You stood, holding out your hand and offering Mike your first name.

“Would you prefer to be, uh..." Mike’s gaze darted between you and Harvey.

“I’d prefer you not to use my married name, if possible.”

“Got it. So,” Mike stepped between you and Harvey, opening the file that he was holding. “I’ve found an additional six properties where your name is the only one on the lease.”

You frowned, brow furrowing as you stepped closer to get a look at the file. “That can’t be right.”

“If Mike found it, it’s right.” There was an irritated thread of steel in Harvey’s tone, and you shot him a scathing glance.

“The comment was one of surprise, not distrust.”

“Maybe next time you can keep your surprise to yourself and let my associate speak.”

“Just like you’re letting him speak right now?”

Harvey’s jaw went tight, and you raised your brows as a knowing smirk curled your lips before you turned back to Mike and nodded:

“You were saying?”

Mike’s expression was riddled with confusion, but he snapped back into action.

“Right—There are, uh…Three complexes in downtown Brooklyn,” He shifted through the stack of papers and drew out photos. “They were gutted for renovation, but work was stopped before any further changes could be made. They cited funding concerns.”

That really couldn’t be right. Steven was rolling in cash like a pig in shit. You took hold of the photos, frown deepening as you got a better look at them.

“What is it?” Harvey pressed.

“I don’t recognize any of these.” You flipped to the next one, then the next. The walls in all of them had been stripped; the floors were torn up; the wiring of the ceiling was exposed.

“What about the other three?” You pressed.

“Uh—One house in the Hamptons, one in Cape Cod, and one in Gstaad.”

“You’re kidding,” You said flatly, looking at MIke.

“I am not. I take it you don’t know about any of those, either?”

“Not a one.”

“Would you want any of them?”

“Maybe Cape Cod.”

“Not Gstaad?” Harvey asked.

“Mm, not worth it. I don’t know how to ski.”

“Still?”

You rolled your eyes pointedly before you nodded back to Mike’s file. “Do you have the paperwork for the properties?” “Yeah, it’s, uh…” He set the file down, sifting through for the paper clipped documents and lining them up on Harvey's desk. “These are…All of them…Separated out by property.”

You went down the line, flipping through each of the pages and growing more and more frantic as you did.

“None of these are my signature.”

“He would’ve closed through a title company, I can hunt that down,” Mike commented to Harvey.

“We can throw these on the list of what needs to be sold, or put them in a living trust,” Harvey offered.

“...I don't know,” You leaned away, shaking your head. You felt so unsettled; after the rapid upheaval of your life over the last week you weren’t sure how much more of this you could take. After this, you had to worry about the divorce, the tabloids, whatever the fuck else you were going to do with your life—You felt your throat going tight with tears, and you cleared your throat harshly, trying to dispel some of the feeling. “If they were good investments, Steven would’ve used his name on them.”

“All the more reason for you to ditch them.”

“I want them inspected first. I’m not throwing these on the market until I know what the hell I’m dealing with.”

“We can take care of that,” Mike promised. You nodded, glancing toward him and offering a tight, grateful smile.

“Not that you’re paying us to.”

Harvey’s snide reminder was like having a bucket of cold water poured over you. Your hands curled into fists where they rested on your hips. You were just on the edge of slapping the guy—

“You can deal with me directly,” You offered Mike. “My number’s in the file. Thank you, for—” You waved your hand toward the file. “Uncovering this. I appreciate it.” You took up your purse and threw your coat over your arm, trying to hold back your rapidly rising tears as your face flooded with heat.

“You’re just going to go?” Harvey asked.

“It’s always worked for you pretty well,” You snapped. “Figured I’d give it a try.” You stormed out without another word, keeping your gaze staunchly set on the floor that you desperately wanted to sink through.

“I have…So many questions right now,” Mike shook his head as he watched Mrs. Hayward stride toward the elevators.

“You know where to start. Get the inspections lined up, and then start prepping the filings for forgery—”

“Harvey,” Mike raised his hands, chuckling with shock. “What—Was that?”

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

“Oh, please. The whole ‘if Mike found it it’s right’?”

“Well, that’s true.”

“That thing about her still not being able to ski? How do you know her?”

“We’ve met, that’s all.”

“It’s obviously more than that.” Mike searched Harvey’s gaze for a few moments. “C’mon, what’s your deal?”

Harvey considered for a moment, his jaw working before he nodded to the right. “Close the door.”

He lowered himself into his seat as Mike did as he asked, then turned back to him.

“Mrs. Hayward and I…” Harvey’s expression tightened as he struggled with it. “We were…Involved for a while.”

“While she was married?”

“Before.”

“How involved?”

“We were engaged.”

Mike’s eyes widened drastically, his brows making a jump toward his hairline. “En—What?” He laughed breathlessly. “The great Harvey Specter was almost nailed by that ice queen?”

“Watch it,” Harvey warned; he was stunned as he felt a flair of protectiveness bloom in his chest. “She wasn’t always like that.” He glanced toward the property statements at the front of his desk, and he thought of the dismayed twist of her features. When she’d met his gaze, her eyes had been bright with tears. Maybe that was his fault, at least a little. He should’ve watched his tone a little more. He had surely made her cry enough, years ago.

“What happened?” Mike pressed.

“I wasn’t ready.”

“You broke it off?”

“...Something like that.”

Harvey’s gaze flitted nervously toward Mike, and he could practically hear the wheels turning overtime in his head. It only took a moment before Mike’s eyes managed to widen further, his jaw dropping open in shock.

“Oh my—There is no way.”

“I’m not proud of it,” Harvey raised a hand to stop Mike’s incredulous questioning.

“Let me just make sure I’m on the same page here,” Mike shook his head. “You left her at the altar, she married this guy, and now you’re…Making jokes about the fact that she can’t ski or afford a lawyer?”

Harvey’s heart sank into his stomach as he cut an irritated gaze across the desk.

“I’m not proud of that, either.”

“Didn’t stop you, though, did it.”

“Are you finished with your lecture? Because you have a lot of work to do.”

“On it,” Mike nodded, hopping out of his seat and restacking the paperwork into the file.

“While you’re at it, keep your ear to the ground on that Park Slope property. The sooner the wheels are turning on that, the better. Use that number,” He tapped the file, “To call her, and send any documents to that address.”

“Understood.”

Harvey listened to Mike’s retreating footsteps as he twisted back and forth in his seat, restless in his discomfort. He pushed himself out of his seat in annoyance, unable to stand sitting anymore. Why had he shot his mouth off at her like that? He knew that she was going through it. He just figured when he’d first seen her in Jessica’s office that this situation wouldn’t be quite so hellish.

Steven Hayward was a billionaire, a former Forbes 30 Under 30 recipient. Harvey had done his digging when the engagement had first been announced—just a few months after Harvey had made the decision not to marry her. He’d assumed then that if she’d moved on so quickly, she couldn’t have loved him much in the first place, and the idea had solidified his decision not to go through with their wedding.

Harvey had done his best to put her out of his mind, and he’d succeeded for the most part. But when Jessica had thrown this case at him, he’d gone back, done some more digging. There were so many resources about Steven Hayward from the last decade—interviews, profiles, filings. In all of them, Steven came off as a self-assured, cocky, pompous asshat, but a decent strategist. Those same profiles had described Mrs. Hayward as the trophy wife, the little woman behind the man, tending to the arrangements for their multi-million, 3,000 square foot penthouse overlooking Central Park. For as much as Harvey had forced himself to forget about her, he couldn’t forget her spirit, her determination, her desire to build a life, not to be handed one. None of the credit was given to her. None of the glory, none of the acknowledgement of what Harvey was certain were her blood, sweat and tears in that man’s holdings.

The tears that she had seemed set to shed in his office were all the indication that Harvey needed. He scrubbed his hand across his face, trying to compose himself as he pushed the wounded memory of her away.

Even footing. He needed to get the two of them on some kind of even footing. Every conversation couldn’t be a fight—it would just slow the both of them down. The sooner they sorted this out, the sooner they’d be out of one another’s hair.

“Donna!” He called out, turning toward the door. Donna popped her head in a moment later, brows raised expectantly. “I need you to look an address up for me.”

“It’s in the West Village.”

Harvey’s mouth worked wordlessly for a couple of seconds before he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing, “Mike?”

“You shouldn’t have hired a super genius if you didn’t want him using that big brain.”

“I was hoping he would use it for good, not evil.”

“Oh, trust me, he is. Anything else?”

“Lunch?”

“It’s on the way.”

Of course it was.

“This is everything?”

“Yes. I checked and double-checked the list that you gave me before I left.”

You nodded, planting your hands on your hips and looking over six industrial-sized trash bags that contained what you hoped were your tide-over funds.

“The jewelry’s in there, too?”

“Hey,” Aaron stepped closer to you, resting his hand on your shoulder. “When I say I got everything, I mean I got everything. I was this close to snagging a couple of light fixtures.”

You laughed a little, nodding and leaning into the touch a little. You’d worked with Aaron Delaney for over five years at Hayward Realty. You’d hoped that he wouldn’t be in Steven’s camp in the divorce, and when you’d reached out to find out when Steven would definitely be at the office, Aaron had quickly jumped on your bandwagon. It had taken nearly three weeks, but he had come through. Not only had he told you when Steven would be out, but he’d offered to go into the apartment and get things for you. You hadn’t heard a thing from Mike in a couple of weeks, so you could only hope that everything was going smoothly on his end, but these bags would go a long way to bolstering your bitten budget.

“You want my help cataloging it?” He offered. You shook your head a little.

“No, god, you've done enough—and helped me lug this up six flights. Besides, Steven will be suspicious if you’re out of the office for too long—you’re too good an employee to be out of pocket for more than a few minutes. But if you’d like to be enlisted in mole duty going forward, I’m gonna need you to have your ear to the ground over there.”

“You’ve got it.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Text me if you need anything.”

“Will do, yeah. And thanks again, Aaron. Seriously.”

“Keep your chin up, hon.”

“Yeah,” You mumbled, turning back to the trash bags as Aaron headed for the door. God, you didn’t even know what was where. It was probably best to just go bag by bag, and hope all of the suits were together. You could hang the outfits up, take a picture, post it on the app that you were using to resell your luxury clothing. You could—and probably would—keep at least a couple of things for yourself, but you couldn’t go crazy. You’d need suits for your divorce settlement, and possibly for court…And for whatever the hell you wound up doing once this was all over.

Because it would be over, eventually. There was a life for you on the other side of all of this, and you had to keep reminding yourself of that. Things would get easier, but right now, it all just…Fucking sucked. You had moved the few things that you had into the studio apartment, including your dresser, a bookshelf, a few books, and your favorite Eames lounge chair and reading lamp. You’d had to get a new bed—a full was all that you could use without overwhelming the space; you got a metal frame on Amazon that would get the job done, and you’d bought and built three racks for your clothing. You still hadn’t found an affordable couch, but you had found a nice oak grain bedside table on the sidewalk, with a handwritten looseleaf sign taped to it that read, FREE!!

You hadn’t had the chance to paint or put any personalizing touches on the space besides your furniture—no art, or knick knacks. The space was nearing functional, but you were certain that unpacking all of your clothing was going to make that a hell of a lot more difficult.

You crouched down in front of the first bag, untying it and opening it. You could see some Scanlan Theodore, some Tuckernuck, some Bergdorf Goodman. This bag was already pretty promising. You sighed, taking the first dress out and wafting the fabric out. It didn’t need to be ironed or steamed, which was a blessing. You were already dreading how long this was going to take, but hell, at least it would give you something to do that wasn’t staring down the barrel of your dead-end future—

Okay. Okay, so not helpful, so not the time. You reached into your pocket, pulling your phone out of your pocket to find a podcast to listen to. There had to be something that you could listen to that would distract you from the monotony of filing and sorting your clothing out. You settled on one of your favorites before you began sorting through the first bag. You were right—a couple of Scanlans, two Tuckernucks, three Bergdorf Goodman’s–

Your sorting was interrupted by a knock on your door. You frowned, pushing yourself up. What else could be left? It had to be good if Aaron had lugged something else up six floors. You pushed yourself off of the floor, brushing the dust off of your sweatpants.

“Alright, Delaney, what’d you forget?” You asked as you approached the door and tugged it open.

The sight of Harvey Specter standing on your doorstep made your stomach want to violently unseat your lunch. His gaze swept over you critically, taking sight of you in your comfy clothes. Between the ratty old shirt, the sweats, and your fluffy socks, you were a far, far cry from the way that he’d become accustomed to seeing you in his office.

“Can I, uh…” He peered over your shoulder, nodding inside. “Can I come in?”

“I thought I was going to be hearing from Mr. Ross.”

“Mike is busy, and we need to talk.”

You couldn’t imagine what the hell you and Harvey needed to talk about. You didn’t want to let him in; you knew that what Harvey was about to see wasn’t what he was surely expecting. Your grip tightened on the handle before you drew in a deep breath nodding, “Sure.”

It was worse than you imagined. Harvey hardly got two steps inside before he stopped fully. Well, to be fair, there wasn’t a ton of space for him to wander around and explore; between the bed, the armchair, and the trash bags, there wasn’t much room for him to move around. You shut the door and pointedly cleared your throat, trying to jog him from his shock. As he faced you again, you could see him trying to mask his surprise, his brows drawing down over his eyes as he turned to a file in his hand.

“You have an offer on the Park Slope house.”

“Why didn’t I get a call from my broker?”

“I asked to deliver the news myself.”

You frowned a little, taking hold of the file and flipping it open. Your eyes widened at the sight of a check paperclipped to the top of the files—for frighteningly beneath asking price.

“I said I wanted it in cash.”

“...I know that,” Harvey spoke slowly, as if he was dealing with a particularly difficult and over-caffeinated child. “That is a good faith deposit from the buyer.”

“They’ve signed?” Your hands tighten around the file as your stomach flipped with excitement. “I didn’t ask my broker for a good faith deposit.”

“No, I had it baked into the contract.”

Your gaze flitted to Harvey, annoyance and admiration growing in equal measure.

“I…Appreciate that,” You finally managed. “But in the future, please run any changes like that by me before you speak to my broker.”

Harvey nodded, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Understood.”

“Thanks.” You closed to file, certain that if you didn’t, you’d just spend your time staring at the check—at your first lifeline in this whole mess. “Anything else?”

“We need to get on a more even footing.”

“...I don’t know what you mean.”

Harvey gave you a chastising frown, one that would’ve made you wilt long ago—but now, you simply shook your head and shrugged.

“I don’t,” You insisted. “Unless you mean that you’ll stop out your thinly veiled barbs about what you think you know about me.”

“I remember more than you think.”

“I’m not the woman that you left at the altar, Harvey.” Your admission and reminder left a bitter taste in your mouth. You had to force yourself to hold his gaze, even as his expression flooded with discomfort. You could see him desperately trying to push it away as his retort bubbled up:

“And I’m not the man that left you there!”

“No?” You laughed openly. “Because this all looks pretty fucking familiar. You’re a shark, Harvey, and you’re a dick. Lucky for the both of us, that’s exactly what I need you to be right now.”

Harvey’s jaw tightened, and you could see his hands curling into fists before he shoved them into his pockets.

“Let’s get one thing perfectly clear,” He seethed, taking a small step closer, “What I do for you over the course of this case is purely because of my reputation in this city. I’m going to do my damndest to get you the best out of all of these properties, but do not think for a moment that the job I do comes from any interest, any compassion, anything worth a damn.”

“What compassion? Anyone with compassion would’ve at least had the grace to do better than a goddamn post-it note in my bridal suite that just said ‘sorry’. It didn't even look like your handwriting!” You loosed a hysterical laugh that had been building in your throat as he spoke. “Or did you not even want that in there? Maybe one of my bridesmaids scrawled it to keep me from just throwing myself off the fucking roof!”

Harvey’s expression flickered again, and you saw some of the color drain from his annoyance-flushed cheeks. You turned away, stomach roiling with embarrassment and irritation.

“Thanks for the file,” You managed, forcing a steadiness into your tone. “Going forward, I really do think it’s for the best that you communicate with me through Mr. Ross.”

“Gladly. Have a nice day, Mrs. Hayward.”

Three long strides, the creak of the door opening, and then slamming shut. You flinched at the sound, fingers tightening around the file, trying to focus on the check.

One hundred thousand dollars was an amazing start. One hundred thousand dollars could go toward your rent, your expenses, buy you some time. Maybe you could get a nice bottle of gin—or a couple of the cheap bottles the size of your head, the stuff that tasted like paint thinner and knocked you flat on your ass until morning.

Maybe you could sell your clothing during the day and quietly slip into oblivion in the evening. You had nothing better to do with your nights. Almost none of your so-called friends had reached out after the news had broken—likely making the choice to side with Steven. He was the one that still had the money, of course, the position in society. His name was on the door, not yours.

Your name was on a 12 month lease, and on a check for one hundred thousand dollars.

sorry

Lowercase, hurriedly scrawled, ink smudged. You could still see the slightly crumpled post-it that had been sitting on your honeymoon suite vanity when you’d returned after waiting at the back of the venue for almost an hour.

Harvey hadn’t copped to writing it. Maybe he didn’t want to—or maybe he really didn’t write it. Maybe he wasn’t sorry. Maybe he saw the shitshow that your life had become and was glad that he’d gotten out early.

You glanced around the apartment, eyeing the row of trash bags, the rickety furniture. At this moment, you couldn’t blame him.

You tossed the file onto your bedside table before walking back to the trash bags. Bag by bag, then steam what needed to be steam, then sort by brand. Plan of attack. You could get that man out of your head.

That man—which one was worse to think about just now—Steven or Harvey?

You shook your head, forcing yourself to dismiss both of them for the morning. You didn’t have any more time for what could’ve been’s. You had here, you had now.

And you had shit to do.

“Okay, two things,” Mike announced as he rounded into Harvey’s office. “One, the purchase agreement for the brownstone is signed and the payment is on the way to her bank account. There’s also an offer for the apartment building in the upper East Side. Two—“

“What do you mean, two?” Harvey frowned. “That’s already two things.”

“Fine, three—“

“Super genius and he can’t even count—“

“I got six emails from Steven Hayward’s representation this morning, disputing ownership of all of the twenty original flagged properties.”

“Damnit,” Harvey hissed. “Even the houses she didn’t know about?”

“No, so far, they’ve been conspicuously left off of the list.”

“Where are we with those inspections?”

“In progress, should hear back by the end of the week.”

“Good.”

Mike nodded, and Harvey returned his attention to his laptop. At least, he did until he realized that Mike hadn’t left the room.

“Something else that you need to say?” Harvey prodded.

“Aren’t you going to ask how she is?”

“Why would I need to know that?”

“Come on, Harvey.”

“She’s a client, Mike.”

“A client that you were going to marry!”

“And I didn’t marry her. What do you think that says about my wealth of feeling for her?”

Mike sighed heavily through his nose, muttering, “Alright.” He began to turn away, heading for the door. “Well, if you had asked, I would’ve told you that she’s putting on a brave face, but she’s getting to the end of her rope.”

“Well I didn’t ask, but thank you for that poetic and poignant diagnosis.”

“You have to go.”

“Of all of my priorities right now, the gala is not one of them,” You insisted. “I’ve got about a hundred more urgent matters right now.”

“Make this one,” Jessica insisted, leaning back against her desk, her arms folding across her chest. “You know how badly you’ll be lampooned if you don't turn up.”

“And I’ll be lampooned if I do show up. Besides, I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Wear something you’ve worn before.”

“I don’t have most of those pieces anymore.”

“Then rent something.”

“You do remember that Steven is being honored this year?”

“All the more reason for you to show your face.”

“Jessica—“

“What’s your plan.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your plan—when this is all over? Are you going to go back into real estate?”

“…It’s crossed my mind.”

“You know that they will never let you back in if you slink out the back door and try to come in through the front again. They’ve rescinded your keys, honey. May as well stay in the house as long as you can.”

“This metaphor is beginning to exhaust me.”

Jessica grinned. “I better see your name on the RSVP list by the end of the day.”

“Since when do you have access to that information?”

“I have my sources.”

You heard two knocks, followed by the increasingly comforting sound of Mike’s voice: “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Not at all,” Jessica waved him inside. “I’m hoping for a fruitful update.”

“Well,” Mike gave a small, nervous smile as he joined the two of you. “The good news is that purchase for the brownstone is moving through the channels, and there are interested buyers for the upper East Side apartment building. Unfortunately —“ The word made your gut swoop. “—Your ex-husband has come out of the woodwork. He’s trying to stake a claim on the properties, and on a hold co. We’re monitoring the situation,” Mike added before either you or Jessica could speak, “But I wanted to make you aware of what you could be facing sometime soon.”

You nodded, wringing your hands where they were folded in your lap.

“I appreciate the update.”

“Of course.”

“Why isn’t Harvey relaying this to me himself?” Jessica frowned. You raised your brows, glancing toward Mike, and fighting back a wave of amusement at his blatant deer-in-headlines expression.

“He had a—meeting,” He flubbed before jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “I should, uh–”

Jessica’s brows raise skeptically, but she nods, and you bite back a laugh as Mike leaves the room with a measured hurry.

“...Why do I have the feeling that the two of you are keeping something from me?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” You shrugged, pushing yourself out of your seat. “Now if you excuse me, I have some clothes to package—”

“And a gala outfit to find. I understand.”

You turned from Jessica’s smug grin, rolling your eyes as she tacked on,

“And don’t forget to get your nails done!”

You rounded out of the office, pulling up short as you slammed into someone.

“Oh! Fuck, sorry!” You breathed as their hands landed on your hips to steady you.

“...Don’t worry about it.” Harvey’s flat tone turned your stomach. You cleared your throat, stepping back and out of his hands.

“I’ll watch where I’m going.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You gave a firm nod as you skirted around him, face flooding with embarrassed heat as you strode toward the elevators.

The gala. You’d completely forgotten about the gala until Jessica had brought it up. Six months ago, planning the evening had been the center of your world. You’d put a deposit down for a custom dress, had it fitted. Steven had asked you to coordinate a cocktail party for the two hours beforehand—an intimate gathering for 150 of your closest friends and associates. You sighed, leaning back against the hard subway seat and gazing at your appearance in the window opposite you.

You could just see it now—the who’s who of New York’s real estate scene all swanning up to the penthouse, lounging fashionably, eating the hors d'oeuvres that you’d chosen and drinking the champagne that you’d ordered by the case…

…The champagne that you had ordered…

Come to think of it, those contracts all had your name on them, your contact information. Steven hadn’t been involved with a damn thing, save for the use of his credit card to put down deposits. He never did—he expected you to handle all of the coordination on the day as well; he would swan in an hour after the party started and do his scant duties as the host.

A devilish grin curled your lips. You were sure you still had all of the confirmations in your email. You could cancel all of it—the ice sculpture, the caterer, the champagne…Well, maybe you could divert one case to your new apartment, and cancel the rest.

Oh, you could really see it now—Steven seething as he frantically checked his emails for any hint of vendors, any phone number or email that he could call to find out what the hell happened to the party that was to-be. You were certain that the tailor still had your dress—and you had a check for a hundred thousand dollars that you could dip into for a manicure.

You stood as the train pulled into your station. You were suddenly looking forward to the gala.

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @gina239 ; @technicallykawaiisoul ; @coldheart-lonelysoul ; @kathrinemelissa ; @jacxx2 ; @pillowjj ; @chanaaaannel ; @avampirescholar ; @kmc1989

#Harvey Specter x Reader #Harvey Specter x You #Harvey Specter/Reader #Harvey Specter/You #Harvey Specter fic #Harvey Specter imagine #Bad Faith

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despacito-uwu16 · 1 month

Text

The Falling Action

Kenji Sato x Journalist! Reader

Enemies To Lovers | Foced Proximity | Pining

A/N: Thus chapter is a tad angsty. Also, the plot line from the film slightly changed, so in this case his dad doesn’t make an appearance in this series”.

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That night, you were talking false prophets and profits they make in the margins of poetry sonnets. You never read up on it, shame could've learned something.

Us by Gracie Abrams ft Taylor Swift

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

You were at the library studying for your journalism exam next week. With the editor finally taking you seriously and letting you cover more games, and finals coming up, you were stressed out.

While reviewing your notes, you felt the table slightly shake, along with the sound of something slammed onto the table. You look up to see an angry Kenji Sato looking down at you. You took your headphones off and looked at him up and down.

“Can I help you”? You deadpanned.

“What the fuck is this”? He point at the paper that he slammed on the table.

“Kenji Sato, the next irrelevance in baseball”

“My truth”?

“It’s just one game Y/N, ONE. FUCKING. GAME”! He slams his fist on the table, unfazing you.

“So? I report what I see”.

“Do you realize what this does to my career? My status on the team is on the line, my reputation, is about to be in shambles. Nobody is gonna sign me because of you”! Kenji raised his voice to the point where he was grabbing the attention of everyone around the two of you.

“If you don’t like what you see, you should try harder next time”. you retorted.

He lets out a laugh. “You know, I don’t even know why I came here in the first place. Considering the person who wrote this knows how to sleep her way through a sports team”.

You stood up angrily, slamming your hands onto the table.

“I work to get what I want. Between the two of us, I don’t sleep with other people just to increase a body count”.

“At least I have natural talent”

“At least I don’t talk shit about another girl to their roommate while she watches”.

Ken stood there in silence. Everyone was staring at the two of you. A couple of bystanders were whispering to each other and side eyeing you.

“Now if you excuse me, some of us are trying to survive finals week”. You sat back down and put your headphones back on, turning up the volume of your music.

Kenji growled, snatching the paper off the table and walking away. But then he turns back to you.

“I’ll show you. Just wait and see. I’ll become the greatest living player! Then we’ll see who the irrelevant one is”.

“Mhm, keep telling yourself that”.

Your faced turned white as a ghost as you come face to face with a baby kaiju. You wanted to run, but your feet were glued to the floor, and your knees locked itself.

“Y/N? I can explain”. You hear Kenji say.

He tried to calm you down, but you tuned him out and you still stood there in fear while the Kaiju chirps happily at you.

“W-W-Why is there a kaiju in your basement”? You whisper.

The Kaiju approaches you slowly, curious about the tiny person in front of her.

“Please don’t eat me”. You cried.

“It’s okay, she’s harmless”. He reassures you.

You slowly approach the kaiju, hesitant to touch her. She crouched down to your level, consenting for you to pat her head. You gently pat her head, making her chirp. You and Kenji smile as she clapped and jumped happily.

“Why did you go down to the basement when I told you not to”? He interrogated you while you sipped on your coffee.

“The more important question here is why are you keeping a kaiju in your basement”? You gestured to the baby pink lizard that’s now sleeping in the containment tube. Kenji sighs, running his hands through his hair. You slowly turn to him, the realization hitting you.

“Holy shit”.

Kenji didn’t look at you.

“HOLY SHIT”

“Theres a lot more to it than you think. But promise me you won’t tell anybody about this”. He pleaded.

You sat up straight. You took your phone out of your pocket and you shut it off right in front of him. You then put it down on the table.

“You have my word”.

He goes on to explain what’s been going on the past few months. He tells you about taking his father’s place as Ultraman, which explains the excess damage in the city. He also tells you how he rescued the baby kaiju from the KDF and how he’s been trying to raise her alone.

“So the reason why you’ve been off your game lately is because you were taking care of the baby”? You ask.

“Yeah. It’s part of being Ultraman I guess”. He shrugged.

“That explains a lot of things”. The room fell silent for a moment before Kenji spoke up.

“You’re not going to add this to your article are you”? He worries.

“Ken, I’m not that inhumane. I promise you, I won’t tell anyone”. You said.

“Thank you”. Kenji sighs in relief.

“Does she have a name”?

“No, her name is just baby”.

“You’ve been taking care of a baby kaiju for two months, and you haven’t thought about giving her a name”?

“Well, I don’t see you giving me ideas”.

You sigh, you pinched the bridge of your nose and shook your head.

“I really am trying my best. With baseball, with raising “baby”, with everything. I want people to know that I want to be the best player and the best hero, but it’s hard when you really can’t tell anyone. It just feels so”…

“Isolating”?

“Yeah, also, the KDF is on my ass and well, my dad isn’t really around, so”..

You look at him with pity. Kenji was looking down at the ground, not knowing how to handle anything anymore. You scoot next to him and take his hand.

“Y’know, you don’t have to do this alone. If you need help, then I can step in. As much as I like seeing you suffer, I don’t want you to suffer.”

Kenji’s eyes widened. “Wow, you actually do care”. He said in disbelief. You roll your eyes. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll look over her”.

“You sure, I mean she’s kind of”-

“Good night Kenji”. You say, picking up a magazine and putting your legs on the table.

Kenji stared at you in bewilderment. He feared the day that you would find out and expose him in the tabloids. But to his surprise, you were more accepting, more human. He left the basement feeling much calmer, knowing that you’re ready to show up for him.

For the past 3 weeks, you kept your promises and helped Kenji take care of the baby kaiju (that you both named Emi) while he juggles his baseball career and his Ultraman duties.

While he caught up on sleep, you fed Emi her late night snacks and read her bed time stories.

While he was out, you cooked him healthy meals and prepare some heating packs incase he comes home with sore muscles. Everytime Kenji comes home in the evening, he would always look forward to the food that’s on the table. Whenever you weren’t busy with your job, he would ask you to have dinner with him. During those times, you guys would have a casual conversation. No forced interviews, no bickering or throwing insults. When it came to the interviews, he started to become more vulnerable. The exchange didn’t feel forced, and he became more genuine with you. What felt like a hundred year feud came to a close, and the two of you started to become friends.

You’ve noticed a huge change in Ken. He became a leader for his team, and a better hero for the city. Whenever the two of you bond, he showed off his softer side, a side you’ve grown to love.

Ken was very grateful for you. Although he hasn’t showed it, he’s glad to have you around. It made him smile whenever he sees you and Emi bonding. There was something about you that made his heart beat skip a beat. The way you would laugh at his attempts to make an actual joke during the interview session. Or the way you would passionately talking about the games you’ve been to when you went abroad.

The two of you know that your time with Ken is short lived. But deep down, Ken doesn’t know what he would do when you leave.

Kenji walked into the basement to find you sitting couch typing away on your laptop while looking after a sleeping Emi. It warmed Kenji’s heart that you were so accepting of Emi and everything else that has been going on.

You look up from your laptop and smile. “I’ve finished the revisions. Wanna take a look”? You give him your laptop. Kenji takes it from you and skims it.

“Inside Ken Sato’s Space”

Kenji skims each paragraph while quickly scrolling down, stopping at the last paragraph.

“What we all thought was an arrogant athlete, turns out to be a guy with a misunderstood, soft heart. Ken Sato has grown up, not only as an athlete, but as a human being. His newfound maturity has led to the giants to win after win. His leadership and confidence has not only impacted everyone on and off the field, but also in himself. His attitude continues to impact the Giants as they head to the championship game”.

“It’s perfect”. He smiled, handing your laptop back.

You scroll to the top of the page and hovered over the post now button.

“And posted”! You said as you closed your laptop. Kenji looks at you with so much admiration.

“What, you think it’s too cheesy”? You tease. Kenji laughs.

“No, no. I just… I never got to say thank you. For helping me with Emi, and for not taking a chance on me”.

“You don’t have to thank me. Emi is the sweetest”. You say as you filed your documents into a folder.

“Anyways, I was just thinking, I should take you out for dinner. As a thank you for tolerating for the past 2 months”.

“As much as I love being treated to a 5 star michelin restaurant, I think I know a better way to celebrate”.

You flipped the grilled cheese on the pan and turned off the stove. But before you could put it on the plate, Kenji takes it from the pan and takes a bite.

“Ah hot”! He yelps. You laughed at him as he throws the grilled cheese onto the porcelain plate.

“You really don’t learn from your mistakes”. You laugh.

“Hey, I’m just hungry”. He pouts.

You notice the crumbs at the corner of Kenji’s mouth and gently brushes it off. Kenji leans into your touch as he stares into your (e/c) eyes. Your breath hitched as his face inches closer to you. Your heart beats faster, waiting for him to make a move. But before you both could do anything, his watch started beeping. He looks down to see live camera footage of Emi, now awake from her nap.

“I should go check on her”. He says.

“I’ll wash the dishes”. You said, starting to grab the pan and knife from the stove.

You were putting the clean dishes onto the dish rack when you hear your phone ringing in the living room. You walked up to grab it, and when you turned it over, the adrenaline rushes through your body when you realize your boss was calling.

“Hi Daryl”. You immediately answer

“Y/N, have you checked your article? Your boss asks.

“Why, is there something wrong with it”? You ask.

“Just look at it”. Daryl demanded.

You looked at the website where your article was published, and your eyes widened.

900 K likes; 750 comments

“It hasn’t been 24 hours”.

“Well, believe it. Cause you did that Y/N. The company has been getting a lot of new subscribers for the sports page. Which leads me to another thing, my supervisor loves your work so much, that they want you to work a 2 year residency at the Norwegian office.

“Wait, Norway”?

“Yes, Y/N. Consider it a promotion. You definitely deserve it”. Daryl says.

You almost jumped for joy. It’s always been your dream to work in Norway. That’s where all of the best soccer and volleyball teams are. You managed to contain yourself before you freak out the whole house.

“You’re expected to start next month, until then, keep up the good work”. He says.

“Thank you, I promise I won’t let you down”. You say before Daryl hangs up.

You began to jump up and down and squealed with excitement. You’re finally getting the life you wanted, and there was nothing holding you back.

“Who was that”? You turn to see Kenji walking out of the elevator.

“That was my boss, Daryl”.

“Was there something wrong with the article”? Kenji asks.

“No, in fact, look how much reception it got”! You showed him the article on your phone. His eyes widened with the

“Wow, that is a lot of likes”. His eyes widened.

“I know, and it’s been only five hours”! You smiled ear to ear. “And the best part is, I’m offered a 2 year residency in Norway”!

“So you’re leaving again”?

“Well, yeah”.

Kenji’s smile faded. He was so used to having you here, but now you’re leaving again. To him, it felt like college all over again.

“Kenji”? He looks up at you.

“Are you okay”?

Kenji gives you a small smile. He puts his hand on your shoulder. “I’m happy for you, Y/N”.

You smiled back at him. “Thank you, Kenji”.

What you thought was a happy moment turned cold and distant during your final week with Kenji.

He would go out at night, and wouldn’t come back until early morning, blaming it on “ultraman duty”.

Whenever you tried to talk to him, he would either give you a short response or just not respond at all. And every time you walk in a room, Kenji would just leave.

One day, you were at the dining table, finalizing paperwork for Milan while eating some maple & brown sugar oatmeal. Kenji walked in the kitchen, not realizing you were there.

“Kenji”?

He didn’t look at you as he walked up to the fridge.

“I made some oatmeal. Do you want some”?

He grabbed his energy drink from the fridge and walked out of the kitchen. You got up and walked after him. You caught up with him, and blocked his path.

“Okay, what is going on with you? You’ve been straight up ignoring me for the last few days. What’s going on with you”?

“Nothing, Y/N”. Kenji begins to walk away. But you push him back.

“Kenji, please. Whatever I did wrong, please, just tell me”.

“What’s bothering me is that you’re leaving, again”.

“What are you talking about”?

“You have everything you wanted. You got everything right here. You don’t need Norway to prove a point”.

“This is MY career, Kenji. My life. I’ve built my whole life on my work, and I’m not letting you get in my way”.

“So I’m just another stepping stone for you huh”? He scoffs. “If only your college self could see you now”. He says with sarcasm.

Your eyes widened. “Wow, and here I thought you finally grew up”. You folded your arms”. “You’re so shallow”.

“And you’re just a pain in my ass”. Kenji retorts.

There was silence between the two of you. What you thought was a progressing friendship was now destroyed, pushing you both back to square one.

“This was a mistake. You should’ve left when you got the chance”. Kenji mutters

“And then what? If I did leave, were you going to blackmail me again”?

He looks up at you, meeting your (eye color) eyes. You stared him down with anger and disgust.

“For all I care, you can expose me whenever the fuck you want. I don’t care what people think of me, and I’m not scared of you”.

He knew he shouldn’t have put you up to this. That this whole interview process was a mistake. He hurt you and himself, and all he could do now is deal with the collateral damage.

“I want you out of here by tomorrow morning”.

“I’ll do you one better, I’ll leave right now”. You walk past him and entered the guest room. Kenji flinched at the sound of the door slamming shut.

You put the last suitcase in the trunk and closed the trunk door. Before you went in your car, you stared at the front door, hoping that Ken would apologize and ask you to come back in. But you shrug the expectation off and drove off.

As you drove into the city, you start to tear up. The interview was merely an assignment, so why is this affecting you so much?

“You don’t need Norway to prove a point”.

You hated Ken, you hated the way he roped you into this mess, how he played with your feelings again. But your heart screamed, “GO BACK”, while your head told you to press the gas pedal harder.

Kenji enters the basement where the baby kaiju was waiting for the both of you. She chirps with glee when she sees Kenji, and then she looks around for you.

“She’s not coming back”. He sighs, sitting down on the steps next to the baby’s containment unit. Her smile fades. She lets out a little whimper.

“I’m sorry Emi. I scared her off, and I don’t know how to fix this”. Kenji sat next to Emi and put his head in his arms. She settles down next to him in hopes of comforting her father. He leaned onto Emi, resting his head on her arm. It made him feel a little better, but the pain ran deeper in his heart. He had so many opportunities to tell you how he felt about you, but now you slipped through his fingers again.

“Nice going Ken”.

Likes, Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated!!

A/N: By the time this gets posted, I’ll be on my way to Japan (ultradaddy here i come 🤭). See you all in the finale tomorrow :)

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minniesmutt · 3 months

Text

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐬

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: HAN X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: HOGWARTS(? IT’S MORE OF A COLLEGE THAN JUST HOW IT ORIGINALLY WAS. I JUST WANTED THE HOUSES)!AU, IDIOTS TO LOVERS, READER IS IN SLYTHERIN, HAND KINK, FINGERING, CLIT PLAY, PUBLIC SETTING, TEASING, UNPROTECTED SEX, BOOB PLAY, PULL OUT METHOD, PET NAMES (BABY) ☾ ━━━ WC: 4.2K ☾ ━━━ repost from old blog ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

Han Jisung was annoying to Y/n. His personality, his little pranks around campus, how he challenged everything she said, and his good looks. The last part she hated the most. Since their year hit puberty, Jisung was one of the guys people from every house tried asking out or had a crush on. She, unfortunately, was no better. But she refused to let it fester.

“If you keep staring at him, he’s gonna find out you like him,” Seungmin scared her out of her thoughts.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” Y/n scolded him and punched his shoulder.

“I’m just saying,” He chuckled and rubbed his shoulder, “You should stop reading all those enemies to love books in the library. It’s starting to influence your love life.”

“You’re just trying to get hit today,” Y/n challenged him.

Jisung watched the two’s interaction from across the courtyard. He had been listening to Minho and Chan talk till he caught a glimpse of Y/n over the yard. Now playfully arguing with her housemate.

“Jisung!” Minho yelled at him.

“Yeah?!” He answered, scared

“What do you think?” His friend asked

“No, yeah. Totally,” Jisung tried to sound like he was paying attention but Minho and Chan both knew better.

“Alright. I’ll ask Y/n out after class then,” He deadpanned his friend

“Huh?!”

“He’s not asking Y/n out, relax,” Chan reassured him, “Just trying to get your attention for this weekend.”

“What’s this weekend?” Jisung asked, eyes still on Y/n as he watched her and Seungmin walk away.

“Hogsmeade…” Chan reminded him

“What about it?”

“If you weren’t busy daydreaming, you would know,” Minho retorted.

“Ji, what do we do every Hogsmeade visit?”

“Oh! Pub! Got it!” Jisung remembered, “I’ve got to get to class. Later.”

Jisung bolted up and grabbed his things and quickly left the two.

“His next one is with Y/n, isn’t it?” Chan asked

“Yep.” Minho popped the ‘p’ and the two sighed. Opting to go to their classes.

Jisung spent the majority of his class with Y/n stealing glances at her. Both of them sat in the back so he found it easy to look across the room and see her concentrating on the lesson. Not aware she was doing the same thing.

Every class, he tried to work up his courage to ask her out but she was always out the door before he could. Y/n had caught his glances a few times and did not want to find out what they were about at the end of the day so she’d left as quick as she could. Didn’t help they shared all their classes. So even though she wanted to see him, she didn’t at the same time.

Jisung just had to wait another time and would complain to his friends during the weekend.

“Why don’t you just send her a letter?” Hyunjin suggested when Jisung brought up his problem.

“Yeah. Then you don’t have to do it face-to-face,” Changbin agreed

“Yes, get rejected over mail.” Jisung said, “Chan, you guys are in the same house.”

“And I have zero clue about what she says about you,” Chan added

Jisung laid his head on the table. Chan patted his back to reassure him it’d be okay. Minho eyes drifting towards the door. “Felix probably knows,” he said, seeing the blond walk in with the girl they were talking about and their two other friends— Seungmin and Jeongin.

“Okay, but he’s always at quidditch practice so how am I—” Jisung had to stop midsentance when he lifted his head and saw the group.

“Well,” Minho instigated

Jisung just slid down in their booth. Hoping not to be spotted, just for Changbin to kick his shin. “Owe!”

“Sit up!” Changbin said

“Don’t fight,” Chan reminded as they watched the group take a table on the side of the room.

“Well,” Minho said

“Someone cast an invisibility spell and go over there,” Jisung said

“You need a charm for that,” Chan stated

“Just rip the bandaid off and tell her you like her,” Hyunjin argued

“It’s not that easy!” Jisung exclaimed

“You haven’t tried,” Hyunjin argued

“Min, where are you going?” Chan asked as the second oldest was getting up

“Refill,” Minho said, holding up his empty glass.

“Get me some more too,” Changbin said, holding his almost empty glass up.

Minho rolled his eyes but agreed anyway. Walking up to the bar and ordering two more drinks. Not his full intention, but he needed an excuse. He felt the need to give his friend a push, even if it meant pissing him up a little bit.

Y/n had gotten up from her friend group and gone to the bathroom. Coming out and accidentally bumping into Minho. The male quickly grabbed her to stabilize her before she fell back, even if she wasn’t going to.

“Sorry Minho. I wasn’t paying attention,” Y/n apologized as she took a step back.

“It’s okay,” Minho smiled “Got a lot on your mind, you look out of it.”

“Kind of,” Y/n shrugged

“Wanna talk about it over a drink?” He offered

“Maybe another time? I’m here with friends,” Y/n suggested

“How about next weekend?”

Y/n blinked at him for a minute, “Sure,” she finally answered

“It’s a date then,” Minho smiled as his drinks were handed to him and he walked away.

Y/n watched him walk back to his table, handing a drink to Changbin, and noticed the group. Chan, Hyunjin, Changbin, and Jisung.

Y/n didn’t know how to feel about the last staring at her as she just went back to her friend group.

“That took a while,” Jeongin commented as she sat in their booth.

“Accidently bumped into Minho,” she sighed, “He asked me on a date. I think?”

“Huh?!” Felix exclaimed.

“It can’t be a coincidence we were talking about your crush then his best friend asked you on a date,” Seungmin laughed

“It might be,” Y/n defended, “They’re on the other side of the room, there’s no way they heard us.”

“Either way, I still think you should stop avoiding Jisung and give him a chance,” Felix brought the conversation back to their previous one— her crush on Jisung that she refused to talk about.

“Nope,” Y/n said

“Y/n,” Felix sighed

“You know he’s probably got a crush on you too,” Jeongin said

“No way,” Y/n denied

“Now that you mention it—” Felix started

“No! Don’t mention it,” Y/n interrupted

“I did notice him staring at you the other day in the courtyard,” Seungmin said.

“This is not what I wanted to come here for,” Y/n groaned, hanging her head low and covering her ears.

“The sooner you admit it the sooner it stops,” Jeongin said next to her, pulling a hand away from her ear.

“Lix,” Y/n whined, looking at the Hufflepuff for support.

“They have a point,” he shrugged

“I hate you all,” Y/n groaned

She absolutely hated how right the three were. She crashed onto her bed as soon as she and Seungmin made it back to the Slytherin dorms. The male followed her up to check in on her.

“Hey,” he said, sitting next to her, “We didn't mean to push you back there.”

“I know, just doubt he returns my feelings,” Y/n groaned, “Feels like I'm just getting my hopes up.”

“Maybe stop looking away from him when you think he's about to catch you staring and you’ll see what the rest of us see,” Seungmin patted her back before getting off the bed and leaving the dorm room.

“Min,” Jisung whined for the umpteenth time, trying to coax his friend into telling him what he had talked to his crush about

“We just caught up a bit after she bumped into me,” Minho answered. The same answer he had been giving Jisung since they got back to the Gryffindor dorms.

“She didn’t say anything about me?” Jisung questioned

“No. You didn’t come up in conversation,” yet.

“Promise?”

“Yeah.” Minho agreed. Getting the boy off his back for now.

Didn’t stop him from asking the rest of the week. In between his staring at the girl in question. Getting caught a few times during their lectures by her which ended in a couple of odd staring contests till she rolled her pretty eyes and turned back to the lesson.

Jisung laid his head down in defeat and picked himself back up when they were dismissed.

“Where’s Min?” Jisung asked as the four out of five in their group slid into their normal booth.

“Said he had a date,” Hyunjin answered

The group shrugged and let it go. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Minho to go on a date. Their chatter continued as they caught up on classes and their other activities. Specifically the quidditch match at the end of next week. Gryffindor vs Slytherin. This meant Chan playing against Changbin and Minho, which the group always found fun to watch.

“No way,” Hyunjin said out of the blue, making the other three look where he was looking.

Seeing their friend walk in with Y/n before the two made their way to the opposite end of the room.

“I thought he was joking about asking her out,” Chan said in disbelief

“Since when has he ever joked about doing something like that?” Changbin asked, “I understand why he did. It is Y/n.”

“Not helping,” Chan said, motioning to Jisung, still staring at the two.

“Stop staring,” Hyunjin said, turning the boy’s attention to the group.

“We’ll ask him what it was about later. Just relax for now,” Chan said

The four did wait it out, not very long thankfully. It was an hour and a half of sneaking peeks at the table before the two got up and Y/n left the pub and Minho joined them.

“How was your date?” Changbin smirked

“Eh, not a date. Mostly gave her an ear to vent a problem too.” Minho shrugged and took a seat

“Would you like to share with the class?” Hyunjin said, leaning forward.

“She’s got a crush,” Minho said

“Who?” Jisung asked

“Didn’t say. Just talked about her issue with it and her friends trying to convince her to talk to him. “What house?” Jisung asked

“Didn’t say. He’s not in Slytherin.”

“Are you gonna fight the guy?” Changbin asked

“Yes,” Jisung said without hesitation.

The four looked at each other before just letting it go, at least until Jisung left the table.

“Are they two blind idiots in love with each other?” Changbin asked

“A hundred percent,” Minho confirmed

Jisung spent all week trying to figure out who he was going to fight. Anyone without the black and green robe was under his suspicion. The only ones he had ruled out were Felix and Jeongin.

“Are we not addressing Jisung just sticking way closer than usual?” Jeongin asked as the four sat in the courtyard

“I ignore it,” Y/n shrugged

“Until he’s not looking at you,” Felix remarked

“Then she’s daydreaming,” Seungmin smirked, making a kissy face at her to tease her

“Stop it,” Y/n said, almost hitting him with her divination textbook, the boy effectively dodging it.

“At this point, it’s going to be Seungmin that exposes your crush,” Jeongin said

“If she didn’t tell Minho on their date,” Seungmin retorted

“Why would I tell him? They’re friends.”

The clock tower rang, signaling the hour. The four got up to head to class and Jisung headed to his own class as well. Potions, one of the many he had with Y/n. Luck managed to be on his side today as their teacher paired everyone up— pairing him and Y/n up.

Letting everyone get to their stations before further explaining the mixture of the day. Jisung barely paid attention, looking towards the professor but mostly looking at her.

“Jisung,” Y/n snapped him out of his trance, snapping her fingers at him

“Huh?” He asked

“Were you paying attention?” She asked

“Partially…?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Can you go grab the ingredients?” She asked, showing him the list from her textbook

“Yeah,” He nodded, grabbing his own and flipping to the page. Getting up to grab what they needed.

Y/n let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She should get an award for acting like catching him staring at her didn't affect her. Until Jeongin walked by her table. She forgot for a moment she had him in this class too.

The Ravenclaw said nothing. Just gave her a knowing look. Y/n glared at him before Jisung came back to their station. Basket of ingredients in hand.

Y/n regained her composure and the two got to work. At least she did. Jisung helped here and there but mostly watched her. Watching every little move; rolling up her sleeves, rereading a step before she did it to make sure she was doing it right to how she tucked her hair behind her ears. The tips of them slightly tinted

“You feel okay?” he asked

“Huh?” she turned to look at him. Confused and cheeks tinted slightly as well.

“You feel okay? You look flushed.”

‘You would too if you could feel your crush staring at you as you work,’ she thought, “Fine. Just a little warm.”

“Let me do some of the work. You can read off the instructions,” Jisung offered

Y/n didn't have time to respond before he took over. Y/n cleared her throat and read him the instructions from the textbook. Trying not to look at him for too long. Even if she couldn't help herself side-eyeing him a bit— eyes lingering a little too long on his hands.

‘I wonder how they would feel in—”

“Y/n,” Jisung snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Sorry,” Y/n said, ignoring whatever he was going to say, and gave him the next instruction.

Y/n walked him through finishing the potion. Calling their professor over to check their work. Gladly passed the two of them and had them write a report before they were dismissed. Y/n all but booked her way out of the classroom before Jisung or god forbid Jeongin said anything.

Booking it down the hall to the library. Thankful she had a free period and could calm down a bit in the library, study for classes. Hiding as far as she could from thd door and diving into her textbooks, cautiously peering up at the door every so often.

Twenty minutes into her studying, she had barely any clue Jisung was a few tables away from her. Pretending to study. It wasn’t till she set her quill down to stretch that she locked eyes with the Gryffindor.

Both refused to look away until Jisung looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. Y/n looked back at her book and picked up her quill. Resting her forehead in her hand, her attempt at not looking at him.

Jisung originally did come to try and study but now was completely distracted. Keeping his eyes on Y/n as she worked.

‘How can she be so hot while studying?’ Jisung thought.

He wasn’t getting any work done, that was for sure. He should pack up and leave but he didn’t feel like it. Rather he leaned back and mentally beat himself up. Maybe he should confess. Just get it off his chest, handle the rejection. Maybe not face to face though. His eyes landed on his textbook. Portal spell.

Y/n managed to lose herself in her studies again until she felt a poke on her thigh. She jumped a bit before looking under the table, moving her leg to the side. Looking at the small portal, a hand sticking out with a piece of paper. Jisung’s hand.

Y/n looked up at him and he just smiled at her. Y/n glared at him before grabbing the folded paper from his hand.

‘I’m sorry for staring in class and just now. I know you find me annoying but I’ve had the biggest crush on you for years now’

Y/n looked up at him, finding the boy blushing. Judging by how warm her face was, she probably was too. She shifted in the chair a bit and accidentally brushed her thigh against his hand. His hand was warm and it made her shiver a bit.

Jisung looked up and watched her reaction. He ran his hand along her thigh again. Hearing a small moan come from the portal he had made under his table and watched her cover her mouth with a fist.

“Heard that,” he whispered and watched her eyes go wide, “Feel good?”

Y/n nodded and tried composing here again.

“Can make you feel better. Just gotta spread those pretty legs.”

“We're in the library, are you crazy?” Y/n whispered

“For you.”

Y/n glared at him from her table. “It's your fault if we're caught.”

Jisung smiled as he looked down and watched her thighs part. He was impressed with how he managed to open the portal in perfect view of her pussy.

Y/n scooted her chair in a bit and slouched a bit, giving him a bit of better access as she tried to look like she was still working. Jisung moved his hand forward and ran two fingers up and down her clothed pussy. Not missing the building wet spot he felt, especially when he added a bit more pressure on her clit.

Y/n gripped her quill tighter, trying not to focus too much on Jisung playing with her pussy. But it was getting harder as he was moving her panties to the side. Y/n glanced around the area. No one else was in the back with them. She set her quill down, pulled the fabric down her legs and caught Jisung's wide eyes. She slipped the fabric off her feet and sat back.

“Let me hold them,” Jisung whispered

“What?!”

“I’ll give the back. Or do you want someone to see you holding them?”

Y/n handed him the fabric and watched his hand retract from the portal before reappearing. His hand disappeared under her skirt and she could feel the hands she’d been staring at last period.

Two of his fingers ran through her wet folds as his thumb slowly circled her clit. Jisung watched her cover up her moans and bury her nose in her textbook. Jisung pressed a little bit more on her clit and dipped the tips of his fingers into her hole. Watching as her head dipped down and she bit her lip.

“I’ve barely done anything to you and you look like you’re about to cum,” Jisung chuckled, curling his fingers up into her, “Saw you looking at my hands in class. Get turned on thinking about them inside you?”

“Yes,” Y/n whined

“Can have ‘em whenever you want, baby. Just got to ask.”

Y/n covered her mouth again and glanced between her book and him. Mind focused on his fingers and the damn near primal look in his eyes. ‘Fuck that’s hot’

Her walls clenched around his fingers. Thumb picked up its pace and brought her closer to her release. Slowly grinding against him as best she could.

“‘M close,” Y/n whined

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my fingers?” Jisung teased

“Mhmm.”

Jisung brought her closer and closer before he pulled away from her. Y/n quickly looked up at him, catching his smirk before he looked down.

“Look at that pretty pussy,” Jisung’s voice came through the portal. Watching her twitch in her seat.

“Jisung,” Y/n whined, suddenly feeling a bit shy under his gaze

“Can’t wait to taste it.” Jisung’s fingers were in her again and picked up right where he left off— same pace and all.

She didn’t know how long Jisung sat and edged her. Every time she was about to cum he would take it away from her. The torture only stopped when the library door opened. Jisung pulled his fingers out of her and closed the small portal.

Eyes didn’t leave hers as he licked his fingers clean. Y/n sat up and quickly packed her things before making her way over to his table. Jisung watched her walk over and slowly packed his things. “Come on,” Y/n said.

“Where?” Jisung smirked as he stood and grabbed his bag

“Please, just follow me.” Y/n grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the door

“Wait,” Jisung said as he tugged her into him

“What?”

“Be my girlfriend?”

“After you just fingered me through a portal for how long?” Y/n smiled, grabbing his tie and pulling his lips to hers. Enjoying the way he moaned helplessly against her lips in contrast to the confidence he had moments ago.

Jisung pulled her closer before she pulled away, “That’s a yes, right?” He confirmed

“Yes, idiot. I’ve had a crush on you for a while too,” Y/n said

“Really?!” he said a bit too loud

Y/n shushed him before dragging him out of the library.

“I was who you liked?” He asked as they got into the hallway.

“Were you trying to figure out who I liked?” Y/n asked him, almost dragging him down the halls

“Maybe…”

“Why?”

“Wasn’t going to fight them to impress you.”

“Guess you’re fighting yourself,” Y/n smiled

“I’ll win,” Jisung smiled as they made their way down the hallways, down to the basement.

“I know Chan’s brought me into the Slytherin house before but I don’t think it’s going to go well if you bring me into your dorm,” Jisung said

“It’s why we’re not going to my dorm,” Y/n smirked as she dragged him further into the dungeons.

Jisung— confused— followed till she pulled him into an old cell, setting her bag down and pulling him back into a kiss. Jisung dropped his bag and happily returned it with the same intense vigor she had as he pushed her toward the closet wall. Y/n moaned as he pressed her flush against the wall. His hands slipped under her skirt and held her hips.

“Think we should skip the quidditch match this weekend,” Jisung mumbled against her lips as she pushed his house robe off his shoulders.

“Yeah? And do what?” Y/n asked as he moved his lips onto her neck

“Have our own match, in bed,” Jisung smirked, moving one hand to loosen her ties and unbutton her shirt a bit

“You better start round one right now,” Y/n told him

“Don’t want me to edge you again?”

“Please Ji,” Y/n whined as his hands gripped her ass

“Fuck you sound so good.”

Jisung took his hands off her ass and unbuckled his belt and pants. Y/n smiled as his dick was free from the confines of the uniform. He lifted one of her legs and lined himself with her wet hole, all thanks to his teasing in the library. He was glad he hadn’t given her her underwear back either.

Slowly he pushed into her, listening to her moans right next to his ear as her walls parted for him. He pushed her top and vest up over her chest. Y/n shuddered as the cold air of the dungeon hit her skin. Quickly warmed up by Jisung’s lips while he bottomed out.

“Fuck, feel so good wrapped around me,” Jisung groaned, taking a moment to collect himself before he came to early. He was painfully hard from the library too.

Y/n tangled her fingers in his hair as he busied himself kissing her boobs. Moving the fabric of her bra down to get more of her. Y/n whined, getting impatient with him staying still inside her as he wrapped his lips around her nipple. “Move Ji.”

Jisung groaned in response and slowly pulled out and thrusted back into her. Y/n gripped his roots and bit her lip, trying to stop her moans from echoing off the walls.

“Fuck,” Y/n whined

“Still sensitive from the library?” Jisung teased, one hand moving between them so his thumb could rub her abused clit again.

“Yes,” Y/n moaned and clenched around him.

“Shit,” Jisung whined. Circling her clit faster just to feel her clench around him again.

Y/n tilted her head back against the brick wall. Feeling her high coming on quickly. Stomach tightening with each thrust and circle on her clit. Walls clamped around him till she finally got her long awaited release. Walls pulsing around him as she shook from her high.

Jisung followed not too far behind. The pulsing of her walls sent him over the edge. Quickly pulling out once he felt himself about to cum, pumping himself a few times till his load shot onto the wall behind them. Resting his head in her neck as they caught their breath, coming down from their highs.

“Were you really going to fight someone for me?” Y/n asked

“Yeah,” Jisung said, lifting his head

“Don’t think I could of been in love with anyone else, especially after hearing that,” Y/n smiled and pulled him back to her lips.

Jisung let her leg down as he wrapped his arms around her, returning the kiss. “Skip the match with me then?” He asked

“Don’t want to watch your house lose to mine?” Y/n joked

“Think it’s the other way around baby.”

“Guess we’ll just have to skip and fight about it on our own.”

“Yeah we will.”

☾ ━━━━━━ M.LIST TIP JAR

☾ ━━━ please support writers by reblogging and/or leaving feedback

#☾━━━━ [𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒]#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids x reader smut #skz x reader #skz smut #skz x reader smut #han jisung x reader smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #han x reader #han x reader smut #han smut

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 4 months

Note

Hey gal just read rose tinted view and absolutely need more sweet wife and tangerine please but with more of tan in it can just imagine this stone cold hearted killer and this sweet gem of a woman with their newborn baby a nice sunny day in the park or something and tan is spotted by an ex enemy or something and all the ex enemy can think of is how someone so kind and sweet and doted on tan and their baby can be with someone like tangerine and tan being all protective of his wife and new born when she’s inviting this stranger ( his ex enemy maybe ladybug ) to join them and letting said stranger hold their newborn daughter 🥺🥺🥺

hi baby!! omg this is perfect and super cute!! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

link for rose-tinted view if anyone’s interested

SWEET WIFE, SWEET LIFE.

dad tangerine x fem!reader — fluff

word count. 651

Warm and sunny days naturally called for a quaint picnic in the park - you and your little family sat upon a blanket under a tree, containers of fresh fruit and snacks littered across. Your newborn baby girl, Mandy, on her back in the middle, surrounded by the pots.

Tangerine was on his side, head propped up on his elbow til he suddenly sits up - the motion almost abrupt.

"What?" you ask, following your husband's eyeline. "What is it?"

"Keep your head down," he mutters. "Don't look— oh, great. He's coming over."

"Who is he? Do you know him?" you question, turning away from the approaching man to meet the displeased look on Tangerine's face.

"Met him on a job— right twat," he shakes his head, moving closer to his daughter as if he was trying to protect her.

"Tokyo one?" you ask.

He hums, the noise short, more like a 'humph'.

"Not interested," Tangerine grunts, holding his hand out to the man - not wanting him to come closer.

"Abducting families now?" the man quips, looking between you and your baby.

"No, now fuck off," Tangerine replies, eyes narrowing.

You flash him a soft, scolding glare before turning to look at the man. "Excuse my husband," you laugh faintly, patting the blanket for the man to sit. "You met on the Tokyo assignment, right? It's Ladybug?"

"Yeah," he nods, taking a seat on the blanket. "We worked together."

"No, we didn't. And what do you think you're doing?" Tangerine snarks, staring Ladybug down.

You lightly tap your husband's knee, silently reassuring him.

"Your husband has a terrible temper," Ladybug chuckles, helping himself to the bag of nuts. "Tried to kill me a couple times, too."

You cover your baby's ears and turn to face Tan. "You tried to kill him?" you whisper, scolding him.

"He tried to kill me too," he protests, glaring down his acquaintance. "The bastard shot me in the shoulder, remember?"

"I've forgiven him," Ladybug says, turning to look at you, holding a hand over his heart. "Resentment isn't good for the soul. I've moved on. I've put Tokyo behind me. Barry— my therapist, helped me process all—"

"Enough about your fuckin' therapist," Tangerine interrupts. He turns to look at you, eyes silently pleading you for help. "Seriously, I can't listen to him talk about Barry again. I will lose it. Darlin', I will lose it."

"Okay, okay," you coo, squeezing your lover's knee. "How about some sandwiches?" you ask, looking between the guys - trying to ease the apparent tension.

And just as you're about to reach for the cooler, Mandy makes a soft, sniffled-like cry, both you and Tan immediately reaching to comfort her. Your daughter putting a hold on the animosity between old rivals.

"Do you mind?" Ladybug questions, reaching for your newborn. "I'm great with babies."

You feel Tangerine stiffen upon his questioning, his reluctance as clear as day. But you give him an assuring tap, softly smiling as you nod - trying to comfort him as you scoop up your baby. You place her into Ladybug's cradled arms, brushing over her soft cheek as you pull away.

"Oh, she's perfect," Ladybug whispers, looking down at your daughter. "She has this beautiful energy about her— I can feel it. It's incredible."

You lean into Tangerine's shoulder, slipping your hand into his and bringing it to your face - pressing a kiss into the back of it. He's hesitant, but finally, he gives in —even just a little bit— resting his head atop yours. He's still alert and protective of his daughter but retreats slightly as he watches his baby - keeping his mouth closed to soak in the moment.

Ladybug looks up and glances between you and Tangerine. "You're blessed, man. I don't know how you pulled it off," he chuckles, looking back down to your daughter. "You have a beautiful family."

I changed it so tan didn’t get shot in the throat, did the shoulder instead. im like god, holding the multiverse and alternate storylines in my hands

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #dad tangerine #tangerine fluff #tangerine bullet train

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jenchan-writingmultis · 3 months

Note

I love your writings! Can I ask for oneshot with Vil and fem!Reader who is a prankster, troublemaker, is in Pomefiore, has a chaotic personality (something like Floyd mixed with sassy Epel's side). Her fashion sense is questionable by vil because she loves streetwear fashion (especially baggy clothes). Her unique magic lets her turning into anyone (ofc without getting that person's unique magic but imagine the moment when she turns into Neige to make vil's blood boiling)

Fluff/crack, kinda enemies to lovers, sfw (eventually A BIT suggestive)🤭

Beauty in Chaos

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪ Pairing: Vil x Chaotic Fem! Reader

A/n: hoooh this was a tough one! I hope you like it Anonnie! Hopefully, I hit the right spot for this reader! This wasn’t my best work, but I still hope you like it (╥﹏╥) Thank you so much for the request! Credits: The line breakers are from Kaomoji dividers!

Warning: SLIGHTLY suggestive, a bit of angst, mostly fluff. Rough Vil.

Reminders: Ma poupée is a French term of endearment that means "my doll". Masterlist

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Vil was confused, no he was outright appalled, not only was someone far from the vision of Pomefiore itself assigned to his dormitory, but you also didn’t even have an ounce of decency during the ceremony! Your clothing was ragged, not maintained and you had the audacity to tie the ceremonial robes like it was just some pajamas, he truly didn’t understand when the mirror said that your soul belonged in “Pomefiore”.

"Huh, didn't expect the Pomefiore dorm to be so fancy,” you walked toward Vil, offering him a lazy smile as if you hadn't just insulted him. He glared at you, then grabbed your robes, causing you to squeak in surprise. he began tugging and tying your robes properly. "Hey!" you whined, trying to push him away, but he continued fixing your "style" or whatever fashion disaster you had made of the robes.

“Stay still, you’re going to make this worse for yourself” he was fuming, with finishing touches he finally lets you go, making you huff. “Not cool dude.” you said before pouting.

“Dude?” Vil’s eyes narrowed on you, “From this day forward, you will call me Vil, or housewarden.” he fixes your hair, his fingers brushing your forehead, making you jump back a bit. The way your “housewarden” randomly touched people made you think he might be a weirdo.

“Okay, ‘Vil,’” you huffed, rolling your eyes, which made Vil angrier. He was being lenient with a fresh potato like you, but you seemed to be testing his patience. “Enough, you’re going to need training. Your behavior and style bring disgrace to Pomefiore’s name.” Hearing that, you pouted further. What exactly was wrong with being a little bit laid back? This guy was bonkers.

Before Vil could grab you to drag you with him, since you clearly didn’t want to cooperate, a tall man with a bob haircut stepped between you and Vil. “Roi de Poison,” he called out, his smile unwavering and affectionate. “I believe Ma poupée could learn a thing or two from your gracious self, yes?” His calming words instantly soothed Vil’s anger, prompting Vil to raise an eyebrow at Rook, and signaling him to elaborate.

“She’s just new here. With your guidance, she could blossom into something magnificent,” Rook continued, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Every freshman here has an eye-catching appearance and soul, as the mirror itself has said. You wouldn’t want her talent and appearance to go to waste, right?”

Vil pondered this, his gaze shifting back to you as Rook looked at you as well. Both men examined your face, then glanced at each other, seemingly communicating through their eyes.

While your style was a jumble of mess, you had a cute face, and he’s curious how you would survive, considering you’re a special case in Crowley’s book. “Potato” he signals you to follow him as he calls the other “fresh potatoes”.

Walking behind him, Rook patted your head, leaving you feeling confused. You looked up at him as he winked, his expression reassuring. “Forgive Roi de Poison for how he treated you earlier; he was on edge because of the ceremony,” he assured you, his gaze drifting back to his housewarden. “I hope to see you shine as brightly as he does, Ma poupée,” he continued. You didn’t quite understand his manner of speaking with all the French nicknames, which you didn’t bother trying to decipher. Nonetheless, his words were encouraging, so you thanked him sincerely.

You didn’t expect such a blatant display of hostility infront of you for a first day, watching as he had the freshmen along with you in one line, you thought that the Housewarden of Pomefiore looked so weak, all dainty and feminine but you guessed wrong since he held such authority, and the way he manhandled you earlier got you excited a bit. How strong, you want to push him to his limits.

The moment you got into your dorm, you were surprised with how huge the place is, tidy, neat and gorgeous, the aesthetic colliding with how yours, the way that Vil fixed your outfit was uncomfortable too, the waistband being too tight around your waist while the outfit was too… stuffy for your taste, sneakily undoing it a bit, you thought that Vil wouldn’t notice since he was busy giving some kind of dorm rules speech or whatever that is.

“Potato” he calls out, you continued to loosen up your outfit, not even thinking that the “Potato” he was talking about was you, till you heard light footsteps and a figure looming over you, that got you to jolt and look at him surprised. “Wha-"

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, all your rustling was distracting him. Great another confrontation, you smiled, “Uh, I dunno, I’m fixing my robe?” you answered, continuing your fixing, which in Vil’s eyes you’re putting it back into the style he didn’t like so much. “Is that so?”

The other freshmen were looking at you, sweat dropping while some remained silent and waiting for what Vil will do. “Your display of disobedience displeases me” he said as he smiles, a smile that got you stopping your endeavor, “After you finish “Fixing” your attire, please come meet me here after every freshman including you, has settled in their rooms.”

Extra lessons great, you’re not quite sure why Vil seemed to have hyperfixated on you, all you did have a “unique” style! The other freshmen along with the second years give you pitying look as you settle in the room you got, usually two people share the room, and lucky for you, you got to share it with your new friend, Epel.

“Dude,” he called you out, frowning, “He’s targeting you” he says worriedly, as he takes all his possessions out, while you on the other hand, didn’t bring much but necessities and a Gameboy that your guardian decided to put in your bag in case you get bored. “I can handle it,” you declared with confidence, as you sit down on the soft cushion of your bed. “Plus, it ain’t just me, you’re targeted too” you teased which cause Epel to stiffen up.

“He kept rambling about being the “poison apple” or something, he’s such a…” Epel stopped himself which made you laugh, however, that little moment was stopped abruptly when a knock at the door was heard.

“Vil said, it’s time for your training, come on out” A second-year student calls out as he walks away, expecting you to follow him, which if you didn’t, Vil would be dragging you out of your room, you stood up, Epel gave you a sad look before you pinched his cheek. “You’re making it look like I’m gonna get sacrificed to a demon”

“You are though!”

“shush” you laughed before walking out, Vil was sitting down on an extravagant couch, teacups on both sides and an intricate teapot in the middle. “Come, sit” he invited you to sit down obediently not taking no for an answer, and by habit, you seemed to have sat down with your legs wide open, an unbecoming display for a Pomefiore student.

“Close your legs” he places the teacup down, for your first day you disappointed him multiple times now, why must he teach you every etiquette that was supposed to be learnt during elementary?

“No,” you snide, somehow, his aura from earlier vanished and he just looked like a snappy mother. You placed your feet on the glass table, wanting to piss him off further.

Bad move, before you even placed your legs up, a firm surge of magic encircled your legs, keeping them suspended mid-air. An angry Vil using his magic to keep you from staining the table; He stood up abruptly, forcing you to lower your legs on the floor, grabbing your cheeks as he forced you to make eye contact with him.

“It seems like you don’t intend to learn and respect the rules under my authority” he says, stiffening up you tried to push his grip away from you, but it was firm, it didn’t hurt per se, it was just… rough.

“Hey, let me go” you squirmed causing him to lessen his grip on your cheeks, it was squished making you look like a pufferfish, and that accidentally activated your magic, causing a little poof as Vil pulled away, eyes widening as he sees the face of Neige, staring back at him with the same surprised expression. “Sorry- I didn’t mean” you said, as you tried to turn back, to no avail, your unique magic doesn’t let you since it’s the type of magic that you can’t just turn off, Vil who looked like he just saw a ghost. “What is your unique magic?” he asked, distancing himself, unnerved by the uncanny resemblance of your face to his enemy. You groan, you were gonna use it to leave the dormitory sometimes just to roam around the campus by yourself, it sucks you already got caught, first day too.

“My unique magic turns me into another person that the other despises” you explained, scratching the back of your neck before you realized who you just turned to. “Wait” you looked at your current form, noticing who it was, you looked at the glass table, before stifling a laugh. “You despise Neige?”

Vil on the other hand seemed to not be having any of your shenanigans, this was your first day and you were already trying to rile him up, thrice. “Do not do this to me” he warns as he clicks his tongue, your power was quite useful, you could work as a stunt double in movies. “Wow, Vil, I didn’t expect you to despise your rival this much though” Walking closer, you fluttered your eyelashes on him, it was a taunt, the face of Neige going closer to him in such a way made his blood boil.

“Come on, Vil-san” you teased him, using the voice of THE Neige Le blanche and the nickname you usually heard from Neige whenever they were together for an interview, and that made him snap, grabbing your collar, he pulls you closer to his face, his gaze on you cold, you could feel it piercing through your soul, its actually scary.

“Your pathetic excuse of wanting to be friends with me will not work on me” he murmurs, you froze a bit, noticing how he clenched on your uniform, you immediately knew that he wasn’t talking to you but rather the person who you morphed into, feeling guilty you held his hand, luckily your unique magic finally decided to get you back to your original form, you pulled him into a hug, unsure what to do as you rub his back.

Vil didn’t pull away, he stiffened up at first before he melted into the hug as he squeezes you a bit, an odd gesture, well it was odd for him to lose composure over a freshman.

“I apologize” he murmurs, he still wanted to continue hugging you, however, you two were in the living room, anyone can come and stay there in any moment, so he pulled away, fixing his uniform.

“It’s fine dude,” you said, smiling at him, trying to ease the tension, “We all got our moments, my bad that I triggered something in you” That wasn’t your intention, you didn’t want to see that again considering how upset Vil looked when you transformed into Neige.

“Dude again?” he sighs, although this time he wasn’t angry, maybe all that anger burst out when you shifted into someone he least wanted to see.

“Come now, it’s not bad, dude fits you! Or do you prefer dudette?” you joked as you jabbed his ribs a bit, he groaned before grabbing your head. “Behave” he scolds you, and that precious little moment was broken when Rook came, almost like he was going to cry.

“Magnifique display of affection and friendship! Roi De Poison! Ma poupée!” he says, jumping to both of you into a hug, you jolt before grunting as you laugh, hugging him back while Vil looks less inclined to hug the other back.

“Rook, unhand me” he says as he pushes the man gently, getting him to let go as he fixes his uniform once again. “Seriously” he says disappointedly as Rook smiles at him apologetically, “there is beauty in chaos Roi de poison” he continues, crossing his arms., “I’m sure you two would get along”

All of that happening in just the first day was impressive, you were quick to befriend Vil, although it was more like a frenemies type of friendship, you always end up making his head ache whenever you do things that made Pomefiore look shameful, like eating loudly, planting your legs on the couch when you go back to your dorm.

Christ! When he went to check on you and Epel’s room it was a mess! The pillows on the floor and the blankets too! Disorganized shelves, that day he forced you and Epel to wake up at the crack of dawn just to start deep cleaning your room.

Grumbling as while you were half asleep, trying to fix your bed, it was a task you purposefully did slowly, and Vil was starting to get angry as he grabbed your pillows placing it on the bed, “Why are you so slow?” he asked, pointing at Epel with his eyes, “Look at him, he finished in just 30 minutes, you’re barely cleaning”

Hearing that you smirked, bumping your shoulders to his “I have the great Vil Schoenheit in my bedroom, do you think I’d let that chance slip by?”

You swore you saw his cheeks heat up before he went to grab the rest of your “Things” if you even call it that, “Do not test me potato, I’m not easily swayed by sweet words” he says as he puts your stuff in the drawer, looking at Vil, you do notice how attractive he was, a few months ago, you wouldn’t even give it a thought, you saw him as a mother hen cause of how endearing he was, attentive but strict, all that jazz.

Seeing him in a different light though, you can tell why a lot of his fans always thirst over him, fair skin, tall, rich, and smart, is the definition of a perfect catch.

Noticing you looking at him, he couldn’t help but chuckle, he knew that gaze all too well, a stare that his fans often give him, although he wouldn’t be fazed by it, this was the first time he saw it on you.

“If you keep staring at me like that, I’m gonna catch a cold” he teased a bit, standing up before he pushed your head down, he felt a bit flustered with the way you stared at him, so he had to. You whined a bit before grabbing his wrist, “C’mon I was just admiring your beauty” you protested, which made him chuckle. “I know”

Despite your differences, you two were getting along well.

Word Count: 2,676

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #fluff #twst x reader #oneshot #twst fanfic #twst #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #vil x mc #vil shoenheit x reader

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angels-fantasy · 5 months

Note

On my lady days soooo

Bakubaby period comfort?

Comforting You On Your Period

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Details: reader has a period, umm just talks avout cramps and stuff

Word Count: 469

IM SO FUCKING PISSED BC I LITERALLY JUST WROTE A WHOLE THING FOR THIS AND THEN IT FUCKING DELETED i dont even wanna write it anymore but im still going to especially bc my sweet dear asked for it 😼 and im also on my period #bloodsisters

you groaned as you lied in a fetal position on your bed, clutching your stomach. cramps were your worst enemy right now, especially since they were making it hard to even move, but that's why you had katsuki.

you heard him walk into the room and place something on the nightstand next to your bed. he sat down next to you on the bed and rubbed your shoulder, "i brought you some ibuprofen and water. sit up so you can take it."

you groaned more, "but it hurts..."

"but if you take it then it won't hurt."

well, he had a good point there.

you cursed him internally and sighed, forcing yourself to sit upright. he handed you a few pills and a glass of water to drink them with.

after you did so, you placed the glass back on your nightstand and went back to lay down but you were stopped by your boyfriend.

"hey if you're gonna lay down you can't fall asleep. you need to eat something with the medication, so i'm gonna go get you something. what do you want?" he asked.

you wanted to be upset at him for not letting you rot away in bed, but he was going to bring you food so it was okay. you told him what you wanted to eat and he nodded, leaning down to give you a kiss on your head which made you smile.

"you're such a sap."

"shut up."

a moment later he came back with the food you requested and you sat up slowly, accepting it from him happily. you pat the spot in bed next to you, "come sit with me, kats. we can watch tv together."

he did as you said and sat next to you, putting on the movie you requested to watch. you'd been watching this movie on repeat for the past week which would annoy him if it was anyone else, but it was you, so it was okay.

while you munched on your food you began to feel better and finally felt some relief from your pain. you leaned against katsuki, "thank you for taking care of me."

"'s no problem." he said, leaning into you too. the two of you embraced each other for a while until you felt your food-coma begin to hit and you slowly laid back down, bringing him with you.

"let's just-" you yawned, "take a nap..." you said, already half asleep. katsuki laughed softly and pulled you into his chest, rubbing your back as you slept.

sometimes he wondered if he was doing an okay job at attending to your needs, especially because he knew he was more of a 'tough love' kind of person. but moments like these helped reassure himself that he was doing a pretty decent job.

authors note

sigh

im still mad that the first version got deleted smh but WHATEVER i just need to go to sleep. if theres any mistakes or stuff that doesnt make sense pls lmk because im literally half asleep right now lolol kay goodnight!

taglist for bakugou fics: @doumadono @shonen-brainrot @b134ch-m4h-ey3z

#@angels-fantasy #fanfiction #fanfic #writers on tumblr #anime #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou x fem!reader

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leeneir · 9 months

Note

Hehy! If you are writing Yandere can I request canons for Iso?

Look at Me Please; Shy Yandere!Iso x Reader Headcanons P.1

I'm working on another req fic as we speak, but I'm taking breaks to do this one bc him being "Mine all mine" is very appealing🥰🫶

And yes, part 1. This prompt just got my Iso loving brain rolling.

Pre Relationship

I want you to think of these like its u and him progressing, as if its a timeline of ur relationship.

- A shy possesive yandere. You are his, no questions. But he doesn't have the courage to show it enough (for now.)

- Iso was always forced to cut off his connections due to the organization, but the Valorant Protocol was different. He found someone there worth going against everything he's known all his life.

- The moment his eyes set on you, he had an overwhelming urge to always be near you and always wanted to know where you were and who you were with.

- He spots you and Jett having flirty banter in the hallway and later during training 'accidentally' shot a bullet which shoots through the wall right next to her head. He barely glances at the wind radiant and mutter a half-hearted apology, but that glance was enough to give Jett the creeps.

- You notice how he's always near or around you and you decide to befriend him like the friendly person you were, you'll notice how his eyes fixate on you as if you were a precious jewel in the muddy dirt but don't pay it any mind.

- While you were chatting, he suddenly blurts out "You're beautiful," and immediately goes red in the face and stammering out apology after apology while he pulls his collar up to cover his face.

- You laugh as you try to calm him down, saying that you were flattered that he thought so. You place your hand on his shoulder while his back is turned to you and he freezes for a good 3 seconds before he looks back at you, his eyes had such intensity as they met yours. You pat and reassure him again, telling him that you thought he was handsome too.

- He decided something that day. Killing Omen wouldn't be worth it because it meant he'd have to cut off the valorant protocol, meaning he'd never see you again. Being with you was better than having to deal with his employers anyway.

- You, and your voice he couldn't get enough of, and your amazing skill and talent both in and off the battlefield, and your pretty face, and your pretty body, and your enchanting self that he wants all for himself.

- Back to actual headcanons. He's always very desperate to get your attention but he's too shy to actually ask for it. Which is why he'll always make sure to outperform everyone during training so that he can receive sweet praises from you that he'll repeat in his head for weeks.

- When you get injured out on the field on the same mission, Iso will go berserk. Even if it's just a graze. All you can do is hope that he'll be ok when he goes silent on the comms.

- Iso does NOT listent to reason and destroys his earpiece as he slowy digs his knife deeper into the enemies throat. How DARE they ruin your perfect body.

- He's always watching. Always in the darkest shadows where you never even know he's there. He has his eyes on you more than Cypher.

- Speaking of him, Iso has threatened Cypher to keep his prying eyes and ear aeay from you. He doesn't deserve to even be on the same world as you. His arena has space for a new corpse if need be.

- He doesn't take snacks offered to him by other agents. If you offer though, he wouldn't even eat it. He'd place it in his room with all the other memoirs he's collected from you.

- As time goes on, he gets braver. He starts putting his hands on your back, he initiates conversations, he offers you private training sessions and more. But that doesn't stop the ever growing urge to hold you, touch you, and keep you all to himself and not let anyone else even look at you.

- No one will get in the way. And I mean no one.

- If you get hurt again, he'll insist he'll patch you up himself. There's no need to go to Sage when he has an excuse to touch you can fix you up too.

- One day, you shoot your shot. You ask him out on a boba tea date, and he has to take a moment to compose himself. YOU were asking HIM out on a date? Was this a dream? Was this a prank by you and the others?

- Either way, he agrees with a soft smile, saying how he's been interested in you for a while and also wanted to ask you out but never knew how to. You laugh, your sweet, sweet, deliciously beautiful laugh he wants to hear more of and you joke about how you beat him to it, before setting up a time and meetup location before going off to your room to get ready.

- You don't notice the way his eyes are eating up the sight of you, and you don't notice how his soft smile turned into one of pure ecstasy and hunger. His face completely red at the idea of going on a date with you and is just so happy that he almost forgot about his plan to cause a minor life-threatening injury to Yoru for being such an asshole to you earlier that week. Almost.

#iso valorant #valorant #valorant iso #li zhao yu #iso #i love iso #valorant iso x reader #iso x reader #iso x reader hcs #valorant x reader #reader x valorant

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dreamauri · 1 year

Text

♪ — 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗟 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗦 - part one charles leclerc x fem! driver! reader (angst) series summary . . . after mysteriously waking up in an era that you don't belong in, you learn that you have amnesia and that your memories from the last few years have been misplaced somewhere in a memory dump. you're challenged with living in the future in a foreign body and life, especially with a husband who used to be your enemy. forgetting truly is troublesome.

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chapter one summary . . . knock knock. wake up. welcome to the future where your life has changed too much to the point where it's practically another universe. now get up, you feel small and weak and have to do something about it. oh and he's there too, careful with that.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"What is this-" you fussed, pulling on the wires and tunes connected to your body, ripping them off which was a mistake. You felt a sting come from the inside of your elbow, probably from the IV needle you pulled.

Looking around the unfamiliar room, you're met with white walls and medical tools and machines. A hospital is what you recognized your setting to be. But why would you be at a hospital?

"Mom?" Was the first thing you could think of doing. You called for her, stumbling out of your bed starting to feel the panic set it. "Mom?" You tried again, pushing yourself to stand on your sore muscles, pulling the door's room open.

Your ears are met with the loud beeps and busy noises of the medical center. "Code blue, room 198. Code blue." You watched as several nurses ran to foresee the issue. Taking small steps on your bare feet, you traveled away from where you first found yourself.

"Y/N!" Turning around your face with the person you were looking for. Running into her arms, you held her tightly. "I just- I woke up in that room and you weren't there and I didn't know what to do so I went out looking for you and-" "Shhhh. Hey, it's fine. It's ok. Im- . . . I'm here now."

Your mom patted you gently with the occasional back rub. "How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?" She pulled away, cupping your cheeks. You could see that she'd aged- more than the last time you saw her. Her eyes were filled with tears and the gray hairs were setting in.

"What happened to you?" You asked slowly, feeling your face scrunch. Something was wrong. Something was definitely wrong. "Y/N!" Turning your head to face the source of noise, you're met with an unexpected surprise, one that you don't like.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You understand now?" You gave a small hum of acknowledgment with a hesitant nod. "Wait, what year is it?" You asked looking up at your mom and siblings who had come to visit you. "2023." The voice you desperately tried to ignore replied.

You turned to glare at the brunette boy— man. "Who invited him?" You asked, turning back to your family. Your mom sent a reassuring Glance to the apparent 'outsider'. "So I've forgotten the past . . . Six years? Was it six years." "Eight." Your brother corrected.

"You're so big. You traitors are taller than me." You huffed and annoyed leaning back in the uncomfortable bed. "I take a nap after qualifying and this happens." You sighed, rubbing your face.

"And you have boobs now apparently. You flat fuck." You scolded your sister, making her smile uncomfortably. "I don't like this. This is the body of a 23 year old." You grumbled feeling angry.

"And why are you still here?" You looked at Charles Leclerc who was sitting timidly at the other end of the room. "Honey, Charles is . . . How do I say this?" "Don't care, he can leave." You waved ignorantly, hearing a broken chuckle from the man.

"Wait, what happened to my race? Did I get a podium in the spa?" You asked, turning to your family. "Did something significant happen in the past seven years?"

"I mean yes-" "yeah" "Oh of course." The three family members replied at the same time, pursing their lips.

"Am I in F2?" You asked hopefully, holding your hands together. "F1, you drive for Ferrari." You turned back giving Charles a 'wtf' look. "Who invited him? He's not welcome here—" "Ms. Leclerc." A knock on the door interrupted. "—and family. Dinner."

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You ate in silence with the rest of your family and Leclerc.

"So we share a bed." You broke the silence looking at the Ferrari driver across from you. "We are married." He clarified. "How— why?" You asked confused, setting your fork down.

"Why would I marry you? I don't like you. You keep crashing into me. And you're an annoying prick." You huffed and frustrated. "You wouldn't have married me if you didn't love me."

"And I don't. I want a divorce. Right now." "No." You siblings gaped at you not believing your words. "You love Him! You can't divorce him!" "I'm doing it, right now." You frowned, folding your arms. "Whatever that other me- I wouldn't even consider her as me. I'm fixing those idiots mistakes."

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Y/N!" "Verstappen has a moustache and a jawline? That's one hell of a glow up." You commented, ignoring the driver as you walked past him, even though the driver only tried to check on you with good intentions. "Why is everyone trying to be nice to me?"

"Everyone is nice to you. They like you." Your PR manager explained.

"They like her. And I don't like her." You sighed digging your hands in your pockets. "Why's everyone nice to her? What did she do to gain their favor?"

"You baked cookies every Saturday and gave them out before qualifying." "She." You corrected it. "When did she learn to bake?" You had so many questions.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Y/N do you believe it's a good idea for you to drive the car after such a dangerous accident?" "I've been on the Sim and Apparently my body remembers how to drive. So I'm technically good to go." You shrugged taking a sip of your brand hidden drink.

You swung your feet mindlessly as people fired questions at you. "How do you feel after your accident?" "This is all new to me. Not to any of you, but to me I feel like I'm in the future. Like I jumped in time. It feels pretty exciting really. If I am as good as I am on the Sim, I wonder what I am capable of on the real track."

You walked beside your performance coach with your hands behind your back, watching him scroll through his phone as you walked out of the conference room. "Did I do good? With the press." "You're a dynamite gal, Y/N." He chuckled, patting your back gently.

"Can we play some hockey after this? My brain is working at 500 miles per hour." You jumped up and down as you walked, feeling the excitement create more and more energy. "You don't want to sprint?" "She sprints?!"

Apparently to help with your haywire ADHD, your team had a curved treadmill at the back of the garage. One you wasted no time on using. jogging in place, you listened to your mechanics and engineers explain things to you.

You were enjoying this. Only thing that bothered you was your long hair. The way you had to readjust the ponytail and tighten your bun every few minutes bothered you. The other you must have grown it out for a long while because you usually kept it to your shoulders.

Your hair was now two inches from reaching your ass. Which was one of the things that surprised you because it was very shiny and well taken care of. You must have had a few modeling gigs in your time in formula one, the only explanation why you'd keep this hair so long.

"Wait, she speaks French?" You listened intently to the video playing. While training your reflexes, you decided to get accustomed to the other woman who lived in your body by listening to interviews, talk shows, and press conferences.

It weirded you out, hearing your own voice be so . . . different. She was much much more playful, kind and mature, romantic and loving as well when it came to her husband. Something you, a 17 year old ( psychologically ) were not. At all. Especially towards Charles, who for some reason you were still married to.

You've been told you were risky, brash, maybe a little bit funky and mischievous, very blunt. Type of weird girl who would throw paint balls at a teacher in the middle of class, or who would laugh and humiliate someone publicly.

Hearing a certain question made you break focus and end up with the three balls you were juggling falling on your head. You turned to your tablet, looking at the other you who only blushed and hid her face embarrassed.

"You guys are so invested in our relationship." You heard her giggle wiping her face. "We have thought about having children, yes. But we both agreed that we both are still too young to be responsible enough and we want to enjoy our youth to the limit."

You blinked at her disgustingly, shaking your head as you fast forwarded the video and picked up the tennis balls. "There she is. Seat and teammate thief." You saw Carlos pass by, waving to you with a bright smile on his face.

You waved back awkwardly, a thin smile pressed on your face. "There you are! I've been looking for you." Turning to the face, you're greeted with Lando. A person you remember finally.

"What the fuck is that?" You pulled a sour face gesturing to his mustache. "What? You don't like it?" He chuckled, stroking his mustache proudly. "Hell no.” You put your hands on your hips, clicking your tongue. "You're a lot older than I remember. Taller too . . . What the fuck."

"I forgot how blunt you are." He chuckled, face palming. "You're so judgmental." "I'm honest." You rolled your eyes, sighing. "Wait, were we friends through the seven years I was sleeping?" "You weren't sleeping." "Well it sure hell felt like I did. Were we friends or not?" "Yeah why?"

You looked right and left pulling Lando out of your garage to take a walk with him. "Am I and Leclerc . . . Together for real? Not just for the media 'n shit?"

". . . I had to sleep over and Daniel's one year because you two were so loud in the room next to mine." "Ew." You scrunch your face, hitting his chest. "It's true!" "—What are you two talking about?"

You jumped in surprise at the third voice, turning around to look at the imposter. As you expected, an unfamiliar face. "She doesn't believe she and Charles are actually in love." "Why are you telling my personal shit to strangers?" You seethe through gritted teeth, smacking Lando's head.

"Stranger?" The boy put his hand over his heart, faking hurt. You only looked at him with an unimpressed face. "Wow, old Y/N is brutal." You blinked, putting your hands in your pockets tilting your head, waiting.

"Alex Albon, of Williams." He put his hand out, bowing dramatically. "Y/N L/N. Of Ferrari." You shook his hand with a small smile, courtesy slightly. He was cute, you liked the accent as well. "Leclerc. Y/N Leclerc." Lando reminded you, making you cringe.

"Oh don't remind me." You huffed folding your arms. "What did I miss?" You looked at him for a moment with unsure eyes. "We were best friends." He explained quickly. "She wants a divorce." Lando put his hands on his hips frowning.

"No." Alex gaped, putting his hands over his mouth, eyes wide. Scorching hot tea. You scoffed rolling your eyes. "What's so good about him?" You shrugged, scrunching your face at the thought of being with your apparent teammate.

"You. You're so good about him." "I mean . . . The last thing she remembers about him was that fight in Singapore." Lando reasoned with a pout. "But you love him." Alex whined holding his hands together. "You can't not be together." He pleaded.

"Not anymore."

Charles listened from afar, feeling his heart clench. He felt pain. Pain. Your words hurt like tons of knives and bullets. He ran his shaky hand over his face. If you divorced him before you got your memories back, it would be over for him. He can’t lose you.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You felt your heart race as you sat in your car for the first time this weekend. "My lungs are going to explode." You squealed to your head mechanic. "That's one way to describe excitement." He chuckled, making you test out the functions of a few buttons and the brakes.

"Is the steering wheel too wide?" You heard him call over the noise making you shake your head. "Is the seat comfortable?" "Yep!" You nodded, smiling. "Alright, you can stay inside if you want. I'll shut off the engine." You already knew your favorite and number one mechanic.

"How are you feeling?" Looking up, your smile fell upon seeing your teammate . . . And husband. Gosh you were not used to that word. Husband. You've never even thought about getting married, or even having sex for that matter.

"Leclerc." You huffed a greeting. "You're a Leclerc too." He reminded you crouching down and holding out a cup for you to take. You peered at the liquid, trying to figure out what it was. Whatever it was, it smelled amazing.

"Is it poisoned?" You questioned taking it and bringing it closer to your nose. "No! Why would he even think that?!" You looked him up and down suspiciously before taking a sip. You must have been married for a long time if he knew something about you you yourself didn't know about yourself. You liked mocha latte.

"Is that all?" You asked looking up at him. "You did your hair wrong." He held up the claw clip. You narrowed your eyes, staring at him for a second before holding your hand out to take it from him. He chuckled lightly, placing it in your palm.

He knew how this would end. He watched as you struggled with your hair, huffing and cussing at it every few seconds. He laughed to himself before finally coming to your aid. "Hey- excuse me. I did not give you . . . Permission?" You frowned to yourself confused, no longer feeling bothered by the blond locks as his weirdly gentle hands brushed through them and pinned them up in a nice neat and elegant bun. “There you go.”

It felt . . . Secure. "I'm not going to thank you." You said out of spite, turning away and sipping from your drink. Charles sighed, sitting down on the floor, leaning his back to your car. “Amour, give me a chance. Please?” He asked after a moment of silence. “Don’t you like brunettes?” You scoffed rolling your eyes. “I love you.” You rolled your eyes again, pulling your hood over your head as you caught some sleep. “I really do love you.” Charles whispered to himself, hugging his knees catching some sleep too.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Are you going to keep playing that?" Charles turned to you as he searched through the music papers. Your family had insisted that you stayed at your house in Monaco for the Monaco gp weekend, which was fantastic because your husband lived with you. "Do you want me to stop?"

"If you impress me. I'll give you a kiss or whatever wives do." Charles knew this was a trap. old you would never do that. He took a deep breath in and started to play anyways, a song you always asked him to play for you.

You leaned against the door frame, never remembering that he played the piano. You listened, yawning every now and then even though you actually were impressed. Once he lifted his finger off the last note, he hesitantly turned towards you, waiting for an answer even though he knew you liked it.

Your azure eyes met his own forest ones. You laughed at him before pushing yourself off the wall and walking away.

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the-kr8tor · 2 months

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May I have Bitter Orange in a ⭐ bottle please? The start of R and Hobie being handcuffed together before they turned, with R succumbing to the effects of the virus much faster than Hobie due to his spiderpowers, so for a bit he just watches his love become a husk of who they were before he too is a zombie?

*laughs evily* Yessss I've been waiting for a request exactly like this hwjsjwijsjaj hope you like it!

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 3.2k (whoops)

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), description of illness, TW blood, CW injury, TW death, zombie AU, Zombie apocalypse AU. Angst, Hurt/comfort

A prequel to this one shot

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

The air is nice and cool on your face as you walk hand in hand with Hobie in the barren street. There's rows upon rows of abandoned houses, all in different stages of decay from both scavengers trying to survive and time itself proving to be the worst enemy. But it's on your side for now for it has given you infinite time to be with him.

Hobie's hand is suddenly on your scarf, fingers gingerly sliding the fuzzy material up to your chin. He smiles at you, the sun blindingly light behind him. Despite the apocalypse, he still looks just as handsome. He has new shallow scars on his chin where a stubble is slowly growing, hair a bit of a mess but beautiful nonetheless. You've once told him after a lucky find of one whole pound of chocolate pudding that he's apocalypse chic, that he makes the end of the world look good. To which he laughed and shoved a spoonful of chocolate pudding in your mouth. Compared to him you probably look like a mess, you wouldn't know, you've ignored mirrors ever since you ran out of shampoo a few days ago.

“What are you thinkin' ‘bout, gorgeous?” He tugs you closer to him, the crowbar hanging from his backpack clinks against the machete next to it.

“That I really need shampoo, and that you look unfairly handsome in this light.”

Chuckling, he intertwined his fingers around your own. It could mean death for the both of you if the undead suddenly lunges and he doesn't have enough time to take his hand away from you. But he thinks it's alright for him to do, to indulge himself to your touch since the entire place is empty save for a few dead cars and scattered luggages left by people.

“You should see yourself in my eyes, lovie, the greasy hair is doin' a lot for me.”

“Oh yeah? You like it when you pat my head and you get petrol on your hand?”

“We need petrol, d’you think if I bunch up your hair and squeeze it I can collect the oil?”

You nudge him playfully, “you're an ass.”

“Yeah, well, you're stuck with this arse.”

Your mind goes back to your friends and family you've left behind. “Do you think they're okay?”

“'m sure they are, Yuri's got them, and they have Ned, he'll whip them into shape. ‘sides, we're almost at James’, if I was them I'd stay there.” He adjusts his hold on his pack and guitar. “We'll find them.”

You smile, nuzzling his bicep for his own reassurance, knowing that he also worries for them. “You're right. They're probably doing better than us.”

“Yeah,” he pecks the crown of your head. “They're living like kings, I bet.”

You two stop in front of a large house, complete with white marble steps and tall roman columns. “James' dad never had taste, huh?”

Hobie snorts, “his son took all of it. C’mon, then.” He leads you on the porch, trying the door, wishing that it was locked because if it is it means that someone's inside, that they're surviving and waiting for the two of you. To his despair, the door opens without a problem.

Hobie looks back at you having the same expression. “It's okay,” you try to be optimistic, “maybe they left a message for us.”

He nods, “yeah, maybe.” Crossing the abandoned space, he takes his guitar from his back to strum a tune. When he doesn't hear stumbling or any rattling from anywhere inside the house, he continues forward, but his guard is still up. “We might as well get some supplies while we're ‘ere.”

“Yeah, there might be some left in here.” You give him a small smile. “How about we split up? This place is too big, it'll take us forever to comb over this place.”

Hobie considers it for a moment. The place seems pristine except for the furniture and cabinets that are picked clean, so he deems it safe. “Okay, just…” you walk to his side, rubbing his arms, smiling sweetly at him even though he probably doesn't smell the best. “...keep your knife close.”

“I will keep my knife close,” you repeat his words, “and I'll stay alert.” Poking at his chest, you peck the frown off his lips. “And you keep safe.”

He's still apprehensive, but he knows you can hold your own. Taking your face in his hands, he kisses you fully, smooching until you're giggling. “We’ll meet back ‘ere in fifteen.”

“Aye, aye, Cap'n!” You mock salute. “Any special requests?”

“Chocolates.”

“I said a request, not wishful thinking.” You tease, he has an urge to kiss you again.

“Towels, the nice fluffy ones.” You slide your hands away from him, to which he already longs for.

“Got it! I bet James has a ton of them.” You wink, knife in hand, walking away from him.

Hobie watches your retreating back, tamping down his anxieties. He searches upstairs, grinning at James' familiar room. His posters and messy floors remain untouched, the bed still looking like it was tossed around by a tornado. He almost cries at the picture frame on the bedside table containing his band's smiling faces plus you who's embracing him.

Turning the frame around, he takes the picture and pockets it to show to you. After rummaging James' room, he takes a few shirts and pants for him and you. He even finds a pair of silk pajamas that he knows you'll love. A piercing scream echoes around the house, he immediately bolts downstairs, heavy footsteps thudding across marble floors.

You're on your back, fighting for your life while the undead on top of you tried to get a chunk out of you. It all stops when Hobie's guitar connects to the corpse's skull in a sickening crunch of metal and bone.

You scramble away, neck and arm in pain. Hobie's wide eyes meet yours just as when the back door bursts open, revealing a whole horde of the undead. Panicking, he yanks you up, holding your hand, running outside to more of the shambling dead.

“Fuck!”

“Hobie!”

“Just hold on!” His hand is tight around yours, you try to run at his pace, panic in your veins, adrenaline in his.

It feels like you've been running forever, Hobie sees an opening hidden in an alley. He can climb on his own without a ladder but you can't. So he leads you towards the empty alley while the rotten, decayed corpses of once human beings run after you at full speed.

Hobie jumps to take down an emergency ladder, without missing a beat, he grabs your waist and throws you on the ladder. You climb, but the pain in your arm gets worse so you're slower but you still try for him.

The undead finally gets to the alley, you don't dare to look down. Once you're on the rooftop, you peek below to see him struggling to get up the ladder, he's halfway with a handful of zombies dangling on his leg.

You scream his name but it's too late, one of the undead has bitten a chunk of his leg as he tries to kick the former human off the ladder where he's desperately trying to climb to. You wish he didn't run out of web fluid, you wish the world didn't end, you wish the throbbing pain on your arm is just muscle spasm, but the warm crimson seeping out of teeth marks says differently.

With a sickly crunch, the zombie falls down the ladder and into the rotten horde. Hobie climbs up quickly back to you, hands immediately grasping on to you.

“Did it get you?!” You yell, still in denial, frantically checking in hopes that his boot saved him. Your heart falls into your stomach at the sight of broken skin, blood staining your fingers where you hold the hem of his trousers away to get a better look. You're frozen on the spot, tears clinging to your lashes. “Hobie,” you gasp, taking off your scarf to make a makeshift tourniquet around and above the bite. “Fuck—!”

“You okay?!” He does the same to you, heaving, ripping off your sleeves like a madman trying to find the secrets hidden in your skin. He prays that he finds none. His eyes widen, terrified, broken hearted, shaking his head, refusing the fact that you're infected. “No,” he shakes his head again, closing the torn up cloth around the slowly rotting wound. “It's just a scratch, love, y-you’re not—”

“Hobie…” you smile bitterly, eyes mirroring his own. He rips the hem of his shirt, using the cloth to wrap it around your arm, just above the wound in an attempt to stop the spread. He ignores the stinging pain on his leg. “Hobie, stop, it's—”

“We can still stop it!” He yells desperately, tying the cloth tightly. “It's just a scratch.”

“Hobie, please.” You hold his trembling hands, “it has been ten minutes.” He refuses, you squeeze his hand weakly, the virus already taking hold. Slowly killing you. “And—” with trembling hands, you show him the gaping bite on your neck, oozing dark decaying blood. He choked on a sob. “B-but there's a chance for you, your abilities might've made you immune—”

“No, if you're goin’, ‘m goin’” He stands up, not giving up on you. “There's a chemist’s ‘ere, maybe if w-we…” he puts on a brave face amidst the impending doom and rotten flesh that stings his nose. “Maybe there's somethin’ there.” Hand reaching down, you smile up at him, orange and pink hues from the sky dancing around your face. “C-can you get up?” His voice breaks, chest heaving. “I can carry you. Don't make me carry you, love.”

You slide your hand onto his own. “Hobie,” your voice is soft above the mindless groaning below. His eyes beg you to move. So you do. “Okay,” with a single word, you bring him hope.

With divided effort, you both make it towards the roof of the pharmacy. He was uncharacteristically silent the whole way, but his hand never left yours. His eyes never met with your wounds that's slowly festering. You feel it inside you, the fever, the virus that's eating at you, spreading throughout your body, gnawing at every bit of your warmth like a seed taking root. Hobie feels it too, he's terrified that you're experiencing it too. It's his worst fears came to life only because he wasn't fast enough.

Opening the creaky door, he hopes that it's devoid of the undead. Like he's not on the brink of eating flesh, he does his usual prep. He strums his guitar softly to attract any walking corpses waiting behind doors, when none comes out, he cracks the door wider. With his torch, he lights up the way. But he doesn't feel your presence behind him.

Looking over his shoulder was a mistake, he finds you hunched over the doorway, groaning quietly, nails clawing at the throbbing wound around your neck. That's the moment he knew that you'd go out before him. For the first time, he curses his gifts.

Slowly, he crosses the distance towards you, shaking hands grasping your shoulders. You're warm, incredibly warm. “Love?” He could cry, but he doesn't want you to see his sorrow.

You sniff, tears streaming down your face from the pain and the tragedy of it all. You've accepted that you were infected, but not him, you'd take the virus from him too if you could. “I'm s-sorry, so fucking sorry. I should've—”

“Oi, none of that, yeah? You're gonna be fine.” He says it to convince himself. “You'll be back on your feet tomorrow and by then we'll see Yuri and the others.” Nodding, he takes you by your arm, careful of making your wounds worse. There's blood sticking to his clothes, seeping through his clammy skin. He hates the fact that it was yours. Bringing you behind the counter, you almost keep over. “I've got you, I've got you.” He says it against your temple like a prayer.

“H-Hobie.” You sob, salty tears marring your pretty face. “I can't— it hurts.” The gnawing feeling gets worse, as if a chainsaw is ripping you apart from the inside. “It's so hot, I–I can't breathe.”

“O-okay, I'll set you down ‘ere, get you comfortable. There's some fever meds over there. It'll help.” His hazel eyes pleads for anyone, anything that'll help you. He helps you sit down, and you immediately lie down on the cold tiles. “Do you want a blanket?”

“N-no,” you're hot and cold at the same time. “I don't know.” You look up at him, he sees the light in your eyes fading. “I don't feel so good, Hobs.”

Hobie could only look away from you, inhaling, exhaling but it doesn't feel like he's breathing right. He kneels down, setting his guitar next to you, palm placed on your forehead. “This is nothing, love.” He tries to smile, but fails. “Remember when you had the flu?” You nod weakly, “you were a fuckin' beast, you beat it on your own in just a few days.”

Even though you feel your heartbeat going faster and then slowing down in a weird rhythm like a heartbeat monitor going haywire, you smile for him. “I was, wasn't I?”

He rubs your bicep, under his touch, he feels your muscle twitch. “Yeah, you still are.”

You chuckle softly, tears sliding down your cheeks and into the cold tiles. “Okay, get me the meds.”

“That's my girl,” laying his forehead atop yours, he hopes that he'll take your pain away with the simple gesture, but it's futile. “I'll be back, I promise.”

“Don’t make me wait.”

Smiling, he squeezes your arm. “Never.” Standing up, he rummages through the entire place for the pills you need. Crouching down to check under the broken shelves, climbing up on the walls to get a bird's eye view, and all the while ignoring his own pain. It's slim pickings, but he manages to find a single bottle of tylenol that has rolled under a shelf, it's not enough, but it'll do.

With a victorious sigh, he quickly makes it to the counter, rounding the corner, he sees you wheezing, catching your breath and with blood leaking out from your eyes and ears. “No, no, no!” He takes you in his arms, making you sit up. “I've got the meds, love. Oi, open your eyes for me.” You crack one eye open tiredly. “That's it, good job.” He almost cries when you smile at him through the thick fog of illness.

“G-good job,” you murmur, he doesn't know if you're delirious or you're congratulating him for finding the medicine.

“Bottoms up.” He brings two pills to your mouth, to which you gladly take. Giving you his canteen, you drink most of it, downing the tepid water. “That's good, see, you're already gettin' better.”

You shake your head weakly, barely opening your eyes. “Thanks to you, Hobie.”

“Yeah, thanks to me.” He tries to joke but it comes out choked when blood still leaks out of your tear ducts. Sitting next to you, he now feels his temperature rise so he takes the same amount of pills as you.

You lay your head on his shoulder, hand shakily reaching towards his own. “I'm sorry.”

He almost breaks down at your apology. “Nothin' to apologize for, love.” Meeting your hand halfway, he intertwined his fingers with yours, you're cold now, frozen under his hold. “D’you want that blanket now?”

“Please,” you wheeze out.

Hobie obliges, taking a thick blanket from his pack and then draping it around you as if it'll protect you from the infection. “There, nice and cozy, eh?”

“Thank you,” he feels your crimson fall down on his collar. “For everything.”

“None of that, Y/N, please. None of that.”

“I still want to talk to you.” Your voice is soft and small. “I still want to stay with you.”

Hobie brings your intertwined hands to his lips, kissing each knuckle softly. “And we will be, after this—” a sob escapes from him. “After this, we'll be together, yeah? Just like how we talked about.”

“Forever and ever?”

His tears flow freely, “yeah, forever and ever.” After a beat of silence, he fears the worst. “Love?”

You cough, he sighs in relief. “Still here, Hobs, not leaving yet.”

“Not yet,” embracing you, he lays his chin atop your head, you're made comfortable in his hold. Home, you feel like you're back home in his houseboat, watching a shitty romcom while he rambles on about his patrol. You want to be back there again. He wants to be back there again. “Can I say somethin'?”

You hum into his chest, squeezing his hand tighter but your sickness, he barely felt it.

“I don't want to…” he could barely say it. “I don't want to kill you. ‘m sorry, I know we talked about it—”

You lean up, he's met with milky eyes, he knows you can barely see him now. “Then don't, I don't want you to—” you pause, clinging to humanity. “— to feel that before you go.”

Nodding, he kisses your forehead, crying, weeping into your skin. “I couldn't save you, ‘m so fuckin' sorry, love, ‘m so sorry.” He shakes, you gather enough strength to embrace him and bury yourself in his chest, letting his scent waft around you for comfort.

“Don't apologize, nothin' to apologize for.”

He sniffs, peppering your face with heavy weakened kisses. “Oi, don't use my own words against me.”

You smile against the rough leather of his jacket. “Can I say something?”

“Go,” he can practically see the countdown. “We have all the time in the world, love.” There's something warm leaking out of his eyes and ears. He's catching up to you.

You'd laugh but you can feel your life slipping through your fingers. “When we turn, I don't want us to be separated.”

“What do you propose?” He tries to inhale but he could only let out a sickening cough.

“Tie our hands together…really tight.” Your words fade away, but you still hold on.

“I've got rope here, I can do it now.”

“But I'll turn first, Hobie, I-I might—”

“It'll be my honour to be your first meal.”

“I'd laugh if we weren't dying right now.” Eyes too tired to open, you feel the rough rope around your wrist, and the unmistakable sound of a knot getting tied. You smile for the last time when you feel his fingers wrap around your own. “I love you.”

“How's that? Too tight?” He whispers close, he feels you slipping away, “Y/N? Love?” he breaks down when your hand falls limp around his own. “Not yet, please, not yet.” He holds you, rocking you back and forth like a babe needing to be held. Your heart doesn't beat in sync with his anymore. “C’mon, not yet, we still have to find the rest of the band, right?” His eyes cloud over, cold taking root inside his entire body. “Say somethin’, fuck!” He yells with all his might, “I love you, fuck, please wake up.”

Closing his eyes, he wraps you in what's left of his warmth. “Don't go, please.” Hobie pleads and cries until he can no longer breathe the same air as you. His last thoughts were of you.

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