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sunlightmurdock · 2 years ago

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The Parent Trap | Prologue | Bradley Bradshaw x Ex-Wife!Reader

♡ Next Chapter | Masterlist

♡ In which, after a couple of years of listening to Peyton and Parker Bradshaw complain about their parents’ custody agreement, Grandpa Mav’s meddling goes a little bit too far.

♡ warnings: mentions of divorce throughout the fic, flashbacks to arguments and unhappily married people. Idiots who still love each other and don’t know it. (warnings will be added as story progresses).

…

“God dammit.” You sigh, leaning down into the passenger side footwell to grab your phone. After your hasty parking job, it’s wedged pretty securely under the metal bottom of the seat, impossible to reach from the angle you’re sitting in. You move up onto your knees and lean over, rummaging around for the lost device. This is the last thing you need.

It’s the third week of the semester and the second time so far that you’ve been called into the principal’s office.

The faint sound of seventies music coming from somewhere behind your shoulder alerts you to your ex-husband’s presence before you can see him. Shit, it must be bad if Rooster left work for it.

He turns his engine off and glances to his left. His lips quirk softly at the sight before him. You, in a pair of tight denim shorts, bent over the centre console and leaning down into the passenger side, searching for something. His smirk only grows as he steps down from his truck and swings the door shut behind him, tapping on the window of your 2018 Toyota corolla.

You flinch at the sound and turn your head to look back at him over your shoulder. He smiles, lifting his hand and waving his fingers at you. No matter how long passes between you seeing him, he always looks the same — and he’s usually got that smug look on his face. You roll your eyes and turn back towards your mission.

It’s been two years since the divorce became official. Still, Bradley glances down at those form fitting shorts and reminisces. It’s an outfit like that that got you into this mess in the first place. Fingers curling around your phone, you huff and catch ahold of your bag, then sit upright again. Rooster grabs the door and pulls it open, stepping out of your way.

“How’s it going, Mama?”

You scoff, shaking your head as you drape the tote over your shoulder and slip your phone into your back pocket. “I’d be better if your kids stopped being such miscreants.”

He chuckles, flightsuit tied around his waist and gold rimmed sunglasses covering his eyes. The teachers around here always go wild when he shows up like this. “My kids, huh?”

You step around him and nod your head, wishing that you were less familiar with the path to the principal’s office than you currently are. Rooster trails behind you, taking another quick glance down at those shorts he’s so fond of, “Did they tell you what we’re here for?”

“No, the lady on the phone just said that Principal James needed to speak to the both of us.” Rooster confirms your suspicions. This must be pretty bad. You groan in frustration, pushing through the front door.

“That’s what they told me too — I wonder what they did now.” You can only shake your head at the thought as the two of you sign in and are led to the principal’s office. Rooster takes his time, looking around at the colourful artwork on the walls, seemingly unfazed by whatever havoc your children have caused this time. He’s always so calm when it comes to them. He had been so different in the beginning. Terrified when those two blue lines showed up. Nauseous when the doctor confirmed that there were two heartbeats. He had almost blacked out during your labour. You can still remember the way he had periodically baby proofed not only the place that you shared, but also his Uncle Maverick’s house and your parents’ place. Anywhere his kids were going needed to be up to his standard.

Somewhere after the year mark, they had become significantly less fragile in his eyes. When they’re jumping off of high surfaces or climbing trees, dangling off of the slide at the park, he’s usually nearby with a smile on his face. He likes seeing his kids be more carefree than he ever was in childhood.

Rounding the corner, the girls’ reactions to the two of you are exceptionally polarized. When you had been told that you were expecting identical twin girls, you had expected the polar opposite trope — a mischievous daredevil tomboy and a goodie-two shoes who loved to dress up. Instead, you had received two partners in crime who were somehow all of those things at once. Freckled skin, rounded, rosy cheeks and long curls, it’s hard to tell them apart sometimes, but they still have their differences.

Peyton, Twin A — as determined by your first ultrasound, your firstborn, sits upright and beams at the two of you. It’s a rare occasion that she sees both of her parents in the same place these days. “Daddy!”

At her side, Parker, Twin B, your youngest, shrinks down in her chair in immediate realization. If you’re both here, then they’re in big trouble. For a seven year old, she’s getting good at reading the room. She turns those big brown eyes towards the ground and purses her lips.

Peyton leaps up and rushes forwards, wrapping her arms around Rooster’s waist, pressing her freckled cheek into her stomach. He grunts softly as she hits into him, then breaks out grinning as he hugs her against his middle, “Hey, Honeybee.”

He looks towards his remaining daughter. Parker glances up sheepishly, hands folded into her lap. Bradley smiles softly, “How about you, Peanut? — You got a hug for Daddy?”

You fold your arms over your chest as he pushes herself up from the chair. Bradley settles down onto his knees, opening up his arms and taking one of them in each. He hums as he hugs them tightly against him, then pulls back and scrunches his nose just slightly. “So, what’d you guys do?”

The twins stop and then share and equally worrisome glance. You squint at the two of them. “Girls.” You prompt.

“It was an accident!”

“Yeah, we didn’t mean to!”

Rooster lifts his head and this time it’s your turn to share equally worried looks. The door clicks open ahead of you.

Principal James steps out and rests her wrinkled hands on her hips. Rooster stands upright at your side. Under that cold, weathered gaze, it suddenly feels like the two of you are the ones in trouble. You swallow softly as she lifts a hand and beckons you into her office without a word.

“Sit down, girls, we’ll be right back.” You say softly, tapping their shoulders and nudging them back towards their seats. Rooster tucks his sunglasses into the collar of his black t-shirt and closes the oak office door behind him. You sit down in one of the chairs opposite her impressive, heavy mahogany desk.

She has been teaching for twenty years, and your twins have still managed to surprise her on this occasion.

“Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw, I wish I could say that it’s a pleasure to be speaking with you today,” Her tone is sharp. Rooster presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, whilst you count the tiles on the ceiling. “Unfortunately, today’s meeting has a rather unpleasant subject matter. Are you at all aware of the twins’ mission to… impersonate each other?”

Rooster’s lips quirk. They’ve been trying to swap places since they were two. They usually get caught pretty quickly. They’ve done it at school before, but they always mess up quickly. Their longest record for being undetected was three days at your parents’ house. “Yeah, they do that as a joke sometimes.”

“Well, today they switched outfits in the bathroom and went into each other’s classes.”

Your brows scrunch slightly. Sure, it’s a dumb thing to do, but it can’t be a punishable offense to swap outfits with your sister. Principal James looks between the two of you and finds no remorse on either of your faces so far. Clearly you aren’t following.

“Has Parker ever mentioned a boy named William Prescott?”

“Oh my god.” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Bradley frowns at your side, looking between you and the principal, lost. You turn your head. “He’s been picking on her. He pushed her down in the playground last week.”

“That’s what that cut on her knee was? — She said she tripped.” Bradley frowns, immediately engaging in that protective parent mode that’s neither helpful or impressive.

“She didn’t want to tell you because she knew you’d freak out.” You explain sitting back in the chair and rubbing at your temples. Her judgemental stare is just about enough to bring you out in a stress rash.

“So, why didn’t you tell me?” Bradley’s tone is accusatory, his expression even more so. He’s always been protective when it comes to his girls, including you not too long ago. It’s a sweet sentiment, but sometimes it’s too much and the girls are quickly picking up on that.

“Because I knew you’d freak out, and I already spoke to Billy’s mom about it.” You speak gently, acutely aware of the way that the principal’s crows feet deepen when she squints dubiously at you like she’s doing now. Rooster remains completely unaware of her judging your parenting at your side.

“Clearly that worked because —“

“The twins switched classrooms so that Peyton could, in their words, ‘take care of’ the issue.” Principal James interrupts. Both you and your ex-husband are silenced as you stare ahead at her. “Peyton proceeded to walk over to William’s desk and hit him in the face.”

You press a hand over your mouth and close your eyes, exhaling softly. Bradley sits back in the chair, leaning his head back and groaning quietly.

“At this moment in time, we have no choice but to place the twins on a short suspension.”

You purse your lips and wince. Seven years old and suspended for plotting out, and executing assault. This isn’t your proudest parenting moment.

“Suspension? — They’re in the second grade, it was just—“

“We won’t be reconsidering our decision, Mr. Bradshaw,” The principal interrupts, holding out a hand to silence him. He glances across at you. “There is some paperwork for you at the front desk, we look forward to having the girls back in a week’s time. Maybe the two of you could have a word with them about their behavior during their time off.”

Scolded, the two of you step out into the hallway, each of you silently blaming the other. The twins look at the two of you expectantly.

“Give us a second to talk, okay? — Don’t move, you’re both in big trouble.” Rooster warns them, his face stern. They frown at him in unison, then look towards each other. He reaches out, tapping his fingers against your forearm to nudge you away from the two of them. Once you’re out of earshot, he folds his arms over his chest.

“Alright, we should probably talk to them about this together, so I can swing by your place tonight after work. Like six?” He checks his watch and looks back up at you.

“Wait, wait — I can’t take them right now, I have meetings with clients all afternoon. Today’s your day to pick them up.” You frown at him. The custody agreement was fifty-fifty, two days with you, two days with him. It’s inconvenient for both of your schedules and the twins hate moving around as much as they do, but neither one of you has had the time recently to call up the lawyers and fix a new schedule.

“No, I have a debrief today that I’m already going to be late for. It’s your day.” Bradley shakes his head quickly and crosses his arms over his chest. Sometimes you think that he just does that to show off his arms. His biceps strain against the fabric of that fitted black shirt.

He’s bigger now than when you met him, filled out more into his adulthood. Years of lifting two growing girls up whenever they ask him to. Heading to the gym often so that they won’t outgrow being held by him.

Still, there’s a reason that it’s over and tanned skin and arm veins won’t change that.

“No, it’s Tuesday. The seventh.” You argue.

“Actually, it’s Wednesday. The seventh.” He mocks you back. Real mature. But, unfortunately— your phone confirms that he’s correct. You sigh and throw your head back. You’ve been so out of sorts all week, turned around with work and the kids.

Two kids running wild around a boutique that’s smaller than some of your clients’ closets. You can just see it now, them breaking into the expensive fabric whilst you’re distracted with clients. You shake your head quickly. “Shit. I can’t take them to work with me.”

Bradley purses his lips. Two kids on a naval base while he’s in a confidential meeting that they can’t sit in on sounds like an even worse idea.

When you found out you were expecting, the two of you had made an agreement that your career wouldn’t suffer as a result of parenthood. Given that Rooster is practically government owned, it’s hard for him to be as flexible as he would like. But, he has always made sure you had the support you needed. “Hold on, I’ll call Mav.”

It seems like a bad idea to send the twins to practically their favourite place on earth when they’re supposed to be being punished, but you’re out of other options.

“Idiot, I told you to wait until recess to—“ Parker’s voice trails as she spots her parents headed back in her direction. Peyton squints at the frown on her father’s face. The two of them learned early on that their Dad was wrapped around their fingers, he could barely stand to punish them and so he let them get away with more. The look on his face now tells them that he’s serious.

“I was doing you a favour.” Peyton whispers back angrily.

One look at their guilty little faces and they’re already tugging at your heartstrings. Still, you need to be strong.

“Your father and I have to get back to work, but we want you to know that we are taking this very seriously — we’re going to have a long talk about this later tonight, okay? — What you did was so wrong!”

Rooster glances across at you. Watching the same girl that he was doing body shots off of ten years ago turn out to be such a good mother is an interesting turn of events. He bites his cheek to contain his smile. If you told him back then that things would have turned out like this, with two incredible children, he wouldn’t have believed a word of it.

“We’re sorry.” They say at the same time, looking up at the two of you with those brown doe-eyes. It’s the winning combo, they inherited that puppy-dog look from their dad and mastered it years ago, and they are expressly aware of how funny Rooster finds it when they say the same thing at the same time.

As Rooster stands firm, both of you unwavering before them, your twins give in to their fate and sit back, groaning in complaint.

After his retirement last year, which he was practically forced into, kicking and screaming, Maverick was practically itching to babysit the girls every chance he gets. With Amelia off at college now, and Penny banning him from around the house DIY, he likes the chaos that they bring. For similar reasons, they adore Maverick.

“I’m serious, Mav,” Rooster frowns, his face stern as he holds the twins still. They’re practically buzzing with excitement at his sides as they wait to be allowed inside. “They’re in big trouble. No TV, no games. Have them sit there and finish the worksheets their teacher gave them, or have them clean the floors or something, I don’t care. No fun.”

Maverick takes a quick glance downwards at his freckle-faced granddaughters, both of them staring up at him in worry, hoping that he’ll disagree with their dad.

“Sure thing. I’ll keep ‘em busy.” Maverick agrees seriously, giving a quick, orderly nod of his head. The girls both frown, dejected as they pout at the wooden slats of the porch.

“Alright. If their Mom gets here before I do,” Bradley lowers his voice and squints at his uncle. “Do me a favour and please don’t be weird.”

“Weird? — I’m never weird.” Maverick answers defensively. Bradley squints at him. That’s far from true and they both know it. Maverick was always a big fan of you — you remind him of himself in some ways, and he’s always thought you were good for Bradley. Rooster still jokes that Maverick was more upset about the divorce than anyone else.

“Uh… alright. Be good for Mav, I’ll see you guys later. I love you.”

Maverick ushers the girls inside at once and waits until Bradley’s truck disappears down the road before he turns to address them. With it pouring rain outside, and the trouble they’re in, there’s limited fun that they can have. Something with no evidence. Before that, he needs a chore that they can complete that will satisfy Rooster but not take all afternoon and kill Mav’s fun.

“Alright, we’re clearing out the hallway closet, kids. Move it.”

An hour later, Maverick’s brows are furrowed as he’s thirty pieces into a two hundred piece puddle, sitting in the middle of the hallway floor. His navy expertise means that the twins have a good system, Peyton pulling down items, Parker sorting them into keep or toss.

Only, given the difficulty of piecing together the dozen shades of blue that make up the sailboat puzzle, Maverick hasn’t noticed that they stopped sorting through items five minutes ago. Now, they’re both leaning over a photo album, flicking through pictures.

“Is this Mommy?”

Maverick looks up, brows furrowed. He spins the album towards him without question and smiles at the picture. This was when he was teaching Top Gun that one time, it’s a picture of you at the beach, holding a football and posing with your arm flexed into a muscle.

“Yeah, look at this one.” Maverick flicks to the next page and spins it back towards the two of them. Their faces twist up in a mixture of excitement and amusement. It’s a picture of Rooster draped around you, squeezing you in his arms, his head resting against yours, the two of you beaming. Behind the two of you, the twins’ Uncle Jake is flexing both of his biceps, sticking his tongue out to bomb the picture.

“Daddy’s tummy doesn’t look like that anymore.” Parker snorts, shaking her head, cheeks dimpling as she looks up with a grin on her face. Maverick smiles. He sees so much of the both of you in the both of them.

“They look really really happy.” Peyton adds on.

Maverick nods. “They were. Here, you want to see some more?”

Chores quickly abandoned, daytime movie channel playing on the TV, cutting out every now and again as the weather screws with the signal, the living room floor is littered with old albums.

“Mommy’s wedding dress was so pretty.” Peyton traces her fingertips over the picture, examining the intricacies of the dress. Maverick smooth his hands over her curls and nods his head.

“That day was so special. Your Daddy was so nervous all day.” He chuckles fondly at the memory. Standing at the end of the aisle with Rooster and periodically reminding him to breathe. After so much missed time with Bradley, all of those years of not speaking, sitting here and listening to these delighted little giggles makes his heart warm.

He hadn’t ever been ready for children, but it turns out that being a grandfather was his calling. Passing on his stories, explaining funny faces and little anecdotes about each picture that they come across, seeing their little faces just light up.

They work through the wedding pictures, the work events, the beach days. The pregnancy, the birth, the newborn pictures.

“Is that me or her?” Parker asks as she squints at a picture of you holding a chubby-cheeked newborn on Mav’s porch, smiling tiredly. Maverick remembers that first year of parenthood, you and Bradley stumbling around half-awake that entire time.

“Honey, I’m not even sure who’s who right now.” Maverick admits with a smile. They roll their eyes fondly and continue to flip through memories they’re too small to remember.

They move onto pictures of their toddler years. Lots of pigtails and matching dresses back then, muddy knees and toothy grins. Peyton lingers on one page, lips falling down into a soft frown as she slips the picture from its place on the page.

It’s a picture of them in the backyard at their house, sitting in the sandpit that Rooster had built one summer after reading that it’s good for safety and motor skills all at once. Him, sitting in a pair of shorts and those gold rimmed sunglasses, shoulder reddened under the sun, dog tags hanging around his neck, grinning. Peyton, on his lap, eyes squeezed shut as she squeals excitedly, sand balled in her chubby fists. You, at his side, wearing a pretty sundress and grinning against his cheek, right about to kiss him once you can stop laughing. Parker standing between your legs, lips parted, staring towards the camera like she just heard something shocking.

Mav, behind the camera, his heart so full.

“I wish they were still together.” Peyton mumbles dejectedly. Her sister looks over and examines the picture, then gives a small nod. They hate being without one of you all of the time.

Maverick looks up and looks between the two of them. Those pouted lips, that sad look in those eyes. He looks back down at the happy couple in that picture. The two of you were so in love back then.

It should take him longer to think about than it does. He probably shouldn’t include them in the decision making, but it’s not the worst idea he has had in the past couple of years.

“Have you guys ever seen the Parent Trap?”

…

@thedroneranger @xoxabs88xox @khaylin27 @unordinare @shanimallina87 @sufferingophelia

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #bradley bradshaw au #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader

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mephinomaly · 1 year ago

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[TL] BIOHAZARD/Chapter 7

[ This post uses Ois~su ♪ ]

Time: A little over an hour later

Location: In the underground livehouse in the shopping district by Yumenosaki

Kaoru: Welcome in~♪

Koga: ...

Kaoru: Oh? It’s a regular.

Back already? You know, I shouldn’t say this as an employee, but if you keep coming to dodgy places like this, your parents will start to worry~.

Well, whatever. It’s your decision, just don’t sue us when something bad happens, ‘kay?

Koga: Shut up, stop talkin’ t’me like we’re friends. You’re just an employee.

Keito: Do you know Hakaze, Oogami?

Koga: Hakaze? No, don’t know him. You two friends or somethin’?

Keito: No, but we are in the same class. He’s a notorious slacker, and everytime I see him I end up lecturing him about the importance of coming to school.

Kaoru: Ugh, glasses guy’s here too.

Keito: That’s not my name.

Kaoru: Sooorryyyy~, I have a policy of not remembering the name of guys since I’m not interested in them ♪

Anyway… I thought you had a unique face but hmm– oh yeah, you guys were on stage the other day.

You’re friends with Sakuma-san. That’s why you were told to come out here, right?

Keito: …I wouldn’t say we’re friends.

Koga: Huh~? We’re friends on paper, ‘cos we’re a part of Deadmanz~♪

Koga: Grraaaa! I’m pissed~!

There’s so much goin’ on but I can’t even open my own mouth t’speak~! I’m gonna lose it!

Kaoru: O-Oiii~ Koga-kun? Hm, you probably can’t hear me, can you?

Koga: ? Was that, is that you Hakaze-senpai? Where are you?

Kaoru: I’m right here in front of you… Wait, Koga-kun, is that your voice?

Koga: Who else would it be.

Kaoru: Fufu. There’s quite a lot of people here, so why don’t we go talk in the back?

This time, the client is me or more like, this livehouse I work in.

Do you think you guys could help me out with something—

Koga: Oi! So you actually can’t hear me? You’re just gonna ignore me ‘n keep talkin’!?

Kaoru: ...Ohhh~, so that’s what’s happening.

Koga-kun, Koga-kun. Calm down. I think I get it now.

Koga: Huh?

Kaoru: I think that maybe… we’re in some ghost-like state.

Koga: We’re ghosts? But I don’t remember dyin’— Ohhh, not like that?

Kaoru: Mhm. You act like a moron that doesn’t think about anything, but you’re surprisingly quick to catch on, Koga-kun.

Koga: ’Cos I’m always surrounded by people I don’t get. I’ve been able t’train my brain to understand ‘em.

Kaoru: I see, that makes sense ♪

Koga: So we��re dreaming like this ‘cos of the experiment.

In my dream, it was about the past. I’ve somehow been able t’stay semi-conscious.

Kaoru: That’s called lucid dreaming. On top of that, it seems we’re able to still talk to each other.

We can’t interfere with these dreams, but we can still talk from the sidelines.

Like I said earlier, we’ve been ‘turned into ghosts’.

Koga: Hn, that’s a pretty easy explanation to understand.

Ghosts ‘n dead people can’t interfere with reality.

We’ve actually become ‘deadmanz’. Ironic, ain’t it?

Kaoru: This is such a weird experience that I’m starting to enjoy myself.

Koga: Damn, you’re bein’ so positive, happy bastard.

Kaoru: You only live once, so I might as well have a little fun ♪

Well, I can’t say for sure if this’ll be any actual fun yet but…

Hey, Koga-kun. Am I misremembering?

At this time I wasn’t really interested in much so I took a step back, so that might be why I don’t remember a lot about this?

Koga: Huuh? Whaddya mean?

Kaoru: We’re supposed to be reminiscing on the past, right?...Unless I’m remembering wrong, I don’t recall anything like this happening.

I mean, this is basically how it went but, there’s things here that didn’t.

Koga: Huh? But this is what happened. I went t’the livehouse with Hasumi-senpai and–

Ah, you’re right. I don’t feel like I met you then.

I found out you was the manager of the livehouse later on–

Kaoru: Uhuh. They're only small, but there’s a lot of disparities.

Hm, I wonder what they’re trying to show us…?

[ ☆ ]

Chapter 6

Chapter 8

#ensemble stars #enstars #translation #kaoru hakaze #koga oogami #keito hasumi #undead climax #biohazard #mephi's translations

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blowflyfag · 7 days ago

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WORLD WRESTLING FEDERATION MAGAZINE: December 1995

LIVING RAW

AN OVERVIEW OF CABLE’S MOST EXPLOSIVE PROGRAM

BY KEITH ELLIOR GREENBERG

World Wrestling Federation ring announcer Howard Finkel remembers the pangs of anticipation he felt as he watched the television crew rig up the lights in New York’s Manhattan Center before the first broadcast of Monday Night Raw on January 11, 1993. “It was something we were going to embark on,” he recalls, his deep voice rising in a theatrical pitch. “No one knew what was going to happen. We were going live over the air, and I had this sense that Monday Night Raw was going to be really different from anything that the fans had ever seen before.”

Finkel’s instincts proved to be correct. For nearly three years, devotees of the World Wrestling Federation have stopped whatever they were doing and flicked on USA Network on Monday nights to keep track of the twists and turns in the neverending saga that is the mat wars. With its animated crowds, blaring lights, stirring music and frenzied wrestling action, Monday Night Raw has evolved into the highest-rated weekly series on cable television today.

“All the elements came together,” explains the show’s producer Jennifer Good, “the quality of the matches, the motivation of the wrestlers, the graphics, the music, the lighting, the enthusiasm of the crowd.”

As the 1995-1996 season kicked off in September, some big plans were underway for Monday Night Raw. Bowing to popular demand, the World Wrestling Federation and USA Network agreed to rerun broadcasts on Thursday nights for fans who may have missed the mayhem earlier in the week. And, as this issue was going to press, serious discussions were underway to debut a bi-monthly Raw magazine.

To be sure, the pandemonium broadcast on Monday Night Raw has been significant enough to fill a library. Among the memorable episodes: Razor Ramon’s famous loss to the then-unheralded 1-2-3 Kid; Jerry “The King” Lawler’s verbal onslaught on Bret Hart’s parents in the audience in the middle of a show; Finkel’s managing the Bushwhackers against Well Dunn; Bret joining forces with actor William Shatner; Bam Bam Bigelow’s challenge of football great Lawrence Taylor; Bertha Faye’s nose breaking sneak-attack on Alundra Blayze just seconds after she won the World Wrestling Federation Women’s Championship; Bob Backlund’s placing the chicken wing on former World Wrestling Federation Magazine writer Lou Gianfrido; Sid’s assault on the Heartbreak Kid Shawn Michaels the day after WrestleMania XI; and the British Bulldog’s shocking ambush of Diesel before the pair was scheduled to battle Men on a Mission.

The end result of these incidents is a viewership of nearly five million people just in the United States, where the program is broadcast in both English and Spanish. Throughout Central and South America, the show is seen on USA’s sister station USA-Latin America. Additionally, Monday Night Raw is now watched on various outlets around the globe.

“I think what makes Monday Night Raw so unique is its energy,” says Good. “It’s out of control. We like to say that anything can happen, and it usually does, but that’s not a cliche–it’s really true. Monday Night Raw is like a steam train rolling down the tracks.”

Everybody associated with the program seems to have a favorite Raw moment.

Announcer Todd Penttengill still gets excited reminiscing about “an unknown 1-2-3 Kid defeating Razor Ramon. You have to understand: The 1-2-3 Kid had a losing record up to that point. With that one victory, he became a star. Now, that was a moment–a moment in time.”

Lawler giggles at his excursion into the stands during a Bret Hart-Bam Bam Bigelow contest. As Bret’s parents, Stu and Helen, watched their son in the ring, the self-proclaimed King began peppering them with insults. “I told Helen she was so old she remembers when the Dead Sea was just sick,” Lawler howls. “I said when she gave birth to Bret, she got a ticket for littering.”

Hearing the offensive fusillade, Hart bailed out of his match–and his feud with Lawler commenced.

World Wrestling Federation Magazine editor Vince Russo long regretted his sending Gianfriddo to the arena to interview Bob Backlund. Backlund called Gianfriddo into the ring, clamped on the chicken wing and nearly put an end to the reporter’s pastime as a competitive bodybuilder.

Now that Gianfriddo has fully recovered, Russo is able to laugh about the exchange. “When Louie got chickenwinged, he became a part of Raw history,” the editor says. “With his arm in a sling, he wrote a story that was infinitely more up-close and personal than anything that I had ever read anywhere.”

Color commentator Dox Hendrix got excited recently when Henry Godwinn–also known as H.O.G.--turned his slop bucket against his onetime allies in Million Dollar Man Ted DiBiase’s Corporation. “I thought that it was pretty cool when H.O.G. slopped DiBiase. Then it was even cooler when he slopped King Kong Bundy. And it was even cooler yet when he slopped Sid.”

For the 1995-1996 season, dozens of wrestlers–including Diesel, Michaels, H.O.G., 1-2-3 Kid, Owen Hart, Waylon Mercy, Razor Ramon, the Undertaker, Hunter Hearst-Helmsley, Bret Hart, Dean Douglas, Kama, Yokozuna, Fatu and Goldust–recently gathered on the roof of Titan Tower, the World Wrestling Federation headquarters in Stamford, Connecticut, to film a new opening for the show Thousands of fans also turned up. And as they banged at the gates outside the building, Backlund appeared, set up a podium and delivered a long, rambling speech–all about America’s moral decay.

Shawn Michaels danced on an elevated portion of the roof, watching the other wrestlers advancing on the ring, while helicopters swept spotlights over the scene and special Monday Night Raw cheerleaders held an impromptu pep rally. Meanwhile, drivers in cars on I-95, which runs parallel to the building, craned their necks in wonder at the 50-foot blowup of the Undertaker swaying in the evening breeze.

“Everybody in the ring,” David Sahadi, the Federation’s director of on-air promotion, suggested. He quickly regretted his words.

Instead of mugging for the cameras, the wrestlers forgot about them, and soon, long–simmering rivalries boiled over into warfare–to the delight of the fans on hand.

The 1-2-3 Kid delivered a spinning kick to Dean Douglas, who then found himself choked and slammed by the Undertaker. Mercy and Diesel rumbled against the ropes. Still pumped up from, his ladder match with Ramon at SummerSlam, Michaels propped up a ladder outside the ring, ascended it and flattened Kama with a high crossbody block. All the while, Hunter Hearst-Helmsley stayed on the ring steps, observing all the turbulence with his usual highbrow detachment.

“Everybody out of the ring,” Sahadi said. Remarkably, a number of the athletes obeyed his order, continuing their tussles at ringside. Only Diesel remained in the center of the squared circle. However, when the crowd gave him a rousing cheer, a jealous Owen Hart stormed through the ropes and attacked. Within seconds, the other wrestlers also returned, as fans were treated to a second battle royal.

Nine-year-old Johnathan Bonilla and Edgar Giribaldo, 10, both of Stamford, couldn’t have been happier. “We watch Monday Night Raw together sometimes,” Edgar said. “It’s all action and surprises. Once it starts, you never know just what you’ll get.” Said 8-year-old Nicholas Kort of Armonk, New York, When I hear the music at the beginning of Monday Night Raw, I get excited. I know that the wrestling’s coming soon, and I know that the wrestling’s going to be wild.”

#wwf #magazine scan #magaizne transcript #WWF magazine #WWF magazine 1990s #1990s #1995

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songmingisthighs · 1 year ago

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i'm ranting here idc lmao skip if you don't wanna know the crap my mom pulled on me

so she suddenly came into my room asking me if i wanted to go to Starbucks and i said no bc... i don't want to go? THEN she suddenly went like (m: mom, s: smt)

m: why are you like this?

s: like what?

m: you changed. you're not like this usually

s: like what?

m: torturing yourself

s: who said i'm torturing myself?

m: well you're not talking and you seem to not want to connect to people

s: says who??? (literally i talk to meimei and my other sister all the damn time and I'm literally talking to my ex again so jokes on her) and i don't talk because there is nothing to talk about (and bc i can't talk to her about anything bc she cuts my words all the damn time and changes topics to whatever she wants to talk about and doesn't care about things that interest me??? does that seem like a conversation or relationship i wanna maintain ?? and my dad literally criticize me all the damn time because i have a headphone. I'm basically being bullied. not an hour ago, when they thought i couldn't hear them talking, my dad made YET ANOTHER COMMENT about me wearing my headphones despite me working on my freelance task which is doing translation which i can do unlike him who supposedly went to school in America and didn't even know that 'marital' is another word for marriage and literally had to come to me whenever he wants to spellcheck or translate a whole copy for his company as if google translate and Grammarly doesn't exist)

m: why so?

s: idk? because there just isn't anything to talk about?

m: well don't be like this

F Y TO THE FUCKING I, i "changed" because if i remember correctly (which i do, i have excellent recall skills but shit attention skills) i was criticized by my whole damn family INCLUDING AND ESPECIALLY HER, MY MOM because i was loud and as they told me, "girls shouldn't be loud and boisterous, that's unlady like." YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE IS UNLADY LIKE ???? REMINISCING ABOUT BREASTFEEDING AT A FOOD COURT IN SINGAPORE, TALKING ABOUT PUSSIES IN PUBLIC, SENDING A PICTURE OF AN ABALONE TO A FAMILY GROUPCHAT WITH NOT JUST PARENTS BUT CHILDREN AND SAYING "THIS LOOKS LIKE MY PUSSY HAHA" (my aunt did this not my mom or else i would've kms immediately), AND SAYING "I WANT TO TAKE A PISS" (but in a disgusting, uneducated Indonesian vernacular) OUT LOUD IN PUBLIC. i might not be the girliest girl, but when I'm in public, i have class. it's low but it's still above her

literally she only "cares" about me when my biological older sister is not around and another FYI, my biological older sister doesn't even seem interested in having me as a sister ??? never has been ??? i changed ??? no bitch, my mom changed when my sister is not around. my sister was in Singapore for like a month and during that time, she kinda paid more attention on me? BUT AS SOON AS MY SISTER RETURNS every single time she asked me if i want to go out is ALWAYS for my sister. "you wanna go out? we're taking your sister to the dentist" "wanna go out? your sister wants to go to (some damn nerd) camera convention (filled with sleazy people)" "wanna go out? we're going to pick your sister up from her hangout" G 0 R L TAKE A GUESS WHY I DON'T WANNA GO OUT. and last night, she came to my room to say 'you look pale, you need to get some sun' a. i have heat allergy in which my skin will itch bad if it's exposed to the dirty ass fucking air in this polluted country and sun which ofc she wouldn't remember bc she doesn't think my medical issues are real including my asthma, b. I'm part german and part chinese-indonesian, TAKE A DAMN GUESS WHY I'D LOOK PALE

and no, i'm not petty, i'm not butthurt, i just don't wanna spend my precious time talking about some damn stupid tiktok trend or going out only to spend the majority of time deciding where to go to and then going there just to sit around and do nothing ??

this shit is barely .01% of the whole crap that happened. even my therapist could only say 'get as far away as you can if you wanna start healing' and bitch I'm starting now, I'm distancing myself from shit that can bring my mental health to a worse place

and another another fyi, i've been depressed for WEEKS now but i have functional depression and if i try to explain that to her, she'll try to convince me that it's all in my head and that it only "feels" like so because I "convinced" myself i have that and that the only way i can remedy it is by going out and interact with people

a. she's an economy major who never used her "knowledge" so what the fuck does she know about mental health or biology or heck even psychobiology when it took me bashing my head into the wall to finally take my mental condition seriously

b. literally she doesn't even know me well enough to understand my situation she should consider just not act like she knows anything because she so fucking doesn't, she's wrong 8/10 times it's actually borderline funny hearing her make out-of-pocket reaches lmao

#smt tmi #tw #craps moms pull

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shiorinotshiori · 2 years ago

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You looked so good in green (Eddie Munson x F!Reader)

Eddie can't help but reminisce the moments you were his. You were only a Sophomore when you met Eddie, you were a freak just like him. But during Junior year, you figured that you wanted a change. Senior year eventually came and that change you had hoped to not affect your relationship, comes back at you when Eddie's insecurities got the best of him.

A fic inspired by the song "Green" by Cavetown

Part 2: Finally Home Req Ending: YCSMNNLYDB

Warnings: ANGST, slight bullying, drugs, mentions of making out???SADFGAHDDD Notes: Bold for lyrics of the song (not in order) Italics for memories / flashbacks Normal font for the present time ' ' means it is the characters' inside thoughts Word count: 5.7k

Things to remember: Eddie's only a year older than reader btwww. I have so many wip fics but this is actually the first one I finished (also my first fic post) shdbhasj sorry for wrong grammars/spellings and if it's a bit confusing and boring but let me know what I can do better!

I don't give permission to repost or translate my work please have mercy

A big fish swims past your rod You can't catch it, it's far too fast It’s been months, months full of regret and guilt for Eddie Munson. It’s been months since he decided to end things with you, because of some stupid shit your supposedly ‘friends’ told him. Not a day goes by that Eddie didn’t think of how you were before you became this big fish he now couldn’t catch. Your relationship was perfect, at least that’s how Eddie wanted to see it until his insecurities got the best of him. He had always known that you deserved better and frankly, up until now, he has no idea how he landed a chance with you to begin with. There had been a lot of times that he couldn’t help but to reminisce some of his favorite moments with you- there were a lot, to be honest. But one of his favorites were the time he first officially met you. It was the day his life begun.

Take care of my shirt Warm and red

It was a normal day in Hawkins, by normal, that meant everything sucks for a loser like (Y/N)- especially when you’re a new student. You have no friends, no place you belong to; unless you’re one of the girls that the popular jocks would automatically try to sleep with. It was Sophomore year when you had no idea how to dress or at least fit in anyone’s standard. You were alone, trying to see among the crowd in the canteen who’s most likely to let you sit with them but, you didn’t think someone will do that for a girl like you. In Hawkins High, it was up to you to decide your social status- if you choose to hang out with the nerds, you’ll be a freak. Join cheerleading? Oh, it’s for sure that they’ll only tolerate their own kind.

“Being new sucks.” You whispered to yourself, standing in the middle of the cafeteria after getting the food provided by the school. You looked like a lost child, wondering where to go while your parents’ not around. Just as you were about to take a step, a body collided with yours. Next thing you knew, your clothes were full with whatever the food was that they served. “Watch where you’re going, freak!” A guy with blonde hair told you, eyeing you up and down. As he walked away, you immediately felt like crying. It’s always been like this for you, even before moving to Hawkins. You had hoped that maybe, just maybe, people were a little bit nicer than where you used to go. But boy, you were so wrong.

You realized that the food’s gonna probably stain your clothes, so instead of going to class- you decided it was better to skip. Who would want to walk in class like that? Not you. Deciding to just throw the food on your tray, you ran towards the exit. You ran and ran and ran until you find yourself lost in the woods.

Thankfully, you did find a bench. Unfortunately, someone was sitting on the desk. A guy with brown curly hair, leather jacket, and somewhat a… club shirt? It says Hellfire club. “You ‘kay?” only then you realized you were kind of staring at him as he smoked. Lost in thoughts. “Uhm… yeah yeah. Just got a little lost.” You forced yourself to let out a chuckle but, you’re still a little bit upset about your shirt. “Well… your shirt’s not.”

“Wow… thanks, I didn’t notice.” You rolled your eyes at the guy, ‘as if I didn’t know’ you continue to stare at the ground- thinking how great it was that you just ran into another student who’ll probably make fun of you too. Unbeknownst to you, the guy who rudely commented on your shirt, started taking off his own. “Here, you look like you need a new one.” Slightly looking up, you saw the guy’s hand offering you the shirt he was just wearing- “Wait! Are you naked right now? Holy shit.” You refused to fully look up, thinking that he’s maybe… topless. You didn’t want to be caught staring again.

“What? No! I have an extra one in our club room. I’ll just go get that, I have my jacket anyway.”

“Then why just not hand me that one? You’re really gonna walk naked in school?!”

“Like I said- I have my jacket, sweetheart. Also, I figured you didn’t want to walk around looking like… that. I’m used to the weird stares, a’ight? Just take it.”

Finally looking up, you saw that he pulled his jacket’s zipper all the way up to cover himself. ‘Oh but how am I gonna get dres-‘ your thoughts were soon interrupted. “Look, if you’re worried about me peeking while you change- I’ll just go ahead and walk away. You’ll have this spot all to yourrrself. No one ever comes out here, you’re safe.” He began to walk but then you remembered you haven’t even thanked him yet. “Wait! Uhm… Thank you-?”

“It’s Eddie… Munson. And noooo problem.” It was the first time, the first time you had seen him smile. Yep, he’s kinda attractive, you couldn’t deny that to yourself plus he’s nice. Before you could even reply, you were alone in the woods.

Tomorrow came and you clutched the newly washed club shirt as you walk into the cafeteria once again. Looking for a mop of brown hair- ‘Oh, there he is.’ You approached what seemed like the Hellfire club, you were not that stupid to not notice they were all wearing the same shirt. Eddie was busy making some kind of dramatic narration when he got cut off. “Hey uh… Eddie?”

Slightly getting annoyed because someone interrupted his usual act, he looked up to see the same girl from yesterday. And just like that, his annoyance was gone. “Oh, hey. What’s up?”

“Uhm, sorry did I interrupt you? Sorry, I just wanted to give you your shirt back.” Now feeling the stares of the other members, you started to feel small. ‘Shit.’

“No, Nope. No need. You can have that, because as you can see, sweetheart- I’m already wearing the same one. You can uh… also, sit with us if you’d like.” At this point, Eddie was really pushing his chances there. It wasn’t like he only noticed you yesterday, he had been eyeing you since school started again- and he also noticed you had no friends, yet (sounds so awful but it was true). A lot of times he did want to offer you to sit with them, it’s just that he had never asked a girl to hangout with them. Having this thought that even though you were alone, most of the time- he figured that maybe you’d still not want to settle with nerds like them. But this was the chance, he couldn’t just let go of it. “Really? O-okay. I’m (Y/N), by the way.” And just like that you finally had a place you belonged to. Especially when Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, as well as the other members of the club never made you feel the opposite. At first, you had no clue what’s the club about- hell, you didn’t even know Dungeons and Dragons existed before meeting them. But as time flies, you finally learned how to play the complicated game and you got yourself a wonderful group of friends. It was also that day that you and Eddie started getting closer and closer until you became his favorite player.

He was so glad that it was his shirt that you wore the day someone spilled their food on you. He was glad that the opportunity to talk to you presented itself to him. He was glad that you accepted his offer. He was glad he got closer to you. He was glad the day came when you became his.

I see your eyes in the flowers I'll pick a bunch for your room Green and blue to match your pictures

Another one of his favorite memory was when he used to give you a bunch of flowers that came from another resident in the trailer park. Up until now the old lady had no idea that Eddie’s been ‘borrowing’ her flowers before. Poor lady was confused to wake up to her dear flowers not as many as before. Eddie surely missed picking them in the middle of the night, when he’s sure that his neighbor’s not awake.

It’s safe to say that Eddie’s rebellious but, he took that up to the next level whenever he has to ‘borrow’ a sweet old lady’s flowers in the trailer park- just so he could give them to you. Not that he would let you know where he picked them.

You were focused studying your lesson when you heard light taps in your window. ‘Must be Eddie’ you thought, it became quite the routine for him to sneak in your room at night- even though your parents were well aware of your relationship with the guy. He once told you that it just felt right sneaking in, living up to his ‘bad boy’ name. You went and let him in thru your window, you saw the man struggling to step in since it was obvious he’s trying to hide something from you- holding whatever it is behind his back.

“Good evening, fair maiden. I, Eddie the Banished, brought you- a gift.” As he said that, he proceeds to give you a bunch of, what it seems like hand-picked flowers. Your heart warmed at the thought, Eddie’s been always sweet but, no matter how many times he did something to make you feel giddy- it will ALWAYS make you feel giddy. “Why thank you, kind sir. To what do I owe this… wonderful gift?” slowly taking the flowers from Eddie who’s bowing with his arm extended and holding the flowers. He’s just dramatic like that, which you love so much.

“Nothing, just wanted to give you something that reminds me of you. You know- green and blue flowers to uhm… match your pictures in your room. I know you’ve always loved trees and the ocean.” There it was, that cute smile you’ll never get tired of. Carefully placing the flowers in an empty vase, you made your way towards Eddie to give him a gift in return. A sweet kiss from a fair maiden.

You lifted a hand and placed them against Eddie’s cheek, leaned in and kissed his lips. It was a quick and tender kiss, just to let your man know how much you appreciate the little things he does. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Well… I think evidence is lacking, princess. I need more of that kiss.” Let’s just say that you couldn’t continue studying after what Eddie said.

I miss your perfect teeth I was too blunt

He couldn’t help but remember the sweet silly little moments, or that time you told him that his teeth looked cute.

“I’m so jealous of your teeth Eddieeeeee.” That was the first thing you said to him after having a full-blown make out session. You were in his bed, sitting on his lap while having your nail pressed against his tooth. You and Eddie had just finished smoking joint when you both felt like you were not close enough to each other, thus, starting a battle with your tongues.

“Whaaaat? What do you mean, princess? You have the most perfect teeth I’ve seen, trust me.”

“No way Eds, I doubt that. Yours are- uhm… cuter.” You giggled, ‘cuter teeth? Really (Y/N)?’ you thought. Imagine someone telling you that your teeth look cute, weird compliment but it was just like you and Eddie. You liked being weird together, it’s what makes your relationship a thousand times better than everyone else’s.

“Ah, so you’re calling me a liar (Y/N)? hmm?” Eddie tightened his hold on your waist. His back that was resting against the head of his bed, now gone as he started leaning towards you. Almost as if suggesting a war between your tongues to begin again. Which you gladly accepted.

Staring deep in his brown eyes before closing your own, you snaked your hands in his curls, slightly tugging on them while his tongue is moving with yours- yours and Eddie’s lips firmly pressed against each other. You knew Eddie liked it whenever you go rough on his hair during these moments. The first time you did, it shocked him. He was not aware before that he was into that kind of shit but, ever since then, he kept his hair long so you have more of his hair to play with.

You looked so good in green

But his most favorite memory, was the first time he got to you see you in your own element. Eddie will never forget how beautiful you looked that day, not that you were ever ugly, it’s just different seeing you shine for everyone. It was the moment he realized you’re the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

People were not used to seeing THE Eddie Munson in one of Hawkins’ balls in laundry basket games. But now there he was, he would’ve never even thought of going in to one if it wasn’t for you. He knew that this is the first game you’ll be participating in and seeing you so excited, he decided to go even after you told him he didn’t need to. You were well aware that Eddie and the rest of Hawkins High don’t get along so you didn’t want to push him to go, but you gotta admit- you wanted him there. You wanted him to see you shine in front of the whole school for the first time, especially after you started with a rocky reputation. You transferred to Hawkins High during Sophomore year, when you met Eddie. But then Junior year came, you thought you’ve had enough of being a loser. It didn’t have anything to do with the Hellfire club, you reassured Eddie that but- you wanted a change for yourself.

You wanted to stop being the weak (Y/N) everyone knew during Sophomore. You knew you had your talents and you also knew you were great at what you do; so, you decided to try out for cheerleading when you heard one of them quit. They were one member short, routines were hard to change when everyone else in the group already have their own positions. At first, the cheerleaders were hesitant to let you in, knowing you were once the girl they used to ‘bully’. But out of all who attended their tryout, you were the only one who can keep up with them- they were in desperate need.

Along with being accepted, your style also changed. You started minding how you looked, you started to care unlike before. Eddie’s thankful that that’s the only thing you changed about you, your personality never did. The way you treated Hellfire was the same. As much as your new ‘friends’ hated seeing one of their cheerleaders sit with the freaks, they couldn’t do anything to separate you with Eddie. Jocks also started to notice the change in your appearance, guys who used to ignore you, started hitting on you. Eddie hated seeing that but he was too proud of you, and your constant reassurance keeps his insecurities away for a while.

And now, he realized how much you deserved the recognition. The attention you grabbed, he hated and loved it at the same time. He truly believes that you were meant to be in this kind of crowd.

Eddie went in and sat in the front row, nevermind the disgusted stares he was getting- he was there to watch his girl. His big brown eyes sparkling while he watched you cheer your soul away.

The dance ended, oblivious of the fact that your boyfriend’s sitting among the crowd. He saw you jump around and celebrate with your teammates of how well it went. Your jump went into a halt, finally meeting Eddie’s eyes. You wasted no time as you ran towards him, him sitting up and welcoming you into his arms. It’s one of those cliché moments where a guy spins you around while embracing you. “You’re here!” you squealed on the crook of Eddie’s neck, still with your arms wrapped on the same spot. “Course I am. Can’t miss your important day now, can I?” You smiled, the thought of Eddie going to an event he hated with his whole heart, just to see you- makes you wanna marry the man right then and there. “Oh and one more thing-“ Eddie started, retreating from your embrace and gently lifting your chin with his hand; referring to Hawkins High’s cheer uniform, he said “You look so good in green, sweetheart.”

You looked so good in green I hope you're well And you look so good with him And I'm proud of you still

School was ending soon, Eddie couldn’t miss out the last moments you shine- though for him, you always did. The gym is packed, as usual, students are so hyped up for the same event he loathed. He waited until people filled the seats, spotting an unoccupied one in the darkest corner at the top. He doesn’t want you to know but, even after your break up- he still went in every single game just to see you again. Thankfully for Eddie, your vision was not the best; it’s not like you can wear glasses while cheering and you hated wearing contacts. You refuse to wear them since it makes you uncomfortable and your eyes were not THAT bad, it’s just that you won’t be able to see people from far distance especially those who sit in the darkest areas. ‘She still looks good in green’ Eddie told himself, as much as he hates the uniform and the people wearing it, you are an exemption. He always admired you, used to tell you how it fits you perfectly.

Another successful routine, like the other times before, you were jumping and celebrating again. Only this time, Eddie wasn’t prepared for the sight he was about to see. As you were enjoying the time, a guy approached you. One of the basketball players who’s gonna play later, went in and hugged you. Much to Eddie’s disappointment, you hugged the guy back as Eddie was forced to witness the whole exchange between his ex and a jock. Never ending thoughts are running inside his head, thoughts he didn’t want to come back right after regretting what he did. ‘You look so good with him’ he admitted to only himself, almost accepting the fact that maybe you now found someone better than him. He couldn’t help but think that this was his own doing, you’re now with someone because he let you go. No matter how many times he wishes, that he’s the one you should be hugging, he only has himself to blame.

He couldn’t take it anymore, he went to exit the gym, stopping once he reached the doors- looking back at you for the last time “I’m proud of you still.” He whispered to no one.

Little did Eddie know, you just hugged the guy back because, to be honest, he was the only tolerable player you knew. The guy’s been nice to you without any hidden intention, you became close with him but, it’s always gonna end there. You’re not gonna fall for someone, no. Not when Eddie’s still the one in your heart.

Mess in the kitchen I was so disappointed I guess I got to my head

After exiting the gym, he went straight to Hellfire’s club room. Entering, he sees the other members waiting for him, to start the session he had forgotten. But now, he’s really not in the mood to DM anymore, not after what he saw. He just couldn’t find the energy to continue with the day. “Hellfire’s cancelled today.” He didn’t even wait to hear the members complains. Right after cancelling on them, like it wasn’t a big deal, he walked out.

“Dude… Eddie never cancels Hellfire. Something must be so wrong.” Dustin’s voice was the only thing he heard before he was out of earshot. ‘Yes, a lot of things are so wrong right now. Including me.’ He went home feeling defeated. Eddie never got mad, he was not the type. Sure, he threw tantrums every once in a while, but this was different. Eddie’s not that kind of person to throw stuff everywhere, at least not until now. It was all a blur, now that Eddie’s sitting on the couch with his head hung low, he looks over the kitchen. Broken plates, shattered in pieces everywhere. This was a first for him, he’s not a very fortunate kid, he knows that breaking things will only cost him a fortune- but it was too late. The mess in the kitchen is a very big evidence of that.

I get it now that it's too late I never stopped feeling guilty

Upon seeing the mess, another memory came- only this time, it wasn’t that type of memory he wanted to remember. Eddie wanted to erase it in his mind, forget the day he made the biggest mistake of his life. He just wants to go back to the days you were his and he was yours. Guilt will always consume him. It had dawned to him how selfish he was. If only he could turn back time, but it was too late.

As much as Eddie hated being near a party, he had no choice but to go into this specific one because a jock offered him a great deal. A great deal? Yeah right. If he had known that time that this very same party will cost him his ‘perfect’ relationship, he would’ve just ignored the insane amount of money the popular kids had offered him for drugs. It was a big party which means they needed as many drugs as possible, almost everyone was present; except the outcasts and you. You were invited but you went straight home after cheering in the championship game, because it was your mother’s birthday and you couldn’t afford to miss out the party happening at your own house. After handing out drugs, Eddie went to turn away and drive to your house because he promised he would be there after his drug deal. Except, that didn’t happen. As Eddie was turning away, a voice called him. “Hey! Munson.” He looked at the source of the voice, only to notice it didn’t belong to an individual alone. He looked at the group, both eyebrows raised, wrinkling his own forehead.

“What?” Eddie questioned, wondering what the two girls accompanied with Jason Carver, want. He had no drugs left since they bought all of his remaining products. “You’re still with (Y/N), right?” one of the girls he didn’t even know, asked. Eddie just assumed that you might have hung out with the girl before, considering she was wearing Hawkin’s cheer uniform. “Yeah.” He simply replied, not wanting to start an issue if ever he had thrown a snarky remark. All he wanted to do was to drive away and finally spend his time with you, since you’ve been busy with practicing routines and all. “You know, I still have no idea why (Y/N)’s still with you. I mean yeah, we get it. She was a total freak like you before. But good for her for wanting a different crowd. She’s too pretty to be spending all of her time with you losers in your- Hellflyer club.” The girl said crossing her arms.

“It’s Hellfire.” Eddie scoffed, finally deciding that whatever this conversation was, was only wasting his time. He turned away AGAIN, walking towards his van. “Don’t you think she deserves better?” Now, that made Eddie stop. The phrase ‘she deserves better’ had always made him feel something; something he wasn’t supposed to be feeling when all you’ve shown him contradicts with the negative thoughts. But now, now that you were not around to tell him the opposite, he didn’t know what todo but to listen to their shitty comments about your relationship. “Come on, Eddie. Don’t tell us you’ve actually never thought of it? She joined cheerleading to get away from you freaks.” The other girl just spoke. Eddie knew that it wasn’t true, you didn’t join the cheerleaders just to avoid him and the Hellfire, he had known since the beginning of your relationship that it had always been your dream to become one- not to be one of the popular kids but to show people your amazing skills; thus, they accepted you in to their team (even after being labeled a freak), because they couldn’t deny that they needed your talent. He also knew how important him and his friends were to you but at that moment, he couldn’t stop the lingering thought that maybe you were tired of being an outcast.

The last straw was Jason, of course it was Jason. Eddie knew it was the end for him when the jock said the things he was dreading to hear, “You’re only gonna bring her down with you, Munson. She deserves a different life. A life that doesn’t involve a drug dealer who repeated Highschool.” He thought Jason’s done, but no. What he said next decided Eddie’s supposed to be own decision about you. “When we graduate, (Y/N)’s gonna have to move forward, and where does that leave you? You’re just always gonna hold her back. Think about it.” Right then and there, Eddie hated himself. He hated himself for letting people like Jason, add more fuel to the fire that Eddie’s been trying to distinguish for a long time. He hated himself because he knew that he’s emotionally dependent on you, you take away his usual nonchalant behavior with you- now, that you aren’t there to tell him you needed him no matter what, Eddie had finally let the fire consume him whole. With his back still turned from the group, Eddie got up to his van and went straight home. He knew he couldn’t face you after convincing himself that you were better off without him. It was the morning after, he barely got any sleep when he woke up to the sound of loud banging on the trailer’s door. “Edward! I swear to god, wake the fuck up and open this door right now!” hearing his girlfriend’s angry voice, he groaned- not because of annoyance, but because this was the day.

He opened the door where he was greeted with her frown. He hated seeing her frown but, today’s not the day he’ll be helping to turn it upside down. Or maybe it’s gonna be, when he finally lets her go. ‘Maybe she’ll be happier and better without me’, he thought.

“Where the fuck were you? You said you’d be there yesterday, I even told my mother.” Oh right, the party. He couldn’t say anything, still consumed with those stupid words from stupid people; so he just went to the couch and sat down. Your eyes followed him, “You kept me waiting, Eddie. You know how much I hate that.” That should’ve been his sign, his sign of how much you loved him to the point where you’d get upset over this. But instead, he thought the opposite.

Running both of his hands on his face, “(Y/N) I-“ he started, immediately stopping when he felt the lump in his throat. “You’re gonna explain yourself or what?” you didn’t wanna be rude but you were upset and you thought you deserved an explanation. Oblivious to the fact that your boyfriend’s almost as upset as you, maybe even more. But how could you notice? When he couldn’t even look at you.

“Eddie!” (Y/N)’s voice startled him. Only then he realized that he hasn’t uttered even a single sentence to her. “Eddie, please just say something. I’m sorry for yelling and being rude to you okay? I-“ maybe that’s the purest thing about her, even when it was other people’s fault for upsetting her, she just couldn’t hold anger. “I- I think we should break up.” Eddie cut her off. Letting out a humorless laugh, “What?” “We should break up. I’ve been thinking about it.” He tried his best to not let his voice crack. “Wha- why?! Is this about cheerleading? Because I can quit for you Eddie. It’s not a big de-“

“It’s not about that okay? It’s- it’s more than that”

“Then tell me Eddie! What is it? I’m su-sure we can do something about it.” Except, there was nothing you could do. He made up his mind and he’s too blinded to see how much you wanted this conversation to be over. How much you wanted to just crawl on his bed and cuddle with him.

“I just think I’m gonna hold you back, sweetheart. It’s obvious that you’re graduating, and I’m not. Jesus Christ! I can’t even get a B on Mrs. Click’s class.”

“And so what? I told you Eddie, I’ll wait for you. I’ll stop for a year, help you pass your classes before going to college… so we coul leave this hell together. I already have everything planned I-“

“But that’s what’s wrong (Y/N)! I can’t have you delaying your studies just because I didn’t make an effort in mine.”

“Fuck Eddie! I don’t care! We had this plan- we’ll leave Hawkins, I go to college, you go build up your career with Corroded Coffin! See? It’s that easy.“ This conversation was stressing you the fuck out. You couldn’t stop the tears at this point. You thought you and Eddie had it settled down. You knew he didn’t want to continue with college, considering he got held back in Highschool. Eddie decided with his bandmates that they’ll try to build the Corroded Coffin’s reputation in another state, knowing that those five drunks will get them nowhere.

“After that, then what? I’m just a drug dealer with a band, (Y/N). I’m just a freak and you- you deserve better than me.”

“But-“ you managed to choke out but, after a word, you had a hard time finding your voice again by how much you were crying. “(Y/N)… I’ve already decided, sweetheart. I’m sorry…” Eddie stood up from where he was sitting, seeing you crying, he couldn’t help himself. You had both of your hands covering your face when you felt arms wrapped around you. “I’m sorry, mmkay? But you’ll be fine without me, baby.” He softly whispered. It felt so unfair, it was not up for him to decide if you deserved better. You were the only one who can tell that. But hearing Eddie so sure about it, you now knew that he was beyond saving from the insecurities that corrupted his mind. ‘Maybe if I showed him more, how much I loved him, he wouldn’t have thought about this.’

You retreated your arms and wrapped them around Eddie’s torso. “You’re so unfair, Eddie.” You were now full on sobbing on his shirt, not that Eddie minded. As long as he gets to hold onto you like this for the last time, there’s a whole closet full of his shirt he’d be willing to drench just so you could cry on it.

Both you and Eddie savoured the moment. Just feeling each other’s warmth like you used to. You sure as hell gonna miss moments like these with Eddie, minus of course, the breaking up part. Finally accepting the end of your amazing relationship, you managed to ask him a bold request, knowing that this will be the last chance you’d get. “Eddie?”

“Hmm?” He hummed a response, still with his arms wrapped around your neck. “Can I- can I at least get a goodbye kiss?” you felt him went stiff for a moment, thinking maybe you were pushing your chances to far considering that he literally just broke up with you. But your worries soon deflated when he agreed. “Of course.”

Unwrapping himself, little curls of his hair getting momentarily stuck in yours. You were now face to face with Eddie, also noticing how wet his puppy eyes were. Oh god, how much you’re gonna miss every single part of this man will hurt. They’d always been your favorite feature of his, and soon you won’t get to stare at them for as long as you want. Eddie gently raised both of his hands to touch each side of your cheeks, breathing heavily in doing so. ‘Make every moment count, Eddie. You won’t be kissing those lips anymore’- he had thought. You close your eyes waiting for his lips to just touch yours, and then it happened. Eddie leaned in and your lips touched, it was that kind of kiss that you knew you were saying goodbye to the love of your life. Both of you felt it, it was aggressive in a way that it was also gentle. The kiss was giving you false hopes, hoping that Eddie will realize you needed him as much as he needed you.

But then it ended. He retreated and rested his forehead against yours while his eyes were still closed, breathing in your scent so he could remember having you this close when it’s gone. When you’re gone. “I love you, Eddie. Fuck, I love you so much.” Upon hearing that, he took a deep breath and- “I love you too (Y/N) but… this is for you.”

He was already regretting his own decision but- they were probably right, he thought.

I hope you love yourself Your body and heart I hope you feel happy That's all I want Eddie knows he has no other choice but to think of those memories, he couldn't turn back time. He couldn't get back to you, knowing that your fate with him will still remain the same. Now, he just hopes and pray that you'll continue loving yourself even after he made you feel like it was somewhat your fault why he broke up with you. He hopes that whatever it is in it for you after Highschool, you'll be happy living your life in college. With him, he thinks that he needs to focus on building up his dream. He will not be able to give you a luxurious life, like the one your parents gave you. He’s just a drug dealer in a band with no certain future; maybe Corroded Coffin will fail, or maybe their talent will get its recognition someday, who knows? But until then, he’s letting you go.

AN: OKAY! I'm actually thinking of making a part 2. To whoever gets to read this pls give me any comments, I'll gladly take anything since this is my first time writing SGAHDFHG. Hope you like it!

p.s. I just find it funny how the first fic I posted is literally an angst SHASDHJ considering I hate angsts w no fluff ending.

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heyheydidjaknow · 2 years ago

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what was l’s childhood like?

I want you to know that I though I’d write a very brief summary of what I thought his childhood was like. It turned into a 1.1 k monster but an effort was made.

He doesn’t remember a lot of it, both because he was very young and because it was a point in his life he considers unworthy of recollection; what’s the point in reminiscing on something you can never go back to? Still, there are a few vague things he remembers. When he was very little he lived in a city in which, he presumes, his parents must have met, given how they were already fairly settled. If he had family there or elsewhere he was never told about them. From the way his parents referred to them whenever they would– usually around the holidays– they never spoke fondly of them, so he assumed they were estranged. He was a relatively normal kid, all things considered, if a bit eccentric. His parents made an effort to make sure he interacted with kids his age despite their own communication difficulties– Russian was only his father’s first language and accruing to his mother he struggled with talking at the best of times– and tried their best to educate him in basic math and science, actively speaking to him in a variety of languages and reading whatever they were aloud to give him something like a standard education.

When he was five, they moved to somewhere more remote, somewhere in the mountains, he knew, because the way to the nearest town was downwards. His father never went into town– it was a secret that he was there according to his mother– but she and young L went into town a lot, her for work and him for much-needed socialization. She found a job at a general store– odd to him at the time because she joked a lot about how hard it had been to get her license in psychiatry, which surely must have paid her more money– and he spent most of his time sitting behind the counter with her. To keep both of them entertained, she made a game with him to help him better read social cues, something the men in the family, she explained, struggled with. The game was simple: guess what each customer was there for before they grabbed it. For every twenty people he was able to guess correctly, he got one piece of candy– twenty, she explained at his general disgruntlement, because even the cheap candies were hard to come by. When he got good at it, the number of people increased. By the end of the first month, the number was fifty. More books were read. Newspapers were, too. It was in the town L touched his first computer.

He had three winters there. Most of it was spent in their little cabin, doing puzzles by firelight while his parents talked about “adult things” he wasn’t allowed to know about. His father taught him how to hunt, how to chop wood. He didn’t get it, why they didn’t have electricity when everywhere else did, why they were living out there at all. “Because we have to,” was all the explanation he was given. “For Daddy, we have to.”

One day the two of them came home and he wasn’t there. Things were thrown about, books pulled from shelves. A few days later, his mother went missing. A bit of research after the fact led him to find out that she had gone after her husband for some reason he couldn’t fathom at the time (he would later come to the understanding that she had done it likely in an attempt to save his father, which was irresponsible for a parent to do but understandable for someone so in love.) She left him with enough food to last two months and a note explaining what to do if she didn’t come back, that she had sent out letters to contacts to take care of him if she didn’t come back. None of them came through.

He took her job at the corner store. He made as much money as he could and sat through the winter the best he could. It wasn’t scary, exactly, but those days are the foggiest in his memory. He spent a lot of time doing things that didn’t interest him; the most exciting thing he did was catch pickpockets and think and neither of those things were worth remembering.

There was only one very distinct memory he had of that period. A man had come to town— rich, from the look of him— looking for a place to stay on his way to a village a bit farther away. He had come into the corner store, seen him behind the counter, and got a glint in his eye L hadn’t seen for a very long time. The man had walked into the store, pulled a pack of cards from his pocket, and set them down in front of them. In perfect Russian— odd considering his name was English— he asked L to play a game, and there were no customers to attend to on a day so cold so he accepted. He hadn’t heard of it before— it was some card matching game from the sound of it— but after a quick demonstration he caught on. The man introduced himself as Wammy— “That’s a stupid name.”— and explained he was on his way to a conference— “You’re going the wrong way; there aren’t conferences here.” According to him, he was a money person. He mentioned investing in a company that L thought was obviously going to go down soon from all the odd decisions it had been making in recent years but he decided to keep that information to himself because his parents taught him the value of not doing things for no reason. After a very long conversation— “Does the conference only start when you get there? It’s not a good habit to make people wait for you.”— he asked him to come with, saying that it would be fun for a bright young man like himself. He said no— “Nothing in life is free for a Lawliet.” The man agreed, and so they parted ways. A few days after that he came back with a toy for him— some electronic device from the looks of it— and told him he’d give him a slice of cake from the local bakery if he could take it apart and put it back together, which, to L, was bordering on robbery, given the price of cake at the time. He did as he asked, handed the toy back to a fascinated Wammy— “If you stare at kids people will start thinking bad things about you.” Wammy asked for his parents. L explained they had been dead for a while now. Wammy offered him a place to live and a consistent supply of food in exchange for letting him study him, and L, considering that an odd but financially sound offer, agreed.

He brought nothing from the cabin with him. Looking back on it, a part of him wished he had.

#death note lawliet #death note #dn lawliet #l lawliet #lawliet x reader #ryuzaki lawliet

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choibinn3 · 3 years ago

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GET IT TOGETHER, JUNGWON!!

[ four. O_o Yang Jungwonnie ]

series masterlist

⋆·˚ ༘ * in which jungwon had meant for that love letter to go to yeri, and not you—her bff. for some reason though, he finds that with each moment he spends together with you he's closer and closer to forgetting all about that damn letter.

luv note - chloe moriondo

WRITTEN PORTION. 1.9k words

btw remember that second hand embarrassment tag?? yeahh....

ps. this is bad, very, very bad and cheesy so be warned (its meant to be, but youll still feel pain lol)

—

student council room.

Jungwon could feel his hands clamming up, but he instead urged himself to just swallow down his nerves. For the past week he thought the biggest worry he had was his parents and Student Council work.

Not potentially losing friendships and breaking your heart.

"Jungwon? Are you still there?" your voice asked. It was slightly muffled by the door, but still distinct. "I had to tell Hyuka to go back without me."

You, he remembered. He had to fix this. He had known you since you were both in kindergarten, incidentally somehow being in the same classes up until High School. Still, he didn't know you though.

You were closer than acquaintances, maybe a little less than friends, and definitely not more than people with mutual friends. With everything that had been happening since the Student Council election, he had assumed he'd get closer to you naturally. It just never happened though, but he enjoyed your company when he could.

Yeri on the other hand, he was connected with. Being both Student Council President and Vice President meant they worked together often, and he found himself being drawn to her sweetness. He enjoyed their dynamic and their current friendship.

The way they worked complemented each other, and she always found a way to make him smile—it seemed as though her kindness and generosity knew no bounds. Plus, she related to him in a way none of his other friends did.

Late, after class and after hours, they'd both talk casually while doing paperwork. Jungwon's parents were hardheaded and stubborn people, wanting the best for him and yet stressing him out. They were the whole reason he ran for President in the first place.

He couldn't find it in himself to hate them though.

Yeri was the same, and she supported him throughout all the difficult times he went through because of them. She was soft, so level headed, fiercely loyal, and unbelievably pretty.

They had been partners and friends for a little over a month, and Jungwon was sure he wanted to at least try with her. It was young, new and unfurling feelings, it was something he wanted to find out.

Your energetic personality was charming, but that was all it was. It didn't strike his heart in any particular way. Jungwon was almost 100% sure there was no way Yeri would ever date him after this, but he needed to prioritize your feelings currently.

He just hoped Yeri and him could still be friends afterwards though—because being a liar was the one thing Jungwon wasn't.

"Yeah," he called out, "still here. You can just come back in now."

He watched as you nervously peeled back the sliding door of the clubroom, inching inside to peer at him. You walked closer to stand in front of him, and Jungwon smiled in hopes of easing your anxiousness.

You threw one back, although a bit hesitantly. "Jungwon," you started, twiddling with your fingers. He simply watched—wanting to at least let you talk a bit. Crushing your feelings now would be nothing but brutal. "Honestly, I was really surprised with the letter. Do you... remember back in 3rd grade?"

"No? I'm sorry, I'm not good with memories from Elementary School," the doe-eyed boy replied. He was telling the truth, grade school felt like ages ago and he just hasn't had the time to reminisce on childhood memories.

You held your hands up in a defensive manner. "That's fine! Um, you like... Uhh, how do I say this..." You made gestures with your figures, hoping to convey it to him in one way or another. God, this was dumb.

Jungwon observed silently as you laughed at your own stuttering. Endearing, came to mind. That was cute.

In the Council Room and in class, you were always particularly enthusiastic and excitable. Seeing you bashful was a very different side of you for the black-haired boy.

"I sent you my own love letter once. Like, a long, long time ago, and you sort of rejected me? I think."

"You think?" The boy held back a laugh, but quickly composed himself. He wasn't laughing maliciously, just... how could you be unsure of such a thing? "I'm sorry, but I still don't remember."

"Yeah, that's fine!" You nodded, embarrassed from his almost-chuckle. You did not want to seem like an idiot in front of him today. "Actually, I don't remember much either, but you didn't reply to it."

Jungwon gazed at your brows furrowed from trying to think of more words to say, and suddenly he felt a tonne of guilt fall onto him. His expression grew solemn.

Quick, get it over with, before this would get any worse.

"Look, YN—"

He had to shut his mouth almost immediately.

"What I'm trying to say is—!" You took a deep breath. "I've liked you since then! Since years, and years ago," you finally blurted, closing your eyes as to not see his reaction.

"You're the only one I've ever felt this way towards. I thought once I grew up this warmth would just... go away, but it hasn't and I don't think it will. I was honestly going to just swallow it all down hoping I'd get over it before we graduate, but I couldn't. My feelings were overflowing—I just found myself finding more things about I liked about you instead."

Your goal today was to not embarrass yourself, but to hastily tell him you liked him too before sprinting away. It seemed as though nothing was going to plan so far, for neither of you, actually.

Jungwon was left unable to speak from your surprising declaration. You took that as a sign to continue. Whatever happened next was something for future you to panic over.

"I like your dimples, that smile you make when you're passing by strangers in the hallway, and the way your hair falls when you comb through it. You're admirable in everything you do, truly. The way you help underclassmen, the way you always make sure to assist teachers during your free periods, and how you never seem to complain or get frustrated when we make mistakes."

You had nurtured your feelings for what felt like forever. Even when you were technically rejected back then, and even now. At first, you thought that he would be a passing crush from when you were a kid—but he wasn't. He grew into his own so much so that you found yourself admiring his leadership, compassion and thoughtfulness with each day you watched him.

"I like how mature you are, how you still find the time to care for your friends even with Student Council work, the natural way you light up any room you walk into, how I could honestly hear your voice talk for hours on end, how even though we haven't spoken much you still remember my favorite color from when I told you during introductions, I'm rambling gahh, just—all of it! I like all of it, everything about you!"

Everyday of harboring your secret affections for the boy consisted of soft glances during his speeches, wishes to be able to encase his hand within yours to interlock your fingers under the table during meetings, and wantings to be more than what you were to him. It was alright for a while, but it had started to become painful.

All crushes are painful, you told yourself in 5th grade, watching him start to receive confessions from your classmates.

"—I like you! I've liked you since the 3rd grade, and so I accept! I really, really want to be with you Yang Jungwon. Please take care of me!"

They were all painful, but you were given the chance to make yours not. To make your feelings real and acknowledged, to bare yourself in front of him like a vivisection—and you were taking it. Even when you were practically trembling from the embarrassment.

Jungwon was stilled from the shock. Heeseung had already told him of your long held feelings, but hearing it from your mouth while you had your eyes shut tight made him flustered.

How were you able to do that so shamelessly? To be so vulnerable and weak in front of someone? He had to write a whole letter, albeit a bit poorly, and somehow you were able to say it all.

He's received confessions before, felt those kind of feelings, but he wouldn't have been able to yell out those sort of things ever—no matter how strong his feelings were. You were dangerously bold, he thought.

Bold enough to send a bright heat to overtake his cheeks.

You looked up finally after mustering enough courage from his lack of speaking, only to find yourself blinking at a red-faced Jungwon. Oh my God, he's blushing...! YOU did that.

The both of you stood there for a while, thinking the same thought of what is even happening? Is this real, or have I just been in a daze for the past few days? Jungwon's eyes were comically wide and his mouth was gaping, but he couldn't find it in himself to close it.

The thought made you gain confidence all of a sudden, finding the opportunity to do something you had always wanted to do. Quickly and stealthily, you went onto your tippy toes—

and kissed him on the cheek.

Jungwon felt your lips on the smooth expanse of his skin, and smelt your scent from the intimate proximity. It was a chaste gesture, almost no where close to his lips at all, but he heard his heart beating against his ribcage nonetheless. It thrummed in his ears like a drum, and he wanted to whisper for it to stop.

For it to not be swayed so easily.

It was the innocence of such a thing that got to him. Not once had Jungwon held hands, kissed, or even confessed to someone up until now. Of course, you suddenly getting so close and pecking him with your hands balled up would send his heart into a flurry.

The usually put together Student Council President in front of you let out a strangled noise from the back of his throat, the tips of his ears and face becoming rosier. His throat was closing up, God, why was his throat closing up? Not now, please. He couldn't even remember what he was meant to be saying.

You smiled at him, happy to be rendering him to such a state. It was one of the most impulsive things you've done up to date, but you couldn't find yourself regretting it.

This was what those coming of age dramas on TV were describing—it was the start of one of those cheesy, really bad High School romances. Fervent, mushy, uncertain, but so tender it made your heart ache for hours even after watching.

As you retreated slowly, he caught a glimpse of your bright eyes, downcast lashes, and—holy shit you were so close. He could see the particular way you curled your lips.

He had to hold his breath.

Jungwon watched as your expression morphed into one of slight mischievousness, and an inkling of something softer, before you dashed out the sliding doors—

"Wait!

The sudden motion made him gain his words back, but you were already through the hallways with your hand on your bag.

—leaving him with nothing but the memory and the patter of your footsteps. So fast, so much speed, were you in track? The past few seconds were nothing but a blur of confusion and feelings he didn't want felt.

What just... What just happened?

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TLDR (but whyy :( pls read it); jungwon goes to do take backsies on his confession, u kiss his cheek, he goes coocoo bananas!!!

TAGLIST; @lumixen @ghjasksdk @atinyyylove @jjikyuu @yjwooon @ncityy04 @tyunni @littlewolfieposts @xoxojayd3n @rosiechaengz @sunshine-skz @youreverydayzebra @hobistigma @plshhhhhhh @lokideadontheinside @alo-ehas @milkycloudtyg @bangtopia

send an ask or dm

i wanted to emphasize how new his feelings for yeri :] if u could guess what this could mean. alsoooo... did u notice how fast this went ? i intended it to be rushed and "in the moment" like it was in the scene hehe

#yang jungwon x reader #jungwon x reader #jungwon smau #yang jungwon x y/n #yang jungwon x you #jungwon angst #enhypen angst #jungwon fluff #jungwon drabbles #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #jungwon imagines #enhypen social media au #enhypen socmed au #jungwon social media au #jungwon scenarios #get it together jungwon!! smau #get it together jungwon!!

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oneoftheprettynerds · 4 years ago

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Just My Type: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 2 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 1: Welcome to the Darkside

Main Masterlist

A/N: This chapter is 2K words more than the last chapter and I’ve second guessed every single line in this one. This story is getting a lot of traction guys and I’m equal parts happy and scared. Thank you for the nice comments, they do encourage me. Also I’m just ranting feel free to skip this note haha. Your support in any form: like, comment or reblog is appreciated greatly. Also you can dm if you want to be friends, God knows I need those. Hopefully, this chap was worth the wait. Also, I made a poster for this on the main masterlist so check that out, it might be foreshadowing dome plot.

Warning: Eventual Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks later.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can't ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can't get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Chapter 2: Just My Type

It had almost been a week since the incident and you had barely gotten a wink of sleep. When you drove back to your house that night, Steve surprisingly didn’t argue as you had expected. After that friend of his whispered something in his ears, you only assumed he was needed elsewhere and you couldn’t be more thankful for that. They escorted you to your car and Steve thanked you with a strained smile, words genuine but eyes calculating. You didn’t even wonder what went inside his head. You were thankful for the peace and quiet of your own car, content to just get out of the area and into your humble abode.

After you put the already asleep Grace to bed, you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of her room. You just sat on the floor beside the bed, hand intertwined with hers as you rested your head beside her tummy on the mattress.

Your adrenaline wore off and your limbs ached as your thoughts finally settled into place, the gravity of the catastrophe a few hours prior hitting you. Tears made their way down your cheeks as you realized that you both could have very well died tonight.

One bullet could have sealed each of your lives and you were basically defenseless had Steve not saved you against the creeping assaulter. You couldn’t commend yourself for even defending yourself against one attacker, the guilt of killing someone harboring in your tired head. Your quiet whimpers eventually wore you out, while Grace’s shallow breaths lulled you to sleep.

You didn’t manage to sleep for long though, every time your eyes closed, horrific images flashed in your mind. A blood curdling scream here, heaps of dead bodies there, with distant exploding sounds all around. You could see men clad in black holding guns to Grace’s head and whensoever you woke up, you just wondered how much more creative your mind could get, making these visuals so realistic.

When 8 AM rolled in, you didn’t wake Grace up even though it was Monday and you had work. You got up, changed into a long tee after a shower and called your office and then her daycare. You knew you would have a hard time going back to your normal life, to become trusting enough to leave her alone.

Your assumption about yourself was right. You took almost the entire week off, which your boss generously allowed you to after hearing your traumatic experience, which soon made the city news headlines. All your colleagues checked on you, almost once in the five day break you took, and sweetly enough offered to bring you anything you needed.

It was kind of them, but none of them could bring you what your heart genuinely craved: peace and assurance that you and Grace would be safe.

Even though Saturdays were off, you did go to work to see what you missed and where to start on again. You went in because you knew that the random spurt of resolution you got in the bathroom to collect your life, wouldn’t last.

To ease back into your normal life, you gathered your guts, called a babysitter and left home. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave Grace at the daycare just yet. One of your good friends offered to come in to the office and help you, even on the weekend and you were quite grateful to him.

When you both decided to take lunch in the nearby dining place, you both got to talking, the conversation obviously originating from ‘How have you been?’ and ‘Is Grace okay?’. You reminisced about how you used a photobooth to hide, grotesquely and uncomfortably chuckling when you remembered Sarah calling you her mom and how her dad saved you all.

You deliberately left the part where you killed someone and Steve shot someone too. You hadn’t come to terms with it yet and you stiffly restricted your mind whenever it tried to go down that lane.

He sensed how the conversation was becoming tense and distressing for you and briskly redirected the topic.

“I hope the dad was hot though?” He wiggled his eyes creepily and you snorted at his vulgarity, light for the first time in days.

“He was easy on the eyes; I will admit that.” You played along, recalling your girlfriends and how you used to ogle people.

“Don’t be a homewrecker though, I don’t support cheating.” He said nonchalantly, checking his phone as a notification bell rang off.

“He’s a widower.”

His eyes snapped up and met yours as his head tilted in confusion. “That’s a strange fact to know about someone you met for a few minutes.”

Steve’s even stranger comment about his dead wife popped in your mind and before you could stop yourself, you blurted that out as well.

“He even said and I quote, ‘She deserved what she got.’” He put his phone down, weirdly amused.

“Ooh Creepy! Do you think he is one of those husbands who kill their wives and bury them in the backyard? The podcasts always say that the psychopaths are visually handsome and charming. And his statement was quite vague and spooky.” He continued munching, and you felt that now Aiden was really paying attention unlike before.

“Steve did have a gun while searching for Sarah, come to think of it.” You drank your tea and awaited his response. What you did not expect was his eyes to widen and worry to cloud his features.

“Um Widower Steve with a toddler Sarah? At the place where The Vices attacked?” He mumbled, grabbing his phone and doing God knows what on it. Your eyebrows furrowed and before you could ask him what was up with his antics, he resumed.

“This is a long shot but I really hope your Steve didn’t look like this.” He positioned the phone in your vision, and you could already tell it was Steve by the sapphire blue of his eyes piercing through the screen into your soul. The picture was a month or two old, his hair was much longer when you met him than in the photo.

“This is him.” Your eyes met Aiden’s and worry visibly took over his features as his forehead creased and jaw tense.

He looked around the restaurant, finding it empty in the afternoon. He leaned and whispered, “This Steve of yours is dangerous.”

You interrupted Aiden, even though you already knew Steve was, the sight of his armed men still fresh in your head, and inquired, “Why do you say so?”

“It’s just like the fictional stories we hear from our parents, except here, in this city of ours, every myth holds true. There are really powerful men, untouchable by law, who reign the city silently and live luxuriously. Every shady, under the table deal you’ve heard of, transpires. Illegal trades, fraud schemes and bounty hunters are not fictional, they exist here. These men kill whatever hinders them and trust me, you don’t want to be the deer caught in their Jaguar’s headlights.”

Ice froze in your veins again, resembling the fear you felt that night but now because of your deemed ‘savior’. You convinced yourself that you had not wronged him in any way, instead had saved his daughter’s life.

“Are you in contact with him? If you are, distance yourself cleverly, don't block him immediately.”

“No, we just parted ways near my car, he thanked me for Sarah and was called away. It’s almost been a week and he hasn’t reached out if that’s what you mean. We didn’t exchange contacts and I don’t think I even told him my full name.” You explained yourself as if you were on the witness stand in court, trying to convince yourself more than Aiden.

“Pray that he doesn’t remember you more than that, if at all. I’m being totally honest here in telling you this, I’m genuinely worried for you and Grace. You are smart but he is powerful. He has unimaginable resources and if you become more than a speck of dust on his windshield, you are screwed. There is no exaggeration here.” You took his words to your heart and swore to be careful, if not for yourself then for Grace.

The rest of the day went by and you found yourself dwelling on and worrying about Aiden’s words. At least he put it out there as it was. Heeding his advice, you did google Steve on your phone, finally finding him in the topmost news headline when you added ‘Buck’ in the search bar as well.

‘With 38 lawsuits pending against businessman Steve Rogers, the filers have lost all hope in prosecuting him. All cases are being drawn out for indefinite periods of time by the Chief Justice Bruce……’

Aiden was right.

Businessmen was code for illegal mob heads. Cases being stretched on meant he was, in fact, invincible, at least to the common man’s fists.

You flickered through several titles, each one more surprising than the last. He was believed to be involved in the carnival attack, alleged for three hit and run cases that he didn’t lose but the witnesses swore they saw him driving and was also rumored to have brought in quintals of drugs just last week, but the packets just evaporated into thin air and there was no proof of their existence in the first place even on incessant searching.

Every crime of his made you shudder and you mentally thanked Aiden for pulling you out of your oblivion. Your mind raced and heart palpated and you cursed yourself for being so drastically unaware even after living here for almost four years. Technically speaking, Steve and you were even, him saving your life and you saving his daughter’s. No logical reason came to your mind for him contacting you ever.

You wished as Aiden said and assured yourself that your paths would never cross again, Steve not having reached out in a week, so hopefully never again.

That thought went out the window when you reached home to find a box awaiting you. Hannah, the babysitter you had called, informed you it came around 5 in the evening and was exclusively to be opened by you today.

Your mind raced as you paid the babysitter, your hands sweaty as you tried not to think about the gift and its sender. There was an apparently clear answer to who mailed it but you refused to accept that, courtesy of Aiden.

The box was of the height of Grace, it was black with red hearts painted across it; some red roses also sparingly adorned it. You opened the lid and found tons of red tissues and a multi-flower bouquet adorned with mostly red roses and a few purple and pink flowers.

Because of your frequent gardening in your backyard, you knew all the flowers’ meanings. To sum it all up, red flowers, especially roses were used for courting someone. Pink meant admiration, purple for beauty and you knew the ‘violet’ flowers were for loyalty.

As your nerves increased tenfold, you willed yourself to get it over with and empty out the box first, ignoring the little card in your bouquet, saving the ‘best’ for last. You find a mini bouquet inside but unlike yours, it had chocolates of every kind. You did read its card and cringed when it was for Grace, bothered not by the deed but by the doer.

Further inside were some animal plushies, face masks, perfumes, scented body lotions and shampoos. Your head hurt thinking about the ‘single mother care package’ delivered to you by someone you refused to acknowledge.

As Grace sat in her playpen occupied, you dared to pick your card and read its message, your heart beating unrealistically fast for someone who refused to accept the cruciality of her situation.

I can’t thank you enough in this lifetime for saving my little princess. The gift of your help is more than anything money could ever buy for me. Please accept this invitation of mine for dinner tomorrow night, 7PM at La Bonne Nuit, as a symbol of my sincere gratitude for everything you’ve done. I’ll gets the kids covered and pick you up, you just be ready and look as amazing you always do. Sincerely, Steve Rogers

You stilled as you read it over and over again.

An invitation, your ass. Even in writing his authority portrayed, there was no question and hope for you coming, he just stated that you’d come. Looking pretty as always? You just met him once, in the middle of a calamity, covered in dirt and blood.

All the red roses and gifts screamed his romantic interest but you illusioned yourself into thinking they meant gratitude. You wouldn’t be able to digest it all otherwise.

Knowing what you knew now about Steve, you understood there was no denying the dinner tomorrow. You had to get out of his clutches and distance yourself, but as Aiden had so rightfully said, cleverly.

That night you laid in bed mulling over your next course of actions. You had called the gift shop to return the unwarranted presents you received but they said it was non refundable and anonymous to trace. You bitterly snorted in their face, they put a card with Steve’s name on it for heaven’s sake!

You didn’t flinch even when you realized you never gave Steve your address, neither for mailing stuff nor for picking you up. There was no number given to call him and thank or to call him and deny. The bastard had planned it all out, and you felt like you were driving in a one way lane, going deeper into the tunnel. Somewhere among your all-relentless fretting, you managed to finally sleep.

When the doorbell rang, your eyebrows furrowed. It was just 6 PM and you weren’t expecting anybody else except for Steve. You had already begun getting ready, having developed a habit of keeping an extra margin of time now having a toddler. You still had to assemble Grace’s essential backpack, fill it with her meds and bottles.

While still putting on your diamond earring, you made your way to the door, unlocking it to find a redhead grinning at you. Before you could interact with her, a small body clung to your legs and you looked down to find the azure eyed kid that put you in this mess, Sarah, smiling up at you.

“Mama! You look pwetty!” She looked up in awe and now aware that she didn’t have a mother, you were even more so coerced into accepting this title rather than telling the kid that 'you are semi orphaned'.

“I’m Wanda, Sarah’s nanny. Mr. Rogers told me to pick her friend, Grace, up for the night?” So, this was what Steve meant. Bringing Sarah was proof enough of her legitimacy, but behind her you saw ‘Buck’ salute you from the driver’s seat of the black car. One of these days, you needed to learn his real name.

You invited Wanda inside and Sarah ran to Grace immediately, grabbing and whining while asking Grace to give her some popcorn she was munching on, her fist generously full.

In your open plan kitchen, you grabbed two plastic bowls, filled them with each with the tub of popcorn that sat in the microwave and handed each toddler one, fortunately quietening Sarah. Sarah obeyed Grace, in first thanking you, their ‘mama’ and then following her to her open playpen.

You faced Wanda again who sat on a barstool and kept on beaming. If your annoyance at her amusement showed, she sure didn’t let it falter the smile.

“Mr. Rogers told me you’d worry about your daughter, but I assure you she’d be in more than capable hands.” All you could focus on was how self-reassured she was. “I’ve served him for almost two years, the last family I served, I was there for 8 years and before them, I was employed for 3. I know the general bedtime and snacks, all I need from you is information about her allergies.”

You nodded and told her about Grace, her meds and what all you packed. When you got to know that her family owned the daycare Grace went to, you were finally somewhat convinced. After seeing them off, it was about fifteen minutes later, that the devil disguised in Prada showed up at your door.

You grabbed your purse and your keys. Wiping your sweaty palms on your dress, you opened the door. Steve stood there, a smirk lodging on his handsome face. His blue, three-piece suit perfectly paired with his cerulean eyes was impressive to say the least.

He was dressed to kill, and it appeared as if you were his first victim.

As your eyes took him in from top to bottom, his did the same lazily, taking their time, resting at certain places for longer period than others.

“You look stunning.”

You knew you did. You wore one of your more expensive dresses when you found out La Bonne Nuit to be one of the few seven-star hotels in the country. In hindsight, if you’d have dressed worse, maybe he’d have left you alone.

“Thank you.”

“Shall we?” He offered you his hand and you obliged with your palm in his. Your other hand pulled the doorknob while you stepped out, all alarms already set-in place. He waited while you locked and put the keys in and when you were done, with a soft kiss along your knuckles, he pulled you along.

The act surprised you, your stomach turning and your gut wrenching and you wondered if you’d be able to process the food after all, with your upset digestive system.

Like a proper gentleman, he opened the door for you and when you settled, he took his position at the driver’s seat. The silence was painful for you, your overthinking finally filling ideas in your head that you avoided contemplating about all day, focusing on Grace.

He was relaxed though; his humming was proof enough.

Mid way through, your thoughts were rudely interrupted when a hand housed itself on your knee. You glanced to find Steve’s palm slightly rubbing your knee. If it was meant to be assuring, you certainly didn’t feel like it.

You frowned and looked up to Steve who still had the arrogant smirk on his face, eyes straight ahead on the road, giving no indication of his inappropriate touching.

You wanted to swat his hand away but a brainwave dashed through your head and a disturbing thought made you halt, that whether he carried guns to restaurants as well, since carnivals were no big deal.

You ignored his hand and continued looking outside, pretending to ignore it as well as he did. Your scowl was a huge giveaway though.

You didn’t know that, but when your eyes found their way out, his finally rested on your face, the smirk growing even more.

Thankfully, apart from the incongruous touching, the dinner went okay-ish. The food and wine were impeccable, perfect even, the restaurant on the hotel’s top floors was so picturesque. You tried to savor your one-time experience there, knowing you’d no way be able to come back there.

Well, you tried to relish as much as you could while your mind still sat there, wary of the human in front of you. If you’d ignore your journey here, Steve was nothing short of a true gentleman, often making you wonder if you had imagined his hand on you.

This ‘friendly’ date you were having was probably one of the best you have had, he had left no expenses. He appeared to be interested in your work, about your childhood and about Grace’s but you swiftly avoided his questions about her father. He was growing a tad bit too comfortable for your liking and you still refused to entertain the idea that this was a ‘date’ date.

When you were finally onto dessert, the last course of your meal, your table was shadowed by the broad frame of a brunette and his date. He clapped Steve’s shoulder and Steve rose to hug him, you awkwardly smiled.

“It’s been far too long since you’ve been here, Cap. Why don’t you and your gorgeous date stop by my penthouse for a bit? We could finally go over the papers you sent me, in person?” He winked, they discussed something more and then went away, his date bowing and trailing after him as well.

Steve claimed his seat again, and finally told you about the interrupter. “That was my good friend, Tony Stark, always in a hurry. I’ll introduce you to him when we meet him later.”

“I think I’ll be heading home; you need not worry about my introduction, I hardly think we’ll ever run into each other again.” His eyes narrowed and you clarified, “Me and Mr. Stark, I meant.”

That’s good, don’t associate yourself with more of his kind.

“He was so kind in inviting you though, it would be rude to refuse.”

“It’s already late, Steve. And I’ve never left Grace alone for a night yet. What if she’s antsy? What if she is bothered? What if she feels unsafe? She's only used to very few people, and after last week, I-” You had started the sentence hoping to use Grace as an excuse but every word of yours succeeded in making you more apprehensive.

The carnival night flashed in your mind, along with the nightmares and you started panicking even more. Your hands clammy, your dessert spoon fell in your lap as sought your phone in your purse, hoping to call Wanda for an update. You felt like a terrible mother, who left her child with a stranger, only a week after she suffered trauma, just to go on a date with a mobster.

Steve reached across the table and grabbed your fidgety hands and as you wriggled to get your hands free, he softly called your name. Voice stern but vocals gentle. Your blurry eyes snapped to meet his while he guided you to breathe deeply, in and out.

His firm hold convinced you to listen to him, you’d never free yourself of them otherwise.

When you had calmed a bit, he withdrew his hands and fetched his phone. Your thoughts slowed down, and you wondered if anyone here was judging you. Your little scene, mercifully, went unnoticed by the other affluent people dining here.

Steve handed you his phone where four colored frames rested, the screen showing you Grace and Sarah cuddled in a frilly, pink four poster where Wanda sat too, her lips moving.

The feed was live and the screen muted, both the toddlers’ eyes fluttering close slowly, on the bridge of sleep.

You handed the phone back to Steve and drank your water while he rubbed circles on the back of one of your hands. You never freaked out like you did right now, always collected and never giving into anxiety. What had happened to you?

Well, In your defense, you had never experienced a disaster either.

“The kids are safe; I’m never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

Your mind did catch the plural in his statement but you promised yourself you would not let it get that far and continued drinking your water, emptying the entire glass.

“The HD image you just saw was by cameras Tony recently developed. His technology is amazing, I’ll take you to his lab sometime.” You appreciated his attempt to redirect the topic but you also focused on how tech-savvy his friends were as well.

You hummed and agreed, trying to be ambiguous with your answer.

When you finished your dessert, you hoped he’d forget about his ‘friend’ Tony but to no avail.

“His penthouse is two floors above. He owns this hotel as well in case you didn’t notice.” He led you to the elevator as you recalled the Starks Group logo you saw earlier sometime.

Some AI named Jarvis opened the elevator doors for you in the living room of Tony’s penthouse. It was even more magnificent than the restaurant earlier, the place illuminated by several hues of different colours. Steve chuckled and strung you along, introducing you to a ginger-head named Pepper, who was Tony’s date earlier and went to search for his acquaintance.

She offered you wine but you politely declined, opting for water instead. She brought your glass to you from the extravagant kitchen and you both sat on the barstool there instead of the living room. Too anxious to say the wrong thing, you stayed quiet until her voice filled the deafening silence.

“So, Steve almost never brings dates around. You two serious?” She questioned, leaning towards you, waiting for some gossip, no doubt.

“Oh no! We aren’t dating. He just invited me for a friendly dinner. We merely met the other week.” You deliberately left out the part where there was bombing by crime families and attack on the common man.

“Honey, in the mob life, you don’t just introduce random people to the fam.”

Oh, she wasn’t being shy about the whole mob ordeal. It seemed weird to hear it from her, since you and Steve hadn’t used the word yet. Maybe he figured you already knew considering the circumstances you met in or how famous he was.

“We really aren’t romantically involved. This dinner was just a gesture of gratitude if I’m being truthful.”

She chuckled, as if you were a kid making stories and quizzed, “Gratitude for what?”

You trapped yourself into that one. You didn’t know how to answer her and your brain downright blanked. Surprisingly,, Steve came to your rescue and two voices interposed your conversation.

Steve called your name and as you turned to the men, he continued, “She’s the one who saved Sarah the other night. You know the story, Wilson probably got it printed.”

“Impressive, really. Hey, I’m Tony and I see you’ve already met Pepper, my fiancée.” He shook your hand and kissed your knuckles, much like Steve did earlier in the day. You bowed, smiled and mumbled a ‘nice to meet you as well’. They escorted you to the elevator and Tony continued.

“Well, it’s not everyday Steve brings brave and extraordinarily attractive women around. Welcome to the family, sweetie. She’s a keeper, Cap.” He winked while saying the last sentence and before you could correct him, Steve ushered you inside the elevator, bro-hugging him. As the doors closed, Pepper winked at you from behind Tony and a shudder ran through you.

Okay you had to make it clear, get on the same page.

As the elevator music filled the silence, you started, “Steve, look we aren’t-”, “I served in the army, that’s why Tony calls me Cap, short for captain.” And crudely got interrupted.

“I never wanted to get into the army, I thought people were fools to sacrifice the one life they got. But I went to make my mother’s dream a reality, I really loved her, you know? Sarah is named after her, my mother.”

His voice broke at the end and as much as you wanted to redirect onto your former topic, you couldn’t. This amiability of yours would be the death of you.

“She died alone in her bed; I was dispatched too far away to even make it back for her funeral.” He mumbled but you heard him clear as a sunny day, and he leaned back onto the wall for support while you awkwardly rubbed his shoulder to return the support he provided earlier during your mental breakdown.

He closed his eyes and gathered himself, taking deep breaths. As the elevator dinged, his eyes opened and he gave you a strained smile.

The car ride to his mansion was painfully silent, his mind too sidetracked to focus on harassing you again. With all that you went through today, you almost forgot about that.

His mansion was enormous, twenty guards stood outside and even more patrolled the lawn. He took you inside his house, the interior even more detailed and scenic than Tony’s temporary residence.

You just concentrated on swiftly getting Grace and Uber-ing back. As Steve showed you earlier, Grace and Sarah hugged and slept and it was a meticulous task to untangle their limbs without waking either of them up andnd get Grace with her back-pack. You thanked Wanda on the way out, hoping to avoid Steve but somehow he stood outside before you, leaning on his sleek black car. He opened the door for you before you could refuse the ride. You settled with Grace in the backseat itself, trying to be smart.

He just summoned one of his guards to drive and sat alongside you in the back. You didn’t let the annoyance at his clinginess show though. You just focused on Grace who drooled over your shoulder.

Hopefully, there won’t be any point of exposure to him ever again, your circles didn’t match, both social and professional. Your Venn diagrams didn’t overlap anywhere. This should be reason enough to avoid meeting ever again.

He didn’t try anything even this ride around. You doubted it was hardly because of the toddler or because of the driver. He did as he pleased, if he wanted to he could very well grope you. Luckily, he wasn't in the mood.

When you reached your dwelling, you stepped out hastily, thanking him in a whisper. You fumbled to get your keys out, but since everything you held slowed you down, he caught up with you without even trying.

He took and held Grace’s bag while you drew the keys out, Grace still on your hip. He handed you the bag back, “So this is it, I guess?”

“Yeah, tonight was a total delight. Thanks for the dinner and everything, really.” You put up your best façade, hoping to convince him.

“It was, thanks to you. The company matters the most.”

You awkwardly chuckled and you sensed him leaning in, his eyes flickering shut. Your eyes closed as you turned your head to avoid him, so that his lips would peck your cheek.

They never came.

Your eyes opened to find his and he chuckled, leaning in once again swiftly, catching you off guard this time. He didn’t meet your lips though, he kissed the corner of your mouth, lips overlapping for a fraction of skin.

“In due time, baby.” He stepped back and strolled to his car leisurely, content in his own world.

You opened your door and slammed it shut, the peck feeling wrong on so many levels. It felt more sensual than a lover’s kiss, leaving room for intimacy and longing.

Your thoughts ran a hundred kilometers an hour, the most absurd but nauseatingly true being, this was a date and it was not your last encounter.

Steve smirked outside in his car, the dinner an absolute success in his opinion. Tonight just made him feel that you both were more than compatible for each other. You needing him during your mental breakdown, him relaxing under your shy touch, Tony’s approval, not that important though, and your anxiety for Grace was the best part, because he, more often than he’d like to admit, fussed about Sarah the same way, agonizing and fretting her well being.

A text lit up his black screen and his grin widened even more if possible.

‘The Stark cameras are up and working, Sir.’

830 notes · View notes

sslow-dancer · 3 years ago

Note

hi! can i request a one shot with polnareff x reader but he’s still stuck as the turtle but a twist like the princess and the frog? the reader kisses the turtle and he comes back to being his old (part 3) self because the reader is the one? lots of fluff plzzz? ty ;w;

A/N: Okay but this idea is so unbelievably cute?! I apologize for taking forever to get it done. I went a bit deep and overboard with the storyline on a request that is so simple and I’m pretty sure this is my longest one up to date actually BUT- it’s whatever. There’s plenty of fluff near the end, I promise. I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it too!! 🤍

(If this flops, I will be so sad omg)

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

“You’re The One, My Love.” (Jean Pierre Polnareff x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of drug abuse and depression

tags: gender-neutral, gender-inclusive, jean pierre polnareff x reader, turtle pol, magical, kiss, twist, slight angst, sfw, fluff

Description: One day after having to escort Polnareff as orders from your boss, you begin to grow quite fond of him. During your usual hangouts, you jokingly offer to kiss him as a way to recreate one of your favorite fairytales.

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

You giggle as Jean pulls you into a kiss, you feel him smile as he holds your face gently. You’re happy to see the man you love not be as serious and hurt as he was when you first met him. Your expression reminiscent of the memories shared between you before this moment.

~A Year Before~

Your personal servant had drawn the curtains. Your eyes fluttered open, body awaken by the bright sunlight shining from your windows and murmurs outside your bedroom. You groaned in frustration as you threw a pillow at him, he managed to catch it and place it back by your bed frame. You huffed,

“Didn’t boss say I have the week off? I’m allowed to sleep in.” you stated blankly, remembering how you had the strong urge to strangle him for ruining your slumber. He shook his head as he sat by the edge of your bed and pointed at the clock that stood on top of your nightstand. You distinctly remember the screen marked 7:25AM exactly. You sighed as you thought you could’ve at least slept in by 10. You sat up and criss crossed your legs and played with the lose strings of your blanket as he replied.

“Technically you do, but today is last minute and different. Sr. Giovanna wants you to escort out a close individual he works with today by 8.”

Frustrated, you plopped your hands down onto your lap and rolled your eyes as you said back,

“Not to be bratty but...can’t he just do that himself or get one of you to do it?” you raised your pointers and middle fingers to create air quotations “This individual must be pretty important if not even the boss can take care of it.”

Your servant shut his eyes and sighed. After what you had just told him, deep down you felt bad about how much he had to deal with your bull on a daily basis- not to mention your constant grumbling in the morning whether he woke you or not. Either way, you were pretty grumpy most mornings. He shook his head again.

“It’s not that either. Sr. Giovanna could easily lead him out but he’s currently finishing business with other people in the country. Sr. Mista is with him as well so you’re the only one we have present. They both must attend all meetings, they are not to miss one.

“Okay, but that still doesn’t answer my question. What’s so important about him or her or whatever the hell they go by?”

“I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.” He said finally as he patted your bed as a way to non-verbally tell you to get ready.

You huffed when he exited the room, plopping your back down hard into the foamy mattress. You roughly grabbed at the pillow you had thrown earlier and placed it over your face, you screamed into it for a good 10 seconds.

Looking back, were you being a little too dramatic? Yes, sure- of course. It’d make anyone cringe if they were to had witnessed it though you didn’t really mind. You were still maturing anyway. You were still getting used to the life Giorno Giovanna and Guido Mista had offered and gladly given to you.

Before meeting your boss Giovanna and his right hand man Mista, you had been living life miserably at home. Though before anyone asks, no: your parents were not abusive, no: your siblings weren’t either, no: nor were your friends or teachers. You had just become very distressed with the life you were leading on. You didn’t like the person you were and were expected to become. Anxiety took over rather unexpectedly. So what did you do when you had enough? You moved on to drugs.

You were surprised to find out how easy it was for a person in their late teens to gain access towards those terrible substances. But none the less, you later learned your dealer was from the mafia known as “Passione.”

Was it dangerous for you to have figured out that information? Yes. However, you remained cautious and never told a soul...until one day you bumped into the now late capo, Bruno Bucciarati.

You were walking down your local dealing alleyway, hands in pockets and school bag still in sight. You usually dealt after school as many adults were distracted by the kids that filled up the streets. Thus making them barely notice the illegal activity going on as a large number of students would walk down alleyways as a shortcut to their home. You were swift in paying back and receiving your desired substances anyway.

All of a sudden you heard a distant call, a call out of your name. You stopped dead in your tracks and turned around to look at the direction from where the call was coming from, that’s when you saw him. He stood a few feet from you.

“I’m glad I was able to find you...my name is Bruno Bucciarati. Your parents sent me to look for you, they’ve mentioned to me that you’ve been coming home late from school lately.”

You only shrugged and completely ignored his claim. You began walking away but were stopped again when he said,

“Leaky eyed Luca deals with you, doesn’t he?”

You kept your gaze forward and your back turned away from Bruno. Turning your head slightly over your shoulder, you mumbled,

“If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”

Without having to look at him, you knew he had tilted his head when he answered.

“That depends. If you answer honestly, no trouble will occur. I’ll remain calm with you, that is a promise.”

You blinked, sighing as you kicked at the small pebbles near your feet, staring at your shoes as you thought about what he said.

You had been dealing with Luca and you knew that his business was risky. Though you didn’t care. You felt that you needed to get the drugs you wanted pronto and Luca was the only one who would give them to you quickly. You shook your head, deciding to give up as you didn’t want anyone to notice you both speaking. You turned to face him and quietly replied,

“Yes, he deals with me. He’s the provider, I’m the receiver.”

Bruno smiled, satisfied with your answer.

He followed up with informing you that Luca had been killed at a local airport and was told to investigate his death. He didn’t provide too many details as to the cause of his death but you didn’t feel like asking anyway. Bruno admitted he came to speak to you as hours prior one of your parents really did come to speak to him about your behavior. After connecting some dots, he suspected you had something to do with Luca’s death as you were not attending school and were gone for most of the day. Not to mention, your teachers had called your parents that day as well.

Luckily, he was able to clear you out as a suspect as you cooperated with him and weren’t sweaty or completely jittery. He also gave you a little talk about using drugs. He promised he wouldn’t tell your parents that you got yourself involved in that abusive life if you promised to not buy more again.

You truly felt at the time that he was the only one who understood and cared for you in just the short time you met him. Your eyes watered as you complied with Bruno, promising to do what he suggested. A promise you have held onto forever.

After some investigating of your own, you found out that it was your future boss that killed Luca. You were rather impressed than angry that he was able to kill him. You honestly believed Luca would never be caught.

Back to the day you had to escort this individual- after some more complaining and grumpy remarks towards everyone in the household, you were finally ready to meet them. Your personal servant led you to the front door. He made sure to quietly remind you to be polite.

Your attention turned to another servant walking down the stairs towards your direction. A pillow in hand with a piece of cloth covering whatever was on top it. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, laughing as you sarcastically remarked,

��Is this some kind of joke? It’s not April, is it?”

“No, but I guess this household treating me with the upmost respect is.”

Your eyes widen. ‘Did that thing under the cloth just speak?” you asked yourself.

The servant removed the cloth and there revealed a turtle. A turtle with a key-shaped hole embedded on its shell. You almost assumed that the turtle smirked at you when he added,

“I know, don’t be too surprised. I plan to get out of this animal once my soul decides to give up. I haven’t always looked like this, ya know.”

Your mouth gaped open as to say something, but you quickly shut it as you didn’t know how to reply. He chuckled,

“Hand me over to them, we’ll talk more when we get to my destination.”

You hesitantly took the pillow from the servant’s hands and remained in shock as you walked out the door. You were careful not to drop him as you got down to the front gates. Gulping as you asked,

“So...my servant wasn’t that specific on me having to leave you in the car or actually riding with you. It’s kind of my fault as I don’t like to listen and talk in the morning...”

You nervously laughed as he looked up to you. He replied,

“It’s quite alright. I was told you have to ride with me. But don’t worry, you won’t have to stay for long. It’s only around a 10 minute ride.”

“Yeah, okay.”

You sat behind the passenger seat and placed the pillow in the middle, right next to your side.

The ride was relatively quiet, you looked out the window as you kept a fist under your chin. Your expression showed that of concern. You were too nervous to say anything. Even though he had joked back earlier, you were afraid he didn’t like you as his voice stayed stern throughout your small talk. You were afraid you had offended him in some way.

Your mood changed when the driver alerted that you had arrived. You thanked him as he opened the door for you, your hands grasped the pillow tightly so the talking turtle wouldn’t fall. You asked him with a small voice.

“Is there anywhere you’d like for me to set you?”

“Yes... put me on top of that balcony over there. I want to look at the lake.”

“Of course.”

You did as he said and sat him on the balcony. Your eyes gleamed when you caught sight of the glimmering water and greenery of the setting. You’ve always known that Italy is one of the most beautiful places in the world but at that time you had forgotten and were fascinated all over again. Like when a child sees a playground for the first time.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, you nodded.

“Yes, it really is. It’s no wonder you asked me set you on here.”

“Yes... I wanted to look at one more beautiful sight before I go. Like I said earlier, my soul is no longer fit to be here, so I might as well admire my surroundings for now.”

Your mind quickly became curious after he said that. You wanted to know more behind what he meant. You weren’t going back to that car until you got answers. So to make things easy, you started off with asking his name.

“If you don’t mind... would you like to tell me your name?”

“It’s Jean. Jean Pierre Polnareff.”

‘So he’s French.’ you remember thinking, his accent wasn’t too thick but you assumed and your assumption was right. After that, you went on to tell him your name and your experiences before meeting boss Giorno Giovanna. He shared the same with you.

You talked for so long in fact that you paid off the driver of your assigned car to go back and finish his shift early, promising them that you’ll find a ride later yourself.

You ended off the chatty night with placing Jean under a nearby bench and waving at him. You were saddened but Jean said he enjoyed your company so much that he’ll try to stay for longer and that you’re welcome to come him visit him everyday.

And so you did.

For months you came by to talk to him. You were happy to see that his soul wasn’t giving up yet- you knew you would cry if it were to one day. You had come to realize that you love him but you didn’t know if he felt the same way about you. You had only seen his face once- that was the day he decided to show you the physical embodiment of his soul.

You thought (and still think) he was so beautiful. The missing of bottom limbs and blindness in one eye did not bother you at all. His white-silver hair, style and personality is what did it for you. What it did to make you fall in love with his vanity and him. Just him. Jean himself.

~A Year Later~

It’s been a year now and as per usual, you spent half your days speaking to Jean by that same lake you were ordered to drive him to.

Boss Giovanna and Mista have noticed how fast you are in missions since then. They appreciate that you get things done but they still remain curious as to why you’re more happy and less grumpy than you were before. Though they don’t bother to ask, as they’re kind and don’t want to ruin your pure joy.

Today isn’t particularly different. All you had done earlier in the day was speak to a few citizens in town and dealt with giving details to your boss about a certain drug epidemic at a school. Nothing too out of the ordinary, a situation like this occurred at your old school too years back. Your duties were basically done once you learned information got to police.

You drive down to the park where the lake is at, smiling when you see a familiar small green circle on the balcony, looking over the glimmering waters. You park in the nearest lot and lock your car after getting out. You excitedly run over to Jean and smile when he turns his little head to greet you.

“I’m glad you’ve come again.” he says with a smile.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” you reply in a genuine tone.

You go on to talk about random topics and subjects as you always do. The conversation moving onto favorite pieces of literature and genres.

You roll your eyes in embarrassment as you tell him your most favorite one- one that is a fairytale and goes by the name of “The Frog Prince.”

“Well... it’s very fem of me but I really enjoy fairytales. Especially the ones from the Grimm brothers. My favorite is actually “The Frog Prince”

You place your elbow on the rail and use a hand to cover your burning cheek. Hoping that the redness rushing to your face won’t be noticed by Jean and that the sunset covers it up. Jean only laughs and hopes to comfort you when he says,

“Oh, that’s fine. Who cares if it’s feminine? They’re very well written stories and people shouldn’t be ashamed for what they like. I admire that your favorite genre is fairytale, you don’t hear people say that as often, you know?”

His words do comfort you and you thank him for that. He welcomes you and you feel like you’re actually looking into his sapphire eyes. The ones you fell in love with so long ago. You speak up before you’re even able to fully think.

“Say, the frog prince and the princess kissing, huh? Why don’t we kiss and see if it turns you back?”

Shit.

‘Did I really just ask that?’ you ask yourself ‘What the actual hell is wrong with you?!”

“I don’t see why not...”

“Huh?”

You’re stunned. You thought he would get offended for spurting out such a stupid thing. Of course your request won’t work- that shit is from a story book. It’s pure fiction. This is real life.

He’s a turtle now and you’re a human. You can’t and you won’t kiss him. You raise your hands up in defense.

“Hey, no! No need to play along after saying something so stupid to make me feel better. I just blurted that out I’m so sorry-“

“No, it’s okay. And I’m not playing along, I’m being serious. Go ahead. I’ve grown to like you a lot, a small kiss wouldn’t hurt.”

This answer is not what you expected. You nervously fiddle with your fingers as you look around. You sigh as you give in.

“Fine. I like you a lot too and I’ll do it. Let me just-“

You lift up the top half of Jean, his front turtle legs up in the air and his little face staring up at you. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, you slowly lean in and- kiss✨

The turtle falls out of your grasp. You stop puckering your lips and open your eyes. In a panicked state, you frantically look over the balcony and both sides of you to find him. You look forward and gasp. You grab at the railings to hold you steady.

There sits a groaning man on his knees. He rubs at his neck as he silently curses to himself, blinking fast and harshly as he tries to understand what’s going on around him. It’s dark now but the moon shines bright enough for you to get a better glimpse of him. You furrow your eyebrows as you slowly recognize who he is- Jean.

He has that same white-silver hair, sapphire eyes, big stature though the only difference is no eye glass in sight and his “legs” aren’t made out of metal.. they’re completely real. Flesh and all and you know that blood flows right through them like the rest of his body.

“J-Jean?” you whisper.

The man doesn’t hear you. All he does is groan and cross his legs in front of him. He stretches his arms and looks over any possible injuries on him.

“Jean.” you say again, louder this time.

He finally looks up at you. And there they are, those sapphire eyes you love so much. That face you’ve grown to be so fond off. His expression more than surprised. Though that expression quickly changes and softens- his eyes crease and a small smile appears. He says your name. And you tear up after he does.

He attempts to get up but his legs give up on him. You sprint to his side before he falls, letting him use your shoulders as support. He blushes.

“I’m sorry... I haven’t had real legs in years. Apparently I forgot how to use them...”

His voice is softer than before, the sternness isn’t there. He sounds younger almost. You giggle, as you use a hand to wipe at the tears of your eyes.

“Okay, I think I can stand now. Let go of me so I can look at you fully.”

You do as he says and as you watch him wobble, you reach out to help again but he shakes his head, waving your hands off as he’s able to maintain balance. You grin proudly when he does.

Jean turns to face you, he clasps your hands together and brings them up to his lips. You blush as he proceeds to hold them over his heart. He looks at you with pure love in his eyes.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. What you suggested was silly but it worked.”

“Yes, you’re welcome...” you say softly, looking down. He makes you look up again.

“You’re the one, my love. You always have been and always will be. My feelings for you started when we first met, I meant what I said. I have grown to like you a lot though it’s more than “like”- it’s love. And I’m so happy to know you feel the same way.”

You tear up at this and hug him. He hugs you back and you can’t believe that he does.

The turtle is no more and you have your true love back to human form.

He raises your chin up with his thumb and pointer, he kisses you and you kiss him back. The kiss long and meaningful.

You’re happy to know that the man you love, loves you too.

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superhero--imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! / Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here! / Part 15 Here! / Part 16 Here! / Part 17 Here! / Part 18 Here! < This is Part 19!>

Donate to Move to Higher Ground HERE!

Song Here- (X)

Big thanks to @imdoingathingmom and @bbibbisan for doing a sensitivity read!

* This could be worse, you remind yourself as you feed your deer

* Much, much worse

* “How much am I supposed to give them?” The tall, ebony colored man says from beside you, his bright red eyes seem to glow under the pale moonlight

* “Um.. for that one, you can feed it as much kale as you want, but be careful James, he’s kinda insatiable. He’ll eat your clothes if you give him the chance”

* James nods, tearing the kale in careful ribbons.

* He smiles when the deer eats right out of his palm.

* You’re not going to lie, you were 100% surprised when the blond turned out to be Laurent and the black guy was James

* You were even more surprised when he asked if he could help you feed your animals

* You watch him smile as he gives the deer a gentle pat, feeding it more kale

* Yeah, you’re having a hard time believing the teddy bear in front of you is some psychopath tracker

* The story went that while you and Edward were out, the coven decided to play some baseball up in the mountains, and the sound caught their attention as they were passing through

* Apparently this was a fast friends situation, because Carlisle and Laurent have been reminiscing about their geezer pre-colonialism days

* You look to the house, you can see Edward’s inside from the window, his eyes meet yours and he gives you a small smile

* Well that seems hopeful

* “I used to take animals before I turned” James’s deep voice calls you back to the situation at hand

* “Oh were you a farm hand?” You’re peeling an orange, which Henrietta the third is already licking at impatiently

* “Um, not quite, I was a slave”

* You stop peeling the orange

* James tells you his story- he was a third generation slave, fathered from the master, his mother passed away shortly after his birth

* “I was lucky- in a sense, the master -my father- he was a superstitious man, and my mother- she had a reputation”

* His mother was a slave in name only, was what he told you. She was more of a mistress or a concubine.

* “At least that’s what they said, Though I’m not sure how much of that is true, I’m fairly certain she didn’t enjoy being with him. She was just trying to survive”

* His mother had been ostracized, even amongst others like them, but not because of her social position in the household

* “They thought she was a witch,” he admitted. “Bad things happened to people who wronged her, and good things happened to those who helped her”

* That sounds like Alec and Jane

* “When she was on her death bed, she laid a “curse” on the owner of the plantation, that if I wasn’t taken care of she would haunt him and bring misfortune on the entire family for several generations”

* And so, James became the unfavorable third son of the Pickett family.

* “I had many opportunities from her sacrifice, I learned to read and write, but I was more or less shunned from the house- both by my family and by the other slaves”

* It was lonely, almost painful.

* “But there was one thing, a ray of light-“ his eyes flit towards the window, and you follow his gaze to the red haired woman in the green chair

* “Victoria, she was my eldest brothers fiancé”

* The youngest daughter of the wealthiest man in town, from the outside she was a blossoming socialite

* The most beautiful girl in town

* But behind closed doors...

* Victoria was the product of an affair, a mistresses child, reluctantly brought into the household when her mother passed

* “She had big dreams, she loved to read, she yearned to study, to educate herself, to use her mind”

* And so, two lost souls found each other

* “Our family would never have allowed it. So we decided to run away together” he smiles, but it’s bitter.

* They claimed he had abducted her, perhaps to save face, and sent slave catchers to find them.

* “I’m not quite sure what happened-I remember being shot and telling Victoria to go in without me- all I ever wanted was for her to be happy.”

* This is heartbreaking

* “When I woke up, Laurent was there, and my throat burned”

* So Laurent had been with them for all that time, he was their creator

* “Afterwards the three of us worked in ‘the underground railroad’ helping slaves to the north where they could be free”

* “I’m thankful to him, for saving us, we wouldn’t have been able to be in a world where we could be together if it weren’t for him-“

* “But you wonder what the trade off is” you finish and he nods

* No longer human

* Purpose only lasts so long in this life, after all human life only has meaning because you know one day it will end

* “I found a penchant for tracking, it turns out what they said about my mother might have held some truth”

* James calls it “extreme luck”, there’s no other word for his gift.

* If he’s looking for something - or someone- it’ll inevitably find him through pure luck. Like the world bends to his will

* But it only works with finding things

* “These days we work as bounty hunters, and we only feed from people beyond redemption”

* Murder and rapists it sounds like

* “I didn’t know there was another way”

* “That’s understandable, I didn’t know either until I met Carlisle” he looks at you with kind eyes, and so with a deep breath you tell him your story

* About the Volturi, your parents, Alec and Jane-

* “I think you would like them, they’re a little off putting at first, but they warm up pretty fast”

* “Like cats” he says

* “Like cats” you agree

* You tell him about meeting Carlisle, how he saved you,

* how Eleazer gave you a home and a family,

* and about Edward, who gave you a chance to live

* Not just to survive, but to truly live

* “We’re not so different you and I” James says with a smile, and you mirror his expression

* “No we aren’t”

* Though of course you wouldn’t compare the relatively privileged life you had to his

* But the loneliness you both experienced is not all that different

* The tie that binds you all

* And then you do something you’ve never done before

* “You know, I don’t belong to this coven, not really” it’s the first time you’ve admitted it to anyone

* “Oh?”

* “My coven is in Denali, they have a permanent settlement there, and they follow the er... same alternative lifestyle”

* He laughs

* “I’m sure they would love two or three more, we’ve got like thirteen spare rooms in that house”

* You still remember the antiquated scooby Doo mansion-esque hallways filled with armor and swords

* He looks at you for a long time, but it doesn’t make you uncomfortable

* “I won’t follow another leader”

* You nod, that’s understandable.

* Laurent created them, and it seems he’s happy with their current lifestyle, they won’t betray him

* “Not unless it’s you”

* ........

* What?!?!

* “M-me?” You sputter, your orange peel filled hand clutching your chest

* “Why would you want to follow me? I’m only nineteen years old- I don’t even have a high school degree yet!”

* He laughs at your panicked expression

* “You know that doesn’t matter to our kind,” his eyes twinkle as he looks at you.

* “Call it witchcraft if you like, but you’re going to accomplish great things, I can feel it deep in my bones”

* Garrett had said the same thing, but the way James says it-

* You really believe it.

* He doesn’t want anything from you you, not a kiss or a date-

* He just wants to be your friend, to be apart of your vision

* Whatever it may be

* “Here’s my card-“

* He holds out his business card to you, unlike Garett’s it’s a cheap cardboard white with his profession and number on the front

* “If you ever find yourself in need of someone to help with your animals, let me know”

* You nod, taking his card in your hands

* “Um there’s one more thing I could use your help with-“

* He points to the large window, right at Alice

* “I know that girl but she doesn’t seem to know me.”

* “Well how does that work”

* He tells you how many years ago, a woman was looking for her sister.

* “It was a bit of a Cinderella story”

* The woman’s father had remarried quickly after his wife’s death, and the step mother had sent his children away. The younger sibling, his client, was lucky and was sent to a relative.

* But the older, who had suspected something amiss had happened to her mother, was sent to a mental asylum

* “You know me, I find things, it’s my gift.”

* But when he found the girl, she was no longer human. Already turned.

* “I tried to approach her, but she didn’t seem to remember anything”

* “Alice doesn’t have any of her memories from before she turned, she woke up in the woods all alone”

* The only thing guiding her were her visions.

* James nods solemnly

* “Should I...should I tell her?”

* You look to Alice.

* She’s smiling at something Victoria said.

* How many nights has she spent wondering who she really was, feeling so happy she had a family and a partner, but wondering if she left someone behind

* How would she feel when she found out?

* “I think you should tell her.”

* If it was you, even if it hurt, you would want to know

* James nods

* “Okay”

* You walk inside together, and immediately look to Edward

* Your own personal vampire lie detector

* “He did lie about one thing-“ Edward tells you once James pulls Alice aside.

* Was he actually tracking Alice to hunt her?

* Your heart drops at the thought

* “His mother didn’t die from natural causes, she committed suicide because she knew it would secure his future” Edward tells you with a somber expression.

* “He just didn’t want you to feel bad”

* You smile and nod.

* What a strong person, you can’t even imagine

* Edward pulls you into his arms, placing a soft kiss in your hair

* You feel bitter sweet about the whole thing

* Especially as you watch them leave in the morning, right before you’re going to head off to school

* Jasper is holding Alice who seems vulnerable, but relieved

* They’re leaving so soon, you didn’t even get a chance to get to talk to Victoria or Laurent

* You watch James stand next to Victoria, they’re talking to Carlisle.

* They’re not even touching, but you can feel the intimacy radiate off of them

* You wonder if maybe you and Edward might get to be that close one day

* James meets your gaze and smiles

* “I’ll see you around sometime leader!” He calls out, earning confused looks from your coven and his

* You smile back and give him a nod

* You’re still not sure what your future holds

* But you know you wouldn’t have gotten this far if it weren’t for the kindness of others

* You want to make them proud

* And then in a gust of wind, he’s gone

* They all are

* “See, I didn’t commit murder or anything, I told you things were different” Edward says with a teasing smile

* You roll your eyes and lightly shove him while he just laughs

* He’s right though, that was different

* “Enough flirting kids, you’re going to be late for school, and I really don’t want to deal with that dick in the front office acting all high and mighty because they think I can’t control my children” Esme yells

* School?

* Oh sh*t you didn’t do your homework

* “Edward-“

* “I’ll drive and tell you the answers on the way there” he says catching the keys you toss to him

* “It’s the-“

* “The Trig homework, I know. It’s your worst subject”

* Well you do struggle with trig quite a bit

* “Though to be fair you’re pretty terrible at all of them”

* He barks laughing when you shove him before getting into the car through the passenger side

* Carlisle and Esme watch you from the doorstep

* “They’re so good together-“ Esme starts

* “I know, I never thought our Edward would look at anyone like that”

* Carlisle and Esme exchange a look

* Before you came around-

* Well it wasn’t bad, but he certainly didn’t look like that.

* And he never smiled like that either

* Immortality had hardened him, made him into a man

* But with you-

* Well, with you he looks just like a boy

* A boy in love for the first time

* “I wonder what kind of children they might have had” Esme wonders with a small grin

* Him, with his ability to read minds, and you with that positively monstrous power of yours

* Any number of possibilities is possible

* “Best not to think of such things” Carlisle murmurs

* Though you two may be together for eternity, with the endless options, you’ll never have that.

* Esme nods

* “I’m late to get to the hospital, surgery this morning” he mumbles kissing her on the cheek before walking to the car

* She watches him go, his sleek white Volvo disappearing down the road before looking up to the sky

* “What a shame, I would have liked a cute grandchild or two running around” she mumbles to herself before turning to go inside

* “Entertaining always leaves me exhausted, guess I’ll give my employees the day off”

Tags: @moonlights27 @thebluetint @the100thtwilight @awesomebooklover17 @oneofthepotterheads @smileygirl08 @imdoingathingmom @iconicgguk @yrawn @alyciaswhore @little-horror-show @wicked-watering-can @lazydreamers @ xxxmuxxx @ideas-for-you-to-adopt @poisoinedhope @maryleigh8796 @moose-squirrel-asstiel @hotmessgoodness @jaimewho @corabmarie @what-am-i-doing10 @alluring-venus @imdoingathingmom @anotheryooniverse @im-tired-not-sleepy @emmettcullenisahimbo @my-super-musical-life @smolvampiregirl @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream @mihikaahujaaa @werewolflover3252 @teenagezombiekryptonite @shynz @reclusive-chicken-nugget @monkeyluver4546 @wonhomarshmallow @bwbatta

#twilight imagine #twilight headcanon #twilight reader insert #twilight fanfiction #twilight saga #twilight #edward cullen imagine #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen headcanon #edward cullen fanfiction #midnight sun #superhero-imagines

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idaras · 2 years ago

Text

𝗱𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 : 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝗶𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗮

a little birdy told me grace idara just moved to sunset hills . have you met them yet ? they look somewhere around twenty - three, if i had to guess ! pretty sure i heard them driving down the street playing daylight by harry styles , they sounded a little pitchy but they had the spirit ! must be their favorite or something . hey … it looks like they just moved into dusk drive . have you heard about what they do for a living ? someone told me they’re a grad student & vet tech , but who knows if that’s even true . guess we’re just gonna have to wait and see . nervous ? maybe you should be . sunset speaks just posted about them … apparently they're resident 010 ? between you and me , i think that might spark some things in the community … but what do i know ! you guys might get along just fine !

tl ; dr : no content warning necessary !

grace’s life is practically picture perfect — as the daughter of sunset hills’ beloved mayor , she’s held both the city and her father in the palm of her hand for as long as she can remember. it was blissful really , knowing she was the center of his world and thinking there was nothing that could happen to change that ; but this meant when things did change , she wouldn’t know the first step in how to cope . eventually her father chronically single father found love , causing the once small world between between the two of them to now have to be big enough to share between not only her new step - mother , but three new sisters ; which forced her to be left with less . it took some time ( and a lot of tears ) for her to finally settle in to her new family , first bonding with her sisters and then settling fire she created after being the step - daughter from hell to her step - mom . grace has healed , her family has healed , and to put it briefly — they all lived happily ever after .

STATS :

full name : grace idara

nickname : gracie

age : twenty - three

occupation : grad student & vet tech at paws and claws

living : dusk drive

birthplace : sunset hills born and raised !

PAST :

grace is the first and only biological daughter of her father , moses .

effectively she’s a “test tube” baby — moses wanted nothing more than to be a father so when he got got old he used a surrogate to give birth to his beautiful baby girl .

she’s always had everything she ever wanted — toys , clothes , books ; whatever she wanted ( and needed ) was there before she even really had to think about it too much .

her father worked hard to raise her with humility , in his eyes , spoiling a child wasn’t what raised them to be a brat — it was how they were parented .

there really isn’t too much to say about grace’s childhood , reflecting back on it even grace would agree that it was reminiscent of something that could be found in a sitcom.

as she got older , things began to change — her father became more involved in the political scene , taking more and more onto his plate which in turn ended up leaving less time for grace .

it wasn’t all bad , though she did miss the constant attention of her dad she liked the independence of it all , knowing that her dad trusted her to begin taking care of herself , which is a quality she knows other people with her upbringing don’t have .

things really began to shift when her single father found an object of affection that wasn’t his daughter .

grace’s dad started dating a woman when she was just entering her last year of middle school — making an already rough time in her life even worse when she began to realize she wasn’t the center of his world anymore . she grew jealous , bordering on hating the woman who would eventually become her step mother simply because she was taking the already lessened amount of attention she received from her father away from her .

it was hard for her , having to share the only love she’d known her entire life , and this lead her to resent her step-mother and her new family that came along with it .

going from the only child in a single parent household to now having a mother , a father and three sisters was nothing short of a culture shock for her ; she spent a lot of time alone in her room , pushing her new life away in what she now recognizes was denial .

she was unbelievably rude to her new family , ignoring them when they tried to speak to her , eating dinners upstairs in her room away from them and actively refusing to participate in any activity that involved spending more time with them than she needed to .

it took a long talk with her dad to get her to finally warm up — at first he was angry , telling grace that she was essentially sabotaging the life he had worked hard to bring them , but it was when she broke down in tears that both of them realized there had been a lack of communication between the two of them for longer than they’d want to admit .

that was when the healing process began , her father slowed down his political operations in order to make more time with his family and melding them into the close knit group they are today .

PRESENT :

grace left sunset hills for part of her journey into higher education , getting her bachelor’s degree at stanford ( in communications ) but returned to sunset hills after being accepted into s.h.u’s master’s program .

since she can’t currently fully work as a teacher , she makes her money by being a vet tech at paws and claws and with the occasional help of her father .

PERSONALITY :

just as mentioned earlier , grace was raised surrounded by humility and her down to earth nature is still something that she hopes to outwardly show on a daily basis .

she LOOVVESSS people , it’s always been relatively easy for her to make friends because she’s just so like friendly and bubbly and it’s hard to not smile when you’re around her . definitely an extroverted introvert , she loves going out and talking to anyone who will engage her BUT after a certain amount of time she knows she needs to go home and cuddle up with a book and a warm cup of tea for some alone time .

definitely has jealousy issues ( as can be seen by her having a literal meltdown when her father remarried ), in her mind it’s not really that much of a problem but when it gets bad it brings a lot of her insecurities to the surface .

she’s also one of those people who literally just does not know how to say ‘no’ , if anything it just makes her feel really guilty because she’s convinced she can be everything to everyone even though we all know that’s never the case — it makes it really easy for her kindness to get taken advantage of and though sometimes she can pick up on it she usually doesn’t and that’s where things go to shit .

despite being obnoxiously kind she’s not like … stupid LIKE DO YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN LIEJFLSDFOUHF — she just …like she knows what it’s like to hurt and she knows that she hates feeling like that so she tries to avoid putting herself in those situations and she tries to like tell if someone’s like taking advantage of her but i can promise you she will only realize it when it’s too late and then will not say a word about it.

#⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ♡ : about #sunsetintro

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weelittleweasley · 4 years ago

Text

destined for you (d.m.)

prompt requested by @sincerelymalfoy: everyone wanted to find their soulmate. that was except for draco malfoy. in this world, you find your soulmate because you can feel the same physical pain as them. this makes it harder for draco to avoid finding his soulmate.

pairing: draco malfoy x soulmate! fem! reader, friend! ron weasley x friend! reader

warnings: mentions of previous d*mestic ab*se, language, blood (from a nose bleed), burns from an open flame

word count: 5.6k

a/n: this fic mention’s draco’s abusive household at the end. if you find that this might be triggering content for you, please skip it or do not read this fic. take care of yourself please. fanfic is supposed to be enjoyable! so read with caution! all my love in the world, lex

You had heard of it before. Soulmates. Two souls put on this planet who were destined to find each other and spend their existence together harmoniously. Until death do them part.

It all sounded very romantic to you. Finding someone who had a soul, a spirit that matched yours. Kindred together. Your parents were soulmates and watching their relationship grow and blossom as you grew up was something you had always wanted. A love that continued to grow no matter the circumstances. A love that would guide you, protect you, care for you, and spend its days with you. A soulmate didn’t sound half bad.

Until you realized what that meant.

In order to know that you had met your soulmate, you would have to experience the same physical pains as them. Meaning everything that hurt them, you in turn felt, even though it wasn’t happening to you. The person could be on the other side of the planet, but the universe would still make you feel the same pains as them. It was an annoyance, for sure, but to you, anything that brought you one step closer to them was enough.

You remember exactly where you were when you first experienced your soulmates pain. You were about the age of eight, in your bedroom, reading on the floor, laying on your belly, kicking your legs about happily. That was before you felt a red, hot stinging sensation on your right cheek. Like someone had just slapped you in the face. Confusion washed all over you before you cried out, “Mum!” like any child would when random waves of pain washed over them with no reason why.

In a flash, your mother was in the doorway of your bedroom, asking what happened. You turned your cheek and pointed to it, telling her that it stung and hurt badly. Your mother’s eyes grew wide and she gasped, walking down to her child and touching the sensitive area. “Did you do this to yourself, sweetheart?” she asked, making sure that she wasn’t getting ahead of herself. Your soulmate couldn’t have possibly started showing signs of pain this young.

You shook your head and looked up at your mother worried about what was happening to you. “Am I gonna be alright, Mum?” you asked, your eight year old head full of worry and fear. This was scary for anyone, especially a child.

“Yes, darling, you will be quite alright. When you are a little older, your father and I will explain it all to you,” your mother brushed your cheek gently as you relaxed into her warm, maternal touch. She placed a gentle kiss on your hairline before speaking, “This happens to everyone, dear. I know, it’s confusing and can be scary. But it will end with good things, I swear it.”

And you held onto that promise that your mother told you that day on your bedroom floor. From that day on, you continued to feel random spurts of pain. A pinch in the fleshy part of your arm, a slap upside the head, a gut wrenching pain in the your gut, but most often you felt pain in your chest. Less physical pain, but like someone had just broken your heart. It would go away within seconds, but for those few seconds, it felt like someone had told you the worst news of your life, your heart felt hollow. This continued on and on for years but when you turned eleven things changed.

Two weeks before your eleventh birthday, your mother and father had talked to you about soulmates and how you felt their pain no matter where in the world they were. Even more specifically, your parents had given you warning that you might be meeting your soulmate soon. “What do you mean?” you sat in the dining room chair, dropping your fork at the suggestion of meeting your soulmate at the young, ripe age of eleven.

Your mother looked at your father who gave her a supportive nod. She took a deep breath in before speaking, “(Y/N), honey, you know that you’ll be going to Hogwarts soon. Kids from all over will be going to school with you. One of those kids could very well be your soulmate. I mean, that’s what happened to me and your father,” she tells you as your father grabs your mother’s hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

Whilst you sat at the dinner table, face blank, your mind was running a thousand miles a minute. You were going to turn eleven and all of a sudden you could be meeting your soulmate? You were a child. You should be focusing on school work, meeting new friends, having fun, enjoying this time of your life before it goes by in the blink of an eye. “But I don’t want to. Not yet,” you protest, tears starting to pool in your eyes. “I want to meet them soon, but not now.”

Rising from his chair, your father rushes to your side, not wanting to see his daughter torn over the news that she could be meeting her soulmate. She was supposed to be happy. “Hey, kiddo, it’s okay,” he wipes away your tear, brushing the hair out of your face, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “It doesn’t mean you’re definitely going to meeting them. You might. That’s all. What your mother and I are more worried about is you being safe and having fun. That’s all,” he tells you with a reassuring smile. And in that moment, you calmed down and succumbed to a sniffling mess. “Hogwarts is going to be a blast. You’re going to meet so many new people and have so many new adventures, pumpkin. No need to worry about a silly soulmate.”

Your father’s words soothed you, but that was only temporary. When you arrived at Hogwarts, you were too involved in the thrill of things to pay attention to the small pains you would get from your soulmate. Instead, you let yourself wander away with new friends, discovering new parts of the castle and the grounds. Soon enough, finding your soulmate became the last thing on your mind.

But the years started to go by and a lot of your classmates were discovering that they had soulmates within Hogwarts. Students were putting two and two together, realizing the pains they were feeling were similar if not the same as their soulmates. In fact, most soulmate encounters happened in the hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey. A student came in complaining about a mysterious pain in their leg and low and behold, there was another student laying in a bed with their leg in a cast. Another match.

It came down to a new soulmate announcement happened every few days. You would groan and roll your eyes at the news, but deep down, you secretly wished that your soulmate would reveal themselves soon. Sure, when you first got to Hogwarts, you didn’t want to meet your soulmate because you wanted to focus on making friends and getting used to life at a new school. But now that you were in your sixth year and everyone was starting to find their soulmate, you felt left out.

You sat in the library, studying quietly by yourself before someone hurls themself in a chair right next to you. “Quick, pretend like we’re having a conversation,” Ron grabs your arm tight and shakes you. You give him a puzzled look before he speaks, “It’s Lavender again.”

Shaking your head with a laugh, you mindlessly start talking about whatever, pretending to be deep in conversation with Ron. Out of your periphery vision, you see Lavender approach the table, but then stomp her foot in frustration before leaving the area you were in and out of the library. Ron sighs in relief and leans back in the chair as you chuckle. “Why can’t you tell her that you’re not soulmates. Is she still on you about that?” you ask him, crossing your arms across your chest.

Ron groans, “Because she makes shit up! Like in Potions! I had burnt my hand on the flame and it hurt and then she pretended like her hand burned too, but it didn’t!”

You continue to tease Ron. “Oh yeah? How do you know it didn’t actually hurt?”

He leans forward on the table and exclaims, “She’s making it up! Because when we were in class last week, she bumped into Katie Bell and she got a nose bleed. And me? Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. We are not soulmates, (Y/N)! She’s bloody out of her mind.” You just sit back and laugh at Ron’s hysterics. You did have to admit though, making up pains just so you can be soulmates with someone who didn’t want to be soulmates with you. That was a little strange. “I’m telling you, we need to find our soulmates soon or I’m gonna lose my mind.”

At the mention of finding your soulmate, your heart speeds up and you gulp. You really didn’t want to talk about your soulmate right now. The thought just made you frustrated. The last sign you had gotten from them was about two weeks ago. A deep pain in your side, like something had smashed into it.

“Have you felt anything recently? Maybe if you tell me, I’ll know of someone who felt it too,” Ron encourages. “Go on now.”

With a groan, you sit up and prop your head up on your hands as Ron waits for you to tell him. “Two weeks ago I had a crippling pain in my side. In the afternoon. Didn’t fade until an hour later,” you reveal to Ron.

He thinks for a moment and then speaks, “Which side? Where in your side? Like your stomach?”

“My left side by my ribcage. Hurt like a bitch,” you suck in, reminiscing the pain that had you curled over in bed as your roommate sat next to you in your bed, rubbing your back, trying to soothe the pain. But there was no use.

Ron think again before speaking, “I mean...I know it’s a long shot, but I remember someone saying that during quidditch practice someone was sent to Madam Pomfrey’s for an injury. I don’t remember who, but you could probably ask Madam Pomfrey and see if she remembers.”

You shrug, running your fingers through your hair. “I don’t know if it’s worth it, Ron. What am I going to say? Two weeks ago my side hurt and I don’t know who was injured. Do you know who it was? It might be my soulmate,” you tease Ron who rolls his eyes. “When the time is right, I’ll find them.”

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

Another week goes by and it’s another week of no pain. From either you or your soulmate. It was like they were doing everything in their power to prevent themselves from getting hurt. Even a paper cut. Nothing. And it was making you more frustrated then ever, seeing people happily walking in the hallway with their soulmates and yet here you were, soulmate-less and painless walking in the halls by yourself.

You walk into Potions class with a sigh, not really wanting to be here. You’d rather be hanging out with your friends in the courtyard on this beautiful, warm day rather than being cooped up inside the castle, doing nothing. “You look thrilled to be here,” Cho teases you as you take your usual seat next to her and behind Ron and Harry. “You alright?” she asks as you simply nod, not really feeling like vomiting all your baggage right now.

Class begins as normal and your assignment was to replicate Girding Potion successfully and quickly. The whole class was at work diligently as you opened vials, reading the ingredients list, dumping them into the cauldron. As you did so, girls around you chit chatted about their soulmates and their pains, taking them as clues as to who it could be.

The chatter was like a fly in your ear, buzzing around and around and around, driving you towards a meltdown. Sweet Hannah Abbot gushed at how Neville told her that he thought they were soulmates, bringing her two bunches of beautiful, lush flowers. Girls cooed at the story, telling her how lucky she was. Hannah was lucky; having found her soulmate and that being Neville Longbottom, Hogwarts’ sweetheart.

Girls continued to chatter about their soulmate and how close they were to finding them and how excited they were. This only made your blood boil as you angrily tossed things into the cauldron now, fists tightening. “(Y/N), take it easy,” Ron laughs next to you as he watches you angrily toss things into your concoction.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Ronald. Is my frustration bothersome? I can’t help it that I’m one of the last people in this school to find their soulmate after relentlessly searching for signs that they’re still alive,” you angrily tear up dragonfly thoraxes, tossing them into the potion as Ron just watches you concerned. “I mean bloody hell, there are fourth years who have found their soulmates and I’m still clueless as if they even go to school here. You’d thing finding one person wouldn’t be so hard, but damn it, Ronald, I’m so exhausted of hearing everyone else’s stories and how happy they are and how in love people are whilst I’m standing here trying to figure out if I still have a soulmate at this point!” you whisper yell at him, growing angrier with every word you utter. “Ugh, whatever I ju-Ow! Fuck!” you hiss as you realize you’ve burnt your hand on the open flame that licks the the cauldron.

Ron looks at the burn and his eyes widen. “Not again,” he huffs, having been through this before. “Come here, we’ll have to run it under ice water to stop the stinging,” Ron tells you, grabbing an empty cauldron. “Aguamenti,” he casts on the cauldron, filling it up with cold water as you submerge it fully, the stinging sensation subsiding. “Professor Slughorn! (Y/N) seems to have burnt her hand,” Ron calls over Slughorn who is attentive at another work table.

Slughorn turns around and lightly chuckles, “You too, Miss (Y/L/N)? Mr. Malfoy seems to have also burnt his hand. One moment and I’ll be right with you to take a look at the burns.”

Your eyes widen and your heart sinks for a moment. “O-Okay,” you stutter before you turn to Ron who looks at you in disbelief. Draco Malfoy? No. Absolutely not. No way. Not a chance. “It’s a coincidence,” you tell Ron with a shake of your head in disbelief. “Everyone burns their hand in Potions. It happens all the time,” you try to convince yourself as you focus on your hand in the cold water, watching it clench and flex underneath the surface.

Ron opens up his mouth in protest, but you give him a look as if to say don’t you dare try to rationalize this. Ron sighs. “Whatever you say. It’s your soulmate,” he shrugs with a little smile.

“Shut up, Ronald, or I’ll tell Lavender,” you warn him and he instantly shuts up.

The thought of Draco Malfoy being the person the universe chose to be your soulmate made you feel physically ill. Draco was nothing you wanted in a soulmate. He was cruel and vindictive and ill-mannered and vicious. He had no care for anyone except if it benefit him in some form. How could you manage to care for someone with a character like that?

You glanced over at Draco who watched as Professor Slughorn wrapped his badly burned handle in cream colored gauze. The motion of him wrapping the gauze around his hand was almost hypnotizing as you watched it go round and round, your eyes trailing up to Draco’s face. His face was relaxed, but his jaw was clenched and tense, accentuating his bone structure of his face. Slowly, his head turned to face yours, his cold blue eyes meeting yours as you gulped. When he looked at you, your heart thumped against your chest like a drum. Shaking it off, you look back down at your hand, but you can still feel Draco’s eyes on you.

“If he’s my soulmate, I don’t know what I’ll do,” you whisper down, not daring to make eye contact with Ron.

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

Another week passed and their was radio silence from your soulmate. Nothing. However, you were kind of glad there was nothing after what happened in Potions class. You wouldn’t let yourself entertain the thought that Draco Malfoy could be your soulmate in some timeline. The more you thought about it, the sicker it made you feel.

When you passed him in the hall, you refused to look in his direction and him you. The both of you knew what the other way thinking, but wouldn’t dare confront the other about it. It was far too risky to play that game. No need to talk about something if neither one of you wanted it to be true.

You found yourself hanging out in the courtyard, messing around with a few of your friends as you sat on the grass, absorbing the brilliant spring sun. People chattered amongst themselves, delighted to be surrounded with their friends. As you leaned up against the tree, you chat lightly to Ron, watching other people toss around a ball, others lay around in the grass, some reading books. “Lavender finally off your back?” you ask Ron, giving him a nudge with a smile.

Ron rolls his eyes, “Bloody finally. It only took forever.” You chuckle before resting your head on his shoulder. “Anything from you? We haven’t talked about it since....you know...” he trails off, not daring to say his name like it was You-Know-Who.

But he was always around. There was no escaping him. There he was, standing in the courtyard, surrounded by his little bitch boy posse as you sneered, “No. And I’m not even entertaining the thought that it’s him. He’s horrid.”

Ron chuckled lightly, giving your arm a squeeze. “Alright, let’s get your mind off of him. Did you do the DaDa homework? Because I certainly did not and Hermione told me she won’t let me use hers again ‘cause I used hers last week.”

The two of you keep chatting for a little while until you feel a sharp pain in your left side, like the one you had all those weeks ago. “Ah,” you wince in pain as you hands meet you left side, clutching it in pain, writhing. “Not again.”

Ron turns and faces you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You alright? What do you mean not again?” he asks, searching your eyes for some clarity. “You need a medic? Someone? Hannah? Come over here!” Ron calls out to Hannah Abbot who lays on the ground, head in Neville’s lap. She shoots straight up to meet you at your side, asking you what the problem was.

“It’s fine. This happened a few weeks ago. You can ask my roommate about it. I think it’s my soulmate actually. They hurt themselves badly and it seems like, ah shit, they’ve done it again,” you seethe in pain as you clutch onto your side, electricity shooting up and down your sides.

Hannah looks at you and grabs your shoulders, trying to get you to stop contorting your body. “Don’t move, it’ll only make the pain worse, alright?” she tells you. “The pain should subside if it’s only your soulmate’s pain and not yours directly. That being said, you have any clue who your soulmate is? Are they at Hogwarts? ‘Cause if they are here, we can get them help which will ultimately help you,” Hannah explains.

And that’s when the moment you dreaded finally came. You gulp, your chest heaving up and down from the pain as you look up through your eyelashes to look across the courtyard. And low and below, there he was. Clutching onto his side, wincing in pain as he threw an arm over Blaise Zabini’s shoulder, using him as a crutch.

From the distance, you hear him speak, “I’m fine. Honestly. I think I reopened whatever injury I got from that quidditch practice a few weeks ago. I’m alright, Blaise, honestly, no need to fuckin’ baby me.” Draco untangles himself from Blaise as brushes off his shirt while still wincing lightly at the pain.

Your heart sinks into your feet and all of a sudden you feel lightheaded. So the day in Potions class was real. Draco didn’t coincidentally burn his hand too. He felt your burn because you were soulmates. You felt his rib injury because you were soulmates. Draco Malfoy was destined to be yours.

“I’ve got to go. Now,” you try and scramble to your feet, pushing through the burning pain up and down your ribcage, ignoring Ron and Hannah’s protests that you needed to take it easy. “The pain is gone. I’m fine. I need to go,” you simply call out, walking away from the group in the courtyard.

You were on a mission now and you were going to put an end to this. Once and for all. Without further hesitation, you grab your bag and start marching over to the other side of the courtyard to where Draco was. As you do so, he notices you approaching and starts to leave the courtyard, trying to prevent you and him having some sort of interaction. “God Godric, really, Malfoy?” you huff out to yourself, knowing that if this was the way he was reacting to the news, the future didn’t look too bright.

Draco starts to march through the corridors as you are quick on his heels, chasing him like a predator chases its prey in the wild. Draco turns to see if you are still on his toes and much to his dismay, you are right behind him. “Malfoy, would you stop running away from me? We need to have a conversation!”

He scoffs, “No, you want to have a conversation. I would like to go back to the common room and take a load off.”

You groan out in frustration before taking up a light jog and grabbing a hold of his wrist, pulling him into an empty classroom. Before he can squirm away, you shut the door and put your back against it, preventing him from going anywhere.

The two of you just stand there, glaring at each other, both gravely disappointed with the reality that just slapped you both in the face. No one says anything for a moment. You two are just breathing, heavy and hot in the room, a few feet separating the two of you. Neither one of you dared to take a step closer to the other.

“What’s the problem, (Y/L/N)?” Draco tucks his hands into his pockets, playing the fool. Pretending he isn’t bothered by this information that your souls were made for each other. He was trying to play it cool whilst inside his mind was screaming and shouting, how could this have happened? Someone like you with someone like him. The universe had to have made a mistake.

Oh, Malfoy, you fool. The universe doesn’t make mistakes.

Your chest is still heaving up and down as you speak, “We’re soulmates, Draco.”

He shakes his head, “Sure. Whatever that means. Congratulations, we did it. Go us. Now can you kindly move your arse out of the way so I can go relax in peace?”

“No!” you exclaim, firmly planted at the door, glaring at him. “Listen, I’m just as unhappy as you are with this outcome!” you reveal as Draco gulps with a scowl on his face. “But the universe chose us as soulmates for some reason and I’m going to listen to the universe. We both can’t ignore it anymore.”

Draco looks away from you, refusing to look you in the eyes. For some reason, looking at you in the eyes was too much for him. It felt like you were looking into his soul, you knew all of his secrets with just a gaze into those iceberg eyes of his.

“That day in Potions, you didn’t burn your hand...” you gently coax him. “That was my burn that you felt.”

“So what! We both burned our hands in Potions! That doesn’t make us any more or less soulmates!” he explodes in fury.

His sudden change in demeanor makes you change tactics. You knew that this conversation would be hard to have with Draco, but not like this. You didn’t think he would succumb to acting like a child at this news. Finding your soulmate should be something to celebrate, to rejoice about, but instead it was an uphill battle. But one you intended to win.

“Alright then, you want to ignore Potions. Fine! What about your rib cage? Four weeks ago, I was writhing in pain on my bed one afternoon for hours from the pain. Ron told me that a quidditch player got injured during timed trials. He didn’t know who. So, today, I feel the same pain in my side in the courtyard, just to look up at see you writhing in pain in your side. You were the quidditch player, Draco. And don’t you dare lie to me and say it was someone else. Because we both know damn well that neither of us deserve to be lied to again!” you exclaim, hot tears now brimming in your eyes, threatening to spill out.

Draco hears the emotion in your voice and watches your soft face crack to reveal a truly sad person. His eyes soften and he gulps, feeling horribly guilty. But he doesn’t let you know it.

“When I was younger,” you sniffle, “I always wanted to meet my soulmate. I felt so badly for them because I always felt their pain. And my soulmate was always hurting. In his body, yes, but in his heart,” you try to reason with him. “I told my mum and dad that when I met my soulmate I would give them a hug because I didn’t want them to feel anymore pain. I wanted them to feel loved.” Your eyes search Draco’s for some glimmer of hope. You weren’t expecting a proclamation of love or realization. You were looking for hope. “We were destined for each other.”

Draco takes a deep breath in before speaking, “We may be destined for each other, (Y/N). But I don’t think we can ever love each other.”

His words leave you blank. That was the best way to describe the way you felt. You weren’t surprised he would say that, but you were shocked that he had actually done it. His sad smile means nothing to you; in fact, it feels like he just twisted the knife that was in your gut.

He manages to slip out of the classroom, leaving you there, numb and blank.

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

You didn’t sleep that night. It was nearly impossible to sleep. The scene just kept playing on and on and on in your head until it became a broken movie reel. Your mind screamed to close your eyes and sleep, but your memories manifested themselves into a sick nightmare as you jolted awake, heart pounding.

Your roommates were still fast asleep as you peaked a look at your clock. 2:22am. Angel number now? Great. Well, where were you hours ago?

Slowly, you toss your legs over the side of the bed and grab a sweatshirt and slippers, pulling the cozy material closer to your chilly body. Quietly, you descend the steps of your dormitory and away into the castle to go for a midnight stroll, hoping that you would be caught by the Head Boy or Girl or any other prefect that roamed the halls patrolling them from midnight stragglers.

The halls of Hogwarts were quiet. But not in a scary way. In a comforting way. The pictures on the walls slept gently, small snores coming from a few pictures making a small smile draw its way onto your lips as you shuffles the halls. The air was cool and crisp as you breathed it in, the sensation cooling your lungs as you sighed. This was much needed after a day like today.

As you stroll further through the castle, you come across the courtyard again and you gulp. The scene plays over and over in your head. “We may be destined for each other, (Y/N). But I don’t think we can ever love each other.” His words were a sick mantra in your mind. How could you possibly spend the rest of your life with someone who didn’t even want to put in an ounce of effort? You were supposed to be loved. Give love. Get love. But instead, you ended up with a shattered daydream of what things could have been.

You peel your eyes away from the courtyard and to the corridor where on the edge of the wall sits who you wanted to see least of all right now. Your heart stops at the sight of his white blonde hair, sloppily slicked back. His eyes were dark and tired. He couldn’t sleep either.

Maybe you could slip away without him knowing you were even there. Maybe if you turned around you coul-

“My father was ruthless to me as a child,” Draco speaks up without looking at you. You stop in your tracks and listen. Slowly, he turns to face you and gives you a sad smile. “Still is, to an extent. Not as physically ruthless, but...you get the idea,” he confesses as you sigh and walk over to him, taking a seat beside him on the cold brick, leaning your back against the wall.

Draco gulps and settles before continuing on. “I was always worried. That whenever he would make me feel hurt, my soulmate would feel it. My mother tried to tell me that they would be just fine, but I knew....I knew that she was lying to protect me. Protect me from whatever it was,” he trails off, becoming quiet. In the dark, you couldn’t really tell, but you knew he was softly crying, tears falling down from the pools of blue in his eyes. “I’m so sorry that you had to feel what I felt growing up...he’s a monster. My own father...”

You scoot over closer to Draco and shake your head. None of this was his fault. “Draco, you don’t need to apologize to me. Your father is despicable and you are not him,” you tell him as Draco wipes his tears before you could see them. He didn’t want to cry in front of you yet. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that all those years.”

He shakes his head, “You know, for years, I tried to convince myself that I didn’t have a soulmate,” he lightly laughs. “That way, I only had to protect myself. It was selfish of me. But...obviously, that didn’t work out. I would feel your pain too. I remember one day in third year, something had happened to you. You were running and you fell and you broke your arm. I remember yelling out in pain in the common room and Goyle looked at me like I had ten heads,” he laughs as you joined him, smiling at the memory. He was right. You were running with Ron when you had tripped and fallen in Hogsmeade and broke your right arm. “I remember you came back with a bright orange cast and everyone signed it in Divinations class. You told everyone Madam Pomfrey said you didn’t need a cast because of the Healing Potion, but you insisted on getting one because you had one when you were eight. I remember I thought you looked cute smiling and giggling as people wrote their get wells on your broken arm.”

The smile that appears on your face is wide as your heart gently flutters as he remembered all the tiny details of when you broke your arm. Draco knew for so long that you were soulmates and yet, you were so dead clueless.

“I didn’t want to tell you that we were soulmates because I didn’t want you to be disappointed,” Draco confesses. “I guess I’m a bit too late on that one, eh?”

You shake your head and sigh, “No, Draco. I mean, do I think you’re a down right dickhead? Absolutely.” He laughs. “But I don’t think it’s too late for you to start trying to act differently. If you can remember me breaking my arm in third year and remember what color the bloody cast was...I think you can work on being a better person. Not for me. But for you.”

Draco inhales deeply before shaking his head, exhaling. “I want to be better. For me, but I want to be what you deserve. If we’re going to...do this, I want to do it right. And if, by some fucked up reason,” he laughs as you chuckle, “it doesn’t work, then at least we know that we tried.”

You feel his hand grab yours as he intertwines his fingers with yours. You look down at his hands and smile, giving it a soft squeeze, assuring him that his proposal sounded like a plan. You were going to give this a go.

If the universe believed in you and Draco, why shouldn’t you?

“That’s all I can ask for,” you whispered gently.

“And I promise I’m going to do more than you ask for. I swear on my life.”

------

taglist: @lumos-barnes @kerie-prince @pxroxide-prinxcesss @c-t-h @another-lonely-heart-blog @starlightweasley @shilohpug

#Draco Malfoy #Draco #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy smut #draco smut #Draco Malfoy Headcanon #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy oneshot #draco x oc #draco x blaise #draco x reader #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco Malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x slytherin #draco malfoy x neutral

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sofiaaaaaaaa03 · 4 years ago

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Did You Mean It?

Pairing: Dad!Din Djnarin x GN foundling! Reader

Rating: G

Word Count:1,449

Summary: Din has been teaching you Mando'a and does not know how to react after you call him buir (father) for the first time.

Request: Heyyy, love your writing! Definitely not enough platonic mando fics out there. But I was just wondering if you were interested in making a tag list, if not that's fine I just don't want to miss anything you write! Also, if your still taking requests I was wondering if you would write a fic around the reader calling Din some form of dad for the first time. By accident or on purpose (like after Din teaches her the word buir) it doesn't matter to me. I'm just curious how Din would react lol!

A/N: Hey hey!! I’m fairly new to tumblr so I’ll do my best to do tag lists in the furure! Just let me know if you wanna join so I can write it down somewhere :)) (That was for the general public I’ll definitely mark your name down) I’ve seemed to have grown a habit for writing in Din’s perspective haha, but yes I do think that no matter how Din first hears the reader call him buir he’d still be like “...me?” I hope what I did was okay and you enjoyed it. And thanks so much for liking what I write!!!

Although you were not raised in Mandalorian culture, Din took it upon himself to teach you Mando’a. He first brought it up some time after his encounter with Bo Katan and the other Mandalorians. When he finally saw others of his kind, albeit reassuring, it reminded him that the effort it took to find them could only mean his people were slowly being wiped out. Din needed to hold onto his deteriorating culture, and hoped that you would take an interest in learning from it as a member of Clan Mudhorn. When he inquired about your interest in learning the language he did so thinking that you would probably be daunted by the challenge. He wouldn’t have been offended if you declined as he didn’t want to force you into something you had no interest in, but much to his surprise you were ecstatic about it!

It warmed Din’s heart to watch you fumble over syllables during your first lessons. He began with simple introduction phrases and vocabulary. Nothing too difficult but sufficient enough to help you progress. You were often praised for your efforts and encouraged to converse with Din for practice, which you did. He often corrected you on grammar mistakes and your pronunciation. One thing you hated was how he wouldn’t remind you of a word you’d forgotten during a conversation. He’d simply ignore your plea to remind him and continue his work, leaving you to try to remember the term by yourself.

After some time, you were capable of holding simple conversations. Nothing too complex, but enough for you to get by if there was ever the need for you to use it. On one occasion, it helped you avoid getting arrested.

Although it was not entirely your fault, it often sounded like it was the way Din told it. The Clan had taken the day off to visit a local market after a successful bounty to stock up on fresh supplies and eat a good meal. Din gave you several credits to spend on whatever you pleased while he went to run his errands. The day was particularly sunny. Shoppers wandered around Din, although he stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the civilians with his beskar. Curious eyes casted towards him but he paid no mind to them as he walked up to a vendor and greeted her with a nod.

“Can I buy a holopad around here?” He inquired, waiting for the vendor to return his change. She paused a moment, credits in separate hands as she thought a moment.

“Not too far off that road,” Din followed her gaze and thanked her, pocketing his change before making his way to the shop she’d pointed out to. In truth, he already had a holopad of his own but wanted to give one to you for your upcoming birthday. He approached the shop, pausing a moment to gaze at the door, before making a move to open it. Wait.

What was that?

Din slowly moved back and surveyed the area. He could have sworn he could have heard something familiar. He strained his ears to listen once more.

“Buir!”

Suddenly his attention was caught by your figure as you desperately ran towards him, almost tripping on your feet with Grogu clinging onto you in your arms. Behind you was a vendor tailing you, anger written over his expression. Din marched forward quickly, pushing you and Grogu behind him when the two of you were close enough and held a hand out as the vendor approached.

“What did you do?” He looked down at you, not waiting for an answer but rather looked at the vendor. He hunched over, hands on his knees while he caught his breath. “Can I help you?”

He inhaled sharply and straightened himself up after gathering his breath, gesturing at you. “Is this yours?”

“Can’t you see the resemblance?” Din’s voice was monotonous despite the sarcastic comment. You made a face at the man from your place behind Din. The man inhaled sharply at your expression, though Din chose to ignore your actions.

“Is there a problem here?” Din inquired, pushing you further behind his back so you wouldn’t upset the man even more.

“I caught them trying to steal some of my produce. I have half the mind to call the sheriff-”

“That’s not true!” You interjected, pushing yourself into view but Din was fast enough to push you back in your place.

“Y/N.” Din warned, “vaabir no ukoror bic. Tonaid was bic?”

You shifted uncomfortably in your stance, raising Grogu higher in your arms. “Grogu.”

“Kaysh hiibir mayen?��

“Nayc, he grabbed some things and I didn’t realize.”

Din understood now that you meant this was just a misunderstanding. He placed a firm hand on your shoulder and turned to the impatient vendor. “My foundling has a habit of grabbing anything he can get a hold of. He’s still a child. You can understand.”

At first the vendor was reluctant to leave, convinced that Din’s little clan members were nothing but no good thieves. He even insisted that Din paid reparations for what Grogu had taken, for he tried to eat some before you took it from his mouth. It took some convincing, and several credits, to make the vendor walk away satisfied.

“Well, that’s that.” Din sighed, shaking his head a little and tucked his hands onto his hips. He turned to the two of you, “C’mon, let’s get something for you two to eat.”

At the local cantina Grogu helped himself to a hearty bowl of soup while you ate your own favorite meal from there. Din simply sat back, checking his credits before placing the payment on the table so that he wouldn’t have to worry about it later. When he was done and his mind left wondering, he thought back to when he first heard you call for him in Mando’a.

Buir…

The term you used was one that a child would call its father. You called him father. He wondered if it came out naturally for you, or if you used it because you had to prove that you and Din had some sort of relation. That must have been the case. You’d only been a member of the clan for almost a year now. Seeing Din as a guardian should be natural, but a parental figure? Din wasn’t so sure. He had grown fond of having you around. As an older child you were a far better conversationalist than Grogu was and many times showed that you trusted Din. But still, Din wasn’t your father. He had to remind himself that sometimes. But still, he couldn’t stop wondering how you saw him as he watched you eat your meal.

“Did you mean it?” Din didn’t know where he found the courage to start speaking, but he didn’t stop himself.

“Hm?” You lifted your head, your dish in your hands as you were about to take a bite.

“You called me… buir.” The word sounded strange to call himself.

Your face lit up when you reminisced the incident. “Oh! I mean, yeah. I knew it was the only way to grab your attention. It was really crowded today.”

Din chuckled, “It worked.”

You couldn’t help but smile before taking another bite into your meal, smiling to yourself at its taste. It’d been awhile since the clan ate at a cantina. It’d been awhile that the kiddos had gone out actually. Why was it that every time they joined Din out into town trouble would occur? Din shook his head lightly, deeming that only he would have ended up with such troublemakers.

“But, it’s not like I don’t see you as one.”

You stared back at him, cocking your head to the side and giving him a small smile. Although you couldn’t see it, Din held a big smile underneath his helmet. For a moment he almost forgot that you couldn’t see his expression and collected himself as you waited for his response.

“I’m really proud of you, Y/N.” He beamed, turning to wipe some smudge off of Grogu’s face. “You’re a great kid.”

You grinned widely and a pleasant moment of silence falls upon you two despite the noisy environment. Din told the two of you to finish soon so that the group would return to the ship before nightfall. During the last moments of supper, you and Din conversed with each other in Mando’a to practice your pronunciation once again. At some moments you grazed through phrases you previously struggled on, though you did not realize it Din certainly did, and it made him even more proud of how you’d grown.

#din djarin x reader #dad!din #din djarin #grogu #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #x you #reader insert #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #gender neutral reader #gn reader

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t-o-m-hollands · 4 years ago

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Summary: It’s the late summer of 2004. You are set to travel across the country for university and your best friend Tom is staying behind. You spend your last night together before you leave.

Themes: Friends to lovers, love confessions, first love.

Warnings: Drinking beer. One mention of smoking weed. Mentions of parents fighting and also implied neglectful parents. Smut (+18), two spanks?? otherwise pretty tame.

Word count: 3,4 k

Notes: I don’t know, this might be a bit different? Or it might just feel that way to me. It’s very reminiscent of teenage years and first love and nostalgia. Please let me know your thoughts, I’m genuinely not sure what to think about this one.

Massive thank you to @augustholland who read through it and very kindly reassured me that it wasn’t bad 💖

Also, this fic was inspired by the Phoebe Bridgers song. I’ve never actually listened to it but it keeps showing up in my recommendation and i like the title of it so this is what i imagine that song is about. Mostly I listened to Harry Styles - Fine Line while writing this.

You finish up early that afternoon. Wayne, your old boss, tries not to cry as he hugs you goodbye. He tells you to take care in a gravelly voice close to breaking, as he avoids looking at you. It’s your last shift in the greasy bar, where for the last two years you’ve been selling cheap beer and watered down whiskey to weary old men and rowdy students who come in for a game of pool. It hasn’t paid much, just a few pounds an hour; just enough so that on each thursday you and Tom have enough money for movie tickets at the local cinema. It’s your tradition. Like a religious man goes to church each sunday; you spend your thursday nights with Tom’s arm slung around your shoulders, watching whatever new film they have on, sharing a bowl of popcorn between you. Afterwards you'll have burgers at the fast food joint across the street; talking about the movie long into the night, sharing a bag of fries.

When you were younger and hadn’t been able to afford to pay Tom had sneaked you both into the cinema anyway. Your hand in his, he had led the way into the movie theatre when no one was looking. Sitting in the back row he’d sneak you Fruit Polos to snack on, his arm slung around your shoulders, as you watched movies you were way too young for.

Last week was your final movie screening; some light-hearted American comedy, and the entire way through it you fought the lump in your throat, forcing yourself not to cry. Tom hadn’t laughed either; had just held you closer than usual.

Tomorrow you are set to leave the small seaside town behind you, the place where you have spent most of your life, for a drive all across the country; to start university in a city you’ve only visited once before. You’re not sure when you’ll return.

Thus lately everything has been laced with goodbyes; childhood having reached its end.

Just two days ago there had been the last bonfire where you had watched the Holland boys fight each other while playing football as his parents looked on and laughed, grilling sausages over the open fire.

It was on the same rocky beach where you have spent many summer days; grilling food on the open fire and throwing back cheap beer with your friends from school. You have scraped your knees on these rocks, burned your skin from both the bonfire and the sun there; have had your heart broken over and over and over again during your school years as you watched Tom kiss whatever girl he was dating at the time by the fire during summer night parties.

Maybe you had broken his heart a few times as well.

As the afternoon light turns everything golden you drive through the main street in the small town where everyone knows everybody, and has done for generations. You watch the people as you drive them by. You know everyone’s name, know each crack in the pavement; can find your way home in the dark.

God knows how many shoes you’ve worn out over the years walking down these streets.

The radio plays a blink-182 song you know by heart as you follow the road out of the city, through the woods and up to the coast. At the end of a muddy track, on the border to the forest, stands a shabby old caravan. It faces the beach and above the door christmas lights are lit up all year round.

The Holland family legend says that Tom’s great uncle had won the small patch of land in a bet. Unable to build a large house he had bought a caravan and put it on the lot. The old man had lived in the Shed for the rest of his lifetime, before passing it on to Tom; the youngster of the family, his younger brothers having yet to be born. When he had turned seventeen he moved out of his parents larger, more comfortable house, and into the Shed. His mother had agreed on it on the condition he took on the apprenticeship to become a carpenter that he had been offered.

You remember when he had told you of his decided future, one late evening as you sat on the driftwood by the beach, smoking weed and watching the sun set over the horizon. It had felt right somehow, you had been able to imagine him working with his hands, skillfully forming and bending wood to his will; his long and slender fingers knowing just how to fix things. Tom has always been good at mending things. It had been three years now and he was a full time employee at the JBT Carpentry Services. He says it doesn’t pay much, but he’s happy; and that's all that matters.

As you park the car outside the Shed Tom comes out. Standing under the colorful christmas lights he grins widely as he sees you, his eyes crinkling at the sides. The most genuine smile you know. He’s tanned from a summer spent on the beach, his hair a wavy mess; as if he’d just woken up from sleep. It’s a warm august day and the world seems sunbleached somehow; but in the afternoon light Tom looks golden.

You are painfully aware that it is the last time you’ll see him like this for many months to come.

Walking up to him and he gives you a bear-hug; his warm, hard body pressed against yours, holding onto you tightly. With your face in the crook of his neck you breathe him in and discover that a faint trace of bonfire smoke still lingers on his skin. It all feels achingly familiar and safe. So heartrendingly unlike the uncertain life at university that lies in front of you.

Tom is your safe place.

Your parents had always fought like cat and dog and sometimes when you were younger and they’d argue you’d climb through your window and walk all the way over to the Holland household. You were always welcomed there and his parents didn’t ask any questions, no matter how late the hour; instead they fed you, treating you like a member of the family around the dining table with gentle teasing and reminders of homework that needed to be done, letting you sleep over when needed. No questions asked.

With the years the fighting at home got worse. When Tom fixed himself a beat-up old Land Rover and moved out to the Shed you’d call him from the payphone down the road. He’d always answer, telling you to pack up; and that he was on his way. He’d pick you up by the end of the street, a duffle bag with schoolbooks and a change of clothes slung over your shoulder. He’d take you back to his place to sleep. His caravan only had one bed, so you used to curl up next to each other in bed. On the nights when you were crying he’d hold you, and in the morning he’d make you breakfast before you both went off to school.

Your parents never noticed your temporary absence.

Tom lets go of the hug, but with an arm around your waist he leads you into his home. There’s a lingering scent of fried food in the air and the boombox is playing the 3 Doors down CD he’s been obsessed with since you bought it for his birthday. You tread the cherry wood veneered flooring with your battered tennis shoes, feeling more at home here than anywhere else on earth.

“Fancy a beer?” Tom asks, leading the way to the kitchen area. “Warn you though, it's warm. Just got back from the store so they haven’t had time to cool”.

Everything is warm today, and the caravan is no exception. The ancient AC had given in years ago and Tom could never afford having it fixed. You heave yourself up on the countertop, replying a simple “sure” to his question.

He opens a Stella and hands it to you. He isn’t wrong, the beer is tepid. Yet you drown half the bottle in one big swig; happy just to have something to do with your hands when he’s standing so close to you. Gulping down on the liquid and you cannot help but notice Tom’s eyes on your throat as you swallow. He opens a bottle for himself and takes a swig.

You smile at the ancient gray t-shirt he’s wearing. At one point there had been a band logo on it, but it has long since been washed out. He notices you smiling at him and as if it's infectious a smile broadens on his face as well. “What?” he asks, leaning against the small counter across from you.

“Nothing” you say, smiling wider. “Just wondered how many times I’ve seen you in that shirt. I mean, it has to be near a couple of thousand times by now”.

“You don't exactly love buying new clothes either” he says, a teasing smile playing at his lips as he looks at your washed out jeans shorts. “I know for a fact that those aren’t new, darling”. His eyes linger on your legs for a moment too long before he looks away, taking a swig from his beer.

“So, when are you leaving?” He asks, and you can tell that he’s trying to sound relaxed, but leaned against the countertop, his arms crossed in front of him, head bowed; holding onto the bottle of Stella he’s nursing with a tight grip. He looks tense and on edge.

“Tomorrow morning”

He takes a swig from his beer. There’s nothing more to say, not really. Everything that happens now is just aftermath; you might as well have already left.

“I’m nervous” you admit, biting your lip, trying hard not to et out the tears you’ve been holding in for days now; embarrassed that your voice trembles on the last word.

His head snaps up to look at you. Pushing off the counter he takes a step forward, placing himself in between your legs.

“Hey” he says, with a voice a low and gentle as a whisper, his hand cupping your cheek. You look up at him; long dark eyelashes framing his beautiful brown eyes, his thin lips slightly parted and across his nose freckles are spread out, the result from a summer spent in the sun. His calloused hand strokes your cheek. “You’re going to take them by storm, Pebbles”.

You smile, despite your fluttering heart. He hasn’t called you Pebbles for a long time. It had been his nickname for you when you first became friends, the reason behind it long forgotten. He was the only one to ever call you it, and the name had lingered long into your late teenage years.

“You took me by storm,” he admits.

You blink up at him through wet eyelashes. Your family had moved to the town when you were ten years old. This was the kind of small town that strangers seldom came to and inhabitants rarely left; and so the new addition to the small local school had everyone talking. You had felt like an astronaut shuffled into space on your first day, trying to find gravity in the unfamiliar school corridors. You had felt the pull of gravity in form of the brown-eyed boy sitting next to you in english class. He had given you a warm smile as you sat down next to him. He had made you his friend, listened to you and confided in you; had made you laugh until your stomach ached. You found further gravity in his home; surrounded by his family and their endless squabbles and laughter, sitting next to Tom at the dinner table.

It hadn’t taken long before you and Tom were an inseparable item; your names always linked to one another in the mouths of others.

“You’ve worked so hard for this scholarship” he says, and the corners of his mouth tugs up into a smile, “I mean, I’m pretty certain you’re the only reason I even finished school”.

You had helped him write most of his essays at school. He’d struggled with reading a lot and found the assigned novels difficult. There were evenings where you’d spend hours laying on the bed; twisting the phone cord between your fingers, as you read the books out loud for him.

Sometimes, in order to be left alone from his parents and younger brothers, he’d walk down to the end of the street and to the payphone there, where he’d spend all his pennies listening to you reading. You had talked and talked until your voice got hoarse; until he ran out of pennies. Yet when he hung up you always felt a tug of longing in your chest, knowing you wouldn’t be able to see him until the next day in school.

“Well, I heard you’re doing pretty good as a carpenter” you say, smiling up at him. “I always knew you’d be good with your hands”.

As soon as you’ve said it you can feel your face heat up. You had heard the rumours at school; Tom Holland is a stellar fuck. Once, while you were in the bathroom stall, you had heard a gang of girls discuss it as they reapplied their lipgloss in the mirror. One of them told the story of her one night stand with Tom, how he had made her come several times over with his hands and mouth; how he’d fucked her so long and so good. You had stood in the stall, your heart in your throat; feeling sick to your stomach, but unable to stop listening.

There were girls that reached out to you in school, knowing you were Tom’s closest friend, and asked you in hushed but awed voices if it was true. If he really that good in bed.

He looks you dead in the eye, an unusual seriousness to his warm eyes. He knows what you’re thinking, knows what thoughts have made your cheeks flush with colour. Letting go of your cheek he places his arms on either side of you on the counter; caging you in.

“There’s never been anyone but you, Pebbles. Not really.” His tone is heavy with meaning and you feel light-headed; both oddly detached from your own body and painfully aware of the closeness of his. Your heart is beating hard in your chest.

This is a line you’ve never crossed before.

“I know I’m ruining everything by saying this, but you’re leaving tomorrow and I’ve been walking around with this secret lodged in my chest like a bullet since i was ten years old; I love you, Pebbles. I’ve always have”.

You should speak. You should tell him that you’ve known for a long time how he’s felt. That it’s been evident in the way his eyes keep lingering on your legs, in the way his arm usually finds its way to rest around your waist. In the way he’s always been there for you. You should tell him that you understand why he hasn’t been able to voice his feelings for you; because you haven’t done it either. Too scared of losing him. But your breath has caught in your throat and all you can focus on is those caramel eyes on you, and how hard your heart is beating in your chest.

“I love you too” you say, voice hardly louder than a whisper. You swear there was music coming from the boom box but all you can hear is the blood rushing through your body.

He kisses you.

He takes your mouth slowly, kissing you thoroughly until you can’t think straight; can’t remember any other kiss than his. Then his lips move over yours with more fervour; more urgency, one hand around your throat and the other tangled in your hair. He kisses you until you're both moaning and gasping for more.

This is it. You’ve crossed the invisible line between friends and lovers; and there is no return, no going back from here. When you leave tomorrow you will leave knowing what his mouth feels like pressed against your.

You dig your hands into his soft hair, runs them both up his chest, realising that this is what your hands were made for. He lifts you off the counter and you wrap your legs around his waist. He moves you both across the caravan and into the bedroom. It’s baking hot in there and you can already feel sweat forming at the low end of your back. The room, just big enough for a bed to fit, is lit up with sunlight. His bed is a mess of rumpled white sheets and the walls are the same cherry wood colour as the rest of the caravan.

You kiss and lick his jaw, his neck, his throat; anywhere you can reach you stroke him. You tug at his hair, kiss his soft lips, and nib at his ear. It’s like the gates have been opened, because even though his arm has always been a comforting presence around your waist; and even though you’ve slept in the same bed more times than you can count, his body curled up next to yours, forming himself like a question mark around your body; he’s never been yours to touch before. Not like this.

His breathing is accelerated, his chest rising and falling in rapid speed, and so is yours. There’s a heat to his eyes that tells you he’s just as turned on as you are. You pull at his shirt before he’s even laid you down on the bed; impatiently craving all his warm, suntanned skin pressed against yours. It’s an almost feverish frenzy, and in the back of your mind you know that you should take this slow. You don’t want this to end too soon, because this might be all you get. But the sun hasn’t even set yet and through the old white-washed curtains you helped put up and light shines through, bathing you both sunshine.

Outside the waves keep crashing against the shore and in the kitchen his boombox keeps playing songs you’ve heard a million times before. It is like it always has been at Tom’s, except that for laying on his sofa and talking he’s removing your clothes; kissing his way down your body. Wet, opened mouth kisses that leave a trail of heat in its wake that have you bucking your hips up for more. His hands are everywhere, exploring your legs. He’s looking at your skin with wide-eyes adoration. With his body in between your wide spread legs he kisses the soft inside of your thighs.

“So soft” he groans against your skin, “and so sweet”.

You feel overheated and breathless; aching all over from wanting him. Perched up on your elbows you observe him; his dark hair brushing against the low of your stomach as he kisses the tender skin of your hip bone. He bares his teeth and bites the sensitive flesh.

His hand cups your cunt. You’re wet and aching and as you presses his thumb to your clit, gently but steadily moving up and down, you feel like you’re going to combust. His strokes are soft at first, before speeding up, making you moan wantonly, spreading your legs wider for him.

“Glad you like that,” he says, a satisfied smile spreading on his face. “Do my fingers feel good on you, darling?”

All you can do is moan in response, arching and moving your hips up to meet his hand. His movements are fast and slippery and it doesn’t take long until your close, so close, so close; on the brink of tipping over and then -

A sharp slap on your pussy, leaving a stinging bite, and it is like the world splits into two.

“God” you moan, voice hoarse. You’re shuddering all over; moanes falling freely from your lips.

He looks up at you from his position in between your legs, his dark eyes sparkling. He kisses the soft inside of your thighs again. “You have any idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you here?” he asks. “I bet you do, torturing me for fun in those short jeans shorts”. He spanks your pussy again and you couldn’t have stopped the moan falling from your lips even if you tried. “How long I’ve wanted to taste you here?”. And he places a hot kiss on your wet slit. You can feel his soft hair pressed against your thighs; his warm breath against your skin.

His lips part and he covers you with his mouth, his tongue moving over your opening; touching you, stroking you, tasting you. A guttural moan leaves him. He looks up at you through tassels of hair, caramel eyes glued to your face.

You fall back against the mattress, “more” you demand, in a voice that sounds a lot like begging. “Please, more”.

It is as if he’s been unleashed. You have never felt anything like it, but he laps you up, tastes you; his fingers moving inside you; pressing against the place that has you seeing stars. You can’t even look at him now, you’re eyes shut; too overwhelmed by the stimulation. Both aching for more but not sure if your body can handle that kind of pleasure. Your thighs are shaking, and something in your stomach grows tighter and tighter by each flick of his tongue against your clit.

“I’m coming” you cry out breathlessly “fuck I’m coming”

And you do. Hard. He keeps kissing and touching you through it; both grounding you and dragging out the intense sensation.

His hands, now familiar with your thighs, make their way up to the soft swell of your breasts, as you struggle to regain your breath. He’s cupping them in his hands, pinching your nipples in between his fingers, kissing them with ferveor. Hungry hands move over your breasts, your stomach, your face; cupping it so that he can kiss you with the sort of yearning that comes from years of unanswered desire.

Your hands move over his body as well, moving over his abdomen chest and arms, defined from long hours of hard work. You kiss his throat and collarbones, kissing at the skin; licking, sucking and biting until you hear guttural moans coming from his throat. His lips are slightly parted, and his glossy dark eyes are fixed on your face; his fingers loosely tangled in your hair.

He presses you down onto the mattress again, until he’s face to face; his arms on each side of your face, holding himself over you.

“You sure?” he asks, voice hoarse, panting slightly.

“I want this” you answer him, voice low but clear, “I really, really want this Tom”

He smiles, breathing out the breath he’d been holding and moves away from you, reaching for the side of his bed and to take out a condom from the drawer.

He places a quick kiss to your lips, your cheek, your belly button, before he sits up. He removes his underwear and you can feel your face heat up again. Because this is Tom, your Tom, whom you’ve been in love with for half your life. But being with him, both naked as the day you were born, feels right. You know everything about this man, all his preferences and secrets; his favourite movie and how he likes his food and why he skipped class every day for a month in year nine. And he knows everything about you. It feels right that he should know this as well; know each curve of your body and the way you like to be kissed and what has you moaning and begging for more.

He unwraps the foil package and puts the condom on with firm fingers. Leaning over you again he lines up against your opening. His eyes glossy with lust, damp hair falling over his face; his mouth swollen and wet from kissing you.

Then with a sharp thrust and a groan he’s inside you.

All coherent thoughts go out the window as he starts moving in and out of you. The only thing that exists is his strong, sweaty body above you, moving in and out of you with slow, deep thrusts. He’s so hard where you are soft and you can’t stop touching him, dragging your fingers over his back, pulling at his hair, kissing his arms. It’s like the wires in your brain have crossed, sending out sparks of pure pleasure in your body.

He hits a particularly tender spot inside you and the groan that leaves you is almost animalistic.

Tom nearly halters in his pace, before collecting himself again. “Fuck” he moans out, kissing your neck. His movements become more frenzied and you roll your hips under him, meeting his movements; trying to get him deeper inside you.

He pushes himself up onto his hands, pulls back slightly; and pushes in. Starting to really fuck you.

You can’t stop looking up at him; naked body damp with sweat, muscles moving as he works; arms flexed and cheeks flushed. His eyes are closed pleasure now. Your hands are on his hips helping him set the pace as he fucks into you with fast, hard thrusts. Without warning you clutch around him in pleasure and he groans loudly.

“How the fuck does your cunt feel better than it tastes?” he asks, panting for air. “

He presses a hand over your heart, letting it rest there. You wonder if he can feel it pounding for him. You feel like you’re dissolving into a thousand tiny pieces as you come around him with a choked scream.

He’s so close and you can practically feel it; aching for him to have it. You want him to come; in you, on you, over you.

And then he does, his brows furrows; like the pleasure is so intense it hurts him. The sounds he makes when he comes are guttural; almost whimpering.

As he falls down on the bed beside you he pulls you close, has you pressed against his body, an arm firmly wrapped around you. The sun has set now, but the ocean waves still crash onto the shore, the sound of it the only thing to fill the silence part from your laboured breathing; the music having gone quiet in the other room.

Neither one of you say anything. You knew the end to this when he kissed you. You’ve regretted nothing that has happened here, and you know that he doesn’t either; but tomorrow you are leaving to drive all the way across the country and he cannot follow. You don’t know what will happen now, and he doesn't have the answer to that either. And so you just let him hold you; wishing with all your might that you could stop the morning from coming.

***

Please let me know your thoughts, genuinely don’t know what to make of this one.

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic

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