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atlaese · 3 years ago

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in the absence of light - b.w.

summary: you find a partner in Bruce when you need it most. pairing: fem!reader x bruce wayne (pattinson) tw: 5.1K words: canon violence, blood, wounds, bruce stitches you up, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, happy ending. a/n: hi hello! i'm back with another battinson one shot! this one is completely different from my other one, but I still hope you'll enjoy it! thank you so much for the support on the first one - i really appreciate all the kindness :) i just love writing hurt/comfort stuff for this man lmao. hope you enjoy!

p.s. i now have a library blog! follow @aeristhotle to get notified when i update! p.p.s. huge thank you to @alohastyles-x for beta reading this! kenz pulled out many weird words and sentence constructions, thanks babes <3

reblogs and feedback are appreciated ✨💗

bruce wayne masterlist | all masterlists

Secrets.

Every person has them. Some people tell little white lies, like retracting a few years off their age or saying that they’re a brunette when they’re actually a blonde.

It’s normal to keep a few things secret, to have a truth that only you know.

Especially in Gotham, it wasn’t unusual to try to cheat a bit in life. If you didn’t hurt anyone else, who cared if you wanted to get your life out of the gutter and into the bourgeoisie of the city?

However, the person who thought about organizing a masquerade fundraiser must have had plenty of secrets. Who in this day and age still enjoyed playing dress-up when half the city was living in a dump and people had to hide their faces so that they’d be able to steal food to feed their families?

It was a sick thought, and you knew the organizer was someone who didn’t give two fucks about his stupid fundraiser. The only thing that mattered was his name and company on the front page of the Gotham Times.

But, to be honest, you were glad the party required you to wear masks. Those things are especially handy when you need to steal something out of a high-security safe that usually wasn’t as accessible.

You had your own little secrets, too.

The whole beau-monde of Gotham was present on this thing. Every person that had a little money was present. The men in their tuxes, a simple black mask covering their eyes but still enough face left so their business partners wouldn’t make deals with the competition.

The women, however, exuded how affluent the richest people of Gotham actually were. Their dresses were made with feathers of exotic birds, jewels, beads and anything that refracted the light into an array of colours. The masks were delicate pieces of fabric that brought out the colour of their eyes, even more than the bright make-up they were wearing.

Around all this extravagance, it wasn’t hard at all to slip in and remain in the background unnoticed.

You were in no way underdressed for the event, your black dress just helped you blend more into the environment. Where the blue and green dresses asked for attention, your black one made you feel like a shadow between the colours. The absence of light made you non-existent in the eyes of the rich. Why would they look at the dark places of the city when they could look in the mirror that reflected their light?

In the universe of life, they were the stars that shone brightly. Stars that people looked for when the night was nothing but a dark canvas. And in that life, you were the black matter that existed between those stars. Unable to see with the naked eye, yet just as important. People just didn’t know what you were yet, and all that played in your favour. But one day they will find how important the dark was.

Brandon Calville, CEO and founder of Calville Connections, also the mastermind of the evening’s event, was making the rounds and greeting everyone. Aside from owning a communications company, Brandon also took an interest in international espionage. He was particularly interested in selling secrets to the enemy. Brandon didn’t care who the enemy was, as long as the paycheck was deposited into one of the many offshore bank accounts he had.

Though he organised many successful fundraisers for Gotham’s poorest, Brandon remained a person that put his own interest before anything else.

According to your intel, you would have two openings to get into his safe and retrieve whatever information you found on the man. The first one would be in about 25 minutes when the guards would be on rotation. You’d have approximately three minutes to get to the safe, open it, retrieve the intel and close it. After that, you just had to make a swift but non-suspecting exit. They’d be none the wiser.

If the first opening didn’t work because of a hurdle, there would be another rotation of the guards at the end of the evening, at around 11:30 p.m. That was a plan B though, and you hoped you didn’t have to stay at this bore for that long.

Now, you just had to occupy yourself for some 20 minutes, until it was time to slip out of this room filled with masked faces. Their physical mask may have hidden their faces, but the mask they wore every day hid just how horrible these people really were.

You couldn’t wait to do your job and get out of this horrible place.

After scoping out the place and eating the little amuse bouches that were carried around on trays, a first hurdle presented itself in the form of the guest of honour.

Brandon Calville was heading straight towards you, and if there was one thing Brandon hated more than having correct morals, it was uninvited guests.

If Brandon got even a whiff of who you were or what you weren’t supposed to be doing here, you could say goodbye to your career as a spy. Might even say goodbye to living your life in the freedom you knew now. It was bad news.

Fortunately, your training had made a few processes automated whenever you were on a risky mission.

The first one is always to have a plan C. Beforehand, plan A and B had been figured out with all the intel you gathered beforehand. However, once you were on the location you always figured out a third plan. You could never be thorough enough.

The second one was to look for at least three exits. You’d never know if a swift escape was necessary.

A third point consisted of looking for a distraction. It sounds old school, but you’d be surprised how quickly people are distracted when a certain esteemed guest falls flat on her face or when another guest is caught in a… compromising position.

The fourth one was to get a grip of who the crowd was. To check who could be an asset and who’d just stand in the way of your escape.

That’s where the only guest in the ballroom without a mask came into play.

You knew who he was, way before stepping foot inside the building.

Bruce Wayne was notorious, to say the least.

The heir was rarely seen outside after the brutal murder of his parents. Whenever he was seen, it was quick, like the flash of a camera or the strike of lightning. His pale face was mostly contorted in a grimace, a stark reminder that his presence wasn’t something to be enjoyed by the outside world. Bruce was a flash of darkness only few could say they had encountered.

Tonight, Bruce looked out of place once more between the guests who all had radiant smiles on their faces.

His face was the only one that wasn’t covered by a small mask, though no one mentioned anything about it. They still granted him the little favour of not following basic societal rules, even if it had been a decade since the dark night that shook Gotham’s elite to its core.

“There you are, darling,” you grabbed onto Bruce’s bicep and nestled next to him, ignoring the way he tensed up as you smiled up at him. Checking out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Brandon do a double-take before he decided to come over anyway.

If you had done your job right, Bruce wouldn’t react, or at least not visibly to other people. He would be one of those people that played along if thrown in a hairy situation.

“Bruce, we’re beyond excited to have you here tonight,” Brandon sizzled up, stretching out his hand. “I’m sure we can write you in on the donations list tonight? Can’t keep hoarding that Wayne money, am I right!”

Bruce grimly smiled at Brandon as he quickly shook his hand and nodded affirmatively, trying not to bare his teeth at the disgusting man in front of him. It was public knowledge that Brandon was tied up in bizarre activities, but like most other issues in Gotham, it’s often ignored.

“And who is your date?” Brandon inquired again, his gaze going over you, almost measuring you up.

“Celia Viotto,” you held out your hand, the fake name rolling off your tongue with ease. Initiating contact with targets always helped to confuse them a bit. No one expects someone to answer a question they weren’t asked.

“Can’t say I’ve ever heard of that name before, but it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Brandon said. You could almost see the gears turning in his head. Viotto was an unusual name in Gotham and that was exactly why you had chosen it.

“I was here on business and mister Wayne just captivated me with his radiant personality,” you said, lightly tapping on Bruce’s bicep as you threw a fake smile Brandon’s way.

“Oh right,” Brandon narrowed his eyes, looking at the sullen expression on Bruce’s face. “It was nice to make your acquaintance, I’m gonna continue my rounds.”

“Likewise,” you smiled sweetly. “I love the fundraiser you set up, you’re such a do-gooder!”

Brandon’s left eye fluttered just a bit before he smiled again and trailed off towards the middle of the ballroom.

“It’s almost as if you don’t like him,” Bruce’s voice rang in your ear. It was the very first time you heard it. It was a low hum, a comforting sound that drowned out all the high pitches of people in the room yelling over one another.

“It’s not hard to dislike the man,” you replied, looking around the room. With this little mishap, you had two minutes before the first window closed. Should you risk just running off and leaving Bruce Wayne in a daze or should you wrap this little thing up and go for the second window immediately?

Quickly deciding, you were about to pull your arm away from Bruce’s, however, Bruce had another plan. “What are you up to? It’s impressive you got into this thing without security noticing.”

You stilled in your movements and peered up at him. There was no way he could know anything about your operation, especially since he didn’t have ties to Calville.

“Oh, you know, you haven’t lived if you don’t crash a party once in a while,” you narrowed your eyes at him, trying to figure out if you had been compromised. “I could say the same thing about you, mister Wayne, some could say that you’re not the biggest party animal either.”

Bruce hummed in response, a small smirk pulling on the ends of his lips that always seemed to be pulled down. There was a certain weight to his smirk as if it was the first time in months he genuinely felt the emotion that was happiness.

“I’d love to talk more, but I need to powder my nose,” you mused, now succeeding in pulling away from the man. “It was nice to be your date for 15 minutes, mister Wayne.”

Bruce dipped his head down in response and his hair flopped down over his bright eyes. “Strange how you also carry make-up in that tiny clutch, you’ll have to show me how that works one day.”

Once more, you felt stumped. Bruce had seemed to see through you like you were transparent matter. You felt strangely visible all of a sudden, though it seemed that only Bruce had the ability to see you.

“Bruce Wayne, a flirt, who would have known,” you retorted, turning your back to him and taking big strides to the bathroom, leaving Bruce with a curious expression on his face.

It was almost 11:30 p.m. when you made a final round through the ballroom again, making sure everything was in order for the next stage of your plan.

The guards would change positions in about three minutes and then it was your time to shine.

Sneaking away from the ballroom and into the back part of the building, you managed to avoid all the security cameras that had been turned just enough in a different direction. It was easy to be a ghost on camera. The time between playing Bruce’s date and now you had spent creating blindspots on all the cameras.

Everything went according to plan up until now and you couldn’t keep the smirk off your face.

How nice was it that a plan was executed perfectly? This would be great for your career and for the future of the city.

The little clutch you carried was much more than just a clutch. The metal parts that held the fabric together could slide out and become both a lock pick and a device that enabled you to hear the clicks of the lock.

Needless to say, it was easy to get access to the room where the safe was hidden with the cameras turned another way and the guards on the move.

You closed the door behind you and immediately clocked three possible places where the safe could be.

After picking the lock of the one under the rug, you realized it was a decoy when you spotted nothing but fake paperwork and cheap diamonds. For any inexperienced thief, it would seem like a jackpot, but you knew what you were looking for.

After looking around the room for another few minutes, you found a little ledge behind a curtain that set something in motion behind the circuit box next to the door. It had seemed a bit off why someone would have a circuit box in an expensive office space.

Behind the wires and buttons in the circuit box, a small door had propped open, revealing what you had come here for.

The leather briefcase that lay among the expensive diamonds and other important documents was your target.

So far, so good. This mission would be one without too many hiccups. Not every mission had to be one where you had to pull out your skills.

Before you left, you placed everything back in the way you found it. They’d find out eventually, you just had to delay them as much as possible.

You had just closed the circuit box when the door slammed open.

Two guards with batons stood in the open door.

“Fuck,” you muttered, sliding out the dagger that was strapped to your upper thigh but keeping it hidden from their vision. “I wasn’t planning on a workout tonight, gentlemen.”

Physical fights were not unusual in this line of work. It often came to a confrontation, though you always planned on avoiding it where possible.

Tonight was unfortunately one of those times where you had to make sure these guards would be eliminated.

The advantage you had was that you were still in your long cocktail dress and mask. Sure, it would be a little hard to fight, but it also meant that it seemed like you were just a greedy guest. A guest that couldn’t keep their hands to themselves or that needed some cash. It was a great cover. They’d never know who you were.

You hoped they wouldn’t call for back-up, or at least not immediately.

A few guards you could handle, but the more was definitely not the merrier in this case. A scuffle broke out as you threw one of the paperweights from the desk in their direction, a small thud was heard as it landed against the baton.

The small thud set a small scuffle in motion.

It became a fight between you and the two guards. You got a few punches thrown your way, but most of the fighting came from your side.

“Man, you’d think a guy like Brandon would pay for some decent training for his guards, wouldn’t you?” you said, a little out of breath. “Let’s wrap this up guys, I wanna go home.”

The two guards just looked at each other before launching at you again. Maybe you shouldn’t have ticked them off, but it was so fun to taunt them once in a while.

Kicking one guard unconscious, you thought you would walk out of the room unscathed, aside from some bruising.

The fight with the remaining guard got ugly quickly.

You had managed to kick his baton away from him, but you noticed just too late what the glimmering object in his hand was.

He had grabbed a letter opener from the massive desk. It was a silver dagger, a ruby placed in the centre. The blade dangerously glimmered in the dim lighting.

You tumbled to the ground before you knew what was happening, the blade the guard was holding on to now had a red gleam.

It hurt. The wound was somewhere on your hip, but you didn’t have time to look at it.

There was another dagger hidden along your ribcage, a failsafe if you ever got into trouble like this.

Somewhere during the time when you threw your knife and struck the guard that wanted to call for backup, you saw a familiar figure sneaking into the room.

Bruce moved fluently through the room and managed to incapacitate the guard before backup was called. His fighting style was calculated - the punches he threw landed right on their target, his smooth movements enabled him to dodge andy attacks, and he managed to draw the guard away from you. He was experienced.

It took a few more punches to knock the guard unconscious. Bruce wasn’t some type of superhuman - a fact that comforted you as you weren’t up to fight someone who had incredible powers.

“He was pretty tired after fending me off, you’re lucky,” you called out when Bruce’s movements stilled. His head was hung low as he inspected the scene that had unfolded in front of him. Two knocked out guards and a woman with a wound on her hip, clutching a seemingly important briefcase to her chest.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice a bit husky as he looked at you through the strands of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes.

“I’ll be fine,” you grunted as you tried to stand up, but the pain shot up from your hip, making you fall back to the ground again.

The wound was bad.

The black skirt of your dress had been ripped open revealing the result of a failed mission. Sure, you had gotten the intel, but the objective was to retrieve the information without being caught and without shedding any blood.

And without compromising your real identity. That might have been the most important of all.

An open-flesh wound that needed stitches seemed like the least of your problems now.

“Lean on me, I’ll help,” Bruce offered as he looked at what shape you were in.

“Leave me alone, Wayne, you have no clue what you’re getting yourself into,” you grunted in response, ignoring his outreached hand. “How did you even get back here? And why?”

Bruce ignored your question, his eyes quickly fleeting between all the unconscious bodies and the leather briefcase that you were clutching to your chest.

“I’m guessing that briefcase holds something very important,” he said. “I know I don’t seem like it, but I can help, you need to trust me.”

You knew Bruce wasn’t a bad guy, but how could you trust a random man that stumbled into the war zone you had created?

He had proven himself useful when you needed to get rid of Calville’s hot breath on your neck, but just because he helped you once didn’t mean that he wouldn’t run off with your information and leave you for the wolves.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on Brandon Calville for a bit now,” Bruce spoke up as he sensed your hesitation.

Bruce didn’t know why, but he got a certain feeling when you first sizzled up next to him so easily. The way you had easily jumped into a character

He knew he could trust you because you were just like him.

Hurt by something in your past. Driven to make things right in the world. A lone wolf that trusted few people.

“He’s been meeting in an underground club with some shady people lately. It’s not just information.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest and it felt like the nerve endings in your brain might just give up on processing all the new information that was coming in. It was way bigger than you could ever have imagined.

“Something big is going down, and I think you can use my help to prevent this tragedy from happening,” Bruce added, a pleading tone woven through the low tones of his voice.

His next words were but mere whisper, a low hum that almost was too quiet to be heard over the music coming from the ballroom.

“I need your help to stop them from destroying my home.”

And maybe that was the confirmation that you needed to hear. Knowing that Bruce wanted this man put behind bars just as much as you did. Knowing that he had good intentions after all.

“Let’s get out of here before anyone notices,” you said as a way of accepting his help.

Bruce quickly helped you up, before he found a backdoor to lead you to where the valet had parked all the cars.

After settling in, the motor revved and he speeded off, the taillights were the only sliver of light seen in the darkness of the night.

Bruce supported you when you climbed out of his old-timer, his arm tightly wound around your waist, careful to not touch your hip.

He had driven quickly and smoothly through the empty streets of Gotham into an old tunnel that led to a type of abandoned workplace.

It was dark and cold. Shivers ran over your body but it wasn’t fear that made the goosebumps form. It was exciting. The excitement of what was to come. The excitement that, perhaps, you found some sort of partner in this man who expressed so much with so few words.

It was weird to see Bruce in his element, a place where he felt at home and where no wandering eyes were following his every movement.

“You’re him.”

A part of you, deep inside, already knew the moment he set foot in that room. His face hadn’t portrayed any emotion like shock or disgust, it had been an analytical gaze. A type to figure out what exactly had been going on. To see who you were exactly and what your intentions were. To figure out what the next step was.

And he must have figured out that both of you were on the same side.

Bruce just avoided your gaze, but the way his jaw was just clenched a little bit more than before, you knew you had guessed correctly.

Before you had been hesitant to admit who you were, now it was his turn.

“I get it,” you whispered, feeling like you might scare him away otherwise. “More than you know.”

It seemed like all the tension in his body disappeared all of a sudden. His shoulders weren’t squared anymore and he let out a soft sigh as if the reveal of his darkest secret was something that had been weighing on him for years.

“Who are you then?” He asked, getting a closer look at the wound on your hip. “Who are you behind the mask?”

You had to think a short moment before your real name rolled over your lips. Sometimes, remembering who you were among all the other identities you had was more difficult than it should be. Your real identity was just one among many at this point.

“Celia Viotto is a beautiful name, but this one, this one fits you,” Bruce said. His words felt like the cool touch of aftersun being put on a sunburn. It eased the pain of the failure of today.

Those words had such an impact on you because Bruce knew what it meant to have a secret identity or to have an alter ego that differed completely from your own identity.

He knew how, after a while of having multiple identities, they sometimes merged, creating a new one and leaving the original ones behind in the dust.

It felt like a good moment to take off the little mask. Though it didn’t hide much, to begin with, it still felt like you were uncovering everything you had, everything you were and were yet to become.

Bruce looked at you for a second, his eyes softening even more as he gazed at all your features.

For a second it felt like a black hole had sucked everything out of the room but you two. There was no more oxygen. No more light and no more sounds. The only thing that remained was you two, floating in an endless space that comforted you as only a childhood blanket could.

Only a few seconds had passed, but it felt like a lifetime of trust and longing had passed by at the same time.

Bruce pulled his eyes away and scraped his throat. You were transported back to the dim corner of his workplace in an instance.

“This might sting,” he softly said as he got ready to disinfect the skin. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t know if he was apologizing for the pain that would ensue or for the fact that you have had to hide your real identity for most people in your life.

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

He carefully went to work on the wound, his warm fingertips gently grazing your skin. He had this cold and careless demeanour around him, yet his touch couldn’t be more contrasting.

Bruce didn’t give you any notice that he would start stitching. He could imagine you were used to being patched up all the time.

The small look of worry that flashed over your face and the tightness of the skin on your knuckles when you gripped the edge of the table didn’t go unnoticed by him.

He could see how the past of being hurt over and over again clung to you like a bad scent you couldn’t scrub off, no matter how hard you tried. Bruce knew how difficult it was to get rid of the icky feeling, the feeling that fractured every good thing.

It didn’t take him too long to disinfect the wound and stitch it back together, his movements precise and with great care, showing his experience.

You gritted your teeth and closed your eyes but hadn’t let out a peep during the whole ordeal.

Bruce didn’t know if he should be happy with that fact or if it should sadden him.

“We’re all done,” Bruce said as he cut off the end of the wire. “Shouldn’t scar too much.”

Bruce looked at the rest of your leg, little scars littered around that signalled more physical fights. He thought back to his scars. The scars that showed the horrors of Gotham during the night.

You didn’t thank him for stitching you up, but by laying your hand over his, you hoped he understood the magnitude of how much you appreciated him patching you up.

You didn’t think you would encounter an equal today. Much less an equal that had an unprecedented reputation like him.

Bruce was cleaning up the bloody tools and bandages, once more a solemn look on his face.

“You seem… used to doing this,” you started, catching his eye as he immediately looked up. “Used to doing it alone.”

“I never had anyone that understood what it meant. What it meant to lose everything and see no end to the suffering that this city conflicts on everyone.”

He stood before you now, his hands still along his sides, yet aching to touch the one person who seemed to understand his struggles.

“It’s strange how much I understand what you mean,” you said, licking your lips and keeping eye contact. “I always found it admirable what he did. What you did for the city.”

A mutual understanding seemed to be born out of this moment. A feeling that you didn’t have to face the horrors of the night alone anymore.

Bruce stood in front of you now, his hand came up to your face, aching to touch you.

“Can I?” he asked, the heel of his hands barely touching your cheeks. There was still some of your blood on his hands that he didn’t want to smear on your face.

It was a soft kiss. A kiss that was meant to explore what this mutual understanding could be.

His lips were a bit chapped against yours, yet they moved in a supple way as you threw your head a bit back to taste more of him.

You pulled away after a bit, turning your head slightly so he didn’t see just how out of breath you suddenly were, how much he had affected you in such a short moment in time.

“Bruce, I-,” you started, not even knowing what you wanted to say, what all this meant or what it could be.

“It’s okay,” he whispered back, his nose now pushing against your cheek as he breathed in your scent. “It’s okay.”

You had hoped to stay in this position for a while, just breathing in his scent, but when you slightly shifted, you felt the wound on your hip prickling again, resulting in a small groan on your account.

Bruce immediately pulled away to check if the stitches hadn’t ripped.

“We probably shouldn’t do anything more… exerting for a while,” you half-joked with a grimace on your face. Did Bruce’s cheeks turn a shade redder or did you imagine it?

“Maybe we should look at the intel,” you proposed, grabbing the leather briefcase that lay next to you.

Bruce nodded, coming to sit next to you as you pulled out the papers.

“See, I knew it!” you pointed out after a second as you saw the figures.

Bruce just looked at you, intrigue was written over his face as he saw the passion you had to make the city a better place.

And this is the tale of how the Batman of Gotham now had a partner that would show up once in a while. They seemed to be glued together and always in sync with each other, speaking without words, yet always understanding what needed to be done. Gotham had a new duo, and people like Calville were warned of the ramifications if they ever decided to cross paths again.

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amysteriousmessenger · 4 years ago

Note

May I request some fluff RFA headcanons? 🥺🥺

I hope these are okay!! I added Saeran and V just for the sake of it!! <3 these will be a random mixture of with and without MC!

Random Fluffy RFA + Saeran and V Headcanons

Yoosung Kim Fluffy Headcanons

He asks you to marry him in LOLOL, since there’s an expansion pack where you can set up a little house for extra storage. He gets really nervous and a bit sweaty about asking you to do it, he takes it oddly seriously and Zen almost passed out when he thought that you were actually engaged.

He tries to make you coffee every morning, especially if he’s trying a new style out. He thinks it’s really fun and he loves to greet you with it for breakfast. After a while, you come to associate the faint smell of coffee with Yoosung.

At the start he starts sneakily using little bits of your shower gel because they smell so much nicer than the one his gamer student budget allows him to buy. Eventually, he’ll just cave and buy a bottle of the one that you use because it means he gets to be reminded of you all day and it’s a lot better for his skin anyway.

If you play with his hair when his head is in your lap, he’ll absolutely fall asleep. Yoosung is a little bit like a puppy in that way, it just makes him feel so happy and loved.

Zen/Hyun Ryu Fluffy Headcanons

Zen’s a big person for morning kisses, especially sleepy ones. He’s an early riser and definitely feels extra needy in the morning. He’s also always the big spoon, he likes to feel as though he’s protecting you even when he’s asleep.

Whenever you’re crying and cover your face so he can’t see, Zen’s the kinda person who would gently pull your arms away so he can get a look at you and figure out what’s wrong. He’ll kiss at your eyes and cheeks until you either stop crying, or let him get close enough to pull you in so you can cry on his chest.

He loves doing skincare on you. If he thinks you’ve had a hard week, he’ll do your moisturiser, clay mask, face mask, eye mask- you name it, Zen wants to pamper you with it. He knows the importance of skincare and he thinks it’s a great way to relax and pamper you.

Zen’s ‘Happy Place’ that he thinks of when he gets stressed is the two of you, beers in hand, spending an evening in the kitchen trying to cook food. He can hear the laughter, smell the ever-so-slightly burning food, taste the traces of beer on your lower lip. It just makes him so happy to think about and he can feel the desperation in his limbs to sprint home at full speed and make the daydream real.

Jaehee Kang Fluffy Headcanons

Saturday mornings are Jaehee’s favourite out of the whole week. She’s just worked 5 hellish days and Saturday is the day where she gets to have a bit of a lie-in. Usually, Jumin doesn’t ask her to come into the office on weekends and it’s usually just a case of working from home. Jaehee tries not to oversleep too much because she doesn’t want to throw off her schedule but sometimes she can’t help but pass out for 10 hours straight and undisturbed.

She really enjoys bubble baths with you. When you first start doing it together, she’s a little shy at being seen undressed so intimately, but she still really enjoys the time alone with you. It’s a great way to unwind and she likes being so close to you.

Jaehee isn’t much of a cuddler when she’s asleep, she tends to just sleep flat on her back out of exhaustion. However, if you wake up for any reason during the night, you’ll frequently find her hand holding yours, whether she did it consciously or not.

She collects really nice and cute stationary. She doesn’t really take them to work because she doesn’t want to be seen as unprofessional, but once she runs the coffee shop, she gets to write in her little hot-drinks-themed stationary and decorates the little cups with tiny stickers for the frequent customers and especially for whenever Zen comes to visit.

Jumin Han Fluffy Headcanons

Sunday mornings are Jumin’s favourites. He usually wakes up really early by routine, but on Sundays he spends a little bit longer curled up in bed with you and Elizabeth the Third, watching you both sleep. Jumin’s also usually the big spoon if he’s sleeping on his side, but when he sleeps on his back he typically still has one arm around your waist so you’re pulled next to him with your head on his chest.

He personally donates to many different cat shelters all over the country. He takes the money straight out of his own bank account and gives generous monthly donations to make sure that there’s enough funding to both feed the cats already there, and take in extra cats of the streets along with getting them adopted. Jumin’s staff actually has a company policy that if they adopt a cat from one of the shelters that Jumin supports, the vet and adoption fees are covered by him, he counts it as philanthropy.

Jumin has a bottle of wine in his cellar from the date you met, the date you first kissed, the date you got engaged and the date you got married. He hasn’t quite decided when he’ll share those wines with you, he just knows at the moment that he wants to keep them for a very special occasion.

When he’s bored at work but he can’t call you because you’re busy, he pictures taking you to one of his vineyards on the weekend. He’ll picture your smile, you adjusting your hat and lightly squinting against the sun, you smiling at him over your glass of wine. Then he’ll tell Jaehee to clear his schedule for the weekend.

Saeyoung Choi Fluffy Headcanons

Your arms around him, holding him against you, is pretty much the only thing that can bring Seven out of an anxiety attack. If you’re not physically with him, he crawls under the duvet on his bed in hopes of still smelling you. He’ll call you and look through selfies with you that he has on his phone until he calms down.

Seven frequently tries to make you food. He’s never had to cook for anyone before and he doesn’t really cook for himself, so it’s a lot of trial, error and frustrated takeaways. You try to eat whatever he makes though because you can really tell that he’s put his heart into it and you want to show him that you appreciate the effort he’s making.

He loves you feeling his biceps and gushing over how strong he is. He’s not even particularly ripped but you can tell he has strength in his limbs and seeing you give him any kind of physical approval makes him m e l t instantly.

He’s both the big and little spoon, depending what mood he is in. Sometimes he wants to hold you close and never let go, but sometimes Seven needs a little bit of support too and want to feel like he’s needed by you.

His absolute favourite dates are the arcades, the cinema, bowling and carnivals. He has far too much fun on the bumpercars and he absolutely has it out for you, you spend most of the time trying to escape him.

GE Saeran Choi Fluffy Headcanons

GE Saeran always makes very over the top hot chocolates for the both of you. He has an arsenal of whipped cream, syrups, chocolate shavings and sprinkles. His hot chocolate is better than any you could buy in a store. He’ll make one for you whenever you ask, and then sometimes just to surprise you if it looks like you’re having a bad day.

GE Saeran ends up getting two cavities in his first few years of living freely. He does look after his teeth, but he let his sweet-tooth go little bit wild with all the new foods he got to try, it was all so new and fun to him, he just wanted to try everything! He took much better care of his teeth after that, but the trip to the dentist was quite a weird one since he’d never been before.

Slight Angst: Saeran always serves your food first and makes sure there’s always extra helpings if you want it. He usually puts a little bit more on your plate than what you would usually eat. He never quite gets over the guilt of taking your food away at Magenta, so he spends the rest of his time making sure you have more than enough to eat now.

He likes to constantly buy you little gifts that he sees when he’s out and about that remind him of you. A little notebook in your favourite colour? A little forget-me-not necklace? A candle that smells like your perfume? He’d added them all to his cart.

After lip kisses, Saeran loves giving cheek and hand kisses to you. For him, he really loves getting head kisses and he thinks it’s extra cute when you plant a little kiss onto the tip of his nose.

V/Jihyun Kim Fluffy Headcanons

V usually wakes up first, unless he was working late in his studio. He wakes you up with a kiss to the forehead, a cup of coffee and soft words. After he’s put your drink on the table, he’ll climb back into bed with you and cuddle until you’re properly awake.

He actually enjoys baking with you. Well, he likes to help you bake and then he gets to do the decorating. You usually bring a cake to any RFA hangouts and it’s always very obvious when V’s helped you bake because it feels like he goes out of his way to put a piece of gallery-worthy art onto a cake with food colourings and icings. He thinks it makes it tastes better, and you have to agree.

In recent years, V’s been considering trying a more plant-based diet. He thinks he’d like to try vegetarianism, but he’s frequently spend periods of time as a pescatarian, especially after he’s come back from travelling. It also means that he gets to practice cooking more too.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger x reader #saeran choi #saeyoung choi #jihyun kim #jumin han #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #zen mystic messenger #hyun ryu #mystic messenger headcanons #mystic messenger hcs #saeran choi x reader #jumin han x reader #mystic messenger reader insert #mystic messenger self insert

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obeymeluv · 4 years ago

Text

The Baby Assignment [Beel]

Not gonna lie, I wanted to do Mammon next but I love this big guy, so... The names for his sons (again, from “The Boys as Dads” post) were pulled from Wikipedia after a bit of research. I wanted to see what other names and history were tied to Beelzebub and I found Hesperus and Baal.

Apparently “Baal” was used to refer to Beelzebub in the Hebrew Bible. It was technically a title meaning “Lord” but could be used to reference specific demons. “Hesperus” comes from Testament of Solomon where Beelzebul (not Beelzebub; at some points throughout history these two were separate entities and at other times they were the same figure with different names) talked about his old high-ranking status in heaven and how he was tied to the star Hesperus.

Mammon’s probably going to be next, but I have to do more name hunting.

Beel is secretly excited to be partnered with you. He’s kind of curious about how the kid will look. More human? More demon-like? The two of you stand in the circle and not one but two babies explode in little clouds

Unfortunately, they’re already crying. Whether they’re hungry or the flash of light hurt them, you don’t know. Beel’s already giving this low, comforting purr and shrugging out of his jacket to swoop them up like some little papoose. This quiets them a little.

He can’t help but giggle because they feel like little hams in his arms. Tiny roasted Devilbirds. They look on the bigger side for Devil babies but they’ve got cute round faces and big sparkly eyes already tinging with that orange glow he gets at nighttime. They are carbon copies of Beel and he’s a little sad he doesn’t see the ‘you’ in them.

They wiggle a bit in the temporary papoose but settle when one arm breaches to grab a tiny, pudgy fistful of his shirt. There’s a few moments of ‘open, close, open, close’ where you think the baby is making biscuits against his chest but he finishes up with a firm grab.

Beel ties the papoose around you so he can carry the magic trunk back to the house. You take great care in keeping the light away from them and don’t know quite how to feel yet about that orange tint to their eyes. They observe you with much interest. They’re still cute though.

You’re walking back to the house with Beel and the others when the jacket blob starts to move. You think they’re getting restless (maybe need air?) and peel it open just enough to see what’s going on. They’re trying to tear a hole in your uniform to latch. They want skin-to-skin contact. One of them has their arm down your uniform top. The other is trying to jam their hand in there, too.

You just hold them close as you walk to the House of Lamentation. You bet by the time you get there, you’ll be missing a few buttons.

Beel sets up the trunk in his and Belphie’s room (Belphie’s seriously considering relocating to the attic for about a week) and helps you sit down. He undoes the papoose to find they’ve ripped a decent chunk out of your school uniform and are trying to hide between the fabric and your body. They’re holding hands, their other one either tucked under them or latching onto you somewhere else. It’s really cute and Beel goes beet red.

If you’re female, this gets Beel extra flustered because--for some reason? Demon brain and baby hormones?--he’s thinking about you breastfeeding two kids and being pregnant with another one.

Is he gonna be one of those guys that wants lots of kids? Probably.

He opens the trunk in search of jumpers or something that will help them keep their heat and is surprised to see insulated bags of squeeze-type baby food. All KINDS of food, actually!

He’ll have to try some for quality assurance. Does it actually have substance?

Those kids get it honest because they’re literally only an hour old and they KNOW what food packages sound like. Your uniform tears a little more because suddenly two little ginger-headed babies are watching his every mood like a hawk, heads thrust out of the little hole they made.

Beel is not a fan of opening tiny baby food portions. His hands are very big and this is a problem. He ends up puncturing the cap with a fang and squeezing some out. It works, so he hands it over.

These kids snatch food like Mammon taking a grim, okay? Watch your fingers.

Suddenly there’s a little fussy fight breaking out in your top because one baby has one and one baby has nothing. Beel can’t get the second one fast enough. He just shakes it outside the hole and hopes the empty-handed one takes it.

You tell Beel to help you out of your uniform since it’s basically ruined. Boy heats up real bad, touching your skin and everything. Big boy has it BAD!

The kids hiss and growl and cry until you set them in his jacket and make a nest. Then they’re back to being content little angels, gumming and sucking on the little pouches

“I hope all this eating means they grow fast,” Beel smiles as he takes the empty pouches and looks in the trunk again. It’s imbued with magic that only lets the ‘parents’ open it so there’s no accidents. He’s looking for other flavors as you hug the jacket nest.

Somehow you end up with a tiny little hand tangled in your hair as they try to pull you into the nest. You just lay in the middle and they lounge on you. They are BIIIIG on contact. Like to touch all the time. Very snuggly.

You’re kind of shocked but Beel is big into photography. He never answers you when you ask why, but he’s very diligent about taking pictures. They’re not always the best quality but boy never misses a moment.

After about three pouches apiece, they’ve moved onto Beel. They like to snuggle around his stomach and you joke about his ‘baby bump’. You take the pictures now.

By the end of the night your name has a sound. They are grabbing at you and Beel at the dark, giving calls and trying to wake you up. They want to eat again.

This goes on for days 2 and 3. The twins are more active at night since their eyes don’t hurt and yours and Beel’s sleep schedule are officially messed up. Day 2 they are very vocal with their demon vocal chords, so you basically need a translator. Day 3, you’re used to their nightly disappearances and sneak down sometime after them to see Beel digging through the fridge.

“Apple? See? Apple. Ap-ple.” Beel apparently like smothering them in forehead kisses. He’s passing the food between them and suddenly it’s just three demons cooing over a piece of fruit. They’ve inherited the biting instinct because all three of them bite it at the same time.

He was fixing to wake the house with a happy yeowl about the fangs but had some sense that someone was behind him, so you’re gifted with the sight of three demons still holding onto an apple. “They go’ fanfs,” is what you think you here. Beel technically got the first purr with that one.

When the fangs come out, the food fights start. If you feed them with a spoon or fork it is LITERAL begging for them to let go so you can get more food for them.

Feeding them is a two person job, not because there are two of them, but because one of them needs to attract the biter with a different food so they let go of the utensil.

They get teary and screechy when they’re not fed fast enough. Hesperus’ first word was “MO’!” (more) as he’s slamming his little fists on the feeding chair and puts a crack in it. Baal takes full advantage of the surprise and latches onto the spoon Beel almost drops. Another struggle ensues.

Between Day 3 and Day 4 they have the muscle strength and build to fully walk themselves. Half of the time they “skitter”. For some reason they don’t like walking upright.

Previously, you could only tell them apart with the brothers’ help (demons can differentiate demons). Now you and Beel have a color-coordinated system to tell the twins apart.

They seem to take after their Uncle Belphie and hide in unusual places. The only way you and Beel find them are by walking around the house and shaking various packages of food. You think this is a joint effort to eat more.

Baal says ‘thank you first’ and is the gentle teether. He likes to cuddle like that. Hesperus is an avid climber that prefers to latch

Half the time you don’t know if the twins are cuddling and scenting or play fighting. They’re more energetic than you expected.

Ironically, there favorite person is Mammon. He runs fast when Lucifer scares him and they like to chase him. When they want to sleep, they go to Uncle Belphie. He’s just not energetic enough to play with.

They’ll grab anyone’s leg and sit on them. They like to be carried like this.

Asmo only managed to get a blurry picture of it, but somehow the twins managed to get Lucifer to drag them around by sitting on his cape. It was very cute.

They’re pretty much Beel’s shadow. They like to follow him and he regularly uses them as extra weights in his routine. Sometimes they run around the yard together. Beel tries to teach them how to play Fangol but they end up trying to gnaw the ball to death and end up wrestling for it. “At least they’re active,” he mumbles as he picks you up to keep you out of harms way

They fall asleep in the grass, fangs still trying to dig into the ball.

Day 5 and 6 they become strong talkers and always insist on going long walks. They want to look at alll the stuff! They’re probably at the age of four or five (maybe six) and Beel deems them behaved enough to see some of his favorite restaurants in the Devildom.

You eat so much you think you’ll be sick. You have three boys who will gladly help you with the rest. They fight over an extra-hard crunchy baguette and don’t seem to have the concept of sharing at this point. They’re fussing and butting heads and Beel notices their horns are breaching.

You bag everything to go and Beel offers to fly you all home since you’re absolutely stuffed. He barely hears it, but a tiny little whine is trying to harmonize with his wings. One of them has grown wings (it was Baal).

That evening is spent with Beel and Belphie gently bumping them with their horns to coax them out.

You’re constantly portioning food and trying to make it fair. Beel is a good mediator. He won’t let his kids starve by any means but if they won’t share after he’s explained (and re-explained) why it’s nice to do so, he just eats the thing so they have nothing to fight over

They learn that lesson in the dead of night when they sneak down for their own raid and use each other (and the cabinets/drawers) like a jungle gym to get to the good stuff. Whatever they grab, they split. When Beel catches them, some kind of chocolate thing over his face, Baal looks unapologetic and Hesperus just asks if he wants a bite

Beel is not a disciplinarian. You will have to do that.

Overall the boys are very helpful. They will help bring in groceries and clean up the yard with their uncles. They really love doing the latter because the find all kinds of bugs. They try to give them to Mammon and Lucifer but both of them hate them. A lot.

Belphie notices them and pays them in food to put bugs in Lucifer’s office and bed. No regrets. Satan joins in on this with fancy foods from his foodie connections. They are the unofficial mascots of the Lucifer Sucks Club

Day 7 involves visiting some of Beel’s club activities and the members being absolutely in love with the kids. They get them tiny Fangol jerseys and they run around with the ball. It’s a good day with lots of cute pictures.

They try to hype of the twins and put them on their shoulders but it was here you learned Baal doesn’t like Hesperus getting too far from him and DEFINITELY doesn’t like him being around a bunch of strangers. You don’t know if he thought they were taking him away, but they definitely got dive-bombed by a tiny flying ginger.

Beel has to console him and keep them together for a few hours until he calms down. Simeon overheard the commotion (actually: heard it from Solomon, who was told by Asmo) and offered to make some Celestial Treats to “share the heritage” since Beel is technically an angel.

The twins also love Luke TO DEATH and he is extremely stressed out. They’re cute but very strong and accidentally kind of rough. They chase him too. They want to climb on him; one is enough to knock him off guard and two practically smother him. Send help.

Simeon is absolutely in love with them and the boys cuddle him and shake him down for sweets as nicely as they can.

Diavolo may not be as close to Beelzebub as he is Lucifer, but he still wants to see the children. Demon children are a beautiful thing (and he wants an excuse to get out of work)! On Day 8, Barbatos whips up a very fancy meal which the kids are all for. They like playing hide and seek with Diavolo. You and Lucifer both about shit a brick when they take to climbing on chandeliers and up into the crevices of the castle. Hesperus learned to fly that day, and refused to come down for Lucifer.

Day 9, Barbatos and Simeon invite them to a garden-style orchard to pick fruits and vegetables. They boys are covered in dirt and have leaves in their hair but they are very proud of what they picked and can’t wait to make things to eat (they look very cute in overalls).

Somewhere between Day 8 and 9 both boys have gotten into the habit of shucking off their shirts to let their wings stretch out. When they don’t feel like talking, they sound off with their wings. Beel has adopted this habit and can usually be seen shirtless or in one of those muscle tees with the holes in the side.

On Day 9 the boys decide they want to make a big buffet for the class since Beel took a lot of pictures. They know basic knife skills and have special protective gloves and things like that. Beel bought you all matching aprons. The whole thing goes relatively smoothly; you have a family tray ‘for sampling’, and a bigger portion that will be taken to the class

All bets are off when it comes to making desserts. It’s hard to get the batter into the pan before they’re trying to “lick the bowl clean” (it’s not even empty). You end up with two chocolate-smeared demons that Asmo very reluctantly lets into his bath. You help wash. Beel supervises and is prepared to catch these crafty, sweet gremlins in towels.

Day 10, you make your way to the classroom. The boys want to dig into the buffet (”But your friends are doing it!”) and they almost forget to do the report. They talk for a little bit, pause for a snack. It’s pure bribery. They are finished and rewarded with more food. Beel strings up all his photos at the front of the classroom as the boys sit in your lap and eat.

They make their way to the summoning circle and the teacher has a hard time determining their age. These two are built like brick houses. Are they in the upper percentile for everything or actually older? They’re either very tall eight-year-olds or the age limit goes above 10. Results are inconclusive.

You get a B that is argued to an A on Satan and Lucifer’s behalf. The teacher tried to argue that they were a little unruly and showed a lack of discipline but duh, they’re kids!

Hesperus growled something out in pure demon and you’re not sure what it was. Judging by Belphie and Satan’s expression, it’s probably something a parent wouldn’t want their kid to say. Who knows where they picked it up from?!

Baal just looked like he wanted to bite the guy’s nose off, and has taken a protective mantling stance on Beel’s shoulder.

You walk them to the summoning circle and the twins are just as sad as Beel. They want to stay. Baal is crying silently and can only manage to bring his horns out and bump heads. Hesperus makes you promise to cook lots of food ‘for when we come back’ and that he’ll even wash dishes if you promise.

You give them kisses and wipe Baal’s tears away, to which he gently teethes on you. Hesperus just hugs his brother from behind, the two disappearing in thick clouds of smoke.

The class goes on casually as people pick at food and gush about the twins. You stay behind with Beel to pack up the uneaten food. He’s very solemn as he’s taking all the photos off the board, handling them with care.

“So, uh...why the photos?” you’ve tied up the last bag and have it sitting on the big catering trays Simeon lent you.

“I didn’t want to forget them like I did Lilith...not that I ever really forgot her. Sometimes it’s just...hard to remember her clearly. You know, to remember everything from before. It happens when you’re over five thousand years old.” he’s trying to smile sweetly for you but you can see the pain in it, “I just wanted to keep them with me. I didn’t get that option with her.”

Ooh boy have the floodgates opened for both of you! You hold this big six-something demon boy like he’s one of your babies and he’s never been more grateful. He feels your tears in his hair and you both have a cathartic cry. There’s no where comfortable to snuggle so you opt to heal quietly at the House of Lamentation with some of the leftover food.

It’s a quiet affair, hiding in Beel’s room. You catch him constantly touching your stomach but don’t say anything. His hand is warm and large over your stomach. You’re on the edge of a food coma when you hear him mutter, “Maybe one day.” as he gives it a little pat.

#Obey Me!#Obey Me! x Reader #Beelzebub x Reader #Beel x Reader

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lxngbottom · 4 years ago

Note

More mute fic pls omg

Mute | N.L (Part 2)

in which the reader doesn’t talk, and neville is still trying to change that.

warnings: some angst, bullying, swearing (let me know if there are more!)

word count: 2,877

i wasn’t planning on making a part 2 to this but you ask i deliver!! but, maybe a part 3 as well if i feel like the story isn’t finished!

PART 1 HERE!

—

since that day in the library, neville longbottom could not seem to get y/n off of his mind. she ran through it like a marathon, but neville enjoyed every second of it. he couldn’t seem to forget the little giggle that left your lips on that day, or the way you uttered that “goodnight” to him.

he came to visit her quite a few times in the library after that. he wouldn’t go everyday unlike her, due to the fact he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. he liked spending time with you, even if the conversations were one sided. but, he couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room...

she still had yet to say anything else.

so when today came, he was prepared to get some progress. he felt some sort of guilt due to the fact he would never want to make her feel like you were some sort of experiment to him, or to anyone else. he just hated seeing her so lonely.

the great hall rung out with the sound of chattering and gossip as breakfast continued. neville found himself searching for y/n, as she hadn’t shown up yet. but, when she finally walked in with two books grasped into her hand, a bright smile formed onto the boy’s face.

“what are you so cheery about, longbottom?” seamus asked with a raised eyebrow. but it didn’t take him long to realize what his herbology loving friend was so happy about. because he looked over at where neville was staring, and he connected the dots. “merlin’s beard... you fancy mute!”

dean and him chuckled at the thought,

“what?! no i don’t! and... don’t call her that.” neville clapped back, finally ripping his eyes away from y/n.

“oh, it’s alright, longbottom. we’re just messing with you. but seriously, if you fancy her, why don’t you ask her out?” dean asked, hitting seamus on the shoulder.

neville shrugged, “she won’t talk.”

seamus rolled his eyes, “well, no shit.”

the three boys looked over at her, and her nose was dug into the same herbology book she had checked out a week ago. the look on her face would confirm that she seemed content with how the day was going so far.

but, of course, the slytherins had to change that.

as y/n was reading up on the finer details of a water plant, she felt something hit the back of her head. neville quickly looked over, and saw malfoy and his goons laughing like a pack of wild dogs. he looked over to y/n once more, and saw her staring at the piece of toast that had settled on landing on the floor.

she sighed, but decided to ignore it.

“hey, mute!” malfoy called out for her, another piece of toast in hand. y/n looked behind her, locking eyes with the white haired boy. “think fast!”

he threw another piece, this time right on her face. and sure enough, it was covered in butter and jam. it hit right on her cheek, and it stuck for a moment before sliding off onto her jumper.

for once, the expression on her face leaked pure anger. she whipped her head around once more, and her mouth fell open for one single moment to speak. it seemed as if the whole slytherin table went quiet for a moment, just waiting for her to say something. anything.

neville as well sat, staring intently at her. he just wanted to her stand up for herself, at least once.

but, as the words attempted to crawl their way out of her, they went right back down. she couldn’t muster up the strength to say anything,

“got something to say, mute?” draco teased, flashing a grin at her, “oh, wait. i forgot. you can’t talk!”

his friends all chuckled at malfoy’s stupid joke, and y/n simply collected her things, and dashed out of the great hall.

neville sighed, his fist clenched from aggravation.

“maybe... some speech therapy would work?” dean suggested suddenly, and neville shook his head.

—

care for magical creatures was never something that neville found interesting, but he enjoyed walking out into nature with his friends, hearing hagrid ramble on about dragons and how there living environments are.

“this ere’ creature is a classic, but an ol’ favorite of mine. i’m sure yer’ all familiar with it,” hagrid spoke excitedly, walking over to a random tree bush.

all of the students watched intently as he bent down, and grabbed the unknown creature from the bush. y/n seemed just as intrigued as anyone else did. and neville couldn’t help but smile at the way you got on your tippy toes to see what creature hagrid had in store for everyone today.

“he’s er’ a bit hungry today. but, that’s why you all are ere’ i pose’,” hagrid explained, and finally, he pulled out the mystery creature hiding behind the bush. the students let out a mantra of “awww’s” as hagrid carried a niffler in his hand. he walked up closer to everyone, showing the creature off a little.

“nifflers don’t really ever bite. unless, of course’, you makin’ him angry!”

y/n stared at the creature intently, and focused on writing down the physical details. what color it was, what shape it was. she would never admit it, but she absolutely loved care for magical creatures. it was one of her favorite classes, as she loved learning about the cutest creatures and how they lived their lives.

“he’s cute, isn’t he?” y/n heard from right beside her. she looked over and saw neville longbottom, smiling lightly at her. “were we supposed to take notes? oh dear...”

y/n quickly shook her head at his worry, and closed her notebook. she could do research on nifflers at some other time.

neville and y/n stood beside each other, listening to hagrid’s lesson. neville would glance over at her, just to remind himself of how she looked. her face was morphed into a focused one, and she bit the inside of her lip. he couldn’t help to notice her side profile, and how perfectly constructed the girl seemed to be.

“right’, who wants to feed him?” hagrid asked the large group of students, and all of them automatically shot their hands up in the air, wanting nothing more to pet the niffler.

y/n wanted to, she wanted to do bad, but, she couldn’t raise her hand. she didn’t have the courage to. neville noticed that it was killing her to not be one of the kids to raise their hand, and he could tell that she genuinely wanted to feed the niffler.

hagrid skimmed through the students, pondering on who he should pick. but out of all of the students, he noticed one who didn’t in fact have her hand raised. but, looked quite interested.

“miss y/l/n, is it? come on ver’ ere’!”

y/n’s eyes widened, and everyone looked at her. they all huffed and rolled their eyes as she slowly approached hagrid. neville of course, had the goofiest smile laid upon his round face. he was happy that she got picked, even if she didn’t raise her hand for it.

“ere’, hold him for just one moment,” hagrid requested, passing the niffler over to y/n. when she obtained it, she smiled softly.

the niffler seemed to take notice to the girl’s feature, and he nibbled at the ends of her hair as hagrid grabbed the food. “aye! what i’d tell ye’ about nibblin’ on young ladies hair?! it’s not nice!”

y/n giggled at hagrid’s “parenting”, and pet the niffler on the top of the head. some students seemed to be shocked that she let out a small laugh such as that one, but neville was in bliss.

“right’, jus’ take a piece...” hagird began, reaching into the bag of food, “and just put it by its beak!”

hagrid did so, and the niffler almost chomped on his fingers from how hungry he was. hagrid let out a chuckle, as well as y/n as the hungry niffler chewed on its food. “yer’ turn, miss?”

and y/n repeated the same thing. she smiled as the niffler made small noises, and reached for more food. “one more!” hagrid barked, and popped the piece of food right into it’s mouth.

hagrid began to explain the finer details of nifflers, and what they really were. y/n held the niffler patiently, playing with it a little as hagrid kept on with today’s lesson.

“see, somethin’ else they love is for a wizard er’ witch to speak to em’. they can be quite the talkative creature,”

y/n’s eyes went wide from the giant’s statement, and she started to hope & pray that hagrid’s next choice of words weren’t going to be what she thought they might be.

but, her hopes were faltered;

“go on! tell em’ yer’ name!”

neville stared, knowing what was probably coming next. he could tell from the drop in her face that she was anxious,

“don’t be scared, now! go on!”

y/n looked the niffler in the eyes, and it looked like it was waiting, just like everyone else was. she needed to say something, just anything.

“um...” she muttered, and some of the student’s jaws dropped from just hearing that.

“she can’t talk!” a voice rung out through the trees, and y/n looked over to see pansy parkinson smirking with malfoy. “yeah, she doesn’t know how to speak!” draco added, him and his friends giggling.

other students began to join in on laughing, and yelling about how quiet she was, even some calling her by her infamous nickname... mute.

y/n looked away, and quickly put the niffler back into hagrid’s arms. she stormed over to her things, and collected them quickly.

“where are you going?” neville whispered over to her, trying his best to make her stay. “these people don’t matter, y/n. just stay.”

she looked up at him, and his heart shattered from what he saw. tears filled her eyes, and her lip quivered. she threw her bag over her shoulder, grabbed her textbook, and ran away from the large group of students.

the students laughed at her as she did so, and more vile things about her left the mouths of draco and his friends.

“aye!” hagrid yelled, and the students fell silent. “ten house points takin away from all of ya’s’! we never treat our fellow students like that!”

the students groaned and attempted to protest, but hagrid simply wasn’t having any of it.

“class dismissed! and i’ll be sure’ to let all ye’s heads know bout’ the way yer’ all acted today!”

as students collected their things and left in small groups, chatter of y/n escaped their lips, and not in a very kind way, either.

“ten house points from all of us?! this has got to be some kind of sick joke!” seamus complained, “we didn’t even say anything about the girl!”

neville scoffed and rolled his eyes, “but, you laughed. that’s the issue.”

seamus furrowed his eyebrows, “don’t tell me you’re angry at me because i laughed? if something is funny, i laugh! i’m allowed to laugh, longbottom!”

neville didn’t have time to argue with seamus, he needed to go and find y/n. just to make sure she was alright.

—

tears fell quickly from her face, hitting the book pages as she tried to read. she sniffled, trying to get them to go away.

after her embarrassment, y/n had escaped to the library. where she was sure she would be safe, but was proven wrong when students from that same class found her, and began to harass her, and threaten her due to the fact everyone had lost points for their house.

y/n sat alone, like always. crying to herself, wondering what was wrong with her. why couldn’t she just speak? why couldn’t she be like everyone else and have a normal conversation with others? what was she so weird?

as her thoughts took over her, she didn’t notice neville longbottom approaching the same table they both shared. he frowned when he heard the small cries leave her lips,

“y/n?”

the soft voice made y/n look up, and she quickly wiped her tears away. he pulled out the same chair he had been sitting in for the past two weeks, and sat down slowly.

“are you alright? i’ve been looking for you for the past hour,” he stated, a flash of worry showing in his eyes. “i should’ve known that you’d be here. but, you know me... i forget almost everything.”

as neville made his way to the library, he thought about every way possible to get y/n to speak. and the constant rambling and questions obviously weren’t working, so maybe, instead of forcing to her to speak, maybe he could try to relate to her. make her feel comfortable and safe enough to talk around him.

“you know... malfoy has always given me a hard time, too. him and all of his friends. they’re really mean.” he informed her, still looking into her eyes. “but, one day, i finally stood up for myself. and, they haven’t necessarily... left me alone or anything, but they’re a bit less cruel, you know?”

y/n simply just stared at him blankly, having only a small hint at what he was talking about. “he used to throw toast at me during breakfast. it was immature, but... it still hurt me feelings.”

y/n didn’t know that malfoy treated her the same way he had always treated neville. she felt bad for him, as she knew exactly how it felt to be a victim of malfoy’s torture.

“but, when i stood up to him... merlin, i’ll never forget it. i felt like i could... spit fire or something! it was honestly one of the greatest feelings that i’ve ever had! i felt unstoppable!”

neville was waving his hands, going on this small tangent about when he stood up to malfoy. y/n admired his courage, and the way he talked to excitedly about it.

“all i’m saying is... is that maybe, one day, you should stick up for yourself. i would do it for you... but i don’t think that it would make it any better for you or for me. so... just maybe—“

he was cut off by how quickly she was shaking her head,

“you don’t have to do it today, or tomorrow, or even next week! just, at some point, you know? i promise you’ll feel better if you do it!”

but, she shook her head once more. neville sighed, already feeling defeated.

there was a few moments of silence before neville spoke up once more:

“why don’t you speak, y/n?”

y/n frowned, the question that she hated the most being asked.

“doesn’t anyone ever ask you why? or, you know... try to get to know you at least?”

she shook her head sadly, and her eyes wandered back onto the page of her book,

“well... i really like hanging out with you. and, i want to know all of your interests and stuff. you seem really cool, and... i want to get to know you better.”

y/n thought for a moment, her instincts taking over her. normally when someone said things like this, she would rush out of the room, not even giving them a chance to say further more. but, neville was different. he didn’t seem to have any bad intentions, he just seemed... intrigued.

“why?”

neville thought for a moment that his ears were deceiving him, but when he looked over at y/n once more, he figured out that she was waiting for a response.

it took him a moment to collect his thoughts before he answered, “uh, well... i know how it feels to be the quiet kid. and, most of the time... i’m alone. i just don’t like seeing—others alone, i suppose. it hurts me.”

y/n looked up at him, “but... you have friends.”

neville felt giddy on the inside. finally, he had got her to say more that one single word. even though it wasn’t under the best circumstances, neville was proud of her.

“well, yeah. but... they have friends as well. and, we don’t really share the same interests. in fact, my friends laugh when i talk about herbology. they’re great and all, but... i don’t know. i just wish i had someone to talk to about things like that.”

there was a few more beats of silence, and neville really hoped that he hadn’t said something that made her shut down again.

“um...” she started, “i—i like herbology.”

the small sadness that had taken over neville instantly faded, and he smiled at the girl’s words.

“really?”

she smiled at him, her problems seemingly leaving her body. she nodded her head, “and... care for magical creatures.”

neville could practically feel his heart about to burst from his chest.

“that’s... nice. i’ve never been much into it, but, i would love to know more about it.”

to everyone else in hogwarts, y/n was known as mute. she never spoke, and when she did, it was only a single word. but neville, he saw so much more than that. he saw a girl with a great personality, a beautiful mind.

and, he couldn’t wait to get to know her.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter smut #neville longbottom #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom smut #neville x reader

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morimallow · 4 years ago

Note

Kenma with a gamer s/o that’s actually more of a introvert than him - like they’ll be eating ramen 24/7 snacks, chips, BIG eye bags, slightly messy room, game collection that date back too 2005/2012, will literally stay up for 3 day to play a game, raging etc.

Gender neutral pls :)

A/N: I am genuinely sorry for not writing this earlier because I surprisingly had fun writing this even if I don't play games and stuff. I hope you like this! ^o^

As usual, I posted this the second I was done writing it so this wasn't proof read and if you ever notice that I shifted from second person POV to third, I apologize. I've been using third person in the multi-chap I've been working on. (╥_╥)

Kenma Kozume's Gamer S/O

How you met Kenma was both cliche and at the same time, unusual because what are the chances that you'd meet your Player 2 for who knows how long at a local game store to buy the newly released video game you were both supposed to play that night?

You both thought that the person you met inside the store was a whole different human being.

It's not an angsty love story because when you realized your stories match up, you immediately started getting closer and closer until you found yourself in front of Kenma's large TV, sitting in your own gaming chair beside his black one, playing an old game released way back in 2005 and trying to complete all of the quests before 3AM.

Although it was hard to convince you to play at his house because surprise! You were even more introverted than him. You work from home, you do go out for groceries (sometimes but you usually order them online) and for games, of course, but in hoodies and a face mask so people won't talk to you.

So, Kenma had to make a move.

When he found out you both live in the same neighborhood, he played it simple first. He would place a bag of your favorite junk foods and the sweet drink you rarely drink and sometimes it's the energy drink you've always preferred with a little note asking if you'd let him borrow that limited edition video game from your vast collection of games from 2005 to 2012.

That was a good move, you'd have to admit because he knows the games he mentioned in the notes were the most precious to you and wouldn't leave it hanging inside a plastic bag hooked on your front door knob and wait for him to get it without anyone looking at it suspiciously.

It was too risky.

Fuck human interaction, right? Your games were more important.

Those little interactions and accidental touching of hands when you both decide it's the perfect time to grab a piece or two of potato chips Kenma bought on his grocery trip (believe me, it's a soulmate thing).

Ah, yes. So romantic.

Then the time came when you considered Kenma like one of your precious games — you don't want to throw it out, to sell and ship it away, you don't want anyone else to handle it because you know you can and you want to. You want him safe with you and show off to everyone as if he was the last copy of the rarest and most expensive purchase you've had.

In their faces.

You didn't really plan on confessing to him until you were playing where duos could battle and your opponent asked who Kenma was with because your moves were so in sync like you've played it for so long that you know each other's plays and moves (spoiler alert: you really did though).

“They're my S/O,” he answered before looking at you and asked for confirmation, “right?”

Play first! Play first! You gripped the controller, mumbling strings of curses under your breath in which Kenma thought it was your way of letting out the rage because of the game.

After you defeated them, you answered his previous question but more like stating it to your opponents, “Yeah, I'm his S/O,” you confirmed before reaching for the bag of chips beside Kenma when he grabbed your hand and placed a kiss between your knuckles then he continued playing as if it was the most normal thing he'd done.

Tonight would be the third night you've gone without sleep with Kenma. It shouldn't be a habit because it's obviously unhealthy to not get even a little bit of rest throughout the day but it kinda became a thing for you two. It's the quality time, it's the hobbies and interests you share that makes you feel things.

You weren't in front of Kenma's large TV tonight, you were plopped down on the bed with his blanket sitting comfortably over your bum and Kenma was outside the room somewhere doing something you absolutely didn't pay attention to when he was talking.

His room wasn't entirely messy like you expected. It was the typical room that has that kind of home-y vibes just to your taste. There was a stack of paperworks on his bedside table and on the floor along with pens and folders.

It was just like him to have this kind of room.

Kenma entered the room with a big microwavable container enough to feed the both of you, talking to someone on the phone which was between his shoulder and ear, “Yeah, we're eating. No, please. Shoyo—”

To your surprise, it wasn't ramen or those ready-to-eat meals from the convenience store with only one tablespoon of meat and a cup of rice, no. It was a real meal, a very healthy one, you think. Turns out that Hinata and Kuroo sent it to his house that afternoon because his two best friends liked to take care of him and now, you too since the container became bigger compared to what Kenma had received when you weren't together yet.

Kenma took a spoonful, hovered in front of you and waited for you to open your mouth before taking a bite for himself then went back to playing.

That was also one of the things you both just… did for each other. For some people, it might be romantic to give the first bite to your lover and for others, it might be a way to protect themselves, you know? To check if it was poisoned. Your hidden intentions weren't voiced out, just simply trusted each other.

A big celebratory YOU'VE REACHED THE END OF THE GAME appeared on the screen indicating that you both had completed the quests and can finally sleep.

Eye contact was very necessary every after games (if his eyebags looked horrible, you should probably check yourself out too) like how placing a kiss between your knuckles became a habit of his.

#kenma kozume #kenma x reader #kenma x you #kenma x y/n #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #timeskip kenma #kenma x gn!reader #haikyuu x gn!reader

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imkylotrash · 4 years ago

Text

Glitter In The Air

Pairing: Sky x reader

Request: The reader is the girl Stella blinded and no one believes her that it was Stella not even Sky in the beginning. But in the end they end up back together. Anonymous

A/N If you want to know where I took inspiration from, it’s Glitter in the Air by Pink 💛

Tagging: @grey-girl @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @intoanothermind @artsyle @baueoud @glowingatdawn

As you enter the dining hall, you feel everyone stare at you. You don’t need to be able to see to know you’re the centre of attention. You can still see shadows so your vision hasn’t been completely lost but Stella ruined your eyes forever that day. You’d never be able to see your mom’s face again or look at the boy you loved. You inch forward getting some food before sitting down. It’s only the second day since you got back, but everyone has treated you like a complete freak for those 48 hours. No one believed Stella had done this to you, not even Sky.

You’d spent months in the hospital waiting for him to call you or even just text you but he hadn’t. Instead you’d waited by the phone feeling lonely and pathetic. Of course, he didn’t believe you. No one did. Except he was your boyfriend when it happened and you really thought he would care. He was the only one you counted on to have your back but for some reason he took Stella’s side.

“Hey. Is anyone sitting here?” You look up before realising it doesn’t change much for you. It’s a habit that’s been hard to shake - the need to make eye contact, inspect the face in front of you. Having been robbed of the possibility, you found it mattered even more to you now than before.

“No, it’s fine.” You don’t recognise her voice which means she must be a first year. The only year that wouldn’t know what had happened to you. Carefully, you remove the sunglasses you’ve been wearing waiting for the person to notice. You’ve been told that your eyes look charred as if your eyes had been on fire. Suppose with Stella’s powers they had.

“What’s your name?” the stranger asks completely ignoring your eyes. It’s weird but nice. You like not having to explain it or be called a liar when people refuse to believe your story.

“Y/N. You?”

“Bloom. I just started and I didn’t see anyone I knew so I figured I could sit with you.” Of course, she thought so. It’s easy sitting down next to the outcast. Tomorrow, she’ll not want to sit with you when she realises what’s happened.

“Please. Don’t slum down.” Now that voice you’d recognise anywhere. A chill spreads down your spine just by hearing her talk. You can’t believe you have to go to school with the perpetrator just because she’s the princess of Solaria and you’re the poor girl who no one believed.

“Stella! This is Y/N. She’s really nice.” Bloom seems outraged over Stella’s comment but it’s far from the worst Stella has said to you.

“It’s fine, Bloom. I’m done anyway,” you smile before carefully following the wall down the hall. It’s a good thing you have a mental map of Alfea so you actually know where you’re going. You’d needed to learn it for a prank where getting away quickly had been crucial. That was when the two boys, Sky and Riven, still talked to you.

“1, 2, 3, 4...” You’re not prepared for someone turning the corner and walking right into you. If it hadn’t been for them catching you, you would’ve fallen ass down.

“Thank!” you exclaim finding your place on the wall again. You could go years without touching him and still recognise him immediately. Electricity cackles between your skin and his. He’s holding you so gently, you feel like crying again but you’re not going to. He had every chance to believe you and stand up for you, but he didn’t.

“No, I’m sorry. I should watch where I’m going.” His voice brings back memories you’ve been trying to avoid. Picnic on the field with you feeding him a strawberry and then absolutely cracking up because it turned out to be the most unsexy thing ever. Him asking you to close your eyes and trust him because he had something huge planned; a trip to Earth. That was the place he picked because he knew how much you loved small villages and the countryside in England was perfect for exploring and finding tiny villages that had stayed under the radar of tourism.

“I guess we’re both sorry then.” You don’t know what else to say because what do you say to the boy who refused to believe you when you told him how you got hurt? You wanted him to apologise and say he believed you. Instead he walks past you mumbling something about being late for class. You don’t meet him again until the specialists’ party. You hear Riven use your story as a horror story meant to scare of Bloom but if you know Sky right, she’s not even his type. That’s what sets this whole thing in motion. You’re about to leave when he corners you. His breath smells like cheap beer and punch letting you know that he hasn’t been taking it easy tonight.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers leaning his forehead on your shoulder. You want to push him away and tell him to never talk to you again but god, you’ve missed him.

“Sorry for what?” you ask standing completely still. It’s been months since anyone’s touched you. The doctors tried to but you hated being touched. Ever since Stella blinded you, you’d been struggling with being touched but Sky was the exception.

“Riven told Bloom about you and I defended Stella. But when I confronted her, she admitted to it. She admitted to blinding you and I didn’t believe you all those months ago.” You feel something wet hit your shoulder and it takes a second for you to realise that he’s crying. It’s hot, fresh tears because he didn’t believe you.

“Why didn’t you believe me when I told you?” This is not the right time. He’s drunk and emotional. Your therapist would most definitely scold you for this because all you’re doing is ask for trouble.

“Because I’m an idiot. I have no real reason other than I got swept away with everyone else believing Stella over you. I should’ve questioned her explanation much sooner.” It’s everything you’ve dreamed of hearing but it clings hollow when you think about the fact that he’s drunk right now. He might think differently in the light of day.

“You’re drunk. Come find me tomorrow if you still want to apologise then.” You gently take a step to the side breaking the contact between you and Sky. After that you go straight to bed anxious for the next day. Even if he shows up, it’ll still be a lot of work for you to be able to trust him again. He broke your heart siding with Stella and you’re not sure you could go through that again.

He finds you the next night asking you to follow him. It takes your breath away seeing his shadow but knowing you’ll never again be able to enjoy his face. You can’t believe how much Stella took from you that day and all because she was jealous.

“I still want to apologise,” he says once you’re finally outside. The moon is so huge and bright today that you can vaguely spot it. Something that doesn’t happen often anymore. The healers did an amazing job on your eyes even though they didn’t manage to fix them entirely.

“I never should’ve believed Stella. And I can think of a million excuse but you deserve better than that. So, I’ll just say that I’m sorry and I take full responsibilities for what happened between the two of us. I should’ve believed you and stood by you.” It’s nice for someone to finally believe you but you’re hesitant taking him back. What about next time something happens? Will he not believe you then?

“How can I trust that?” you ask.

“By letting me show you. I know I don’t deserve a second chance but I promise you this time I’ll be different. If you ask me to, I’ll do anything for you. I’ll climb up and bring back a piece of the moon if that’s what you want me to do.”

“What if I want the full moon?”

“Then I’ll bring you the full moon. I just need you to know how deeply sorry I am for ever hurting you and abandoning you when you needed me the most.” You don’t want this night to end. You’ve waited so long to hear him say this and now he’s saying everything you hoped for.

“I would need to take it slow. I want to trust you, but...” You wish he’d touch you so that you could him there. It’s not the same just hearing his voice.

“I get it. I wouldn’t either if the roles were reversed. But I promise I’ll spend the rest of our lives making up for this.” He’s close enough for you to feel his breath hit your skin. He’s letting you decide if you want to close the gap and in turn agree to a second chance.

“I can’t get hurt like that again,” you whisper fighting a losing battle against the tears forming in your eyes.

“I know, sugar.” You close the gap unable to resist any longer. Hearing his old nickname for you is what tips the boat. Some might say you’re an idiot for believing him and forgiving him but the heart wants what the heart wants. You want to give him a second chance to prove that’s matured over the past months.

“Thank you for giving me a second chance.” As you struggle a little to catch your breath, you can’t help but think that it’ll never be better than tonight.

#sky x reader #sky blurb #sky imagine #sky gif #sky #winx sky #sky of eraklyon #fate the winx saga #fate winx club #fate the winx club #winx club #winx saga #fate winx #fate #fate netflix

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whump-a-la-mode · 4 years ago

Text

Nemesis - Part 3

This part is a little more plot heavy, but I added in some nice Whumpy bits too! I hope you guys enjoy, and thanks everyone for their suggestions!

Also, the next part of this may be a bit late, as I’m planning for my next piece to be the continuation of Villainsicle!

CW//Mentions of law enforcement, mentions of therapy/treatments, restraints, medical abuse, begging, screaming, forced sedation, needles, blood

Open the door.

It would be so simple. The entrance was constructed of little more than wood and a flimsy lock. Even someone without the benefit of powers could break it. And, based on what Hero had seen so far of this place, it may not have even been locked.

Just open it.

Open the door, and they could sleep again.

Open the stupid door.

But...

Hero’s hands clenched into fists, their gaze moving upwards, fixing upon the metal plaque upon the door.

‘43′

Beyond the simple plank of wood, their nemesis was laying. Suffering. Trapped in their own mind.

They could open the door, just twist the knob, and save them. In any other time, any other instance, it was what they would have done. They knew the way the others spoke of them, joked about them. Saying they’d jump off a bridge, even if their friends hadn’t done it first. They couldn’t control their impulses. That was what Leader always wrote, in the reports. Impulsive. Reckless.

That’s what they were. Reckless.

But that was back when it didn’t matter. That was back when the only one in danger was them. Hero. Now that Villain was part of the equation?

They had to think. They had to be smart.

Hero bit their tongue with enough force that the taste of bloody iron washed over their taste buds.

They didn’t open the door.

Around the corner, a doctor in blue scrubs furrowed their brow, and dipped away to make a phone call.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“If I’m being completely honest, Hero, I wasn’t expecting you to contact me again.”

Hacker spoke with their head down, sheepish, as though a child apologizing for breaking a toy.

Again, the two sat in the same diner: It was busy, but crowded enough that they could simply blend into the lunch rush without fuss. To avoid questions, the both of them had ordered an appetizer, though neither of them had much of an appetite to speak of.

“You weren’t? Why’s that?”

“I mean...” They leaned back in their seat, pressing their spine against the padded booth seat back. “I didn’t think you’d care? That sounds kind of rude now that I’m saying it out loud but... The stuff I was showing you, I assumed you were already aware of it.”

“You thought I knew the way Villain was being treated?”

“Kind of? That’s the kind of stuff they tell you, right?”

“Eh...” Hero dropped their gaze. “Not really. That’s not our business. We catch the crook, what happens to them after isn’t really our focus.”

Hacker frowned.

“It’s not?”

“No.”

“So you didn’t know?”

“Not at all. I knew they were at that facility but... I thought it was fine. I thought Villain was fine.”

“Maybe I should have told you sooner, then.”

“You knew?”

“Well.” There came the embarrassment once more, their cheeks flushing. “For the scale of your organization, your cybersecurity is a little... lacking. Everything from that rehab facility, it’s stored on an off-site backup. Their on-site security is decent, but once it goes through that external data channel, it’s caught right in my net.”

“Is that right?”

“Don’t tell anyone, please?”

“Trust me, I wasn’t planning on it. I have much bigger problems than low level hackers.”

“Hey!”

“That’s not to say you’re a low-level hacker.”

“That’s better. Then, if you’re not here to like, arrest me-”

“That’s what you thought I was doing?”

“Kinda. If that’s not what you want, what do you want?”

“I want to know more.”

Hero had made the decision upon planning this meeting that they were not to tell Hacker about their visit to the facility. Despite the aid they had already offered, it was hard to trust someone who admitted to criminality with such nonchalance. And, besides, Hero was almost certain that their superiors wouldn’t be happy to know about their distraction.

“More?”

“You’ve been watching them for a while, right? I want to know more. Everything about Villain, everything about the whole place. How much do you know?”

“A lot. I have a considerable amount of files, though I have no way of knowing how many more there are that I don’t have. How many they keep on-site.”

“But you have information?”

“I have a lot of junk. Taxes, insurance, quarterly reports, formalities. Prescriptions for mundane crap like, I don’t know, allergies. But, I think I have a few diamonds in the rough. You’re going to have to be more specific than that, though. I do need something to work off of.”

Hero nodded, biting their lip. They hadn’t exactly thought this far ahead.

They were getting Villain out of that so-called rehab facility. They knew that much. But they needed to be smart about it. They needed information. They needed to know how they could get their friend- foe out of that place quickly, safely, and with as little noise as possible.

“The facility.” They began. “How does it work? It’s a relatively small facility housing a relatively large number of dangerous criminals. How do they... help them? They’re not all treated like Villain, right?”

“I don’t think there’s enough drugs on the continent to keep them all like Villain. Their methods of treatment are... unclear. The patient reports indicate what therapies each one is undergoing, but they don’t have names. Just numbers. Codes. Whatever they do in there, they keep it in house. My doctor friends have never heard of any of it, before.”

“Then how do they do it? Drugs?”

“If they have some kind of secret therapy, I don’t know about it. But they do have something else. They call it AMRS.”

“AMRS?”

“The Automatic Magnetic Restraint System. A fancy name for a crude practice. They’re vague about it, of course, but from what I can tell, each resident wears these four ring things. Bracelets, it calls them. One on each wrist, one on each ankle. A single push of a button, and they all link together. Any escape stopped in a second.”

“That seems...”

“Cruel? Yeah. But I guess it could be worse. As far as how the facility operates, though, that’s all I have. It’s not drugs, as far as I can tell. I have those dosage reports for everyone, and those that take medicine seem to do so for genuine medical conditions. Insulin, epilepsy medication, that kind of thing.”

“None of the others are sedated?”

“Not officially.”

“But Villain...”

“I think if they were any more heavily sedated, they’d go right from a temporary sleep to a permanent one.”

“You mean-”

“They’d die, yes. It’s called a euphemism, dumbass.”

“I know that. So, what about Villain, do you have anything else on them?”

“They’ve been kept heavily sedated since they arrived. Regular patient records, they just... don’t have them. No behavior reports, no treatment reports, nothing.”

“I guess they’re not really treating them.”

“Yeah.”

“They’ve really been kept like this, ever since I- Ever since they arrived?”

“As far as I can tell, yes.”

“Then it wasn’t reactionary.”

“What do you mean?”

“They didn’t try to like, blow up the facility, or kill up all the staff, or anything?! They were just knocked out. Locked up. They weren’t even given a chance to be good?”

Hacker lowered their gaze, nodding.

“Why?”

“Are you sure you want-”

“You know why?”

“I’m not certain, but-”

“Show me.”

Hacker startled a bit, but nodded once more, starting up their beast of a laptop and typing for a considerable amount of time. Hero could not help but hold their breath, and when the computer was at last turned to face them, they felt about to pass out.

“Wait.” Hacker spun the computer back. “You need to promise me something, first.”

“What?” Hero hated how desperate they sounded.

“Whatever you do, after you see this... please, just think it through.”

“Okay.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay.”

The screen was returned to Hero.

They halfway expected another video feed. A video of Villain, destroying and killing and doing something, anything to deserve their current treatment.

Instead, they were faced with an email. Or, at least, a screenshot of one. Passed through enough computers that the jpeg artifacts had begun to show.

An email from Director to Head Doctor.

The text was simple. Curt. A simple request to destroy a life.

“I am certain that you are aware of the new patient you will be intaking tomorrow. I request that you do not classify them among the other patients. Normal intake procedures will be unnecessary. You need only keep them contained. Alive if you can, dead if you must.

Villain must never see the light of day again. I trust that you will be able to accomplish this.

Thank you-- Do not forget that we will be meeting for lunch next Wednesday.”

Not even a hundred words. That was all it took, to turn a spirited fighter to a vegetable.

“Thank you, Hacker. I think... I think I need to go home.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Hero’s parting from the restaurant was sudden enough to make several other patrons look up. Hacker could not help but feel embarrassment well up in their chest. They hated being out in public like this.

They figured, even with the cold food sitting before them, they should be going. Finger on their mouse, they closed the email on the screen, revealing-

Not their desktop.

They had forgotten. They had meant to show Hero and they had forgotten.

Now, the video sat there, waiting. A chipper white arrow informing them that it was ready to play at any time.

They shouldn’t have. Hell, they could have at least waited to go home. But...

Hacker plugged in a set of earbuds, setting the buds themselves in their ears.

They clicked play.

Even on the rather low-quality security camera footage, the crash was loud enough to make Hacker jump. Three lab-coated figures, a mess of limbs and white coats, leapt atop the hospital gown wearing person like a predator after prey.

Villain was not facing the camera, but it made no difference. Their voice made them more than distinctive enough.

“Get the fuck off of me! Get off get off get off!“ The scream was loud enough to break the microphone’s volume filter, turning into a single, mournful screech.

If the labcoats heard, they did not listen. They positioned themselves along their captive’s body-- one holding their legs, one the arms, and one forcing their face to the tile.

“Please!”

The fourth figure wore a different outfit, a pair of blue scrubs, though the camera quality made them appear almost grey. Represented by only a few pixels, the syringe in their hand was none the less distinctive.

“Hold them still, please.” The doctor muttered, kneeling down beside Villain, their hysterical screaming not missing a beat.

“No! No! Please, please don’t do this! I don’t want to go! Please!”

There were no comforting words. Only the satisfied nodding of the head doctor as their needle slipped deftly to a vein and administered its contents.

“What is that, what is that, no no no please!”

A nurse handed down another syringe, and another, and another. The timestamp in the video’s corner dragged on in agonizing slowness as new pinpricks of blood welled up over Villain’s skin.

It took only a few minutes for their screaming to stop. Then their thrashing. Then, they closed their eyes.

It would be a long, long time until they opened them again.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Of course, home was not a place of rest. Not as much as Hero would have liked it to be. They were not a civilian-- they were not that lucky. They did not have the chance to return home to a soft bed and a loving family.

No. When they went home, they went to work.

It was only past noon when they returned home to the HQ. A time at which the towering building stood largely abandoned, its occupants leaving in droves to flood the nearby restaurants like a locust swarm.

Riding the elevator to the floor containing their quarters, Hero hoped beyond hope that their team, too, had gone out.

But, of course, they had no such luck.

They didn’t even make it to their quarters. No, as soon as the elevator doors opened, their heart sunk.

“I saw you walk in.” Leader’s arms were crossed over their chest, a single eyebrow raised. “Let’s go to my office.”

“I was just about to go back to my dorm-”

“Actually, you were just about to follow my orders and go to my office.”

Hero slumped their shoulders. They didn’t have the energy to fight this, especially since they knew it was a fight they couldn’t win.

Leader’s office was a place they had all visited, though never under good circumstances. It was far too immaculately kept for what it was used for, a solid oak desk standing in a room well decorated with house plants and bookshelves. Leader took their seat, and Hero reluctantly did the same, across from them.

“So,” Leader began--they were not one for formalities. “When exactly when you planning on telling me?”

“If you’re going to yell at me about something, you at least have to tell me what.”

“Teammate told me, yesterday. They found out why you’re getting so distracted.”

Hero dropped their gaze. They weren’t exactly surprised about this. They only hoped Teammate had kept their mouth shut about their plans.

“It’s really nothing.” Hero tried. “I’ll get over it.”

“This anniversary you’re getting so upset over was ten days ago. By the time you get over it, another year will have already passed. So, no. You’re not getting out of it that easily. I need to know what’s gotten you so worked up.”

Hero gripped the arm of their chair.

“I’m worried. That’s all. Worried about Villain. It’s been too long. They’ve been so silent for so long.”

Leader frowned.

“I can personally assure you that Villain is being well taken care of. The rehabbers have more experience than you could imagine.”

“That’s just it! Villain spent so long terrorizing the city, and they’re still here. But they’re so quiet.”

Leader sighed, sitting up straight in their chair.

“This isn’t just a minor distraction. You need to know that. It’s reflecting on your performance, and heavily. Enough that Director has noticed.”

“Director?”

“Yes. They asked me about the situation, and I informed them of your current problem. They stated that, if it really is such a concern to you, they can have Villain moved to another facility. Somewhere farther.”

“No!”

“What? They think it would help, really. Out of sight. Out of mind.”

“No. They need to be here.”

“And why would that be?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Thanks so much for reading! Just like last time, there are two options along with every part of this story. Alongside each options is a question, so that you guys can give more specific suggestions if you so wish. The option that receives the most votes will be the choice that our Hero makes!

A.) Leader can help. Tell the truth - Should Hero tell Leader about Director’s role in Villain’s condition?

B.) Leader can also ruin the whole operation. Lie - What should Hero do next?

#whump #whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #nemesis #choose your own adventure #choose your own whump #villain whumpee #hero villain whump #drugged whumpee

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serowotonin · 4 years ago

Text

˗ˏˋ 𝗴𝗼𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗻 𝗱𝗮𝘆𝘀 ˎˊ˗

✰ PAIRING ( terushima yuuji x fem!reader ) ✰ WORDCOUNT ( 1.9k ) ✰ GENRE ( ansgt, songfic ) ✰ WARNINGS ( um one swear word, angst, implications of de*th )

all the memories that we make will never change we'll stay drunk, we'll stay tan, let the love remain and I swear that I'll always paint you golden days ♫ panic! at the disco

✰✰ NOTE.. so uH i think this is the first angst thing i wrote that im actually happy with and i know terushima isn’t someone a lot of ppl write for so to the few ppl who see this</3 hope u guys enjoy:”)

“Ughh where is it,” Terushima grumbled to himself as he pulled open drawer after drawer. He had searched all the cabinets, all the tables, and just about every inch of his apartment but has yet to find his phone charger.

As he closed the second to last drawer on this shelf, which held no phone charger, he pulled out his phone and saw it had 1% battery remaining. Quickly, he unlocked it and went to his contacts. Before he could make a call though, the screen turned black and he was left staring at a faint reflection of himself.

“Damn it,” he cursed under his breath. “She’s gonna get upset again.”

He clutched the now dead phone in one hand and ran the other through his hair, sighing in exhaustion. Today had been tiring enough with work and now he had this to deal with.

There was still one more drawer he hadn’t checked though. So, he lifted his hand out of his hair and pulled it wide open.

In it sat a small box.

He knew of its contents the moment he laid eyes on it. He also knew opening it now would only make him feel worse, not to mention, it would definitely delay his plans.

But for some reason, a longing for nostalgia or maybe the person that brought such nostalgia, his arms unconsciously moved to take the box into his hands.

Your words echoed in the back of his mind as he traced his fingers along the edges of the box.

“It’ll be like our little time capsule. For us to open when we’re all old and wrinkly…”

A deep sigh escaped his lips.

Every rational thought that came into his head begged him not to open it, to put it back, to forget he even found it.

Instead, his fingers moved to lift the cover and lay it down on the floor beside him.

And there you were... a polaroid of you at least.

Your lips were curved in a sweet smile inviting him in and breaking his heart all over again. Up until now, he could barely recall what your face looked like when you were happy, truly happy. He could only remember the tears and regret you had on your face towards the end…

But seeing you like this again, the wideness of your smile, the crinkle of your eyes… you radiated a joy and happiness he had begun to forget in you.

He stared at the picture for a good minute before turning it around to see the familiar strokes of your handwriting.

‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!’ and under it ‘(first pic taken with the polaroid my baby Yuuji got for me<3)’

“My baby Yuuji,” he whispered.

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you,” he sang softly into your ear as he held you from behind, swaying gently in tune.

“Happy birthday dear Y/n.. Happy birthday to you~”

You turned to kiss the blond and he pulled you even closer to him.

“I love you babe, happy birthday...”

The tiredness he had felt just moments ago seemed to have fluttered away when he found you again in the polaroids, and a longing burst from the depths as he put the picture down and picked up another one, his hands once again moving on their own will.

This one had the two of you standing together, backs facing the camera. It was taken at a beach when the sun was still high in the sky and the water glistened blue. But it wasn’t the scenery that appealed to him, nor was it the way the sun wrapped around you two in perfect golden light.

It was how close you were to him. The physical distance between you two was barely existent. Your arms were wrapped around his waist and his were draped over your shoulders.

‘Sea breeze, cute outfit, sand between my toes, and 1 Terushima Yuuji… Damn was today great.’

How he would give to be that close to you again.

“Ok 3, 2, 1…”

You clung on to him as tight as you could and he smiled, pulling you closer.

At the sound of the camera click and the hum of the photo being printed, you let go and quickly turned around to thank the woman for taking the picture.

When you did that he felt off; as if a part of his body was just yanked away. It wasn’t an extreme feeling, nor was it painful in any way. It was more just a lingering emptiness that was put to rest a few seconds later when you were back by his side again.

He put his arm back on your shoulder and peered down at the polaroid in your hand. You were staring at the photo patiently waiting for the colors to fade in. And when it finally did, you smiled satisfactorily at it before tucking it away and flashing another smile to the man right next to you.

Terushima closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to clear his mind. It’s been years, he shouldn’t be dwelling on the past like this.

And yet, there was comfort in the pain the memories brought.

When he opened his eyes, they landed on yet another photo of you. And as he has been for a good part of his life, he was drawn to you. Reaching out a hand, he picked it up and let the memories wash over him once more.

After a while, he set it down and picked up another. And another. And another. Each capturing a moment with you he would never get back.

It’s been years since he’s had to learn to live without you. Truthfully though, he never did learn how. The sun became a little dimmer, the rain a little harder, the breeze a little less refreshing. The world lost its vibrancy when he lost you. He adapted, got used to the dullness, but he couldn’t learn to live the same anymore...

He picked up another polaroid.

This one didn’t have either of your faces on it. It just showed the two of you holding hands against a dark background.

The bottom held no words but instead an arrow pointing to the right. Terushima turned the polaroid and saw a small envelope attached to the back. Curious, he opened it up and pulled out the piece of paper snuggled inside.

‘This one’s a bit longer than any other note I’ve written for a polaroid but… I kinda just realized smth really important. He drove me out at 3AM in the morning to get food because I said I was hungry. Then we sat in his car listening to some old mixtapes he had. They were pretty crappy but it didn’t matter. I love Terushima Yuuji. I’ve said it a million times before but last night it really hit me, hard. I love him in a way I’d never be able to love anyone else.

I want to go on more dates with him. more stupid dates, more romantic ones, more 3AM dates, more cuddle dates. And even though it might be selfish of me, I want to spend my every breathing minute with him.

If I can’t have anything else in this then I just want these golden days of ours to last forever..’

And before he realized it, tears were rolling down his cheeks. Fuck it all. He missed you. He missed the days you had together, the nights spent in each others’ arms. He missed you so much it tore a hole in his heart and all he could see when he looked at the sunlight drifting through the window was just darkness.

It pained him to know that everything you wanted was all he ever needed. It pained him that he hadn’t realized this until it was too late. And it pained him most that you were never coming back.

Why’d you have to leave?

He tried so hard to stop asking this question, and for a while, he was successful. But the polaroids, your handwriting, the memories, you.. there was just so much pain in the happiness of the past.

But you were gone. He had accepted that long ago.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Terushima, you in here?” a familiar voice called from outside.

Right, he forgot about Misaki. Wiping any tears left on his face, he put all the polaroids back in the box, covered the lid, and left the room.

“DADDY!!” a little girl yelled, running at him full speed. He bent down and lifted her into his arms effortlessly.

“Oh you’ve gotten heavier. How much has Misaki been feeding you huh?” he teased.

The little girl pouted as she pointed to the floor signaling she wanted to be put down. Terushima chuckled and did so.

Walking over to a slightly annoyed-looking Misaki, he muttered an apology for not going to pick her up and a thanks for taking care of his daughter.

“Hey wait, you look like you’ve been crying… Are you ok Teru?” she asked, eyes showing her concern.

He let out a deep sigh.

“I uh- I found a box with some old pictures of Y/n and I just-”

She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.

“Look, I know you miss her and I know you know this, but don’t get too stuck in the past. Focus on what you have now,” she said looking in the direction of the young girl who had made her way over to the small pile of stuffed animals on the couch.

He rubbed his face and nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, thank you Misaki.”

“Ok,” she replied with a sympathetic smile. “I’ll be going then.”

Terushima nodded again and after she said bye to his daughter, he walked her to the door.

Turning back he leaned on the wall and looked affectionately at the girl playing on his couch. She was still so young, but it’s been almost 5 years now that he’s taken care of her.

Time seemed to fly by with her and yet it felt like so long ago he welcomed her to the world.

He understood now the past and its memories were something to be treasured. It was not something to cling on tightly though. The golden days of the past are gone, but the glittering rays that coated the floor and walls of his living room tell him it’s a new age.

It was an age he had to cherish well.

Deciding to do something he’s been putting off, he walked back into his room and brought out the box with all its polaroids and memories.

“Yui, come here. I want to show you something.”

She stared at him before taking one frayed teddy bear into her hands and walking over to her father. Taking his outreached hand, she looked at the box he held in his other.

Sitting at the top of the pile was a photo of a beautiful woman. The sun was shining bright in the background and the light swirled around her as if she was wrapped in a golden halo.

“Is she an angel?” Yui asked innocently, pointing to the picture.

“You got that right,” he replied with a sad smile. “She’s the most beautiful angel out there..”

He watched as the young girl picked up the photo, seemingly mesmerized.

“That angel is your mom.”

“My mom?” she echoed. “Mommy is an angel?”

He smiled and ruffled her hair, “She sure is, and you know what? She’s looking out for us from heaven, so you better be a good girl for her, okay?”

✰✰ NOTE.. pls lemme know if u guys thought this was angsty enough sdkjlsdg,,,, i dunno i can’t seem to tell whether angst is painful enough yet;-; also don’t mind the name yui dkglsd it was the first one i could think of T-T

✰✰✰ TAGLIST.. @lilikags @luna-in-luv @kureyama

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 4 years ago

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Waterfall Memories by GleefullyCaptainSwan Chapter 7/9

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx

Chapters titles are based on the lyrics from “Stubborn Love” by The Lumineers

Chapter 7: I Never Trusted My Own Eyes

The days came and went in a blur, busying themselves with mundane chores and simple meals spent dining by candlelight. Killian would tell her tales of the sea, his time as a Lieutenant in the Navy. Sometimes he would sing her a song, a soft melody that would make her heart flutter and her heart ache for a future with him. Each day the moisture would recede into the dirt, drying the roads and carrying them closer to the end of whatever it was they were doing.

And yet with each morning, there would be another excuse as to why it wasn’t a good idea for him to drive into town. Sometimes he would determine that the roads out of the forest were probably still too wet, other times she would tell him she felt too ill to be left alone. But they knew that eventually they would both run out of excuses. She could see it in his eyes each time he lied or made up a reason to stay. She knew they were living on borrowed time. Making memories that would soon be just that.

A memory of the past.

She was sure she would never forget the care he took with her or the way he pleasured her in their bed, his body claiming hers as she sang his name every night. For she was his. At least for the moment.

She’s sure the look of disappointment is heavy in her eyes when he announces suddenly that today is the day he needs to go to town. They are low on supplies since he had only purchased enough for one person. Feeding two of them had quickly eliminated his stock. He kissed her forehead, not making eye contact as he climbed into the truck, pulling away from the cabin before she could run out and beg him to stay. They had run out of time.

~*~

Killian didn’t look back as he pulled away from the cabin, leaving her behind. He knew if he saw her standing there in the doorway he would turn around and never leave her. He needed to do this, for her. He needed to find her home, where she belonged, who she belonged to.

They always knew this was temporary.

The roads were more than dry, he was aware he had delayed for many days, knowing that she had done the same. She was quick to make an excuse to keep him there, with her. But when he woke up, her fingers tangled in his chest hair, her blonde locks across his neck, his heart told him that he couldn’t delay any longer. She needed to go before he gave into his darkness and refused to allow her to leave. She wouldn’t become his hostage and he wouldn’t allow her to choose to live in his prison.

He reached the town, pulling into the parking spot in front of the store he frequented. He would go in, purchase his supplies, listen for any buzz about a missing woman, and if there was nothing, he would return home knowing that he tried. If nothing were to come of his trip, then maybe it was fate that she was to stay another month.

Gathering his supplies, he kept his head to the ground, not making eye contact with anyone in the store. He listened as they talked about their day, apparently a deer had caused some havoc at the town hall, stomping rose bushes and eating the honeysuckle trees. It was strange hearing such normal life going on around him, realizing that he had been enjoying his own mundane life back at the cabin with her. He approached the register, smiling at the woman who knew him as Rogers.

“You’re back sooner than usual.”

He nodded, “Aye, figured with the storm it was a good idea to stock up.”

“That was a big one. Glad the rains have finally stopped, maybe now they can resume that search.”

Killian’s heart stopped. “What are they searching for?”

“Some rich guy’s fiancé disappeared up here a few weeks ago. They dragged the lake but haven’t found her yet and then the storm hit. Been stuck for days just waiting it out. The whole family’s been holed up in the motel at the end of town. Sad. She’s probably dead.” She whispered at the end.

“Who’s the lass?” He questioned, trying to control the pitch of his voice. “The one who’s missing? You know in case I see anything near me.”

She pointed to the door, “Emma Nolan. Her pictures posted outside on the window.”

“I’ll keep my eyes open.” He said as he passed the money to the woman and gathered his bags. He tentatively approached the window, hoping that the picture was some other woman, not his Swan. But the moment he saw the flier, the blonde hair displayed with the large smile on her face, he knew it was her.

Emma Nolan, fiancé to Walsh Oz. She was getting married. The man in the photo stared back at him in a three-piece suit. He looked stuffy and obnoxious, and not the kind of man he imagined his Swan being in love with. He tried to feel shame for taking this man’s beloved, but in the moments when he was inside her, when she was staring at him like he was the most amazing man in the world, she was his Swan. Not this Nolan woman.

“Sad tale.” He jumped at the voice behind him, turning to see the Sheriff approaching him. “Beautiful woman on a weekend trip with friends falls over the old waterfall and disappears without a trace.”

“I heard.” He offered flatly. “Sad indeed.”

“You wouldn’t have seen anything down your way, would you? We haven’t been able to reach your neck of the woods due to the storm. Perhaps you’ve noticed something?”

“Wish I could say I had.” He lied. “But I’ll keep my eyes opened.”

“It would be a shame if that woman’s family didn’t get her home to marry her husband. He has a lot of money he’s paying this town to find her. I’m sure she comes with a hefty reward.”

“As I said, I’ll keep my eyes opened.”

The Sheriff turned away from him, “We’ll be by your place soon, for the search.” He warned and Killian sighed. Time’s up.

He ripped the flyer off the window, pocketing it as he returned to his truck. Depositing his groceries in the back he climbed into the front seat and pulled the flyer from his pocket. “Dammit.” He cursed. The photo of her was a happy one. She appeared to be out for the evening, a bright smile across her face. The photo of her parents portrayed a loving couple, who were most likely going mad without their daughter.

One good deed, he thought.

~*~

Emma swore she wasn’t checking the road when she passed the window. She told herself she wasn’t waiting anxiously for him to return home. But she knew she was. She wanted to know what he had found, hoping that his search was fruitless, and he would return to tell her that they would search again in a month. She wanted nothing more than to stay here in their happy little fairytale. She didn’t need to know who she was. She was happy here. She could be happy here.

She knew it was her fear of the unknown. What if she had a life that wasn’t all she had wished for. He had found her in some trashy lingerie, naked and alone. Not knowing, not being able to piece together the puzzle was frustrating to her, it was part of the reason she gave up trying to remember. It made her angry to be so close to seeing a vision of her past only to have it disappear in a haze of nothing.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to know her name. She had come up with all kinds of names for herself. She thought she might be happy being called Evelyn or Elizabeth. Maybe she’d even learn to love her new name more than whatever her own was.

She heard the truck door slam shut and she hopped to the window, watching as Killian gathered the bags from the back of the truck. He had a frown on his face which gave her pause. When he opened the door, she stared at him anxiously. “How was town?”

“I found everything on the list.” He said, ignoring her question. He set the bags on the table, and she walked over to them, taking things out to help him put them away. She reached in and pulled out the bread and a handful of cheese slices packed in a plastic sleeve. He knew how much she loved grilled cheese. She found additional cocoa and a packet of cinnamon at the bottom of the bag; she couldn’t stop the smile from creeping on her face.

“I was thinking I’d make grilled cheese for lunch.” He said softly.

“That sounds lovely.” She felt like skipping to the cold box to store the food but stopped when he spoke.

“Emma…” She turned to face him, unsure why the name fell from his lips.

“Excuse me?” She asked confused.

“Emma Nolan.” He said as he shoulders slumped. “That’s your name.”

“Of course, it’s not. I don’t recognize it at all.” She turned back to the food, depositing the items in their places.

“Well, it is. I’ve seen the photo.”

“Well, I don’t care, I don’t know that name, so you’re wrong.” She was agitated, angry at him for not listening to her.

He fished into his pocket, yanking a crumpled paper out of his pants, and unraveling it near her face. “That’s you. Emma Nolan. And that’s your parents, David and Mary Margaret.” He paused. “This is your fiancé, Walsh Oz.”

She tore the paper from his hands. “Walsh Oz, what a ridiculous name, there is no way I would marry someone with the last name Oz, it’s too…” She shook her head staring at the photos in front of her. She didn’t recognize the people on the flyer, only her face. The people who were supposed to be her parents might as well have been anyone else on the planet. Imposters. The man, Walsh, she was sure there was no way she would marry a man who looked like that. This wasn’t her life, it couldn’t be. She tossed the paper onto the table.

“I don’t believe you. I don’t care what that says.” The tears welled up in her eyes and she hopped to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her, and throwing herself on the bed.

“Swan, I’m coming in.” His voice was shaky, uneven, almost like he was ready to break as much as she had. The door opened and she looked up from the bed.

“Don’t call me Emma.” She warned.

“Fine. But we need to talk.” He sat on the bed, taking her hand. “I called them.”

“What?” She yelled, yanking her hand away from him. “Why? Why would you do that without talking to me?”

“Em…Love, they are your parents. They have a right to know that you aren’t dead. They were very worried about you.”

“It wasn’t your decision.” She cried.

“You were on a trip. A lovely trip with your best friends, I believe it was a girl’s trip before your wedding. You were supposed to have gotten married the weekend you disappeared.”

“Emma Oz.” She blurted out. “It’s preposterous.”

He reached for her hand again. “I told them I would bring you to them this evening. Once I had the chance to talk to you, to prepare you. They know you don’t have your memories.”

“I don’t want to go.” She cried, leaning into his neck, and sobbing against his collar. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“Emma, I wish to tell you something. Something that I believe will help your decision to return to where you belong.”

~*~

She sat up, staring into his uneasy blue eyes, he wiped the tears from the corner of her lids, kissing her forehead before turning away from her. “I’ve told you that I have done things in my life that I’m not proud of. I was not a good man, Emma.” He gulped. “Years ago, after I left the Navy, I found myself struggling to make ends meet for my wife and baby daughter, Alice. We were living in a bad neighborhood, Milah was getting hassled by some of our neighbors, men who were not the sort who backed down when confronted.” He stood up from the bed, pacing in front of the window.

“My brother always told me I was stubborn, that I didn’t listen to reason. He was right of course, and because of that, because I didn’t listen to him, I lost everything.”

“The explosion?”

“It was more than that. I bought a gun, I stood up to these men, told them to leave the neighborhood. They did for a time. And then I met a man, Neal Cassidy. His father was the head of the Gold Mafia. He had heard about the stand I took with the men in our apartment. They were from a rival gang that his father was looking to snuff out. He offered me some jobs. His father paid me well. It started off simple, a few snatch and grab’s, small time theft. But I didn’t realize that the further I went, the more I was getting into the dirty side of their business.”

He felt his chest contracting with each word. Afraid to carry on but knowing that she needed to hear the truth, she needed to understand why it was better for her to go. To get as far away from him as possible.

“I tried to get out, God knows Milah begged me. But I was suddenly bringing in money, I was able to provide for my family and it felt good to be that man. Then Gold picked me to go on a job with his son. No one was supposed to get hurt. That was my rule, I would take things, but I never hurt people. But Neal, he operated differently. He didn’t let anyone get in his way. And on this night, someone fought back, they wouldn’t give up the treasure we had come to seek. I walked away, but Neal, he shot the man.”

“Oh my God.” Emma’s hand went to her mouth, and he turned away from her before he could see the disappointment in her eyes.

“The man died; he was supposed to be alone. Neal told me he had no one with him. The boy came out of his bedroom, he couldn’t have been older than 6. He was crying, calling for his father. I told Neal we needed to leave, but he said we couldn’t leave any witnesses. The moment he pointed his gun at that boy’s head, something inside me snapped. I shot Neal.”

“You didn’t have a choice.” She said, her voice wavering.

“I killed him, Emma. In cold blood. I murdered Neal Cassidy and left him there. I called 9-1-1 and ran.”

“What does this have to do with the explosion?”

“When Gold found out about Neal, he knew I was the one on the job with him. It didn’t take long for his goons to find me, they roughed me up, wanted me to admit I was the one who killed Neal. I refused. And then Gold threatened my family.”

“Oh Killian.”

“I thought if I talked that he’d just kill me and move on. But instead, he wanted me to suffer.” He bowed his head. “He followed my brother one evening, shot him in the head and left him in an alley to bleed out. He called me on the phone, told me that I still had time to save him. I raced to the location, even found him, he was dying, unconscious. When my phone rang, I heard his voice. He was laughing, he told me that I would feel the same pain he did. My blood ran cold, as soon as the ambulance arrived, I raced home only to find the cops waiting, fire burning outside my building. They were already gone.”

He leaned against the wall, daring to glance at her. “I turned state’s evidence on Gold. In exchange for my testimony, I only had to serve a 5-year sentence and I then was free.”

She stood up and walked toward him. “Killian, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t. Don’t give me your pity. I don’t deserve your sorrow. I deserve what happened to me. But you don’t deserve to be trapped in my pain. You have a home, a life. You look happy in that photo. You’ll find that again. Once you go back, you’ll remember who you are.”

“I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to be this Emma Nolan or Oz or whatever they expect me to be. I’m not her. I want to be with you.”

He sighed, pulling her into his arms. “Swan. You can’t stay. You don’t belong here.”

“You don’t want me.” She sobbed and his heart broke.

“Look at me.” He hooked his finger under her chin, pulling her tear-soaked face toward him. “I never thought I'd be capable of letting go of my first love, of my Milah... to believe that I could find someone else... that is, until I met you.” He kissed the bridge of her nose, peppering soft touches across her cheek until he brushed against her lips, kissing her mouth. He felt his knees threatening to buckle under him, the weight of the moment pulling him under. “But alas, it was but a dream. And with all dreams, you have to wake up.” He whispered.

“I don’t even know them.”

“But you will.”

“You’ll go with me?”

“Aye.” He said sadly, reveling in the fact that she needed him with her, but knowing he would have to leave her all the same. He pulled away from her, walking to the dresser to pull out new clothes for her to wear. Setting them on the bed and patting them with his hand. “You can keep these until you get something more acceptable that fit you.”

He tried to smile in her direction as his heart broke into a million pieces.

“For the record, you’re still my hero. I don’t care how much you want me to believe otherwise, what you did is your past, and I am going to choose to see the good in you.” She took her clothes and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her as he dropped to his knees and cried.

#stacy's fics #waterfall memories #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan #captain swan fics #captain swan au #captain swan modern au

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havethetimeofyourstyles · 5 years ago

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IM BACK! here’s a quick little piece I wrote yesterday! we love a good dad!harry hehe

wc: 2492

tw: mentions of anxiety, anxiety.

masterlist

Parenting was definitely hard.

Besides the happiness and joy a child can bring into people’s lives, it was definitely hard. It was like a job; like work. Being a mother was tough. Having been one for only three months, you’re still going through the withdrawals of the pregnancy. The body aches that went straight to your bones and muscles from carrying a whole baby inside of you for 9 months. Not to mention the lack of sleep.

The word ‘lack’ and ‘sleep’ in the same sentence made you want to cry.

It’s been obvious that you haven’t gotten any sleep, especially during the pregnancy. When your baby began peeking through your belly, you had to make some new adjustments to your sleeping positions. Your normal sleep position that lulled you to sleep was laying on your stomach, but for obvious reasons, you couldn’t do that anymore. Laying on your side was your second favorite position, so it had done well enough.

But there were some nights where you would lie awake until 3 a.m, hoping to get an ounce of sleep. You envied your husband and his ability to sleep so quickly, and whenever and wherever.

You just wanted sleep.

Now that your little love is three months old, you somewhat finally got time to catch up on your sleep. Of course, with the help of Harry.

He’s been by your side and supporting you ever since, and your heart was so full of love for him and your baby. He endure the whining that came from your mouth, the anger in your eyes when you were annoyed when something didn’t go your way, or annoying look on your face when he came too close when you wanted some space, but minutes later, you would waddle over to him and ask for some cuddles, saying your sorry.

Not only did you go through things physically and emotionally, Harry did as well. He put up with you, that’s for sure.

Now with Harry being the best husband and father there is, whenever your little love woke up in the middle of the night crying her eyes out, needing a nappy change or some food or cuddles, Harry would take care of it. You would slightly wake up, peeking your head up and ready to get out of bed, but Harry was already up and out of bed, telling you to sleep. And you sleepily smiled back at him and plopped your head back on the pillow.

But you had felt bad. You wanted Harry to earn some sleep as well, and you didn’t want him doing all the work. He would tell you that it is 100% okay and that you deserved some rest as well, knowing that you haven’t been able to sleep for practically a whole entire year.

So at dinner, you told Harry how you felt.

“Harry?”

“Yes?” He says in his baby voice as he was feeding the little love.

“I feel bad.” You say nervously. He looks up from his baby and puts his focus on you.

“What do you feel bad for, baby?” You sigh, putting down your fork.

“I feel bad because…” you trail off, nervous you’re going to sound stupid.

“Hey,” he reaches for your hand to hold it, stroking your soft hand with his thumb, “you can tell me anything, you know that right? Anything you say isn’t stupid.” He says as if he’s read your mind.

“It’s just that… I feel bad because you’re always waking up in the middle of the night to take care of our little love. And before you say it’s okay and that I deserve some rest, it’s not okay to me. You deserve some sleep too, and I can’t have you doing all the work.” You look at him with glossy eyes, not knowing why you’re about to cry. Damn hormones making you feel all crazy.

Harry looks at you intently and he sees your watery eyes. He knows well that when you express yourself, you truly mean every word of it. So, he knows not to argue and instead nods his head in agreement, although he disagrees with you. “Okay, what do you want to do? Limit my wakings?” He pulls your hand up to his lips and kisses it gently. Your little love is looking up at her father, probably wondering why he stopped feeding.

“How about for tonight, I get this little munchkin when she cries? I’ll put the baby monitor on my side and I’ll put it softly so only I’ll be able to hear it.”

“Alright, if that’s what you want then okay.” You smile at him appreciatively.

“Thank you, Harry.” This time, you’re being his hand to your lips, kissing his skin softly.

“Of course, my love.” He squeezes your hand and continues feeding the little one.

You and Harry settled in bed, cuddling one another and kissing each other’s skin innocently saying goodnight to each other in the pecks of the lips; something that helped drift you two to sleep sometimes. And luckily, it was one of those nights.

During the night, you and Harry had found a way to untangle from each other, leading to sleeping on opposite sides while not holding one another in each other’s arms.

Harry was sleeping on his side and you on yours, and it was the soft crackle from the baby monitor that started, but it didn’t seem enough to wake you up. You had placed the baby monitor in the space between the bedside table and the bed, resting the monitor on the frame. You had turned it down to a low medium volume so only you would be able to hear it, not Harry. But it still wasn’t enough to wake you up.

The only time you opened your eyes was when soft light was creeping through the blinds and you looked at the time that read 6:05 a.m, and you lazily smiled, thinking that your little love had slept through the whole night.

You turn to face Harry, only to find the bed empty. Sheets wrinkled and the blanket pushed off. You place your hand on his pillow and his side of the bed, not wanting to get up just yet, finding it cold, meaning that he’d been up for a while. With your brows furrowed, you get out of bed and put on your silk robe, walking towards your baby’s room to find Harry in the comfortable loveseat with the little munchkin in his arms, both of them asleep. With confused thoughts, you gently tap him, causing him to easily stir and wake up.

“Morning.” He says groggily. You lean down to place a kiss on his head and one to your daughter.

“Hey. How long have you been up?” You ask curiously.

“Since 3.” Your eyes widen and step back a little to look at him to see if he’s joking with you.

“W-What?”

“Yeah.” His face remains neutral and you don’t know if he’s not mind or he’s really good at hiding it.

“Baby…”

“It’s fine.” He brushes off.

“No, it’s not! The baby monitor was next to me and I still didn’t hear it!” Tears sting your eyes, not believing you did this. “I mean, did you hear the monitor?”

“No, but this one was crying for, what I’m guessing, a while so she progressively got louder and louder, and she’s coming down with something.” He says honestly, and it’s not to make you feel bad, it’s the truth. But you can’t help but feel horrible.

The little love was asleep and comfortable in his arms, and you walked back to yours and Harry’s room before sobbing. Tears littered your face and you couldn’t seem to stop. You climb in bed and pull the covers all the way up to your chin, feeling like it’s the only thing that can comfort you.

So many thoughts swirl your mind as the tears keep coming and the muffled sobs don’t stop. Harry walks back into the room and finds you facing away from him on your side. He can see your body shaking and his eyes soften. He was angry at you minutes prior, he was just so exhausted that he didn’t mean to be so short with you.

Harry climbs in bed and scoots to your side, pressing his chest against your back, and wraps his arms around your shaking frame. He kisses your shoulder and the back of your neck, hoping it’ll bring you comfort and your cries die down. Harry doesn’t say anything and holds you for a few minutes.

Once your sobbing was coming to an end and your breathing was controlled, he’d thought you fell asleep, and that hurt him knowing that you cried yourself to sleep, but you turned your body in his hold to face him.

Your eyes were red and swollen, cheeks damped, and there was probably snot coming out of your nose. You knew all of this and thought it was the most unattractive thing Harry had laid his eyes on, but he can’t help to love you even more.

You both look at each other for a minute, studying each other’s expression, and not knowing who’s going to say the first word.

“I’m sorry.” You start and put your forehead on his chest, not wanting to look him in the eye as you felt so embarrassed.

“Why’re you sorry?” Harry genuinely asks.

“I’m such a horrible mother.” You say as you breathe deeply, not wanting to have another breakdown because honestly, your eyes are tired from it.

“Nonsense-” Harry is quick to say, but you interrupt him.

“I’ve failed our little love and I failed you. I wanted you to get more sleep and not do all the work, and the one time you agree, I don’t wake up! And she was in his crib for god knows how long, crying her little heart out because she needed me, anyone to comfort her and cuddle her, and I couldn’t do that!” Another set of tears had slid down your face and on Harry’s chest. He holds you tighter, rubbing his hand down your back. He wanted to say something so bad, but he knew that you needed to vent and let it all out, so once you’re done, he’ll jump in and disagree with you.

“I’m so fucking selfish that I didn’t even think about how deep of a sleeper I am. I’ve always been ever since I was younger too; I slept through an earthquake, thunderstorms, and I didn’t wake up. If I had just thought to put the volume louder in case I didn’t hear her wailing then you could’ve gotten to her and taken care of her sooner, and then she wouldn’t feel like I’ve abandoned her. You’ve been taking care of her so much that you had to feed her formula instead of me breastfeeding her because I can’t get up for shit because I’m too tired, and now she’s getting sick because of me!” It was like your last statement was a realization on how and why she’s getting sick, you’re shaking in his arms, feeling like a horrible person. Your hands claw at his naked skin, needing something to grasp on.

Now she’s just driving herself insane and overthinking, he thinks. But he understands that your anxiety can drive you up the wall sometimes (or most times), and he through the years, he learned to hold you through it all and not to talk until you’re done because if he talks, then it’ll only get worse. It had happened twice in the early stage of your relationship when he didn’t know what to do.

“I’m such a fail for a mother that I couldn’t do a simple task like wake up, but instead I was just thinking about myself and how I don’t want our baby to despise me right now or ever. Like who does that!” You bury your face in his neck, latching onto his shoulders to bring him closer than possible.

Harry thinks you’re done speaking when you’ve just laid in his arms in silence, trying to control your breathing again as he whispers a string of ‘shh’ in your ear.

For what seems like forever, you pull back, and Harry looks down at you. You don’t say a word because you’ve ran out of things to say and you really don’t want to talk anymore.

“Lovie, listen to me, okay? I want you to hear every word I have to say.” You only nod and usually Harry would want a vocal validation like he does in bed, but he knows you’re all of words. “Nothing about you is a failure. You’ve had a tough year carrying our baby, not getting any sleep, and dealing with the hormones. I don’t blame you for anything at all if you want to get some sleep. I know you’re a deep sleeper, we’ve been together for years and you don’t think I know?” He says the last part teasingly. “I should’ve had a monitor on my side too, so I’m to blame.”

You shake your head, disagreeing with his last statement. Harry continues on, “that little baby is okay, and she loves you so much. I love you so much. Lovie, we’ve only been parents for 3 months and we’ve got so much to learn. We’ve got our whole lives to learn how to take care of her. But that does not mean that one simple mistake means you’re a failure at parenthood. It doesn’t work like that. You’re the best mother I could ever ask for to carry my children, you carried her and protected her for 9 months; fuck, you’re already the strongest person ever. Even if you weren’t pregnant, I’d say you’re the strongest. Understand me?” You nod your head and pull him in for a tight hug.

“Don’t doubt yourself or sell yourself short, okay?” He says with his lips to your head as if he wants to engrave those words into your brain.

“O-Okay.” You say softly against his chest as if you’re reassuring his heart that you’re okay.

“I love you, you know that right?”

“I do. I love you more, you know that right?”

“I do.”

He understands why so you’re upset, why you’re crying so much. Why you probably think you’re the most unattractive thing at the moment with your face being a mess with snot dripping down. But he still thinks you’re the most beautiful and strongest woman there is, inside and out. And he couldn’t help but love you even more.

The two of you lay there, wrapped around each other’s warmth, bringing you both the comfort and reassurance you two need. You both drift off to sleep, taking a quick nap before one of you hears the crackle from the monitor to take care of your little love.

talk to me!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry x reader #harry x you #dad!harry #husband!harry #harry styles ff #havethetimeofyourstyles #pregnant!reader

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lykegenia · 4 years ago

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It's become a regular thing, Nate cooking her dinner after sparring with Mason. She enjoys the time she gets to spend with him. But all it takes is one little slip to remember that having a vampire for a boyfriend isn't so easy.

Chapter1/3

The waft of enticing aromas hits as I enter the kitchen, a wall of warmth and a faint haze of steam, with the lilt of classical music as an accompaniment to whatever is sizzling on the hob. Fairy lights dance above the antique dining table and reflect in its polished surface, but at the sound of my footsteps the brightest thing in the room by far becomes Nate’s smile, as welcome after my sparring session with Mason as the hot jet of the shower to relieve tense muscles. He sets down a pan of something – sautéing garlic, by the smell – and reaches out to draw me into his side. I sink into the embrace with a sigh as he presses a kiss to my forehead. His hand splays across my back.

“You smell nice,” he murmurs, without pulling away. It’s a new shampoo, fancy stuff from an online boutique that guaranteed the use of natural ingredients that I’d hoped would be easier on his senses.

I smirk, satisfied. “So does dinner.”

The lazy smile as he leans back teases the unspoken innuendo, mirth clear in his brown eyes, though after a moment he lets his gaze fall in careful inspection, his hand trailing up my arm.

“How was training?”

“Either I’m getting worse or Mason isn’t holding back so much anymore,” I chuckle. “At least he’s teaching me so many tricks the guys at the gym are getting jealous.”

“I’m sure it’s the latter,” he says as I roll my neck to stretch it out.

The new array of bruises across my body protest at the movement, and I make a mental note to ask Nate for help later – Elidor gave me some kind of magic salve so the injuries can heal faster, some of which are harder to reach than others. But food comes first.

“What’s on the menu?” I ask.

Still with one arm around my waist, he smiles wide and makes a sweeping gesture over the bubbling pots and pans. “We’re having pan-seared duck over a bed of parmesan mash, with wilted spinach and a side of roasted seasonal vegetables.” He finishes the movement with a swift kiss to my knuckles, and I can tell that beneath the smirk he’s waiting for my reaction.

The first time he cooked for me he confided that he enjoyed making food for others, but since the rest of Unit Bravo doesn’t eat human food it leaves me as his only guinea pig. It’s become almost a ritual for us since then, intimate, something to share, and the effort he always puts in to impress me still ties my insides in knots. No one’s ever cared so much about my opinion before.

“You know,” I tease, nudging closer, “if you keep trying to outdo yourself, eventually you’ll set the kitchen on fire.”

He laughs. “Perhaps. But until then… taste this. Tell me what you think.”

He lets me go to fish for a teaspoon in the cutlery drawer, which he dips into a saucepan of simmering, brownish liquid and holds up for me, the other hand held carefully underneath to catch any drips. If anyone else tried to feed me like this they’d end up wearing the spoon as a hat, but his gaze is expectant, hopeful, and my stomach is gnawingly empty. With my fingers on his elbow to steady his hand I take the offered mouthful. The moment the sauce hits my tongue I have to pull back, hiding a giggle behind my hand. The flavours are complex, savoury then sweet with a hint of spice trailing at the end.

“What is it? It’s…”

He preens at the reaction, just a little. “It’s a jus made with pomegranate molasses. Do you like it?”

“Definitely,” I answer, closing the space and reaching up on tiptoes, and he obliges by dipping his head so I can kiss him. “You’re amazing.”

“No more so than you,” he purrs without missing a beat.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” We had this argument early on; I’m not one to sit by while others work – I never know what to do with my hands.

“I still need to finish the mashed potato, if you want to prepare the duck breast?” he points to the island in the middle of the kitchen where a package sits wrapped in brown paper stamped with the logo of the butcher who runs a stall at the local market. “It needs scoring and seasoning.”

I nod. “Got it.”

Unfolding myself from his side with a final squeeze of his hand, I set about my assigned task. After washing my hands, I take one of the hardwood chopping boards from the rack on the countertop and a slim knife from the stand next to it, and set up my little work station with my back to Nate so he can get on with whatever fancy technique he’s using. The Agency spared no expense with the equipment in any of the warehouse’s rooms and the kitchen is no exception, despite how little it’s used. I’m not exactly lost when it comes to cooking, my limitations more due to laziness than a lack of skill, but half the utensils that fill the drawers are ones I’d never seen before coming here.

There’s a burst of soft fragrance as I pluck a few sprigs of thyme from the planter on the windowsill. Soft scales of piano notes trickle in to fill the silence, soothing the last of the tension from my day of paperwork and solving petty crime.

“What music is this?” I ask as I lay the newly unwrapped meat on the board and start to cut into the skin. “I like it.”

“This piece in particular?” I hear him check on something in the oven. “I’m not certain. It’s from a collection of overtures I found in the Agency’s music library.”

“Overtures…” I consider. “That’s the bit in the opera before they start singing, right?”

He chuckles. “That’s a good way to put it.”

“See? I’m not just a pretty – shit!”

“Leah?”

I’ve already brought my finger to my mouth, the taste of iron welling against my tongue. Of course I wasn’t paying enough attention. The Agency’s knives are sharp – the sting feels like I’ve sliced half way to the bone. Without thinking, I pull my hand back to examine the wound, assessing damage, and instantaneously a bloom of deep red erupts along the white line of the cut.

There’s a gasp behind me.

Shit.

I turn but Nate’s already there, a solid wall so close I have to crane my neck back to see his face. A tiny, wild animal part of my brain shouts an alarm that he shouldn’t have made it there so fast, with so little noise. He catches my wrist, half-lidded eyes on my hand, entranced as a droplet of blood grows too heavy and escapes like an unspooled ribbon down the length of my finger. The moment stretches. His throat bobs in a dry swallow, lips slightly parted.

“Nate…”

His eyes flash up to mine for an unsteady instant, unfocussed and intense, before dropping to my mouth. A harsh breath eases between my teeth, but when he leans closer I realise what must be drawing him.

“Nate.” My voice is firmer, more urgent.

He blinks. The strange, vacant light slips from his eyes.

“The tap,” he manages through a clenched jaw, still fighting for control.

The small, calm part of my mind registering my body’s reaction, prey to predator, struggles with the non-sequitur. The pointed tips of fangs peek out from beneath his upper lip.

“You need to run your hand under the tap. The smell –”

“Nate,” I answer, in the voice they trained into us at the academy for talking down drunks and people with weapons, “you need to let go of me.” The grip on my arm is gentle, certainly not tight enough to hurt, but it’s not one I could escape by force.

Another weightless instant passes – and then he drops me, curling away like a leaf under flame, breath ragged as I count steps across the kitchen floor and all but lunge for the sink. My face pushes into a grimace as my finger hits the cold stream of water, but what blood there was is washed away in a matter of seconds. For an instant, my shoulders sag in relief, only to seize up again when a bang like a gunshot has me flinching for cover.

It’s just the door. It hangs open, swinging with the force that slammed it against the wall, and as I watch, breath heaving, a chunk of mortar falls out of the dent made by the handle and crumbles to the floor.

Nate is nowhere to be seen.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #n sewell #nate sewell #nate sewell x detective #nate sewell x f!detective #nate x leah #leah kingston #my writing

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anactualcaseofthetruth · 4 years ago

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Friends Can Break Your Heart Too > Chapter 3 Archive Of Our Own Link

Catch Up: Chapter 2 Chapter 1

Summary: Mia Flores flees to Santo Padre for one reason and one reason only: her godfather and the man who raised her, Bishop Losa. The last thing she expects is for Angel Reyes to come into her chaotic life and just maybe be the one thing that starts to make sense.

Chapter 3:

“Pizza!” Letty calls out as she enters the house just a few steps ahead of Mia.

Immediately, all construction noises cease, the small hand tools are dropped, and they are closing in.

“Fucking finally,” Coco says as he takes the pizzas from his daughter. “I was starting to feel like we’re working in a real fucking sweatshop, like no food or breaks until you’re done, you know?”

“Dude, you take a smoke break every fucking five minutes, calm down,” Angel instructs while freeing Mia’s own hands of the small pizza and box of Styrofoam on top without a word.

“Hey! These are for me and Letty, you each got your own pizza,” Mia complains with hands out.

“What, I’m not allowed to help? Be nice?” he questions and holds the food above his head so she can’t reach.

“Fine. Thank you, now give it back!” she whines and follows him to the kitchen to join the others, jumping for it the whole way.

“No, I don’t like your attitude.”

“Angel! C’mon, I’m hungry!” Mia exclaims with hands on her hips and a frown on her face

“Apologize first,” he says, and their audience laughs.

“I’m going to slap you,” she counters grumpily.

He looks her up and down, noting her ripped jeans and a tight, white tee matched with a black jacket and black and white sneakers on her feet. “Can you even reach without heels on?”

Mia’s eyes turn to slits before tapping him in the balls. It’s not so hard to hurt him, but enough to put him into defensive mode and lower the food. “Now, was that so hard?” she asks sweetly while handing the Styrofoam off to Letty.

“You better watch your back, Flores,” he warns, ignoring the snickers around them, and reaches for his pizza.

“Oh, but you’re so much better at it than I am,” Mia teases in return.

Angel nods as he swallows. “Can’t argue that. Hey, prospect, beer?” he asks of his brother a moment later.

EZ turns from his own pizza and takes enough out of the fridge for all of them besides Letty. She gets a bottle of Coke instead.

“Wait, you guys have beer here? While you’re working? I’m doing to die in a house fire, aren��t I?” Mia sighs while looking down at her white spinach pizza.

“Nah, there was nothing wrong with the wiring, so we haven’t had to mess with it. You’re safe from house fires,” EZ assures her.

Coco, on the other hand, makes an unsure noise and shrugs. "That’s not saying the crackheads who lived here before didn’t fuck with it. So, if you do die, it wouldn’t be on our consciences."

“That is what I was worried about, how you all would feel if something happened, not about actually dying,” Mia tells him in monotone.

“Good looking out, no worries, we’d be alright,” Coco insists, and the group laughs some more.

Upon further inspection to Bishop’s rental, her godfather decided a small remodel was in order before she could move in. “Nothing huge,” he promised her, “just some paint and maybe new carpet.” Well that was a month ago, and she has yet to move in.

What he meant by ‘nothing huge’ is repainting every single room, new molding, replacing over half the light fixtures, a few new windows, and a completely redone bathroom upstairs. Then, after finding hardwood in good condition under said carpet he decided he wanted certain rooms without carpet at all which meant pulling up good carpet that wouldn’t have even needed replaced. The kitchen, luckily, was the best-looking room in the house when they started, having been redone before the last tenants moved in, so all he insisted on was a fresh coat of paint, a few new appliances, a couple tiles replaced, and a good cleaning.

Mia’s been told the upstairs is ‘almost done’ and they are finishing up the living room now.

She has also noticed new pieces of furniture showing up when she isn’t around. Which, that isn’t hard to do since she only stops by once or twice a day to feed the guys and ‘make sure they are doing their fucking work’ at Bishop’s request. A new queen-sized bed appeared two weeks ago, a dining set a few days later, and after commenting on how comfy his couch is one similar has taken residence in the garage, not that she is supposed to know about it.

Mia's done her best to not argue with Bishop about all of it. She knows he means well, however, when she looks around all she sees is her godfather silently pleading with her to stay, possibly forever, but when asked about long-term plans she avoids giving any real answer.

It’s not dependent on her, not really, it depends on whether her past catches up with her.

“So how much longer until you guys are finally done with this place?” Letty asks as she eats her chicken fingers. “I can’t wait to have a sleepover.”

Mia smiles at the younger girl and pushes all thoughts of her ex away. Over the past month the two of them have formed a close bond. She sees a piece of herself in Leticia—being one of the few Mayan daughters, having mothers who barely cared, and men who aren’t quite their fathers as their sole parent. Coco is actually Letty’s dad, but she didn’t know that until a couple months ago, so it’s still ‘completely weird’ according to her.

She hopes to be the female figure she needed when she was stupid teenager for Letty. Growing up around these guys isn’t easy. It’s certainly never dull, but Mia remembers how kids at school used to look at her, with that mixture of fear and pity, of jealousy and hate. She remembers what boys thought of her, that because of how women are around the MC that she would be both easy to sleep with and manipulate.

That last part wasn’t entirely wrong, but she wants it to be different for Letty.

“Well, Prez is supposed to have a walk-through in a day or two. If he doesn’t see anything else wrong with it, hopefully next week,” Gilly says when no one speaks up.

Mia likes Gilly, she likes all the guys, but these four are a package deal. Angel is the ringleader, EZ his sounding board, Coco the one who challenges him when necessary, and Gilly is the silent partner. He only really speaks when spoken to, but is always listening, and is very much a protector.

“You guys said that last week,” Letty reminds them.

“Girl, you know we had the Vegas run and it set us back. Stop pushing,” Coco warns her. “It ain’t even your house.”

“No, but we’re going to have a sleepover the weekend she moves in,” Letty tells him like its common knowledge. And honestly, she’s been talking about it so much it practically is.

“Really?" Angel questions with a playful look towards Mia, never one to pass up an opportunity to give her shit, or flirt with her. Sometimes both happen in the same sentence. "Anyone else invited to this sleepover?”

As always, she decides to play along. “Why? You need a facial? We can buy extra masks.”

“It’d be nice to be thought of, that’s all,” he insists. “Besides, it’s not me that needs the facial. EZ’s skin is shit compared to mine.”

“Hey,” his little brother speaks up and it sounds so pitiful Mia can’t help but laugh.

“Shoulda seen his face in junior high. Pimple fuckin’ city,” Angel goes on. “Our mom had to buy him special cream and everything.”

“Can we stop? Like, that’s the point of this?” EZ asks as he turns just a little red.

“The point is mine was clear and yours wasn’t,” Angel responds.

“And when we were kids you were fat and I wasn’t,” EZ says with arms crossed. “So, shut up.”

Everyone laughs as they eat, but Mia is practically jumping up and down with joy. “Oh, my God, please tell me you have pictures. I want to see pictures of little chunky Angel,” she pleads.

“Stop, it wasn’t that I was fat exactly,” Angel tries to stop her giggles. “I wasn’t! I was a little late to puberty, alright?”

“Dude, you were definitely chunky,” EZ states. “Accept it.”

“No, I just didn’t grow for, like, a year, that’s all,” Angel argues. “You, quit laughing,” he demands while staring Mia down. “I’m serious, I was pretty much the same height for a year. Ezekiel was almost as fuckin’ tall as me, and he’s two years younger than me. Then, I shot up, like, six fuckin’ inches.”

“And you lost all your baby fat?” Mia asks, still snickering.

“As a matter of fact, yes, I did, and now look, all muscle, baby,” Angel says and lifts his shirt to show the abs that he knows she’s fond of. And, sadly, she’s not allowed to touch them because no one knows they are sleeping together.

“Damn,” they all hear Letty mumble and Mia can’t stop the laugh from bubbling up her throat. She would have said the same thing if she hadn’t seen them before.

“Alright, put that shit away, I got a kid here,” Coco urges and throws a napkin at Angel’s chest.

“What, this shit?” EZ asks while lifting his shirt too.

“Hold on, I gotta get a picture of this,” Letty says, her phone already in her hands.

Coco smacks it away. “Stop, they are like your uncles.”

“No, they definitely aren’t,” she counters, making the brothers laugh while dropping their shirts.

Mia gives Letty a pointed look that the girl ignores. She knows all about the younger girl’s crush on EZ, and she also knows how completely unattainable and stupid it is. Letty will grow out of it eventually, probably when she gets a crush her own age. At least, her next crush better be someone her own age.

“You’re real funny. You get that shit you needed for school?” Coco questions as he stands having eaten his whole pizza save three slices. Letty nods with her mouth full. “Good, we should get going. You got school in the morning and I got my own shit to do.”

“Yeah, what’s her name?” Angel asks innocently while picking up another slice.

“Ew,” Letty mutters as the others laugh. “Let’s go before this conversation continues. Is your car unlocked, Mia? The stuff for my project is still in it.”

“Yeah, it’s open, help yourself.”

“I’m going to head out too. I told Pop I’d stop by before he went to sleep,” EZ mentions.

“Let me know if there’s anything good on the history channel,” Angel jokes.

“Don’t worry, I know how you feel about a good Vietnam documentary,” EZ assures him and the brothers share a laugh.

Everyone starts getting up and throwing away their paper plates and saying their goodbyes. For now, anyways, since most of them will meet up back at the clubhouse before the night is over.

Mia’s just finishing up putting all the leftover pizza slices into one box for the boys to fight over tomorrow before she brings over their lunch when Angel comes back into the kitchen.

“I locked your car,” he says, and she jumps about a foot in the air. “I know it’s a piece, but you still shouldn’t leave it unlocked like that.”

She turns with a hand over her heart. “Don’t do that, I thought you were leaving,” she scolds him.

“When did I say that?” he questions with a crinkle to his eyebrows.

Mia rolls her eyes. “I don’t know, maybe when everyone said they were leaving, and you walked out with them?”

“I never said I was leaving. Besides,” he starts while approaching her and sets his hands on her hips, “I can’t say goodbye before I get a proper hello.”

“Oh, a proper hello?” Mia asks as his head dips in closer to hers. “What would that entail, exactly?”

“This,” he says and lifts her onto the island, their lips already connected and tongues threatening to meet.

His beard brushes against her chin and she reaches up to lightly scratch at it. “Mm, scruffy,” she murmurs, having admitted her liking his beard to him before. He does, in fact, use a special beard shampoo and pomade in it.

He smiles at her and lifts his chin so she can have better access. “I swear, if I was a dog this shit would make me do that kicking leg thing,” he mutters with his eyes closed.

“Hm, you’re cute,” she tells him as his chin practically sits in her hands, his face the picture of peace.

She’s not ashamed to admit that Angel quickly has become her best friend, not only in Santo Padre, but in general. Of course, she’s never been one to have many friends. Growing up other kids were weary of her, of Bishop rolling up in a Harley to pick her up from school, and their parents only saw the kutte on his back.

When it came to the club, there weren’t many other Mayan kids. Most of them, like Coco with his other two that aren’t Letty, pay for them but aren’t really involved in raising them. Sometimes, when it was a son, they’d come back around during their teen years, want to be like their biker dad, and prospect once they hit eighteen.

Her best friend was Marcus Alverez’s son Esai, but she hasn’t spoken to him since she left Oakland when her and Bishop had their big blowout. Cutting the club out of her life included Esai, and no matter how much he tried to claw his way back in she didn’t let him. That’s a bridge she hasn’t repaired yet.

“You look tired, osito,” she whispers and his eyes pop open.

Angel smiles lazily. “Is that what I am to you, huh? A teddy bear?”

“My teddy bear,” she corrects.

“Let’s keep that between us, huh?” he murmurs when his eyes slide closed again as she continues to scratch at his chin. “Wouldn’t want the guys to know how sweet I am on ya.”

Mia holds back a laugh. “As far as they're concerned the only thing you’re sweet on is my ass.”

“Ain’t no hiding that, querida,” he agrees. After a few minutes Angel’s eyes open and his face breaks out into a smile. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Is it shiny or is it chocolate?” she immediately asks, making him laugh and lift his chin from her hands.

“Neither it’s upstairs,” he replies and turns around to signal for her to jump onto his back, and she does, happily.

Mia tightens her hold around his shoulders. “Ooh, a sex swing? I’m in, but Bishop might be pissed."

Angel's laugh in return is loud and boisterous. “Nah, not that, but I can always add one later if you want,” he says and begins making his way up the steps. “Remember last week when Bishop told you to think about colors for the house? And you weren’t sure about what you wanted to paint your bedroom?”

“Uh, yes,” Mia confirms as they reach the top. “But Bishop said I had time to choose, that painting was the last thing you guys were going to do and I had colors for all the other rooms so you guys could get started.”

“It is, but” Angel stops at the master bedroom and lets her slide down his back until her feet touch the ground. “I got an idea. If you hate it, I can fix it, make it whatever you want, I just,” he sighs, his nerves obvious.

“Hey,” Mia says and grabs his hands so both of them are intertwined, “I’m sure I’ll love it, whatever it is, just because you did it,” she assures him. “Unless it’s just plain white, then that’s kinda lame and I’ll probably laugh.”

Angel chuckles and shakes his head at her. “It’s not white, promise.” He opens the door hesitantly with an unsteady breath. “Just… don’t lie if you don’t like it, okay?”

“Promise,” she echoes back to him and he flicks the lights on before ushering her inside.

Mia finds the room painted a pink-orange shade, the kind in a sunset, but it’s the ceiling that makes her gasp. It’s blue, dark blue, with slashes of different shades throughout to resemble the night sky, along with some yellow and gold. It’s very Van Gogh, but of course not Van Gogh.

“Oh, my God,” she whispers with hands over her mouth.

“And, uh, there’s this too,” Angel tells her before slapping the lights off and the ceiling lights up. There are glow in the dark stars on it. Not enough to be childish or make the room bright, but just enough to look like stars faraway in the sky.

“Angel,” Mia sniffs.

“I remembered how much you liked looking at the stars when you first moved here,” he explains. “And I woke up last week to some stupid infomercial on the TV in the middle of the night. They were selling some Starry Night knockoffs and the idea came to me. I hope you don’t mind or, I don’t know, if you don’t like it I can—”

“Stop,” she insists with a hand on his chest as she looks up. “It’s… it’s—I don’t even know what to say, Angel.”

“You like it?” he asks, and his voice is so soft, so vulnerable Mia’s heart tightens.

For a moment all she can do is nod. “I love it,” she finally manages and blinks to stop the tears from forming. “I’ve never had anyone go out of their way for me like this except Bishop, at least, not unless it was some sort of apology from a boyfriend at the time.” The lights come back on and Mia turns to face him, but Angel is looking anywhere but her. “Did you do this yourself?”

He nods and looks up at the artwork, still avoiding eye contact. “Yeah.”

“How did you—I mean, how?” she asks with a knot in her throat.

“I used to paint when I was a kid, and into high school. I, uh, stopped when my mom died,” he confesses with his eyes now on his hands as he plays with his rings. “I was rusty as fuck, but I don’t know, I think it turned out pretty good.”

“Hey,” Mia urges and lifts his chin until their eyes meet. “I love it.”

Angel nods and licks his bottom lip. “Really?”

“I absolutely adore it,” she promises, her voice low and gets on her tip toes while wrapping an arm around his neck to pull until their foreheads are touching. “And the fact that you did it yourself? That makes it so much better. You’re very talented, mi osito.”

“Again, with the teddy bear? You’re gonna fuck up my rep, querida,” he teases.

“Well, the rep you have with me is being almost too good in bed and possibly the sweetest man I know, so,” she stops with a shrug and starts backing him up until he hits the bed half-covered in plastic.

Angel falls on the bed with a laugh and shoves at the plastic covering until it hits the floor. “Almost too good? Damn, gotta step up my game then.”

Mia moves to straddle him. “Please don’t,” she replies with her hands on his chest. “I would end up ugly crying, like, all the time.”

“Ugly crying, huh?” he asks and removes her hands from underneath his shirt where she had been trying to push it up. “Now I know what the goal is.”

“I am serious, Angel Reyes, do not,” she warns and starts fighting for control of her hands so she can continue to undress him. “Let me go! I want to make it up to you,” she insists as they begin to wrestle.

Angel rolls them over and pins her hands above her bed. She tries extremely hard not to get turned on, but fails miserably. “I don’t want you to make it up to me,” he tells her once she stops struggling. “I did this out of the goodness of my heart and making it up to me implies that I did it for something in return.”

Warmth spreads from Mia’s chest down to her toes. “Okay, then, can we fuck just because I’m horny then? It has nothing to do with me being incredibly grateful for what you’ve done.”

“You sure?” he questions and tightens his hold when she begins to resist again.

“Nothing at all,” she confirms as she squirms. “I just realized why you’re so good with your hands and I want to feel them all over me.”

“Alright then,” Angel lets go and sits back on his haunches. “Strip, everything off.”

“You’re sitting on me,” Mia reminds him with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ll help with the bottom stuff, but I think you can handle the top,” he tells her while pulling his own shirt off. “Hurry up, I wanna see if I can get you to do that ugly crying thing.”

Mia glares at him once the top is over her head. “Do not. This mascara is not waterproof.”

“Not my problem. I’m always prepared,” he replies while flashing a condom in front of her face, “it’s time you start to be too.”

She rolls her eyes while undoing her bra. “I can’t believe you’re about to get laid after saying that.”

Angel grins and starts to take off her pants. “I’ve gotten laid after saying tons of dumb shit. It’s the pretty face that gets the panties to drop,” he says before sliding her cheeky lace underwear down. “What my mouth can do helps though. So, get up, you’re gonna sit on my face.”

“Geez, bossy,” she mumbles but readily slips out from underneath him and onto her knees.

“You’re into it,” he murmurs before pressing his lips against hers as his hands slide down her bare sides.

“Only when your mouth or dick are involved,” Mia says, breathless, when they pull away.

Angel grins as his hand slides between her legs. “We’ll see about that.”

About an hour later, Mia makes her way downstairs looking for Angel. Guys have it so much easier, she thinks. All they gotta do after sex is get dressed. Being the handsy motherfucker her boy is, Mia looks like she’s been through a tornado after they’re done, and needs put together, not to mention a moment to pee. He just throws away the condom and zips up before sauntering off.

“Angel?” she calls after not seeing him in the living room or upon entering the kitchen.

“Outside!” she hears and notices the back door slightly ajar.

Mia finds him outside on a lawn chair, the kind people lay out on next to a pool, apparently something else she has inherited from Bishop’s previous tenants. Angel is holding a beer in one hand, a cigarette in the other. “Room for me?”

Angel tilts his head back to look at her before parting his legs. “Always for you.” She lifts a leg of her own and swings it around to straddle his hips. “Beer?”

She nods and takes a sip before handing it back. “So,” she starts and stares at him expectantly.

“Sooo?” he echoes while taking a swig.

“So, you paint?”

Suddenly, the beer becomes interesting, as it’s all he can look at now. “I did.”

“Osito, you just pulled a Michelangelo on my bedroom ceiling. You paint, present tense,” Mia insists.

“I… relapsed,” he attempts to joke, but Mia shakes her head and lifts his chin.

“You know you can talk to me, right? We don’t just have sex, at least, that’s not all this is for me,” she admits with a tint of pink in her cheeks. “You’re like my best friend and I don’t say that easily. I’m not really one for friends.”

“I don’t believe that shit for a second,” Angel immediately disagrees with one last puff of his cigarette before flicking the cherry off the tip and turning his head so the gray smoke doesn’t hit her face. “But, if you gotta know, and I know you won’t shut the fuck up until I tell you,” he goes on and she grins in triumph, “my mom liked to paint. It was her thing. It was mainly religious shit, you know,” he says with a shrug, “but she was really good. She even has a piece hanging in the church we went to growing up.” He stops to smile, and Mia can’t help but mirror it, the genuine happiness coming from him infectious. “I remember when it first got displayed, my dad told everyone his wife painted it. I swear, he worked it into every single fucking conversation somehow.”

“And she passed it on to you?”

Angel puts the beer bottle down and wraps his arms around her waist, his hands resting on her ass. “Not really, I mean, not intentionally, I guess. I was an angry kid, it started in junior high, back when I was a chubby fuck. I punched a few holes in the walls, and every time they made me fix it, but that just made me angrier,” he says and looks passed her head. “I don’t know, I guess it pissed me off that they made me patch them up without really asking what was wrong? My mom tried, but—” he stops and shakes his head, “she wasn’t the one I wanted to open up to.”

“You wanted your dad,” Mia states and Angel nods, his eyes meeting hers again.

“One day I got sent home from school for fighting and my mom had to come get me. Pop wouldn’t leave the shop, said it wouldn’t matter if he did, that I wouldn’t listen to him anyway,” he continued, “maybe he was right, I don’t know.”

Mia slips her hands under his shirt, her fingers drawing endless loops and shapes on his bare skin. “What was the fight about, do you remember?”

Angel nods slowly. “They used to call EZ Kodak because of his memory. Some asshole cornered him in the bathroom, had a friend hold him down while he pushed some sleazy magazine in his face and told him to remember it because it would be the only naked girl he ever saw or some shit. I was chubby, but EZ was as thin as a fucking rail. That kid’s metabolism is no joke,” he comments with a faraway look in his eyes, like he’s reliving the memory. “I found out and took the fucker down. I remember being pulled off him and looking at EZ, he was so embarrassed. Before they took me away, he asked me not to tell, so I didn’t. I didn’t tell what the kid did to him, and the little dick didn’t fess up to what he did either, so all they knew was that I held him down and kicked his ass.”

“That… sucks. It definitely made you look bad,” Mia points out with a stink face. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m his big brother, I do what I gotta do,” Angel says easily, and she knows without a second thought he would do it again. “I expected to come home and go straight to my room or have a list of shit to do around the house. Instead, Mom brought me outside to the patio. There was this big, white canvas and a bunch of paint. She told me to paint my feelings. I thought it was stupid as fuck.”

Mia smiles, picturing little Angel looking at his mom with his ‘the fuck is this?’ expression and it’s definitely a funny image. “But you started painting?”

“I did it to just get it over with so I could go to my room, but I don’t know, it helped me get aggression out,” he admits. “My mom did religious realism, but I was super into abstract. I was throwing fucking paint around so fast my chubby ass worked up a sweat,” he chuckles at the memory. “It didn’t turn into anything, just a big shit colored blur, but it was better than punching a hole in the wall I had to fix the next day. Every time I got angry my mom had a canvas for me. I learned, I developed my own style, and I started taking classes at school. Sometimes I even watched my mom, asked her questions, and helped her a little bit. It became our thing.”

“That’s sweet,” Mia comments, her fingers now scratching at his happy trail as they often do.

Angel’s lips slowly stretch into a wistful smile. “I got real into charcoal for a while. Fuck, everything was covered in it. EZ hated it since we shared a room. My mom was annoyed because of the laundry, but she never said anything. Eventually, I settled on acrylic as my main medium. I would have so many fucking layers that it would take so fucking long to dry. I kept stealing her hair dryer to make it dry faster. She got so annoyed she bought me my own.”

“What did you do with all your work? I would like to see them, but I don’t think there is anything hanging at your place, or the clubhouse, or—”

“When she died, I quit,” Angel cuts her off. “It was our thing, and without her…” he trails off with a shake of his head, “I didn’t want to do it anymore, or be reminded of it. I stashed all my shit in the basement, it’s still there unless Pop tossed it.”

“What about her stuff?”

“It’s at the house, Pop still has a few displayed, has all her supplies exactly where she left them. I swear he turned parts of the house into a shrine. I could barely go in there right after she died and—” he falters, his voice deep and his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Um, I kept what she made for me in my old bedroom. I couldn’t look at it every day, I still can’t,” he admits. “I don’t know how Pop does it.”

Mia’s hands move to rest on his chest, rubbing softly to comfort him. “It’s okay that it still hurts, osito,” she assures him, and he drops his head while nodding. “The more you bury it, the more it hurts when it come out,” she whispers and kisses his head, her hands framing his face now.

“I didn’t—” Angel stammers and coughs to clear the knot in his throat. “EZ and I weren’t as close when we were teenagers, we had different shit going on in our lives, but I always had my ma. Sometimes I told her shit she didn’t even wanna hear, you know,” he chokes out and keeps shaking his head, but Mia keeps her hands firm. “We were closer than they know. Pop and EZ had each other, they talked all the time, but she was the person I talked to. With her gone…”

“I know,” she murmurs and kisses his forehead, his temple, anything she can while he refuses to look at her. “I’m here, mi angelito, I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere,” she promises over and over, her voice soft and hopefully soothing to him. She knows he’s settled a bit when he takes one of her hands in his and opens it to kiss the palm, a silent thank you she accepts. “Did your dad or EZ ever mention anything about it? About you not painting anymore?”

Angel shrugs nonchalantly and picks his head up. His eyes are glassy, and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but she simply kisses each one chastely to let him know it’s okay. “EZ mentioned it a few times, but I told him to shut the fuck up and he did. I told him to shut the fuck up a lot when she died. He learned to stop pushing and I stopped giving a fuck about pretty much everything.”

“Is that why he went after the person who killed her, and you didn’t?” Mia asks, and instantly regrets it, but Angel doesn’t move or retreat into himself, even if he does tense up considerably.

His hands find her ass again, a way of comforting himself, she thinks. “EZ kept wanting it to be more than a robbery, more than just a senseless murder. It was like he couldn’t see anyone wanting to do wrong by her because she was like a saint.”

“But you could?”

Angel looks her in the eye now. “There’s a lot of evil people in the world. Our mother wasn’t spared because she was a good person. Good people get the shit end of the stick all the time. Ezekiel is the smartest person I know, but he couldn’t wrap his head around that. It ate at him. Sometimes I think if I didn’t push him away I could have helped him, stopped him, something. But I was too busy doing anything I could to not think about it, about her, what happened, that my little brother had to be the one to find her, that my father got his heart broken, and how fucking lonely I was with her gone.”

“Hey, everyone deals with shit in their own way,” Mia assures him. “EZ wanted to fix it, bring her killer to justice. You tried to ignore it because you couldn’t deal with the pain. What happened isn’t your fault, it’s not your brother’s either. And EZ doing what he did… he’s too headstrong to have let it go. It probably still would have gone down, but instead of your dad losing one son to the prison system, he would have lost two.”

Angel chuckles and licks his lips. “He lost me a long time ago. Ever since EZ was a toddler I lived in his shadow. He was the golden boy, the sports star, he was supposed to get out of here, be someone important. There were no aspirations for me, no dream to follow, it was all on EZ. He and Pop were always close, always reading shit, having these meaningful conversations that would stop as soon as I walked into the room. When EZ got locked up it was like Pop had nothing left because not only was his wife gone, but his best friend was too.”

“Angel—”

“It was the loneliest fucking year of my life until the club came to town,” he cuts her off, his hands pulling her closer. “I started to prospect as soon as possible. It’s a family, and I hadn’t had one since my mom died, and fuck, I needed something, anything, to hold on to. It wasn’t what my mom would have wanted, but I had to stop pretending things were gonna be different between me and Pop. I’m never gonna be like EZ and he never tried to understand me, even after EZ went away. Every Sunday I went to the house for dinner and we barely said five words to each other that weren’t about sports. Every holiday was a letdown. I’d stop at the shop a few times a week to check in, just to make sure he was okay. He’d give me meat and send me away.”

“What about now that EZ’s home?”

He sighs. “It’s better, I guess. He has his buddy back. Sunday dinners are more lively. He accepts the club a bit more now that EZ’s a prospect, but it’s still the same with me and him.”

“But now you have your brother back,” Mia insists, her voice hopeful.

At that, Angel smiles, and it’s real. “I do. I forgot how much I missed him, how much I love him. The MC kept me busy, but having him back, and prospecting? Sometimes I feel like we’ve never been closer.”

“At least you have that. Only child over here, remember?” she reminds him. “Bishop’s done so much for me that I can never thank him enough, but having a sibling is different. I would be in a room full of people and still feel completely alone. There’s just stuff you can’t tell your dad.”

“I asked Bishop what happened to your dad, to Valentino,” Angel confesses, and Mia’s eyebrows raise. “All he said was that he was shot.”

Mia looks down at their laps and nods. “He was. Eleven times.”

“Damn.”

She peers back up and shrugs. “The risk comes with the life, and my dad wanted to be part of the Mayans ever since Tio started it, Bishop too.”

“Wait, you call Marcus Alvarez Tio?” Angel asks, his face almost comical.

Mia can’t help but smile, even with their topic of conversation being what it is. “Yeah, I know you guys all see him as your beloved Padrino, but to me, he’s the guy who did something completely over the top at every single birthday of mine until I was, like, sixteen,” she explains, her lips still curved upwards. “I mean, when I was eight, he brought a pony to my party. A fucking pony. When I turned eleven, he got me a trampoline and put it at the clubhouse. It was broken before I turned twelve, but it was fun while it lasted.”

“Well, now I know what to ask him for my birthday,” Angel comments and she barks out a laugh. “Your pop was from Oakland?”

“Yep, born and raised. He and Bop grew up together, and what Bishop wanted my dad wanted too. They had similar backgrounds—immigrant parents, hard home lives, just not an easy upbringing. They came up together and quickly became part of Tio’s inner circle once they were patched in.”

“What happened?”

Mia moves her hands his chest and starts wringing them together. “There was some new MC trying to make a name for themselves,” she starts, and Angel’s hands make their way to hers, linking them together. “I guess they figured what better way to do that than to take out the president of the mother chapter of the Mayans?”

“Dumb fucks,” Angel swears with a shake of his head. “That shit doesn’t make you legit, it starts fucking wars.”

“Yeah,” Mia murmurs. “They were in Oakland doing business and my dad saw the windows go down. He pushed Tio to the ground and pulled out his gun. He took most of the hit. Bishop took one in the arm himself. My dad was dead within a few minutes, before the police even got there, or so I’m told.”

“I’m sorry,” Angel says quietly. “You were five, right?”

She nods. “Bishop insisted on being the one to tell me and my mom. I remember her screaming and falling to the ground, then Bishop coming over to me,” she recalls, blinking to keep her eyes clear. “He told me, and I refused to believe him. I started hitting him actually, and he had just gotten shot so even though I was five it had to of fucking hurt. Eventually he just bear hugged me until I started crying.”

“And then he stepped up for your dad.”

Mia nods. “After the funeral, I wouldn’t let Bishop leave my sight. I would throw the biggest tantrum if he left. And my tantrums weren’t just screaming and crying like other kids. I went fucking postal. I threw shit, broke whatever was in my way. I would get so worked up I made myself sick. Tio gave Bop some time off from club stuff to help me and my mom, to spend time with me so I wouldn’t turn into the Tasmanian Devil every time he left the room.”

“You know, I’ve heard you talk about Bishop raising you, what you remember about your dad, but this is the most I’ve heard about your mom,” Angel mentions. “There a reason for that?”

“There isn’t much to know about her. Personally, I think it should take more than giving birth to make you a mother, because she gave birth to me, but that’s all she ever did. She’s no mother,” Mia states.

“It was like that even before your dad died?”

“She was there? I don’t know, I mean, Bishop says she was involved, but I have no memories of it. Maybe I held onto what I remember of my dad because I knew I wouldn’t be able to make more memories. But after he died, she just spiraled. Started drinking a lot, when that stopped doing the trick she turned to pills, and then graduated to heroin by the time I was ten.”

“She never got with anyone else?” he questions, his fingers playing with hers.

“Oh, she got with plenty,” Mia assures him. “Whatever she had to do to get her fix, she did.”

“I meant, not another Mayan?” he corrects.

Mia makes a face. “The thing about my mom is, well, she’s a user. She liked being with someone in the club, the respect you got from the girls who weren’t, the looks on the street when someone knew you were an old lady. My parents don’t have this big romantic love story like yours,” she goes on. “My mom was going back and forth between my dad and Bishop before she got pregnant. She would fight with my dad then get with Bishop, when that went south she’d go back to my dad. When she got pregnant she actually didn’t know who the father was.”

“Oh.”

Mia smiles a little. “Bop used to joke that I was one of the luckiest girls in the world because most guys bail in that situation, but they fought over me. They both wanted me, and they both wanted her too. Eventually, they got a test and Valentino Flores was crowned lucky winner of the sperm race. They got married when she was six months pregnant.”

“Bish didn’t want her after?”

“He did, actually,” she answers. “But the heroin got in the way. It turns out that is my mom’s one true love, not my dad, not Bishop, and certainly not me. Bishop refused to make her his old lady until she got clean and was able to take care of me. And, with her and Bop’s history, not to mention my dad’s, no other Mayan would get with her out of respect. It kinda pissed her off because she liked being a kept woman, you know.”

“She’s still not clean now, I’m gathering,” Angel pieces together.

“Nah. She never is. The longest she’s made it is six months. Every couple years or so she comes around wanting to be with Bishop, wanting to get clean, wanting to be together ‘as a family’. He falls for it every time, but I know better. I hate it because he get his hopes up, wastes so much money putting her through rehab, getting her everything she wants when she says she’s clean, then a few weeks later she’s gone and takes everything she can with her. His cash, whatever valuables she could get her hands on. She even sold one of his guns once, one of the .45s that had the Mayan insignia on it and shit.”

“Damn,” Angel swears. “Pop and I were never close, but he was still there. I knew no matter what happened he’d bail me out of whatever jam I got myself into, that I’d always have somewhere to go, a warm meal to eat,” he goes on with a shake of his head. “I couldn’t imagine not being close with my ma. That sucks, I’m sorry.”

Mia shrugs and leans against his chest, her arms snuggled between them. “My mom needs to be the center of attention, something she stopped being when I was born. The only thing she loves as much as heroin, is herself. I was never more than dollar signs to her, the Mayans supported her because of me, and she knew it,” she exhales, content as his large, warm hands rub up and down her back. “I’ve never known different. It was Bishop who made sure I stayed in school, got me into dance classes when I wanted them, signed me up for kickboxing because he wanted me to be able to protect myself. He’s the reason I’m alive,” she admits. “Well, him and Esai.”

“Esai Alvarez Esai?” Angel asks, pulling away enough to look her in the eye.

Mia nods with a ghost of a smile on her face. “Yeah, we were raised together. I think they wanted us to be like brother and sister. I mean, we have pictures of us in the bath when we were little, but that’s not the way it went.”

“You and Esai Alvarez?” he questions, his expression dumbfounded.

“Do you know another one?” she wonders in a giggle.

“No, I just—he, I mean, he’s fucking married to the club. He’s gonna be king, you know,” he comments and pulls her back against his chest. “I’ve never seen him with the same girl for more than a couple hours.”

“That was one of our problems. I couldn’t,” she stops and sighs, “I get there are rules. What happens on a run stays on a run, he could get his dick sucked whenever I wasn’t around, that shit happens but I—I never got right with it. It’s why we were on and off for about seven years. He’d go on a run and he’d come home looking so fucking guilty and would deny it up and down, but I knew. He’d admit it, we’d break up, he’d fight to win me back, and eventually I would give in,” she goes on and shakes her head. “He was my first everything, I couldn’t let go, I wouldn’t at the time. I had only two people I truly let in my life that I knew would love me no matter what, and he was one of them.”

“Wait,” Angel says, his mind churning. “La que se escapo,” he whispers to himself.

“Oh, fuck,” Mia groans.

“You’re the tattoo on his arm, the one that got away,” he continues. “Gilly asked once, he told him to fuck off.”

“Sounds about right,” she laughs. “He got the tattoo for my birthday. My birthday, his tattoo, fucked up, right? But he didn’t get ‘the one that got away’ until we broke up for the final time. I was pissed, but—he had to do something with it. I covered mine up.”

“You had one? Of him, I mean?”

“Kind of, I had the, uh, the old lady tattoo on my arm,” she answers as she shifts to reveal her skull tattoo to him, the one that got them talking in the first place. “I covered it with the tattoo for my dads. I’d always wanted something for them, and a guy I knew said he’d be able to cover it easily enough,” she says and pulls her jacket back up. “Fuck, that pissed him off. To Sai, that meant we were really over. He refused to cover his, did that instead,” she goes on. “Told me that I would be the only woman he would ever marry, so if it wasn’t me, it wouldn’t be anyone, and so there was no reason to get rid of the tat. I’m sure he’ll get someone knocked up one day and she’ll be his old lady, and she’ll be able to accept the shit I wasn’t able to.”

“Not the life for you, huh?” Angel asks with an eyebrow raised.

“It could be,” Mia insists. “I understand being in the club, loving it, putting it above most of the things in your life, but I need to be the one thing that it’s more important than. Not that I would ever make him choose, I respect the MC too much for that, but—I need to know that I’m number one. Sai couldn’t do that, no matter how hard he tried. I realized I was trying making him into someone he wasn’t, and I loved him too much to do that,” she explains. “He really tried the last two years. He’d opt out of runs, spend every spare moment he had with me, was completely transparent, but—he would get so angry sometimes. It made him feel like I was keeping him from the club, but I wasn’t, not intentionally, I just didn’t trust him. He had too curious of a dick.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t piece this together sooner. Of course, you knew E, why wouldn’t you? And that tattoo, it’s really you,” Angel mutters more to himself than her. “I feel like a fucking idiot.”

“He got it when I turned eighteen and he asked me to be his old lady. I was so happy, I thought that things would be different, and they were for a little. Bishop was pissed off because I moved in with him, but I was eighteen, he couldn’t stop me. Of course, I was back and forth between break-ups,” she mentions as an afterthought.

“This relationship, it sounds great, by the way,” he teases.

Mia laughs a little. “When it was great, it really fucking was. When it wasn’t, we were toxic, and I didn’t see it until later. He never hit me or shit like that, Bishop would have killed him if he did, but I saw what he did as cheating, and he didn’t. It made me feel like I wasn’t enough even though he swore up and down it wasn’t about me,” she continues. “And, like you said, he’s gonna be king. There is nothing he would choose over the club, and even though I would never ask, I needed to know I meant more, but I never would. When I finally accepted that I ended it. There were a few hiccups, and it was one of the hardest things I ever did. He was my best friend, he knew every single piece of me, you know?”

Angel shakes his head. “No, I don’t. I’ve never been with anyone like that.”

“You’ve never had a serious girlfriend?” Mia asks, biting her lip when Angel’s hands roam across her ribs, his fingers brushing against her bra. “I don’t believe that.”

“I’ve had girlfriends, but never like you’re talking about. The most serious one was in high school, which sounds fucked up when you’re thirty-one,” he says, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. “But I also haven’t been looking for anything serious.”

“What happened to her?”

“Her name was Adelita. I knew her from school, we were in the same year, but I guess you could say we met at church. Mom made us go every Sunday, rain or shine, sick or healthy,” he states, but then rethinks it. “Well, if we were, like, projectile vomiting or some shit we got out of it, but that meant she had to stay home too, and we knew how much church meant to her.”

“You were pickin’ up girls at church, Reyes?” Mia teases with a rock of her hips.

“Querida, I can pick up girls anywhere,” he answers with a knowing smile. “Anyways, she helped out a lot at church, and my mom would always guilt me and EZ into helping with whatever fundraiser or cause they were involved in every few months. We were working a booth together during the end of summer carnival and I was doing more flirting than working—”

“What? I do not believe that for a second. You have to be lying—ah!” Mia stops in a squeak when Angel tickles her sides.

“It’s my love language, mi dulce, literally,” he jokes. “One minute we’re working the booth, the next my mom is there and inviting her to dinner. It just kind of escalated from there. She wasn’t my first girlfriend, but she was the first I think I actually loved.”

“You think?”

“Looking back, I think I was trying so hard to be someone I wasn’t for her. I tried to be into the things she was, I wanted to care as much as she did about everything she did, but—I think I just wanted my mom to be proud of me for something, to have something for her to gush about to her friends what was about me for once and not EZ,” he admits.

“I didn’t know your mom,” Mia states the obvious, “but I know she had things to be proud of you for. It’s easy to see how much you loved your mother, how you would do anything for her, you even shared a hobby with her. So, I know damn well she gushed about you, Angel Reyes, so you shush right now.”

Angel smiles and presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Thank you.”

“What happened? With Adelita?” she asks.

“Just didn’t work out. We really didn’t have all that much in common. I mean, I like helping people, I still donate to the church and to causes and shit, but spending every waking hour asking people for money, going door to door to give out pamphlets and shit? Man, I felt like I couldn’t fuck my girlfriend without getting money from someone else first,” he says, and Mia can’t help but laugh. “Besides, she went into the Peace Corps after high school and I knew that shit was not for me. We ended with no hard feelings.”

“And nothing since? No one serious?” Mia asks.

“After Mom died, I didn’t want serious. I just picked up girls to fuck ‘em. And ever since I’ve been in the club, I’ve been happy to sleep with whatever hang around was paying attention,” he answers honestly. “Besides, it takes a lot to be with someone in the club, you gotta deal with more than the average bullshit a guy puts you through.”

“Oh, I know,” she confirms.

“You also don’t know who actually wants you for you or because of the leather,” he adds on. “Like your mom, being an old lady is all some chicks want, it doesn’t matter who gets them the title.”

“So many girls hated me when I was with Esai, even after we broke up because they knew how much we still meant to each other. None of the girls understood, to them I had everything. If Esai was going to be king, I would have been queen, but being an old lady wasn’t my end goal. Being with Esai was. This one particular puta, Bianca, fuck, every time she could she was tryin’ to get her nails in him. When we broke up, she thought it was like open season. I was in more than one fight with that bitch,” she says with a vengeful look in her eye.

“I would pay to see that shit,” Angel insists, and Mia pushes on his shoulder as he laughs. “What? I know you can fight, Bishop’s gone on about it, how many matches you won when you were in kickboxing.”

“Yeah, that’s why they guys were always quick to hold me back, they knew I could do some serious damage,” she mutters grimly. “All I wanted was five minutes alone with her, still do. She was all talk and I hate that.”

“You’re still close with E, then?”

Mia looks down, mostly out of shame. “I was. When Bop and I had our falling out I wanted away from all things having to do with the MC. I was so sick of him bailing out my mom and never taking my side with her. Esai tries to stay out of shit when it comes to my mom. He fucking hates her, but he respects Bop’s feelings about her, so he didn’t back me up. I cut him out too and haven’t had the lady balls to reach back out. This is the longest we’ve gone without talking since we broke up. I needed time away from him then to get over him, you know. That, and every time we hung out right after we ended up fucking.”

“I don’t know if I want to be in love like that,” Angel admits and starts to light another cigarette.

“Like me and E?”

“Maybe, I guess, more like my parents,” he answers before inhaling. “I saw what happens when it ends. My dad still isn’t the same, almost ten years later.”

“That’s where we differ—you don’t know if you want it, but I don’t know if I’m capable of it,” Mia confesses.

“I don’t know if I believe that,” Angel comments.

Mia’s eyebrows raise as she makes a face at him. “I loved Esai, but—I never trusted him so I never completely let myself go with him. I trust him with my life, but my heart? I barely trust myself with that shit,” she stops and shakes her head in shame. “The relationship I ended when I came out here…” she trails off and holds her face in her hands so he can't see her shame.

“Hey,” Angel pulls on her wrists softly, but they don’t budge. “Hey, talk to me, baby,” he pleads quietly. “You’re my best friend too, you never have to be afraid to tell me shit.”

“It was bad,” she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper. “It didn’t start that way, and—fuck,” she swears while trying to hold back tears, hating herself for getting so upset. “When Bishop and I had our falling out, he was brought into the fight.”

“Your ex?” he questions while finally removing her palms from her cheeks.

“Yeah, his name’s Jay—Jason, actually,” she corrects herself. “We had just started dating when my mom OD’ed, again, and we weren’t serious, but,” she stops and shakes her head, “I mentioned it when we got into it, how the guy I was dating was a normal law-abiding citizen and being there, trying to figure out what detox program to get my mom in, it shouldn’t have to be my normal, his either.”

“What did Bish say?”

“That it didn’t matter, she’s family and you do what you have to for family,” Mia recites from memory. “I said that she wasn’t my family, and she didn’t give a shit about him, and until she decided to get help herself nothing he did would matter,” she pauses to wipe at the corners of her eyes in an attempt to rid the pool of tears. “And he said he raised me better than to not care about my own mother and he was ashamed of me.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Angel coos when tears start to fall. “It’s alright, c’mere,” he murmurs while pulling her into a hug.

“He’d never said that before, that he was ashamed of me,” she manages to get out in between shaky breaths. “I’d been arrested, kept in holding cells, tried drugs I told him I never would, made so many bad decisions he found about after the fact, but he’d never said he was ashamed of me.”

“He wasn’t, he’s not,” he assures her. “You don’t hear the way he talks about you when you’re not around, the joy in his eyes, how excited her gets. He loves you more than anything, mi dulce, please believe that.”

Mia nods against his chest, sniffling. “It hurt. What he said hurt, it hurt that it felt like he kept choosing her over me hurt, that he continued to believe her and not even listen to me, it really hurt. And I wanted to make him hurt too, so I said that I was done with it all—her, him, the MC, and that I would be better off with my cookie-cutter new boyfriend who would be able to give me a normal life.”

“It was a fight, everyone says shit during fights,” Angel responds in an attempt to console her.

“Yeah, but I made good on it. I stopped going to the clubhouse, I ignored Esai’s calls and texts, I didn’t check in with Bop the way I used to. I dug my heels in, and so did he,” she sniffs. “I fucked up. I made Jay out to be like Captain America and he wasn’t, I was just so angry, and so I tried everything to make it work to prove I was right. I gave in way too much, let him make me feel like I was crazy, isolate me, and control everything, and I mean everything,” she stops as her eyes well up again. “Fuck.”

Angel holds her tighter and presses kisses against her hair, shoulders, anywhere he has access to. “I’m right here, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” he promises.

“If Bishop knew what happened between me and Jay,” Mia says while wiping her cheeks, “he would be ashamed of me, it wouldn’t just be words.”

“Why do you say that?” Angel asks after a silent moment, his voice firm, cautious.

Mia shakes her head. “Never mind, forget I said anything,” she says and makes a move to get up, but he holds her down.

“No, I ain’t forgetting shit,” he tells her. “Talk to me.”

“It doesn’t matter, okay?” Mia insists and pulls free from his hold. “I got out of it, that’s what’s important. I’m here and made things right with Bishop and, and,” she falters and looks him in the eye, “I met you. My best friend.”

“I know you want me to let this shit go, babe, but—”

“No, no buts,” she cuts him off. “I need you to trust me when I say I handled it.”

Angel takes in a deep breath and stands with her. “Alright.”

“That’s it?” Mia asks, surprised.

“We’re best friends, right? If you say you handled it, then I believe you. That’s what best friends do,” he answers. “Especially ones that sleep together.”

“See, this is why we’re perfect for each other,” she insists while wrapping arms around his middle. “We’re best friends, we trust each other, and you don’t want to fall in love while I don’t think I ever truly can. We get the fun without the responsibilities of the relationship.”

Angel smiles softly before kissing her. “Well, when you put it that way…” he trails off and kisses her again.

They are interrupted by Angel’s phone buzzing in his pocket. He tugs it out and answers it immediately after looking at the caller. The conversation is quick, one she’s heard too many times before, but understands all the same. He’s needed at the clubhouse.

“I gotta go,” he sighs, but makes no move to let her go. “Thanks.”

“For what?” Mia asks, her chin resting on his chest as she looks up at him.

“Thanks for listening,” he whispers before kissing her gently. “I haven’t—I don’t talk about my mom, it’s just something I avoid, but it felt good talking about her with you.”

“Any time,” Mia says and pushes her lips against his in a barely-there kiss. “Me and Bop talk about my dad all the time. It was hard at first, but it makes it easier, I think. It helps keep your memories too.”

He nods. “Noted. You coming to the clubhouse?” he asks as they start to make their way back through the house and to their vehicles.

She shakes her head while leaning against her car. “Nah. If you got called in that means you guys are gonna be in templo for a bit and I’m tired. I was running around with Letty all day, remember?”

Angel puts his helmet on as he nods. “That girl does tire you out. Her mouth alone never stops moving.”

“Shut up, she loves you guys,” Mia scolds him with a smack to his chest.

“I never said she ain’t family, she’s just a teenage girl. I stopped being interested in them once I hit twenty,” he replies.

“Coming from your current sex partner, that’s good to know,” she jokes in return.

“Ooh, sex partner, I love it when you talk dirty. Say it again,” Angel instructs.

“Sex partner,” Mia says in a sultry tone.

They start to move closer to kiss again, but his phone goes off. “Fuckin’ Boy Scout,” he swears and pulls his phone out and declines his brother’s phone all. “Such a fuckin’ pissant.”

“You love him. Go, they’ll start to wonder where you are,” she encourages. “Thank you, again, for my ceiling.”

Angel’s leg swings over his bike and with a kick the engine roars to life. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just made the call to get it done when you asked, remember?” he says with a wink.

Mia nods with a knowing smile and watches him pull away while berating herself for even bringing up Jay, let alone talking about what their relationship was like with Angel.

She makes a mental note. It will never happen again.

CHAPTER 4

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#mayans mc #fanfiction #friends can break your heart too #Angel Reyes #angel reyes x oc #clayton cardenas #mayans m.c.#ao3 link

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tuanhood · 5 years ago

Text

35,000 ft

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: smut, angst, some fluff?, exes to lovers

warnings: 18+, language, dirty talk, cheating, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, public sex (mile high club ALERT)

word count: 9,800+

summary: two years have passed since you last saw your ex-boyfriend. when you’ve thought about running into him again, it certainly wasn’t at 35,000 ft and it certainly wasn’t like this.

a/n: wow my longest one shot yet... UMMM it’s a little messy and all over the place but don’t hesitate to let me know what you think or if anyone wants to cry over the photos of Mark at home playing in the pool sMH. also i do not CONDONE cheating fyI

part 2: 125 ft

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“Yes, yes, yes I’ll call you when I land…” You mumbled through the phone, half paying attention and half trying to decide which sandwich would best suit your needs.

“Okay but seriously… call me. I hate it when you’re over there enough so not getting a call freaks me out even more.”

You wanted to roll your eyes and gag, but you stopped yourself knowing that it wasn’t what a typical girlfriend would do when on the phone with her boyfriend. You two were supposed to still be in the honeymoon phase, not the “he gives me the ick” phase already.

Then again, you had never even been in the “he gives me the ick” phase before. Yay for new experiences you guessed.

“Brian, it’s so fine. It’s one of the safest cities in the world, I’ve been so many times I don’t even need a map to tell me where I’m going.”

“I hope you still do though… Use a map. I don’t want you to get lost and I know that’s easy to do in those modern, technologically advanced smart cities.”

Being with Brian sometimes felt like there wasn’t even a fourth wave of feminism.

You weren’t sure why you were sticking around. Part of you felt pressured because you hadn’t had any actual relationships in… well awhile and your mom was constantly asking when you were finally going to get a ring on your finger and give her a grandchild.

Judging by all the outside influences that were currently controlling your life, it felt like maybe there isn’t a fourth wave of feminism. You were setting everyone back just based on your own sad life. Maybe it was best to just dump Brian and go back to your hook up days, the year and a half before him that was just endless amounts of sex with random guys trying to fix a piece of you that would never be put back together.

“Y/n? Are you still there?”

“Yup, still here Brian.”

Even after being together for almost 6 months you couldn’t bring it in you to call him something besides his name. It was always Brian this, Brian that. Calling him a pet name made you cringe.

Yeah… Maybe it was definitely time to break up with him.

“Listen… I should go. I want to get something to eat before they start boarding since it’s a long one and all.”

But you’ll just do it later.

“Okay… sounds good. Get a small sandwich or something so you’ll feel full enough before they actually feed you on the plane.”

Suddenly you didn’t want a sandwich.

“Got it… Bye.”

“Love you, bye.”

You hear a noise letting you know the call has been disconnected and drop your hand, gripping the device at your side.

That was another thing. Brian had told you only 3 months of dating that he loved you – to which you had responded with “oh wow… that’s- that’s… so nice of you.” Being the nice guy, he was completely fine with you not saying it back, because he felt so sure that one day you would. He understood that you had issues with a past relationship that you weren’t quite ready to let go of yet, therefore your heart wasn’t completely available. He felt with time you would give in and love him too.

As of now you weren’t too sure… Especially if you did end up breaking up with him. At a later date and time of course. Maybe when you came back?

Your mind went blank as you looked at the shelves of the poorly made airport food in front of you. The sandwiches that had once looked good and enticing suddenly lost their luster and the last thing you wanted to do was waste money on one. Sighing, you glanced back down at the phone in your hand. The object felt more like a heavy weight and a burden rather than just a phone. It wasn’t due to work or family; it was just all because of Brian.

You’re startled when your phone comes to life once again under your gaze, buzzing softly.

Brian. Remember don’t forget to text me when you board!

It was like he had a sixth sense for whenever you were thinking of him. And to be honest it wasn’t that often.

A couple of weeks ago you were out to lunch with a few friends from college and when updating those who you hadn’t seen in a while on the goings-on of your life, you had at first redacted the fact that you had a boyfriend completely.

“Anyone romantic in your life?” Your friend Alice had asked you.

Without thinking you had begun telling her how he was in game design and was from LA just like you, but soon cut yourself off before you could talk about how cute his dog was. That’s when you realized you weren’t talking about Brian. Brian was in fucking accounting, not game design and was 100% allergic to any kind of animal. When your friend asked about your love life, you had him in mind and not Brian even though so much time had gone by.

You were starting to believe that you weren’t ready for a relationship at all.

Sighing, you figured that maybe chips would be a better and less smelly option for the plane ride. Knowing yourself you would probably dig into them within the first thirty minutes of the thirteen-hour trip.

You whip around to find wherever your newly desired snack choice could be when you catch a glimpse of someone out of the corner of your eye. The goosebumps that make their way to the surface of your skin and the hair on the back of your neck standing up so eagerly causes your entire body to freeze with fear. There was only one person who made you feel this way, one person who made your blood run cold. The person you had just indirectly been thinking of.

No, no it couldn’t be.

You’re afraid to turn around, because more than anything you don’t want to be right. If you felt stressed thinking about Brian, you were going to have a panic attack from seeing him. Pivoting yourself to the left, you bite your lip anxiously unsure of how you’re supposed to react if you are right. Taking in the sight behind you, you’re met with a father and daughter selecting candy from the shelves of the store. The individual causing your anxiety nowhere in sight. Your entire body relaxes.

The last thing you wanted was a fiasco in the international terminal at LAX. It certainly wouldn’t do you, your family and your company any good to make headlines. It especially wouldn’t have made Brian happy; he probably would have called you a hundred times in worry.

“I can’t fucking believe it.”

And just like that you’re snapped out of your daze, your false security vanished, goosebumps emerging once again. This time there were no questions. That voice. It was him.

Turning back around you find yourself under the gaze of your ex-boyfriend. Your ex-boyfriend who you haven’t seen in over two years.

You wish you could say that time hadn’t been good to Mark, but that would be a bold-faced lie. He had somehow become even more attractive in the last two years and the only real thing that seemed different about him was his hair color. The last time you had seen him he had been blonde, but now he had opted for a dark brown color. As much as you hated thinking it, it definitely suited him.

The last two years felt like a long blur of trying to forget him and everything or everyone associated with him. Those were of course difficult things to do, many of the people in your shared three-year life with Mark becoming some of your closest allies and the fact that Mark wasn’t an easy person to erase. Since the two of you met – even when you were just friends – you had a magnetic like pull to one another that couldn’t just be forgotten and dismissed. You were even feeling it right now after everything.

He’s wearing a tight smile, almost as if he too can’t believe you’re standing here in front of him. It was as though you were the one inconveniencing him, when he had been the one to even say something to you. If you had seen him first, you would have turned around and ran the other way pretending like it never happened. For some reason he was willing to acknowledge you.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here,” his tight smile soon fades away and his voice is smooth as ice, a nonchalance to it that makes you question whether he even cares about this run in.

“Me either. Good to see you… Now if you’ll excuse me…” You replied pushing past him to continue your previous task of looking for chips. Much to your dislike, he follows you as you embark on one of the aisles, your eyes scanning the items placed out oh so carefully.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how I’ve been? What I’ve been up to?”

The last you had heard of Mark was that he had moved to Beijing after being given a position at a video game development company. At first you had been surprised at Mark taking a job overseas, he had always expressed to you how even over his own dead body he would never leave LA, but ultimately him in China relieved you. No longer did you have to avoid your favorite spots in the city for boba or the park bench where you got most of you best thinking done. You didn’t even have to be worried about getting invited to a party or dinner with a friend, wondering if Mark was going to show up. With Mark gone you could freely have your life back and not walk around with the fear of running into him. But you guessed that it could only have lasted so long before fate – as cruel as she was – brought you two together again.

“No that’s okay. I’m good,” you go down another aisle, he still follows suit.

Where were those damn chips?

“If you’re looking for the chips, they’re over there,” he said pointing behind you to the back wall in a location that you should have noticed sooner, “and if you want your favorite brand of salt & vinegar chips, they’re on the bottom shelf.”

Your stomach churned, he thought after all this time he would be able to still just know you like the back of his hand? What snack you’re looking for? What chips you like? No way.

Wordlessly you march to the back and stare at the shelves in front of you. You felt your hand dangerously moving forward to the bottom to grab the salt & vinegar chips Mark mentioned, but you control yourself and pull back not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Instead you opt for plainly salted kettle chips.

“Thanks… you’ve been a big help. See you never,” you scoffed turning around to face him and pushing past him to pay for your item, leaving Mark in the dust behind you.

“What you’re not going to even pretend that it’s nice to see me?”

“What the fuck do you want me to say?” you practically spat at him, the father and daughter from earlier staring at the two you, the father particularly appalled for your colorful choice of language.

Mark’s silent and you turn back to the self-checkout to scan your chips, hopeful to not think about your ex-boyfriend for the next thirteen hours. He watches you carefully as you take out your wallet to pay and tap your card against the reader. It isn’t difficult for him to sense the tension in your body, he can see it just from you performing the simple and mundane task of paying. The worst part is that he knows he’s the cause.

Grabbing your snack, you exit the small store and Mark follows you, grabbing your wrist, he tries again, “you could say something nice? Like you care? It’s been two years y/n… Can’t we just be normal people with each other?”

At this you feel something in you snap, “I don’t care how much time has fucking passed Mark… I’m never going to get over you just completely throwing our relationship out the window. I can’t believe I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with you… I was so fucking dumb to think you cared about me for even one minute. So, to answer your question… no we can’t just be normal people with each other. We were never normal people with each other to begin with.”

The two of you had started off as friends, just friends. It was something new for Mark, being just friends with a girl and not having sex attached. Many people in your life warned you not to get close to him, that he was just a fuckboy who didn’t care about the emotional – it was only the physical with him. Ultimately you ignored him, becoming his friend and finding that you two just worked together. First you worked together as friends and soon you fell under his Mark Tuan spell, working together as lovers.

Throughout your entire relationship you did your best to trust Mark, which you accomplished for the most part, but in the back of your head you would constantly hear the voices of everyone around you. You would hear the stories of the girls he had before you and how terribly he treated them, but you ignored it all. After a while you started to think of it all a little less, people even congratulating you on lasting so long with Mark – something that tended to annoy you. You knew that they didn’t see the Mark that you knew, the Mark that wanted to be something else for you, the best for you. Then after three years together, almost a month after your anniversary, you found out he had been with someone else.

The old Mark had perhaps never truly vanished, but was just immensely good at hiding.

Now here you were in front of him and you couldn’t tell who this Mark was.

Mark scoffed, “you haven’t changed at all…” Now he was mad at you? “It’s probably better we just say goodbye here.”

You rolled your eyes, “That’s what I’ve been trying to do this whole time.”

He wanted to say more, but looking at how annoyed you were at merely being close to him, he let it go. It was hard for him to understand how he was feeling. He longed for you, but he also felt a lot of anger towards you that he wasn’t sure how to control.

Both of you stare at one another, neither of you wanting to be the first one to walk off. Without a word, you both collect yourselves and assumedly prepare to embark on your respective gates. Mark gives you a final glance with his fists now clenched in frustration and turns to walk toward his flight.

You realize he’s going the same direction as you and you follow awkwardly behind. After a moment – as if he can sense you’re still there – he turns around and scowls at you.

“Why are you following me?”

You snorted, the actual audacity of Mark Tuan. This is an airport for fuckssake, you can’t control where your flight is, “as if I would ever follow you! I’m going to my gate! I think the better question is why are you following me?”

“I’m going to my gate!”

“Okay!” You yell a little too loud, “Okay!” he repeated, matching your volume. You can sense that people are starting to stare at the two of you for your truly unprompted yelling.

Mark looks back at you once again, rolling his eyes. The two of you may have gates in the same area, but you can’t stand to look at him any longer – much less his back which you couldn’t help but notice has become much broader. Not that you would admit it to him… or anyone.

You pick up your pace, passing Mark and causing him to trail behind. You expect him to say some snarky remark or rude comment when you go in front of him, but instead all you hear is an annoyed groan. It’s when you finally reach your gate and sit down in the waiting area that you feel Mark is no longer right behind you, but instead frozen in the main concourse, in front of the space you’re seated in. He feels his mouth go dry and he wants to scream. All he wants is to just be rid of you, to not be forced to think of you when you’re right in front of him. He wanted to wipe his brain clean.

It suddenly dawns you on the reason why Mark is frozen as if he can’t comprehend what he’s seeing. You stand up abruptly, “this can’t be happening.”

He snaps out of his trance with your words and comes closer to the gate, approaching where you’re seated. You’re just about to wave your hands, warning him not to come any closer when he huffs and sits down on a chair only few away from your own.

“You’re going to Seoul?” He says it as if you being allowed in the Korean peninsula is a disgusting idea.

“I’ve been traveling between LA and Seoul every 2 months for the last year and a half, so yes I am. Aren’t you supposed to be going to Beijing or something?”

He smirked, “I thought you didn’t care about what I was up to?”

“I only care if it assures that you’re as far away from me as humanely possible.”

Your ex looks at his watch and at the screen of the gate alerting passengers that boarding would begin in a few minutes, “well since you’re so curious. I didn’t like Beijing, so I found a job in Seoul that I like much better.

“Didn’t want to come back to LA?”

He looks back to you and you almost wish he hadn’t, “there’s not really a lot left in LA for me anymore.”

Both of you stare at one another for a moment, and you feel your stomach flip. Does he mean what I think he means? Your eyes drift down to your lap and you feel yourself pulling out your phone, not needing any more Mark.

You manage to pass 10 minutes this way, aimlessly refreshing your emails and ignoring Brian’s latest text asking if you’ve boarded yet. Being so engrossed in your phone, you didn’t even notice Mark’s constant glances up at you, wondering what you were looking at or who you were talking to.

There it is again, he thought to himself, Do I care? Do I not care? What the fuck, make up your mind dude.

When the call for First-Class boarding comes to your dismay, both you and Mark stand up. You try to just tell yourself that it’s not important, you would probably both be seated aisles apart, not having to spend any more unwarranted time together.

Even when you’re finally on the plane and find yourself behind him once again in the aisle, you tell yourself that this will be the last moment you have to see Mark Tuan.

“Here’s your seat sir, can I get you any drinks or snacks before take-off?” the flight attendant asked Mark when she shows him his seat. He gives this shit eating grin that makes you want to slap it off his face, you couldn’t believe he was doing this in front of you. What? Did he think he was going to get to fuck the flight attendant as an extra First-Class amenity?

“Ah no thank you, I’m fine for now, but I’ll let you know if anything changes,” you feel awkward standing in the aisle watching this unfold, especially since you can see the attendant is giving in, blush creeping up on her face from Mark’s smooth gaze. You clear your throat, reminding her that you too are there and she quickly turns to you, an apologetic look on her face.

“And here's your seat Miss,” she graciously steps back to let you slide into your seat and you don’t move.

This had to be a joke.

You looked from your seat, to Mark’s and then to the flight attendant.

“I can’t sit here... I’m sorry but there has to be another seat available.”

“I’m sorry ma’am, but there are no other openings in First Class. We only have seats available back in economy.”

This couldn’t be happening. You had been saving all of your miles for a First-Class upgrade for forever, there was no way you were going to give it up, “Mark move to coach.”

“Huh? Are you joking? My company paid for this; I’m not moving back there! You move!”

How were you supposed to sit in front of Mark Tuan for the next thirteen hours? The man who had loved you so deeply, but also caused you the most pain.

Just as people had stared at the two of you in the terminal, the other passengers in your surrounding area were also beginning to look. Maybe if the two of you got into one of your notorious screaming matches, someone would feel bad enough and offer to trade. You couldn’t do that to someone, you wouldn’t wish being stuck next to Mark Tuan on a long-haul flight on your worst enemy. Well… Mark was your worst enemy.

Smiling, you turn back to the flight attendant, “It’s fine… I’ll just stay here. Thank you though.” She gives you a smile, but you can sense some annoyance behind her eyes. You can’t blame her.

Mark looks at you wide eyed, previously caught up in organizing his space, but snapping out his activities when he hears your dismissal about moving seats, “uh… what are you doing? Are you seriously going to sit here?”

“Yes Mark. Unlike you, I paid for my seat so I’m not moving anywhere.”

He scoffed, “Fine.”

“Fine!”

hour one

“Ma’am could you tell the gentleman in 3A to stop chewing so loudly?” You asked the flight attendant, putting on the sweetest voice possible. Mark was driving you up the wall and you were only an hour into the flight.

It was almost as though you could hear every single cough, every shifting in his seat and it was all driving you up the wall. Just knowing he was there irked you.

The flight attendant looks clueless and as she opens her mouth slowly, unsure of how to respond. You hear Mark’s low voice grumble from behind you, also addressing the attendant, “uh ma’am can you tell the lady in 2A to mind her own business, pop a xanny and just go to sleep?”

She clearly wasn’t expecting to deal with any difficult passengers this early on in a thirteen-hour flight. For her sake you wish you could deal with Mark and be more civil, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen.

hour three

“Y/n…”

Be strong, you tell yourself, don’t look back, you can get through this.

“Y/n?”

It’s probably not important… He just wants to annoy you.

“Y/n!”

Screw being strong.

“What the fuck do you want?” Being in semi-pods in First-Class it was difficult to just whip around and face Mark, to show him your annoyance under the lights beginning to dim.

“Do you have any extra AirPods?”

“Why the fuck would I just carry around extra Airpods around with me? Are you an idiot?” You sneered.

“Jesus Christ I was just asking. You don’t have to be so vicious. Maybe someone should fuck the tension out of you,” he said, mumbling the last part. He says it so quietly and so half assed that you almost think that you misheard him.

“Choke on a dick Mark,” you replied quietly, not wanting the other passengers to hear or disturb the few who had already drifted asleep.

He scoffed, “maybe you should be.”

You were wrong, the Mark that you had reunited with was just the same old fuckboy Mark who didn’t give a fuck about anyone.

Placing your AirPods in your ears, you close your eyes and ignore the rest of Mark’s efforts to speak to you, just wanting nothing more than to fall asleep and wake up in your hotel room in Seoul.

hour seven

You pop your headphones out of your ears in frustration, feeling as though you hadn’t managed to get any real sleep during the hours that had passed. You look behind you to Mark’s seat, and feel relieved to see his eyes closed and a slow, shallow breath coming from his mouth.

It felt weird to gaze at Mark and know you were no longer apart of his life. Sure, it had been two years, but you hadn’t seen him or had to deal with the reality that there was now a separate you and a separate Mark. Two entities that had nothing to do with one another anymore. Although sometimes it felt like you were still anchored to him.

Suddenly he shifted over onto his side, mumbling incoherent words in his sleep. The only thing you could make out was your own name. It made you feel uncomfortable, not because he was clearly dreaming about you, but you felt as though you were invading his private space, infiltrating an intimate moment.

“y/n… please…” he mumbled.

You felt like you’d heard enough. The flight was making you restless and you weren’t sure what you would do if you kept listening to Mark’s breathless calls for you. Standing up, you decide it’s probably best now to stretch and go to the bathroom, before you embark on your further slumber.

When you finish up in the bathroom, you almost have a heart attack pulling back the door to be met with Mark’s tall figure.

“Oh my god you scared me,” you said placing your hand on your chest. You shake your head, stepping out of the bathroom with the door closing firmly behind you. Attempting to go back to your seat, you position yourself to move past him, but he moves along with you to keep you from leaving.

“What are you doing?”

Mark doesn’t know what’s taken over him, he had woken up in a frenzy, his dreams not doing anything to help his mental state. He hadn’t dreamt about you in months, but of course as soon as you’re back in his life he has to have fantasies of you wrapped around him once again. It was torturous, especially with you only a few feet away from him. He dreamed about having you every way and any way, feeling like he was going crazy. When he saw you missing from your seat, he immediately got up almost as if in a sleep induced haze unable to control his actions.

"When are you going to stop pretending that you don’t want to be under me again?” he purred.

Your blood goes cold. Was he drunk? His words make you nervous, scared that someone could hear, but looking around the dark cabin it seemed as though everyone in First-Class was fast asleep.

“Mark…” you begin, your tone clearly frustrated, but also weakening a bit, clearly evident that his words are affecting you. It had been so long since someone talked to you like this, and you felt that the hours you had spent on the plane already altering your sanity.

“You were always such a good girl for me, what changed? When did you become so stubborn? What happened to my girl who was always so willing and sweet?”

“I was screwed over by an asshole, that’s what happened,” you mumbled trying to avert his gaze and prayed that maybe if you weren’t to look at him you could pretend that there wasn’t a part of you hanging on his every word.

“That was in the past. I’ve changed now… But I’m still your boy. Even after two fucking years, I’m still yours.”

You want to fight with him, say that if he was always your boy and still is then he would have never cheated on you. He would have never spent a night with someone else.

“Let me fuck the anger out of you.”

“What?” Okay he had to be drunk.

“You and I have too much sexual tension, and we’re both angry so let’s just fuck to relieve the tension.”

“You’ve said some pretty fucking dumb things before, but this is… this is…” you drift unsure of what exactly you think it is.

“A good idea?”

“Mark I’m not having sex with you in an airplane bathroom.”

“What? Like that’s bothered you before?”

When you were with Mark, the two of you would have sex in the riskiest places, so you weren’t a stranger to the kind of sex where you could be caught at any moment, but you had never joined the mile-high club before.

“We’re not together. I hate you and you hate me… for some reason.” You never understood why exactly Mark had been mad at you all of these years and acted as though you were the devil himself when he had been the one that ruined the two of you. Maybe it was because you hadn’t given him a second chance? Maybe it was from the influence of you hating him? Or maybe it was because you had never been enough for him, otherwise what would have caused him to spend the night with another woman?

Mark clicked his tongue and it causes you to bring your attention to his mouth. It almost makes you lose focus completely. “So what if we’re not together anymore? Does that matter?”

Does that matter?

His words make you remember something. Something very important.

Brian.

“Yes, it matters. I-I have a boyfriend,” for some reason the word “boyfriend” seems to be hard to get out. It was always weird to associate Brian as your boyfriend or your “partner,” but saying it to Mark felt like the weight of a ton of bricks.

In the dark lighting of the cabin you can just make out the frown that spreads across Mark’s face. Just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone and the cocky façade is back.

“And that’s a problem?” your ex asked.

As you’re about to protest and tell him that commitment in relationships is important to you, Mark reaches his hand out to rest on your bare shoulder, running it softly up and down your arms in a soothing pattern. It was a common gesture between the two of you, something Mark would constantly do whenever you were telling a story or the times you would fall asleep at night. It puts you at ease and you feel yourself close your eyes at his touch.

Mark would be lying if he said the word “boyfriend” coming out of your mouth didn’t disappoint him. In fact, he felt a similar pain to the one he felt two years ago when you had broken up with him. Mark wasn’t daft, he knew what you thought of him – a player, a fuckboy and someone who never cared about you in the first place. It hurt him to know that you were just like everyone else around him who had a preconceived notion of who he was or what he did. At one point in time he thought you were different.

But now looking at you and having you back in his life – even for only a thirteen-hour plane ride, he just wanted you back in his arms, back under his touch. He knew he should have felt guilty for not giving one fuck about this “boyfriend” you had acquired at some point during your two years apart, but he didn’t care. If he was going to have to be that cocky fuckboy who paid no mind to any consequences to get you, then so be it.

“Come on… it’s been two years… let me feel that pussy that I’ve missed so so much,” he whispered seductively against the shell of your ear, “let me fuck into it so good, because I know no one’s filled it up so well since me. Especially not that boyfriend.”

His words cause you to moan involuntarily and the noise awakens both you and him. You immediately shoot your hand up to cover your mouth, unsure of what’s getting into you. You were supposed to hate Mark, you had spent the last two years training yourself to hate him just in case a moment like this were ever to arise. But maybe that was an easier thing to imagine when you hadn’t seen him, because now with his hands gently caressing you and his request to be inside of you once again, you feel anything but hate. You feel want.

“Fuck Mark…”

“Just say the word baby, and you have me,” he whispered, delicately placing an open mouth kiss on your wrist, slowly continuing up your arm.

What were the pros and cons of this? If you were in any other difficult situation you would take a pause and list all of the good and bad things that could come from this. The big con was Brian… Even if you had been feeling strange about where your relationship with him was going and found him to be suffocating, you couldn’t do to him what Mark had done to you. Another negative factor emerged in your mind… you didn’t want to be put under Mark’s spell again, you couldn’t. Even being this close to him made you feel things that you had been trying to forget for two years, sleeping with him after all this time would only make it worse. That worried you. But judging on the primal way your body was reacting to Mark – your wet core being a clear sign – you knew this wasn’t going to be a logical decision where the cons outweigh the pros.

“I-” you’re about to do it, you’re about to gain enough strength to tell him you don’t want him anymore, but when he pushes your hair away from where it lays on your shoulder and attaches his lips to the side of your neck, any willpower you had vanishing. His gentle sucking on the sweet spot of your neck that he knows oh too well causes you to let out a whimper and he smiles against your skin, knowing he has you.

“Do it,” you mumbled, eyes still closed.

Mark brings his lips back to your ear, “do what baby?” His cocky tone makes you want to roll you eyes. He had always done this – torture you until you were begging to feel his touch.

You open your eyes and give yourself a moment to readjust to the dark lighting of the plane and focus on Mark’s face in the small space in front of the bathroom. You want to see his gaze when you make your non-logical decision.

“Fuck me.”

The corner of his mouth turns upwards as he brings his arm forward and behind you to pull open the bathroom door, pushing you backwards into the cramped space.

It’s when he’s pressed up against you and locks the door behind him that the reality of what you’re doing sets in. Just as you feel yourself get used to the harsh lighting, you freeze at Mark’s intense stare.

“What are you looking at?” You asked.

He smiled and glanced down at the floor shyly, then back up at you, “You.”

For the first time since seeing him again at the airport store you feel those feelings in your stomach. No hate, no indifference and no bitterness towards Mark - not even just lust. Instead you felt a warmth for him that reminded you of the good days, not the bad ones. The swell in your heart worried you and you didn’t want to feel or dwell on it so you lean forward and kiss him.

Mark’s lips on yours doesn’t do anything to eliminate the softness you felt for him moments before, if anything it only intensifies it. It feels as though no time has passed for the two of you and the missing piece of the puzzle that you had been searching for has finally found its way back to you.

A low growl comes from Mark’s throat and it sends your hands to find shelter in his hair. When you were together you had always had a weird thing for Mark’s hair. You loved running your fingers through it, gently massaging his scalp and tugging at the roots. Mark would always joke that you would probably break up with him if he ever shaved his head, which you didn’t exactly argue with. And now it just felt so good to have your hands where they belong. It’s almost as though Mark’s read your mind and he smiles against you lips when he feels your hands, “pull as hard as you want.”

You feel his tongue at the seam of your lips, urging itself through to deepen the kiss and you tell yourself that it’s not too late, this can be the moment that you opt out for what a mistake this would be. With his hands drifting down from your hips to your ass, you feel yourself part your mouth voluntarily, realizing that you don’t want to stop this. You want to make this mistake; you want nothing more than to let him feel you and taste you even more.

“I want to taste you so bad,” Mark whispered against your lips, “see if you taste as good as I remember.”

You want that more than anything. Mark had always been so good with his tongue and just thinking about the hours he had spent between your thighs in the past made you even wetter than when you were having sex with Brian. Judging however, on the space you were both in, you didn’t know if it was physically possible. He can sense your hesitancy by the way your lips begin to still against his.

He breaks apart from you and gently rubs his thumb along your jawline and lips, “don’t think too much.” In an instant Mark’s crouched down in the very small space in the bathroom and you immediately find yourself worried about his comfort level, “are you sure you’re okay?”

He looked up at you, a dark look in his eyes and waved you off, “don’t worry about me babe, I’m about to have the best meal of my life.” At the end of his sentence he reaches up to the hem of your leggings and pulls them, along with your panties down in one sweep, pushing them aside. You’re almost surprised at his loftiness, but you remind yourself that it’s Mark. He moves a hand around to the back of your knee, hoisting one of your legs up onto the closed toilet seat, pushing the rest of your body up against the small sink counter. Although the space was already limited as it was, the position brought your core closer to his face and as you looked down to see the way his tongue stroked across his lips, you felt yourself already get lightheaded.

He began with leaving open mouth kisses along the inside of your lifted thigh and another on the top of your pubic mound. It was enough to make you feel shaky, as though the one leg that was supporting your weight would give out at any moment. You found yourself unfazed, you knew Mark would be there to catch you if you fell.

Mark leaned in further, his tongue delving between you folds to gather up as much of your wetness as he could, giving you a noisy taste that had him groaning, head pulling back and licking his lips after his first taste in two years.

“You taste even better than I remember, how the fuck could you get sweeter? I don’t even want to go back to my seat after tasting you, I could sit in this bathroom with my mouth on you till the end of the flight.”

You found yourself wanting nothing more than to be stuck in this crammed bathroom with Mark for as long as you both could get away with. The person who was contemplating whether or not this was a bad idea didn’t even exist to you anymore. One lap of his tongue on you and you were reminded of all the ways he could make you fall apart.

He tongued your clit slowly at first, every stroke almost teasing – as if he was making up for the years you two spent a part. His tongue would slip lower, working its way along your gushing entrance to remind you how much he relished your flavor before returning to your clit, the wet sounds of Mark’s sucking not even embarrassing to you. It was when Mark began to groan against you and swirl his tongue and suck that you felt your hands go back to his hair, roughly pulling him closer.

“Mark, I-I can’t… I’m gonna – fuck,” you moaned out unable to form a functional and coherent thought. As you feel your orgasm on the horizon and just around the corner, you tug at Mark’s roots further, which encourages him to pick up the pace of his tongue, wanting you to cum on his face just like you had many times before. He wanted to drive you to the brink of pleasure, but he also wanted to prove to himself that he could still bring you to the edge with just his tongue.

Any delicacy he had been exhibiting before is completely gone, the way he laps at your clit and swirls his tongue around your sensitive bundle of nerves causes your chest to heave and sweat on your brow. You’re so caught up in Mark that you barely notice your foot beginning to slip from its security on the toilet. Mark swiftly acknowledges your pending loss of balance and tugs the leg up onto his shoulder, not removing himself from you for even a moment.

You could feel yourself twitch and the arching of your hips towards his face, “come on baby I know how close you are, I need you to cum for me. Cum for me like all the times before, all over my face. I want it so bad.”

Mark’s muffled words against you and the final groans he emits from how much he loves your taste is the last straw as you finally let go and the waves of release crash over you. He doesn’t give way as you buck yourself further into him one final time, his back practically hitting the wall of the bathroom. Your body comes down from your climax and you look to see Mark gratefully clean up the release he caused. When he takes his mouth away, you feel your core wavering against the emptiness and loss of warmth it had felt, almost as though it wanted Mark to be a permanent attachment to you. You’re breathless, head falling back to the mirror behind you as Mark stands up, wiping the back of his mouth and jawline which had become messy and shiny with your juices.

“I knew you were still my little slut,” he pushes the hair that had fallen in front of your face behind you, “letting me have you in a fucking bathroom at 35,000 feet. How else will you let me have you?” He asked attaching his lips back to that spot on your neck.

It dawns on you that there’s no winning. You once again are completely under the spell and at the mercy of Mark Tuan, willing to let him do whatever he wants to you. “M-Mark whatever you want.” At your response he simply smirked, quickly pulling his joggers and boxers down, his painfully hard cock slapping against his lower stomach.

“Fuck I’ve been waiting so long to have you around me again. I never thought I would, and I’m going to make every second count.”

He positions himself in between your legs, gripping your hips and pauses for a moment, clearly contemplating something. Mark hadn’t planned on having sex on the plane, nor did he plan on even seeing you again.

“Mark if it’s about the condom, it’s fine… I don’t care, I’m still on the pill and I-I trust you.”

At your trust in him, something he had so deeply been wanting all these years, he doesn’t hesitant another moment at placing himself at your entrance. His teasingly slow rubbing against your slit causes you to let out almost a growl at how much you needed him to be inside of you.

“How much do you want it y/n?”

“So bad.”

He pushes into you suddenly, “you’re still my cockslut, huh?” The feeling is too good and too great to answer him, but he’s not satisfied with your nonresponse.

“Answer me.” He sunk himself inside of you further and you do your best to let out the smallest and most inaudible “yes” you’ve ever heard, which thankfully seems to be enough for him.

“God,” he groaned, “you’re still so tight.” He looks down at the space where your bodies meet, fixating his gaze at the visual of his cock slipping inside your sensitive and swollen folds. Mark waited for a moment for your pussy to get used to having him inside you again, to get reintroduced to his length and girth which it had been so accustomed to in the past. Despite the time that had passed, you felt no discomfort except for the mental discomfort in your head that just wanted him to fuck into you quickly and harshly.

“Taking me so well, squeezing every inch of me. This pussy knows who it belongs to, who it deserves to be fucked by.”

“M-Mark,” a final moan of his name is all it takes for him to begin his first real thrust into you, pulling himself out almost entirely. You feel so sensitive and overworked from your earlier orgasm that you aren’t sure how long you can last with the way your walls are clenching around Mark.

His pace soon became brutal and you’re thankful the loud sound of the engine could cover up the whimpers coming from your mouth and the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Mark’s fingers press into your hips so firmly that you know there will be bruises that you’ll have to explain later, but for now the only thing you can focus on is how full Mark is making you feel. He removes his hand from your side and brings it down between the two of you, fixating on your clit, rubbing until it ached. It caused your body to clench on him further, the continual touch and his fucking into you making you roll your eyes into the back of your head.

Mark groaned at how snug you felt and how deep you were taking him, his head falling into the crook of your neck and against the bathroom mirror, “whose are you?”

You know what he wants you to say, but you don’t know if it’s the right thing to do, even in the heat of the moment. It could lead to misunderstandings and a more complex outcome than just that of having sex with him in a fucking airplane bathroom.

“Whose are you?” He repeated, this time a little bit softer and removing his head from your shoulder to look at you with worrisome eyes. Mark knows that if you say you’re his it’d most likely be untrue, but he doesn’t care. He just wants to hear it one more time, even if it’s a complete and utter lie. He wants to know he has you, even if it’s for this one moment.

“Yours, I’m all yours,” you breathe out. It comes out on its own, without any time for you to process or comprehend what you’re saying. It surprises you so much that you aren’t even sure if it’s a lie or not.

That’s all he needed and he thrusts into you even harder, hitting the spot inside of you that makes you want to completely fall apart and combust. You’re too caught up in the pleasure of him ramming into you that you don’t even feel the pain that comes with your backside being continually pushed into small counter of the sink.

“Cum for me baby, I’m close and I need us to do this together. It’s all I want,” Mark said. His tone perplexes you. It’s forceful and authoritative something that you were no stranger to when it came to sex with Mark, but there was a clear tenderness to it that had you second guessing everything. Maybe this wasn’t just sex.

It’s one more strum of his cock against your g-spot and the pinching of your clit with his thumb and index finger that has you climaxing around him. The almost violent pulse from your pussy around him due to your orgasm has Mark following close behind, spilling himself deep inside of you. The ecstasy coursing through you causes your entire body to shake and twitch, wanting to collapse completely onto the bathroom floor. You fall against Mark’s body and in his own exhausted state he holds you close, protectively wrapping his arms around you making you feel secure.

You should want to get out of the situation immediately as a one-time thing, but somehow you can’t bring it in you to remove yourself from his grasp. You felt at home with Mark’s arms around you and him still inside of you. It was a comfort a sense of normalcy you hadn’t felt with anyone since Mark. He softly strokes your hair, placing gentle kisses on the top of your head remembering how much you liked it after a tiring session of sex.

It feels as though no time has passed, but soon you find yourself out of Mark’s hold. He removes his now soft cock from you and you can feel yours and his cum leaking from your core, down to your thighs. It’s almost as though this movement has finally woken you up. You delicately collapse onto the toilet, making sure to take extra care with your now jelly-like legs. With your head in your hands in disbelief at the actions you had just willingly followed through on, Mark stares at you.

“Fuck… I’m so mad at myself.”

With the small amount of space, he has, Mark shifts his weight from one foot to the other, “why? That was so fucking great.”

You looked up at him in a scolding manner, he still had no perception of reality, but apparently now you were one and the same. “Because now I did the same thing to Brian that you did to me.”

There’s a pause and Mark avoids all eye contact with you. He had imagined this talk so many times – the talk the two of you never got to have and he really didn’t want it to be here, like this. But by some strike of luck, fate had brought you back to him, even for a short period of time and he may never get the opportunity to come clean again.

Choosing to continue to avert your gaze, Mark sighs deeply and busies himself with pulling up his joggers.

“I didn’t cheat on you.”

You feel like ice and your whole body goes numb, “W-what?”

He sighs again, looking down, “I never cheated on you.”

You think there’s no way you could have heard him correctly. Your entire break up, the reason you ended your passionate love story with the one person you saw a future with came from his cheating. It couldn’t be a lie… Could it?

One thing was for certain, you knew Mark so well and judging by the fidgeting and fiddling with his fingers you can tell you still do. And he was telling the truth. Your stomach flipped.

“Then why did you let me believe that you did?”

“You were the only person in my life who didn’t believe all those stupid rumors about me, the only person who didn’t believe I was a fuckboy like everyone thought… but then the moment someone tells you they think they saw me with someone, you pack your bags. I figured you wouldn’t believe me, just like everyone else.”

It’s ridiculous. The words coming out of his mouth are ridiculous, but part of you understands what he’s saying. Maybe you had been too quick to judge, too quick to believe everyone else’s preconceived notions regarding your own boyfriend, but what were you supposed to do when he didn’t even defend himself?

“You know… even after all this time, I still don’t know why I hated you. I really don’t know if it was because I thought you cheated or because you never went after me when I left.”

Mark’s silent, and the weight of the situation continues to hit the two of you like a bus. Part of you feels betrayed by him. More betrayal then when you first heard the rumors. The two of you could have been together this whole time, saved each other from years of pain, sorrow and longing, but instead it’s almost as though he forced it upon you both.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Jesus fuck Mark we’re not Marianne and Connell from Normal People, we can talk to each other.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Who?”

“I’ve been watching a lot of TV since we broke up.”

There’s another silence between the two of you and in the small space it feels deafening and suffocating. You want nothing more than to go back to your seat and forget this even happened. Weirdly enough, the sex part you were fine with. It was this conversation that left you feeling like you couldn’t get a proper breath of air into your lungs, almost as if you were drowning.

You take a piece of toilet paper from the roll beside you and use it to attempt to clean up the mess that had already begun drying on your legs. Mark watches you mindlessly, unsure of what to say himself. He knows he made a mistake from not telling you and effectively keeping the two of you apart, but every time he would reach for the phone to dial your number he would be reminded of the pain he felt and all the things you had called him that day.

Everyone was right! Why didn’t I just fucking listen to them? Does a three year relationship mean nothing to you? I thought you changed… were different… but now I just feel like I wasted my time.

“I-I really don’t know what to say if I’m honest,” you finally stuttered out, grabbing your discarded leggings and pulling them on, “did you want me to leave you?”

Mark shakes his head vigorously, completely taken aback at you even thinking that, “no... Not at all... I just- it was complicated.”

“Right and you don’t do complicated. Got it.” You stand up and move to unlock the door, but Mark moves in front of you as he did earlier.

“Y/n... Can we just talk about this? When we land can we just go to a cafe and talk about everything? I still- I mean... even after all this time I-” He begins, but you’re too scared to hear him finish the sentence.

“Mark we’ve had a lot of time to talk. Just please let me go back to my seat.”

This time he makes no effort to stop you from leaving and you quickly slip out of the bathroom, fearful someone might see you. Luckily, everyone is still fast asleep and you walk back down the aisle to your seat wanting to forget about what Mark had said.

You couldn’t deal with the what ifs, you couldn’t get lost in a fantasy of imagining that maybe you and Mark could be married already if he would have just said something. You couldn’t be that cruel to yourself.

After a few moments, you notice the bathroom occupied sign go away, signaling Mark’s arrival back to his seat.

He knows he could just sit down and go back to sleep, falling back in to the way things were. But he had already not tried to go after you once before and he had been regretting it ever since. He had to say fuck that to all of the fears he had of being judged and put trust back into someone again. He wanted you.

Your eyes which had drifted closed soon shot open as you felt a movement at the side of your chair, turning to see Mark crouched down next you

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“I already let go of you once, I’m not doing it again. If I have to spend the next,” he brings his watch up to look at the time, “six hours convincing you, then so be it. I’m not letting walk away from me this time.” At his final word he moves his hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear and goes to sit down. His eyes piercing into the back of your seat.

You felt Mark’s words, you felt them deeply in every part of you and it made you think that the Mark you love was still in there.

Love.

You still loved him.

The beating of your heart made it difficult to fall asleep, but when you finally did you had a decision made and a smile on your face.

#got7 fanfic #got7 smut #mark tuan #mark tuan fanfic #got7 fanfiction

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