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rainyraisin · 1 year ago

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OKAY TIME TO GO ABSOLUTELY FERAL OVER AMANE’S SEASON 2 SONG (CW/TW for Child abuse, cults/religious stuff and murder) Massive Milgram Season 1 and 2 Spoilers, specifically for Amane’s songs and her section of the Season 1 results report! Also this is gonna be such a mess I’m sorry I’m really bad at organising my thoughts fbsjcbjebf (breaking this up cause it’s SO long)

Quick context if you’re not aware of this series (if you’re not then I’m unsure why you’re reading this but go off!!! 💪💪‼️‼️💖💖💖), in Milgram everyone is a murder. Guilty and forgiven votes aren’t if they should be forgiven or not for the murder itself, it’s if they should be forgiven for their reasons. Honestly everyone is so tragic that there’s very few people I don’t forgive for their actions (except for Yuno and Mahiru I don’t forgive those two at ALL, along with Kazui, because I’m still not sure of his reasons). NOW. Why the FUCK did the fandom vote her guilty oh my GOD we’ve gen broken this poor girl- Jackalope seems to think it was the right to vote her guilty during the Season 1 report but Es seems to have only done it so she realises what she has done is wrong which I assume is due to her young age? So she doesn’t just assume murder is right due to being forgiven. It’s not as much of a punishment as it is a lesson. Whilst yes, sounds a little harsh, but she literally killed someone (I FORGIVE HER WAY MORE FOR WHAT SHE DID THAN ANYONE ELSE THOUGH DUE TO THE CONTEXT WE GOT IN HER NEW SONG). Now, I don’t think the cult theory from Season 1 is wrong, especially due to the lyrics of this song and also her interrogation questions that featured answers such as “This is a trial from God” and her father being on an honorable journey (which I presume is a pilgrimage?), but it’s not as present here. This is much more focused on the abuse she received rather than both the abuse and the cult itself.

Now, I’m assuming the mascots from Magic are maybe associated with the cult? Given that her abuser has allowed them to be displayed on the front door I very much doubt they’re purely associated with an educational show like was originally presumed. They also appear in the marching section, which shows that they’re most likely associated with what’s being said in this section which uses phrases that most would associate with religion. I’m assuming Magic was more about indoctrination and Amane learning the Do’s and Dont’s of the cult through the physical abuse she went through when making a mistake. It’s shown she internalised that she can’t make any mistakes as in The Purge March, when she makes a small mistake in her flag throwing, she punishes herself (the march itself is purely a metaphor, she’s shown putting herself through something involving the shower in real life following drowning in the march section). However, she doesn’t only afflict abuse upon herself. Oh my *god* that taser when she walks into the apartment is gonna HAUNT me. I’m not entirely sure if the man watching her tend to the cat is her abuser as he’s holding the hand of another little girl with an umbrella, and it was revealed in her interrogation questions that her family only consisted of her, her mother and her father, so that can’t be her father because she doesn’t have a sister. The girl does have very similar features to Amane though so it could be like what he expected of her compared to what she’s actually doing? And then when she goes home she’s punished for not following expectations, not for saving the cat (although I’m 100% certain that does play into an aspect of it due to the whole medicine vs prayer thing in Magic). Although, her father couldn’t be on an “honourable journey” if he was her abuser anyway because she would’ve killed him before going in to Milgram. Although she does say it *was* my father, mother and I.

A theory I have is that the honourable journey is possibly his death? The chorus of the song is “I disavow you, eyes corrupted must be crushed. So nary a sound can be uttered a second time, I’ll crush your throat too. It’s now your turn to say that hopeless ‘I’m sorry’”. I’m assuming that she views him as corrupted due to him abusing her and that must be amended through dying for his sins, as they’re so great at this point that punishment is no longer an option, nor is repenting through apologies. She clearly views him as a monster due to the line “If you become a bad girl, monsters will come out”, so I doubt she sees him as someone who can be saved through more humane means (or at least humane by her cult’s standards). The line “This is the magic that stops that from happening” whilst she’s tending to the cat’s wound might be a case of her rebelling away from the prying eyes of her abuser in order for her to act perfect in front of him, which obiviously backfires when he sees her doing it whilst looking for her. She wants to be praised by him which is shown through the answers in her interrogation such as “Do you think that your family is proud of you?” “Of course. No daughter is as exemplary as I.” and “Who do you want to meet right now?” “My father. I want him to praise me for working hard.” and through her viewing her only talent/hobby as studying (which I assume she only partakes in in order to receive praise) but she can’t remain perfect all the time. She just doesn’t show that in front of her family and tries to keep it to the small amount of free time she has in order to avoid punishment and them being disappointed in her.

One of the lines she says is “‘Tis ordained, thou shall stay thine course, then perish” so she’s expected to stay in line until she passes, which is obviously an insane expectation that she can’t follow up until her demise, so it makes sense that she acts out now and then, even if it ends up being to her own detriment (I hate how taking care of a cat is seen as acting out by her father but yeah :(((( ). Also the line “Despite this, the “It can’t be helped”, from the scum that can’t be helped” shows that her father views the punishments as something that are necessary and can’t be helped, whilst Amane sees him as someone who can’t be helped (which is why she eventually kills him). This partially contradicts her punishing herself but I’m assuming she thinks her own punishments are nowhere near as bad as her father’s , which given as how it just seems like she gave herself a freezing shower (along with crying, repenting and kneeling as she mentions later on) whilst her father TASED HER, yeah I see what she means (although I’m still sad she thinks she has to punish herself :( ). ALSO WHAT THE FUCK DID HER FATHER DO TO THE CAT. Her looking up to the sky after seeing the cat is gone hurts so much due to her religious views :( The lines following that are “If you’re going to break your vow, here and now it’s my turn to tear you apart” which seems like she’s now punishing her father for breaking the rules rather than being punished herself (I’m not certain which rule he has broken at the moment as I’m not sure what the rules of the cult exactly are? None of the ones mentioned in this video seem to fit expect for “thou shall discard vulgarity”, but I’m gonna scan through Magic at some point to see if there are any hints).

“So there is no second time, I’ll give back the judgement you gave me” yeah she is 100% punishing him for breaking the rules so he doesn’t do it again like he did to her. “After you cry, repent and kneel, it’s now your turn to say that hopeless ‘I’m sorry’” MORE PROOF THAT SHE’S GONNA GET BACK AT HIM- There’s gen no way the person she kills at the end isn’t her father (or just another abuser if my ‘honourable journey being his death’ theory is wrong), possibly her mother but there’s only been one mention of her throughout the entirety of Milgram so I very much doubt that). “You’re sorry? I don’t care! Please, go ahead and die already” supports my earlier statement that she views him as too far gone to simply apologise and repent, that further measures must be taken (it’s clearly not for revenge rather than it is following the rules that he himself set as she says that it was a “natural obligation” when asked if she regrets her murder). “Remember MY cries, MY repents, MY words of ‘Im sorry’ that I said to you?” aka her telling him that she’s going to hold him to the same expectations that he has of her (I know this can have a few different meanings but I’m choosing the ones that seem to align the closest with her/the cult’s ideals). I’m unsure if the end is her mother discovering that she killed her father or not? I’m pretty sure that shot is just to show that she killed him but her looking at the camera seems to indicate that someone is there. I’m also unsure why she’s in her marching outfit? I’m presuming it’s to show that her intentions were associated with the cult’s ideals and views as whenever she wears that outfit in the video the wording is very… idk how to describe it but it sounds like smth you’d read in the bible, and yes while that sort of stuff is said in different parts of the video where the marching theme isn’t present, it’s basically the only way she’ll say stuff during the marching section. Also small analysis of why she’s marching, she’s meant to be marching in a straight line to her death, never to stray unless she wants to be punished, not until “The Purge March” is complete.

ANYWAY YEAH I HOPE YOU HAD FUN READING THIS IDK WHY YOU DID THOUGH CAUSE ITS LIKE SO LONG???? I just love Milgram sm I had to analyse this MV as soon as possible even though the last time I did this was for All Knowing and All Agony last year- this might not be right at ALL, I’m not the best at theorising and I may have missed a lot of context due to not being super knowledgeable about the subject matter (maybe I’ll hunt down some video essays to listen to whilst drawing) and also not being able to read kanji or katakana so I missed out on some background details as well but I hope at least a bit of this is right???? We’ll hopefully see when her Season 3 MV is released! (I also realised I didn’t even talk about how her guilty verdict may have affected this video but honestly I’m unsure how to touch on that as of now so I may make a follow up to this after looking over Magic again and having a bit more time to think about what was revealed here rather than immediately jotting down all my thoughts)

Link to the Milgram YouTube channel if you want to check it out!

#tw religion #tw cult #tw child abuse #tw murder #rai rambles #milgram #milgram spoilers #milgram amane #amane milgram #the purge march #momose amane #amane momose #amane #infodump

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oh-saints · 2 years ago

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steward

ben never thought he'd be mistaken as a steward of the stamford bridge.

ben chilwell x student!OC

word count: 7.0k

tw: nothing

note: ben's all-black prada photoshoot still haunts me down to this day... might as well write something out of it. but as usual, not beta-read bcs i'm simply too sleepy to do so.

benjamin chilwell thought he could handle kids because he loved them—the idea of pure, untainted creature two human beings could magically create together, the joy he’d feel whenever surrounded by them. james maddison wouldn’t have trusted the life of his son cruz to ben’s hands if it wasn’t the case.

but to throw ben into an almost full-day with approximately three dozen of children, whom all are curious and creative with their questions addressed to him surely changed his perspective of having a set of twins—he wished they wouldn’t feel the loneliness he felt as the only child in a household.

or maybe, what was turning different was his perspective of how the club he got to call his relatively new home. how could the club throw him into a pool of enthusiastic chelsea junior members all by his own? a number of staffs were present, of course, to guide the group throughout the special tour of the stamford bridge, but it wasn’t like they could help him in answering the endless question marks thrown at him.

if ben didn’t know it was part of chelsea junior christmas programme, he would’ve disappeared down the tunnel until the tour was over, trying to call for any back-up available so he wouldn’t be so alone and tired during special ‘kicking’ sessions—the club so lightly put it. ben could feel himself walking towards somewhere quiet, unable to bring himself to drive home yet, for there was little to none of his energy left. before he could put some brain into his feet, he’d sat in the nearest spectator seat, just slightly behind the player’s box.

he’d never been in the bridge, or any other stadium in general, when the curtains had been drawn but he thought he should pay some more visits during this time of hour. the lights were now tamed down to match the sun setting on the background, warmer to his eyes just the way he liked his bedside lamp, but what he liked the most was the silence around the building.

no matter how much he liked going out with his friends as the effect of being the only child, he couldn’t shy away from the fact that he enjoyed tranquillity whenever he possibly could. recent years, especially, after he had emerged under the limelight of a buzzing stadium, resulting in putting him under the hot seat of public scrutiny whatever he does, whenever he goes.

“hello?”

was he really having a rough time after such a hectic, soul-sucking day that he was starting to hear things? or was stamford bridge so old that the horror stories were starting to become true?

“sir—”

the slight tap on ben’s shoulder was enough to make the footballer jolted in his seat, immediately standing as if a lightning had just struck him.

maybe he was very much lost in his thoughts that he’d indeed been struck by lightning before his brain could comprehend anything and this lady in front of him was an angel sent by god to take him away from the surface of the earth. otherwise, it wouldn’t explain why there was someone else, presumably general public judging by her attire, could be wandering at this hour, on this side of the stadium. every activity on the ground had stopped before the sun went down and not everyone had the access to roam around the grandiose fortress.

“i’m so sorry, i don’t mean to surprise you or anything—”

“‘was fine,” she looked absolutely apologetic that ben couldn’t help but fix his posture. “can i help you with anything?”

at his question, the woman’s eyes lit up, now glimmering with hope. deep inside, ben sighed because he’d seen that kind of look every so often. it brought him back to reality that he is ben chilwell, leicester city’s former number 3 and chelsea’s current number 21, and sometimes some people went to extra lengths to interact with him.

“ah, yes, there is, actually,” seeing that the lady rummaged through the pockets of her coat, ben was already putting his hands inside his jacket, ready to pose with the lady. “do you have any old iphone cable?”

what?

“i need to charge my phone,” realizing ben had accidentally made a slip of tongue, he zipped his mouth shut. “but i left my charging kit at home, which i know isn’t wise when your phone’s super old.”

is this some kind of prank? surely pick-up lines these days are better than that.

“i know it sounds weird, but i came here with a friend of mine, a massive chelsea fan,” the woman was smarter than he gave her credits for, she perceptively showed her visitor id at ben’s implied hesitance. “we were supposed to take a tour, but i fell out of it because i had to take a work call. when i tried to call her to ask where she is, my phone ran out of power.”

ben’s stance relaxed a little bit more when he noticed she held no hidden agenda towards him. (don’t ask him how, but ben had somehow mastered this kind of art.) “okay, so you’re, like, lost?”

“i wouldn’t be asking you if i wasn’t, would i?” ben was perplexed at her clipped tone—just as when he was lowering his guard to warm up to her—but he took a once-over to her again and still, he only saw a no non-sense look coming off her. she was transparent, clear as day, and he liked the fresh breath of air already.

“what do you think i am? a steward?”

“are you not?”

ben was meaning to break the ice at first, but he involuntarily shot a look at her as she responded to him, this time seriously so with his are-you-kidding-look. the other person only replied his unspoken question with a confused pair of eyebrows before darting her eyes down at his attire and ben couldn’t help but look down as well.

all black: his prada black puffer jacket on top of his black dinner trousers.

the two pairs of eyes searched for one another; one was asking for confirmation as she was confused, the other was staring back, baffled but amused at the same time. that got to be the second-best thing he heard this year after the champions league winner announcement.

“yeah, you can say that,” oh, scratch the word ‘like’ from his previous statement. ben loved her already. “why don’t we get inside first, hm? warm ourselves up with a cuppa or chocolate or something while we wait for your phone to get to at least 15%?”

“sounds lovely.”

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“i’m still amazed that phone still works.”

for some unbeknownst reason to ben, one of his teammates still owned a very old iphone he now used as some sort of an ipod, using it purely to listen to his pre-match playlist. ben kind of remembered it because he found it funny but cool at the same time—he couldn’t recall the ages before apple music or spotify existed—but he’d never felt more grateful that his brain capability to memorise things wasn’t as short as dory’s from finding nemo.

“apple’s not letting this legend die anytime soon with all the IOS upgrade, it seems,” ben tried to lead scarlett—the woman he now took under his wing—on to his portion of locker room, to see if she caught on anything, but the woman remained unfazed with her surrounding and sat where ben gestured her to sit, eager to plug in her phone to the nearest power source. “i hope they keep doing that, though, because sure as hell this broke arse of a student couldn’t afford a better one yet.”

“so, you’re still a student?”

scarlett fumbled around with the tangled cable before she could successfully connect the electronic device to its source of power. “i think the term ‘a part-time student, full-time part-timer’ fits better.”

ben was grateful that the dressing room was empty. imagine if mason was lurking somewhere nearby and the younger lad overheard the way ben laughed naturally around a stranger he only came to know less than fifteen minutes ago, mason would’ve definitely flipped at how peculiar the scene was.

“we have a multitasking queen right here, ladies and gentleman,” ben turned his body towards the fridge for the canned drinks he stored specifically for his post-game routine. “what are you studying?”

“the major that promises an easy job-seeking opportunity after graduation, of course,” scarlett let out a sigh of relief when her phone lit up, signalling the cable did indeed work its magic. not only was her phone old, it was also sensitive. she mentally took note to start saving for a new phone. “i’m an mba candidate.”

“you certainly don’t look the age of someone’s on mba pursuit.”

“i know, they said i’m forever old.”

ben couldn’t hide his look of incredulous surprise. “who said that?”

“a lot of people,” scarlett shrugged nonchalantly but eyes roamed around the room. “i don’t have time to bother, though, unless they’re the ones who put food on my table.”

based on her answer, ben could pull off a conclusion that it wasn’t because scarlett deliberately didn’t know him—she didn’t have time to know him. she was too busy to juggle around her hectic schedule to realize the buzz happening around her.

it then ticked ben, why he felt familiar around scarlett. she resembled him, one way or another, several years ago. an ordinary boy who was busy trying to figure out how to juggle cricket and football—as if choosing one wasn’t an option—because he badly wanted to earn the best of both worlds.

“that’s a right mindset, right there,” ben handed gestured scarlett to choose his choice of drink or a bottle of evian; the woman chose the latter. “but i was meaning to say that you look so young. isn’t an mba candidate required to have five years of working experience?”

“i’ve been legit working, although part-time due to my status as student, since god knows when, so i think they took that into consideration,” ben sat down beside her, and scarlett was silently surprised at how she didn’t find herself awkward towards everything ben did. other times, she’d shrug off anyone who touched this side of her surface, but with ben—she wanted to answer his questions honestly, no more dodging; she wanted him to know. “besides, what’s the use of befriending the professor’s daughter if you can’t pull of some strings for your application?”

ben’s laughter rang around the empty room once more. he appreciated her brutal honesty and had to agree to a certain extent; networking is one of life skills. “is it the same friend who left you behind today?”

“excellent guess, senor,” scarlett nodded with a smile that reminded ben of a child on a playground, legs dangling over the edge of the swing, swinging them back and forth with amazement the gravity hadn’t swallowed them up yet. “let’s say her dragging me to come here was a payback for that opportunity. it still feels weird to be here, though.”

“why, because you’re not a football fan?”

scarlett shot ben a look of disbelief, silently asking ‘how do you know?’ through her eyes. ben thought he loved being around with mason for his expressive eyes—he needn’t exert extra energy to figure the midfielder out—but certainly it was because he hadn’t discovered scarlett’s.

“well, that’s one,” the short-haired woman shook her head, still in disbelief. “my dad’s a huge arsenal fan, i feel like i’m committing a sin of betrayal.”

coming from an arsenal family on top of these all? what is this woman, a pandora box of surprise? “you should’ve gone to the sunday mass instead of coming here.”

this time, it was scarlett’s melodious laugh booming throughout the room. “perhaps i got lost here because of that, should confess my sin tomorrow then.”

as promised, ben guided her through tunnels and hallways to get their choice for cup of while waiting for her phone to be brought to life, as well as giving scarlett a tour she never had the chance to complete.

maybe more than the usual tour because ben showed her almost every room she wanted to know, as long as he had the access for it. “my friend must’ve used all of her luck when my phone’s dead because if else, i would be recording this and shove it to her face that i got an insider tour.”

this wasn’t the first time ben laughed without constraints around scarlett. the choice of words she used on her comments was always on point—just the kind of joke he liked—that if it wasn’t because of her straight face, he would’ve thought she was lowkey flirting with him.

oh, how much ben wished she was flirting with him instead. scarlett was the personification of sunshine, an absolute joy to be around with—the fact that she had no clue of who ben is surely gave her a brownie point. he had long forgotten how it felt to talk to a woman without having to put up a wall—he’d spend the entire time talking too busy to figuring out if the woman was genuinely interested in him or his money—and how exhilarating a conversation could naturally shift to two-sided banters.

ben was slowly inclined to think maybe it was him who used up all of his luck when he decided to give this sort of fanfiction-like encounter a go.

“can i ask you a question?” ben put her cup of hot chocolate in front of scarlett as he sat down across the woman. “why the name scarlett, though?”

scarlett let out a muffled sound of appreciation as the hot liquid warmed her up against the bad weather outside. “why not?”

ben grinned, her reply always put him on checkmate position. “i’m genuinely curious because i can’t recall anyone named scarlett other than scarlett johansson.”

“as you know, my dad’s an arsenal fan, but he didn’t want to name me after something that screamed very arsenal. naming me something along ‘the gunner’ or something would be hideous, no?” while scarlett remained indifferent when speaking, ben almost spat on his cup of tea at her. “but he couldn’t name me red nor white, so he chose scarlet instead. it happened to be the shade of the jersey the year i was born.”

“i take it your dad’s funny guy?”

“how’d you know?” scarlett’s eyes went wild in disbelief, mouth agape. “okay, you’re officially a psychic.”

“i think you inherit his sense of humour.”

“oh no, you sound like my friends who think i belong to a circus, along with the clowns—”

cough, cough.

scarlett stood up in panic at her new friend and tried to soothe the choking effect by patting his back gently. “you good?”

it was safe to say that ben should definitely stay away from any drinkable liquid whenever scarlett was around him. both for his own sake of living and for his image. “clown, oh my god!”

scarlett regained her seating back, although her body language screamed that she was still worried about ben. “well, my friends call me ‘the clown’ because i’m the one cracking jokes here and there. do you need some napkins?”

ben gladly took the gesture, eager to clean himself up a bit after such an embarrassing stint. “well, your friends must’ve got lost in whatever parade they went to because there’s no clown that looks as pretty as you.”

for the first time throughout their time together, there was no banter coming from scarlett. ben looked up to the woman, who seemed to be taken aback at his comment, and he wondered in panic if he said it too direct that it caused her discomfort.

ben was about to correct himself when he noticed her cheeks blossomed with a slight tinge of scarlet, unmistakable even against the yellow light creeping in from the stadium.

“nah, i think i know why you’re named scarlett,” ben sat back, smiling in pure joy at the endearing sight unravelled before him. “it suits you perfectly.”

as if ben’s previous comment didn’t fluster her to the bone, the beautiful man had to add some more into the mix, complete with that gentle look he threw at her. scarlett had to save herself from going flushed down the toilet—pun intended—so all she could manage to reply was, “i hope you keep in mind there’s also this woman named scarlet witch, so you better watch out.”

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“where on this bloody mother of earth have you been, sky evans!”

the front door hadn’t been entirely closed when the voice of abigail, her best friend, boomed through her flat. remind her again to never hide her spare key under the unused mails she intentionally stacked on her mailbox downstairs.

“you have no right to ask me that when you’re the one who left me behind.”

“you can’t be contacted! how am i supposed to know you’re still inside the bridge or that stupid professor of yours ran over your arse?”

“for god’s sake, abby, turn down your voice, will you?” scarlett was never a fan of screams in the first place, but after spending the evening with ben’s calm and peaceful voice, her head was banging in all the wrong places. “my phone’s dead and i was waiting for you on the player’s box, thought you’d find me easily there, but you didn’t, did you?”

by the way abby didn’t retaliate, scarlett knew she’d hit bull’s eye.

“you could’ve at least tried to flip stamford bridge upside and down to search for me, or announced over the speakers that you lost your friend or something, as embarrassing as that sounds but it could’ve worked,” scarlett pulled out her phone to text ben as promised, informing him she made it home safely. “if it wasn’t because of the fact i haven’t seen you in two years, i would’ve thrown you out already.”

“how did you get out of the bridge?”

“i asked around,” scarlett’s phone pinged with a new message from ben. wow, that was fast. “a steward was there to help, thankfully. he got me a charging kit, i think it belonged to a player who’s still using ipod, and waited until my phone’s back on. he offered me a ride home but i refused—”

“you didn’t!”

“i did,” scarlett shot a look to shut abby down. “if you’re worried about my love life because i refused a very friendly offer, worry not. i’m going out with him after the game on saturday.”

abigail ran from her spot to see the phone screen scarlett was showing her, before shrieking in pure elation and happiness that her plain-jane friend had smoothly scored a date.

good to hear you’re home safe because i just remembered we haven’t really toured the dressing room. there’s a home game on saturday, come to the bridge?

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

when ben called to tell she’d be placed at the box, scarlett wasn’t expecting the private box.

as much as she wasn’t a fan of football herself, despite coming from a very football-centred family, she knew this type of hospitality wasn’t one she could afford herself. heck, her dad would’ve flipped upside down if he found out she could indulge in this kind of luxury, one he could only dream of. no, scratch that—he would’ve erased her from the family registry the moment he found out she was given these privileges at the stadium that hosted none other than arsenal’s very own london rival.

had ben briefed her the complete experience, she would’ve brought abigail along, no matter how much she was still upset that her best friend left her behind in this very place a week ago. it was such a waste to have these padded seats on such a spacious private box all by herself, not to mention the fine-dining pre-match cuisine to devour. abigail would love to join the crowd to sing along the chants as well—probably more like screaming on top of her lungs for scarlett’s standard—like a true blues she is, without having to be reprimanded by her overprotective father.

but she didn’t think a mere steward like ben could afford this as well, frankly.

none of this grandiosity made sense to her if it came from ben, unless—

unless if he was either well-connected or he was downplaying his job.

he could be one of the owners—no, no. as far as her general knowledge went and as long as her memory didn’t fail her, chelsea’s owner is a russian oil tycoon. that left her option down to concluding that ben was well-connected because he was part of the board. board these days tended to have a young representative amongst them for strategic reasons.

“miss evans,”

at the call of her name, scarlett turned around to the waiting staff dedicated to cater her needs for the day. it felt really weird having someone to call anytime you need them, she was very much used to doing everything on her own.

“the game is starting,” the staff informed, and the line-up announcement on the background brought scarlett back to reality. “mr. chilwell wishes you to wear this for the game.”

mr. chilwell? scarlett recalled she had never interacted with someone of that surname. the latest she enclosed her private data was to ben, saying he needed her full name to be registered to the reception up front for this particular day.

despite being lowkey scared that her identity had been compromised to a wrong party, who could be wanting her dead, scarlett accepted the satin blue box from the staff. inside, she identified chelsea’s signature blue home kit showing the name chilwell and the number 21 on the back, another box, and a paper folded neatly in two. being a curious person she is, she opened the smaller box first, only to find a new set of charging kit for her old iphone.

scarlett laughed at their internal jokes, speechless at the same time at the fact ben slipped in one essential thing she most likely forgot to bring on daily basis. during the week she got to know the male, scarlett found him as a very thoughtful guy, always remembering what she threw here and there—that she sometimes forgot she’d once said so—so that he didn’t cross the line when interacting with her.

Hey, you,

I’m sorry I can’t be there in person to give you these stuffs, but I hope this letter finds you well—at least as an appropriate substitute, but perhaps as a proper apology letter too, if you may.

Knowing how smart and quick-witted you are, I’m sure you have caught on a lot of things by now, especially the fact that I’m not supposed to be the friendly staff who took you on a private tour on Sunday. You weren’t wrong to assume I work here; your guess was actually spot on—it’s just I never bothered to correct you. Not because I think you’re easy to fool, but because it completely slipped off my mind to do that. You made time and space seem so easy to be forgotten and I couldn’t recall when was the last time I enjoyed one’s pleasant company so effortlessly.

Nonetheless, I’m sorry.

But I do hope that after reading this, you’d stay.

For the post-match meals served at the box, for the post-match buffet in the dressing room, for the big game, for the fun we could have after the game and beyond the Bridge. For me, perhaps—may the God align the moon and stars in the sky.

Should you decide the otherwise, please utilize the charging kit well to support your phone in documenting today from various angle of the Bridge. My mind will rest in peace knowing you’d gone home with an ocean of photos from this once-in-a-lifetime experience to show off to Abigail’s face and gone home safely without having your battery dead.

Should you decide to stay, though… please enjoy the game as much as I enjoy our banter, and wave me from your seat every time I come close to where you are. Can’t wait to see how much you can gulp down the food from our dressing room buffet.

All the love,

Benny

okay, so ben was indeed not who she’d thought he would be.

she laughed to herself, imagining what ben’s expression would look like if he was in front of her, telling this little information of himself in person. the male would’ve been flustered inside, the tinge of red across his cheeks would’ve cracked the cold composure he was trying to gather on the surface.

scarlett laughed to herself, remembering a past occurrence where she mocked abigail for stating she’d marry someone out of her league—“a prince would be ideal but i’d settle for a chelsea footballer too”, she said then—as they watched kate middleton descended from her bridal car. this, more or less, was scarlett’s version of ‘out of her league’—surely spending time with a hotshot c-level personnel from a very lucrative industry was beyond her imagination, as someone who was brought up by a working-class family on the suburbs of london.

and she laughed to herself because never in a million years would she have thought she’d be in a scene straight from what those teen lit stories published; jitters and all the butterflies flying out of the zoo kind of stuffs when she realised that she felt the same way as ben. he made it a piece of cake for her to warm up to a stranger, something that frankly never happened to her before as long as she’d lived (due to having little to no time to socialise with her peers because work was always waiting by the door). scarlett was sure ben had sprinkled magic here and there when they were alone that she’d forget the fact that in reality, they both belonged to a totally different world with a vast ocean standing between them.

but if ben was one of the higher-ups, why couldn’t she join her in the box?

scarlett was about to ask ben’s whereabout to the staff behind her when the announcer’s voice boomed throughout the stamford bridge, announcing chelsea’s starting eleven for the afternoon.

“assisting antonio rudiger on our left wing,” it declared. “we have our number 21, ben chilwell!”

the big screen on the other stands showed the face of ben, showing the back of his blue kit—the exact someone like she was holding in her hands now—with the name ben chilwell and his signature 21 number on his right. scarlett looked down to the pitch and there he was, unmistakably so on her peripheral vision; jumping up and down on the left wing, starting his engine before the referee blew the whistle.

had someone just poured scarlett a bucket of water?

if the people on the box beside hers paid attention to scarlett, it was guaranteed they’d call for help, seeing how frozen and helpless she had become. her face was also turning to be the kind of pale that wasn’t caused by the usual london weather on november—yep, splashed by endless ice cubes would be the only reasonable explanation.

or perhaps, the urge to vomit was becoming too unbearable for her to hold it in.

oh, or maybe it was due to the fact that her head was spinning, unable to come into final conclusion that this was reality. being involved with c-level sounded more plausible than this since she’s the TA to one of the most famous LSE professors. this was turning into something no longer belonged to teen lit anymore—this was straight out of fairy tale.

benny—the sweet, easy-going benny she got to know the past week—is, in fact, a football player.

the joke was now on her.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“this way, miss evans,”

the waiting staff from her earlier time at the box was guiding the way to the familiar tunnel scarlett knew oh-so-well leading to the dressing room, instead of ben this time. but unlike last sunday when she was very relaxed under ben’s care, scarlett was visibly nervous this time.

everything looked the same—everything is the same—but it wasn’t at all at the same time.

“please wait here, miss evans,” the staff said, after manoeuvring both of them amidst the masses of people flocking the tunnel. scarlett could feel her mild anxiety attack towards overly crowded place creeping in, she should’ve told ben the real reason she wasn’t a fan of loud, packed surroundings. “mr. chilwell should be here any moment now, he’s just finishing up his media duty.”

scarlett didn’t know what else to do than muttered okay under her breath, her hands were involuntarily picking against each other due to the uncontainable jitters on her nerves. she also wondered why, she didn’t even feel this fidgety when she had to undergo all of her previous important life events.

“you must be benji’s girl,” a voice came up from behind, startling her in her place. “scarlett evans, no?”

the way benji’s girl rolled down his tongue did wonders to her. not because he was handsome—although deep down scarlett admitted chelsea’s number 19 had the looks to kill for—but because of the way it sent her shivers and warmth down her body at the same time.

“i actually don’t know how benny thinks about it,” and she wasn’t lying. it hadn’t occurred her what benny might be telling his friends about her, or if he tells anything in general. “but yeah, i’m scarlett. nice to meet you, mount.”

“i thought you don’t know balls?” mason pulled out a surprised face. “or has benji fed me with lies?”

“i just watched one so i can say i’ve shed this whole virgin to football status,” with that, mason immediately figured out why his mighty best friend had fallen down to the pedestal. “congratulations for the hattrick, by the way.”

laughter subdued now but mason was still smiling. “well, thank you—”

“oi, mount!” and there was the voice they both were so familiar with. “don’t you scare her off!”

“oh, bugger off, chilwell,” the younger footballer groaned as soon as his left winger pulled scarlett closer to him, playing along the skit. “why must you always have the best girl to date?”

if mason didn’t know the whole saga of chilwell getting bewitched, he would be in a state of shock at the fact that his best friend had already moulded his body perfectly to match scarlett’s. the benji he knew by far had only been this affectionate with his dog—even his parents couldn’t be on par with his furry companion.

“because they only deserve the best,” scarlett was hoping—god, please let it be true, she prayed inside—that she wasn’t hallucinating when she felt benny pecked the side of her head lightly. “now run along, child.”

“alright, alright, dad,” mason faked a disappointed sigh before turning to scarlett. “call me when benji deserts you, love.”

at the younger’s teasing, ben stepped up and ready to chase the laughing midfielder down the tunnel. he halted his steps when he felt a hand tugging his gently, all while laughing at the funny interaction laid before her. he reckoned it reminded her of her own friendship with abigail, he couldn’t help but smile at the resemblance.

as well as how dashing she looked—blue and his name on the back surely fitted her to a T. but most of all, she stood in front of him, in flesh and blood, unwavering even when mason caught her off guard.

“you’re here,” ben didn’t think twice as he embraced her tightly, breathing in the lavender scent of her hair, such a welcoming smell against the reek of the boys’ sweats. “you stayed.”

her voice muffled against the padded jacket he was wearing. “where do you think i’m going?”

“could’ve beaten me running down the left flank, you never know.”

“well, hate to break it to you but i think i’m better at staying, especially—” scarlett pulled away and ben was giddy already on a very subconscious level, he didn’t even know what she’d be saying! “when food’s involved.”

ben laughed, his body warm from head to toe from the feelings he contained inside of him he felt he could combust. he pulled her towards him again, swaying her with him left and right.

scarlett joined in his contagious laugh, her wrecking nerves long forgotten. her understanding about the concept of space became blurry whenever ben’s involved, she’d usually mind when her ex-boyfriend initiated such an intimate act of PDA. ben’s blatant adoration towards her blinded everything else in front of her. “that was a superb game, benny. or should i say, ben chilwell?”

“you’re not mad at me?”

“for what? for making me like a fool who doesn’t know who you are?” another wiggling eyebrow and ben wondered how there could be anyone beating emilia clarke’s signature eyebrows. “i thought you enjoy fooling around with me?”

“that i do,” his brain seemed to go into a havoc around scarlett—he was already tracing her luxury of having a naturally good-looking set of eyebrows with the tip of his index finger. “please stay forever, scarlett evans.”

“for you, i would, benjamin chilwell.”

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“will you come to the next match?”

both ben and scarlett were walking hand in hand towards her flat, slower than turtle because they didn’t want this day to end. ben even parked somewhere relatively far on a usual day, moreover a chilly night—pun intended—like this.

it had been very close to be described as a lovely evening by far; ben introducing—showing off, per mason mount’s standard—scarlett to his teammates and everyone he practically knew around the ground, living up to his words by showing her the infamous dressing room buffet, taking her around for the post-game glowing pitch.

all without hands straying far from each other’s, as if they couldn’t have it enough between them. if they weren’t holding hands, ben’s hand would be flying over the small part of scarlett’s back or scarlett would close the distance to shuffle closer to ben. everything felt like a series of something overdue and not something that only took off within a couple of hours ago.

scarlett broke a part for a minute to wrap herself tighter with ben’s jacket he so kindly had draped over her as the night fell deeper. “if you promise you won’t get me the private box again.”

“why, i thought you’re not a fan of boisterous place?”

“you could’ve gotten me the worst seat on the stadium and i would’ve come anyway, because i was seriously thinking we’d watch the match with me on the stands and you guarding nearby,” noticing scarlett was rubbing her arms in a futile attempt to warm herself, ben stepped up to add some more warmth. “but it turns out to be something i enjoy being around, the atmosphere was okay.”

ben raised his eyebrow, mockingly questioning her statement.

scarlett rolled her eyes at his response, turning her body around. “though had you told me you’re on the team—first team at that as well, mind you!”

ben gently pulled the sulking scarlett towards him before she could walk away from their conversation. “what’d you do?”

“well…” scarlett still wasn’t looking at him in the eyes so ben slid his hands to conjoin hers. it worked, with a bonus of gentle smile for him. “i would’ve come anyway, for you.”

“was it too much for you?” ben couldn’t contain his happiness, her words whispered against the cold warmed up ben from head to toe. “because if it’s too much, i can—”

what was that?

“no, it was perfect,” ben was trained to face the ball head-on under a millisecond without being fazed at all but it took him scarlett’s second time placing a feathery peck on his check—this time slightly above his growing beard—to be able to sink reality in. “thank you, chilwell.”

ben could feel his cheeks burning. was this santa’s early gift for ben for having been such a very good and patient boy last week, when he was tested to face an abundance of energetic chelsea junior?

at the cute sight, scarlett laughed. “just remind me to bring abigail to the next game, but that is if you want me to be ther—”

in all honesty, ben didn’t know what came over him at that moment. he grabbed a hold of scarlett’s face and planted a kiss on her soft, plush lips. she tasted sweet, sweeter than the victory chelsea bagged this afternoon, but felt like the sweetest combination with his contribution of a goal to the big win. this couldn’t have been reality, could it?

ben pulled apart, but he was addicted to the forbidden fruit.

the sight of scarlett peacefully closing her eyes—content clearly drawn across her face—and lips gaping lightly and cheeks flushed endearingly that certainly wasn’t because of the cold weather was enough to make he, ben chilwell, one almighty to that “the bachelor” series were nothing but a bundle of bullshit, was now falling in love with the speed of a lightning. he couldn’t even believe he could contain love as big as what he felt towards this woman in his arms, small and safely tucked against the cold air of november.

so, he made himself believe and took the dive himself, his lips finding hers accurately again like his strike for the past four matches.

“i’d love you to have you on every game,” ben rested his forehead against hers gently when he once again pulled away, and scarlett slowly opened her eyes at the slight pressure. nothing was more beautiful than the combination between the sweet smile breaking into her face and those clear eyes opening only to reflect the stars above—a reminder there was endless silent witnesses hovering over them. “more than anything,”

scarlett shuffled closer to ben, resting her hands comfortably on his waist, as he continued. “nothing compares than looking up to the stands and see you’re there, supporting me even though you’d prefer somewhere else quieter, wearing my kit—”

“technically, this is not yours; this is a new kit, specialised for me. it’s just got your number on it.”

ben chuckled at her retaliation; her comment and timing were never not impeccable. “i’ll give you one of my personal treasures then, the champions league final kit i wore.”

scarlett gave him a playful disgusted look. “have you washed that?”

“deary me, woman,” ben whispered against her lips, before closing the distance completely. “you should feel lucky i love you.”

“damn it, i really should’ve pulled up my courage to confess my sins yesterday,” scarlett groaned at the loss of ben’s lips and the stubble she could feel under her fingertips as the footballer retreated. “i feel like it’s piling up. first, i went to the bridge behind my dad’s back. then, i kissed the enemy. now, i’m dating him. does the church take instalment on owning up my sins?”

ben threw his head, laughing loudly at—now officially and reciprocally—his girlfriend.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

it hadn’t been a full ten seconds for scarlett to lean her head against the back of the door, smiling widely as she tried to sink in whatever happened today—maybe more so in regards to what went down the last fifteen minutes—when abigail’s voice shockingly shattered her train of thoughts. “who was that?”

“oh, for fuck’s sake, abby!” scarlett was genuinely startled, jumping at where she stood. “i didn’t tell you where my spare key is so you could be a creep!”

“well, i wouldn’t be if i didn’t just see you snog off someone who has the face of ben chilwell!”

only when scarlett refused to say anything, did abigail realize the seriousness of this whole situation. “wait, i thought you went out with someone working for chelsea?”

“well, technically, ben works for chelsea, doesn’t he?”

jaw dropped, done. voice box silenced from screeching, done. now, abigail was sporting bulging eyes. “no fucking way.”

scarlett loved abigail’s disbelief reaction, and she loved it more when she could rile her up. so she did, by pulling out her phone and showed her the receipts—a photo mason had ever so kindly taken of them, pressed a tad bit awkwardly in a small space along the packed tunnel and another photo ben himself took to imitate their first meeting in stamford bridge (it’s a shame we never got to take a picture that day, he said). “yes fucking way.”

“so, you’re telling me that you went out with bloody ben chilwell and yet you didn’t tell me anything about your date?!”

“in my defence, abigail peters,” scarlett regained the possession of her phone, now reminded that she wanted to text ben the first place but was distracted by her best friend’s unprecedented presence in her flat. “i didn’t know who he is until the game started, okay?”

tell me when you got home safe xx, sent. “you didn’t know he’s the ben chilwell?” the short-haired nodded to once more confirm her friend’s clarificatory question. “what on bloody earth… i thought you went to oxford!”

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell fic #ben chilwell fanfic #ben chilwell fluff #ben chilwell imagine #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell one shot #ben chilwell x you #ben chilwell imagines #ben chilwell blurb #oh-saints writes

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tarydarrington · 4 years ago

Text

It’s only a murmur at first. One more of the Mighty Nein has married, with a small but beautiful wedding in the Menagerie Coast. The Bright Queen is mildly offended to have been both uninformed and uninvited - particularly after the same offense had been given by both the Lavorres and the Nydoorins - but sends her regards, nevertheless. Then the curious part makes its way through the grapevine into Xhorhas. For Caleb Widogast had always been almost overly friendly with the late Shadowhand, and all the whispers name his new husband Essek.

It’s absurd, of course - Shadowhand Essek perished in the Astral Sea years ago. The Mighty Nein had given the tearful report themselves, and what reason had they to lie? His replacement had made sure, regardless; scrying had turned up no trace. But the Dynasty is nothing if not thorough, and so the first Taskhand to volunteer finds himself far away from home with a mystery to solve.

The rumors get clearer the closer he gets to the Nein’s favorite haunts. The Taskhand’s heart skips a beat the first time someone suggests the mysterious husband is indeed a drow, and is surprised that most others he asks confirm it.

He gets nothing from the Blooming Grove. It’s difficult to tell whether the firbolg, the aasimar, and the tiefling are playing dumb or not playing at all, though he suspects it’s a mix of the two. They run him in circles with intentional misunderstandings, and he writes them off as a lost cause at the end of two days.

The Lavorres are even less helpful, though this time he’s absolutely certain it’s on purpose.

He goes to the monk, next; he wrings out of the others that she spends most of her time at the Cobalt Soul in Rexxentrum these days, and from there it’s easy enough to track down her home and wait there. She rolls her eyes when he explains his business, but agrees to let him question her as she sits down for dinner.

“It’s a common name,” she says through a mouthful of food, when he brings up the coincidence.

“It really isn’t,” the Taskhand replies.

She shrugs. “You know I met a guy named Bo once? That was pretty weird.” She pauses to chew for a moment. “Cause my name’s Beau.” Before he can press further, she waves a dismissive hand in his direction. “Listen, man, I met the Shadowhand and I know Caleb’s husband. Definitely not the same guy. Trust me.”

She points him with a heavy sigh in the direction of the Brenattos, whose brand new apothecary is nestled into a bright little street in Nicodranas. A grinning little boy answers the door, but is quickly shuffled behind a pair of stone-faced halflings. He begins the same way as he had with the others, but gets not even so far as his first question before finding a crossbow aimed directly between the eyes.

None of it is enough. He will get no information from these people, and it isn’t worth getting shot to try. What he needs, in the end, is to find Caleb Widogast, himself.

The Taskhand considers waiting there. By all accounts, the man and Veth Brenatto are close as friends can be, and he’s almost guaranteed to find him if he waits here long enough. But he’s itchy to find what he can as quickly as possible, and instead he asks around some more.

It isn’t easy. The leads almost always take him either nowhere, or to yet another cryptic clue in this odd scavenger hunt. The wizard in Nicodranas claims not to have seen him in years, despite assurances from the local courtesan that he had been seen entering the tower not a month ago. A shopkeep in Zadash runs him around for nearly an hour before at last admitting that he has no information, but would the Taskhand like to buy a potion anyway?

Then, at last, by chance, he sees him. Passing through the town of Trostenwald on the word of a guard in Alfield, he passes by a red-haired wizard in the market, speaking with a Zemnian accent and wearing a ring on his finger.

“Caleb Widogast?”

The man turns, surprise and apprehension on his face as he takes in the Taskhand’s armor. Nothing too conspicuous in the heart of the Empire, but clearly of Rosohna to those who know what to look for. The helmet must be the most intimidating part of it, even without the usual beetle-like shape.

The Taskhand bows. “I have business with you, on behalf of the Bright Queen.”

Caleb shows him to a little, nondescript house on a little, nondescript street. It seems his aversion to revealing his hiding place is outweighed by his desire to have this conversation somewhere private. With the door firmly locked behind them, Caleb sets about drawing a teleportation circle on the floor as they speak. A tactic to draw the Taskhand’s attention away from his reactions, perhaps?

“Your husband.” No reason not to get to the point.

Caleb’s fingers catch in their pattern for just the shortest instant, but it’s enough to catch the Taskhand’s attention. “Ja, what about him?”

“Word has reached the dynasty that he may be someone of interest.” He clasps both hands behind him, clutching his own fingers a bit too tightly. “Someone we were told was no longer with us in this life.”

Caleb tilts his head a moment, as though trying to remember something. “Ah,” he says at last. “The Shadowhand, you mean. No, he is not.”

The Taskhand arches an eyebrow. “Is he present?” he asks. “I would like to meet him for myself before returning to the Bright Queen.”

“Ah, no,” Caleb says apologetically. “He did not accompany me to the city.”

“Where is he, then?”

Caleb’s fingers drum against the wood floor. “He has business elsewhere, I did not ask.”

The Taskhand moves to stand across the circle from Caleb. “I’m very curious,” he says, “where did you meet a drow outside of Xhorhas?”

Caleb looks up, brow furrowed in what might be warning. “I am pretty well traveled,” he says. “There are not many drow outside of your country, but that does not mean there are none.”

The Taskhand hums. “I have heard that this particular drow is a dunamancer,” he says. A little white lie, but it catches Caleb’s attention.

“No,” he says firmly. “Your sources are mistaken.”

The Taskhand takes another step forward. “I don’t believe they are.” He leans down, watching the discomfort in Caleb’s posture grow with every second. The Taskhand gestures to the ring on his finger. “I think it would be in your best interest to stop lying.”

Without warning, Caleb’s hands flash away from the circle on the floor and towards him, magic buzzing angrily in the air.

“Wait!”

Something about his tone must have rung in just the right way, as Caleb’s hands freeze. Carefully, slowly, as though trying not to frighten off a stray cat, the Taskhand lifts off his helmet.

Caleb’s eyes scan his face for only a moment before his eyes widen. “You are…” His eyes catch on the slope of his nose, the lavender of his eyes, the angle of his cheekbones.

“Verin Thelyss.” He bows his head in greeting.

Caleb’s hands fall to his side, and he makes a weak little sound of acknowledgement before nodding himself. “Well, that is a surprise.”

Verin weighs the words on his tongue, running through every practical question he’s been told to ask, every ounce of professionalism he’s expected to uphold. “He’s spoken of me, then?” he asks instead.

Caleb nods silently. The conflict is written plainly on his face. The two of them don’t know each other, aside from whatever Essek has told him. He has no reason to believe that Verin won’t sell out his own brother. He’s under orders to do just that, after all, and the twinge of guilt hasn’t left his chest since he got here.

But… despite it all, it’s Essek. His brother. His blood. It might not mean much to Essek, but it does to him. He tucks the helmet under his arm and bows his head again.

“You have nothing to fear from me,” he says with all the confidence he can muster. “But I think we should speak.” He chances a glance back up at Caleb, and lets the slightest grin tug at the side of his mouth. “We are brothers, after all, yes?”

#this is too messy and low effort for ao3 but i like parts of it too much to not post so have it here instead #shadowgast #verin thelyss #thanks again to the anon who showed me the light of just lying to the bright queen's face about essek #mine #mine:fic

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imnotusedtobeingloved · 4 years ago

Text

A/B/C/D/E/F/G/H/I/J/K/L/M/N/O/P/Q/R/S/T/U/V/W/X/Y/Z

FROM THE CHARACTER ALPHABET WITH IVAR RAGNARSSON.

REQUESTED BY: @witch-of-letters

A - affection (how affectionate are they? what do they enjoy?)

At first? Not at all.

The only person he is used to getting affection from is Aslaug, so naturally you might earn a few sceptical looks from him if you try to get close.

Nevertheless he quickly learns how pleasant the attention of someone else can be, but tries to be subtle about it. He wouldn’t want to tell you upfront that he enjoys having you close or that he likes your touch, because he fears the rejection that might come with it.

In time, he would alert you with a little nudge here and there whenever he requires your tenderness.

Slowly but surely Ivar would get more daring, trying to innitiate the soft touches himself. If you don’t pull back, he’ll get more sure of himself and as soon as it is clear to him that you are serious about him, you’ll be the only person in Kattegat to recieve affectionate touches from Ivar without any deadly concequences.

What he loves most is either having his head placed on your chest or stomach, feeling you breathe and with your hands in his hair, or laying on the side, with you wrapped around his back.

B - bodypart (what’s their favorite bodypart on their partner and them?)

His arms.

His arms have been a replacement for his legs for all his life. Since he has to crawl everywhere until he has his crutches, they are well built and knowing that you love being wrapped inside them, makes Ivar love them even more.

Your legs.

He likes your legs because they are what he cannot have. He likes them because his are so flawed, and yet you choose to love them anyways. And he likes them due to their shape, the softness of your skin and how they look when you move around.

C - commitment (how quick are they to commit?)

Not that quick.

Ivar is reluctant, to say the least.

He needs to be 100% sure that you are commited to him, before he will make any kind of promises to you. It would be a long process full of selfdoubt, selfdeprication and fear of betrayal.

Ivar would also visit the seer and ask about a future with you by his side. The seers answers would be, as always, very vague (if he says something at all).

In addition to all those troubles, his brothers are in the midst of it. Ubbe and Hvitserk might be the only positive voices of reason at times (apart from Aslaug), while Bjorn would not really concern himself with it. Sigurd on the other hand would throw salt at Ivars mental wounds, saying you were only with him out of pity.

So the viking has no real option but to rely on you reassurance and your loving words. You’d probably have to spend months proving that you are serious about him, because he has been hurt and rediculed so many times before, but in the end it’s all worth it.

Once Ivar chooses to fully commit to you, he’s there to stay.

D - dates (what would dates with them look like? what would they plan?)

Ivar is usually not that much of a planner when it comes to dates.

Normally he is content with finding a secluded place to spend time with you, away from the crowds and far, far away from his relatives.

But if, for any reason, a special occassion should arise, he would definetely ask his brothers for help as much as he hates it.

He would send Hvitserk to distract you with requests and tasks all day, while Ubbe helps him set everything up in a little cabin in the woods. Ivar would ask Aslaug to have some thralls bring plates of food as well.

E - experience (how many relationships have they had before?)

Close to nothing, really.

Ivar did not have any experience with real love and he was very sceptical of it.

The few kisses and cuddles he may have had, have all come from the thralls his family owns.

Apart from that, he has not been interested in anybody, other than finding some attractive on the outside. Too often he had to find out the hard way that the insides of people where much more ugly than the exterior.

So in response to that Ivar mainly focused on his training and on becoming a better viking, until you came along.

F - family (do they want to start a family?)

Ivar would love to start a family.

At first, he is actually astounded that you’d bring it up.

For a long time, he could’ve never imagined someone wanting to have a family with him. To have a child with him (no matter if it’s your own or adopted). So when you suggest it, he is mindblown for a second, before he cups your face, telling you that it is what he longed for all along.

He would be ecstatic upon the idea of having an heir. Or two. Or more. But at least one is fair.

For him, it feels like everything is finally falling into the right place.

G - generosity (do they give their partner a lot of presents? if so, what?)

Exceptionally generous.

And you don’t even have to ask for them.

Ivar brings tons of goods and riches home from every raid, where you can pick whatever you like. He makes sure to safe the best pieces for you and keeps an eye out for suvenirs he knows you might love.

Should you require anything else Ivar has enough resources to get you everything you want from the market. Since Aslaugs rule in Ragnars absence, Kattegat has also transformed into an important trading center, will all kinds of diverse products.

Ivar sees to it, that you have anything you could possible require, even in his absence.

He spoils you, not gonna lie.

H - heaven (how would they react if they lost their partner?)

Ivar would never recover from the loss.

After everything that happened to his family, all the betrayals and the lies and the fights, you were the one thing to keep him going. You had been there for him everytime, no matter how hard it was. No matter how dangerous it got, no matter how exhausted you were.

But now?

There was nothing.

No one.

And no way to bring you back.

One of the things that scares Ivar most is how numb everything feels. There was nobody to be angry at. Nobody to blame, except for the illness that took you away. And against something like that, not even Ivar the Boneless could seek revenge.

He should have known when you confessed you love, that you were just another thing he had to lose. First it was his father, then his mother, then Helga and Floki and now... there was nothing left of him.

Still your face, your smell, you presence would follow him everywhere he goes.

And he’d beg you to haunt him.

I - i love you (who says the three magic words first and why?)

It depends.

The only way Ivar would say it first is if he is frantic. Either in a screaming match, or when you are close to leaving him.

When neither of those are likely though, this viking would most definetely wait until you’ve said it first. For a long time he does not even dare to hope that you will. He is still a cripple after all, no amout of love could ever change that and he fears the day you realize it. Ivar is so used to rejection that he tells himself it wouldn’t hurt if you left. But deep down he knows it would. That’s why he always hesitates in the very last second, drawing back.

He leaves the first ‘i love you’ to you. But when it comes, you’ve never seen him smile that big. He can’t believe his luck. Can’t believe that you truly choose him over anyone else.

Ivar will rarely outright tell you that he loves you and only chooses particular moments for it.

But that just makes it all the more special.

J - journey (how did they first meet their partner?)

Unfortunately, you met Ivar while his men were preparing for a raid.

You stumbled upon their camp and he questioned you, demanding informations. This way he could gather when the best time for an attack might be. But not only that. You captured his interest in a way he would not have expected.

There was something in the way you spoke and the way you carried yourself that made him hesitate. He supposed that was what it must have felt like for his father with that unlucky priest Floki killed in the end. But then again, in time, he discovered it wasn’t quite the same. There was something more that drew him to you, apart from curiosity.

And he intended to find out what exactly it was.

Who knows after all?

Maybe it was fate.

K - kisses (what are their kisses like?)

Ivars kisses are desperate.

Desperate for warmth, desperate for acceptance, desperate for belonging.

He puts his emotions into every kiss and there is no such thing as ‘just a peck’ with him. Ivar likes to feel needed. He likes showing you how much he loves you, rather than expressing it with words.

He’s also not ashamed to kiss you in front of an audience, frankly he does not care who sees it, because you’re the only one that counts (but he will stop should it make you uncomfortable). He does not fear that it might make him seem weak, that thought is pretty ridiculous to him.

If anything, he’s even more proud to be the one you want.

L - love language (what’s their love language?)

Ivars love language is physical touch closely followed by words of affirmation.

Ivar feels loved the most if he recieves physical touch. He senses that most people around him are too intimidated to get close, or are simply put off by his condition. As a result of that, he rarely gets affectionate touches or attention, which he craves dearly. Even more so since Aslaug is dead and Floki and Helga are both gone. It’s important to Ivar that his partner makes him feel appreciated this way, even if it’s just a hand on his arm at the table, or your fingers laced with his. Every little touch counts.

The second best way to make him happy is through words of affirmation. Words have great meaning to Ivar, so beware of saying anything hurtful to him, for it might stay with him for a lifetime. In time you may notice that especially Ragnars last words “happiness means nothing” are stuck in Ivars head. Words impact him greatly, and you may have to undo some of the damage others have caused in his mind, with a few well-placed strikes. Ivar will appreciate it if you reassure him of your love with the right words at the right time.

M - memory (what’s their favorite memory of the relationship?)

The morning after the first night spend together.

Back then he had no idea how it happened or how you did it.

You were still snoring next to him when he came to realize he didn’t just like you. He loved you. And while you moved around, hugging the fur close to your chest a thousand emotions had swirled in his head. He was confused, surprised and completely thrown aback about what you did to him. About how you made his heart beat faster and his limbs tingle with the need to draw you closer. He watched, until the sun tickled your skin, rousing you from your sleep and when you opened your eyes to look at him with that smile... you knocked the breath out of his lungs.

Whenever he thinks back to that morning now, you catch him with an absent-minded smile on his lips.

N - newborn (how would they react to expecting a child? how would they deal with the pregnancy?)

Ivar would be shocked.

First of all, he would question if the child is truly his, as it seemed impossible before. He wouldn’t have thought that he would ever get the chance to have an heir. So, once you’ve settled his doubts, he would be the proudest father-to-be in all of Kattegat.

But also the most anxious.

He heavily questions his ability to raise a child. Even he knows his father was not a really good example to look up to when it comes to raising children, or to being a husband.

So he seeks the not really helpful advice of his brothers, who all seem to go in completely different directions when it comes to kids. Hvitserk is clearly letting his nephews and nieces walk all over him, while Ubbe is acting like an overprotective hen. Bjorn seems deadset on training them and sending them out in the wild. And Sigurd? Ivar is not quite sure the man is a grown-up himself.

In conclusion: they all started fighting amost themselves while Ivar watched the mess unfold.

Clearly, his mother Aslaug would have been a much better option.

But if she is no longer around, Ivar will instead turn to Floki and Helga where he finally finds some words of wisdom and support.

Without a doubt the woman carrying his child will be protected at all times. This is a literal miracle to him and he would be devastated if anything went wrong with the mother, or the child.

Other than that Ivar finds great joy in the pregnancy. He loves seeing the mother grow with his child and he would be truly proud of his child for carrying on his legacy. Ivar’s love grows during this incredible months, even during all the moods and cravings.

Both, the mother and the baby will be incredibly spoiled.

O - oasis (what’s their favorite place to spent time?)

The pier.

He enjoys the location, especially on warm summer days.

He has many memories stored in his mind, of sitting out on the docks. It’s a place where he can clear his head and it also gives him an overview of everything that is happening around him.

Ivar also likes the calm view of the ocean, even though he’s terrified of the sea. He likes to imagine all the lands that await him on the next raid. The atmosphere helps him to resume his strategies and to gather his thoughts.

It helps him to visualize the terrain the next war will be fought on and the techniques his enemies might use.

You will find him there often, sitting and staring out to the sea until the sun fades away.

P - petnames (what petname would they give their partner?)

“My love.”

The words tasted absolutely ridiculous on his tongue, when he first said them. Almost pathetic. That is also what he threw at your head, when you first said it, but not in anger. It was... something else. Some thing you had to figure out first.

The way he put you off was so reluctant, that it didn’t fit. He liked it. You knew he did. And he knew you knew he did. And he hated it.

This, in turn, made you use the petname whenever you could, with a smirk on your face. Eventually he not only gave in, but started using it himself.

The first time he did you probably spit out your drink in shock tbh.

He’d grumble out of embarassement, until you’d reassure him. When he knows for sure that you actually love it, it’s settled.

It would become a habit.

Q - quiet (what do undisturbed moments look like?)

Peaceful.

In quiet moments Ivar can take a breath and let go of all that troubles him.

He likes taking you down to the beach on those rare days, lying next to you in the sand and relaxing for hours. In those moments all the fights, the wars and the arguments truly fade away. Sometimes they might creep into his mind, which you scold him for when he shares those thoughs absent-mindedly.

Apart from that, it is in those quiet times that you can truly find joy in the company of each other. There don’t need to be many words or actions to keep you happy, just the two of you alone will do.

R - rivals (how do they handle jealousy?)

Not too well.

If there is anyone making advances towards you, Ivar will be the first one to notice. Probably even before you.

He knows very well that you would not appreciate a bloodbath. And further than that, there are political figures that are better kept alive during those stressful times of war. So, no matter how much it bugs him, he would keep still for the time being, trusting you to tell them off (but you may notice the tick of his jaw, or the whitened knuckles when his fingers clench around the armrests of his chair).

If you don’t notice, Ivar will be sure to inform you and ask you to do something about it. He doesn’t voice his concerns about it very clearly, but he is afraid of you leaving him for another.

Though, should a situation get critical, even after you have made clear that Ivar is the one for you, you can be sure that Ivar wont let it slide.

Even if he has to make it look like an accident.

S - song (what song is a reminder of them?)

OCEAN EYES - BILLIE EILISH

I've been watchin' you for some time

Can't stop starin' at those ocean eyes

Burning cities and napalm skies

Fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes

Your ocean eyes

No fair

You really know how to make me cry

When you gimme those ocean eyes

I'm scared

I've never fallen from quite this high

Fallin' into your ocean eyes

Those ocean eyes

I've been walkin' through a world gone blind

Can't stop thinkin' of your diamond mind

Careful creature made friends with time

He left her lonely with a diamond mind

And those ocean eyes

No fair

You really know how to make me cry

When you gimme those ocean eyes

I'm scared

I've never fallen from quite this high

Fallin' into your ocean eyes

Those ocean eyes

Da, da-da, da-da

Da-da-da, da, da

Da, da, da, da, da-da-da-da

No fair

You really know how to make me cry

When you gimme those ocean eyes

I'm scared

I've never fallen from quite this high

Fallin' into your ocean eyes

Those ocean eyes

T - token (what kind of object would be the proof of their love? a ring? a necklace? something completely different?)

Ivar can, as a prince and as a king, buy you anything you want.

So he goes a completely different way.

He would try and make you something himself. Something that wouldn’t bother you during the day while tending to your tasks, but also something that would show everyone around you that you are taken.

And something that would remind you of him.

Ivar has noticed you fiddle with the pendant of his necklace often enough.

The viking takes is upon himself to make a twin to the mjolnir hanging from his throat. He would spend ages drawing out the form and details of the hammer, making sure everything looks perfect. He would also use much more expensive material than his own was made of and would insert fitting gemstones if possible.

Ivar works through days and nights to complete his work and smiles like a child when he can finally hand it to you.

It would turn out so beautiful that you would never want to take it off.

U - unique (why did they choose their partner? what first attracted them?)

The thing that first drew him to you was your personality.

Ivar likes looking at pretty features and bodies, yes. But in a way, doesn’t everyone?

Physical attributes don’t mean that much to him. That he may find a body pleasing to look at has nothing to do with feelings. It is more about an aesthitic. About a facade.

What really interests him is your behavior and your mannerisms. How you talk and behave when nobody sees you and how you move when the great hall is filled with people.

Ivar is first attracted to you because of your habits and your character. The unique tells when he catches you lying, or the characteristic twitch of your mouth, when Bjorn shares a story around the dinner table.

V - vulnerable (how vulnerable do they allow themselves to get?)

He is a tough nut to crack.

Ivar is not the type to be vulnerable around others.

He is not always proud of it when he loses his temper, but he absolutely hates it when he has to cry. Not particularily because he sees it as a weakness, but because he despises the whole feeling of it. He hates the helplessness that settles in and the pityful looks everyone carries on their faces when tears are shed.

He does not like to cry in front of you, even when you are close. You will often have to force him to lean on you and let you comfort him. At the beginning he dislikes doing so, but quickly notices that it helps.

He starts to appreciate your help and your knowledge when you assist him to get his mind back on track and give him a perspective he might not have thought of (though there is rarely a way he does not come up with).

X - xfactor (what’s one of their special talents they try to impress with?)

His mind.

While his brothers might be honest in saying that they consider him their equal despite his disability (which he is already sceptical of), Ivar is very aware that that does not count for everyone else around him.

Not even for you.

So he tries to impress you with what he does best. Ivar is intelligent and an incredible strategist on all fields. He will use his smarts and his witt to catch you attention (and maybe even aks you for advice, even though he already has the perfect solution).

Y - yin & yang (how does having their partner around change their behavior?)

It changes quite a bit.

Ivar becomes calmer when you’re around. More patient and less heated. Apart from that he puts great value on your opinions, even of you are not familiar with all of his strategies.

The times of war are stressful even on a bright mind such as his. It makes him agitated when you’re parted and he trends to get nervous when he can’t keep an eye on you.

Since what happened to his mother while he was not around, he fears that the same fate might come for you if he is not on guard at all times. That, in turn gets him easily frustrated when you can’t join him where he is going.

Needless to say, his men are glad when you are present.

Ivar becomes more relaxed, witty and even pleasant at times as soon as you are near.

Z- zen (how calm are they during arguments?)

Not very calm, even though he tries to keep his cool.

He tends to let his frustrations out, wether that be through screaming or trashing something.

This viking does not hold back.

And we all know Ivar is already intimidating enough when he is not in a bad mood.

But usually, all of that doesn’t happen around you. Between the both of you arguments rarely arise. You are pretty much on the same page and definetely act as a team.

Though, of course, it can’t be that easy all the time. When an argument between the two of you arises Ivat tries to reason with you. The man is used to things going his way, so it might be quite a struggle to go against him at first. He tends to get louder, as a way to emphasize his reasoning, but will quickly try to shut it down if you tell him that it upsets you.

He’ll try to explain his situation and get a grip on your view at the same time, until you reach an agreement both of you are happy with, which he does not do with anyone but you.

#ivar x reader #ivar imagine #vikings imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar vikings #ivar fluff #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x you

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crowsmybeloveds · 4 years ago

Text

Shadow and Bone Series: Chapter Two

In Cold Blood

Pairing: Jesper Fahey x Reader

Summary: The Crows continue to visit Y/N at the Emerald Palace, and make some interesting developments.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Implied suicide (don’t take it too seriously hint hint); abuse; Pekka Rollins; again canon typical violence/slave stuff (this time it’s described more, but again nothing graphic); the Menagerie;

A/N: Thank you so much if you liked the first chapter!!! This one is a little longer and I promise the end isn’t as bad as it might seem.

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~

Jesper Fahey liked to do his own thing. Sure, as a member of the Dregs he had to listen to his boss and go on jobs, but he loved his free time in between. Hence, he often avoided going on little arends for Kaz at all costs. It would be a waste of his time.

Jesper Fahey was now talking to Kaz. Volunteering for an arend. For the fourth time this week.

Kaz, Inej, and Jesper had been visiting the girl in the basement regularly since their first meeting with her. Kaz chalked it up to business, the girl and her potions were powerful assets, but the other two would admit they had found a new friend.

There were rules to these visits. First, only go during the day. Even if it seemed counterintuitive to sneak there in the broad daylight, Y/N insisted she would be unavailable in the night, as that was when her “work” was done. Also, if you are there, you must hide well behind the crates, and remain armed. You were lucky every time you made it out of there alive.

It was a daunting task, but Jesper was always up for it.

“You’re going to go there again?” Kaz asked him, eyebrows raised, “You know it’s Inej’s turn, correct?”

“Yes, and I also don’t care,” Jesper answered, “Also, she probably has things to see, people to do, and whatnot. I, on the other hand, have my whole day cleared. And I couldn’t deprive the lovely basement girl of this face.” He smiled, pointing to himself, “I mean, come on.”

Kaz stared at him, seeing through his antics in a minute. Jesper had taken a liking to the girl. What will happen the day he visits to find she’s not there anymore? Kaz thought. His hopes are too high.

“Fine, Jesper,” He agreed, “but be careful not to draw attention.” He scrunched his nose. “Do your best not to dawdle.”

“Right, I’m off then!” Jesper exclaimed as he clapped his hands together and ran off.

“I’m going tomorrow!” Kaz shouted after him.

The sharpshooter knew his boss was suspicious of his actions, but in all honesty he didn’t care. Normally he would have thought there wasn’t much spending time with her could do, as she had told him many of the same things over and over. That must have meant she had told him all that she knew. But Jesper was not going for information, he was going to be with her. He liked to think they were friends.

Jesper was often distracted. Whether he saw a pretty person to flirt with or a table to gamble at, he always found a way to not be doing whatever he was supposed to. Everything around him was so appealing and stimulating, especially in the Barrel. Even so, he sped down the streets without a single double take or second thought as he headed to the Emerald Palace. He really wanted to see her. So bad it was addicting. At first he thought that maybe the girl was drugging him, seeing as that is her particular expertise, but soon he realized that he just liked her. She was funny, and she laughed at all his jokes. She was also so intriguing. So powerful yet rendered powerless. He was enchanted, but he knew something was missing. It seemed it wasn’t her fault. He wanted to help.

That day when he arrived at the window (after making sure no one could see him, of course) Jesper saw Y/N sitting against the wall with her legs hugged to her chest. He called her name softly, and waited for her to reply. She didn’t reply, or even move. Against his better judgement, he shouted louder, risking being discovered by one of Pekka’s crew. He didn’t care. He banged the windows. Praying she would say something. Or turn her head. Or nod. Anything. She didn’t. A single tear rolled down her face.

Y/N had been sitting there for three hours. There wasn’t much to be said about what had happened. Only that she did not remember, whether her loss of memory was intentional or not. It was an off day, that’s all.

Jesper was panicking. He had no idea how to get her to wake up. That is, if she was asleep. Truthfully, he did not know what was wrong with her or what to do. Unfortunately, his noise making had roused a different group of people. Jesper had to run down the alley as he heard shouts coming his direction. He ran the rest of the way home, still in shock. He was not haunted by his near escape with the Dime Lions, but the look on the girl’s face. What had they done to her?

“And she didn’t move at all?” Inej asked. Jesper had just explained to her what happened after he showed up to her room at the Slat. She hadn’t appreciated being woken up from one of her rare naps, but she didn’t complain when she saw the look on his face.

“Not that I could see,” he replied, shaking his head, “Inej, I swear she could hear me.”

Inej did not know what to say. This kind of behavior was not usual for Jesper. He had his normal amount of energy, but it was not often it was all directed to one place: worry. It was odd that something upset him and he did not distract from it by going to gamble or making a joke.

“I just, if it were you I’d understand, but who could ignore me?” he said, “Going unnoticed is not a Jesper talent.”

There it was.

“You’re deflecting” She called him out, “It’s not funny. We should tell Kaz.”

“That's not funny,” Jesper replied, “what is Kaz gonna do? Tell us to stop talking to her?”

Inej sighed. It’s possible that he would advise that. But he also wouldn’t just let Pekka Rollins keep his most dangerous weapon. Especially not when she didn’t seem to have much loyalty. She had told Inej so many times. The girls had a bond due to the Menagerie, and Y/N told her much about her past and present. She explained different chemicals she had made and plans she had heard to Kaz. But with Inej, she explained how she felt about them.

Y/N hated every second in that basement. She had told Inej as much. Repeatedly. But she was rather scatterbrained. She repeated herself often and forgot things that she had already been told. She would forget what day it was and what she had done the night before. Inej had experience with trauma and sleep deprivation enough to shrug this off. She didn’t want to cause her friend anguish by questioning it.

The incident Jesper was describing made her think that maybe she should. Y/N was smart. Hell, she was a self taught Grisha fabrikator. So good, she could kill people from miles away. How could she be so forgetful? Someone so scientifically gifted must have a better mind than that. Someone must have been messing with it.

After some convincing to Jesper that Kaz would not kill or give up on Y/N, the pair made their way to their boss’s office.

“I was waiting for this to happen,” was Kaz’s response.

“What, that’s it?” Jesper raised his voice, “You have nothing else to say?”

Kaz glared at him from his desk. “I don’t know that you thought through your attachment to her, Jesper. You should never have assumed she was on our side.”

Jesper stared bullets at his boss in front of them. They seriously weren’t going to help her at all? She needed to get out of there, he knew that for certain. If it wasn’t because he cared about her then it should be because she is an asset. A good investment. Saints, he hated calling her that.

He didn’t say any of this, however, and instead started to walk out of the office. Just before he was out the door, he heard Brekker speak up.

“I’ll go and see her tomorrow.”

When Kaz Brekker reached the girl’s window, he gave it exactly seven taps with his cane, with a very specific beat. It was a signal he had made with Y/N so that she knew to open the window and talk to him without him having to raise his voice.

The girl turned toward the window at the sound. She set down the bottle she was currently working on and walked over. Kaz started speaking as soon as it was opened.

“How long have they been drugging you?”

Y/N scoffed, “Hello to you, too!”

“How long?”

“Um, never?” She replied, getting confused. “They don’t drug me with anything. I’d notice. That’s kind of my job description.”

Kaz looked to the side, thinking. The only way to explain her odd behavior, forgetfulness, and calmness in her position was that she was being manipulated. And because she was constantly making poisons and “potions” for Pekka, it made sense that she was being given her own drugs without her knowledge. He had thought this since he’d met her. She had to be on some sort of relaxers when he first saw her. Why else would she have so willingly opened the window for strangers?

“Why did you ignore Jesper when he was here yesterday?” He asked, hoping to get the information from her in a more roundabout way.

“I didn’t?” Y/N asked, “Inej was here yesterday, she got those vials of knockout gas you asked for.”

Kaz squinted at her, “Y/N, that was two days ago.”

She shook her head, “No, no, because I was working on those just yesterday and I just finished them when she stopped by. I haven’t seen Jesper in a couple of days, Kaz. Are you feeling ok?”

Kaz wasn’t sure how to react to this. She had missed the whole day? He was sure things like this had been going on this whole time, but never in the month since they began speaking with her has she forgotten a whole day. She had to have taken something.

“Are you self medicating?”

“No! Why- what are you talking about? What is going on?”

“Y/N, Jesper came here yesterday and you were sitting in that corner near catatonic. You wouldn’t speak or even move.” Kaz informed her.

“He must not have shouted loud enough, I was probably asleep.”

“You normally sleep with your eyes open?” He is tone was sharp. “Jesper said you were crying.”

She didn’t respond. She was shocked out of her mind. It was possible Kaz was lying to her to get some sort of information out of her, but it didn’t seem that way. He looked uneasy, the kind of unease that comes from not knowing something. He was a very smart man, and when something did not make sense to him he got nervous. So, this must have actually happened. And if she could not remember it, something was terribly wrong.

“I’m sorry, Kaz. I just don’t remember.”

“Fine. Then I need you to stop eating the food they give you. I’ll have Inej stop by with something to eat during the day.” Kaz paused, thinking. “And I would like to get you out of here, and have you join the Dregs. I just have to figure out how.”

“No, Kaz. I can’t leave.”

“Why? You have loyalties to Pekka Rollins?” He asked, anger clear in his voice.

Do I? She thought. While she knew his treatment of her was unfair, she wondered whether or not she still cared about him. In her time at the Emerald Palace, Pekka had told her many things about how he was the only one who would ever care for her. He claimed that he had saved her from the Menagerie, and he was taking care of her because he loved her. He also said that he would help her find her sister, often claiming that the potions Y/N was making was helping him follow leads about her.

When he started bringing men down into Y/N’s room, she was only a teenager. The first man that had ever touched her in that room also told her information about upcoming trips, which Pekka used to choose the perfect time to rob his house. Y/N felt disgusting in her skin ever since, but Pekka reassured her. I’m sorry , canary. I’ll protect you. Those men are not like me. While any sane person would call giving her food and shelter supplying her basic needs, Pekka called it courtesy. A gift because he loved her. A gift that could be taken away. He let men take advantage of her just so she could get him information, and then called it love. And she believed him. Until one day.

A man had come down into her room, which was usual for her on any given night. However, this man started out rough and stayed that way for the rest of his visit. She had tried her best with past men to get as much information as she could through simple flirting and drugging, but he was not there for small talk. For a brief moment, she considered saying no. In the moment following, she remembered what happened the other times she had done so.

She didn’t get any of the information she had been asked to draw from the man. Pekka was livid. The argument following had been explosive and painful. Not just emotionally.

“This isn’t love.” She tried to say it in a firm voice, but it came out broken and weak.

“How could you possibly know?” Pekka replied.

“Because you don’t deny it.” She said, summoning the strength to look up at him. “The men who come down here sometimes mention their wives. They might not be the pinnacle of married men, but I know they would never do this. This is bad for me.”

“Oh, is it so bad for you?” He raised his voice. “And who is going to treat you better, hm? Who out there would possibly care about you like I do?”

She turned her back to him. She sniffled as she cleaned up her worktable, silently hoping he would just leave.

He grabbed her arm, whipping her around to face him. “I don’t care if you hate me. You will stay here because of Anais. You will stay because you need me.”

The memory was scarring.

Kaz watched as Y/N got lost in her own thoughts. His voice startled her out of her memories. “Y/N, do you have loyalties to him?”

“My sister, Anais.” She breathed. “He is helping me find my sister.”

“Is that all?”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand. I need to find her. Have you ever had any siblings?”

Kaz paused for a moment. The comment seemed to toy with him. “No.”

“Then you don’t get it. I want to be with people I belong with. To figure out where I’m from.” She sighed. “Pekka is helping me with that.”

“And he has proven that he is actually doing so?”

“He said that he knew she was involved with the slavers who took me away. He is getting in with them to try and figure out where they took her.”

“Y/N, I don’t think he is actually doing that.” Kaz said, shaking his head. “This is your reason for staying?”

“And I have nowhere else to go!”

Kaz took a deep breath. He had decided what he was going to do for the girl since the day he met her. She was an asset. With her power he could complete jobs and gain kruge with record speed. Not to mention, if Kaz had her on his side, Pekka didn’t. The sweet taste of revenge covered his tongue just at the thought.

“I have an offer,” he began, “You come with me. Not now, but soon. I’ll come everyday to ask questions and we’ll plan your escape. In the meantime, you gather your things discreetly and try to find as much dirt on Rollins as you can.”

“But my sister -“

“If you are a part of the Dregs, you will help when asked, but the rest of your time is yours. Look for your sister, gamble your money away, take up baking, — I don’t care. You’ll be free.”

The offer was good. Great, actually. So why was she hesitating? Was Pekka’s manipulation really enough to make her turn away an opportunity like this? I don’t know.

And what about Kaz? Could she really trust him? The man wanted her for her powers, too. How was he different from Pekka? In her limited experience, he wasn’t. I should stay.

But Jesper. In the short while she had known him, Jesper had become her favorite part of being alive. And Inej, who was the kindest soul she had ever encountered. If they were with Kaz, he couldn’t be the demon he tried to be. At least not like Pekka. I should go. I should have gone a long time ago.

“Deal.”

In the weeks following, Kaz came every day to discuss every aspect of the Emerald Palace with her, in the hopes that he could get her out. Getting her out of the building would be simple, but keeping her from being hunted by the Dime Lions for the rest of her days would be complicated. The plan would have to be completely airtight, so Kaz needed time.

A few days later, Jesper was at the window speaking with her. The other members of the dregs would often visit along with Kaz and stay to talk to her, or they might come in his place. Today, after describing her entire tailoring process to Kaz, Y/N was speaking to Jesper about music.

“It’s like this huge golden machine made by Fabrikators, right?” Y/N smiled as she excitedly spoke. “And you take this small disc, place it on the machine and put the needle on it, and then music comes out!”

Jesper grinned at her. He loved the way she looked when she was excited about something. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen one before.”

“Well, it’s wonderful,” she sighed, “Not to mention there’s thousands of the disc things, and each one is a different song. I wish more people had them than just the rich men who can afford it. I mean I wish I could have one.”

The two had been known to discuss things that had nothing to do with her escape, which Kaz had scolded them for plenty of times. But they enjoyed talking to each other, and they often got distracted. Odd topics of discussion were bound to happen whether they liked it or not. However, when Jesper realized that they had strayed from their original reason for speaking, he redirected the conversation.

“So, you get tailored nearly everyday?”

“Well, whenever anyone comes to see me. Only Pekka knows what I really look like. And you and your friends. Maybe it's a security thing.” She told him, thinking as she spoke. “Also, if anyone sees me who isn’t supposed to, I’m meant to drug them so they forget. Pekka really just does not want anyone knowing I’m here. Some bastard might try to steal me away.”

Jesper smirked at her. “I cannot imagine who would ever do something like that.”

Visits were going relatively well. Kaz had nearly enough information to finalize his plan for her escape, so he visited less and less. Y/N was becoming a solid member of the Crows even though she had so little time with them. She matched Jesper’s humor, built trust with Inej, and had a shared anger for Pekka with Kaz.

Today was Inej’s day to go visit Y/N, and she was running rather late. She knew the girl had mentioned not to visit after the sun went down, but Inej had been busy all day and could only find time to make it to the window after dark. When she got there, however, she realized why Y/N had made the warning.

When she looked through the window, she noticed that Y/N was not alone. When she looked closer, she realized Y/N was with Pekka Rollins. Luckily, Inej was the Wraith, she could watch what happened next without being seen.

“I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to eat your dinner,” She heard Rollins speak first, in the most condescending tone she had ever heard. “Not after I worked so hard to get your favorite.”

Y/N sat on her cot, avoiding eye contact. “Not hungry.”

Rollins grabbed her by the jaw roughly, forcing her to look at him. Inej noticed tears shining in Y/N’s eyes. “Not hungry, hm? We both know that’s not true.” He laughed, with a terrifying lack of humor behind it. “Why are you lying to me, canary?”

The girl shook her head as the tears fell down her face.

“Your tears will do you no good.” Rollins snarled. “Do not forget what you are.” He paused, raising a brow. “What are you?”

The girl sniffled and didn’t respond.

“What are you?” He shouted and raised his voice this time, causing her to shake.

“A canary.” She whispered out.

“Good, and if I give you a song...”

He raised her chin higher, prompting her to finish his words. “I sing it.” The words fell from her lips like something rehearsed, but unbearably painful.

He gave a tight lipped smile. “Right. Don’t forget it again.” He sat down next to her and handed her the plate she had sat on the table beside her. “Now you eat and I’ll tell you about the man who is coming here tonight.”

Inej felt like she was going to throw up as she travelled the rooftops of Ketterdam back to the Crow Club. She knew Y/N was being mistreated at the Emerald Palace, but seeing it take place was something entirely apart.

As she walked in the doors of the club she felt a presence beside her. She looked over to see Jesper walking with her. He must have been guarding the door. He was waiting to ask a question.

“Yes, Jesper, I went to see her.” Inej spoke to him, her voice rough.

“And?”

“And Pekka Rollins was there.”

Jesper stopped in his tracks. “Saints, is she ok? Are you?”

“I’m fine,” Inej assured, “But I’m not sure about Y/N. He is anything but gentle with her. And he forced her to eat the dinner he gave her. I don’t think she’s gonna be able to avoid the drugs they give her anymore. If only she could remember to take an antidote before her mind goes.”

“Shit, we need to get her out of there, soon.”

The pair once again went to Kaz to discuss the girl, only to find him at his desk, writing furiously with two bottles in front of him.

“Kaz, Inej -“ Jesper was cut off.

“She told me how she’s been killing all those people.” Kaz stared at the bottle in front of him, observing it scientifically.

Inej and Jesper looked at each other before looking back at their boss. What was he on about?

“I don’t understand.” Inej had a confused look on her face as she tried her best to make eye contact with Kaz. She wanted to try and read him like she knew she could, but right now the man in front of her was like a blank page.

“Y/N. She gives them a liquid of her own design, but it isn’t poisonous,” He kept his eyes trained on his work, “At least not until she makes it poisonous. She can give someone poison hours in advance but it kills them right at the perfect moment. Right when she can get away. And, once they are dead, she can change it back to something nontoxic. It’s flawless: not a single trace is left.”

“Great, boss,” Jesper said, growing impatient. “Can we talk about why we are here?”

Kaz frowned, “What, because you want to get Y/N out sooner? She’s in a terrible situation?”

“Exactly,” Inej pleaded.

“If I tried to save everyone in the Barrel I’d be broke by dawn.” Kaz said, looking back at his work. Inej and Jesper stood there in shock. “If you don’t have anything else to say…”

Inej placed a hand up to keep Jesper from exploding. “Kaz, you told us that you would help her escape.”

“I needed information, Wraith, you wouldn’t help me if I told the truth.”

Jesper spoke up, “So you lied to us? And what did you tell her?”

“Nothing. She’s prepared to leave the Emerald Palace tonight.” Kaz tsked. “I doubt she’ll make it two feet out the building without our help. Solves all of my problems.”

Without another word, Inej slipped out of the room, leaving the boys to fight. Through the walls, she heard muffled shouting.

“How could you? You act like you have nothing you believe in but really you are so terrible that you’ve made yourself your own Saint!” Jespers voice was desperate, filled with rage. The betrayal he felt was clear even though he was muffled. He sniffed. “Put too much faith in that saint and he’ll kill your friends.”

Inej cringed, hating the harsh truths her friend was sending toward her boss. She had always known partnership with Kaz would mean conflict, but it also meant freedom. She and Jesper often commented on their cold-hearted boss. “We are both too good for him.” Jesper would laugh as he said it, but now it seemed to be a reason to leave. But where would they go? When it came to Kaz Brekker, no one was better, and no one was worse.

One thing was for certain, Inej was not going to let her friend die. She had just pulled Y/N up from the grave, and she’d be damned if she let Kaz Brekker push her back in. If he was so certain the girl would be dead by tomorrow, she’d get to her before then. She didn’t have time for Kaz’s lectures and Jesper’s shouting. There was a life at stake. She begged the Saints to help her, but deep down she knew that this was up to her and her knives. If Inej couldn’t save Y/N, the Wraith would.

When she reached the Emerald Palace, a nauseous feeling spread throughout her stomach. She willed her hands to stop shaking, but the tremor remained. She reached the window after carefully checking her surroundings and gasped at what she saw. Nothing remained in Y/N’s room but a white letter and dark ash, both standing out against the gray stone floor. Inej frowned in confusion. So, she is gone. Where could she be?

Y/N was a smart girl, she could be out of Ketterdam by now. However, she had barely had any human contact and had been drugged and manipulated for years. If she was not already found by Pekka Rollins, she could have already been killed on the street. But no one knew who she was, and only Pekka and the Crows knew what she truly looked like. She had become one huge question.

Suddenly, Inej remembered something.. Specifically, a conversation she had with Y/N not long ago.

Inej, this might be the worst thing I’ve ever made. She had said, a fire in her eyes.

Then why are you smiling? Inej replied.

Look! Y/N had pulled a thin glass bottle of a swirling liquid and a small flower out from behind her back. She then poured a drop of the bottle on the flower, which disintegrated into a pile of ash within seconds.

Saints. Inej was amazed.

Wild, huh? Footsteps came from the stairwell in the corner of the room. Shit. Inej, go. Inej hesitated. Go! He’ll see you!

Now, looking at the large pile of ash on the floor of the room, Inej realized what had happened.

“Saints,” She whispered, tears forming in her eyes. “She’s drunk it.”

She heard footsteps approaching in the alley, and immediately grabbed two of her knives, ready to protect herself.

“Easy,” Jesper appeared, holding his hands out toward her. “It’s just me.”

Inej lowered her knives as she stared back at him. “We’re too late, Jes. She’s gone.”

He laughed, nervous. “No, she wouldn’t.” He lowered himself down to the window. “No.”

Inej stood up and looked up at the stars, praying to any Saint that she could think of that she wasn’t dead. That her friend was out there somewhere. Alive. “Jesper, we need to get out of here.”

“But,” Jesper paused, his voice weak. “She was just here.”

“She’s not anymore.” Inej looked at him with pity. She could tell how much the girl had meant to him. “I’m sorry.”

“She was just here.” He repeated, voice cracks littering his words.

Inej grabbed his hand, forcing him out of this frozen state. “I know, Jes. I’m sorry.”

#jesper fahey x reader #jesper fahey fanfic #jesper fahey imagine #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows x reader #jesper fahey x you

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roger-that-cap · 4 years ago

Text

cardigan

natasha romanoff x f!reader

word count: 8.9k (haha)

warnings: swearing, cheating!natasha, sad!reader, uhm this is angsty for me, asshole!natasha, sort of asshole!team, more angst, sort of happy ending sort of, secrets™️

this is inspired by taylor swift’s cardigan. folklore and evermore are really getting me through this i swear

obviously i do not own this song, picture, or any of the warped lyrics that i attempted to slide in as creatively possible :) this is also my first one shot and my first reader insert ever- i tried to not go into any physical details about miss y/n but i hope y’all like it!

No editor. All mistakes are 100% mine!

You couldn’t have been any more excited to see Natasha. She had been gone for what felt like forever on a mission with Steve, Bucky, and some agent that was on her first big mission, a girl that you recalled to be named Abigail. Regardless of what her name was, they were all heading home today after so long, nearly two months.

There was no telling how much you were ready for the return of your fiancée. The two of you had promised to get married nine months ago, and you were already deep into planning. You were going to your dress appointment at Kleinfeld’s (your literal childhood wish) in two days. You had the venue picked, the table accessories done, the seating chart already filled out and sitting pretty in laminated sheets in a binder. The day was going to be perfect, and it was what you and Natasha deserved after so long. Especially Natasha, after every single thing that she had been through just to save the world and to help those who weren’t able to help themselves.

Natasha was your angel.

Your heart was racing in your chest as you waited for the quinjet to land, the ring feeling light on your left finger as you rolled back and forth on your feet. You couldn’t hold back a toothy grin as you waited for them to fly back in, and to hug Natasha again. That was the most important part. To have her back in your arms so that you could do things like stay in together for the weekend and stay holed up in their room just doing innocent things, like counting each other’s heartbeats.

You stood with your hands clasped in front of your body as they landed, a dopey grin on your face and the same nervous glint in your eye that was there every time that you waited for your fiancée to come back home. You knew that Natasha would always find her way back to you, but there was no telling what condition she would be in.

The moment the doors opened, Abigail ran through them, and down the ramps nearly knocking you over. You reached your arms out to steady the other girl, who looked like she was about to burst into tears at any second. As much as you wanted to just hug Natasha and go home after you ate and sleep in bed with her, you couldn’t leave a girl in tears like that without checking on her. “Woah, are you okay, sweetie?”

The girl’s bottom lip jutted out, like she was about to cry just because of you asking the question. She didn’t say anything, but she was obviously falling apart from the inside, and it made you more than mildly concerned. You didn’t like to see anyone cry, let alone a girl who had just come back from her first big mission. “I’m fine.” Her voice cracked.

“Are you sure?” You were no medic or super soldier or even assassin-spy, but you were nothing if not rational and sympathetic. You were so in tune to the poor girl that you didn’t feel the palpable awkwardness of everyone else who walked off of the quinjet, almost all of them cringing. “Do you need to talk to someone?”

“I- I’m sorry,” Abigail said, and she was running away from you faster than you had ever seen anyone run before.

You frowned as you watched her run. “I hope she’s alright, poor thing. I can’t imagine how a first mission feels,” you murmured, turning around and seeing the slightly spooked eyes of the rest of the team. You smiled at them cautiously and walked over to Natasha, arms already raised as you went to embrace her tightly. You breathed in and put your face in her neck, nearly crying tears of joy as you smelled her shampoo, a rich scent that meant the safety and comfort of them both. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

You were so happy to hold your fiancée again that you almost didn’t notice how standoffish she was being, and her lack of enthusiasm. She had never been not enthusiastic to see you, especially after going so long without seeing each other. After too long of her not reacting to your warm embrace by kissing your hair or murmuring her usual missed you, princessa, you pulled away and looked at her, a questioning look on your face. “Are you okay, my love?”

Natasha stepped back, not looking you in the eyes and choosing to just smooth out the sleeves of her combat attire, eyes on the floor. That was very unlike her. Something must have gone terribly wrong. “I just want to get home.”

Your vibe visibly deteriorated. It was obvious that Natasha had just popped your bubble and left it as an empty shell, but you were still smiling anyway. Like you always did. “Okay, Nat. We can do that.” You reached out for Natasha’s hand and grabbed it after waving goodbye to the other team members, who all looked either extremely displeased or like they had been caught doing something very awkward.

You walked back to your part of the tower together in silence that wasn’t characteristic of the two of you. You were a known chatterbox, happy and always starting meaningful conversations, but also one of the best listeners to ever grace the earth. Natasha liked to listen, too, and she had the best words and the best voice to listen to. One of them was always talking. The silence between them was almost haunting.

Natasha went straight into the shower. She didn’t offer for you to go in with her, which was what the two of you always did after a mission. You got to see Natasha at her most vulnerable, and Natasha was finally allowed to let down the shroud of strength that only lasted for so long without being damaging. It was the thing that kept you close and often the action that got Natasha to open up about what happened and how she truly felt. Natasha skipping out on that time hurt you and made you expect the worst.

She turned the lights off the minute that she was out of the shower, not speaking to you or even offering any physical assurance, which was something that Natasha knew that you needed after she came home.

You just prayed that she would be ready to talk in the morning.

§§§

Natasha wasn’t there when you woke up. You frowned and patted the empty spot in the bed beside you even though you knew that she was probably at the gym or running around doing errands. You sighed and crawled out of bed, doing the daily routine that you usually did with Natasha, and leaving the room to go make some breakfast.

There were whispers that hissed like snakes when you came around the corner, and they came to a screeching halt when you bounced into the room. You grinned at everyone sitting or standing in the kitchen, ignoring their deer-in-headlights looks and searching for the woman you were set to get married to. You frowned a bit when there was no sign of her.

“Good morning!” You hummed out anyways, going towards the pantry once you saw that no one had made food yet. Because you were staying there and you had no other skills, you had been the one to take up personal chef for the entire team just to pull some weight, even though they insisted that you didn’t need to do a thing. As long as you “kept Nat happy”, they said.

It took a second for any of them to respond. “Good morning,” Steve said, his voice oddly clinical for the way he usual greeted you. He was the morning person of the bunch, and probably your closest friend other than Wanda.

You took the supplies out of the pantry with a thoughtful look on your face. “I’m not trying to pry,” you started softly, back still towards them as you started with the pancake mix. “But, was the mission bad?” No one spoke for a few heavy moments.

“We succeeded,” Bucky finally stated vaguely, his voice floating through the room.

You never the type to spill all of your personal business to people, but these people weren’t just anyone. These were your closest friends, the people who were going to be in the wedding, either in one bridal party or the other’s. “Nat’s not talking to me,” you sighed out, and turned around to see all of them stiff as boards. “Was it hard for her?”

No one said anything.

You pursed your lips and turned your back to them again, looking away from them to gathered your thoughts for a second. You took in a deep breath and told yourself not to pry, not to think about what Natasha would surely tell you when she was ready. You turned your head and gave them your trademark grin. “Who wants blueberries in their pancakes?”

§§§

You sat in your shared room after a full day of Natasha blatantly ignoring and avoiding you. You were patient, because that was what you had to be to date an Avenger, but Natasha had never straight up ignored you before. You learned very quickly that it called for a different type of patience than the one you were used to.

In the kitchen when she was forced to be present after you cooked a huge welcome home meal, she didn’t hug on you or kiss your cheek or even look you in the eyes. It wasn’t like her. You came to the tough conclusion that it wasn’t because of the mission, because she had never done that before, not even after the one where the children were caught in the crossfire. You were always the one that she talked to, no matter what.

The lamp light was the only light on in the room, because you knew that Natasha liked it better that way. Maybe less light would make her open up a bit, and the two of you would finally see eye to eye after the annoying stalemate that felt eternal.

You didn’t know how long Natasha would take come back and speak, but you knew that it wouldn’t be too long. Natasha liked to talk, and she had said multiple times that she liked to talk to you the most. It would be any time, right? That’s what you thought until the hours crept by, and you saw and heard no sign of anything. Not even the ding of an elevator or the shutting of a door, or her soft footsteps that she made on purpose because her natural steps were so quiet that she scared you when she appeared.

When Natasha finally came in, it was late in the night, morning time. Three in the morning, to be exact. You shook off your nerves and smiled at her, and the smile wasn’t returned as much as it should have been. “Hi,” you said, almost a little star struck by finally seeing her. It brought you back to the time you didn’t truly know her.

You had always admired Natasha. Not even because of her being Black Widow, but because she was Natasha Romanoff, an enemy spy and assassin turned good. And it brought you pure joy knowing that you would soon be taking on her last name, which you secretly thought of as your greatest achievement. Natasha was the one you wanted with for life, and you were steps closer.

You waited to hear Natasha’s voice. You waited in anticipation for her to run to you and start to spill immediately. You were waiting to wipe her tears and assure her that it wasn’t her fault, and that she couldn’t have done anything differently. “Hi.”

You frowned. Confusion flooded your senses at the short greeting. “Huh?”

“Why are you up?” Her tone sounded almost accusatory, like she had caught you doing something that you weren’t supposed to do, like you were intruding on her time. The frown on your face turned into a slight scowl, and then you reminded yourself that patience was key with Natasha.

“I’m allowed to wait up for my future wife,” you teased, but the look in your eye was serious. You could see how the red head lingered at the doorway, like she was trying to decide whether to bolt or leave with grace. You weren’t going to give her enough time to make the decision. Come sit, please.” When Natasha didn’t move an inch, your facial expression fell. “Please.”

Natasha walked over to the bed slowly, like she was being forced to move or die. You shook your head side to side, eyeing her up and down like the answer to the problem that you didn’t know yet was written on her body somewhere. “I’m here,” she said quietly, like a distant whisper.

“Are you really?” You asked quietly, and it felt like your voice echoed like the beating of drums in the nearly silent room. “Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing happened.”

You knew that you shouldn’t pry. You both hated prying, but you were also both naturally transparent. You two had never truly had to pry with each other before. The truth was, you didn’t know how far you could push until she snapped on you. “Are you sure?”

Like someone had flipped a switch, a small smile lit up on Natasha’s face. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to sate you for a while. “Yes, princessa. I’m very sure. I’m tired.”

That was all it took. All it took was Natasha muttering the sweet nickname to you, and it was all as good as talked about. You could rest for a moment.

“Then we can go to bed, my love.” You reached out to touch Natasha’s face, loving the familiar feeling of her soft skin. “You know, you don’t ever have to be afraid to tell me anything, Nattie.”

You stared at Natasha for a while, just admiring her face and everything about it, almost missing the way that she didn’t do it back. This was something that you two did nearly every night before going to sleep- you just watched each other. A slow, dopey grin slid onto your face, and then you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her nose, then her cheek, and then to her pink lips in a soft yet passionate kiss, as soft as rose petals.

You pulled away and smiled at her with your eyes closed, nuzzling your face into her neck. You took in a deep breath, inhaling her sweet smell and feeling the comfort was over you like waves in the ocean. You could have told her a thousand things in that instant, but they all revolves around one master idea. “I love you so much, Natasha.”

You brushed a red strand of hair out of her face before reaching up to kiss her forehead, and then you were back in her neck, trying to sleep.

There was no response, just Natasha’s arm’s getting tighter around you and squeezing three times, each harder and shakier than the last. That was all it took for you to fall asleep.

When you woke up the next morning, you recalled having a dream that featured a woman crying, the sound distant yet close.

§§§

You had a feeling that Natasha was going to do the exact same thing that she did the first time, and you assumed correctly. You took it in stride this time and went to the flower store to pick out your bouquet that you would walk with, and probably throw. It was something that you wanted to do on your own, anyway. Like most brides, you didn’t want your future spouse seeing anything that you were going to be wearing until the big day. Not even the veil or the flowers that you would be carrying.

“That’s gorgeous!” You grinned at the employee, who mirrored your excited look. “That’s perfect, she’ll love it.”

While you gushed about your flowers, you also wondered if Natasha was doing a bouquet, too. You hoped that she had someone that would help her out with it, maybe Sharon or Wanda. Natasha wasn’t really big on the planning of the wedding. In fact, she wanted it much smaller than it was going to be, but you had convinced her to do it your way. Maybe it was your natural charm that helped you swindle the spy, or perhaps it was because she just secretely wanted the same thing.

As you walked away from the flower shop after placing the order, you walked by the busy donut shop that Natasha loved going to. Usually, it would be Natasha that stopped by and brought you some donuts, but maybe the other way around would be enough to make the red headed woman smile a bit. You stopped for a second and then didn’t hesitate to go in, pulling out a couple dollars for a tip, too.

Natasha loved chocolate donuts, even though she tried to resist eating them. You liked glazed better, but it was alright. You’d buy chocolate for her. You had hope that they would get Natasha to open up just a little, as dumb as it sounded. But a bribe never went wrong, and what was the harm in donuts?

“Thank you, Sarah,” you said after you got the box of donuts, walking out of the sweet smelling shop and down the street towards the tower.

When you got back, it was loud. It usually was pretty loud, with everyone and everything going on, but this was a different type of loud. It wasn’t the tinkering of metal in the lab or the sounds of sparring or elevators going up and down. It was shouting. A full on shouting match that was loud enough to be heard from floors down was happening. You nearly dropped the box of donuts as you hurriedly pressed the level that you and Natasha stayed on, hoping to find her in the room and out of the fight. The ride up the elevator was almost too full of anticipation as you waited in what would have been silence, if not for the yelling.

“No, because you can’t control yourself!” The voice was now obviously Steve’s. You were shocked. You had never heard Steve so riled up, ever. It was out of character for him to be so angry at someone, even if that particular someone fucked up royally. “You did something stupid, and now you’ll own up to it. Simple.”

“I fucking can’t!” You frowned. That was without a doubt Natasha. “I can’t, not right now. So fuck off.”

“I can’t fuck off after you’ve done something like this, Romanoff.” You winced as the elevator doors opened. Steve didn’t use Natasha’s last name anymore, not since they got close. And he certainly didn’t use the f-bomb much. “This is… it’s beyond-”

“What happened?” You shoved the donuts into Sam’s waiting hands, which were open for business when he saw you coming out of the elevator. “What’s all the yelling for?”

Everyone was staring at you like you were a ghost that wasn’t supposed to show up even though they had called on you. No one had an immediate answer, and so you put your hands on your hips. “Is everything okay?”

Tony looked at Natasha with sharp eyes and took a step back, raising his palms. “On you.”

It took a second for Natasha to say anything to you, and it was clear that everyone was waiting for something. It was even more clear that everyone was equally pissed at Natasha, for whatever reason.

“Everything is just fine, princessa.” Natasha’s voice carried over to your ears, smooth as honey, even though she wasn’t looking up into your eyes. “Don’t worry.”

You didn’t really believe it. How could you? She wasn’t talking to you, she wasn’t lying with you, she wasn’t counting your heartbeats like you did with her. There was something wrong, something had to be for Steve to be yelling like that, in front of everyone else. You eyed Natasha for a few extra seconds and then took the donuts back, muttering a thanks to Sam.

“Alright.” As if seeing the box made you remember why you went out in the first place, your trademark grin was back. “I ordered my bouquet today,” you hummed, walking up to Natasha and planting a kiss on her lips. When you pulled away, you murmured the customary I love you under your breath, like you two did every time you kissed. The one who initiated the kiss would say it first, and it would be answered by a quick “always”.

“A-always. Oh?” You realized that Natasha’s voice fluttered when she said it.

“Yeah, you can’t see which one, though.” You winked at her playfully, trying to ignore the way that the others looked mildly uncomfortable. You were used to uncomfortable looks, but never from them. You knew that it wasn’t homophobia, because they were never that way. So their behavior ran deeper than that. What the fuck happened? “My dress appointment is tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

You were too busy getting a donut from the box to see the looks that everyone else shared when you spoke again. “How’s the girl who went on the mission with you? She seemed a little upset when you guys came back.”

Natasha’s hair nearly bounced with how high she shot up, her body going straight at the mention of the other girl. She looked away from your eyes for a split second, and then back. “Fine.”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, eyes on Natasha. “Is she good with fashion? Maybe seeing dresses and all that would make her feel a little better.”

Natasha looked horrified as she realized what you were insinuating. “No. No, she’s fine. She doesn’t need to be invited anywhere.”

“It’s just to sit and watch me try on dresses. Wanda, Sharon, and Pepper are going, right?” You looked towards Tony to confirm, and he nodded his head firmly before looking at Natasha again, a serious look in his eyes. “Maybe Abigail can go.”

“No. She’s not going.” There was something in Natasha’s tone that sounded so final, so adamant, that you knew in your heart to just drop it. It saved you both in that moment.

That didn’t mean that you weren’t allowed to make a face of disapproval. “That’s not nice at all, Nattie. I hope you weren’t the reason she was crying. You’re known to be a little mean.”

Natasha looked away from you, taking a step back. Her eyebrow was twitching, a sign of stress that you picked up on like it was your own. “I have to go.”

“Wait, I got these for-” Natasha left in a hurry, so fast that you barely even registered that she had left. She left awkwardness in her absence. “Well, she can eat them later. Feel free to have some, guys, just save one or two for her, okay?”

They were all quiet for a few seconds, like they were in the midst of a special moment where they were all feeling the same thing, everyone in the room except for you. Finally, Wanda spoke. “Okay, Y/N.” You smiled at them, gave them all sweet hugs, and left.

§§§

You were bursting at the seams at being seen for a dress appointment at Kleinfeld’s. Wanda was with you, and so were Sharon and Pepper. They were excited for you, but no one matched your energy.

You were a girl finally getting what she had been dreaming of her whole life; to get married in a beautiful dress to the person she loved. You would soon be walking down the isle to see Natasha waiting for you, flanked by everyone else that was ever important to them.

You must have been the luckiest woman in the world.

“You’re really excited,” Sharon mused, but it was more of an observation than a statement.

“I’m so excited,” you confirmed. “I’m marrying the love of my life in what’s going to be my dream dress, I know it.” You grinned as the four of you watched people bustling around the shop. There was a bride near tears, just like on the TV episodes, and you watched fondly. Seeing people get what they wanted made you happy.

The search for the perfect dress went nothing less than perfectly. Within the first two sweeps, you managed to get into a dress that everyone thought was perfect for you, and you loved it, too. It even brought the three out of the haze that they were in, out of focus and minds so far gone that your excited squeals were all that broke them out of their thoughts.

“It’s gorgeous, Y/N.” Pepper said, her voice soft and cautious as they walked up to pay. It was silent as you waited for an attendant to come to the counter and check you out.

“I- I think there’s something you should know.” The other girls’ head whipped Pepper’s way, and she gave them a look that told them that she wasn’t going to back down from whatever she had to say.

You had what felt like a permanent grin on your face as you thought about the dress. It was a dramatic ball gown, blush pink and flowy. You were almost as in love with it as you were with Natasha, and the matching heels that you got and the gorgeous veil that matched topped it all off. You and your soon to be bridal party walked out into the crisp air, and you turned your head towards Pepper. “Sure, what is it?”

There were a few beats of silence. “Let’s go sit in the car,” Pepper insisted, and so they walked back to the car that Happy was driving for them, where he was sitting with the partition rolled down. He gave them a half assed greeting before they all piled in. “Can I start off with saying that… I’m sorry if you feel like any of us betrayed you.”

You trusted them all with your life, but that didn’t stop your heart from starting to race at the words Pepper said. Whatever this announcement was, it wasn’t good at all. “What?” When no one said anything, you laughed a little. “What, is the dress actually ugly and you didn’t say anything while we were in there? Do I need to go back?”

“No, the dress is beautiful.” The other girls nodded, and then you were sure of yourself and your taste again. “It’s just… Abigail.”

You frowned a bit, immediately thinking of the tragic scene where the girl rushed out of the quintet, breaking down by the second. “Oh, poor thing. Is she not doing as well as they say she is? I know a first big mission can be tough.”

There was a thick silence before Sharon blurted it out. “I am so, so sorry.” You leaned forward, heart skipping a few beats while Sharon took in a deep breath. You knew that some kind of blow was coming just by her apology, and you were bracing for it. “Natasha and Abigail had an affair on the mission.”

In the movies, it was like an instant shattering of the heart when news was broken like that. Immediate tears, automatic screaming and cursing and wanting to call up the other person to threaten them. There was lashing out, the breaking of glass, all the cinematic things that made actors on screen look better and less awkward when they broke down. You always thought that they were overreacting.

Now you knew that they weren’t. You felt that way on the inside. Your mind was raging like a hurricane and a tornado all at once, one disaster coming from the east and the other from the west. Your anger was the tornado, whipping around and threatening to destroy everything in your path and lash out at every single damn person in that car. But just like a tornado, you wore out and disbanded, all in your head. All that was left was the hurricane. The sadness. The disappointment. The heartbreak.

You had never even entertained the thought of how you would be after getting betrayed by her, but if you had, you probably would have imagined that the tornado would have acted first. But it didn’t. Unlike in the movies, all you did was tilt your head to the side and ask for the words to be repeated, even though you didn’t even listen for a second. You couldn’t believe it. Not Natasha. Not your Natasha. Not your angel.

“Natasha and Abigail slept with each other on multiple occasions on the mission, by word of Steve,” Sharon pointed out, her voice similar to the way a doctor sounded while delivering bad news, only a little shakier. “Abigail ran out crying because she fell in love with Natasha and knew that it would never really happen, not because she ruined the mission.”

Not only had Natasha slept with another person, but she had somehow convinced the girl that they were going to be together. Natasha didn’t have a ring, and the girl was new. There was no way she would have known that you two were together unless someone explicitly told her, and there were better things to do on a mission. It wasn’t her fault. Even if she had known, it wasn’t Abigail’s fault. Natasha Romanoff knew better. She knew a thousand times better.

“I don’t think either of them meant for it to happen,” Pepper said, immediately trying to calm you down, even though you hadn’t even spoken an angry word yet, and you looked like you weren’t even close to shouting.

The distinct sound of the partition rolling up was what brought you back to the present.

“But it did happen,” you said slowly, not even realizing that your teeth were gritted. “It happened.”

You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t want to, you wanted to believe it was a lie and calmly confront Natasha, but Steve was the one who had said it, and Steve didn’t lie. Why hadn’t he told you before?

Now that you knew what went on during the mission, you could see that everyone was acting weird. Everyone knew, there was no question about it. Which meant that everyone knew, and no one told you. They didn’t even hint toward anything, and they knew that you were supposed to be marrying the woman who went behind your back and did the unforgivable multiple times.

“We- we’re supposed to be getting married.” The pitiful sentence was all that you could string together in a thought as you looked out of the window at the traffic. You wished that the cars would just go, fly around so that you could cry by yourself. “I don’t even know what to say.” There were a million things happening in your mind at once, and trying not to cry in front of everyone was the biggest effort.

“I’m sorry,” Sharon’s voice said, and she really did sound apologetic. But it wasn’t enough in the moment. You wanted to hear Natasha say it, if all was true. But you knew it was. “We’re all sorry. We were waiting for Romanoff to own up to what she did.” Sharon said, obviously trying not to feel the wrath of you that was surely bubbling beneath the surface.

You could have been angry towards them. You knew that you felt betrayed, by everyone that knew and chose not to speak, that was a no-brainer. You could have been a lot of things at the moment, but there were bigger fish to fry. You clenched your fists and looked at the window, blinking rapidly as you grappled for composure. “Don’t apologize, you didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t think you-”

“I get it. It’s alright. I just prefer not to speak right now, ‘s all.” And conversation ended. But that was when the turmoil in your head and heart started to crank up the energy.

Your first instinct was to bust in there and look for the Black Widow herself, to yell until you lost your voice. Your first instinct was to cause a scene and embarrass her as much as Natasha did to you. You couldn’t believe she had gotten everyone to lie for her. You couldn’t believe that she had an obvious affair with a new agent. You couldn’t believe that you walked around thinking that nothing was wrong while everyone else pitied you behind your back.

Unfortunately, you were quite used to not being enough. Not enough to make it into ivy leagues, not enough to make the track team, not having enough to afford to buy all of your clothes without cringing and thinking about putting some items back. But you were never going to be used to not being enough for Natasha Romanov.

The drive back was the most awkward drive that the four of them had ever been on, without question. You had tears streaming down your face but you were still as silent as the night, just like everyone else. You hardly ever cried. You were always the ray of sunshine and rationality in the tower, and now everything positive had been blown out by the darkness that Natasha created.

When everyone got out of the car, it was sluggishly. Everyone knew what was bound to happen, but it was questionable whether or not the end of the blow out was going to result in settlement or people storming and and leaving. You already knew how it would end.

The second that the elevator landed on you and Natasha’s floor, you shakily thanked the girls for their honesty and walked right out, knowing that it was probably the last time that you would ever be going up in Stark Tower. In your angry fantasy about confronting your fiancée, you imagined storming in and shouting her name, getting her attention and then breaking her down into pieces like the words did to you in the car.

But once you were in your room, you found that the fantasies were just that, and you couldn’t say a word or do a thing but find your suitcase and pack, all the fire leaving your body the second that you saw your room.

You were halfway through gathering everything that was yours in the room that you and Natasha shared, tears streaming down steadily, when you registered that it was real. Natasha had really done the unimaginable, and there was no turning back. A small sob escaped your throat when you saw the sweater you had gotten Natasha hanging up in the closet, the same one that she wore when she got down on one knee for you. Did that mean nothing, too? Was the meaning and emotion of that and everything that led up to it blown to smithereens by something as trivial as two months?

The door flung open. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t talk to me.” You blurted, turning your head to not look at Natasha, trying to avoid her blue gaze. If you looked, you had no doubts that you would turn to stone, and that you would never find the strength to leave the woman who you loved the most and hurt you the most, all within three minutes.

Natasha looked bewildered by the suitcase on the bed. “Are you- are you leaving?”

“What the hell else am I supposed to do?” The temper that was kept just below simmering in the car was finally starting to boil over. “I can’t believe you, Natasha!”

“I-” She sputtered, and you gave her a pointed look in response. “Who told you?”

The question brought fire into your veins. She knew that you knew, because she knew that it was the one secret that had the power to make you so emotional. You two kept no secrets, and for this to be the first? That was painful.

You knew that Natasha would sense your lie about who told you and who didn’t, but you told it anyway. There was no use in causing a riff between the team because they wanted to help you. “I figured it out myself. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Natasha held her hands out in front of her body, and the gesture was so similar to the way that she used to hold her hands out in a silent ask for you to hold them. You hated the way that your heart lurched, and the way that you craved the feeling of her hands even more. “It was an accident.”

An accident? A two month escapade with another woman was an accident?

“After that long ass ride home on the quinjet, you could have at least come up with a better lie.”

“Princessa-”

“I- fuck you.” Your voice cracked in the middle of the explicative, tears falling into the suitcase pitifully. It made your raging temper even worse. “Fuck you.”

“My love-”

“I don’t understand why!” You couldn’t contain the waves of emotion you felt anymore as you slammed the top of the unfinished suitcase closed. “I give you everything I have every single day. Every day. I love you with all of my heart and I do everything I can to make you happy and you give me this? I tried so hard to make sure that we were both happy together, and we were. So, why?”

The look on Natasha’s face wasn’t unfamiliar to you. You knew it well, but it had never been used on you before. It was the look of a spy who didn’t want to say a damn word, silent resistance that you knew would be unbroken. That’s when you knew that you may never know the real reason. And it broke you. “There isn’t a reason.”

You crumbled faster than you ever had before “Natasha, we were- how could you do this to me?” You collapsed into sobs, falling onto the bed and putting your face into your hands. You didn’t know how long you cried for until you felt a hand on your shoulder, very hesitant to even attempt at being comforting. You didn’t have the energy to tell her to fuck off.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha cooed, and for a second, it felt like something was right again. Natasha being gentle was a regular occurrence, a side to the famous ex assassin that only you saw. It was your biggest safety blanket in life. But when she opened her mouth again, you were brought back to why you two were even doing this in the first place. “I didn’t mean for any of it to happen.”

You shook your head out of anger. The fact that the lie was shitty made it worse, made it hurt more. She didn’t even want to come up with a lie that would make you stay?

“Somehow you convinced that poor girl that you were going to be with her. How did you manage to do that on accident? How did you sleep with her multiple times on accident? You lead her on emotionally.”

“No.”

“Yes.” You pushed her hand off of your shoulder. “You told her some pretty little words and she fell for them as most do, right? Like I did, I guess. Just tell me the truth.”

“I didn’t-”

You remembered the way the girl was so distraught. You remembered the amount of tears that she had. You remembered the way that she avoided looking in your eyes, the way that she looked completely heart broken. Just like how you looked. You scoffed. “She told you she loved you, didn’t she?”

Natasha’s light blue eyes were boring into yours as she was silent. For the first time in a while, there was no telling of what Natasha was thinking in your mind. You were disconnected. “Yes.”

The words hurt to get out, but you had to know the answer to them. At any cost. Even at the cost of your own heart and sanity. “And you told her the same.”

There was a thick silence that spanned across multiple frantic heartbeats. “Yes.”

The next words were automatic. “I’m done.” You opened the suitcase again. The tears were coming harder than ever, warping your voice so much that your not Natasha hardly recognized it. “Done.”

“You can’t just-”

“Yes, I can!” You whipped around, eyes nailing Natasha right in her place. “Unless you can give me a good reason for what the hell you did, I’m done.”

Excruciating silence. It struck like lightning on the last tree in a struck down forest.

You turned on your heel, but then, words bubbled up in your throat, and you couldn’t shove them down. “When you miss me after you’re done, don’t come back to me.” Your voice cracked in the middle, but you kept pushing. “When you stop and think about what we could have been, do not come and find me. Because you’ll figure it out one day, and it’ll get through that thick skull.”

Natasha’s eyes were slightly watery as she looked on, taking a few steps forward with on outstretched arm, looking to latch on to you. “Love, please.”

You scoffed and ran out of the door, with nothing but a suitcase and a bag in your hands. You cried all the way to the elevator, ignoring the fact that Wanda and Vision’s room was right there across the hall, and how they without a doubt heard everything. Hell, everyone had heard everything. The argument weren’t exactly quiet.

You cried even harder when the doors of the elevator closed. Your hands shook as you brought them up to your face, remembering far too late that Tony Stark sometimes watched the tapes, especially elevator ones. You couldn’t even bring yourself to care. You turned into yourself and sobbed as your body and head shook, trying to rid herself of everything that happened. You cried more when you realized that you hadn’t meant a word of what you said to Natasha.

Deep down, through all of the emotions, you wanted her to seek you out when she learned her lesson. You didn’t know why, and you knew that you didn’t want it any time soon, but you knew that you wanted it.

It was supposed to be a magical day. The day you got the dress was the day it all became real, the day that solidified the fact that you would be getting married to the woman that you loved. You were heart broken. The familiar sound of the elevator stopping and the doors opening barely snapped you out of your well deserved pity party.

You only took one look at the new arrival, and that was when it was decided that the universe, was indeed, very unkind.

Abigail stood there like a deer in head lights, swallowing and looking with wide eyes, certainly unsure about whether or not she should just leave or apologize and hop in and pretend like she didn’t know what was going on. She looked like she expected confrontation.

Your wobbly smile shocked her. “You don’t have to be scared. Come in.” Your voice was just as shaky as the smile you offered, stepping to the side a bit and giving the other woman enough room.

You felt bad. Abigail was young, even younger than you. There was no way that she knew. No one really resisted the charms of Natasha Romanoff, anyway, and you knew it. Especially not a wide eyed newbie who was desperate to please on her first mission with the big guys, some of the original Avengers. There was no doubt that she felt terrible based on the way that she didn’t look you in the eye, and how she avoided everyone. There was only one person in the wrong, and it wasn’t this poor girl.

The doors dinged as they reached the bottom, and right before they opened, you smiled at her. “It’s okay,” your voice was a strong whisper. “It’s not your fault.” You gave her one look as you wheeled your suitcase out of the elevator, taking long strides to reach the huge front door of the tower, praying for no more interruptions.

“Y/N!”

You didn’t want to stop at all. You knew who’s commanding voice it was, and stopping to talk didn’t seem like an option. You preferred not to talk to anyone on the team, especially not one of the people who went on the mission. You wiped your cheeks and turned around anyway. “Yes?”

Steve stood before you, a sincere expression on his face as he looked you up and down, your obvious and inevitable departure making him wince. “I’m sorry.”

There was nothing that you could really say to him. He wasn’t the point of your anger and he was a friend, even if he had kept something from you. “You’re not the one who did it.”

“I could have told you.”

“No, she should have, a long time before someone else did. You didn’t do anything wrong.” The story of infidelity that happened was Natasha’s story to tell. While you still felt a little more than bitter about being an idiot in the dark about the whole thing, you would have preferred to hear it from her, one hundred percent. “I’m just pissed I found out after buying the perfect dress and veil and all of it. I was so ready.” You felt like a fool.

“I don’t know why she-”

“I don’t know why, either.” You admitted, shaking your head slowly. “But one day, maybe I’ll figure it out.”

“You’re leaving.” Steve saw it as a closed chapter now that you were storming out. Anyone would, but you knew better. You knew how Natasha worked, you knew how you worked, but most importantly, you knew how you two worked together. “You and Natasha- you and Nat are special. I’ve never seen anything like what you two have in my life, no one has. That’s why we’re all so mad. She ruined the one relationship that everyone obviously knows is true love, for no reason.”

“I know.”

He looked guilty for even saying the words. “You’re not going to try and work it out?”

“Don’t you think that I know what we have is special?” You asked him, new tears welling up in your eyes as you spoke. “I’m leaving this to her because I trust her with it. I don’t forgive her, and maybe I never will, but this is for her to decide.”

“What makes you think that she’ll decide right? Or what she’ll even decide at all?”

“She’ll come back.” You stated with certainty, and these were the first words that hadn’t had a crack or wobble in them since you started talking to the red head. “She’ll miss me and she’ll be over the thrill of whatever happened on the mission, and she’ll find me, wherever I decide to go. She’ll come back to me, just like I would come back to her. It could take weeks or years, but she will. That’s how we work.”

Steve was momentarily stunned, but after a few short moments, you knew that you had convinced him. “And you’re willing to wait for her? However long it takes?”

You lifted your lips at him, even more tears building up in your eyes as your answer flew up to your lips without even thinking. “She’ll come and find out.”

You walked away with heavy steps, already feeling her lingering on your skin, and the haunting memories of the two of you as happy as could be swirling around in your head.

You were well aware that removing Natasha from your life would hurt. But you never could have anticipated how much it would hurt.

Natasha was the safety net you never knew you needed. She was the one person on earth who made you feel truly wanted, needed even. She knew everything that you required to feel loved and you knew her just the same, and you both did those things. And that’s what made you two different.

You had been cheated on before. That was how Natasha had met you, actually. Your last boyfriend had cheated on you like the dirty dog he was with nearly every woman he was cute enough to be with for a night, and Natasha met you while you were getting hammered at a bar because you found out. Natasha met you at your lowest point and raised you up with all her might, and still had energy to love you. You felt useless and discarded, thrown under the bed and tossed to the side of the road, but she found you and made you something new. She made you her favorite.

Natasha was everywhere.

She was in the way that you made your coffee, because you hated it before you met her, and she introduced you to a kind that you liked. You got as addicted to it as you were to her.

She was in the way that you walked around the park at night instead of in the morning like you did before you met her, because she liked looking at the stars together.

She was in the way that you searched for her next to you in your sleep and when you first woke up. She was in the ring you still had. She was in the way you wrote your letter ‘n’ now, because you wrote her notes for years and always made the ‘n’ fancy just for her. It stuck. She was somehow related to every show and every movie and every brand of ice cream, and from the second week of suffering without her, you knew that she would linger on you like a faded tattoo.

During the third week, you swore that you could smell her perfume, though it made no sense. You had done laundry many times, and all of a sudden the smell popped up, like she was dropping in to spray the perfume and then leaving as soon as she came. The rich smell was something that you would never forget, and it hung around like thick smoke in your mind. You wanted it to leave.

You cursed her name all throughout the fourth week of being alone in your small apartment in Brooklyn. Everything was her fault. The washer broke, Natasha somehow did it. If you woke up with makeup still on your face from the past night, Natasha was at fault.

You went shopping during the sixth week, and you swore you saw flashes of her red hair in the grocery line, pitifully walking faster with your cart to both flee and go towards it. A part of you knew that she would never shop this far out, but you couldn’t help it. You missed her. You missed her a lot.

But that didn’t change that it stung so, so badly.

It was disgustingly close to what the wedding date would have been when you were lying in bed with a stray cat that you had managed to nurse back to health and call your own about two weeks prior. In a way, it was freeing. Natasha hated animals. They were a responsibility in her mind, nothing more. You loved the cat quickly, and named him Henry.

There were three sharp knocks on the door that you would have taken for strokes of thunder if they weren’t so close. You frowned and stood up, walking to the window to peak outside and see that there was a thunderstorm rolling through, the wind higher than usual and the rain coming down sideways.

You walked to the door with the small cat trailing behind you like a loyal companion. You cracked a smile when he meowed, and you looked through the peep hole, the bright porch light shocking your eye for a second, and then you saw.

Natasha Romanoff was standing there, soaking wet with her arms hanging at her sides, trembling from the cold.

You took two steps back that startled Henry, causing him to meow louder this time. You breathed in, trying to be quiet, but you knew that she knew you were there. She was so trained that you knew she heard you approaching, and when you took your steps away from the door. You both knew each other were there.

You had indirectly told her to seek you out when she was ready, and here she was.

Were you ready?

Like you were a child trying to eavesdrop, you held your breath as you leaned into the door, putting your ear on it as you struggled to hear something, anything, from her. She wasn’t talking. You looked up into the peephole again, and she was looking at her feet, waiting for something to happen. She knew that you were deciding.

You had spent time looking for her in places you knew she would never be, running to and from things that looked like or reminded you of her, and now the real thing stood in your porch light in the rain. She came back to you.

She came back, but that didn’t erase everything that happened. Not at all. Her two months of fun and new experiences acted as the eraser, painting over everything that they had ever done in black paint. The joy of dancing with her under street lights and kissing in Tony’s limos and her hand under your sweatshirt didn’t amount to the pain it felt when she ripped herself from you.

But why did it hurt so much if they weren’t the same amount of emotion, if not more? If you looked at it with a rational mind, was the joy not worth more than the pain?

The pain weighed like bricks. There was one big brick that weighed half a ton on one scale, nearly tipping the other side.

But the joy? It weighed like clouds, because that’s what joy was. It was the feeling of being above the clouds. And you found that every moment of joy that you had Natasha, even though it was the weight of clouds, still outweighed the fat brick.

But were all of the cloud moments enough to possibly take another brick?

Your hand moved before you knew it, and you were undoing the chain and unlocking the door, yanking it open roughly and staring her down.

She was shocked. Her eyes were wide as she stared at you without any barriers, automatic tears welling up. Had she come all that way to not even know whether or not you would answer? Hell, you had done all of that while in limbo with yourself.

But now, without even knowing how Natasha truly felt, without even hearing one word from her mouth, you knew something changed.

“I knew you’d come back.”

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel fanfiction #fem reader #lgbtq #natasha x reader #natasha x you #marvel imagines #my fics

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maki-s-wife · 4 years ago

Text

Our favorite senior

Pairing: students of Jujustu high x gender neutral!reader

Warnings: none

Y/n is finally graduating from Jujustu high and the rest of the students worry that they’ll never see them again when they are busy with work.

ALSO the word “soulmates” is used in this but it’s platonic tho-

“Y/n~” Nobara sang. You looked up from from your book to see the rest of the students crowding around you. “What are all you doing here?” You ask. They seemed to be serious which could mean one of two things. One the situation is serious or two they did something serious and need you to fix it again. Usually it was always the ladder. “Do you wanna come hang out with us?” itadori asked. You squinted, you’ve known everyone long enough to always question their motives. “Where?” “Just the shopping district” Maki answered. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with the shopping district and plus you had been wanting to buy some new clothes. “Alright that doesn’t seem bad, just let me get ready”.

The rest of the students let out a huge sigh of relief as you walked to your dorm. “I told you she’d agree” panda said whipping the obvious sweat from his face. He wasn’t the only one worried. All of them had been worried that as soon as you left you would forget about them. It was a sad thought that hovered over their heads as your time at Jujustu high was coming to an end. Nobara and yuuji were more jealous that they only knew you for the time of the school year. The second years knew you for almost two and Megumi had probably known you the longest. Gojo had introduced you to him and a bond was instantly formed. Though they all had in common that when you met them you immediately took them under your wing. You were like Jujustu high’s older sibling, always being there for your underclassmen no matter what.

“Do you guys really think they’ll forget us?” Yuuji pouted, you were like family to him now and the thought of you really leaving forever haunted him. Nobara hit his head and spoke “jeez your getting to emotional over this”. Everyone looked over to Nobara who’s eyes were so watery the sun glinted in them 10x more. “SPEAK FOR YOURSELF” yuuji choked out. Toge just sulked. He would miss how you’d tolerate his playful antics. Maki was also just pouting at the ground. You and her had that bond that no other could replace. Almost like you two were soulmates. Panda had looked up to you greatly, probably training with you the most was feeling emotional over the thought of you really forgetting him and the others. Megumi wouldn’t let it show but he was pretty glum at the moment. Knowing you for the longest and probably knew you the best out of the group even worried about him fading from your mind.

You walked outside to see everyone silently standing in a circle. They were all hunched over even Megumi who never slacks when it comes to posture. Slowly creeping up behind the group you hear small sniffles. Pushing your head in between Nobara and yuuji’s you asked “are you guys ok?”. Everyone jumped at the same time. When they came back down they all looked normal. “Of course were fine why would we be sad” maki spoke. “Tuna tuna” Toge agreed. Shrugging off the odd encounter you all went to the shopping area for the remainder of the day until it got dark.

You all laughed and played around on your way home. All of you held large bags of clothes, accessories and sweets to bring back for Gojo as Nobara walked freely with a small bag with a pair of earrings and other pieces of jewelry that probably drained gojo’s credit card.

You wiped away the tear from laughing. “This has got to be the best day ever” you said pulling everyone close to you. They all smiled, it truly was a great day but the thought of this being one of the last few times you’d say that to them. Soon you would be making new memories replacing the ones they had with you with others. Others that matched your skill and would always be working with you.

They hadn’t noticed it but you had been staring at them as their smiles faltered and the glint in their eyes left. Had they not had a great time? No. They were probably just tired. You all spent the day walking they probably just want to rest.

After arriving back to the school everyone said their goodnights and left to their rooms. You walked back and threw yourself on your bed. Going on your phone you looked through the pictures of today and old ones from the past months. Your adored those memories with your whole heart. You found a couple with yuuta in them. you missed Yuuta, though you didn't know him in person that long you both surprisingly stayed in contact while he was out and about in other countries. you placed your phone down. There was a mission you had to go on tomorrow and you didn’t want to be tired when it was time to wake up.

The next morning everyone woke up and went to the kitchen and saw many large stacks of pancakes with a note.

Good morning everyone, I have a mission to go on and I probably won’t be back until tomorrow. I hope you enjoy breakfast and don’t die while I’m gone :)

Their eyes started to water as they ate the pancakes. Itadori going on how deli it was while maki told him he’d choke if he kept talking. You were always the best at making them food. When you learned one or more of them hadn’t ate you always whipped something up quickly. There was never a time where they doubted you were the ultimate older sibling of this school, as you even cared for Gojo sometimes no matter how annoying he was. You’d help ijichi with his errands and hang out with principle yaga’s cursed corpses. Helping shoko with paper work and general healing people.

“Oh I can’t take this anymore” Nobara wailed. Megumi looked down. “I doubt y/n would forget about us”. Everyone looked up at him. “How can you know that” yuuji wined. “Just trust me I’m sure she won’t...”

The answer and the silence they came after it wasn’t very comforting. Toge and Panda didnt want to say anything, they had no clue what to say. No matter how many memories you could make with a person it was always possible to forget them. They all believed that’s what would happen with you.

The rest of the day went by slow. Gojo could sense something seemed wrong and before he could even ask why the group hovered over your bed in silence Nobara yelled at the top of her lungs for him to get out. Gojo simply walked away not wanting to make her more mad.

The slideshow had to be one of the worst they could make but still planned on presenting it to you on your last day.

“When IS y/n’s last day here?” Megumi asked. Maki tapped her cheek thinking. Toge’s eyes went wide and jumped up to the calendar hanging from the wall. He remembered when the last seniors graduated and then pointed to the next day on the calender. He frantically started walking around the room muttering words no one could hear. Everyone started getting teary-eyed, walking back and forth, saying random things. Everything was out of order. They thought they’d have at least another week with you and couldn’t handle the sudden change. They all paused when they heard the door open. Maki and Nobara were about to yell for Gojo to leave the room when they noticed it was YOU.

“How are you back here so early, you were gone for less than 6 hours” panda questioned. You blinked a couple times. “Well...the mission was easier than I thought but why are you all in my room and why are you all crying”. You were confused but concerned most of all.

"Guys-"

"PLEASE DONT FORGET ABOUT US" itadori and Nobara sang in unison. toge and panda repeatedly nodded their heads. the four were on their knees begging while Maki and Megumi stood awkwardly. "your gonna leave and then just forget about us in a couple months that's all" Maki said averting her eyes from your confused figure.

"what do you all mean? how the hell could I forget you guys" you said as you bent down and bought the four students up. "I love you guys and I couldn't forget my time with you all even if I wanted to which I never would!" you said pulling everyone into a close hug again. "But-" "There's no buts itadori and besides I'm not exactly leaving". Everyone looked at you with confusion. Toge staring at you menacingly trying to sense if you were lying. "DID YOU GET HELD BACK" Nobara gasped. You chuckled "of course not, after a couple of months I'll be coming back as a teacher". Panda picked you in a bone crushing hug and everyone followed.

"your our favorite senior" Itadori exclaimed.

you wheezed for a laugh as you were in a very tight hug. "I'm your Only senior, but you all are my favorite underclassmen....now I won't live long enough to buy you all treats if I don't get down-"

#jujustu kaisen #yuuji itadori x reader #maki zenin x reader #toge inumaki x reader #inumaki x reader #panda x reader #nobara kugisaki x reader #saturo gojo #ijichi kiyotaka #shoko leiri #megumi x reader

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earnestly-endlessly · 3 years ago

Note

Hi, how are you? Your blog is amazing and your recommendations have already allowed me to read wonderful stories, so thank you so much! I wonder if you could suggest me any cherik fics of them as detectives? I remember reading one a long time ago, but unfortunately I don't know the name and even less the synopsis. Thank you in advance for your help.

Thank you so much @remember5novemberv for your kind words. I'm so sorry this took me so long but I hope you enjoy this list. There are some excellent detective AUs in this fandom so you're in for a treat.

Cherik Detective AUs

Their Mouths Always Lie – keire_ke

Summary: Charles adheres to most police protocols like they are a personal code of conduct. Erik gets things done and over with, for better or worse. Raven knows what she's doing, most of the time. The serial killer kills, regardless. Police AU.

Guilty by Association – Reagan

Summary: While investigating the homicide of a John Doe who he suspects might've been murdered while working the streets as a prostitute, Detective Erik Lehnsherr finds an unexpected ally in a hooker named Charles who seems as determined as he to solve the case. As they become more deeply involved both with the case and each other, there's just one thing that Charles neglects to mention -- that he's really an investigative journalist, one quickly convinced that what they're dealing with is more than simple murder. cop!Erik, fake-hooker-slash-reporter!Charles, Modern AU.

Incy Wincy Spider – Tawabids

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a renowned homicide detective, with his husband Charles at home and his partner on the job, Moira MacTaggert. When a twisted serial killer starts targeting mutants, Erik and Moira are the perfect team for the job, especially since Erik himself is the mutant poster-boy of an NYPD trying to improve their image.

But what they don't yet know is that the serial killer is an old soul out of Erik's past, and his next move is to pull Charles into his web.

The Theory of Partnership Dynamics – Pangea

Summary: “Detective Lehnsherr, how wonderful to see you out on the job!” The fed in the front greets him as they draw nearer. He’s shorter than the other two by a full head, and he’s beaming at Lehnsherr as if completely undeterred by Lehnsherr’s paint-peeling scowl.

“What do the feds want?” Lehnsherr asks bluntly.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” the fed answers cheerfully. Then his gaze lands on Alex, and, impossibly, his grin gets even brighter. “Did you get a new partner?"

“No,” Lehnsherr says through his teeth while at the same time Alex says, “Yes.”

Charles’ Killer – luchia

Summary: When detective Charles Xavier finds himself hunting down a vendetta-driven serial killer, it doesn't take long for him to realize he's in over his head. It only takes a little longer for him to realize his killer is, too.

Demoted – JayPendragon

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a detective-specialist with the NYPD Mutant Tactical Unit, ready to help out where his skills are needed. Or he would be, if he and his partner hadn’t been demoted. For the next four months, he is patrolling the Lenox Hill precinct with Azazel – if he doesn’t die of boredom first.

One night they are called in to investigate a potential case of domestic violence, yet the tenant assures them he is both alone and unharmed. However, there is something about this Charles Xavier that compels Erik to follow up.

Watching the Detectives – Clocks

Summary: Detectives Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are good friends and colleagues. However, when they go undercover at a Christmas party to nab a prime suspect, Erik keeps reminding himself to stay professional and ignore feelings of unexpected jealousy.

Oh, Sinnerman (Where you gonna run to?) – TintagelCastle (orphan–account)

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is one of the best homicide detectives in New York. From small time stabbings to high end mob hits, Erik (and his equally scary partner Logan) makes sure all the bad guys get caught, searching for the final clue to nail his mother's killer. As a string of murders draws the net ever tighter on Erik's life's work, he needs to catch the nightmare of his past whilst continuing to be the darling of the Force...

And so what if he's completely in love with the British guy on Forensics? Who's he ever going to tell?

Wrap up my bones – waifornight

Summary: Damaged detective Erik Lehnsherr is grimly searching for a serial killer whose victims all have extraordinary gifts. But without any clues or leads he and his partner Logan are in the dark. Until Charles Xavier, abducted by the killer, escapes. Together Erik and Charles must confront something far darker than either of them had ever imagined.

Alternate Universe loosely based off the crime movie Kiss the Girls.

I’ll see your heart (and I’ll race you mine) – sirona

Summary: For Kriminalhauptkommissar Erik Lehnsherr, this case will change everything.

Paralyzer – Yahtzee

Summary: In 1965, Erik Lehnsherr has infiltrated the NYPD for his own purposes -- but his powers make him a brilliant detective. Yet that's not why FBI agent Charles Xavier has sought him out. It's because the mysterious killer they're both trying to find is murdering people like them: other mutants.

Their search for a madman binds them together. Their inner demons may tear them apart. But the greatest danger comes when the killer they're looking for looks back.

Wrap up my bones – waifornight

Alternate Universe loosely based off the crime movie Kiss the Girls.

The Long Bright Dark – lachatblanche

Summary: Ten years ago Detectives Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr closed the case on a grotesque series of murders that continue to haunt them even in the present day. When they are pulled in for questioning a decade later, they finally have confirmation of something that they have both suspected for a very long time - that there is unfinished business for them to take care of and that the case they thought they had closed so very long ago is in reality still all too open.

A True Detective AU.

Finding North – ClarkeStetler, Goosenik

Summary: Charles and Erik are (loosely) friends with benefits. They don't share personal details, last names, or anything concrete about their lives. This is ruined rather spectacularly when Charles gets recruited by the Mutant Apprehension Division of the FBI. Surprised is a bit of an understatement for their reaction to finding themselves partnered up and sent out on cases with the team.

Closer (to God) – dsrobertson

Summary: Se7en/The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo AU-ish.

Political journalist and editor, Erik Lehnsherr, has just lost £150,000 in a libel case against businessman, Kurt Marko. Down on his luck and in need of money, Erik is approached by the Metropolitan Police’s Detective Inspector Charles Xavier. Well-known for his investigative journalism, Erik is asked to help in the search for a serial killer in return for £200,000 if the killer is caught.

Wrapped up in murder, religion, and sex, Erik gets more than he bargained for.

Homo Sacer – unveiled

Summary: In a not too distant future, Detective Erik Lehnsherr meets Charles Xavier: street magician, former academician, and telepath.

One Good Day – troll_under_the_bridge

Summary: One case which is going to turn Charles' world upside down, while he struggles to pacify his boss, investigate murders and come to terms with the mess his life has become.

Playing With Fire – professor

Summary: Charles is a detective determined to catch a serial killer.

If the serial killer doesn't catch him first.

Hold on or let go – aesc, pearl_o

Summary: Teenage telepath Charles Xavier takes a job as a consultant, working with prickly police detective Erik Lehnsherr. Charles is used to being on his own and taking care of himself; he has no reason to think that his relationship with this stern, icy man is going to change any of that. (Also known as: Tough Little Baby Telepath.)

MCIS: First Case – Pookaseraph

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr considers himself a great MCIS agent, and he puts up with a lot from his boss - Moira MacTaggart - in the name of solving crimes against mutants, but he's not so sure about this new empath, Charles Xavier. Their first case together will test Erik's patience, but doubtless be the beginning of a brilliant friendship.

MCIS: Fathers, Sons, and Brothers – Pookaseraph

Summary: Alex Summers has a single case that he has obsessed about ever since coming to MCIS two years ago: Su-M-94-0708-0034, the murder of Christopher and Katherine Summers, and the presumed kidnapping and possible murder of Scott Summers. Very little evidence was found at the time, but hopefully a new team - and new leads - can shed light on the case that left Alex an orphan.

When the Crazies come to town – Chinchillaatthedisc0

Summary: Erik is a surly detective with zero people skills who has just been assigned the murder case of Kurt Marko. Prime suspect? Charles xavier. Who's no where to be found.

My old man is a bad man – faerie_ground

Summary: Sebastian Shaw dies at two am in the morning with a dagger embedded in his forehead. Detective Erik Lehnsherr is on the case, and the number one suspect is the recently widowed Dr Charles Xavier, Sebastian Shaw's husband.

Deep Cover – Subtilior

Summary: Omegas in heat? The perfect whores. Sebastian Shaw? The bastard who kidnaps them for his Hellfire Club. Erik Lehnsherr? A hard-boiled detective who's been on the Hellfire case for months. The catastrophe that unfolds when he goes in on retrieval and finds Charles Xavier still writhing in a Hellfire bed? .... Deep Cover.

A Murder of Ravens – AbandonedWorld

Summary:Charles Xavier is wrongfully accused. Erik Lehnsherr is a top-notch homicide Lieutenant who stumbles upon the case of a lifetime: a serial killer targeting mutants–and only mutants. Charles bides his incarceration waiting on a miracle, reciting Poe's timeless gem in effort to retain his sanity...

Note: Unfinished

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #detective au #asks #earnestly answers #long post

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joaquinwhorres · 4 years ago

Text

Stitches & Blankets (Joaquin Torres x Reader)

SUMMARY ››››› You find Joaquin Torres after he tries to stop the bank robbery.

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,000-ish

WARNINGS ››››› language

A/N ››››› OK, why are there not more Torres fics? I'm legitimately confused about that. Also, I realized after writing half of this down, that a bank was robbed, so there were probably still police on the scene and the reader'd probably be speaking Swiss-German but uh...fan fiction.

There was a body in the street, which was not what you expected to see coming out to your car.

You'd heard the wailing sirens and shouting and the thunderous footsteps--they're what kept you pressed against the side of the building for the past ten minutes, avoiding the chaos as much as possible. It wasn't fear that kept you there though, it was experience. You'd become used to the quick riots and little skirmishes for resources over the past few months. You knew it was better to stay out of the way, wait out the storm, and then go about your life. They became nothing more than minor nuisances. Bits of unrest that were there and then gone in the next instance. They weren't supposed to leave a body behind.

"Meine Fresse," you murmured, racing forward to the person lying supine on the stones, arms out to their sides, the white of their sneakers reflecting the street lights. As you drew closer, you saw it was a man--about your age with blood around his eye and nose and lip. For a brief second, you wondered if he'd been trampled, but he definitely would have looked worse for wear based on how many people you'd heard.

"Bist du okay?" Your voice was loud as you checked over the rest of his body. He didn't seem to have any other injury, and there wasn't any blood under his head, so you decided it was safe enough to gently shake him.

He didn't rouse.

So, instead you knelt your ear down to his lips, laying your hand flat on his chest. You felt your hand rise before you heard the slow intake of breath, and you rocked back onto your knees. He was breathing. He was alive.

Still, something gnawed at the back of your mind, urging your fingers up under his jaw, gently pressing into his neck. It was only then that you felt a surge of relief. His pulse was there, and it was strong. He was really alive.

And then you remembered that you should probably call 112.

All things considered, it was a quick phone call--the operator seemed to know your exact location and vaguely what had happened as you explained where you were and how you found him. Instead, most of the conversation was spent listening to their instructions to roll him into a recovery position and check for any signs of life-threatening injuries. When they told you that you could hang up because they were close, you did so and found the man blinking at you.

"Hoi," you greeted soothingly. "Wie heisst du?"

He groaned, attempting to roll onto his back once more. You reached out a hand stopping him, and he looked up at you confused.

"Comment t'appelles tu?" You attempted, hoping he wasn't an Italian or Romansch speaker. You hardly knew enough of either language to tell him you couldn't speak it.

He winced and lifted his hand to his face. "Shit."

English. Good.

"What's your name?" you asked, and his eyes seemed to focus on you once more, this time a spark of recognition or maybe just awareness lighting up behind them.

"Joaquin," he informed, and you released an arm, allowing him to finally roll onto his back like he wanted. He had a strong American accent, even through the gravelly voice of barely regained consciousness. "Did they get away?"

"Ähm," you looked around at the empty street. "Yes?" you guessed.

He let out a heavy sigh. "I'm gonna have to call some people."

"I think you should wait for the ambulance."

"Yeah," he agreed, the word breathy and pained. "That's probably a good idea."

"What happened?" you asked, and he raised his eyebrows, looking back at you.

"Flag Smashers."

"I didn't think the Flag Smashers hurt people."

"I'm just lucky, I guess," he answered, and you smiled, letting out a small laugh. He offered a small smile as well.

You could hear the siren now, the faint sound winding its way through the curving streets of Zürich and towards the two of you. Your head turned towards the sound, as if you could trace it back to the ambulance, and gauging the distance. "They should be close," you said, returning your attention to Joaquin.

"What's your name?" he asked, and the question surprised you. Then again, if the two of you were stuck waiting for an ambulance at nine o'clock on a Sunday night, maybe a bit of small talk shouldn't have been so surprising.

"Y/N," you answered, and he repeated it.

"You're very pretty, Y/N."

The laugh escaped you on instinct, although to call it a laugh might not be the best descriptor. It was more of a surprised noise, partially exhale and a tinge of amusement added through the slight smile at the corner of your mouth.

"Thank you," you said. "You are very pretty too."

And he was, underneath the dark red and rapidly purpling injuries. He had a strong jaw and kind eyes, and even the hint of a smile he'd given earlier had made something in your chest constrict.

"I don't feel so pretty," he responded, and this time your laugh was more of a laugh, and he reached up to feel at his face. You took hold of his hand, bringing it back down and trapping it in yours.

"Pretty enough for me to hold your hand," you joked, hoping to distract him from continuing to poke and prod and break all of the rules and instructions the EMTs had given over the phone.

"Well, I got that goin' for me, I guess," he said, letting his hand relax into yours.

Headlights bathed you in a warm yellow light as flashing blue lights bounced off the surrounding buildings, illuminating the rest of the street.

There were some shouts as the doors of the ambulance opened and people poured out, running towards you and Torres. The paramedic crowded around quickly, a blonde bearded man asking quick questions in German.

"Er spricht Englisch," you explained, and he nodded, switching languages.

It became apparent as police officers pulled up and flooded out of their cars that you were no longer needed. You stood up, backing away and letting Joaquin's hand slip through yours.

"You're not going to stay and hold my hand?" Joaquin called out to you, and you let a smile curl across your lips. Around you, people were starting to come out onto the street, lured by the sounds of the sirens and lack of shouting and general ruckus. Your eyes fell back on Joaquin who was still looking up at you, even as a paramedic flashed a light into his face.

"Maybe he can hold your hand," you said, gesturing to a paramedic who had slid into your place. Joaquin gave half a smile as you turned and left him in the hands of the professionals.

As you rounded the corner, arms full of blankets, the last person you expected to almost run into was Joaquin.

Part of the surprise was the kind that generally accompanied running into someone outside of the context you know them in. A larger part of the surprise was the fact that he was not in the hospital.

Instead, he stood before you, face swollen, bloodied and bruised, with the small white bandages of butterfly stitches above his right eye. He blinked at you, as if he was caught in the headlights.

"Pretty Joaquin," you said, surprise ringing through every part of your voice.

"Y/N."

At least his memory wasn't affected by whatever the Flag Smashers had done to him. His response time was also quicker than it had been two and a half hours ago, and he seemed all in all more present and less hazy. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here." Your own surprise and mild confusion had not quite worn off. "What are you doing here?"

For a variety of reasons, he was not the typical person who stumbled into the Zürich GRC Refugee Camp. He was both too young and too old and far more put together than a normal incomer. He didn't have that haunted look behind his eyes that made your heart wrench. He looked battered and bruised but ok.

"I need a place to stay."

Your eyes ran over his form, from his fluffy dark hair and banged up face to his bright white trainers. You lifted an eyebrow. "The hospital wouldn't take you?"

He shook his head with a sheepish grin. "It's just a broken orbital. Not much else they can do for it." Your eyebrows didn't lower and he gave half a laugh. "Trust me I'm as shocked as you are."

"I'll need you to fill out some paperwork."

He winced. "Any way that could wait until tomorrow? My head is killing me."

You stared intently at his face. Over the past four months of working at the GRC camp, you'd gotten good at reading people. You had an eye for knowing who was going to be trouble down the line and who would need some extra comfort and care. You knew who to push about their stories, and who to wait for--to be there as they slowly unraveled their tale.

So while there was a lot about pretty boy Joaquin that just didn't add up, you could see in his eyes that he could be trusted to stay the night. Just not here.

"You can't stay here without going through intake," you shook your head. "But if you really need a place to sleep, you can come with me."

"Really?" Joaquin asked, turning to follow you as you set back off towards your car, and you nodded.

"It's nothing special--just my couch. But I've been told it's very comfy."

Joaquin faltered a step, slowing down. "You're sure you want me coming and bloody-ing up your couch? I could just stay here and leave before--"

"I'll put down some papers," you said jokingly in an attempt to cut off the subject of him staying at the camp.

"Ok," he said, his voice distracted before there was a quick shuffle of footsteps and he caught back up with you. "Ok, thanks."

The two of you arrived at your car shortly thereafter, Joaquin moving to sit in the passenger seat as you dumped the blankets in the car. You came around to slip into the driver's seat, quickly backing out of the spot and setting off back home.

"So what's with all the blankets?" he asked, pulling his attention from the streets and buildings and back to you.

"We got a late donation tonight," you answered, flicking on your turn signal. "They needed someone here to help organize the drop off and then our washing machine broke, so I have to take work home with me." You smiled at the joke, but he just nodded, leaving you to wonder if maybe your English was off. The next few moments passed in quiet before you checked over at a traffic light to see if he was still awake. He was, but he looked dazed. Maybe he had been telling the truth about his head. You eyed his injuries which looked even worse in the red light. Like his entire right side of his face had been smashed.

"So what brought you to Switzerland?"

It wasn't the question you wanted to ask. You wanted to ask him what had happened with the Flag Smashers--why had they beaten him up so badly. But you weren't sure you were ready for that answer or if he'd even give it. So you asked a question you didn't care if he lied to you about.

"I was looking for someone," he said, and the light turned green, causing you to turn away and focus on your driving rather than him. Still the sentence seemed to end earlier than his thought as you could feel the weight of more words hovering between you. It was a familiar pressure in your ears and your chest, and you'd long grown accustomed to the discomfort.

Like many, Joaquin didn't give the thought words to escape on.

"A refugee?" you asked, and he wobbled his head.

"Yes and no. She survived the Snap."

"She?" A small feeling like a tight wire cord wound its way around your chest and a warmth of embarrassment flooded the back of your neck. "Your sister? Your wife?"

"No," he shook his head. "My grandmother."

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him look at you for the first time.

"What's her name? If she came to the camp I should know her."

"Mariana Torres," he answered, and you ran through the array of faces you'd met. There was a Mariana Böschl , but she was old enough to be his mother, not his grandmother.

You shook your head slowly. "I can check the registry tomorrow, but I don't think she's with us."

"Thanks," Joaquin said, looking back out the window at the passing city. "Were you Blipped?"

"No," you shook your head, pulling into your designated parking spot by your apartment. "I was lucky." The two of you climbed out of the car, and he met you by the trunk, pulling the blankets out before you could reach for them.

"Thank you," you said. And he gave a small grin.

"Thanks for letting me stay with you."

You gestured with your head up the stairs, heading to your third floor apartment.

Joaquin trailed behind you, arms laden with the blankets, waiting patiently as you stopped and opened the door. "Welcome to my home," you greeted, allowing him to enter before you. Your small apartment was dark, and you flicked on the light so that Joaquin could walk further inside without running into a wall or your table. "You can put the blankets by the couch, I'll wash them tomorrow," you instructed, and he did as you suggested before wandering over to the couch.

"I think I have an extra pillow in the closet," you said.

"Great," he thanked, dropping down onto the couch.

It took a few minutes to find the pillow and put a pillowcase on top of it. By the time you walked back out to the living room, the light was still on, and so were his shoes, but he was passed out. You walked over to the sleeping boy, placing the pillow down next to the couch in case he woke up and pulling the blanket over his body, your eyes once more tracing over his injuries.

You would have to speak to Karli about the violence.

#joaquin torres x reader #torres x reader #joaquín torres x reader #joaquin torres #joaquín torres #lieutenant torres #lieutenant torres x reader #fatws #tfatws

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qslovebot · 4 years ago

Text

Nobody: Spencer Reid

Summary: After an accident on a case, the reader is left with trauma and anxiety. A miscommunication between her and the person she needs most (Spencer Reid) begins to eat her alive and he just so happens to be the only one there when she breaks again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Includes: mentions of kissing, mentions of traumatizing events (not specified), depictions of anxiety, fluff, miscommunication, angst to fluff

A/N: The song is Nobody by Mitski. Read with this for the ultimate experience.

Sometimes things felt too literal. Words start to sound weird and feel weird when you say them, clothes feel too much like clothes against your skin, the texture of any food in your mouth becomes too prevalent while eating.

These things started happening after you witnessed and endured something awful on a case. You wouldn't dare bring up the full memory in case it took over and killed you all over again. It wasn't PTSD, but it was the cause of your anxiety attacks most of the time when they occurred.

After that case, you spent a week in the hospital where they happened nearly every day and the doctors weren't much help, to be frank. The only people who really ever helped were your friends and the person you were so close to dating, Spencer Reid.

It was a long story. To dumb it down, the case event happened and you and Spencer thought you were about to die so he confessed his feelings for you and of course they were reciprocated. He asked, then and there through stuttering words, 'If we make it out of here please go out with me?" As his last bit of hope, and he kissed you before you were taken away by the unsub. He didn't endure nearly as much as you did which was why he wasn't as affected. But you had said 'yes' to that question and three weeks later, you still hadn't talked about it.

When the anxiety attacks happened, you often felt like you couldn't breathe, like the walls were pressing in on you. Sometimes you'd be with JJ when it happened. She would immediately ask you what you needed and often that would just be a hug.

Emily witnessed one at your house when she came over to check on you. She rushed over, caring voice and soft hands and told you to put your head between your knees, stroking your hair until you felt better.

Penelope made the 30-minute drive from her house every Friday night she wasn't working on a case to bring you dinner she had made and chat with you about anything you wanted.

Your friends cared for you, it was so prevalent. It was almost always that fact that was getting you through this as you continued to get better. You would return to work in two weeks because now the anxiety attacks were only once in a while and better controlled by you and Spencer still hadn't spoken to you since.

It was now nearly two weeks later. You would go back to work on Monday.

"He did come to visit you in the hospital before you woke up," Penelope said, stirring her cup of ramen. It was just another Friday and she sat across from you in your chair, cross-legged. "I don't know what's up with him if he isn't speaking to you, he seems fine at work."

You sighed, swallowing your bite. "I'm just scared that he regrets what he said and did before I was dragged away. It was those words and that kiss that got me through what the unsub did and I keep thinking about it and him..."

"It was romantic," she noted, waving her chopstick in the air. "I think you should call him, rather than just text him. It'll catch him off-guard and in-the-moment."

"Now?"

"Yes, so I can listen!"

You smiled a little, pulling out your phone as your heart began to race. What if he did pick up? What if it was awkward? What if he somehow didn't remember?

You pressed on his name, then pressed call. It began to hum quietly with pending rings. One ring, two, then five, then seven, then there was a small beep.

'You've reached Dr. Spencer Reid, uh, leave a message,' his voice said through the machine, still as sweet and youthfully scratchy. You bit your lip and nodded.

"I should have known that he didn't want to talk. Penelope, I can't stop thinking about him and he keeps ignoring my calls and I'm... frankly I'm afraid that nothing will ever happen and he'll ignore me forever."

Penelope cringed, "(Y/N), uh... there's... it's gone to voicemail and you're recording."

"Shit!" You panicked, looking at your phone. "How do I stop it?!"

"The red button!"

"That's the end call button I-" you pressed it by accident. Oh my god, the message went through. You just sat there with Penelope, both of you frozen in shock. That did not just happen... did it really just happen? Your one moment of self-pity and worry was one moment that Spencer would hear if he touched his phone on a Friday night.

The rest of the night was spent with you fighting off panic, pacing your room. Penelope agreed to stay overnight, but you could not handle the fact Spencer would hear what you said. It was humiliating to think about him hearing you stress over something like that.

This is what nagged at you all weekend, threatening the impending anxiety that was building up. Every second was agony, spent pacing and overthinking. Sleep was hard to get, so you took melatonin and your dreams taunted you with it all over again.

Monday morning you rushed to get dressed. You needed to see Spencer, no matter how hard it was to face him. You pulled on dress pants and a navy blue cotton v-neck shirt with bell sleeves. Laundry was forgotten through two days of panic, so this was pretty much the only shirt you had.

You brushed through your hair and applied your regular makeup and there, you were presentable and didn't look like you'd lost your mind over the weekend. You were going back, finally. It was somewhat refreshing if you dismissed the Spencer ordeal.

The drive there was fine. Music helped to calm you down and you listened as long as you could. Stepping into the BAU was different, it felt like you were being crushed the moment you stepped in.

"There's my girl!" Derek Morgan was the first to notice you walk in and he greeted you with open arms and a crushing hug. You smiled, letting him. It had been a while since you last saw him. He let you go after a few seconds, but his hands stayed on your shoulders. "We missed you here, things weren't as fun without you."

"I bet," you grinned, heading to your desk. You could hide your freakout well. "I missed the smell of coffee and paper in the morning."

"(Y/N), glad to have you back," Hotch said, walking down the steps. He did seem honestly glad to see you as there was a small twitch of his mouth when he approached you and Derek. "You're sure you're alright to work again? I assume today is a file day, but we'll be back out there soon."

You nodded, smiling back. "Getting there, but it's controllable now," He narrowed his eyebrows. "I'll be fine for the field and if I'm not, I can always stay at the precinct to work things out there."

Hotch looked to Derek, then back at you. "Sounds good. Again, glad to have you back, agent." Hotch shook your hand and passed you, heading into JJ's office.

"Morgan..." You started, fiddling with your fingers. "Have you seen Spencer?"

"Yeah, he just went to the washroom, why?"

"I need to talk to him..."

The day went on and of course, you saw Spencer, but he paid you no mind. Not even a 'welcome back' or anything. You were just there and it was like you never left, except Spencer didn't even look at you. He was busy with his work and you constantly found yourself watching him. Maybe he'd heard your voice mail, maybe not, but either way, he didn't seem to care anymore.

That month and a half you spent recovering- was it possible that he used that time away from you to get over you? The idea was haunting and tugged at your heart. To be the only one all-in was such an incredibly painful idea. What he said before you were dragged away into the depths of hell meant something to you and it kept you alive... and to think he probably didn't mean it...

You needed to stop thinking about it before it made you burst into a million pieces. To be surrounded by everyone who you loved and loved you back wasn't enough if you couldn't have Spencer, too. Selfish, it sounded so selfish, but it shook you to the core that he wasn't amongst them.

The day continued and more pain was endured. More overthinking, more fear, more insecurity. The day was nearing its end.

Everybody seemed like nobody when Spencer was out of the picture. You had spent so much time thinking about him in the hospital and at home in recovery, who were you without wondering you could make it work? Nobody. Without the fantasy you could be his, you stranded on some sort of island. You were nobody if not Spencer's.

So you were nobody.

It was that thought that keeled you over the edge in the parking lot of the BAU. So much fear, so much pent-up emotion, it was too much to contain and just... spilled over onto everything as your hands began to shake, followed by that godawful feeling in the pit of your stomach. Your knees gave out and you fell conveniently onto the curb next to your car.

There was nobody there, either. You were alone on the concrete curb, face in your shaking hand and the other shaking hand gripping the curb so hard your knuckles turned white. Too much, too little, everything was wrong and you couldn't face Spencer.

You looked up for a brief moment and there was a brief look at someone in a beige cardigan and khaki pants and your heart fell to the pit of your stomach- as if you were humiliated enough. Footsteps, closer.

"A-are you okay?" His voice was a little panicked, definitely not as bad as yours, though. Overall, you were just glad he was within six feet of you.

Of course, you were pretty much unable to reply. Your face stayed in your hands and you felt light fingers on your shoulder, his, and they were somewhat grounding. God, he was here and you couldn't even talk to him, you couldn't even raise your head.

"What do you need, I- what happened?" He cared. But to what extent? His hands felt frantic- they shook a little (again, not nearly as bad as yours) and they moved from your shoulder, to upper arm, to near your neck, to the side of your head. "If this is my fault, I-"

He stopped himself. How could he possibly know that it was the thought of him that sent this into motion? The voicemail didn't entail much other than he was on your mind. You hardly even noticed that you were crying from the anxiety attack until you felt how wet your hands were. Your words kept piling on your tongue and the panic rose again in an entirely new wave.

"Do you- do you need help? I can get Hotch or... Derek, Derek knows, I know, but I don't- I don't think you like me very much and I won't be of help-I-I-I-" His voice continued to ramble and you were flooded with new thoughts. How could he possibly think that you didn't like him? In those moments before you were taken, you had said yes to going out with him if you both made it out. You kissed him back then before the arms grabbed you and dragged you off. Where did the idea of you not liking him come from? It was you who was afraid he didn't like you back.

You wanted to speak, you wanted to say something but you were stuck in your own mind, desperately trying to fight this off, trying hard to calm your breathing. The most you could do was take your hand off of the curb and frantically grab his. You took his hand and you held it tight, trying to slow the sharp intakes of breath. That's when Spencer squeezed your hand and you began to feel better.

And when you did start to feel better and your breathing was still harsh, but better and you could finally move a little more, you did what you had wanted to do every day in the hospital. You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around Spencer, your arms resting around his shoulders. You needed it and apparently so did he, because he squeezed you back the same. Either it was that or he knew pressure helped. All you could do was hope it wasn't the latter.

Spencer of course buried his face in the crook of your neck like he had before and you knew now that this feeling was coming to an end. The tide was washing out and there was calm after the storm. No words, just your breathing becoming more natural and the wind over your ears. This was all that you needed.

He stayed like this with you for a good five more minutes before you could finally release him, pulling apart and your hand coming up to wipe under your eyes. He didn't speak then, either- he just watched, his face furrowed in concern.

So you spoke, "Spencer wh-" your voice cut out from still being in that state of anxiety. You coughed into your arm, tried again. "Why would you think I don't like you?"

"I-I- don't think that's the question, I- are you okay?" His hands went back to your shoulders bracingly.

You smiled a small smile, "I'm better, it's passed, but Spencer...' You slid into a whisper with the crying coming back. Had it really passed?

"Yes?" His reply was wary. As if afraid to break you, he tiptoed.

"Answer me, please."

He bit his lower lip into his mouth, sighing. "I don't know if I should, you're- you're upset."

You looked at him, dead-on, determined. "Please."

"You didn't call. Not once and I-I-I was worried and then I started to think about it and everything t-that happened before you were taken and that you probably only said and did that because you were about to-to-uh, die." He rambled, words spilling out. "So I thought maybe you didn't really like me and-"

"I was waiting for you to call, too," you actually let out a laugh. He smiled in realization. "Because I was afraid of the exact same thing. I was afraid you didn't mean it and I worked myself up- I called Friday night, though-"

"I didn't- I didn't know that-" he fumbled to bring his phone out of his pocket and he must have seen that he had a voicemail from you and nodded, a little smile appearing on his worried face. "So you did mean to say yes?"

"And you did mean to ask?" You inquired, head tilted.

"Y-yes, of course."

"Then yes," you replied, smile widening to a grin. "How is Saturday night? I think I'll be better by then."

He was positively beaming as he helped you back to your feet. "Saturday is... great. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Much better.... truthfully." You nodded excessively and Spencer began walking back to his car, but then came back quickly to kiss your cheek.

He was like a child excited to go run and tell friends, "Goodnight!"

"Night, Spence." You stood there, basking in the glory that was solved miscommunication. You weren't nobody, you were in fact, somebody. And you were soon to be Spencer's.

Tags: @ellyhotchner, @softhairedhotch, @laurakirsten0502

REQUEST HERE

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ramblingnerdsposts · 2 years ago

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First rambling of account! This will be about one of the D&D campaigns I am currently in, a Curse of Strahd game. I am just super excited about it, with the character drama and development possible! Before I go further with the rambling, let me present the cast of this campaign really quickly: we have our DM, my character, the walking Castlevania reference known as Adelhelm Van Helsing, a Hexblade Warlock, an anthropologist wizard called Cassini, an excitable but naive tiefling, our bard Eri, a young woman with mysterious origins and a peculiar way of seeing the world, the human fighter Sarrith, a gruff woman haunted by a mysterious shadow, a Kender cleric named Hope Lost, a cynical woman who only has her faith to rely on, and the dhampir rogue Deryth, a professional conman that is really hard to read. (This is my reading of the characters, so if you find another description of them it might differ).

Anyway, for this ramble I’ll talk about my boy Adelhelm. He’s a bit of a complicated guy. His family, the Van Helsing, have made a deal with the Raven Queen generations ago to become monster hunters. It’s the family business to hunt vampires, liches, fiends and demons. It’s pretty much all he knows too, and because of this he lacked friends growing up, only having his family as people he cared about. Then, one night, he comes back home to find most of his family massacred, his sister and father gone, the library containing the knowledge of hundreds of his ancestors now turned to ash. He learns with the help of his family’s employees that vampires attacked and that Strahd was likely the one behind it. He is now in Barovia, trying to put an end to Strahd and avenge his family, while also trying to find where his sister and father ended up.

So, in terms of psychology, Adelhelm feels insane pressure to carry on his family’s legacy, as he’s pretty much the only one left who can do it, while also grieving the loss of the only people he has ever cared for and feeling guilt for his absence during the massacre. In short, Adelhelm is not exactly happy, and he’s more kept alive through sheer hatred and drive than anything else. He also has a really hard time really opening up to anybody, preferring to take on his problems by himself.

Now, for recent events, the party has fought a bunch of living trees and kicked their asses, and they slept under Leomund’s tiny hut with a new person that Adelhelm doesn’t trust very much. During the night, Sarrith took Deryth’s coat from him and ended up keeping it for a while, hinting at feelings between the two, while Adelhelm got cuddled by Cassini during the night (the wholesome kind of cuddles). And he actually liked the physical contact. So he’s confused, he’s developing feelings for Cassini, though even with prodding from Eri he didn’t admit to it. He was awkward for a bit and tried to keep his distance, but eventually with convincing from the bard, he decided to apologize for staying away from Cassini, which she accepted, then he said in an indirect manner that he wouldn’t mind it happening again. You know, romance subplot stuff.

But in Adelhelm’s mind, a lot was going on. He realized through the night that despite his annoyances with her (she tends to ask a LOT of questions), he cares for her. A lot. More than a friend. And he also realized he cares about the others. And he is TERRIFIED by that prospect. Getting close to people again is a risk. A risk that what he went through with his family’s death could happen again. And he does not want that. So now Adelhelm is torn and has a choice to make. He either pushes them away and becomes alone again, to wallow in his own misery, or he tries to open up to them and make new friends and maybe find love, but takes the risk of Strahd or another undead taking these people away from him too. And he does not know what to do.

If you stayed until the end, thanks for reading my rambling! There will be more in the future, on both this campaign, the other one and stuff like video games and anime I enjoy. Until then, later!

#dungeons and dragons #curse of strahd #my characters #character development #ramblings #romance #Adelhelm Van Helsing #ttrpg #storytelling #story time #monster hunters #castlevania #A whole lot of castlevania stuff #nerdlife #nerd explains #nerd rambling

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mandoalorian · 4 years ago

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I Believe In Love [Max Lord x F!Reader] - Epilogue

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person’s relationship with his son. You’ve heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You’ve felt his pain and anguish and you’ve never been able to relate to anything more. But things don’t come easy for you, and they certainly don’t come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: the long awaited epilogue. food mention, alcohol mention, pregnancy mention and FEELS.

Word Count: 2000>

REBLOGS APPRECIATED.

Masterlist

Previous - Epilogue - The End.

July 7th, 1985 (One year later).

So much had happened in the space of a year. You’d gone from being an Amazonian Goddess, haunted by the voice of a man from a far off world, to destroying the God of Lies for good, and discovering the beauty in true love. You still kept the crumpled up polaroid of Alistair and Maxwell that you’d taken back when he invited you into his home, last July. It had proven to be a better good luck charm than your tiara or lasso; and it served as a constant reminder of home.

Because home wasn’t Themyscira anymore. It was wherever Maxwell and Alistair were.

“And over here we have a vast collection of quartz! It’s usually mined in Brazil, and it’s the second most common crystal in the world.” Maxwell explains, using the most outlandish hand gestures everytime he speaks. He always spoke with his hands; even when he was on the television. You guessed that some things just didn’t change.

You watch him from afar, unable to contain the smile on your lips. His eyes sparkled and gleamed like diamonds as he gave facts about each of the gemstones he presented.

Black Gold had become an extension of the Smithsonian’s paleontology and gemology department, just like you had planned with Diana. When she had sorted it all out, and you broke the news to Maxwell, he was overjoyed. He hadn’t lost the business he’d worked so hard on, it had only been replaced by something even greater. And he couldn’t have done it without you. He’d spent so much of his life searching for happiness— looking in all the wrong places.

Through meeting you and gaining full custody of his son, he learned that success wasn’t money or wealth or having a solid career. For him, success was family. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

His eyes caught you standing in a shadowed corner. Alistair was holding your hand, and in your free arm, you were cradling your three month old daughter. He knew now, he’d finally found his happiness. He smiled over at his little family and you shot him a kissy face, giggling when you noticed the rose coloured flush that crossed his cheeks.

You and your little family waited for Maxwell to finish his tour guide of the museum, admiring his work ethic. You were so grateful that he was able to adopt his superb salesman skills and apply them to a profession he was truly passionate about. He’d always loved rocks and gems and stones, even having his own collection at home. But this… this was infinitely better than drilling oil and accidentally scamming millions across the globe. Maxwell was putting genuine smiles on people’s faces, kids too, and that in itself was a beautiful thing.

Once the tour group disbanded, Maxwell was quick to run over to you. He took your daughter from your arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I missed you,” you smiled, watching as Maxwell fussed over his daughter. “How was work?”

Maxwell’s dark eyes met yours and he beamed with delight. “Oh it was fantastic,” He grinned before excitedly telling you all the details about his day at work. He knelt down to Alistair’s level and ruffled his son’s black hair. “Did you enjoy visiting the aquarium with mommy?” he asked.

“It was amazing!” Alistair squealed, sharing the same excitement as his father. It was unbelievable how much Alistair was growing to be a Mini-Max.

Maxwell checked his wrist watch and gasped when he saw the time. He called Raquel over, who had agreed to watch the kids this evening while you and him had ‘date night’. It was a rarity for sure, and neither you or Max liked to be without your children, but tonight was extra important. It signified exactly one year since you entered Maxwell’s life and changed his world forever.

Once it was just you two, Max couldn’t keep his hands off you. “You look beautiful.” he grumbled, pressing kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck. His large hands roamed your body, paying extra attention to your breasts. Clearly, he didn’t care if anyone was looking. You giggled and slipped out beneath him.

“Save something for tonight.” You laughed, rolling your eyes and taking his hand.

Tonight.

You had no idea what was to come.

“I’m sorry it’s not Greece,” Maxwell chuckled, reminiscing on your first holiday together (if he could even call it that). It was quite an unconventional one— as he’d never expected to go cave exploring with two Amazonian Godesses’ and kill a God. You laughed, rolling your eyes.

“It feels like yesterday,” you admitted. “Leaving Themyscira… giving up my powers. I can’t believe it’s been a year.”

Maxwell nodded knowingly. “Tell me, princess, if you could go back and change things, would you?”

You’d thought about the question numerous times. You did miss your mother, and the beautiful tranquil oceans of your home world. But if you could change things— would you? The answer was simple.

“No.” you beamed brightly, pressing your lips together.

“Good.” said Maxwell. He gestured a waiter over and ordered a bottle of the finest champagne.

Things had been a little rough for Maxwell, after the dreamstone debacle and all. Inevitably he had to sell his white suburban mansion, as he didn’t really have the steadiest of incomes rolling in. But in a way, he was relieved. He didn’t need all that space anyway, and actually he’d really come to like the much cozier apartment where you, him and Alistair were living now. But with a little one on the way, you had both been discussing the prospect of finding a place with an extra bedroom.

He was happy with his job at the Smithsonian. He was passionate about it too, which was the main thing. He was still a businessman , but a much nicer one. After all, the oil-mogul Max Lord was long gone, and had been replaced by a darker haired, sweater-wearing Maxwell Lorenzano. You had no complaints.

“Here’s the thing,” Maxwell announced, straightening his composure after you’d both finished dinner. “And there’s really no easy way to say this—“

You giggled, scrunching your nose up with curiosity. “Spit it out Maxie.”

“I’m in love with you,” Max revealed, brushing his thumb over your knuckles tenderly.

You nudged him playfully. “I know that, silly,” you laughed. “I’m in love with you too. But tell me, what’s really on your mind.”

Maxwell stiffened slightly. It was now or never.

“You have shown me so much kindness, and you’ve shown me hope when I didn’t believe things could get any better. You made sacrifices for me… for my family. Gave up your powers and the chance to see your own mom again. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make your decision worthwhile but I’ve known for a long time now that— I at least want to try. I don’t ever want to stop loving you. I want to be with you… forever. For the rest of my life. An eternity. Because you make me happier than I ever thought I could be,”

Tears pricked your eyes at Maxwell’s sentiment, your heart clenching with adoration in your chest.

“And with our family growing, and the possibility of getting a new house, I just… I want to know. I want to know if you’ll be my wife and— if you’ll marry me?” he finished, a hopeful glint in his chocolate brown eyes.

You couldn’t rid yourself of the smile that crossed your cheeks. “Yes Max,” you cried, leaning over the table and wrapping your arms around your fiancée. “Yes I will marry you.”

—————The end.

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#pedro pascal #maxwell lord #ww84 #max lord #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal x you

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thewhizzyhead · 4 years ago

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a non-filipino's guide to trese: ep 1

So some of my mutuals decided to check out Trese aka the Netflix adaptation of the Filipino horror comic book series that I keep rambling about here and then since well um most of my mutuals aren’t from the Philippines fshfs I decided to make a long-ass post that basically consists of me rambling about the cultural context present in Trese with fun little tidbits about Filipino folklore. I’m not an expert on Filipino mythology so um I just typed out the stuff that I know and the stuff that I looked up on Wikipedia so um take this with a grain of salt aaaaa I’ll save the extensive google scholar research ramble on folklore present in Trese for another day.

I’ll try to find the sites where I got some of the information from cause um yea I kinda had a bit of a hard time finding the other shit so um once again, take the stuff here with a grain of salt. Also, feel free to add more info if you guys got any!

SO ANYWAYS ENJOY ME RAMBLING ABOUT EPISODE 1 OF TRESE WOO

+ MRT and LRT (Manila Metro Rail Transit and Light Rail Transit) are train systems in NCR (the capital region) and yea them suddenly stopping and malfunctioning in the middle of the goddamn rail is a daily occurrence and we have been trying to deal with this bullshit for years but alas, corruption and negligence are sweet sweet drugs.

+ When the MRT broke down, you'd see a red bee in the flashing billboard right? Well that's Jollibee and that's probably the most well-known fast food restaurant chain here heck there are even branches of it abroad!

+ According to many youtube comments along with other social media posts that I am way too tired to link here, the opening theme is an Ifugao ethnic song called Balluha'd Bayyauhen but with modern accompaniments and I think the song is about a fruit called a balluha that the character in the song tries to it but cannot swallow. (someone please correct me if I’m wrong here fjkfs)

+ The first um monster that we see Alexandra interact with is the White Lady of Balete Drive. White Ladies or “Kaperosa” are a type of female ghosts typically dressed in ghostly white dresses or similar garments. According to legend, she died in a car accident while driving along Balete Drive (a two lane street formerly lined with Balete Trees which are said to be a home for spirits and mysterious creatures) in Quezon City while other accounts say she died waiting for the arrival of her lover; others also say that she was a teenage girl who was run over and killed by a taxi driver at night and then buried around a Balete tree while another variation of the tale claims that a student from the University of the Philippines was sexually assaulted and killed by a taxi driver nearby and so said ghost haunts the street in search of her murderer. There are many other variations but according to local rumor, the legend was fabricated by a reporter in 1953 in order to make an interesting story. What remains consistent in many variations is that apparently taxi drivers would be stopped by a beautiful lady asking for a ride and if one would look at the rear window, they would see that the white lady in question is bruised and drenched in blood.

+ There are a lot of mentions about "lakans" and stuff in reference to Alex and her father right? In precolonial times, the term is used to refer to the paramount ruler or the highest-ranking political authorities in Tagalog communities (so um NCR and some parts of Region 4). In Muslim communities, they are called sultans while communities with strong trade connecitons with Indonesia or Malaysia called them Rajah. Datu is umm the more generalized term though when it comes to discussing the leaders of the precolonial Filipinos.

+ So, Alex’s mom is a babaylan and back in the pre-colonial period, each barangay (which a native filipino term for a village or a district; said term is still used today to describe um divisions in municipalities like) had them and these are basically Philippine shamans and they specialized in communicating with the spirits of the dead. To my knowledge, the role of babaylan went to women and yea people assigned male at birth but then identified as female were also allowed to become babaylans and they would be treated with the same respect given to any woman back then (honestly I dunno much about lgbtq+ stuff back in the precolonial times but all I know is that precolonial Filipinos were much a lot more welcoming towards trans identities bUT THEN THE SPANIARDS CAME AND UM ERR RUINED THAT); also the writing Alexandra's mom did in that one scene with the dagger is in Baybayin - preHispanic Filipino script. I dunno what she wrote down though. .

+ Also I kinda find it funny that the people here esp those who were at the White Lady scene are um,,, not at all surprised? Like yea quite a number of filipinos have their own superstitions and beliefs and all that but um yea the people in Trese seem very used to the bullshit,,,which in retrospect, isn't at all inaccurate fsdfd I MEAN WE DEAL WITH UNSURMOUNTABLE AMOUNTS OF BS ON A DAILY BASIS SO I DON’T THINK DEAD GHOSTS WOULD EVEN FAZE MANY FSKJDS

+ The one that appears right before Alexandra talks with the duwende (the one in the manhole) is called Laman Lupa (which i guess translates to um "What is in the earth"? just um YEA THEY ARE DIRT CREATURES). normally this is an umbrella term for duwendes and nunos but in Trese they are servants of these aforementioned creatures.

+ Duwende (which came from the Spanish phrase "dueno de case" which means "owner of the house") or dwarves in Filipino folklore are known to be mischievous and magical environmental guardians. They are believed to reside in trees or under earth mounds (those that live in the latter are called nuno sa pundo or old man of the mount) which is why quite a lot of Filipinos say "tabi tabi po" or “excuse me” when wandering around a forest or earth mounds as a sign of respect and in the hopes the duwende won't torment them. If the person is friendly, the duwende can also be friendly in return and will bring that person good lucl; otherwise, those who destroy their homes by stepping on them will face their wrath in form of heartless curse and predictions of ominous and disastrous fates. A duwende's color also depends on their budhi or conscience: to my knowledge, white duwendes are kind, red ones give protection amulets, green ones are firnedly with children and the black ones give nothing but trouble.

+ Chocnut aka the snack Alex bribes the nuno with is a very yummy chocolate snack made of coconut milk, crushed peanuts and cocoa powder. They are umm about an inch in length and maybe half an inch in width so it's fairly small; that being said I WANT THE CHOCNUT THAT ALEXANDRA HAS CAUSE HOT DAMN THAT'S A BIG CHOCNUT

+ In Trese, the creatures in the MRT scene and in the warehouse Alexandra visits after she talks with the duwende are called "aswang". In Philippine folklore, it is an umbrella term for any kind of monster so um an aswang in Luzon would be very different from the aswang in Mindanao. According to what I saw on wikipedia, they can be classified in 5 categories: the vampire (self-explanatory um they drink blood), the viscera sucker (the manananggal, i'll get to that next time), the weredog (cats and pigs are also possible but um yea they target pregnant women), the witch (self-explanatory boom curses and stuff) and the ghoul (they gather near trees in cemeteries to feast on human corpses). Aswangs are often described to have a long, hollow tongue, sharp claws and sharp teeth, although they do also have human forms.

+ To my knowledge, Ibwa, the leader of the aswangs in the warehouse, is a creature from Tinguian or Itneg mythology (they, like the Ifugao, are an indigenous ethnic group in northwestern Luzon) though I could be wrong about this dksfsf Ibwa seems like an ethnic filipino term tho wah I can't remember where I once read that. But anyways, Ibwa often stalk sthe house of a dying person to steal its body. In order for the ibwa to NOT succeed in that, some people burn holes in the garments of the dead and put a sharp iron object on top of the grave since those are most powerful weapons against aswangs which is what Alexandra uses to subdue the Ibwa and kill all the other aswangs (the knife alex uses is named Sinag which means "ray of light".)

+ ALSO I AM SO SO GLAD THEY KEPT THE FILIPINO SWEARS IN THE ENGLISH DUB YES YES THIS IS A VERY GOOD JOB so lemme discuss the versatility of tangina-

+ Also umm Bossing is a nickname of Vic Sotto - one of the three pioneer hosts of Eat Bulaga! which is the longest running Philippine noontime variety show. Over time, most probably due to the show's popularity, the term "bossing" then became um slang for "boss" or "chief"

+ Translation of what Alex says when she's stirring the eye inside the cup: “In the eyes of others, secrets will reveal themselves.”

+ Sidenote: The English dub's pronunciation of many of the tagalog lines are um yea they r pretty good but they could use a bit of work but then again I'm really not that good in speaking in Tagalog so who am I to judge gkdkf sorry po guys conyo po ako-

+ Maria Makiling is arguably the most famous of all the diwatas (ancestral spirits, nature spirits, or deities) in Philippine Mythology; she is associated with Mount Makiling in Laguna as the guardian spirit of the mountain. Mount Makiling is said to resemble a profile of a woman and people associate the profile with Maria herself. She is also known as a goddess by the name of Dayang Masalanta and people would pray to her for safety and to stop storms and earthquakes. That's the goddess Alexandra's mother mentions right when she tells Alex to hide. (Translation to what she said there: Maria Makiling, goddess of the mountain, bless us.)

+ ALSO YEA THAT MAYOR IN THE MRT STATION IS UMMM RATHER REMINISCENT OF MAAAANY POLITICIANS AND PUBLIC SERVANTS HERE LIKE BELIEVE ME I CAN THINK OF SO MANY NAMES RN. THEY WOULD FLAUNT THEIR MACHISMO AND PROMISE THAT THEY THEMSELVES SHALL PUNISH THE PERPETRATORS HARSHLY BUT IN THE END THEY DONT MEAN SHIT AND ARE IN OFFICE TO SERVE ONLY THEMSELVES AND TO SHIT ON THE REST ESP THOSE OF THE POORER SECTORS AND *NOTHING IS DONE ABOUT IT*. WE LIVE IN HELL OKAY. also hmm how the police are represented here is umm,,,interesting,,, like i know there are sOME good police officers like the ones alexandra assists but like,,,our current sociopolitical climate + the many cases showcasing the corruption in the police force + tHE SHEER AMOUNT OF POLICE BRUTALITY HERE would ummm beg to differ. but um anyways-

+ Also Mang Inasal posters can be seen in the MRT station backdrops and um it’s a very famous restaurant chain here and they serve lots of barbecue and other filipino stuffs and i miss them a lot God their halo halo is very yummy

+ Santelmo - oki so this is the fire face thingy that Alexandra summons inside the ruined train. This is the shortened version of the term "Apoy ni Santa Elmo" or "St. Elmo's Fire" - this is a weather phenomenon wherein plasma is created from an electrical discharge from a rod like object in an atmospheric electric field. This phenomenon was used to warn of imminent lightning strikes or storms (there is a chapter in Noli Me Tangere where Pilosopo Tasyo talks about that bUT I'LL SAVE THE NOLI ME TANGERE RAMBLES FOR ANOTHER DAY). But according to Philippine folklore, santelmos - which are said to be souls of people lost as sea - are balls of fire that appear where accidents or big arguments happen. In Trese, santelmos (alex's santelmo being "The Great Spirit of the Binondo Fire") can be called to assist in supernatural investigations

+ Translation of what Alex says when she draws the circles to meet with the purple ghosts: "Souls, where are you off to? I'll be entering too, so please open the door."

+ Remember the scene at the train with all the purple ghosts and the woman in a veil? Yea the woman is an emissary of a goddess named Ibu and she is the Manobo (again, another indigenous ethnic group but this time they're from Mindanao; fun fact we have around 134 ethnic groups) goddess of deceased mortals and the queen of the underworld; she also serves as a psychopomp and guides the newly deceased souls to the other side (having an MRT be the ride to the underworld isn’t in the legends tho so fkkjsf)

+ The aswang in the top hat is called Xa Mul and according to the Isneg/Apayao people (yay another ethnic group but this time in northern Luzon - the Cordillera regions to be specific), they are an evil spirit known to swallow people whole.

+ Alex has two henchmen right? Yea they are named Crispin and Basillio and No I still don’t know who’s who and I'm really sorry about that fsfjs so anyways the names Crispin and Basillio are actually those of two brothers featured in the Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo novels (Crispin is younger and Basilio is older) which are basically the national novels here cause um yea written by national hero Jose Rizal as sociopolitical commentary about the Spanish regime here. I don't know if I want to spoil this cause I kinda want other people to read the novel too fskfs BUT ALL IN ALL, ONE OF THEM DIES IN LIKE THE 10TH OR 11TH CHAPTER OF NOLI ME TANGERE (and the novel has 64 chapters btw) AND UM YEA-

+ OKI SO TO ADD MORE CONTEXT TO THE SQUATTER STUFFS MENTIONED IN TRESE (we r gonna use the tiny font here because holy shit this rant is long): So,in the Philippines, especially in the capital region, there are lots of slum areas called squatters. These are dense urban settlements made of compact makeshift housing units that aren't really officially recognized by the government. This is um very reflective of the poverty situation here and there are maaany factors that come into play here and if i were to go into depth about this topic, that rant would probably turn into an academic paper so for the sake of brevity, let's just say that Things Are Fucked Up Here. Oftentimes the poorer sectors are being ignored and left to their own devices despite tons of campaign promises to make things better and easier for them. The communities that live here are incredibly vulnerable to floods, fires, and the like and afaik no concrete solutions have been in effect to protect these people and their settlements. There have also been many times where squatter areas are dismantled or demolished despite protests of people living in those areas and yea I understand the need to make space and the need for renovation but the people should still be offered some sort of temporary settlement or financial compensation thingy that doESN'T fuck them over but alas, we have an anti-poor government. That being said, I really like Trese Ep 1's portrayal of governmental negligence, but I also have some thoughts, especially in regards to the mayor being arrested THAT FAST which um believe me, NEVER FUCKING HAPPENS BECAUSE MANY MAYORS AND A LOT OF POLITICIANS HAVE THE POLICE IN THEIR POCKETS SO UM ERR YEA JUSTICE IS RARELY A THING HERE BUT UM ANYWAYS YEA THE GOVERNMENT LIKES TO SHIT ON THE POOR WOO LET'S SAVE THE USE OF SOCIOLOGICAL LENS ON THIS MATTER FOR ANOTHER DAY

+ The news channel reporting the arrest of the mayor is ABC-ZNN WHICH IS AN OBVIOUS REFERENCE TO ABSCBN aka the top media conglomerate here (that has been fucked over by the government so many times to the point that they had to shut down operations last year which is all sorts of unfair so seeing them being referenced here kinda made me happy gksfks)

#HI PATROC I HAVE A GIFT #IT'S A VERY LONG AND CONVOLUTED GIFT #BUT IT'S A GIFT #I WISH YOU THE BEST OF LUCK IN TRYING TO UNDERSTAND THIS #this is literally 2813 words long AND IT TOOK ME 12 HOURS TO TYPE THIS OUT OH GOD #AND THIS IS JUST EP 1 #here's to hoping the following eps are gonna be much easier for me to like ramble about considering that i explained quite a lot here gfsfs #please do take this ramble with a grain of salt tho cause obviously I am not a mythology expert so um feel free to add more info!#i'd really love to see more info about trese so yay!#trese #trese netflix #alexandra trese #trese spoilers #ask to tag

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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

Text

Corpse Infested

Corpse Husband & Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mentions of dysfunctional family, Family problems, Swearing

Genre: Humor, Comfort, Platonic fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When your friend disappears for a long time, seemingly having lost interest in what fueled the most passionate fire in their life, you cannot not worry about them. Even if you wanna give them space, you will reach out, you will offer your help. You will tell them they always have you to rely on and talk to.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! Hope you come across it and if you do I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

For me, it’s never hard to find things to do. I’ve constantly got things on my mind and tasks to tend to, keeping me occupied and my mind focused at all times. I think that comes with living in a home as dysfunctional as this one. I honestly can’t recall a time when my parents got along nor can I think of a time where there was at least one second of peace while the two are both present in the house. It’s always a warzone up there. I’m saying up there because I tend to live out of the basement of their home. I know living in your parents’ basement is considered a peak loser point, or the bottom of the bottom, but you’d have to believe me when I say - I wasn’t always like this. In fact, I only recently came back to this hell-hole and boy do I regret it. I mean, it was a decision forced upon me by circumstances. Trust me, I tried every other option there was. When my dorm was to be closed down and demolished, we were given a notice to start planning our next move about a month early. You can bet I immediately started looking at places but my very tragic and miserable budget didn’t allow such a purchase. No rent was adequate for me and my near-empty wallet so my second option was moving in with my best friend who was also not in the greatest of situations but I thought I’d give that a shot too.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work out. She lived in a tiny apartment with her boyfriend and his best friend at the time, so four people in one apartment was a nightmare. Still a lesser nightmare than this one but a nightmare nonetheless. Some unwanted and downright traumatizing events chased me out of that place after barely managing to pack my stuff. Therefore, finding myself on the streets again, I had no other option other than the obvious and least liked one: moving back in with my parents.

Making money during my first year of college hasn’t been easy. Working two jobs at once and also streaming video games on the side was what my time was filled with all throughout the first semester but then this damn pandemic started and now ruined everything for me. I had things going for me, I was slowly getting my life together and now it has all fallen apart yet again. The places I worked at closed down due to quarantine and I haven’t been able to steam, not only cause I’d be the victim of my parents’ comments but also cause my terrible home life would be exposed to all my fans and viewers. It’s not like I could cancel out the commotion going on right above my head, it’s a livestream and this house’s walls are cardboard thin meaning all the arguing I hear almost 24/7 will serve as background noise for my streams.

I haven’t reached out to my friends or fans to inform them of this which I feel slightly guilty about but I’m really not looking forward to having to lie to them, just as much as I’m not looking forward to having to tell them the truth so instead I’ve picked silence which is probably either worrying them or driving them insane. Either way, I’ll make my comeback soon.

Well....not very soon by the looks of it...

I have to gather the money, then I have to find a place, then comes the packing, moving out of here, moving into the new place...oh God, there’s so much to it that I don’t even wanna think about. Just that thought that I’ll be inactive for that long makes my stomach turn. Streaming’s where I’ve been channeling all my negative emotions, turning them into something positive and entertaining with the help of my friends.

Speaking of my friends, I should probably put emphasis on how amazing they are. Basically the older siblings I’ve always wished I had. I’m the baby of the group, the eighteen year old freshman in college, powering through life the best they can cause they are constantly getting tripped up by inconvenient occurrences such as this one for example. I tend to have the gang poke fun at me quite frequently - all lighthearted and with good intentions obviously - but they are also the ones to get super defensive if anyone gets the balls to talk shit about me. They’d never allow me to be the victim of any smack talk or online rumors and ‘cancel culture’ or whatever the hell people will come up with to leave others restless and wondering if they did something shady a decade ago. Well, to be fair, I didn’t even know about the concept of social media a decade ago and I’ve never been one to post much but I still have a protection squad in case anyone decides to come after me.

Little do they know the people I need protecting from are the very people that are supposed to protect me - my parents. Luckily, they don’t venture into to basement very often if at all and I have my own exit to the outside world so I don’t have to run into them unless I absolutely have to. The only time I emerge to the surface of the house - aka the ground floor - I do so to leave my share of rent money on the dining table and I usually do it when they aren’t home or when they’re asleep - that happens often with how many bottles they each knock back on the daily.

*sigh*...at least I don’t have to talk to them, right?

Anyhow, remember how I mentioned I always have things to do? Well, right now I’ve tasked myself with rifling through the large boxes containing random stuff I found in one of the basements down here to see if there’s anything I could possibly sell online. For starters, I’d like to hope there aren’t any severed body parts in here because this was one shady-ass basement before I moved in and un-creeped it a bit so I wouldn’t have to become an insomniac due to the paranoia of there being a homeless person down here with me or some paranormal entity. Regardless, old basements tend to be, apart from haunted, also filled with junk no one would find valuable despite it actually being worth something after all. That’s basically what I’m hoping to find at the moment.

As I dig through the contents of the first box, the YouTube playlist I have put on on my phone cuts off causing me to furrow my brows in confusion for a second before my ringtone pierces the silence the lack of music created.

I quickly mute the ringing and take a look at the Caller ID to see a name I never thought would pop up on my screen as an incoming call - Corpse. I, as well as many of our friends, know that he’s not the biggest fan of talking to people on the phone so this is rather surprising. Still, I pick up the call in case it’s not a mistake and an odd chance that it’s somethin urgent cause Lord knows Corpse doesn’t call people willy-nilly.

Thank God it’s quiet up there at the moment.

“Hello?“ I try my best to cover up the confusion in my voice but I can only assume I didn’t do the best job considering Corpse replies with a slightly awkward chuckle.

“Surprised you, didn’t I?“ He asks, getting my cheeks to redden a bit, “You can’t blame a guy for calling after up and disappearing on him and on the whole internet. Where’ve you been?“

I open my mouth to respond when I hear the sound of glass breaking a shouted curse from upstairs.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

“Um...you know, places?“ I’m aware the answer isn’t only nonsensical but also sounds more like a question, but I can hardly focus on that right now. I’m too buys praying to an entity I don’t fully believe in for the situation above to not escalate.

“Uh, is everything ok over there? Where even are you right now?“ The teasing tone to his voice is all but gone at this point, replaced with deep concern, having obviously heard the commotion that did the exact opposite of what I prayed for - escalated.

“Y-yeah, it’s ok. It’s just another Thursday, you know.“ I attempt a small laugh but it’s blatantly miserable, “I moved back in with my parents when they announced the quarantine so that’s where I’m at now. They’re not the quietest of folks as you can tell so...“

“I FUCKING HATE YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I HOPE YOU DIE“

Oh crap, here we go.

“...So I can’t really stream a lot...or at all.“ I mutter, cringing with all my might, “But it’s only temporary! I’ll get back in the saddle as soon as I find another place to stay.“ I don’t dare mention how long that’s gonna take me, it’ll be too disappointing and depressing for the both of us. “So yeah...um...thanks for showing concern but there’s really nothing to worry about. I’m ok, everything’s ok, things are just...a bit off the rails, but I’ll fix em no problem. Like I always do!“ I attempt to sound as cheerful as possible with little success due to the overwhelming anger I feel towards those people upstairs and the gut-wrenching nostalgia for the world of streaming I can no longer be a part of because of them. Actually, I put the blame first on the pandemic and second on my parents - if it wasn’t for Covid I’d probably still be in my dorm!

“Hey...um, I think I know an affordable place where you can take up residence. Only if you want to, of course.“ He sounds hesitant but I easily overlook that as excitement bursts throughout my entire being at the sound if an escape being offered to me just like that. Had I known I’d find the solution to my problem in the very people I spent time avoiding because I was afraid of their pity, sympathy and judgement.

“Oh please, it could be a rat and roach infested shoe box and I’d go running to it. How much is rent?“ I ask through a gasp of hurried laughter that’s a result of my inability to contain said excitement. Listen, I’ve been sitting here in Hellsburg for three months now and haven’t gotten a proper shuteye during that whole period, whatever Corpse is offering has to be better than this misery.

“Rent can be discussed once you move in...“ He trails off, “And it’s not rat nor roach infested but there’s a slight issue...“

“Which is?“ I’m honestly expecting the worst: in a bad neighborhood; faulty wiring with a high chance of being electrocuted; faulty piping with a high chance of flooding; people have died there; things get randomly moved around in the middle of the night etc. However, I don’t voice any of them to avoid getting laughed at for my wild imagination.

“Well, uh, it’s corpse infested.“ He says a little awkwardly, causing me to let out an inaudible sigh.

So my ‘people have died there’ guess was on point, huh?

“People have died there, huh? Well, I can turn a blind eye to that as long as I don’t find their bodies in the closet or meet their spirits at 3AM.“ I attempt to joke, now second-guessing my eagerness to accept the offer.

Corpse bursts out laughing his ass off at my statement, getting me to furrow my eyebrows in confusion and wonder what I said was so funny - it was a poor attempt at a joke, it in no way deserves that sort of reaction, barely a chuckle in my opinion.

“You’re golden, Y/N, I swear.“ He says once he forces the laughter to subside, “I meant corpse infested as in Corpse Husband infested.“ He breaks out in another fit as my brain slowly starts connecting the dots.

Oooohh he’s asking me to go live with him

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait, hold up for a sec. Are you aware of what you’re offering me? I mean, we’ve never met IRL, you barely know me and....and for all you know I could be the serial killer in this situation!“ I have no idea why I’m pushing my luck, don’t ask. I just don’t want him to make a decision he’ll later regret, I guess. “Like, I could kill you in your sleep!“

“Would you?“ He asks confidently, silently stating he already knows the answer.

I roll my eyes, “Of course not! But...” He cuts me off.

“Great, the offer stands on my end. I’m not a noisy nor nosey roommate so I suggest you start packing. If you choose to live in that hell-hole over living with me, I’m sorry but I’ll be hella offended, just so you know.“

Corpse sounds like he’s about to hang up on me, a decision already made, so I hurry to stop him. “Wait! What about rent?”

“Fuck the rent, pack your bags.“ And just like that, despite my efforts, he hangs up on me.

Well...this is a chance of a lifetime that I know refusing would lead me to not only remain stuck here but also put me in the hugest loser bin. There’s also the fear of being Corpse’s burden which I’ll try my best not to be - I mean, I’m a super independent person and Lord knows that if this offer came any other time or from any other person, I would’ve declined asap, no discussion.

But streaming

But sleeping properly

But having a normal life again

Yeah those are most certainly the reasons I get up and go into the closet in search on my emptied suitcase. Time to fill it up again, I guess. This time with a smile on my face and excitement fueling each and every movement of mine.

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