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kumkaniudaku · 3 days ago

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Caught

Summary: When their guest is away, Terry and Patrice will play.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,067

Warnings: Smut (18+ content)

Recommended Reading: Spoiled

Author's Note: Spoiled, Back Up, and Caught all happen on the same linear timeline. Consider them present day events. Hopefully that helps pull things together because you'll need the context later. Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays!

"Mommy, the recipe for the hand pies is so good. Thank you for finding it for me."

"Oh, of course, baby. One day, I gotta get you to help me put all your Nana's recipes in a book or something. I'm tired of digging through all these scraps of paper."

"I didn't wanna say anything, but that's insane. I can barely read her handwriting."

Rosalyn scoffed on the other end of the phone line. "You and me both. I have to call Sybil every time or end up making up what I think goes there. I cook. I don't decipher chicken scratch."

Patrice laughed along with her mother as she passed a piping hot meatball over her shoulder to satisfy her taste tester for the night. He hummed his approval of her gift, providing a thumbs up as his rating before returning his hand to her waist and swaying them in time with the slow rhythm of Christmas music playing in the background.

Christmas Eve brought preparation for the big day on the other side of a wake-up and a smaller get-together to celebrate Imani's and Jesus's birthdays in one evening. Patrice had offered to continue the tradition at her house to accommodate her cousin's request for loud music, liquor, and good, grown folks' fun. In a few short minutes, she and Terry would have a house full of adults gorging themselves on party food and fighting fits of giggles during a drunk game of Taboo. For now, she'd enjoy the calm before the storm with her shadow attached at the hip.

"The cinnamon smell for the apple version was way too strong, though. I almost skipped those altogether."

Rosalyn responded with a sound of cautious curiosity. "Really? You usually love the smell of cinnamon."

"Right," Patrice exclaimed. "Maybe I had a bad batch or something. It doesn't taste bad, but it smelled awful."

"Hm." Rosalyn filed the information in her head for a later moment of privacy, preferring not to stress her daughter with the questions buzzing around in the mind of a mother who knew her child better than anyone in the world. Instead, she continued. "Terry, did you like the hand pies?"

"You don't know if Terry is even in here, mama. He could be anywhere in the house," Patrice answered, her face screwed in confusion.

"Child, don't insult me. If you're in the kitchen, Terry is in the kitchen."

She wasn't wrong. A few too many glasses of Patrice's special holiday cocktail mixed with his ever-present desire to feel his wife at all times had Terry sticking to her like glue. Even after she'd given in to each of his kisses and allowed him to taste her the moment Imani stepped out to run a few errands, she still couldn't shake him. Whiskey was in control. Terry was only along for the ride.

He chuckled into the crook of Patrice's neck before confirming his presence. "Yes, ma'am, I loved the pies. Treece made a few on the side for me so I wouldn't have to share."

"She still got you spoiled, I see."

"Nah, not too bad. You know she gets sweet once a week. I caught her on a good day."

"Oh, hush."

Patrice's attempt to get out of Terry's grasp came up empty, prompting him to hold her tighter and press wet kisses onto the back of her neck. She was sadly mistaken if she thought she could get away from him that easy while Uncle Nearest was pumping through his veins.

"Well, let me let you two go," Rosalyn started with a small laugh. "Tell me how the chicken salad turns out. I might throw some together as a little snack for your daddy tomorrow. You know how he gets when he's ready to eat."

"Mhmm. Just like somebody else I know."

Terry patiently waited for Patrice to wrap up her conversation and safely end the call before resuming his handsy approach to PDA. His hands slid up and down the fabric of her cotton pajama pants, the pair matching his at her request. Full lips attached to her neck, creating a light suction with every open-mouthed kiss.

His wife rolled her eyes as she loaded a pita chip with dip for his culinary opinion. "You are insatiable, TJ. Taste this."

He obliged, opening wide as she slid food into his mouth and waited for a response. Instead of a verbal assessment of her work, he kissed her cheek twice to signal his approval, then returned to his shameless groping.

"How long before Imani gets back?"

"I don't know. Fifteen minutes or so. She only went to grab some more cups and water."

Terry's eyes flickered to the digital clock on the stove before sliding his hands up Patrice's torso and leaving a trail of kisses on her shoulder. "Think you got a few minutes to get back to what we started?"

"Haven't you had enough of me yet? We've been going at it every day since New Orleans."

"What you think?"

Having enough of her touch, the feeling of her body against his, or her attention was a foreign concept for Terry. If he could quit his job and be totally devoted to her pleasure, he would do so without a second thought. Fortunately for him, though, extended absences from the slough of office life due to the holidays provided the closest opportunity to spend the whole day in it.

Patrice smiled to herself as Terry slowly removed the serving spoon from her hand, bringing her delicate palm up to the back of his head. Coarse hair grown into a short tuft of curls and shaped by his barber tickled her fingertips as she closed her eyes, officially caught up in how Terry caressed her with the care afforded to precious works of art.

A low purr slipped past his lips as his hands slid beneath the hem of her camisole to rub her stomach, filling her ears and mind with filthy sounds and images from earlier in the hour. Had he had enough of her? She wasn't sure she'd had enough of him.

His fingertips inched higher, further intoxicating Patrice until a full squeeze on both breasts at the same time made her hiss and wince in pain.

"Easy, baby," she complained as she gently pressed down on his arms to direct him away from the sensitive area. "They're super tender right now. I'm not sure why."

Lust was quickly replaced by concern as Terry dropped his hands and turned Patrice to face him. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, Pooh. It's probably the tattoo healing.

"Yeah, but it shouldn't be making the entire area hurt. Especially not on both sides. Let me look."

"Terry, you never just look."

His attempt to slide the thin straps of her tank top down her arms was quickly cut short as Patrice brushed off his contact to save herself from what she assumed would come next. Her aching was a serious matter. Terry getting a look at her bare tits was not nearly as high on the list.

Terry softened his eyes in unmistakable sincerity. "I'm serious, Treece. I know what it should look like. Come here."

Patrice didn't protest as Terry led her to the kitchen table. She stood perfectly still until Terry was comfortable in one of the chairs and then placed her between his legs.

He gingerly pushed her tanktop straps down her arms before bunching the thin fabric at her waist to free her breasts, watching for any sign of discomfort.

"You don't think you're like…sick, do you?"

"I think it's just tenderness," she quickly retorted, wanting to push the thought of more grave explanations for her discomfort far from her mind.

"Okay, okay. I'm only asking."

Her brows furrowed as he lifted the right side to get a look at the moment from a charged few days in his family's old stomping grounds.

A day alone and nothing to do but explore had them wandering into the same shady tattoo parlor where Terry got his first piece for matching ink. Terry opted to tat their wedding date on his ribs after having to be talked down from plastering her name on his neck. Patrice, however, was set on making her first experience one to remember.

Slanted script crafted from his handwriting spelled Terry's full first name, curving just under the crease of her boob and the spot that he liked to grip in the depths of passion or simply at his leisure. Terry ran his thumb along each letter to check for abrasions or abnormalities.

He looked up at Patrice to gauge her reaction. "That hurt?"

"Not really. It's more here," she added, gesturing toward her areola. "Anything rubbing against it is so uncomfortable. I can barely wear a bra."

"I noticed. They've honestly been looking a little bigger. Do they feel heavy to you?"

"Not heavy. Mostly…full? They look great, though. I'm not complaining about that part."

She joked, the attempt sounding silly once it received no reaction past Terry blinking as he used the pad of his thumb to ghost contact over her pebbled nipple to test her pain level. It was challenging to stay present, with a third of her upper half unnecessarily exposed in their kitchen for no real reason. The entire ordeal felt like a farce. Terrence wasn't a doctor, and him holding her titties in his hands like fleshy snowglobes was as much an actual check-up as WWE was real wrestling.

When she giggled like a teenager learning about sex for the first time, Terry looked up at her with a quizzical expression, and his left eyebrow lifted high. "What's so funny?"

"You, Doctor Richmond," she laughed. "How can you tell they're bigger? I couldn't even tell until the other day."

"I spend a lot of time with my girls. I better notice when they change. Been looking at them since I was sixteen." Terry answered, a boyish grin making his cheekbones nearly touch the corner of his eyes.

"I knew you used to look!" She exclaimed, finally feeling vindicated in her suspicions from childhood.

"Looking was the least of what I was doing." He shrugged as he gently pushed both breasts together for his own viewing pleasure. He kissed the small crease they made two times over, then looked up at Patrice through long lashes. "Unfortunately, ma'am, I couldn't diagnose you, but I think I have some treatment available if you're interested."

Patrice bit back a smile to play along. "Oh yeah? How much is this gonna cost? It's the holidays, and I ain't got it."

"I offer payment plans that we can discuss in that room back there later tonight."

"I like the sound of that," she answered, previous problems vanishing into thin air as he roped her back into his web of liquor-charged desire.

"I knew you would," he winked. "Don't move."

Tingles rippled across Patrice's skin while she listened for any indication of Terry's secretive treatment plan. The soft crack and subsequent rush of cool from the freezer created goosebumps on her bare chest, making her nipples jut out proud from the sensation. Next came the cupboard opening and shutting in two seconds time. From the direction, she could tell he was grabbing a glass from over the sink.

Ice cubes clinked against the cup like little masters of whispers attempting to give Patrice the scoop on what to expect. Terry quietly shut the freezer and took heavy steps back to his seat, smiling at how Patrice truly hadn't moved a muscle in his few minutes away.

He placed the glass on the table behind him before tugging her hand to guide her closer. "Cold hot therapy. I sprained my knee once, and this got me back up and running in no time. Ice for the cold…" Terry's voice trailed as he plucked a piece of ice from his glass and pressed it to her nipple. He watched her jaw drop with a sharp inhale, intently focused on the way her eyelids fluttered closed at the sudden shock of frozen water. When a single drop began to make a trail down the swell of her breast, he pulled the ice away and brought his mouth closer. "And I'll take care of the hot."

"Oh…my God."

Whispers of unexpected pleasure sent Terry into a far-off place where he was only concerned with running a flat tongue across supple skin. Patrice rushed to steady herself by bringing her hands to the back of his head, cradling him while he went to work.

Ice cold. Soothing warmth. Ice cold. Soothing warmth and a light suckle. Again. And again.

He eyed her like a lion watches prey, taking notes of every little sound and twitch to know that he was fulfilling his job.

"Good job, baby," Patrice whispered, her head tossed back and praises spoken to the ceiling. "Good fuckin' job."

Terry ran his hands up the back of her thighs to roughly grip her ass. He groaned at the affirmation before pulling away to retrieve more ice. He held a small cube between his teeth to multitask, running it across her left nipple and areola until it had melted enough to fit both in his mouth.

Was it fixing her tenderness issue? Not really. But Patrice would be damned if his subtle slurping and moaning with her backside firmly in his clutches wasn't sufficiently taking her mind off things. So far off, she'd lost all concept of time and space.

While Terry pulled Patrice into his lap for a more intensive inspection, Imani entered the house high off the exhilarating freedom that can only come for night drives with a carefully curated playlist blasting from the speakers. Being stateside for the first time in a year was the perfect opportunity to experience one of life's simple pleasures.

Grocery bags rustled and knocked against the wall as she hummed along to the fragmented lyrics from a song on her Spotify playlist still coursing through her brain. A short pause in her personal concert to lock the door left space to hear a string of curious noises. Muffled half-sentences and a sort of trembling sigh made her quirk an eyebrow. She thought to herself that Terry and Patrice left the television on far too often for a pair of people who claimed to not spend much time in front of the tube, but quickly found that they'd taken to making a scene the old-fashioned way.

She stood in the open space, a perfectly shaped eyebrow pushed high on her face and an impressed smirk tugging at the right corner of her lip while she watched her baby cousin makeout with Imani's newest family member with a ferocity she didn't know Patrice had in her.

Patrice held Terry steady by his jaw, slightly hovering over him while she had her way leading a sloppy kiss. When she moved to push his head back toward her chest with a string of words filthy enough to make a pornstar blush, Imani cleared her throat to finally announce her presence.

"Oh shit," Patrice yelped, rushing to tap Terry's back and end his check-up.

His head popped up to survey the room, then slowly found a home on top of Patrice's once she pressed close enough against his chest to cover her naked breasts. The vibrations from his concealed chortling made Patrice pinch him in frustration. Nothing was funny, at least not to her.

Imani held her hands up in faux surrender. "No, please. Don't stop on account of me," she laughed. "Y'all were just getting started."

"We are so sorry, Moanie. This isn't what it looks like. Well, this part is exactly what it looks like, but I promise it didn't start like this. Terry was looking at my boobs to check on my tattoo and -"

"Girl, you do not have to explain anything to me. This is your house! Honestly, if I had those big ol' mommy titties, I'd want them in somebody's face too. And you got them for free! The girls gotta go under the knife or get pregnant for those. How does it feel to be God's favorite? Terry, can you help me get the water out of the car when you finish?"

Terry looked down at his visibly distressed wife and then back at Imani to save face for the both of them. "Yeah, I got you. Gimme a minute."

Moanie didn't notice how she'd launched her cousin into an internal spiral as she pranced off to busy herself with getting ready in her room for the week, but Terry did. He carefully sat Patrice up and helped redress her, careful to ease into conversation.

"You alright?"

"I had my cycle this month," Patrice rushed out, her gaze far off as Terry lifted her arm to put it back in her camisole strap. "It can't be that. I had my cycle." When her focus returned, her eyes snapped to Terry's for confirmation. "Right? I did, right?"

He nodded, unsure of how to proceed to quell her fear. "You did, baby. But, maybe…"

Sure, it was lighter than usual, but she'd had a cycle. Her body functioned like it did every month, on time and without pomp and circumstance. There was no cause for concern.

But…maybe.

Patrice looked down at her belly then back up at Terry, searching for answers in his sympathetic expression. He leaned forward and held her head with both hands to give her a kiss she couldn't return before he spoke.

"Don't drink tonight. Just in case. We'll figure it out in the morning. Okay?"

"Okay." She whispered back without truly processing the gravity of his instruction.

Terry slowly lifted Patrice from his lap to fulfill Imani's request for assistance, leaving her to stand perfectly still in the kitchen. She counted backward in her head, retracing her steps and important dates until a headache sent her to take a seat.

It was just tenderness. It'd go away by morning, and all of this would be a silly story to tell whenever they got together in the spring for their European honeymoon. She'd drink an entire bottle of wine over heaps of pasta, turning the whole situation into a fond memory before raising her hand to call the server for another round. All water under the bridge, right?

But…maybe.

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#aaron pierre #terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #rebel ridge #ficmas

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theereina · 2 months ago

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Bad News Pt. 2

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC "Bella"

Wordcount: +1.4K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, no smut, heavily dialogue-centered, mental health mentioned (anxiety), *emotional distress*, angst, heartbreak, chronic illnesses mentioned, health conditions mentioned (c*ncer, PCOS, endometriosis), infertility, slight verbal ab*se

A/N¹: Remember, I just got back into writing. I'm open to critiques, but I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

A/N²: I am not a medical doctor. Please, forgive me if my knowledge of any of the mentioned medical conditions is incorrect.

Bad News Pt. 1=> 😢

Walking into the room, my heart was crushed even further. All of the feelings I wish I could explain; I couldn't. Terry and his bags were gone. I hadn't even heard him leave. He didn't even care enough to at least say goodbye. After all these years, I wasn't worth a goodbye. Two seconds just solidified that this relationship wasn't worth any more of my energy.

I couldn't understand it. How did we get here? Had he always been like this? Was I that blind? I guess I was so busy trying to find love that I forgot the most important rule— love wasn't supposed to hurt. Then again, every version of love I've experienced was painful, manipulative, abusive, and damaging. So, maybe I found what I was familiar with. I mean, why else would I be so comfortable putting up with this?

But, what do I do now?

*2 hours later

The room was covered in crumpled and torn pieces of notebook paper. I have tried and tried to write this letter. My hands were stiff, and my head was throbbing. I just wanted him to know how I felt because my mind was already made up. I'm done, and this is over.

If he would've just listened, we wouldn't be in this predicament. If he hadn't said those words, there would still be hope in my eyes and love in my heart.

Better yet, fuck this and fuck him. He doesn't deserve a letter. This doesn't concern him anymore. I've already changed my flight for tomorrow morning. I leave on the first flight out. Since I no longer have anything to say to him, there is no need to wait. I can return to the West Coast and be at home with my Godmother and Godsister when I receive the news.

*The next day

“I will never like flying’. I don't care!” I said stepping out of the bathroom after showering. I was dressed in a pair of sweats and a plain black T-shirt. I had wrapped a scarf around my head to protect my hair during my shower.

My Godsister, Shante, was waiting for me. She was relaxed on the bed with her back against the headboard. Her satin black bonnet and black fluffy robe made her look so much like her grandmother. “What?” she asked turning her head towards me. “You look like Nana Elsie!” I laughed into my hand. “Shut up!” she said slinging one of the pillows at me.

I walked to the bed and sat on the edge closest to me. I was tired. I knew why she was in here. She wanted to make sure I was okay. Honestly, I wasn't. My life was shit right now. Leaving Terry was just another stab to the heart. All I could do was pray to God that I didn't lose anymore. I couldn't possibly see myself being any lower than this.

“You wanna talk?” Shante asked rolling on her side facing my back. “Not really, I just wanna wait until they call,” I said solemnly. My shoulders were beginning to feel heavy again. I didn't want to think about what the doctor would say. I already knew this day was coming.

After years of medical neglect and misdiagnoses, I was finally given a proper diagnosis of both endometriosis and PCOS. I had been ignored for years when I complained of a forever-growing mountain of signs that something was wrong. I was told to “lose weight” to alleviate my symptoms. When I lost the weight, nothing changed. Some symptoms even seemed to get worse.

I had grown tired of all the referrals and guesses. I had explained to my original primary care physician years ago that I suspected that I had PCOS. It was dismissed as anxiety and medical hysteria. I tried again with three other physicians to be met with the same fate— try to lose weight, take this metformin, exercise daily, change your diet, etc.

This could have been treated years ago if someone would have just listened.

*3 hours later

I was in the kitchen eating when my cell phone rang. I picked it up thinking it was the call I had been dreading. I was eager to get this over with. Just say it, and let's move on.

“Hello, this is Bella,” I mumbled into the phone. I was on the edge again. Trying my hardest to breathe and stay calm. “Bell, where are you?” asked Terry. “Terry?” I asked pulling the phone away from my ear and looking at it. Fuck! Why didn't I look before answering? Why didn't I block him?

“Bella, I'm s—,” he started to speak before I interrupted him. “Save it. I… I don't care anymore,” I said through tears. “Bells, I was—,” he started again. “No,” I said sobbing into the phone. “Could you just—!” he yelled into the phone. That was it. I didn't have to deal with this. I hung up the phone and laid it on the table in front of me.

Pushing the plate away, I laid across my arms crying with my head down. My Godmother and Godsister were both gone to work. That left me alone once again with my emotions— all of them.

ring ring ring

Not again. I picked up the phone in anger. “I don't want to talk to you!” I screamed into the phone. “Isabella? It's Dr. Moore. We need to speak about scheduling your surgery immediately,” he said in a startled tone. “I'm sorry, Dr. Moore. I'm having a…,” I said taking a deep breath. “I can call back if—,” he said. “No!” I blurted out. “Sorry. Please, tell me now,” I whimpered. I was flying between emotions faster than my body could manage.

“Well, honey. I'm sorry to bring you such bad news at this time, but we're going to need to remove your left ovary. The cysts were quite large, and… Unfortunately, the biopsy indicated they were cancerous. The safest option is to remove the affected ovary and all endometriosis deposits. Later on, we can discuss any further changes,” he said. “Changes?” I questioned while sniffling. “If it progresses any further, we may have to perform a hysterectomy.” Dr. Moore continued to talk, but I had dissociated from the conversation. This was it.

My mind was overflowing with questions. Will I be able to have kids? Would this even get rid of the cancer? If it did, would it come back? Would life ever be normal for me?

I don't know. I'll probably never know.

*Later in the day

ring ring ring

Hours had passed since the call ended. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to move. I didn't want to think. I had planned my whole life around me and Terry's relationship— kids, a house, a minivan, a dog, all of it. Now, everything was gone. Maybe my mother was right, I am cursed.

ring ring ring

“Who is it?” I sobbed into the phone. “It's me, Bella. Baby, can you please just listen to me?” Terry pleaded over the phone. “Why, huh? What’s there to listen to? You said everything you needed to say,” I yelled. All of my feelings were being overshadowed by my anger.

“I didn't mean it, Bella. That wasn't supposed to happen. I love you. You know that!” Terry yelled. “I don't know that, Terry. If you loved me, you wouldn't have said it. You meant it with all your fucking heart. You stood on it when you left without saying a word. No goodbye. No sorry. Nothing. That's not love,” I blurted out. I was beyond tired of holding my tongue. “Stop being so fuckin' childish right now and use your brain. You're always so damn emoti—,” he said cutting himself off. “Nah, say it! I'm too fucking emotional, huh? Ain't that right, Terry?” I screamed again. Tears were streaming down my face falling onto the kitchen table.

“I’m always sick, and… and I'm… I'm always emotional. That's what you… that's what you said, right? THEN, WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU WITH ME?!” I screamed as loud as I could. I threw the phone across the room. It hit the wall and shattered. Good. No more phone calls. No more doctors. No more — Terry.

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noellefan101 · 11 months ago

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Nick-Names - Genshin

Characters: Xiao, Scaramouche, Venti, Lyney, Albedo, Kaveh, Thoma, Diluc, Childe, Heizou, Kazuha x GN reader

Warnings: a lot of cheesy and weird nicknames, if you dont like some for a specific char you're welcome to send me your ideas, could be modern au, established relationship

(you can clearly see that i prob put in an OC, so im so sry, but some i just also really head-canon as the "would rather date a loving person than be loving" if you get what i mean)

Summary: both of your pet names for each other, some silly some sweet

Note: you can really tell where i had no ideas for nicknames. and ik i use both 'pet names' and 'nicknames' but im just kinda stupid and didnt care to change stuff when i was already done with it. also i may just have a problem but why does princess sound 10x better than prince, no matter your gender, anyway love youuuu

Xiao

He will always say what is on his mind, and he did the same thing when you brought up using pet names. he wasn't very fond of the idea, and sometimes he still isn't(depending on the situation). but he has gotten used to it more over time, like when you burst open his door and to talk to him while using the most absurd nicknames he´s ever heard of.

Pet names for you: lovely, qinxing, [shorter version of your name](sry people with short names, i fell ya)

Pet names for him: babe, baby, cutie, dove, birdy, my alatus

Scaramouche

Will never admit he likes being called weird things by you, EVER. if he did then he was drunk and he was totally lying. and that counts with calling you stuff as well, he would rather die than admit he doesn't just call you that bc you wanted him to.

Pet names for you: idiot, princess/prince, dear

Pet names for him: smoochi, love

Venti

He was probably the one who suggested the idea at first, like two days/weeks (seconds) into your relationship. i also think he already had at least one nickname for you when you were "just friends", in the crushing phase, and has some for all his other friends as well(prob also his teachers if school au, lul).

Pet names for you: windblume, cecilia, [insert the cheesiest thing you can think of], my love

Pet names for him: venni, my dear, sweetheart, my bard

Lyney

He would be over the moon if you gave him a nickname, and would instantly be looking like a tomato too. would increase its usage by tenfolds if you said you liked one of his nicknames. you cannot stop him even if you somehow got 'Father' involved.

Pet names for you: babe, mon trésor, mon amour, beautiful

Pet names for him: sweetie, amour, lyn

Albedo

He didn't really see a use for it at first, finding it kind of useless. but sooner or later realized how happy you looked when he had somehow slipped up and called you 'love' when he needed your assistance. and later just didn't bother to stop.

Pet names for you: love, my cecelia, my dear

Pet names for him: 'bedo, lovely, (my) genius

Kaveh

He LOVES nick-names, probably made one for everyone in the friend group(yk alhaitham, tighnari n cyno), and would be delighted to make some up for you.

Pet names for you: beloved, lovely

Pet names for him: baby,

Thoma

He really wanted to try using them, yes he calls Ayato and Ayaka my lord and my lady, but its just not the same as calling your lover something sweet. and good luck if you don't like it, he's keeping those names forever.

Pet names for you: babe, sweetheart, baby, sleepyhead, lovely

Pet names for him: babe, love

Diluc

He honestly wasn't a fan at first, he hated it even. but of course, you being you, insisted on using names for him, and encouraged him to at least try to use some for you. so he kinda got into routine with it.

Pet names for you: my love, my dear

Pet names for him: dear, red head, love, my hero

Childe

Of course, he would use nick-names and such, he uses nick-names for the traveler and paimon, so of course he would be using such with you. honestly how could he not, especially when you're looking all cute cuddled up in his hoodie.

Pet names for you: my love, beloved, cupcake

Pet names for him: ginger, ma strong man(only for teasing purposes), hubby

Heizou

He'll almost never call you by your actual name, he didnt even when you two were just friends, only in the most serious of times would he do that. so it was no surprise that when you actually started dating, they could only become sweeter and cheesier as time goes by.

Pet names for you: princess/prince, baby, beautiful, (my) sunshine

Pet names for him: hei, zou-zou, babe

Kazuha

He loves it bc no matter what you call him he'll be happy. and he makes sure you have "some" as well, and i guess he just can't stop coming up with more, and they're always more cheesy than the last. you don't know how he does it, but maybe its just his poetry skills coming through.

Pet names for you: dove, (my) love, sweetheart, sweetie, my dear

Pet names for him: kazu, dear

thank u for reading whatever this thing is(totally not a filler bc i habe been working on that streamer au for too long), luv ya-Masterlist

You are welcome to reblog and like any of my posts, but you CAN NOT translate, copy or hate on anybody for liking my posts

#kazuha x reader #childe x reader #heizou x reader #lyney x reader #xiao x reader #scaramouche x reader #albedo x reader #diluc x reader #kaveh x reader #thoma x reader #venti x reader #noelle´s maiden #noellefan101 #gn reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact

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simpxxstan · 5 months ago

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hi i would like to req cheol x fem!reader with the song you are in love by taylor swift. thank you!

congrats on 500 followers btw 🫶🏼

this is part of my 550 followers celebration event (closed now)!

thank you for this request, really hoping you like it! i'm not a swiftie so i was unsure of how to interpret the song prompt. hope i did it justice! posting very very late, thank you for being patient for so long <3 happy bday month to cheollie!!! i love him so much and this couple too. i think i might write a few more drabbles for them later lol

genre: coworkers to lovers, friends to lovers, fluff

word count: 3.3k words

warnings: reader is fwb with an oc (not seungcheol).

"you are in love!" your best friend says. "yeah, i know." you sigh, "that's why i've been ranting for so-" "no, silly! not with jay. you're in love with seungcheol!" you had laughed off her words, wondering if she'd become tipsy way too fast into your girls' night.

but when you're lying in your bed later that night, the thought lingers in your mind- the alcohol clearing up and making you progressively more sober as the cold air from the open window hits you, while your friend snores soundly next to you.

"think about it." "i am thinking ab-" "no, you've never really thought about this before. think about it clearly." you'd laughed heartily at her faux-wisdom, which always appeared after finishing two cans of beer.

but she's right. you have actually never thought about this. you've been so obsessed with getting jay to like you that you've never really given a second thought about seungcheol... and what he really means to you now.

"i'd expect more from a stats major and a data analyst, honestly. aren't you supposed to be logical and rigorous-" you slap her arm while doubling over with laughter, knowing full well that she's imitating the words of an infamous professor in your college. "i am being logical. we're just coworkers."

were you?

now that you think about it, certainly not. you're more than coworkers. more like friends. more like best friends. in fact, he's the closest friend you've made since your days in college. just coworkers don't buy each other their favourite drinks when the other has a bad day. just coworkers don't hang out for hours after work nearly every other day. just coworkers don't invite each other to parties with their separate friend groups. just coworkers don't have inside jokes that prevent you from forming friends with anyone else in the office.

your mind travels back to last thursday, when seungcheol had saved your ass for the nineteenth time this year when you'd arrived late by preventing the boss from noticing.

and the thursday before that, when seungcheol had dropped you home after he'd found out that jay had made you cry during an argument in the break room just before work got over.

and the thursday before that, when you'd gone with seungcheol to taste the menu at three different banquets because he was busy planning the wedding of his best friend, joshua, and needed an unbiased taster.

did just coworkers know everything about each other? including his dentist appointment's dates, the last time you went grocery shopping, the last time he went to watch a movie, the vitamin supplements you eat after breakfast, and so much more.

you smile in the darkness. no, you and seungcheol could never be just coworkers. you're best friends, nothing less of that.

but love?

ah, no. you'll bet your life on this one. you've been in love before. and what you feel for seungcheol is nothing like it.

your heart hammers in your chest as you ring the doorbell again, the weight of the melting cake heavy in your hand. you distinctly remember jay telling you that he'd be home tonight, then why wasn't he responding to his calls nor opening his door?

you're answered about twenty minutes later. you're sitting on the stairs in front of his flat when you hear him walking up the stairs... and there's someone else's voice too. a female voice.

"y/n?"

words get caught in your throat when you see mina, the new intern fresh out of a college, walking right beside him, arm looped in his, a hickey prominent on her neck, freshly bruised.

"why are you here?" she asks you, and you wince.

"i wanted to surprise you... for your birthday! sorry, i- i didn't know you had plans."

jay smiles as he looks at mina next to him, and pulls her closer. "no, mina actually surprised me too. and we went out dancing. sorry, have you been waiting for long? you should've call-"

"i did."

jay pulls out his phone and checks it. "oh shucks. you've been calling for the last twenty minutes," he takes a step forward and leans in to kiss your cheek, lightly. "you can join us for dinner? i'm sure mina won't mind." mina definitely minds, because she looks like she's going to shoot you down in a matter of seconds.

"nah, i'll just leave. happy birthday though. i can see you had a good one." would you be petty if you didn't give him the cake?

"sorry for making you wait for so long, y/n-ah."

one year and four months.

"no worries, man. enjoy your night. bye mina!" and you smile, like the stupid people-pleaser you are. at least you brought the cake with you.

"what's up?" seungcheol opens the door and you smell the heavenly aroma of fried noodles from his kitchen greet you.

"thank you for opening the door."

seungcheol raises an eyebrow at you. "why would i not open the door? you're literally-"

"yeah no, that's cause jay didn't. he went out with mina, it turns out." you stuff the cake into his fridge and stand next to him where he's cooking in a wok.

"mina? intern mina?"

"yeah. they made out too... so i'm guessing it wasn't friendly."

seungcheol scoffs. "mina joined, like, last week."

"two weeks."

"he switched you up for her although he's been with you for a year and a half."

"she's twenty-two, cheol. i'm pushing thirty. i'm not sexy anymore." you bite your lip as you look at the word puzzle in the newspaper on the coffee table. seungcheol doesn't reply immediately, so your heart sinks a little further. even if he doesn't subjectively find you sexy, he could just say it to console you. well, but it's a stretch to even expect that from-

"you're the sexiest woman i've ever met." seungcheol says, his voice softer, as he plops down next to you, holding two bowls filled with the fried noodles. he begins to eat wordlessly, legs propped up on the coffee table, almost inhaling the food. if you move your leg a little, your bodies would touch.

you don't reply. you can't reply. you start eating the food too, relishing the flavours in silence.

"want some more? there's more egg bits towards the bottom, i know you-"

"it doesn't matter if you think i'm the sexiest woman. clearly he doesn't."

"is jay the only person whose opinion matters?"

"are you really asking me that?"

"what i am asking you is that you've wasted one year and a half pining over a man who doesn't care for anything more than sex, and you still hope he's worth your time?"

your breath stutters. seungcheol's staring at you, and you feel shameful and self-conscious suddenly. all the fire and rage from your earlier comments dissipate and you sigh.

"you think i don't have a chance at all?"

"jay is an asshole, y/n. i think that you shouldn't care about him at all. but that's just what i think. my opinion doesn't ma-"

"shut the fuck up," you extend a hand to grab his wrist and make him look at you again.

seungcheol does look at you again but doesn't say anything.

"my best friend says i like you."

seungcheol's fork clatters in his bowl and you both turn to look at each other.

you have no idea why you say that. sure, it's been on your mind all day, all evening, and suddenly you feel like you're on your toes around him through the day. even when you two sat together at work, you'd become oddly conscious of his presence in your periphery, which has never occurred to you before.

"do you?"

and you have no idea why he says it either. in all the million possible options of things he could've said right now, you'd never imagined him asking this to you right on your face.

so you have nothing to say, except a very shaky, a very feeble, "i don't know."

the next day, two things happen.

first, seungcheol isn't talking to you. well, he is talking. but not properly. talking like could you press the elevator button or do you want some grapes or did you read the mail.

second, jay's talking to you a lot. he follows you into the break room and apologises again for standing you up on his birthday night.

"it's okay really. i hope you had a wonderful time with mina." you don't make eye contact, not really interested in listening to his whining, instead more focused on making the espresso you know that seungcheol craves during the afternoon.

"i... just wanted to clarify. there's nothing between us, you know. nothing going on." "you don't have to clarify that to me-" "i know. but still. wanted to know if it's all good between us." you push your tongue into your cheek to stop a curse from coming out. finally you pick up the two mugs of coffee and face him. "yes jay, all's good." jay smiles widely. "so are we on for the annual company dinner for this weekend?"

shit. you'd forgotten about that.

"umm-"

"but we go every year!" and jay throws you those puppy eyes that bring out the wrinkles next to his eyes that were the first reason you'd fallen for him.

it, surprisingly, doesn't make you feel weak in the knees.

"i'll confirm by tonight, okay? gotta go."

you head straight to seungcheol's desk and put down the cup of coffee on his desk, making him look up from his desktop.

"do you have a plus one for the company dinner?"

his eyes widen, and he responds after a moment's pause. "no. but-"

"will you come with me?"

"what?"

"will you be my plus one?"

"but you're going with jay?"

"who told you that?"

"you did, genius. that's all you could talk about on monday."

you cringe internally. you don't even know why you do that- talking so much about jay, thinking so much about jay, just... caring so much for him. is it a parasocial thing? like people crush on their celebrities and make imaginary daydreams about taking care of their crushes? because jay certainly hasn't recicprocated even a tenth of your affection.

or maybe it's because of the sex. it is natural for friends with benefits to end up liking each other. well, in your case, liking the other without the other liking you. perhaps it's the physical intimacy. perhaps it's the consolation that you may be pushing thirty but you're still attractive enough to be on the market. perhaps it's the attention he gives you during your hookups. and perhaps it's the lack of attention from anyon-

wait.

you don't have a lack of attention. you have friends.

so it's not the attention bit.

is it specifically male attention?

but seungcheol is male. and he gives you a lot of attention, but only as a friend. you may be the sexiest woman he's ever met but he would never hook up with you. he's way out of your league.

"i don't want to go with jay." you finally respond back, clicking your tongue.

"huh? isn't that like your dream?"

"seungcheol. don't push it."

"i'm the one pushing it? i tell you not to like him, and you're mad at me. i tell you to like him, and you're still mad at me. what am i supposed to say, y/n?" and he pouts. fucking pouts at you like a little boy who's not allowed to eat sweets, and your heart breaks into a million pieces. you know he's not even trying to fake his cuteness (like jay does sometimes) and yet there's something so adorable about him right now that makes you want to-

fuck.

"just answer me, cheol. please. yes or no?"

"when have i ever said no to you?"

your mouth twists as you nod. he hasn't. ever said no to you.

"i'll tell jay i'll be going with you then."

you turn around to walk away, but seungcheol pulls you back, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up close to his chest so that you have to tilt your head up to talk to him. "what?"

"is this some let's make jay jealous mission?"

"what?!" your eyes go wide and you scoff.

"of course NOT. what do you think i am? i'm not that desperate."

seungcheol sighs.

"whatever you say, darling."

seungcheol looks as good as ever when he comes around to pick you up and drive you to the company dinner that weekend.

"red suits you," he says, taking in the dress you've brought out from your mother's closet specially for this event. this dress is made to impress. it's the dress your mom wore at the party where she met your dad for the first time, and you've heard from dad countless times how enchanting she looked in the dress. you're hoping you'll do the dress half the justice, but clearly you haven't inherited your mother's body proportions, so it doesn't look as good as it did on her. and yet, the plunging sweetheart neckline allows you to wear pretty accessories that you hardly get to wear to work. it is really a dress to impress. somehow, something inside you wants to impress.... someone. and for some reason, you don't think it's jay.

the car ride is silent. it's extremely uncomfortable because you don't remember the last time you spent ten minutes in the same space as seungcheol without talking to him. you knew you shouldn't have raised the my friend thinks i like you shit. but you've raised it and now you can't go back. his question still lingers in your mind, and it feels like a challenge.

do you like him?

when you look at him in the moonlight, his jawline is shaved clean and his hair is slicked off his forehead. it's not like you've never realised before this how handsome seungcheol is. in fact, it was the one of the first things you'd noticed about him. he's got an aura about him that's so attractive from the outside. but as you grew closer to him, the attraction somewhat wore off into a casual comfort... where you can exist in the same space with him without double taking at his beautiful smile or wondering why his dimples are so cute.

but that's not to say that his appeal is lost on you.

under the moonlight, he looks godly.

''i heard jay's going with mina." he finally tells you when he parks into the parking lot.

"good for them." he looks at you and cocks an eyebrow, and you shrug.

you're about to open the door and step out, but he quickly grabs your hand across the car, and pulls you inside.

"umm. y/n, i don't know what you're doing. but i- whatever i said that day- look, i don't like jay because i think he's rude to you? but apart from that i'm sure he's a great guy and you should like him if you want to. and i have no right to say anything about it-"

"what?" you're so confused by his little monologue.

"sorry i'm saying this poorly. what i mean is, please don't let what i said that night make you avoid jay or anything."

"this isn't about that."

"it's not?" he tilts his head in query.

"no. this isn't about how i feel about jay."

"it's not?" he asks you again, his face more confused. you're tempted to smile at the cute confusion on his features, but you know it'll make him mad for spoiling this serious moment.

"this is about how i feel about you."

seungcheol does not utter any more words to you after that. there's still a very prominent confusion on his face, but he masks it well with his natural charm.

but you're not confused at all for once. everything seems to become clear to you with 100% HD clarity. for some reason, it all makes sense now. why your best friend thinks you're in love with seungcheol.

because you've never been in love before.

you've always fallen for the toxic type of person, like jay. relationships that are more about hookups and drunken fights than emotional bonds and care. and your past experience has made you feel that love is nothing smooth. it's always been a rocky path for you. push and pull, where you're both pushed around and pulled to meet to other's conveniences.

but being with seungcheol is so... different.

there's no loneliness. no push and pull, no compromise. only laughter and memories. he makes you smile you more than any of your love interests have made you smile. he makes you laugh ever so often. he takes care of you when you're sick. he cooks for you whenever he comes over because you can't cook to save your life. he wrote you a birthday card. he bought matching t-shirts from a thrift store because you both happened to like the design. right now, when you see the way he's talking to another colleague, his pretty lips articulating every word clearly, your heart warms with fondness. a stray hair sticks out, and you fix it back. he doesn't notice. or he pretends not to. when jay comes around within your periphery, he pulls you closer, and you can't help but smile again. something about everything he does is so endearing.

it's not a eureka moment.

and yet, it feels good to feel love for real for the first time of your life. you can die tonight happily, knowing you're capable of real love. because you know you do love seungcheol. for all his pouty tantrums and all his whining complaints, you love him the most in the world right now, and you simply cannot imagine choosing a life without him.

"do you want to dance?"

seungcheol's been deliberately avoiding eye contact, but now he looks at you like a deer caught in the headlights.

"no."

you giggle at the sudden reply. "why?" his frown deepens, and you tug at his lips with your fingers. "you don't look good when you frown." "it doesn't matter." "it does." "no one's looking at me." "no one's looking at me either." "shut up. jay's boring holes into your dress with the way he's ogling you." seungcheol's face flares up, and you're mildly amused. "and what about the boy i want to ogle?" "huh?" "you. you're so handsome, cheol." his eyes unfocus from jay and back at you, his eyes wide and lips slightly parted.

"what are you doing, y/n? why are you playing with my heart?"

"i'm not, though? i'm just telling you how i feel."

"and how's that?"

"i feel like dancing with you under the moonlight. i feel like going on a long drive with you. i feel like hugging you on the warmth of your couch until we fall asleep. i've never done these things, seungcheol, will you come with me?"

"never danced? fuck, you're not being treated right."

and he shows you. he takes you to the centre of the hall area, where the roof's glass so that it's slightly isolated from the result of the expanse, and the moonlight's shining in like a spotlight. there are only a few people dancing there, mostly couples. but seungcheol and you dance at the very centre, lost in each other's eyes, forgetting that this is a public place. it doesn't matter. nothing does. except him.

you are in love, your best friend's voice floats into your mind. and you smile as you look into seungcheol's eyes, realising she was right all along.

so you tell him.

"i love you, cheol."

seungcheol stutters in his step for a second. but it doesn't matter. your pace was anyway too slow. he pulls you closer against his chest, and cups your cheek with one hand. "what's that?"

"i told you this night's about you. and i've realised it now. i am in love."

and when seungcheol kisses you later that night, you're downright thankful you've finally realised your feelings. because how did you ever think you'd survive without his cherry kisses?

#simpxxstan #simpxxstan's 550 followers celebration event #request answered!#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #svt #svt x reader #seventeen x you #svt fluff #seungcheol imaqines #scoups fluff #svt imagines #svt scoups #choi seungcheol #scoups

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justsomerandomfanfic · 1 year ago

Text

Tangled Hearts - Fitzwilliam Darcy X Female Reader

Title: Tangled Hearts

Fitzwilliam Darcy X Female Reader

(Could be seen with either BBC Darcy or the 2005 Darcy; I personally see it as the 2005 version/settings based off the 2005 one)

Additional Characters: Reader's parents, Charles Bingley, Caroline, George Wickham (Mentioned), Jane Bennet (Mentioned), Georgiana Darcy (Mentioned), other random people (Mentioned), Albert Wright (OC), Mr. Took (OC) (Mentioned), and Duke Phillip Colston (OC) (Mentioned)

WC: 7,526

Warnings: Typical Pride and Prejudice era misogyny and so on, toxic parents, Reader is mentioned to wear dresses and heels, Reader hates balls, society sucks, Caroline, banter, gossip, arranged marriages, Darcy's in love, scandals mentioned, yelling, crying, Charles is the voice of reason, itty bit of suggestion (time period wise), angst, and fluff

Pemberley. Your home away from home. The large country estate was gorgeous, surrounded by vivid green grass, and which sat across a crystal clear lake. You loved Pemberley not only for its beauty, but because the place had become your own haven of peace and solitude. It was where you could be yourself without worrying about being judged or ostracized.

Though, during the time, you always were forced to look so prim and proper, on days where you had no other responsibilities, you would sneak out to sit on the soft grass outside. That was the only time you really felt free.

As a child, you visited Pemberley more often than not. Your family were great friends with the Darcys and Bingleys, resulting in you spending a lot of time at the residence and within their presence. You had become close friends with Charles Bingley - his sister, Caroline, not so much - George Wickham, and Fitzwilliam Darcy.

During your later adolescent years, you had briefly traveled to the Longbourn estate, where you had grown close to Jane and Elizabeth Bennet, despite your parent's wishes. Your mother specifically didn't want you spending time with those in the Middle Class. That didn't stop you though.

Out of the three, Charles, Caroline, and Fitzwilliam, you spent most of your time with the latter. And eventually Georgiana Darcy in the later upcoming years. Ever since you were a young child, you would travel to Pemberley with your parents, occasionally playing with the young Darcy if you were both not in lessons with your shared tutor.

You never really understood why both you and Fitzwilliam were tutored together, you never voiced your questions out loud, in fear of being scolded. But, during your many years in the company of Fitzwilliam, the two of you became very close friends, which was only natural having grown up together.

As the years went on, your parents began forcing you to attend balls, and at the age of twenty-two, you began to realize that they were actively looking for a suitable husband for you. You had a distaste for the idea, but were forced to comply, knowing that they would not end the search, no matter how many times you had voiced your own wishes.

Thankfully, Charles, Caroline, and Fitzwilliam were usually always attended. And occasionally, you'd spend time with Jane and Lizzie when they attended the same events, but otherwise, you would stand on the sidelines with Fitzwilliam as everyone else danced.

Your personality, though more reserved, wasn’t lacking. You had a great sense of humor, a sharp intellect, and an excellent memory. You enjoyed reading books and watching plays and operas; at a time wishing you could play a part in either one. You were kind, and generous to a fault; which, when you were younger, had gotten you into some trouble at times. You were very free-spirited, not afraid to speak your mind in certain situations; which your parents thought resulted in you spending too much time with Elizabeth Bennet.

Fitzwilliam, though holding many similar interests, his demeanor was seemingly unfriendly, aloof, and unapproachable. He kept to himself, rarely engaging in social activities and never participating in conversations unless spoken to first. And while he was a bit arrogant and proud, he was actually very caring and understanding towards the ones that he held in high esteem. He still remained distant from most people, preferring to watch them from afar with a critical, often anxious - though, he was rather good at hiding it, gaze.

You usually stood on the sidelines with Fitzwilliam at balls, only occasionally dancing with some random man your parents wanted you to dance with; in hopes some spark ignites. But, you disliked dancing, especially with strangers, and preferred to read books and relax in your room. Fitzwilliam, ever the gentleman, would start up some sort of conversation with you, albeit awkwardly. Though it happened rarely, it was always welcome; all the balls that you have ever been to have always been dreadful, but less so with Fitzwilliam there.

Balls had become associated with finding suitors and respectable husbands, rather than having fun and enjoying yourself, and you were beginning to resent that aspect of life. You knew that there was going to be a very low chance, or none at all, that you would be allowed to choose your own husband; or even have any say in the arrangement in the first place. If you did have a choice, you would choose Fitzwilliam. A few years prior, you noticed that you had developed feelings for him, feelings that were growing every single day.

You greatly admired Fitzwilliam, his intelligence, kindness, gentleness, handsomeness, and overall good nature. But you said nothing of it. You knew you had no choice in who you were going to marry - whether you liked it or not. So you kept your head down and tried not to think of it too much. Though, it was hard to not think about him, you spent a lot of time with the man after all. But, being a very respectable and composed young woman, you didn't show most of your emotions to others.

As an Upper Class woman, you were required to follow every rule laid out by your parents and society. You also had a duty to act demure in public, especially during formal events, and to appear to be a perfectly poised young lady. This was something that you hated, not being able to express yourself freely, or to be your true self. But, you were really good at it. Being taught to hold unwanted emotions at bay, which you had learned to hold certain romantic feelings for Fitzwilliam in a tightly controlled manner.

Sitting in one of the many sitting rooms in Pemberley, you quietly sipped your tea with Fitzwilliam and Caroline. It was silent, aside from the occasional clink of a tea cup being placed upon a small saucer, the sound of Fitzwilliam's quill upon the parchment, and the sound of you turning the pages of your book as you read. Whilst your mind was elsewhere, you hardly noticed Caroline as she read some letter about a scandal some banker was in before hearing your friends, Elizabeth Bennet's presence being announced.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

Shutting your book, you let a small smile grace your features as Lizzie entered, her hair down and mud on her shoes. She gave a polite smile, looking around the room as Fitzwilliam stood and gave a curt bow of the head. Setting your book on the table before you, you walked over to the young woman, greeting her with a quick hug.

After a moment of silence, Caroline quietly gasped, "Good lord, Elizabeth. Did you walk here?”

"I did..." She answered as you both pulled away from the hug.

"Lizzie, it is so good to see you. Are you well? It has been ages since we last spoke." You asked, "I hope you won't become ill. It was rather chilly out this morning."

"I am well, thank you. And yourself?" She asked softly.

Clasping your hands together before you, you nodded, "I am doing marvelously, thank you. We will have to have tea together sometime soon, I miss our riveting conversations."

Lizzie's smile widened, "Of course." After another slightly awkward moment, she continued, "I'm so sorry, how's my sister?" She brought her eyes to Fitzwilliam and Caroline.

"She's upstairs." Fitzwilliam answered and Elizabeth nodded.

"Thank you." With one last look and smile towards you, she left the room with haste.

Letting out a small sigh, you walked back to the table, sitting back down in your seat and reopening your book. "My goodness, did you see her hem? Six inches deep in mud. She looked positively medieval." She mocked with amusement in her tone, and you rather hoped that she would finish speaking, but she wasn't done. Caroline then turned to you, and braced yourself for her words, "That was rather unlady-like, wasn't it?" She asked, as you flipped to the next page of your book.

"May I ask you to elaborate, Caroline?" You asked, barely giving the woman a glance as you continued reading. Ever since you were a young child, you and Caroline had never seen eye to eye. You weren't exactly fond of each other, and you didn't care to try getting along any better than you already did.

"Greeting her in such a manner." Caroline responded as she picked up a small finger sandwich.

You flipped to the next page, "Isn't it rather unlady-like to bring yourself into one's business, Caroline?" You asked, looking up to look at the women with a raised eyebrow. She only said nothing, letting out a small scoff as she looked away. "Oh, Caroline, dear... You have a little bit of something..." You began, lightly tapping the side of your mouth; even though she had nothing even blemishing her face.

Caroline quickly snatched a napkin from the table, dabbing the corner of her mouth. If she was embarrassed, she didn't show it, but you could tell by the way she fidgeted slightly in her seat that she was anything but pleased. Before going back to your book, you glanced over at Fitzwilliam, who had sat back down minutes ago, a very, very small smile on his face; his eyes held some amusement. Smiling lightly yourself, you went back to your book and tea.

~~~

It was a particular sunny day, birds singing in the trees, and clouds rolling through the sky. It was a beautiful afternoon, and you were enjoying it immensely. The weather was perfect for taking a stroll in the countryside, and if you were being honest, you loved being outdoors. The sun felt warm and inviting against your skin, the breeze gently blowing past you caused your dress to flutter a bit in the breeze. Carrying your book in your hand, you found a nice grassy spot to sit, not too far from Pemberley, but close enough to the lake that you felt at ease. You opened your book to where you had left off earlier and took a deep breath, trying to clear your mind of any unpleasant thoughts.

You did not know how much time had passed before you heard footsteps, but you didn't bother looking up. When the person then took a seat beside you on the grass, you moved your gaze away from your book, looking up. There sat Fitzwilliam, his expression unreadable. "How may I be of service, Fitzwilliam?" You asked, placing your bookmark between the pages of your novel, closing it gently and setting it in your lap.

"I had been looking for you," He began, staring straight ahead, "May I accompany you for a while?" He added, and you nodded.

"As you wish." You replied, "I'd love the company, Fitz." He didn't say anything else, just giving you a short nod, a barely visible smile before looking off at the lake.

You went back to your book, opening it once more to where you had left off, but you didn't feel like continuing. It seemed that he had something on his mind, and it seemed that he wasn't in the mood to talk about it. Perhaps it would do him good to get it off his chest. But you knew better in asking him to do such, though he was pretty open with you in general, Fitzwilliam was quite reserved when it came to matters of the heart; he'd hide things behind a façade of calm and composure when talking to those around him. So you didn't say anything, didn't push him, allowing Fitzwilliam to take his time.

After a couple of minutes, he finally spoke, "What is it that you are reading?" He asked, turning his gaze to the book in your hands.

Looking up, you meet his gaze, "It's called 'Emma.' It speaks of a young woman who thinks of herself as a matchmaker." You replied softly.

"Ah. I suppose I should not be surprised that your reading has led you to romantic literature." Fitzwilliam commented.

"Well, I wouldn't say that." You countered. "I simply find them fascinating, as they give me new perspectives." You explained, tilting your head to the side slightly, "Have you read this publication?" You asked, motioning towards the book in your lap.

"No, I have not. I believe Miss Caroline had mentioned it in passing once." He admitted, and you gave a small hum in response. "Though she was not seemingly fond of it."

You lightly scoffed, turning to stare at the lake before you, "I would suspect that she finds it distasteful." Another silence washed over the two of you, and you found yourself looking at Fitzwilliam. You could sense an uneasiness in his gaze, though there was something else there, as well. You wanted to ask what was bothering him, but you decided against it, knowing better than to pry into the affairs of another person. However, you were curious, and as you watched his eyes dart across the water, you knew you needed to speak. "Are you feeling alright, Fitz?" You questioned softly.

Fitzwilliam looked over at you, staring at you before speaking, "I apologize if you feel that I am acting peculiar..."

"Do not worry. You are not behaving strangely." You assured him, smiling slightly, "I am just worried that something might be on your mind."

Fitzwilliam pursed his lips briefly, his blue eyes locked with yours. The way you looked at him caused his stomach to flutter nervously, your overall presence made him nervous, and the overwhelming pounding of his heart was deafening. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was completely and utterly hopelessly in love with you. How could he ever resist you? He wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms, kiss you until the world disappeared, and tell you everything. But that would be highly inappropriate and perhaps even selfish, and he knew that. He had no right to ask such of you, and he knew that; he pushed those desires aside immediately and forced himself to think rationally.

"Would it be presumptuous of me to inquire as to if you are going to be attending the ball this fortnight?" He finally asked, his voice low, his eyes flickering over your features.

Your heart skipped a beat upon hearing the question, and you could not help but swallow dryly. "Yes, I will be attending. As you know, my parents wouldn't allow me to miss the event, even though I would much rather be reading in my room." You answered, trying to keep the trepidation out of your voice.

"I must agree with you. I would much rather be alone in my room as well." He replied quietly, lowering his gaze back to his own lap.

"Well," You sighed out, grabbing your book once more, "At least we will have each other's presence to distract us from the tedium of the events." You said in an attempt to lighten the air, but he only offered a small chuckle before he turned his gaze back to the lake.

Silence fell over the both of you again, with the soft sound of the wind rustling through the leaves and the birds flying overhead filling the space between the two of you. The atmosphere was peaceful, as it always was whenever you were together. For you, the silence was comforting, and Fitzwilliam enjoyed the silence as well. It was rare when the both of you had the chance to have a quiet moment together, so this was always a treat for you both.

~~~

Standing at the edge of the room, in your best dress from the newest season, you stood beside Fitzwilliam as the ball was in full swing. Your eyes surveyed the large room, glancing from the dancing couples, people chatting amongst their family, friends, etcetera, and finally, your parents. They stood, speaking with a man, whom you couldn't quite place his name on. From where you were, you could not understand fully what they were saying, which worried you slightly.

And it seemed that Fitzwilliam had noticed your straying gaze on your parents, and how your satin-gloved hands fumbled together nervously in front of you.

"Do not mind them." He muttered to you, leaning slightly towards you so you could hear him over the music.

"It is hard not to, Fitz," You spoke, turning your gaze away from your parents and back out upon the dancing. "They've been trying to find me a husband for the past couple of months. I am hoping at some point they will give up in their search."

"By the way that you speak, it would seem that you do not wish to marry." Fitzwilliam said, and you turned your head to look up at him.

"You know me, Fitzwilliam." You sighed, shaking your head slightly, "I do not want to marry someone I am unsure of. Besides, there were many whom were willing to offer marriage to a lady like me, and many of them, if I must say so myself, were handsome in all senses of the word. But from the few who have offered me marriage, I have turned away. I know that they had only seen my wealth, status, and looks rather than my personality. And I find that I cannot fathom the idea of marrying someone so shallow, or lacking in depth and solidity for that matter."

"I admire your strength of character." He said, looking down at you.

"Thank you, Fitz." You smiled sweetly up at him. "I admire your kindness and integrity." You added, your smile becoming genuine as he returned your smile with one of his own; though hardly noticeable.

"Daughter," Your gaze swiftly moved from your long-time friend to your mother, who stood with your father, and another gentleman you have never met before. "I would like you to meet Mr. Albert Wright. He's the owner of the Wright & Co. bank here in England." She informed you, a smile on her face, but her eyes held such excitement.

This Albert fellow was certainly some character, judging by his attire. His suit had a deep black waistcoat, a dark green vest, black breeches, and black shoes. And despite his clothing being quite plain, he did make an imposing figure; he was tall and broad, with a strong jawline, and he appeared to be very well built. His hair was dark brown, curly, and cut short, and his eyes a brilliant green.

You curtsied to him, trying to be as polite as possible, "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Wright." You greeted, forcing a smile upon your face.

"Please, call me Albert." He spoke, his voice deeper than you expected. Surprising you further as he bows his head and then offers you his hand. "May I have the honor of asking you to dance, my lady?"

The thought of taking his hand made you nervous, yet you took it regardless; not wanting to cause a scene or to upset your mother and father. Fitzwilliam stood helplessly as he watched you being led across the room by Mr. Albert just as another song began; his frown deepened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched as you danced with Mr. Albert.

"Lovely match, don't you think, Mr. Darcy?" Your mother asked Fitzwilliam as she watched you dance with the banker.

Fitzwilliam reluctantly spoke, "I suppose so." He responded nonchalantly, averting his gaze momentarily before looking back over at you once more. Fitzwilliam had recognized the name Albert Wright from a couple of weeks prior. Having heard what the name had done, Fitzwilliam couldn't stop himself from warning your parents about Mr. Albert Wright's past scandal. "Madam, I understand wholeheartedly that you wish only the best for your daughter, but I feel that I must inform you that Mr. Albert was a part of a scandal many years ago regarding an older woman, whose husband was a respected merchant."

Your mother's eyes widened at the news, her hand coming to be placed upon her chest in shock, "Where did you hear of this, sir?" She inquired, your father mirroring his wife's expression, but he said nothing.

"From Miss Caroline, madam." He explained, turning to face the dancing crowd, his eyes following your figure.

Her mouth parted in surprise, her eyes widening further, "This is absolutely unacceptable! Our daughter should not associate with a man like this!" She exclaimed, her tone raising to one of anger as she glared at Mr. Albert.

By the end of the dance, Albert raised your hand and pressed a kiss to your gloved hand, bowing his head as you curtsied. Finally, you had thought, saying your goodbyes and thank yous to the man before heading back to your mother, father, and Fitzwilliam.

As you got closer, your eyebrows furrowed slightly, seeing your mother and father's angry expressions as they spoke to one another. Finding your spot next to Fitzwilliam, you leaned slightly towards the man to speak. "What has gotten my parents in such a temper?" You asked him, noticing his shoulders tensing slightly.

He glanced over at you briefly and shook his head lightly, "I am afraid I don't know. Perhaps it concerns Mr. Albert." He mused softly, keeping his eyes locked onto yours.

"But why is Papa so enraged? I haven't seen him this red since Mr. Took had tried to cheat him out of some money." You commented softly, looking up towards your parents once more.

"I believe it has to do with the fact that Mr. Albert had been a part of a scandal many years back." Fitzwilliam answered, making your jaw drop slightly, your hand coming up to cover your shock.

"And where did you hear of such a thing?" You asked quickly, wanting to know more details as to what scandal that Mr. Albert had gotten involved in.

Fitzwilliam looked down at you for a moment, turning back to the dancing, "If my memory serves me correctly, Miss Caroline had read upon it in a letter."

Trying to hide the smirk on your face, you lightly cleared your throat. "Well, isn't this unexpected," You muttered, amused. "And I could only assume that you had mentioned such news to my parents?" You asked, looking up at the name, eyes glinting with amusement.

Fitzwilliam looked down at you, nodding his head slowly, thinking, "Yes, you would be correct." He confirmed, saying nothing else which only made you smile.

"Well, thank you, Fitz," You began, "Without you, I wouldn't doubt my parents would have me married off to the man." You joked before another peaceful silence engulfed you both - that is, it was peaceful for you.

Fitzwilliam looked down at you from beneath his eyelashes, studying you carefully, almost as if he were trying to memorize every feature of your face. When he realized that he was staring, he quickly turned away, clearing his throat lightly as he gained the courage to offer his hand out. You looked over, looking up at the man, to his hand, and back.

As you raised your eyebrow in question, he finally spoke, "Would you like to dance, my lady?" He asked softly, and you couldn't help the smile that grew on your face. You had your shock well, but you were surprised that

"That sounds lovely." You whispered, placing your hand into his gently.

~~~

The sun was shining brightly as it peeked through the clouds, causing the water to sparkle with each droplet of rain that hit the surface. You love it when the sun's shining and it's raining at the same time. You had started your day as you usually did when you stayed at your family estate; waking up in your lavish bed, before getting ready for the day. Choosing one of your favorite day dresses, you style your hair neatly, grabbing a new book before leaving your chambers. Before breakfast, you did your daily practice on the piano for a moment before sitting in one of the sitting rooms and reading your book.

Joining your mother and father for breakfast, you ate delicious small cakes, breads, and hot coffee. Breakfast was pretty peaceful and quiet, aside from your father occasionally speaking up. After a while, the topic shifted from the conversation regarding your plans for the afternoon, which included spending the time walking about the grounds, as you had previously intended to do earlier in the morning.

You hid your feelings well, but you wished that you were at Pemberley at the moment. You had never really felt comfortable or a part of your family's estate. You loved both your parents dearly, but they were rather strict compared to how you're used to life at Pemberley. In truth, you missed staying there; however, you were happy that you were able to stay with your family once again and you didn't want to disrupt their routine. So, you continued to smile politely through your father's comments and continued to eat your food.

You had begun to zone out at some point of your father's speech, nodding along when you thought necessary when suddenly, you heard your name being called. You snapped your head up to see your mother with a small frown on her face. "Your father had asked you a question, young lady." She informed you. You bowed your head and apologized for spacing out. Your mother sighed, placing her small fork down on her fine China plate. "Your father had asked if you desired to attend the upcoming ball at Pemberley?" Pushing your shoulders back, your mind racking at your mother's words. But before you could answer, your mother cut back in, "We know that you don't have a fondness for such events." Your mother included, which you found odd and surprisingly thoughtful, that she was aware of your dislike for socializing, and was finally letting you have a choice in the matter.

Though, you couldn't help but wonder, why now? What had happened or what had been said that would allow your parents to change their minds? Looking up, your eyes met your mother's, "If I may, mother, I had thought that you would want me to attend such gatherings. Has something happened to change your mind so?" You asked her, tilting your head slightly as you spoke.

Your mother nodded her head, her smile widening with excitement, "Precisely so, but we have splendid news for you." Glancing to your father, he then decided to speak, clearing his throat before doing so.

"Your mother and I have found you a suitor. We have met with him many times over these past few weeks and we have deemed him to be most suitable. We have decided to arrange for your engagement with him." Your father announced.

Your breath caught in your throat, unable to utter even a word. You felt as if the world had begun to crumble around you, all your efforts of being independent forgotten as your father's words sunk in. You wanted the Earth to swallow you whole, the sky to open up and spit you back out, and any other form of escape would be welcomed by you. Your heart ached as your father finished speaking, your fingers twitching slightly as you grasped your fork tightly; your knuckles turning white.

Your lips and mouth felt extremely dry as you opened your mouth and licked your lips, a shaky breath escaping you, "Who have you arranged me with?" You asked, "... If I may inquire?" Your voice was shallow and quiet, your gaze directed downwards.

"Duke Phillip Colston, a very wealthy gentleman who lives here in England." Your father replied, watching you closely as if waiting for you to react. "I believe you'll make a very respectable wife for him, just so as long as you do not cause him too much trouble. He is an eligible bachelor after all." Your father added quietly.

Sighing inwardly, you lifted your head to look at your parents, swallowing heavily, "Do I have any say in this?" You questioned, your voice still weak as your hands clenched into fists under the table. You could feel tears building in your eyes, and you desperately blinked them away, refusing to let them fall as you tried your hardest to keep yourself composed.

"I am afraid not, dear," Your mother answered, "We have gone countless months trying to find you a respectable and kind suitor - a man who is willing and able to take care of you and provide you with all the comforts of society. And yet, all of our attempts have failed." Her tone grew seemingly irritated. "Every man we had brought to you, offering marriage, you have turned away." Her voice rose into one of anger. "You are at a point where men will not even be interested in marrying you, your refusals are becoming the talk of the town, gossip, and blather, and I will not have it." She practically spat angrily, looking up at you with fire in her eyes, a fire that you could not seem to extinguish.

You stared at your mother silently, a slight pain throbbing through your heart as you took in her words, "I understand wholeheartedly, mother," You began, pushing your chair back to stand, and setting your napkin onto your empty China plate. "I will say this, that I have no desire to marry such a man; duke or not. My heart belongs to someone who is worthy of it." You stated firmly. You then turned on your heel, walking out of the room without saying another word.

Once you were out of their sight, knowing that they weren't going to follow you, you ran. Rushing out into the hall, you ignored the odd looks from your family's servants and maids, swiftly making your way to the front doors and stumbling out into the chill air. Breathing heavily, you felt everything rushing through your veins and blood; flowing throughout your body. Without a second thought, you stepped out into the light rain before running once again.

You kept running and running, your feet stomping into the wet grass, hair plastered to your face, cold rain falling onto your face; soaking your dress. You didn't care nor have any mind to where you were running or where you were, you just needed to get away. Away from them. Away from them all. Your life, you had no power, no control over it; no matter how hard you fought against it, you could not escape fate.

You had known that at some point, your parents would grow tiresome of your constant rejection of the men they had brought to you. You knew it was going to be only a matter of time before they would just arrange for you to marry someone else. It was bound to happen sooner or later, considering your age. You weren't getting any younger, and no one wanted a spinster for a daughter.

Still breathing heavily, you came to a stop in a dewy field, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. Finally, you let the tears fall from your eyes, your vision blurry as the water streaming down your cheeks. You wiped your cheek with your sleeve as a sob escaped your lips. You collapsed to the ground in a heap, feeling as if your heart was breaking all over again. The day of the shining sun and the falling rain, something that you had once adored, now only seemed to mock you. As you cried softly, ignoring how cold and drenched you were, you did not hear the sounds of hooves, and someone calling your name. Only when you felt someone touch your shoulder, did you look up.

Fitzwilliam's usually stoic expression was long gone, replaced with worry and concern. His brows furrowed together as he looked at your tear-stained cheeks, and your dampened dress. Fitzwilliam slowly helped you to your feet, helping you lean against him as he guided you to his horse. You did not remember much of the ride back to Pemberley, nor entering the large estate, nor when you were rushed off with a couple of housemaids. You felt numb as you were in the bath, hair being washed and skin being scrubbed. During that time, you had only wished the bath water to be scalding.

You were quickly dressed in an afternoon dress - one of the dresses that you had kept in your room for when you stayed at the estate - swiftly, you were brought to your room. You sat on your bed, in the home that you'd grown to love more than your own, gazing out the window as the rain began to slowly cease, revealing a beautiful blue sky. A sigh left your lips as a knock sounded upon your door, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"Enter," You muttered, surprisingly loud enough for the person to hear, as they opened the door.

Turning your attention from the window, you looked over to see Fitzwilliam, the same worry on his beautiful features as when he had found you in the field in the pouring rain. Silently, he sat beside you, leaving enough space to make you feel comfortable. It wasn't long until Fitzwilliam's curiosity and urgency to see whatever was the matter got the best of him. He watched as you fiddled with your fingers and sighed deeply, "What troubles you? Why were you sitting among the fields?" His voice was soft, filled with concern, and you raised your hand to your hair; brushed but not styled.

You felt your eyes well up with tears once more, a breathy sigh leaving your lips before you spoke, "I have been arranged to marry Duke Colston." You answered, a voice at the same level as the man beside you. You couldn't even bear to look at him, if you did, you were sure that the tears in your eyes would become a waterfall.

There was silence for several moments as you awaited Fitzwilliam's response. When finally, you glanced towards him, his gaze was locked straight ahead as if lost in thought, "Is this something that you are unhappy about?" Fitzwilliam inquired, his voice calm.

"Incredibly so," You answered with a breath, "I do not wish to marry that man, nor ever." You said, your words laced with bitterness, looking down at your lap, "But I do not know what to do. Despite everything, I cannot bring myself to refuse." You admitted, feeling guilty as soon as you finished speaking. Though you did not agree with the society that you lived in nor the repressing of women's voices, you knew that this was something that had to be done. Not for you, but for your family, no matter how much you detested the idea. "I will have to go along with the matter, for it pleases my family."

Fitzwilliam stared at the side of your face, subconsciously admiring you as he thought. In his heart, he despised that you were forced to marry someone who was unworthy of you - you did not deserve that, you deserved far better. But what could he do? Again, Fitzwilliam was hopeless. He was unable to do much of anything. Right before him, you were miserable, and he could do nothing but sit here and offer you comfort. He did not even know which he could offer you at this point. He could only watch helplessly as you felt like he was watching you crumble right before his very eyes. His time was up, his hopes diminished, his dreams crushed.

~~~

Fitzwilliam sat in his office, staring down at the many papers and letters before him on his desk. The ticking of the grandfather clock was loud within the silent atmosphere, its deep, heavy, and unenthusiastic noises echoing around the room, as Fitzwilliam tried to force himself to focus. He was not successful, however, as his mind drifted to you every time he closed his eyes. Every time, he would imagine you, dancing with the Duke, marrying the Duke, starting a family with the Duke. Everything that Mr. Darcy himself had desired with you.

He sighed heavily and rubbed at his forehead, closing his eyes briefly as images of you danced across his mind. You, in his arms. Dancing at the ball from only a month ago. You looked up at him with those eyes, those eyes that held his heart. You laughed, and he swore to himself that he would do everything in his power to keep you happy and laughing; he could not lose you. But he did. Why did he not ask for your hand?

A knock sounded at his office door and Fitzwilliam snapped his eyes open, turning his head to face the door. "Enter." He called out, clearing his throat. He watched as Charles Bingley, one of his friends, walked in, bowing slightly before giving him a small smile.

"Her parents have sent a carriage," He spoke to Fitzwilliam, "She'll be leaving soon, Darcy."

Fitzwilliam nodded, placing his quill back on top of his desk as he stood, walking over to the window, peering down at the carriage, "How long before she leaves?" He asked, but before he could receive an answer, he watched as you entered his vision, seemingly thanking the driver, and though reluctantly, stepping into the carriage.

Charles walked over, standing beside the man as he watched you leave. The man then glanced at his friend, observing him. The stoic look on his face, though more brooding, did not mask the sadness and pain that resided in his eyes; clearly, he cared deeply for you. Charles, and anyone else close to either of you, could have seen that.

"You care for her," Charles spoke softly, Fitzwilliam's shoulders stiffening slightly at his words, "I believe that you might even love her, Darcy."

Fitzwilliam turned toward Charles with an odd look on his face, "What makes you say such a thing?" He asked, though he already knew the answer.

"The way you look at her, the way you speak to her," Charles paused, smiling warmly at Fitzwilliam, "There is no one else that looks at her the way you do," Fitzwilliam said nothing, turning his gaze away from the window and heading back towards his desk once your carriage was out of sight. "You should go after her." Charles said suddenly before leaving the room.

Fitzwilliam sat back down at his desk, letting out a deep sigh as he let himself slouch a little. Charle's words were ringing throughout his mind, causing him to frown deeper. He didn't know how long he sat there as he stared at the paper and his quill in front of him before he suddenly stood and grabbed his coat.

~~~

Sitting in the sitting room, book in hand, your mind could hardly focus on the words written in the book. Your thoughts were all on Fitzwilliam, all on the future, and your upcoming marriage with another man you did not love. Your mind already distracted, you snapped your head over to the study's entranceway, hearing muttering coming from down the hall. You could not make out anything, only hearing that it was two men speaking, but you furrowed your brows; hearing the muttering quiet before hearing the closing of another door. Curiosity was clawing at you but you turned back to your book, trying your hardest to get back to reading it.

But as two hours passed, having checked the clock every ten minutes or so, you began to grow restless. Shutting your book, you stared at the doorway, trying to strain your ears to hear anything, but you could not make out anything. The large estate was quiet, aside from the hustling of the servants. You looked over at the clock on the wall, about to stand to practice the piano to calm your nerves before your mother walked into the room.

She stood, tall and poised as usual, a small smile on her face. With a small gesture, she told you to stand and follow her. And you did so, forgetting your book on the velvet loveseat and following your mother to your father's office. With a steady knock, the door opened and a small gasp left your lips.

Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy stood beside your father, who sat at his office desk, leaned back, and with a thoughtful expression on his face. Immediately as the door opened, Fitzwilliam turned to face you, bowing respectively, as you glanced from your mother and to your father. Looking back to your long-time friend, you tilted your head to the side slightly, "Mr. Darcy, this is a surprise." You then looked to your mother and father once more, "Whatever is the matter?" You questioned.

Your father gave you a soft nod, "Please, join us." More than confused at this point - bewildered - you stepped further into the room, your mother leaving your side to stand next to your father at his desk. "Mr. Darcy here has come to inform us of something rather pressing." Your father answered finally, standing from his leather chair with a small grunt. "We shall leave you both to converse," He added as he made his way out of the room, followed by your mother.

As soon as they were gone, you turned to Fitzwilliam, "Whatever is going on, Fitzwilliam?" You asked as the man in question took a step towards you.

And though he had a small frown on his face, his blue eyes held such vulnerability, such tenderness. "My lady," He muttered, his eyes searching yours, "I must confess that I am… Somewhat troubled." Letting out a small breath, he continued as you stared up at him, "For many years, I have found myself longing for you, and I can not seem to help but fall in love with you…" At his words, your eyes widened, and your lips parted slightly as he continued. "I have come to speak with your father about your arrangement. I can not force you to continue, nor can I force you to end it. But I can only hope that you could consider me as a potential suitor - husband rather, if that is agreeable to you."

You felt your breath hitch, your heart racing as you stared at the man you loved confessing that he had feelings for you, as well. After a moment, you managed to regain your composure, though you still remained speechless. Licking your dry lips briefly, you spoke, "It is," You breathed out. The words were barely above a whisper, and yet it seemed so loud to Fitzwilliam. He blinked rapidly, almost surprised at your response. You brushed the stray tear from your cheek, a small crawling sensation taking residence in your stomach. "I would be honored to accept your proposal, Fitzwilliam Darcy."

And though it was brief, you saw his smile before he took a step forward and hesitantly took your hand in his. The skin-on-skin contact, though usually forbidden between a gentleman and a young woman, caused butterflies to fill each of your stomachs as you both pressed your foreheads together, eyes fluttering shut.

~~~

The sun was shining brightly today, as were the birds who were singing their songs in the tree branches, which were swaying lightly in the breeze; the light rain drizzled down from the sky. A content smile spread across your face as you leaned against the railing, overlooking the beautiful gardens that surrounded the estate. Your smile only widened as you felt a pair of arms slowly wrap around your waist, tugging you back into the warmth of Fitzwilliam's body. You hummed and rested your head upon his chest, your hands coming up to cover his.

His arms tightened around your body, pulling you closer to him. "Good morning, my love." He spoke softly, planting a gentle kiss upon your temple. His lips moved along the soft skin of your cheek gently, causing you to shiver as goosebumps rose along your skin.

"Good morning, Fitz," You whispered in return. "I do declare that this is the most beautiful day I've ever experienced." You sighed out as he chuckled, nuzzling into your neck before pressing his lips to the skin there.

"That it is," He agreed before lifting his head and looking into your eyes. He gazed at you lovingly, brushing the hair from your face before leaning in and placing a soft kiss upon your lips. You sighed as he pulled away, allowing his forehead to rest against yours. Your fingers ran through his short hair, gently scratching his scalp as he hummed contently, enjoying the feeling.

"What is the time?" You asked, breaking the silence.

He glanced at his pocket watch, "Just past eight," He stated, giving you a fond smile, "Shall we head to breakfast?" He then suggested, earning a nod from you. Taking your hand in his, you brought it up to your lips, pressing your own kisses to his knuckles before he began to lead you from the balcony.

Behind the both of you, outside the window, just as the rain began to fade away... A rainbow slowly appeared.

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flowerakatsuka · 7 months ago

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i may have gone too hard with one of kuroba's youkai au designs.

( this version of them is meant to be a katawaguruma. )

* rubbing my gay little hands together * there's been some interesting developments in both kuroba's youkai & denki mystery aus.

#blacked out and made them too hot damn 😔#this au has been on my mind ALL DAY #btw what i mean by '' version '' is that there's two kurobas in the youkai au : the human one & the youkai one #they aren't the same entity though. human!kuroba is a decedent of someone related to the person youkai!kuroba formed from #in the context of hesokuri this would probably be their design for the youkai ( darkness ) set #i'll probably try writing up a lore explanation later bc it's actually kinda long especially since i'm incorporating denki mystery into it #but that'll have to wait bc i wanna draw something for the sextuplets' birthday #also anyone who looks up what a katawaguruma ya'll can probably guess how youkai!kuroba is relevant to their denki mystery au :3c #fair warning there might be some disturbing imagery if you look up katawaguruma it's mostly just illustrations but still #it involves n/udity & being consumed by flames so please proceed with caution when looking up information on it!#osmt #youkaimatsu #mj ocs #oc : kuroba #au : youkai #mj draws #mj rambles

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literalite · 11 months ago

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mistki's the land is inhospitable and so are we (2023)!! as edits featuring mine and some of my friends ocs 😁 had a lot of fun with this project... rough explainer of how/why each song corresponds to each character/s under the cut because i love symbolism and talking! sorry it is long

bug like an angel - sapphire

without spoiling too much of her story and arc... sapphire's life is not easy. she's hurt by people she cares for and who care for her, although inadvertently, and in turn hurts people who she cares for and who cared for her, also not by her own volition. it's kind of a terrible truth that you will harm and be harmed by the people you love, even when you and they truly don't want to. it's up to you how much you're willing to take and deal. you can't keep every promise you make and you can't right every wrong. but you have to keep trying anyway. that's sapphire's strength, and the core of her goodness and why i personally consider her one of my favourite ocs. i chose to depict bug like an angel in mitski's more positive interpretation here and in that light i think it works best for saph

buffalo replaced - heiya

well first and foremost the vibes of the song fits heiya perfectly fhgjk but also lyricism and tone... yep. quick breakdown of heiya's background since i doubt i'll ever be able to do it properly she's an interesting character for me because she like a lot of my other characters has lost. everything. she had a wife and a child and they were both killed and she had to leave her home again and again and unlike how some of my others would have taken this she has never flagged in her unwavering dedication to preserving hope. for herself for her people for the future etc etc. which is a very fucking difficult thing to do! the world changes faster than you can keep up with it sometimes but for heiya she will not let herself tire and be swept away in it all. people rely on her. she's a guiding star as much as she is a woman. she's a lover and a fighter and thats what buffalo replaced means to me! so

heaven - vinny and caleb

i feel like of all my oc couples so far they have like. the sweetest most kind of simply mutually trusting dare i say straight forward love. they just love each other so much and thats all. the world could end around them when theyre together and it'd be okay truly. also yeah vinny is ostensibly in heaven now bye angel i feel like this one was pretty self explanatory. me and who WHEN

i don't like my mind - sunny

he just like me fr (said in denji voice) anyways wow ha. unstoppable unending guilt due to past actions that haunt your every waking moment? throwing yourself into any and all distraction just to take your mind off it, filling your time with other shit so that past sin doesnt for once echo in your awful and hollow brain? this song is perfect for sunny honestly just that sentiment also the "please don't take this job from me".... sometimes the coping is worse. you can be proud of something because you can do it better than anyone else even if that thing is terrible

the deal - wolfgang munch by @gunthermunch

Wolfgang Amadeus Munch. umm this will make more sense later on but it still kind of makes sense now i think. he doesn't want to be himself he keeps . leaving and moving and running away from his own memories his own self in reaction to others. if he could pawn it all off he would. if he could be better in an instant without having to feel every agonising second of change he would! but thats not how the world works. or is it. read munch by gunthermunch thats an order

when memories snow - lilian

i feel the older you get the more your past kind of swells up and trails behind you... at least for lilian that is shes very linked to the different versions of the girl/young woman she used to be. for her its a double edged blade, a lot of her own strength is drawn from who she was and what happened to her throughout her life. they haunt her but she's haunting it back in her own way

my love mine all mine - saige, bellona, ari

stares you down okay so usage of this song very much almost verges into spoiler territory but uhm. uhm. starts twitching basically the whole dynamic here is . sometimes when you love you will sacrifice. and while that is usually a good thing sometimes it is not but sometimes it still is. sometimes you pay your dues for love and sometimes someone else has to pay for your love as well. and whether that is worth it to them remains to be seen. but it's all about love still. whether that's a worthy cause is up to you i suppose

the frost - yoshiki and hikaru from hikaru ga shida natsu

fun fact (or not so fun fact since i had it listed as such) this slot was originally meant to be taken up by a gojo/geto edit and while it still works for them frighteningly well i swerved to do another black and white haired doomed gay pairing gfhjkl; i really recommend yall to read hikaru ga shinda natsu/the summer that hikaru died because honestly it speaks for itself! it's SO good i love it so bad

star - ari and luca by @anjitrait

wow these two did not deserve the horrors the narrative (me) slammed down onto their heads. they're kind of the most married of all time to me but like of course under pressure even the strongest most loving of bonds will warp. they've been together for roughly a decade and a half now. they know and love each other as totally as you could possibly imagine. despite it all i am yours, no matter. are we picking up what i'm putting down chat

i'm your man - nayef and sióar by @lucidicer

after the album dropped like at least 3 people swung into my dms with a ?this you?? about this song which. i mean the fucking dogs that start barking halfway through the song. are you kidding me. but anyways sioyef and devotion. sioyef and putting yourself in your lover's hands and looking to them like they are a god. this is super self explanatory. you know

i love me after you - redacted and ophelia

HM.... all i'll say here is that sometimes the homoerotic tension filled high school friendship where both parties have something very wrong with them but in totally different directions can be. scarring. bad. sometimes love just isn't enough when you don't know what you're meant to do with it and when you've lived in survival mode all your life. but that once the dust clears you can scrape yourself off the ground get up keep going and that isn't gonna be the end for you there. or for love, even. sometimes shit just ain't meant to be and thats ok

#ts4 #urghhgh idek how many hours this is cumulatively. dont wanna #ts4 edit #seph.txt #p

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darlingshane · 1 year ago

Text

Salt of the Earth ~ Part 1

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x OFC

Summary: She was Carmy's best friend growing up, and Michael never looked at her as anything other than that until years later when she comes back to Chicago to start over. In the process, she turns his sorry excuse of a life upside down.

Content/Warnings: Friends to lovers, Fluff, Angst, Family Drama, Dysfunctional relationships, Implied/referenced drug addiction, Alcohol mention, Divorce, Pets, Pet names, Dialogue heavy. Undisclosed age gap (in my mind Michael is late 30s and OC is late 20s, but it's really up to your interpretation).

Word Count: 6.8k // 4 chapters // AO3 link.

A/N: This is set in the year of the Fishes episode on season 2. It starts in summer and slowly builds up to that Christmas.

— This was an anon request that I got a few months ago, I hope you're still around. I tried to fit all the ideas you sent as best I could. There's a bit of info dump on the first chapter, but I hope it isn't too off-putting.

Chapter 1: Best thing since sliced bread

Seconds stretch into minutes, minutes elongate into long hours on slow days like this at The Beef. Especially in summer when the air conditioner stops working for the second time in the middle of August. Any living soul that crosses that door must have a dying wish or be the devil themselves to adventure themselves to what has become Michael's personal hell.

It's been a testing year, and there's so much he can do to fix this place right now. While he waits for Fak to come check the damn AC unit, Michael tends the front while Ebra takes his lunch break.

Turning the paper's pages on the counter, he comes across an article about the extensive fires eating different parts of the country. A wretched thought crosses his mind as he reads – maybe it'd be better to burn this place to the ground and start over. He entertains the idea for a second until the door swings open, inviting more heat into the boiling pot.

He lifts his eyes from the words to find a familiar face approaching the counter. It's not Fak, but a much better vision of someone he used to know.

“Mayhem Maya.”

“Magic Mikey.”

That former thought of burning down this place disappears somewhere in the midst of that beautiful aura that saunters with her big brown eyes, long raven hair, nervous smile, and firm steps.

“It's been a while, Maybird.” Almost ten years since she set foot in this establishment. “What brings you to this hole in the wall?”

“Came to collect that meatball sub you promised at uncle Teddy's funeral, remember?”

“Oh, right.”

Ever since she moved to a different state, he only had seen her a handful of times when she came back for the holidays. Last time he saw her was at the beginning of spring, when her uncle, Ted Silva, passed away.

“I also had an interview at the new vet clinic on the next block.” She places her cross-body bag on an empty stool while she perches her ass on the one next to it.

“How's that going? Did you get tired of California already?”

“No, I love California. But I needed a change of scenery. It's been rough after… you know…” the divorce. She wasn't married for long, but she still can't bring herself to say the word.

“I’ve heard some of it.” He’s pretty much aware of how everything went down. Well, he’s got grapevine’s juicy version of the story, but he never heard her side directly.

Though Michael and Maya know each other as if they were related, they were never close confidants. She always thought he was the coolest guy in Chicago. And he always thought fondly of her, given their families association, and Maya’s close friendship with his brother.

Michael places an order for her sandwich and grabs a soda for her, while she explains she has two more job interviews later.

“Does your mother know you're back?” He folds the paper and props his elbows on the counter.

“She probably does.”

“Still not talking, huh?”

“It's not my fault she made me the black sheep of the family. She’s like vitriol on steroids.”

“Yeah? What happened at the wake? You left before I could say goodbye.”

Michael recalls the tension at the funeral, particularly at the wake when Angela Silva grabbed Maya by the elbow and took her youngest daughter outside the house as if she was still a child that needed to be scolded.

“Nothing. I barely said a word that day. Guess everything I do feels like a personal attack to her. I can admit that I'm not perfect, and that sometimes I've acted up just to get a reaction out of her, but that day she just went off again…” She pauses without finishing that thought to take a refreshing sip of her coke. “And that wasn't nearly as bad as the day I told her I was getting…”

“Divorced? Why can't you say the word? It's not Voldemort.”

“What the hell do you know about Voldemort?”

“How do I… Who took you and Carmy to buy those damn books? Have you forgotten?” Maya shakes her head. “You even tried many times invoking his name, so I was haunted by eaters or something like that. You two were real potterheads.”

“And you were just a pothead,” she laughs, stirring the ice cubes in her drink with a straw. “I totally blocked that out. We were just a couple of nerds.”

“I’d say!”

“Meatball sub!” Richie calls from the pass-through window and takes a second look when catching Maya in the joint. “Maya Papaya?!”

“Please, don’t call me that.” She scoffs while Richie promptly abandons the kitchen and goes around the counter to give her a welcoming hug.

“Did you know she was coming?” He asks Michael, as he props his ass on the bar.

“Had no idea. She just showed up.”

“Did you tell her about Carmy?”

“What about him?”

“He’s in Copenhagen.”

“Oh, I knew about that.”

“You two talk often?”

“Sometimes, I guess.” Barely more likely. They don't even text anymore. She's tried but there's been nothing but crickets at his end for months.

While Richie grills her about Carmy and what she’s been up to, Michael can’t help but look around the shop to notice, from every corner and wall, memories bouncing all at once in his direction. It takes him back in time to those days when she and Carmy were as thick as thieves.

Their shared history goes back to that same street their families have lived on for over thirty years… It’s still clear in his mind, like it was yesterday, when he was forced to babysit them when they wanted to go to the movies or trick-or-treating or the bookstore. That was a little annoying back then, now he fondly remembers all those times in summer, when they’d go to the convenience store to get ice pops on their bikes. Then they’d ride back and sit in the middle of the swanky rug in their living room and watch TV for hours. More than once they were yelled at by Mama Berzatto when she would come home to find melted colorful stains in the fabric. She would lose her shit. Carmy was used to it. Maya wasn’t, but the girl never flinched once cause Donna and her own mother were cut from the same unstable piece of cloth.

Maya and Carmy were really close up until they went separate ways for college. Their bond was something to admire. They had something so special that inevitably, Carmy fell in love with her. She was his best friend and confident. They kept each other's secrets, and Carmy thought she'd feel the same in return. It wasn't a crazy notion. They spent so much time together, everyone thought it'd lead to something more, but that never happened.

Mikey and Richie used to tease the youngest cub relentlessly. They tried multiple times to encourage him to ask her out, but he never found the guts to do it. Especially if it could potentially end their friendship. Carmy didn't want to lose that. Though he never confessed his feelings, Maya always knew. Even in her teens, call it a woman’s intuition, part of her already knew. Maya wished she'd felt the same toward him, but the heart wants what it wants, and she couldn't change that.

What was really fucked up was that she had the most ridiculous crush on the older Berzatto when she was a teen. While she knew he'd never look at her as anything other than Carmy's annoying little friend, that didn't stop her from daydreaming about it for years. It was a secret that no one ever knew and that was placed in a drawer at the back of her mind after she left Chicago.

After graduating, Maya and Carmy stayed in touch for a long time, until their calls and texts became less frequent. They followed different dreams that required a lot of attention and sadly their friendship got hurt in the process.

While she attended Vet School on the west coast, he became a chef on the east.

Maya thrived at school and work. She really went out on her own, and became the woman she always wanted to be. Unsheltered, confident, outspoken. She outgrew her shell and opened herself to new experiences and people. She loved it all. It wasn’t smooth sailing, but for the most part she was pretty happy with her choices.

And now she's back in Chicago, set on a new path and awaiting to see where it takes her.

She’s living in a house in Oak Park with her dog, Coco; Richie fishes out of her. Apparently, she got some money from uncle Teddy, and she’s invested it in a home for her and her beloved staffy.

“Does Carmy know you’re here?” Richie circles back.

“No, I haven't talked to him in months.”

“Why? Did you two have a fall-out or something?”

“There's no why. We're just busy.”

“Mike, help me out here. Weren’t these two fools supposed to get married?”

“Yeah, everyone thought you'd ended up together.”

“Man, I don't know what to tell you, we just didn't,” her head sinks between her shoulders.

“Just get over yourself and hit him up. The kid has been hung up on you since forever. It looks like things didn’t go so well with your marriage and all. You should take that as a sign, you’d never find anyone better than Carmy. The boy could really use some excitement in his life. And so could you.”

“C’mon, leave her alone. Go back to work, Cousin.”

Michael throws her a lifeline, noticing how miserable she looks every time Richie opens his unfiltered mouth.

“He’s not wrong, you know? You and Carmy… it looked like you two had something special.” Michael offers once Richie is back in the kitchen.

“It’s called friendship. You should look it up.” She points out.

“I have Richie.”

“Exactly. You have Richie. Why don't you two marry the other and leave me alone? If you think about it, you were as close to Richie as I was with Carmy. Even more. Should everyone assume you are in love with him? Cause that's what you're implying.”

“Touché. I'll drop it.”

“Look, as hard as it is to believe, there was nothing else between us. I was aware he felt something for me, but I didn’t feel the same.”

“You should give him a chance sometime. He might surprise you.”

It’s not the first time these two have been trying to play matchmaker between Maya and Carmy, and it’s bizarre to see they still do at any given opportunity.

“Okay, if I give Carmy a chance, you have to give Richie a chance. Those are the rules, Berzatto.”

“Oh, I've tried. He's not into me,” he remarks, amused, and leans closer to confess something in a lower voice. “Do you wanna know a secret?”

“Uh, sure.”

“He and Tiffany are having a baby. He just told me a few days ago.”

“What? You let him reproduce? I'll pray for Tiff.”

Chapter 2: Cool as a cucumber

Everything falls slowly into place as Maya settles back in Chicago. She secures the job at the clinic near The Beef, which is a huge relief after her rushed decision of moving back to her hometown without securing a job first. It was part of the plan all along to practice what she loves but never thought this would be the year. As much as she loved California, once her divorce was finalized she felt like something was trapping her there. And the money she got from her uncle gave her some leeway to improvise, get away from all that, and start over.

Maya is spending her morning going through the stack of unpacked boxes, finding a good place for everything, making it feel more homey. It's not a big house, but spacious enough for the two of them. The big selling point was the backyard for Coco to zoom around and cool down in her wading pool, which she loves. It didn't take long for the five-year-old pup to get used to her new neighborhood. They've even made a couple of friends at the park nearby.

A moment before the doorbell rings, Coco whines from her spot by the window, where she often sits to watch passers in the street.

“Who is it?” Maya playfully asks her dog as she makes her way to the front door.

Through the peephole, she sees Michael's profile as he inspects the porch.

“Hi,” her eyes widen as she opens the door. “Didn't know you were coming.”

“Yeah, I would've called, but I didn't get your number the other day.” But he got her address from Richie's intense questioning when she visited the shop.

“I knocked on two different houses until I got the right one,” he explains as Coco curiously circles around his feet, sniffing his pants, hitting his crotch with her nose in the process.

“No, Coco. Sit. How many times have we talked about no nut-tapping?” Maya glances at her with amusement as the dog sits on her haunches.

“It’s fine,” he snorts. “All dogs do that.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. But she’s not any other dog. I thought I had taught her better. So what brings you here?”

“This.” He offers the paper bag hanging in his hand. “It's just a little house-warming gift.”

“You didn't have to.” As she takes the bag from his hand she ushers him inside before closing the door.

“It's nothing, really.”

He glances around as Maya takes out the box from the bag.

“Wow, a set of knives? That's not nothing.”

“Everyone needs one good set of knives. But you can exchange them for something else if you want.”

“No. I like these. But I gotta warn you that I'm not much of a cook, and I'll probably use the same one for everything.”

“That's fine I can show you sometime though. Is she friendly? ” He points at the dog that keeps staring at him. “Can I pet her?”

“Yeah, she loves everyone. Go ahead.”

Michael cautiously pets the brown coat of her head as her floppy ears lower at the passing of his hand.

“Never pictured you with a pit bull.”

“Me neither. I always thought I'd be a cat lady. But I met her at this adoption drive when she was one, and she stole my heart.”

“I can see why.” Michael crouches down, and pets Coco with both hands. “She's really sweet.”

He lets her lick his chin a couple of times before standing back on his feet. Then they go on a tour around the house.

“It's still a work in progress. I'm thinking of painting a few walls, but we like it so far.”

“Yeah, it has good bones.”

“So you don't have to work today?” Asks Maya.

“No, we've had some trouble with the gas line, and we've been shut down for a couple of days.”

“That sucks. Now where am I going to get my sandwiches and coffee on my way to work?”

“Heard Starbucks is pretty good.”

“Shut up. Don't even joke about that.” She playfully shoves his shoulder as they go back to the living room.

“Are you doing something later?”

She shakes her head. “Why?”

“I don't know, thought you were having a comeback party or something.”

“I don't really have any friends here. And I don't feel like inviting my family yet. As you can see, I still have a lot to unpack.”

“Physically or mentally speaking?”

“Both,” she scoffs.

“Let's do something then? Just you and me. We could grab some pizza, or go out for a drink for old times’ sake?”

“Old times’ sake?” It's amusing, surprising and confusing his sudden interest in her. Maybe he can see how pathetic she thinks she is, and he's taking pity on her. Although, that was never Michael style.

“Yeah, c'mon, Mayhem. You look like you could use some fun.” He picks up a book that's sitting on top from the box opened by the couch that's titled — Dating Again with Courage and Confidence: The Five-Step Plan to Revitalize Your Love Life after Heartbreak, Breakup, or Divorce. “And maybe a rebound or something. You don't need a fucking help book. You only need me to show where to get the best guys, or girls. Whatever you're into.”

“Give me that. I don't need a rebound, a help book, or you for all matter finding me a date.”

“No? Then why do you have that?”

“My friend Paige thought I should give it a try.”

“Maybe she was onto something there.”

“I'm perfectly fine. Just want to finish organizing everything, focus on work and this handful I have right here.” Her hand gestures at Coco. “What are you so interested in my love life anyway? First you try to play matchmaker with Carmy, and now you want me to do what, exactly? Hook up with the first guy I see?”

“No, I'm just asking you to go out and have some fun. I know Carmy was the only friend you had here. And if I was in your shoes, I'd feel pretty lonely.”

“I'm not lonely, Michael. Do I miss my friends in Sacramento? Sure,” she admits. “But I don't wanna force anything. I'm just taking it slow. When the time comes I'll jump right in but for now, this is all I need. Really. Stop pitying me.”

“I'm not pitying you, sweetheart.”

“No? Then what is it? Where is this coming from?”

“I don't know… I've always thought you were the salt of the earth. And though we never really hung out together, I thought you could use… But I can see now that you're different, and that you know what you need right now, so I'll just shut up and back off. Let you do your thing.”

“Thank you. I do know what I'm doing, by the way. You don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine. But I appreciate you coming here anyway.”

“Yeah, of course. And I can help you unpack if you need.”

“Hm, if you don't have anything better to do, be my guest. We could grab a pizza later, if the offer still stands. Or just order some food.”

“Sure.”

Michael helps Maya unpack all the boxes and put everything in place in half the time it'd have taken her alone. They order some food for lunch and spend half the day talking and laughing until late in the afternoon when they decide to go out for some drinks to keep the good vibes going.

At the end of the night, she offers to drive Michael back to his apartment as a thank you for inviting her.

“Did you have fun?” Michael asks from the passenger seat as she pulls up in front of his building.

“Yeah, I did. I'm glad I changed my mind.”

“Me too. I didn't know you were this fun. You're nothing like I remember.”

“Yeah, I was kind of weird growing up. You guys probably thought there was something wrong with me. ”

“Nah, don't be so hard on yourself. We were all weird in our own way.”

“Uh-uh. No Michael Berzatto. You were the coolest guy back in the day, and you still are.”

“I don’t know about that,” he scoffs. “For the record… I never thought there was anything wrong with you.”

“You were probably the only one… Anyway, thank you for today. I know I said I didn't need this, but I guess I did.”

“You're welcome, Maybird. I'm glad you’re back.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Thanks for bringing me home,” he softly squeezes her arm before reaching for the handle to open the door.

“No problem.”

“You know you can call me if you ever miss your friends, y’know?” he throws casually.

“I uh…sure. I will.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she echoes back as he pulls the handle and the door opens.

“Have a good night, Michael,” she says as he gets one foot on the pavement.

“You, too, sweetheart.”

He closes the door and vaguely waves as she sets the car in motion and watches her drive away.

Chapter 3: Don't cry over spilled milk

In the few weeks he's been spending time with Maya, Michael has found himself enjoying her company more than he'd like to admit. Being with her grounds him. She makes him forget for a little while all that's wrong in his life. She's like a beacon in that immerse darkness that his sorry existence has become. Despite having her own set of problems, he's watched her rise above all that with poise. He wonders what it's her secret to her steadfast determination, even when her own family has disavowed her.

After closing shop, he dives into his stash to tame that brewing headache before driving to Oak Park to pay her a visit. She told him earlier via text that she was at Home Depot buying some paint to update the color of her bedroom and asked him to come over to hang out after work.

For some reason, he couldn't say no. Not even the storm in his head is strong enough to deny her request. He has a pull on him, tugging him hard like a dog tied to a leash in her hand, he can’t help but follow her lead.

When he arrives at her house, she's halfway done. Two of the walls shine bright new in a lavender tone as she starts working on the next one.

After having beer and playing a tug of war game with his new friend, Coco, Michael offers his help to finish painting the walls. He uses a brush to paint the corners, while she gracefully uses a roller like a pro with her denim overalls over a tank top, and her raven hair pulled up in a ponytail sprinkled with lavender paint beads. When she lifts one of her arms, he catches a glimpse of a tattoo on the side of her rib cage, leveled to the roundness of her chest that looks like the outline of a dog paw.

“What are you looking at?” She asks after catching him staring.

“You have paint on your chin.”

“Oh.” She wipes it with the back of her hand, but she just spreads the stain along her jaw. “I made it worse, didn't I?”

“Yeah.”

She shrugs it off and continues with the task ahead until the whole wall is covered.

“Is everything okay, Bear?” Maya puts down the paint roller. “You're quieter than usual.”

“Yeah, everything's alright.” It sounds so honest, he almost believes it. “It's just been a long day.”

“I'm sorry that I put you to work.”

“Don't be. This is relaxing.”

“Yeah?” She takes a step back and surveys how much brighter her bedroom looks already after covering most of the former downcast grey. “Is the color right? Do you think it's too girlish?”

Giving the room a once over he says, “it's a good shade. I dig it. It doesn't matter what I think or if it's too girlish, as long as you like it. Do you like it?”

“Yeah. I do.”

She dips the roller on the tray to cover another section of the wall.

“You never told me what happened at the funeral with your mom,” Michael leans on the stepladder, taking a short break.

“Do you really wanna know?” She glances over her shoulder.

“Yeah. Everyone does. I’ve heard some crazy stories about it. Thought I should get it straight from the source.”

“I never pegged you for a gossip girl.”

“I’m not. I’m just making conversation.”

She mockingly narrows her eyes, drawing a lopsided smirk, “liar.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna. But yeah, can’t help being a little curious about it.”

“I don’t mind telling you, but it won’t be as entertaining as those crazy stories people have made up.”

“I’m not here for entertainment. I just wanna hear your side of the story, Maybird.”

Maya lets out a heavy sigh and while keeping her focus on the wall she shares with him what really happened. She’s right to say that is not the best story she’s ever told, though when it comes to her mother, all her stories tend to have a surreal element even she can’t fathom sometimes.

That day at the funeral, she was taken outside during the wake by Angela Silva to get scolded about her imminent divorce. It wasn’t finalized by then, and her mom invoked one last Hail Mary to convince her to stay with her husband, who was also currently dating someone else. It was a messy situation that Maya couldn't wait to get out of, and the fact that her mother never offered an ounce of support wasn’t surprising, but still devastating. Somehow, Angela found that the reason for her separation from her husband was that Maya didn’t want to have kids, and that really vexed Angela. All she wanted for her three kids was to follow the same traditional path Angela was forced into, no matter how miserable she was. Her two older sisters followed her mother’s narrowed traditional values. But Maya, ever-the-nonconformist, swore she would never follow anyone’s drum beat but her own. Her husband thought she’d change her mind eventually. He was wrong. She knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, which led her here, to this moment.

“Is your mom ever happy?” Michael has always wondered.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her happy, except when she’s drunk. That’s why she has to make everyone else miserable.”

“Yeah, but she’s always had a fixation on making you miserable.”

“Like I said, every family needs a black sheep, and I’m it.”

“Is that why you became a vet?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“So, it's true, you don’t wanna have kids? I’m not judging. I’m just curious.”

“I honestly don't know. I just knew that when he told me he wanted to have a baby right away, it didn’t feel right. I said that maybe in six or seven years I’d be okay with it. Told him I wanted to travel and just be us for a while, and he said that was too long to wait. I don’t know… he stopped talking to me, and it was clear that he wasn’t changing his mind, and I wasn’t changing my mind, so. At some point I got tired of trying… He got a girlfriend as soon as I filed for divorce and I got a text from Paige the other day that said he got her already pregnant, like… that was never me. I guess it served me right… I married him on a whim, an impulse without really talking about what we wanted…”

“Hey, don’t feel sorry for yourself. You dodged a bullet there.”

“You really think that?.”

“Yeah, I do. You stood up for yourself and knew when to step back when it didn’t feel right. Not everyone has the balls to do that. Think how miserable you’d be by now if you had tried to please him or your mom. You seem happy now. That's what matters.” He means that with all his heart, and wishes he had the same drive to follow those same steps. As much as he loved the restaurant, he chose to run it to please people within his family. And that love turned into a nightmare he couldn't escape.

“You know… I liked you better when you were quiet,” she quips.

Michael huffs a soft laugh, picking up his brush to resume painting.

When the room is finished, she plugs a couple of fans and closes the door to keep Coco away.

Maya washes her hands and face in the bathroom sink. When she comes out, she catches the motion of Michael's arm as he shoves what looks like a pill into his mouth before taking a gulp of water from one of her glasses.

“What was that? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. It's just a headache,” looking down, he runs a palm over his short growing beard.

“Is it the fumes?”

“No, I had it before coming here.”

“Michael,” she sighs softly at his name. “You should've told me. I wouldn't have let you help if I knew.”

“Would you stop that? I wanted to help.”

“Okay, c'mere. Let's sit down.”

“No, I think I should get going.”

“Nonsense. I'm not going to let you drive until you feel better.”

He yields with a long exhale, and follows Maya into the living room, where her bed is settled askew in the middle of the space.

She takes a seat on the edge of the mattress and waits for him to sit next to her.

“Give me your hand,” she shows her palm up, as his eyes narrow. “C'mon, don't be a baby, give me your hand, Berzatto.”

“When did you become so bossy?” He slowly lifts his hand and as he lays it on top of her palm, his fingers tremble upon contact with her skin. Maya then uses her opposite hand to clip the webbing between his thumb and pointer fingers with her own and begins massaging that spot.

“My friend Sierra is really into acupressure. She says this is a pressure point that helps with headaches.” She explains while slowly increasing the force. “Does it hurt?”

“Not one bit. Is that like acupuncture?” His voice comes as a whisper as he focuses on her diligent fingers.

“Kinda. I think. I’m not really sure.”

“You don't have to fix me, you know?”

“I'm not trying to fix you, Bear. I just wanna make you feel better.”

“Admit it. You just love a good wounded animal.”

She smiles softly, placing his hand down on his knee and picking up the other. “Does it feel any different?”

He’s not really sure, it wasn’t truly a headache that led them to take that pill but the annoying rambling of his thoughts. She shouldn’t have seen that. And he shouldn’t have lied. But having her hands on his like this is straight up lovely. Inside of him, it truly feels like something is broken, wounded, and missing, and this is giving him a sliver of relief as he waits for the pill to kick in. If he was a better man, he’d tell her the truth. But he’s too far gone for saving. All he can do is keep that facade up.

“Does it?” She insists after not getting an answer.

“A little.”

“Do you wanna lay down?”

Swallowing, he responds with a nod, and they both lean back on the mattress at the same time. Looking at the ceiling, she keeps kneading that pressure point, unsure if she’s even doing it right.

They stay in comfortable silence for a good five minutes and when she finally places his hand down, Maya glances to the side and sees that his eyes have closed, and his chest gently rising and falling. She calls his name softly, but she can see that behind the sharp edges of his face and the ever-growing shade of his beard, he’s truly exhausted, so she doesn’t insist. She extends her hand to turn off the lamp, and curls on the other side of the bed without disturbing his sleep.

“Good night,” she says softly and closes her eyes.

From a dusty corner of her mind comes crawling that little forgotten part that used to harbor a lot of feelings for Michael. Though a few weeks ago he seemed practically the same Michael she knew, over the past month she’s keenly noticed little changes here and there. His eyes sometimes cast a dark shade tainted in nothing but sadness, it’s barely noticeable for other people. It comes and goes, but it tells her he’s not truly as happy as he pretends to be.

Michael wakes up disoriented at the crack of dawn.

It takes him a few seconds to remember he’s still in Mayas’ bed in the middle of her living room and that the weight that has his arm pinned is her body pressed against his. She’s warmly snuggled on his side, with her arms tucked between his chest and hers, and a peaceful expression on her beautiful face. She’s so awfully close, he can smell the scent of her hair, and feel the heat of her breath every time she exhales.

It's such an odd moment for him to have her that close. He's unsure of whether it would be better to slip out of bed unnoticed before she wakes up, or just stay there and watch her sleep for a bit longer. Either option would make him look like a creep, he thinks. So he opts to gently wake her up. His free hand reaches to his forehead to move a stand of hair away. Her brow scrunches as his light-feather touch grazes her skin. His lips curve up as he traces the shell of her ear to see her stir awake. She blinks slowly a couple of times until her focus shifts onto him.

“Hey, Maybird.”

“Hey.” Her lips move, it's barely audible.

“Sorry, I fell asleep.” His fingers absentmindedly massage her earlobe.

She's so stunned by waking up to that level of intimacy, she simply nods, as her mouth softly draws a smile.

“It's fine. Does your head feel better?”

“Much better. That pressure thing really worked.”

“I'm glad.”

“Listen, I gotta go open. Maybe we could do something later?”

“Okay,” she swallows nervously, hoping that waking up with him like this isn't just a dream. “Can you do me a favor first?”

“Sure.”

“Can you stay five more minutes?”

“I uh… I think I can,” against his better judgment, he decides he can stay for a few minutes more holding her.

The way her lips pull up timidly at the corners, revealing the dimples framing her mouth, completely disarms him. He’s always felt a certain affinity towards her, but being this close to her awakes a longing within that feels dangerous. He can’t bring someone new into his life. Not while everything around him is falling apart. It’s already hard enough having to pretend around other people.

He couldn’t do that to her. He won’t.

Michael will have to fight harder because when her arm tucks around his waist he can’t help but press his lips against her forehead.

Chapter 4: Hard nut to crack

Four months later…

After that initial moment of weakness when he fell asleep on her bed, he fought hard to elude that odd longing that has only grown into a big mass of love toward Maya. To anyone else in the world, a feeling as big as that would be a blessing, especially when it's reciprocated. To Michael, it's a weakness he can't afford right now.

Spending all that time with Maya has been like discovering a whole new planet Michael never thought existed. She's all vast, uncharted territory that fazes him more than it should. Despite his best efforts, he’s fallen into her alluring orbit and can’t find the way out into his own universe.

Far gone is that moody teenager that would mumble a few words here and there. And now there's this tragically stunning woman that looks you directly in the eye, says anything that crosses her mind, and laughs without a care in the world.

Though falling in love with her wouldn’t be completely wrong, it's not quite right either. It fills him with guilt to think about her in that manner. Moreover, it feels like a betrayal to Carmy, who’s far away in a different continent, prospering in his craft.

Michael tries to fool himself into believing that this is just temporary infatuation. He’s even attempted several times to convince her to get in touch with Carmy but hasn’t succeeded. It’d be easier for him if she were to put her focus on someone else instead of him. He has nothing to offer to her and has deemed himself unworthy of her, or anyone for that matter. If she only knew what’s really going on with him, she wouldn’t want Michael nearly as she believes she does.

Layer by layer, she’s tearing all his walls and defenses down. And after all the back and forth, he's absolutely sure she wants more than he can offer her. She’s been giving him the right signals. She doesn't shy away from it. Maya is direct and impulsive, and everything about her is fascinating and intimidating.

It’s time to either cut her loose, or accept that he’s madly in love with her and do something about it.

Amidst coming to terms with a final decision, he's lured into a surprise party she's organized for his birthday.

Michael is left speechless by her determination. And a little annoyed too for reasons he can't explain. To be honest, he’s never been a fan of surprise parties, but the main problem is that this would make things much harder for him to let her down easily. She’s carved herself into his life and the longer he drags this out, the worse this is going to hurt.

He’s aware that it’s selfish and obtuse of him for being that ungrateful that someone who cares that profoundly about him, that they would go all out to prove that. He feels like an asshole, but the train has already left the station.

Using the same tiring self-defense mechanism, he draws his best smile and brings out the Michael everyone seems to love. Not without help. There's always that crutch tucked in his wallet in the form of a pill. Being high numbs him enough to deal with the situation.

The cherry on top comes at the end of the night, when he walks her up to her car and asks if he's had a good time. He lies through his teeth and for the first time, he can tell Maya is not buying it. Perhaps she never did, but he's well-versed on her tells by now, and he can clearly see she's fed up with all the bullshit that comes out of his mouth.

“Look, it's not that I didn't like the party. It's just that I hate surprises, and I was exhausted today. But it was a nice thought, sweetheart. I just… I wasn't in the right mood.” It's seemingly convincing the second time around, but her face shows nothing but regret. “I love the jacket you bought me, though.”

Michael has never been interested in fashion, but he's always loved vintage jackets, and the one she picked it's a perfect addition to his collection. It's a bomber jacket, aviator style, in brown leather with a couple of patches and fur collar.

As they reach Maya's car, they come to a stop. She turns to him, “I know I can be a little too much sometimes. But I promise no more surprises from now on.”

“You and I both know, you won’t be able to keep that promise even if your life depended on it. That's part of what makes you– you, sweetheart. Don’t let my bad mood ruin that.”

“I’ll try.”

After a beat, without hesitation she leans in to leave a goodnight kiss on his bearded cheek and on a whim, she decides to press a second one on his lips.

It takes him completely aback. He wants to dive so badly into her mouth, but he freezes on the spot. And when Maya attempts to deepen the kiss, he finally reacts by placing a placating hand on her shoulder as he pulls his head back.

“I'm… I'm sorry we can't do this, Maya.”

“Wait, I thought… Did I misread something?”

“No, you didn’t misread anything. I just can’t do this.”

“Why?”

“I can't.”

“You can't or don’t want to?”

“Guess I don’t want to.”

“Can you at least tell me why? Did I do something wrong?”

“You did nothing wrong, sweetheart.” He wants to spill out the old – it's not you, it's me – excuse, but he refrains. Every thought and action go against every good instinct he's ever had. He hates himself for making her feel insecure. And yet, he can't backtrack now.

“Stop calling me sweetheart. You see how misleading that is?”

“Sorry. I think I gave you the wrong impression.”

Her eyes narrow, and he can see the gears turning for a long moment before opening her mouth.

“I don't think you gave me the wrong impression, Michael. I think you're too chickenshit to admit that there's something between us and, for whatever reason, you're just taking the coward's way out. You've been weird the whole night, especially with me. I just threw a party just for you, the least you can do is tell me why.”

“I didn't ask you to do that. And I don't owe telling you shit! I was trying to let you go easy, but nothing is ever easy with you. So I'll just say it. This, you and me, is never going to happen.”

It sounds ridiculous as it comes out of his mouth, but he stands firm on that statement as her heart breaks in front of him.

In the end, it'd be better for her, he believes.

#michael berzatto x ofc #michael berzatto #the bear #the bear fanfiction #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal #original character #michael berzatto x reader #angst #fluff #darlingwrites #sorry i used the reader tag #it's the only way to get my fic seen #salt of the earth

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