#with her kid's name on her jacket / should her memory lack it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starres-stuff · 1 year

Text

FFXIV Writes 2023 | Day 4 | Off the Hook

TW: Language, Hints at Fighting/Violence

“Dimitri, Dimitri!!” A groan slipped from the lips of the Elezen who tried for all he was worth to ignore the frantic sounds of voices screaming outside the rickety building the Sharlyan Envoy had called home for a sennight now. He had been up most of the night listening to the dogs barking in the distance and contending with teeth that would not stop chattering. It had been his own fault, in truth, he had given away his warmer blankets to both Azane and Saewara when they complained of being cold, still.

“Dimitri, we caught a thief!” Now his eyes were open, and the first thing he saw was his breath as it appeared in the air before him, and the dry skin that had developed all over his hands. It was also other places, but his hands were the most noticeable. The damn cold was affecting all of them and in the most unbecoming ways. Weland had become depressed, Zehex had lost his patience and he was finding himself more and more angry by the day, even after all the training he had in his youth he was finding it harder to stay calm than ever.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He yelled back as he tossed back the thinner blankets that had covered him to reveal the heavy fury jacket still wrapped around his frame. “Can we have one fucking day without someone else’s bullshit around here!” He wanted to punch something, he could feel the flex in his arm and his jaw. The lack of his morning training regime and the late nights with the workout bag had only made matters worse for him. That delicate balance he needed between order and chaos swiftly slipped away from him.

It took him only a few moments to slip on his fur-lined boots and in two or three steps he moved across the floor towards the door which he slammed open, the bright white snow practically blinding him as it collided with the sunbeams that streamed down onto it. “Alright, I’m up. Where is the bastard who decided to try and rob us.” Quickly he pulled on his gloves, and moved a hand to shield his eyes, and not long after one boot finally pressed down into the snow which crunched and crackled under his weight followed by the other.

“His name is Lucas,” Azane was at his side first “He is barely fourteen or fifteen. He looks like he hasn’t eaten in days. Weland and Zehex want to turn him into command, and Saewara thinks we should as well. Please stop them, he didn’t do anything wrong, he was just trying to find food and we have plenty.” Dimitri found himself looking towards her, her beautiful golden-brown eyes made him feel weak right in the very pit of his stomach. She knew exactly how to play him, get him to do her bidding and he couldn’t resist. He should have, and he knew it, but to make matters worse she bit her lower lip right near the corner, and it brought back such memories that his heart skipped a beat.

“Please Dimitri, they will listen to you. I know they will! They value your advice. He is just a boy. He likely lost his family.” Azane whined softly “For me?” This was where Dimitri should have told her to fuck off, time after time in their lives it had come to this, and right after she would skip away giggling to her latest crush or her newest boyfriend forgetting he was alive or had feelings.

“Fine” The word slipped from his lips and as soon as it did he cringed slightly, if she asked he would pass it off as a sudden chill from the cold, but she didn’t, and off she went to stand at Weland’s side like she never left a satisfied look on her face as she slipped her hand into the much taller Elezen’s, squeezing it affectionately. Dimitri felt his jaw clench and his eyes close for a moment, any other time he would have likely even shed a tear but he was far too concerned with his eyelashes freezing this time and thus nothing formed.

“So I hear our perpetrator is named Lucas then?” Confidently he moved towards his friends, his hands behind his back and fingers interwoven to keep himself from doing anything irrational and once he reached them he looked over the top of his already frosted glasses at the young Garlean that sat on the ground between them. “Well first off let’s get this young man on his feet. Get a good look at him.” What Dimitri was really thinking was that no one, not even a juvenile thief deserved to be sitting that close to the snow unless they wanted to.

“We are going to take him up to the Commander’s barracks.” Zehex growled “Bastard was helping himself to our stores, and that bag of his shows he’s helped himself to others as well. Can’t have that kind of behavior around here or we will all be cold and hungry before long.”

“He could have just asked for food.” Weland grumped, pulling Azane closer into his body to keep her warm. She wasn’t paying a bit of attention to the dark-haired Sharlayan, she was too busy watching Dimitri to make sure that he would make good on his word.

“Now hold on” The redhead’s hand went up and into the circle of his friends he went, holding out his other hand towards the one named Lucas “I want to hear what the boy has to say for himself.” He watched carefully as Lucas took his hand and rose to his feet. Even at his age, he wasn’t much shorter than Dimitri. His skin was pale, his hair platinum blonde, and his eyes a bright ice blue. There were a fair bit of freckles across the bridge of his nose and his clothes were obviously not his. In fact, they appeared to be Garlean, which the soldiers often wore on patrol but they were far baggier than they would have been if Lucas had been enlisted.

“It wasn’t my fault! They made me do it.” The boy protested, his eyes shifting between each face. “Sneak into the camp Lucas, We will let you live if you do. They are a g-gang!! Bullies they are. They wanted me to do their stealing for them! H-here you can have everything back. I don’t want it! I can get my own food from hunting.” Dimitri found his brows pinching together, his face clouding and his throat knotting at the turmoil Lucas had been through. He knew all too well what it was like to be bullied and pushed around. He had endured it most of his younger years since he wasn’t Sharlayan born.

“Ha! Likely story: do you think we were born yesterday?” Zehex shouted at the boy causing him to move closer to Dimitri “I mean it! I was forced to do it.” Pulling up his jacket Lucas showed off his all-too-shallow stomach, he wasn’t eating, and Dimitri didn’t even have to look towards Saewara who specialized in medicine to figure that out. His eyes were well-trained to recognize malnutrition from his own work. The other thing Dimitri noticed right away was the bruises all over Lucas’s sides as if he had been in a fight and someone kicked him with a boot. Something else Dimitri was familiar with when it came to how kids treated other kids.

“Enough” Dimitri barked at Zehex “You are all entitled to your opinion, but from these bruises, he was in fact in a fight.” He motioned for his friends to look over Lucas for themselves if they must, but there was already a look in his eyes that would inform each of them he was not looking to compromise at this point.

“Oh come on Jienuex you cannot tell me you are just going to let him off the hook. Who knows how long he has been sneaking in here to get food.” This time it was Weland, who spoke up, a finger pointing towards the bruises “He could have slipped on ice and rolled down a hill and hit a fucking tree. Sae talk some sense into him.”

“He’s right.” Saewara sighed as she stepped forward, She had seen enough bruises from fights, and looking at Lucas now she could see where the curve of the front of a boot had in fact been driven into his ribs more than once. “Those aren’t from a fall, those are from a fight.” She started to fidget then, her toe scuffing at the snow beneath it and her lip was sucked into between her teeth.

“That settles it then. He has been in danger, where are your parents Lucas?” Dimitri asked as he rested his hands on the young Garleans’s shoulders protectively “Are you staying nearby with them?”

“N-no Ser. They are gone.” The boy's eyes suddenly filled with tears. “First my Mother was dragged off by them, and then my Father. I couldn’t help them Ser, I couldn’t get through the mob of what you all called Tempered. I hid in the house until it got quiet enough and then I ran. That is when the gang caught up with me!”

An orphan, this tugged even harder at Dimitri’s heartstrings. “Yes, I am going to just let him off the hook. We will take him inside. See if we can find him some better-fitting clothes and get him something warm to eat.”

“He is your responsibility then Jienuex” Weland’s face was bright red and angry, but nothing was worse than Zehex’s spitting at his feet as he stormed by “Don’t come crying to me if he ties you up and robs you blind. Fucking Garleans, how the fuck can you trust him.”

The last face he saw as his friend retreated were the eyes of Saewara who looked disappointed in him, her head shaking at him. “If he needs medical care, take him up front. Don’t look for me.” and off she went at a quick step before she changed her mind.

“I am sorry to get you in trouble with your friend Ser,” Lucas said quietly, flinching at the pain in his ribs. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble, I just didn’t want to get beat up again when I came back empty-handed.”

“Oh don’t worry they will come around. Let’s get you inside hmm?”

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxiv rp #Garlemald #Dimitri stories

8 notes · View notes

dokifluffs · 4 years

Text

Papa and His Baby Owls | Bokuto Kōtarō

Pairing: Bokuto X Reader (female)

Genre: fluffyyy!! Domestic dad headcanons 🥺

Author’s Note: it feels so good to be writing again after this dreadful first semester!! it honestly feels weird but I hope to be writing a lot more so I can stock up and give you all baby fever again🥰

warnings! Post time skip!! Kids!!

gif from @rivaillerose ✨

Bokuto huffed as a cool breeze blew through the neighborhood as the leaves on branches swayed in the wind, moving to the natural rhythm set by Mother Nature

With a swift motion, Bokuto unlocked the door to the front door, shutting it behind him

“Y/N, I’m home,” he called somewhat annoyed and tiredly into the seemingly normal house of the bright living room yet you were nowhere to be found

He dropped his heavy practice bag to the side where he normally did as he slid out of his outside shoes and into slippers, stripping off his team jacket and hanging it over the banister of the stairs to the basement

He heard light thuds, clicking sounds approaching from the dim living room, finding Bo, the family German Sheppard

“Hey, boy, is mama home?” He rubbed the happy doggo as Bo sat before bokuto before sinking down to the floor, turning onto his back

“Oh you want your belly rubbed, huh?” He slowly hovered his hands as they crept closer to his dog’s stomach, Bo playfully frozen on the ground yet his tail still wagging excitedly

“Oh you do!” Bokuto broke into a smile as he frantically rubbed his dog’s belly before patting him on the side

“Y/N?” He called yet you were nowhere to be found or heard or seen

He scratched the back of his head until he saw it

A clear note you had left on the table

“Hey kou, I ran to the store really quick to get something. I called and messaged you but you didn’t respond and I couldn’t wait. I should be back soon!” You signed your name with a heart and the time you left

“Hmph,” he pouted to himself wishing you were here to play with his hair, Bo rubbing against the buff wing spiker’s toned legs

He had such a bad practice today, he couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong or what was happening

He ate as much as Kirby did, slept like a baby, he was pumped yet all the balls Tsumu set just went right out of bounds or barely in bound

His serves were no better as they all made it over the net except for a few that bounced over the net but they were just barely in

No matter what he did, it felt like everything was just going wrong and there was nothing he could do to change it

This upset feeling felt so nostalgic

It felt like he was in high school again with Akaashi, someone who kept up with him when others couldn’t

And then it hit him

If you weren’t here to cheer him up or Akaashi, there was someone else

In fact, two others alongside Bo, but he was always a given

He went upstairs, followed by the clicking sound of the jingling of the tags on Bo’s collar and his nails muffled clicks on the rugs over the wooden floors toward the nursery to the shared bedroom and there they were

The cribs of his baby owls

He knelt between the two cribs that stood beside each other, end to end, with Bo beside him, sitting up straight like a good boyo as the two glanced back and forth as if they shared the same brain cells at his little babies, his twins

Bokuto D/N and S/N

The sun and moon of his life that were just a month over a year old

He rest his chin on his folded arms over the corner edges where the two cribs met, his gaze softened as he glanced down at his baby owls

They were so small and they were finally here

They had been here for a little over a year

He could remember the first time you started feeling sick, the months passing as your belly swelled bigger and bigger, confirming the news the doctor had already given you two

And instead of just one angel coming into his life beside you, two flew into his life and he couldn’t have asked for a better life despite all his hardships no matter how big or small

He would always show a smile to his baby owls no matter the anguish he faced

It felt that just being here with them for these moments as they passed second by second

Thunder rumbled as a vicious wind blew, making the branch of the tree sitting in the backyard slap against the backside of the house, just beside their window

They stirred from their late afternoon naps

He could see their comfortable sleep unfolding as he peered down to themes they began to stir from the sound of the storm

Bo leaned in close to the daughter’s crib, sniffling her little curled up fist as their tiny faces contorted and turned sour as his son let out a little pouty whimper, lip quivering, followed by his daughter doin gathering same as she took short breaths, her cries beginning to get louder

His hair perked up like a dog’s ears as he looked down to his babies

He couldn’t and wouldn’t have his babies so distressed, not on his watch

Naturally with his fatherly instincts, he scooped up his babies, each on his shoulder as they cling to his shirt as they sniffled, and he stepped into one of their cribs

He laid down with the two of them on top of him

His daughter laid down and his son sat against him before his little boy moved out of his grasp in a way so that instead of laying on his father’s chest, he laid beside him

He nuzzled his damp little face into his shirt as his whines and whimpers faded to nothing

The two little twins melted into Bokuto’s loving hold, his head supported by a small pillow meant for his son

But to Bokuto, no discomfort bothered him, especially now with his baby owls

If it meant they weren’t crying, that’s what made him content

“Shh, don’t cry, I’m here, I’m here~” he sort of whisper yelled but in a loving, non-aggressive way as he rubbed his daughter’s back, looping his hand around to wipe her eye with the side of his thumb gently

His eyes fell to his son, only to find him already fast asleep, his hands still clinging to Bokuto’s shirt

His daughter did the same as she calmed down, as little hiccups made her body jolt

Bokuto hummed peacefully in the small space with his babies as the storm blew on, blowing away with it the memory of his bad practice earlier today

Nothing else mattered anymore than this moment, this space with his babies

They were so small, so innocent and pure

It amazed him that he was a father to these precious beings

His heart could never stop fluttering around them

You drove carefully through the windy road of the neighborhood until you turned to your block, finally back through the storm that only got worse when you left

It almost felt like a sign that you shouldn’t have left in the first place yet here you were back home, relieved to see Kotaro’s car already in the driveway

You slowly drove your car into the driveway past his into the garage, safe from the rain pouring down outside

As the garage shut, the bags crinkled as you walked with them in hand

You were success in your little journey to get more formula, though it was most likely the last as you were beginning to wean them off of formula to whole milk

The door opened to a dimly lit house

Although bokuto’s car was home and you could see traces of him - his shoes and bag, it sounded and felt as if no one was home besides Bo and your twins

“Kotaro?” You called

Your note clearly had been moved as you settled your bags and belongings on the kitchen table

You were normally greeted by Bo yet he was nowhere to be seen or heard, but this only confirmed that Kotaro was home

The only thing was just: where?

“Ko?” You called again, mindful of your voice projecting up the tall stairwell and echoing, disturbing, as you hoped, your twins’ nap time

“Are you in here?” You whispered as you peered into the nursery, finding it just as you left it

Or so you thought

A warm and gentle light that illuminated stars from the same wall the backs of the twins’ cribs still shined, bouncing faint stars and moons around the room

But Bo was in there

And last time you checked, you don’t remember your son having a giant foot with toes that could barely squeeze through the wooden bars of the crib

As you stepped in, Bo wagged his tail upon seeing you, while also peering back into your son’s crib in particular

Glancing down, your daughter’s crib was empty and now you weren’t surprised

It was only a matter of time before he did this

You were actually more surprised Kotaro didn’t do this earlier

Bokuto laid fast asleep in what seemed to be a very uncomfortable position for his back and neck in the crib for your son, your daughter laid out like a starfish on his chest

Her cheek squished against his collar, face nuzzled into his neck as your husband slept soundly with his mouth agape, light snores coming out

He rested his hand on her bottom, holding her close while with the other, your son clung to his father’s large forearm like a koala

Seeing Kotaro like this, it reminded you of what Akaashi told you once about what he realized whenever Kotaro was having a bad day or time

In order to make himself feel safe and secure, he curled up in small places despite his huge and broad stature

From the lack of messages and from what you heard from Hinata and Atsumu earlier, today wasn’t his best performance

But he was here

“Kotaro,” you whispered as you silently undid the latch, lowering the front gate of the crib as you knelt close

He took a semi-sharp inhale as his eyes fluttered open, mindful not to make any too sudden movements

“Welcome home,” he breathed out as he blinked slowly, looking down to his twins as they slept attached to him

“Do you wanna move them to the bed? So you don’t hurt your back or neck?” You pat your hand to his head, brushing your fingers through his soft locks, grazing your hand down the side of his face as he nuzzled himself against your touch

“It’s alright. I’m just gonna nap here for a bit with them before they’re too big for these cribs.” He leaned and kissed the palm of your hand before you took it away

“They’re not going to stay this small forever,” he mumbled as he never took his sleepy eyes off of them

“Okay, baby,” you whispered. “Sleep well, I’ll bring you a pillow,” you leaned close, pressing long kisses to his temple and cheek

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

Tags (let me know if you wanna be tagged for all my haikyuu posts): @yams046 @mazey-chan @sunboikyo00 @kara-grayson04 @fortheloveofbakugo @tsumtsumsemi @1-800-wholesome @yamagucci @realityisoftendisapointing @plantisnotplant @pink-panda-pancakes @differentballooncollection @osamusamusamu@therainroguefanfiction @euphorihan @turquoiselace @macaronnv @oxmaddy @mrkoala4prsdnt @curiouslilbeast @plantisnotplant@therestless101 @abcdaichi @oyasenpai @kaaidalupita @lovinnoya @wisepandaslimeland @killuaking @kattykurr @bbymilkbread @tsumtsumland @suunikimchi @woah-there-cowboy-or-cowgirl @amandahh626 @nabisonyeo94 @wntrmn @dai-tsukki-desu @peteunderoos @ohyoumakemelive @aka-a-shii @shinhiromi @wompwomphq @lollypop-lam @isentsworld @blue-melody @u-wakatoshii @moondriplets @lovinnoya @yuueisteria @humanitysbiggestsimp @cjphoenix135 @inarizaki-captain @closetfurrytsukishima @chibichab @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @kuroosbixh @lavearchives @sweet-sour-devil-ish @daichis-kitty @creepyproxies @itsmarziapei @skyh20 @yehetstudies @that-chick212

2K notes · View notes

randomshyperson · 3 years

Text

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Sorry for your lost - Part I “I will grieve”.

Serie Masterlist here || Part II|| Read on AO3

Summary: When your wife Natasha passes away in a car accident, a part of you dies with her. It takes a few months of mourning for your psychiatrist thinks the best alternative is for you to join a grief group. And there you meet Wanda Maximoff, and learn to live again.

Warnings: (+16) mentions of death, panic attacks and anxiety, grief, self sabotage, mentions of abusive family background, mutual attraction, explicit consent, therapeutic conversations about death, self-deprecation, healthy methods of coping with grief, possible triggers about anxiety, hurtful behaviors, domestic wanda.

Chapter warnings: Heavy angst, death.

Author’s notes: Hello readers! I'm finally back to posting something, but I disappeared for a good reason, I was writing three new series. And here is the first of them. I really enjoyed this work and it's something I've been trying to write since I watched WandaVision, and only now I've managed to put it into words. I am not finished yet, but there is only one chapter left, so your reading will not be affected. Pay attention to the warnings, and good reading!

Tag list (let me know if you wanna be tagged)

@mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch

//-//

Chapter One - I’ll grieve.

You wished you could go back to sleep as soon as you opened your eyes. The sound of your alarm buzzed loudly throughout the room, and after putting it on snooze mode at least four times, you finally got annoyed enough to grab it and throw it across the room. But the sound continued.

Letting out a grumble of dissatisfaction, you pushed the comforter off you, and sat up in your bed. Your room was a mess, but you just skipped through the clothes on the floor to reach the phone, turning off the alarm through the new crack you made in the screen.

"Honey, are you up?" you heard your mother's distant voice calling you through the door, probably from the living room or the kitchen. "Don't forget your therapy today."

You sighed impatiently, running your hands through your hair. The damn group therapy.

Grumbling lightly, you forced yourself to take a shower, not wanting "poor hygiene" to end up on your progress report card.

A while later, when you were finished, you went into the kitchen. Your mother was using her laptop on the counter, and just waved at you.

"Are you going to take me?" You asked her with your hands in your pockets. Your mother took her eyes off the screen to evaluate the sweatshirt you were wearing, and you rolled your eyes at her disapproving expression.

"You know, you could try driv-"

"Mom" You cut her off in earnest, your heart racing momentarily. You don't drive. An she knows. Your mother sighs, putting her hands up in a sign of surrender.

"It was just a suggestion dear." She retorts as she stands up, reaching for her car key on the key rack exiting the kitchen. "But I'm busy with the store, you'll need to take the subway next time."

"Thanks for the support." You grumble as you step out in front and your mother lets out a wry chuckle.

You frown and let out a dissatisfied exclamation as you step outside feeling the sun's rays on your face.

"You're not a vampire, cut the drama." Mocks your mother by pushing you lightly to get you out of the way.

You grumble as you walk to the car. And when you are sitting on the seat, your mother is starting the vehicle and she asks:

"Are you sure you're not going to eat anything?"

Looking out the window, you just mumble that you're not hungry, and she shakes her head in disapproval before you back the car up. You don't speak any more on the way.

//-//

Your mother dropped you off in the parking lot of a gymnasium where the therapy group would be meeting. You sighed as you got out, and thanked her for the ride and the money she gave you to eat, even though you probably weren't going to use.

Resisting the urge to run away, you forced your feet to walk toward the place.

There were a few people at the door, but you didn't smile at any of them, entering the place with your head down and your hands in your pockets.

And then a woman greeted you, and put a little sticker with your name on your shirt when you gave her your papers.

Then she signaled the way you should go, and you ended up on the gymnasium court, where there was a wheel of chairs, and a table with food and drink, and several people scattered around, who you thought were part of your therapy group.

Sighing impatiently you made your way to the bleachers of the venue, hoping to be alone until the session started and you could leave.

Fortunately it wasn't long before the leader signaled for everyone to sit in the circle, and you sighed as you stood up. You ended up with one of the chairs on the far left opposite the therapist, which could be bad since he would see you clearly.

"Thank you very much for coming." Said the therapist smiling gently as his gaze roved over everyone in the circle. You kept your gaze on your shoes. He made a noise with his throat. "Who would like to start today?"

The silence lasted for a few seconds, but then someone was speaking. You forced yourself to come back to reality and pay attention.

"[...] and this is my fourth week around here." Said a woman in a leather jacket. You noticed the army lanyard around her neck. She was talking about an accident when you got distracted again. Lightly poking your eye with your finger, you tried to focus again, letting out a low sigh. And then the therapist was talking again.

"We have new faces today." He said and you felt your heart speed up. You absolutely did not want to talk in front of strangers. "Why don't you share with us, miss?"

You raised your gaze to meet that of the therapist, smiling gently at you. The rest of the group looked at you as well. Taking a deep breath, you began to wiggle your fingers on your leg.

"I don't... I've never been in a group." You say clumsily. "What should I say?"

"Whatever you wish to say." He answers with a smile. You swallow the urge to tell him you didn't want to talk at all. Realizing your lack of response, he is quick to add. "Why don't you tell us why you are here?."

You let out a dry laugh.

"I really didn't have much choice." You retort wryly. The therapist looks slightly surprised, but makes no mention of interrupting you. You let out a sigh before clarifying. "My psychiatrist, she...she didn't approve of my social ratings. She wanted me to talk to other people. People who... went through the same things I did." You count staring at the floor. When you look up again, the group still waits for you to continue, and you sigh, running your hands through your hair. "I haven't... I... I haven't talked to other people outside of my family in six months. Not since..."

You move your head, sniffling slightly as you straighten your posture. The therapist clears his throat.

"You just need to share whatever you are ready to tell us." He says gently, you nod slightly feeling extremely vulnerable. "But remember that this is a safe space. There is nothing to fear here."

And then he is talking about methods of easing the guilt, and dealing with the pain and you were distracted again. You would like to go back to bed. It must have taken a while, but the session is finally over.

The group dispersed around the room, and you went toward the therapist's desk to have him sign your schedule. He smiled as you approached.

"Miss Y/N/L, I was happy to hear that you would be joining us today." He said greeting you with a handshake. You nodded, taking the paper from your pocket. He chuckled, but accepted it. "You know, I'd like you to try to have a partner in the group, it's recommended for cases like yours."

"What do you mean cases like me?" You ask snidely, but he doesn't care.

"Doctor Harkness gave me your chart." He explained as he signed the paper you gave him while you frowned. "Extreme Social Anxiety in the first few months of treatment. Tendency to complete isolation, introverted..."

"Yeah I know my problems, buddy." You interrupt him with irritation. "You don't have to list them for me."

The therapist gives a lopsided chuckle, and holds out the signed paper to you. But he adds with a serious look:

"I'm here to help you, Y/N." He says. "Don't forget that."

You don't respond and take the paper, turning toward the exit.

//-//

Your week passes slowly and tortuously. Which is surprising because you barely get out of bed. And then it is group therapy day again, and you are making a new crack at your cell phone screen.

Your mother greets you with a pat on the back as you enter the kitchen, and she is walking past you toward her own room.

You know you have to take the subway today, and you are trying not to think about it too much. As you are walking out the door, your eyes pass quickly over your car key, and you think you have a flash of memory, but you shake your head quickly, pushing the thought away. And then you walk forward.

And you are late for the session, because you can't take the bus to the station, since your feet simply didn't obey you. But that's okay, you don't really care.

You weren't the only one who was late. When you went to enter the door, a red-haired woman bumped into you, also running to get in. She smiled slightly as she apologized, and you just made room for her to enter first.

"Sorry Stephen." She said to the therapist as soon as you two entered the gymnasium, "I had an emergency with the kids."

The man just shook his head with a smile, and waved for you both to sit down.

"And why were you late today, miss Y/L/N?" He asked you. You shrugged your shoulders.

"I didn't wanna come." You retorted and the group giggled, and the sudden sound startled you slightly, but you just sat with your arms crossed.

"Do you want to try again?" He retorted with light humor in his voice. And you bit the inside of your cheeks. And then you looked down at the floor.

"I couldn't get on the bus." You confessed next. Stephen looked at you tenderly, though, and you didn't like the feeling of your chest heaving slightly.

"And why do you think that happened?"

You shrugged, uncomfortable.

"I don't know. I... There were too many people." You said embarrassed. And then you started twiddling your fingers, feeling all eyes on you. "I just... I knew I'd have to say hello to the driver, and the conductor. And then I would pass strangers in the hallway, and one of them would sit next to me. And I just... I couldn't."

Stephen nodded slightly in agreement.

"It's okay, Y/N. " He stated. "No one is judging you here."

You let out a dry laugh, and Stephen blinks in surprise, which spurs you to explode.

"Everyone is judging me, Doc." You say through gritted teeth, swinging your leg. "It's as if I can hear the gears in people's brains forming opinions about me." You state with a sigh. "Like my mother for example. She...she...acts like I'm past the time of mourning." You explain with tears in your eyes. "Like there's a limit, and I'm extending her goodwill. Because it's been six months, and she doesn't want me to be sad anymore. But guess what? I don't know how to move on!" You state angrily. "I can't! If I don't miss her, what's left for me? If I don't... God, I can't do this."

And you stand up, wiping your tears away, and walk out of the gymnasium, heading for the restrooms. You feel your heart racing, and it's hard to breathe.

As you rest your hands on the sink, your brain starts to wander back to the day of the accident again. You choke, because it feels like you're sinking again. You see the water rising through the metal of the car. Your hands on the steering wheel, and then on the seat belt. You shake your head, pushing the images away, and rush to turn on the faucet in front of you and pour the water on your face.

You take a deep breath, trying to stop the tears. And then there is someone entering.

"Are you okay?" Stephen asks and you nod lightly, ignoring the trembling in your hands as you stare at him through the reflection of the mirror. "I gave a break to the group, wouldn't you like to walk with me?"

"I'm not good company right now." You grumble but he smiles, nodding slightly as if to repeat the invitation. You take a deep breath before turning around.

You walk silently and slowly to the outside of the gymnasium, and then he is speaking again.

"You were very brave today." He comments, and you let out a dry laugh. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I panicked today." You say. " It doesn't sound very brave to me."

Stephen smiles guiding you through the gymnasium entrance toward the parking lot.

"You talked about a trauma to a group of people." He says. "That takes a lot of courage, even if you don't believe it."

"I don't believe in anything." You grumble, but Stephen doesn't mind your hostility. He stays with his friendly posture.

"I would like you to accept my request from before." He said after a moment. "About a group partner."

You let out a sigh.

"I don't even know what that means." You retort with slight impatience as you reach the edge of the parking lot. You notice the garden a few feet ahead of you.

"It's like a therapy buddy." He explains with a smile. "We encourage socializing here. That's why Agatha recommended this group to you."

"Oh, of course you do. Agatha is a bitch." You wryly wipe your hands across your face. Stephen laughs lightly. "How does that work anyway? Do I have to hold someone's hand? Exchange friendship bracelets?"

"No, it's much better." He says with a chuckle. "You talk to that person. You exchange experiences with them. You learn to trust somebody else again."

"My god, it looks like a fucking Disney movie." You retort with irritation and Stephen lets out a laugh. And then you let out a sigh, shrugging your shoulders. "Okay, I'll do it. I have nothing to lose, and it seems that neither you nor Agatha will leave me alone if I don't agree."

"We want you to feel better. Don't take this as a punishment." He says, guiding you back to the gym. You nod slightly, thinking that it really does feel like punishment anyway.

//-//

You see Agatha the same week. Your appointments have been switched to monthly meetings instead of weeks as they were at the beginning of treatment, and while you appreciate the familiarity of seeing her, you can't help but feel irritated with her.

"Someone's grumpy." She comments as soon as you sit down on the couch in the room, to which you roll your eyes.

"You are always so very tender, Agatha." You mock as you cross your legs, hoping the time will pass soon.

Agatha laughs lightly, finishing tidying up a few things on her desk. And then she gets up and sits down in the armchair a few feet in front of the sofa where you are, carrying a small notebook in her hands.

"So, why don't you tell me how your your first two sessions in group therapy went?"

You let out a dry laugh.

"Like Stephen didn't tell you everything." You sneer and Agatha just smiles, waiting for you to speak. You let out an impatient sigh, before stating wryly. "It was amazing, doc. It only took two sessions for me to have a panic attack, so thank you for that."

"Why do you think that happened?"

You squeezed your eyes.

"I have no idea." You retorted. "I'm not the doctor here." Agatha laughs lightly, and then opens her notebook and starts writing something. You sigh impatiently. “Really, you're going to start that again?”

"If you don't talk, I write." She states simply, and you roll your eyes, shifting on the couch uncomfortably.

"Agatha, I just... I couldn't get on a bus, okay?" you tell her, and she closes her notebook to look at you attentively. You take a deep breath. "There were a lot of people. I don't mind walking anyway. It helps me think."

"You don't mind walking eight blocks?" She asks with a slight irony. "That's pretty athletic of you."

"It's weird that you know my address off the top of your head." You play lightly, and she just laughs, straightening her posture.

"Why don't you just tell me what you want to tell me?"

"Why don't you ask me what you want to ask?"

Agatha blinks slightly in surprise, and then she shakes her head slightly, opening her notebook again. You sigh.

"Okay, sorry." You say, and she looks at you for a moment before closing the object again. I... I thought I was drowning again.”

"Are your nightmares back?" She asks seriously, and you deny it with your head.

"I feel too anxious to sleep." You tell. "And then I black out from exhaustion in the night or in the morning. I don't dream anymore."

"Have you been taking your medication?"

You sigh.

"Of course I have." You say. "I don't... I'm having trouble keeping my mind still. Like the first few months, you know. Everything seems so noisy now."

Agatha nods slightly, becoming thoughtful for a few moments.

"I know it may sound strange to hear that, but that means you're getting better." She declares and you frown in surprise, then let out a dry laugh.

"How is my peak anxiety a good thing?"

She opens the book again, but before you can ask what you said wrong, she is reading.

"The first day you were here, you said you felt like you were empty." She narrated and you swallowed dryly. "During your first two months, you continued to describe that you felt like an empty shell. And that you no longer had any dreams, thoughts, or opinions. Without your wife, you said you were no longer here."

You felt your eyes fill with water at the mention of her. But you swallowed your emotions. Agatha turned a page, and read for a few seconds, and then looked at you.

"With your history of anxiety, your mind was remarkably quiet after the passing of your wife." She says. "But now that you're on medication, and therapeutic treatment, plus you're socializing even superficially with the world again, you're starting to feel things again. That's progress."

You look away from her, nodding slightly, trying to believe her words, and trying not to be so terrified at the thought of learning to live again. Without Nat.

You choke slightly, holding back a sob, and then Agatha hands you a box of tissues, but you refuse with a nod, wiping away the tears that have slightly escaped.

"What do you want to talk about now?" She asks after a moment. You take a deep breath, still trying to calm yourself.

"Last week I took a cold bath." You count. "It was snowing."

Agatha blinks in surprise at the information and then lets out a giggle.

"You want me to write it in the book don't you?"

You laugh, wiping away the last of the insistent tears. You just hope Agatha could help you.

//-//

You hate coffee. But you barely slept last night, and now you need to stay awake during the group meeting, so instead of walking to the chair in the corner like you used to, you detour your way to the food and beverage table as soon as you arrive at the gym.

There are a few members around, but you don't look at them, just sidestepping as you extend your arm to the coffee bottle. You pour some, and as you touch the cup, you notice. It's cold.

"Hey sorry about that." Said a girl you thought was named Val or something, as soon as she saw you touching the cup. "We mixed up the shifts yesterday and nobody made new coffee."

You rolled your eyes, picking up the cup and throwing it in the trash. Then you forced a wry smile on the girl and walked outside.

It was cold, but you are boiling with rage. It was just a damn cup of coffee, you thought as you closed your eyes and tried to reduce your anger. Just coffee.

You stumbled with fright when Stephen called out to you.

"We'll get started in a minute." He said looking at you curiously. You just nodded, following him after a few seconds.

You bit the inside of your cheek when you noticed the same coffee girl as before, now sitting where you usually sat. The universe was testing you today.

You just sighed, twiddling your fingers inside your pocket, and walked over to one of the free chairs.

After Stephen gave the briefing, he asked if everyone was all right, and the group lied in unison. You were almost asleep when he called your name.

"I would like to choose your partner today." He says and you feel your heart racing as you straighten your posture. "But I want to know if you have any preferences."

You blink in confusion, and roll your eyes.

"I don't know anyone here, but I'm sure they will all hate me equally, doc." You tried to joke, but Stephen only looked at you with concern.

"No one does or will hate you." He says and you swallow dryly, looking away as you mumble that it was just a joke. Stephen pauses momentarily before continuing. "You know that everyone here has their own experiences of loss and they are unique in their own way, even if they have similarities." He begins and you just wish he would speak soon who your partner is at once. "Usually we don't put new members together, but with the release of one of our members, the number ended up getting odd." He explains. "Anyway, I'm sure you and Mrs. Maximoff will get along very well together."

You frowned slightly at the whole explanation. Then you looked around the group, and realized that this Maximoff woman was the late redhead from the previous session who looked at you curiously. You looked away from her to Stephen.

"Thank you, doc." You said with a slight irony and Stephen just nodded smiling.

"Partners are grieving companions ladies." He says. "We will assess your progress at each session, and then switch partners once the necessary improvement has been achieved."

You grumbled in understanding, and looked away to your lap. When Stephen began to ask about the stories, your mind wandered to the departure time.

And when the session was over you wished you could go to sleep. But Stephen made a slight movement of his head in Maximoff's direction, and you understood that you should talk to her.

Ignoring the urge to show Stephen the middle finger, you just sighed as you got up from your chair and lazily walked over to the woman at the exit. She was talking to a man, and you were even more anxious to address not one, but two strangers.

"Hi." You greeted awkwardly, and both of them turned to you with mild curiosity.

"Hey, you're Y/N, right?" Said the man with a smile as he held out his hand to you. "I'm Bucky. James Barnes actually, but everyone calls me Bucky." He said and you shook his hand, smiling awkwardly. Then he quickly pointed at the woman. "And this is Wanda Maximoff, your grief partner."

"Hi." Wanda said shyly as she offered her hand to greet you. You accepted as clumsily as she did.

"Sorry, I don't know how this works." You say. "Should we exchange numbers or something? Or is that just a therapy thing?"

Bucky gives a little chuckle.

"Oh believe me, they'll know if you're not making it work." He counters. "My first partner was Sam Wilson and we wanted to jump on each other's necks whenever we saw each other. And then Stephen asked us to move in together." He says and you blink in surprise. "We're married now, but that's not the point. I guess I'm getting off topic..."

"Bucky." Wanda interrupts with a smile, and he smiles half-heartedly as well. You frown, annoyed by Bucky's story. You didn't want to marry anyone. "I guess we'll make it work, I hope you don't mind having the company of two tiny restless creatures on our walks."

You look at her with confusion and then you understand, smiling shyly.

"No, it's okay." You say. "I like children."

"Really?" She asks in surprise.

You nod slightly. "Unlike adults, they tell the truth."

Wanda seemed to be thoughtful, but then Bucky lets out an exclamation.

"As group guide, I have to pass the to-do list to you ladies." He says pulling a small notebook from the back pocket of his pants. He pulls out a sheet of paper and hands it to Wanda. "Partners need to develop these habits of socializing and coping with grief together. And yes, there is a test."

You sigh impatiently, tucking a loose string behind your ear.

"That sounds fun." You mock lightly making them smile.

"Anyway, good luck to you two." He says tenderly. "And Wanda, call me if you need help with Tommy. I know a good therapist."

You frown slightly, not understanding what he is referring to, but you prefer to stay out of matters that are none of your business. And then Bucky kisses Wanda on the cheek in farewell and waves to you smiling before leaving. You switch foot weights when you are alone with Wanda. Talking to other people is not exactly your strong suit these past few months.

"So..." You start clumsily when she turns to you.

"So." She repeats equally embarrassed. You then clear your throat and rush to pull your cell phone out of your pocket and hand it to her.

"Give me your number." You say. "That way we can arrange...whatever this is."

Wanda smiles weakly as she accepts the device, and you ignore the curious look when she notices the cracks in the screen. A moment later she hands the cell phone back to you.

"I gotta go." She says. "I need to pick up my kids from school."

You nod slightly and force a smile to say goodbye, and Wanda copies your movement before leaving.

You stare at your cell phone next, noticing the slight anxiety in your stomach as you read the contact "Wanda Maximoff" on the screen.

//-//

By the weekend, you are miserable. Just like the first few months.

You spilled some tea under your bed, and when you went to clean it up, you ended up taking the objects that were lying there. And then you found a crumpled piece of paper.

It was your farewell speech. The words you wrote down to speak on the day of the funeral. The paper you pulled out of your pocket when you got home from the ceremony and probably fell under the bed when you collapsed on the floor from crying so hard.

Suddenly your chest tightened and you couldn't breathe. But you didn't want your mother to worry, so you concentrated on remembering the exercises your therapist had taught you.

And when the room started to get too small, you left.

But because it was cold and rainy, you had just taken a hot shower and had decided to brew tea before you finished putting on a sweater, you had bent down to pick up your socks, and the liquid fell on the floor.

You went outside without your shoes, and your mother let out a worried exclamation when she saw you standing outside, staring at nothing.

"Honey?" She asked walking out the door after seeing you through the kitchen window. "Honey, what is it?"

You didn't answer. Your face was wet. Your mother's hands wrapped around your shoulders, and she gently pushed you inside, worried that you would end up getting hypothermia.

"I'm fine." You gasped as she led you inside, but she just shook her head. "I'm fine."

"No, honey." She retorted making you frown. "You're not."

"Mom."

"Sit down."

And then there were blankets around you, and socks on your feet. And your mother was in the kitchen, on the phone, but everything seemed stuffy. You began to be absent again. Thousands of memories flashing through your eyes.

An image of yourself on that living room floor, laughing while your girlfriend had her arms wrapped around you. Your mother was pouring a glass of wine for each of you, and you were happy to tell her about your engagement.

Then an image of you running across the room, trying to dodge the tickles your father tickled you while you laughed.

Then a puppy in your hands on the floor. You looked at it fondly, laughing at how cute it looked.

Looking down, you saw a hand on your thigh. It was your wife's, the ring on her finger. She smiled at you. You were happy because that was the day you told your mother about the house purchase.

You gasped slightly when you felt someone's hand on your shoulder suddenly.

"I need you to tell me three things you can see." It was Agatha. God, you should have been out of reaction long enough for her to get here. Wiping away your tears, you took a deep breath, trying to reason straight.

"I... I..." You started, but your brain didn't seem to obey you. You took another deep breath. You could see the carpet, so you told her so.

"Two more." Agatha asked tenderly, her hand caressing your back from top to bottom.

"The... table." You replied crying. "I can see the table."

"That's right, honey." She said. "Just one more now. Tell me what else?"

"My feet." You add breathlessly. "I can see my feet."

"Now breathe with me, okay?" She asks. "Like I taught you."

The exercises help you to calm down again. You apologize for scaring your mother, and for making Agatha drive to your house, but neither of them is upset with you. You feel exhausted, but the doctor wants to talk to you after she accepts the cup of coffee your mother offers her.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" She asks as you sit on the covered porch, fluffy pillows around you.

You lower your gaze to the floor, sniffling lightly.

"I found my grief speech." You count. "Under my bed. The next minute I was outside."

Agatha sighs.

"You ready to talk about the accident."

You raise your eyes quickly, frowning, because it wasn't a question.

"W-what?"

She takes a deep breath, crossing her legs.

"It's suffocating you." She clarifies. "You need to talk or these attacks will happen again."

"I-I don't..."

"It won't be today." She interrupts with a tender smile. "Tonight you need to sleep. But we won't prolong this any longer. You need to talk about it, even if it’s only to scream."

Clenching your jaw, you hold back your tears as Agatha takes one last look at you before getting up. She murmurs that she will see you on Monday, but you don't look at her.

//-//

You don't sleep well on Sunday. And it's definitely because you can't stop thinking about your appointment.

And it goes well for the first twenty minutes. Agatha doesn't pressure you, and agrees to hear about your week, without mentioning the incident on Thursday.

There is a pause after you have told her about the dog barking noise in the early morning and then you know it is time to speak up.

"I was driving." You say softly suddenly, ignoring the feeling that your throat wants to close up. Agatha has her hands folded in her lap as she listens to you. "She...she was sleeping in the passenger seat." You swallow dryly, trying to count and not get caught up in the memory again, your heart racing. Talking is almost like going back there. "I looked at her for a moment and I got distracted... and then... we just..."

You only realize that you are crying because tears fall on your hand. You blink, sniffling. Taking a deep breath, you continue.

"We fell into the water, and Nat...she just...I couldn't get her belt off." You gasp breathlessly. "The water just...kept coming up around us. And she looked at me, and... she just shook her head like she knew what was going to happen." You tell between sobs. Agatha's eyes water, but she doesn't interrupt. "I just...she pushed me. She pushed my hands away and she told me she would follow me. And god... my dumb brain believed her!" You confess angrily. "She told me she was right behind me! And I swam out and when I came up she wasn't with me."

You shut up, not being able to tell anymore through the sobs. You can't even see the office clearly because of the tears.

It takes a moment for you to speak again, your head down.

"When I swam back, the car was completely covered with water everywhere" You recount. "I...I was going to dive again.... I wanted to get her out of there. But the people who saw the accident jumped in after us. And they pulled me out of the water. And I kept thinking that if I hadn't been distracted, she...she would be...."

"No." Agatha interrupts by offering you a tissue. "Natasha had a stomach injury, don't you remember?" She counters and you gasp, the words echoing in your brain. "That's why you couldn't remove the belt."

And then you were remembering clearly now.

Soft music echoed in the car as you hummed the tune and drove to your friends' house. Your wife mumbled softly beside you, making you smile as you watched the sleeping figure. The red hair in front of her face.

"Hey sleepyhead." You called softly, looking away from the track for a moment. "We're almost there."

Nat muttered in agreement. You bit your lip, thinking she looked beautiful. And then you heard a noise, and a white light in the window. You barely had time to frown when the impact threw your car off the road.

Your body tensed immediately as you sat up, looking around with desperation. The car was sinking fast and you turned to Nat.

A wound on her forehead was bleeding, and she was clearly disoriented as you touched her hands. You hurried to unbuckle her belt, but it was jammed tightly in her waist, and you gasped in shock at the wound.

"N-no." You grumbled, trying to move the metal, but Nat gasped in pain, pushing your hands away. You could barely breathe in desperation. Your feet were freezing, because the water was already at your ankles. "Babe, move please. We have to get out."

Nat advanced toward you, taking off your belt. You tried to touch her, but she pushed your hands away again, intending to guide you out.

" Sweetheart, go! Open the door! " she commanded and you shook your head, the water on your knees. Nat forced a smile, the tears in her eyes made your stomach turn. "Don't worry love. I'm right behind you."

As you opened the door, the water moved all the way into the car, and you held your breath Nat repeated the words "I'm right behind you" one more time. And then you swam out.

When you reached the surface, you were alone.

Sobbing, you couldn't say anything else to Agatha, and she proceeded to stroke your back, trying to soothe you with words of affirmation.

"I need you to remember some things honey." She says tenderly. "You couldn't have helped Natasha. She got stuck. You have to stop blaming yourself for what happened." Agatha whispers to you, and you sob. "Remember the investigation, okay? The police said that the driver of the truck was drunk and hit your car after he fell asleep. It wasn't your fault." Agatha says trying to remind you. You gasp, countless memories flooding your head at once. "Say that for me, will you?" She asks and you gasp. "Tell me it wasn't your fault."

You sob, burying your face in your hands. It takes a moment, but you repeat the words.

"It wasn't my fault." You whisper breathlessly. "It...it wasn't my fault."

When you leave therapy that day, you feel different.

You think that it is the healing process that is beginning to work. You still have a long way to go, but you have the feeling that a weight has been lifted off your back, because you have started to believe your own words. You could not have saved Natasha.

There is still a deep sadness in you, but you still buy your favorite drink on the way home, and try to stay in the living room for a few hours before going to your room when you are inside.

#wanda maximoff #wandaxreader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda imagine #wanda imagines #sorry for your lost #wandaxyou

412 notes · View notes

linkspooky · 4 years

Photo

Who is it who really needs saving?

is the question Dabi asked when Tokoyami came to rescue Hawks in the middle of the raid war arc. Dabi asks this question just after Hawks stabbed twice in the back with the justification that it would save people, despite the fact that Twice was also a victim too, and also someone in need of saving. Dabi’s question is especially poignant because it asks who is hero society invested in saving, a question that is repeated by Twice who believes Hero Society only saves the good victims, and Himiko as well who asks if Heroes save people, then was Twice not a person.

I bring this up because chapter 299/300 end on another parallel between Dabi and Hawks. Both of them have their backs being shown, however, Hawks is already healing due to the nature of his quirk, whereas the permanent burns on Dabi’s skin has already gotten worse. Hawks and Dabi also have opposite goals at this point, Hawks to support Endeavor, and Dabi’s ultimate goal is to bring him down. However, Rei’s words over Endeavor’s panel add another layer of complication to this. “Those regrets and guilt, the rest of those have borne that burden much more than you have.” Endeavor is suffering, but he’s not the one most in need of saving. I believe next chapter rightly, Rei is going to point out that the ones most in need of saving are the ones who suffered the most because of Endeavor’s actions. Endeavor was never the one in need of saving, and in need of redemption in the first place, rather it was Dabi.

1. Started From the Bottom Now We’re Even Lower

Hawks and Dabi are seeming opposites even from their origin points. Hawks was born in a poor household the son to a minor villain, Touya a rich household the son of the number two hero. Hawks family name basically means nothing to the point where the hero commission easily erased it, whereas Dabi’s family name has dominated his entire life. Touya from a young age was given everything he needed to become a hero and his father even encouraged him, while Hawks was on the run from the law and couldn’t even leave his small house without getting yelled at.

At first, Hawks was born with a quirk that both of his parents disapproved of as they constantly asked him what his wings were even for, and seemed disgusted by his mutation. While at the same time, Touya was born with a quirk that his father was happy with, a fire quirk even stronger than his own which Enji thought gave him enough of a potential that he didn’t need to worry about finding an ideal hybrid quirk. He could pass all his techniques onto his firstborn son who seemed eager to learn.

The only real similarity between both of them was that for both children, Endeavor was clearly their favorite hero. Touya was eager to please his father and train with him in order to inherit his hero techniques, and when Endeavor captured Hawks father, it convinced Hawks that heroes were real.

However, both of them experienced a sudden reversal of fate. This is where circumstances for both of them flipped. Touya’s quirk was in fact revealed to be a very harmful hybridization of his parents two quirks, he inherited his father’s flames but even hotter, while at the same time inheriting Rei’s sensitivity to fire which made th overheating flaw even worse on him causing his quirk to deliberately harm his body. Hawks however, is an ideali hybridization of both of his parents quirks. His mother Tomie has a quirk that creates eyeballs and seems ideal for searching, watching and locating things, while his father’s feather quirks on his arms that could sharpen into blades turned into wings on his back that were both capable of searching and detection like his mother’s eyeballs and sharpening into blades like his father’s.

At first it seems destined that Touya was ging to become a hero, while Hawks had no hope for him, but because of the nature of their quirks the opposite happened. When Hawks was young he was able to save a busload of people from crashing which got him recruited by the hero commission. While it’s implied that Touya kept trying to train on his own even after Endeavor stopped the training and abandoned him in favor of Shoto, and because of that Touya had his training accident at Sekoto peek and burned to death.

Dabi and Hawks are seeming opposites, but they’re actually quite similar if you think about it. Both of them grew up in abusive households that are intentionally paralleled, they have controlling and physically violent fathers, and mothers who are coded as mentally ill, Tomie was unfit to take care of a child, and Rei was eventually pushed to a breaking point where she was unable to anymore and then forcibly separated and institutionalized by her husband. Both, also experienced a separation from their mother, Rei was hospitalized around the time Toya finally died, and the Hero Commission promised Tomie support if she cut all ties from him. Both of them also dreamed of becoming heroes, and tried their best to, even Touya after his father rejected him kept training on their own.

The only difference between them is circumstances, Hawks was saved because he was born with a useful quirk, Touya despite his father being the number two hero was never saved.

2. We’re the Heroes, Who Don’t Do Anything

In fact it’s implied that Enji intentionally looked away and forced himself to forget Touya’s suffering. For instance, the first time Touya trains with Enji he’s shown wearing a sleeveless shirt. Every time after that, Touya has long jacket sleeves on. When he’s crying to Natsuo, when he’s pulling out his hair, and the last memory from before his death, every time Touya is shown hiding his arms. We also know that Dabi, has burns that go all the way up his arms which is exactly where his flames emerge from. It’s also the place where Touya burns himself when Enji remembers training with him for the first time.

It’s likely that Touya was walking around with burns up his arms from the training he was inflicting on himself, and Enji simply didn’t notice because his unreliable narrator status, he forgets everything he has done to other members of his family, or intentionally downplays the severity of it in order to avoid the guilt and consequences of his actions. Hence why he can say things like “I never meant to neglect you” to Natsuo, when we saw him call Natsuo and the others failures from Shoto’s perspective, because in Enji’s perspective he’s just a good father who went wrong somewhere along the line, whereas from Natsuo’s perspective he never really acted like a father towards him at all.

Enji only ever sees his own intentions, and not the impact his actions had on others. He only saw his heroic ambitions, and not the way he taught Touya that his only value was his quirk, and then completely tossed him aside as a failure and ignored all his suffering when Touya kept trying to get his attention. That he intentionally neglected Touya until either an accident or a suicide claimed his life.

Either way it’s a running theme that Endeavor hesitates when it comes to saving his own sons. Despite seeing himself as both a hero and a father, he completely fails in both roles to them.

He froze when it came time to save Natsuo from Ending, and the second time when Shoto was begging Endeavor for help against Dabi, Endeavor chose not to do a single thing. In fact the only thing that moved him was Deku’s pep talk that exclusively stoked his ego and called him a good mentor, which caused Endeavor to finally move into action.

Endeavor is a hero in name who has no interest in directly saving others, because his number one priority has always been to stand at the number one spot and feel like he’s accomplished something. He didn’t notice Touya was most likely continuing the training on his own, and was spiraling that badly until after Touya had died, and even after that happened he still continued the training with Shoto like nothing happened, even mentioning that Touya was a small mistake.

When the wounds from Touya’s death were still fresh, it seemed like barely anything more than an afterthought to him. There are some people who even theorize that Enji only believed Touya was always alive because he had never truly faced the guilt of Touya’s death and his role in it, that it was a comfort to him to believe his son was still secretly alive out there.

The signs were obvious that Touya was spiraling, but he was neglected so much that Endeavor the number two hero who prides himself on most cases resolved didn’t notice what was going wrong with his son until he literally burned himself alive, and even then that wasn’t enough to stop him from mistreating his other son and forcing him into painful training.

Touya’s neglect is as much abuse as Shoto’s favoritism and training, that’s the point of the golden child / scapegoat dynamic, they are both being abused. Enji was the only parent in the household, and if his kid was burning himself, and injuring himself all the time and it got to the point where the child literally died because of a lack of adult supervision, Enji could be prosecuted for manslaughter in a court of law. There are cases where adults just, do absolutely nothing for their kids, and those kids sometimes die of neglect, starvation, because of their parents completely failing to take care of them. It’s just as sinister a form of abuse as physical abuse. In both cases a child’s needs aren’t being provided for by their parents.

Dabi is someone who could have been easily saved by his father paying attention to him, and should have been saved by the man who prides himself as the number two hero, but he was left to rot. This is a running theme with Endeavor, he’s a hero who continually fails to save his family.

Dabi’s situation is also a metaphor for hero society at large. Who are the types of people that Hero Society prefers to save? Those who are useful to it like Hawks. It intentionally turns a blind eye to cases like Touya, Tenko or Twice. If Touya did have burns on his arms from training but was able to cover them up just by wearing long sleeves, and Natsuo was the only one who knew then that goes even further to explain Dabi’s specific obsession with discrediting Endeavor.

If Dabi’s father had just acted like a hero, or acted like a father then he would have been saved. If Dabi’s father had noticed the person most in need of saving was right next to him, the incident where he burned to death never would have happened. Which is why Dabi’s grudge is specifically against heroes who do not act like heroes. Heroes who, cannot save anyone because they are too self involved to perform the duty of saving. He shares Stain’s obsession with ideologically pure heroes, that only heroes who put saving others selflessly over everything else should be allowed to exist and the rest are pretenders to the title.

Notice how Dabi pulls on the scars on his face when begging the people to think about this, about who should really be allowed to call themselves heroes.

Dabi’s entire arc revolves around this question. Who are the real victims? Who are the ones that really need to be saved? Dabi is a character of mystery and subversion who is constantly hiding his real feelings.

Dabi is commented on being heartless about Twice’s death, but his actions contradict his words. Dabi goes out of his way trying to avenge Twice even after it’s already too late to save him, even burning up his own body to do so. He tried so hard we see literally there are new scars growing on his back the next time we see him Post-War Arc.

I’d also like to bring up that while Hawks accuses Dabi of feeling nothing about Twice’s death, Hawks is the one who killed him, and who after the fact shows no regret in his actions because he’s completely justified it to himself. He even remembers Twice like he’s some kind of old friend he took inspiration from, and not a person he manipulated into trusting him then killed. My point is it’s a reversal, Hawks is set up as the one who cares about Twice as a friend, but really was only using him. Dabi claims he was only using him, but he’s the one who showed an actual emotional reaction to Twice’s death and made an effort to save him.

If I were to say this is one more point of foiling between Dabi and Hawks. They both don’t see themselves as victims and because of that they deny the victimhood of the other.

Dabi accuses Hawks of becoming a murderer because his father was a murderer. Hawks when he learns the truth about Enji, takes Enji’s side over Dabi’s, believing Endeavor being the true victim in need of help in that situation. This is because Dabi and Hawks both deny their own victimhood, and they project that on each other. Dabi denies his victimhood and pretends to be the villain instead, he’s the villain who is going to take down Endeavor and therefore he’s not suffering. Hawks denies his own victimhood and his abusive past and pretends to be a hero, he’s helping Endeavor become a better hero, so therefore all the abuse Endeavor committed is in the past so therefore he doesn’t have to think about it. Both deny themselves and therefore deny any similarity in one another.

They’re also two people fatally wrapped up in their own circumstances they turn a blind eye to the suffering of others. Dabi assumes that Shoto is “good” and therefore, must have been raised with love and had it better than him and was raised with love. Whereas Hawks assumes that Twice is “good”, and therefore worthy of saving because he helps other people. In both cases, neither Dabi nor Hawks really understand Shoto or Twice, they’re just judging them by their own projected standards. Dabi only understands his childhood as Touya desperately trying to work for Enji’s attention, so Shoto who had Enji’s attention must have had it good. Hawks was saved because of the bus accident where he saved people as a hero, so obviously it makes sense he reach out to try to save another good person who just had bad luck.

Despite the fact that both of them are pretty much emotionally dead and in deep denial of their true feelings.

Dabi has also made a show of how little he cares about Natsuo, while at the same time his most famous line from the pro hero arc is “overthought things and snapped...”

Dabi is also the only one who notices it’s dangerous to bring Tokoyami onto a battlefield. This is when he asks the question, who is it who needs saving.

We learn at around the same time, the hope from the Pro Hero arc was intentionally a set up by Dabi to bring Endeavor down, and show everyone eventually that Endeavor hadn’t truly changed.

These are all small details yes, but keep in mind we’ve really only gotten crumbs of Dabi’s characterization so far because his perspective is one that has deliberately been kept from us. We see his past through almost everyone else’s eyes but his own - because so far the focus has been on Endeavor.

Just like Dabi set up Endeavor’s earlier success only to bring him down, this might also lead to a reversal in the narratives. In 299, Hawks believed Endeavor to be the one in need of help. We are also as an audience set up to believe that the narrative arc will focus around Endeavor’s redemption. This is before the series revealed the circumstances of his son.

However, Endeavor and Dabi are literal opposites. They’re inversions of each other. Dabi pretends he doesn’t care any more for his family and will go out of his way to hurt them, that all he cares about is revenge, but at the same his ideals are heroic. In his actions and ideals he’s the one calling for a better society. Dabi is the most independent and distant from the league it’s true, and so far he’s denied their friendship, but at the same time it’s Dabi who is the most idealistic of the league. Shigaraki wants to destroy the current society, Himiko wants a society that’s easier on her, but it’s Dabi who has the ideals for a society he wants, one where heroes are held to standards and act like Heroes. It’s dabi better than anyone else who makes the standards for mass appeal. Because, deep down Dabi still has heroic aspirations and drive even if it comes from Stain of all people he’s inspired by. He has some sort of ideals, a world he’s trying to create.

Whereas, Endeavor doesn’t have any heroic ideals at all. His idea of being a hero has always centered around fame, status and the ranking of number one. He’s a hero unconcerned with saving people, only defeating villains to prove his strength. Endeavor presents himself outwardly as someone who is trying to do what’s best for his family, and working towards being the best hero he can be but his intentions are revealed to be selfish, at the same time as Enji’s narration is revealed as unreliable. It may have been set up for an inversion all along, with the setup being that Enji is the one who needed to redeem himself, when Dabi was pushed to the background. Around this time Rei also tried to reassure others, that he was trying to carry his regrets with him.

However, as soon as Touya’s identity is revealed, Rei’s stance reverses. Now she properly calls out that, Enji hasn’t been carrying his regrets at al.. Instead, he’s been forcing his family to carry the burden of it while he gets to go play hero in front of the public.

As soon as Touya is revealed to be alive, it’s not Enji who is the center and focus of conversation but rather Touya. In 299, Hawks believes that it’s Endeavor whose in need of saving, but we’re shown that Endeavor only really seems to pity himself in this situation.

It’s Rei who shows up to remind us, who really is in need of saving in this situation. Not Endeavor but rather those who have been burned the most by Endeavor’s actions.

Which may be the ultimate parallel between Hawks and Dabi as well, Hawks can’t see himself as a victim so he can’t realize who the victims who need his help the most is. Whereas, Dabi in the future may receive the change of heart he needs to reopen his heart again and accept others, and therefore learn to accept himself. Dabi is set up for a reconciliation between his two selves, Touya the victim and Dabi the villain. While ultimately, Hawks will intentionally turn his back on Keigo the victim, because he can only ever see himself as a hero.

I’m not suggesting that Dabi is good or Hawks is bad, or the other way around, not something as simple as that but that Dabi is open to change, and this will lead to him eventually opening up to others. Whereas, Hawks who is given practically every opportunity to change, and even escapes killing Twice with no permanent consequences, (his wings are growing back, and he even is freed from the hero commission) chooses to support Endeavor once again. It’s Dabi who calls others to think and reevaluate, and is actively trying to create a change in the world, whereas Hawks only interest is protecting other heroes and not the victims that heroes themselves create. Because in his mind heroes are good and that fact will never change.

Because Dabi is the one trying to create change, while Hawks continues to cling to Endeavor I believe we’ll eventually receive a reversal for both of them. Just as the narrative around Dabi has changed from irredeemable villain to person in need of saving, we may see exactly what was foreshadowed in this panel happening. Dabi walking towards the light, while Hawks falls further and further into the shadows - because it’s Dabi who is looking for that light, while Hawks chooses to remain in the dark. Hawks was saved once, and now he believes that everyone who is good gets saved, unless they are unlucky like Twice. It’s Dabi who knows the truth, that there are heroes who don’t save people, and it’s Dabi who is at least trying to confront that truth head on and change it rather than just ignoring it.

In a way Hawks is someone who has gone blind from looking too closely at Endeavor’s light, whereas because Dabi was failed by Endeavor and fell into the shadows he at least knows the truth about what it’s like for those who don’t get saved, and unlike Hawks can’t keep deluding himself that this is a world where everyone who deserves it gets saved.

#dabi #hawks #toya todoroki #touya todoroki #takami keigo #mha meta #my hero academia meta #my hero academia theory #bnha 299 #bnha 300 #mha 299 #mha 300

793 notes · View notes

momoshin · 4 years

Text

give in — ryujin

“where’ve you been? you reek” all of the members look up at you as yeji starts when you enter thru the door, and she’s right. you smell of sex and sweat not to mention your bra is missing, the zipper of your jacket is undone and your hair is no longer perfectly straight but tucked messily into your beanie and hood.

“just out” you breathe, you hear her hum and watch her nod into her book and everyone else resume their positions before walking to your shared room with chaeryeong to grab a change of clothes and shower, something you hadn’t been able to do in your friend’s apartment considering her roomates would be there soon.

you were ready to go to bed. so tired from all the practice and the extra curricular acfivities you had been up to today, it’s only 9 pm but your bed sounds so good right now you wouldn’t mind sleeping enough to wake up at the crack of dawn tomorrow, even if it meant having to make breakfast for the others. sadly, your members had other plans, because chaeryeong peeks her head into the room and says a simple “meeting in yeji’s room” before leaving, the door ajar waiting for you.

you groan and sigh and curse softly before walking out, wondering on your way there why in her room and not in the kitchen like usual, and the answer that receives you when you enter the leader’s room makes you regret slamming your room’s door when you got out. yuna’s not there, probably sleeping, and you’re in trouble, most likely.

“hey guys” you start, chuckling nervously as you sit on ryujin’s bed. “yuna’s birthday isn’t for another 11 months”

“we actually wanted to talk about you” lia starts from her spot leaning against the wall, chaeryeong on yeji’s bed, with ryujin and yeji just standing there looking at you with her arms crossed.

“uh,, sure” you try to look as calm as possible, waiting for any bombs to drop from their lips.

“who were you with, the truth this time” as expected, it’s yeji who asks, her gaze hard and intimidating as they all wait for you to respond.

“unnie i told you, out” shrugging, you roll your eyes “walking, if that helps”

“y/n, im being serious. where were you, who were you with? you were obviously doing something or someone if you didn’t tell any of us beforehand”

“since when do we announce our individual outings?” you start “all of you have gone out alone and not once have you told me where, and you don’t see me interrogate you for that”

“yeah but we don’t come home smelling of sex and looking like we were hiding from the paps” it’s chaeryeong this time, your roomate, your closest friend out of the five to throw you under the bus, and she’s no longer beside ryujin but next to yeji, her eyes also demanding answers and explanations.

“what the fuck chaer?” you sigh, rubbing your temples “yeah, i was out having sex tonight, that what you wanted to hear?”

“with who” yeji pries, arms still crossed over her chest. ryujin hasn’t spoken all this time, and lia scoffs at your answers every now and then, her arms mirroring yeji’s as she stays further back, one of her legs posted to support her on the wall.

“with a friend” you shrug again.

“just tell us who y/n” lia groans.

“im not telling you who it is!” it’s not funny, girly, gossip. it’s them furiously prying because they’re worried you getting caught might hurt the group.

“why not?” chaeryeong yells back at you

“because!” you sigh, exasperated, before getting yourself together and lowering your voice “we made a deal, i wouldn’t tell my members and neither would they”

“so it is an idol” yeji nods at your slip, as if she knew this whole time.

“oh fuck off” falling back on the mattress, you cover your face with your hands and curse at yourself for being so stupid and letting them get to you.

“is it a sunbaenim? a woman? or a boy?”

“oh my god” you groan at lia’s persistent voice, promising yourself you would not crack this time and would stand your ground. “im not saying anything else”

“it’s not a guy” chaeryeong says, and the four of you look at her because, how the fuck does she know?

“how do you know?” yeji reads your mind.

“she just looks different. we don’t really notice if she’s been with a guy she just tells us” and she’s right, not that they know of all your sexcapades, and not that they know most of them are women, but they’ve never noticed something’s off when it’s been a guy.

“oh” lia and yeji nod slowly, taking it all in. “so, is it a sunbaenim? from twice? a soloist? trainee?”

“actually that’s gross. the fact that you think i’d fuck a trainee” just at the thought, you shudder, or maybe it’s the thought of that one time, at her group’s mention, you can’t help but remember that time you had nayeon’s legs around your head... her pus— no, there’s no time for that right now. you shake the dirty memories out of your head, and rub your legs together to release the growing tension between them, and look up at them, already thinking of how to avoid their next question.

“we’re not gonna stop until you cave” yeji shrugs

“well im not” you lift your chin proudly, crossing your arms.

“yeah, you will.” lia starts. “because if not we will tell on you with manager-nim”

“you wouldn’t” gasping, you uncross your arms.

“don’t test me” she shrugs. you knew she would, but she couldn’t know you were bluffing. “so come on. spit it out”

“unnie, im being careful!” you raise your voice a little, already upset at the fact that they wouldn’t give it a rest.

“that’s useless y/n. every single person who’s ever been caught doing something wrong has been ‘careful” yeji says, quoting the word careful with her fingers.

“loona” and like you called her name, ryujin’s head snaps up, her mind already making up a million scenarios of you fucking the few friends she had in that group. what’s worse? she enjoys every single one of them. she wishes she could’ve been there to at least watch. though she quickly vanishes them from her head when she notices your members looking at her for the same reason, her friends.

“i didn’t fuck heejin, or hyunjin” you clarify, wanting to bring them peace or at least ryujin, but only the other three slump their shoulders in relief at your confession. “but, im not telling you who i did.” letting your hands fall on your thighs, you get up and closer to the door. “goodnight”

“where are you going? we’re not done” she catches your wrist before you can swing the door open, pulling you back to where you were before, in front of her and a little bit closer to ryujin.

“are you kidding me?” you scoff at yeji. “none of you wanted to fuck me, so i went out and found someone who did, it was good so i kept going back. you’ve never noticed until today and if you didn’t no one else did. im good at what im doing. hell! i’ve fucked half the people in this industry and none of you knew until i just said it!! leave me alone”

but before you can actually turn around and leave, ryujin quickly stands up, surprising all five of you when she smashes her lips against yours. one hand on your hair and one on your ass, squeezing expertly. the other three are just in shock as you are, but she tastes so good and her hands feel good against you, even when she sneaks one up your tshirt to rub at your already hardened nipples because of the cold, and you try to hold it but you can’t, eventually moaning and melting in her hold, that was rough and heavy but in a good way, making you wrap your arms around her neck.

“guys- what the fuck-“

“get out” ryujin groans against your lips, her hands tightening on your ass and tits, lips no longer on yours but so close that if you leaned just a little bit you could taste them again, you’re shameless really, and tomorrow you’ll probably hide from them all because you don’t think twice about your members in the room before joining your lips with hers again in another wet, hot kiss.

“ryujin that’s not a good-“

“she said she wanted to be fucked. so i will. get out” the words are barely mumbled, because she’s too busy getting back to your lips to care if they understand, because she’s too eager as she puts the other hand inside your pijama shorts feeling the lack of underwear and then your wet folds, throwing her head back and breaking your kiss to groan at the feeling. “fuck— leave”

you don’t expect them to actually, and you don’t really notice, you’re too preoccupied with the feeling of the pads of her fingers on your clit slowly making circles to notice, and its only when you hear a loud scoff and the door slightly slam closed that you realized they did leave– after all, if the door slam woke yuna up they probably would find a way to distract her from going in the room.

“was it good? hm? was she good?” you gasp, because she’s roughly turned you around to press her front against your back, her hand wrapping around your neck before the other goes back into your shorts, her fingers too slow for your liking as they dip in to gather some of your slick to spread around your lips and clit. “i asked you a question”

throwing your head against her shoulder, you bite your lip before taking a deep breath to answer, letting out a much too soft “yea” to her question

“do you think she could be better than me?”

“i dunno, you’ve never touched me” rolling your eyes, you turn your head to look at her now that her hand has stopped moving.

“is that what we’re saying now?-“

“we were trainees ryu. you said it was a mistake” you sigh, already thinking this was not going where you thought it was “are you going to touch me or should i go get myself off?”

“hm” she chuckles, kissing your cheek dangerously soft with her grip on your neck and jaw tightening slightly. “you’re never going back to her after im done with you.”

“i hope that’s a promise you keep”

“shut up” her voice is rougher, not sweet and playful like usual, just rough. “bend over the bed.”

you do as told, wanting to get back on her good side. it’s quite a sight, watching your shorts ride up enough for her to see your asscheeks falling out of them. she’s too comfortable, for a ‘first time’ but at this point, neither of you care, you want her, you have for a very long time, you’re too desperate to go over basics. you’re so desperate, that just her fingers running from the back of your thigh to your asscheek makes you shiver and gives you goosebumps.

“you’re dripping” she points out the obvious. “i can see it through your shorts.”

“so touch me ryujinnie, please” you’re backing up into her hand, begging for something, anything at this point.

she hums, finally pulling your shorts off your legs, immediately salivating at the sight of your pussy glistening, clit swollen at the lack of attention. “look at you, what do you want?”

“you, please” she chuckles after that, and you wonder if she even heard you with how small your voice had turned.

“are these hers?” she asks, hands pressing against recent hand prints on your ass, making your hips buck forward, startled.

“yeah” you sigh, wanting her to go over them at least once. “didn’t hit me hard enough”

“can i try?”

“please” that’s all it takes. she rubs circles on one of your asscheeks before her hand raises and falls with a heavinly burn against your skin, eliciting a louder whimper out of you. every spank leaves a sting more enjoyable than the last, and you’re soon backing your ass up against her hand for more.

“what do you say?” she holds her hand at a safe distance from your ass, waiting for you to answer correctly before slapping the red skin

“t-thank you” a gasp is what you let out when she strikes her hand against your ass once again.

“good girl” she smiles, full of pride. “now turn around and spread your legs for me”

you stumble across pillows on the bed and such, too eager to be careful right now, and position yourself on your back, legs wide open for her with a hand going down to spread your wetness around your lips

“don’t do that” she slaps your hand away, getting on her knees to be face to face with your pussy. she only spits on it, as if you needed more lubrication, spreading it with two of her fingers, too slow for your liking.

she watches the way you sigh and whimper whenever she grazes against your clit or hole, the way you lift your head from her pillow and plead with your eyes for her to give you what you wanted. and her standing up to retrieve a pretty pink dildo from her drawer wasn’t what you expected, not that you didn’t want it. the black straps only surprise you more, and the sight of her tightening the straps and positioning the toy where she wanted it was making your wetness grow tenfold.

she rests the tip of it and taps it against your clit repeatedly, only making you sigh in between relief and want, your eyes sparkling and lashes fanning pretty to lure her into finally fucking you like she had promised. the look on both your faces as she slowly pushes in is priceless, you’re too overwhelmed to react and she’s too turned on, salivating at the way your lips swallow the pink toy slowly and fully. “next time, you come to me” she grunts, hand squishing your cheeks together while the other squeezes your side, her hips starting to slowly thrust in and out, pulling out entirely just to fill you to the brim with the plastick cock “no more sneaking out and worrying us sick just to find out some other girl has been fucking this pretty pussy, yeah?”

“mhm” your eyes are shut tight, your mouth wide open, you’re probably even drooling, her lips around your nipple suckling and her teeth digging into your skin in a delicious pain that has you gasping and pushing your chest further into her mouth, hands wrapping around her neck, and you whine when she inevitably pulls away

“good” she hums, tongue running over her lips as she fucks you...”gonna fuck you stupid baby” and her hips speed up, she’s intimidating in some way and it’s so fucking hot, the way she looks down on you, smirking because she knows she has you eating from her hand. she takes her time, speeding and slowing the thrusts of her hips, playing with your clit and sensitive nipples, teasing you when at the edge of your orgasm, edging you over and over again because she liked to see you suffer. “should i let you cum?”

“p-please.” your voice is so soft, so whiny, and she adores it, the fact that it’s all because of her.

“i dunno, it’s not like you earned it” her strokes are so slow, yet so hard. she tickles your g-spot with the tip of the toy every time, it feels good, but you want more

“i’ll make u-up for it. please just let m-me cum”

“you gonna go back to her??”

“n-no. never-r” your voice is broken, and you hope it expresses how much you need to cum right now. and if you were to take a guess by the way she’s speeding up, torturing your clit as well. it did. the sounds of skin slapping soon floods the room and the air reeks once again of sex and sweat. it’s hot, but you’re for some reason shaking, maybe it’s the approaching orgasm, and how it’s so much stronger because of her edging you, making you shake and whine, hands on her abs as if pushing her away to prevent her from keep fucking you through your orgasm.

she’s chuckling, kissing your temple and cheek, nose and lower until she reaches your lips, catching all your breathy moans and whimpers as you finally calmed down. ryujin pulls out carefully, finally pressing a cheeky kiss to your clit that makes your body jolt and stutter..

#ryujin !#ryujin smut #itzy smut #kpop smut #ryujin imagine #ryujin imagines #my stuff #gg smut #fem!reader

422 notes · View notes

the32ndbeat · 3 years

Text

𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐣.𝐲𝐧 - [ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟛 ]

pairing: stalker!jaehyun x fem!reader ( ft twice’s tzuyu, loona’s haseul )

word count: 2.4k

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual harassment, mature themes, mentions of drugs, smoking, extreme views, misogyny, yandere themes

a/n: unedited! it’s been forever since I updated this but also considering if I should turn this into a tbz series at my tbz writing blog so we’ll see how this goes.

taglist: I don’t have one yet and I’m seeing how this does since I’m thinking whether I should convert it into a tbz series. Please do lemme know if you guys want to see this continued!

disclaimer: everything written here is FICTIONAL and I am in no way saying that the mentioned characters act like that irl!

masterlist

(inspired by netflix’s you and the book of the same name by caroline kepnes)

The first thing that registers in my mind is how fucking loud this place is. Seriously, what is it with college parties and their inherent need to blast music loud enough to wake the entire neighbourhood within a five mile radius? Before I even step within the premises or even make it to the front yard, the whole fraternity house seemed to shake from the loudness of the bass-boosted music when viewed from a distance away. I even had to squint as I approach, the strings of fluorescent party lights draped all over the place glowing so brightly it almost hurt to look straight.

A few drunk college frat boys stumble past me, their hair sticky and messy with sweat and their breaths reeking of cheap alcohol. Their steps are wobbly and I can even see drool and remnants of vomit hanging at the corner of their mouths. My heart clenches with pure disgust and I grit my teeth as I watch them laugh out loud over nothing, their brains a pink, unintelligent mush in their skulls, probably rotted by endless drinking and fucking. All part of the college frat experience.

I wonder if they enjoy being a complete waste of space while wasting mummy and daddy’s money to put them through college.

I look away and ignore the growing irritation in me. This is the sort of party your friends wanted you to go with them to? I thought your friends were bad influences but scratch that, they’re fucking horrible. They taint you, taint your innocence and put you at risk around such dangerous men who do not deserve to be even a mile within your presence. As I walk closer, the house looks even more hideous up close.

It’s decorated in the worst way I’ve seen a house decorated. It’s as if someone threw a bunch of random fairy lights bought in the brightest, blinding neon colours that simply do not go together over a sloppy looking house and the front yard is littered with empty, red plastic cups and is that a discarded bra I see over there?

I tiptoe over the trash laying around on the grass and try to avoid the gyrating bodies of college students who clearly have no sense of rhythm. My skin feels grimy within just a few minutes of being here and I can’t wait to leave but there is no way I’m leaving when I know that you will be here. The thought of you being surrounded by such vermins makes me sick to the stomach and I want to get you out of here. The only place you should rightfully be, is at my place where there are no revolting men who only love to drink cheap alcohol, party till sunrise, get high off smoking a blunt, yell ‘turn up!’ every few minutes as if it’s muscle memory in their tiny, almost non-existent brains and do anything but be a productive member of society.

As I push through the double doors, the nauseating smell containing a mixture of intoxicating alcohol, smoke and cheap cologne almost knocks me backwards. My hand grips tighter to the wooden door and I force myself in. Inside, the house is dim but bright at the same time with disco and laser lights. A massive boombox and a pair of equally large loudspeakers sit at the corner of the room and some hip hop tune is being played while people dance and drink and smoke to their hearts’ delight. You’d never believe these kids were supposed to be the future.

Oh, how disappointed their parents must be.

A girl in skimpy shorts and a tube top looks at me with unadulterated want and beckoning in her eyes while staring at the varsity jacket I’m wearing, no doubt replaying fantasies of fucking a college athlete in her mind and trying to guess which sport I supposedly play. I gaze blankly at them before turning away and I can see her shift from the corner of my eye, obviously bothered by the lack of attention. It’s like I can almost see the gears whirring in her brain. Did she not show enough cleavage? Is more skin needed to get my attention? Sometimes people are so predictable and readable that it’s almost pathetic.

Other times, I might have lowered my standards and settled for a casual fuck with someone like that but not today. Today, I’m a man on a mission. A mission to look out for you.

My eyes scan the room but it’s too dim to see anything within four feet in any direction. The flashing lights threaten to overwhelm me along with the stink of the place and booming music and I can feel my annoyance evolving into anger. I repress the urge to slap the shit out of a guy in a red bandana who screams ‘turn up’ all of sudden, practically effectively bursting my eardrums.

I almost bump into a couple eating each other’s faces out when someone yells out at me.

“Hey, you!”

The music is so loud that I almost don’t hear it. I whip around and sure enough, it’s tube top girl making her way over to me. You have got to be fucking kidding me. Not only do I have to find and save you from this sleazy place and have to squeeze in with a crowd of sweaty, brainless college kids who know nothing but party in a tiny, dirty, smelly frat house but now I also have tube top girl hot on my heels?

The things I do for you, y/n and we haven’t even properly gotten to know each other yet.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Tube top girl smiles and up close, I can see that her mascara is smudged and her hair is slicked back with an unholy amount of gel into a tight little bun which only makes her face look wider and her forehead exposed with a sheen of sweat covering it. Her lipstick is reapplied and I know for a fact that she has done it to impress me. Her top is also inched a little lower, as if that makes her anymore appealing.

I smile in a dismissive way, in a way that showed that I cared, but not really.

“Hey,” I reply flippantly.

“Crazy party huh?” She grins, satisfied that she’s got my attention now. Women.

I let my eyes drift to her breasts and look back up at her expectant, puppy dog eyes that are so eager to please it’s actually embarrassing.

“Yeah.”

“What’s your name? I’m Meg.”

“I’m Jaehyun.”

“You part of any sports team in school?” And just like that I know that tube top girl must have had fantasies of fucking a college athlete.

So predictable.

“Yeah, I’m on the swim team.” I say and her smile widens, a playfulness in her eyes as she leans her chest in closer in what was meant to be a sexy gesture.

“Oh, is that so? I’ve never really talked to a competitive swimmer before,” she replies in a sultry voice and I smirk.

“Well, here I am. Am I every bit of the guy you imagined a college swimmer to be?” I whisper in an equally sultry voice. Let her think she has me wrapped around her finger. It’s easier that way. Better for her to think I’m enthralled with her and her breasts than let her cling onto me the entire night.

“Mhm,” she says, “of course.”

I’m about to reply when something catches my eye. From the window, I see you and your friends stumbling and swaying down the sidewalk, away from the party. Internally, I feel my rage simmering again but not at anyone. At myself.

How was I so late that I didn’t manage to stop this from happening? How are you already drunk? How did this happen?

A million questions are racing through my mind and my vision almost blurs with white hot anger as I imagine a slimy frat guy placing his greasy hands on you while you sit there, drunk and uninhibited in that dress that seemed to accentuate your every single curve. You look simply gorgeous in that dress and I fucking hate to think that other guys in this whole house may have made a pass at you. Why was I so late? Would I have been just a little bit earlier if tube top Meg didn’t stop me? I should have left the moment she decided to strike up conversation. This is my karma for letting other temptations get in the way. I vow to myself that this will never happen again as I extricate myself away from Meg’s clutches (“Hey! Where are you going?” She calls out and I ignore her).

I shove people out of the way and do not care for their protests and yelps. Fuck them and fuck this entire shithole of a house. I scramble through the door and maintain my distance as I follow you and your friends down the pavement and past the buildings within the campus. I watch and cringe as you seem to crumple under the weight of your friends’ arm and quickly realise that you aren’t drunk. Your friends are. Stupidly drunk.

I feel my heart relax and my stomach unclench. Of course, you wouldn’t be. You are good. And smart. Too smart to get drunk in a place like that. You know what are the risks and you are above such parties. Your friends though, I couldn’t say the same. Which brings me back to why you need better friends but that’s besides the point. I can see a few guys hanging at the other side of the street who leer at the group of you, clearly getting their dick hard at the thought of a group of vulnerable girls roaming these empty streets at night.

It’s dangerous. But that’s what I’m here for. They see me next and they look away.

I will do what I can to protect you, y/n. Even if that means protecting your good for nothing friends in the process.

All of a sudden, I see you trip and it’s like everything is in slow motion. You fall forward and I take long strides over, my legs stretching out and rushing to help you. Before your knees can hit the rough ground, I have you in my arms, encircled around your waist as I hold you up. I have your other friend, Haseul upright with my other hand tugging at the collar of her jacket. Your friend Tzuyu is not so fortunate and falls flat but she barely notices it, smiling tipsily to herself instead.

You glance up at me with those large eyes and I could get lost in them right there and then. But as quickly as we have our moment, you move away and I see a hint of suspicion in your eyes. We separate and the moment you extract yourself from my arms, I already want you back. Your touch feels addictive already. What have you done to me?

“Thanks.” You say curtly and I admire the fact that you have boundaries, not like Meg. You are hard to get and that’s what makes you so appealing. You are to be earned and respected.

You help Tzuyu to her feet and as you turn to leave with your friends, I call out, “is there any way I can help?”

You regard me with caution and open your mouth to reject me but then suddenly, the tenseness in your eyes relax.

“Do I know you?”

You remember me. Halle-fucking-lujah! I want to wrap you in my arms again but I play it cool.

“I… don’t…?”

Your eyes grow wide and the recognition seeps in.

“Wait! You’re from that hardware store right? Jaehyun?”

I pretend to be surprised when I’m actually fucking overjoyed.

“Yeah, wait… You’re that girl with the rope right?”

You laugh and it’s the most melodious thing I’ve ever heard in forever.

“Yup, that’s me. Kind of mortified that’s how you remember me but sure,” you say and your eyes twinkle but then you continue with a more subdued tone, “what are you doing here?”

I pat my chest good-naturedly.

“Friend of mine is a student here. I just came over to visit and he gave me his varsity jacket so I could try feeling like a college student for once. Never been to college so… yeah. I thought I’d like to try it out for fun.” I reply and shoot you an awkward smile, the kind you do when you try to get someone to favour you and think of you as ‘adorable’.

It works and you smile gently.

“That’s pretty cool, you’ve got a good friend.”

And you haven’t, I think but don’t say.

I gesture towards you and your friends.

“Need any help?”

You look at your drunken friends and back at me and I sense you thinking. Finally, you decide that you do need my help and chuckle, “We live right at that block over there and I think I might die halfway there. I’m not fit enough to hold 2 people.”

That’s so like you. So compassionate over friends who clearly didn’t give a shit that you didn’t want to go to some god forsaken party, so caring over friends who get drunk and don’t take responsibility, so helpful to take care of friends who literally do not give a fuck about you. You are not beautiful on the outside but on the inside too and as I loop Tzuyu’s arm over my neck and hold her, I wish I was holding you instead.

We amble over to the front of your block and we part, you thank me and we say our goodbyes and it’s all too soon. I want to be with you for longer, I want us to talk and I want you to invite me to your room but reality is often much less exciting and more boring.

“I’ll see you!” You call out, smiling as I walk away and I wave back, my heart soaring.

Today is a good day, I think and as I round the corner to the next street, I slip the keycard out of my pocket and feel the hard plastic under my finger.

Wasn’t difficult honestly. Your friends should really learn to keep their valuables in safe places, not the back pocket of their jeans.

190 notes · View notes

creativeashproductions · 4 years

Text

If I Stay Part One // Luke Patterson

Summary: A beautiful day Luke visits a record store to relive the times he would buy an album, but he finds more than memories. He meets you and a connection blossoms between you two and then Reggie and Alex as well. All is well until Julie discovers something.

Warning: Swearing, talk of death and car accident!

Words: 2.6k

A/N: This is based off the movie If I Stay and the movie Charlie St. Cloud. Sorry for not posting sooner, my sister in law along with my three nieces were in a car accident. Thankfully the kids are okay but my sister-in-law in currently in hospital due to minor injuries thus far.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

So, Julie’s life changed dramatically in the lost year and few months, firstly her family lost their mother. Secondly, Julie’s love for music faded until the melody and lyrics were haunting memories. Thirdly, after losing her place in the music program, she had to question her sanity. For in her garage lived three teenage ghosts to her disbelief and horror quite frankly; the ghosts grew on her so much she was in a band with them.

In the hours that Julie was attending school, the boys tended to tour the entire city. They enjoyed seeing the changes that had happened for the two and a half decades. Reggie really enjoyed the western-themed stores, even scaring a little girl with a floating cowboy hat that disappeared once on his head. Alex adored learning about the drastic changes within in the LGBTQ+ community, he had plans for when 2021 LA Pride came in June. Luke, of course, would go anywhere that had music such as music stores, record stores, concert venues and even followed a rock legend once.

“Ooh.” A voice spoke in the record store, “This would be the perfect gift.”

Luke turned to see you gazing at the Rock N’ Roll records with a passion in your eyes and an adorable smile that melted his heart. He couldn’t help but walk closer even if he had no clue if you could see him or not.

“Def Leppard? Definitely one of my favourite bands.” Luke spoke anticipating the usual one-sided conversation. His speculation shattered when you turned to face him with big eyes, “You can see me.”

You nodded your head, pushing your hands into your faded blue jeans glancing around the store, hoping the owner didn’t notice. To your relief the man was oblivious, Luke glanced over before stepping closer.

“You’re alive?”

“Mhm.” You spoke, removing a single hand to play with your burgundy jacket that cinched at the waist to give form. It was open to reveal a plain black shirt that left an inch of your midsection free, “I always wondered if ghosts were real. I got my answer.”

“This is so cool! My friend is the only person that can see my friends and me.” The grin was breathtaking on the teenage ghost. There was a connection between the two that was immediate and intense.

“At least you’re not alone.” You supplied turning to pick up the record, turning it around to read the tracklist. In the end, you decided you didn’t feel like buying it, replacing it you started for the front door.

A college-aged person walked in glued to the screen of the phone not replying as you mentioned a thank you before the door closed. Luke rushed to follow your steady pace in black hiking boots.

“Where are you going?” Luke questioned coming to the same stride as the girl that had taken his attention quickly. His interest had grown when he found he could hold a conversation with her.

“It’s a nice day. I thought I would go for a walk.” You replied, stopping to look around the street with curious eyes. Luke yearned for those eyes to look in his again because he swore he saw a galaxy in them, “Would you like to join me?”

Luke’s head was nodding in response with a new pep in his step as you walked down the street filled with all different kind of stores. Luke recognized Family Living Grocery store as the one that the Molina got their groceries, he and the guys had joined Julie on a trip once. It was one of his worst memories as a ghost, surrounded by snacks and food he couldn’t indulge in.

“So, what’s your story, Caspar?” You questioned stopping to look as at a beautiful dollhouse, “My cousin had one. We actually renovated it a while back for her unborn niece.”

“Caspar?” Luke teased, watching the nostalgia faded from your expression as you continued on the walk. His hazel eyes, greener at the moment, glittered at the different banter he had with you than the guys or Julie.

“Well, I don’t know your name!” You exclaimed turning the corner at a parlour with gorgeous stencilled artwork on the glass.

“Luke. My name is Luke. Hey! I know this shop!” Luke beamed, stepping back to take in the storefront. In the twenty-five years since he last saw it, the blue faded into a teal, but the door was still the same as it always was.

“You have a tattoo?” You asked, scanning his arms bare in the cut off shirt he wore. You couldn’t see any ink on his skin. Luke couldn’t help the smirk on his face at the blatant heated gaze.

“No. It was 1994. We just played our biggest gig at the time, and Bobby decided we should get tattoos.” Luke’s mouth twisted at the mention of his former friend, “Of course we were sixteen and Alex just about fainted in the shop. The guy took one look at Reggie and laughed at our fake IDs. Told us to come back in a few years.”

One of the few memories that weren’t tainted by the betrayal that Trevor Wilson had gone on to do a year after the tattoo fiasco. It was more than not being credited or his songs being stolen, but it was also that someone he wholeheartedly trusted turned his back on them. Luke frankly didn’t care how Bobby coped after that fateful night. Still, he changed his name and refused any mention of his previous music experience. That hurt a lot.

“So, you’re a ’90s kid.” You raised an eyebrow coming to a stop on the edge of the street, pressing the button to cross.

“Technically a ’70s kid. We died in ’95 a few hours before a life-changing gig.” The mood turned sombre as Luke thought back on that one night that life decided to raise both middle fingers at his dreams, “Death by a hot dog.”

The snicker fell from your mouth before you do anything about it but sobered up quickly in the view of his painful admittance.

“So, you’re seventeen?” You asked crossing when the crosswalk light flickered on. Your attention focused on crossing while listening to the teenager.

“Forever seventeen but I would eighteen physically, but if I had survived I would be forty-three.” Luke mused shoving his hands into his staple black jeans with the chains and his constant accessory of a blue rabbit’s foot.

“Oh, damn. I’ve seventeen as well.” You replied dodging pedestrians before humming a to a song you had heard recently but where you did was unknown. You didn’t want to bump into anyone.

Luke glanced down at his watch, somehow even in death it worked, noticing that it was around the time rehearsal would commence. The thought barely ended before a flash of light preceded Alex’s presence. You slightly jumped in response.

“Luke! Julie’s wondering where you are. We have rehearsal.” Alex was surprised that Luke wasn’t already at the studio. He was always the first one holding his guitar for the rest of them.

One glance at the girl beside Luke cemented a reason for his tardiness. Alex could see that you were the reason and a pretty reason too. Alex wished he had your jacket with such a beautiful colour, but the music was more important.

“Oh, man!” Luke panicked fearing that being late would cause Julie to leave the band after the whole school dance fiasco.

“So, Luke. I like your name by the way. I’m Y/N.” You greeted holding back from offering you a hand, your theory would have been proven correct. Ghosts can’t touch other people, all the movies portrayed that.

“Nice to meet you! I’ll find you soon!” Luke shouted seconds before Alex poofed them both away with a single hand on his bandmate’s shoulder.

A content smile appeared before you continued on your way, unaware of the lack of acknowledgement from people on the street.

The next few days, Luke would find you either in the record store or just out front during his free time. He hadn’t realized how lonely he was touring the music entertainment spots until he had your company. Soon you were joined by Alex and Reggie every once in a while.

The three were planning outings with their new lifer friend as Julie grabbed her songbook from her room. She was amused when the three wouldn’t shut up.

“What are you planning?” Julie questioned scanning their animated expressions, even taking in the slight change in Alex’s appearance.

Alex had a braided bracelet of the rainbow on his left wrist that definitely hadn’t been there yesterday. He even seemed calmer and less anxious, as well.

“What happened to Alex?” Julie questioned with a small smirk, “Did you bump into Willie?”

Alex shook his head, “No, Luke met this girl at a record store and then Reggie and I met her. She’s cool! There’s this app she showed us, and it had videos of anything you could imagine!”

Julie’s teasing smile faltered at the mention of Luke meeting someone before it returned once more. She pushed the feeling away as this girl had brought peace to the drummer.

“What’s her name?” Julie asked, pushing the songbook away to listen intently to the new piece of the boys’ afterlife. The three burst into stories of the girl.

“She took me to this cool place nearby where people store their horses!” Reggie burst out, clapping his head, “I already have a country song started! This is so a hit single for our future country album!”

Alex only released an exasperated sigh at Reggie’s idea that he voiced every single day since the beginning of the band. Luke was just used to finding sheets of songs from Reggie around the studio and often his songbook too.

“She also brought me a bag of clothing she had in her house that she let me go through. Apparently, her house is the place where cousins take their old clothing.” Alex supplied striking a pose in his new white sweater with a rainbow logo on the front.

Julie grinned at the positivity radiating off the two boys.

“Is she a ghost?”

Luke shook his head, “No. She’s alive.”

A spark of happiness flits itself inside of Julie before it dissipated because Flynn had already gently let the girl down about Luke.

“What’s her name! I’m gonna find her Instagram!” Julie took out her phone waiting as Alex supplied her the name. Her thumbs froze before she could type staring down at the black screen.

The name was familiar.

Laying on a bed on San Pablo Street was a girl with her eyes closed and a serene expression. This bed wasn’t just any bed in a home. Instead, this bed was one no one wished to be in. A bed with machines surrounding and right in the middle of those machines was Y/N.

The very girl that had met Luke, Reggie and Alex were in fact in the ICU of a hospital recovering in a coma.

“Why do you look like that?” Luke demanded as the colour drained from the lead singer of their band.

“Are you sure it was Y/N Y/L/N?” Julie gulped dread filling her veins as each boy nodded their head and the girl slumped, “I go to school with her. The thing is she’s been in a coma for two weeks now.”

You were outside the record store once more as the three ghosts appeared in front of you each looking the worst you had ever seen them.

“Did you lie?” Luke questioned stepping closer to the teenage girl that furrowed her brows in confusion, “You said that you are alive. Why did you lie?”

“Lie?” You asked, taking a step back from the odd energy the boys had. A look of distraught on each face, “What are you talking about?”

“Why are you here every day at this exact time. Never late, never early.” Alex questioned sick to his stomach as your brows came together.

“I- walk…” You trailed off thinking of the last week in deep thought paling as you had no recollection of going home or getting to the store. It was like you blacked out each time.

Actually, the last time you remember not being with the guys or at the store was two weeks ago.

“I don’t re…member.” You whispered, “I haven’t seen my family since…oh my god.”

Luke stepped closer, terrified as he reached out, hoping with his entire being his hand would go through you. It didn’t. Luke’s hand rested on your arm, still wearing that burgundy jacket. Your eyes flickered between his solid hand and the same outfit you wore for weeks now. Why would you be wearing a jacket and hiking boots in Los Angeles?

“My cousin had been saving up for a trip for her eighteenth birthday. She wanted to go skiing, so we split the cost between our families.”

As if a wall broke, you realized with horror that the college boy that hadn’t held the for you like you first thought. He hadn’t seen or heard you because in his world you weren’t there. No one had acknowledged you because they couldn’t see you just like they couldn’t see Luke.

“What else do you remember?” Reggie spoke up next, noticing that Luke was getting more upset. His eyes going so light the green appeared to be blue and glittered with tears and his heart dropping.

“My parents, my cousin and I were driving up the mountain in the rented car. There-“

Two Weeks Ago

Your head leaned again Lou’s head sharing the headphones connected to your phone blasting the carefully curated playlist. Lou had been living with your parents and you the last six months as her parents were travelling for work. It was a dream because she was like a sister already and vice versa; Lou as a surprise baby with her older sister being ten years older.

“We haven’t been to the slopes since we first got married.” Dad said glancing over at your mother in the passenger seat, “Didn’t we conceive-“

“Dad! Gross!” You shouted, wrinkling your nose as he glanced in the rear-view mirror to smile at your antics. Your mother’s laugh was probably one of your most favourite sounds in the world, it was warm like hot chocolate on a cold day.

“Did you see that video of the hologram band?” Lou asked, not paying attention to your family’s antics, “It’s super cool.”

“We still have half of our playlist to go through. You should show me when we get to the cabin.” You replied, “We could put it on the projector with the others.”

The others being your extended family, including the surprise of Lou’s parents. Your mother pointed out the snow on the mountain gaining everyone’s attention. It was beautiful compared to sunny Los Angeles.

Lou’s thumb was just about to click the video of Julie and the Phantoms against your wishes. You felt the fear before the yell, snapping your head up you watched as a pickup truck hit ice swerving into your lane. The screech of tires preceded the crunch of the vehicles hitting each other. Throughout the surrounding area, the echoes of the crash bounced off the mountains scaring birds away. Miraculously Lou’s phone survived the crash and played the electric video of ‘Edge of Great’ by Julie and the Phantoms. A song you would hum under your breath during your walks meeting the guys.

The snow turned red under four of five bodies. You lay nonconscious a stark difference in the burgundy jacket and black shirt you had painstakingly chosen that morning.

If I Stay Part Two (Final)

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h@elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @parkeret @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa @carleywhittaker @lostgirl219 @itsalexx21 @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione

#luke patterson imagines #julie and the phantoms imagines #jatp luke #luke patterson x reader #angst #agentsofsupernaturalmarvel #caitsy and ash productions #julie and the phantoms #luke patterson

620 notes · View notes

cdroloisms · 3 years

Text

more of the ghost!dream au!! still no good names for it, sorry (feel free to give me recs? maybe?) - picking off right where we left off here [x]. i’ve gotten quite a bit of this pre-written already as well as quite a bit planned - it’s definitely one of my favorite universes at the minute and something im really excited to show yall !!

tw: death, memory loss (?), grief, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unhealthy relationship, grief, emotional distress, implied torture/abuse, aftermath of prison arc/pandora’s vault, dark(ish?) portrayal of c!sam (he’s one of the main figures of this au lmao but it grapples quite a bit w/ what he did in pandora)

Sam had only met Ghostbur once.

He never knew the former president well, had been busy with his own base during the Revolution and came back to the server in chaos after an ill-fated election and the man exiled. It hadn’t mattered, much, at the time; Wilbur was an imposing man, even in others’ recollections of him, and their words left very very little to the imagination. From what he knew, Wilbur was a smart man, cunning and silver-tongued, brimming with an unending fountain of belief that he could change the world with his words and his words alone; the server, overrun with memories of scuffles and battles and wars and countries Sam had not been around to remember, only seemed to serve as proof that he could. The few glimpses of the man that he managed to catch showed dark, tired eyes, a figure that stood almost as tall as he did, lips twisted in a perpetual tight-lipped smile.

Even as he spiraled, unexplainably, whispers of madness chasing the wind and landing in choppy fragments in the Badlands meetings held over Skeppy and Bad’s dinner table, those eyes never became less piercing, never failed to seem like they were burning through whatever and whoever they looked at. Sam hadn’t been the subject of that stare many times, but he remembers the bone-deep anxiety from having those eyes on him, even now.

Ghostbur, somehow, was the complete opposite; where his eyes had once been all-too knowing, belying their owners’ intelligence, a ruthless penchant for analysis that would split bone from marrow with a single sharp-edged glance, the phantom’s eyes were completely vacant. Instead of the glossy whites and rings of brown that would flicker warm to cool and warm again without warning, there was only an empty, all-encompassing blue.

He had floated over to Sam following a particularly difficult- session, with the prisoner, greeting him with an airy call of his name as Sam set off to his base for the night. He’d startled, then, still fresh off the adrenaline that was sent coursing through his veins each time he entered those blackstone walls, and started a sort of easy, unfocused conversation as they went along the path to the nether portal.

Ghostbur was - off, for the lack of a better word, even with Sam’s lack of familiarity of either side of the man - who he’d been before and what he’d become. His memories slipped through his mind like water seeping through fingers, and his attention span didn’t seem much better. Still, Sam listened to that echoing, otherworldly voice, nodded along as he eagerly recounted his day - or what he could recall from it, at least, until his feet had brought him along the same well-worn path to the nether portal, spitting purple sparks into the night.

“I’ll have to be going, Ghostbur,” he’d said through a thin smile, muscles aching under netherite as he pulled his shoulders back. The ghost’s head had cocked to the side, watching him with empty eyes, hands outstretched in front of him, palms up.

“Sam-” the ghost blinked slowly, “Are you sad?”

Sam froze. Ghostbur stared at him, face still kept in that same blank expression, eyes still an endless blanket of blue, but something - in his stance, perhaps, in the echoes of his words as they reverberated off of nothing, felt familiar, felt like looking up expecting a window and coming face to face with a shattered mirror - before the phantom’s face broke out in a weightless smile.

“Have some blue!”

The blue was dropped unceremoniously into his hands as he fumbled the catch and nearly let it fall to the ground; the clear, glassy surface of it tainted blue by his fingertips, the color swirling and darkening in his hands. He watched it, mesmerized, as blossoms of blue bloomed beneath his skin; his feelings, sharp-edged, became sea glass tossed in its shifting waves, smoothed, numbed, slowly sucked away in a pulsing chorus of blue blue blue-

“That’s quite a lot of blue,” Ghostbur chirped, and Sam blinked at the thing in his hands - navy, the same color as the sky above their heads clinging to the last remnants of twilight - “Would you like some more?”

“...no thanks, Ghostbur,” Sam looked back up, feeling through the new, blue-tinged fog in his brain, memories blurred at the edges but lacking the same burning sting of regret, “Good night.”

“Good night, Sam!” Wilbur smiled, blank blue eyes trained on his face even as Sam stepped into the portal and the world swirled away. “See you soon!”

---

“Sammy,” Dream walked - no, floated, forwards as Sam took a step back, unresponsive, “is there something wrong?”

Sam swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

He was a spitting image to Dream as he first knew him; the same tousled hair, freckled face, down to the ratty old jacket that he’d insisted on wearing at all times, made of a garish shade of lime-green and covered in customized patches that Bad - unable to resist his puppy eyes - had always ended up fixing the thing with. He had a gap in his teeth that had left him with a lisp for weeks back then, prompting Sapnap’s teasing much to Dream’s annoyance; his head tipped to the side, curious, familiar, and something deep inside Sam’s chest ached.

“Dream-” he tried, chest tightening further when the ghost’s face broke out into a brilliant smile, “why are you here?”

Why do you remember me?

He hadn’t talked to Ghostbur much, but he’d heard, to some degree, about how the ghost operated, how his memories were inconsistent at best, seemingly dependent on the emotions he’d attached to them while alive. How he went through the world in a state of unshakable bliss at the cost of his mind. Dream’s memories of him should’ve been anything but happy; why was he here?

“What do you mean?” Dream blinked at him, eyebrows scrunched, lips set in a small frown. His eyes, black and vacant, seemed to swallow all light, even with the sun streaming through the branches. “Where am I suppos’d to go?”

“Don’t you want to be with George and Sapnap?”

Dream’s face was blank, and the pit in Sam’s gut grew deeper. “Who’s that?”

“George?” Sam could feel his voice begin to tremble, eyes widening. “Sapnap? You know them, right?”

“No?” Dream drew out the word, looking at him like he’d grown another head. “Should I know them?”

“Should you- Dream, this isn’t funny- they’re your best friends! They were your best friends- Pandas? Do you know Pandas?”

“You mean like in the jungles? I haven’t been in a jungle before, Sam, d’you think we could visit one?”

“No- Pandas, do you-” Dream only looked at him with the same confused, uncomprehending expression, not even a flicker of recognition in his face; Sam could hear his heart thudding in his ears, a distant horror growing and wrapping around his throat, “How about Ponk? Alyssa? Calla? Bad?”

Each name did nothing to change the blankness on Dream’s face, the screaming thoughts in Sam’s head growing to a fever pitch when the ghost in front of him shook his head, hair whipping back and forth.

“Nope!” His hands tugged at his hoodie sleeves, the movement familiar in a way that had echoes of long-forgotten memories drifting to the surface, holding his heart in a chokehold and squeezing tight. “Are they your friends?”

“Dream,” he stepped forward - felt a shadow of a pickaxe held in his fists, the shape of the name in his mouth bringing forth the taste of iron and smoke and painting the inside of his eyelids red - and stopped in his tracks. The images melted away, left just a kid standing in front of him, rocking back and forth on nothing, and Sam was going to be sick.

“Who do you remember?”

Dream smiled as the question registered, directing a look of such open, unadulterated adoration his way that it stole all of the air from Sam’s lungs.

“You, dummy!” He laughed, airy and light. “Who else?”

---

He brought him to his base, because what else was he supposed to do?

Dream skipped behind him, entirely enamoured with Fran; he watched as she melted under his enthusiastic scratches at the tufts of fur at her neck. He’d always been a soft touch with animals, had brought home stray mobs more than a few times as a kid; Sam swallowed around his unease and trudged forward.

“Puppy!” He nearly screeched with laughter, and Sam looked back to see Dream with his arms wrapped around Fran’s neck, face buried in her fur as giggles made his shoulders shake. Fran gave him a sloppy lick on the cheek, making him break out into a new round of high-pitched wheezes, “Good girl! Good puppy!”

“Hurry up, Dream,” Sam turned away. “We don’t have all day.”

“Oh- m’sorry,” Dream’s voice quieted, almost seemed to wobble, and Sam bit down on his tongue as they continued to walk back. He- didn’t know what to do, not with this version of Dream, not the little kid he’d half-forgotten instead of the masked monster he’d become so accustomed to. It was so much easier to slip into the mask, let his voice drop cold and deep and empty, the role of the Warden heavy and comfortable like a set of netherite armor. He pointedly kept his eyes staring forward, looking for the edge of the forest they’d ended up stuck in so he could finally see.

A sudden, yipping bark came from behind, thoroughly startling him and sending a sword appearing in a flash of white. He huffed at Fran, looking at him with faux innocent eyes, really?

Unfortunately, both she and Dream had somehow fallen ridiculously behind, the ghost having lowered to the ground at some point as Fran sat and wagged her tail. He rolled his eyes, making his way back towards the duo, feeling irritation press in the form of a headache against the front of his skull.

“Come on,” he muttered, wincing at how clipped his words sounded, even in his own ears. Not the same Dream, Sam. You’re not in the prison anymore. He shoved his hands into his pockets, eyes narrowing as he came closer; Dream hadn’t just stopped because of some distraction, as he first assumed. The kid was leaning against Fran, hands twisted loosely in her fur, head tipped forward and leaning against her body.

“Dream?”

The ghost looked up at his voice, one hand going to rub at his eye. His hair seemed to be moving around less than earlier, lips twisted in a small frown.

“M’sleepy, Sammy,” he mumbled around a yawn, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. He reached both hands up, palms facing the sky, as he stared expectantly. “Up.”

Aren’t you a little big to be carried? The retort came to mind as easily as breathing, echoed in his own head by his own voice, younger, exasperated but fond. His arms shook with the memory of a kid wrapping his arms around his neck and fumbling with his crown, with the feeling of a dead weight resting against the crook of his elbows, tall and lanky and far too light for its size, held in his arms one final time-

“Please?”

Sam shook his head.

“We’re walking to my base. Come on.”

#tw death #tw grief #tw torture #tw abuse #prison arc #pandora's vault #tw unhealthy coping mechanisms #tw unhealthy relationship #tw emotional distress #tw memory loss #ghost!dream au #queue <3 #long post #my writing :D #my asks !!

105 notes · View notes

pleasereadmeok · 3 years

Note

Can you help me please? I'm sure you had an English translation of Matthew's interview with Style Italia (2017?) on your blog however I can't find it. Can you help? Thank you. A Goode fan x

Hi Anon - yes of course. This one right? ⬇️

It's such a great interview with some lovely personal details from Matthew. @di-elle kindly did a translation for the matthew-goode.net press archive a few years ago so that follows ⬇️. Enjoy. : -

Matthew Goode is one of the most recognizable British actors of his generation. 38 years old, tall, slender, handsome, with a face composed of classic proportions and precise features that lends itself to both modern settings and period dramas.A look that’s allowed him to dive immediately into the world of Match Point, Brideshead Revisited, The Imitation Game, and A Single Man. In the last season of Downton Abbey, he was one of the most beloved characters as Lady Mary’s husband, a role that brought him popularity with the television audience. Now he appears with Brad Pitt and Marion Cotillard in Allied.Skill,talent, determination and a bit of luck (essential in this business) have made Goode a sought-after and versatile actor, without affecting his overwhelming pleasantness and playfulness onset and off that serve as useful talents as well.In the penthouse of the London hotel where he is being photographed, he strokes the oval marble bathtub sitting in the middle of the room (‘So cool!’), gets enthusiastic by touching the clothes, the collars of the shirts, and the wool of the jackets.

Do you like design?I love it, even if it is my wife who has the eye for it.In front of the mirror, in the barber’s and makeup artist’s hands, he is a bundle of energy. He is worried about Brexit (‘What’s happened? Where are we going?’) but happy to be able to buy a house. He is a little anxious, too, about the last phone call from his bank: ‘Being an actor means living day by day. Banks don’t like it.’

Psychologically what does it entail?During dry spells you can lose confidence and believe that you will never work again. It’s not easy.

However you are not lacking jobs. How was working on Allied?Movies are strange beasts. You come, you spend two days on the set, you shoot your own scenes and you go. Despite this it was electrifying as it can be a film of these proportions. There was an atmosphere of great professionalism and harmony. Brad Pitt is a great person. He welcomed me fondly, as did Marion Cotillard. I had already met them both, but they are always like that, even with those they don’t know.

Is variety important to you?It’s the essence of life, isn’t it? At the end the face and the voice are always those and if you specialize in a genre, it’s not easy to come out of it. It’s hard for me to resist period movies, it’s a great temptation. Costumes and interiors have a very strong charm.

Your name was made for the Bond role…I’ve sabotaged myself. Barbara Broccoli (the film producer) called me and I didn’t realize it was an audition. I thought it was just a chat. She asked me what I thought of Bond. I was honest , I told her that the way it is today doesn’t work. They need to scale down the budget, and make the character more complicated, go back to the origin from the books: a dark, difficult, incomprehensible man. At the end she said goodbye and I didn’t hear from her again. Maybe sometimes it’s better to keep your mouth shut.

Do you like going to movies?There’s a little bit of jealousy to overcome but generally yes. I’d like to see Tom Ford’s new movie, Nocturnal Animals. He is a genius, he has an eye like no other. A Single Man should have won more awards. Ford was born as a stylist but he is a real artist.

Are you not tempted to move to the USA?I have three children and I want them to grow up here. I don’t like to go too far away. I told my agent I don’t want to work in the US for a year.

Is Matthew Goode a good father?It depends on the days. The noise stresses me. If there are two children crying, or screaming, I panic. In those cases, my wife takes care of it.

What do you do at home?I cook. It’s less tiring than playing with a one-year-old child… I can do a little of everything: my father taught me the first recipes when I was about to start university. Over the years I have made a leap in quality, from scrambled eggs to stews.

Your best recipe?Beef and Guinness stew. Two or three parsnips, a couple of carrots, two onions, some mushrooms. Two pounds of meat, a little flour. Mix it up, then slap it in the pot. Salt, pepper, some herbs and some beer. I love it. You put it on, you go get the kids from school, and when you come back, the house smells of dinner.

The role you’ve always wanted.Sherlock Holmes. Damn it, Benedict Cumberbatch has stolen it from me! Joking aside, it’s Jeffrey Bernard in the comedy Jeffrey Bernard is Unwell, by Keith Waterhouse. Many years ago I saw Peter O’Toole in it and I’ve never forgotten. But you need to be 50 or 60 years old for it, so I’ll have to wait a little longer.

Did you want to be an actor as a child?My mother would say yes. Actually I discovered my path later in life. For a while I wanted to be an archaeologist, because my father was a geologist. One day one of my university mates went to audition for an acting school and I said: Why not, I should try it too. Finding an agent was a stroke of luck. Then the fight for survival began. It’s a slow and complicated road.

From the outside you look like someone who made it.(It may look that way) now, but like with everything when you start you are at the first step, you look up and say: I’ll never get there.

What’s your secret to overcome difficult moments?I have stopped watching the films I make. This has helped me a lot. You can’t control how they cut and edit your character. You can only control the experience, what you give and what gives to you. The result is almost insignificant. After a few years it can be fun watching yourself because you seem very young.

Do you practice sport a lot?I go to the gym in the morning, to start the day well. Twice a week I go out for lunch with my wife: and since I like to eat, and occasionally even drink, the gym is imperative. I also play golf but it takes time, it’s not an activity that fits well with a big family.

Your ideal holiday?I have fond memories of my childhood, camping with my father, the fishing rod, the green. I’d like to take my children. My wife resists for now.

What do you read?I hate to admit it, but I read very little. By the time I go to bed, I’m too tired.

A luxury?We’re planning how to sort out the house. If I could afford it I’d buy one of those enormous american washing machines with a tumble dryer. It’s not what you’d expect from a star, is it?

#matthew goode #asks #press archive 2017 #a discovery of witches #adow #just in case adow fans are interested

34 notes · View notes

jaehyunspeachparty · 3 years

Text

7. Almost there (a/m)

It was only 2 weeks after Chichi found her source where she could possibly find her mother. Sunoh accompanied her to Minamiosumi in Japan to support his girlfriend. "That's it," said Chichi when they got to the address she had become. "This is a retirement home," said Sunoh, wondering a little. "Let's go in and ask," said Chichi and just started walking. Sunoh shrugged and just followed his girlfriend. At the reception there were two nurses who were talking, but when they saw Sunoh, they turned to him and smiled. "Can we help you?" Asked one of the nurses. "Not me, but my girlfriend." He pointed to Chichi and the two nurses stopped to smile immediately. "I am looking for a woman, Yuri Motoe." Chichi's heart was pounding and this time didn't even notice that the nurses again focused only on her boyfriend. "She's sitting over there," she said quickly and wanted to turn to Sunoh, but he immediately walked away and pushed Chichi into the room where the wanted person was sitting. "Yuri Motoe?" Asked Chichi and saw an old woman who was sitting on an armchair and reading the newspaper. The old woman looked up and suddenly she started smiling. "Shiori!" She was so happy and got up immediately. "Ohhh Shiori, you are so beautiful," says the old lady and took Chichi's hand. Chichi glanced briefly at Sunoh and didn't quite know what to say. At the next moment came a nurse and Yuri stopped her. "This is my daughter Shiori. Isn’t she beautiful?" Yui smiled proudly and the nurse smiled gently and nodded. Then she looked at Chichi and realized that she was too young to be her daughter. "Shiori is finally here to visit me." The old lady was so happy and could hardly believe her eyes, but she is likely to be demented. "Nice to finally meet you Shiori," said the nurse and Chichi just nodded uncertainly. Then the nurse smiled again and left. "She's so nice to me," said Yui, still holding on to Chichi's hand. "That's good to hear." Chichi smiled and just decided to play along. "You have to be nicer too, Shiori. Money is not everything, in the end only the people who think of you are left." She stroked the back of Chichi's hand and slowly she became curious. Something was weird here. "Yui why ...", Chichi started, but the woman interrupted her. "Since when have you been calling me Yui? It's me, your mother." She smiled gently and Chichi looked uncertainly at Sunoh again. But he didn't quite know what to do either. "Mum ..." began Chichi and the old woman smiled in satisfaction. "You sent money to this account." Chichi dug the documents out of her bag and showed her everything. "Why did you do that?" She then asked further. But the old woman shook her head. "No, I wasn't that." "Are you sure?" Asked Chichi. "Absolutely. Where should I get all the money from?" Yui laughed and Chichi was at a loss. "Maybe we're really wrong," said Sunoh, patting his girlfriend's shoulder. Chichi nodded and put all the documents back in her pocket. "Okay thanks. Then I made a mistake." She smiled and bowed again to the old woman. "No problem dear." "Maybe we should go then," Chichi looked at Sunoh and he nodded. "He's a very handsome man. But I liked the other boy too ... what was his name?" Yui thought and looked at Sunoh. "Yuta, right?" The woman smiled and Chichi froze. "Y-Yuta?" She asked and the old woman nodded. "I liked him very much. He was good for you." Then she turned to Sunoh. "I'm sure that you are very nice too. Shiori can only be very exhausting. I always taught her to be nice, but she is arrogant at times." Yui smiled and stroked Chichi's cheek. "But she can also be very nice if she wants to." "Okay, we're going now," Chichi then said, because it was getting weird for her. She was starting to feel uncomfortable. That's why she wanted to turn away, but then Yui grabbed her stomach. "It's going to be a girl," she said and Chichi looked at her horrified. "What?" "Your baby, it's going to be a girl." Yui looked at her stomach and stroked it. "I am not pregnant." Chichi felt really uncomfortable. She couldn't tell her that she couldn’t get pregnant, that she was sterile. Tears welled up in her eyes because the thought that she could never have a child still bothered her. "Of course you are and it will be a girl. As a kid you said you wanted to call your first girl Chichi. You should call her that." Yui smiled and the first tears ran down Chichi's cheeks. "I'm sorry, I can't ..." She pulled away from the old woman and ran away.

Chichi didn't get far because her ankle still hurt. She stopped and saw Sunoh a few meters behind her. He wanted to give her space and distance and Chichi was grateful to him because she wanted to be alone. She immediately saw a bench next to her and sat on it. She looked to the sea and felt so lost. There is a connection to Yui and her. Was she her grandmother? What was that all about So many questions went through her head. But suddenly she saw the nurse from earlier in front of her. Chichi looked up in surprise and didn't quite know what the woman wanted from her. "May I sit down?", She asked and Chichi nodded. The nurse sat down next to her and looked at her. "Yui has been here for a very long time. Severe dementia, but sometimes she has very clear days. The long-term memory is stronger and the short-term memory is very weak. Yui's daughter has not been there for a long time. Certainly not years. But Yui talks often from Shiori. I don't quite know what you are doing here, but I have the feeling that you are looking for someone." The nurse had a book in hand and handed it to her. Chichi took it and looked through it. It was a photo album and full of memories from Yui and Shiori. "You really look like Shiori. That's why she was so confused ..." The nurse looked at the book together with Chichi. "But all memories end this year. It would be like Shiori would have been erased then." The nurse pointed to a date which was on the back page and Chichi sighed. "This is my year of birth. I think Yui is my grandma." The first tears rolled down Chichi's face. For the first time she had a face to her mother. And she looked very much like her. "That's probably why she thought you were pregnant. It was her last memory of Shiori." The nurse closed the book and looked at Chichi. "I don't know my mother. That's why I'm here." Chichi sighed and looked into the distance again. It was all so much for her. "I almost thought so. Here take this. Yuri doesn’t looked at this since she came here and I think it will help you." The nurse smiled and pushed the book over to her. "Thank you," Chichi said quietly and the woman got up and nodded. "I have another question," said Chichi then and also got up. "Yes? So if I can help ..." "All memories end when my mother begins to become pregnant. What happened to my mother? Did she die?" Chichi had a thousand thoughts in her head and she was kind of afraid of the answer. But the nurse smiled. "Don't you know the Yanai family?" Chichi shook her head. "Is the richest family in Japan. Are also in politics and so on ...very important!" Everything the nurse said made no sense to her. Chichi had never really looked into the economy and politics of Japan. She had Japanese citizenship and Japanese was also her mother tongue, but for her only Korea was her home. "Okay, maybe search for Shiori Yanai. I think you will find your mother then." The nurse smiled and Chichi could hardly believe it. She was so close to her mother. "Thank you very much," she said and the nurse walked away. Chichi didn't quite know what to say, but then Sunoh came to her. "Are you okay?" He asked gently. Chichi nodded and looked up at her boyfriend. "I think I now know who my mother is."

Shiori Yanai. That was her name. Chichi couldn't believe it. That was her mother's name and she wanted to know so much more now. "You look really very similar to her," said Sunoh who sat there with the photo album. "I think that's why Yuri was so confused. The last memory she has of her daughter is that she was pregnant with me." Chichi came to her boyfriend with the laptop in hand and couldn't wait to do more research on her mother. But Sunoh suddenly got up and closed her laptop. "What are you doing?", She asked him surprised and saw how he put all her things on the table and stood in front of her again. "I just want to tell you ..." Somehow he looked nervous and a little confused. Chichi looked at him with big eyes and just waited. "No matter what happens in the next few days ... with your mother or whatever ..." He took a deep breath and looked at her again. "I'm always there for you. I love you so much and I can't imagine ever loving anyone as much as I love you." He was so serious and determined and Chichi still had no plan. Sunoh took her hand and stroked her delicate fingers. "I've wanted to say that for so long and I want to do that before it comes to a big mess, but ..." Sunoh suddenly turned around and took something out of his jacket pocket and when he turned around again, he suddenly kneeled in front of his girlfriend. "Chichi, do you want to be my wife?" He opened the small black velvet box and a diamond ring shone in the middle of Chichi's face. "Sunoh ... I ..." She lacked the words and Sunoh waited impatiently for her answer. The seconds seemed like hours to him. He just wanted to hear one word from her. "YES!", She said then and Sunoh immediately jumped up and picked up his girl. He was so relieved and he was so glad that she gave him that answer. "Oh god, I'm so relieved." He kissed her and hugged her tightly. "I didn't think you'd be doing this anytime soon." Chichi looked at him in surprise and Sunoh grinned. "I would have loved to do it when I came from the military, but I've never had the perfect ring. But I thought this one was perfect." Chichi looked at the engagement ring and he was right. It was really perfect. It was a silver ring, vintage style and the shape of the diamond was like a flower. "It's really beautiful," she said and Sunoh took the ring out and slipped it over her finger. It fit right away. "Now I can finally can call you my fiancée," he said happily and Chichi kissed him immediately. That evening they left the search for Chichi's mother to be, and only spent the night together and their bodies were constantly connected.

The next day, the two woke up almost at the same time. Their naked bodies were snuggled tightly together and Chichi could still feel how much they loved each other the last night. "Good morning my fiancée", Sunoh whispered in Chichi's ear and she had to smile immediately. "Good morning too, my fiance." She giggled and he kissed her immediately. The kiss was so full of love and so much passion that the two of them forgot everything around them. Before long, Sunoh was suddenly over Chichi and gently spread her legs while he continued to kiss her. And in the next moment he was already inside her, moving gently inside her. Soft moans echoed across the room. It was all very calm and relaxing. Sunoh did everything to please Chichi. The sex was slow, gentle, and full of love. But at some point his breathing got faster and at some point he could only concentrate more on the in-out game. He had his hands next to her head and his gaze fell fixed on her face. Chichi's back arched and with her mouth open felt the intensity of the sex. But at some point Sunoh frowned and when he opened his mouth, the finale was reached. "I love you," Sunoh whispered and kissed his fiancée. "I love you," she said too, and Sunoh immediately got a handkerchief so he could clean her up. Since they got the info that Chichi could not get pregnant, they no longer protected themselves. Sunoh was most pleased that he has no longer had to use condoms, because the experience was now much more intense. After the two had showered, they went for breakfast. They wanted to have the morning to themselves before Chichi went looking for her mother again. And they used the whole morning and Chichi almost forgot why she was here in Japan. But when she got back to the hotel and saw the laptop on the table, she knew she should keep looking. "Come on, let's do it together." Sunoh pulled his fiancée onto his lap, then opened the laptop. Chichi's heart raced and shakily entered her mother's name. "Wow, there are a lot of results," said Sunoh, looking at the screen. "Here is a short biography." Chichi clicked on the website and started reading. "Shiori Yanai, born in 1996, belongs to the richest family in all of Japan. The former model has been married to billionaire Masayoshi Yanai for 17 years and has two sons ..." Chichi stopped because she could hardly believe it. But to be on the safe side, she looked for pictures. But the pictures she saw only made her suspicions clearer. "Unbelievable, you really look alike," said Sunoh, very fascinated. "It has to be her, doesn't it?" Chichi stared at the screen. She had a family photo open where she saw her two half-brothers. Now she had a half sister and two half brothers. "I think so ..." Sunoh gently stroked her upper arm. "I have two brothers," she said, very frightened. "Welcome to the club," Sunoh joked, but Chichi didn't respond. "I have so many questions. I have to get to know her," said Chichi and stood up. "Okay, we will find her and then you will ask her all the questions." Sunoh looked at her seriously and Chichi nodded.

new generation masterlist

masterlist

#jaehyun #daddy jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #yuta #angst #smut #nct #nct 127 #nct 2020

45 notes · View notes

secret-rendezvous1d · 4 years

Note

Omg omg omg That last Spencer ask you replied to- I can’t- I. Literally. Can’t. I’m in tears 😭😭 could you keep it going with the scene in the hospital? Instead of Garcia taking care of Spencer and shooting the one unsub it’s y/n and she’s so on the edge with all that adrenaline from the day that she collapses on Spencer’s hospital bed? Or a scene of her taking him home afterwards and looking after him?xxx you literally save my day with your blurbs

Okay, this one hurt me more-

Long blurb, I know... but I’m not sorry for that. This spewed out of me like a bunch of word vomit so I do apologise for lack of sense but I’m not sorry for the length.

* mentions of guns, injury, hospitals, drugs/medication *

“It should have been me.”

Blake admits with such a tentative tone, like she was terrified of an explosive confrontation over something she already felt terribly about, her eyes bouncing around the room so she could look at anything by YN’s worried face. The long silence of the waiting room being broken by her timid confession.

“It could have been anyone. It’s just his luck that it happened to him,” YN says, a soft smile on her lips as she looks up from picking her fingernails and aims her emotions towards the nervous woman opposite her, “it could have been me, it could have been any one of us-”

“He pushed me out the way,” she clarifies, “it should have been me.”

YN can see the guilt written across her face and it broke her to bits; there was no reason for blame to be put on anyone and there was no need for the ‘what should have happened’s and the ‘who it should’ve been’s and YN wasn’t going to let Blake blame herself as the reason why Spencer was shot in the field. The downside to the job, whilst it looked thrilling and managed to keep you on your toes, was knowing that anything like this could happen at any moment and they had to take it as it came and not dwell on when or how it would happen to who ever was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Spencer just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Don’t blame yourself,” YN sits up in her chair and reaches over, placing her hand on Blake’s knee and squeezing in reassuringly, “I don’t blame you for what happened and Spencer definitely wouldn’t blame you for what happened.”

“Won’t,” she retorts at YN’s use of tenses and it made the young girl stiffen in her seat. She’d really spoken as if all of her hope and her faith had fizzled away, like he he wasn’t going to survive the chances, and she wanted to slap herself on the wrist for delving that deep. For not believing in the strength he had to get through. “He won’t blame me.”

“He won’t,” YN repeats, “he’ll make it through. Spence is a strong guy, he won’t give up without a fight.”

She gives her Blake’s knee one more reassuring squeeze and she gives her a tight-lipped smile, because she really couldn’t bear to be happy and give off a bright spark under the circumstances, before she sat back and took a look at the clock. He’d been under for almost two hours and YN was beginning to lose all track of existence, like time was slipping away and becoming something that never existed, lost in her thoughts.

They still had so much they wanted to do together.

They wanted to travel the world together and create a book full of memories on how they spent their time in different countries and Spencer taught her about all of the different cultures, they poke about marriage and the kind of wedding they wanted to have, they spoke about having kids and threw around some of their favourite baby names like she was about to give birth, and he’d brought them tickets to a film festival that he had been eager to take her to and that she had been excited to go to because it was a date night and special date nights were rare when working in the Behavioural Analysis Unit of the FBI; they took any chance they got to treat each other and spend time with one another outside of the office.

What felt like another two hours had really one been twenty minutes when they were given permission to see him.

“How is he?”

YN stands to her feet in a haste, grabbing the bag full of Spencer’s belongings as the surgeon came to a halt in the middle of the waiting room. His explanation waiting until YN was fully stood in front of him so she could take in what he was about to tell her, her mind expecting the worst but her heart expecting the good news she had been silently manifesting and praying for.

“He’s incredibly lucky,” the surgeon explains, “two millimetres to the right and the bullet would have torn through the carotid artery.”

And he didn’t have to speak in Layman's terms for YN to understand just how lucky he really was. Watching him get shot was one thing, watching his barely conscious body being dragged from the danger was another thing... but being there as he bled out and essentially bled to death? That would have been the end of her career because she couldn’t do it without him.

“It nicked some small vessels but,” he smiles at YN and her knees are like jelly as she wobbles on her legs, “we stopped the bleeding. You can see him now.”

Seeing him so vulnerable in his hospital bed made her melt.

All sorts of emotions were running through her veins; she felt scared because all she could think about was something going wrong in his recovery, she felt sad because watching her boyfriend get shot wasn’t what she had expected and it shouldn’t have ever been something she witnessed, she felt angry because he could have prevented it from happening if he believed Blake had the situation handled, but she felt happy and she felt like crying happy tears because she felt like the world was back to normal now that he was awake and awaiting the one person he wanted to see.

“Hi,” he smiles sweetly and lifts a hand up to wave at her but it wasn’t so strong and he sounded sleepy and she couldn’t blame him for that, “come sit with me. I missed you.”

“I’m mad at you,” she states, arms folding over her chest as she stood in the doorway and took in his appearance; disheveled hair that stood in all directions, a bandage around his neck that kept his wound covered and safe from any kind of infection it could pick up, tubes and wires connected to him as the room fills with the rhythmic beeps from his heart monitor, “I’m really mad at you.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers and there’s sincerity in his voice. He hoped she wasn’t going to be mad at him but she was (or so he thought) and that wasn’t what he had intended with his actions back at the crime scene. “Please, come sit with me though? You don’t have to talk to me. Just, sit so I know you’re safe here.”

She was never going to walk away.

The seat beside him looked comfier than the waiting room chairs anyway so she would have been a fool to ignore his plea in keeping him company. She sets his belongings at the foot of his bed and steps further into the room, the heat coming from the radiator feeling so tingly against her exposed skin, and she shrugs off her jacket so she could feel the real benefit of the radiator. She stands at the side of his bed and leans over, pressing her lips against his warm forehead and leaving a very faint gloss smear against his skin.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” she cups his face in her hands and they blush under her touch, “don’t do that again, Spencer.”

“Baby, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he tilts his head into her touch and closes his eyes, content with how she very clearly feigned her anger towards him and all kinds of warm and fuzzy because she’s all he needed for his recovery. Her lips press against his in the most gentlest of kisses before she pulls back and sits herself down, his eyes opening and never leaving her face, “I love you. You think I’d jeopardise that?”

“You already did,” she clarifies and brings the chair closer, resting her elbows on the thin mattress he was laid upon and grabbing his hand with one of her own, “I can’t cope with how it made me feel. It was the worst experience of my life and I’ve killed people.”

“Criminals,” he corrects her and she lets out a gentle laugh, “you’ve killed all the criminals like a badass.”

She rolls her eyes.

Spencer was back, thankfully, and YN couldn’t have felt more normal after such a night of chaos and panic and all things worrying.

Hours had passed since he had woken from surgery.

He’d slept for a couple of those hours and gave in to the aches behind his eyes but all he had wanted to do was stay awake and never take a moment with YN for granted ever again, even if it meant sleep was put on the back burner. Life was too short, especially when working such a career as they had, and there was an uncertainty to when they really would never see one another again and he’d already nearly left her behind. He couldn’t bare to think about that happening, or with the shoe being on the other foot, and watching her and looking at her made him feel so much more solace than knowing he was on the mend.

When her mobile dings with a text alert from Morgan, an image attached that he needed her to see, she feels her heart race. Whilst she had been sat there with Spencer, she had been wracking her brain and reading through files and notes on what the team had already thrown around and bounced off of one another, and they had kept her in the loop like she had kept them in the loop on just how Spencer was doing so shortly after his incident. The man in the picture was the man she had seen walk passed the ward, many times in the last few hours, and it left a sour taste behind.

He’s here.

At the nurse’s station. I’ve seen him walk outside Spence’s room a few times.

YN feels sick to her stomach. Things had been serene because she was away from the chaos of working the case that the team were working on and left with her boyfriend as she kept him company so he wasn’t alone - of course, he’d told her he was fine and that he was as safe as he could be and that the team needed her expertise and her skills more than she needed to be with him but she refused to leave him.

She wanted to be with him.

He never wanted to take a moment with her for granted and she never wanted to take a moment with him for granted, ever again. And there was no way she was going to let anyone ruin the track they had rebuilt to normality...

Shut the door and don’t leave Reid. Get him in a wheelchair if you can.

Spencer was clueless to the text exchange happening, just like he was clueless as to who the unsub was and how he was stood outside the ward; he wasn’t even phased by how intensely she had been staring at her phone nor had he seen how her eyes were constantly darting from the window of the ward to him to the phone in her hand as she awaited the texts.

If not, shoot if you have your gun on you. Reid’s will be in his patient bag if you don’t. Back up is on the way, I’ll be there soon.

YN gulps thickly and the gun in the holster upon her hip felt much more heavier than usual. It was there, she wouldn’t be found without it (not now and not ever) tucked into her pocket or hanging off her belt, and she planned on using it if she needed it.

A knock on the door brings her back down to earth, it wakes Spencer up and it brings a sense of busyness to what had been filled with silence and nothing but their gentle breathing and no movement. A doctor stepping foot into the room, a clipboard in his hand and a solemn look on his face, interrupting their little bubble. Her phone went forgotten on his bedside table, locked to keep any of the wandering eyes from peeking at what her team was sending her, so she could keep her focus on whatever the doctor had to say.

“He, uh, he had his meds an hour ago,” YN reminds him and Spencer tucks up a little deeper under the thin, blue coloured comforter that came with the stay, “I was here so I saw.”

She was given a blunt answer in response, “yeah, post-op antibiotics.”

“Yeah, he had those, too.”

Curiosity gets the better of him and Spencer cranes his neck forward, trying to grab a look at what he was about to be given in regards to medication.

“What ones?” He catches sight of the label in the doctor’s hands and frowns to himself when he reads what he shouldn’t be reading, “carbenicillen? No, that’s not right. I have a severe reaction to beta lactams. I can’t have that.”

The clipboard that had been placed on the bed had been picked up by the doctor, her fingers flicking through his charts and his information, looking at him and shaking his head, “it’s not in your chart.”

YN feels her fight or flight response taking over when the doctor turns his body in the direction of the monitors that her boyfriend was wired up to, the antibiotic held in his hand as he preps and readies to medicate. Whatever Spencer was allergic to would have been written on his hospital chart so there was no way he was about to injected with whatever could kill him; he already faced death today and she wasn’t going to let that happen again.

“What are you doing?”

Spencer panics, YN panics, and he’s tugging at the wires he’s intubated with as the doctor readies himself to give him the medication he was asked to give him. A close call because Spencer fought back, slapping his hands away from the monitor so he couldn’t go through with the task of poisoning him with what he shouldn’t be allowed, the tiny bottle dropping to the floor and requiring him to pick it up... which only backfired against his mission.

“Gun,” Spencer calls and turns to his girlfriend but YN had seen it coming from a mile off, her gun ready and cocked before the doctor could turn around, “he has a gun, YN.”

By the time he turned, YN didn’t give him time to react because she had perfect aim and a clear shot that she wasn’t going to let go of. Spencer covered his ears as he prepared for the sound and closed his eyes because he couldn’t sit and watch his girlfriend have her turn in confronting death.

But when he feels her collapse against the bed, a hiccup of a sob escaping her parted lips, his pained movements get thrown to the side because she looked and she sounded and she was exhausted. Stressed, emotional and tired and who could blame her? She’d been through a lot. She grips onto his waist and she buries her face into the hospital gown covering his chest and she just cries. With everything that had happened, she hadn’t cried yet. Even though she felt like she wanted to, she didn’t bring herself to show emotion because there was a need to be strong in front of her colleagues... even though they expected her to break-down, they were impressed by how strong she kept her guard up.

“You’re okay,” he coos into the top of her head. He hears Morgan’s footsteps in the hallway, standing by the ward as an extra set of hands in case there was any other corrupt officers standing by to complete their mission, and Spencer smiles warmly at him as he turns his back to give them the privacy they needed to have. His main focus being cuffing the ‘doctor, as he laid injured on the floor. “You saved my life, YN.”

That only makes a sob erupt from her chest and it shakes her body and forces her arms to tighten around him.

“You’re okay,” he repeats softly, kissing her head, “you did so good today. I’m so proud of you.” xx

#spencer reid chats #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagines #matthew gray gubler imagines

77 notes · View notes

starksvixen · 4 years

Text

Part 4 - Beskar and Broken Hearts

Masterlist

Summary: You and Din had admitted everything, all cards on the table. But it was all for nothing. After you had escaped Navaro, the Mandalorian started treating you the same, like the kiss never happened. Tensions had risen and hit it’s peak by the time you found her...Ashoka Tano.

Warnings: Lots of angst ahead, semi-unhappy ending,

A/N - I’m doing a major time skip cause *tension*. Also, I didn’t really have any ideas except for lots of squabbling between the reader and Mando so here’s the result.

“Wanna explain why you’ve been ignoring me?” the modulated voice speaks up from beside you.

“Not particularly,”

You move a bit faster, moving your hair to the side, free from your hood you had burned back on Navaro. The patch with the Mythosaur skull rubs against your bicep, something that you thought signified you joining Din’s clan. It was obvious his feelings had changed.

The Mandalorian grew cold, acting as if nothing happened. Like the kiss and three words meant nothing. Maybe he was just trying to spare you from embarrassment. But even that pisses you off, the thought of being babied making a dull static fill you.

You stop walking ahead at the soft cooing of the Child, the only reason you had stayed with Mando up till then. Gently, you take him from Din, not sparing him a glance as you walk with the tiny bundle in one arm.

Entering the small town, you look at its desolate state in suspicion. Din had been sent here in search of a Jedi known as Ashoka Tano. The name’s familiarity resounded within you, memories of the name being passed around during your time on Mandalore.

“You stay out here with the Child,” Mando says gruffly. “I’ll see if I can find the Jedi’s whereabouts,”

“You’re seriously benching me?” you hiss.

“No, you’re protecting the kid,”

And without another word, he walks into the city, leaving you in the dust. With a huff, you hold the kid close to your chest and walk towards the forest line near the outer gates of the city. Once you place him down, you find a rock to sit on, watching as the kid curiously held up anything that looked like food.

“Sorry, buddy, no frogs here.” you sigh, leaning your forearms against your knees.

It didn’t take long for Mando to return, only to be met with silence once again on his behalf. You could feel your heart race beneath your skin, your shoulders practically kissing your eyes with the fire radiating off of them. How the hell was he still silent about this situation?

Before any words could be spoken that you could regret, you shove the kid in his hands, mumble a poor excuse to get ahead, and let your feet take wind into the forest. You’re smart, staying close to the duo so you don’t get lost or encounter a threat alone. But being near that man, it made you crawl in your skin at his actions. Like saying those three words were nothing. Like that kiss didn’t mean something. It haunted you.

A rustle in the bushes catches your attention. On instinct, you twist your arm behind you and pull out the staff that rested on your back.

“Din?” you yell into the air.

“I only see a few beasts to the North,”

“No, that can’t be i-”

Yeah, that definitely wasn’t it. Because before you knew it, a sea of a cloak floats in front of you, white lightsabers at the ready. Barely, just barely, you block her attack with the staff, only to have the metal melt in your hands. As the Jedi pulls back for another hit, you kick her square in the gut before ducking to miss the next hit. The hiss of singed skin fills the air, it’s smell nearly making you gag as you brace yourself with the Earth.

Before you even had to think, the sound of light and beskar rang in your eyes. Looking above you, Din has his arms crossed to block the Jedi’s next hit, one that certainly would have killed you. As girly as it was, your heart fluttered at the protective move.

Swinging out of the way, you protect the Child with the small knife as the Mandalorian and the Jedi come to a truce.

“Bo-Katan sent me!” you hear Din yell, his blaster ready.

Slowly, she disengages, her hood falling gracefully towards her shoulders, looking at you and the Child.

“I hope it’s about him,”

Din paces back and forth at an alarming rate before you, the small light up ahead bouncing off the clean metal and refracting with each movement. Ashoka sits with Grogu, a secret communication taking place between the two of them, something you couldn’t help but admire.

As you lean against a rock, the searing pain at the top of your shoulder alarms you to your latest injury. Slowly, you peel back the singed jacket you had. It was a superficial burn, barely there. It wouldn’t even leave a scar. But the fear in Din’s voice would leave a scar upon your memory.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” he mumbles quietly.

In the time you were looking at your wound, you failed to notice the beskar covered warrior crouching in front of you, med pack at the ready.

“Didn’t think you would care,”

“Cya-”

“You don’t get to fucking call me that. Not after ignoring me this entire time.”

“Let me explain...”

“You should have weeks ago...” you mumble.

With the snatch of your wrist, you place a bacta patch on your shoulder, shrugging your beat up leather jacket off and onto your lap. Ashoka coaxes you both towards them. Din offers his hand to help you up, but in turn you glare and stand on your own, tightly tying your jacket to your waist and following the Jedi.

She takes you to a more comfortable plateau, the trees offering safety, something you didn’t expect this deep in the wilderness. You sit beside the kid, gently scratching the space between his ears, earning a coo in return.

“Were you two speaking back there?” Din questions.

“In a way,” Ashoka responds. “Grogu and I can hear each others thoughts.”

“Grogu?” you and Din ask in unison. The poor thing didn’t know who to look at first, making you chuckle softly.

“It must be nice to hear your real name again, huh?” you whisper softly while peering down at him.

You listen quietly to Grogu’s dark...dark story. For the first time since you thought you were going to lose Din, you cry. Silently, of course, not giving way to hysterics. But the thought of your poor boy having to endure things that you yourself had faced, it broke your heart.

As the Child starts to fall asleep, he curls up into your jacket that lay on your waist, making you smile softly at the motion. With one hand, you gently pick him up to lay on your chest. In one swift motion, you stand and walk towards a tree with him close to you. Laying against the rough bark, you let your eyes begin to drift close. Not without seeing the glint of beskar staring right back at you.

It was early when Ashoka had risen you, the Child void of your chest, instead in Din’s arms. Your gaze quickly averts away from him, opting instead to follow Ashoka.

As you all walk deeper into the forest, you engage in quiet conversation with the Jedi. She obviously could sense the tension between you and Mando, subtly using probing questions to solve her mystery. But you were used to these types of people, you knew how to deflect.

Once you make it to your destination, and Grogu was placed somewhere comfortable, you watched intently as Ashoka tested his abilities. While your boy could take the rock floated towards him with ease, sending it back, or taking it, was the problem.

“He doesn’t understand.” Din interjects.

“Oh jeez...” you mumble, already sensing the long day ahead of.

“He does,” Ashoka reassures, stepping closer to the youngling. “He’s hidden his abilities to survive over the years. Let’s try something else. Come over here.”

You both take a step forward. The tense glance that Din sends your way forces you to take a step back, arms crossed in defense as you turn away. As the intense feeling begins to build, Grogu’s upset builds also. He softly whimpers at the sight of you two, refusing to make any eye contact.

“For this to work, you both need to be in harmony. Not fighting whatver lovers quarrel has settled upon you.” Ashoka says frankly.

“We’re fine...” you say, your voice void of any emotion.

Ashoka turns to the Child, a soft nod the only signal of their communication before she picks him up and walks away, leaving the two of you alone.

“We need to figure this out, for the kid,” Din says.

“Yeah, and only for the kid,” you scoff.

“What is with you lately?! What have I done that is so wrong!”

“Where do I kriffing start Din?!”

“How have I mistreated you?”

“It’s not mistreatment! It’s the lack of said treatment...”

“Dank Farrik!” he exclaims, his hands flying in the air. “Will you just spit it out already!”

“Fine! You’ve treated me like every other bounty you’ve dragged into the ship ever since our escape from Nevarro.”

The world falls silent, but your heart refuses to let up its song. You can feel it in your ears, your throat. The vulnerability that settles upon your shoulders is crushing you as you wait for a response.

“What I said back there...I never should’ve said it. I never should’ve kissed you like that,”

Your jaw clenches, your arms grip your own body tighter then before.

“Are you saying...”

“Its not true, what I said. We’re just partners.”

With a scoff and a quiet sniffle, you can’t bring yourself to glare at Din at the moment. All you can feel is a pain, wedging itself in your heart, deeper then any blade could.

“Just partners in crime, right?” you spit at him, turning away from the man that you knew you still loved.

A harsh sigh pushes through his encoder, his hands falling at his hips in frustration.

“I’ll pretend to be normal around the kid. But once he’s back with a Jedi, you’re dropping me off at the nearest planet.”

You wipe a stray tear away before walking off in silence.

Tag List: (leave a comment on the Masterlist to be added)

eatleef auds24 tillytheslytherin kasianthus jsuiyun20 leilei-draws and-i-swear-we-are-infinte haleypearce mollywertenbe14 tortles toribentleyva allisondavis236 rogueheretic555 xionroxas r-rose08 caswinchester2000 givemetundies artemisfowl11 imaginecrushes irishfaulk97 mylifequotesshows dionysuskid21 convoluted-creature grey-water-colors stitchattacks urbankaite2 weebnumber3622 shestillwrites1 f4llingfairy magicrowiswritingstuff eddyforthewin galaxypox captn-andor imtrebleandsharp nerdalert-andi suffocateitfromitsface lovelylostminds a-djarin dawnwriterimagines kishie8

#mandalorian #the mandalorian #mandalorianxreader #mandalorianimagine #mando #mando x reader #mando x you #mando imagine #din #djarin #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djaren fanfiction #the mandolorian #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian imagine #mandolorian x reader #partners in crime

134 notes · View notes

thebookreader12345 · 4 years

Text

Identity Loss - Chapter Two

Chapter One Chapter Three

“Sam, is she gonna be okay?” William asked the older doctor who was examining me. I had no idea what was going on, but I went with it. What I did know though was that Sam, or Dr. Abrams, was the head of Neurosurgery. And because he was checking my head, that must have meant I had gotten a head injury, only I couldn’t remember how.

“She seems fine. Nothing looks to be wrong. I’m guessing the amnesia is from the head trauma. Either that, or it’s from the lack of oxygen she received when Mr. Wilson tried to choke her,” Dr. Abrams responded. Who was Mr. Wilson? And why was he trying to choke me?

“Is it permanent?” William questioned.

Dr. Abrams shrugged. “All cases are different. Sometimes memory loss is only temporary. But there are cases where the amnesia was permanent. What I’m saying is that I don’t know, which, by the way, sounds so weird coming out of my mouth.”

William sighed. “Okay. Thanks, Sam.” And with that, Dr. Abrams left the room leaving me alone with William.

“So, William,” I start, only to be cut off.

“It’s Will,” William interrupted. “You always call me Will. Everyone does.”

“But the coat says William,” I point out.

“Y/N, can you stop arguing with me? Please? I’m having a rough day,” William stated.

“You’re having a rough day? I can’t remember a damn thing about my life except for my name,” I argue.

William ran a hand through his curly ginger hair and took a seat next to my bed. “I know. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that.”

“It’s okay,” I admit. “If I were in your place, and you couldn’t remember me, I’d be a little pissed too. So, Will, mind telling me about my life?”

“It’s a lot,” Will reminded me. “You sure you’re ready?”

I nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be. And I’ve got nothing else to do, so why the hell not.” Will laughed softly, and seeing him smile brought a small sense of joy to me. It was weird though because I didn’t know him at all. Well, amnesia me didn’t know him, but the real me, whoever she was, did.

“Okay. I guess we’ll start at where we are. This is Chicago Med. It’s where you work as an ED doctor,” Will told me.

“Doctor, huh? I must’ve been smart,” I exclaim.

“Smarter than me, yeah, which is really hard to admit, but it’s true,” Will claimed. “So there’s that. And then there’s uh, there’s your relationships.” Will then stopped for a moment to gather his thoughts, and I was on the edge of my seat. Was I popular? Did I have lots of friends? Was there a boyfriend in the picture? A husband? Kids? My thoughts were all over the place, yet somehow I managed to calm myself down. “Your best friend’s name is Maggie Lockwood. She’s the charge nurse down in the ED. There’s also Natalie, another ED doctor who you’re really close with.”

“And?” I question, urging him to continue.

“And then there’s me,” Will added.

“So we were friends then?” I ask. Will hesitated, which seemed pretty weird to me, but then again, I couldn’t remember anything, so maybe he acted like this all of the time. Finally though, he spoke up.

“No, we weren’t friends. We were uh, we were engaged,” Will murmured and nodded to my left hand. I looked down at the arm encased in a sling, and that’s when I saw the engagement ring that sat on my finger. It looked beautiful, even in the terrible hospital lighting, and I especially loved how the jewel glittered in the light.

“You don’t really seem like my type,” I joke, which broke the silence. “But then again, I don’t know anything about myself, so maybe you are.”

Will cracked a small smile. “You’ve still got your humor. That’s good. Look, I’ve got to get back to work, and even though I really want to stay, Ms. Goodwin will have my job if I do something wrong again. But, if you need anything, anything at all, you tell one of the nurses to call me and I’ll come right up.”

“Okay,” I say and watch as Will stood up and made his way to the door. “Oh, and thank you, Will, for everything.” Will gave me another smile, and with that, he left my room. Throughout the day, Will stopped by every so often to check in on me, and it was nice seeing a familiar face. Well, I probably knew all of the nurses and other staff milling around in and outside of my room, but I didn’t know their names, so they were basically foreign. And then, that night, Will came back into my room. He didn’t have maroon scrubs on this time, and he had a satchel slung over his shoulder. “What’s that?” I ask and point to the satchel.

“Your things,” Will replied and set the bag down on the edge of my bed. “Now, get dressed. I’m taking you home.” Will waited outside of my room while I replaced my hospital gown with the clothes in the bag. It was just a pair of jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and some boots. Maybe this is what I was wearing the day of my accident. As I put on my new clothes, my mind drifted to the fact that I was going home. I had no idea where “home” was, and the dozens of possibilities flew around my head. Did I live in a house or apartment? Was it more modern or contemporary? Were there any pets? Once I was dressed, I met Will outside of the hospital room.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” I declare.

“All right then. Lets go,” Will spoke and led me out of the hospital. The drive home only took a few minutes, and I enjoyed the ride. I loved looking out the window, admiring all of the buildings that we passed. The old me probably knew this route by heart, but the new me was excited to see everything. Soon, we pulled into the parking lot of an apartment complex, and I climbed out of the car. Inside of the building, Will and I ascended the stairs to get to the second floor, and we walked down a hallway, stopping at the door at the very end. Will fished his keys from his jacket pocket, and then he unlocked the door, pushing it in. I stepped inside first, dropping my bag and shoes off by the door before taking it all in. It was so weird seeing the place where I lived, but not remembering anything that happened here. The good news was, the place looked homey, and from where I was standing, I could see that there was a bedroom and a bathroom down past the kitchen on the right, and another bedroom at the end on the left. I started in the living room first since it was right in front of me, and ran my hand along the back of the couch as I looked around. As I was taking everything in, something on the end table caught my eye. I walked over, and upon seeing that it was a picture frame, I picked it up to examine the photo inside. To my surprise, it was an engagement photo. In the picture, Will and I were kissing in front of Lake Michigan with the Chicago skyline in the background. I stared at the picture, desperately trying to remember that afternoon, and when I couldn’t remember a single detail, I sighed and set the frame back down on the table. “You want to order some pizza?”

“Uh, sure,” I respond. “What do we usually get?”

“Your favorite is sausage and green peppers,” Will reminded me as he put his stuff away. “Make yourself at home while I call in the order.” I nodded and took a seat on the couch, but it was hard, knowing that I had a life before this, a great life, and I couldn’t remember a thing about it. After about half an hour, the pizza arrived, and we ate dinner in complete silence. It felt like we should have been talking about something, maybe work, but because I had amnesia, there was nothing to talk about. “You can have the master,” Will told me once it was time for bed. “I’ll take the guest bed.”

“That’s okay,” I protest. “You should have the better bed.”

“I insist,” Will pushed. “Seriously. After everything you’ve been through, you could use the rest. I’ll see you in the morning.” And with that, Will retreated into the smaller bedroom. In the master bedroom, I dug through the dresser to find some pajamas, settling on some flannel pants and a tank top, and once I had changed, I climbed into bed. It was weird though, having this big bed all to myself, and all I could think about was wanting Will to be snoring softly next to me. So, I got out of bed and walked to the other bedroom. Peaking my head inside the doorway, I saw that Will was in bed staring down at his phone, and he glanced up when I entered.

“Hey. What’s up?” Will asked.

“It was uh, it was kind of weird being in there alone, so I wanted to come ask if you’d sleep in there with me. I know it’s probably awkward for you because I can’t remember anything, so if you don’t want to, I understand,” I admit.

“No. It’s cool. I’ll stay in there with you,” Will stated. Will and I then made our way back into the bigger bedroom and got situated. Now that Will was here, I felt more at ease.

“Thanks for doing this,” I murmur and turn to face Will.

“No problem. Goodnight, Y/N,” Will muttered and turned away from me.

“Night,” I mumble softly. I tried to fall asleep, but my mind was wide awake, and all I could do was think about Will. I had my doubts about him at first, but now I could see why the old me fell in love with him, and it was because I was slowly falling for Will all over again.

______________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @king-crockett @winterberryfox @anotherfan07 @i-like-sparkly-things

#one chicago #one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #one chicago imagines #chicago med #chicago med x reader #chicago med imagines #chicago med imagine #will halstead #will halstead x reader #will halstead imagines #will halstead imagine #x reader #imagine #imagines #multi chapter #multi chapter fic #romance

86 notes · View notes

ajbwasntwriting · 4 years

Text

Daughter!Reader X Negan, Reader x Daryl: Chapter 1. Darling Princess

After the sneak peak tested well I decided to post the first chapter. I have many more already written and in the making but I’ll only post them if this gets a good reaction so please if you enjoy this please heart it, reblog it, and/or reply to it. Interaction inspires.

Sucking on another cigarette the stale tobacco burned your throat in a way you would’ve been disgusted by years ago. You looked out your window down at the gate, walkers pulling at it to try and get in. It had been a couple of years since Negan took power and more than long enough for you to feel trapped. You held the smoke in your lungs, a small part of your brain wishing it would ignite inside you and let you combust, before letting it out slow and smooth. Luxuries like this were meant to last. Another luxury was the leather loveseat you were sitting on, and the black and blue mosaic coffee table your feet and ashtray were on, and the acoustic gibson on your lap.

You placed the smoke between your lips to free your hand so you could strum the strings. You were playing an old rock balled your old man had taught you what felt like a life-time ago. He didn’t teach you to play guitar but when you came back from scouts playing campfire songs he insisted on teaching you some real music. You thought back on how many of his guitar strings you broke before that Christmas he bought you your own Washburn. The strings seemed to break less when the instrument was more your size. Those memories felt so distant now. As if they belonged to another person or were part of a movie you watched. The lyrics of the tune you were playing were on the cusp of coming back to you when your door opened violently somewhere behind you.

“My dearest daughter” Negan spoke as he entered your private room. You likened his new way of talking to that of a TV presenter. Always having to keep people on their toes. You used to think it funny when you were a kid but it wasn’t part of his personality then. “What are you doing here? Dinner was half an hour ago.”

“I’m not hungry” you shot back not even turning to face him, which would have been easy since the chair sat with its side to the window, but the walkers chewing on the fence were far more interesting.

“Y/N, don’t lie to me. You said the same at breakfast.” He sauntered over. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Lucille wasn’t with him.

“Food I didn’t earn doesn’t sate my appetite” you shot back, leaning forward to put out your smoke in the ashtray. That must have stirred something within him because the next thing you know you were grabbed by your arm and dragged out of your room, the guitar hitting the ground with a sorry sound. You let him drag you without protest, knowing better.

You were pulled into a plush dining room, immaculately furnished with white cushioned chair and a long oak table, set with silver cutlery. There were five sets in total for you, your father, and three of his ‘wives’. You figured this was some sort of ‘happy family’ play he’d act out but you didn’t know who the viewer was. You? The wives? The men? Or maybe knowing you didn’t want to be here was entertainment enough.

You were shoved into a chair next to the head of the table across from Frankie. She looked comfortable while nursing her drink but you reckoned that wasn’t her first. In front of her sat a bottle of vodka, distilled on-site by worker number 12. Fat Joey was filling the bowls with soup when your father shoved your chair in. He plopped himself into the chair next to you at the head of the table.

“Now isn’t this nice. A big happy family dinner before your old man takes off tomorrow.” You didn’t dignify him with a reply, instead motioning to the bottle of vodka in front of you.

“May I have some, Frankie?” she looked at the bottle then smiled at you

“Go ahead, Princess”. You picked up the bottle and filled your glass half-way to spite her for that nickname.

“Thank you” you tried to be civil, as badly as you wanted to just walk off with the bottle, you sipped your glass instead.

You silently started the soup. The veggies were cut into large pieces. Perfect, chewing gave you a reason not to talk to the dickhead to your left. Your eyes were too buried in your soup to see the other two wives staring at you and your father who was boring holes into your head with his eyes.

“How was your day, Y/N?” Tanya perked up

“Same as yours” you replied with a mouth full of carrot and potato

Silence

“Where are you going tomorrow Negan?” Nicolle added.

“Ladies.” Your father spoke out, his tone showing his distinct lack of patience. “I’m not an idiot. I can tell that our darling daughter doesn’t want to share our company.”

“I made that obvious in my room.” Your spoon fell gracelessly into your bowl. “Why am I here?!”

He reached over and rubbed your cheek affectionately. “Because I love you. And!” he punctuated the final word by raising a finger in front of your face, a silent cue to wait. He stood up from his chair and took off out of the room and down the hall. You took this moment to talk to his wives.

“You don’t have to be nice to me,” you said before starting to shovel soup into your mouth.

“Like hell, we don't.” Frankie retorted, earning a short child from one of the others. You chuckled and swallowed the food in your mouth. You picked up your glass and gestured it at Frankie

“Take notes, Ladies. Frankie doesn’t try bullshit on me” Frankie gestured her glass back. You guessed she’d been in a similar situation, forced to get along with people because it was easier. She didn’t try to be your friend because you knew you wouldn’t appreciate it, which in a weird turn of events you appreciated.

Your father arrived back. It was now you noticed he was a lot cleaner than usual, even the signature leather jacket had left him. Now you were alarmed. In his hands was a pink box with a purple bow. He placed it in front of you and kissed the top of your head. “Happy Birthday, Y/N.”

“Is it my birthday?” you asked, not quite sure. Time had become a blur since the end of the world. You pushed your bowl away to bring the box in front of you.

“Give or take a few months. I know I’ve missed a couple what with...everything...so this will count for at least one of them.” He placed a hand on your shoulder giving it a little squeeze, your own hand finding its way on top “There’s a lot more gifts coming for my princess, don't you worry.” You couldn’t help the smile that came to you, giggling slightly. You looked up at him, seeing nothing but unconditional love being sent back your way

“Dad, it’s alright.” You smiled and turned back to your gift. The wives were now watching, captivated by this little bit of humanity at the end of it all. You gingerly opened the bow and lifted the lid off.

Inside lay a military knife, clearly hand-made on-site with a beautiful leather handle and your name carved into the side in cursive. You released a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. You picked it up, finding it fits in your hand perfectly.

“It’s beautiful” you near-whispered, watching as the candle lights hit against the metal. In a moment it was lodged in the table a mere inch from Tanya’s hand. You kicked back your chair, making your father step back, and grabbed the vodka bottle in one motion. “Now if only I had a reason to fucking use it” you spat as you stormed out of the room.

Back in your room, you sat in the corner with your head against the cold-glass window, looking down at the dead, only illuminated by the moon. You had killed so many of them before arriving at Sanctuary. Hell, you’d say you saved your old man’s ass more than he saved you...but he was a people’s person. Ruthless. But a people’s person. ‘Let me do my thing and I’ll have these assholes sucking my dick in days’.

That was a different age. Back when your father was a teacher. Back when your mother was sick. Back when your father cheated on her with anything with a pulse and she took it out on you. Back when your mother’s treatment and your father’s lifestyle drained your college fund and you had to enlist. Back when she’d attack you, both emotionally and physically, and you took it cause you knew she was in pain. Back when you had come home from a 16-month mission because her condition had worsened. Back when the world went to shit. Back when you had to put her down because your sleazeball of a father wasn’t man enough to do it. You looked down at the dead and thought, if you reached your hands through the wires...you could be back with your mom.

Your door opened slowly, heavy footsteps coming your way. There was no need to look. Only one person would enter your room without knocking. “You scared Tanya back there, Princess.” your father spoke in a low voice.

“She can take it” you croaked, a clear sign you had been crying. He kneeled down beside you. In the reflection of the window, you could see him holding out the knife.

“Please take it.” You turned around, your back now pressed to the window.

“Why?”

“You need to be able to protect yourself”

“Give me a gun then”

“No.”

“Why? Scared I’d leave.” You took a swig of your drink.

“I see you’re upset-”

“Do you?! Do you really?” you cut him short, stumbling to your feet using the window to push yourself up. “Why am I upset? Because I eat food I don’t deserve? Because you make people die for me? Because you have me trapped in a fucking tower like Repunzel or some shit!?” That earned a chuckle from him, which only served to piss you off. “I should be down there earning my bit just like everyone else.”

“Do we have to go over this again?” He sighed dramatically. He cupped your face, the knife now dangerously close to you. “You're my daughter Y/N. My darling baby girl. My precious princess”

“I was twenty-six when this shit hit, dad” you mumbled through your squished cheeks. He gave them a little loving slap.

“You're valuable to me, which means some people might want to hurt you. You eat to stay alive, people die because they’re stupid, and you live in this room on this floor so you can be kept safe.” you blew him off with a wave of your hand and an angry sigh. You pushed passed him to your bed, twirling to sit on it and start taking off your combat boots. He walked over and lodged the knife in your headboard before kneeling down to look up at you. “I have to go out for a while. Find this Rick Grimes asshole and get some payback for the fifteen men he killed at our outpost.”

A chill went up your spine “The one near the hilltop settlement” you whispered.

“That’s right.” You looked him in the eye, not noticing how your lip quivered.

“You don’t have too.” you didn’t know if it was the booze or genuine worry for human life but you found yourself begging. “We have more than enough peo-” he shushed you soothingly, his hand coming up to your cheek, rubbing soothing circles.

“Oh but you know I have too, and while I’m gone I don’t want anyone to get ideas on what they can do to you so” he nodded towards the knife. You pulled it out of the wall, looking it over before nodding, mouthing ‘okay’ and depositing it in your nightstand table. He kissed your forehead before leaving, wishing you a good night. Once again alone you took two large gulps of your drink and laid down.

Edit: For creative reasons Y/N is now 26 at the beginning of the apocalypse instead of the original 24

#daughter x negan #daughter reader #daughter reader x negan #twd negan #the walking dead negan #the walking dead #twd #twd reader insert #twd imagine #twd y/n #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #the walking dead tv #twd tv #slowburn #AJ's Negan's Daughter AU

235 notes · View notes

the-haven-of-fiction · 4 years

Text

Not A Christmas Movie

Genre/Rating: Fluff and Sweetness of the holiday variety, T

Summary: Tom and Astrid find themselves in a unique situation on Christmas Eve.

Author’s Notes: My first sappy romantic Christmas one shot, y’all! Move over, Hallmark! I tried to cover some of the best cheesy themes, I hope you enjoy it. Thank you to Pillow Talk and Lolo for proofing.

The sound of the wind and snow raced through the trees and whipped against the walls of the cabin, the remote mountainous location devoid of any welcoming lights from neighbors. The two travelers dropped their luggage upon crossing the threshold and rushed to push the heavy door shut behind them.

“When we get through this, neither you nor my sisters are ever allowed to make fun of my emergency preparedness again! We’d be in major trouble without it!” Astrid declared, brushing snow off her jacket and holding up the lantern from the referenced emergency preparedness with her other hand as Tom attempted to lock the door.

“I think I can safely and assuredly,” he paused to run his tongue over his perpetually chapped lips in concentration, “give you my word as an Englishman that I shall never,” a grunt of effort, “allow either myself or your sisters to utter a syllable of criticism on that score.”

She couldn’t help but giggle at his struggle with the lock.

“Remember when you had the brilliant idea to build a set for one of our backyard holiday productions? Was that when you played Scrooge? Your word as an Englishman may be good as gold, but your complete lack of skill with anything slightly mechanical is something I wouldn’t swear by.”

Even in the dim light of the lantern, the slight twitch of a smile was visible on his face, the vision of the pathetic attempt so vivid in his memory.

“No one is going to believe this,” she sighed, shivering and looking around for a light switch.

“Truth is stranger than fiction,” Tom quipped. “The best intentions of a Christmas surprise, a series of unfortunate events, a comedy of errors…”

“I blame my soon to be ex-mechanic, the weatherman, Anya and Arlyss and their crazy idea about trying to organize our families into coming out here to the wilderness to have some kind of storybook Christmas,” she huffed, fumbling along the wall, but finding the switch and flipping it to On in relief.

They both groaned when nothing happened. No electricity, no heat.

“They must have disconnected the electricity during renovations, fantastic.” He followed close behind her as they made their way around the cabin. Although the snowstorm was in full force and there weren’t any outside lights on the driveway, they could see evidence of construction as they had pulled up a few minutes earlier.

“Well, at least there’s a fireplace and I think there is actually a pile of wood next to it,” Astrid pointed as she spoke. “How about that. Must have been stocked by the same person who left the door unlocked. Remind me never to hire this company, whoever they are.”

“I could go outside and check for the…uhm…the…” Tom stuttered and gestured, making what she assumed was meant to be a square shape of some kind.

“The breaker box?” she asked dryly.

“Exactly, yes,” he answered in a tone of false bravado, clearing his throat. “I was merely waiting to see if you knew the name.”

“Santa doesn’t bring presents to little boys who lie, ya know.” She set the lantern on the mantle next to a small glass dish of matches. “Especially little boys who grew up in a centuries-old estate and have servants who take care of locking the doors and fixing the electrical problems.”

“They are not servants, they are staff, Miss Sassy, and I doubt Father Christmas knows we are here, no one does,” he replied. “Add the one forgotten mobile and the other with no service to the list of things that won’t be believed.”

“Well, anyways, Professor,” she went on in an exaggerated manner, “I may have a First Aid kit in my emergency supplies, but I am not equipped to perform any surgery on wounds you would most certainly incur from trying to play Electrician.”

He knew she was correct and they both smiled, cheeks rosy with cold.

“I suppose it was fortuitous that I ended up teaching Classics rather than embarking upon a career in carpentry.”

Astrid got a fire going and they were able to scope out their surroundings more thoroughly. A last-minute change of plans had allowed the visiting Tom and originally scheduled-to-work Astrid to join their families in the mountains for Christmas, but a quick succession of unforeseen events had brought them here, stranded close to midnight in a semi-livable cabin during a snowstorm on Christmas Eve.

The owners must have been undergoing some kind of renovations. The cabin obviously had been inhabited previously, but half the interior wasn’t complete, including the kitchen.

“The toilet flushes!” she shouted from the bathroom. “And there’s running water in the sink!”

“Unfortunately there is no sofa or chairs of any sort and only one bedroom,” he reported when she came back into the main room, “No fireplace, but it does have a bed with linens.”

“Well, my kit has extra batteries so we should be okay with the lantern in there,” she assured him, completely missing his point about the issue of a single bed.

He noticed that her shivering wasn’t decreasing as much as it should, looking her up and down in concern. She was wearing an ankle-length corduroy skirt in a shade that matched her eyes, with a long-sleeved but thin sweater.

“I think we should go through our luggage and put on a couple of more layers. That centuries-old estate was a bit drafty, so I am accustomed to an indoor chill,” he informed her with a tinge of that irritating blend of both humility and privilege.

She rolled her eyes, but went over to her suitcase and started sifting through her clothes.

“You and the twins have always been bossy. It’s a wonder how I have managed to get through life as an adult without the three of you hovering over me like you did when I was a kid.”

He pulled on another shirt and grinned at her.

“I still remember the day you were born. I was visiting Dad and Roberta that year for Christmas,” referring to the alternating schedule their families had of who went to which country for the holidays. “And your sisters and I were old enough to be excited rather than jealous of a new child coming.”

Astrid turned away from him, hoping he wouldn’t see her reaction. Why did it please her so much to hear him speak of her birth with such affection? It must be this ridiculous situation. And the holiday. And her birthday. And this sparkling blue-eyed man whose place in her life she had never been quite able to define. Not a blood relation, but as close as a family member, certainly more than a friend. But more than a friend, in that sense? College and adulthood had made the unanswered question less important, as the shared summers and holidays of their childhood had grown fewer and fewer. She didn’t let herself ponder why he hadn’t married and had a dozen children to help him keep up that manor. Any woman would be elated at the prospect of sharing her life with him; she knew he had a string of casual relationships, just as she had, but their age difference had made her sure years ago that he would be a distant memory by this time.

“Born on Christmas Day to parents named Joseph and Mary, merely the beginning of my life’s trajectory of ‘You won’t believe this!’ events, continuing to this bizarre night that has practically every plot point needed for a cheesy holiday movie except that we aren’t secretly pining for each other.” She zipped up the windbreaker over the thicker sweater before reaching for her parka, not seeing the brief flicker in his eyes.

“Did you know that Arliss wanted to call you Snowflake and Anya’s choice was Mistletoe?” Tom picked up her scarf and hat that he had placed on the hearth so they would be toasty and walked back to her.

“I hear that story every year, along with all the suggestions from everyone to aunts and uncles to the postman. Thank God my parents went with something on theme, but not silly.” She pulled on her boots after a second pair of socks and looked up at him.

His expression changed and he drew in a short breath.

“Do you like your name?”

The inquiry was brimming with something that sounded like hope to her.

“Oh, yes, I’ve always loved it. In fact, I love it as much as I’ve disliked having a birthday on Christmas because it is beautiful and unique and it made me feel beautiful and unique.”

A wave of pure delight lit up his face and something clicked in her mind. Her parents’ version of where her name came from was always that someone had mentioned it to them and they couldn’t remember who it had been.

“It was you, wasn’t it,” Astrid said. And it wasn’t a question. “It was your suggestion.”

He worried at his lower lip, a tic she’d come to know years ago that was a sure indication of him being both pleased and embarrassed.

“Yes,” the soft affirmation punctuated by the crackles and pops from the fire. “And your description is precisely how I thought of it then, thanks to having just started Latin in school, and,” a heartbeat of silence, “it is how I think of you now.”

He was standing directly in front of her and paused to survey her face for a few seconds before tapping lightly under her chin.

Without even thinking about it, it seemed, she looked up at the ceiling so he could wrap the heated scarf around her neck. The warmth felt wonderful, although the feeling caused by this stunning revelation about her name and the look on his face was already warming her up in a way she tried to herself wasn’t happening.

He tucked her hair behind her ears and pulled the hat down while she argued with herself that he was simply being affectionate in the manner of a friend.

“Well,” she said, a little too loudly, stepping back from him, “That down comforter is calling to me, I guess we should be getting to bed.”

Good heavens, the bed, she thought. As in one bed.

As in here, as in they were stuck with a snowstorm swirling around them.

In a cabin that was being renovated. With no power or heat.

On Christmas Eve.

This couldn’t be real, it was not a Christmas movie.

“I suppose we should,” still in that soft voice.

A distraction. She needed a distraction.

“Oh! I just remembered! I have my favorite Christmas movie downloaded on my phone, we can watch it before we go to sleep.”

Less than two hours later, David Niven was giving his sermon and Loretta Young was gazing up at him while Cary Grant walked away in the snow. Tom was propped up a bit against the headboard and had insisted on holding the phone so she could stay under the blankets. Somehow she had ended up almost pasted to his side as the story progressed and his arm was around her. About halfway through, they’d had a little tussle about whether or not he should leave the warm cocoon of the bed and get them another candy cane from her Snack Pack. He argued that they had already brushed their teeth, but a sincere plea from her with an affectionate “Be naughty with me, Professor!” addition was something he simply couldn’t resist.

She sighed and closed her eyes, contented and drowsy and finally no longer cold, too tired and confused to attempt to figure out what was happening, how years of ignoring what was just below the surface had nearly bubbled over. It was impossible. He wasn’t interested. He was just being Tom. Typical Tom. Caring, attentive, making you feel like you were the only person in the room. She wouldn’t think about this anymore right now. Maybe tomorrow. Or not.

Tom closed the app on her phone and noticed the time.

“Hey there, it’s 12:01.”

“Mmhhmm,” she murmured, feeling herself about to drift off. He was so familiar, so comforting, so exactly like Christmas itself should be. She wanted to enjoy this moment before she went back to being the little kid and he the older…the older what?

“Happy Birthday,” he said and dipped his head to kiss her forehead, his breath sweet from the earlier candy cane.

She turned upwards toward him without opening her eyes to give him a peck on the cheek, almost without knowing what she was doing in her sleepy state, but she miscalculated and missed his cheek, her mouth landing on his.

He didn’t jerk back in shock. Or horror.

It’s now or never, she thought, suddenly wide awake and ready to throw caution out the window that was probably frozen shut by now.

Ten seconds later, ten minutes later, she wasn’t sure which, he pulled back breathlessly and she opened her eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asked in bewilderment, in surprise, but not in accusation.

“I’m kissing you, do you mind?” she responded, quickly pulling off her mittens and his beanie so she could sink her fingers into his curls.

“I, uhm…”

“Have no fear for your virtue, Thomas,” she teased in a low voice, tugging on a fistful of those ginger locks and causing a sharp gasp from him that thrilled her and gave her courage. “We are wrapped up like a couple of stuffed sausages in this icebox and there is a foot of clothing between us.”

His gaze narrowed and focused on her lips.

Another kiss, sweet and shy, but sure.

“I thought we weren’t secretly pining for each other,” he quoted her words back to her.

“I lied,” Astrid admitted while placing a string of kisses down his nose and nipping the tip.

The gasp changed to a growl, his grip on her upper arms tightening.

“Santa doesn’t bring presents to little girls who lie,” using her words against her, again.

She kissed him, again. Longer, lingering.

They were side by side now, the blankets becoming tangled.

“Did you lie?” she whispered, not knowing what to do next if he denied it, but also feeling like she couldn’t let another minute pass without settling the matter.

He propped himself up on an elbow and raised an eyebrow at her.

“I don’t recall either confirming or denying your assertion at the time,” wanting to tease her in return.

“But,” he rushed to continue upon seeing her immediately crestfallen, “I will make it absolutely clear now,” each word followed by a brush of his lips across her jaw and down her neck, “that you,” lifting his head to smile at her, “are the one I desire.”

Tears of happiness welled up and slipped down her cheeks.

“Happy Christmas, my starshine,” he whispered against her lips.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fan fiction #tom hiddleston fanfiction #christmas story #christmas fanfiction #the haven of fiction

98 notes · View notes