#and they’re not even being suppressed necessarily they just can’t front and it’s making it so they can’t perceive anything external
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[Lio]
Me: Goro please I know it’s hard but can you please just step out of front so that the new people can get their bearings please 🥺
Goro: no if I leave front I’ll DIE FOREVER
Me: You won’t!! You know you won’t!!!
Goro: I WILL I will die FOREVER AND EVER
Me: You will not!!!! You don’t even have to stop being in cofront you can let them front while you’re there
Goro: NO they will be POISONED by my cursed nature. They will literally become evil they will be traumatized INSTANTLY. They will go INSANE
Me:
#liolog#crowlog#=I’m paraphrasing but ONLY slightly. please my son please#=I don’t want to force him to do anything he isn’t comfortable with but also we are getting the beginnings of weird memory blank shit that#happens when someone new is being suppressed#and they’re not even being suppressed necessarily they just can’t front and it’s making it so they can’t perceive anything external#I guess bc the brain hasn’t like given them the neural pathways yet or something to do that#and that means that every time they are active in headspace we are starting to get dissociated by their lack of awareness I think#oops I lost my train of thought mid sentence um#anyways the point is he’s nervous and scared about it and he doesn’t want to go a big long time away from front#but like.. an hour or two or something please
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⊹ skin and bones.
note: ig makki deserves love or whatever 🙄🙄
inspired by this headcanon from @/mintmatcha.
ft. hanamaki takahiro.
wc: 1.1k
warning: gn!reader, insecurities, body image issues, hurt/comfort, timeskip!spoilers
Hanamaki is comfortable with himself. He’s confident for the most part and knows how to play to his strengths. He has a good sense of humor, so he likes to think and so he’s been told. He takes pride in the fact that it’s easy for him to spark laughter from others. He doesn’t let things affect him too much, never one to linger on events that have occurred in the past or fret over all the possibilities that the future holds.
But like every other person, Hanamaki has his weaknesses and insecurities. He’s just better at hiding it than most.
He knows he’s not the most attractive person ever, but that’s not to say Hanamaki necessarily dislikes how he looks. It’s just being friends with Oikawa, Matsukawa, and Iwaizumi in high school took its toll on him.
Objectively, Hanamaki knows his friends are attractive. He’s not blind. Oikawa had a whole fan club for fuck’s sake, but Matsukawa and Iwaizumi had their fair share of admirers as well. Hearing people talk about how everyone in your friend group is hot besides you doesn’t exactly boost one’s confidence. Hanamaki can’t recall how many times he thought a girl liked him, just for her to not so subtly ask if he could hook her up with one of his friends.
And that feeling stuck with Hanamaki even after he moved on from high school and graduated from college and met you. Standing in front of the mirror in your shared bathroom, Hanamaki’s body comes under scrutiny. His body’s changed a lot from high school. He’s put on some weight, evident by the slight pudge of his stomach and arms. His friends still look as great as ever, he thinks bitterly to himself. Oikawa’s a fucking pro-athlete while Iwaizumi’s an athletic trainer and Matsukawa? Well, Matsukawa’s Matsukawa.
“What are you doing Hiro?” Your gentle question has Hanamaki swiveling around to look at you. You’re leaning against the frame of the door, head tilted with a soft, knowing look on your face.
Hanamaki’s quick to slip on the t-shirt he has clutched in between his hands. “Was just checking myself out. You know, admiring my beauty?” He jokes, hoping that you won’t comment on what you saw. He thought you would still be out right now, catching up with one of your friends who you haven’t seen in a while. He must have spent more time looking in the mirror than he thought if you were home already.
“Hiro.” You place a hand on his arm, preventing him from putting on his shirt the rest of the way. “Can you take your shirt off for me, baby?”
He pauses. Slowly, Hanamaki inches his shirt up over his head and peels it off. He tenses underneath your light touch. Your palms hover over his chest before you reach up to entwine your fingers together behind his neck.
“Babe, if you wanted to see me naked all you had to do was ask,” Hanamaki jests, trying to lighten the mood.
“You’re beautiful, Hiro.”
Hanamaki isn’t quick enough to suppress the disbelieving scoff that escapes from his lips. Your brows furrow upon hearing the noise, prompting you to look at your boyfriend’s face, who’s pointedly looking away from you.
“Hiro, you know I love you, right?” Your hands slip from behind his neck to rest against his smooth cheeks. You gently tilt his head until he’s looking in your direction.
“Course I do. I love you too,” he quietly replies. Despite the situation, you can’t help the way your lips slope up into a small smile. You’re sure that you’ll never grow tired of hearing Hanamaki say those words.
“And since I love you that means I love you in your entirety. Your perceived flaws and all.” Hanamaki’s hands on your hips tighten, his nails digging almost painfully through the fabric of your shirt, but you don’t pay attention to the slight pain. Your attention is wholly devoted to the man in front of you, who you only wish could see himself the way you do.
Because to you, Hanamaki Takahiro is not perfect in the slightest.
He’s messy, always forgetting to tuck his shoes neatly in the designated spot by the door and leaving a trail of dirty laundry around your home more often than not. When you try and reprimand him about it, he only offers you a sheepish grin that looks completely unrepentant while telling you it won’t happen again. (It does happen again. And again. And again.)
He’s loud. When you’re attempting to get work done in the room that the two of you have designated as your office, you can still hear him playing his video games in the living room even if the door is closed. It’s irritating when all you want is peace and quiet so you can get some shit done and you can hear your boyfriend cursing out his friends for “sucking ass.”
But the thing is, even if Hanamaki isn’t perfect, which you never expected of him, you still love him completely.
Because Hanamaki’s considerate. Whenever you’re in a group and others drown out your voice, whether knowingly or unknowingly, and you’re left thinking that you’re better off just not speaking at all, Hanamaki is there by your side, prompting you to continue your thought. Because even if no one else wants to listen to what you have to say, you know that Hanamaki does, no matter how pointless you may believe it is.
He makes your day so much better without even realizing it. The countless dumb memes he sends throughout the day make you giggle and snort and shake your head, wondering how Hanamaki has such a large collection of cursed memes, seemingly for every possible occasion. And even though they’re dumb and stupid, they make you laugh and remind you that Hanamaki’s thinking of you.
And he’s so beautiful to you. You can feel the skepticism and doubt radiating off of his form, but Hanamaki is truly beautiful in ways that you cannot fathom. The smattering of freckles that litter his skin, the unbelievably pinkish hue of his hair, the soft curves of his arms and legs and stomach - you love it all.
Because you love him.
“I’m going to list some of the reasons I love you so much. Not all, because then we’d be standing here for an eternity.” That earns you a snort from Hanamaki. It’s not much, but you’re glad to see that his shoulders have relaxed the slightest bit. He pulls you closer until your chests are flush together and his forehead is touching yours.
“I think I can spare the time to listen.”
tagging: @babyworld.
#hanimehub#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#haikyuu scenarios#hq scenarios#haikyuu drabbles#hq drabbles#hanamaki takahiro x reader#hanamaki x reader#celeste.scribs#celeste.adores#adoring.hanamaki
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Rafebarry from the POV of outsiders like the pouges and kooks who notice their relationship develop<3
doing this one out of order bc it called to me <3 the following povs include: jj, pope, kie, topper, and sarah!
side/minor pairings are jjpope and sarahkie
fic under the cut :-)
jj
the sun is hot on jj’s forehead as he sits in the passenger’s seat of luke’s truck, idling in front of barry’s trailer.
he hates these days. it’s never been jj’s favorite activity, coming along with his dad while he buys drugs with money they should be spending on food.
not to mention, it takes for-fucking-ever. luke tends to get real chatty after his first high of the day, and barry is the type of dealer who’s always just fucked up enough to allow it.
today, however, jj’s forehead is only mildly burnt when luke exits the trailer.
actually, he’s being ushered out by barry, who looks irritated in a way that jj has never seen before. though, to be fair, the only times jj has been around him are when barry’s high or when they’re trying to mutually kick each other’s asses.
luke is grumbling to himself as he climbs into the driver’s seat, fumbling with his keys. obviously already fucked up.
jj eyes him warily, before flickering his gaze back towards the trailer. he’s only a little surprised to see rafe cameron suddenly standing in the doorway with barry, looking like they’re arguing about something.
okay, maybe jj is a lot surprised to see the scene playing out before him. because despite the seemingly heated tone of their conversation, barry has a hand resting on one of rafe’s elbows. it’s almost a tender gesture, and jj has to look away, suddenly feeling like he’s intruding on something.
barry touches rafe the way jj touches pope. and that’s… that’s a bit much to take in, to be honest. because jj sure as hell doesn’t touch pope the way friends are technically supposed to touch each other.
it’s an information overload, and he has no idea what to do with it. jj decides to file the racing thoughts away for later, when he inevitably spills his guts to pope about just exactly what he’s seen at barry’s today.
luke finally gets the truck started, pulling off of barry’s property without even noticing the moment unfolding before them.
jj takes one last look at rafe and barry, crowded in the doorway of the trailer while looking at each other like everything around them has fallen away, like it’s just the two of them left in the world.
interesting.
pope
it’s a sunday afternoon when they come in.
they’re arguing about something, barry looking thrilled by it whereas rafe just looks like he wants to smash his head through the nearest window.
“you ain’t really fished, country club,” pope hears barry saying when they’re close enough, “not til’ you caught a gator.”
pope suppresses a snort. there isn’t a soul in the OBX who’s caught a gator and didn’t come away with a chunk of themselves missing, and typically always empty-handed.
not like he’s going to tell two dickheads like barry or rafe that. if they want to go get chomped to bits by alligators, by all means.
pope is curious about the nature of their relationship, though. it’s interesting, and interesting things never cease to draw him in. (see: jj maybank).
jj had mentioned a few days ago that barry and rafe have seemed… different, recently. ever since then, pope has wondered about it. it’s a curious relationship, so he doesn’t think it’s that weird that he’s been desperately trying to understand it from all angles.
pope also just wants to know if jj is right. if barry and rafe really do have a thing going on. because like he’d told jj, he’ll believe it when he sees it.
it’s not like jj needs to know that he’s been secretly agonizing over it for absolutely no reason for the last three days.
pope stays seated quietly behind the counter, casually flipping through a magazine without really reading it, glancing up every now and then to spy on barry and rafe.
they’re standing by the bait selection, quietly conversing back and forth. pope can’t make out what they’re saying, but based on their expressions, they’re probably just talking about bait.
that is, until rafe passes barry a certain kind of bait with a questioning glance, and barry accepts it with a proud smile. rafe’s cheeks turn bright pink, and when their fingers brush as rafe passes off the bait, his face takes on a nearly scarlet hue.
so, okay, yeah. jj was definitely on the mark. it still makes absolutely no sense, whatsoever, but at the same time, they seem to operate in sync. it’s almost natural, whatever flows between them.
pope watches them walk up to the counter, feigning wariness to hide his curiosity, internally noting that he has a lot of homework to do later.
kie
the wreck is unusually slow tonight. it’s a thursday evening, and usually more patrons show up, pre-gaming their friday night bash with a thursday kickoff.
there are only three families and a few scattered couples seated here and there.
that is, until they walk in.
kie can’t really say that she hasn’t been expecting this. she wishes she could say that, to be quite honest, but jj and pope have made it their personal mission to torment her with information about barry and rafe that she truly never needed or wanted to know.
not that they’re more than likely gay as hell - kiara doesn’t care about that. she’d be a bit of a hypocrite if she did, if she’s being honest. it’s the fact that they’re rafe and barry.
two people who’s fates the cosmos should never have aligned. if what pope and jj say is true, anyway.
somehow, kie hasn’t come up with any reason to doubt it. rafe is crazy, barry is pure chaos in physical form. she imagines they’re like a nuclear bomb waiting to go off, but she also sees how it works.
kie really, really hates that she can see how it works.
there’s another waitress working tonight, and she’s the one to seat the couple. or pair. or whatever they are. kie can’t remember her name - she’s only here for the summer, anyway. nevertheless, she has the inexplicable desire to drag the poor girl away when she attempts to flirt with rafe.
not only because rafe is liable to stab her in a parking lot or something, but also because rafe and barry are clearly on some sort of date.
she doesn’t know why, but after the waitress finally walks away, kiara keeps waiting on bated breath for more people to show up and join rafe and barry’s party. despite the fact that they’ve been seated at a table for two.
no one else shows up.
they spend the evening conversing quietly back and forth, their voices occasionally raising when they get into a little spat about something.
which happens about every ten seconds, if kie has been accurately keeping track.
not that she’s watching them, necessarily. it’s just a bit of a shock, seeing what jj and pope have been telling her for days play out right in front of her, in real time.
they don’t operate like the other couples in the restaurant, that’s for sure. or any sort of couple kie has ever seen before in her entire life. but pope was right, whatever flows between them is freakishly natural.
and that’s why kiara can’t stop watching. she can’t stop honing in on every movement - the way they steadily shift closer throughout the evening, first putting their elbows on the quaint table, scooting them closer and closer until they’re nearly touching, leaning into each other like they’re being pulled together by some magnetic force, unable to stay apart.
it’s like when kie knocks on sarah’s window and watches her come close, pressing into the glass as if she’s being sucked in by some invisible force, the same one that drives sarah across the room towards her, pulling her into her orbit.
kiara shakes her head, trying to shake off the thoughts. she really doesn’t need to be going around equating her relationship with sarah with whatever the fuck is going on between rafe and barry.
whatever it is, though, kie can’t help but note that it’s something light rather than dark. something almost like happiness - something she never actually thought rafe was capable of feeling.
but with the way rafe is looking at barry, their hands now linked together beneath the table where they think no one else can see, kie is starting to rethink just about everything she knows about rafe cameron.
well, maybe not everything. but some things. enough that her head will be full for the foreseeable future. all because of barry and rafe fucking cameron of all people.
what the fuck.
topper
“you’ve been gone for like, weeks, dude,” topper says, eyeing rafe from across the table.
they’re at the figure eight country club, having drinks (on topper, of course) and a light lunch. it’d been topper’s idea. rafe had merely reluctantly agreed, claiming he had nothing else going on today.
he’d sounded almost like he was pouting about something. now that he’s seated across from topper, he can clearly see that rafe is definitely pouting about something.
which isn’t unusual, per se. but it is unusual that rafe isn’t bitching about whatever it is.
to be fair, rafe has been different these days. topper doesn’t really know what’s going on with him at all, their lives having suddenly and unexpectedly diverged for reasons topper still doesn’t understand.
it’s not like rafe was his best friend or anything - the guy’s a dick more often than not. but they had been friends at least, and confided in one another from time to time. guy to guy.
topper still wonders what happened, to this day. he doesn’t think rafe will ever tell him, though. not fully. and that’s okay, topper isn’t, like, desperately interested or anything, but a bit of an explanation would be nice. even a half-assed one.
“i’ve had shit going on,” rafe finally answers, as vague as can be.
topper rolls his eyes. “obviously. come on, man. i just want to know what’s been up with you lately.”
“you mean you want to know what’s been up with sarah,” rafe corrects, taking a long sip of his beer.
and okay, yeah, maybe topper’s desire to get back in touch with rafe has a little something to do with wanting to know what sarah’s been up to. but he does want to know whats been going on with rafe, too. that wasn’t a lie. he’d just omitted some details, sue him.
“yeah, okay,” topper agrees, not bothering with lying. “but i’ve also been wondering about you, man. you just kinda. disappeared.”
rafe picks at his burger, before pushing it away with a sigh. “shit happens, top.”
it’s so far from an explanation that topper kind of wants to throttle him all of a sudden, but rafe doesn’t give him the chance. his phone starts ringing, and he pulls it out with a triumphant smile, like he’s just won something.
something he’s definitely very, very smug about.
topper thinks he hears something along the lines of ‘m fuckin’ outside you little shithead brat coming from the person on the other end of the line.
rafe just smiles wider, putting on an innocent look even though whoever he’s talking to can’t see him. “coming!”
listen. listen. rafe fucking sing-songs it. topper feels like he’s been punched directly in the solar plexus. his mind reels.
topper is nowhere close to catching up, but rafe is already standing up and excusing himself, saying he has somewhere to be and thanking topper for the lunch half-heartedly, not contributing anything towards the bill.
typical rafe.
topper latches onto that familiarity to get his brain working again, shoving himself back from the table and racing out of the club, tossing a few too many bills on the table as he runs out. he practically chases rafe down, tumbling out the front doors as rafe is crossing the parking lot.
rafe comes to a stop next to some guy on a motorcycle, and neither of them have seen topper yet, clearly. because in the next moment rafe is pulling off the guy’s helmet and kissing barry the fucking coke dealer right on the mouth, tongue and all.
topper almost blacks out on the steps.
instead, he steadies himself on the railing of the staircase, shouting across the parking lot, “what the fuck, rafe?”
the reaction topper gets is not the one he was expecting. rafe just grins like a shark, then climbs on the back of barry’s bike. he wraps his arms around barry’s waist, then he taps barry twice, and they’re speeding out of the parking lot.
“we are so fucking talking about this!” topper yells after them, his head still spinning.
the roar of the motorcycle drowns out the noise.
sarah
she isn’t sure what wakes her up at first.
for a moment, sarah thinks kie is at her window. she frowns in confusion, still half-asleep, wondering why kie would be here without texting or calling first.
they always text or call first.
when sarah sits up and looks over at her window, there’s nothing there. but she knows she heard something, something that roused her from her peaceful slumber.
there it is again. it sounds like a squeaking noise, like an old window or a screen door opening. a moment later, quiet voices, drifting through the vent in her bedroom.
sarah wonders if it’s ward, if he’s having some secret meeting that would be truly invaluable to overhear.
she scrambles out of bed, tip-toeing to her air vent and sinking down to her knees. she leans closer, then closer still. all she can here are soft voices - she can’t make out any words. whatever the conversation is about, it’s interspersed with giggles and gasps.
oh. oh my god. ward is cheating, he has to be. and wouldn’t that be such sweet justice? catching ward in the act of something he can’t deny? something that could potentially keep rose from continuing to feed his endless greed?
sarah stands up and races across her room as quietly as she can, poking her head out the door and looking around before creeping into the hallway. she quietly makes her way to ward’s office, stopping just outside and leaning close to listen.
silence.
if they’re done already, that’s pretty pathetic on ward’s part, sarah thinks. but then she hears it again, the soft cacophony of sounds, only louder this time.
sarah follows the noise, her curiosity getting to the better of her. it leads her straight to rafe’s bedroom.
she really should’ve known better than to open the door.
“oh my god! oh my god? oh my god.” sarah slaps her hands over her eyes, already trying to scrub the image of barry on top of her brother from her mind.
she just walked in on rafe. having sex. with barry.
sarah feels a little faint.
“jesus christ, sarah, would you get the fuck out?” sarah hears rafe snap, and she fumbles for the doorknob, slamming the door shut quickly.
she backs away in horror, practically bolting back to her room and flinging herself onto her bed. sarah grabs her phone, firing off a few texts to the group chat.
sarah: SOS!!! walked in on barry and rafe…
sarah: oh god
sarah: i can’t even say it
jj: were they? y’know
jj: like
jj: brokeback mountain style or
pope: jesus christ jj
pope: that’s disgusting
pope: ………
pope: but for real though were they?
john b: i’d also like to know
kie: you know what count me in too
sarah: oh my god.
sarah: i hate all of you.
sarah has the most useless friends on the planet, and the drug dealer is fucking her brother. frankly, she’s had enough for one night.
sarah tosses her phone onto the floor and puts a pillow over her face, drifting back into her blissful state of unconsciousness. she’s not awake to hear rafe and barry start up again.
thank fucking god for small mercies.
#rafebarry#outer banks#pov alternating#anyway i’m really proud of this one soooo i hope u enjoy!!!#mwah thank u for requesting 💓#my fics#ask#anon
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Solomon Headcanons
I didn’t like my old headcanons for him and I think I have a slightly better feel for him so I’m posting these bad boys. Maybe at this rate I’ll just post Solomon HCs every month
Also this turned into more of a “I’m going to talk about Solomon in depth and maybe throw in one headcanon about kissing him” and is no longer “lol what kind of dates do you go on? <3″ so uh. do with that what you will. It’s also SUPER LONG (or feels that way) so make sure you have a hot second to read them
you can find my for real headcanons for him here but I don’t necessarily stand by them anymore? They’re just there for fun now lol
Solomon’s Relationship With Relationships
Solomon has been alive for...a long time, and with that naturally comes a lot of experiences, negative and positive. It’s also natural that it would also have him break out of traditional structures regarding...everything, but especially things regarding relationships and specific other people.
(Not to get sociological or philosophical about society or whatever, but the way we view everything is accented heavily by the end. With exceptions, and this certainly varies from culture to culture, but as a general idea, we view things expecting them to take place over the span of 70-100 years. Certain positions in politics or business or something try to look at things generationally, but how capable of that are we and how far ahead can we truly see?)
(What I mean to say is that immortality naturally shifts the entire context in which you would view things that were expected to be “lifelong.” What once existed to enrich a life is now a tether to a system that doesn’t necessarily suit his existence.)
Psychologically, however.....I don’t think Solomon has tried to (or even can) rewire himself entirely to the point where he doesn’t feel love. He’s already got a fondness for Simeon and Luke (always crying about him calling them “dear friends” in the circus event i don’t know if he says anything in the lessons because i’m only on like 21 LOL) so he’s clearly capable of fondness and affection.
Not that those should equate exactly to romantic feelings (because they shouldn’t), but there’s undeniable similarities between platonic and romantic affection and, for the purposes of speculating about an immortal’s capability to still feel both, I think they can be equated in this regard.
There are a lot of assumptions I’m making about him to make this post, namely the following: that there is still reconciling to be done internally between his immortality and humanity, that Solomon’s composed and confident nature is a bit of a front (only a bit - I’ll explain more later), and, related to these two, that he even cares about humanity and that he still wants to preserve his humanity.
While this might be my perspective as a regular human, I really don’t believe that the desire to be human and fully encompass what that means has left. If anything, I think his intrinsic desire for knowledge and power stems from it, and he’s just suppressed the “mushier” emotional parts of that as a sort of....defense mechanism, if you will.
SO the tl;dr of this is that you know how alloromantic people just like feel in love and they get their romantic crushes and it’s natural and they can’t control it? Solomon gets that! He just isn’t the type to swoon over someone or really make it known.
He also as a person is big on being manipulative shady and in control, so if he were to just be super obvious about having a crush on someone and not being able to do anything about it, that would sort of tarnish his whole image.
So yeah, I think Solomon just has his emotions on a tight leash when they probe to be out of control. Clearly, he doesn’t have every part of him under this sort of watchful eye (whether that’s because he still wants to feel genuine happiness or he knows if he came across as emotionless and calculated people would trust him even less, I haven’t decided), but those that cause trouble stay behind locked doors.
Additionally, I don’t think Solomon is opposed to falling in love. I’d bet he’s had lots of different partners over the years and remembers them fondly (you know, assuming they ended well)
I also think his immortal status makes dating different? I feel like doesn’t really date to find a life partner because. well. (gestures).
That’s not to say that he doesn’t date casually sometimes or something. In the terms of a serious romantic partnership, though, it’s rare that it happens because he knows that it’ll die with them (and stay within him for probably forever, even if/when there comes a day he can no longer remember their name or their face).
Another assumption I’m making that I forgot to mention: I think it’s rare that Solomon’s serious, long-term partners know the true extent of the magic he dabbles in. Maybe he lets them know it’s real magic, or he pretends it’s all show magic and parlor tricks. Sometimes he pretends his pact marks are tattoos, sometimes he tells the truth. If ever these confessions are laughed off, he laughs them off too and creates a cover story.
He doesn’t intend to lie, but it’s very difficult to meet someone and explain........all of THAT. On which date to you mention that you can control 72 demons? Do you send a card explaining how you’ve been alive since Biblical times and you’re not even sure if you birthday is your real birthday anymore, let alone how old you are? And should that card be store bought or homemade?
So while it’s rare for Solomon to have a serious romantic partnership, it’s even more rare for him to be entirely understood or accepted for EVERYTHING that he is because he can’t get into it. Arguably, that hasn’t happened since his “death” in his original timeline.
A crush for Solomon isn’t a hopeless affair, either. Should you choose someone else, he’ll allow himself the disappointment and move on.
With Solomon, romantic love sparks naturally, but genuine true love isn’t some all-powerful, unstoppable force. He falls more in line with the people who believe it’s a choice and a decision, somewhere between “it’s purely a biological impulse we just gave a fancy name” and “it’s the magic that makes life more enjoyable”
With MC
In the case of MC, however, I think he might initially see it as bothersome or a hinderance to whatever his plan is with being down there for the exchange program. Maybe he convinces himself he’s just naturally attracted to you because you’re human like him. Once he comes to terms with his feelings and gets to know MC a bit more, he might even see it as a lost cause seeing as you already have several of the brothers vying for your affections.
For Solomon to act on a crush that he’s already decided is hopeless, it’ll be up to the MC to show that THEY are interested in HIM
He finds no particular pleasure in being someone who is chased after or “playing hard to get,” but he already has a complicated relationship with complicated relationships. He’s gonna need a down payment of affection a sign that there’s anything even there to pursue
Traditional flirting, while he’ll have his fun with it (and probably enjoy it at least a little - who doesn’t like feeling desirable?), doesn’t really work for him. Lots of people and creatures have used it to try and charm him, plus he has a pact with Asmo, so at this point he really sees it as more casual fun then an indication of true interest.
Honestly, to get him to realize “oh shit I actually have a chance,” you’re going to have to do two main things: 1) make him feel chosen over the others, and 2) respond to his displays of affection
Making Him Feel Chosen
This isn’t really a competition thing, or some selfish hoarding of your time. The thing is, Solomon knows he isn’t the only one in the running and he knows that anything he has to offer, somebody else could give you a portion of it.
(You won’t get the same experience or combination of traits with somebody else obvi, but with 11 suitors and an added chihuahua, there tends to be a little bit of overlap with everyone)
A crush for Solomon is a romantic interest, but if he intends on pursuing a serious relationship (which, I feel, is what he intends to be the final goal of his crushes as opposed to more casual affairs), he needs to see SOME reciprocation
Being with him is an ordeal, maybe a lifelong one for you, so he needs that assurance that it’ll be worth it and there aren’t better avenues
Basically, this means that ✨ quality time ✨ is of the utmost importance
At first, it doesn’t have to be anything big. Sit with him at lunch when you see him in the cafeteria, meet him in the library while you wait for your demon escort to be finished with their extracurriculars, chat him up in the one class you have together (and then ask him to help you study what you missed in class by talking. it’s a required transfer class but you already know everything about it, right, Solomon? 🥺)
As your relationship progresses, that’s when things start to get harder. Invite him out to things that you think he’ll enjoy, and say yes to as many excursions with him as you can. Bonus points for making it clear that you want to go when you’re unable to attend.
(He finds himself a little embarrassed how happy it makes him when instead of just a “no” or a “sorry, not today” he gets something like “I’m on dinner duty so I have to spend that time preparing :( but we should definitely make a date so you can tell me about it later!” It makes him feel like a priority.)
It isn’t until you find yourself comfortable enough to ask him to accompany you to something you want to do that he starts to realize you’re hanging out with him for him and not because he’s just offering up a bunch of fun new experiences for you to try.
You don’t even have to say “hey, i’m pretty sure you know all about the birds in the Devildom aviary but I haven’t had a chance to go and would really like to spend the day with you. Wanna come with?” If it’s something that he knows you know isn’t in his wheelhouse, he’ll be able to figure out that OH.....you’re inviting him for HIM.....oh
Make him feel like a priority, like he’s the one that you want, even out of all your choices. You can be as enthralled by the birds in that aviary as you want, just as long as you make it clear that your enthusiasm to be with him is on the same level and he’ll finally kick himself into gear.
Responding to His Affections
Now, you don’t have to do anything you don’t like. I hear in his dame card devilgram he’s a consent king, and he stands by that every day of the week
He also isn’t the type to need an exact equal to everything he does. Yes a relationship is a two way street, but this isn’t saying that if he gets you a gift you need to present him something with equal or greater value within the next 24 hours. he’s not mammon haha i’m so FUNNY
Just...let him know that he’s doing things right. His serious relationships are few and far between and people change as often as the times do, so make sure that he knows what he’s doing is landing. He’s not insecure per se, but he would like to know that he isn’t making a fool of himself entirely, you know?
Don’t brush him off in front of the brothers or he’ll think he’s read the situation all wrong and you’re back to square one. If you do it because you don’t like touching and he put an arm around your shoulder or something, that’s fine, but if he thinks you’re uncomfortable being with him in front of the brothers he’ll wonder if you even liked him at all.
To him, a secret relationship isn’t really feasible. First of all, those brothers are ALWAYS in your business so bold of you to think you’ll have ANY secrets by the time the exchange program is done, and secondly, don’t you both have enough on your plate that you shouldn’t make something that makes you happy needlessly complicated?
He is an odd case and knows there’s a lot that comes with him, so if you’re uncomfortable simply showing that you’re in a relationship and reciprocating, he’ll think you aren’t equipped to handle.....All That.
In case you haven’t noticed, he’s weird. He’s a weirdo. He doesn’t fit in. And he doesn’t want to fit in. Have you ever seen him without that stupid cape on? That's weird.
If you respond to his affections in a similar way, such as putting you arm around his waist or a hand on his back when he puts an arm around your shoulder or reaching up to fix his hair when he reaches to mess with yours, it’ll make him happy for sure. He doesn’t have any specific expectations for you but he’ll like to feel like you’re on the same wavelength.
A lot of his affections are morphed into specific and targeted teasing (but not like *gently bullies u* teasing). It’s a lot of inside jokes at your expense (and the more inside jokes he has, the more he probably likes you)
It’s also a lot of messing up your hair, sharp pokes and frustrating games like “guess what?” “i don’t know, what?” “i told you to guess, MC.” “ugh...you won the lottery” “guess better” “please don’t do this to me Solomon”
He probably responds best to Acts of Service and Quality Time (though at any stage in the relationship he’s a flexible man). While he’s trying to woo you to solidify his spot in first place against everyone else, if you continue to make the effort to be around him or like. recognize he’s taking time out of his day to romance you and do something for him in return he’ll cement the fact that oh yeah, this is happening between the two of you
(not to say that romancing you is a chore, because it’s not, but man if it doesn’t make him happy that you’re wanting to make his life easier on him so he can pursue the other things he enjoys, too.)
What a Relationship with Solomon is Like
He isn’t the biggest person on PDA, or at least not on purpose. He won’t see you and immediately be like ‘oh there they are i need to kiss them kiss kiss kiss’ or whatever, but he’s not averse to it?
He doesn’t want physical affection to be a big deal, or at least not in public. unless that’s what you’re into ;) If the two of you are out and about and you kiss his hand, or you’re a generally physically affectionate person he’ll smile and respond and be generally unbothered by it, but don’t expect him to ever really have the desire to like make out in public or something. Really, you probably won’t get much more than a quick kiss because he DOES always have other things on his mind.
You will NOT be able to get out of him messing with you. If you need him to tone it down that’s fine, but the more you let him get away with, the less energy he’ll have to redirect into other troublemaking activities
Has a weird thing with licking too probably? like he’s not gross about it and it’s not like a NSFW fixation but he’ll do that mom thing where he licks his thumb because “you’ve got something on your cheek” and then reveal that he’s a LIAR
or he’ll put his face really close to yours and stick his tongue out when you turn your head so it hits your cheek
it just gets such a DRAMATIC reaction out of you so that’s why he does it? if you ask him genuinely to stop he will but if you comment on it he’ll just give you a small smile and not say anything then continue to do it
when he messes with you, it’s ok if you say he’s doing something weird but don’t make him feel childish. setting boundaries (and making regular observations - he is kinda weird) is more than alright but admonishing him just feels......off and will turn him sour for a bit
VERY appreciative of someone who supports his adventurous side. Also fond of someone who’s happy to tag along but knows that some things he has to do on his own.
Even if you don’t want to go, he’ll appreciate the support or the interest you show in what he does. Ask him where he’s going and what he’s doing there, but ask him because you’re interested and not because you’re overly worried.
Please be there for him when he gets back to talk about it. He really likes feeling important or cool when he tells his tales, even if all he did was go and catch a few magic salamanders or something.
PLEASE be a soundboard for all of his ideas. He knows that sometimes he’ll talk about things that are way over your head that he hasn’t learned yet, but he really does want your undivided attention. It doesn’t matter if you’re encouraging him, debating with him, telling him the idea is stupid (though don’t pull this one too often unless you intend to ask to be let in to the fun) or just watching in confusion. It’s important to him that you value what he has to say, and he hopes one day that he’ll be able to tell you anything and you’ll have a response to it all. (Even if you don’t learn magic to the degree he knows it, he hopes you’ll get to a point where you understand what he wants, even if you don’t know what magical elements he’s talking about or something.)
A relationship with Solomon is one where you’re both independent, but also can’t imagine not going to the other at the end of the day. It’s startling how quickly you become constant in the other’s life despite being in COMPLETELY different stages of magical development and learning about the demon world.
The relationship will be lots of fun, but there will be many serious moments, too.
They’ll happen randomly. Maybe something from a class or a spell reminds him of something from his past, or maybe he’s reminded that he can’t remember so many things that he knows were important to him.
Sometimes, his Tuesday night blues will feel like a life-changing existential crises for you, but please, do what you can to be there for him in these moments. It worries him how much love and happiness he’s lost, especially when he knows he promised to remember it.
Once you get him to think aloud, he’ll say super heavy stuff life “What if I’ve forgotten who I really am and now I’m just something other people and magic have morphed me into?” or “When will the human race evolve or go extinct and leave me behind?” and it fucks you up, really. It fucks him up too
But please be patient with him, because there’s something important he has to get off his chest eventually. He’s worried already that he’ll forget you the way he’s probably forgotten so many others, but he doesn’t want to offend you and know that saying it would come off as uncaring.
You won’t have an answer for these moments, and he knows it. It’ll be best if you just hold him tight, stroke his hair if you’re laying down, and reassure him that you don’t care.
With how long he’s been alive, you’ll have to get past caring if you’re his “one true love” because he doesn’t have that. He gave up the right to having a one true love in exchange for never-ending life. But he still loves and he does love deeply, it just has a lot to cut through to properly be articulated.
So tell him. Tell him you know he’s had other loves, that you know you might not even be the best partner suited to him that he’s had. Tell him that you know when your time has come, he’ll find someone else eventually.
Tell him that what matters to you is that he loves you now, that he’s making things work with you now, and that he isn’t secretly yearning for some lover that’s come to pass or yet to come when he’s with you.
You can’t control what happened in the past or what happens in the future, but right now he’s yours and you’re his and he needs to learn to take things one lifetime at a time. Right now is YOUR Solomon time, and what happens after is just a consequence of time and you’ve already forgiven him for it.
instead of “mom says it’s my turn on the xbox” it’s “god says it’s MY turn on the Solomon”
send that to him for real and he’ll probably never forget you lol
How to Make a Relationship with Solomon Work
With all this in mind, the key to a good relationship with Solomon is keeping his head on his shoulders.
He’s ambitious, powerful, scary smart, and capable of so much more than you can even guess and he knows it. It’ll be good for him to have somebody to keep him on the ground.
Now, don’t be overbearing. If you try to stop him from going places or try to hinder his pursuit of knowledge out of fear for his safety, that’ll cause unbelievable strain on him. You will have to learn to let him work his things out the way he wants to, and it won’t always be the safest or most responsible way either.
He doesn’t mind a gentle scolding if he gets hurt. He won’t say it, but he kinda likes to be reminded how important he is to you.
Also be down to have fun and be a little reckless. Your safety will always be a priority to him, but nobody ever got anywhere without a little struggle, right? Sometimes adventuring with him and following him into the darkest magical corners of the world will require multiple (sometime literal) leaps of faith, but he’ll always be there to catch you.
Let Solomon work for you and the relationship, and you work to keep him sane and remind him that he can belong somewhere, even when he’s been himself for who knows how long and nowhere ever really stays the same.
You’ll always have to remind Solomon that not everything revolves around magic and power. He’s not been mortal for some time, so he gets caught up in the heady and lofty topics and ideas.
Remind him about the simple joys of just having fun and goofing off, that not every moment not spent on homework has to be spent on potions. Remind him (in the human world) how cool a sunset is, or convince him to go through a museum and pretend he’s seeing everything for the first time.
As much as he lives for understanding the grand topics most people can only dream of beginning to grasp, remind him of the little things. Remind him of human indulgences that he’s abandoned. Get him back in touch with that part of himself.
Solomon as a character feels like he’d be really aloof, but he’s honestly extremely devoted to what he invests his time in. He shows this devotion in small ways that feel more like riddles sometimes, in the way he always comes back after a rather dangerous magical excursion, in the way he shortens his time away so he can get back to you, in the way he learns to quiet his mind so he can properly take care of you and what you need and strengthen your relationship.
One thing that I think is a hallmark of a relationship with him is that Solomon loves things that can teach him more about what he doesn’t know. You don’t need to be the smartest person on the planet, or have a specialized and thorough education in some bizarre topic, or come from somewhere entirely different than what he knows to keep his interest.
You are uniquely human, and you help teach him about himself, the one thing that he can never seem to properly grasp and understand the way he wants to.
More importantly, you are you, the one who made pacts with all seven demon lords, the one captured his heart and promised to take care of it when you could throw it away for anybody else.
And you are the only one who could say those words that he believes. Hopefully, you’ll believe him when he says them, too.
#i feel like i was toeing a line that might have like. disrespected aromanticism and if i did i am so sorry#i just think that like. personally as someone who is alloromantic but not necessarily super OBVIOUS about feeling romantic attraction#there is a line between just being casually romantic or something and aromantic like#yeah i wanna marry my best friend but i still wanna MARRY them you know#marriage being taken here in a romantic context and not just a social institution#i don't know. maybe i just want him to be romantic so i can be romantically involved with him and i'm digging too deep with it#tldr aromantic rights!!!#obey me#obey me shall we date#swd obey me#obey me swd#solomon#obey me solomon#solomon hcs#mine#solomon fluff#?#long post
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hi!! i love all of your writing and was wondering if you’d do this prompt w din: 💕
being jealous! not to the point of it being unhealthy, just a moderate amount of cute jealously, in which their partner just laughs it off and gives them a kiss
THANK YOU ! <3 you must understand that cute protectiveness is my fav fav fav thing in the world, thank you for sending this in hehe
warnings: implied smut, overly indulgent on all fronts i just have a thing for pretty dresses okay
--
you think he buys you the dress because he notices the way it catches your eye in the store window. he doesn’t mention it to you after the fact, but he clearly notes the little sigh that leaves your parted lips in passing, or the way your gaze clings to it while the two of you pass by the shop’s window.
the village is nearly bursting at the seams with energy, the spring festival that would start that night is enough to have nearly everyone on the streets in preparation. at first Din was insulted to be hired on a security detail, but some lordling had slipped Karga enough cash to make it worthwhile for the guild, so here the two of you were.
it’s been a while since the worst of your worries were the Sullustan rabbit pups that wriggled free of their pen that morning. you can’t say you don’t appreciate the reprieve.
the spring festival was set to begin that night, and the villagers seem more than ready to begin the celebrations. the town is the spitting image of a pastoral landscape, warm and illuminated with the colorful ribbons curving in sweeping arcs of color high above you. the blossoms are beginning to open, the fields already thick with tall green grasses. the livestock were fattening and the beginnings of the harvest were coming in--which meant that the market that you and Din had to weave through on your way back from the Town Marshall’s offices is a maze of bodies and stands.
the Town Marshall had finally told you and Din that it had been a long cold season. raiders had been coordinating attacks on their homes, killing those who resisted. the lordling only just got it under control in time for the festival to be hosted safely.
once the two of you are a safe distance away from the heavy-set Marshall, Din mutters something about the lord’s incompetency in not hiring him sooner. you roll your eyes, prodding his side with your elbow.
“he wants to be extra safe,” you mutter in return, shooting him a raised brow. “play nice.”
you think you hear him give a huff from underneath that layer of beskar and glass. he walks closer to you in that way he does when you know he wants to reach for your hand--or the small of your back, or your opposite hip--but can’t given the circumstances. you keep pace with him as the two of your weave your way back to the main pasture, and it’s then that you pass the window of the dress shop that catches your eye.
it’s a dull peach color, made of sheaths of long, fine fabric decorated with the smallest of embroidered flowers. two wide stripes of the material are fastened to the bodice and tied into flowing bows at the peaks of the mannequin’s shoulders, perfectly framing the tight, curved neckline of the dress.
least to say, you can’t really help the way you melt a little while looking at it. it’s absolutely beautiful and, more importantly, utterly impractical. it’s a shame, but that’s the life you signed up for. you don’t really think that much of it as the two of your part ways and go about your days.
so when you return back to the Crest and there’s a neatly bowed box on the bed, you can’t suppress the happy grin that overtakes your face as you lift the top of the box and reveal the neatly folded fabric of the dress from the window. in a moment of pure awe, you run the tips of your fingers over the thin material, delicately tracing the small flowers.
you are pretty sure Din is still out on patrol, doing his rounds in making sure security was up to par for the events tonight. you wish you could have thanked him before getting ready, but you hope the two of you could at least catch a glance of each other once the festivities began. you know he’d more than make up for the day’s necessary distance between the two of you once you returned home for the night, but it would have been nice to see him while you were fresh.
you get ready quickly, showering then stepping into the dress. you’re in the middle of trying to figure out the back’s fastenings when a gruff voice comes from the threshold of your shared cabin.
“need help with that?”
you look over your shoulder at your partner with a bright smile. he’s leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, the heat of his gaze readily apparent despite being hidden beneath that T-visor.
“yes, please,” you face forward again so he can easily reach the fastens. wordlessly, he crosses the room to stand behind you. you ease into his touch as he pulls the strings closed with deft fingers. you think for a second before speaking up again. “thank you, for this. it’s beautiful.”
din hesitates after tying the last bow, you feel him graze his knuckles over the curve of your shoulder in a gentle caress.
“we’ll be late,” his voice is thick with something that makes it sound like he’s the one who doesn’t want to go.
turning to face him, you look up at your partner through your lashes with a smile. you think it’s in the way his hands linger as they drag over your sides that makes you want to play the tease for the rest of the night.
it’s a role you’re far too good at, anyway.
“sounds good,” you stand on your tip-toes to bump your forehead against his in your usual parting gesture.
the festival is a whirl of bright colors and music and dancing. by the time the band starts playing the slow songs, you’re barefoot with the rest of the young women and twirling around the maypole fixed to the center of the pasture. there was a lot of cooing over your dress when you first arrived, and more than a few of your partners got a little handsy, especially once the drinks started flowing. nothing you couldn’t laugh off with a small roll of your eyes and a push.
you knew your were one of the safest people in the galaxy as long as that familiar glimmer of beskar is at the corner of your gaze. you were really only interested in his hands, anyway.
it’s more than a little annoying when one of the lordling’s guards keeps approaching you for a dance. you oblige him the first time out of courtesy--he’s only a year or two older than you, and decent to look at, but you are much more interested in the group dances with the other women than the ones with the men that kept stealing your newfound friends away.
the crowd has been reduced to just adults, the children long since tucked into their beds, and the tone has changed accordingly. the guard approaches you for the third time that night, interrupting you and the girl trying to teach you the footwork of the slow song being hummed by the band.
the guard isn’t even able to open his mouth before Din materializes by your side.
“you should listen when she rejected you the second time,” his voice isn’t necessarily sharp, but it certainly isn’t friendly. “leave her be.”
“it’s the spring festival,” the guard snorts with a sneer, his eyes still raking up and down your body. you feel the heat rise to your cheeks as his gaze catches on the dress’s daring neckline. the guard’s tone goes sharp with the way men can get when they think they’re in the presence of a similarly belligerent companion. “if she’s gonna be a prude then she shouldn’t’ve--”
Din takes one step forward.
it’s a small movement, almost unassuming--certainly unrecognizable to anyone still dancing--but he somehow manages to make it drip with promised violence.
the guard balks almost immediately, stuttering an apology before retreating. Din takes another step forward, as if to follow him, but you reach out your hand to stop him. he does so immediately, turning back to you.
“are you okay?” he lowers his head to speak to you quietly. he doesn’t let go of your hand, just rubs his thumb along the length of your palm. no matter how long the two of your have spent--traveling the galaxy, tangled in sweaty sheets, sharing meals, falling asleep against the other’s chest nearly every night--he still manages to render you breathless.
“yeah,” you murmur, longingly looking up at him, still unsure what level of public affection he’d be willing to display while on the job.
as if in answer to your unspoken question, Din wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you against his body as he lovingly nuzzles the brow of his helm against your forehead. it’s somehow infinitely more intimate than any kiss could have been.
“have fun,” he tells you as he pulls away, retreating with no more than a brush of his curved knuckles against your cheek. you lick you lips, wanting nothing more than to take his hand and march him straight back to the Crest--or, well, straight back to your bed, that is. or any bed. even one of the pallets of hay tucked in the alleyway would’ve been fine.
instead, you turn back to your cohort, dance with the tittering girls until your feet hurt and a sheen of sweat glazes your skin.
the night is one of laughter and flowers and bright bursts of light. and when the band stops playing, Din is there to lead you home. he’s there to sweep you off your feet in a bridal carry once the two of you enter the empty stretches of the street. he’s there as you giggle and peck the side of his helm in appreciation, leaning your cheek against his shoulder.
you’ve never been luckier. you know that for sure.
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Heart by Heart | Chapter III | Raul Mendes
*secret agent AU*
Y/N and Raul have been friends ever since they could remember. And falling in love with your best friend can be pretty tricky and messy 99% of the times, add that to the fact they're constantly risking their lives side by side on the field since they're both secret agents, and the best team that's ever existed. Perfect recipe for disaster.
Hi, this is the third chapter of this series, you can find the first one here. Please read the warnings on this one, if you don't feel comfortable with the contents listed on the "warnings" section, please read something else, there are a lot of other works on my masterlist and on the "fic rec" hashtag on my blog. Please give me some feedback and I hope you guys like. Happy Reading!
previous chapter | masterpost | next chapter
*Word Count: 4.1K+
*Warnings: cursing, probably wrong tips about physical fighting (I'm sorry, I know shit about it!), therefore mentions of physical fight (only training though), jealousy if you squint.
Please don’t read it if any of this subjects make you uncomfortable, feel free to check my masterlist for other writings.
*Posted: July 15th, 2021.
-*-
Y/N wishes she could punch Raul’s perfectly aligned teeth and annoying smirk away.
Ever since their mission was announced a couple of days ago, Raul made her work out hard, harder than she’s been doing for a while. It’s not like she was in a bad shape, she couldn’t exactly avoid training being constantly sent on field missions. But since she normally stood on a far safe distance, she didn’t need to run 10 miles everyday on the treadmill or on the streets -which was her best friend’s preferred spot since the terrain was irregular and they had to be alert every single minute so they don’t end up being hit by a car. And that’s precisely what he made her do.
They had to be at work at 8:00 a.m. every day, so Raul picked her up at 5:30 so they could have breakfast before their run, she’d then curse him on the way back to her apartment so they could get ready. He would only laugh at her, promising it would be worth it. Then they’d go into a meeting to discuss final details with the people they picked to form their team. After a long meeting arranging mostly details and cover up stories, they’d go to lunch, only to come back and train using the new gear, shooting and physical fight. The group had to be ready to face pretty much everything imaginable, the risk of this mission was like no other Y/N could remember, so they had to be the best of the best.
So yeah, maybe Raul was just being careful, but she was sure he was only finding new ways to torture her.
That’s why the team consisted on Raul as the captain, or co-captain as she liked to tease, and Y/N as the responsible for the strategy. There was Jack who was picked to be Raul’s right hand on the field, he was an experienced agent and has worked with him on many occasions, meaning their chemistry on the field was great. He was a huge, strong man with the sweetest and kindest heart, always laughing out loud and making jokes around. Then there was Celine. Celine’s past is a mystery no one was able to figure out, at least not yet. She was not a person of many words, always quietly watching everyone and everything, ready to shoot the first one that comes her way. Despite being Daphne’s cousin, who was all soft touches and pastel colors, Celine was brutally honest and even a little blunt, but had a great soul with good intentions, maybe just not the best person skills on the team.
And despite all that, she seemed to like Y/N for some reason, wasn’t the biggest fan of Raul, but she didn’t deny he was a great agent. So Y/N picked her cause she trusted her with her life, knowing she would do anything necessary to finish their mission. And then there was Thomas. Tommy as Raul liked to tease, was a newly turned full agent (three month ago to be precise) and still lacked a bit of that intuition only time and experience could give you, nonetheless he was a suggestion the boss made herself. Thomas was a great agent, with fresh ideas and still a bit naive, but he was quick at thinking, new a lot about tech and was a great field agent high made him a lot more complete than older ones. And with that, the team was closed and all worked out together after lunch until their bodies gave out.
And to make it simple, the beginning was hellish, the end of the week was just like the beginning.
The first day they started training physical combat, she was paired with Celine, which she was sure was attempted murder. Five minutes fighting she was on the floor, unable to move and breathing hard. Raul quickly climbed on the ring, helping her to get up as he told Celine to replace him with Tom. He moved her to sit on the little bench and brought her a bottle of water as she shook her head.
“You know I can walk and do this myself, right?”
Raul huffed an amused laugh and nodded, sitting beside her “of course I do, doll, just taking care of my girl, yeah?”
Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, bumping his shoulder with hers as she chugged the water down “maybe I’m way worst than I originally thought”
“No, you’re not bad” he said shaking his head and she let out an annoyed breath “I mean it, you’re just rusty, this is not your field anyway, and you can’t use any weapons on the ring, so it’s harder, come on, you just need to activate muscle memory” Raul said patting her back as he got up.
“Wish I could believe in myself like you do” she giggled sadly as she took his bigger outstretched hand, letting him pull her up.
“Me too, but don’t worry, we’ll get there, that’s why you have me, silly” he pinched her cheeks “now come on, you’ve got a lot to remember”
He took her to the punching bags, grabbing a pair of gloves for him to wear for her to punch. Then proceeded to bark orders and different combinations of moves, and surprisingly, she remembered most of them, not necessarily executing them perfectly, but it was a start. He then got rid of the gloves before carefully wrapping her hands and moving her to a punching bag.
“Here’s the thing, doll, you know what you’re doing, you just need to do it better” He placed his hands on her shoulders straightening her position, one hand sliding down her right arm to correct the movement “try it now” he said, his warm breath on her ear, making her suppress a shiver and forcing her to focus on the bag in front of her.
Y/N tried and it definitely improved, but it still wasn’t what she remembered doing, something felt off “okay, yeah, thanks”
“Good, now fix your legs, you’ll be fighting someone who possibly knows how to fight back, so rearrange your feet to gain more balance in case they come for you” he instructed, hands still on her shoulders as he used his own feet to fix hers in the floor “yeah, that’s it, now the strength” his gently glided down her arms, only for them to stop at her waist and stomach “this is where you have to focus on, contracting abdominal muscles will help the movement and impact of your punch, this is what you’re missing”
She knew he wasn’t necessarily teasing her or anything, this was just Raul trying to help her in his very touchy way, but that didn’t stop Y/N from becoming a bit speechless, not trusting her own voice to respond, she only nodded her head. To which he just laughed stepping back.
“Relax your shoulders and don’t forget how to breathe, doll” he said crossing his arms above his chest as he watched her finally letting go of her breath, taking a deep one before punching a few times
It wasn’t perfect, but it was almost there.
Raul knew she was good and completely capable of taking anyone down within seconds, her grades on every test they ever took serving as even more proof for them. She just needed to remember it a bit and he wanted her to be completely ready to face anything, he couldn’t afford her getting hurt on anybody’s watch, specially his. So he would do anything he possibly could to avoid that.
“Good, now give a few more, try a few kicks” he said and she looked back at him to nod, her breathing a bit elaborate “I’ll meet on the ring later, sweetheart” Raul added with a wink before turning around to see the rest.
“Fuck you” he heard her mumbling before turning back to her task at hand, making him chuckle lightly as he moved around the gym.
Raul walked around helping as he could, wrestling with Jack for old time’s sake, adjusting a few of Tom’s moves and helping Celine with the new guns they’re given. He even managed to train a bit himself, before he decided it was time to take her to the ring before Y/N gave up on him and moved to something else. So he walked up to find her talking to Jack, he couldn’t hear much, but he heard enough to know it was time to intervene.
“-yeah, Adrian keeps asking me about you, I think he wants to take you out, you should go, he’s a great guy and word around he’s good in what he does, if you know what I mean” he teased wiggling his eyebrows at Y/N, making her giggle “you should go out with him, really, you’re both single”
“He can ask her out when we’re back, the only date she’s having for now is on the ring, come on, doll” Raul cut the conversation before he could listen to her reply.
“Jealous, cap?” Jack asked with a lopsided smile on his lips as she just laughed.
“Of Y/N? All the time, a pretty girl like her always has everyone’s attention, you should see whenever we go out to eat something or whatever”
Y/N rolled her eyes “oh please, shut up, both of you”
“I mean it, doll, now come on, let’s see how you improved” he said cracking his knuckles “and you, haven’t you got anything better to do than gossip?”
“Of course not, I’m all done” Jack replied.
“Done of getting your ass beaten today, you’ll only be ready whenever you’re able to take me down” Raul said as he draped his arm around Y/N’s shoulder.
Jack only threw a middle finger at Raul as both of the boys laughed.
Y/N and Raul climbed on the closest ring, with her stretching a bit as he did the same, both in some sort of staring competition. Everything with them could easily become a competition -who drank water fastest, little races to get to a certain place, who could count the most amount of super specific cars on a road trip, but the most common and their personal favorite, staring competition. And that was a recurring thing ever since they’re basically babies. And they both hated loosing and would try as hard as they could to beat the other.
Raul’s mind was racing. He wanted to ask if she was actually interested in someone at if she’d say eyes to whoever wanted to ask her out, or even if she actually looking for a date or maybe even if she didn’t want a serious relationship for now. All that while he had this beautiful sparkling with excitement eyes staring into his soul, leaving him bare for her to read. Meanwhile, she was only trying to concentrate on what was about to happen and also on trying to keep her heart at a normal pace, knowing full well she was about the get really close to her best friend. Also having the other stare at her so intently it was making it hard for her to breathe properly.
“Ready?”
Raul only smiled at her “Was born ready, doll”
Y/N then surged forward, getting him by surprise with her punch landing on his shoulder, and he had to admit, her punch was good. With the element of shock on her favor, she tried hitting him again, clearly avoiding his face. Raul then stepped forward regaining his composure and cornering her slowly, only blocking her attempted attacks, without fighting back. He then was kicked hard on the thigh, a surprised yelp leaving his lips with the painful sensation spreading through his muscles, and just as she was about to hit him in his chest, he grabbed her hand, the other being quick to join his grasp on his right hand.
“Not so bad, sweetheart” he said with a triumph smile on his lips but she was quick to get her left hand loose moving around to get out of the space he guided her to limit her space.
Then she started her series of punches and kicks again, him dodging most of them, but still being hit a few times making him proud but at the same time breath heavier on the pain spreading on his abused skin. When her hand came to hit him in the chest again, he grabbed it, already bringing the other one to join, before bringing her to the floor and immobilizing her with his own body. Y/N stopped struggling quickly, knowing she wasn’t going to be able to do much to get out of his grasp. She was panting heavily, but it was worth it, cause she was able to make him sweat and be a little less composed than when they started.
“Bet your secret admirer would be proud” Raul said still unmoved on top of her.
“Bet he would” Y/N sassed back and Raul chuckled, dropping his head to her collarbone and she swear her heart skipped a beat, her breath hitching on her throat.
Raul got up, offering a hand to her, which she gladly took “are you going out with him?”
“I don’t know, I don’t even know if that’s true or the guy, maybe? I think this is not the moment, so maybe i’m the future, who knows?” she shrugged, grabbing her water bottle and drinking before offering it to him.
“Yeah, you’re probably right” he said closing it again, pulling the ropes for her to step out.
Y/N turned around to face Raul, and as she waited for him she asked “what about you?”
“Me? What about me?” Raul stared at her, noticing the others were already gone.
“Are you proud?” she asked with a teasing smirk, voice playful, but deep down, that was all that mattered to her. Not Adrian or anyone else.
“I’m always proud of you, doll” he smirked at her and she only shook her head giggling “but yes, you’re good at it, just a bit more practice, you’re a natural”
-*-
“Come on, sweetheart, climb up here and I’ll let you all go so you can get ready for tomorrow” Raul said as he was propped up by the hopes on the ring, a smirk on his lips as everyone started gathering around.
It was the last day of preparing before they left the next morning. They’ve spent the whole week perfecting their skills and cover ups until it rolled out smoothly off their tongues. Y/N and Raul started a routine, they decided to set camp on his living room since it was a lot bigger than hers, so they would wake up already on his place, grab breakfast, run for a while before going straight to work. Then they’d meet their teammates for a brief discussion, after hitting the gym until their limbs gave out. When it neared 6 p.m., they’d leave for his place where they’d shower and order takeout or cook something simple, before talking until they fell asleep, most nights on the living room.
And despite she remembered as clear as day she fell asleep on the couch, she would wake up on his bed, wrapped on a heavy duvet, with the sound of water droplets hitting the ground from his bathroom. They never talked about it, both acting as if this routine was normal and settled for years now. And it was shocking how well they fit the role of this whole domestic situation. And Peter was loving it, always throwing knowing looks at her whenever she went to visit his lab area.
Y/N only rolled her eyes at him and Celine bumped her shoulder on Y/N’s, a feline smile gracing her sharp gorgeous features, and then she turned to the six feet man standing at the edge of the ring “fine, but you’re buying me dinner”
“Whatever you want, and if you’re able to win, I’ll even buy sushi for you and give you a back massage” he offered as he pulled the ropes to help her climb, bowing his head trying to hold back a chuckle.
She climbed on as he let the rope snap back into its place “And what would I have to do if I loose?” she teased, knowing full well she was going to take the offer only to have a chance to rub his smirk on the dirty and sweaty ground beneath her feet.
“Pack my bag and say I’m the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid your eyes on” he stated simply. And honestly, it wouldn’t be such a hard thing to do, but first, she wouldn’t want to add it to his already over inflated ego, second, she didn’t know if she would be able to say it without blurting out some other compromising feelings.
But Y/N stares at him and smiled lazily, like she wasn’t bothered at all and truly contemplating his offer “tempting”
“Come on, babydoll” he mockingly pouted at her and she playfully sighed rolling her eyes, cracking her knuckles and rolling her head.
“Alright, but you better be ready to order from my favorite place and get me dessert” she added with a pointed look and he nodded eagerly.
“You make the rules” he winked before walking backwards to his designated spot “ready?”
“Yeah, let’s get this over it so you can buy me dinner” she teased, watching from the corner of her eyes as her teammates and even Peter gathered around to watch “or we can just stay here all night watching you brag about yourself and being all talk no action”
Raul laughed before shaking his head and a more concentrated look latch onto his eyes “don’t hold back, sweetheart”
“Not my thing” she said before taking a deep breath and trying to remember all she learned this week, making her first move.
Raul blocked her relatively easily, and then their movements flowed in an intricate rhythm. With only a few days of training, the improvement on her technique was obvious as she maneuvered a lot more gracefully than before. Her hits a lot more consistent, her defense was up and she was able to notice her opponents weakness so she could plan the next move. Y/N was also able to notice patterns on their tactics and predict their next move.
And he was a bit shocked. In a good way, but shocked nonetheless.
He knew she was good, Raul’s seen her training before, saw all her tests and grading throughout the years. Hell, he even taught her a lot of tricks he picked up over the years, so he knew how she behaved on a physical fight, knew her favorite moves and her worst ones like the back of his hand. But she surprised him with a few new hits and tricks he hasn’t seen her doing before. And that’s what caught him off guard and made her hit him hard a couple of times. That made Raul proud. Sure, he would loose the bet, but giving her a back massage, buying her food and seeing her happy after defeating him was priceless.
He didn’t make it easy for her, he never would. He wanted her to be the best of the best, always. So he hit back, avoiding her head or going to strong, she had to be whole for the other day. But that didn’t stop him from trying to take her down, but she was quick, she wasn’t too strong, but her agility made up for it.
“Come on, we have an audience, we should put on a show”
Y/N shook her head, concentration never leaving her determined eyes “I’m not an actress to entertain a crowd, nor a clown like you, baby”
“Hey!” he sounded offended, grabbing her fist in his bigger hand “rude”
She just shrugged, pulling her hand back before going back into action and it couldn’t be even more exciting. The teasing, the meaningless banter and still great performance on the wrestle was enough to put an ease on Raul’s heart. She could do it. Of course she could, but now there would be less collateral damage.
So when he felt her kick him to the ground, quickly pinning him to the rubber type material floor, immobilizing him in a way he wasn’t even able to move his arms if she didn’t let go. Y/N was sat on his stomach, face hovering centimeters above his, breath on frantic rhythm, as he panted on her face, feeling the slow pain crippling on his back and limbs where it collided with the floor. Raul couldn’t help but smile at the surprised and amused glint on her eyes as she was slowly processing she was able t take him down. The cheerful screams around them were only white noise as they stared at each other’s eyes, and he already felt like his heart was going to burst with pride and happiness, that until he heard the gleeful flightless leaving her lips as realization finally hit her, her forehead hitting his clavicle as she laughed, pure joy coursing through her veins.
He ended up laughing with her, his cheeks hurting from the smile stretched across his face. Y/N nuzzled her face on his neck still buzzing happily as she laughed. Raul turned his head lightly, only enough to press a kiss to her temple as she recovered her breathing.
When she finally did, she untangled her legs from his, getting up from his torso and offering a hand at him, which he gladly took as he stood up, facing his colleagues as they still laughed and cheered at her. Celine climbed up to meet her with a quick, sharp, strong hug in congratulations before dragging her down with her. Jack was quick to pat Raul on the back as he chuckled, mumbling a ‘good luck with your girl, dude, she’s a badass and you’re gonna need it’. When he finally met her eyes again, he offered her his hand and Y/N automatically took it, letting him pull her closer until she was in his arms.
“That was insane, doll, shit, you did so good” he said, arms loosely looped around her waist and she beamed proudly at him.
“I did work hard for that” Y/N shrugged trying to play it coy but he was only able to chuckle.
Raul nodded “yeah, I noticed, and I’m so fucking proud of you for that, and many more reasons, but that?! You’re the fucking best, you know?” he praised and she felt her body heating up.
“Actually” she said softly, looking down at his silver necklace “Celine’s the best, she showed me a few new tricks that I combined with the ones you taught me and the ones I already knew, so yeah”
“When did that even happen?” he didn’t try hiding his initial shock. They’ve been basically around each other 24/7, how did he not notice her training with someone else the past week?
“Well, to be fair you’re too cocky for your own good” Y/N had that pointed look in her eyes as she poked him on his broad chest “so I kinda asked her to show me how I could take you down and we’ve been doing it in secret, mostly when you went down to meet with Peter or to practice shooting”
“So it was a whole scheme just to try to embarrass me and knock me out?” he’s tone in a playful accusation as his brows shot up in evident disbelief.
“To sum it up, yeah, pretty much” she shrugged innocently as Raul threw his head back laughing.
“That's fucking awesome, you’re amazing” he said letting go of her waist, only to turn to face their team, dropping his arm around her shoulders “alright, guys, it was a hard week but I believe it paid off. We learned a lot with each other and I believe we’re a lot better now. This is still a fucked up mission, but I think we’re ready to face it and as long as we keep on working together and communicating well, we’ll be alright and coming back home as soon as possible, yeah? Think we should call it a day and test tonight”
“Okay, cap” Tom replied eagerly making Y/N chuckle before shaking her head.
“So what do you say, cap?” Y/N asked teasingly as the others laughed.
Raul smiled down at her as he shook his head “Think we’re ready, doll”
-*-
*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know.
*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.
*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!
*Hope you guys enjoyed it!
*xoxo
-🌙
@mariamuses
#shawn mendes#shawn peter raul mendes#shawn mendes writing#shawn mendes au#heart by heart#the mendes triplets#mendes triplets#the mendes triplets au#mendes triplets AU#au#alternative universe#raul mendes#raul mendes au#raul mendes writing#shawn mendes imagine#writing#shawn mendes series#shawn mendes fanfic#shawn mendes fic#shawn mendes fanfiction#shawn mendes x reader#shawn mendes x you#shawn mendes x y/n#secret agent#secret agent au
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Dr. Mael Halvorg (Finale) Lemon
Rating: Explicit Relationship: Male Part-Fae/Female Part Fae Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Fae, Reader Insert, Genetics Content Warnings: Children, Pregnancy, Incubation, Birth, Babies, Surgery, Male Infertility, Mention of Cancer Words: 4233
The finale of @ivymemnoch‘s commission! The reader takes Dr. Halvorg on a weekend trip for his birthday and changes his life forever. Please reblog and leave feedback!
The Traveler's Masterlist
The plus sign on the stick had taken you by surprise. You don’t know why, though; you knew this was probably going to happen eventually when you decided to stop your birth control. Of course, you didn’t expect it to happen so soon, since he was still recovering and potentially wouldn’t necessarily be any more fertile than he had been before, but considering how prolific your family was, it shouldn’t have been a shock.
Three months after Maël’s surgery, his test results had been not quite normal but favorable, and he was already talking to you about perhaps finding a surrogate and in-vitro fertilization, getting your opinion and making sure you’d be okay with it. You told him to wait, perhaps, and give himself more time to allow his… swimmers… to get stronger. You hadn’t told him you were already prepared to carry his child for him. You wanted it to be a surprise. A gift.
But now, after dating for six months, there it was. Right there on the ultrasound screen: a tiny little baby belly bean, no bigger than your thumb. Whatever doubts you had were always drowned out by one sentence.
He’s going to be so happy.
You went into his office after getting home from the OBGYN, having told him you were simply going in for your normal bi-yearly check-up. He was working, like always, but he looked up when you came in and smiled.
“How’d it go?” He asked you.
“Totally normal and healthy,” You replied. The both of us.
“I’m glad to hear that,” He said, putting down his pen. “No lunch with Amai? It’s Wednesday.”
“I know,” You said. “But I wanted to spend time with you.”
His smile widened and he opened his arms. You went over and sat in his lap, giving him a kiss.
“So, you’re birthday is coming up,” You said nonchalantly.
He snorted. “I haven’t celebrated my birthday in over one hundred years.”
“All the more reason to do it now!” You insisted. “I want to take you on a weekend trip. There’s somewhere special I want you to see.”
“And what would that be?” He asked, smiling at you fondly.
“A surprise,” You said, twitching his nose. “It’s in New York, though.”
His head rocked back. “That’s a ways away. Why are we going so far?”
“You’ll see. Do you want to go? Please?” You looked up through your lashes at him, being playful, hoping you weren’t being too weird and that he didn’t suspect anything.
“Well, alright. I don’t really have much work to do right now.”
You sat up and looked at him in shock, laughing. “I totally didn’t expect you to agree!”
He hugged you close and laughed too. “Well, there’s no reason not to, I suppose. And I’ll do just about anything for you if you ask nicely enough. God, it’s been ages since I actually took an actual vacation.”
“See? Perfect timing.” You bit your lip and looked at the door slyly. “Does the door lock?”
His eyes flicked to the door and back to you, narrowing them. “Yes. But the room isn’t soundproof.”
“I can be quiet. Promise.”
You thought he’d decline and say it was inappropriate to be intimate in his office, that he’d see you after he was done working and then the two of you could play back at his massive suite. Which was now your suite as well, as you’d moved in with him about a month ago.
What you didn’t expect was him to grin sinfully at you and get up, closing the blinds. He went around to lock the door and sat on the couch on the opposite side of his desk and patted his lap. Smirking, you joined him.
Climbing into his lap slowly, straddling him, you went in for a deep, probing kiss, dragging your fingernails down his chest over his shirt. He groaned against your lips and put his hands on your legs, petting under your skirt and slip, raking his fingers against the lip of your stockings. You’d taken to wearing stockings because he rather liked them. It seemed to do a lot to turn him on, especially when they were all you were wearing. He also had a corset fetish, too, but you couldn’t wear a corset all the time, especially around the children, so stockings were a happy medium.
He kneaded your buttocks under your skirt as you reached between the two of you and unbuckled his pants, unzipped the zipper, and reached in, fondling him over his underwear. His groaned deepened and he squirmed underneath you, his head falling back onto the cushions.
You started kissing his neck, pulling up his shirt and running your hands up his back. He had large, curious scales on his back, an artifact of his fae heritage. They were a lot like pangolin scales: wide, brown, and ridged. He often wore special padded shirts, because normal shirts were shredded by the end of the day. You thought they were adorable and loved grooming them for him, which he greatly enjoyed and made him almost purr, though you could cut a finger on them if you weren’t careful.
He reached under you and pulled your panties aside, lining himself up with your entrance. You sank slowly down onto him, drawing it out, and he hissed in a breath, biting his lip to keep quiet. You began to move on him, and he moved under you, thrusting up as you thrust down. He was always a very active, enthusiastic participant during sex, even if you took the lead. One hundred years of celibacy might have had something to do with that.
He flipped your skirt up and tucked it into your waistband so that he could watch himself go into and out of you, watch your thighs flex and contract, and run his thumbs up the straps of your stockings. You pulled the tie from his white-blonde hair and shook it out of it’s neat braid, letting it fall around his shoulders so that you could play with and tug on it. His pace quickened, and you matched his rhythm, the both of you beginning to pant and moan, quickly suppressed.
There was a knock on his door. “Dr. Halvorg? I need your signature on these invoices.”
He pulled you against his shoulder, muffling your sounds of pleasure, but he didn’t stop thrusting. You bit into his shoulder to keep yourself for crying out.
“What are they for?” He called through the door, his voice remarkably even-sounding.
“For the medical equipment from Broadchurch,” The assistant said.
“No, no, we never got the product, we’re not paying that,” He said, for all the world sounding like he was sitting as his desk staring at paperwork and not railing you on his couch.
“I’m going to cum,” You whispered into his ear.
“You promised to stay quiet,” He told you just as silently.
“I can’t!” You responded desperately.
“You promised.”
“So what should I do?” The assistant said, seemingly none the wiser that you were about to explode.
“Call them and ask where our equipment is. Until they locate it, they’re not getting a penny.”
You balled up his shirt in your hands and gritted your teeth as you came, gushing on him and holding your breath to stay quiet. You made a squeak, and his hand closed on your throat.
“Shh, shh,” He hushed.
“I’ll call them back, but I don’t think they’ll be very helpful,” The assistant replied. “They haven’t responded to any of the emails. The only communication is from emails.”
“Send them an email, then. I’m busy, though, so get on with it,” He said impatiently, staring at your face as your orgasm crested and ebbed, keeping a firm grip on your neck.
“Yes, sir,” The assistant said. You heard their footsteps recede.
“Oh, fuck,” You breathed.
“You did well,” He said, allowing his breathing to go fast and shallow. God, he had amazing self restraint. “Good girl. Stay still, I’m almost there.”
His pace became frenetic and bounced you high on his lap. He let go your your throat and gripped your hips, slamming you down upon him. He grunted, getting a little red in the face as he smacked his body into you.
You felt him release inside you, pulsing against your inner walls. When he was done, he flipped you over and lay you down on the couch, watching his seed well up and out of you to drip down onto the vinyl couch. He always did that, and you weren’t sure why.
You went to the en-suite bathroom to clean yourself up and brought him a wet towel so that he could do the same. When you were both done and had straightened your clothes, you spent a few minutes making out against his desk before he sighed.
“I should help my assistant contact the supply company. He’s a bit of a pushover, the poor kid.” Maël smiled down at you. “That was nice. We should do that more often.”
“We almost got caught!” You objected.
“Hey, it was your idea,” He said, grinning. “I’m looking forward to whatever you have planned for our trip. I’m sure it’ll be amazing.”
“It definitely will be. I promise.” You kissed him one more time, lingering for a moment, before unlocking the door and letting yourself out.
Next week, Saturday morning, you took a plane out to Albany, New York, and drove a rental car to a house in Glenmont. When you stopped in the driveway, Maël looked at you with confusion and a little bit of apprehension.
“I don’t understand,” He said. “What are we doing here?”
“You’ll see,” You replied. “Come on.”
You walked him up to the front door and knocked. A young woman in her forties or fifties answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi, are you Mrs. Winston?”
“Oh, yes, you must be the young woman I spoke to over the phone!” She said. “Come in, come in. He’s in the parlor.”
“Thank you so much.” You stepped into the house with Maël following. You could feel the curiosity and confusion radiating off of him.
You were led into a sitting room where a man in a wheelchair was reading a paper at a table. He was quite old, by human standards, in his mid-eighties perhaps. He was hooked up to an IV and had an oxygen cannula in his nostrils.
“Dad?” The woman said softly. “You’ve got visitors.”
The man looked up at the two of you. Despite his advanced age, he seemed completely within his faculties.
“Are you the woman I talk to?” He asked you.
“Yes, sir,” You responded. “Thank you for agreeing to see us.”
“It’s no problem,” He said. He was staring at Maël.
You pulled him forward. “Dr. Maël Halvorg,” You said to Maël. “I’d like you to meet Dr. Maël Halvorg. Robert’s son.”
Maël’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped in shock. He seemed unable to speak. You smiled at him encouragingly and nudged him forward.
He cleared his throat and held out his hand. “It’s a genuine pleasure to meet you, sir,” Maël said in a small voice. “May I sit down.”
“Please,” The man, Dr. Halvorg, said, shaking Maël’s hand and gesturing toward the chairs. You and Maël took a seat.
“Do you know who I am, sir?” Maël asked tentatively.
“I do,” Dr. Halvorg responded. “You raised my father.”
“Yes,” Maël said, smiling in relief. “I loved your father very much.”
“I know you did,” Dr. Halvorg replied. “My father spoke of a lot when I was growing up.”
“Is he… is he alive?”
“No. I’m afraid he died about eleven years ago,” Dr. Halvorg said sadly.
Maël sighed and hung his head a little. “I suspected that might be the case, but I hoped.” He looked back up at the older gentleman. “Did he grow up okay? What kind of man was he? I apologize, but I just have so many questions.”
Dr. Halvorg chuckled. “It’s no trouble. Honestly, I was hoping I might get to meet you one day.”
Maël smiled. “You were?”
“Oh, yes. May father told me so many stories about you when we kids were growing up.”
“How many children did he have?” Maël asked earnestly.
“Four sons,” Dr. Halvorg replied. “He was a great father and a brilliant man, though he said he had a rough start.”
Maël nodded. “Yes, Robert had some learning disabilities that made certain things difficult.”
“He told me that many people said he was lazy and stupid, and that you were the only one who believed he could learn. You dedicated much of your time to helping him.”
“Yes,” Maël said. “Being in school made him quite frustrated and sad, so I took him from school and taught him myself at home. He seemed to respond positively to that.”
“Indeed, he did,” Dr. Halvorg replied. “It was because of you that my dad became a teacher.”
“Robert was a teacher?” Maël asked delightedly.
“Oh, yes,” Dr. Halvorg responded. “He taught children much like himself, the ones who needed special attention and care. He was well respected in his field and much loved by his students. He didn’t want to retire, in fact. It was age and illness that forced him to stop.”
Maël held a hand to his chest. “I’m so proud to hear that. Robert was always a determined boy, so I’m so pleased to learn he kept at it.”
“He struggled, I’m afraid,” Dr. Halvorg admitted. “After his mother, my grandmother, left you for his biological father, things changed quite a bit. His father was not as understanding or as patient as you had been and set him back rather badly.”
Maël frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“As far as my memory goes, he never called that man ‘father.’ As far as he was concerned, you were his dad. But his biological father insisted on wiping you out of their lives. That’s why he had to hide that.” Dr. Halvorg pointed to a picture on the mantle. “Young lady, could you kindly retrieve that?”
“Of course,” You said, standing up and going to the mantle, where there was a black-and-white photograph in a frame. It was Maël, wearing fine early twentieth century clothes, his hair cut short and wearing a flat cap. He was standing with his hands on the shoulders of a young boy, perhaps eight, wearing similar clothes. You took it and handed it to Dr. Halvorg, who gave it to Maël.
Maël stared at the picture, his eyes bright and glittering with tears. “I never thought I’d see his face again.”
“Keep that,” Dr. Halvorg said. “He’d have wanted you to.”
“Oh, I couldn’t!” Maël said. “This is yours!”
“I have digital copies,” Dr. Halvorg said dismissively. “In any case, I won’t be needing it much longer anyway. Stage four lung cancer, you see.”
“I’m so sorry,” Maël said mournfully. “Can anything be done?”
Dr. Halvorg shook his head. “I’ve lived a good life. I have children, and grandchildren, a beautiful wife, a wonderful job. The one thing I wanted was to meet my father’s father. Not that other man who did his best to tear my father down. The man who did his best to lift my father up. You. And I’ve done that. I can go now content.”
Maël’s restraint cracked, and he wept. “I appreciate that very much,” He said in a strangled whisper.
Maël and Dr. Halvorg talked for hours, recounting stories from both Robert’s childhood and adulthood. Dr. Halvorg showed Maël pictures of his siblings and children. Maël told Dr. Halvorg about his life’s work in reviving dying races. You watched the two of them interacting, and it made your heart swell with gladness. You’d never seen Maël so happy and excitable.
Finally, nearing sundown, you realized that Dr. Halvorg was becoming tired. His daughter came in to give him his evening meal and medication, and the two of you said goodbye.
“It has been an absolute joy, Dr. Halvorg,” Maël said, shaking Dr. Halvorg’s hand. “You lovely daughter has my number and my email, so please keep in touch.”
“My pleasure,” Dr. Halvorg said. “You have a nice trip back with your lady, Grandad.”
Maël laughed and teared up again. “I will.”
Outside, before you could get back in the car, Maël pulled you into a tight, warm hug.
“Thank you,” He whispered into your hair softly. “Thank you so much. I love you. I love you. I can never repay you for this.”
“What about a diamond ring and a pretty white dress?” You asked, wiping his tears and smiling up at him.
He laughed. “It’s a deal.”
Back at the hotel, he sat on the bed and stared at the photograph, pointing out little marks on Robert’s face and telling you stories about them. You listened with your head on his shoulder.
Eventually he stopped and placed the frame carefully in his suitcase.
“Are you hungry? I’m starving. Let’s order something.”
“Before we do,” You said. “I have a birthday gift for you.”
He chuckled incredulously. “Honey, I appreciate that, but honestly, there’s no possible way you could have topped what you gave me today.”
“Are you sure about that?” You asked, going to your suitcase and pulling out a small rectangular box. “Here, open it.”
The second he saw the pregnancy test, he fell to his knees, sobbing loudly, his head pressed against the floor. You knelt next to him and rubbed his back, letting him get it all out. Years of despair, pain, and sadness being released. You’re sure he was overwhelmed, so you waited in silence and lay your head against him.
“Is this real?” He choked.
“It’s real,” You assured him. “I have an ultrasound picture.”
His head popped up, tears streaming down his face. “Can I see it?”
“Of course,” You said, pulling it from your purse.
“Oh, my God,” He wept, staring at the small bean in the picture. “Oh, my God. It’s mine?”
“Yes, honey, it’s yours,” You said. “We can do a paternity test if you want, but I promise you it’s your baby.”
He stopped being able to speak and just cried. He cried for a very long time. You picked him up and laid him in the bed and ordered some food. While waiting for it, you climbed into bed and held him.
“Are you okay?” He asked after some time.
“Me? Yeah, I’m completely fine. Are you okay? You were crying pretty hard there. I’m surprised you haven’t fallen asleep. I’d be exhausted.”
“That’s not what I mean,” He said, lifting your chin so you were looking at him. “Are you okay with having a baby? I know I’ve been talking about wanting to have a child for as long as we’ve known each other, but is this what you want?”
“Yes, it is,” You told him. “I stopped my birth control months ago.”
“You didn’t tell me you’d done that,” He said.
“I wanted it to be a surprise,” You said, stroking his cheek.
“You. Are. Amazing,” He breathed. “I am so happy. Happier than I have any business being, and it’s all because of you.”
“You deserve to be happy, Maël,” You said. “Don’t ever thin’ otherwise.”
He pressed his forehead against yours. “I love you.”
“I love you back.”
Yenuno and Amai we’re overjoyed to hear the good news, and the children also seemed to be happy to have a new playmate coming. Maël seemed unable to stop smiling. He took time off from work to take care of you during the worst of your morning sickness and was present for every doctor’s appointment, every ultrasound, every time you even texted him. If you asked, he’d drop anything he was doing to come and help you.
His little girl was born in the spring, and he named her Roberta. He took her everywhere with him, rarely putting her down for any reason, even keeping her on his shoulder when he was working. The joy that radiated from him was infectious, and everyone near him couldn’t help but smile at his brand new attitude.
You planned your wedding for fall that same year, and afterward, you and Maël were able to take Roberta up to New York to meet Dr. Halvorg. He passed away a few weeks later. You and Maël attended his funeral, and as Dr. Halvorg was buried in the same family plot as Robert, Maël got the chance to visit his son’s grave for the very first time.
“Hi, Robert,” He said softly, kneeling down in front of the headstone. You waited with Roberta asleep in your arms a few paces back.
“I’m sorry,” Maël said, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry I didn’t do more when your mother took you. I wish I had fought to keep you, but I didn’t think I had any right. I just wanted to know where you had gone and if you were safe, but she told me nothing about where you were going and disappeared. I bribed the men at the train station and the docks to look through the ledgers, to try and find your name, but I never found it.
“I will always blame myself for not doing more, for not stepping in and making sure we could keep in contact. I should have taken it to the courts and let them decide, but I… I was scared they would determine I trying to hold on to something that wasn’t mine.”
Maël sniffed and wiped his eyes.
“I just wish I had one more chance,” He continued. “I wish I could have had a phone call, at the very least, to talk to you and hear your voice and tell you what I should have said back then. That it didn’t matter whose child you were biologically or legally. I was your father. You were my son. Nothing would ever change that.” His voice cracked further. “You will always be my son.”
After a moment silent tears hitting the grass where Robert lay sleeping, Maël straightened up an took a deep breath.
“I know where you are now, and I’ll come visit again, you and my grandson,” Maël said. He laughed. “I can’t believe you named your son after me. I’m honored more than I can tell you.”
Maël turned to you and opened his arms for the sleeping form of his daughter, his face wet with tears, and you passed her over.
“You have a baby sister, Robert,” He said, smiling. “I named her after you. She’s always smiling and happy. She reminds me so much of you when you were little that it’s kind of scary. I think the two of you would have been best friends. I’ll make sure she knows all about you.”
You put a hand on his back and rubbed gently. He kissed Roberta’s forehead and tiny little ear.
“We have to go now, Robert. You’re baby sister is going to wake up soon and be hungry. But I’ll come back to see you again, I swear. This time, I promise I’ll come back.”
As winter crested into spring again, Roberta was walking and had said her first word: “Daddy.”
You were still teaching at the facility, and had taken up the job permanently. Yenuno and Amai’s little girls were Roberta’s favorite playmates, though they had been warned to be careful, as Roberta developed more slowly than they did.
“Can we have another one? Please?” Maël asked one night as he watched gleefully as Roberta used her fat baby fists to shove raviolies in her mouth.
“Give me another year, but yes,” You replied.
“A year!” Maël whined. “That’s so long!”
“Don’t sass me,” You told him. “A year and no sooner. Besides, you still have more work to do. Did you get in touch with the Celtic Fae Council?”
“Yes, finally,” He replied, picking up his fork. “I didn’t realize how much red tape was involved. Genetic testing is underway. So far, there have been three men with similar blockages as mine. There are also a few women who were born missing one or both ovaries. We’re trying to trace back when this infertility spike started, but it could have been a millennium ago.” He laughed as Roberta threw a ravioli across the room. “I think she’s done, she’s just smashing them into her tray now.” He stood up and swept her up out of her seat, not even caring about the marinara stains on his shirt. “Come on, sweet pea, let’s take a bath. Eh? Eh, princess?”
He bounced her and she squealed.
You got up from your seat and came up behind him, circling him around the waist with your arms.
“You’re a good dad, honey,” You told him. “Roberta’s lucky. We both are. And so is our future children.”
He turned in your grip and kissed you. “If luck exists, you brought it with you. None of this would have happened without you. You are a miracle.”
You kissed him again and pushed him toward the bathroom. “She’s putting ravioli in your hair.”
He belly laughed and headed for the bathroom. You followed and marveled at how much had changed, wondering how it would change again. You looked forward to it.
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Lonely Hearts Club
Seokmin: Chapter 4 (Let Your Heart Hold Fast)
Characters: Seokmin x female reader
Genre/Warnings: multi-member au (different scenarios), werewolf au, fantasy, angst, fluff, implied toxic masculinity, food mentions, sexual mentions/jokes, mentions of the dead, mentions of potential violence. Any others will be put as warnings when future chapters are thought up/written. Please let me know if I’ve missed anything!
Author’s Note: For those of you asking, yes Soonyoung is Seungcheol’s mate in all the story lines but his own. Don’t ask me why, I just see it this way. I’m trying not to make every single chapter for every single member super angsty but your girl is a simple sad bitch so I can’t help it. Also, if I made another Seventeen Werewolf AU in a different universe following a different concept, would you guys read it? Let me know pls because I have an idea but I don’t wanna make it if no one would be interested in it.
Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!
Bold= Dialogue Italics= Thoughts
☁️
Lonely Hearts Club Master List
Chapter 4: Let Your Heart Hold Fast
Since you had gotten back to the pack’s house, things had been going… pretty well actually. You were getting along well with everyone, you were getting used to staying in a house again, and you had pretty much become content with living with a bunch of other wolves. You were still a bit awkward with your mate. It wasn’t necessarily bad, but it did make certain things… uncomfortable.
For instance, you guys stayed in the same room now. You figured there was no point in taking up a room if you were mates with one of the boys. It seemed selfish to you to continue to have your own. So instead, you began sleeping in the same room as Seokmin. He was beyond thrilled that you decided to stay with him, but your guys interactions got very… blurred. You weren’t sure what was okay and what wasn’t okay, neither was he.
So you usually slept on one side of the bed and he slept on the other, with a pillow in between the both of you to prevent touching. Still, you two always somehow managed to cuddle in your sleep and woke up in each other’s arms. THAT’S when it got awkward. You’d start to fumble around and get all embarrassed and he’d just be sitting there plain tongue tied at what was going on.
You weren’t even sure why you were nervous. The motherfucker had already seen every angle of your body naked, so what was the big deal? You couldn’t place it. Being around him now just made you feel so on edge. Seeing him or knowing he was near you had your fingers tingling from your palm to the tip of your middle finger, it felt like even your aura was shimmering due to his presence. Everything about him made every cell in your body was electrified. It was a strange feeling. And you always hoped your mate didn’t notice, but, unfortunately for you, he did notice.
He saw how scattered and frazzled you’d get whenever he’d get near you. He felt bad for it. But he couldn’t help but want to be near you, you were his whole world. You had been very kind to him and very caring towards him. You just didn’t really understand the whole ‘forever partners’ thing. He figured it would take you a lot of time to get used to having a mate again.
But the wolf part of him also just wanted to show you that he could be as good of a mate Cyrus was. He wanted to show you he was big and strong and able to be a good provider. He couldn’t help it, it was in his nature to be naturally competitive with your past partner. It was in his nature to want to protect you and want to be seen as someone you looked at as a safe place rather than someone you looked at like you had to protect yourself. He felt bad about it. He tried to suppress it, but he just couldn’t. The toxic masculinity of the wolf instinct just wouldn’t go away.
“Morning everyone!” you chirped as you all but skipped your way down the stairs to the kitchen, immediately locking eyes with your mate and feeling a heat rise to your cheeks instantly.
You were greeted with a wave of ‘mornings’ by the crowd now in front of you as you grabbed a bowl from one of the cabinets and began to pour yourself some cereal. You could feel Seokmin’s eyes on your every movement but you tried to brush it off as best you could and pretended not to notice.
You yawned a bit in tiredness before you sat down in an empty seat semi across from your mate. You were exhausted. Sleeping for you had become a bit better now that Seokmin slept next to you, but it had also become… uncomfortable for reasons you weren’t so sure you were ready to admit yet.
“Well it sounds like SOMEONE’s still tired!” Smirked Soonyoung, who was no doubt trying to make it sexual in nature. But it was truly just a yawn.
You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, tired from you keeping me up all night from having to hear you jerk one out for the umpteenth night in a row. Seriously what’s it been now? 4 days running? 5? I can’t keep track anymore.” You responded with a sly grin on your face, much to the delight of your brothers who began a symphony of laughter at your smart reply.
“Hey it’s not my fault Cheol’s withholding sex!” He explained defensively as he crossed his arms over his chest in a huff.
Seungcheol just snickered and let out a, “But It IS your own damn fault” before he continued on eating his breakfast by stuffing a spoon full of it in his mouth. At this point, you had begun joining in on the others fun and we’re holding your stomach in amusement.
“No it’s not!” Soonyoung put his hand over his heart dramatically as if he were accused of something horrendous, “You’re just being ridiculous!” He snarled at his partner angrily while the rest of you were still dying of laughter.
“I’m not being ridiculous my love, you need to be taught lessons and with you, withholding sex is the only way you learn. Therefor, I withhold sex.” Cheol replied matter of factly with a mouth full of food.
Jihoon raised his face in disgust at their conversation, “Eww gross! I don’t want to think about you two fucking!”
After that, it seemed like the laughter died down enough to have a more civilized conversation. Well, as civilized as the pack’s conversations could really get with 13 boys in it.
“So we need to go to the market today, we’re running low on supplies. Who’s all gonna go?” Joshua asked aloud, praying literally anyone would want to go out as he absolutely hated going himself.
A lot of the boys had already gotten caught or had close calls in the village. There were only a select few who could now go to the market undetected. Joshua just happened to be one of them, but he refused to go alone. He could be charming when he needed to be, but he preferred someone else come with so that he could take the things they needed and couldn’t afford while they distracted the shop keepers.
“I can go!” You raised your hand cutely with a sweet smile on your face before anyone else could say anything. Though, you did hear a loud huff that came from in front of you out of Seokmin.
It wasn’t that he wanted you to have to stay inside all the time. But the town was DANGEROUS. They had already caught half of them on multiple occasions, soon, there wouldn’t be anyone left that could go out and get supplies. And when they were caught, the boys got REAL close to being hung up on some hunter’s mantle.
Werewolves and hunters had been at each other’s throats since before even the alphas were born. So of course he didn’t want the love of his life out in the middle of a war there’s no way the boys could possibly win. If something happened to you, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. But he knew you would never see the validity of his argument. Because of this, instead of arguing with you, he decided to make his displeasure known passively.
Joshua clapped his hands together with joy, “Perfect! So (Y/N)’s in. Anyone else?”
He wasn’t super concerned about being alone now that you were going with. He knew that he could probably compel one of the younger boys who hadn’t been seen to go with him too just for safe measure. But he figured he’d ask in case he could actually get a volunteer for once. With you going, there was a good chance one of the others would decide to go willingly now too.
“If she’s going, then I’m going too.” Declared Seokmin from his seat of self pity.
The entire pack turned to look at him, including you. It wasn’t normal for him to want to go out in public. The only reason he was one of the few who hadn’t gotten exposed yet was because he was generally too scared of humans to go out. Now here he was volunteering to go because you had. He wasn’t about to let you go out without him. Boy, love sure had a way of making men do the stupidest things.
You shook your head in protest, “No. Absolutely not. You can’t go. I refuse to let you go.”
Seokmin grit his teeth in their place, “If you’re going then so am I. I’m just as capable as any of the rest of you!” He hissed out between nose flares.
That was another thing, this would also be the perfect way to show you that he could protect you and be tough for you like he wanted to. He knew you thought of him as some little boy, he wanted to change that. He wanted you to think as highly of him as he did you and this was a good way to start.
“But Seokmin-” You were swiftly cut off before you could continue with your argument.
“But Seokmin nothing. If you’re going, I’ll be right there with you watching you. End of discussion.” He finished with a bit of a growl to show you and everyone else he meant business.
The boys all looked to you as if you were the deciding voice, even though you weren’t an alpha. You were his mate and one of the few that could go. If you didn’t want him going, then they’d respect that decision. BUT both you and them also knew it meant trouble for your relationship or whatever it was you had with him if you refused it.
You groaned in frustration and thought while you drug your hands down your face in annoyance. He could get himself hurt. Did you REALLY have it in you today to protect him? You were still so on edge with him near, was it really a GOOD idea for him to be out in the human world right next to you? But part of you also knew full well that he wasn’t going to back down from his insane idea. The best you could do was humor him and PRAY that nothing bad would happen.
“Ugh fine! Whatever. But so help me god, if I have to come save your ass because you get caught, I’m definitely NOT gonna be happy.” You rolled your eyes at his narrowed ones.
He gave you a victorious grin that made you want to grab his face and pull him in for a kiss and smack him for his smugness at the same time. But instead of doing that, you all quickly adjourned to your rooms to get ready for the day to come. You just hoped it wouldn’t all go to shit.
(Updated 9/21)
#seventeen#seventeen au#seventeen angst#seventeen fanfic#seventeen fluff#seventeen smut#seventeen x reader#svt au#seventeen seokmin#seokmin angst#seokmin imagines#svt seokmin#svt dk#dokyeom
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sis leiii, can i please have a piece where instead of bill flying back home to be with tiger, she's the one who's flying to see him because he's travelling to film a movie or do a photoshoot or something but he's feeling homesick and maybe having a fever and tiger flies immediately to whatever he is to take care of him, but she surprises him and he lets himself cry when he sees her there?
Oh my sweet, soft Bill. Tiger is, without a doubt, no stranger to rescuing her Big Dude.
And you know, maybe it’s a multitude of things. Maybe Bill really isn’t jiving with the producer or the studio or something, but he’s learning in his older age that sometimes you can’t just...flip your shit and walk away from projects. Maybe the project itself still really interests him, but the people carrying it through are being insufferable dicks. Bill has an extremely low tolerance for people who think they are above anyone else, and if the set he’s on is rampant with egos, he has a really hard time...but he also can’t necessarily walk away.
Maybe it’s not even that. Maybe it’s just a gruelling shoot, one where actors’ unions and the studio are constantly in a battle because the actors are somewhat being forced to go through with scenes or go through in conditions they have no business going through. On Bill’s second day on set, he spent 14 hours submerged in an indoor pool that was way below the temperature it should have been. His acting contract, his union, probably states that he can spend up to 3 hours maximum in the pool and then he needs a one hour break to dry off, have a warm drink, raise his body temperate back to normal and then he can continue.
But the producer was always almost just getting the right shot, and maybe just one more take, and okay that was great but let’s do another one just in case and suddenly, it’s 14 hours later and Bill is shivering, his body temperature is dropping dangerously low, and his lips are blue. The doctor on set finally puts an end to it.
The next day, a cough had set in deep in his chest. One of those coughs that started off small and then just couldn’t stop, one of those ones that ached in your lungs, a cough that had you gasping for air after you just couldn’t make it stop. His entire day was scrapped, every take he did cut short when his breath would catch and it would set off this hacking cough, one that rattled deep in his bones. He was exhausted. He was out of breath. The first week hadn’t even wrapped yet, and he was already wrecked.
Tiger heard it the moment she picked up the phone when he called her that evening--the middle of the night for her. She picked it up and mumbled a groggy hello before a deep, uncharacteristic wheeze had her eyes widening.
“Hi kid,” he rasped, “Sorry I’m calling so late.”
“...Bill?” She had to ask to be sure. His voice was so rough, so strained, and she winced as a terrible cough sounded down the line.
“Yeah,” he wheezed, “Sorry, give me a second.”
He sounded terrible. His voice sounded thick and rough, strained as if he was trying to control it--and his cough sounded even worse. Wet and rumbling, it seemed to go on forever before she heard a soft sip, clearing of his throat.
“Sorry,” he croaked, “Having some issues.
“You sound terrible bud,” she said, “What’s going on?”
“Just caught a bit of a chill,” he mumbled.
A bit of a chill turned into pneumonia a few days later--and still, he worked. He would call her when he could, but tiger was getting increasingly more worried--she knew her Good Dude. And it seemed that every time she talked to him, he was coming off a day on set that was seeming more and more insane. A night shoot, where he had to run through freezing cold temperatures and snow in nothing but a bathrobe, barefoot--and he had to do it over and over and over again, because the director wasn’t happy with the shot. More water scenes. More hours spent in subzero temperatures, in soaking wet clothes, already sick as a dog.
Tiger had a feeling that there was a reason why he was sticking to regular calls instead of video ones, and at one point she insisted on it--and it only confirmed her suspicions. He looked terrible--gaunt and pale, his big eyes sticking out of his head even more, his skin a sickly pallor, and he was at the point where he couldn’t even get two words out without either having to stop to catch his breath, or launching into a coughing fit. The wheeze in his chest was even more prominent, there was a permanent wince in his features from the pain, and his eyes had deep bags under them.
“Bill,” she said sternly, “Have you seen a doctor? Are you taking meds for this?”
“I’m on a round of antibiotics,” he brought a pill bottle into the frame and shook it to show her, “But it just needs to run its course.”
“My ass it does,” she snaps, “You look awful.”
“Careful,” he warned, but it lacked all of its usual malice when he launched into a coughing fit after.
As soon as tiger hung up the phone, she booked her ticket to his location. She wasn’t going to sit by and watch this happen. The kicker was when she was browsing her instagram and just happened to stumble across a story that one of Bill’s co-stars posted--a goofy photo of the dude in the make up chair--but there in the background, a little blurred but tiger could spot him anyway--was Bill, curled up in a lounge chair, an IV drip in his arm. Tiger screen capped the photo and sent it to Bill, with a very curt message.
Call me. Now.
Seconds later, the image disappeared from the costar’s stories and Bill’s name popped up on her screen.
“Don’t freak out,” he started, “It’s fine, kid.”
“An IV isn’t fine Bill,” she snapped, “What’s happening?”
“It’s just some nutrients and vitamins and a lot of hydration--” a pause for a gross-sounding coughing fit--”I’m having a hard time shaking this thing, so it’s just to give me a boost.”
“You can’t shake this thing because you’re exhausted and this gig is killing you--”
“I’ve gotta go tiger, they’re calling me back to scene,” he mumbled, “Please don’t worry about me. I’m okay, I promise.”
Tiger moved her flight up to the earliest one she could find.
And listen, when she got there? She gave his agent strict instructions not to tell him shit, but to help her find a way to get into his apartment. She was exhausted from the flight and the time difference, but she was on a mission--she found a grocery store, was able to pick up a few staples. She stocked up on green tea, honey, managed to find some warm blankets, was able to somehow figure out how the sauna on the back deck worked. Tiger had a bad case of whooping cough as a kid, and she remembered that Granny used to spend hours in a steamed out bathroom holding her, trying to ease the pain and break the cough. Extreme heat was good to try and clear out the lungs, and if Bill didn’t have a fever, she planned on manhandling him into the sauna for a few hours tonight.
She got everything she could. Medicine. Lozenges. A thermometer. A hot water bottle. She spent the rest of the day cooking--big pots of soups and stews, hearty things with a lot of vegetables that would be easy for him to digest.
And listen, when Bill got home in the wee hours of the morning? Tiger was on the couch reading, and she stood when he entered the doorway. He hadn’t seen her yet and she watched as her Big Dude stepped in, closed the door behind him--and then slumped against it. His back leaning on it, his head fell forward and she heard him exhale a rough sigh--or at least part of one, before he started coughing again. Pushing himself off, he wearily raised his head and that’s when he saw her--and he froze.
“But you’re fine eh?” she said sarcastically. The house was mostly dark except for a few dim lights, but she saw his eyes widen and the shock register on his face.
“...Tiger?” he rasped after a long pause. He shook his head as if he might be imagining it, but tiger took a few steps forward.
“This ends now Bill,” she said lowly, “Do you hear me?”
She stopped in front of him, but he still hadn’t blinked yet. She raised her eyebrows expectantly.
“Tiger...” he mumbled. Reaching a hand out, his fingers brushed her hip as if he was afraid she was just a mirage--but then a few fingers turned into a whole hand, then both hands.
“Tiger,” he croaked, and then he crumbled. Reaching for her, she pulled him in as his knees buckled under him. She caught his weight as best she could, and he buried his nose in her neck. His shoulders shook and he clung to her, and she could feel the rumble in his chest as he struggled for air.
“Okay easy big guy,” she said, “Just try and stay calm and breathe through it.”
The cough started off small as he tried to suppress it, but eventually his whole body shook as he wheezed and his knees gave out. He knelt down, trying to get air in as he heaved, and she soothingly rubbed his back.
“Enough,” she said softly as she patted his back, “I’m here bud, and I’m not leaving. Just try and calm down a bit so you can get your breath back.”
His hand still reached for her just to make sure she was real, and it took him a long time to be able to catch his breath. Tiger held him the whole time, right there on the floor, until he could at least get some air in again.
Once he was able to breathe again, I’ll bet she put her foot down. Told him that she was worried, and that she was there to take care of him--because he was sick. Really sick, and that if he didn’t take the time he needed to heal, that he would only get worse. He finally caved because it was her you know? And for as well as he takes care of her, he trusts her to do the same for him. Halfway through the call with his agent, tiger had to take the phone from him because he was struggling for air again and couldn’t get the words out. Tiger told her, in no uncertain terms, that Bill wouldn't be able to work for at least two weeks.
And listen, for two weeks--Bill wasn’t allowed to move an inch unless tiger told him too. His fever was too high for the sauna that night, and even though he shivered most of the night, she made sure he was only draped with one blanket so he wouldn’t overheat. She filled him with fluids to try and help break the fever, and when it was a little better the next day, she started working on his lungs. She dragged him to the sauna and sat there with him to sweat it out. He was miserable--cranky and in pain, the dry air burned his already sensitive chest, but tiger just sat there and held him. She held him as his body wracked with heaves, she rubbed his back when a coughing fit took over and left him gasping, and she wouldn’t let him leave no matter how much he protested. Only after they had been in there for two hours did she pull him back upright, take him inside and get him to drink another ungodly amount of water, followed up by some of Granny’s tea. She gave him all the head scritchies until he was able to sleep at least a little, and even then he was only able to with his head propped up against her chest.
It was agonizing. It was the sickest she had ever seen him. And it was a long process--if she didn’t like the way he looked after two weeks, then she wasn’t going anywhere for at least another two. And neither was he.
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Henlo all! This is my extremely-close-to-the-deadline-submission for @some-piece’s AU event. I got these 5 characters to chose from: Rebecca - Hachi - Hawkins - Zoro - Paulie. And after contemplating for a long while I decided to put Zoro in an animal shelter AU which automatically became modern AU setting as well as slight!college AU but the main focus will be on the shelter.
2nd person. Genderneutral reader. slight mentions of animal abuse, nothing too bad. 99% fluff!
“Can I help you?”
A young man about your age had walked into the shelter where you worked. He had opened the door quite harshly, making the bell at the top ring, and making you put down the cat you had been brushing for a bit and put it back in its cage. You walked up to the little desk area at the front, where he was standing with his arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face that only seemed to relax a bit when he heard you speak up.
“Yeah I sent an e-mail, I needed to be here for the volunteer program?”
You thought for a second, suddenly remembering that you had posted an ad at local universities and colleges to come volunteer at the shelter. Most of those students didn’t have the time to come volunteer, but you had gotten a handful of mails. Most of the students never showed up and the only one that had made an appointment for today had made the appointment for two hours earlier so you had just assumed it was going to be another no-show.
“Oh… you’re…” “-Late I know, I got lost.” You furrowed your brow wondering how someone could get lost for two hours coming from a campus that was only a fifteen minute walk away, but didn’t pry any further, just happy to have some possible assistance.
“Okay! Well, I’ll go get the stuff in order then, you can wait out here for a bit.”
After you got the papers he handed you some form from the school as well and explained that he had to fill in a couple of hours a week with other things than his sports curriculum to get his degree to be complete, and he had jokingly added ‘how hard can it possibly be to look after a bunch of critters’. The statement in itself did not seem to be meant to discredit your work or the animals, but you already saw that he was vastly underestimating just how much effort went into your work. So as soon as all the papers were signed and in order, you could prove him wrong.
“You’re in luck, all the cleaning is already done. It’s feeding time now, and I was doing a round of brushing today, so maybe you could help with that and if we still have time left we can take some dogs out for a walk.”
The grin on his face was confident, and you were taking a little pleasure in knowing it would be wiped off his face in an instant. Your main focus was to make sure he wouldn’t accidentally harm the animals, and to make sure they were properly taken care of. But if it meant this overconfident jock got his ass handed to him, you’d take it.
The day had proceeded as you had expected. Zoro, as he had introduced himself once you got over the formalities, had not been really good with the animals. He was strong, and a hard worker you had to give him that. But the animals… seemed to not really like him, even if he did do his best? Cats hissed, dogs barked, the one abandoned parrot you were temporarily housing had pecked him so hard his finger started bleeding. Luckily for you, he didn’t physically lash out at the animals, but you had heard a whole new array of curse words and insults that you previously didn’t even know existed.
You had spent most of the day explaining all the things to him and helping him out whenever he was really struggling but most of the time you had actually been occupied with trying not to laugh too hard at his failing ministrations.
“You have to be kind, try not to come across as so intimidating. You’re a big bad man that they are scared off, and they’re all just trying to defend themselves,” you said as you petted a big fluffball of a cat while Zoro put fresh water and new food in its cage. The cat was now happily purring and nudging your hand with his head while a few minutes ago it had been aggressively hissing at your volunteer.
Zoro just angrily grumbled in response, finishing up his task so you could put the cat back. You eyed the clock, noticing it was already time for him to leave for the day. “I’ll release you from your suffering then. See you next week?” “Wait but you still have all these cages to do?” “I’m used to doing this all by myself, no worries” He frowned, and he seemed to be deep in thought for a second. “I’ll stay until it is done.” You raised one brow: “are you sure? These hours won’t count towards your total and it is getting quite late.”
He only shrugged in response: “My roommate is gone and I don’t have much better to do. I am volunteering time anyway, what is one extra hour going to do?”
You smiled widely. “Let’s get to it then!”
Even though the animals didn’t seem to like him very much, you couldn’t help but admire this green-haired man and his incredible work ethic. He showed up late often, because even after a few weeks he still managed to get lost regularly. You had just started to say that he needed to be there an hour earlier than he actually had to be there, so with his geographical skills he’d be there on time or even a little early.
Most of the animals still were not that much of a fan of him, but you’d worked out a nice system that ensured fast and efficient work, and as little scratches and bites as possible. You got work done faster, had more time for social media and such, and thus animals got adopted out faster. It was a win-win, and you noticed yourself always looking forward to the days he’d come to help.
Zoro wasn’t really talkative, but would listen to your endless ramblings as you talked about the shelter, all the animals, but eventually also things about your life, your family, your home… he was an excellent listener, and his very blunt character made that he usually came up with very honest opinions and helpful solutions, even when he didn’t necessarily intend them like that. And sometimes, when you stumbled over your words cause you were too focused, or said something that didn’t make sense he would laugh. It was a deep and loud laugh, making his whole upper body shake, and lately whenever he laughed, it made your heart flutter a little. Another reason to look forward to his help, which had already exceeded the number of hours he had to do for his extra credit.
But the semester was coming to an end and you very well knew that even though he seemed to be enjoying his time way more than he initially did, that he would not do extra time. He had his sport’s practices to focus on and his group of friends that frequently went on weekend trips and such, and he had been missing out on a lot of that because of the volunteering he did. You felt a little sad, but had made peace with it. Still, a little voice in the back of your head was nagging more and more often to ask him to meet outside of the shelter. But you didn’t want to seem weird or creepy. Besides. He was obviously a popular college student, finishing up his degree, with a big group of friends that obviously adored him, and model-grade gorgeous. You were just a high school dropout that managed to get a job in a local shelter of which the owner died only a little after you got settled. You were struggling to make ends meet, had little social life besides the animals. You kept telling yourself that the only reason you were feeling so strange whenever Zoro came out to help, was because he was the only one who had made you feel like your life and stories mattered even a little. But you could get used to being all alone in here again with the occasional customer or 1-day volunteer. It was what you were used to. You had already taken far too much advantage of this gorgeous man’s free time.
And then the last day of the semester came. You were finishing up the chores of the day with a heavy heart. You would have to say goodbye, and you would have to keep it professional, since you never worked up the courage to really deepen the connection the two of you had besides working together. Zoro seemed a little uneasy as well, but neither of you was going to bring up the tense atmosphere. Tense was still better than awkward so you rolled with it.
“Well then”, you started as you put your broom away, “you’ve been an amazing help this semester.” You walked over to the front desk and handed him all the papers he’d need to get his credit in order.
“You more than deserved these, too bad I can’t give you a grade.” He chuckled in response. “I wish I could say I would miss it a lot, but I think my arms are better off scratch-free” You laughed a little as well, but felt yourself dying on the inside. Of course he wouldn’t miss this place. Or you.
He put the papers away in his bag, and you were staring at the desk, desperately making up sentences in your mind, of which you could utter maybe one, just one, to say what you were feeling and what you really wanted. But anything you came up with seemed so lame, so stupid, so hopeless, so desperate, and even though you felt like all of these things, that was not how you wanted to portray yourself in front of him for all people.
He softly touched your arm, his hand warm, and you jumped at the sudden contact. He stepped back in surprise at your reaction. “Sorry”, he mumbled, “I just wanted to say that I didn’t mind my time here. You really helped me out well”. He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, clearly not too used to being soft in someone’s presence, and he smiled an adorable smile as he said those words, a mix of embarrassment and sincerity on his face. You felt like melting, and had to suppress the urge to just wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. With those broad shoulders and strong arms, you were quite sure that the hug he’d give back would be heavenly. But you didn’t, because again, that would be so strange with no indications beforehand that that was what you wanted.
You nodded, a soft smile on your face as well. “You’re welcome. If you ever have some spare time and get bored, you know the way… or well, you don’t but you’ll find it.” He frowned a little at your remark, but the glint in his eyes betrayed that he found it quite amusing too. He picked up his bag, and opened the door. “Bye then?” “Goodbye Zoro”
A box of kittens. You had nearly tripped over them when you left the shelter to go home for the day. The box was in front of the door and weak, tiny mewls already betrayed its content as you did your utmost best to regain your balance. You kneeled down next to it, carefully opened up the top. Four little kittens, way too young to be away from the mother yet. Already emotional from the happenings of the day you felt tears well up in your eyes. You picked up the box and placed it inside, immediately grabbing whatever supplies you could find to keep the kittens warm, furiously wiping at your eyes in order to clear the tears before they could stream down your cheeks. Things like this could make you so furious. And oh, if only Zoro was still here to calm you down and help out a little.
You had to take a few deep breaths and gather your thoughts. You had to get out, running for some kitten milk. These babies needed their nutrients and you’d probably spend the night in the shelter making sure they were fed whenever they needed it, keeping an eye on them. So you’d have to go get an overnight bag. But that would mean you would be away from them for a considerable time. You decided that the food was the most important part and literally sprinted to the most nearby pet store, mentally reminding yourself to book an appointment at the vet asap when you were back.
Sunken deep in thoughts, you weren’t seeing where you were walking, running straight into someone, stumbling and falling on your back in the process. Great. That was what you needed. Some public humiliation while you were already at the verge of a little breakdown. You started to mumble a string of incoherent apologies when you looked up at a surprisingly familiar figure. “y/n?” “Zoro? What are you doing here?” “The apartment I live in is right here. What are you doing here?” He pointed upward at an apartment building and offered you his hand to get up. You grabbed it, and for a split second you wondered how he could possibly take up to two hours to get to the shelter from his apartment that was even closer to the shelter than his college campus was. But then you were back on your feet and you remembered the kittens. Your mind immediately regained some focus again. “Kittens” “What?” “Someone dropped a box of newborn kittens at the door. They will die without supervision, milk and warmth. So I'm getting some food for them and I’ll be staying the night with them to keep an eye on them” You managed to get all things out in one breath, almost turning to start walking again. No matter how much more time you actually wanted to spend in his presence, you knew it was a race against the clock to help the little babies, and those were your top priority right now.
Zoro’s eyes grew wide. No matter how much he didn’t always connect with some of your furry friends that he had to take care of, he too was filled with rage when he had heard tales of people mishandling them and the reason why some were so scared and defensive when he was too loud or too brisk. You apologized again, explaining that you really had to go, that time was of the essence, and started walking. You were surprised to notice Zoro walking with you.
“I’ll come with you.” “What?” “I’ll come with you. You need food too. And probably some blankets or something for the night right? You need some rest if you are going to take care of everything we usually do and then the new kittens on top of that. I’ll help”
It was not a question, not even an offer. More a matter-of-a-fact-statement and even though every polite fiber in your being was telling you to follow etiquette and politely tell him that that was absolutely not necessary, you couldn’t push away the overwhelming relief and admiration you felt for this man in that moment and you accepted his help immediately.
You were back at the shelter in a matter of minutes, basic supplies for the kittens in hand, and the vet already on the phone as you followed their instructions on how to take care of them overnight, so you could bring them in for checkup and more detailed advice first thing in the morning. Knowing that Zoro would come and help you out, had done wonders for your mood, your resolve and your nerves. You felt more steady, like you could actually pull this off without neglecting either the kittens or any of the other animals that also needed your attention.
Zoro had promised to go get some things to make the night at the shelter a little more comfortable and something for you to eat, because he figured you probably were starving at that point. And while you had not eaten yet, the adrenaline made you not feel the hunger. Now that things were calming down and the adrenaline was wearing off, you could feel your stomach grumble and you were mentally thanking your green-haired hero for his considerate streak. He had literally no obligation to help you out in any way. He was no longer officially volunteering. He had nothing to gain. He was probably on his ways to get a couple of beers and blissfully pass out after an evening of fun with his roommates. But he had seen you in distress and decided to help, and it had warmed your heart and given you renewed energy.
The kittens were left to sleep a little after you had given all the first help that you could under the phone-guidance of the local vet clinic, and now you were nervously waiting on the couch for Zoro to return. You were nervous cause of the kittens, but you also caught yourself being a little nervous about the fact that he’d be keeping you company for the night. Not that you were seeing this as a date of any kind, but just the mere idea gave you the shivers in a nervous kind of way.
He arrived only a little after you sat down, bag with a big blanket and some drinks in one hand, and another one holding a steaming bag of takeaway food. “I’m sorry it took me so long, I got -” “lost” you chuckled, “no worries, I got the first things taken care off”
You patted the spot next to you on the couch. “Sit down, thank you for getting food. And thank you for helping out… I… I think I might have had a little breakdown if it wasn’t for your presence” He shrugged off the praise. “I am already used to helping out here, and besides, I kind of liked spending time with you, so a little extra won’t hurt”.
He said those words so easily, you wanted to smack him for how casual he was about it, and how bluntly and honestly he expressed his feelings, while you shared the same feelings but didn’t dare utter a single word. You grabbed the food instead and the blanket, sitting down so you could both sit down comfortably, keep an eye on the kittens and eat without too many problems. He got the hint, and made himself more comfortable on the couch as well.
The evening flew by. You had food, checked up on the kittens regularly per the vet’s instructions, and since there were no other chores to do, you could actually have some proper talks with Zoro. He was still not really as talkative, but he answered your questions, told you some more details about his life that he had not mentioned before. You could almost physically feel yourself growing more and more attracted to him, and nearly felt guilty about it.
Despite all the adrenaline wearing you off and making you tired, you stayed up a remarkably long time, Zoro’s company and the kittens keeping you awake for longer than you had expected to stay up. But now it was nearing 4am and you were feeling your eyelids grow heavy. You were telling Zoro something about why you dropped out of high school, but you kept losing track of your own sentences. You had to think long and hard before repeating the few words you had already said. The playful smirk that was present on his face as you were struggling to find cohesion in your story didn’t help either. He thought it incredibly endearing, and when your eyes finally shut without opening again, and a soft snore could be heard, he very carefully moved you a bit so you would lay more comfortably. He crossed his arms and legs and leaned back in order to get some shuteye as well.
You woke up to your alarm, that you had set up to go off every few hours, just so you could check up on the kittens and go through all the steps again. Your eyes and whole body felt heavy and it was harder to get up than expected. Not only because you were incredibly tired still, but also because a muscled arm was snugly resting around your midsection. You were sure you had fallen asleep on one end of the couch, but for some reason, you were leaning on Zoro, and he had wrapped an arm around you to secure you and make sure you didn’t slip off the couch.
Your heart skipped a beat and you got up rather briskly. Of course, the sudden movement made Zoro wake up as well, and he seemed just as embarrassed as you were about the slightly compromising positions you had been napping in. You quickly cleared your throat, muttering ‘kittens’ before standing up, checking up on the babies and going through the motions. Without having to say anything, Zoro got up and started the morning chores already. It was way too early for those, but before you could protest he said that he’d get them started as long as you were working on the kittens, so you both could have a little more rest before your planned vet visit. You gave him a grateful smile.
When the work was done, you called Zoro back, and you both sat down on the couch again. He seemed incredibly relaxed, almost as if he had forgotten that you were practically cuddling a little while ago, the mere thought of the sensation of his strong arm holding you making your heart race again. You shifted positions seven times in the span of three minutes and you could feel him staring at you, one brow raised in confusion at your almost yoga-like contortions you were trying in order to get comfortable.
“Are you okay y/n?”
“Yeah...I...I just… I don’t know how I could ever thank you properly” “Well… I already got my credit. But your head resting on my chest was kind of nice. Maybe a goodnight kiss before we go to sleep again for a little while?” He sounded casual, but he was avoiding eye-contact, regretting the words as they left his mouth. Your eyes grew so big they were about to pop up out of your sockets. “I mean, if you don’t mind if not… I…” Now it was his turn to get flustered, the little bit of smooth talk he had had earlier completely gone as the inner panic set in of maybe misunderstanding your previous actions, glances, words, and ministrations.
You gathered up all your courage, and gave him a soft peck on the lips, seeing his eyes widen in surprise and the tips of his ears turn red before you rested your head on his broad chest. “You know for that payment, I’m willing to hire you as a full time worker here.” you hummed contently. He let out a few confused grunts, surprised by your bout of confidence, not seeing that you were trying to hide the insane embarrassment on your face. Face red, he managed to utter just one response before you drifted off into sleep again. “I’m gonna need a little more payment than just that. But well, I’ll consider it”
fin.
#alternative some-piece#zoro x reader#roronoa zoro x reader#opfanfic#one piece fanfiction#one piece#one piece x reader#roronoa zoro#alternative univers#modern au#animal shelter a#fluff
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Soulmate AU part 15 (finally) ((oops)) !!!!!
First • Previous • Here • Next
Oh my god you guys. I’m really sorry for saying yesterday and then not making the update (But on a better note I passed that final!!!!!!) and because of how hellish this week promises to be i’m not gonna make any other attempts at promising updates. I will say that my school isn’t normally near this hectic, so things should calm down come Sunday. Hopefully.
Enjoy!!
Red Hood was the first to speak, lowering his head in a wince. “Damn, kid. Sorry.”
“We had no idea.” Red Robin said quietly. “I hope you can believe us about this, at least. If the Justice League — or even just us- had known about this at any point for the last four years, we would not have let you face it alone.”
Gravely, Batman spoke. “What measures are you taking to find Hawkmoth?”
Adrien and Chloé both looked to her and she suppressed a sigh. As the Guardian, she supposed she actually did understand the most about this.
“One of the powers granted by the Miraculous is a mask of anonymity. How do you think five teenagers have managed to keep their identities all this time? The magic around the jewels keeps us from being recognized in our superhero forms, and that includes the leaps of logic needed to puzzle out who the person behind the mask is. It’s why I felt safe enough to come ask for help from the supposed best detectives in the superhero world. It would take me detransforming right in front of you to reveal me.”
“That’s all well and good,” Robin said. “But what measures have you taken to find Hawkmoth? You don’t necessarily need to find his identity to track him down.”
Marinette tried not to scowl at his patronizing tone. “Due to how his powers work, we’ve been unable to do anything other than figure out a general area that he operates in. If you’ve found the blog, we’ve been using the maps generated during each Akuma attack to figure out his general range. But we think he may have either multiple places, or that he might be transforming out of his lair and sending Akumas out like that to mess with our data. And we aren’t exactly able to track the butterflies when they can fly through solid objects.”
“And you’re teens, with busy lives and no actual support system for superheroing, so it’s insanely difficult to devote much of your actual time to being proactive against him, other than the patrols your videos mention,” Red Robin summarized. Marinette nodded, Chloé and Adrien echoing the motion.
Batman just sighed. “I’m unsure of how wise it would be to actually send one of us to Paris to help you, if Hawkmoth targets those with dark emotions. But we will dig into this, and I promise we will do anything we can to assist you in your fight.”
“Oracle and I can start working on something,” Red Robin suggested, and the other three nodded.
“If you need to contact us-“ Marinette pulled out her yo-yo, and opened it up to the screen. “This is how you can contact me. I’ll be notified of any messages or calls even outside the suit.” She offered them the yo-yo, extremely secure in the knowledge that now matter how they try to bug it, it would never work.
Red Robin took it, and after fiddling with it for a moment, looked back at her. “Isn’t this also your weapon? How does that work?”
He sounded distressed by it, and his expression only dropped further when Adrien laughed and said, “Magic.”
“Do you mind if we stay a bit?” Chloé asked, “If you want to accompany us, I wouldn’t mind, but I was kind of interested in seeing Gotham.”
Marinette caught Robin smirking, and wondered why, before Batman opened his mouth.
“I—”
“—Can run some kids around Gotham for a little bit,” Red Hood cut him off. “C’mon, Bats, let ‘em live a little while they’re visiting. I won’t let them get lost.”
Batman sighed. “Robin, you go with them.”
“Tt.” The other teen moved forward again, up to Batman’s side. “If you insist.”
Marinette wasn’t enthused, but she held her jabs in.
“Awesome,” Chloé breathed, and as she took a look at her, Marinette recognized some of the way she used to stare at Ladybug. Chloé was trying her best not to actually fangirl over getting to spend time with some of the Gotham vigilantes.
It brought back vivid memories of Chloé running around in her Ladybug suit, pretending to save the day.
And then Chloé gave her a dirty look that said she knew exactly what she was thinking, and leapt straight off the tower.
“Abeille!” Marinette scolded, running over to the ledge. Chloé was hanging below, laughing.
“You’re too uptight, Ladybug, live a little.” A hand rested on her shoulder and she turned to see Red Hood. “Hey, Bee-girl. Race you to that blue roof.”
“Me first!” Adrien yelled, bounding past them, propelling himself with his staff out into the open air. Red Hood shot his grappling gun and swung after, and Marinette sighed.
“I work with children,” she grumbled, only to be met with laughter from Red Robin. She turned back to them. “Thank you, Batman, for what you’re doing for us. It means- a lot.”
He nodded at her, and then to Robin, before he and Red Robin flung themselves from the side of the roof, both heading in the opposite direction from her partners.
“You and me, then,” Marinette said to Robin. With a thought, she smirked. “Bet you we can make it to that rooftop before they do.”
“Tt, Red Hood has probably already gotten distracted by another passing fancy.” Why did the way he said that sound familiar? “But I believe you are correct.” And he rushed off.
She matched him, swing for swing. And silently, they stole through the sky, listening to Chat Noir baiting Red Hood about something, Abeille snarking over his comeback, their teammates laughter covering the sound of them thoroughly catching up and then, without warning, surpassing them.
“Hey!” Abeille called, and suddenly it was an actual race.
Marinette gave Robin one look and he, by some miracle, seemed to understand. They split around a building, and Marinette was on her own.
Each swing brought her higher, each view of Gotham new and beautiful and confusing, until she heard it.
On the streets below her, a raised voice.
“Chat,” she called as loudly as she dared, knowing that he would hear her. And then she dropped down.
“Please, please, just let me go-“ the woman cried, clutching a bag to her chest.
“Where are you gonna go, huh, Cynthia?” The man asked, looming over her. “A fucking homeless shelter? You gonna sleep on the streets? You know none of your friends are gonna put up with your goddamn bullshit the way I do—”
“Anything’s better than going back with you!” Cynthia shouted, looking terrified. Marinette couldn’t stop herself from stepping in.
“Madame?” She moves out of the shadows and into the narrow beam of lamplight that covered the street. “What is the problem?”
Cynthia raised her wild eyes to Marinette and dashed towards her, cowering behind. “Please, please, don’t make me go back with him, I can’t. I can’t.”
“Listen, Red,” the man spoke to her. “This ain’t your business. Let me take my girlfriend home, she’s got meds that keep her from doing shit like this-“
“I don’t,” she spat. “Don’t fucking lie, I don’t have meds, you just-“
“Sir,” Marinette said calmly, her pulse like a jackhammer on the inside of her ribs. “If this really is a simple disagreement, perhaps some time apart will help you both collect yourselves. I’m sure—‘
“You ain’t sure of nothin’, bitch,” the man sneered. “That’s my girl. You’ll hand her over to me or you’ll face the goddamn consequences.”
Marinette’s hesitation was her downfall. There was no way she was going to let the man take Cynthia, but she was torn between getting the woman away quickly or trying to talk down the boyfriend. And in the second where she waited, the man chuckled.
“Please, no,” Cynthia whispered. Marinette turned her head to assure her. The woman looked stricken, eyes wide over Marinette’s shoulder.
The gun she didn’t see him pull went off.
TAGLIST:
@the-fusionist @rebecarojas07 @lowandco @kotaleartzu @resignedcatservant @alenee13 @mystery-5-5 @ladybug-182 @actual-disaster-human @loysydark @rumbelle18 @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @athena452 @mochegato @ash-amg @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @thestressmademedoit @sassakitty @doriebell @toodaloo-kangaroo @myazael @theatreandcomicfreak @mer-mel @dahjokester @northernbluetongue @abrx2002 @area51qt @jessigurl-design @renscorpio @cici-schnee @multplelifes @redscarlet95 @razzledazzle247 @rosep16 @emotionalsupportginger @kceedraws @tired-butterfly @kuroko26 @catthhay @moonystars14 @shamefullove @shreky-boi @imanerddealwith @chaosace @captainmac6 @purple-people-eaters-productions @crazylittlemunchkin @weird-pale-blonde-person @bigpicklebananatree
#maribat#daminette#daminette soulmates#soulmate au#fanfic#MUAHAHAHAHA#This is definitely inspired by and made for our angst queens on the discord~
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Ice Cream Pt. 2~
ꕥPosted: 9/23/20
ꕥGenre: Fluff, Smut
ꕥPairing: Fem!Reader x Seonghwa
ꕥWord Count: ~2k
ꕥWarnings: Oral (f recieving), Unprotected sex (sort of, reader is on the pill), Reader has a thing for being teased, Praise (are we even surprised at this point), Language, Size kink if you squint
ꕥA/N: I hope you all enjoy this one! I’m going to make this a five part series and I’m really excited to write the rest!! I’ll be posting part three on Saturday! You can read the first one here. Happy Wednesday everyone :)
Pt. 3 here~
Your POV
I read over the words on my screen for likely the twentieth time, trying to come up with a solid response. Any response at all, really, that didn’t sound completely ridiculous.
[Choco Boi] Those are big words, doll. How about you come see for yourself how good I am?
Choco Boi—or Seonghwa, as I affectionately named him in my phone—had been bragging to me about how good of a cook he was for the past hour. So I, in all my infinite wisdom, told him I was an incredible chef. I mean I wasn’t necessarily a bad cook, but I certainly wasn’t Gordon Ramsey. And now, I he was inviting me to his home for us to cook together.
My fingers were hovering over the keyboard of my phone when I received another text from him.
[Choco Boi] No pressure tho, only if you want to :)
[Me] That’s okay! I’d like to. Maybe the 6th?
Surely someone can learn to cook in a week, right?
[Choco Boi] Sure. I’ll pick you up at 5?
[Me] Sounds good :))
With a sigh I set my phone down on my night stand, tucking myself into bed. I had work the next morning and I knew I should be getting some sleep but my thoughts continued to drift back to Seonghwa.
Two weeks had passed since we first met and there wasn’t a day that passed that we didn’t text, FaceTime, or call each other.
I couldn’t help but be attracted to him. He was just so...alluring. He had the most precious mannerisms and I felt like I melted everytime he smiled. Especially when it was because of me.
I recalled the first official date we went on. He took me to a gorgeous restaurant I had never heard of. I teased myself for being so nervous because conversation flowed so easily with him. We held hands nearly the entire time as Seonghwa pretended to know all the foreign dishes and everything about them, making up the most ridiculous stories as he went along. I smiled and laughed with him to the point I had tears in my eyes.
I remember so clearly when he drove me home and we ended up making out in his car for an hour, the fat raindrops pounding on his car. It wasn’t intentional, at least on my part, but god if my feelings weren’t strong before, they certainly were now. The cologne he was wearing was no doubt expensive and he looked so heavenly in his blue button-up shirt with the rolled up sleeves exposing his forearms, his silver watch on display. I wouldn’t have been surprised if my eyes were literally forming hearts when I looked at him. I felt comforted that his eyes reflected the look in mine.
Closing my eyes I gradually lulled myself to sleep, but not without thinking of him as I did.
-
The next day passed relatively quickly, and I felt slightly anxious about meeting with Seonghwa. I knew he wouldn’t instantly lose interest if I wasn’t a good cook, but I still wanted to impress him.
Setting down all of my groceries with a thud, I let out a sigh. I was pretty confident I bought half of the store’s cooking materials. Seonghwa refused to tell me what we were making so I wanted to make sure I got all the basics down. I had no problem with baking and I was certain I would be fine if we ended up making cookies, brownies, or something similar.
I just wasn’t too sure about...well, essentially everything else. So I spent my week trying new recipes and failing, trying them again and still failing but less so. I couldn’t help but feel frustrated, still not completely sure of what I was doing wrong.
I spent most nights cooking, trying to get the hang of beginner and intermediate dishes. Only a few actually turned out okay, but honestly it was better than where I started, and time was running out so I just had to accept it.
-
The day finally approached and I did everything possible to calm my nerves. As the clock ticked closer to five, I checked my outfit again. My favorite long sleeved shirt was tucked into a pair of slightly ripped shorts that tightly hugged my thighs. Simple pearls rested on my ears. I didn’t want anything too dramatic or revealing, especially since we’re only planning to cook.
Looking good girl. You can do this. Just remember to breathe and it’ll all be alright.
The doorbell shook me from my thoughts.
“Coming!”
As I opened the door I saw Seonghwa holding a bouquet of roses, a loving smile on his face. My heart grew at the sight. He made me feel so cared for.
“There are for you, doll.”
I pushed the flowers aside and kissed him, jumping into his arms. “I’m so excited! It’s so good to see you!”
He laughed. “It’s good to see you, too.”
I took the flowers from his hands and welcomed him into my house, placing them in a jar.
“They’re gorgeous. Thank you again, Seonghwa.”
“No problem. You ready? My car is parked out front.”
I nodded, biting my lip. “I’m ready.”
Seonghwa’s POV
As we climbed into my car she spoke, her voice a little small, “So what are we making, Hwa?”
I smiled at the nickname she hadn’t used since the last time I saw her in person. “Well, love, today we’ll be making soufflé. That should be no problem with you right? You are an incredible chef, after all.”
A flash of fear shone through her eyes before she made a feeble attempt to suppress it. It was almost comical.
“Duh, of course.”
I smiled to myself. I doubted she’d made anything more complex than cookies but I was curious to see how far she was willing to take this.
My house wasn’t too far from hers so it took maybe ten minutes before we were at my house. I knew she’d never been to my home before and hoped she wasn’t too nervous.
I wouldn’t admit it, but I was more nervous than I led on. I’d brought a few girls to my place, but I didn’t have the instant connection with them that I did with her. She was special to me, as cliché as it sounds.
“Your house is pretty.” She said with big eyes.
I smiled, “Thank you.”
I held the door open as she walked in, and she instantly let out a gasp. It scared me, thinking something was wrong until I saw her run over to a little plant sitting on my windowsill.
“It’s so cute! Does it have a name?”
“Uh...can’t say it does. You name plants?”
She scoffed, “Of course! Frankly I’m appalled that you don’t.”
I watched as her eyes squinted, carefully examining the plant.
God she looks adorable. She’s literally just fawning over a plant and my heart is pounding. What are you doing to me, sweetheart?
“I think it looks like a Unice.”
“Unice?”
“Yeah! I can’t explain it but it looks like a Unice.”
“Fair enough. Let’s head to the kitchen, I’ve got everything set up already.”
She nodded and waved goodbye to the plant.
“Bye Unice!”
I couldn’t help but crack a smile.
“So I know how to—of course—but you know I just want to see if you know how to make a soufflé so you should probably explain it.” She batted her eyelashes.
I raised a hand to my chin. “Actually, I’m not quite sure, now that you mention it. I could probably use a refresher. Would you mind telling me?”
“Uhhh...”
I laughed at her stunned appearance. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a recipe.”
The woman giggled like a child, likely out of nerves.
“Good.”
“So first I need you to grab some milk and butter from the fridge.” I told her while preheating the oven.
“Okay!” She opened the fridge, “Oh my gosh you have chocolate covered strawberries? What are those for?”
You.
“I have a sweet tooth. You can have some if you’d like.”
“No, that’s okay. I don’t wanna steal your food.”
“I don’t mind. They’re there if you want some.”
“Aw thanks.”
Everything went smoothly and I was surprised that she was doing so well. Soufflés weren’t easy to make for beginners and I was happy to see her trying.
That was until she started to stir the egg whites and accidentally knocked over the bag of flour sitting next to her.
“Okay I give.” Her brows furrowed as she threw her hands up in defeat, “I’m not the best at making food and I don’t know what I’m doing.”
I glanced at the powder covering her clothes and pressed my lips together to hide my smile.
“You don’t say?”
She cracked a slight smile, despite her best efforts to remain serious. “I’m trying, okay?”
I walked over to her and tilted my head down to look at her tiny frame.
“You’re so cute.”
Her eyes widened and she buried her face in her hands almost immediately, whining at me not to say such things.
You have no idea how endearing you are to me, darling.
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”
I gently removed her hands from her face and was greeted with a cherry blush forming on her cheeks. Just like when I first saw her, it was so easy to make her blush. I seemed to grow more and more fond of her flustered state every time I saw it.
Tucking a few fingers under her chin, I leaned down to kiss her soft lips. She tasted of the chocolate covered strawberries I saw her eating earlier when she thought I wasn’t looking and smelled of floral perfume. It was an intoxicating combination.
I smiled against the kiss when I felt her melt into my touch. Kissing her harder I ran my hands down her back, unintentionally playing with the hem of her shirt. I didn’t have any intention of taking things further. I was more than willing to take my time with her. I wanted her to be comfortable more than anything.
And then she whimpered into the kiss. I felt myself twitch in my jeans at the noise. She sounded so beautiful and everything in me craved to hear it again. I broke from the kiss and ran my lips down the side of her neck, taking my time to see how she reacted. She leaned into my touch and began to pant heavily, gripping onto my biceps.
I heard a breathless whisper of my name fall from her lips and it spurred me on. I gradually led her back up against the island in my kitchen and pinned her in place with my arms on either side of her, pressing on the granite. I littered her neck with kisses, paying close attention to the areas that were most sensitive to her.
Before I got ahead of myself I drew back to tell her we should stop. I didn’t know how far she wanted to go and I didn’t want her to think that I was only after her for sex. And so, I told her as such.
Her hazy lust-filled eyes darkened. “I don’t think you’re that type of guy. I want this if you do.”
“Wait! The oven!” Her eyes grew.
“Oh shit you’re right.”
I ran to turn off the oven and wordlessly picked her up, letting her legs wrap around my waist. All I saw was desire in her eyes. I led her to my bedroom and set her down on the soft sheets of my bed.
“Let’s find out what you’re into, sweetheart.”
She giggled and grabbed my shirt, forcing her lips against mine.
“Why don’t I show you?”
Your POV
I felt the fanning of his hot breath on my skin and I shivered, temporarily forgetting how to speak.
“Shirt off.” I demanded.
Seonghwa raised a brow but complied. When his shirt came off I couldn’t help but stare, practically drooling at the look of him. Without thinking I reached out to run my fingers along his abs.
“Damn. You’re really attractive.” I could barely speak above a whisper.
“And you look absolutely stunning, my darling.”
He quickly removed my shorts, leaving my black lacy panties exposed. His eyes devoured me, and any dominant feelings I had within quickly disappeared. His hands ran up and down my thighs and made the warmth inside me spread.
“Tease me please.” I begged.
“Oh,” his mouth quirked into a smile, “You’re one of those, huh?”
“Shush. I don’t need—ah fuck.”
Seonghwa’s fingers danced across my clothed clit and I arched my back off the bed. His fingers were gone as quickly as they first appeared. I couldn’t help but groan at the lack of contact, but I loved it. He continued this a few more times before my whines became much louder. His lips met mine in a heated kiss and I felt his fingers tickling my sides.
“Seonghwa!” I spoke through uncontrolled giggles.
I kissed him even harder as he continued and tried to catch my breath through the sensation.
He stopped and I wiggled under his stare, feeling so, so small.
“It’s your turn now. Shirt off.” Normally I would have been embarrassed with how quickly I removed my shirt and how eager I likely appeared, but the wetness I felt between my thighs was growing quickly and I needed release.
“Good girl.” Seonghwa removed my panties at an almost painfully slow speed and when he finally did, he tossed them aimlessly behind him. He raised my legs over his shoulders and I shuddered as his mouth slowly approached where I so badly needed him.
“So wet for me already and I’ve barely touched you.” His voice dropped several octaves and I whimpered.
My head fell back as I felt a few kitten licks on my clit. When I didn’t feel anything more, I looked back at him to be met with a shit-eating grin.
“Seonghwa!” My voice sounded so needy I barely recognized it.
“What? I thought you liked to be teased.”
“Well yes but actually no.” I joked, “Not when I need you this bad.”
“Hmm.” Was all the response I got before he went back to running his tongue along my clit and opening.
“Fuckfuckfuck.” I chanted as he picked up the pace, slowly entering a few fingers in me.
“I didn’t realize you had such a vulgar mouth, doll.”
If I had the ability to process any of what he just said I’m sure I would have had some retort ready, but in all honesty I couldn’t think about anything else except the stimulation that I was feeling.
I could feel my orgasm rapidly approaching and I had no doubt that he knew it too. My hands found his hair and gripped onto his dark locks.
“Seonghwa! Oh my god please don’t stop.”
Then, the bastard stopped. I groaned and bucked my hips up, desperate for anything.
“Patience is a virtue, you know.”
“Fuck off.”
He let out a hearty laugh and reached to his nightstand. I grabbed his face and made him look at me.
“I’m on the pill, don’t worry.”
“Are you sure? Like really sure?”
“Yes yes I’m sure. Please, Seonghwa.”
He quickly discarded his clothes as I removed my bra, his eyes quickly darkening.
“Tell me if you want to stop at any time, okay?” Even though I could tell how bad he wanted this, his eyes were kind, putting me first.
I really found a good man. It’s too early to say I’m falling for him, but I definitely can see myself loving him.
“I will.”
He let out a low groan as he entered me and I clenched around him, loving the sound.
“Fuck. Don’t do that.” He warned.
“Do what?” I asked with a smirk, promptly repeating the action.
He groaned again, “Babe I’m trying to last for a while here and you’re not making it easy.”
I bit my lip, pleased at his response, when he quickly thrusted into me. I moaned, my breath leaving me.
“Not so talkative now, hmm?”
I didn’t have the ability to respond and simply grasped his face to pull him into a kiss as he continued his movements.
“You’re making me feel so good, babe.”
“Same...here.”
My legs were shaking and I closed my eyes, not being able to keep them open any longer.
A deep voice called out to me, “Hey. Hey look at me.”
Fighting my urges to close my eyes I made eye contact with him. A sweet look was conveyed by his eyes, starkly contrasting the fact that we were literally having sex.
“You look gorgeous.”
My face turned pink and in response Seonghwa kissed both of my cheeks, leading down to my neck.
“Hwa, I’m close.”
A dazzling smile lit up his face at what I assume was the nickname.
“Me too.”
With a few more thrusts I was shaking, cumming around him. He let out a low growl releasing slightly after me.
Both of us remained still, trying to catch our breath.
“Same time next week, love?”
“Seonghwa oh my god!” He laughed along with me.
“Honestly,” I thought aloud, “Sure.”
He slowly pulled out of me and grabbed a warm towel from his bathroom, cleaning me up.
“I didn’t necessarily plan this to happen, but I was planning on asking you at the end of today anyway: Would you want to be my girlfriend? Maybe?”
I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him.
“That sounds like a wonderful idea.”
#ateez#kpop#ateez au#ateez smut#imagines#ateez fluff#ateez imagines#atzinc#seonghwa fluff#seonghwa smut#park seonghwa#seonghwa imagines#fluff
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#24 for felinette!!!!!!!! 🗣
24. Deep kisses where they have their hands tangled in each other’s hair to pull them closer.
leave me a pairing and a number and i’ll write you a kiss!
ma’am i stayed up until 4am writing this nonsense, you’re WELCOME.
still connected to #12 and #16 because we love fake not-dating-shenanigans 😏
He’s really got to stop ending up at functions like this. And this one has to be even worse than the New Year’s Eve party.
Félix has never been one for anniversaries—never really saw the significance of them. So you’ve gone around the sun with someone twenty-five goddamn times. Or without someone for six. So what? No reason to commemorate it with the nonsense of balloons and music and food and… other people.
He wouldn’t say he’s spent the majority of the Bourgeois’ 25th anniversary party sulking, although he’s pretty sure it’s the word other people might use to describe him. Especially Mr. and Mrs. Bourgeois themselves, who are apparently bickering over the placement of the baby grand piano as though something like that can be fixed in the middle of an event. And especially Chloé, who—perfectly on brand, even at age twenty—is fawning over her mother and staring at him as if to say, don’t ruin this for me.
As though this is her thing to have ruined.
Besides. He’s not sulking. He’s just very much preferring to be literally anywhere else, the way anyone else with a brain might feel. In fact, the only part of this whole affair that’s been even remotely palatable is the fact that the Dupain-Cheng family is catering. And it’s not because of the food.
Well.
Not necessarily.
It’s because Marinette’s helping. And as much as he needs to keep the opinion to himself, she’s very much a sight for sore eyes in the Grand Paris. Dressed in a black-and-white dress she mentioned making herself, and with her hair in a high ponytail, she pays more attention to her parents and the platters on the table in front of her than to the overly dignified laughter around her.
Admittedly, they haven’t been able to interact much; they agreed on that much as recently as the night before, along with a promise to make up the lost quality time later. This is her summer job, after all, and she says that means something to her. Besides, he has to make himself a certain percent sociable—with the Bourgeois family, with the Tsurugis, even with the Rossis—so everyone and their cousin doesn’t write him off as the Fitzwilliam Darcy of the Agreste/Graham de Vanily family.
(He doesn’t see what the big deal of that is, though. In fact, Marinette would probably agree with him, with that silly little giggle of hers hiding behind her sketchbook, and he’d think, perhaps, that she’d make the perfect Elizabeth.)
Still, it doesn’t sit with him particularly well to ignore her or otherwise treat her just like “the help”—if there’s anything his parents taught him besides their version of love, it’s to thank and remember the names of every person regardless of position. And on top of that, she’s been stealing more than her fair share of glances over at him, as if to invite him over. As if, for a moment or two, she might need some reprieve of her own.
He won’t tell anyone what a sucker he is for the blue in her eyes. He’ll take that to his grave.
It’s just as Félix is getting to his feet and making his way to her table, though, that Lila Rossi decides to try and make herself known. Again. He sighs; he really thought she would have gotten the hint by now. But apparently Lila is nothing if not persistent, even years later, and the way she greets him and all but latches onto his arm is so disgustingly syrupy that he feels the sudden urge to run upstairs and brush his teeth. “Isn’t it lovely?” she says, her fingers curling impossibly tight into the sleeve of his button-up shirt. “Twenty-five years. Can you imagine being invested in someone for so long? It must be beautiful…”
Félix declines to answer, feels his own eyes going dark, and finds a strange solace in the way Marinette, out of the corner of his eye, stiffens and clenches her fist at her side.
“Can’t you picture it?” Lila’s going on as they approach the catering table—doesn’t she ever get tired of hearing herself talk?—and she attempts to slip her hand into his. Smoothly and without missing a beat, he swipes his hand away, sticking it in his pocket with a pointed look. Manners be damned; he’d rather choke on a macaron than hold Lila Rossi’s hand. A cloud passes over her face, subtle and on the edges of manipulative where Chloé would burst out, but otherwise she doesn’t seem fazed. She’s probably developed more resolve, or perhaps more poison, ever since Adrien made it more than clear to her that his interests lay elsewhere. “Haven’t you considered it, Félix? My family’s done some lovely work in England—they’re Italian ambassadors, did you know?”
“Yes,” Félix manages to deadpan, acutely aware of how Marinette turns away from them to unpack another box of ridiculous paper straws. “In fact, Miss Rossi, you’ve told me so frequently that I may very well develop that tinnitus you so often complained about before.” He tilts his head, deeply feels the shift in Marinette’s energy and how hard she must be trying to stifle her own laughter. “Remind me, have you gotten that checked out?”
Marinette has to dip behind the table; he has to try not to smile. If he can’t talk to her directly, he might as well amuse her.
“Oh!” Lila says. “You remembered. Yes, yes, of course I did. It took some extensive treatment, but the doctors say I should be cured by now. It’s miraculous, isn’t it?” She gives her hair a flip. “But really, Félix, you’ll consider what I’ve told you, won’t you? I hear your family’s in the film business, and—wouldn’t you know it, I’ve done quite a few photoshoots with your cousin. I’m sure he could put in a good word for me with your mother. Think about it, us starring opposite each other—”
Félix suppresses a sigh, honestly about to tell her that if she had any sense of his family, he would have known that his aunt was the actress. But before he can so much as open his mouth, Marinette clears her throat to get their attention. Her expression is sour, and her arms are folded. “If you’re not going to take any refreshments,” she chides, “I’m going to ask you make way for those who are. And by the way, it might help you to know that merit and tact get you much farther in life than empty flattery.” She clicks her tongue, tightens the apron at her waist, and turns on her heel. “You should try it sometime, Miss Rossi.”
He knows that expression. The Customer Service Smile, she branded it. It’s half-terrifying, seeing her actually unleash it. Half-terrifying, and half-vindicating.
From the corner of the hotel lobby, Chloé’s mouth falls open in elated shock. Adrien and Kagami pause their hushed conversation to look their way. And Lila turns a deep, angry scarlet. (Oh, Marinette’s gotten so good at getting to her. Perfect, perfect Elizabeth.) In seconds, she’s composed herself, thankfully all but unraveled herself from Félix, and she approaches Marinette’s parents—who are honestly lovely people, and don’t deserve whatever’s about to come to them. (Especially Mrs. Cheng. She’s snuck him into the house too many times.)
They don’t get it. Whatever words Lila’s gathering, whatever excuse me she’s trying to preface it with, Félix doesn’t let it out, and it’s certainly not for her sake or for the Bourgeois family. “Thank you,” he cuts in with a cordial smile, careful not to shake Mrs. Cheng’s hand while she’s handling food. “You’ve been doing wonderful work for this event. Might you permit Miss Dupain-Cheng a short break? I’m sure she could use one.”
It’s practically textbook. Compliment. Persuade. Twist the knife with a little kindness. Perhaps Lila Rossi hasn’t learned all the tricks just yet.
And he certainly won’t let her.
Marinette’s parents look to her, and she looks to Félix, and he raises an eyebrow, as if to say, You gave me an out. Now it’s my turn. She hesitates a moment, then gathers herself. “Actually,” she says, as if finding a second wind, “a break would be really nice. Papa, could you text me when you need me back?”
Her father lets her go—he’s always been good about giving her the things she needs, which is sometimes more than he could say about his own. None too quickly, she undoes her apron, takes a deep breath to center herself, and disappears into the carpeted corridor by the elevators. And Félix, with that twist-the-knife bow and a macaron in hand, dismisses himself from Lila Rossi and finds a new corner to occupy.
There. Now no one can say he doesn’t talk to anyone. And no one can say he sulks.
———
He makes it about three-fourths of the way through the macaron before he finds his out to the corridor. It’s fine; he knows he won’t be missed, and he made sure Lila was properly occupied when he slipped away. She can’t follow him if she doesn’t know where he’s going, after all.
Almost predictably, Marinette is still outside the elevators, pacing back and forth in front of them and only making way for the people coming out. She catches his eye and pauses mid-step, and then collapses by one of the carpeted staircases with her head in her hands. “That was stupid,” she mumbles. “I was stupid.”
Félix doesn’t give her what she’s probably looking for. Instead, he holds his hand out to her and says, “Come with me. It’s suffocating, being in there.”
To his relief, Marinette takes the out. Her hand feels so small and so soft in his as he helps her up, and they slip into one of the elevators; all at once, he’s grateful for the hotel room that accompanied his invitation. They don’t say much, don’t do much even though they finally have the privacy for it. In fact, Marinette doesn’t crack until the elevator door closes behind them and they’ve begun to stroll down the blissfully quiet hallway. “I was working,” she sighs. “And I get it, it wasn’t professional of me to say something like that on the job. Especially during someone’s entire anniversary.”
“On the contrary,” he says, his hand finding a home at the small of her back; he’s relieved that she doesn’t protest, and instead leans into the touch for comfort. “I’ve never heard someone vocalize a middle finger quite as subtly and as eloquently as you.”
“It was hypocritical, Fé,” she points out. “You know I used my connections to get into university, too.”
Félix gives her the type of look that he hopes says, are you kidding me. “You asked for letters of recommendation. Which, as you may recall, is standard for university applications?”
Marinette looks like she wants to find other points to argue, like she’s really racking her brain for it. Eventually she stops, and sighs, and unties and reties her hair. Which is killing him on the inside, but he doesn’t dare say so just yet. Not when she’s still got steam to blow. “I’m sorry,” she finally says. “I should have let you handle it. You can hold your own.”
“Oh, please. To me, she’s a nuisance at best. A sycophant and a sour taste in my mouth. To you, she’s been a terror.” He tosses her a smirk. “I’m impressed that you have the capacity to dislike someone so deeply and so honorably. I should’ve expected something like that from you.” He glances behind them, just to make sure they’re truly alone, before he slips an arm around her waist, pulls her close and murmurs against the shell of her ear. “Were you jealous, love?”
It works. He can practically feel out her goosebumps, the way her muscles relax, with every sense he has. “Félix…”
“Well?” He hardly moves away from her, noses right into the flyaway hairs her elastic didn’t catch, into the sugar-and-almond scent she’s been carrying all day. “Were you?”
Marinette doesn’t bother to look his way. She stares straight ahead, and folds her arms across her chest. “Why should I be jealous?” she says. “You’re mine.”
Dear God. If he wasn’t attracted to her before, he certainly is now. He can feel the flare of it in the pit of his stomach, and before even he knows it he’s kissing the comebacks off of her tongue, pressing her against the wall just a few doors down from his room. He sighs, all but covering her mouth with his, and his hands catch on her dress on the way to tugging her hair tie out and securing it around his wrist for safekeeping. He always knew that sleight of hand would prove useful someday. “Yours, huh?” he hums in between kisses. “Is that how you feel?”
“I’m not wrong,” Marinette argues back, tugging him back in by the lapels of his jacket, and he’s far too busy tangling his fingers in her hair and mouthing down her neck to dispute it. And even if he weren’t busy, he certainly wouldn’t want to. Not when she sounds like that.
He pauses to laugh into her ear, her hair spilling over her shoulders as his hands find a home at her waist. “Don’t you have guests to cater to?”
Her lips are as red as her cheeks, and as far as he’s concerned her eyes are hooded beyond redemption. “Don’t you have a couple to congratulate?”
“Why should I? I’ve got something worth celebrating right here.” He grins faintly, steals another searing kiss, runs his hands up and down her sides and jumps at the opportunity to slip tongue when she gasps. “And she looks so good in wrinkles and a peter pan collar.”
Marinette’s breath hitches.
Bingo. And here she probably thought he didn’t pay attention to her fashion rambles.
Her eyes are sparkling by the time he pulls back enough to look at her. She looks him up and down, stops his hands, gives them a squeeze.
“Where’s your room?”
#miraculous ladybug#felinette#felix graham de vanily#marinette dupain cheng#fake not dating au#kiss meme#listen we're just all going to be okay with the fact that i wrote 2.5k for this request#and be done with it#SMASH THAT REBLOG BUTTON BABIES#jadysal#answers
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Hiya! How’s quarantine treating you? Could I request you write something about him waking you up in the middle of the night cause he couldn’t sleep and just having cute nonsense discussions? You can choose who it’s with 😊 stay safe! xx
Hi, love. I’m not really taking requests at the moment. However, I am in the middle of a weird slump with an unbridled urge to write but none of my fics are working for me. So I’m attempting this–I got carried away. Whoops.
Brief mentions of chronic pain. If anything is inaccurate, please let me know! I didn’t want to get overly detailed and be completely wrong, but am willing to take constructive feedback.
Hella late, and I’m sorry about not making this in time for @disabledsos and @skinnylukes. My major apologies! But after watching and listening to that community it was put onto my soul to at least try.
Song requests can be sent it, but they too are on a small delay.
Enjoy my masterlist!
No specific gender or race is given.
_____________________________
One Hundred Sleepless Nights
He hadn’t meant to wake you really.
Well, not wake you like this. Not to have you bolting upright in bed. “I’m sorry,” Calum urges, trying to suppress a giggle.
The moment the lights turned out in his bedroom, Calum’s brain found everything to think about it. Like the song he hadn’t finished mixing that day or the hunt for yeast for your new baking adventures went on for another week. For the moment, baking sweets had curbed the urge to bake bread, but he still wanted to find some yeast soon because he wasn’t sure he could endure another batch of sweets. They would rot his teeth and he knew for the time being, he had no real responsibilities so he could have as many as he wanted. Which was never a good idea.
And sure, he should’ve scrubbed the floors today instead of waiting for tomorrow. But god, there were only so many things he could do in a day and between meetings and promotion, there just wasn’t time for everything. And after deep breathing for a good ten minutes with no luck, Calum fitfully turned onto his side, trying, praying desperately for sleep to find him. But in the frustration, he flopped a little too hard and now you’re upright, blearily reaching in the dark.
“Who do I have to kill?”
“Coming from the person that doesn’t have the guts to kill a spider,” he scoffs. “But my brain would be nice if you can move it to the front of the hit list.”
Your heart is still racing a little in your chest but you settle back down, turning onto your side to face Calum. In the small ounces of moonlight that filter in through the curtains, you can see Calum’s worry lines creasing his face. You run your fingers over them, attempting to smooth them out like clay on a throwing wheel. “For the record, spiders have eight legs. That’s six too many and I’m not about to get into a ring with a creature with eight legs. It’s called being smart. Now, what’s the matter, bub?”
“Too many things to do. Not enough time.”
“Ain’t it how life goes?”
“Unfortunately.” He closes his eyes to the repeated soft drag of your finger tips across his forehead. You move to his temple, following his hairline around, down the outskirts of his cheek and along his jaw. Your fingers are so light as they drag down his chin. Jokingly you use the pad of your thumb to lightly pull on his bottom lip before letting it snap back into place.
“You know I’m here right? I can help you out.”
“You need to rest.”
You know he’s saying it because of your own bouts with health concerns. But you can help out. “Nonsense. I’ll rest when I’m dead.”
It’s your go-to phrase and while Calum would normally argue with you tooth and nail that even though that was technically true, you could also rest while still alive. But instead of the normal playful respond, it just hurts. The pain, though he had no measure for it, always held over you and you did your best to get through the bad days.
His arm finds your waist in the dark and he drags you into his chest. His exhale is shaky into the crook of you neck. You don’t miss it in the silence that’s settled around you. You wind your fingers into his hair. “Aliens–real or a farce?”
His lips drag across your skin and you feel the first tear drop, it’s warm as it runs down. He sniffles, trying to ease the shakes and quaking of his throat. “Uh, real,” he finally answers.
You give a short laughter. “If they turn out to be green, I think I’d shit my pants.”
“I don’t think they’re green. So you’re safe.”
His fingers cradle your skin. They flex, wanting to curl, like he can’t keep a tight enough grip around you but knowing not to hold too tight. You kiss along his collarbone, even over the silver fern. “I’m stealing the Empathy hoodie tomorrow.”
“What if I wanted to wear it huh?”
“Well, too damn bad,” you return. Sleep is pulling at the edges of your consciousness but you’re determined not to sleep before Calum. “At least I know I won’t lose it.”
“It was just buried in my closet, give me a break.”
“For months! I was positive I’d never see it again.” He can feel your breathing evening out against his chest. But the wisp of your breathe over his skin lets him know you’re still awake. “You come back incarnated as a bird, right?” He hums, to let you know he’s listening. “What do you want to come back as?”
“I’m not sure we necessarily get to choose.”
“Just humor me,” you mutter, inhaling the scent of his body wash, musky but wholly Calum in your nostrils.
“Hmm, owl, maybe? My bird knowledge is lacking.” As he answers, you can hear the small pauses between the words. Like sleep might be finally grasping at him.
“I can see it.”
“What about you?”
“Sparrow, maybe a Horned Lark.”
“A Lark?” Calum asks, his body starts to outweigh his brain. Though it’s still heavy emotionally, maybe some release is better than holding it all in.
“I said what I said,” you giggle, unsure of how to describe the light brown bird.
The silence stretches on. Part of you waiting for Calum to have something else to say, another question primed on his lips, or a smart retort. It’s not easy. Having a long stretches of bad days, no energy, barely finding any strength to even feel remotely human. It’s exhausting. It’s draining. It’s natural to find the lows and feel like you’re sinking even lower. But you claw for those good days.
Soon you’re positive he’s asleep. “I’m good,” you whisper. “The good days are right now.”
Calum hums at the sound of your voice, lips barely parting to move and form the words as sleep finally takes him completely under.
-H
#calum hood#calum hood blurb#calum hood imagine#calum hood fic#calum hood fanfiction#calum hood fanfic#calum hood x reader#calum hood x reader insert#5sos#5 seconds of summer#asks#answered#h writes#5sos fanfic#5sos fic#5sos imagine#5 seconds of summer fic#5 seconds of summer imagine#ashton irwin#luke hemmings#michael clifford
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Hope Dumps Noah
I have no logical explanation for what this is, but @bubblybabynailpolish had an anon bring up Noah + Hope = Jade + Beck from Victorious a while ago, and it’s been living rent free in my head for weeks so here’s some bullshit. It’s loosely based on that one episode where Jade gets Tori to win back Beck except gayer and more litg and exists purely to appease the gremlin that is early 2010s me yelling in the back of my mind. And thanks to Anne for answering my weird asks, this is what they were for lmao
T Rating (fluff and angst, some elements of the show kinda? i tried at least)
Hope x MC (Rosie)
~10k (got super carried away but didnt wanna make multiple parts so take it as you will. on the bright side, it'd be longer if i edited properly but im tired so no)
Rosie’s front door shakes on its hinges, a pounding, thundering sound echoing from the other side, berating the wood as it quivers and quivers. Her head flies up in surprise, half expecting an army to spill into her flat, battering ram in hand as they shout orders. But no such event occurs, and she leaps up from the sofa in the corner, pocketing her phone and hurrying across the room before yanking the door open. She immediately freezes in place, meeting bewildered, watery eyes standing on the other side of the threshold.
Tears are streaming down splotchy cheeks, a throat bobbing as it fights to maintain some sort of composure, even as bones tremble beneath skin, shivering regardless of the heat of the building. “Um, uh, hey?” Rosie tries awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot in the doorway and gripping the knob with pale knuckles.
“Can I come in?” the words waver as they leave messy, tear-muddied, brightly stained lips, pouring out like broken shards, creating their own trail alongside tears. Red eyes glance down the hallway, paranoid as they search for something, even in the late night, “I don’t - I don’t want to be out here where -” a sniffle “- where people can see.”
Rosie blinks a few times, her mind still slowly working to process the situation that’s just presented itself to her. But dark eyes are glimmering with shed and unshed tears, pleading beneath lashes and shadows from poor corridor lighting, and she startles into action, “Yeah! Yeah, er, yeah,” she mumbles, moving aside and holding the door open in invitation.
The threshold’s crossed, hurrying inside the flat with arms crossed, making a beeline for the upholstered sofa backed against the wall and dropping down onto it. Rosie closes the door, locking it carefully, neurotically, slowly, just to give herself time to think, to make sense of what to do with one of the last people she ever expected inside her flat: Hope.
Hope’s sitting on her sofa, curled in on herself to take up as little space as possible, cheeks covered in the remnants of despair that Rosie can’t even explain, let alone prepare herself for. Hope’s sniffling in her living room, palms running up and down her biceps to calm herself, her throat struggling to stifle sobs she’s ashamed of. Hope’s crying in her flat, gaze pinned to the floor to avoid the world, makeup streaked and smudged on all of her features, features wracked with inexplicable pain.
Rosie turns from the door, brushing her clammy palms on her sweatpants over and over again, a distractionary stimuli to calm the nerves slowly bubbling beneath her skin. Nerves she hasn’t felt in months, and was determined to never feel again, not after weeks and weeks of the constant feeling of insects crawling beneath her skin, burrowing and biting and squirming. She glances up, finding Hope’s eyes trained on her, hesitant and terrified from across the room, the flat’s lights reflecting in them, her damp cheeks shimmering in the warm colours.
Rosie forces her lips to curl in a tiny smile as she approaches, somewhat slow and cautious, until she can fall into the cushions beside Hope, bloodshot eyes never straying from her movement. Rosie risks a hand on her back, gently skating up and down her spine, an attempt at comfort she doesn’t have a reason to provide. But she provides it anyway, praying it’ll help, it’ll keep the tears from dripping down Hope’s jaw and dampening her top.
Only it doesn’t, only Hope begins to crumble, falling against her and burying her face against Rosie’s shoulder, sobs shaking her shoulders, trembling like the door on its hinges. Rosie wraps her arms around the quaking body clinging to her, murmuring a few quiet assurances, an offer of a lifesaver in the raging sea drowning her. Her hands draw circles on Hope’s vulnerable back, shapes to distract herself with, to ground herself with.
Hope bawls and whimpers and sobs and shakes for what feels like forever to Rosie, a forever that’s odd and uncomfortable, a forever that she doesn’t know what to make of. It’s not that she’s necessarily upset with it - she’s done this for girl friends in the past, she knows how to help a heartbroken woman - it’s just who she’s helping. She hasn’t seen Hope since the finale, since she walked away with her hand clasped in Noah’s, since Rosie split the money with Arjun, just to appease the audience.
He was sweet, sure, but they just didn’t fit. She didn’t feel like he was her other half, her perfect match, a missing piece in the puzzle that constructs her life. She didn’t see herself sacrificing things for him, didn’t see herself working for her relationship with him, didn’t see herself with him, point blank. And Rosie doesn’t do things she can’t see, can’t envision, can’t rationalise.
Which is exactly why she has no idea what to make of the woman dampening and wrinkling her sweater, face pressed to her shoulder and hands fisted in her shirt. “Hey, it’s okay,” she murmurs against Hope’s head, her breath hot where it brushes skin, a shiver running through Hope at the exhale.
This is unfamiliar territory to Rosie, unknown ground as she slowly steps into no man’s land, wary of land mines sitting beneath the dirt. Land mines of glares and scoffs and dismissals, land mines that sat in every corner of the Villa. Maybe in another life this would be normal, be commonplace, but not in this one.
Not in the world where Rosie kissed Noah in the Villa’s lounge that fateful day, that day that she’s regretted ever since. It wasn’t meant to mean anything, it was only supposed to help Priya and Bobby. It wasn’t supposed to cause the end of the world or hurt Hope as much as it did. It wasn’t supposed to confuse Noah as much as it did or leave him dragging things on for ages. It wasn’t supposed to be anything at all, anything but a blatant mistake.
But it was, it was so much, and now here they are, months and months later. Hope hasn’t spoken to Rosie since the finale, and Rosie didn’t even mind. She’s barely kept in touch with anyone, the only people she speaks to being Chelsea and Priya, since they’re always first to reach out. Even in the Villa, Hope would barely speak to her, and it hurt for a while. It hurt that they had been so close and were suddenly so far, but she always forced that hurt away. It was her own fault, it was her actions that led to Hope hating her guts.
Except, maybe she doesn’t hate Rosie’s guts. Maybe she doesn’t want her dead or wish she was never born. Maybe she still thinks about when they were friends like Rosie does. Maybe there’s a reason she’s crying in Rosie’s arms in this moment, that she showed up at Rosie’s door, that she sought out something only Rosie could presumably offer.
Hope swallows thickly, her head turning until her cheek’s resting against Rosie. “We broke up,” Hope croaks, stifling another sob as she forces her voice out again, “I - I dumped Noah.”
“Oh, um…” Rosie fumbles, her hand tracing the length of Hope’s spine beneath her heavy, navy, patterned sweater, “I’m sorry,” she whispers, the words still warm as they settle on Hope’s skin.
“It’s my fault,” she whimpers, turning her face back to Rosie as another tremble courses through her, a barely suppressed noise of anguish dying in her throat.
Rosie resumes her reassurances, her small whispers into Hope’s scalp, her tight hold on Hope’s quivering body. She cycles through every calming technique or phrase she can think of what must be a hundred times over, until Hope quiets, until Rosie stops feeling tears on her neck, until steady, even breathing fills the flat.
She swallows to stabilise herself before asking the all important question, one she’s a little nervous to hear the answer to, “Can I - Can I ask why you’re here? And, uh, so upset? If it was your decision?” she trips over her words, a flower of nerves blossoming in her stomach, and she wants to stamp it out, to stop it from pulling her in once more.
Hope pulls away from, her face set in malleable stone even with tears glistening on her cheekbones, sparkling in the overhead lights Rosie had on, diamonds tumbling down her skin, soft enough not to cut. “I didn’t know who else to go to. I - I didn’t know what to do,” she confesses, her head bowing and eyes staring into her lap.
“Okay,” Rosie nods, a palm still skating up and down the length of Hope’s upper arm, “That’s okay. You don’t have to know. You can just stay here if you want?” she offers uneasily, shifting awkwardly in her spot.
Hope’s eyes flicker up to meet Rosie’s, a cautious hopefulness in them, “I can? It’s not, like, weird?” she mumbles, averting her gaze once more.
“Not if you don’t think it is,” Rosie counters as coolly as she can manage.
Hope shakes her head adamantly, “No, no, I’d… I’d rather not be on my own right now.”
Rosie smiles in what she hopes comes across as encouraging, “That’s cool. You want me to stay out here? We can watch a movie?” she proposes with pinched brows and squinted eyes.
A gentle, hesitant smile quirks Hope’s mouth, “Yeah.” She pauses, contemplative and nodding distractedly, “That’d be great, thanks.”
Rosie rises from the sofa, crossing the living room to flip off the lights and grab the remote and a pile of blankets sitting in the corner. She drops them beside Hope in a heap, crashing onto the opposite side of the sofa a second later. She flicks through streaming services until Hope points out some random romcom, Rosie turning it on as Hope relaxes into the sofa with one of the blankets.
Rosie doesn’t pay much attention to the film, playing with her box braids distractedly and only having a loose grasp on the cheesy plot, but she notices every time Hope laughs, the sound becoming more and more relaxed as time goes on. Rosie sinks into the cushions, her legs folded and arms wrapped around her torso, head lolled against the back of the sofa.
It’s hard to tell when her eyelids fall shut, or when the movie ends, or when Hope moves, but Rosie wakes up to a dark screen flickering through backgrounds and ads for streaming exclusives. She wakes up to Hope’s head resting on her shoulder and a blanket splayed across her lap, as if Hope was worried she’d be cold without it.
She blinks a few times in the dark, taking in the scene around her and slowly processing what her night has become. She only wanted to sit on her phone before going to bed early after her long day at work. She didn’t expect a crying woman to show up at her doorstep or to watch a bad movie until too early in the morning, or to fall asleep in the living room. A sigh shakes her chest, and she reaches for the remote, turning off the telly and settling back into the sofa, Hope shifting beside her with the adjustment.
---
Rosie wakes up to sunlight pouring into her flat and a deserted sofa, blankets the only remnants of Hope’s night spent in the living room. She slumps forward, head in her hands as she adjusts to the too-bright sun and the noise of London already filtering inside, honks of car horns and a hum of people on the streets providing a familiar soundtrack to her wake up.
“I want to get him back,” a voice declares, the words wavering slightly as they fall from lips set in a frown.
“Hmm?” Rosie hums groggily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she lifts her head, blinking to clear her vision. She finds Hope standing across the room, arms crossed and expression determined as she meets Rosie’s gaze.
“I want to get Noah back, I want to tell him I’m sorry for the breakup,” Hope repeats, her voice sturdier now.
Rosie nods, her mind still foggy but the haze slowly clearing, “Okay. That’s good,” she rationalises slowly, rising from the sofa and stretching her muscles; she’s made a point to avoid sleeping on the sofa normally. She stalks into the kitchen, falling into her usual morning routine easily.
Hope follows behind her, eyes widening, “It is?” she sounds surprised, stopping a ways away from Rosie, feet on the wood.
“Yeah, if you were happy together,” Rosie nods again, turning to her kitchen appliances. She starts with coffee, collecting beans and supplies meticulously as always, setting them out in a particular pattern beside the fridge.
Hope crashes into a barstool at the counter behind Rosie, her voice coming out softer now, “We were,” she confirms.
“Okay,” Rosie shrugs. “So go get him back,” she turns, forearms dropping to the counter beneath her to support her weight. She watches Hope curiously, expecting some explanation or excitement or something of the like, but Hope’s gone silent, her lip slipping between her teeth to worry the skin. Her gaze is trained on the pale countertop, hands clasped tightly in her lap. “Hope?” Rosie asks gently.
Dark eyes fly up to meet her own, snapping up too quickly, “Yeah?”
“You okay?” Concern wells in Rosie’s gaze before she can prevent it, her upper body unconsciously leaning forward to inspect Hope and find what’s suddenly irking her.
“Yeah,” Hope nods.
Rosie isn’t quite convinced, her brows knitting together, “You sure?”
Hope’s eyes flicker around the kitchen for a minute to avoid the deep eyes watching her before her shoulders slump, defeated and exhausted, “No,” she mumbles dejectedly.
“What’s wrong?”
A heavy sigh lifts Hope’s shoulders, twitching them lightly “I don’t think he’ll talk to me, not after yesterday.”
Rosie pauses. She hadn’t really considered that, just assumed Noah would be as torn up about the breakup as Hope had been, that he’d been jumping in place if Hope said it was a mistake. Her fingernails tap at the counter as she considers, weighing her options before diving right in, “Do you want me to try?”
Hope’s eyes dart to Rosie again, still just as surprised as earlier, as if everything Rosie does is entirely unbelievable, “You’d do that?”
“I guess?” Rosie gives an awkward shrug, averting her eyes and turning around to continue making coffee. She grabs milk from the fridge before finishing the process, pouring everything into a mug, “Yeah, sure,” she mumbles when she faces Hope again, swirling the dark liquid in a whirlpool.
It’s a long, almost painful amount of time before either of them utter another word. “Thank you,” Hope whispers the words, a tiny break in the quiet of the flat, of the bubble that’s formed in the kitchen.
---
The next day, long after Hope leaves her flat, long after Rosie made eggs and coffee for the both of them, long after Hope gave Rosie a quick hug in thanks, Rosie grabs an Uber to the other side of the city, to the library Noah works at. She strides into the building with her hands knotted in the pockets of her jacket, nerves clamming her palms as she scans the open area she’s found herself in. It’s relatively empty, only a few people sitting and working or browsing shelves idly in the middle of the day.
She searches a few aisles, glancing down empty passageways and passing shelf after shelf loaded with books. A few patrons give her odd looks, some outright glaring at her for her behaviour, but she eventually finds Noah in a back corner, restocking a few shelves in practiced motions, a cart loaded with books parked beside him.
“Hey,” she greets from down the aisle, waving slightly with an uneasy smile when he glances at her in surprise.
He adds the books in his hands to the shelf before turning to face her properly, his expression slightly stunned, “Hey,” he greets back, his tone puzzled as one hand falls to the book cart to lean against.
Rosie ventures further into the aisle, her eyes darting around as she attempts to figure out how to broach the tender subject of a breakup from only two days ago. She stops before him, folding her arms and rolling up and down on her toes, “So…” she starts, looking up at him from beneath her lashes in hopes that he’ll understand what she’s getting at.
He doesn’t, only blinking as he looks at her expectantly, waiting for an explanation for her presence. She sighs, one hand fiddling with the tips of her braids nervously, rolling them between the pads of her fingers, “You and Hope broke up?” she eventually asks, meeting his gaze with as much confidence as she can muster.
His eyes go wide, his jaw falling open, “Um, yeah, but I - Look, you’re really amazing but I think I need a little time, you know, and if you’ll wait, that’s great, but I don’t want you to feel obligated or anything, but again, you’re amazing, I just…” he trails off as he takes in the confusion on her face, a blush growing on his cheeks.
Then it clicks, “Oh!” she startles. “No, no, I - mate, I didn’t come to hit on you,” she clarifies, somewhat taken aback by the conclusion he so quickly jumped to. “I’m not here to ask you out, no,” she reiterates.
He nods swiftly, muttering a few apologies under his breath before clearing his throat. “So, um, why are you here then?” he asks, careful and wary of saying something else wrong.
Rosie shifts on her feet, hands falling back to fidget in her jacket pocket’s, “Well… I kinda got the impression that Hope regrets the way things went down and wants to try again,” she forces, drawing herself to her full height, still a few inches shorter than the man before her.
Confusion flickers on his face, “How’d you get that impression?”
“I talked to her.”
The confusion grows, a crease splitting his eyebrows, “She talked to you?”
“She showed up at my flat,” Rosie answers casually.
“Why?”
She shrugs, mumbling out an “I dunno” in response.
“And you’re fine with that? And you’re helping her?” his arms cross over his chest as he asks, staring down at her intently, intimidatingly.
“Yeah,” she shrinks under his gaze, drawing her jacket tighter to block out the sudden chill coursing down her spine.
Noah’s lips twist, though in frustration or anger or upset, Rosie can’t tell. “Why?” he repeats.
Rosie sighs, shrugging again at the lack of a better answer, offering her best explanation, “She was really torn up about it.”
“She dumped me,” he states calmly, matter-of-factly, dismissively.
“I know.”
He watches Rosie carefully for a moment, taking in her appearance as she shuffles on her feet, unable to conceive of where this conversation is going next. “Do you know why?” he finally asks, Rosie stilling at the question.
“No,” she admits reluctantly.
“I got lunch with Priya, alone.”
“Well, yeah, that’s not great,” sarcasm soaks her words, coating her throat as the syllables escape.
Noah blinks at her, still stern and calm, “Because Ibrahim and Marisol had to cancel.”
“Oh,” Rosie freezes, her body tensing uncomfortably. That changes things. She swallows thickly, eyebrows raising and curving together, “Does she know that?”
“I tried to tell her.”
“Maybe she’ll listen now.”
“She never does,” Noah shrugs, his demeanor unchanged and unaffected.
She looks to him in disbelief, “That can’t be true.”
He heaves a heavy sigh, his guard finally cracking as his arms fall back to his sides, disappointment radiating from him like warmth from a fire, “For my birthday she got me The Old Man and the Sea,” he looks at Rosie as if he expects her to understand what that means.
“Okay…” she squints. She knows enough about literature to know it’s a classic, that most students have to read it at one point, herself included. “Why’s that bad? You’re a librarian.”
Noah’s lips curve in a slight frown as he straightens impossibly taller, “I hate Hemingway,” he nearly spits the name, a frown splitting Rosie’s own lips at his obvious displeasure.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
---
Hope shows up at Rosie’s flat again that night, her features fraught as she hurries in, hugging herself tight with her coat. She drops onto the sofa after she enters, Rosie following a beat behind and folding her legs on the cushions, Hope nearly vibrating in her skin as she watches Rosie expectantly.
When Rosie only meets her gaze, she sighs exasperatedly, “Well? What’d he say? He didn’t text me or anything,” she leans forward, eager to learn.
Rosie shifts under the excitement presented to her, excitement she knows is about to die, “He, uh, he wasn’t really on board with you guys getting back together,” she mumbles, avoiding shining eyes.
Hope visibly deflates in only a heartbeat, her bottom lip poking out as tears well in her eyes, every part of her depressed and hurt, “He wasn’t?” Her voice is small, painfully so to Rosie’s ears.
She forces herself not to cringe at the tone, at the way Hope’s fighting tears once more, “No, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, you’ve done a lot,” Hope sniffles, wiping at her nose and blinking back tears to calm herself, to prevent another onslaught of sobs on Rosie’s sofa. “You’ve done a lot,” she repeats, eyes trained on the fabric of the cushions beneath them, staring intently just to have something to focus her energy on. “Did he say why?” she finally asks after a minute, breaking the brief silence that had settled over them.
“Er -” Rosie squirms, fidgeting nervously, “He said he didn’t think you really listened to him,” she draws out the words, not wanting to speak them.
Hope is absolutely appalled, her jaw falling open in horror, “That’s - That’s not true!” she eventually manages the words, her mouth fumbling them.
“I know, but -”
“I listen!” she insists, hands flying up to grip Rosie’s forearm desperately, in search of confirmation that she’s a good person, a good partner, “Why would he say that, Rosie?” she’s panicked as her grasp tightens, falling away only a second later, “Why would he say that?” she repeats, softer now, a whisper.
“He said for his birthday you got him a Hemingway book,” Rosie chances.
Hope’s arms fold over her chest protectively, “He didn’t have any Hemingway.”
“‘Cause he hates Hemingway,” Rosie explains as gently as she can, Hope immediately slumping again, any retorts or defences forgotten.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
It’s quiet, Hope staring at nothing and Rosie staring at Hope, waiting for something to change, waiting for her to get sad or angry or maybe just leave all together. But she doesn’t, meeting Rosie’s eyes with a fire inside her own, “I need something else.” She’s determined as she sinks into the cushions, thinking raptly of some solution. “What if I get him a gift?” a lightbulb seems to explode above her head as she sits up again.
Rosie blinks at the quick change in mood, taken aback at the grin sitting on Hope’s lips. “Like what?”
“He likes Greyhounds?” Hope proposes with a tilt of her head and a quirk of an eyebrow, “He always said he’d love to have one.”
“You’re gonna buy him an entire dog?” Rosie asks in shock, her tone stunted and sharp.
Hope scowls at her in irritation, “He likes them!” she defends, “He’s talked about them a lot, and it’ll show I listen, right?”
“I guess?”
“What do you mean you guess?”
Hands fly up in self-defence and attempted placation, “This is your relationship, I don’t know him or what goes,” Rosie gestures in the air separating her from Hope, working to diffuse the tension.
Hope huffs, crossing her arms and collapsing into the cushions behind her, “Fine.”
---
Hope spends the next few days looking up shelters and breeders, trying to decide on a puppy or an adult or even an elderly dog, researching proper care for a Greyhound and what they need. Rosie doesn’t see or hear from Hope until her phone’s ringing incessantly as she gets out of the shower, scrambling to answer it and silence the buzzing, “Hello?” she asks without even reading the Caller ID, fumbling to turn on speakerphone.
“Hey!” Hope’s voice crackles through the speaker, bright and energetic. “I found one!” she announces, clearly pleased with herself and her findings.
“Hmm?” Rosie questions distractedly, tightening her towel wrapped around her body and grabbing skin and hair products to set them on the bathroom sink.
“I found a dog! I went to a shelter!”
Rosie nods, only realising afterwards that Hope can’t see her, sighing as she coats her face in moisturiser. “That’s great,” she hums again.
“Can you come over tonight? And we bring him to Noah’s flat? Please?” her voice is begging as it rings through the phone, Rosie glancing to it as Hope draws out the vowels of her plea.
“Uh, yeah, I think I’m free,” she mumbles, her mouth twisting as she applies products.
She’s reaching for the end call button after a long silence when a quiet murmur surprises her, “Thank you,” Hope whispers into her phone from the other side of the line.
A small smile curves Rosie’s mouth, “No problem.”
---
“You’re the worst,” Hope groans as she tugs on a leash, glaring at Rosie and her amused smile beside her.
“Says the one that dragged me into this,” Rosie grins, popping her eyebrows for effect. She’s refused to assist with the dog the entire time, forcing Hope to try and wrangle the full grown animal.
It darts forward down the street, yanking Hope along, “Hey!” she chastises, Rosie laughing unabashedly from behind her, jogging to catch up. “You could help, you know! He listened to you earlier!”
Rosie smirks, “Oh, I know. This is much more fun, though,” she teases, falling into another fit of laughter as Hope digs her heels into the pavement, working to pull the dog back.
He doesn’t listen, carrying on in the direction of the library. Noah wasn’t at his flat, so they’ve been forced to take a short detour to find him without waiting. “At least he knows where he’s going,” Rosie comments, still grinning.
Hope shoots her a scowl, “How lucky,” she spits through gritted teeth, her jaw tight as she uses all her strength to keep the dog from running off into London’s streets.
Rosie sighs as Hope nearly trips over her own feet, crouching down and whistling sharply. The dog turns, bolting for her, nearly tackling her to the ground until she grips his fur to keep upright, cooing over him the entire time. Hope’s gaze is a mix of disappointed, annoyed, and mildly impressed as Rosie grins up at her, scratching the dog behind his ears.
She pops back to her feet, stealing the leash from Hope in one smooth motion, “You’re welcome,” she hums, setting back off on their path, the dog following obediently on her heels.
She hears Hope groaning about it behind her until she catches up, muttering a ‘thanks’ under her breath, much to Rosie’s enjoyment. The rest of the walk is relatively quiet, only a few good natured ribbings from Rosie or complaints from Hope filling the space as they work their way to the library, street lamps illuminating much of their path in the dark evening.
Noah spots them before they spot him, the pair distracted as Rosie laughs at Hope’s grumbling, Rosie nearly walking into a post as she struggles to stay upright. “Stop it!” Hope chides, slapping her shoulder, which only makes Rosie laugh even harder.
“Um, hi?” Noah calls out to them, earning their gazes simultaneously. Hope stiffens, Rosie sobers, and the dog slobbers onto the pavement beneath their feet.
Rosie passes the leash back to Hope, taking a step back and away from their reunion, much to Noah’s confusion. “Hi,” Hope greets back, his eyes settling back on her.
“What are you guys doing out here?” he asks, his tone slipping into something adjacent to wariness, maybe light caution.
A bright smile curves Hope’s mouth and she sticks her hand out, offering the leash and the dog attached to it, “I got you a dog!” she announces eagerly, “I know how much you’ve always wanted one, so…” she trails off at his expression.
His eyebrows are drawn tight, lips working to form some words, “You got me a dog?!” he balks, his expression soon slipping into anger, almost a snarl, with his eyes blazing. Hope taking a step away from him, blinking rapidly as her mind audibly whirs.
“You always said you wanted one!” she explains, a spark igniting in her own dark eyes, threatening to start a fight.
“That doesn’t - What were you thinking?!”
Hope’s jaw sets tight, but it’s not enough to hide the shimmer in her eyes, “You like them, I know you do! And you don’t think I listen, but I do, so I’m proving that to you!” she counters, her voice raising.
Noah looks baffled, his hands flying and mouth opening and closing as he searches for words, “He won’t fit in my flat, Hope! He’s big and - and has a ton of energy!” he gestures wildly to the dog that’s found his way to Rosie, sitting in front of her as she scratches behind his ear.
“I thought that’s what you liked about them!” Hope’s own arms are waving, in both exasperation and irritation. One hand rises to fidget with her braids, tugging on and fiddling with a few.
“Yeah, for when I’m in a house, not a tiny flat!” Noah shouts back, “I can’t have him! I don’t want him!”
Any fire that had been blazing in Hope’s dark eyes dies out at that, at the way Noah’s glaring at her, at the way he’s dismissed her peace offering, her attempt to fix things between them. “But -”
“You can’t just -” he huffs sharply before trying to school his expression into something calmer, “You can’t just do these things without asking, it’s like you don’t even care what I think.”
Hope looks horrified, like her world is turning to ash right before her, and maybe it is, maybe this is the end of everything for her, “That’s not - I care! This is how I care! I - I pay attention and try and do things for you!”
“I don’t want you to do things for me!” Noah counters, hands balling into angry fists at his sides.
“Why not?” Hope asks indignantly, head tilted back to meet Noah’s gaze directly, her chest puffed out in a show of confidence.
Noah flounders, his jaw snapping shut, visibly rolling with tension as he searches for a reason, exploding when he can’t find one, “I just don’t! I can do things myself, Hope, I don’t need you railroading me like you always do! I’m tired of it, it’s not worth it!” he accuses, his last words effectively severing any chance at reconciliation.
Hope slumps, her shoulders sagging and face drooping, every muscle in her body going lax, as if she’s melting from heartache. Noah exhales sharply, his own shoulders dropping, losing some of the tension keeping them upright as he drags a hand through his hair, playing with it to calm himself further.
Rosie keeps to the side, not sure of her place, not sure if she’s meant to intervene, and only watches Hope stand with her head turned to the ground, braids blocking her face from view as she remains frozen, unmoving, her feet stuck to the ground and her body tense. “I’m sorry.” The words are barely audible, fractures of the typical strength in her voice, before she turns on her heel, dropping the dog’s leash and running away with tears in her eyes.
Noah deflates as she leaves, his hands balled up tight to steady himself, his face scrunched up in thought and frustration and likely a dozen other emotions as he struggles to process them. He slumps forward, his previous fight and irritation dissipating into the air, the dog still sitting at Rosie’s feet, tongue lolling and a whine echoing from him.
All the while, Rosie struggles for words, for a reaction, for something appropriate, but all she can think about is the way Hope collapsed before him, like the sight is imprinted on her mind. “Come on, mate,” she finally breaks the quiet, “You didn’t have to be that harsh,” she comments, deep creases in her own forehead and between her brows.
“I didn’t mean to be,” Noah mumbles, head down in shame as he stares at the ground, blank and empty save for the rise of his chest with each breath.
Rosie steps closer as the silence drags on, scooping up the abandoned leash and glancing over her shoulder and finding Hope long gone as she does. Her hand rises to his shoulder, gripping it loosely, “I know,” she shrugs weakly, squeezing the muscles beneath her palm. “Sorry about the dog,” she offers.
Noah laughs a little, but it’s splintered on the edges and lacking any real joy or amusement, “It’s fine. My mum’ll love him, I’m sure.”
Rosie nods sagely, retracting her hand carefully before gesturing over her shoulder, “I’m gonna, uh, go after her,” she mutters, turning on her heel and hurrying after Hope.
She finds her slumped against a wall half a block away, staring at nothing with tears streaming down her face as her lip quivers with barely restrained sobs. Rosie skids to a stop beside her, earning Hope’s attention momentarily, before she turns back to staring at nothing. She’s hollow, her gaze empty, barely there as she drifts through her mind and the storm that must be filling it like a hurricane. Rosie doesn’t say anything, only leans against the wall beside the destitute woman, eyes trained on the glimmers coating her cheeks, lit by street lamps around them.
“I just,” Hope finally begins after a long, painstakingly silent moment, “I don’t get it.” She sniffles, “I - I know we weren’t perfect, but I just… I thought we meant more than we must have.” Her voice falls apart on the last few words, cracking and splintering into a tiny, fragile whisper.
Rosie nods in understanding, pulling Hope into her arms without uttering a single word, holding her close and letting her fall apart once more, shaking under the weight of Rosie’s arms around her, burying her face in her shoulder. Her hands fist in the fabric of Rosie’s shirt, an anchor to attach herself to as the hurricane blows and wrecks and destroys her insides.
Hope’s tired of letting go, of giving in or giving up, of letting her world dissolve in her hands because fighting’s too much of a risk, a hazard, a danger to her. She’s tired of ignoring the things that rub her the wrong way, that send a cold chill down her spine, that fill her skull with a swirling mass of dark and awful thoughts. She’s tired of all the hurt and the fighting, of the way her skin turns a sickly green every time someone gets too close, of the headaches and nausea that accompany one of his unbothered shrugs.
She’s tired of it, she’s done with it, she’s not going to fight anymore, not when he doesn’t fight for her. Not when Rosie is the one she’s been leaning on, not when Rosie is the one that’s been consoling her, not when Rosie is the one that’s been nice, and caring, and sweet, and gentle, and there.
Hope shifts, freeing her face from Rosie’s top as the tears come to a stop, but keeping her head resting against her shoulder. “Why couldn’t it have been like this?” she whispers into the air, a quiet pondering that’s directed more to herself than the woman wrapped around her.
“Hmm?” Rosie hums, pulling back to look down at Hope, finding her gaze distant as she stares into the space before her, eyes piercing into the street stretching before them. “What do you mean?” Rosie murmurs down to her, finally drawing dark eyes to her own.
They’re averted just as quickly, Hope pressing her cheek even further into Rosie’s shoulder, and Rosie swears she sees some colour rush to Hope’s face. “I dunno,” she mumbles, gaze trained on nothing in particular. “It’s just… easier. Comforting. You let me do this and you’re sweet about it.”
“Noah seems pretty sweet,” Rosie mumbles awkwardly, still unsure where the line is, how Hope feels about him, how she wants to feel about him and their relationship.
Her shoulders raise in a miniscule, half-hearted shrug, “Yeah, but he doesn’t really get it. He doesn’t get it when I’m upset or mad. He’s too calm,” her lips twist at the statement, displeased at the memories.
Rosie snorts, above her, Hope’s eyes darting upwards, “What, and I’m a raving madwoman, is that?” she grins, the tension of the moment falling away with ease.
Hope’s mouth curves at the edges as she slips from Rosie’s grasp just enough to slap her arm, a common reaction to the older woman’s antics, Rosie feigning pain and rubbing at the spot instantly. “No!” Hope chides, “But you get it,” she settles back against Rosie, “Or at least you get what to do. Noah would try and fix it or tell me to ignore it or whatever, but you just let me be.”
Rosie shrugs, some heat rising to her cheeks as she glances towards the empty street beside them, fumbling for a response. She defaults to finding somewhere that will bring Hope some sort of solace, “Okay, let’s get you home,” she sighs, ignoring the heat on the back of her neck to the best of her ability.
Hope removes herself from Rosie’s hold entirely this time, stepping back and folding her arms while shifting from foot to foot. “Can I stay at your place tonight?” she asks with a twist of her lips, looking to Rosie from beneath her lashes.
“Sure,” Rosie grins, slinging her arm over Hope’s shoulders to guide her through the streets to her car, Hope leaning into her with ease as they trade some small conversation.
---
A day later and there’s a knock on Rosie’s door from across the flat, a short, sharp knock. She sighs, grabbing a dish towel and dusting off her hands before exiting the kitchen and the mess of ingredients within it. Another knock sounds on the wood, impatient as it continues on and on, Rosie hurrying to reach the door.
She jerks it open to find Hope on the other side of the threshold, beaming with her fist still poised in the air and a bottle of wine in her other hand. “Hi!” she greets, stepping past Rosie into the flat and scanning the open area curiously.
“Hey?” Rosie tries, shutting the door behind Hope and leaning against it, arms crossed and towel in hand. “Should I have been expecting you?” she asks, cycling through her day in her mind to double-check.
“Nope!” Hope turns, still grinning, “But I brought wine!” she offers the bottle proudly, swinging it for emphasis.
Rosie nods, one brow raised, “I can see that.”
Hope’s smile dims, slowly falling away as Rosie doesn’t say anything more, evidently a sign of annoyance. “Sorry,” she bows her head. “I shouldn’t have come, should I? I’m sorry, I just didn’t know what to do tonight,” she confesses, her words rushing in a hurry to explain herself.
Rosie pushes herself upright from the door, stepping away from the threshold and closer to Hope, “I take it you usually spend evenings with Noah?”
Hope only nods in response, head still down in embarrassment and resignation. Her arms are slack at her side, the wine bottle dangling loosely in her grasp as she awaits Rosie’s harsh words telling her to leave and not come back.
“Well, I’m making dinner right now and I always make too much,” Rosie states, no edge in her voice, no malice in her words, “Take your shoes off and it’ll be done in about a half hour.” Rosie turns, striding back into the kitchen and leaving Hope to collect herself.
She joins Rosie a few minutes later in her socks, her smile repaired as she drops into a barstool across from Rosie, placing the wine bottle on the counter, a glimmer in her eyes as she presents it, pushing it across the counter. Rosie laughs in response, nicking it and pulling out wine glasses. She pours a drink for each of them, Hope draining hers rather quickly as she talks about her day, Rosie stealing a few sips as she cooks.
Rosie presents the finished dinner with a flourish to Hope, earning a laugh as she takes the plate. Rosie rounds the kitchen, dropping into the stool beside Hope and taking a swig of her wine. “So what’d you do today?” Hope prompts curiously, cutting into the chicken Rosie made and taking a bite.
“Usual stuff. Trained today, the new player’s are adjusting pretty well, and then ran a few errands. Usual stuff,” she shrugs, taking a bite of asparagus.
“That’s fun,” Hope hums encouragingly, smiling wide when Rosie glances to her. She nearly chokes on her food at the sight, coughing and laughing at the same time as Hope watches in confusion and concern, “What’s happening? Are you okay?” she turns in her seat to face Rosie directly, hands hovering, unsure of where to land.
Rosie waves her off, still working to catch her breath and stop laughing, something made infinitely more difficult by Hope hitting her on the back to presumably help her dislodge something. “I’m fine!” she croaks, working to suck in deep breaths.
“Are you sure? What happened?” Hope asks again, hand on the back of Rosie’s seat, just in case.
Rosie chuckles briefly before pressing her lips together, forcing neutrality that barely holds together, “You were just very serious in your excitement over groceries.” She bites her tongue to keep from laughing again.
“Is that really it?” Rosie nods to confirm, suppressing more giggles. Hope’s eyes roll, a groan escaping from her throat, “You’re the worst.”
Now Rosie can barely hold it back, dissolving into giggles as Hope scowls, picking at her meal as Rosie struggles to find air. “Says the one eating my food,” she grins when she finally catches her breath.
“What’s that mean?” Hope turns with a glare.
Rosie draws herself taller, even sitting down she’s got some height on Hope, “It means you showed up at my door unannounced and stole all my hard work,” she accuses coolly.
“I brought you wine!” Hope frowns, gesturing to the bottle in her defence.
Rosie raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile on her lips, “Who’s the one drinking it all?”
That shuts Hope up, Rosie earning a scowl as they turn back to their dinners, Hope staying quiet until Rosie brings up her job. Then she’s beaming and telling every detail of her workplace she can think of, every coworker that’s weird or mean or nice or funny, every aspect of career that she loves.
The conversation flows alongside the wine, until the bottle’s empty and the pair’s slouched on the sofa, facing each other on opposite ends. Hope fumbles for her phone, pulling it out and wincing at the time, “I need to go home.” She turns, standing up what must be too quickly because she drops back to the cushions.
Rosie shifts forward too, folding her legs before her, “Did you drive here?”
Braids jangle as Hope nods, her eyes falling shut as she slowly leans back into the cushions again. Rosie sighs, finding it much easier to stand than Hope, and grabs a blanket, draping it across her lap, “Just stay here.
Hope’s eyes squint open, looking up at Rosie with dilated pupils, “You sure?” she mumbles, her words slurring together from the alcohol that had coated her tongue.
“Yeah, you’re not getting in a wreck on my watch,” Rosie hums, collecting their glasses and the empty bottle before striding into the kitchen. She puts the glasses in the sink and the bottle on the counter beside it to deal with tomorrow, then retraces her steps to the living room.
Hope’s curled up on the sofa already, the blanket tucked under her chin, and Rosie smiles at the sight and absurdity of a drunk Hope asleep in her flat. She shakes her head, turning to her bedroom and stalking inside, collapsing on the bed as soon as she can, passing out as soon as her head hits the pillow.
---
Hope continues coming to Rosie’s flat a few times a week, sometimes with an offering of wine or takeaway in hand, sometimes with nothing more than herself. They watch movies and talk and laugh about stupid things from the Villa or stories from their lives until their tired from long days or it’s three in the morning and they still don’t stop talking.
Sometimes Hope sits in an armchair and responds to emails while Rosie paces the length of the flat with her phone pressed to her ear, talking down one of her players or fighting with managers. Sometimes there’s not a single word spoken between them, sometimes all they do is talk, sometimes Rosie makes dinner, sometimes it’s late enough that they’ve both already eaten, sometimes Hope shows up after Rosie has already gone to bed, sometimes Hope even beats her home in the afternoon.
There’s no pattern to any of it, there’s no rhythm, nothing concrete to Hope’s appearances, but Rosie soon finds that she doesn’t even mind. It’s actually kind of nice, to have someone around without any expectations. It’s kind of nice that Hope brings her soup when she gets a cold, or how Hope somehow always has wine on hand for when they need it, or how Hope tidies the flat when she’s especially busy.
It’s a casual night tonight, popcorn and drinks sitting on the coffee table as a movie plays across from them in the dark. Rosie picked tonight, a drama about a hockey team one of her players always recommends, since she couldn’t think of anything else but was not definitely not watching another of Hope’s romcoms twice in a row. They’d been snacking all night, splitting a pizza in the evening as Hope worked on some project and Rosie scrolled her phone, a silence seeping into the flat.
Rosie watches the film in a similar silence now, watches the flickering of light as it reflects and refracts off every available surface in the room. A contented sigh vibrates in her throat as she settles further into the sofa, pulling the blanket she’s enthralled within tighter. She sinks into the cushions, shifting her legs and letting her knees brush against Hope’s thighs.
Speaking of, she can see the other woman watching her in the dark, eyes trained on Rosie’s features, inspecting them carefully as blues and yellows and reds and dozens of other hues play in her dark irises, glinting off and mixing with them. Rosie glances over, finding a crease between Hope’s brows as she stares at something below Rosie’s eyes that she can’t quite place. She smiles softly in the dim lighting, teasingly, “What?” she asks, “Something on my face?”
Only she doesn’t get the chance to ask the second question, because suddenly there is absolutely something on her face, something that she doesn’t think should be there and was not at all anticipating, but honestly doesn’t entirely mind. Hope’s lips are on hers, soft and nice and there.
Hope’s kissing her. Hope’s kissing her, and it’s tentative and cautious and careful, like Hope’s gaze was a moment ago, and it all makes sense in an instant. She blinks, stunned and shocked, until her lashes flutter shut and she’s kissing Hope back. She melts into her, a hand rising to cup Hope’s cheek and draw her closer, a hand fisting in the front of her shirt to close the space between them.
When they finally break for air, a sigh slips past Hope’s lips as their lips separate, still brushing against each other, their breath mingling in the small gap. “Um, what…?” Rosie whispers against the lips on hers, unable to find a conclusion to the question.
“I - I don’t know,” Hope whispers, just as quiet, “Sorry,” she murmurs, pulling back.
Rosie watches her go, hurt welling inside her gut at the regret evident on Hope’s face, “Why?”
Hope shakes her head, like she’s frustrated with something, though Rosie doesn’t know what. “Didn’t ask,” is all she says, leaning away and turning back to the film still playing.
Rosie’s following her retreat without even realising, chasing after Hope unconsciously. “Didn’t mind.”
“Really?” Hope’s eyes snap to her, wide with clear surprise at the admission.
“I mean, maybe a little warning next time, but…” Rosie shrugs, unbothered.
Dark eyes glimmer, lit by the films rainbow of lighting, “Next time?”
“If you want.”
Hope shifts, facing Rosie head on, “Do you want a next time?” she asks carefully, emphasising the importance of the question with wide eyes.
A smirk lifts the corner of Rosie’s mouth, “First time was pretty good, so yeah.”
“Only ‘pretty good’?” Hope teases, leaning closer again, close enough for Rosie to see faint specks sparkling in her irises.
“Yep,” Rosie nods, resolute as her face solidifies into sharp stone. “Not about to stroke your ego.”
Hope groans, “You’re the worst.”
“Says the one that kissed me first,” Rosie teases right back, her smirk only growing at Hope’s annoyance, however played up it may be.
“Shut up,” Hope whines.
“No thanks,” Rosie grins, ready to start a spiel about everything she’s learned annoys Hope in the past few months, everything that earns a groan or a sigh or an eye roll, everything that makes her glare or scowl or slap Rosie’s arm even though it doesn’t hurt. “I think I’m -”
Hope’s kissing her again, only this time it’s deeper, filled with fire as Hope’s hands slip around to cup the back of her head, pulling Rosie ever closer and holding her there. Rosie’s own hands slide along Hope’s body, landing on her thighs and tugging her forward on the cushions, until their bodies are pressed together, with lips locked together. A groan slips from Hope’s throat, Rosie humming at the noise and sending her hands exploring in search of more sounds, palms grazing Hope’s exposed navel, muscles twitching beneath skin.
Hope splits them apart, her forehead pressing against Rosie’s gently, her panting breaths sending a shiver down Rosie’s spine. “What are we now?” her words only amplifying the effect.
“Whatever you want us to be,” Rosie answers easily, the question seeming unnecessary, “You’re kinda taking the reins here.”
Hope pauses, her hands clasped behind Rosie’s neck and thumbs brushing her skin idly. “Are we already dating?” she asks after a long moment.
“What do you mean?”
“We do a lot of coupley stuff,” Hope shrugs a bit, her lips twisting in contemplation, “We hang out all the time and I stay over and you make dinner and we watch movies,” she lists off.
Rosie pulls away, putting enough space between them to take in all of Hope, “Do you wanna carry on like this?”
Hope blinks, like she wasn’t expecting that question, “Yeah,” she answers, a little indignantly.
“Okay,” Rosie nods along, “Do you wanna call it dating?”
Hope stalls, eyes falling away as she considers, her voice coming out smaller than before when it finally does, “...Yeah.”
“Then we’re dating,” Rosie smiles sweetly at her, Hope’s expression softening at the sight.
Until it sharpens quickly, determination building in her eyes, “We have to go on a date,” she states evenly, matter-of-factly.
“Does that make it official?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” Rosie shrugs, falling back against the arm of the sofa casually, a wicked grin splitting her lips, “But you’re taking me out,” she warns.
Hope’s brow furrows at the declaration, the surety of it, “What? Why?”
“You started this, now it’s your problem,” Rosie smirks as Hope frowns, her eyes narrowing into a glare in the dark of the flat.
“You’re the absolute worst.”
“Says the one taking me on a date,” Rosie wiggles in her spot, falling back further and slipping her feet into Hope’s lap, Hope harrumphing and shoving them off with a scowl, much to Rosie’s amusement.
---
Hope drags Rosie out to a cafe in the morning, grinning the entire time she avoids telling Rosie where they’re even going, laughing at all of Rosie’s off-base guesses and humming ‘warmer’ when she gets something right.
She holds Rosie’s hand the entire time, occasionally swinging their interlocked digits between them or fiddling with Rosie’s fingers, as if they’re the most fascinating thing Hope can conceive of. And maybe they are. Maybe the way their hands fit together is strange, maybe the way they’re so close in size is odd, maybe the way Rosie squeezes her hand or traces circles along her knuckles idly is puzzling.
She pulls Rosie to a stop at the mouth of an alley, earning a confused expression in turn as Rosie looks around, “What are we doing here?” she spins in a slow circle, taking in the desolate street around them, a backroad with a small boutique, a pawn shop, and an auto body place. “Are you going to mug me?” she asks with twisted lips when she faces Hope again.
A laugh bubbles out of Hope and she swats at Rosie’s arm, a pleased smile curving Rosie’s mouth. “No!” Hope chastises, before pausing, her jaw clamping shut. “Close your eyes,” she demands a beat later.
“Okay, you’re definitely mugging me.”
“Just do it,” Hope whines. “Please?” she smiles, sweet as candy, Rosie immediately giving in with a roll of her eyes. “Perfect,” Hope squeezes Rosie’s hand tight, gently tugging her further into the alley.
“This is a very elaborate ruse to mug me, you know,” Rosie comments, eyes still squeezed shut, a hand on her lower back leading her.
Hope huffs exasperatedly, “Would you stop it?”
“Just saying. You already know where I live and when I have work, you don’t have to mug me.”
“Stop it or I really am gonna mug you.”
Rosie grins victoriously, reveling in the way she doesn’t even have to see Hope’s face to know how irritated she is, that she can tell from voice alone, “Knew it.”
“Shut. Up,” Hope’s teeth are gritted as she glares at Rosie with her dopey smile and closed eyes.
“Fine, fine,” Rosie concedes, “Just leave my money alone.”
“Just your money?”
Rosie faces Hope regardless of sight, “What’s that meant to mean? You want my phone, too?”
“Just checking if you’re available then,” Hope teases playfully, still gently leading.
Rosie pauses to consider, “Depends,” she finally lands on.
“On what?” Hope challenges.
“What you want out of me,” Rosie answers carefully, “I’m not mugging people with you.”
Hope barely suppresses an eye roll, “You’re the worst.”
“Aw, you really care,” Rosie coos, her hands clasping above her heart dramatically.
“I care about your money.”
Another victorious smile, “Knew it. Golddigger.”
“Arsehole.”
“Says the mugger.”
A sigh’s Rosie’s only response as they come to a stop somewhere, Hope’s arms draping around Rosie’s shoulders and her lips pecking Rosie’s. Her hands instinctively land on Hope’s hips, “Okay, open your eyes,” Hope hums.
Rosie obliges, blinking a few times to adjust to the sunlight, smiling down at Hope as her vision clears. “This it? Lotta theatrics. Coulda just stayed in for this view,” she teases.
Hope shakes her head exasperatedly, but it’s not enough to hide the smile on her lips, “Look around.”
She does, lifting her head away from Hope and finding them on a busier street the alley emptied onto. There’s a little café right in front of her, somewhat secluded from the rest of the street, with fogged windows and blurs of colour inside. No one’s moving in or out of the building, and it’s small enough that only a few patrons could possibly be inside.
Rosie’s eyes fall back to Hope and her smile, “What is this place?” she asks softly, bewonderment lessening the edge of her tongue at the quiet little escape she’s been led to.
“My favourite café. It’s really small and has the same regulars and everyone’s super nice and wonderful.” Hope bites her lip, as if she’s hesitating or nervous about something, “I found it after the show, when there was so much attention everywhere I went, and no one even knew me, so I started coming all the time.”
Rosie nods along, staring into Hope’s eyes intently to ground her, to show she understands. And she really does. She understands how hard it was with the editing and the pressure of the show. She understands how bad the backlash online was at times, when people would shit on them for anything. She understands how necessary it was to find a place to withdraw, to have people that didn’t care and just let her continue on with her job.
“Well, let’s go,” Hope’s arms retract from around Rosie’s shoulders, hands sliding down to grip Rosie’s and pull her along to the café. She swings the door open with a grin, a bell ringing above their heads. Not a single patron glances their way, most typing away at laptops or scrolling their phones as they sip drinks and slowly pick at food.
Only an employee takes notice, waving at Hope with a welcoming smile as he wipes down a countertop. She gently leads Rosie to the till, immediately falling into a conversation with the man as Rosie scans the menu and the shop. There’s booths on one wall, most empty, small tables filling the front, and a mural of different climates and natural environments on the wall opposite the booths.
“What do you want?” Hope asks, turning to Rosie as the employee stands waiting, his hands on his hips and a slight smile curling his mouth.
She smiles back before glancing at the menu and the dozens of items written across it. “Um,” her eyes scan over drink after drink, the letters whirring together. “Iced vanilla latte for now?” she tries, meeting the employees eyes.
“Ooh, me too!” Hope chimes, squeezing Rosie’s hand excitedly.
The employee - Chris, on his name tag - smiles even brighter, “Coming right up.”
Hope tugs Rosie away before Chris has even turned all the way around, pulling her along to a booth and collapsing into one side. Rosie follows, settling across from her, their hands still loosely linked together on the table, Hope’s thumb tracing the lines of Rosie’s palm.
Something sparks in the back of Rosie’s mind at the contact, in the pit of her stomach, in the thump of her heart, and she can’t quite place it, but she knows she likes it. She knows she likes this moment, too, the way Hope looks so at ease and relaxed, the way Hope brought her to her hidden spot, the way Hope tried to make breakfast before opting for the café. She likes the way this is going, they way they work together, even from before they realised there was something more to them than platonic movie nights. She likes how casual it was, how easy it came about, how relaxed she is as long as Hope’s there.
And she likes the way they just fit. They fit like one another’s other half, their perfect match, the missing pieces in the puzzles that construct their lives. And she can see herself sacrificing things for the woman sitting across from her, can see herself working for this relationship and all its inevitable flaws, can see herself in this moment forever, without a doubt in her mind. And Rosie doesn’t do things she can’t see, can’t envision, can’t rationalise.
But she can see Hope’s smile, can envision countless Sunday mornings spent at this little café, can rationalise the way her heart flutters at every laugh. This makes perfect sense, every detail and every second is reasonable and real and means so much more than Rosie ever thought they’d mean.
#litg fanfic#litg hope#litg noah#hdn#hopefully this shuts the gremlin up#that bastard#but deadass that anons a genius#id also like to make it very clear that i have no problem with noah he seems chill its just hard to write a breakup without making someone#seem like the bad guy#yknow?
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Okay but I do actually want to know both the things you love and the things you could rant about from DCTL?
OH BOY UHHHHHH okay lets see, I'm gonna see if I can do the "add a readmore after you post it" thing and see if that'll keep it stable.......
But also, much like Sammy, I am incapable of shutting up unless you strike me in the head with a blunt object, so uh, forgive my wordiness:
THINGS I ENJOY:
- DCTL gave us Sammy's ink addiction and like, if you had asked me before all this "what would you most like to see in a franchise?" I would not have answered "one of the characters drinks ink accidentally and then discovers that he can't stop" but boy that sure is my favourite concept that I LOVE to see handled literally any other way than how the book handled it!!!
- I like what it added to Tom and Allison and Norman!! Like, it's not big twists on their characters or anything -- we already knew Tom felt he was doing the wrong thing, so getting to see his CRUSHING GUILT over creating the machine isn't New Information, but it's nice to see and understand more of him; for all of them I feel a lot more attached to them after getting to see more of them as people.
- Like 90% of the "I LOVE IT" category for me is how the book handled Joey, and Buddy's relationship with Joey. The way Joey isn't a Sinister Mastermind Who’s Just Screwing With Everyone but just manipulative in a more mundane way -- someone who thinks of himself as just the guy with the vision to call the shots; he wants what he wants and this is how he's learned to get it; he exploits people not through devious schemes, but just by offering them something that they want or need and asking too much in return, expecting their loyalty for his favours. And the way he interacts with Buddy, making Buddy complicit with him and keeping Buddy off-balance and insecure while making him a favourite and treating him as Special is just PERFECT -- gives a lot of content to kind of extrapolate off of when pondering what must've drawn the others in and convinced them to ignore the red flags. I was initially frustrated with the idea of Buddy not being an artist and jUST DECIDING TO LEARN TO ANIMATE ON THE SPOT ("I've never done this before but I'm sure I can just do an artist's job" is a weirdly common throwaway thing in media and as an artist iTS A PET PEEVE) but actually the way they use his plagiarism to make him trapped in a lie in ways Joey doesn't even realise ends up being a neat echo of other employees (coughTOMcough), who were involved in much graver sins but suddenly felt they couldn't object or they'd lose their one chance, just like Buddy. There's a lot here that I think is really great.
OKAY THATS THE GOOD STUFF, LET'S COMPLAIN ABOUT SAMMY:
- Uncomfortable Bigotry Vagueness that we all knew was gonna be in this list -- I dunno man, a guy committing a microaggression and getting startled and defensive when he's called out for it doesn't necessarily completely ruin his character I GUESS, but the way this was handled is just SO WEIRD AND VAGUE that it's uncomfortable and it doesn't seem to serve any real purpose. "Is Tom black?" is a question I actually have to ask because the text sort of implies he is while also dancing around it and apparently Word of God said he's not??? which makes Buddy's comment nonsensical???? And I mean, you could go that route, since Buddy wonders to himself if Sammy talks to everyone like this -- HE ACTUALLY DOES!! Even within the text of the novel, he uses "Joey" instead of Mr. Drew, which is consistent with his audiologs in the game -- but that makes the writing suggest "this character THINKS this guy might be racist but actually they're reading too much into it and it wasn't racially motivated at all, he's just a jerk!!" wHICH IS SOMEHOW EVEN MORE ICKY??? Anyway like yeah I guess it's not inconsistent with his character that while Sammy Lawrence may not have any specific grudge against minorities he has probably not checked his privilege or done the work to challenge his own internal biases, but “Your Fav Probably Contributes To Systemic Racism In Ways He Hasn’t Considered, As Do We All When Our Assumptions Go Unchecked” is still a wild thing to wade through in a fun story about demonic cartoons
- but yknow so is T H E H O L O C A U S T
- Sammy's voice is wrong. I'm actually okay with him being a weird awkward asshole, I already kind of assumed he was and that's part of why I like him!! but there's so many places he doesn't quite... talk like himself? And not just in terms of word choice, like -- so in his monologue at the end, he's described as talking so quickly that his words are "tumbling out faster than he can speak them," which initially seems fine; like yeah, that's a Standard Scene we're familiar with, the person who's been Driven Mad With Insight becoming more and more manic as they try to convey it -- until I tried to imagine it and realised that Sammy doesn't talk like this. That's a really consistent quality I always notice about his voice; whether he's almost giddily excited in prophet mode, or he’s his irritated and overworked human self, or he's violently angry and his voice has that echo effect -- he always speaks very deliberately. He enunciates carefully. There's some circumstances where I'd buy this as showing that he's Not Himself, but I feel like those would kind of need to be in the middle of his transformation, not at the end of it.
- In fact a lot of the scenes with Sammy kind of have this feeling -- that it's not necessarily an exploration of Sammy as a character, but that he is filling a trope or archetype role here. Once he's fully transformed he excitedly describes the process as more of a mental compulsion, which is in contrast to his weird yeerk-infected behaviour when trying to get ink from Miss Lambert. Both of those scenes don't seem wrong on their own because they fit tropes we know -- but they feel weird when you try to fit them together.
- I also just in general am not a fan of the ink acting like a weird yeerk. It can be a parasite I guess but when it starts overwriting and puppeting people and crawling around to enter their body that's just a completely DIFFERENT kind of supernatural story and it’s not what im here for!!!
- THE FREAKIN!!! HE WILL SET US FREE!!!! WHY????????? SAMUEL LAWRENCE WHAT IS HE SETTING YOU FREE FROM??????? Sammy has No Motive for any of what he's doing, other than just Ink Made Me Do It. The whole thing that was INTERESTING about Sammy as a character is the contrast between this frustrated, ornery musician with no specific love for the cartoons he works on, and the manically devoted cultist he becomes. What happened in the middle there? What made him desperate enough to shift his mindset so much? "Something supernatural made him do things that don't benefit him in any way" is a very boring answer to this question!!! Susie was a victim who implies that her transformation has forced her to do things she didn't want to do, but we can still see her motive -- she wanted to be Alice, so she took a sketchy offer to try to get what she wanted. Even now, her violence echoes that goal -- to be a more perfect Alice. What did Sammy want? WHO KNOWS. Even in his ink-addled state at the end, we don't understand what he hopes the Ink Demon will even do for him, and in fact he seems to be responsible for creating the very scenario he's begging Bendy to reverse in the game.
- [sighs loudly into my hands]
- Overall I'm left wondering if the author just..... didn't like Sammy Lawrence? And I don't mean that in the sense of him being a rude jerk -- like, Joey is not a good person, but the author seems to be interested in him and in what makes him tick. There doesn't seem to be that same interest in Sammy. Sammy's role in the story is that of a monster, transformed into something murderous, unable to prevent or choose it. He's not a victim of anyone but the ink, no one had to manipulate him or figure out how his brain worked or what he wanted or what he feared or give him any reason to do the things he does -- ink got in his mouth and overwrote his personality. And we don't even get to see that change, not really. He starts out angry and defensive and continues being angry and defensive up until his very last scene, denying his ink-stealing but not really much else. We see all his prophetic sketches but we never see hints of this in him, we never see him start to act more excited and hopeful, we never see him seek out the demon he desires to please. Why do we never see Sammy struggling between his dismissive angry front and a building religious fervour he can't quite suppress? We don't get to see any of the in-between. There's no interest at all in why or even what it looked like as Sammy became what he became, when, to be honest, I suspect interest in precisely that is one reason he's such a big fav.
- It's funny, in a "cries into my hands" kind of way, when Sammy is just knocked in the head while monologuing and immediately removed from the story without further mention, like...... that sure is the pattern with him, isn't it, he just tries very very hard and never actually gets to matter, but it also fits right in here, too, in this book that doesn't want to think about his motives -- he rambles nonsensically, explaining nothing, gets one trademark phrase, and then is hastily removed so the story doesn't have to think about him anymore.
...................I think that's most of it.
...
Y'all............ I'm not ready for Sent From Above.......... I'm just not.... I'm not emotionally ready...... like..... Sammy has to be in that right..... he’s Susie’s boss and she has that big crush on him..................................... I’m not ready
#i know you have questions you always do#we all write on the walls#hopefully I have not gotten completely confused on any of these points but LMAO ITS POSSIBLE
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