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angelguk · 3 years ago

Note

omg so i sent in an ask re angst jock jk n oc ! but then i also realized its highly possible these 2 break up at one point while in uni mostly bc of the "are we dating bc its convenient" kinda dilemma and then it just pushes them apart bc they think theyre losing theirselves while being in such a close relationship,,,cue save ur tears by theweeknd BUT i just know when they grow up a lil bit more, theyll end up together <3

here we go! (the beginning of the end....may be...)

didn’t include save your tears as the soundtrack but may haps for the follow-up :3

pairing: jock!jk and oc

warnings: angst, yes the break-up scene, jaykay being an ass (a very huge one motivated by his own insecurities and selfishness – translation: he’d rather break her heart and carry that weight than be the heartbroken one), chayoung is no longer Seed of Doubt but something else (still up for debate but she’s fairly nice here), not edited but hey atp that’s part of my branding (also i would like everyone to consider that oc is not the greatest gf ever like guys don’t hate jk alone!!)

soundtrack: bags, clairo + stay, gracie abrams + say you know, alina baraz

(titled — honeymoon fades)

Jeongguk’s contact name hasn’t lit up the screen of your phone for six days now and you haven’t seen his face for just as long. It’s weird to go from constant incessant communication to complete and utter radio silence. Not a single meme deposited in your Instagram inbox, no random notification from his Twitter. Just silence, quiet brewing silence.

It breaks two days later when Chayoung finds you coddled under your duvet, mouth stuffed with the saccharine sweetness of mint chocolate. (Jeongguk kept a stash of it at your place but who was around to eat it anymore apart from you?).

“And why do you look like you live in a dumpster?” She’d hummed, ripping open the curtains you’d involuntarily welded shut.

“Because that’s how I feel inside,” you’d retorted, pushing aside your laptop. The screen is stuck with an image of an idiotic character named Nabi kissing the spawn of Satan. You hope for her sake it works out. Chayoung had huffed at your response, fondly whacking your head with a stray pillow.

“Well get over that feeling cause we’re going out tonight.” A declaration, the fierceness in her feline eyes a warning that you’re not allowed to even think of saying no. That doesn’t mean you hadn’t tried – sorrowful eyes and pouted lips as you begged her to spare you. But Chayoung is a force of nature, one that could easily wreak havoc on your delicateness. And she does though, with a string of comments that propels you out of the miserable burrow you’d dug up.

“You’re killing everyone, you know?” She’d supplied, yanking open your closet. “You’re sulking, Jeongguk is shutting down. He’s said like five words since this whole...thing...you have going on.”

You couldn’t help but scoff at that, toying with the corner of the large grey shirt donned on your body. Jeongguk’s shirt. One of his favourites actually. You’d thought about stealing it after spying it on his obsessively neat laundry pile, but after seeing your wandering eyes he’d given it to you instead.

“He always does that,” you’d said after Chayoung had whipped her head in your direction, curved eyebrows perplexed. “I mean, shut down. It’s his emotional response to things that bother him. Complete detachment so it hurts less.”

She had just stared at you, a long meaningful look at left your skin prickled.

“Huh.”

“What do you mean ‘huh’?”

A measured step forward, her body weight sinking into the edge of your mattress a moment later. “I mean, you know him so well.”

“Of course I do he’s my best-friend,” you’d said, indignation coating your words

“No–No you're not getting me. You know him. You know he wouldn’t make the move to reconcile–”

“But he should!”

“You told him to go away! He’s trying to listen to you even though he’s hurting!”

And maybe that was it, that simple implication that you were causing him pain that had you pausing, reviewing the things you’d said to him – the things you’d felt.

“But,” a timid rebuttal, “I just–I just need him to show me that he cares.”

“He does,” Chayoung had returned. “So much. And he misses you. He’s probably just afraid that you don’t feel the same.”

“But I do! He knows this.”

“Does he?” A question in her eyes, one that you’re afraid you know the honest answer to.

You say things and never mean them, he had said, eyes hard.

That had hurt you but perhaps he was right, there are things you hadn’t told him, feelings you hadn’t truly expressed. And Jeongguk had always been good to you, so understanding and caring, trying to fill the places were you lacked. Wasn’t he the one who planned the majority of your dates? Remembered all the important milestones of your relationship while you contributed the bare minimum. You hadn’t even told Chayoung about the surprise he had planned for your one-year anniversary, the shame of your own choice hanging heavy over your head.

So that’s why you’re here, staring at the back of his head forlornly as the music drifts around you, flashing florescent lights bathing him a hazy glory. He hasn’t seen you yet (something you’re thankful for because oddly enough you feel sick to your stomach). It feels like you’re skating on thin ice, waiting for the impending crack to sound through your heart, ice water swallowing you whole immediately. Chayoung is the one who pushes you forward, gingerly plucking the idle drink from your hand, Jimin aiding her efforts with a soft smile your way.

It’s time for you to try the way Jeongguk has, put aside that bumbling ego that oversees your actions and adopt the humility he’s always granted you.

“Go,” she murmurs. “He misses you.”

And God you hope he does because you’ve missed him too.

Except the moment his honey eyes land on you you know he hasn’t.

“Jeongguk,” you mumble. Yoonoh is frozen beside him, concerned gaze flicking between your faces. Your own eyes are stuck on him, the shape of his nose, the curve of his lips, the subtle hint of the dimple in his cheeks.

You’ve missed him, and it slips from your heart and brims in your eyes, vision blurry as your blink those stray tears back inside.

“Hi,” you add, when his silence doesn’t break.

“I should probably go,” Yoonoh lets out, awkward words bumping into the wall of tension standing firm between you to. He settles a hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder, sending him a look that feels loaded. “See you guys later, right?”

You nod, finally noticing the lump clogging your throat. “Yeah, sure.” Jeongguk just hums, the edge of his cup caught between his lips. Yoonoh flees within seconds, leaving you to wade through this alone.

“I–I know you’re not happy with me right now, but please, can we just talk?” He blinks at you, it feels like a premonition. “Please?”

“Okay.” The simple word fills you, like a hollow you weren’t aware of finally found the cure needed.

“Okay,” a small smile on your lips. Jeongguk’s face is still unreadable. He guides you up and away from the deafening sound of the song bleeding from the speakers, into an empty room, the door closing behind him muting the music and giving way to the own pounding in your head. Nobody says anything for a second, both of you navigating this uncharted territory of animosity. Until Jeongguk sighs, melting into the bed at the centre of the room. You follow suit, allocating enough space between the two of you. You’ve ever had to do that before.

“You said you wanted to talk?” Jeongguk finally cuts through it, eyes unforgiving when he glances at you.

“I did! I do–Just Jeongguk,” you can’t help it drifting out. “I miss you.”

Nothing, not even a flicker in his eyes. He eyes shift to the floor instead. “Okay. I that what you wanted to say?”

“No–No not just that! I’ve missed you Jeongguk and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that i went off on you like that and I’m sorry I haven’t been the best towards you and I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel like I didn’t care about you–or made you feel like the things I said or did had no meaning behind them. Because they do–they do because I love you. I love you so so much and I’m sorry if I made it seem like otherwise.” You automatically extend out for him, hoping to grasp on his thing floating to fast away from you. Jeongguk shifts and you hand tumbles down to the empty space between you instead, halted by his hesitance.

His head drops into his palms a second later, a broken exhale leaving his lips. The motion cause the silver bracelet on his wrist to slip down the length of his arm. It jolts something in you. Jeongguk had given you a matching one but you’d ripped it off after the last argument and hadn’t considered putting it back on. But Jeongguk was still wearing his.

“Do you really?”

“What?” He’s staring at you know, doe eyes cloudy.

“Do you really love me?” There, that stupid evil vile question that you thought you had the answer to but the words vanish in your head the longer he looks at you.

“I do–what? What are you implying? Of course, I do.”

“Of course, you do,” Jeongguk echoes. His eyes turn to the window located over his shoulder. You can see his head working through something, and you’re suddenly terrified fingertips itching to wander through his curls and coax those thoughts from his head.

“Jeongguk? What the hell are you talking about? Talk to me, please.”

He sighs again, at it feels like your heart splinters. A sudden shake of his head and Jeongguk twists back to face you, a silent tear falling down his cheek.

“You don’t love me.”

“Wh–What are you talking about? I do! And how can you decide my feelings for me?”

“No. You don’t love me the way you think you do–the way you should.” It feels like he’s saying it to more than you, like he’s saying it to himself. “Maybe this the wrong choice to make. You know. Maybe we shouldn’t have done this.”

You shatter just like that, shards on the floor as you stare him, this person that you thought you knew. And maybe the feeling is mutual because Jeongguk is staring at you in a similar way, searching for the courage to say the words you know lie in his heart. Like a loaded cannon, waiting for the match to strike and leave you lying in pieces.

“I think we should break–"

“No,” you cut him off with an adamance that you didn’t know existed until right then. “No, you’re not gonna say that and we are not doing this.”

His eyes narrow then, jaw set. “This is not about ‘us’, I’m doing what’s right for me.”

“How is that right? Huh, Jeongguk? Don’t you care about this? Don’t you care about me?”

He looks away then, ignoring your questions, his throat stuck.

“Jeongguk...” You reach out again, and he allows it, shoulders sinking with the weight of your hand on them. “Don’t you care about me?”

Another heavy exhale, his eyes blinking hard. “I do. And that’s why this won’t work, not the way it should at least. I really think we should end this, or at least reconsider the reasons why we’re together. You say you love me–you say you always have but really–really think about it. About me and us and what we are. I’m sorry, I really am but I just can’t do this anymore.”

He rises then, your outstretched hand tumbling down to the empty space he’d left behind. You can’t move it, can’t breathe, your heart hurtling out of your chest and onto the ground where it lies, fragmented beyond repair and bleeding bare. You glance up through tears, watch him open his mouth and then it and look away.

“Do you mean it?” You finally ask, and his eyes snap to you. He knows what you’re saying. There’s a pause that stretches out for eternity, coloured by the sound of the ringing in your head.

“Maybe.” It cuts right through you, lodging itself deep with intent. And then you just have to nod, swallow the scream clawing at your throat. He murmurs one more apology before his feet carry him away, and you watch, forlorn as you burn his frame into your memory, as your whole world walks out the door.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #au: jock!jaykay #i really abused the hyphen in this but oh well

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hereforhalstead · 4 years ago

Text

Prove it

*Gif not mine, credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader.

• Requested: Yes.

“I’d feel a lot better if you let me walk you home/ If i asked you to stay, would you?”

• Warnings: swearing/ mention of drugs

• Summary: Jay insists on walking you home after a night in Molly’s but after seeing you with Adam he decides to tell you how he feels.

• Words: 2893.

• A/N : Hope you enjoyed! Thanks so much for the request, I’m feeling motivated to get writing again due to all of the lovely messages and chats I’ve had over the past few days. Please feel free to send across any requests or prompts that you would and as always my inbox is always open :)

***

“Cheers to no one getting injured on a drug bust for the first time” Adam announces as you all raise your glasses in amusement “Not even you Halstead, gotta be a first. Right?” he adds but Jay rolls his eyes and takes another sip of his drink “Listen, It’s not me you should be congratulating. Y/N is always the one who does something without thinking and gets herself hurt, you should be directing this at her” he tips his glass towards you and you give him a menacing look “Talk about beat around the bush” you mumble but Jay’s chuckle is enough to break your facade as you mirror his grin “Just saying” he shrugs and winks.

The team had just finished up on what felt like a month long operation, in reality you had been planning it a week or so but the observations and scoping out the area made it feel so much longer. You managed to get the guy you were after and as Adam said, miraculously all of you had avoided injury which was definitely a first. His speech was clearly aimed towards you and Jay out of anyone, Jay was known for getting far too attached and close to cases which often blinded his awareness of danger. You were very similar in that if you saw an opportunity to help someone out you would take it, not weighing up the situation and resulting in you taking risks you probably shouldn’t.

Because of this, you and Jay had each others backs. Of course everyone had everyones back but not in this way. You’d seemed to have grown a close bond due to you both being very similar in the way you work and think, often knowing what the other is going to do before they even think it. As much of this being a good thing, it has often not panned out as the other will take the first step to try and protect the other and things going south, you’d probably put yourself in more danger trying to prevent Jay getting hurt rather than a result of your own misjudgment. Jay was the same, not thinking about himself and would rather put himself in a compromising position instead of you - sounds twisted but that’s just the way your partnership worked.

By this point, you’d had a few drinks but was cutting yourself off. You had an early shift in the morning and the thought of the pile of paperwork on your desk reminded you it was not something you wanted to tackle with a hangover. No one else seemed to think the same way, this was soon proved as Hailey made her way back from the bar with another tray of shots. “Oh none for me, I’m having a quiet one tonight” you excused yourself and carried on sipping the remainder of your drink.

“Yeah, I’m also out. Don’t want to be feeling rough with all that paperwork tomorrow” Jay winced and you laughed to yourself at how similar your thoughts always were. “Something you two aren’t telling us?” Hailey downs one of the shots and you almost choke on your drink “Are you being serious?” you question and she shrugs her shoulders with a click of her tounge “I don’t think it’s just me that thinks it, I overheard Kev and Adam gossiping the other day” you dart your attention over to a stunned Kevin who simply purses his lips and turns to Adam for him to defend “I-I.. Don’t know what she’s talking about” he stutters out “You couldn’t come up with something better?” Kevin mumbles under his breath and you shake your head “Nothing to report, right Jay?” you hand over to Jay who was quietly sipping on his nearly finished drink “What? Oh.. right”

You smile back at Hailey but she doesn’t seem satisfied “I’m just saying, I don’t think he would run into a burning building for much but if you were on the top floor he would be sprinting up them stairs” Kim widens her eyes at Hailey who seems so casual about everything she is saying but you weren’t taking it as lightly and were now feeling slightly uncomfortable “Well on that note, I think I’m gonna head out” you place your empty glass back on the bar and hear them continue to bicker being you “Good one” Adam curses at Hailey who again doesn’t seem fazed “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking. You can’t tell me they’re both so oblivious to it as well”. Adam runs his hand along his jawline and stands to pick your jacket up which had fallen on the floor, you hear him mutter a soft ‘sorry’ which you acknowledge with a forced smile “I’ll see you tomorrow”.

You shrug your jacket on and head for the door, slightly underestimating how cold Chicago can be and regretting not picking up a thicker coat. You start the traitorous walk down the road but feel your phone buzz in your pocket

‘Stop walking and wait for me’

You squint to see who it was from and your heart slightly picks up speed when you say Jay’s name at the top of the screen, you come to a stop and turn to look over your shoulder. Not seeing anyone there you carry on walking but keep your phone in your grasp when it vibrates again

‘What did I just say Y/N..’

You chuckle at the message and take another look behind you but this time seeing Jay a few steps away “you really don’t listen for shit do you” he greets and you scoff “Well, nice to see you too”. You carry on walking and Jay jogs to catch up and walks closely alongside you “Early night for you as well then?” you break the silence and he just nods with his hands stuffed in his pockets “Not as good when you’re partners not there” he remains with his eyes pinned to the path ahead and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks and are suddenly grateful for the darkness so he can’t see. You come to a stop and Jay turns back to look at you confused “You don’t live this way? In fact that way” you point in the opposite direction you’re walking and his eyes quickly dart back to you “You think I’d let you walk home alone?” he almost chuckles to himself but you don’t match his amusement “Jay, it’s not even 8pm and I’ve only had a few drinks. Thank you but I’m fine” you pat him on the shoulder and continue walking, you barely get a step away when he’s back by your side.

“I get that, but I’d feel better if you let me walk you home “. You’re reminded that you still have your phone in your hand when you feel it vibrate, you look down to see Adam’s name flash up on the screen. You show Jay the screen and you can’t help but notice the way he seems to straighten up when he reads the name, you ignore this and answer the phone “Hey Adam” you chime and Jay vaguely hears him respond on the other end “Hold on a minute” you put the phone to your shoulder to muffle the speaker and so Adam can’t hear “Look, if I stay on the phone with Adam and walk home alone. Will that make you feel better?” you whisper to Jay who clears his throat and nods “Do whatever you want” he responds in a harsh but quiet tone before heading back towards the bar. “Sorry, as you were saying..” you turn your attention back to the phone call and carry on your journey home.

The phone call only last a few minutes after Jay left but you made a note to tell Jay it was the full length of your journey home if he ever asks.. You step in the elevator to your apartment block and click the button for your floor, you grasp at the hand rail behind you and lean your head back on the mirror, you were shattered and just ready for bed. The elevator chimes and the doors open, as you exit and head for your apartment you find yourself rummaging around your pockets to find your key, you turn the corner and nearly jump out of your skin as you see Jay stood outside your door, leaning on the wall with his knee bent and foot resting below him.

He sees your reaction and turns to face you walking towards him “sorry I didn’t mean to make you jump” he softly whispers as you turn the key in the lock “Maybe don’t wait outside my front door when I’m not expecting anyone to be there smart ass” you hit back, still not sure on his attitude when he left you earlier.

You walk in the apartment and hang your jacket on the hook but turn back to see Jay still hadn’t moved “You coming in or did you come all this way to stand in the hall?” you question but head further in, leaving the door open. You pour yourself a glass of water and hear the door close and the floorboards creak as Jay walks over to join you “What’s going on Jay?” you ask as he leans on the doorframe and therefore making it difficult for you to get past “What did Adam want?” he tilts his head to question but you can tell he isn’t feeling as confident as he wants you to think. You exhale in a laugh and take a step towards him, you expect him to move but he stands his ground and remains in his spot. This forces you to step sideways out of the door, your body glides closely with his. So much so that if you had looked up as you passed him your faces would’ve been inches apart as he looked down at you. You huff and place your glass of water on the side and begin to take your shoes off by the sofa “Just wanted to apologize again for Hailey, I don’t know I wasn’t really listening” you trail off as you find your attention is now more on Jay’s actions and what he’s doing.

It takes him a minute to turn from where he is standing and face you, you walk in front of him and lean the back of your legs on the sofa to examine him, his eyes flick up and down your body and you reach for your drink to try and act like you didn’t notice “So you’d rather have him keep you company on your walk home than me, I see” he confidentially takes a stride towards you and folds his arms across his chest. You can’t help but notice the way his arms bulge through the tightness of his shirt and struggle to keep your eyes on him and not roaming to admire them “Grow up Jay” you scoff but see him take another step towards you “what are you even doing here anyway?” you add but he remains silent.

“If you’re just gonna stand and not say anything I’m gonna leave you here and go to bed” you stand from your spot and step away from him and towards your room. You’re stopped in your tracks when his arm latches onto your wrist to stop you “Hailey was right you know” he keeps his grasp on you tight, not in a way that it hurts but almost as if he was worried that otherwise you would walk off.

You open your mouth to speak but he soon cuts you off “I mean not about the fact there isn’t much I would run into a burning building for, as we know from past experiences that isn’t true” you laugh at the memory from when he darted back into an old house that had just caught alight because he had left his phone on the side but he seems to regain your attention “You know what, It’s late I should probably go” he releases his hold on you and you can’t ignore the emptiness you feel from loosing the tiniest bit of contact from him “You can’t be serious Jay. You can’t say that and then leave?” you both fall silent as you wait for the other to speak but you weren’t going to crack first.

“I didn’t plan on coming here Y/N. I didn’t think I would be standing here saying this to you but you were on the phone to Adam and instead of me heading home I found myself coming here to make sure you got home safe. I wish I didn’t care if you were on the phone to him when you walked home, but I do Y/N. I care that it’s me that you choose to keep you company and I’m the one to make sure you’re safe because quite frankly I don’t trust anyone else and especially you to make sure that you are. You’re the most caring person I know and honestly it terrifies me because I know you won’t stop at anything to make sure everyone around you is fine, even if it means that you aren’t and I’m sorry but it’s true”. The way his chest is quickly rising and falling from his outburst stuns you, you’d seen him loose control of his emotions before but not like this. He always struggles to hide his true feelings and shows alot of emotion, but in more actions than words and you never thought you’d see him act this way towards you.

“That’s great Jay, just great. Here you are turning up at my door because you don’t trust me to keep myself safe. You’re my partner Jay you’re supposed to trust me an-” you begin to retaliate but yet again he is there to cut you off “I do trust you Y/N. I trust you with my life and I trust you a fuck tonne more than anyone else I know but I know you won’t stop at anything to make sure everyone else is okay, so is it so bad that I wanted to make sure you got home safe?” you find him now stood inches from you and you had absentmindedly mirrored his actions but tensely hanging your arms by your side, so rigid that you can’t bring yourself to move them “So what, if I asked you to stay. Would you?” you half heartedly laugh as you almost expect him to shrug if off and give you some funny look.

“Of course I would Y/N. Are you not listening to me? I would stay tonight, I would stay tomorrow. I would stay every god damn day if I could. I don’t wait you on the phone to another guy when it should be me, I should be the one making you feel safe and not anyone else” his tone and volume picks up again just when he seemed to be calming down and you curse yourself for making him react this way again. You take another step towards him as he tries to say something else, you raise your finger to his lip to stop him. His eyes flicker between your fingertip and then back to you in confusion but he doesn’t say another word. The desperation in his eyes as he scans your face makes your heart ache and you feel it alight something within you “Just don’t say another word” you bring your face towards him and place a quick kiss onto his skin “Take your anger out on me”. You run your fingertip along his jawline run your thumb along his bottom lip to place another kiss to the side of his neck “Y/N” he warns, his voice now in a low and much more serious tone.

“I mean it Jay, everything you just said. Prove it to me” you continue to trail light pecks along his skin and leading up the the corner of his mouth “Don’t start something you don’t want to finish” the way he grips at your hips makes you edge them towards him, earning a low moan to escape from his lips “Prove it to me Jay, prove why it should be you and no one else” you taunt as he locks his eyes with yours, he nudges at your legs which are positioned together so his knee slips between them “you have no idea what you’ve just let yourself in for”.

***

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead drabble #jay halstead smut #jay halstead x y/n #jay halstead x you #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead #one chicago x reader #one chicago #Chicago PD #chicago pd imagine

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years ago

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8 Letters

OR: 4 times he couldn’t say he loved you + 1 time he did

Ok, here we are with the very over hyped Vince fic! This was inspired by 8 Letters by Why Don’t We and has been swimming around in my head for a while before I realize it fits with this himbo.

Shoutouts to the following (and hopefully this is short because this is not an awards show even though it would be fun to pretend it is): @vincecdunn because Nikki’s the reason I’m on the Vince train so as retaliation I’m just going to keep sending her ideas for more fics to write, @pucksnsticksnhockeyboys and @broadstbroskis for allowing me to come into your inboxes and be annoying and bounce ideas off of, and then @pettypetey and @pumpkinpatchmakar for the ways to say I love you and I’m 100% forgetting people but that’s just because I suck

Other people who wanted to be tagged: @all-time-fanatic @marialovesdean @oyeinpayne @ghstandpucks @maybehockeymaybenot @itzelmunoz and @thecasualyogi (unsure why it isn’t letting me tag you sad boi)

So, here we go, all 7.8k words of this 4+1

______________________

Tonight was one of the first nights in a while that the two of you were able to spend together, Vince on the road on and off for what felt like longer than usual and you just drowning at work. Any chance you got to be together at this point was almost always spent alone in the comforts of your place or his. You were spending it at your place, watching him stand at the stove as he cooked dinner for the two of you.

“God, who you have thought someone could look so sexy stirring pasta,” you admire him, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him.

He laughs, putting the large spoon on the counter, turning around to face him. Vince approaches you, pulling you close to him. His hand finds the small of back, the other tilting your chin up to him. He bites his lip, looking down at you. “You think that’s sexy, just wait,” he says, his lips planted against yours before you can say anything else.

You pull away at the sound of splashing water, seeing the pot boiling over. “Ah, fuck,” Vince releases his grip and runs to turn the burner down, you laughing as he goes back to stirring the boiling bubbles away.

“You know what’s great about this?” you say, sarcasm dripping in your voice.

“Oh no,” he mutters, bringing the pot over to the sink to drain the excess water, knowing that whatever you’re going to say isn’t going to be great for him.

“You get to clean up.”

He puts the now empty pot back on the stove, shaking the remaining water off the pasta in the strainer, “But I made the dinner!”

“Yeah, and then you made the mess.”

He turns to you, a mischievous look on his face. “You’re evil,” he says, lunging at you, lifting you off the ground and sending you into a fit of giggles as you try to wriggle your way free of his grasp.

“Vince!” you squeal, your arms overlapping his. “Put me down!”

“I like holding you, though,” he whines, putting you down without letting you go.

You turn around to face him, putting your hand on his face, tracing a random pattern on his cheek with your thumb. “Hold me on the ground and after you put the pesto on the pasta,” you tell him, giving him a quick kiss before pushing him away. “I thought you didn’t like pesto?”

He shrugs, putting pasta into the bowls you hand him. “I’m not crazy about it, but it’s your favorite, so I’ll put up with it for you.”

You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks over something so simple. “You’re nice,” you tell him, in a sing-songy voice, taking a bite of the pasta.

“Only to you,” he says, sending you a wink that makes your insides flutter.

Properly full from the simple dinner, after you clean the dishes and Vince cleans the stove, you retreat to your bedroom where you planned on spending the rest of the night. “What do you want to watch tonight?” Vince asks you, settling onto your bed with your TV remote in hand.

He reaches his arm out, gesturing for you to come snuggle up next to him, perfectly fitting against him as he kisses the top of your head, the warmth from his body comforting you more than the blankets that covered your bed probably ever would. “Gossip Girl,” you insist, knowing what his reaction would be.

Vince groans, throwing his head back. “Come on, that show is so bad.”

You look up at him, imitating the puppy dog eyes and signature pout he would give you all too often when he was asking you to do something. “Yes. But that’s what makes it so good to watch,” you plead.

He rolls his eyes, giving in and pulling it up on your Netflix. “Now how could I say no to that face,” he tells you.

“You can’t,” you tell him as he pulls up the show.

Letting out a small, “Yay,” you earn a giggle from his lips before kissing him quickly and settling into the show. You start with the first episode of the second season, Vince stroking your arm absentmindedly, laughing at how cheesy the show is. He steals the occasional glance at you, loving how closely you could pay attention to anything in front of you, analyzing, critiquing, admiring what was before you. You did it with anything and everything that you fixated on, something Vince could never do and something he loved about you.

Not that you’ve said you love each other yet. But, you were the only thing he could focus on outside of hockey at any moment.

“The true reason I should stay right where I am and not get in the car,” the two of you watch Blair Waldorf on your screen in her scene with Chuck Bass. “Three words. Eight letters. Say it, and I’m yours.”

The screen cuts to Chuck, his hesitation. “I-I...”

“Thank you. That’s all I needed to hear,” with Blair getting in the car, leaving Chuck standing there watching the girl he knew he loved drive off with his heart.

That part always made you cry, letting out a soft sob at the sight of the character you hated the most, actually experiencing heartbreak, slightly humanizing the demon that you thought he was. Vince, paying more attention to you than the show, had no clue what was happening.

“This is a dumb question,” he starts, watching you wipe the tears that had fallen down your face, “But what are the three words?”

You sit up, your hand placed on his thigh sending a chill through his body. “I love you.”

His eyes go wide, swallowing hard. Given what just happened in the episode, he knew it was ridiculous to think, but he couldn’t help but wonder if what just happened on your screen would happen right now. “Are... are those the words or are you telling me?” he asks, his voice shaking.

You hesitate for a moment. You had been together for five months already. He was the person you trusted the most, no matter how dumb he might be sometimes. You would do anything for him, and you were sure that he would do anything for you. You thought about him constantly, but you had never been in love before. Whatever you felt for Vince was something you hadn’t felt for anyone. “Both,” you decide, seeing the panic wash over his face. “You don’t have to say it back. I’m not gonna leave you if you don’t,” you reassure him.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish, trying to muster up the courage to actually say what he wanted to. He knows how he feels about you, but, “I can’t say it.” You knew the pain you felt at hearing those words flashed over your face for a moment because of the quick, “I’m sorry,” he let out before getting up off your bed and heading for the door.

“Vince, hey, wait,” you say, chasing after him and beating him to your door. With your back against it, you look at your boyfriend, panicked, breathing fast, hands shaking. “Vince,” you say his name again, hearing it coming from you calming him down, “You don’t have to say it. I promise. Just please, don’t leave.”

He studies your face, the pain that he just caused you still showing. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, dropping his head.

“Hey,” you say, tilting his head up to look at you. “Listen to me when I say this: it’s fine. I don’t want you to feel pressured to say it just because I did. I told you that because I do love you. If you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine. I can’t force you to love me,” you tell him, smiling through it. He had to know it was a fake smile, just using it to hide how you really felt. “You still want to be with me, right?”

He hesitated for longer than he should have, even though his answer popped into this head immediately. “What? Of course I do. Can we just,” he takes a deep breath, trying to find his words, “Do you think we can watch something else?”

You nod, taking his hand and leading you back to your bed. You just fucked everything up, didn’t you? But Vince’s panic and now lack of attention to even the Netflix catalogue he was scrolling through was more worrisome than him not saying he loves you. “Actually,” you say, gently taking the remote from his hands, “Do you think we can talk about this? Like, I’m ok with it, but, I don’t know, you’re kind of worrying me.”

He can’t look at you, staring at the TV instead as the now muted screen flashed with characters he didn’t recognize. “I don’t know,” he lies. “The girls I was with before I met you kinda fucked me up I guess.” You could feel your heart breaking watching him like this, more so than when you watched Chuck and Blair. “I thought I was in love with them, but then it always ended with them using me for my money, because I play in the NHL, for sex. I mean, my purity score thing is so low for a reason, right?” he jokes, you trying to smile even though you could feel yourself wanting to cry. “Fuck, one of them even called Sammy because she liked him more while I was asleep in the bed next to her and asked him to go pick her up.”

You take his face in your hands, pulling him in for a kiss. Using the pads of your thumbs, you wipe away the tears that you got on him, unsure if they were just yours or if he had started crying, too. “I will never do that to you,” you assure him. “I’ll even call Sammy and tell him that you’re better.”

He laughs, sniffling a little bit. “Can you do that every day? Really wear down his self esteem.”

You laugh, giving him a quick kiss, happy that he was at least smiling again. “I’m not going to emotionally destroy a man.”

“But it’s Sammy!”

You, Nikki, and Patricia were sitting on Nikki’s couch together, each with one glass of wine for the night because of the need to drive later, pizza, popcorn, and much more junk food than you would like to admit. Dressed as if you hadn’t seen daylight in years, you all had on sweatpants, sweatshirts, hair tied back, makeup free, everything that would signal to an outsider that you had all stopped caring, but to you, it was just a night in after work. It was a much needed girls night, the stress of work getting to all of you while you sat there with your best friends trying to find something to watch. With the boys off on a road trip, you could definitely use the company. Part of you was bothered by Vince not saying he loves you, but could you really justifiably get upset but that?

“What are we watching?” Nikki asks, pulling up Netflix, practically forcing you to relive the conversation with Vince from the other night.

“Uh, Gilmore Girls?” Patricia suggests.

Without saying a word, Nikki plays the episode she left off on, Rory and Dean celebrating their anniversary together by going out to what was supposed to be a nice, sweet night.

“What do you think Connecticut is like?” Patricia asks about the setting of the iconic show.

“My ex in college was from Connecticut. Nothing good comes from Connecticut,” comes from Nikki, you barely hearing her as you fixate on the episode.

“Gilmore Girls comes from Connecticut.”

Without missing a beat, Nikki says, “One good thing comes from Connecticut.” The two of them keep talking, you barely hearing anything they say as you watch Dean and Rory in the car that Dean had built for her, telling her he loves her for the first time. Rory doesn’t say it back, the same expression on her face that you say on Vince’s that night. “Hey, Y/N, what’s up?” Nikki asks, snapping you away from the show.

“Oh, nothing, why?” you lie through your teeth, your best friends exchanging concerned looks.

“You know that you’re crying, right?” Patricia asks, snagging the remote and pausing the episode.

You reach up, feeling your now damp cheeks, wiping away the tears you didn’t even know were there that were brimming in your eyes. “Oh, wow,” you let out, laughing a little bit. “I guess the episode just got to me,” you lie again. Nikki sits there, eyebrow raised, lips pursed as if to say ‘bitch, please,’ while Patricia just sat there, waiting for you to answer. “I told Vince I love him,” you start.

You get cut off by the two of them screaming, “Oh my god!” and “What did he say?”

“He,” you sigh, debating on telling them the truth or not. “He panicked and couldn’t say it.”

Both of them gasp, you trying to figure out what emotions they felt; anger, sadness, disappointment, you swear all of it flashed on their face.

“Dump his ass!” Nikki yells, loud enough that her neighbors could probably hear her.

You take a handful of popcorn, throwing it at her in response, Patricia laughing and dodging the mess the two of you were creating as kernels flew past her face. “I’m not dumping him! He said he’s afraid of getting hurt,” you tell them once you stop throwing the food at each other.

“Does he think you’re going to hurt him?” Patricia asks, concern washing over her face.

“If he thinks that, you dump him,” Nikki pips in.

“You cut that out,” you fire back, pointing your finger at her. The ridiculousness of the simple action made all of you laugh, forgetting for a moment the conversation at hand.

“Do you really love him?” Patricia asks another question, both her and Nikki with the same expression on their faces.

You feel a soft smile growing on your face, nodding. “I really do. I’ve never loved anyone like I love him. Can we just talk about something else, please?”

They go back to talking about Connecticut, you trying to keep up with their banter.

“Wait, so why did you date that Connecticut boy?” you finally join the conversation, asking Nikki.

She shrugs, shoving the popcorn that was still in the bowl into her mouth. “Connecticut boys have money. I figured I could get some nice shit from him.”

“So you're a gold digger?” you tease her, Patricia nearly spitting out her wine.

Nikki sits there, mouth open pretending to be offended. “Talk about being a gold digger, you’re dating a professional athlete!”

You mirror her look, Patricia laughing as the innocent bystander in this. “Fuck,” is you can muster out before the three of you are laughing together.

“How could he not love that!” Nikki says once you catch your breath, pointing to the smile on your face and immediately making you turn red.

“Are you flirting with her?” Patricia asks

“Someone has too,” she shrugs, winking at you while sipping her wine.

You sit there, in awe of her bluntness. “If Vince were here he would get mad at you.”

“Where are they, anyway?” Patricia asks, changing the subject before Nikki can flirt with you more or make other snarky comments about your boyfriend.

“You see,” you start, setting down your glass of wine, “Vince told me they were going to California but when I checked the schedule it said they were going to play the Florida Panthers tomorrow,” you explain, all of you unable to contain your laughter, “so I think he’s confused.”

The three of you fall back into a rhythm that doesn’t involve talking about your boyfriend who was just about off your mind. After a few hours, you’re all yawning, the single glass of wine having no effect on you as you drowned out the alcohol with more water than anything so you could drive, Nikki kicking you out so she can go to sleep.

While you and Patricia are walking to your cars, your phone starts buzzing, an incoming Facetime call from Vince. You answer, immediately turning the camera away from you, “Hey, babe, I’m walking to my car.”

“And you’re not showing me yourself because you don’t want me to see the guy walking you there?” he jokes, smirking at the camera. He was in the bed in his hotel room, the white sheets pulled up just low enough that his chest was exposed, shirtless as he always was when he was ready to sleep. He knew what he was doing; showing just enough of himself that it would drive you crazy enough to be distracted.

“Yeah, this is the man,” you tease, panning over to Patricia getting into your car, “Say hi to Vince!”

“I’m stealing your girl!” she yells, ducking into her car and shutting her door, Vince’s laugh echoing in the air.

You prop your phone up in the thing your mom got you, suctioned to your dash so you can still see your phone while driving, even though you told her you had Apple CarPlay and had no need for it. Driving down the street, you fall into a mundane conversation with Vince about getting to Florida, teasing him for confusing it with California, telling him about the girls night you just had.

“Come on, show me your face!” you hear him whine. Without taking your eyes off the road, you know exactly the look on his face: those green eyes of his wide like a puppy, his bottom lip jutted out and if he weren’t holding his phone, his hands would be intertwined in themselves under his chin to show you he was begging.

“No, I look gross. My hair is tied back, I have no makeup on, and I’m in a groutfit.”

“Have you ever seen me?”

You roll your eyes, hitting the button to flip the camera now that you were at a red light. “Yes, I’ve seen you. You’re hot,” you say without shame.

“Fuck,” you hear him let out a long and low whisper. You roll your eyes at him, even though you can’t help but blush and smile at the way he was practically visibly drooling over you. “I didn’t know gross could be so beautiful.”

“I look like a Founding Father, shut up,” you say, glad it was dark enough that he couldn’t see the heat rushing to your cheeks.

He laughs again, making you smile even wider at the sound. “Who would have thought I would like sleeping with a Founding Father.”

“That is necrophilia!” you scream, loud enough that you could probably be heard outside your car, drowning out the sound of his laugher. “I never want to hear you say anything like that ever again!”

You pull up to your building, getting out and walking to your place while Vince rambles on about something that Sammy had done on the plane. “Oh!” he says once you unlock your door, startling you and almost dropping your phone, “Look what I got you!”

“You got me something?” you ask him, walking through your dark apartment into your room.

“I saw and I liked it and thought you would like it so I had to get it!” he says like a giddy child. He holds up a small stuffed puppy, shoving it almost too close to the camera, “Can you see the tag on his collar?”

He pulls it away slightly, the letter on it becoming clear. “His name is Vince!” you exclaim, the biggest smile on his face as he holds it next to him.

“Because you say when I get excited I remind you of a little puppy.” He sits there with the small stuffed animal pressed to his face, beaming at his purchase that he couldn’t wait to give you, even though he ruined the surprise he had anticipated because he couldn’t wait until he got home to see you. You take a screenshot, unable to hide how adorable you found him in that moment.

“I love it, Vince. I can’t wait for you to get home,” you say to him, a big yawn coming from him. His eyes get droopy, the way he gets before he’s about to fall asleep, a lazy smile on his face that means he felt the same.

You settle onto your bed, turning on your tv to watch whatever was on. You sit there in silence holding your phone, yawning a few times yourself. “Hey, babe, I’m gonna go to sleep,” you say, leaning over to turn off your lights, “I love you,” you say, forgetting that you're upset over his inability to say it back, seeing that he was already asleep, anyway, unable to return with a response.

III

You were swamped with work, having to hustle on a Saturday to get everything done. Vince was tired of being cooped up inside, only really going out when he had practice or a game, so he was the one to suggest going to the coffee shop half way between your apartments in order to just be somewhere that wasn’t the four walls of your apartments.

“You’re not working,” he says in a teasing voice, watching you sit there staring out the window at the people passing by.

“I just,” you sigh, “I don’t want to do this project.”

“Can I help?” he asks, getting up from his seat and standing behind you, just enough room between your chair and the wall for him to fit and lean against you. “You’re on Facebook.”

You look up at him, an innocent look on your face. “I’m using a rewards system!” you defend yourself. “I was working for half an hour, so I’m watching a video as a break.” You scroll back to the video you were just watching as he rests his hands on your shoulders, rubbing the slightly. You find the video of an artist with a bunch of metal strips, twisting them into a metal tree art piece. You turn to him, eyes wide with excitement, a huge smile on your face that he can’t help but roll his eyes at, mirroring your smile. “Isn’t it cool?”

“You’re acting like a child. That’s my job,” he says, kissing your cheek before going back to sit down.

“That just means you’ve rubbed off on me. Or maybe I’ve rubbed off on you?” you wonder, scrolling to find one more video to watch. The next video is scene from That 70’s Show, and old favorite of yours that you haven’t seen since it was taken off Netflix. Eric and Donna were in a car, probably the Vista Cruiser in one of the earlier seasons judging by how young they look. The captions on, your sound off, you read the scene instead of watching. It was Donna telling Eric she loved him, only for him to panic and respond with, “I love cake.” The smile on your face disappears, looking up at Vince and thankful that he was paying more attention to his phone than he was to you.

You just wanted him to say he loved you. You were sure that he did, and you had told him that you did. But he couldn’t say it. You were constantly going back and forth between being ok with it and being upset by it, knowing that it wasn’t fair to force him to say something if he didn’t mean it, but also knowing that it wasn’t fair to you to spill your guts to him for him to remain closed off.

You take a deep breath, switching back to the tab that had the new marketing pitch you were working on. You get to typing, focusing on the project while you see four other cursors working on different parts, occasionally switching to another section to check one of your partners' work while they do the same for you. You barely notice the people around you, the coffee shop practically packed to capacity as an afternoon rush came in. Vince would look up from his phone, stealing the occasional glance while you take no notice.

You both jump at the sound of someone knocking on the window next to you. Look up, Vince knew who it was immediately, irritated by your “Oh my god!” sqeual as you practically leap from the table to run outside.

Vince watches as you jump into the guys arms, a huge smile on your face, unable to read your lips as you talk with him. The guy was more attractive than Vince had remembered. Fuck, he looked like a model, and there Vince was, a hockey player, mad about it.

“How have you been?” you ask your friend Jack, someone you hadn’t seen in years.

“Pretty good,” he tells you, his arms lingering on your waist once you pull away from the hug you practically forced on him in the first place. “You?”

“Good, busy. Getting out with my boyfriend instead of acting like an old agoraphobic couple,” you tell him motioning to Vince sitting at the table, arms crossed over his chest. You both wave to him, Vince mirroring with a wave and a very unenthusiastic look. “Who’s apparently tired from practice,” you lie, hoping he would buy the explanation for Vince’s unexpected attitude.

“Isn’t he a hockey player?” You look back at Vince who’s now looking down at his phone, nodding, a soft smile on your face as you just stare at your dumb boyfriend. “You really have a thing for athletes, huh?”

You roll your eyes, knowing what he was referencing: Jack was technically your ex, having hooked up a few times, gone out on a few dates, he even brought you to a family wedding of his because you were seeing each other when the invitations went out, breaking up not long after the event. You never called him your boyfriend, and as far as you were concerned, you weren’t his girlfriend, but still, you weren’t just friends. “Hockey players are a little better than baseball players, bub,” you tell him, knowing it would hurt his ego a little bit.

He scrunches his face, pretending to be hurt but laughing anyway. “You always know how to hit a guy where it hurts, Y/L/N,” he tells you, both of you nodding. You were about to tell him goodbye, missing your chance when he says, “Do you think I could meet your new guy?”

You feel your breath stop for a moment, your eyes going wide at the thought of your ‘ex’ meeting your boyfriend. “Uh, sure, if you want to?” you tell him, obviously unsure of the situation that was about to unfold. “Vince?” you snap his attention away from his phone, the two of you standing over him. “This is my friend Jack. We went to school together,” you say, Jack extending his hand for Vince to shake.

Vince swallows hard, a wave of jealousy washing over him as this guy stands in front of him. “Nice to meet you,” he says, a cold tone in his voice. You shoot him a look, Jack taking your seat while Vince pulls you into his lap without you expecting it, planting a firm kiss on your lips. “So, Jack, what do you do?” he asks the guy sitting across from you, holding you tight around your waist as if he were marking his territory.

You look at your boyfriend, confused by why he was acting like this. He sends you a soft smile, his eyes flickering down to your lips, making you melt a little as you turn your attention back to Jack. “I work in marketing.”

“Oh, just like, my girl here.”

‘My girl?’ you mouth to yourself, unsure if either of the boys saw you.

“That’s how we met,” Jack starts, a little confused as well by Vince’s actions. “We were both marketing majors so we had all of the same classes.”

Vince keeps on asking Jack questions, practically leaving you out of the conversation, occasionally kissing your cheek while Jack was talking.

“Wow, you two are clearly in love with each other,” Jack points out, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Vince freezes, his heart racing against your chest as Jack gets up. “I’ve actually got to get going, but it was great seeing you, Y/N. We should catch up again.”

You nod, agreeing with him as he leaves, taking your seat back across from Vince, glaring at him. “What the hell was that?”

“What? I can’t kiss your cheek occasionally?” he scoffs, leaning back in his chair. You watch as he stares out the window, Jack still in his view.

“You never do it like that,” you point out. Then it dawns on you: “You were jealous! Why were you jealous?”

“I was not,” he pouts, his arms crossed.

“You’re so cute when you’re jealous!” you squeal, careful not to be too loud in the quiet environment. His face turns red, his lips pursed as he stares out the window, clearly ready to deny it. You reach over to poke his cheeks, just to agitate him.

He swats you away, hating that you were right. “You think I’m cute?”

“Why were you jealous?” you ask again.

“You think I’m cute?” he says, leaning on the table.

You smirk at him, imitating his body language. “We both know I’m going to win this so you should just answer me now,” you say slowly.

“He’s the guy you dated in college,” Vince says.

“I never showed you his picture.”

He hesitates for a moment, knowing the exact reaction this was going to illicit: “I saw the pictures you posted with him on Instagram.”

You stop and think for a moment. The last time you even saw Jack was a few years ago. “Those pictures were from my freshman year of college. You’ve scrolled that far back on my page?”

He sticks out his bottom lip, eyes wide to give you his puppy dog face. “Sometimes, when I miss you, and I know you’re busy and can’t talk, I scroll through your Instagram so I can see your face.”

You feel yourself melting at his words, the face he was giving you making you love him that much more. “Come here,” you tell him, pulling him up around the table. You take him by the collar down to your level, giving him a sweet kiss. “And, yes, I do think you’re really cute,” you say to him, kissing him again.

Vince watched in awe at his teammates. All of them were drunk, him, for once, being the most sober one around as they entered the bye week that took place around All-Star Weekend. He was waiting for you to show up, anxiously checking his phone to see if you had texted him anything saying that you and Patricia were at the bar. He hated being the only sober one, especially since it meant he would have to play dad if something happened unless you two showed up soon.

“You’re not drinking?” Sammy asks him, two beers in hand. Someone would think one was for Vince, but, no, both were for Sammy as he put the openings of both bottles in his mouth at once.

“I’m waiting for Y/N.”

“You’re whipped!” Sammy slurs, sitting down next to his friend in the booth he was refusing to get up from while he anxiously shakes his leg waiting to see you, rolling his eyes even though part of him knew he was right.

“Stop that,” Vince says, getting up and trying to shake his friend off in the crowded bar.

“You love her, right? I mean you have to love her to be like this,” Sammy insists, something he wouldn’t be doing had he not been drunk. Vince opens and closes his mouth, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted. “Dude.”

“You know I can’t say it,” is all Vince can let out. Sammy knows his past, Sammy knows what has happened to Vince. Saying it would mess something up. Those eight letters would ruin what he had with you when they were out in the open.

“I don’t know how to talk about this with you,” Sammy admits, eyes narrow since he was thinking about it anyway.

“I don’t think I want to talk about this with you.”

Before Sammy can say anything else, like magic, you appear at his side, Patricia in tow. “Hey,” you say to him, kissing him as he wraps his arms around your waist. He pulls away, looking over your shoulder to see Sammy making faces at the two of you, Vince giving him a look that told him to go away without you noticing.

Patricia wanders off with Sammy, leaving the two of you by yourselves. “How far deep are they?” you ask, dragging him to the bar so the two of you could start drinking, knowing you couldn’t drink so much that you would catch up with them, but enough that you wouldn’t have to act as the mother of the group.

“We’ve been here for an hour so I expect someone to be throwing up soon,” he laughs, not dropping your hand when the two of you sit down.

“If you’re drunk, do you have to take care of them?” you ask him, signalling to the bartender to come take your drink orders. You fall into conversation, watching Sammy strike out with multiple girls, Patricia spending the entire night with a single guy following her, something she clearly enjoyed as she milked at least four free drinks out of him.

“Think she’ll go home with him?” Vince asks, nodding over to Patricia as he finishes what might have been this third drink that night. As far as he knew, no one was throwing up, but now, he didn’t have to worry about it if he was just a little drunk.

You shrug, putting down your now empty glass. “If they both want that I guess.” You could feel yourself getting bored and tired, wishing that you and Vince could just leave and go home yourselves. But he looked like he was having fun watching the guys, a smile on his face whenever they did something stupid. You study Vinces face, his slightly pursed lips and his eyes sparkling as he watched Sammy strike out with what was probably his fourth girl of the night, Vince smiling as he couldn’t help but laugh at his friend. Your attentioned is pulled away by your phone buzzing in your hand, Nikki bombarding you with texts.

‘Have Vince watch these with you ;)’

She sends you two clips, both from a Halloween episode of New Girl. Unfamiliar with the show, you tap Vince to have him watch over your shoulder. You watch the two girls get into a limo, one going as far as exclaiming, “Hey, look! I’m in a limo! I wish I could have really long legs so I could stretch them out the length of the limo!”

The camera switches to a guy, telling them to have fun, saying, “I love you,” an immediate look of regret washing over his face, the girl in the limo responding with finger guns while her friend behind her mouthed, ‘No.’

You swallow hard, texting Nikki back yelling at her for it, definitely partially a product of the alcohol. You don’t even bother to look at the second video, afraid of what it would be and what it would bring considering the first one brought an awkward silence in the middle of the loud bar.

“Did you tell them?” he asks quietly, sitting back down next to you.

You straighten your posture, forming a thin line with your lips. “Yeah. I did. It was bothering me more than I thought it would and they figured it out.”

“How would they figure it out?” he snaps, his voice a little louder than it would have been had he not had so much to drink. “That’s not something you can just read on someone’s face.”

You take in a deep breath, knowing that people were starting to turn to look at the fight you were about to have. “Come on,” you grab him by his arm, leading him outside so at least if you started really fighting, they couldn’t kick you out. “Look, we were watching something where someone said I love you and the other person didn’t and I started crying,” you explain to him, feeling tears brimming in your eyes.

The people around you in the city were staring as they walked by, two idiots on a weird night causing a scene in a public. “Y/N,” he says, taking a step towards you and reaching for your hand.

You snatch it away, startling him that you were so quick. “No, Vince. I know I said it was fine,” you sob, “But it hurts. It hurts to love someone who doesn’t love you back. And I know you’ve been hurt before, but you’re letting that get in the way of you and me, and I don’t know how much longer I can handle being in love with you when you won’t even say you love me.”

He drops his head down, tears falling down his face while you were trying to fight your own from falling. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry for being afraid, but I am.”

“Do you love me?” you ask him, taking a step towards him.

He looks up at you, both of you crying. His eyes are red, he looks like he’s in pain. He tries to say something, only to shake his head, taking you in for a hug before either of you can do anything else. You can feel him crying in your shoulder, one hand in your hair, the other at the top of your back. You stand there for a moment in shock, not sure how to react. You react into his hold, trying to calm him down. You had never seen him cry like this before, in fact, you weren’t sure you had ever seen him cry at all. You pull his head off your shoulder. His face soaked with tears. “I think you need to go home,” you tell him, wiping the tears from his face.

He doesn’t say anything, just pulling you in for another hug when the guys and Patricia stumble out of the bar. “Hey, we’re going to go to another bar,” Patricia tells you as you shake your head, signalling that she shouldn’t ask what was going on. “Do you guys want to come?”

“We can?” Vince questions, only looking at you, his face still red from the sobbing he had just done. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“You go with them. I’ll be fine, I want to go home anyway,” you insist, trying to push him off you. If there was one thing you hated, it was the kind of girls who made their boyfriends miss out on things with their friends because they insisted on attention, but you also didn’t want to be with him at this moment.

He smiles at you as you try to force yourself to not succumb to his looks, refusing to let go of you, “It’s not worth going with them if you aren’t going to be there with me.”

“Then don’t go. I’m going home.” You break free of his grip, turning on your heels and walking down the street to go home by yourself.

+one

“Dude, have you seen Nikki’s snapstory?” Sammy’s voice comes through Vince’s phone.

“No, why?”

The concern in Sammy’s voice resonated with Vince, “I think you need to go look.”

Vince puts his teammate on speaker to go find one of your best friend’s story. “I’m looking now, hold on.”

Nikki was in her car, a picture of your favorite flowers in front of her steering wheel, your apartment building in the background. She had captioned it with ‘Bought my best friend flowers to go tell her I love her because her boyfriend won’t say it.’

“Ah, fuck,” Vince mutters, closing out the app.

“What are you gonna do about this?”

“I gotta go,” he says, hanging up before Sammy can say anything else.

-------

You run to the door when you hear the knocking, hoping it was Vince since you hadn’t heard much from him since that night at the bar. Instead, you find Nikki standing in your doorway with your favorite flowers. “What are these?” you deadpan, still a little irritated with her.

“Vince won’t say I love you so I figured I would,” she tells you, kissing you on the cheek and brushing past you. “I love you!” she says, dramatically, plopping down on your couch and putting her feet on your coffee table.

You look at the flowers, biting your lip. You just wanted Vince to say it. But you get it. “They’re just eight letters. He doesn’t have to say it when he can just show it. And you sending that video the other night does not and will not help anything,” you scold her.

You hear her scoff as you go to put the flowers in some water. “You know I was right to send that video. How does he show you he loves you? How could he possibly tell you he loves you without saying ‘I love you?’”

Rolling your eyes, knowing that she’s seen him show you loves you plenty of times. You could either argue with her more over what she did, or just list the ways you knew she was already aware of. “He always makes sure I’m the last person he sends a text to or calls at night and the first person he does that with in the morning. Even if he wakes up in the middle of the night and answers someone else, he’ll still send me another text right after. He’ll give me his pickle whenever he gets them because he knows I love them, even though he does, too. If he sees something on the road that he thinks I’ll like he gets it for me to surprise me with when he comes home.” You can feel yourself starting to cry thinking of all the way Vince has shown he loves you. But you really just wanted to hear those three words. You just wanted that verbal confirmation from him.

“I mean, babe, that’s great, but if he really meant it, wouldn’t he say it?”

You join her on the couch, trying to figure out how to answer. “Not everyone is good with expressing their emotions with words,” you shrug, unable to look at whatever expression she had on her face. “He’s been hurt before, when he’s told a girl that he loved her. I understand why he wouldn’t want to flat out say it to me.”

You get up, going back to your kitchen to at least fake the need for a glass of water. “Well, what else does he do?” you hear Nikki call over the sound of your tap.

You swallow, unsure if listing the ways was making you happy or sad. “He asks me to call him when I get home so he knows I’m safe. He’ll snapchat me funny faces when I’m sad because he wants to see me smile. He’ll even leave the guys if I’m upset and stay on Facetime with me until I’m happy. When we’re in the car he has my playlist on because he wants to listen to my music because it makes me happy. He doesn’t have to tell me he loves me.”

“Yes he does,” you hear from the other room, a voice that wasn’t Nikki’s. You see Vince standing there, bags in hand, Nikki slinking away into the other room to give you privacy.

“Hey, babe, what are you doing here?” you ask him, giving him a kiss for the first time in what felt like forever, trying to take the bags from him when he pulls away. The two of you walk over to your couch, setting the bags down and hearing clinking from inside. “Can I look inside?”

“No, not yet,” he stops you, taking your hands in his to prevent you from reaching in. “I’ll get everything out. Just, just trust me.” He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. “I told you I couldn’t say...it because of the girls I’ve said it to before. And god, I’m the worst for not saying it. But you deserve so much more.”

“Vince, what are you talking about? I don’t need mo-”

He cuts you off, handing you the first thing in the bag. A bottle of your favorite wine, a note taped to it. “You’re my partner in wine,” you read out to him, laughing at the goofy grin on his face telling you that he was proud of himself.

A bag of your favorite coffee grounds is placed in your hands next. “Words can not espresso how much you bean to me.”

A can of your favorite soup. “I ‘canned’ live without you.”

A snack pack of pudding. “Thanks for pudding up with me.”

There was food item after food item with a note taped to it with a different pun revolving around what he thought about you. He went to the grocery store for all your favorites, handing them to you one by one until he gave you the last item in the bags: a bar of your favorite cheese. “Sorry about being so cheesy.”

You look at him, seeing the embarrassed look on his face. His cheeks were red, unable to make eye contact with you but smiling anyway. “Well, now I don’t have to go grocery shopping,” you joke, him laughing along with you, “Vince, I love this.”

“And I love you.”

You can’t help the smile on your face, staring into his green eyes as his expression mirrors yours. “Really? I mean, I knew,” you explain, “But I didn’t think you’d say it. Why now?”

He smiles at you, taking your hands in his. “Because Nikki shouldn’t have to tell you she loves you because I can’t.”

“You’re welcome!” you hear Nikki yell from your room, both of you laughing.

“Oh my god,” he lets out at her obvious eavesdropping, his eyes closed, biting his bottom lip. “It’s not fair to you that you told me how you felt and I couldn’t tell you how I really felt.”

“Vince, you don’t have to apologize,” you try to tell him.

“No, no. I do,” he says, dropping your hands and cupping your face. His thumb traces along your cheekbones as he keeps going. “I chose shitty girls before you, and them hurting me ending up hurting you. I love you, and it shouldn’t have taken me so long to say it. You’re the only one I’ve ever really loved.” He pulls you in for a kiss, soft and sweet.

“I love you, too.”

#vince dunn #vince dunn imagines #dunner #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines

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tonguetwster · 4 years ago

Note

*Slides into the inbox* Hi, Miks! May I please request a familial kind of scenario with Mr. Divus comforting who's having a rough day? Stuff like self care reminders and hugs, that kind of stuff. (Without overly coddling though.)

Hey Neko! Thank you so much for sending an ask here, I appreciate it a lot.

Divus has been in the teaching business for quite some time now. He’s dealt with children and teens long enough to at least have a good understanding of them. So when he sees you with such a sorrowful disposition, he knows that things weren’t going so well for you that day. His lips formed a tight frown at the sight of you staring blankly out the window, sitting at the backseat of his car. He figured that a change of scenery might do you some good. After all, you’ve sort of been busy with so much schoolwork and likely have been stressed. You haven’t had much time to enjoy yourself.

“Where are we going?” You asked. Your eyebrows were furrowed, confused as to where he was taking you. It was an incredibly rare thing to be able to get out of the walls of Night Raven College.

“Somewhere to unwind after a long day.” The fashionista kept his silvery sapphire irises trained on the road. He turned to the right and stopped his ruby red Volvo P1800 in front of a certain venue. The sound of the car doors opening could be heard and the two of them got off. The place looked to be this cozy library cafe where people could study.

Small bells chimed melodically when Divus entered with his student beside him. You looked around to get a good look at the cafe. It was dark wooden shelves, filled with a variety of books. The furniture was rustic with a bit of a cottagecore feel to it. The ambiance of the cafe was unlike any other. A pleasant floral scent entered your nostrils, a wave of serenity passing through your body.

His eyes scanned the place, seeing that it was nearly empty, save for the staff members that were waiting for a customer. They all perked up at the sight of him, eyes lighting up.

“Hello, sir Crewel! Will you be sitting at the usual spot?” One of the waitresses asked him with a polite smile. She then noticed you with him and her smile grew ever so slightly. “Is this one of your students?”

The teacher nodded, giving a smile back. “Yes and yes. I’ll also have the usual.” He took off his coat and placed it on a coat rack, following the waitress as she led them to a specific place in the cafe. He sat down on a black leather sofa and gestured for you to sit down on the spot beside him.

When you did, you gazed at him with a curious expression written on your face.

Divus looked back at you and crossed his leg over the other, taking out a book from one of the shelves beside your table. “Feel free to order anything you want. Consider it a treat,” he told you.

“Uhh… Okay,” you replied, your hands gingerly picking up the menu and scanning its contents. There was a lovely selection of desserts that all seemed delectable to eat. Goodness, it was difficult just choosing. And you felt bad picking anything that was more expensive than the others. You didn’t want to take advantage of his kindness. But eventually, you ended up picking what you wanted. Something simple but satisfying.

The waitress bowed politely before walking away to get what you two ordered.

“How are you feeling?” Divus spoke up, looking up from his book. Silvery sapphire irises gazed at you, a glint of concern in them. “You haven’t been as bright of a puppy as you usually have been.”

You looked up with wide eyes, surprised that he brought you here because he was concerned for your wellbeing. Biting your lip, you turned away. Should you tell him the truth?

The teacher gave a small sigh and put down his book on the brown coffee table. “I can’t force you to tell me, but I want you to know that I’m here for you,” he gave words of comfort, reaching over to give your back a gentle pat to reassure you. “You’ll be alright.”

For the first time that day, your lips pulled into a genuine smile, happy to know you had someone that supported you.

The rest of your trip there with Divus was pleasant as the two of you discussed different topics, ranging from schoolwork to the books that you chose to read that time. He chose an old book on the history of fashion in different parts of Twisted Wonderland. It was exciting getting to learn even more of the history behind the world. He also taught you more things, such as self care tips, and reminded you to do it regularly. The food and drinks you got tasted absolutely delightful, adding more satisfaction to the event.

You two went home, with a closer bond than before, one akin to father and child.

So I know you asked for a scenario only but I thought it’d be cute to add a magicam post thingy since I was in the mood to make one for this request as well.

#twisted wonderland #twst #divus crewel #twst fanfic #missnekonyan

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hurricanery · 4 years ago

Text

i get by

A/N: Here’s a little something I wrote combining elements of this prompt, this prompt & a few other prompts sitting in my inbox requesting sleepy Amelink featuring Jo. Please continue to send prompts! I’d like to get a few more out this week. And feedback is always appreciated! Also, can you tell I love incorporating songs into my writing....? If you have songs that remind you of Amelink pls send them my way!!

_______

Oh, baby I get by

(By with a little help from my friends)

_______

“Amelia,” Link’s tired voice breaks through the quiet of the kitchen, making Amelia jump slightly from her standing position, where she’s swaying gently back and forth with Scout in her arms. “What are you doing up?”

Link flips the overhead lights on, illuminating the room, and the both of them squint at the sudden change of brightness. Amelia glances at the clock on the wall. It reads 3am.

“Scout was crying,” she whispers gently, looking down at the newborn's wide eyes and curious expression. “I can’t get him back to sleep….so we’ve just been strolling around the house. Didn’t want to wake you.” She smiles tiredly and looks back up at Link, who still stands in the doorway. Concern takes over his features as he crosses the kitchen towards the pair. He rubs Amelia’s shoulder gently, and looks down at their bright-eyed son. He can’t help the smile that creeps across his face.

“Here, let me take him,” Link reaches, “I’ll put him down and meet you back in bed, ok?” He looks pointedly at Amelia, who only takes a moment to think before reluctantly passing Scout off.

Once her arms are empty, Amelia stands up on her toes to reach and place a chaste kiss to Link’s cheek, smiling at him gratefully. “Deal,” she mumbles. “Meet you back up there.”

_______

When Link re-enters their bedroom 15 minutes later, he’s met with the sight of his girlfriend sound asleep, sprawled across the center of the bed, passed out on top of the covers. He laughs to himself quietly before encroaching on her blissful state.

“Amelia,” he whispers, shaking her arm gently. “Amelia scootch over.”

“Hmmm?” She mumbles sleepily, lifting her head slightly and peering up at Link.

He laughs at her confused expression, starting to lift some of the blankets as he slides in next to her. “Here, get under the covers.”

Amelia seems to shake completely from her reverie, now fully awake. “You got Scout to sleep?” she sighs as she pulls some of the covers over herself and snuggles into Link’s side, head falling onto his chest.

“Yes, indeed,” he replies smugly, reaching to push back some of the hair covering Amelia’s face as she rests against him, then letting his fingers run through it in a repetitive motion.

Amelia’s eyes fall shut again but she speaks quietly into the room. “Scout’s just like me,” she mumbles. “Likes to be awake when the rest of the world is sleeping.”

Link laughs under his breath at this, and Amelia loves the feeling of it in his chest.

“Well I hope Scout is like you, because-”

Link’s words get cut off suddenly by the sound of Scout’s cries over the baby monitor.

“Ugh,” Amelia groans in response, starting to sit up. She swings her legs off the bed and starts to get up.

“No, stay. I’ll get him,” Link assures her, also beginning to climb out of the bed.

“Link,” Amelia stares at him incredulously, moving toward the door. She turns back to him. “It’s my day off tomorrow, not yours. Get some sleep.”

Link collapses back down in the bed. “Fine. But tomorrow night I’m on duty.”

Amelia smiles at this for a moment, before she’s interrupted again by her son’s cries. She turns back toward the doorway as she hears Link mumble sleepily “he’s sooo needy.”

Amelia laughs as she makes her way into the hallway. “Like I said.... He’s just like me.”

_______

Link is surprised the next morning to see Amelia moving about the kitchen making coffee and breakfast. He enters the room fresh out of the shower, dressed for work.

“Why aren’t you sleeping in?” He asks Amelia. “Scout’s still down. Now’s your chance.”

Amelia turns toward him with two cups of coffee in hand, passing one to Link. “Eh, I couldn’t really get back to sleep last night.”

Link raises his eyebrows at this, taking a sip of coffee.

“He was fussy the rest of the night,” Amelia continues. “We ended up down here on the couch. Infomercials are really interesting in the middle of the night, by the way,” she smiles sarcastically, nodding toward the TV.

Link sighs at this, putting down his coffee and gripping Amelia by the shoulders. He studies her expression, noting how truly exhausted she looks. Dark circles and unbrushed hair. Amelia avoids his gaze until he places a finger under her chin, forcing eye contact.

“You need rest,” Link says sternly.

“I’m fine,” Amelia brushes him off, stepping out of his grip. She busies herself by finding a travel mug for Link to pour his coffee into.

“Amelia,” Link says slowly, watching her get his coffee all set.

“Link,” she retorts.

“I’m serious. You should try and get some sleep while the baby’s still down.”

And just on time, Scout’s cries flow through the house, originating from the second floor. Amelia raises her eyebrows at this. She moves toward the stairs, patting Link on the back as she passes him. “Welp, someone’s probably hungry,” she sighs.

Link watches as his girlfriend disappears, calling after her. “Please, try to relax today Amelia!”

He doesn’t get a response. He shrugs on his jacket and grabs his keys. In a last effort before leaving the house, Link grabs his phone and opens up his contact list before dialing a familiar number.

_______

Amelia feels like she’s blinking manually against sleep as she sits up against the cushions of the couch, repositioning her shirt before trying to get Scout to latch on. She’d been having so much trouble feeding Scout lately and it feels even more exhausting when she’s by herself. Without Link’s positive affirmations to encourage her, she feels less motivated than ever.

Three harsh knocks against the front door shock Amelia from her thoughts. She frowns before slowly standing up, placing Scout in the bassinet in the corner and adjusting her shirt, Amelia walks toward the door. Scout immediately begins crying at the loss of contact but Amelia pushes forward.

She unlocks the door and pulls it open, surprised to see Jo Wilson standing before her.

“Jo?” Amelia greets her, bewildered. Jo looks almost the way Amelia feels, she thinks, as she takes in the woman’s appearance. Makeup free, hair unkempt, dark circles under her eyes.

“Hey,” Jo smiles, but the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

The two stand awkwardly. Amelia still blocking the doorway. Scout wailing desperately somewhere behind them.

“Link isn’t here, ya know,” Amelia explains. “He’s at the hospital.”

Jo looks unphased. “I know that,” she states matter-of-factly. “I’m here for you.”

Amelia just frowns at this, completely confused. Jo grows more impatient as Amelia’s uncertainty grows.

“Well, aren’t you going to let me in?”

_______

“Link called you?!” Amelia questions harshly as she busies herself in the living room. Picking up blankets and random toys. Fluffing the pillows on the couch. Jo watches from the opposite corner of the couch, where she’s now sat holding Scout, rolling her eyes at Amelia’s restlessness.

“Mhm,” Jo mumbles, glancing at the baby adoringly. She gently rubs a finger against Scout’s cheek, smiling widely at the baby’s expressiveness. She looks back up just as Amelia begins pulling the vacuum into the room. “Amelia what are you doing?”

“Cleaning,” she responds curtly. “I never have time for this,” she nods toward Scout resting peacefully in Jo’s arms, “so thank you.”

“Amelia,” Jo exclaims in disbelief, blinking toward the ceiling and trying not to laugh. “Link sent me here so you could relax, not do all of this!” She gestures with her free hand toward Amelia’s path through the living room. Scout coos slightly at the movement and Jo quickly readjusts, resuming her fingers pattern against the baby's tiny features.

Amelia sighs, truly considering her options right now. She finally collapses into the opposite corner of the couch, smiling at Jo gratefully.

They weren’t that close. Jo and Amelia. But this was one of Link’s best friends. And Link was Amelia’s best friend. So there was commonality here somewhere down the line.

Comfortable silence falls between them and Amelia begins to feel her exhaustion catch up with her again. In an effort to stay awake and not be completely rude to her unexpected guest, Amelia reaches for the remote, clicking on the TV, hoping it will distract her from totally succumbing to sleep.

She settles for a random baking show, and realizes that Jo is completely infatuated with Scout, not paying any mind to the TV anyway. Amelia smiles to herself sleepily as she settles deeper into the cushions, her back against the end of the couch, she pulls her feet up to rest between them.

“He’s just perfect,” Jo mumbles, mesmerized.

“Ha,” Amelia laughs sarcastically. “Only when he lets me sleep through the night.”

Jo turns toward Amelia. Fatigued eyes meeting fatigued eyes. Amelia smiles wearily.

“I’m sorry, Jo,” Amelia murmurs. “About what happened with Alex, I….I never had the chance to tell you that.”

Jo shakes her head, dismissive. “We don’t have to talk about that.”

Amelia frowns slightly.

“Thank you, though,” Jo mumbles. She looks back down at Scout in her arms. “Ah, he fell asleep.”

Amelia blinks, readjusting, “I should probably get him upstairs.”

“I can do it,” Jo pipes up.

And Amelia accepts the help, settling back down onto the couch. She smiles up at Jo appreciatively as Jo stands, turning toward the front staircase.

Amelia only dozes off for a couple of minutes before she’s startled by Jo’s re-entrance. Jo places a baby monitor on the coffee table in front of them before she resumes her position on the opposite end of the couch.

“You can sleep,” Jo laughs. “That’s why I’m here.”

Amelia laughs under her breath. “Mhm, I might.” She closes her eyes but her face doesn’t quite relax. “Ugh, this couch is going to kill my back, but I just can’t bring myself to move upstairs right now,” she mumbles.

Jo giggles at her in disbelief. “Well, you are half-sitting. Here, slide down,” she offers as Amelia adjusts herself to fully lay down on the couch. As Amelia does this, Jo reaches forward to pull Amelia’s feet onto her lap.

Amelia opens her eyes only briefly, peeking at Jo amusedly. Jo squeezes her fuzzy sock-clad feet in response.

“You can sleep,” Jo repeats.

Moments later Amelia’s breathing evens out in a way that can only signify deep sleep. Jo leans her head back against the cushions, looking up at the ceiling. She slowly lets her own eyes shut, too.

_______

Link returns home to an oddly dark and seemingly empty house. He enters through the back door, setting down his keys and coffee mug from the morning, then tossing his jacket over one of the kitchen chairs.

He slowly moves throughout the first floor of the house, entering the dimly lit living room and letting his eyes adjust. The light from the TV illuminates a scene on the couch in front of him that he wasn’t expecting. That of his girlfriend sleeping soundly, feet resting in the lap of his best friend, also sleeping. A smile spreads across Link’s face as he takes in Jo’s grip on Amelia’s feet. He doesn’t realize he is laughing out loud until Jo stirs from her sleep, head lifting up from the cushions as she looks at him bewildered.

“Oh, hey,” she mumbles, voice still laced with exhaustion.

“Hey,” Link laughs.

Jo continues to readjust her position, shifting forward and placing Amelia’s legs down gently behind her.

“We fell asleep.”

“Yeah,” Link agrees, “I’m jealous. You’re kind of in my spot.” He then nods toward Amelia. “Looks like you were a fine replacement, though.”

Jo smiles, and this time around it begins to reach her eyes.

“Scout asleep?”

Jo nods, stifling a yawn. “I’m going to head out. I didn’t realize how late it was.”

Link nods at this, glancing again at his girlfriend, who somehow remains asleep despite the conversation happening around her.

“Thanks for calling me today, Link,” Jo adds, shrugging on her jacket. “I….somehow kinda needed this,” she smiles. “You can call me to come over and hold your baby anytime. I’ll be here.”

Link smiles at her gratefully as she makes her way to the front door. Jo turns around to give a quick wave to Link, before nodding toward Amelia on the couch. “You need me to carry her upstairs, too? Or you got that part?” She questions sarcastically.

“I got that part,” Link laughs.

_______

Amelia wakes with a start as Link places her gently in their bed.

“Huh?” she mumbles, “Link?”

“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs.

Amelia takes a moment to gather herself. “Did Jo leave? Where’s Scout?”

“Jo left. Scout’s still sleeping. You should be too.”

Link climbs into the bed next to her. Amelia turns to him. After another moment she speaks again into the space between them. “Thanks for calling her today. I kinda needed that.”

Link smiles, facing her, tucking a stray chunk of hair behind her ear. “We all need a little bit of help sometimes.”

_______

Gonna get by with my friends

(Try with a little help from my friends)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm gonna try

(Try with a little help from my friends)

#amelink #amelink fanfic #amelinkfic #amelia shepherd #jo wilson #atticus lincoln #amelia x link #amelinkfanfiction #my writing #greys anatomy fanfic #greys anatomy

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massivedrickhead · 4 years ago

Note

Early on in their relationship Beca is in an accident and sustains some non life-threatening injuries. Chloe insists that Beca moves in with her until she's recovered. Beca has a hard time being vulnerable, expressing her pain, asking for help, and in general accepting Chloe's unconditional love and care because she's never had someone to take care of her like that. Maybe Aubrey comes to knock some sense into her? Sorry I'm rambling lol. Thanks for opening up your inbox :)

Thank you for sending this :)

Read on AO3

---------

“Can you manage?”

“Yeah,” Beca said, jaw clenched slightly as she tried to climb out of the Uber that had taken them from Beca’s apartment to Chloe’s.

“Are you sure?” Chloe asked, taking Beca’s bags from the trunk.

“Ah ha,” Beca responded.

Chloe opened her mouth to argue, but decided against it. She knew Beca was finding this hard, and that she needed to let Beca do this at her own pace. If she needs help, she’ll ask for it, she told herself.

It didn’t stop her worrying as she watched Beca finally succeed in lifting herself out of the car and up onto her crutches. Her broken leg, in plaster from the knee down, was dangerously close to bumping into the kerb and her arms were shaking from the strain of holding herself up.

By the time they made it up to Chloe’s apartment, Chloe could see the pain written across Beca’s face.

Beca dropped onto the sofa as soon as Chloe had opened the door. She propped her leg up on the ottoman in front of it and closed her eyes as she sank back into the cushions.

Chloe carried her bags through to her room before joining Beca on the sofa.

“Can I get you anything?” Chloe asked.

Beca shook her head. “I should go sort my stuff out.”

“That can wait,” Chloe said. She checked her watch. “You can take some more painkillers in a bit but you need to eat first. What do you want for dinner?”

Beca didn’t answer, but she put her hand on top of Chloe’s and squeezed.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Beca said, her voice quiet.

“Do what?”

“This,” Beca gestured at her battered and bruised body. “Being… weak. Needing help. I’ve always done everything on my own.”

“Well you’re not on your own anymore,” Chloe said, linking her fingers with Beca’s. “You’ve got me now.”

Beca squeezed her hand again. “Thanks.”

“So, dinner?”

Beca smiled. “Please. Just make me whatever you’re having?”

“You got it,” Chloe said, standing. “Two salads with olives, tomatoes and extra cilantro coming up!”

“Gross.”

After they ate Beca took some painkillers and soon found herself leaning heavily into Chloe’s side.

“Tired?” Chloe asked, playing with the strands of Beca’s hair that had fallen out of her ponytail.

Beca shook her head, stifling a yawn.

“I totally believe you,” Chloe said. “Come on, it’s getting late anyway.”

She eased Beca off her shoulder and stood, holding out her hands for Beca to take.

Beca hesitated before taking Chloe’s hands and pulling herself up. She closed her eyes briefly, forcing a slow breath out.

“Okay?”

She nodded, her grip on Chloe’s hands was almost painful, but Chloe didn’t say anything.

“Can you pass me my crutches?” Beca asked, once the wave of pain that had travelled up her back had passed.

Chloe did, and Beca hobbled her way into Chloe’s room.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Beca asked when she was in there. “I can sleep on the couch.”

“You’re my girlfriend and you were in a car accident a few weeks ago. I’m not letting you sleep on the couch, babe.”

“I feel bad,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at her bags which were taking up a sizeable chunk of Chloe’s already tiny bedroom.

“Hey,” Chloe said softly. “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t okay with this. I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad I get to look after you.”

“You sure you don’t just feel obliged?”

“No,” Chloe said, gently cupping Beca’s face in her hands. “When they told me what had happened, and that you were in emergency surgery, and that it was gonna be…” Her voice caught in throat and she trailed off, shaking her head. “I almost lost you. I don’t want to be apart from you anymore. I want you here with me.”

Beca blinked and a tear slipped down her cheek. Chloe brushed it away with her thumb before leaning down and pressing a kiss into her hairline.

“I love you,” she said, kissing her forehead now, her lips just missing the cut above her eyebrow.

“I love you too,” Beca replied. It wasn’t the first time they’d said it to each other, but it still felt new. It still caused an eruption of butterflies to flutter around in her stomach. “Can… Can you help me change?”

“Of course,” Chloe said, smiling softly.

Together they removed Beca’s hoody and sweatpants and replaced them with a baggy t-shirt and pyjama shorts.

Chloe tried not to wince at the bruising that still covered her arms and back.

“You good?” Chloe asked, helping her get comfortable.

“Yeah,” Beca said. “Excited to sleep in a bed that isn’t a hospital bed.”

Chloe laughed and climbed in beside her.

“Thank you,” Beca said, cuddling into Chloe as best she could without hurting herself.

“You’re welcome,” Chloe said, smiling at the feeling of Beca’s hand resting against her stomach. “Wake me if you need anything, okay?”

“Mm hm,” Beca mumbled, already almost asleep.

—

Chloe woke up with a start several hours later at the sound of something hitting the floor.

She instinctively reached out for Beca, but that side of the bed was empty.

“Beca?” Chloe asked, sleepily. She flicked on the bedside lamp and saw her bedroom door open.

She could hear Beca’s muffled cursing from outside.

Chloe hurried out of bed, finding Beca lying on the ground, struggling to get back up.

“I told you to wake me,” Chloe said, turning on the light and helping Beca into a sitting position, her back resting against the back of the sofa.

“I needed the bathroom,” Beca said, her jaw clenched in pain and frustration. “I can go to the bathroom on my own.”

Chloe bit back every sarcastic response that flew into her head, and forced herself to take a deep breath.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, my crutch got caught on the rug I think,” Beca said.

“Are you hurt?” Chloe said, worry flooding her. “Why didn’t you wake me so I could help you?”

“Can we do this later?” Beca asked. “I really need to pee.”

Chloe helped her up and to the bathroom, and then stood outside the door.

“I can’t go if you’re just going to stand out there,” Beca moaned.

“Fine, I’ll go wait somewhere else,” Chloe said, rolling her eyes even though Beca couldn’t see them.

She went and got a drink of water and picked up Beca’s crutches from the floor, placing them back in the bedroom where Beca would be able to reach them.

“Chloe?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said, hurrying back to the bathroom.

“Um…” She could hear the hesitation in Beca’s voice. “Can…”

“Do you need help?”

“Yeah,” Beca said. “I can’t… I can’t stand up.”

“Okay,” Chloe said. “I’m gonna come in.”

Chloe opened the door and saw Beca sitting there with tears in her eyes.

“I don’t like feeling like this,” Beca said.

“I know,” Chloe replied.

She helped her stand and supported her at the sink so she could wash her hands, before half carrying her back to bed.

“Wake me next time, okay? What if I hadn’t woken up when you fell and you’d been stuck there all night? What if you’d hit your head or something?”

“I know,” Beca said. “It’s just… No one’s ever done this for me before. No one’s ever wanted to look after me and help me, not since I was a little kid. I just… I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage. I don’t want you to resent me.”

“Baby,” Chloe said, stunned. “Never. I’d never think that about you.”

“I’m sorry,” Beca said, wiping her eyes.

“Don’t be sorry,” Chloe said. “I know this is hard for you. You’re not used to being dependent, I get it. But you’re allowed to be. It’s okay to need to help every once in a while. Let me help you?”

Beca nodded and Chloe smiled, planting a small kiss on the corner of her mouth. “Good. Because otherwise I’d have to call Aubrey and have her yell at you until you gave in, and neither of us want that.”

“God no,” Beca said, laughing.

“You doing okay?” Chloe asked after a few minutes, once Beca had gotten comfortable again.

“Yeah,” Beca said. “A little sore.”

“A little?”

“A lot.”

“You want an ice pack?”

“You don’t have to-”

“Beca.”

Beca sighed but smiled. “Yes please.”

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kel-is-here · 1 year ago

Note

Ad Astra Abyssosque

"Huh"

#woah! thoughts!! [in character post]#hey there!! welcome!! [ask]#ooc: zomg!! i <33 latin <333333333334 #ooc: inbox has been emptied!! please send in more asks (not forced)#(esp either being mean to him or ab ships >:))

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tansypoisoning · 4 years ago

Text

Tansy’s Spooky Challenge

Because the World is terrifying :D

To celebrate this milestone (1k followers :O) I’m starting a challenge which hopefully will give back to this community in terms of exposure of less known authors (or just authors that aren’t known by my followers) and in creating more stories. I’m so thankful for all the attention I’ve been given, and I hope to give you guys my attention as well.

I love writing challenges because they give authors motivation to write (sometimes even things out of their comfort zone), because they’re a great way for writer’s to promote themselves, and because it’s a great way for the person hosting it to find more stories and authors they could end up being big fans of :D I especially encourage people with less followers, or whose works I haven’t read to participate.

The main objective of this challenge is to write something that has an element of horror in it. It can range from a situation that seemed scary but is okay, to something that is a little eerie, to pure unadulterated terror. As for rules:

You DON’T have to be following me to participate.

You have to enter with a reader insert/OC fic. There doesn’t have to be any smut or shipping, and if there is, the relationship DOESN’T HAVE to be about dark!character or dark!reader.

I’ll read works for any fandom, but the ones I’m most familiar with are Marvel, Overwatch, Snowpiercer, Knives Out, Naruto, Avatar:The Legend of Aang

You can submit drabbles, one-shots, or an entry of a serialized story.

A single prompt CAN be used by more than a single person.

The fanfics can be of any length, but if they’re on the longer side, please try putting a ‘Read More’ in there somewhere to avoid making things difficult for people reading on phones.

Things that are not allowed in terms of content: underage sex, bestiality, graphic child abuse (allusions are ok) I don’t think anyone would submit an entry that I would have reservations reblogging, but if in doubt you can ask me for help. Give warnings for any sensitive topic you bring up.

Tag your fic with “TansySpookyChallenge2020”

Send me an ask or dm telling me you posted it, preferably a dm. Asks can get eaten by the inbox, and tagging doesn’t always work.

Deadline is November 24th. You can DM for extensions

PROMPTS BELOW

Choose one item from each list and work them into a story. I allow and encourage trying to game the system with multiple interpretations of a term, less literal readings, or wordplay.

List 1

Happiness

Jealousy

Nostalgia

Desperation

Fury

Triumph

Sadness

Acceptance

Fervor

Disgust

Awe

Confusion

Hope

Craving

Foreboding

Denial

Loss

Ennui

Adoration

Sympathy

Pain

Betrayal

Commiseration

Anxiety

Rancor

Determination

List 2

Sink or swim

Chokecherry

Crossroads

“Let me see what you have.” “A knife!”

French vanilla

Something forgotten long ago

The shore

The eye of the storm

Bathtub

Corn hell

Down by the river

Baby’s breath

A little fire

An old saloon

Unearthed bones

On the move

Before dawn

Dead men walking

By candlelight

Frankenstein

Prima Donna

A hill about a mile outta town

First dance

Ritual

Underground

A small request

These text prompts can be used however you want: whether you want to have them in your story in their entirety, use bits, write something around them, something inspired by them, or just something you think has a similar feel. Just let me know which you picked.

There is a Corvette parked in front of the building, just by the front door. You approach the vehicle as if compelled by an invisible force and look in through the closed window. There’s none inside, but you see, in the driver's seat, illuminated by the neon lights of the bar, a white cowboy hat with a golden band. This isn’t the first time you see this hat.

The hole is no more than eight feet long and three feet wide. You peer in deeper, but you can’t see the bottom. There’s a soft but grating sound coming from somewhere within, like sharp nails raking against a metal plate. You can’t see the bottom, but you think you can see movement inside.

You abandon the warmth of the laundromat for the biting cold of the outside world. To your right, the road extends for miles and miles into the night, as it does to your left. There’s no place for you to go, but you can’t go back inside.

The light of the neon sign proudly displaying “Rising Sun Motel” shines through your door. You had closed and locked it before taking your shower – you know you had, because you do it in every room you rent. You take a cursory glance of your surroundings. Nothing is out of place or missing. Must be a faulty lock. The night is windy and could have pushed the cheap door open. You go to lock it again, and when you turn around you see that the closet door is slightly ajar.

The land is flat as far as the eye can see and identical houses with identically manicured lawns sprout from it as far as the eye can see. You run up and then down the street (or is it down and then up?) but you can’t seem to find anything else. The people look so friendly when they smile and wave as they pass you by, but you don’t ask them for directions. You look at your phone. You have signal, but all you can get your internet to show you are advertising for washing machines and sites with recipes for awful things preserved in aspic. The date and hour on your home screen keep changing. You’re positive you’ve been in this place for hours, but the sun won’t set.

“B-but… I don’t understand...” “We have checked the security footage three times and found nothing. There are also no signs of forced entries. No fingerprints.” “-My phone! I took pictures, I know I took-!” “We found nothing on your phone, in the SD card, or in the Cloud. There’s nothing.” “That’s impossible!” “We searched as much as we could. I’m sorry, but… are you sure-” “I know what I saw! I know it! Look again!” You aren’t imagining things. It couldn't have been your mind. It couldn't, it couldn’t, it couldn't

What kind of convenience store has taxidermy heads for decoration? You ask yourself as you roam the aisles of the near empty shop. You peek from behind a row of shelves to one side and spot the clerk. He’s old and severe looking, and although his pupils are pointed in your direction, you get the distinct feeling he’s looking right through you. You move your head to the other side of the shelves and spot another one of those fucking deer heads. This one’s large, wet eyes are turned to a fixture in the ceiling, but you would swear it’s watching you.

Rain pelts you as you stand at the dock, waiting. You hope your boat will arrive soon. You look over your shoulder into the mist and see nothing that should give you pause, but your leg still won’t stop shaking. You touch your arm by reflex and wince when you brush your cut. You think your makeshift tourniquet is working, but it looks fragile, like it could get dismantled at any second. In this weather, you’re sure is just a matter of time. You look over your shoulder again. Still nothing, but you fear it won’t last. You hope your boat will arrive soon.

The living room is dark, but you don’t turn on the lights. You are still too close. You move to the kitchen, and there you feel safe enough to reach for the switch. The illuminated room, much larger than it needed to be, is a ghastly land of contrasts. The many counters and their many marble tops are covered in trash. The tile floors, formerly clean enough to eat out of, are now muddied, not a single spot spared. The eyes of the two stoves are covered by pans and pots boiling foul mixtures. Through the window you can see the sprawling lawn and walls of hedges. They will hide you, but for how long? There is something waiting for you in the hallway, something terrible. You have to address it before sunrise, but for now you’ll wait here. The kitchen isn’t half as bad as the rest of the house.

‘The Bystander Effect’ is the term used to describe the phenomenon in which people don’t intervene in emergency situations when in a group, and, the larger the group, the less likely they are to intervene. You know this to be true, even without doing any research, as you hobble your way through the maze of alleyways. Your cries for help had gone unanswered, bouncing off the concrete walls into a multitude of uncaring ears. It’s just how it is in the big city – every man for himself, and the devil take the hindmost. So much for safety in numbers. The truth is, in this city, surrounded by all these people, you’re more alone than you’d ever been.

You take the first step with care, mindful of all the ice. The second is a little clumsier. On the third you almost slip. You skip the fourth and fall on the fifth, rolling down the stairs and landing face first in the snow. You scramble to get back to your feet and run to your car. You have to get home. You lock yourself in and don’t bother with the safety belt. You shove the key in the ignition and turn and turn but nothing happens. Did you leave it in the cold too long, or- There’s no time to think about it. You step out of the car and start running, into the freezing night. You have to get home, you have to get home now.

Cleanup time is always a hassle. You wish you didn’t have to do it, but it wouldn’t be fair to leave the mess all to your partner. You two near the open trunk of the car and load the heavy cargo into it. Your companion seems the most affected by the weight, and you offer an apologetic smile. Fair is fair though; it was your turn to carry the feet end.

Skinny dipping had seemed like a good idea when your friend suggested it earlier, under the sweltering sun. Now, standing in front of the pool in your bathing suit, all by your lonesome, you start to regret having agreed to her scheme. Wasn’t she supposed to have arrived forty minutes ago? She said she’d bring people too, because skinny dipping alone isn’t fun. Well, now you are all alone in the cold, and you suspect that is even less fun. Just as you make up your mind to leave, you see a car through the chain link fence. It pulls up just before the gate and the engine turns off. That must be them.

#TansySpookyChallenge2020

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unabashegirl · 5 years ago

Text

Enticing (1)

Author’s Note: This is the first chapter of the NEW SERIES based on the imagine of CEO! I have rewritten this first chapter a thousand times by now. I just wanted it to be perfect and for everyone to get a glimpse of the kind of man that David is in this series.

I also didn’t want to title it just CEO because it’s so cliche. I wanted it to be alluring for all of you! I hope you all enjoy the first chapter.

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO GET TAGGED!

masterlist

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Powerful is the first word that comes to mind when asked about him. It is later followed by meticulous, driven, calculating, or even impatient. At twenty-six, he has acquired everything that he has ever wished for and even more.

“Mr. Dobrik” he is greeted as he steps out of his car. He keeps his eyes glued to his phone, he is still trying to respond to an obnoxious email. He picks up the pace and types vigorously before entering the building. Someone was already at the door holding it open for him.

“Thank you, Patrick” David acknowledges him after he finally puts his phone away and walks through the doors. The sound of the heel of his shoes clicking echoes through the lobby alerting everyone of his arrival. He runs a tight ship on his company, but it was for their best interest.

“Good morning, Mr. Dobrik,” Andrea one of the receptionist says, she flashes him a big smile.

“Andrea” he nods her way as he walks up to the elevators. She smiles to herself and sits back down. She has a huge crush on him but has never gotten anything out of him. He was always on his phone or in a rush. She didn’t blame him after all he was an important man with a tight schedule.

David walks into his top floor and without a word walks into his office. A fresh glass of water with ice already rests on his desk. The recognizable pile of contracts and documents still lay on the right side of his desk, desperately calling out for his attention.

“Mr. Dobrik” Andrew Rider was David’s personal assistant for almost four years. He is David’s most trusted worker. Andrew even had a copy of David’s penthouse keys. He sometimes dropped off to deliver his tailored suits and documents.

“Good morning” He momentarily looks up from his screen and nods his direction. “Before anything Andrew please ask Daniel to bring me a coffee and something to eat from that coffee place I like”

“Yes sir” Andrew quickly types Daniel a quick text before turning his attention to the list of appointments and meetings that David had scheduled. “Should we start now?” David nods as he continues looking through the emails in his inbox. Andrew always debriefs David about all the stats about the company before letting him know about his meetings and messages. As soon as Andrew finishes reading all the reports of every single branch he looks up at David and waits for a reaction. Andrew holds his IPad close to his body just in case things go south and he has to bolt out of the room just like he’s done many times before.

“Thanks, fine. Proceed” This time it wasn’t the case. He was content with how things were going.

“Your mother called yesterday and so did Ms. McCoy” David purses his lips at the mention of the woman that has been desperately trying to become his wife. She is the daughter of one of his business partners. They had both invested in various companies together. Mr. McCoy respects David as a businessman and considers him an exceptional man.

“What did my mother say?” He asks already knowing the reason behind her call.

“She asked when you were planning on visiting with Henry” Last time David had gone to see his family things had ended badly. His father and he had gotten into a dispute about his younger sister's fiance. David’s father didn’t approve of him and when asked David told his honest opinion about the young man. She met him in college and they had just recently graduated. He didn’t have his life fully figured out like his father wanted him to have before asking for his daughter ‘s hand, but it didn’t matter. David could see how they loved one another. He didn’t see the problem after all they had just graduated and were still trying to figure out the ropes of adulthood.

“Please let her know I’ll be visiting this weekend and I’ll bring him too. As of Ms. McCoy let her know if she calls back that I’ll reach out to her later during the week” Andrew rolls his eyes at the mention of his girlfriend. She is incredibly rude and arrogant. Everyone in the office hated her. They despised when she surprisingly runs by the office just to see the boss. David also hates it because it messes up his whole schedule.

“Also the agency found a new nanny and sent her profile. Would you like me to read it to you?” David closes his laptop and leans back. This is at the top of his priorities for the day which meant it deserved his full attention. “Her name is Y/N Y/L/N, she is twenty-four and has been working for the agency for three years. Her previous family says she is sweet, attentive, caring and always puts the kids first. The family let her go since they were relocating to Los Angeles”

“Did they not send any more profiles? Someone older perhaps?” He had nothing against the girl, but he felt more comfortable with someone older.

“There aren’t more available and they send their apology” He can't leave Henry without a nanny much longer. He needs someone to be around him twenty-four seven especially when he is working.

“Fine. Let her know that I’ll be waiting for her first thing tomorrow at the apartment” Andrew nods back before leaving the office to go fetch David’s coffee. He felt instant relief after finding him a nanny. It wasn’t because David was incapable of taking care of his own son because he has done so the last week since their nanny quit. His tight schedule prevents him from staying home and tend all his needs.

David’s life revolved around Henry. He rathers spends a weekend at home with him than taking a jet off to an exotic location. Henry has him wrapped around his little finger since he was born only three months ago. They only have one another and David has come to terms with it.

Henry’s biological mother had exchanged him for money. David had met Ashley at a bar after one of his business deals had gone wrong. He had gone to the bar to release some stress and steam from the long week. After a few Scotch on the rocks, he noticed the presence of the pretty girl beside him. They talked for a few hours about superficial things like their favorite countries and anecdotes from college. A few minutes later, David found himself calling for Daniel to pick both of them up and drive them home.

The whole night was a big blur for him. The only thing he remembers is the morning after and the hammering headache that came along with it. Ashley vanished as soon as the sun rose over Manhattan. David woke up to an empty room without any trace of her beside the messy bedsheets.

He didn’t hear from her until a few weeks later when an article of him was written by Forbes magazine. He was listed as one of the youngest billionaires. She found the magazine on a stand while making her way to work and called the company. After trying to reach him for a few days Andrew was finally alerted.

Ashley met up with him that same afternoon and told him that she was pregnant and that she was going to terminate the pregnancy. David had never considered having kids up until that point. He thought they were all very cute, but never imagined himself with one. He didn’t say anything. He just told her that it was her body and her decision. David couldn’t sleep that night. He kept rolling around and he felt like something was terribly wrong. Something had woken up inside of him and even though he had decided to no intervene with her decision, he still did.

He begged her to get an abortion and offered to take full responsibility when he was born. That still wasn’t enough with Ashley. She wanted more and it wasn’t until a few days later when David finally figured it all out. She wanted money for the baby. Ashley wanted him to pay her for the baby that she was carrying and once again after much thinking, he did. He paid Ashley and an incredible amount of money for him. David didn’t care how much money it was. Money was dispensable and he could always make more. He couldn’t make another Henry. He was one of a kind. At the end of the day, David was going to be able to raise Henry and watch him grow up.

The day that Henry was born was the last time he heard or saw Ashley. Within hours she had signed off all of her parental rights and had given David full custody. She had also cashed in all the money. Since then they have been together. Everything absolutely everything came after Henry now. All the long hours in the office and the traveling was all for him. David wanted to give him the world.

Andrew sets his coffee down before leaving him on his own. He sits back and starts working until he is interrupted by the head of international relations. The company has been having trouble with the branch in Canada and David still couldn’t under why. They were always above the budge and below the income requirement. He knows he has to drop by soon, but he first wants to gather all the correct information before flying in and firing a few people.

“The situation with Canada can’t continue like this. If it does I am going to forced to fire him” Jacob Wilson is the appointed CEO of the Canadian branch in Ontario. David rarely speaks to him because he has trusted him since the beginning, but things have been slightly off lately.

“I think it’s for our best interest to find out what’s going on over there. It’s a sinking boat and with the expansion happening soon we can’t risk ourselves for the other investors to pull out” Alexander points out before taking a sip out of his coffee.

Before David can say anything else the door burst open and in walks Valentina McCoy with all her might. If there is one thing that David can’t tolerate is being interrupted in one of his meetings especially so abruptly.

“Why haven’t you been answering my calls?” Her voice is loud and stern, but it doesn’t faze him. David turns to look at Alexander, whose eyes look like they are about to pop out of his body. He can defiantly sense the awkwardness of the entire situation.

“I am sorry Alexander. I’ll keep me posted if anything else emerges” They both rise to their feet and shake each other’s hands before Alexander slips out of his office before the mayhem commences.

“Answer me!” She stumps her foot on the ground. Her body is leaned forward and her yaw is clenched. David remains silent only making her angrier. He unbuttons the first two buttons of his shirt, trying his best to put his thoughts together. “David! Why the fuck have you answered me?” She hisses.

“Who do you think you are?” His back is facing her as he looks at the skyline.

“Why can’t you fucking look at me?!” Her voice is louder and by now everyone on the top floor knows that she has arrived. David quickly turns around and chuckles.

“I asked you a question. Who the fuck do you think you are?!” She jumps a bit at his loud, demanding voice. He was sick and tired of her childish actions. “You can’t just barge in here like you own the fucking place and yell at me in front of my employees”

“I sure can! especially when you aren’t answering my texts” Her voice is lower and she has stepped back. She felt intimidated by his current state. David’s eyebrows are knitted and his hands are on his wooden desk.

“You are fucking nobody. You are just a daddy’s girl, who thinks that she can buy her way out of everything. You think your fucking beauty and your bank account grants you the right to do whatever the fuck you want, but that’s not how things work. You have no fucking right to burst through that door without knocking or without letting me know. This isn’t your fucking house where people come in and out whenever they please. This is my goddam company, Valentina” His weight is all distributed on his hands as he leans forward and demands respects. She is speechless and on the verge of tears.

He is so fucking done with her. He enjoyed her company until it lasted. This was the last straw. No one messed around with him, especially in his workplace.

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO GET TAGGED!

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imagine-the-energon · 4 years ago

Note

How bout Silas experimenting on his teen kid to make them a techno organic? They run away and bump into the autobots. The bots look at them and their like this is our child now. Fight us their ours now. :)

(So sorry person who originally asked this. I accidentally deleted it when trying to clean the inbox)

You got it! This will be a multipart series. Currently, only two parts are planned: this one and one where Silas gets his dues, but more can be added if requested.

~~ Mod Ohma ~~

tw: abuse, neglect, mentions of torture, experimentation and death

The first thing she saw once she was out of the warehouse was green. There was so much, it made her head spin, and as she stumbled back, she could hear the guards yelling, signaling that the empty cell and dead guards. Pushing forward, she could hear the branches and fallen logs under her break as she vaulted over them, doing her best not to look, not to feel because if she did either, she’d certainly break down.

Finally, after what felt like both forever and a few seconds, she tripped and caught herself with her arms, forcing her to look at the white metal, at the dark grey blade she had tried so hard to pry off only to get shocks after shocks the second she had managed to get it away.

Her breath hitched and she could feel her eyes stinging. When she closed her eyes, her mechanical arms gave out, allowing her to collapse on the ground, sobbing in the new and confusion freedom she had found in the forest.

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She woke up to the ground shaking. Normally, she would’ve just gotten under the small bunk her father had given her, but as she rolled over, she had a stick whack her in her face, causing her to open her eyes and realize that the dream had not, in fact, been a dream.

She felt the vibrations stop and thought that it meant she was ok, that she could move, like all the other times, so she slowly stood up, grimacing at the state of her hospital gown. it was backward for the sake of her running away, but it was also too short, having been made for a kid rather than a tall teenager. Or, well, a robotically enhanced teenager.

She wasn’t sure if the sound she made was a choked laugh or a choked sob, but once it was out of her mouth, there was a tremor, and then another one. Looking around, she felt herself freeze up at the sight of the giant red and blue robot, who seemed just as shocked (well, perhaps a little bit more) as she was.

“Hello,” she rasped, feeling the headpiece attacked to her skull buzzing lightly as it forced information into her head. “I need your help, Optimus Prime. An enemy of MECH is a friend of mine.”

“What did MECH want from you?” He rumbled, and she knew that this was the make or break moment.

“My name is Phoebe Leah Bishop, daughter of Leland Bishop, and he was the one who did this to me. He wanted a techno-organic, a supersoldier for his stupid war, and he decided that since I never agreed with him, he’d make me agree with him. I have no love for him, and all I can ask if that if you decline my help, then please, allow me to live in peace.”

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She could feel their mistrust the second Prime made it known that she was sitting in his hands. Ratchet, the one MECH pegged as old and decrepit due to rarely being on the field, plucked her out of his grasp and took her over to the medical area, and she could feel the information rewriting itself.

“Scans indicate that your limbs have been replaced... and that this crown has been screwed onto your head,” he said, voice disgusted and aghast as she just shrugged.

“It’s not screwed in,” she corrected, unsure what to really say. “It’s sending information into my head whether I want it to or not, and I don’t think screws can do that.”

“Fraggers,” she heard Arcee mumble. “Can’t we rethink the no harming humans rule? Just this once?”

“No, Arcee,” Prime answered, sounding just as angry as the femme. “Miss Bishop-”

“Phoebe,” she interrupted. “Bishop reminds me of him.”

“Phoebe, what can you tell us of MECH’s plans?”

She found herself tilting her head, unknowingly tapping against the bed with her left hand. “I was the only prototype to survive the fifth surgery,” she said. “They started with our arms and made sure they were functional before turning to our legs. Two didn’t survive that surgery. After that, they wanted to make sure we would be able to use those blue crystals as a type of fuel source if we didn’t have food on us, so they went in and completely changed our digestive system. Twenty died on the table, another seven having complications afterward. We had to have our strength enhanced, so they inserted a chip at the base of our neck to control our muscles beyond the limits our brains set. Three died on the table, four died off when their muscles ripped them in half. Five survived to the fifth surgery, which was to implant an information node. Mine’s all fancy because I was supposed to be Daddy’s Little Leader.”

The yellow one, Bumblebee, let out a series of beeps that had her furrowing her brows and tilting her head. “I agree,” the green one, Bulkhead, growled. “We should be out here making sure this doesn’t happen again, Optimus.” There was a silence as Prime looked at her with an... odd expression before motioning for everyone to follow him out of the medbay area. Ratchet was the last one to leave, and even then, he looked back.

“Are... am I allowed to stay?” She hated how insecure she sounded, how insecure she felt, but being here, it felt nice.

“You’re more than allowed to stay, youngling,” he promised her before walking out as well, leaving her to curl up on the bed and ignore the pain slowly building up in her hips.

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How I imagine what Phoebe looks like:

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dreamcatcherfication · 5 years ago

Text

If I Say I’m Fine Enough Then I’ll Believe It

@nightingale6374 I’m back on my bullshit. (Okay but I named this fic a while ago, so does it really count???)

Hello everyone, and welcome to another episode of Anne angst. You guys really love Anne angst, I’m starting to learn. This was a mix of two prompts that just went too well together for me to resist. You can check them both out here, but the basic summary was that Anne has a heart attack onstage and the queens and audience witness it. I did a little research on heart attacks, but I can’t promise this is completely accurate. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this one shot! Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors, there are a thousand pigeons attacking me right now.

Writing Masterpost

If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so I’m always in need of new ideas. If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you!

Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Original Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Heart attacks, general anxiety, mentions of beheading

Anne was fine.

Perfectly, A-okay, stable, and healthy. Fine.

The tightness in her chest wasn’t enough to stop her from performing, Anne kept assuring herself. All day Anne had been off, her chest feeling like something was crushing down on it, making it almost impossible to breathe. But she was on for the show tonight, and Anne refused to be stopped by some chest ache that probably meant nothing.

Joining the other queens for places, Anne adjusted her in-ear and stood in her position. Soon enough the ladies would start playing Greensleeves and she would put on her show persona. Jane shot her a glance and smiled. “You ready?” she gently asked.

Shrugging, Anne showed her teeth in a semblance of a grin. “Yup, never better.” If Jane noticed Anne’s strange behavior, she didn’t comment.

Anxiously tapping her foot, Anne watched the ladies in waiting, begging for them to start the intro. Sure enough, the opening notes played and Anne sighed with relief. The tightness seemed to be fading as her body numbed slightly. She could make it through the show like this. It was only just over an hour, Anne could make it.

Entering the stage, Anne put up her mask. Her back was to the audience, thankfully, or they might have seen the grey ashiness that was taking over her face. Listening to the music start up was almost surreal for Anne. It felt like a faded melody in the back of her mind, and her body was only going through the motions of performing. She couldn’t even believe her body was keeping up with all the other queens as they moved around at what looked like the speed of light.

Her lines must have been lackluster, because the other queens started shooting her strange looks as they introduced the ladies. The audience wouldn’t be able to see it, but there was concern in Kat and Aragon’s eyes as they noticed the way Anne’s words seemed forced out. Cathy and Anna shared a look across the stage, but they kept silent. Jane furrowed her eyebrows at Joan, but the pianist could only mouth I don’t know lest Anne hear her through the in-ears.

No Way seemed to pass quickly, the dance moving by in a blur for Anne. She was starting to grow nauseous, the tightness of her chest spreading to her limbs and her jaw. It would be incredibly hard to sing, she noted, but still pressed on. Her whole little intro went off without a hitch, Anne throwing in an extra high giggle in order to convince the audience that she was better than ever. Standing up, Anne stumbled on her feet but quickly recovered.

Singing the opening lyrics to her song, Anne went over the top, probably appearing like an overexcited teenage girl to the audience. But Anne knew if she let even a little bit of her facade slip, she would go tumbling down.

Making her way over to the side of the stage, Anne turned to look at her fellow queens. She almost cut off her song in the middle of the second verse when she saw their concerned faces. Why were they looking at her like that? Was something wrong? Ignoring it, Anne moved to center stage, her body slow and barely keeping up with the tempo. Her voice was cracking between syllables, and clearly people were starting to notice. “Anne?” she heard Joan in her ear.

“Sorry not sorry -” Anne managed to get out before her body seized up and she collapsed, limp on the floor.

Immediately, Kat shrieked, dropping her character and rushing to her cousin’s side. The audience had gone completely silent, unsure of what was happening. Microphone discarded, Kat started to shake Anne. “Anne? Annie? What happened? Why aren’t you saying anything?” The poor girl was terrified, watching her cousin’s blank, empty face.

For a moment, there was stillness throughout the entire theatre as Kat leaned over her unconscious cousin, eyes filled with tears. Then everyone sprung into action, all reacting at once. The four other queens scrambled over to Anne’s body, trying to see if they could get a response. Anna put a hand on Kat’s shoulder and tried to pull her backwards softly, trying to offer support for the worried teen. Jane was instantly at Anne’s other side, examining her face. Aragon and Cathy were standing over Anne together, not wanting to get too close and invade the girl’s personal space.

The audience was reacting terribly, having not expected something so unbelievable to occur. Many of the guests towards the back were trying to get out of the theatre, not knowing what had happened other than a performer seemed dead. A handful of the audience has pulled their phones out and were recording, documenting the events as they unfolded. But the majority of the audience was talking frantically as they watched the queens for any sign of what to do.

The ladies in waiting were the real saviors. Maggie ripped off her guitar and scrambled towards one of the audience members, asking, “Can I use your phone?” Maria and Joan scrambled backstage to look for anything to help Anne while Bessie moved to join Maggie and crowd control. The person Maggie was talking to fumbled for their phone, getting it out and handing it over to the lady. Maggie quickly dialled 999 and waited for a responder to pick up.

Kat had fallen backwards into Anna, gripping her arm. The older queen was holding her friend tight against her chest, making sure she had someone to hold onto. Maria and Joan returned with a couch pillow that they slipped under Anne’s head to better support her. Kat mumbled something, but Anna couldn’t make it out over the cacophony of sound the audience was making. “Say that again,” she rubbed Kat’s shoulder, trying to make the girl feel safe.

“Is Anne going to be alright?” Kat mumbled, slightly louder this time.

Anna didn’t want to make a promise she couldn’t keep, so she told Kat the truth. “Honestly, I don’t know. But Anne’s a fighter, and whatever it is, she won’t go down easy.”

Kat nodded and sunk further into Anna’s arms. Her eyes never left Anne’s prone form, but her breathing slowed down, if only by a little bit.

On the other hand, Jane was very much still freaking out. Cathy had migrated over to her side and Aragon was talking with Maria and Joan by Anne’s head. “Why did we let her go on?” Jane’s face was turning white like Anne’s ashen one. “We should have noticed something -”

“But we didn’t,” Cathy cut her off. “What Anne needs right now isn’t regrets, okay? She needs you to be strong and ready to help her when she needs it.”

“I can do that,” Jane glanced at Cathy. “We can do that.”

“Yes we can,” Cathy agreed, taking Jane’s shaky hand in hers. It was only a small source of comfort, but it worked in the moment. “Things will be fine.”

Aragon couldn’t help but overhear Cathy and Jane. She sighed, itching at her big costume. It wasn’t the ideal clothes for a moment like this, but that wasn’t something she would complain about. None of this was ideal, but it was reality and Aragon had to wake up and face it. “Maggie’s already called an ambulance, they’ll be here any moment,” Maria told her friend.

Watching Anne out of the corner of her eye, Aragon prayed the ambulance was about to enter the theatre doors. “What if it’s already too late?” Fear was starting to creep into Aragon’s body, swallowing her with it’s black, unforgiving jaws.

“It’s not,” Bessie promised, “It can’t be too late.”

“But what if -”

“What if’s mean nothing Catherine,” Bessie explained. “The ambulance is almost here and that’s what you can rely on.”

As the words came out of Bessie’s mouth, the theatre doors slammed open, EMTs rushing down the aisle and up onto the stage. They shooed the queens away from Anne, picking her up with ease and setting her on a stretcher. In the blink of an eye they were gone, rushing back out of the theatre with Anne in tow.

Shooting out of Anna’s arms, Kat gasped, “We have to follow her, go to the hospital!”

“Kat, we’re in our costumes in a theatre full of confused people -” Aragon tried to say.

“We can handle the crowd,” Joan took Kat’s side. “You get changed and head to the hospital where Anne is.”

That was all Kat needed to bolt offstage and up to her dressing room. The queens thanked the ladies and stood up, following Kat to get out of their costumes. Once they were offstage, the ladies turned their attention to the clamoring audience. Maria picked up a discarded microphone and tapped it. “Everyone!” she called for attention. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I wish I could tell you that we know what happened, but the truth is we don’t. If you could please give us all some privacy while we deal with this, it would be greatly appreciated.” Before the audience could respond, the ladies turned off the microphones and prepared themselves for the onslaught of questions they were about to face.

Thankfully, Aragon had decided to drive the group to the theatre earlier instead of taking public transport. All the queens piled into the car and drove in silence on the way to see Anne. There was a clear tension among them, no one having the answers they all so desperately wanted. It felt like hours before they finally reached the hospital, but Aragon pulled into a parking spot and they were free to rush to the front doors.

Kat made it first, followed closely behind by Jane and then the other queens. They entered the hospital and beelined for the nurse’s desk. The woman sitting at the desk looked up and smiled kindly. “How can I help you?” she asked.

“Anne Boleyn,” Cathy informed her, “she has to be recently admitted.”

Scanning her papers, the woman nodded. “It looks like she’s in intensive care currently, but I can send over a doctor to talk to you.” At her words, Kat recoiled, her arms wrapping around her body. The girl’s breathing sped up and she stumbled into Anna, pulling her friend close.

Keeping her composure as best as possible, Cathy nodded. “If you could, please.” The nurse pulled out a phone, but Cathy had turned her attention back to the other queens. They were all in different states of shock. Kat was on the verge of tears in Anna’s arms as the German queen scrunched her face together in order to hide her emotions. Aragon was staring at the ground, her body unresponsive. Jane was holding a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide and unseeing. And Cathy herself was doing everything possible to hold herself together in order to keep some form of control over the situation.

A moment later, a doctor emerged from the hallway next to the nurse’s desk. “Family of Anne Boleyn?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. The five queens nodded frantically, their distress clear as day. “Well I hate to tell you this,” the queens inhaled sharply, “But Miss Boleyn had a heart attack.”

“Wh-what?” Jane stuttered.

“How is that even possible? She’s young and fit,” Cathy furrowed her eyebrows, not convinced by the doctor’s answer.

The man put his hands up in defense. “We really don’t know what caused it, probably something genetic. There’s a lot we don’t know about you bunch, so we can’t say for sure. But one of her main arteries was severely blocked, so much so that she could have died.”

“Could… have?” Kat asked.

“Could have,” the doctor confirmed. “Miss Boleyn will be fine, and hopefully soon too. But right now, she needs her rest. We’re lucky we were even able to help her so quickly. I suggest coming back another time.”

There was a universal sigh of relief among the queens at the doctor’s confirmation. Even if they couldn’t see Anne, even if she wasn’t with them, she would be soon. “Can we come back tomorrow?” Anna questioned, pulling Kat closer to her.

Clicking his tongue, the doctor shook his head. “You can come check in, but you won’t be able to see her for a couple days. But I’ll make sure you’re all told when she wakes up.”

“Thank you,” Aragon’s smile was small, but genuine.

“Of course,” the doctor nodded and disappeared once again.

It had taken a couple days, but finally the queens would get to see Anne. It had been chaotic, trying to deal with all the videos that had surfaced of the girl’s accident and all the rumors that had popped up. The media didn’t quite understand that the queens and ladies wanted privacy as they tried to deal with the fallout of Anne’s heart attack.

But none of that mattered, because Anne was awake and they were going to see her. “Do you think she’ll be sick?” Kat asked, playing with the edge of her coat.

“Why would you think that?” Cathy replied as she opened the doors to the hospital.

“Well some symptoms of a heart attack are nausea and vomiting, so I thought maybe she might be feeling sick,” Kat explained.

Aragon patted Kat on the back. “I don’t think they’d let us see her if she was still sick. But there’s only one way to find out.”

The nurse at the front desk acknowledged the queens, remembering them from previous visits. She pointed down the hall, a small reminder of where Anne’s room was. This would be the first time they would actually get to see her and not pace around outside her door. “Moment of truth,” Anna psyched herself and the others up, putting a hand on the doorknob. Slowly, she pushed it open so they could see Anne on the other side.

There were plenty of machines and tubes surrounding Anne, but her face was no longer grey and her eyes had regained a familiar light. “Queens!” she gasped when she saw them. “You came.”

Kat rushed over to Anne’s side, but restrained herself from hugging her cousin. Instead, Kat slapped Anne’s hand lightly. Kat then gave a hmph and crossed her arms. “What was that for?” Anne frowned.

“You scared us,” Kat dropped her arms and leaned over Anne.

“We thought you were going to die,” Jane spoke up from across the room.

Turning her attention to Jane, Anne attempted to shift herself in the bed. “Jane,” she huffed as her hand almost slipped, “I wouldn’t have died. I’m Anne Boleyn. It takes a sword to the head to get rid of me, not a stupid heart problem.”

“But,” Aragon spoke up, “What if it gets bad again?” She internally cursed herself for going back to the what if’s.

It was surprising how Anne was the most laid back of them all. “I won’t let it. We won’t let it. So what if I have heart problems, apparently. Not doing anything isn’t going to fix it either, so I’m still gonna dance and sing. Sound good to you?”

Anna chuckled and put a hand on Anne’s shoulder. “Sounds great to me.”

And together, all the queens shared a genuine smile, relief washing over them like a calm wave. Anne hadn’t sung her last performance, and she hadn’t taken her last breath. And that was the important thing, they realized. Maybe Anne wasn’t on stage, singing her heart out. But Anne was fine.

Anne was fine.

-------------------------------------------

Tag List:

@radcowboyalmondtree @boleynhowards @annabanana2401 @babeebobo @dont-lose-your-queerhead @everything-insanity @mindless-pidgeon @i-wanna-dance-and-sing-six @thedemidisaster @its-totes-gods-will @thatbolxyngirl @thenameisnoone @sixqueendom

#six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fic #six fanfiction #six fanfic #sixfic #anne boleyn #request #i don't know if this is accurate at all #yes i once again took the title from a song #specifically move on from we are the tigers #because that song slaps #but that's not the point #tried some circular structure this time #turned out meh #i hope i could do this justice #it's kind of a mish mosh of everything #a garbage fire on wheels

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funeralhomewifi · 4 years ago

Text

Little Secrets - Diavolo x MC

Concept: Due to being the prince of Devildom, Diavolo keeps his and MC’s relationship a secret. Until a ball tests their limits. (tagging @beelzebubsthot bc I word vomited headcanons into their inbox)

Coherence? We don't know her, but I'd low key like to write more for this MC.

“This has to be a secret.”

And you had been fine with slipping into Diavolo’s office to seek out a kiss under the guise that he simply likes keeping tabs on his exchange students. You were also more than fine with traipsing around the palace after hours, hair tangled and already desperately missing being in his arms.

Because it wasn’t a secret. Not really.

Not to Barbatos, who’d caught you many a time taking detours to class and who had started leaving water out for your walks of shame back to the House of Lamentation.

It wasn’t even a secret to Lucifer, because not much was when it came to Diavolo, and he’d become accustomed to hearing you enter the House of Lamentation minutes before curfew.

But now, you sit in class as discussion of a ‘once in a millennia’ ball hosted by Devildom royalty is underway. It’s important for Diavolo. To his entire legacy that he mingle with other nobles from other levels of Hell.

It doesn’t bother you at first, because it sounds fun, until there’s mention of desperate nobles cloying for a chance to toss their eligible single child onto the throne beside him like years and years before.

You tune out of the conversation, stomach tossing as you make your way to Diavolo’s office during lunch to savor the few minutes of time you have before he’s whisked away to more meetings.

Ever watchful and knowing, Barbatos pours a glass of tea and leaves you two be with the gentle reminder that you only have fifteen minutes. The warning being not to start anything that can’t be finished within ten minutes.

But today you don’t press a kiss to his neck and wrap your arms around him. You quietly slip into the plush seat next to his desk and become hyperaware of how chipped your nails are compared to the fine china as you take a sip of the tea.

Diavolo is watchful, quickly catching on to the shift in routine. “Do you not like this brew?”

“Hm?” You hadn’t savored the taste to make an adequate assessment, “No, it’s nice.” When he doesn’t respond, you sigh, “So what’s this ball about?”

“You’re invited,” Diavolo starts, sipping his own tea thoughtfully. “So is Solomon. There will be other humans there. If that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“Dia…” You hesitate and tap a nail against the glass. You don’t want to ruin the few minutes you get with him. You don’t want to question the soft kisses and late nights and thoughtful messages just yet. But you want a straight answer. “That’s good. That, um, I’m invited. But…”

“You will be a guest,” Diavolo tests. “Not a date. As a formality. You know this, MC. We can’t—”

“I know. You’ve told me. And I understand. But…” You start to chastise yourself mentally for even opening this can of worms, for questioning your feelings, and start to feel a knot at your throat. “Should we end it sooner than later?”

Diavolo pauses, brows furrowed, “MC…”

“No, wait.” You sigh and set the tea cup down, using it as an anchor, “If this concerns your future, the future of Devildom, then maybe we shouldn’t do… what we were doing anymore?”

Eerily calm, Diavolo nods, “Is that what you want?”

“Not really, Dia,” you quietly answer as there is a knock on the door signaling the end of teatime. “But my forever isn’t the same as your forever.”

Barbatos enters to clear the cups. You stand and force a smile as you shoulder your messenger bag and slip out of the office.

XXX

You allow yourself a night to cry then allow your feelings to go on the back burner as you tune out any talk of the ball and throw yourself into more activities with the brothers.

Lucifer leaves you be, for the most part, because at least someone is doing the dishes without complaint. But that comes to an end after day three of avoiding Diavolo, when Lucifer sends you a single text late at night: Message him.

In your overall tiredness from studying for final exams, you send Diavolo a single ‘??? Demon Emoji’ and leave it for the night, only to wake up to a missed call.

A week of halfheartedly ignoring Diavolo and mere days away from the ball, Devildom is crawling with nobles, leaving you to tag along with Asmodeus as he catches you up on at least 100 years of gossip while practically turning Majolish over.

“Breasts covered or on display?” Asmo asks suddenly and you nearly choke on Bujo Tea. He grins and leans in to pull at the bags under your eyes, “You weren’t listening. Now answer my question.”

You pull away, “Your boobs?”

“Aw, you really think I would cover up?” Asmo squeezes your cheeks, “I know a post-break up funk when I see one, dear. You need this ball as a pick me up.”

“No.” You huff, “The ball is the last thing I need.”

“No, MC,” Asmo circles a rack of dresses, “you’re going to get dressed up nice, feel good, maybe get laid. I’ll even go through my little black book for you. Maybe I’ll even offer myself up.”

“Maybe?” You flick through a few dresses idly, “Maybe doesn’t sound like you.”

“Because I’m confident in my—Oh! MC! Here!” Asmodeus pulls a dress from the rack and practically pushes you into a dressing room.

The dress is a deep crimson, verging on brown that flows against your curves, but leaves your back on display and just barely covers your breasts. The flowing sleeves leave your tattoos and pact marks just visible enough.

Asmo pokes his head in and nods, “That’s the dress.”

XXX

Asmo pats on thin layers of make and expertly styles your hair while you sip on wine that twists in your stomach instead of chasing away the nerves. You wouldn't be able to avoid Diavolo tonight, but despite the words and distance, you wonder if it’s a good thing or not.

The castle ballroom is buzzing, gossip and giggles and music merge together in a way that a party in the human realm never would be able to.

You try your best to not let your eye be drawn to the immaculate muddle of tan skin and gold making the rounds, although you swear you can feel Diavolo’s gaze follow you around the room.

You try to stick close to familiar faces. But Lucifer is near Diavolo, who’d placed himself on the dark throne to overlook to ongoings. Asmo introduces you to a gaggle of succubi, who promptly invite you to a ‘little afterparty’. You decline and join Beelzebub at the snack table, only to down a glass of wine quickly before palming a cup of something unknown and wandering.

Conversations prickle your nerves.

“He’s not very interested.”

“It’s not about interest, though.”

“He has…”

You finally drag your attention back to the throne. Your gaze meets Diavolo’s and your stomach flips as he cocks his head, acknowledging you only briefly before returning his attention back to a guest.

The liquor is bitter on your tongue and you tune back into the desperate conversations.

“He declined a little rendezvous in the coat closet.” Because Barbatos would be five steps ahead.

“He declined a taste of my raspberry infused poison chocolate liqueur.” He doesn’t like raspberries.

“He’ll need an heir eventually.”

“Wasn’t his father already—”

You finally step out of the throne room and into a more empty area of the castle, with the empty glass and heated cheeks, you’re tempted to text Lucifer for the house key, thinking incorrectly that you’d at least be ready to go when one of the other brothers would be.

You slink into a hallway that hadn’t been enchanted to be off limits and wait, listening to muddled conversations and rethinking most of your life decisions as the alcohol burns in your stomach.

Your DDD vibrates.

Barbatos: The enchantment on the main wing has been altered to allow you through.

Barbatos: Please go on through to the rooms. I’ll send someone with water.

You want to hesitate and ask for an escort back to the House of Lamentation, but allow your feet to guide you through the hallways you know so well. You linger at the entrance to Diavolo’s personal rooms and give into pressing into the bedroom.

After a while, a Little D hops into the room and leaves glasses of water and juice along with a bottle of aspirin to ‘prevent a hangover’.

You sip on the juice and pace around the room, lingering near the dresser upon noticing a collection of small trinkets you’d brought Diavolo from your visits in the human realm. With a sigh, you finally sink down to the bed, Diavolo’s cologne wrapping around you.

You’re alone in the silence, the room horribly empty and dull by yourself. And you dare to wonder how Diavolo stands it. Then you remember: he has no choice but to endure the dark silence, it’s what he is.

The door creaks, then opens, and Diavolo enters, a heavy air around his demon form, yet it doesn’t unnerve you. It never has. It probably never will.

“MC.”

“Dia.”

There’s a silence as he approaches you. Gently, he reaches down, gold around his wrists cold against your cheek and you lean into the touch. Instinctively, you stand and wrap your arms around him as best you can, a hard feat even when he’s not in his demon form.

His arms go around you, hands exploring your hair, “You look lovely, MC.”

“So do you,” you muffle into his chest. You bask in the warmth for a moment longer before peering up, “We do need to talk… about this, Diavolo.”

“Give it more time, MC,” Diavolo kisses your forehead. “These events won’t be needed much longer. I promise.”

---

Dress Reference

#bruh #its been so long since i've written a fanfic #mc is more of a self insert that i wish i was #obey me diavolo #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me barbatos #shall we date obey me #obey me lucifer #my writing #diavolo #diavolo x mc #diavolo x reader #like high key this was inspired by that dress reference #also a little by that drabble someone posted of diavolo asking if mc would live as a demon for them #coherent thoughts? we domt know her #obey me beelzebub #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo x mc

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