#i change my mind from hour to hour on whether id like to have another baby and it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bisluthq · 7 months ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/bisluthq/756823852163727360/i-dont-think-people-should-speculate-about?source=share

This was cool to read and good for lorde for living and sharing what she wants and if she's exploring, that's cool. I had one of my male friends explore his gender identity and he experimented with a lot of stuff and ultimately decided he's full dude and not NB or fluid in that way (he IDs as having a fluid sexuality and said bi and pan labels don't resonate). But what was cool was he spent months just being so mindful of literally every choice he made and was like 'ok why do I want to order this drink? Is it what I want? Do I actually want to wear this? Or am I expected to?' We have a very gay friend group with one token straight out of the 8 of us lmao but he was first to explore gender and then we all would sit down at dinner and be like 'no wait - DO I want to order this? Did I want to wear this????' and im sure it sounds like I'm reducing gender to like girls ordering beer and boys ordering a Cosmo or something and little stereotypes... But it was actually a really good thing for all of us? We all thought about why we did stuff more than ever before and another girl said she wasn't sure if she was cis (she still hasn't decided but I don't think she cares because she presents not overly feminine (in traditional sense) and is just who she is but the labels are overwhelming). And apart from the token straight girl (soz not soz I love calling her that for a joke 😂) we've all come out regarding sexuality so talking about gender was super casual, compared to my other friends who are very straight and see a lot of that stuff as like 'women can wear trousers and be builders now, men are nurses, what else is there?' lol like they're not being even micro aggressive, but they just don't get it.

All of this to say, whether it's actively thinking about your choices in regards to gender or something else, I thoroughly recommend examining why you do some things and if you're only doing them because it's what's expected or the norm because it's just a really good way to get to know yourself. In our group of 8, one friend stopped drinking because he didn't actually like the taste or feeling and another went to therapy because she realised she was still trying to get her parents approval. Like it was realllllly good. Thoroughly recommend. Oh and for funsies, I learned I was trying so hard to seem fun and happier as a way of hiding my depression (that my friends all knew I had lmao) that I was doing shit I didn't like just to look like a fun person, but it's actually ok to order a cup of tea with dinner and go home early and sleep. Sleeping at reasonable hours is awesome lol

THIS was an awesome and inspiring read. Your friend group sounds awesome, as do you. I also recommend examining why you do things and how you do things - especially in your early 20s tbh but if you “missed” that window still def do it (it’s not too late), and if you’re younger and feel like you’ve got it figured out that’s… awesome lol but I’m not sure you do. And it’s okay to change your mind regarding what you like and the labels you use and the pronouns that work and… everything.

Just like for my own story: I came out as bi when I was 19 turning 20 but I’d known for kinda a fair while before that. As part of that, I also felt like I had to present more masculine for a while there so I got a pixie cut and wore Doc Martens and did think a fair bit about gender. I then decided I was pretty much completely gay but very cis and presented hyper feminine - I also got quite religious for a little while and into dressing tznius (modestly) so no pants (I did make an exception for the gym because I wasn’t THAT strict about it but I didn’t wear shorts even at gym for example), nothing above elbows, no plunging necklines etc. I only dated girls in that time (well one girl mostly). I’m retrospectively not sure if part of the hyperfeminine and religious thing was me “compensating” subconsciously for being gay. I’m now living with a man who has also done a lot of thinking about this kind of thing and is like… Kinsey 2ish idk he usually just calls himself straight because he has a VERY heavy preference for women - like wouldn’t ever date another man but enjoys kissing other men on occasion and has been in more sexual situations with other men like he’s gone further than kissing but overall he’s decided it’s not really his thing lol. That said, as I’ve also said before, he doesn’t really enjoy penetrative sex much at all so idk we are very sexually compatible tbh and both quite respectful of each other’s vibe on these things. What’s been interesting to me though is I’ve noticed I’ve started presenting in more masculine ways? Like I started wearing a lot of pants again and a lot of boots/unisex sneakers and I pretty much stopped wearing makeup (which is interesting because I was like a “full face before work” kind of person while with my exes but now I think about it I think when with my first boyfriend I also often didn’t wear makeup lol). So idk man like… I don’t think I was being dishonest with myself when I was doing the makeup and the pretty dresses and shit and I wasn’t dishonest when I said I’m bi OR when I said I only date women OR when I said “okay and also this guy” (Shy Ronnie and Clyde style) OR when I say like “I want to wear comfy shoes and my sweatpants today and fuck makeup for the day” and do my lil DIY a projects lol. I even think the pixie cut and like attempting to present more butch wasn’t dishonest with myself, it was me trying something that I ultimately quite quickly realized isn’t very me but I’m glad I tried it because otherwise how would I know that it’s not very me?

I have this bar friend who I’m probably gonna see a lot less of for a while because I’m doing a whole sober era but she’s old af right she just turned 60. She realized she’s a lesbian in her late 30s. She had only dated men before that and was even pregnant with an ex boyfriend (very tragic story there re the baby and a very fucked up relationship but yeah like she was). What I dig about her is she’s SO unapologetically herself. So she shortens her name to a traditionally boy name, wears a pixie cut and only ever pants and flats but she also loves funky makeup and doing her nails all different colors and LOADS of bling and bizarrely she loves the Brit royals and like has bumper stickers of them on her (I shit you not) Subaru and she also loves very hectic outdoor stuff and idk is just… so her. But it’s taken her, by her own admission, a fucking LIFETIME to get here and she has a lot of issues too and she drinks waaaaayyyyy too fucking much lol so it’s not like figuring out what makes her happy and who she is has magic pilled her. And that’s a woman who’s literally 60. She’s also had like 8 careers lmao and achieved a bunch in all of them and loves what she does now but again she’s… 60. And she’s not like… sorted yk, like there’s a lot going on, which as I say is why I don’t think I’m gonna see her for a fair while.

Which was a really long essay to say that we should be kinder to ourselves and each other and celebs really as we all figure our shit out. The internet has been really bad for that imo because everyone is so obsessed with having your neat labels in your bios everywhere and it’s… okay not to know. It’s okay to play around with stuff. It’s okay to change your mind multiple times. All of that’s fine. It’s never too late (or too early) to try something out and see if it’s you 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

Also good luck with your depression bestie, I’m here for you ❤️✊🏻

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puffpasstea · 2 years ago

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A/N: Part 1 of this request is below! Enjoy and please let me know what you think/ what you wanna see next!

warnings: angst.

——

The sound of my phone vibrating against the surface of the coffee table interrupted my thoughts and brought me back to the room. I leaned forward to peak at the caller ID. MITCH ROWLAND flashed across the screen. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if taking this call is the best idea right now. I cleared my throat and wiped my tear and makeup stained face with the sleeve of my sweater.

“H-hello?” My voice still sounded hoarse despite my best efforts.

“Hi Alice. How’s it going?” Mitch’s signature smooth voice sounded from the other end of the line. He was making pleasant small talk but it was difficult for me to focus as my mind wandered to why he might be calling or what Harry might have told him. “Sorry to call so late.” It hadn’t occurred to me that it was late. I didn’t realize how much time had gone by since Harry had stormed out of here hours ago. “Just wanted to let you know that, umm, Harry’s alright. And he’s, uhh- here. With me. With us.”

Mitch paused for a moment, as if waiting for me to respond to the information. He spoke again when I said nothing “He- he didn’t say anything. About what’s going on, I mean. All I got is that you guys are fighting, and, umm, that he hasn’t told you where he is, so- anyway, I just thought you might want to know he’s safe.” Another pause. I still remained quiet. At a loss. “Seemed like he’d been drinking, so, he’ll stay the night here.”

“Th-thanks for letting me know, Mitch.” I mustered, sounding hollow and cold.

“Of course.”

I heard some faint whispering behind him. Someone next to him was saying something that I couldn’t quite make out and then Mitch informed me that Sarah wanted to speak to me.

“Hey, Alice!” She chirped, her usual cheerful smile clear in her voice. “Just wanted to check in. Make sure you’re alright. If you don’t feel like being alone in that big house tonight, I can come over?”

That was generous of her to offer, but not surprising. Mitch and Sarah had embraced and welcomed me into their lives unreservedly. Though i doubt that my appreciation has always been clear - I still struggled to accept kindness- it really did mean a lot to me that Harry’s friends took me in. And, in this moment, it was also a relief to know that I could still count on them, even when Harry and I weren’t on good terms.

“It’s okay.” I squeaked, clearing my throat and trying to sound calm. “I think I’m just gonna go to bed actually. But thanks for calling, Sarah. Really.”

“Of course! I’m just a call away if you change your mind, okay?”

***

What I’d told Sarah was the truth. I’d fully intended on going straight to sleep. But, as I lay there, in the bed that Harry and I shared, his side of the mattress cold and empty, remnants of his scent flooding my senses every time I turned too close to his pillow, sleep eluded me. Harry and I had fought before, but not like this. The things we’d said to each other, the frustrations that we’d revealed, it all seemed much bigger than the two of us. Everything seemed so impossible. We’d hit a wall. Talked in circles. Neither one of us knowing how to move closer to other other. As overwhelming as it all felt, I should’ve seen this coming. The past few months have been rocky for us. We’d tried to power through it, sweep things under the rug, move on from any bumps in the road as quickly as possible in the name of letting go, or making allowances for one another’s imperfections. Whether it’s denial or cowardice, I didn’t want to admit to myself, much less to him, that deep down, my gut was telling me something wasn’t right with us. And if I felt that way, I’m sure he must have felt it too. I wished I could go back to when it all first started, to the first inkling that we weren’t doing well, and fix it right away. Not let it get this bad. It was too late now. We were too far down this spiral.

I tried to go back, in my mind, to better memories. Seek comfort in the good times that we’d had. Tell myself that this was just a setback. That we’d bounce right back and find our way to each other again. But, as I thought about the tender moments of our relationship, about all the good times, and the hard times, that we’d been through; about the Harry that I first fell in love with, it all seemed like a distant past. We’re not these people anymore. I could no longer recognize the Harry who’d held me through the hardest nights, whose simple touch communicated the love that he didn’t need to say, but he’d say it anyway. The man who’d bring me flowers just because, or little presents from all around the world because he’d seen something somewhere and it reminded him of me, the person who always seemed to be listening to my wildest, most ridiculous thoughts, and always seemed to remember even the most insignificant details about me- even the silly fleeting things that I’d forgotten ever sharing with him. The Harry that I once knew was brave, open, vulnerable. His instinct was to connect in the face of difficulty. He’d never shut me out, he’d never hold resentment in his heart, not even for a second. That Harry seemed long gone. The person who’d walked out of our home earlier, well, he was someone else. Someone I don’t think I know at all. We’d changed too much, too fast, without either one of us noticing. Our history felt like just that: history. How’d we get here? I missed him. But only the real him. I didn’t want the version of him that had been so unforgiving these past few week. I was glad that guy wasn’t here tonight. If I had to fall asleep right next to him and feel so cold and alone for one more night, I think I’d have lost my mind.

Feeling the ache in my chest burn again, I reached over across the bed and grabbed his pillow, hugging it to my body and inhaling his lingering scent to feel him around me. My tear stains on his pillowcase alarmed me. I worried they’d erase him. Take over his presence. I worried I’d have nothing left of him if I wasn’t careful to preserve it, so I quickly let go and turned to the other side, hating myself. Hating that I even felt this way. That he had that kind of power over me. That his love had so consumed every fiber of my being to the point where I felt dysfunctional without him.

***

I squinted as the sunlight hit my eyes and brought my arms to wrap over my chest in the chili winter air. A faint smile threatened to run across my face as I watched two dogs and their owners play around the park.

“Hiya!” Sarah sprinted towards me, pushing her kid in a stroller in front of her.

I forced myself to smile politely at her, and I got up off the bench to help carry some of her stuff. She’d brought up coffee and breakfast. She was nothing if not a thoughtful friend.

“There’s some sugar packets in the bag if you want.” She settled herself right next to me on the bench as I reached into the strolled to pick up her baby and carry him into my lap.

“Hiii little buddy. Are you having a nice morning?” I gave him a kiss on his soft cheek.

Sarah giggled at my baby voice as she sipped on her coffee. “So, it’s been a few days. How’ve you been?”

Her question seemed innocent enough, but I knew it was loaded with intention.

“I’m alright.” I said simply, looking off into the distance, avoiding her scrutinizing gaze.

“Yeah?” I could sense her studying my face closely.

We’d milked every safe subject for all it’s possibilities until we finally ran out of things to talk about. I was caught up on all the band gossip, future plans, Mitch’s home renovation projects that he had no attention span to follow through on. I told her about my students, my ideas for the next semester. The conversation fell into a lull. We made little observations about her baby boy’s fascination with the dogs and trees and passersby in between silences. Until Sarah broke the unspoken rule and addressed the elephant in the room. “Harry’s hanging in there, by the way.” She simply blurted out.

“I didn’t ask.”

She pretended not to hear me. “Wouldn’t say he’s doing too well though. He mostly just sleeps all day. Locked himself in our guest bedroom. Don’t think he’s showered since he came to stay with us. Starting to smell a bit.”

“Sarah, I know what you’re doin-“

“He misses you, Alice.”

“What, he told you that?” My response came I hurt sharper than I’d intended. There was no need to snap at her. It wasn’t Sarah’s fault Harry and I were in a bad place.

“He doesn’t need to, Alice. He loves you. You know he does.”

“Not so sure about that anymore…”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous! You two are- well, you’re his Matilda. He writes songs about you!”

“He also writes songs about fruits and orgasms and blow jobs.”

Sarah simply rolled her eyes, refusing to acknowledge my response with words.

“The fruits are metaphors and you know it.” She tried again after a moment of silence. “I mean, you’re the literary scholar.”

I stared forward, sipping my coffee aggressively.

“He strums his guitar in the middle of the night sometimes. I think it’s because he can’t sleep.”

“Sarah-“

“He’s also been drinking a lot the past couple of days. Crying too. I think he doesn’t know Mitch and I can hear him sometimes. But, we get up with the baby, and-“

“I’m sorry he’s such a lousy house guest, I really am. But, I’m sure if you talked to him about it, he’d cut it out.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. Alice, whatever’s going on between you two, it’s hurting him just as much as I’m sure it’s hurting you.”

I felt tears stinging my eyes at her words. I leaned forward and put the baby back in his stroller. I didn’t want him to see or feel the emotions that were quickly rising to the surface of my body. The images of Harry that Sarah’s story conjured up in my mind broke my heart to pieces. Of course it hurt to think about him like that. I hated the idea that he was in pain, even worse, that I was the reason for his pain. But I couldn’t help but think that we wouldn’t be here right now if he’d acted differently, if he hadn’t hurt me. If there were any room at all for us to be on the same page again.

“Babe, I’m not saying any of this to hurt you.” Sarah’s voice was soft, concern itched into her face. She’d noticed the silent tears that I’d been trying to avoid. She wrapped and arm around my shoulders, pulling me towards her. “I- I was just trying to say… maybe talk to him?”

I sniffled and wiped my tears with the back of my hand harshly, shaking my head. “He’ll, umm, he’ll be fine eventually. He’ll get over it.”

Sarah was speechless. She simply sighed, leaning her head against my shoulder and rubbing my back. We stayed like that for several minutes as I occasionally blinked away a few stray tears and tried to calm down. Just as I felt myself able to breathe again, something flashed across my sight. In the glare of the sunlight, I thought I saw someone.

I’d recognize his gait, his walk, the ragged black hoodie and his sweatpants anywhere. I could feel Harry’s presence encroaching as he made his way across the field. Instantly, my blood ran cold.

“Unbelievable.” I muttered, pushing Sarah off of me.

“What?” She seemed taken aback and confused by my sudden stiffness. “What’s wrong, Alice? What?”

“You invited him here??!”

“Who? Invited who?” Sarah’s eyes followed my own, she turned her head to see what I was looking at.

“Him!” My heartbeat drummed inside my chest, I could practically hear it in my ears as Harry got closer.

“I- I swear I didn’t! He wasn’t even awake when I left this morning. Alice, I promise!”

Well, he was here now.

As he closed the distance between us, I could see him clearly now. His chipped nail polish, the rings missing from his fingers, the dark circles under his eyes, his hair a disheveled mess. The closer he got, the harder it got to breathe. I was suffocating from the inside out, my lungs felt like they were running out of air.

He’d finally reached our park bench, taking a quick glance at me and then looking down at his feet.

“H-“ he attempted to speak but his voice sounded broken. He cleared his throat and tried again. “H-hello.” His eyes still downcast.

“Harry- what are you- how’d you find us?” Sarah spoke quickly, clearly as surprised by his sudden appearance as I was.

“Umm, well, Mitch said you’d gone to see Alice, and, I knew since you took the baby-“

“Fuckin Mitch.” Sarah mumbled. She turned to me, “Alice, I’m so sorry.”

I wanted to respond. To tell her that it wasn’t her fault, but I felt paralyzed from my head to my toes. I couldn’t take my eyes off of Harry. He looked so broken, a hollow shell of the man I knew him to be. My first instinct was to want to hug him tightly against me. But I worried that if I got my hands on him I might also want to kick his ass. I was so angry, so hurt, but I’d missed him so much that seeing him felt good as well.

Harry, on the other hand, seemed to be avoiding my sight like the plague. He made absolutely sure to look in every direction but mine.

I swallowed, but my throat was dry. “Why- why’d you come here, Harry?” I finally broke the silence.

“I- well, I miss-“ he attempted to look at me as he spoke but the moment our eyes met, he went silent. Looking away again, “could we….talk?”

Sarah subtly nudged me, but I made no reply.

“W-walk with me? Please, Alice?” Hearing my name from his lips broke my resolve. I stood up and reluctantly went to walk beside him.

Harry made an attempt to reach for my hand, but I quickly moved to cross my arms over my chest.

“S-sorry. Umm. We’ll just walk.” He mumbled, kicking a small rock in front of him.

“You smell like a distillery. Jesus, Harry, it’s barely even 10 in the morning.”

“Yeah…”

***

We walked around the park in circles for a while. Our attempts at talking things out seemed similarly cyclical. Nothing had changed. He was stubbornly unwilling to admit to his part in any of this, insisting that I just don’t get it. That I keep doubting his affection for me. That I need to just move past things. And I was growing increasingly frustrated by his inability to understand where I was coming from, why I believe he’d changed, and I was baffled that he doesn’t see how different things are between us now. When Sarah walked up to us to check in about a half hour later, we were standing opposite one another. Harry, once again, refusing to look into my eyes as tears fell from his eyes onto his shoes. Me, yet again, unable to tear my gaze away from his shrinking face.

“S-so, what now?” He mumbled.

“Guess, I’ll pack my stuff in the next couple of days.” I spoke, tears now running down my face too.

“Alice-“ his voice a mere whisper. “I love you.”

“I’ll text you when I’m out so you can come home. Just g-give me time to find somewhere to stay. Okay?”

I felt Sarah’s mouth move, as if to say something. But she was stunned into silence.

“It’s your home too. Our home. Stay, Alice. We can-“

“I love you too, Harry. But I don’t think there’s a ‘we’ anymore.” I said, sobbing into my hands. We stood there for a while. Neither one of us wanting to be the first one to walk away.

Finally, I reached over and pulled him into a tight hug. Harry’s arms instantly wrapped around me, squeezing me impossibly closer to him until we were chest to chest, no room for even a breath in either of us. I inhaled as best I could, taking as much of him in as possible, my fingers in his hair, my face buried into his neck. I couldn’t help myself, I locked my lips to his. A final kiss goodbye.

As our lips touched, Harry’s tears fell again, staining both our faces. He slumped against me, leaning his whole body weight against mine. I held him for a moment, and for that moment, I considered just taking back everything I’d said, throwing away and erasing everything that had got us here, and just going back home with his arms in mine. It would be so much better and easier if we could just decide to go back to the way things were. But it was this kind of thinking that had got us here in the first place. Simply ignoring our differences whenever they came up, until they were too big and too difficult to magically disappear.

“Take care of yourself, Harry.” I said, untangling my body from him and feeling his iron grip on me stubbornly refusing to loosen.

I hated that he was doing this. I hated that he was making me be the one to walk away, but I knew that if I didn’t, we’d stay frozen in that moment forever.

#harry styles #matilda #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry's house #satellite #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x oc #harry styles angst

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the-weirdos-mind · 3 years ago

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League of Villains X Teen! Reader: You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid

Songfic of the song with the same name by The Offspring. Here’s the reader’s quirk:

Quirk- Manipulation

Type- Emitter

How it works- Similar to Aizawa’s and Nighteye’s quirks you have to look someone in the eye to get them under control. They’re unaware that you’re controlling them but still aware of their senses. When you have someone under control you can do whatever you want with them until you either look away from that person (it doesn’t always have to be eye contact), blink, or release them. Whenever someone is under your spell, it’s like being trapped in a room with one-way glass. They are aware of what’s going on but, can’t get help.

Drawbacks- If you use the power for more than an hour you’ll get a headache. If you push yourself you’ll get a migraine. You can choose when to activate it and for how long but the time still adds to an hour no matter how many times you activate it in the day.

Trigger warnings: Blood and use of violence, if I’m missing anything then let me know so I can correct it

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Show me how to lie You're getting better all the time And turning all against the one Is an art that's hard to teach

You followed Giran down the hallway to an unknown place. You had the hood of you (F/C) on to hide your (H/L) (H/C) hair with your eyes on the ground. You watched as foot after foot in (F/C) shoes put pressure on the dirty ground. You mentally sighed as you reflect your life choices. You didn’t want to live this life but everyone around you saw your quirk as one thing; villainous. You got tired of the words and became what they wanted you be. You realized that heroes are worthless and they didn’t care that a young (boy/girl/person) was heading down a dark path. You glanced up to see the man opening the door. You immediately looked down and followed him in the room.

Side glancing at the room you noticed it was a bar. There was a purple cloud like man with yellow eyes in a suit and a metal brace around his neck. He was polishing a glass behind the bar. On a red stool was another man holding a glass of alcohol. He had his pinky raised away from the glass though and you silently raised an eyebrow. Is this because of his quirk or is he British? His shaggy blue hair was covering most of his face but when he turned to face the two, you saw a pale hand covering his face and his red eyes glaring at you. You glanced down at the floor. Not yet.

“You seriously brought a child?” He asked setting the glass cup down. “You do know that this is for mature adults? And (she/he/they) can’t stare at me in the eyes? How rude.” His voice was raspy and you concluded he was holding the glass like that was because of his quirk.

“Shigaraki, this is (Y/N), I brought (him/her/them) cause (he/she/they) need some training with (his/her/their) quirk.” Giran said and took a drag from his cigarette. He exhaled and a smoke cloud came in the room. “(He/She/They) is getting better at it but, (he/she/they) still needs some help.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “At least I don’t treat kids like they’re nothing.” You mumbled still bitter about Shigaraki’s comment.

“What was that?” The blue haired man asked, dangerously.

“So, you’re deaf huh? I thought an excellent leader would treat a new recruit with respect no matter the age they are.”

Another clever word Sets off an unsuspecting herd And as you get back into line A mob jumps to their feet

“Shut up.” Shigaraki muttered and scratched his neck. He was stressed about the trouble this kid was causing. Sure he and Dabi didn’t get along but he liked being in control. “(He/She/They) is mature for (his/her/their) age.” Giran said. “Maybe with (him/her/them) as leader it won’t be bad.” He added. He knew what you were doing. If you get him mad enough to get him to look at you in the eye then you can show off your quirk. You did keep your mouth shut as the man stood up and walked over to you. You looked at him in the eye and a (F/C) hue came to your (E/C) eyes. His eyes begin to fog up a little, not enough to appear blind but enough to look suspicious.

Now dance, ****er, dance Man, he never had a chance And no one even knew It was really only you

Shigaraki barely saw the change of your eye color. He was so surprised to started dancing. His feet moved in a fast pace in place. “What the ****!?!” He yelled, only in his mind. Dabi started laughing again. The scarred man leaned over clutching his stomach. He’s laughing so hard he might start crying, or blood will fall from his destroyed tear ducts, if he’s not careful. After a few minutes of dancing you blinked to end the curse on him. They didn’t know that you caused it to happen. Giran smirked and patted you on the head. “What the h***?” The man asked looking around, wondering what just happened.

“That is (his/her/their) quirk at work.” He man said before the other could get angry. “With a power like (hers/his/theirs) would be useful for heist situations and causing diversions wouldn’t it?”

“What is (his/her/theirs) quirk?” The wisp man asked.

“Manipulation.” You said. “Whenever I look at someone in the eyes it activates my power. I can hold control of them for at least an hour before I get a headache. Best part is no one knows that they’re under my grasp.” You said.

“I’ll admit that I’m impressed.” Shigaraki said. “Welcome I guess.”

Giran smiled. “You won’t be disappointed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And now you steal away Take him out today

After a few weeks of joining the League you’re on your first solo mission. Before this one you were mainly paired with a blonde haired girl named Toga. She was pretty nice when she wasn’t obsessing over blood or trying to stab you. Other times you were paired with a man named Twice. He would say two different things and it would give you mixed feelings about a job well done.

You walked through the area of the city to a hero agency. Your job is to find maps of the inside and steal them. Shigaraki didn’t care if they were on paper or not all he cared about was getting them, It’s pretty simple to do but considering this is you, you had a knife and a handheld gun just in case if things went south. So far it was going well. You got a security guard under control and using him you were able to get a computer with the building’s layout on it. Pulling out a flash drive that Compress had given you, you stuck it in the computer and start downloading. Unfortunately, you looked away from the guard and he glared at you.

“I don’t know your plan here kid, but it’s best if you leave now.” He said. He did try to alert someone but it was useless, he was trapped in his mind until you looked away. You looked at him and put your hand in your pocket with the knife.

“I don’t think so.” You said. Before he could call for backup you pulled the knife out and threw it at his chest. He gasped at the impact of the knife and slumped to the floor. Blood was falling from the wound fast, staining his shirt and forming a puddle. Thankfully there was a ding as the data had finished uploading to the flash drive. You walked over to the computer and pulled it out. You smirked as you pocketed it and pulled the knife out from the guard. You left the building leaving behind a guard slowly bleeding to death.

Nice work you did You're gonna go far, kid

You walked back into the hideout and put the flash drive on the bar next to Shigaraki. He nodded at you when he saw it. “Good job. A win for us.” He said and carefully pocketed the piece of tech.

“And in an hour too.” Spinner said.

“That’s really impressive!” Twice said. “It’s not that impressive.”

You feel a hand clamp on your head and ruffle your hair. “Not bad, kid.” Dabi said. He could tell you’re gonna go far in the villain industry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With a thousand lies And a good disguise Hit 'em right between the eyes Hit 'em right between the eyes

You had gotten in the school with one of the best lies you have, your parents went there. It wasn’t U.A. but it’s also training people for the hero industry. The plan was to get the best marks in the school and transfer to U.A. as the highest in your class. Giran came into play for making fake documents that pass off as real.

The one on one fight that took place with some kid you didn’t even bother to know was annoying. His quirk was something water related and you almost drowned a couple of times. You finally looked at him in the eye and ordered him to stop. You ran up to him and punched his face, in the between the eyes a couple of times. The first one stun him while the other knocked him out.

When you walk away Nothing more to say See the lightning in your eyes See 'em running for their lives

You panted and wiped the sweat away from your forehead. You walked away from the ring where the training took place and looked at everyone else. They looked away from you in fear and parted like a body of water. You swore you saw someone running for their life. You smirked to yourself and took your seat on the bleachers. Pride danced in your eyes like lightning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Slowly out of line And drifting closer in your sights So play it out I'm wide awake It's a scene about me

The first thing the infamous Class 1-A noticed about you is how secretive you were. You shared nothing about yourself other than your name and quirk. They noticed that you did some… shady things to put it mildly. Some noticed you snuck out of the dorms at night. Idia, Miydoriya, Bakugo and Todoroki had followed you to an alleyway and heard you talking to some shadowy figure there. Both spoke in soft whispers that they couldn’t tell who you were talking to and whether or not they were male or female. Other than that occurrence, they didn’t get anything else.

About a week later, the League attacked UA. You had managed to get them in through your student ID and gave them full access to the school, by a really good copy of the little plastic card. Five minutes prior to the attack, you had excused yourself from math, who needs it anyways, and went to the bathroom. While the lockdown was going on, you met with Toga in the halls. The plan was to get to All Might and kill him, the typical plan made by the man child of a leader you have. You both heard footsteps running towards you and saw it was the class president, Iida. “(L/N), get away from her!” He yelled, doing his hand chop thing. You smirked and took out the dagger the blonde handed you. “No, I don’t think I will.” You responded. Time to shine.

There's something in your way And now someone is gonna pay And if you can't get what you want, Well, it's all because of me

He stood there, shell shocked at the sight before him. His classmate was a villain? You couldn’t use your quirk yet, anyways. You decided to let the scene play out. You let a dark chuckle seeing his face. “All my life I’ve been told that I was best suited for a villain. You know, you could’ve used the time you knew me to get to know me but, everyone treated me the same as before! It’s too bad that things had to end like this. Wait, no it’s not that bad. You and your class are gonna pay!” You yelled. You lunged at him and he dodged as he snapped out of his shocked state.

“(Y/N), it doesn’t have to be this way!” He said and continued to dodge the blade. He was still surprised and didn’t attempt to fight back because he couldn’t believe the suspicions about you were true. You growled in frustration. “It’s too late for me anyways. You can’t turn me to the light.” You said and looked at him in the eyes and yours started glowing (F/C). He almost let out a gasp but it didn’t leave his body as his eyes fogged up a little.

Now dance, ****er, dance, man, I never had a chance And no one even knew, it was really only you And now you'll lead the way

You smiled as the class representative had fallen for your trick. “Now, we’re going back to the class, and you’re going to act like everything is alright.” You ordered.

He nodded. “Yes, (Sir/Ma’am/Other).” He said, voice coming out robotically. He set off to find his class and you followed him, due to your power. The irony of the situation was almost amusing to you. Almost. The head of the class, now a puppet. A puppet that can dance to whatever twisted moves that you have set for it.

Show the light of day Nice work you did You're gonna go far, kid Trust deceived

You followed him down the twisting paths of the hallways to the rest of the class. Your gaze fixed on the back of his head. You knew Toga was going to inform everyone else that everything was according to plan. Finally, the two of you reached the hiding area where everyone else was. “Thank goodness you found, (him/her/them!)” You heard Izuku said. Then he noticed that something was off about his classmates. You were refusing to look at anybody else than the boy in front of you and Iida’s looked dazed. Like he was… under someone’s control.

The greenette’s eyes widened. His classmate was… no. He had his suspicions but the truth is hard to handle. Before he could say anything, Iida gave him a swift kick in the face.

With a thousand lies and a good disguise Hit 'em right between the eyes Hit 'em right between the eyes

They stood there in surprise and shock. A blanket of fear had covered them, making them stand there like statues. The only sounds were the groans of Miydoriya and the thud of his body hitting the ground. “I-Iida.” Ochaco stuttered in fear. No one had expected the class president to attack their classmate outside of training. The blue haired boy then hit the nearest person, Mineta, giving him a punch to the cheek. No one really reacted to that. In all honesty, the grape had it coming.

When you walk away, nothing more to say See the lightning in your eyes See 'em running for their lives

While they were distracted, you used the opportunity to leave. It didn’t matter if Iida was going to spill the secret you kept from them. That s*** was already out. You smirked to yourself knowing which side of the street you belong in.

Now dance, ****er, dance, he never had a chance And no one even knew, it was really only you So dance, ****er, dance, I never had a chance It was really only you

The mission went out as planned. It was only a ploy to strike fear in the hearts of citizens. After all, an attack with no causalities is far worse with ones that do. You now sat at the bar, a bottle of water in your hand. You may be a criminal but the age of drinking consent is something that you can’t argue with. No matter how hard you tried. The news was on talking about the event. Everyone was able to get away without anyone being caught. Call it luck or whatever but, you’re thankful that they did. The anchorwoman was talking about how a student was involved with the League and helped out. A picture of your face appeared on the screen and you smirked. It wasn’t a school photo but a mugshot from a previous capture. One you managed to get away from. No one even suspected you, or so you think, but regardless it’s wonderful to see.

With a thousand lies and a good disguise Hit 'em right between the eyes Hit 'em right between the eyes

You couldn’t help but chuckled remembering the looks on each of their faces. What they thought was a classmate was really playing a part. A perfect disguise if you asked yourself. You have the innocent looking (boy/girl/person) appearance and if anyone who didn’t know you found out about your job. It would’ve made you laugh as not everything is as it seems.

Your fists tingled as they remembered the feeling of their face contacting your skin. You placed the hand that held the plastic bottle on top of the other’s knuckles. The feeling is something you’re going to remember for a long time.

When you walk away, nothing more to say See the lightning in your eyes See 'em running for their lives

A pair of footsteps came walking in and you dropped your hands to your lap. You see Shigaraki walking into the bar holding a folder, with a finger away from it as always. You know it could only mean one thing. “Another mission?” You asked, voicing your thoughts. The boss nodded and handed it to you.

“Go over it and be ready for when the time comes. You did good on your last mission, keep up the good work. You’re a valuable character.” He said before walking away. You weren’t sure if the last sentence was a praise or another video game term but regardless you nodded.

“Will do.” You said and opened it up, wondering what will be to cause more fear in the people. And more pride in yourself. Each success makes you happy.

Clever alibis, Lord of the Flies Hit 'em right between the eyes Hit 'em right between the eyes

You almost busted out laughing seeing which role you were supposed to play. An innocent citizen who loves all the hero crap. You won’t be alone this time, having Toga to accompany you on this one. You felt excited for the mission. It would mean more people will realize what idiots heroes truly are. The truth will knock them down from the clouds.

When you walk away, nothing more to say See the lightning in your eyes See 'em running for their lives

But right now, it’s time for a nap. The last mission tired you out. You took the folder with you and walked to your room. All that matters right now is a bed, a blanket, and wonderful dreams of a world where people run in fear from you.

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avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years ago

Text

Phantom Children Ch. 8

What's this? An update! Massive thanks to my betas for helping me get through this chapter <3

In Which: A few answers are given to the family and Danny is rudely awoken

[Side note: If you wanna know the general ages of the batfam, its listed in the AO3 version. I also talk about katanas in the end notes ^-^]

AO3 | Prologue | 7 | [ 8 ] | 9 DAMIAN INFORMED TODD—and Drake when he arrived on his bike sometime later on—that the boy whose face is plastered across the monitor was neither a picture of himself nor of Father.

Drake took one glance at the monitor and sighed, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Just when I thought this day was getting better.”

“What, did that café on 5th finally let customers supersize their drink?”

“God that would be the dream, wouldn’t it?” Drake sighed wistfully. “Nah, but I did get a lead on where some of that stolen Cadmus tech might’ve ended up. I was gonna spend the night following up on it, but I guess we have to deal with,” he gestured to the monitor, “whatever this is.”

Todd leaned against the edge of the computer, arms crossed over the red bat insignia on his chest. “What are we dealing with this time, brat? A clone? An alternate universe counterpart? Magic shenanigans?”

Maybe. Perhaps. All of those were perfectly valid conclusions for the enigma that was Daniel James Fenton. (Why Fenton and not al Ghul? Or even Wayne?)

Damian, too, was a genetic experiment; a ‘test tube baby’ as Drake put it at times. Damian was born for greatness, created to be perfect. The perfect soldier. The perfect assassin. The perfect heir. Was this boy—Daniel—like him as well?

A failed one, then. Perhaps the precursor to Damian’s own existence. But that would not explain why the boy was allowed to exist for so long. His grandfather demanded perfection, especially from those of his own blood. If the boy was a failure, he would have been eliminated immediately, not sent to live with some eccentric scientists in the Midwest.

Damian was not naïve enough to think that his mother and grandfather did not keep secrets from him. On the contrary, he expected it. The League of Shadows dealt in secrets as often as it did in death. Certain information was worth its weight in gold, whether it was given or buried away.

But he could not help the sharp pang in his chest. A lightning strike, quick and electrifying at the notion that they kept secrets about their family from him.

His father’s face flashed in his mind. The shock turned into a slow, dawning horror. That flicker of light, of recognition, as he scrutinized the contents of the flash drive and cross-referenced it with a public database.

And grief.

Damian recognized the grief.

Alfred, too, nearly dropped his tray of fresh-baked cookies when he stepped in front of the monitor. His usual unflappable demeanor was momentarily broken at his father’s whispered “Sixteen years. Alfred— he’s sixteen years old.”

His father knew of the boy. He was allowed to know of Daniel when he was not allowed to know about Damian.

------

Grayson returned to the cave with a distinct lack of energy in his step. His mask dangled off the tips of his fingers, chin angled downwards and covered largely by his hand. For a split second, their eyes met. Grayson shifted his gaze away, scratching the back of his neck. Father told him, then. Damian wondered how much Father revealed to his favorite son.

Damian clucked his tongue and buried himself deeper into the chair, arms crossed and pointedly looking away. If it was not for his accursed ankle, he’d have headed out to the training ring to take his frustrations out on the dummies.

“Oh, thank god you’re here, Dickface. Damian’s completely out of it.”

Damian shot him a look. “Shut up, Todd.”

“Leave him alone, Jay. Is Tim back yet?”

Drake emerged from the changing room in a dark green shirt, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. He took one long sip before exhaling. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“O-kay…” He pressed his hands together, mouth thinned into a grim line. “Uh, hey Tim, glad to see you back safe. Bruce is coming down soon to explain some things.” He let out a deep sigh, carding a hand through his hair. “This kind of thing would probably be better with the girls around, but I—god, I don’t know.”

Todd raised an eyebrow. “Don’t know whether to call Steph and Cass in Hong Kong, or don’t know what’s going on?”

“Yes.”

------

When Father arrived, Pennyworth following dutifully behind him, it was with an aching slowness in his gait. His steps measured and precise, preternaturally quiet as he made his way to stand by Damian’s chair. Damian sat up straighter, shoulders squared and back an inch away from the backrest. The rest, even Todd, stood at attention; an ingrained habit among Robins and an amusing instinct even among the senior heroes of the Justice League when it came to facing the Batman.

His father kept a steady hand on Damian’s shoulder, and Damian, shamefully, leaned into the touch; his head inclined towards his father’s hand so much so that he could feel the ends of his hair being pushed up slightly as he brushed against his father’s forearm.

He spoke with his usual monotone, as if he was heading a Justice League meeting as opposed to unveiling the secrets surrounding that boy. He brought forward the few photos they obtained from the flash drive. “A few weeks ago, we were alerted of suspicious movement from the League of Shadows in Amity Park, Illinois. Their objectives are, as of now, unclear, though it appears to be tied to the death of Amity Park resident, Daniel Fenton.”

One photo was a standard ID picture people get for their driver’s license, the lighting deliberately horrible so that any attempt to look decent would always end in failure. Another photo was a little better; a candid scene of him chatting with two others his age, a Caucasian girl in gothic-style clothes and an African-American holding a sleek, but still very outdated PDA. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, hand reaching up to his face to stifle a laugh. There were other photos like this, some candid, others posed. At the forefront of each, a boy that looked too much like his father, too much like Damian.

His father glanced at the photos. He shut his eyes and when he opened them again, he fixed them on some distant stalactite in the Cave. “Around six months ago, Daniel was pronounced dead in a vehicular accident. A body was present, but according to police reports, he was identified via his driver’s license as opposed to any kind of DNA profiling.” He leaned over Damian’s chair to pull up a profile of Masters. “Our source—Vladimir Masters, mayor of Amity and a friend of the Fenton family—indicated his belief that Daniel is actually alive. I am inclined to agree.”

“He’s your son, isn’t he,” Drake said, more of a statement than a question.

Father gave a curt nod. “I cannot say for certain until I can perform a DNA test, but I highly suspect that to be the case.”

“First the demon spawn, now this. Great.” Todd made a hand motion towards the screen. “You know, Bruce, not knowing you have a kid once might be a coincidence, but twice? How do you do that?”

“As of three hours ago, I was still under the impression that my son never made it to term.”

“What?”

“Over sixteen years ago I was involved in a mission that put Ra’s and I on the same side. During that time, Talia and I entered a relationship that resulted in a pregnancy. Though initially ecstatic, she eventually led me to believe she miscarried the child and pushed me away. For what ends, I do not know, but trust me Jason, if I knew—” He paused, the hand that was not on Damian’s shoulder curled into a tight fist.

Father pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why she hid it from me then doesn’t matter. Why Talia wants him back now is important. Judging from Daniel’s records, he was adopted into the Fenton family as an infant and has since lived a seemingly normal life as a civilian. His adoptive parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton, are brilliant scientists and engineers focused on the field of paranormal studies. Eccentricities aside, they have zero connections to the League of Assassins or any other concerning parties.”

“So why now?” Dick asked, shifting his concerned gaze from Bruce to the static picture of Danny’s tired smile. “Why, after all this time, decide that now would be the best time to recover him?”

------

Danny’s experienced plenty of rude awakenings before, but waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to avoid his kidnapper-slash-assassin-slash-biological-mom launching a surprise attack takes the fucking cake. He can’t believe he’s saying this, but thank god for all those late night ghost attacks that conditioned him to be a light sleeper. And, of course, the League’s insistence that everyone be in optimal condition regardless of how little sleep you actually got.

Danny kicked Talia off of him, ripping his blanket away before scrambling to his feet. Seriously, if the universe decided to spontaneously give him powers again, he’d really like an upgrade to his ghost senses, please and thank you. Something that works on humans and not just ghosts. Like spidey-senses. He’d really, really like some spidey-senses.

“Your reaction times have improved considerably,” Talia said.

He eyed the katana sheathed beside his bedroll. “Thanks. Who could have guessed that constantly challenging someone to a spar in the unholy hours of morning would make them paranoid to sleep too much? Really, how am I supposed to grow taller at this rate? ” If he could just get it--

She smiled, taking a step forward. “Prepare yourself.”

“Heh.” Danny stepped further away from Talia, keeping his back to the mouth of the cave. One hand stretched in front of him and the other, coated in a green light, was kept hidden behind his back. “Am I actually gonna get some answers today?”

“Let us make it interesting. Last 10 minutes against me and I shall tell you more about your brother.” Talia twirled her blade. “If you happen to draw blood, you may ask any one thing of me.”

“Anything?”

“Within reason.”

His face caught between a grimace and a smile. He’d rather be sleeping right now, but if he had to be awake, then he’d better make the most of it. “Deal.”

Talia’s smile dropped. She veered her body to the right, barely dodging the streak of bright green that whizzed from behind her. The ectoplasmic energy that surrounded the katana bled away as the handle connected with Danny’s outstretched hand.

She quickly glanced back at Danny’s bedding. Beside it lay an empty sheath. “You have telekinesis?”

He shrugged. “It comes and goes.” Yeah, no way was Danny gonna admit that seven-out-of-ten-times he forgot that he had telekinesis. Besides, that shit was hard to do when he wasn’t Phantom.

“A surprise attack from behind is a sound strategy, Daniel. Though it’ll take a lot more than that to harm me.”

Danny pointed to the side of his cheek. “Are you sure about that?”

Talia frowned. She reached up to her face. Her fingers brushed against her cheek and came away with a thin streak of blood.

Danny grinned, pointing his blade at his opponent. “First blood goes to me.”

------

Fact: most fights don’t last long. An average street fight could last anywhere between 25 to 40 seconds, and sword fights rarely last over a minute. Like Talia said, the goal of a fight was to end it with as few injuries to oneself as possible. Humans, even the most skilled ones, can rarely last long in a fight. Prolonged combat is suicide; it makes you tired, makes your muscles heavy. It’s nothing like what Hollywood would have you believe.

Even with Danny’s own enhanced stamina and Talia holding back, he couldn’t last a full ten-minute spar. If Talia didn’t finish him within twenty-five seconds, then he’d fall by his own human limitations.

But the goal wasn’t to spar continuously for ten minutes.

He only had to last that long.

Danny sprinted out of the cave. The sun barely peeked out of the horizon, a thin line of deep orange breaking apart the wide expanse of blue-black sky above. He couldn’t see shit; great news since that meant there’s a good chance Talia couldn’t either, but that doesn’t fix the fact that he can’t see.

Nearly stumbling on the ice, Danny veered to the left. The edges of the lake stopped at towering rocks twice Danny’s height, leaving little room for cover. Though if he remembered correctly, there should be a few crevices here and there to hide in.

“You’ll have to be faster than that, Daniel.”

Shit—

Danny stopped. He brought his sword up to parry Talia’s strike and twisted away, putting distance between them.

Well, so much for just avoiding her for 10 minutes.

He adjusted his grip, keeping his sword steady and eyes trained on Talia as they circled each other. Danny lunged with an overhead strike. Talia used one hand to block the downswing by gripping his wrists. She thrust her sword forward, the tip harshly poking Danny’s abdomen.

“Less than three minutes.” Talia let his wrist go, Danny’s arms slumping to his sides.

He sighed as he sheathed his sword. “Damn, I thought I’d last longer than that.”

“You made a good effort,” Talia assured him. “Putting as much distance between us at the beginning was a good strategy. You recognized the win conditions immediately and attempted a battle of attrition.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I am very proud of you habibi, especially as you managed to draw first blood.”

A warmth grew in Danny’s stomach at the words, heating his cheeks. Sheepishly, he scratched the back of his head. “I wasn’t entirely sure that would work, honestly.”

“It was clever; half a second later and you might have even killed me. You are an al Ghul through and through” She brushed his hair out of his face. “What would you like as your prize, then?”

Danny’s heart clenched. He frowned, dropping his arm to his side. If I was such an al Ghul, then why didn’t you keep me? The question lodged itself in his throat, stifling his thoughts. It was something he’d been wondering for a while, actually, in the moments of solitude he had at the compound. Talia, during their training, would always remark at his potential. How talented he was, how adaptable he was, how much greater he would have been if he had been trained at a younger age.

Well then, why wasn’t he? Why did she give him up?

But each time he tried to ask, his tongue would turn to lead and the moment would pass, the question still left unsaid and simmering at the back of his mind. A Pandora’s Box that held none of the world’s evil but all of Danny’s possible shortcomings.

He could ask the question now.

He could.

He didn’t.

“Why did you take me?”

Talia tilted her head. “It is because you’re my son.”

“No. Not that. It has to be something more than that. You had sixteen years to come back for me—or, hell, you could have just never left me.” His breath hitched, fingers mussing his hair and hiding his eyes. “Why else did you take me?”

“It is true that there was more than one reason why we decided to retrieve you from Amity Park. One of which is because you are my son and an heir of the Demon’s Head.” Talia stilled. The dark skies of dawn made it impossible for him to read her. “The second reason was to protect you.”

“You kidnapped me…to protect me?”

“Knowledge of the ghosts of Amity have spread through the more insidious parts of the world. There are many out there who would pay exorbitant fees to study one of you or to use you.”

Use him? What did she mean by—

Oh.

Ghosts—Amity Park’s brand of ghosts—were a new element that the world had to contend with. Amity Park might have a crime rate of zero but that wasn’t the case everywhere else. Theft, assault, murder; the world was rampant with crimes and criminals clawing their way to the very top. Having ghosts, even ones with the most basic powerset, would be a huge advantage.

“There’s no way that would work,” Danny insisted. “Most ghosts just want to be left alone, and the ones that want to wreak havoc would never work with humans. The only reason they even work with halfas like me at times is because they still consider us as ghosts.”

“If my sources are to be believed, ghosts might not even get a choice.”

Danny’s blood curdled in his veins.

No.

Someone’s found a way to control ghosts.

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #dp fic #phantom children.txt

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duskamethyst · 4 years ago

Text

covet.

a/n: a remake so some might have read this but i switched up a bit because i wasn't particularly happy with it.

word count: 2.2k

genre: mature, nsfw

warning tags: implied noncon at the end, stalking, yandere behavior

pairing: yan!iwaizumi x f!reader

summary: you find out that you are your best friend's obsession.

iwaizumi has always been a good friend to you; more like a doting brother that’s always looking out for you, cheering you up as he listens to you cry over the phone over a bad and sudden break up or helps you when you need a hand– whether it’s from studying or changing the light bulb and he never expects anything in return. he’s amazing and it’s rather strange that he never had someone special as long as you’ve known him.

you’ve asked him about his love life plenty of times before but he often finds a way to avoid the topic. though it’s unusual, you only think that he probably has a shy side to him despite how tense he usually looks. you couldn’t find anything wrong with him that could drive others away– from his looks to how he treats people around him. and honestly? he is too good to be true.

but when something seems too good to be true, chances are, it really is.

you know iwaizumi more than anyone else– with oikawa as an exception. you cling onto each other almost every day and you often go out together to finish up an assignment. your friends are always poking fun at you about liking iwaizumi whenever you’re with him but you’re always quick to get defensive, afraid of making him feel awkward and also because it isn’t true– you don’t really feel that way about him.

he’s aware that they’re just teasing but he couldn’t help the blush creeping up on his cheeks each time he hears the untasteful joke and his heart breaks over how you get quite uptight about it because boy, he actually feels happy at the thought of you having feelings for him.

as much as you think you know the guy, to iwaizumi, you don’t actually know him.

you don’t know how he feels about you, but he understands that. it’s his fault for not confessing to you directly but he also wants to protect the relationship you both currently have. iwaizumi doesn’t want to ruin it. he doesn’t want the probability of losing you when he knows he’s nothing more to you than just a friend. you don’t know that you’re the only person that fills his mind day and night, jerking off to the image of you before going to sleep. and you don’t know how he spends so many hours at the gym, letting out his anger and frustration to the punching bag when you tell him that you’re seeing someone.

iwaizumi is mindful of the fact that he won’t ever get to be your boyfriend; let alone the one to spend the rest of your lives together and it pains him for having someone so close but couldn’t quite reach for.

little that he realizes, he begins to have an unhealthy obsession over you.

he usually pretends to find interest in your relationships and hookups just so he can use it to his advantage just so that in a couple of months, you will run back into his arms and talk about how sad you are over it and blame yourself about how you aren’t good enough to anyone.

he feels bad when he sees your sorry state. it hurts him more than it hurts you but he keeps reminding himself that even though he is the cause of your breakup, it’s for your own good. of course he can’t say that out loud, he’ll just coax you with sweet words, things you want to hear like how you deserve someone so much better. he will tell you that you should look closer, find that person who has went through thick and thin with you but god– it’s a shame that you’re just so blind.

iwaizumi begins to stalk you at night. using an excuse to ‘watch over you’ when he only wants to see you at your most vulnerable state which he believes to be the ‘real’ you, unraveled. he wants to see how you are when you’re alone and unmindful of the presence of others, including him.

your schedule for your night activities differs each night so he finds himself lucky when he’s just in time to see you strip off your clothes piece by piece until you have nothing on before hopping into the shower. a loud gulp downs his throat when he watches you turn to the full length mirror, bare and perfect ass conveniently facing the window when you observe your figure from the side– probably to see the progress from that work out he has been telling you about.

his jaw clenches at how careless and oblivious you are of your surroundings (but can he really blame you, though?) but it gives him all the more reason to stick close to you so he can protect you. he can already feel his cock throbbing inside his pants and if it’s not for the fact that you don’t know that he’s stalking you, he’d say that you’re purposely teasing him. iwaizumi quickly fishes for his phone and takes the opportunity to take a picture of you.

he can’t help to imagine how you smell like after a nice, long shower. that mere thought alone makes blood rush to his dick. a whiff of you from each time you’re sitting next to him is never enough. he already memorizes your nightly routines; you skip two days to wash your hair, you have a separate towel to wrap your wet hair and the steps of your skin care routine and then you will proceed to turn on the music as you do your assignment on your desk.

that reminds him that he has better things to do too, but he can’t and won’t walk away until he makes sure that you’re asleep peacefully in your room. he wants to make sure that you’re not inviting some guy to your place because who knows who you’ve been texting when you’re not next to him? he still trusts you though, there’s no way you’ll keep it a secret from him. even if you won’t tell him, it’s not like he can’t go through your phone when you leave for the bathroom, and it’s not like you’ll notice the extra face ID in your phone’s settings.

it’s just a precautionary measure, he thinks.

but iwaizumi’s favorite part from his immoral activity is when you’re laying down on your bed, legs spreading as one of your hands disappear between your thighs and lips parting in inaudible whines. the look of your fucked out face as you cum makes his own body flush with primal heat.

if only you’d ask, he’d be more than glad to help you with your sexual needs. he’d give you the best fuck of your life until your little hole can only remember the shape of his fat cock; not anyone nor anything else would make you feel stuffed full and satiated. he often wonders how sweet you’d taste and how nice the sound you’d make when you moan his name.

oh how he wishes that you’re getting off to the thought of him. a guy can only dream.

“iwa, i’m in front of your house!” you say through your phone while pressing his doorbell at the same time. the door opens to a half-asleep iwaizumi, a phone in his hand and another rubs his eyes before inviting you inside.

“were you asleep? jeez, you look bad. did you stay up or something?” you whine, putting your bag down on the couch.

“hah, you could say that,” he snickers. “but you’re early.”

“why not? i bought breakfast too. let’s eat!” you chime as you walk to the kitchen and start to take out the food from the container and place it on the plates.

“sure, i’ll wash up and brush my teeth. hold on.” he mindlessly puts down his phone on the counter and strides to the bathroom.

after setting up the table, you sit down and play with your phone as you wait for him to come out. his phone suddenly vibrates and you glance to see that his mom is calling. you hate to pry but you innocently think that it may be urgent so you run to his room to where the bathroom he’s in.

you can hear the running water through the door, thinking that he would still be inside the bathroom. “sorry, you have a call from your mom so i’m coming in!”

though you’ve been to iwaizumi’s house plenty of times, you’ve never gone inside his room to study or finish up a project and he’d always keep the doors closed while you both do work in the living room. you were never really curious anyway, nothing would be interesting coming from a guy in his 20s. you’re willing to bet that it would just be a messy bed and clothes laying around on the floor.

but you’re dead wrong.

your heart almost drops to the floor as your eyes are greeted with a pair of your own from across the room. it’s placed nicely as if it serves to greet anyone that opens the door to the room. it’s one of your selfies that you posted on instagram from some time ago and it is one of the biggest pictures on the wall so there is no denying that it doesn’t immediately catch your nor anyone’s attention.

he has other pictures posted neatly on the wall, next to where he lays his head on the bed and the biggest one is in the center while the smaller ones surround it, built like a shrine that’s usually made by an obsessive fan for their idols.

as you walk closer, you realize that they are all pictures of you taken when you were idle and your stomach churns when you notice that they are all taken while you’re in your own solitude. it has one of your many expressions, from how happy you looked as you sing to how your face displayed lewd expressions when you were enjoying yourself during your sinful moment.

your breathing starts jagging and the voice inside your head tells you to run. and as you turn your heels around and reach for the exit, a pair of hands suddenly close the door shut in front of you– instantly having you pinned between the door and the tall figure towering from behind you.

the room falls silent for a second, you can hear your own heart pounding in your ears. you quickly try to collect yourself, though not daring to turn and look at him as you speak.

“h-here... your m-mom called.” you extend your arm back so iwaizumi can take the phone from your hand. “i... um... have to go.” you gulp, “i left… my stove on.”

classic, nice going. who even uses that excuse anymore? he’ll never fall for that.

you can feel the hair behind your neck start to prickle when he chuckles from your back. he’s so close, you can feel his breath when he speaks and how his voice echoes throughout the silent room.

“you didn’t even cook this morning.”

“j-just let me go, iwa.” at this point, iwaizumi notices you begin to lose your composure as you try to pull the door open but to no avail as he pushes his arms harder to keep the door closed. damn him and his strong arms.

“i’ll have to thank my mom later for bringing you here.” he laughs, wrapping his arms around your smaller figure and easily lifts you up to his bed before proceeding to trap you underneath his muscular body and grabbing a pair of metal cuffs from the drawer next to his bed.

it’s almost like he has been planning this all along.

“iwa, please– you don’t want to do this.” tears are forming in your eyes as you feel the cold metal graze your skin and hear the locking sound from above your head to restrain your hands from fighting back, as if you would have succeeded in the first place anyway.

“why not?” his grin is maniacal as he watches you wriggle helplessly underneath him. “when i can have you all for myself now? baby, this is all i’ve ever wanted.”

“you– you’re scaring me.” the metal rattles against the headboard as you struggle to free your hands, but of course, to no avail. iwaizumi’s eyes bore through your panic stricken face; your eyes are glazed and he can make up the reflection of himself in them. he feels rather accomplished– he’s finally everything and the only one that you see.

“iwa..” fat tears start to roll down your cheeks as you sob helplessly. iwaizumi seems to be startled a bit, then his face softens.

“how are you so beautiful,” he leans down to kiss both corners of your eyes. “even when you’re crying like this?”

you thrash your head side to side in a sign of protest but he gently cups your face in his large hands so you can look back at the pair of dark eyes that are filled with longing and desperation for you.

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry for making you cry.” he kisses your forehead. “i don’t wanna be like those guys.” he kisses your nose before letting you go and draws himself back to be on his knees.

what once your comfort has quickly become a nightmare. his height and taut physique has never been deemed to be daunting until now; when he’s propped between your legs while his hand reaches down to caress your soft thigh and up to undo the zip of your skirt.

“please, let me make up for it– make you feel better. i promise i can.”

#iwaizumi hajime #hajime iwaizumi #iwaizumi smut #haikyuu smut #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #tw; yandere

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brywrites · 4 years ago

Text

Lock and Key I

Summary: In which Spencer Reid stumbles upon a GED class at Millburn and feels something like hope for the first time in weeks.

[Series Masterlist]

....

The prison library is a haven, for the few minutes he’s allowed to visit twice a week. It’s quiet, secluded, and full of his favorite things – books. The selection is nowhere near as nice as his personal collection at home, or the public library, but it’s better than nothing. Without words, he’d go mad. He needs stories to keep him sane, to give him a route he can escape by.

Today though, he’s startled to walk into the small space and find twelve other prisoners inside – accompanied by a face he’s never seen before. A woman. What’s even more surprising is that she doesn’t wear the uniform of a guard or an employee. Instead she’s in Converse sneakers and a lavender polka-dotted dress. It’s been so long since he saw that color – any bright color, really. But it’s his favorite and it isn’t until that moment that the realizes how much he’s missed the simplest of things. The sight of his favorite color. Bright images in dull spaces. Things that look hopeful.

Reid isn’t sure what’s going on, but the other prisoners seem to be too absorbed in the books to notice him. Just as he’s thinking he can back away quietly and return tomorrow, she turns around, smiling at the sight of him.

“Well hello there!” she says. “Are you Luis?”

Reid tilts his head, confused. How does this stranger know his friend? “Uh, no, no I’m not. I’m sorry, who are you?”

Her smile drops, though she doesn’t seem annoyed. Merely disappointed. “Oh. They told me Luis would be joining us today, but he never showed up. I’m Y/N. I’m one of the teachers here.”

This is the first he’s heard of such a thing. “You teach?”

She nods. “That’s right! I teach a couple of different groups – a few college classes here and there, a resume workshop. This is my GED class. We’re starting a unit on British Literature so they’ve all come to pick out a novel. You must be new here,” she notes, looking him over. He can feel himself flush under her gaze. It’s been a while since someone looked at him just to see him and not to evaluate his potential as a threat or a tool. “If you’d like, you can join the class. I’ve got plenty of open seats.”

“Oh no, I don’t need a GED.”

“It’s never too late to graduate,” she says. Then, considering him, “But that’s not what you meant is it?”

The way she’s studying him makes him nervous, though he’s certain it’s the same way he’s studied suspects and victims, trying to see beyond the obvious and understand what lies beneath. How strange, to be on the other side of that stare. “I’ve graduated high school already,” he informs her, hoping he doesn’t sound aloof. “And college. Actually, I hold three PhDs.”

“In what?”

“Mathematics, chemistry, and engineering.”

Y/N holds his gaze, taking this in. It’s as though she’s trying to decide whether or not to believe him. He figures in this environment, perhaps it’s not unusual to be told blatant lies by some prisoners. Delusion and paranoia aren’t uncommon. To teach in a place like this, she would have to be insightful and observant. For whatever reason, she must decide to trust him, because she smiles again.

“Well that’s rather impressive. You’re more qualified than I am. Just a Master’s for me.”

Reid decides against commenting in the irony of the situation, that despite his qualifications he’s nothing but a prisoner here. The same category as every drug-dealer, murderer, petty thief, and gangbanger. No better. But the way she looks at him, it at least makes him feel normal again. She looks at him like he’s a human being, with no disdain or disgust in her gaze, and no air of superiority in her voice.

“What did you study?” he asks her.

“English literature in college, education in grad school. I specialized in literature and languages, though I’m not too shabby when it comes to history. If it’s the STEM field you’ll be wanting though, you’ll have to check in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, my colleague teaches those classes.”

Glancing down at her watch, her eyes widen. “Goodness, we’re almost out of time.” She turns to the other inmates and instructs them to make their choices before she has to dismiss class for the day. To him, she adds, “It was nice to meet you – um…”

“Doct-” he begins, before stopping himself. This isn’t a normal introduction. Here, he holds no title, no position of importance. “Er, Spencer. My name is Spencer.”

“Well, Doc –” He tries not to smile at her casual acknowledgment – “if you ever change your mind, we meet Mondays and Wednesdays in room W15 during the afternoon rec slot.”

Despite having no need to attend a GED class, and for reasons he cannot quite explain, he finds himself slipping into that very room on Wednesday afternoon. Y/N glances up from the whiteboard she writes on, faltering for only a brief moment when she catches sight of him slipping into an empty seat in the back row, but she carries on. They’re talking about common themes in Brit Lit, and she’s explaining the Canterbury Tales, which they’ll be reading parts of. From what Reid gathers, there aren’t enough copies of books for them to all read the same novel, but she’s printed out large sections of the Tales for them to read together. It’s familiar, and for someone whose life has largely revolved in academia, it’s soothing to be in an environment where learning is taking place and discussion is happening. Even though he sits silently in the back row, observing.

The other inmates have all picked out books to read on their own and report on, from King Lear to Brave New World. A few have even selected Bronte and Austen novels, which Y/N applauds them for. When she divides them into groups to read and discuss “The Knight’s Tale,” she slips over to join Reid in the back of the room.

“I didn’t think you’d make it, Doc,” she tells him.

He shrugs. “I – I’ve kind of missed the classroom. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to sit in. If you don’t mind, of course!”

“Not at all.” She smiles, dismissing his worry with a wave of her hand. “The more the merrier. Besides, it’s rare that I have students with such an extensive education beforehand. You’ll need to file an enrollment slip though, just for official records.”

She hands him a piece of paper and a commissary pen. While he doesn’t need the credit, he could use the normalcy. Discussions about books with other people in a space that feels a little safer – even if it doesn’t look like the classrooms he’s used to. The walls are stark white and bare save for three posters of famous writers and scientists. The two windows have thick bars on them. The desks are bolted to the floor. Every man in the room wears prison issued blues. But there is a whiteboard and a bookshelf and a clock. And Y/N, in a bright blue turtleneck. It makes him think of the sky, which he only gets a glimpse of for a few hours each week. Suddenly, she’s become the most vivid connection to the outside world.

“How long have you been teaching here?” he asks as he writes down answers to the form’s printed questions.

“Almost three years now. It started with just GED classes, but some volunteer programs have helped us bring new opportunities to the guys. It took me a while to convince the warden, but they’ve been a huge success. So are you coming from another facility? I know we had some transfers last week.”

He shakes his head. “I uh, I haven’t been sentenced yet. But there was overcrowding at the jail so they sent me here.” Reid pauses. “I assumed you would’ve known that.” The inmate records are publicly available. All she’d have to do is search his name or the number on his clothing and everything she needed to know would be right there – his charges, his admission date, his identifying information and that ID photo from his first day.

But she just shrugs. “I make a point not to look up what my students have been convicted of. I let them volunteer that information if they choose to, but I respect their privacy. Besides, I’d like to believe all of us are more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”

He’s struck by her words. After all, for the last decade his job has been to see people precisely as the worst thing they’ve ever done. To delve deep into those actions and develop a profile of a person on that alone. He has an impulse to dismiss her statement as naïve, but it reminds him of Garcia, of her boundless optimism and her ability to see the best in the world even after looking at the worst of it. That memory and the smile Y/N looks at him with softens the heart he’s been carefully hardening since he arrived here. And so rather than dampen her spirit he asks, “Does it matter if I’ve read all of the books you’re discussing already?”

Her eyes widen ever so slightly with surprise. “All of them?”

“My mother was a literature professor,” he says. “And I just really like books.”

“Well, typically I’d encourage you to take the courses we offer for college credit but they’re full. Since you already have your GED, I suppose we could treat it like you’re auditing. It might help some of the guys to have someone with a little more academic experience…” She trails off and then gasps. “Oh wait! How would you feel about being the TA for the class? It’s been so long since I had one for the GED classes.”

“Like… grade papers and things?”

“No, not like that,” she says. “There are strict rules about who sees what here. Being a TA for me would be less typical TA duties and more of mentoring the other students, helping me clean up after class, re-shelving books, things like that. It’s not an official job so there’s no pay, but you would get good time credit.”

Though he doesn’t know what his sentence here will be, if he’s sentenced at all, he knows that any good time credit he can obtain to reduce the length of it is worth it. And so he says, “Okay.”

Y/N’s eyes light up. Her smile is the prettiest thing he’s seen since he got here. “Perfect! Oh, this is so exciting. I’m glad you joined us.” When he finishes the paperwork, she leads him to an empty seat at a group of tables.

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong, Porkchop. It’s a love story,” one of the men is saying to another.

“Come on now, Xavier, you know the rules,” Y/N interrupts. “Nicknames stay outside the classroom. We use first names here.”

“Sorry, Teach,” Xavier says. He tries again. “It’s a love story, Carl.”

“That’s more like it. Carl, I can’t wait to hear your response. But first, I’m going to have Spencer join your group, alright? He’s our newest student and our TA for the class. He’s read a lot of these books so if you’re having a hard time or want to talk to someone about the material outside of class time, he’s a great person to ask.”

The group welcomes him – Xavier, Carl, Richie, and Luis. Reid is grateful to be with Luis, the one person he knows he can consider a friend inside. They talk about Chaucer and “The Franklin’s Tale,” and he’s surprised by the critiques and connections his peers make. Their debate is certainly different than the conversation he’d expect to find at a university class, but their ideas are still insightful and interesting. They make connections to their own lives, to the sacrifices they have made and the power of love they have witnessed firsthand. Mothers who never stop fighting for their appeal cases. Friends who send money so they can afford commissary. The difficulty of skipping commissary so they can send money home to their own families outside.

When their discussion finally winds down, Reid asks, “What’s the rule with nicknames about?”

“It’s Miss Y/N’s way of humanizing people,” Xavier says. “She says when we use first names like that, we’re all equals. But it’s different outside of class. We stick to nicknames because that’s what you do, y’know?” Reid shakes his head. Xavier chuckles. “You’re fresh meat, huh. First time you been down? In here, COs turn you into just a number or a last name. So nicknames inside are a way to hold on to some of your identity. Beyond that, there’s some guys in here you don’t want knowing your name, you feel me?”

“Nicknames gotta be given to you by someone else. Can’t make your own. Course, that means they’re usually a little insulting. They call me Porkchop,” Carl says. “Xavier’s Hammerhead. Richie is Spiders. And Luis, he been christened Slim Jim yesterday at chow. But don’t worry, we’ll find one for you soon.” Reid isn’t sure how to feel about the assurance. He doesn’t want to belong here, doesn’t want to fit in or get comfortable. On the other hand, he may be here for a while. Maybe laying low and finding allies wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

He knows one thing for sure – as he walks out of class, Y/N flashes that bright smile at him again. And for some reason, it makes him feel hopeful. More hopeful than any session with lawyers or judges has made him feel. Monday can’t come soon enough.

[Next]

Tags: @calm-and-doctor @averyhotchner

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #prison reid #prison!reid

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midnightsconspiracy · 4 years ago

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Out Of The Blue

Out of the Blue - @midnightsconspiracy

Summary: After experiencing a hard day at work, your boyfriend decides to treat you to some of your favourite things. Although he may or may not have another surprise in store for you

Warnings: Non-Major Character Death

Word Count: 1683

Requested: Yes!

'What about one in which one of them had a horrible day at work and the other found out and decided to prepare a little surprise to make the day better? Just fluffy thing?'

A/N: Keep sending in your requests whilst my inbox is open and drop me a message if you're bored, id love to talk to some of you about Chicago PD, Med or Fire!! :)

Masterlist

Working at Chicago Med was stressful, to say the least. Every day was filled with what felt like hundreds of patients, running around to make sure you were taking care of them to the best of your ability. For the most part being an ED doctor with fulfilling, seeing people come in sick and come out good as new. But other times it was draining, either from being swept off your feet every minute of the day or doing all that you could for a person and it still not being enough. That was what had happened today.

You were content as you entered the ED that morning, having spent the night at your boyfriend’s. Everything about your relationship was absolutely perfect, with everyone around you noticing your positive change of mood since getting together with Hank. Walking towards the nurse's station to log into a computer, Maggie and April came over to greet you, both commenting on the large grin that plastered your face.

“Someones happy,” April teased, watching your cheeks glow, as you looked down in mock embarrassment.

“Couldn’t have anything to do with the Sergeant boyfriend of yours could it?” Maggie lowered her head as well, trying to catch your eyes to find the truth within them. Opening your mouth to reply, you were interrupted by an incoming patient being wheeled on a gurney, the paramedics beside it holding a grim look on their faces.

The patient turned out to be a six-year old girl, she had suffered severe trauma to multiple areas of her body, including broken ribs, a collapsed lung and a mild concussion. You immediately took the case, being the only ED doctor available at the moment, but also specialising in paediatrics alongside Dr Manning. Looking the girl over, you noted each of her injures, seeing it was consistent with a severe car accident, and proceeding to insert a needle into her lung to allow it to re-inflate, before sending her upstairs to the OR for surgery. To an adult, the injuries wouldn’t have been fatal, but for a girl this size, the extent of the trauma didn’t bode well for her chances of survival. Praying for her as she was wheeled up to surgery, you felt a tear come to your eye, hoping that this little girl would actually be able to live her life to the fullest. An hour had passed and you still hadn’t heard any news on the little girl, so instead of dwelling on it, you busied your mind, taking any patients Maggie would give you, from a broken leg to a baby with a fever. But finally, as you were leaving a low-level emergency case, your pager buzzed, signalling you to the PICU, nodding to Maggie on the way up, knowing it would be the girl who had just come out of surgery. Speaking to her surgeon, you waited for her anaesthetic to wear off, knowing it wouldn’t be too long because of the low dosage she was given. It seemed as though she had no family with her, either injured or dead from the car wreck and so you sat by her bed, not wanting her to be alone when she finally woke up.

As she woke, you held her hand, introducing yourself, trying to make her as comfortable as you could. You spoke to her for a long time, completely forgetting about your other duties downstairs, instead, trying to make her laugh, telling stories and attempting to get her to recall the events that had happened earlier that day. Building trust was important to you, knowing she would need someone who she was happy with before all the other doctors and DCFS got involved. But time got cut short as your pager once again demanded you downstairs to deal with another patient. Quickly saying goodbye, you dashed downstairs to deal a man with a GSW to the abdomen. Checking his wound thoroughly, you tended to it before sending him to specialists upstairs. Content with the job you had done, you continued with your work in the ED.

After your shift had finished, you headed upstairs to say a final goodnight to the girl, bringing a small teddy with you that you had purchased in the gift shop, hoping it would keep her company overnight before you returned the next day. But as you walked towards her room something didn’t seem right. The lights were turned off, the bed empty. Maybe she had just been moved to a different room or ward, you thought to yourself, knowing there was probably a good explanation for this. Turning towards the nurse on duty behind the desk, you questioned her on the whereabouts of your new friend.

“Didn’t you hear? She coded and was pronounced dead an hour ago. Sorry Doctor Y/LN, I thought someone would have told you already.” Staring at the women, your mouth dropped open, stumbling backwards a bit to brace yourself on the doorway behind. Tears fell from your eyes, why would the universe allow an innocent young child to be taken so earlier in their life? Moving back downstairs you felt numb, just wanting this tragic day to be over. You texted Hank telling him you were on your way back and that you had the most horrible day, not going into any details on how or why.

Unbeknownst to you, Hank was already preparing your favourite meals, as he knew you were already getting increasingly stressed at work when your text came in. He felt bad for you, knowing the type of tragedies you saw daily, experiencing similar in his line of work, completely aware of the repercussions people felt being surrounded by death constantly. On top of making dinner for you, your text had prompted him to drove to the store in order to go above and beyond to try and boost your mood, buying things he knew would make your day better. Returning home he had about ten minutes before you would be back to try and set everything up, rushing about the house making sure every individual detail was perfect for your return. The table was prepared beautifully, accessorised with fancy silverware and candles, that were flickering slowly, ready and waiting to provide you with a romantic dinner. He had bought you a bouquet of your favourite flowers, already placed in a vase of water so you wouldn’t have to deal with the fuss of it on your arrival, and rose petals scattered along the floor in the direction of the table to add an extra romantic touch. Finally, he had one more surprise for you, hidden away in his back pocket, one that was guaranteed to make you smile.

Pulling into the driveway you exited your car, noting the darkness within the house, uncommon for this time of night and the fact that Hank had said he would be in all evening. Opening the door you called out to him, hoping that he hadn’t been pulled into another case, spending the night in his office once again. But as you took off your coat to place it on the hook you noticed the flowers on the table, to be specific your favourite flowers. You called out to him again, hoping he would appear to explain what was happening. Looking up, he stood in the doorway, a slight smile on his face, as you finally looked round properly noticing the rose petals, candles and your favourite food on the table.

“You did this all for me?” You asked.

“Of course I did sweetheart, I know you’ve had it hard at work recently so I wanted to surprised you with some of your favourite things.” To most peoples surprise, Hank was a true romantic at heart despite the cold exterior he held, just wanting to pamper you and treat you like the queen you were. Whether that be buying you your favourite sweets or complimenting you whenever possible, he did everything in his power to make sure you were happy.

Leading you towards the dinner table, you both sat down, quickly making conversation about everything, except work, that being an unspoken rule between you. Conversation flowed easily, both of you just happy to be in the presence of each other once more. Dinner had been polished off, with Hank fetching the dessert from the fridge after as you uttered the millionth ‘thank you’ to him. You both tucked in, moaning at the flavour that tasted like heaven after the day you had had. Looking up you noticed your boyfriend's demeanour had changed, no longer joyful but instead nervous, staring at his hands in his lap.

“What’s wrong Hank?” You asked, worried you had done something to set off this mood change. Instead of replying he lifted his hands from his lap onto the table along with a velvet box, slowly opening it to reveal a ring.

“Y/N, I know we haven’t been together that long and we haven’t discussed this that much but I’m getting old, and whilst I was thinking about that, I realised you really are it for. I can't even imagine myself with someone else or not spending the rest of my days with you. So Y/N Y/LN will you marry me?” Tears pricked your eyes, never in a million years would you have expected this, but instead of being angry about it, you couldn’t think of anything you wanted more.

“Only if you do it properly and get down on one knee,” you countered, watching as he got off his chair and onto one knee.

“So will you?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed throwing yourself into his arms.

As the evening winded down, you laid in Hank's arms on your shared bed thinking about everything life had given you. You couldn’t have met anyone as perfect as the man beside you. The man you would spend the rest of your life with, bear children with and grow old with. So as you drifted off to sleep, you pictured the little girl, hoping she was in heaven looking down on your life and smiling

#hank voight x reader #hank voight #hank voight imagines #chicago pd #chicago pd imagines #chicago pd x reader #one chicago

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taetaespeaches · 4 years ago

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“It’s everything to lose.”

taehyung x reader/oc (but also jimin x platonic reader/oc) genre: angst word count: 6K

a/n: well, this was a process to write lol. Basically, Peaches/reader and Tae are experiencing a mix of feelings due to their best friends’ (Jimin and Dear) break up. Fears of a possible relationship with each other are worsened, plus, Tae and Peaches are just sad because their closest friends are sad. Also, Peaches finally talks to Jimin for the first time after he broke up with Dear, so that’s a big part of this as well. And we get a brief moment between Peaches and Dear, our ride or die duo. Ok, that’s really it. I hope you all enjoy, and thanks so much for reading! :))

Grasping the back of your neck, you massaged your muscles as you yawned, your eyes set on the coffee percolating into the pot. You loved your best friend, and of course you wanted to be there for her, but her post-break up antics were beginning to wear on you as you failed to get accustomed to running on five or less hours of sleep night after night.

Leaning over the countertop, you looked through your most recent texts with your other best friend, Taehyung. The conversation, which started with him bragging about an amazing waffle he had just eaten, had turned a bit sour as you both defended opposing friends in their recent breakup.

It was hard to find common ground with the man these days, as he was on tour with the antagonist of your friends’ little drama, and you were in a constant state of being the shoulder to cry on for the dear protagonist. A sigh slipped from your lips as you scanned through the messages, the grumbling of the coffee pot sounding in the otherwise silent apartment.

You: He dumped her through text while he was away on tour. That’s fucking ridiculous and it’s cowardly.

Tae: You don’t know what’s going through his mind though.

You: There’s obviously not much going through his mind.

Tae: He’s your friend too.

You: And he broke my best friend’s heart.

Tae: I know that. I’m sorry, I hate this whole situation.

You: Me too. I’m sorry and I hate it too.

Tae: Is she at your place again?

You: No, I’m sure she will be but right now she’s out drinking with those stupid friends she has.

Tae: Oh….

You: Yeah. I’m anxious as fuck. I wanted to keep her from going out but you know, I can’t do that. She has to do what she’s gonna do.

Tae: I’m sorry to add to your stress.

Tae: She’ll be ok, Peaches.

You: No, it’s ok, you could never truly add to my stress. You’re my comfort, Tae, you know that.

Tae: I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle like this.

You: I’m sorry you are too. I’m gonna try to get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, have a good night, Dearest.

Tae: Sweet dreams, Peaches.

Craving for two seconds away from the ongoing story of your friends’ turbulent romance, you scrolled up on your text conversation with Tae, a faint smile appearing on your lips at the photo of a waffle the size of the plate it sat upon, followed by a photo of Taehyung shoving a massive bite into his mouth.

Tae: It’s definitely big enough for the both of us but since you’re not here I guess I’ll have to manage it alone.

Tae: I miss sharing breakfast foods with you.

Tae: Never mind, this is so good, I’m glad you’re not here to eat it all.

Your brief moment of relief was broken when your screen changed to display a caller you were not prepared to speak to. Guilt and anxiety settled into your stomach as your breathing hitched slightly at the image of his name and photo. The contact ID reminded you of simpler times, the man pulling a silly expression with his chin tucked into his neck to give himself two of them. He had called you a few times the past couple days, but you’d consistently ignored them, trying to avoid hearing the voice of the man you considered one of your closest friends.

You almost didn’t answer again. Looking to the room your best friend slept in, a serious hangover awaiting her on the other side of slumber, your thumb pressed on the green circular button on the right side of the screen.

Pausing a moment, you shook your head before raising the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You answered, your voice hushed as to not wake up the girl a few rooms away. A rush of air sounded through the phone, as if the man was sighing in relief, but that was the only response you received. “Jimin,” you sighed.

“Hey,” he spoke quietly, defeat coating his tone. He must not have had the strength to pretend to be ok.

Another awkward pause ensued, both of you waiting for the other to break the silence first. With another sigh, you stood up straight, turning your back to the counter as you leaned against it. “Can you say something?” You asked.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted lamely, you licking your lips which became quite dry suddenly.

“You called me,” you pointed out, annoyance in your words that wasn’t intentional but was true to your current mood. “You’ve been calling me for days, but you don’t know what to say?”

“I didn’t think you’d answer,” he said shakily, and you were sure there were tears bubbling up in his eyes.

Hearing the sadness in his tone, you chewed on your bottom lip, trying to conceal your own emotions in response to his tone. You weren’t sure your feelings even mattered right then. “Well I answered,” you told him, in a sort of assurance. Assurance of what, neither of you were sure, but it allowed Jimin a small sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” the man whispered, causing you to clench your teeth to hold back your pity and consideration for him as you turned back around to the coffee machine.

“Don’t thank me,” you told him, a slight anger behind your tone. “What do you want to say? I have errands I need to run.”

As Jimin prepared his words, going through his mind to figure out exactly why he was calling you, you patiently waited, halting your movements as your hand sat on the handle of the coffee pot. You knew he needed time to gather his thoughts, and though you were angry with him, you cared for him enough to give him that. “I just miss you,” he admitted, a crack in his voice indicating the earnest admission.

Taking in a shaky breath, you let it out in a wobbly exhale. “Of course I miss you too,” you said honestly. You refused to lie to him about that. “But I don’t want to talk to you, Jimin.”

His words tumbled out of him bitterly, but it was shrouded in frustration, which you believed to be with himself. “You were my friend first,” he said, uncertain whether he regretted the comment or not.

“I’m still your friend,” you told him adamantly, though your voice was still quiet.

“Then please talk to me,” he begged, almost desperate for the affection you normally showed him. Well, that you showed him before he broke your best friend’s heart.

“I can’t,” you told him trying to sound stern, but your exhausted state ruining your feeble attempt to put up a front.

A sniffle sounded through the phone, adding to the heaviness in your heart. “Why not?”

Holding the phone to your ear with one hand, you moved your other from the coffee pot to the top of your head as you scratched your roots in frustration and distress. “I can’t risk saying something awful to you,” you confessed through an unsteady voice. And that was it. You were angry with him, but you didn’t want to hurt him. “I love you, you’re one of my favorite people on this entire planet, Jimin,” you cried, your sniffling giving away your emotion to the man on the other side of the phone.

“I’m sorry,” he told you in a rush as you wiped away a tear.

“I see her every day,” you told Jimin in a whisper, ensuring your voice was too low for your friend to hear you if she suddenly awoke. However, you were sure the quietness of your voice was giving away that the woman he still loved was just feet away from you; just feet away from the conversation currently taking place, asleep in your spare bedroom. “I’m so mad at you, Jimin, god I’m mad at you,” your voice suddenly broke, no longer able to hold back the pent-up emotions. If Jimin’s thoughts had strayed to the girl nearby, the sound of your distressed voice surely brought him back to the present conversation; the present state of your friendship. “I need to process all of this before I talk to you because I love you and I can’t say something I’ll regret or something I don’t mean,” you explained as tears spilled over your lash line.

“I understand,” he said roughly, clearing his voice right after as if he was trying to pull himself together for your sake.

“I just-” You paused, holding your breath as you attempted to swallow more tears. “I need time so I can forgive you,” you told him sadly, clenching your fist together as you tried to steady your breathing. “I’m sorry,” you told him, your voice just above a whisper.

“Please don’t apologize,” he begged, choking back a sob. “I get it, take your time,” he assured you. “I’m really sorry for doing this,” he admitted sadly. The man sounded regretful and broken, your pity for him swirling around in the whirlwind of emotions you were currently experiencing. “All of it.”

You knew that was true. You knew he still loved her. And you knew he felt immense guilt for what he did to her, you, Taehyung, your whole friend unit, but mostly her. That much was obvious.

“I do miss you,” you assured him through a small whimper, choosing to give him the reassurance rather than responding to his apology. “I won’t be mad forever.”

“I miss you too,” he told you sorrowfully. “I’ll be here whenever your feelings change.”

With that, you ended the call, leaving Jimin alone in his hotel room. Setting the phone to the counter, you wiped your face once more before grabbing the handle of the coffee pot, pouring some into the mug you had taken out earlier.

Thinking upon your conversation with Jimin, you wanted nothing more than to scream at him; tell him what an idiot he was. But you also wanted to wrap him up in a hug and tell him that he would be ok. You were my friend first. You scoffed, thinking of his remark, though a tear slid down your cheek. You wanted to be there for your friend, but how could you be when your other friend was just down the hallway, passed out after a night of trying to numb her heartache through the use of alcohol? He caused that pain. You were right to be mad at him… weren’t you?

It was almost astonishing how things, seemingly meant to be, could fall apart right before your eyes. Things weren’t always easy for Jimin and your friend, but they loved each other. One would think that love would be enough to get them through. But maybe love isn’t enough. Maybe fate isn’t enough.

Fate. Soulmates. They’re interesting concepts. Souls destined to find each other. But the rhetoric surrounding these notions don’t suggest that you’ll end up together.

But maybe if Jimin and your friend could see past everything that went wrong, they would find something worth fighting for still. It wasn’t simple, but it could be simpler for them.

Something also simple but not simple at all was you and Taehyung. More and more recently, you had been realizing how much you love him. Maybe you both were meant to be together too. Tied together by the fate of your souls. But seeing how things can fall apart, perhaps it’s more risk than it’s worth. Wasn’t it better to have Tae in your life in the role of your best friend than it was to complicate things and lose him? You couldn’t lose him. You wouldn’t let yourself.

You sniveled as you brought the coffee to your lips, making an attempt at a deep breath before taking a sip. Your emotions needed to be locked down by the time your friend awoke. However, that concern came too late as two arms wrapped around your middle, the surprise affection causing you to jump in start.

The presence of her limbs were tentative as he she carefully rested the side of her face against your back. Breathing out in a huff, you relaxed a bit. “Jesus,” you spoke softly, but your friend gave you no response. Alarm bells went off in your head as her body trembled just slightly against yours. “You ok?” You asked, setting the mug down carefully.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed against you, and as your mind went into high alert, your heart plummeted into your gut. Immediately, you turned in her arms, wrapping your own around the back of her head, holding her impossibly close to you. Sorry?

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you assured her, leaving a kiss to the side of her head on the top of her hair. “Absolutely nothing.”

“My behavior last night could use an apology,” she admitted, causing you to smile slightly though she couldn’t see it with her face buried against your neck.

“Well, maybe that,” you teasingly agreed, thinking back to the few hours earlier in which you had to drive to the club she was at because she had broken down on the dance floor. All anger, if there was any to begin with, however, had completely dissolved when you pulled up outside the establishment to find her sitting against the wall in the cold, mascara stains down her cheeks as she sobbed about how much her heart hurt. “But are you even apologizing for that?” You asked her, realizing she must have heard you on the phone with her ex.

“Partially,” she cried harder. She knew the strain the breakup had put on all four of you, and though it wasn’t her fault, she still felt guilty. You knew she did. Her heart was too soft for her to not take some sort of blame.

Allowing her to cry in your arms, you moved your hand to the back of her head as you tried to make her feel safe. “You’re gonna be ok,” you whispered to her repeatedly in a gentle tone.

After a few moments, she pulled away to look at you, your thumbs moving to her cheeks to wipe the tears away, though more continued to fall, quickly replacing them.

“How is he?” She suddenly asked you, her lip trembling as she held back a sob.

Scanning her features carefully, you debated your answer. If you told her he was ok, it would make her feel pitiful for not being ok, plus it would be a lie. If you told her he wasn’t ok, it could possibly hurt her even more. Locking your eyes on her pleading ones, you sighed. “About as good as you,” you told her simply, holding back your own tears as she broke down, your arms wrapping around her shoulders to bring her close once again.

Placing a hand back against her head, you held her to you tightly. “Why does that make me feel worse?” She asked against your shoulder, her voice muffled from your sweatshirt.

“Oh babe,” you spoke softly near her ear, a tear slipping from the inner corner of your eye. “Because you still love him.”

You weren’t sure if you should have said that, but it was true. And maybe if she heard it from you, she would face those feelings. As she cried against you, your mind raced over everything that had happened that morning already. Everyone was so broken, and suddenly your mind found its way to Taehyung. Because he was the only one you wanted to talk to in that moment. He was your comfort.

But what if you didn’t have him anymore? Two people as meant to be as Jimin and the girl in your arms couldn’t even make it work. Add in your fickleness in love, and where did that leave your odds at success with Tae? You refused to break him, and you couldn’t lose him. You just couldn’t.

Hauling your groceries through your apartment, your phone started ringing in your pocket. Rushing to the kitchen, you set the bags on the floor before grabbing the device, finding Tae on the other side of the video call.

Accepting it, you waited for his face to appear on the screen before greeting him. “Hi,” you answered in a huff, Tae immediately chuckling at your hectic state.

“Hey,” he greeted, “Are you busy?”

“No,” you shook your head, dropping the phone to the counter just after speaking the word, causing the man to giggle further. “Just got home from grocery shopping,” you told him as you discarded your bag off your shoulder and onto the countertop. Taehyung hummed in response just as you propped the phone up against the side of your bag, situating it so he could see you as you stood in your kitchen.

“Did you get anything fun?” He asked, as you scanned the bags on the floor.

“Um,” you cut yourself off with a yawn, “I got those cookies you like,” you spoke through your exhale, looking at him through the screen to take in his appearance. “You look handsome,” you told him, the man smiling slightly at you as you stared at his still damp hair atop his head, giving away that he had showered recently.

“You tired?” He asked suddenly, being met with your groan as you stared down at the groceries without moving. “What happened last night?”

“Well, she went out with those friends and of course it was too soon for her to be out partying and I had to pick her up at 2 am outside of the club because she had a break down,” you ranted to him as you knelt down to begin taking items out of the grocery bags.

“Jesus,�� he sighed, your eyebrows raising at his response.

“What?” You questioned defensively, piling items onto the floor as you emptied all the bags.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he tried to evade your anger. “I’m assuming she’s not there right now?”

“No, she went back to her place for a bit,” you told him. “What was with the judgmental tone just now?” You pressed.

Looking up at the phone, you watched as shook his hair out with his hand. “It’s just, that’s not really fair to you, is it?”

Scoffing at him, you stood, not bothering to look at the phone as you brought some juice and a few other items to the refrigerator.

“I just mean, you deserve some rest,” he added. “A break maybe.”

“Well I don’t get a break because your best friend broke up with mine and she’s devastated,” you said coldly, shutting the fridge door and turning back to face the device.

“He’s your friend too,” he reminded you, his eyebrows raised, causing you roll your eyes.

“I know that,” you said in annoyance. “But you don’t see what she’s going through every day,” you pointed out, feeling protective over your friend and her broken heart.

Reaching to grab a box of crackers off the floor, you headed toward the cupboard as Taehyung told you, “You really should talk to him.”

Letting out a dry laugh, you nodded to yourself. “Tae, she’s my best friend,” you reminded him once more.

“I get that, but he’s your friend too,” he repeated, causing you to sigh. “He’s going through stuff too,” he added. You wanted to scoff, but if you were being honest with yourself, your anger towards Jimin had diminished significantly since speaking to him briefly that morning.

“Well,” you thought out loud, facing the man once more. Folding your arms over your ribcage, you shrugged. “I’m sure he is but he did this,” you said, trying to remain firm in your coldness.

You were met with the sound of Taehyung breathing out slowly as his eyes stayed locked on you. “That’s not really fair, he’s hurting too,” Taehyung defended his friend.

“I love Jimin,” you clarified. “But I don’t have time to think about him when she’s at my place all the time because she can’t handle being alone in her own apartment for a single night,” you told him, staring at him as you waited for him to respond. Taehyung ran his tongue over his bottom lip as you sighed. “I know Jimin is hurting, but she is too. And it’s bad, Tae,” you told him sadly.

Taehyung sighed as you stared at him through the phone, waiting for his next words. “I know, I don’t mean to be insensitive to her. I know he hurt her, I get that. I’m just here with him and he’s a fucking mess,” Tae huffed. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted sadly, giving you a defeated shrug.

Stepping closer to the phone, you shook your head slowly. “I don’t either,” you admitted. You both sat in silence for a moment, watching each other through opposite sides of the phone, your remaining groceries still waiting on the floor.

Taehyung was the first to break the silence, asking, “What are you thinking?”

Sighing, you ran your hands over your face. “I don’t even know, I’m just-” you stopped yourself, not sure if you should speak your next words; because of the implication to you and Tae.

“What is it?” He pressed, resituating himself on the bed as he sat laid across a pillow, his head supported by his hand. “Peaches,” he said gently, causing you to relent.

“Maybe they shouldn’t have ever gone from friends to more,” you thought aloud, Tae’s silence feeling heavy on your heart as he tried his best to keep his face from giving away any emotion.

“You think?” He asked simply, his feigned indifference covering up the hurt you knew was there.

“It’s just a hard leap to make,” you explained, leaning against the counter on your elbows, holding your chin in your hands. “If it doesn’t work, this is where it leaves you.” Your eyes were glued to the phone as you watched him carefully. Suddenly, you felt angry at these fucking phone companies who couldn’t make a better camera or give you a better connection to be able to read the emotions flashing through his eyes and features more closely.

“Sometimes it works though,” he told you quietly, his voice nearly shaking, almost as if he was meekly defending himself.

A lump formed in your throat that you didn’t believe you’d be able to ever swallow, knowing you were the cause of the sadness he was feeling. “But if it doesn’t, that’s a lot to lose,” you argued, your voice faint as the emotions sat in your vocal chords.

“But it can work,” he said a bit louder than his last comment, his voice more assured as he licked his lips.

“Tae,” you sighed, cocking your head to the side just slightly. You both knew you were no longer talking about your friends’ experience with moving from friends to lovers. There had never been any confirmation from either you or Taehyung, but sometimes it seemed as though there was an unspoken understanding of how you both thought of each other.

“Look at Jin,” Taehyung countered, pointing to the fact that Jin and his old friend had successfully added romance to their relationship over a year earlier. “They’re doing really well, they’re happy.”

“Tae,” you called out to him gently, attempting to swallow as your eyes shined with emotion. When he responded with his silence, his sad eyes scanning over your features carefully, you chewed on your bottom lip as you attempted to hold in your emotion. “It’s a lot to lose,” you whispered, holding his gaze. “It’s everything to lose,” you added, blinking a few times as Taehyung looked down to the bed and began picking at the comforter. A few seconds of silence went by and you didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you suddenly exhaled, feeling breathless and tired. “Dearest,” you addressed him softly.

“No, you’re right,” he said half-heartedly, keeping his eyes directed downward. “It is everything to lose,” he agreed with a small nod, looking up to you.

“Everything, Tae,” you emphasized, hoping he would recognize that he was everything to you.

“You really should talk to Jimin,” he changed the topic, his tone stronger as he seemed to easily move on from your unspoken confessions. Inhaling deeply, you nodded slowly, standing up straight before moving back to the groceries. Trying to shake yourself out of the conversation that just took place, you spotted the cookies sitting on the floor.

“I’ll think about it,” you replied before reaching for the package. “I’m not gonna save you any of these,” you teased, holding them up for him to see as his lips spread into a mildly amused grin.

“Well I didn’t save you any of the waffle so it’s only fair,” he played along, both of you pushing aside the tension between you both once more.

You would think about talking to Jimin, you meant that. But it would be hard to think of anything but Taehyung.

With your thumb hovering over the call button, you sighed deeply as you tried to muster up some courage. Lowering your digit to the phone screen before you could change your mind, you nervously raised the device to your ear.

The rings were deafeningly loud as you awaited the answer, running your hand through your hair and chewing on your bottom lip; nervous gestures.

“Hey,” Jimin greeted suddenly, his voice appearing breathless as if he rushed to the phone.

“Why’d you do it?” You asked him, skipping greetings and pleasantries. A moment of silence encased the phone call before Jimin sighed.

“I don’t even fucking know anymore,” he said, a sob following the words as if he had been sitting on the edge of a break down for days; weeks. The confusion and heartbreak in his tone shattered your heart, filling you with guilt for evading his calls and texts for so long. “I don’t know if there was even a valid reason and I regret it so much.”

“I don’t understand what happened,” you admitted, thinking back upon their relationship and what they had revealed to you.

“Me either,” he barely spoke through his cracked voice. “I don’t know, it’s like, as secure as we made each other feel, it was like we could never fully rid ourselves of our own insecurities,” he explained through his cries. “I fucked up, didn’t I?” He asked as he held back tears.

“Oh Jimin,” you sighed, realizing what drove them apart. And suddenly, you had the urge to wrap them both up in hugs because in an instant, there was nowhere to place the blame you were previously placing on Jimin. It was both their faults, and also no one’s fault. Jimin had made the wrong move, your best friend didn’t make enough moves, and yet they were both just victims to their own intrusive perceptions of themselves.

“Our own shit just got in the way and-” he let out a harsh breath. “When I sent the text I immediately regretted it and I was just trying to convince myself that it was for the best,” he sniffled. “And I was about to take it all back and beg for forgiveness, fuck, I was thinking about leaving tour and coming back to her so we could fix whatever the fuck was causing all of this shit between us,” he paused as his cries took over.

“Why didn’t you take it all back?” You asked him.

You collected up the patience as you gave him time the time to think back on the breakup. “All of a sudden, she just stopped fighting,” he said sadly. “We were always fighting for each other, and she finally stopped. And I don’t know, I think it kind of cemented the idea that I did the right thing. It hurt, and it felt wrong, but she accepted the breakup and gave up.”

“Fuck, Jimin,” you held back your tears at the defeat in his voice. “She didn’t stop fighting for you, she just didn’t have enough fight left in her to take on your insecurities any longer,” you told him.

“What’s even the difference?” He asked. “Whether she stopped fighting willfully, or whether I took the fight out of her,” he scoffed, “I became too much for her.”

“I don’t think you could ever be too much for her,” you assured him. “Look, do you want me to speak to you compassionately or truthfully?” You asked, the question being met with a dry laugh.

“You’re always compassionate, but I want the truth,” he told you, you nodding though he couldn’t see it.

“You fucked up,” you told him, “but also I don’t think this is entirely your fault,” you quickly added. With a sigh, you thought out loud. “How do I word this?” you pondered. “You two are two of the most incredible people I’ve ever known and yet, you guys can’t fucking see it.”

Jimin scoffed, making you roll your eyes. “I said I was speaking truthfully, so just listen to me and try to actually hear what I’m saying for once,” you told him, the man agreeing to listen by giving you his silence. “You see how incredible she is and that makes you insecure because you don’t see yourself living up to what she deserves. And it’s the same for her, she doesn’t think she can be what you need and what you want, despite you assuring her constantly that she’s everything to you. And that holds you both back from being exactly what the other person wants,” you paused for a moment, letting the words permeate Jimin’s brain. “If you two could just be who you are and give each other that version of yourselves, you wouldn’t be in this situation,” you explained to him. “She fell in love with you, she just wants you.”

“Fuck,” he sobbed, the pained understanding echoing in his single expression. “But I fucked it up, I hurt her and I don’t think we can fix it this time.”

“I truly do not understand how you can be so wrong about this all the fucking time,” you groaned. “She is in love with you,” you told him, enunciating the words carefully. “You hurt her, and you hurt her bad, but she hasn’t given up on you,” you told him. “Whether she admits it or not, she’s waiting for you to fix it,” you informed the man. “So fucking fix it. Stop holding yourself back and just be happy, Jimin.”

“I don’t know if-”

“Be happy,” you interrupted him. “Stop being so idiotic and just fight for your happiness. Fight for hers,” you begged him, frustration over both of your friends’ moronic actions getting the best of your patience. “You both deserve each other because you’re both the best,” you went on, trying to convey to the man how strongly you felt he and the girl you both adored belonged with each other.

“She still loves me?” He asked, being met with another one of your groans. “Sorry, I just, she does?”

“Do you still love her?” You asked, knowing the answer but wanting him to speak it out loud so maybe he could truly hear it.

“With all of me,” he admitted sadly, a sniffle following the words, allowing you to visualize the tears running down his cheeks in that moment.

“Do you really think that’s one sided?” You asked him.

“I really don’t know,” he admitted, a small sigh leaving your lips.

“It’s so simple but you guys make it so complicated,” you complained, the man giving you the slightest chuckle in the form of a single exhale. “You both lost the fight, but you didn’t lose the fight for each other, you lost it to yourselves. Does that make sense?” You asked.

“I think so?” He said, thought it came out as a question.

“You guys were defeated by your own insecurities. It’s not like you chose to give up on her, just like she didn’t choose to give up on you. You both just feel hopeless right now, that’s-”

“It’s not hopeless?” He asked, and despite the negative comment, there was a renewed optimism in his tone that lifted your lips into a faint smile.

“No,” you shook your head. “It’s not hopeless.” You both sat in silence, nothing but your breaths sounding into the phone receivers. “I’ll talk to her,” you assured him. “If I get any sense that she doesn’t want you anymore, I’ll let you know and I’ll be full of apologies and you can hate me forever,” you told him.

“I could never hate you,” he scoffed.

“But if I’m right, which I know I am, Jimin, I know it,” you assured him, “then you need to find that hope and bring it back to her.”

With a sigh, Jimin agreed with a simple, “ok.”

“Ok,” you replied. “Fix it.”

“I hope I can,” he spoke softly, his voice still sad, but much less defeated than the start of the conversation.

“Hope is enough right now,” you told him.

“Thank you for finally talking to me,” he said, a hint of a smile evident in his voice.

“Thank Tae,” you corrected. “He talked me into it.”

“He really is the only one who can cut through your stubbornness, huh?” He asked teasingly, you chuckling lightly in response.

“I guess he is,” you agreed.

“Speaking of simple but making it complicated though,” Jimin noted, drawing upon your earlier words, and reflecting them back on you and your relationship with Taehyung.

“Tae and I aren’t complicated,” you negated Jimin’s observation, only to be met with a disbelieving laugh. “We aren’t,” you remained firm. “I know it seems complicated but, when it comes down to it, it’s the simplest thing ever.”

“Ok, break it down for me then,” Jimin asked for your elaboration. “How is it simple?”

“Because at the end of the day, we just love each other. So much so, that we’ll do anything to keep one another in each other’s lives,” you explained. “And that makes my relationship the simplest, easiest relationship I’ve ever had.”

Jimin hummed in return, thinking over your words. “That does sound simple, I guess,” he agreed. “But are you happy?”

You paused for a moment, surprised by the question. Were you? Were you fulfilled with Tae’s role in your life as you went and dated other people, finishing each escapade craving for more, anxious for the night to be over so you could call Taehyung and hear his voice as he expressed whatever was on his mind? The truth was, no one was or ever would be Taehyung. No matter how great they were, no matter how smart, kind, funny, genuine they were, they would never be him. But Taehyung was in your life, and maybe that was enough. So, were you happy? Turns out that’s the most complicated question you could have been asked.

“This isn’t about me,” you told Jimin with a small smile.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Are you happy?”

“I’m not unhappy,” you said assuredly. That was true, for sure.

“But is that happy?” Jimin pressed, causing you to sigh in annoyance.

“It’s happy enough,” you told him. “But one of us has to be happy, right?” You turned it back on him.

Jimin breathed out your name, but you dismissed him. “This is about you right now,” you told him. “If you fix things on your end, then we can entertain a discussion about my happiness, ok?” You asked him, though it wasn’t really a topic up for debate which he understood.

“Deal,” he agreed with a light chuckle.

Happiness, you thought. What was it? You were sure it was different for everyone. Just as you were sure it comes from many different sources. For you, though, your main source of happiness was seeing Taehyung smile. His happiness mattered most in terms of your relationship. And if he was happy being your friend and having you as his, then you were happy. Happy enough.

If he wasn’t happy… well, something would have to be done about that.

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somethingusefulfromflorida · 3 years ago

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Every job I've ever had has had a script, some rambling lines I was required to say to every single customer because my boss would get on my case if I missed anything. I used to work at a fireworks warehouse, and this was around the time they introduced cards with chips in them, so I had to walk everyone through our system, "is this credit or debit? For credit, just wait until the prompt goes away; for debit, press the blue button that says credit. We don't know why it says credit but it means debit. If you have a chip card, insert it at the bottom when you see the blue arrows light up, otherwise swipe it like normal."

When I worked at Lowes, I had to ask every single solitary customer if they wanted to sign up for a store credit card and explain the benefits even if they said no, just in case they change their minds after hearing it. Management gave us quotas, said we had to sign up at least 5 people per week, which just wasn't feasible because it was a PROCESS™. On the rare ocassion someone said yes, I had to take multiple forms of ID from them, which few people carry, and type all their information manually into an old DOS system because they never updated the computers and there was no means of scanning anyone's ID, and then we had to wait for the application to go through which could take 10 or 15 minutes if we were lucky, and we rarely were; I had to close my lane multiple times and redirect a line of customers to other registers because we were stuck waiting for half an hour or longer while some Bush era computer in another state decided whether or not this person qualified for a chance to save 5% on certain business purchases. Sometimes they would get rejected and I'd have to send them over to customer service because they got mad and wanted all their info removed from our system, and on the Blue Moon ocassions that they were accepted in a timely manner they still had to wait 4 to 6 weeks for a physical card to be sent out, so I had to send them to customer service anyway to get a temporary one. But no, my manager wouldn't let customer service handle credit card applications in the first place, only cashiers, so it was a needless bottleneck.

It was not fun.

I currently work the front desk of a motel, and my boss gave me a longwinded spiel I have to give every customer after they make their reservation. She insisted I learn it verbatim, no streamlining, no improv, no variation, because "this script has worked perfectly for 20 years, so you don't need to change a thing."

"We have you coming in at 4PM on [date] in a [style of room], and checking out the morning of [date]. We have a two-day cancelation and no show policy, so if you are unable to make your reservation for any reason you have until [date] to let us know, otherwise there would be a one night charge. The room is guaranteed with the [amex/visa/mastercard/discover] you've just given me so long as it has an open line or credit, but when you get here you can pay with that card, or another card, or cash if you'd like."

I say this probably five or six times a day if it's slow, and close to 20 when it's the height of lobster season. Even with this speech, we still get a handful of mindless tourists who insist that they were told something else, or not told anything at all. "I was supposed to check out tomorrow," nope, we told you it was today. "They said I could check out in the afternoon," nope, the maids need to clean the room for the next guest so you have to be out by 10 (we give an extra half hour as a courtesy before we go knocking on doors, and we don't start kicking people out until after 11). "I asked for a room with two beds and a kitchen," nope, you asked for one bed with no kitchen, we have it written down on your reservation card and we confirmed it verbally before hanging up. They try to weasel around me by saying "well, I spoke to some lady and she said XYZ, so can you honor that?" And I tell them that the only lady who works here is my boss, and she wouldn't have told you that because she knows her own policy. And if they say "I spoke to a young man" instead, well that's me, and I know what I told them, so they're lying to my face.

#my job #work #employment #i hate tourists #tourons

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annewritesfic · 3 years ago

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Happy Endings Don’t Exist

if y’all thought this au was dead... so did i honestly i am as shocked as you are and i have no clue why it is suddenly making a reappearance but you know what, it is!!

ANYWAYS this one is based off of chapter 17 of winter by marissa meyer aaand as far as i know there are no tws but let me know if i need to tag something!!!

word count: 1955

If someone with absolutely no knowledge of Earthen politics was told the ruler of one of the seven countries of Earth was in this room, Eva thought, watching her advisor, Konn Torin, they would never, in a million years, think it was me.

Torin seemed like the picture of royal elegance, sitting straight-backed on one of the couches that lined the edges of the room, portscreen in his lap. His hair was neatly combed, not a wrinkle in his clothes, dress shoes black and shiny.

Meanwhile, Eva sat on her own couch, knees tucked up to her chest, leaning against the corner. She couldn’t see herself, but she imagined that the denim jacket, black sweatpants, and battered sneakers she’d insisted on wearing for the flight didn’t look particularly royal. But they were comfortable, and she was nervous, and she’d promised she’d change before they landed and she had to greet Queen Levana, so Torin had reluctantly allowed her to wear what she wished.

Eva sighed and let her gaze move from Torin, wandering around the room, across the couches and soft carpets and intricately-patterned wallpaper. If it weren’t for the pitch-black darkness of space and scattered stars outside the windows, it would have felt like another room of the palace, instead of a spaceship bound for Luna.

Eva thought of another spaceship, an old cargo ship she’d spent the last month on, and its crew, and her heart began to ache.

“Is everything alright, Your Majesty?” Torin asked.

Eva leaned her cheek against the soft back of the couch and closed her eyes. “So far. You did tell the pilots that I want to know if any other ships hail us?”

“Of course. Although I hope you understand why they might have been reasonably suspicious.”

“I know. But I don’t really care, as long as they do it.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Not really, no.” Eva opened her eyes and looked out the window, just in time to see Earth disappear from view. “But I trust her.”

“Then I suppose I have no choice but to trust them as well.”

Eva glanced up at him. “You told her about my second tracking chip.”

He never once tore his gaze from his screen, ever the picture of professionalism. “And I have wondered ever since whether that was the biggest mistake I will ever make.”

“You know it wasn’t.”

Torin kept his expression neutral, but Eva knew that, even if he wouldn’t admit it, he agreed with Eva’s decisions. It had been such a relief when she’d finally been able to tell him everything, knowing that, whatever happened, Torin would always keep any secret she told him. Other than Eva, Torin was the only passenger on this ship who knew the real reason they were going to Luna, and though he might have expressed concern that Eva was taking too big of a risk, he’d never once tried to change her mind.

The hours of waiting felt like years, and Eva had come up with dozens of worst-case scenarios in her mind by the time she saw the ship’s first mate in the doorway.

“Your Majesty,” he said, “we’ve been hailed by the American Republic’s secretary of defense. It seems that they are having technical issues with their ship’s computer mainframe, and they have requested permission to board this ship and complete the trip to Artemisia with us.”

Eva sat up straighter. “Let them board.”

The first mate frowned. “I understand the military escorts have some concerns about this. Due to the technical difficulties, we’ve been unable to obtain an ID of the ship, or establish a vid-comm link. We have been able to determine that it is a Rampion class Republic military ship, and I’m sure I do not need to remind you that your kidnappers had a Rampion as well.”

Eva pretended to consider this, fighting to keep her hands from shaking. “The ship I was kidnapped by had the silhouette of a lady on the port side. Is there a marking like that on the secretary’s ship?”

The first mate slowly shook his head. “No. Only black paneling, as far as I am aware.”

“Then we will accept our American allies on board.” Eva stood up, neatening her jacket almost subconsciously. “Torin, would you mind accompanying me to the dock to greet them as a show of goodwill?”

“Of course,” Torin said, setting his portscreen on the couch.

Eva prayed the first mate wouldn’t protest, but after a moment of uncertainty, he simply nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

Waiting outside the podship dock, Eva began to wish she’d listened to Torin and worn something a bit nicer after all. Though the people she knew she was waiting for wouldn’t care what she wore, she knew that the rest of the ship would question her choice of clothing to greet the American secretary of defense, but it was too late now.

When the screen on the wall finally announced that the dock was safe to enter, the captain went through the door first, and Eva followed, perhaps a little bit too quickly, but eager to see who was waiting for her. As she entered the dock, five people were exiting the podship at the end of the line, and she studied them closely as the captain shook the secretary’s hand, wondering who was who—but the glamours were perfect, impossible to detect.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” the secretary said politely. Eva squinted a little at her, trying to figure out who was behind the illusion. “We apologize for any inconvenience this might have caused.”

“Not a problem,” Eva assured her.

“Evidently,” the secretary’s assistant added, “this could have all been avoided if our ship’s mechanic had simply remembered to bring a pair of wire cutters.”

Eva just barely managed to stop her polite smile from bursting into a bright grin. That, of course, must have been Kate, and she could almost see their expression beneath the glamour, the smug smile over using the “code word” Eva had suggested four days (four days that felt like four years) ago.

“Do you need us to send anyone to retrieve your ship?” she remembered to ask.

“No, thank you,” the secretary said. “The Republic has already sent a maintenance crew, but we didn’t want to be delayed. We do have a party to get to.” She winked, a very un-diplomat-like gesture, and Eva smothered a grin. That must be Reese.

Eva gestured behind her, remembering the warning Kate had drilled into her head as they’d formed this plan: that she wouldn’t be able to maintain the glamour very long. “Come with me. We have a sitting room, and we can all be comfortable there. Could I offer you some tea?”

When Eva turned to face the five guests again once the sitting room door had closed, the disguises of two security guards, an assistant, an intern, and the secretary had fallen, and a chill ran down her spine at the sight of five known criminals standing in her sitting room, putting this entire ship in danger.

“Is this room safe?” Farrah asked.

“As far as I am aware, yes. We use it for international confere-”

“Mattie?”

“I’m going.” Mattie pulled out a portscreen and plugged it into the control panel in the wall, running some sort of system check she’d promised she could make.

“Um… right, and this is my adviser, Konn Tor-”

“Wait,” Kate interrupted, holding up a hand.

It was nine silent seconds before Mattie unplugged her portscreen and tucked it back into her pocket. “All clear.”

“Thanks, Mattie,” Farrah said, offering a fist bump.

“We can talk now,” Kate said.

Eva gestured to Torin. “Right, like I was saying—Torin, you remember Kate and Reese.”

Torin crossed his arms and nodded, and Kate mirrored him, almost seeming not to realize.

“I told you I would return her safely,” they said to him.

Torin raised an eyebrow. “You promised no harm would come to her. I would include physical injury under that category.”

“It was one punch,” Eva protested. Before returning her to Earth, they’d had Cairo punch her in the jaw hard enough to form a bruise, to make it seem as if she’d been held prisoner and tortured, rather than accepted as a member of the crew. “I tried to explain, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“I understand perfectly, but you’ll have to forgive me for being defensive.” Torin paused, scrutinizing the five of them. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Princess Selene.”

A flicker of surprise flashed across Kate’s face. “How much does he know?”

“I told him everything.”

“Well, in that case…” Kate held out a hand, and Torin shook it, though he hesitated. “Thank you for your help. You’ve met Reese, and this is our captain, Farrah Thorne, our software engineer, Mattie Wheeler, and my, um… security officer, Cairo Adekoya.”

Torin greeted them with the respect he probably would’ve given the American diplomats, and Eva didn’t even try to keep her eyes from lingering on Kate. They stood halfway across the room, and though Eva desperately wanted to close the distance between them, something made her stay away. Maybe it was Torin’s presence, or the knowledge that they were on their way to attend her wedding on Luna, or the fear that the time they’d spent on the Rampion together was just a fragile dream. It almost felt like there was a sudden wall between them, like if Eva made one wrong move, their relationship would fall apart.

“Oh, look,” Reese said, breaking into Eva’s thoughts. Eva followed her gaze, and saw what she was looking at: the cratered, silvery surface of Luna, emerging into view in the window.

The anxiety pooled in Eva’s stomach, and though she wanted to hide, she knew she couldn’t.

Kate looked to Eva. “Do you have what you promised?”

Eva pointed to one of the cabinets on the wall, and Reese rushed to open it eagerly, pulling out a stack of clothes in dull browns and grays.

“How’s that?” Eva asked.

Cairo, who’d been the most helpful at describing what citizens of Luna’s outer sector would wear, nodded. “Seems right.”

Reese pulled a small tub out of the cabinet as well, holding a sheet of android plating and a small plastic bag of synthetic skin fibers, as well as a pouch of various tools. Kate took the pouch from her and rifled through it with their human hand.

“That should be everything you need to fix Reese’s injuries,” Eva said.

Kate took the tub from Reese, glancing at the fibers and then back at Eva. “Yeah, it is.” The corner of her mouth tugged up into a small half-smile. “You know, if this empress thing doesn’t work out, you might want to consider a career in espionage.”

Eva smiled wryly. “Let’s just make sure this empress thing works out.”

Kate passed the tub of supplies back to Reese and hesitated, then stepped forward, closing the distance between the two of them and wrapping both arms around Eva’s shoulders.

Just like that, the wall between them disappeared, and Eva let herself hug Kate closer, closing her eyes.

“Thank you,” Kate whispered, and it could have meant a million different things: for the clothes and android parts, or for bringing them to Luna, or for something different, something deeper, something Eva only just barely felt like she could understand.

After a few moments that weren’t nearly long enough, Kate pulled away, stepping back until there was an acceptable amount of space between them. “We’re running out of time,” they said to the room as a whole. “Let’s go over the plan one last time.”

#we are the tigers #the lunar chronicles #eva sanchez #kate dalton #reese watt #mattie wheeler #farrah watt #cairo adekoya #konn torin #it's literally been so long but tbh i missed this au #also PLEASE i am begging you to reblog this if you even slightly enjoy it-

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