#the amount of times i have to remind myself to stay on topic instead of replying with unrelated shit when i'm answering an ask is unreal lo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

adhd-asd · 3 years ago

Text

Anonymous asked: "i have ADHD and ASD, I don’t know if they really play a role in my difficulty to write scripts or outlines, but it seems like whenever i want to start a story project and visualise it into writing and art, it just…..doesn’t work? Like, i have story ideas, but the way they come out never meet my satisfaction or, at least, the way i write them, feels too restricting and….i don’t know?

writing scripts, the dialogue feels very bland and tedious - writing outlines is fine for me but i put too much thought into them to the point they are restricting. but, also, when i try to make up a story as i go with a basic plot in mind, i lose a massive sense of direction if i don’t have an outline or script. and i just feel very, very stuck."

If you're just looking for a short-form list of tips and tricks that might help make creating easier, I have a post here that offers advice on writing with ADHD that you may find helpful.

However, I found this question really interesting and wanted to do a more in-depth exploration of the topic of creating with ADHD/ASD and the difficulties that can come with that, as well. I have a lot of thoughts on the topic as an ADHD/ASD creator myself, so it got quite long, but I hope you might find some of them interesting or useful.

Do ADHD/ASD Play a Role?

Firstly, I believe that my ADHD and ASD affect just about every part of my life, including my creative process, and I imagine the same is likely true for you. It's entirely plausible (and I would even say likely) that they're playing a part in the conflict you feel when trying to create.

That being said, I also believe that there are ways we can accommodate or work around our unique challenges rather than putting effort into trying to overcome them or letting them get us down. I also don't think your difficulties are exclusively a result of ADHD/ASD, either, and I'll be discussing both points in more detail below.

On Meeting Your Own Expectations

I think, at least to some extent, your first paragraph could apply to most creators, regardless of ADHD/ASD.

Very rarely do I find that my works end up matching what I visualise in my mind, and it can often be frustrating and demotivating when what I produce seems inferior to the hypothetical version I had planned or envisioned. And I've seen this same sentiment expressed by a lot of artists and writers.

When those feelings crop up, I try to remind myself that it's okay, nobody else has seen the hypothetical 'perfect version' of what I was trying to create that's in my mind, and they'll be judging the work on its own merits instead. I think an important part of being a creator is consciously working on accepting that things will almost never go exactly as envisioned, and that's okay. It's not a reason to abandon the work, and the more you keep creating, the more practice you'll have getting your ideas down.

It's definitely easier said than done, but as with all creative pursuits, feeling beholden to perfection will ultimately prevent you from getting anything done or growing as a creator, and sometimes you have to just let things go and keep moving forward. A work doesn't have to be perfect to have value and be worthy of praise.

On Perfectionism

All that being said, I wouldn't be at all surprised if your ADHD and ASD were compounding on this common experience to a degree. It's very common for people with ASD to be inflexible and extremely detail-oriented, and many an ADHDer can struggle with perfectionism (which I've briefly discussed in the second half of this post). Falling into the trap of obsessively tweaking things until they're just right is pretty easy.

The good news is that I think when you're aware that these are pitfalls you're likely to experience, you can better notice them and implement measures to help you work around them. Better understanding your symptoms and being kind to yourself when you experience them can make the situation less hostile, and researching how to cope with/compensate for them could help not only with your creative process, but other areas of life as well.

On Finding Your Creative Process

A big part of creating is finding a process that works for you.

Some people plan in meticulous detail while others fly by the seat of their pants; some prepare outlines and tough drafts and follow the steps in order and others bounce around and make it up as they go.

From the way you're describing things, it sounds like your current process isn't working for you, and you may benefit from changing your approach to creating entirely. You already seem to be consciously aware of the parts that are causing the most difficulty and frustration for you, so the next step is to brainstorm how to modify them to make your creativity more accessible to you.

I, for example, write scenes out of order and constantly go back and add to them as I get new ideas. I also draw my lineart in random sections, moving on to a new one anytime I get bored (even if the current section isn't finished) until it eventually comes together like a patchwork quilt. These are some ways I've found to keep things interesting and keep me engaged in the work, and they may seem weird, but they sure do work!

So Let's Do Some Brainstorming

If you overthink your outlines and then feel stifled by them, try deliberately limiting how much detail you allow yourself to include. It's not an 'all or nothing' situation, and you can practise and experiment with varying document layouts and amounts of detail until you've found something that feels more approachable.

If you're currently writing paragraphs, try bullet points, or a flow chart, or sticky notes that you can rearrange. If you plot out every detail, try starting with only the most major events so you always have some direction for where the story is going but still allow for more freedom and creativity. If you spend hours on an outline, try setting a timer so you only have a set amount of time for each point.

And remember that you can change your outline as you go! If you're so caught up in following your outline that it's stifling your creativity, maybe it's an issue of perspective rather than process. Remind yourself that your outline is a tool to help you and that you're free to adjust it whenever it's not serving its purpose.

I don't know what your current process looks like so maybe these specific examples aren't helpful to you, but hopefully they can illustrate how to look at the areas where you're getting stuck and find a way to change them so that they suit your needs. Even if it seems unconventional or doesn't align with the process other people use or have told you to use, it's important to do what works for you.

In Summary / TL;DR

Creativity in general often comes down to experimenting until you find a method/process/style that works for you, and that's true for anyone. It's also true that art rarely goes exactly as planned, and sometimes you just have to accept that you've done well enough and move on.

But when you're a creator with ADHD/ASD, it can be extra difficult to do so because of our unique challenges related to internal motivation, perfectionism, and staying focused and flexible. Being aware of your symptoms and the challenges that they might present, and specifically tailoring your workspace and process to account for them while being kind to yourself when you find yourself struggling, can allow you to create with a lot less frustration.

None of these changes will happen instantaneously, but hopefully being aware of them and making the effort over time will help you to start seeing a difference in your work. Good luck!

#adhd #asd #actually adhd #actually autistic #autism #Brady answers #tips

266 notes · View notes

miraculouscontent · 4 years ago

Note

I know that you said that it was an one shot, but I really love the idea of marinette stay in Paris with Luka and kagami and avoid all the NY drama! If you can, can you share more of it? Even if just a few little ideas it would be great! (I love your ideas!)

(the one-shot this anon is referring to)

Aw, thank you so much!

And sure, after some thought, I did really want to write a little more with them!

—————

While throwing away their now juice-less cups, Marinette made the realization of how different things seemed with Luka and Kagami. She had already experienced hanging out with both of them separately, but she'd never imagined having both of them with her at once. It wasn't as if she'd always dismissed or despised the idea, but the only time they'd interacted as a group had been with Adrien around, which had probably soured the whole thing and thus involuntarily caused her to never think about it.

With her friends, everything was typically high-energy. Juleka and Mylene weren't very involved in creating such an atmosphere, but Marinette herself, Rose, Alya, and kept things energized. It wasn't a bad thing in general, but it made Marinette wonder if maybe surrounding herself with people who only encouraged her excitable habits wasn't a good thing.

Meanwhile, Luka and Kagami were completely different, both from her and her friends. Neither were particularly loud - though both could be when they wanted to - and they weren't really the kind to tease or mess with her either. Luka wasn't quiet in the way Juleka was, just seeming to absorb the world around him, whereas Kagami only spoke when she felt that there was something of value to say. Marinette had worried briefly that she might've been too different from the both of them, or that she'd overwhelm them due to speaking up the most, but instead, there was a sense of balance. Luka smiled or chuckled reassuringly whenever she caught herself rambling, whereas Kagami would cut in with her own views that were often direct but nevertheless good in their intentions. Perhaps her personality rubbed off on them in a way she couldn't fully understand?

Still, it was nice.

As the three were deciding what to do next, Marinette's phone suddenly went off. Marinette looked at her purse and pulled out her phone, half-expecting a text from one of her classmates about her missing the bus, but it was actually a notification about where Andre the ice cream man was.

Kagami glanced over after noticing the look on Marinette's face. "You want to get ice cream?"

Marinette frowned, Kagami's voice reminding her of the day the two of them had gone for ice cream with Adrien. She still remembered talking to Andre, hoping beyond hope that maybe the man wouldn't make them pick between the three different flavors. His words still stung a little, not because of Adrien, but because of what the words meant.

"Too many flavors mixed together may throw off the delicate balance."

It implied that one of them would always be the third wheel if they were together, no matter what, and it was a hollow feeling that she'd only recently started to accept.

"Marinette?"

Feeling a comforting hand on her shoulder, she looked over and noted Luka offering her a concerned expression. It grounded her, serving as a reminders that things were different now and that Adrien wasn't there which, in a strange way, brought her an immense sense of comfort.

"I'm fine," she assured. Turning her attention back to her phone, she deleted the notification and then made sure that she wouldn't be getting another one. "Ice cream sounds good, if you want it too, but... I think I've got a better idea than Andre's."

Luka and Kagami exchanged curious glances.

—————

"Here's to Neapolitan ice cream!" Marinette declared dramatically, raising her spoon up with flair before shoving it and the ice cream on it right into her mouth.

Luka snorted in amusement while Kagami gave an acknowledging nod, probably remembering the exact phrase from Andre that Marinette had recalled earlier.

They'd picked up the carton of ice cream on the way to Marinette's place, with Marinette insisting on paying in order to spoil them, and while they seemed confused on the specifics of her insistence, they gave in soon enough. Marinette could understand why she'd be the expected person to be comforted, but giving to others made her happy on its own and she felt they deserved it. After all, Luka had tried his hardest to catch up to the bus and Kagami was still dealing with Adrien wanting to leave for New York despite her being in Paris.

They'd ultimately decided on splitting the entire carton between the three of them, with each of them getting a majority of the one of the flavors and then the rest of that flavor going to the other two. Marinette had gone with chocolate, Kagami had gone with vanilla, and Luka had gone with strawberry. It might've seemed like a weird choice to go with since they'd just had orange juice, but it hadn't been much and it wasn't exactly a "treat."

Marinette may have considered suggesting ice skating instead if her first thought of it wasn't her slipping and bringing Luka and Kagami down to the ice with her. Ice cream was the safer alternative to "cold fun."

"Luka," she called thoughtfully, taking another bite before asking, "you're not feeling sore or anything, are you?"

He met her gaze, smiling at the concern but waving his hand dismissively. "I'm alright, Marinette. I'm used to biking around for hours because of my job, so it wasn't a big deal."

Kagami halted, spoon halfway in her mouth while her brows rose noticeably. She finished the scoop, then turned to look at Luka. "You have a job?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I deliver pizza." He grinned, clearly amused by her reaction. "Are you surprised?"

Kagami's expression didn't shift, but Marinette had known her long enough to see that she was embarrassed. "Oh, no. It's... I don't have one."

"There's nothing wrong with that." Luka shrugged. "I just have the time to do it."

"Mm." Kagami looked back at her ice cream, poking at the surface with her spoon. "I suppose it would be too difficult with my fencing lessons."

Marinette giggled sheepishly, happy to join in on the conversation. "I probably wouldn't be able to either. There's all my fashion work with my website, and then there's the unexpected babysitting, the bakery, and I'm also the class representative." She hurriedly added an, "I know it doesn't sound like much, but I'm bad at planning," when she felt that it seemed like such little things. She was Ladybug and the new guardian too, of course, but she couldn't be blurting that out, so she could only hope that it didn't seem like she was whining over nothing.

She averted her gaze, scooping up a self-conscious bite of her ice cream and shoving it into her mouth. She was partway through savoring it when she realized that neither Luka nor Kagami had responded to her. Daring a look back, she saw them staring at her with varying gazes.

Kagami seemed stunned, commenting, "That is... well, much, actually," referring to what Marinette had just tried to brush off.

Was it? Marinette had never really thought about it. In fact, she distinctly remembered back in the day where people might've thought she was just scatterbrained and didn't really do anything. Back when she was hesitant to be class representative and claimed that she was busy, Alya had asked her with a hint of snark what she was busy with, like she expected her to have a free schedule.

Even beyond her role of Ladybug at the time, she still had random babysitting to do and still frequently worked on her fashion projects. Thinking back, it stung just a little.

As Marinette glanced at Luka, she at first felt that the amount of sympathy he was directing at her was excessive, but then she remembered how she had cried in front of him to the point where he'd dropped his bike and guitar in order to comfort her. She blushed, both in shame and from the memory of him holding her so closely.

"Ah—well—it's okay!" she said hurriedly, "Anyway, forget about me! This day is about... um, this ice cream, and ice cream doesn't have problems that you should worry about!"

She nearly gave herself brainfreeze from how quickly she scooped up and ate the next bite, but figured it'd be worth it if they dropped the subject.

It wasn't worth it.

"You should be more careful," Kagami commented critically, an edge to her voice that Marinette knew wasn't meant to be anger at her. "You're my friend, so don't overwork yourself."

Marinette grinned nervously, still trying to lighten the mood. "A-are you saying it'd be alright to overwork myself if I wasn't your friend?"

Kagami's gaze didn't waver, and Marinette slowly tried to sink into her seat.

Luka set his spoon down on the bowl, then chimed in, "I don't know anything about fashion, Marinette, but if you ever need any help with anything—"

Kagami clicked her own spoon against her bowl to interrupt him, as if she felt personally slighted that he'd gotten to say it first. "We're here for you."

Luka nodded to confirm.

"Oh." Marinette blushed deeper, touched by the gesture from both of them. She thought about trying to reassure them again, but their gazes were firm and showed no room for argument, so she settled for a soft, "Thanks."

They resumed eating their ice cream from there, the topic officially concluded. Though the atmosphere felt noticeably different, Marinette was surprised to realize that it wasn't exactly in a bad way. She feared that she'd ruined the mood, but instead felt like she was supported, with Kagami and Luka looking satisfied with their choice in offering help to her.

It was like she was Ladybug, and they were the partners standing at her side, each with their own form of support. It made her smile, allowing her to happily eat away at her ice cream without thinking about anything stressful.

The idea of going to New York was suddenly very unappetizing in comparison to having ice cream with Luka and Kagami.

—————

All things considered, Ladybug wasn't concerned about telling Chat Noir that her plans had changed and she wasn't going anywhere after all. She imagined that Chat would be overjoyed and wouldn't even ask questions about it, just happy to have her back. She found his affection eyeroll-worthy, but he was still her teammate, so she just steeled herself up for whatever ramble he was about to give her.

However, as she waited near the top of the Eiffel Tower, sitting on the guardrail and looking around for Chat Noir, she realized that she couldn't even see him. Checking the time on her yoyo, she confirmed that it was indeed time for their usual patrol, but Chat Noir was completely absent. Even though it was nighttime, which made the black cat's suit blend in with the sky, he still had the blond hair and light skin that should've made him noticeable.

Ladybug got up and paced around the area a few times, constantly peeking down at the city as she wondered if maybe she just wasn't looking in the right spot. When she still saw nothing, she concluded that Chat Noir must just be running late and she'd simply have to wait a little longer. Things happened, after all, she knew that better than anyone, so she began idling on her yoyo, searching for something to keep her occupied while she waited.

They were a team. While their identities had to remain a secret, Chat Noir had always hated it and prioritized openness in their relationship, so he would've told her if something had come up. He was also active in going on patrols, always seeming eager to join her for their runs across the rooftops, and given that he didn't even know that she'd still be in Paris, patrols were even more crucial.

He never showed up.

#MC's Writing #writing: story #Lukagaminette #relationship: Kagami Tsurugi & Luka Couffaine & Marinette Dupain Cheng #other: ask and answer #category: long post #word count: over 2000 #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

951 notes · View notes

mieohmy · 4 years ago

Text

𝖢𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝟣𝟢𝟣 | 𝖫𝖾𝖾 𝖩𝖾𝗇𝗈

PAIRING: lee jeno x reader

GENRE: angst, fluff, humor, comfort, established relationship au, college au, this rly is just a self indulgent fic kjasdfk

WC: 2.1k

NOTES: slight argument/fighting ?? , cursing

SUMMARY: jeno wants your attention, your comforting presence, your love- he simply wants you.

for the bday boy that i treasure sm! happy birthday to puppy jeno <333

ღ

The phone next to you lies untouched, and practically has been for days- or has it been a week already? I mean, it wasn’t your fault that upcoming finals had been taking you to the depths of hell, and you had no choice but to lock yourself at home to study for a week on end.

Which brings you to day 7? 8? of being holed up in your room all day, memorizing a bazillion tiny printed words and trying to cram as much information as possible in that overworked brain of yours. Getting about 4-5 hours of sleep a day, you couldn’t remember anymore- or even care to remember. Not to mention the added stress that came along with being any normal college student. Wasn’t life just wonderful?

You feel bad for everyone that has tried to contact you over this stressful period in your life (since you completely turned your phone off to eliminate all distractions), but the urge to stop studying completely and just check up on the real world and all its happenings grows stronger. You breathe in -out, constantly chanting ‘self-control’ over and over again in your head. Then your eyes slowly open, and you slap yourself one last time as if to say ‘get it together' before diving back into the books.

Just two more days. Two more days and you can finish and not have to stress about finals until results come out.

At this point, you were surviving off of coffee, tea, random stolen snacks that your boyfriend would bring over from his dorm.

Damn, when’s the last time you had a proper meal? Monday?

And then you frown. What day even is it today? You glance at your calendar and-

Goodness grief, it’s Sunday already.

You almost have a midlife crisis over wasting basically a week doing nothing but sitting at your desk and looking at words, but then again at this point- you’re just over it and want to be done as soon as possible.

But soon, a weird feeling arises after you recall today’s date- like you were forgetting something. You place a hand over your forehead. Was there something important today?

And as if the universe read your mind, the doorbell rings.

A giant wave of confusion washes over you. Was someone supposed to come over today?

-and you just completely wiped it from your mind?

You’re still running through your memories as you walk to the door. No, it's not Chae since she has finals too...

Opening it, you’re not at all expecting who was behind it.

“Jeno-?”

He blinks back at your wide eyes, expression turning concerned, and you rub your temples in exasperation and defeat.

“Oh, did we have a date today or something? I’m so sorry- I totally forgot.”

His eyebrows furrow. “No, I was just supposed to come over to hang out with you....”

“It’s been so long since we last talked, baby. You haven’t responded to any of my texts. What’s going on?” He promptly adds, staring intently at you.

You let out a sigh, and jeno notices your tense shoulders and dark under-eye circles. “I thought you knew. Finals are coming up so I’ve been stuck at home cramming for about a week now actually.”

His frown deepens. “I did know. And still, y/n..” he says in a warning tone.

You know what his voice implies, you’ve heard it plenty of times at this point, but right now you don’t have to energy to listen to his nagging. “ I know, I know. Just- come in, I guess.....”

To be completely honest, you wanted to send jeno back home- there was still a lot more information left to cover and you obviously weren’t in your best condition, but he was the one who actually remembered your ‘date’ and drove to your place, so you would feel even worse making him go all the way back to his dorm.

Jeno easily follows you in, biting the inside of his cheek to hold back any comments while examining your place even though barely anything has changed since he last visited- mostly because there was nothing to change when you were in your room all day.

You walk to the kitchen, getting your boyfriend some water while yawning. Meanwhile, your mind is drifting away, thinking about what topics are left that you have to go over later. “What are we even doing today?”

Jeno plops on your couch, arms behind his head. “I don’t know. A movie?”

You hide your grimace, immediately thinking of how much time would be wasted watching one, or possibly even more if jeno was feeling it. In the one to two hours of a movie, you could be done with chapter two and three-

“Y/n??”

Your head snaps up. “Yes?”

“Are you gonna come over here or just stand there in the kitchen all day?” he teases.

You shake your head to clear the fog and join jeno on the couch. Scrolling through the options, you automatically snuggle up next to him, eyes blearily watching the moving tv screen.

He decides on this one animated film, and you’re too drained to pay attention so you simply nod and let the movie begin. But even though you try your best to focus on the storyline and what’s currently going on, your mind keeps wandering off to other, more boring things- your studies, obviously.

The number of chapters you covered, the slight of chapters you have left, how long you would have to stay up to finish going through your planned amount of information -all the stressful thoughts swirling in your head, and it only exhausts you more.

You let out a sigh, and jeno turns to you. “Are you okay? You’ve been sighing nonstop since we started the movie.”

You clear your throat, biting back a yawn. “Oh- yeah, sorry. I won’t do it anymore.”

Your boyfriend stiffens but doesn’t say anything, attention returning to the flashing screen in front of him.

You did try. You really did. But your eyelids keep drifting shut and your head keeps slowly lolling forward and snapping back up -it’s not until your forehead accidentally knocks against jeno’s chest that he finally speaks up again.

“Y/n. You need to take a break and get some sleep. Now.” His tone is sharp and commanding.

You snap your eyes back open, vision blurry. “No- it’s fine. I’m good, let’s keep watching.”

The immediate switch in the air is scary, jeno swiftly reaching for the remote and pausing the movie to look at you dead straight in the eyes before setting it back down with a loud, clattering noise. “You need to rest. I can tell from how tired you look, and I know you’ve been studying for so long, so why is it that hard to just relax for a little?”

You groan, distress breaking through. “I can’t, okay? You already understand how stressful school is and how important my upcoming tests are. I know you’re just trying to be kind and thoughtful but-“

“But what?” He cuts you off, the frustration he’s been hiding for a while finally revealing itself. “Taking a rest from burning your brain out isn’t going to kill you, y/n.”

Your hands at your side clench and unclench, a wave of emotions overcoming you. “I know that. But I can’t afford to have a break now.” Everything suddenly feels overwhelming, and your voice comes out strained and uncontrolled.

“I’m almost there, jeno. It’s so close, and if I stop now, I’ll feel like a failure.”

He laughs a short and echoing bark. “How do you think I feel? I was trying to brush everything aside and act like it was all fine, but it’s certainly not when you’re like this.”

You falter.

Jeno gets up, making direct eye contact with you even though his body is trembling and his voice is shaky.

“I spent the past week just lying in bed and worrying about you- if you were eating okay and getting enough sleep. I was constantly texting you reminders to take care of yourself, only to find out from your friend that you turned your phone completely off. Do you know how shitty of a person I was feeling? I didn’t want to be a distraction to you because I know how much you care about your grades, but it’s killing me, y/n. I want to be there for you, but instead, I end up feeling like the worst boyfriend in the world.”

He shudders before continuing,

“And then I come here, brushing off all my worries since I was super excited to finally be with you after so long, and then I have to see you in such a bad condition. Barely taking care of yourself, barely even surviving on your own just so you can pass your exams that I know you’ll already do well on no matter what. As your boyfriend who wants to help and be here for you, do you know how much my heart hurts?”

He finishes, but not before wiping away the frustrated tears that appeared in his angry rant.

It takes one beat -two beats, before you immediately spring up, rushing towards jeno and throwing your arms around him.

He accepts it, burying his face into your shoulder and wrapping his arms tightly around your waist.

The guilt courses through your body, and you understand. The consequences of your actions hit you, hard, and you know you deserve it all. Jeno just wants to know that you’re here. You’re here with him.

“I’m really sorry,” you murmur into his hair, “I’m really, really sorry, jeno.”

You hate the fact that you can still feel the slight wetness of his tears soaking through your-technically his- shirt. You pull back, looking straight into his eyes to make sure he knows you’re being genuine.

“I promise to pay more attention to myself, and I promise I won’t ever let it happen again. I won’t shut you out anymore... and you can come over to take care of me whenever you want, okay?”

Jeno slowly nods, and you softly wipe away the corners of his red eyes of any wetness.

He pulls you closer to him again, inhaling your scent one more time, and you finally let yourself go.

After about a minute of just enjoying each other’s warm embrace - one that you feel like you haven’t felt in so long- you allow yourself to smile and pull back just enough to place a kiss on his cheek.

“Was my baby just lonely and missed me too much?” you sing in a soft voice. He lets out a disgruntled noise in response, shaking his head against your body.

But you both know what the answer is.

“C’mon, let’s go to bed.” You tug his arm easily to your room, putting off your studies, at least for today.

“You’re really gonna take a break this time?” Jeno asks, eyeing you carefully.

You grin. “Yes? Besides, I know you’re always down for cuddles.”

You drag him to the bed, taking his arms and wrapping them around your body as exhaustion quickly fills you.

You fight yourself to stay awake as long as you can to enjoy jeno’s presence, but he notices and hugs you even closer if possible, whispering softly, “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And before you finally drift off, you sleepily murmur, “I love you, jeno. Like, a lot.”

Even after you fall asleep in his embrace, he stares down at you, softly kissing your forehead.

I love you too.

bonus bc i adore jeno too much :

“Jeno- for the last time, you’re not a bad boyfriend.”

“I know.... but-“

You shut him up with a quick kiss.

“You’re the sweetest.”

Another kiss.

“Funniest.”

Peck.

“Handsomest.”

His ever so growing smile freezes. Jeno looks at you, a surprisingly solemn look on his face.

You raise an eyebrow, confused.

“......even more than Nam joo hyuk?”

Ah. He had to go for the favorite actor.

You swallow, battling an intense internal war before begrudgingly nodding. “Okayyy...fine. You are.”

He crosses his arms. “I’m what?”

You roll your eyes, whining. “I already said it!”

Jeno shakes his head firmly. “Say the whole thing.”

You take a deep breath in, internally apologizing to your beloved actor. “......you, lee -verymuchanannoyingbaby- jeno, are more handsome than Nam joo hyuk.” Your sentence is finished swiftly in one breath, words slurring together. It actually pains you to say that. But it’s good enough for your boyfriend.

Jeno delights in the squeal you let out when he picks you up in his arms to spin you around.

“Fuck yeah- take that, nam joo hyuk!”

ღ

a/n: anyways im going to go hide away and cry over jeno now ^^

#cznnet #kpopscape #nct #nct dream #jeno #nct jeno #jeno x reader #lee jeno x reader #jeno scenarios #jeno imagines #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream fluff #lee jeno imagines #jeno fluff

443 notes · View notes

ncitygirls · 3 years ago

Text

eternal - jaemin x f reader

fluff, smut, vampire!jaemin, 2.2k

he had yet to utter a word since his confession, and neither had you, though you had tried piecing together a worthy response. he simply watched you as you watched him, your eyes focusing on each delicate ridge in his skin, admiring his nonexistent pores; how the thin slithers of light that broke through the poorly drawn curtain, shone on a bend from the ends of his bangs down and around his chin. a kind reminder of what you swear you have always known, but regret to have never questioned.

“jaemin?”

“my love?”

“have you always been this beautiful?’

he had to admit he was taken back. those are the first words you have said in a long while. they are your first words since he told you three minutes and twenty-five seconds ago - he was counting, not actively, but over time his mind has created room for his thinking to expand, to surpass humanity’s understanding of thought, and most times he welcomes it. but not at times such as these - where he knows he told you three minutes and twenty-five seconds ago, and your first words are in awe of him.

“i told you i am undead.. and that is what troubles you?”

“your beauty is far from troubling,” you retort, eyes still inspecting his face. jaemin’s mind wanders back to when he once pitied humans. how they thought what they saw was really seeing. victims of an already limited life, the human eye is only able to pick up a fraction of their sublime reality. yet the way your eyes traverse each of his features, as if to commit them to memory, he surely found a compelling reason to admit their eyes were not so lacking. “was it the bite that made you so handsome?”

“i wasn’t bitten,” he corrects, as the pads of your thumbs sweep over his cold knuckles, your touch casting a reverence over the scene. he lets out a pretty laugh at your assumption, the soft crease between your brows forming as he destroys your fictional understanding of his kind. “humans have always had a skewed understanding of our lore.”

“so your mother and father were vampires?”

“no.” it has been some time since he has had to explain vampiric lore to a human, but his mind retains his memory of it all the same. “it is not dissimilar to what humans call possession? or a spell? it is a combination of the two.”

“did it hurt?”

jaemin cannot help but melt at the notes of concern lacing your tone. it is his turn to pass his thumb along your knuckles before flipping your hand over, letting his finger trace a swirl in your palm, offering a soft shake of his head. “it makes one feel queasy, a consequence of the change in dietary needs.”

your hand stiffens beneath his touch as your eyes drop to examine them. he fears he has spoken out of turn, pushed the astonishingly pleasant conversation down a dark hole. jaemin once believed humans to be predictable, but you continue to challenge that. “is that why my invites to have you for dinner always go unanswered?”

“i knew that wounded you, angel.”

“it did no such thing!” his chin drops, eyes boring into you in a successful attempt to lure the truth out of you. he immediately softens when you exhale, in defeat of his gaze or distaste at your transparency, he does not know. jaemin would soften all the same. “i will admit, i did make assumptions to make sense of your refusal.”

“did you think i preferred not to visit?” you had never noticed the flecks of red in the perimeter of his irises until now. they glowed slightly, as if enraged, though you know not with you. “there are rules we must follow when entering a new space, silly, unchangable rules.” his frown deepens when you nod, always understanding even when you shouldn’t. “i apologise if I hurt you, angel.”

“hush now, you need not apologise.” you’re proven right when his eyes return to the perfect colour you remember them for: a golden swirl moving within the rich cocoa, shining only as the light hits it. relief floods him when he rests his forehead on your own. he grips your hips firmly, swaying you both as you call for him.

“jaemin, what is it you do eat?”

“pretty girls named y/n.” oh how he wished you would have laughed then, instead of him opening his eyes to find your horror stricken face. “i swear to you that was a joke. that was in poor taste, i am so sorry.” you find his apology hard to believe as his body shakes, shaking your whole frame along with him.

“do not,” you hit his arm once, “mock,” and a second time though ineffective, “me!”

he saves himself quickly, retreating to safety by putting an unrealistic amount of distance between you two in an inexplicable amount of time. when he abandoned you, you nearly collapse forward with the force you were using to hit him before catching yourself.

“come here.”

“i drink blood.” you did not particularly dislike his attempt to stay on topic, just the topic itself. you try to appear enlightened but you have always found it difficult to repress your repulsion. “i know you have no interest in the macabre.”

“blood is meant to be inside you.”

“i think it tastes great.” he quickly arrives in front of you, your open books and abandoned letters fluttering all over the room as his speed garners its own winds. his thumbs journey over the veins on your wrists, slowly trailing up your forearms. he only speaks again when he hooks his thumbs under your jaw, tilting your head to allow his teeth to graze over the column of your neck. “it is reminiscent of fruit. some blood is like grapefruit and lemon. while some are akin to grape, strawberries.”

“oh,” you sigh, heart slowing as his lips drag along the base of your throat. he pulls back, gazing longingly at your wonderment as you feel his mood swing. bitterness seeps into his eyes in how his taste for blood ironically remains the only provision of some kind of memory of flavour, of normality. “do you enjoy it?”

“blood?”

“being a vampire.” no one has ever asked him such a thing. is there anything to enjoy about eternal life? about reliving his youth, being relocated, remade, renewed over and over and over, for an eternity.

as he gazes down at you, he remembers with all the bad must come some good.

“not always,” he smiles knowingly, thinking of his friends. the lives they built for themselves over a combined millennia. it almost makes him retract saying that. “i do regret some things. like allowing haechan to convince us to help real witches free the falsely accused during the witch trials. only to later discover he had a wager on being able to free more than their coven could.” he loved the way your eyes followed along, he loved knowing he could finally share his life in its entirety with you. “i have a thousand reasons why i should hate it, but I cannot bring myself to.”

“why?” he will find a way to forgive himself for giving you a reason to ask. he will ensure you needn’t ask again.

“because,” he whispers into your mouth, his lips slipping between your own, fingers clasped behind your neck. “if i had died in 1625, i would not have had the honour of making your acquaintance.”

“this is hardly an acquaintance,” you remind him, counting his years in your head as he pulls you flush against him utilising less than a speck of his strength. “careful grandsire,” it tumbles from your lips as he licks against your mouth. “i am not sure a man even three hundred years your junior could make it through what you are starting.”

“you needn’t worry about me,’ he sighs, his groin rolling against your own, his fingers clinging to your breakable frame. “though i must confess, my eating pretty girls named y/n was not said solely in jest.” his fingers toy with your knickers, ice cold digits moving freely along the waistband. “in fact, i fear my sanity depends on it. might you be of some aid?”

“who am i to deny a man nearing his fourth century?” he begs himself not to laugh, if only not to kill the mood but more so to avoid dignifying your mockery. his laughter morphs quickly into pants, your hand slotted wickedly between his own and his groin. “how might i be of assistance to you?”

“just as you are,” he whispers, his dulled teeth passing dangerously along the shell of your ear. as a man of his years, patience isn’t something which he is in short supply. but even then, one grows tired of waiting, for coitus, for love, for you. he is quick to remove your hand, finding his own pacing as he presses you against the wall, your heat pulsing beneath his cock, practically leaking. “i forgot how pliant humans are,” it is wicked how he watches you, his fingers rolling your hardened nub betwixt their pads. you shudder at the sight of him, his golden eyes darkening in the sunlit room, his tongue passing over his sharpened teeth. he smirks as you hiss, his fingers pinching your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. his tongue rolls in time with his hips, running his clothed cock along your clothed folds. he is quickly reminded of his strength as his palm collects dust as it meets the wall with a thud, steadying himself as you whine deliciously, his name bleeding from your raw lips. “yes, angel?”

“i need you,” you breathe, gazing up at him as his lips capture yours. your tongues move in tandem, wrapping around the other in a hypnotic frisk. he swallows your whimpers as he lures them out of you. he sucks your tongue into his mouth, hands moving to your rear before lifting you from the ground. he makes little work of you, rendering you a quarter of your size. your ankles lock around his waist as he casts your knickers aside, hissing as the pad of his finger meets your folds.

“might i have a taste now?” he pleads, eyes burning a fiery amber, pure adoration hidden beneath. “please, angel?”

“take all of me, jaemin.” he holds you still, a metre from the ground as he kneels, his hands firm around your thighs before he lowers you over his mouth. his flat tongue licks long stripes up your cunt, tongue flicking along your hooded clit in his descent. he likens you to a spring, his soul knelt before you, preparing an offering to your fountain. he is ready to collect all you offer him, your essence pouring out onto his tongue, soaking his lips, slick down his chin. his eyes fall to a close at the sight of your dazed form, your eyes screwed shut in prayer, his lips puckering around the hood of your clit, the tip of his tongue rolling against the nerve. “jaemin, right there, please.”

he hums in accordance, his tongue circling your clit as your thighs shake on either side of his head. he smirks as you still, his middle and ring finger entering your warm cavern, forcing your hips to roll against his digits. he curves them slowly, pressing against your pink walls, bulging up against your stomach. “you are so fragile,” he says, lips bitten as he watches your body succumb to his touch. he leans closer to you, steadying you on his shoulders to free his hand. he presses his palm to your abdomen, hypnotised by the feeling of his own fingers inside you. letting his thumb drift down, he pulls up the skin hiding your clit, allowing his lips to pucker against the nub before he offers a hard suck. his tongue joins the fold, drinking you in as you let out a sharp cry, the pressure inside and out joining forces to send you over the edge. “when you’re ready, love, come.”

he can feel your skin burning up, see the sheen of sweat coating your entire body. “jaemin,” you continue to chase your high, but cling to the moment. you feel like your convulsions might snap your body in two. that pleasure such as this cannot exist innately, that only he can bestow it on you. you are proven right as you grow more frantic, his fingers rub against the spot inside you that he found with great ease, as his lips suck on your clitoris. the final straw is his gaze, you feel it and fall victim to it. his irises a bright, angelic white, the rim speckled in gold. one cast of your eyes on your lover and you snap.

there is no doubting that as jaemin gazes up at you, he sees glory eternal. he sees life. he sees an angel.

“come angel.”

and you do. jaemin’s simple command breaks a dam, summoning a flood of pleasure you are unsure you will survive. hot iron passes through your veins, lighting you from the inside out. he continues without thought, his lips sucking the pleasure out of you, his fingers still pounding into your swollen pussy. only when your fingers find his hair, pulling him away with a sharp tug does he concede, lowering you into his lap.

“hi,” he says after some time, watching you pant against the wall. “are you still with me?” he jests, palms gliding up and down your aching thighs.

you hum, gazing up at the golden orbs that you decide you mustn’t live without. much like his life, and much like your love. eternal. “always.”

#not a yours pt 2 but a lil sumn to keep you nana stans fed #injun stans.... i see u i hear u i ignore u #na jaemin #jaemin #jaemin x reader #jaemin fluff #jaemin au #jaemin smut #nct fluff #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct dream fluff #nct au #another post i stole from my other page oooops inspo come to me pls

301 notes · View notes

perpetual-stories · 4 years ago

Text

How To Fight Writers Block

hello, hello. hope everyone is doing well. as you can all tell, this post will be about how to fight writers block.

it’s really annoying to me when I hear people say “oh you don’t have writers block, you’re just lazy.”

first of all, yes, I am naturally lazy. second of all, how dare you. writing isn’t as easy as many think. granted, all you have to do is write down words on paper, but it’s not always easy to find the right words to express what you are feeling, or what you wish to say.

I have had terrible writer’s block for the last few days and it’s horrible! as a business owner or a small writing store, I have to be ready to write and fulfill my clients’ ideas and orders.

it’s not easy. It takes a heavy toll on my imagination, and digs me a deep pit of blockage, drowning in the lack of originality because of the constant writing and repetition or certain phrases and sentences in different projects.

i am making this post in the hopes to remind myself about over coming the dreaded and sometimes skeptically believed writer’s block.

What is writer’s block?

Yeah, I know. We all know what that is, but let me define it.

is the state of being unable to proceed with writing, and/or the inability to start writing something new

some people believe it to be a real problem, others believe it's “all in your head”

What Causes Writer’s Block?

in the 1970s, clinical psychologists Jerome Singer and Michael Barrios decided to find out

they concluded that there are four broad causes of writer's block:

Excessively harsh self-criticism

Fear of comparison to other writers

Lack of external motivation, like attention and praise

Lack of internal motivation, like the desire to tell one's story

How to overcome writer's block: 20 tips

1. Develop a writing routine:

Author and artist Twyla Tharp once wrote: “Creativity is a habit, and the best creativity is a result of good work habits.”

it might seem counterintuitive

if you only write when you “feel creative,” you're bound to get stuck in a tar pit of writer's block

The only way to push through is by disciplining yourself to write on a regular schedule. It might be every day, every other day, or just on weekends — but whatever it is, stick to it!

2. Use "imperfect" words:

A writer can spend hours looking for the perfect word or phrase to illustrate a concept

You can avoid this fruitless endeavor by putting, “In other words…” and simply writing what you’re thinking, whether it’s eloquent or not

You can then come back and refine it later by doing a CTRL+F search for “in other words.”

3. Do non-writing activities:

one of the best ways to climb out of a writing funk is to take yourself out of your own work and into someone else’s

Go to an exhibition, to the cinema, to a play, a gig, eat a delicious meal

immerse yourself in great STUFF and get your synapses crackling in a different way

Snippets of conversations, sounds, colors, sensations will creep into the space that once felt empty

4. Freewrite through it:

free-writing involves writing for a pre-set amount of time without pause — and without regard for grammar, spelling, or topic. You just write.

The goal of freewriting is to write without second-guessing yourself — free from doubt, apathy, or self-consciousness, all of which contribute to writer's block. Here’s how:

Find the right surroundings. Go somewhere you won't be disturbed.

Pick your writing utensils. Will you type at your computer, or write with pen and paper? (Tip: if you're prone to hitting the backspace button, you should freewrite the old-fashioned way!)

Settle on a time-limit. Your first time around, set your timer for just 10 minutes to get the feel for it. You can gradually increase this interval as you grow more comfortable with freewriting.

5. Relax on your first draft:

Many writers suffer form perfectionism, which is especially debilitating during a first draft

“Blocks often occur because writers put a lot of pressure on themselves to sound ‘right’ the first time. A good way to loosen up and have fun again in a draft is to give yourself permission to write imperfectly.” — editor Lauren Hughes

perfect is the enemy of good,” so don't agonize about getting it exactly right! You can always go back and edit, maybe even get a second pair of eyes on the manuscript

6. Don’t start at the beginning:

the most intimidating part of writing is the start, when you have a whole empty book to fill with coherent words

instead of starting with the chronological beginning of whatever it is you’re trying to write, dive into middle, or wherever you feel confident

7. Take a shower:

Have you ever noticed that the best ideas tend to arrive while in the shower, or while doing other “mindless” tasks?

research shows that when you’re doing something monotonous (such as showering, walking, or cleaning), your brain goes on autopilot, leaving your unconscious free to wander without logic-driven restrictions

showering is my favourite thing to do if I may add

8. Balance your inner critic:

successful writers have in common is the ability to hear their inner critic, respectfully acknowledge its points, and move forward

You don't need to completely ignore that critical voice, nor should you cower before it

you must establish a respectful, balanced relationship, so you can address what's necessary and skip over what's insecure and irrelevant

9. Switch up your tool:

a change of scenery can really help with writer's block. However, that scenery doesn't have to be your physical location — changing up your writing tool can be just as big a help!

if you’ve been typing on your word processor of choice, try switching to pen and paper. Or if you're just sick of Google Docs, consider using specialized novel writing software.

10. Change your POV:

great advice from editor Lauren Hughes: “When blocked, try to see your story from another perspective ‘in the room’ to help yourself move beyond the block. How might a minor character narrate the scene if they were witnessing it? A ‘fly on the wall’ or another inanimate object?

11. Exercise your creative muscles:

Any skill requires practice if you want to improve, and writing is no different! So if you’re feeling stuck, perhaps it’s time for a strengthening scribble-session to bolster your abilities

12. Map out your story:

If your story has stopped chugging along, help it pick up steam by taking a more structured approach — specifically, by writing an outline

13. Write something else:

Though it's important to try and push through writer's block with what you're actually working on, sometimes it's simply impossible

feel free to push your current piece to the side for now and write something new

14. Work on your characters:

It follows that if your characters are not clearly defined, you’re more likely to run into writer’s block

15. Stop writing for readers:

write for yourself, not your potential readers

this will help you reclaim the joy of being creative and get you back in touch with what matters: the story.

this is something I really need to do. because of my etsy business i don't write for fun anymore, but instead as a business and a deadline. i'm going to have to pull out my old crappy wattled fanfics or write some new ones.

16. Try a more visual process:

when words fail you, forget them and get visual. Create mind maps, drawings, Lego structures — ideally related to your story, but whatever unblocks your mind!

17. Look for the root of it:

writer’s block often comes from a problem deeper than simple “lack of inspiration.” So let's dig deep: why are you really blocked? Ask yourself the following questions:

Do I feel pressure to succeed and/or competition with other writers?

Have I lost sight of what my story is about, or interest in where it's going?

Do I lack confidence in my own abilities, even if I've written plenty before?

Have I not written for so long that I feel intimidated by the mere act?

Am I simply feeling tired and run-down?

once you identify what's wrong, it'll be so much easier to fix.

18. Quit the Internet:

If willpower isn’t your strong suit and your biggest challenge is staying focused, try a site blocker like Freedom or an app like Cold Turkey

19. Let the words find you:

meditate, go for a walk, take that shower

Word Palette is a great app that features a keyboard of random words, allowing you to simply click your way to your next masterpiece.

You can also try AI auto-completers like Talk to Transformer, where you can enter a phrase and let the app “guess what comes next.”

even though they often produce nonsense, it's a great way to help that writer's block.

20. Write like Hemingway:

And if your biggest block is your own self-doubt about your prose, Hemingway offers suggestions to improve your writing as you go

it's a pretty cool app if you ask me.

it highlights your sentences (if need be) and makes suggestions on how to improve them!

well, there you have it! a lengthy post on how to fight writer's block. now i just hope i can combat my own soon.

like, comment and reblog if you find this useful! feel free to reblog in instagram and tag me perpetualstories

Follow me on instagram and tumblr for more writing and grammar tips and more!

#writing #writing advice #writing tips #original writing #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writersconnection #writersofig #writersofinstagram #writings

382 notes · View notes

nerdzzone · 4 years ago

Text

-More Hearts Than Mine-

Summary: Raising a child is hard. Raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars is even harder. And raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars who you’re not actually in a relationship with is even harder still.

Especially when a global pandemic is sweeping the world.

With lockdowns and stay at home orders looming on the horizon, the uncertainty of their situation becomes almost too much for Whitney Taylor to handle. Chris suggests that they quarantine together to avoid any potential separations but, given what happened the last time they spent more than a few brief moments in each other’s company, that could cause more problems than it solves…

Chris Evans x OFC

Sequel to: Once Bitten - Twice Shy

Note: I’ve decided to make this five parts instead of four. I was originally going to combine this part and the next one, but I feel like it flows better with a bit of separation between them!

Part One

____

Part Two

The rest of our first afternoon together was spent lazing around. Grayson was tired, but continued to refuse his nap so we kept things low key to avoid any exhausted toddler meltdowns. By the time the evening rolled around, I was tired from the stress of the day myself and since I still had to unpack, I went up to my bedroom shortly after we'd tucked Grayson into bed.

I slept a lot better than I thought I would given everything that was on my mind and when I woke up, I could already hear the sounds of breakfast echoing up from the kitchen. Taking a few minutes to let myself wake up properly, I checked my phone and scrolled through social media before getting up, stretching and heading downstairs.

"Good morning," I smiled, finding Chris and Grayson sitting at the island eating some scrambled eggs while Scott leaned against the counter with a cereal bowl in his hands.

"G'morning, Mama!"

Grayson's greeting was said through a mouthful of food and Chris reminded him that wasn't polite before greeting me himself.

"Help yourself to whatever you want," he insisted. "There's some eggs left in the pan or cereal, whatever you can find. Maybe Grayson will even share his apple slices with you if you ask nicely."

Grayson gasped at that suggestion and frantically shook his head.

"No, Daddy!" He protested. "I don't want to share!"

I laughed as he reached over his plate to move the little bowl of sliced fruit closer to his body where he could keep it guarded.

"Not even one slice?" I asked. "But I'm so hungry!"

"Over there!" Grayson giggled, pointing at the counter.

I turned around and saw a few more apples in a bowl, making me smile as I turned back to the boys.

"But they're not nicely sliced like yours," I pointed out. "How can I eat those?"

Grayson shrugged and plucked one of his apples out of his bowl. He looked smug, thinking he'd won, but he was so distracted while he took a bite that he didn't see Chris' hand sneak over until he'd snatched one of the slices and tossed it to me.

"Catch!"

I did as Chris instructed and Grayson's jaw dropped. An indignant huff fell from his lips as he looked between the two of us.

"That's not nice."

Chris laughed, but I bit back a smile and returned his apple.

"You're right, baby," I agreed, kissing the top of your head. "That was mean, but we were just tricking you. You don't have to share your apple."

"Thanks, Mama."

The frown on his face turned back into a grin and I scraped the rest of the eggs that were in the pan on the stove onto a plate before turning back to the boys once I’d pulled a fork from the drawer.

"So, how do you want to work it with things like groceries while I'm here?"

"Just tell me what you want and I'll order it," Chris told me. "They've started doing curbside pick up pretty much everywhere so I was thinking I'd just do that."

"Oh, that's handy, but I meant like money wise. Should I just transfer you my share or do you want to alternate who pays?"

Chris stared at me for a moment as if he was trying to figure out if I was joking before he chuckled.

"I'm not taking any money from you, Whitney."

His voice was firm, but I furrowed my brow in confusion.

"What? Why not? I can't let you pay for everything."

"You're not still working, are you?" Scott asked. "Or is it different since, as a photographer, you're so far away from whoever you're taking pictures of?"

"I'm not working," I admitted. "I think it would be doable if it was, like, family portraits or something like that, but the big photo shoots involve too many people. Everyone cancelled on me last week or delayed my contracts until at least the summer."

"So, don't worry about paying for anything then," Chris shrugged. "It's not like you're going to eat that much, I think I can handle the cost."

He was trying to do a nice thing. He was a very generous person with those that he cared about, but I wasn't going to take advantage of him.

"I have savings, Chris," I insisted. "I'm not completely helpless."

As if sensing a rising tension, Scott put his bowl in the sink and grabbed his coffee mug before turning to Grayson.

"Hey, Gray, let's go see what cartoons we can find."

Grayson nodded eagerly and Chris helped him down from the tall stool so he could follow Scott out of the room, taking his little bowl of apples with him.

"I wasn't trying to imply that you're helpless," Chris assured me once they were out of earshot. "But you're tiny, I don't think that buying you a few groceries for the next couple of months will financially cripple me."

I tried to temper my defensiveness before I answered him, reminding myself again that he was trying to be helpful.

"I know that, but I don't feel comfortable living here for that long without contributing," I told him. "You already give me more than you need to every month for Grayson."

It was true. Since our custody agreement was that Grayson spent fifty percent of his time with each of us, he wasn't required to pay me any child support. But he did anyway. It was something we’d argued about on and off over the years because the amount that he gave me was way over the top. I appreciated his generosity and I did use all the money to buy things for Gray, but most of it ended up in a bank account that I'd opened for him because there was no way to spend it all in one month without Grayson becoming the most spoiled child in all of Massachusetts.

"I like to make sure he's taken care of."

"Which I am capable of doing with my own money when he's in my care," I reminded him. "But I don't want to start that whole conversation again. I just want to feel like I'm doing my part while I stay with you."

"And I appreciate that gesture, but it won't be necessary," Chris insisted. "You can clean, you can cook, do anything like that to help out, but I won't accept any money, especially while you're not working."

I sighed as he stood up to put his plate in the dishwasher while I put mine on the counter, too distracted by our conversation to eat. I knew it would be a struggle to get him to agree to take money from me, but I wasn't ready to back down so I thought of a compromise and hoped he would accept.

"How about we drop it for now," I suggested. "But if this thing goes on for more than a couple of weeks, can we talk about it again?"

Chris paused and crossed his arms. I could tell that he wanted to argue, but I was relieved when he agreed.

"Alright," he nodded, hesitating for a moment before adding a stipulation to the deal. "But we're going to talk about your car too before you leave here."

"My car? What about my car?"

"Grayson told me that it's not working properly," Chris admitted. "He said it sounds angry sometimes and that you haven't gotten it checked out yet."

I rolled my eyes, guessing that was one of those 'secrets' that he mentioned.

"It's fine," I assured him. "It made a weird sound one time last week when I tried to start it, but it's still working. I was going to take it in, but then all this virus stuff happened and I didn't have chance."

"You need a new one," Chris informed me. "That one is getting old anyway. I'll take you car shopping when things reopen."

I laughed at the absurdity of that statement, but I could see the annoyance on his face at my reaction.

"You're not buying me a car, Chris. The one I have is perfectly fine and if it's not then I will take myself car shopping, thank you very much."

"Why do you get so defensive when I try to help you?" He asked, his eyes shifting into a glare. "I'm not going to accidentally think that you're in love with me just because you accept a nice gesture from me. I can take a hint, Whitney, I get it."

My jaw dropped and I couldn't hold back a disgruntled scoff at his insane change of topic.

"What are you even talking about? This has nothing to do with that," I argued. "I wouldn’t have accepted your invitation if I knew you were going to hold that over me and throw it in my face all the time."

“All the time? This is the first time I’ve mentioned it!”

“Yes, but I’ve not even been here for twenty-fours hours and you’ve already brought it up!”

Perhaps it was my harsh, snappy tone that did it or my very valid criticism of his low blow, but Chris' body language softened.

"I just don't get why you get so worked up when I'm trying to help you..."

"Because I don't need help, Chris," I explained. "I might not be Captain America rich, but I do just fine and I can take care of myself. I can buy my own groceries and if I really needed to, I could buy myself a new car. You throwing money at me for things like that makes me feel like you don't value the success I've had in my career or my ability to manage my finances which is, quite frankly, offensive."

Chris dropped his arms so they were no longer crossed and his shoulders relaxed. Clearly, he'd been getting quite defensive as well and had realized it, whether he would admit it or not. I held my head high, proud of myself for explaining my feelings so well and taking him down a notch, but that feeling disappeared as soon as Chris spoke.

"If you were the richest woman in the world, I would still want to buy you a car," Chris started, looking more nervous than the dismissive, self-assured attitude I was getting moments ago. "I'd still want to buy you anything you could ever need because making you happy makes me happy."

My face fell at his confession and my heart clenched again, knowing what the underlying sentiment behind his statement was. It stung more than any hurtful words could have as the sincerity, the genuine care and appreciation, in his voice was heartbreaking. I regretted not adding a condition to our cohabitation that specified he wasn't allowed to say such nice, guilt inducing things as I stared at him for a moment, trying to think of a way to get out of this conversation that was more polite than just bolting out the door.

Too much time was passing as his words hung between us so, short of any good comeback to his words, I shrugged.

"If you want to make me happy, let me contribute for the groceries."

It was Chris' turn to look shocked now, as he was obviously expecting a more thoughtful response to his rather vulnerable admission, but he pulled himself together quickly and a dry laugh fell from his lips.

"Nice try, Whitney," he smiled, shaking his head. "But that's not going to happen."

Without giving me any more time to argue, he turned on his heels and walked out the door leaving me alone to wallow in my guilt and wonder how much longer I'd be able to keep up my act of nonchalance.

There was a weird sense of restlessness in the house that day. Usually, killing a few days at home would be no big deal but, as soon as the stay at home orders came into place that morning, the knowledge that we were now unable to do anything else made it feel slightly more suffocating.

Chris wasn't lying though when he said that he planned to make this lockdown as enjoyable as possible so we managed to keep ourselves entertained as we planned out some of the things we could do. Chris and Scott were compiling a list of old movies they wanted to watch again, I ordered a bunch of puzzles and books (some more child appropriate and some for the adults), Chris dug out an old wiffle ball set he had from when they were kids and Scott organized Chris' video game collection, pulling out all the good ones like their favourite: Mario Kart.

By the end of the day, we were all feeling much more optimistic about how our time at home would go. Especially Grayson. It was finally starting to sink in for him that he got to spend the foreseeable future surrounded by all his favourite people - something that was unfortunately a rarity for him given our situation. He was bouncing off the walls as he threw his ideas into the mix and couldn't wait to get started on all the fun.

The excitement of the day led to another early night for him and I excused myself shortly after, declining the invitation to start practicing my Mario Kart skills.

After our conversation that morning, I was trying to keep a bit of distance from Chris. I wasn't mad and it didn't seem like he had any lasting feelings of annoyance either, but our earlier discussion proved to me that there was still tension and resentment between us. I wanted to let it settle and give him some space so our small disagreement didn't turn into a full-blown argument. Living together after everything we'd been through would be an adjustment period and easing into it would probably be the safest route.

So, I took myself off to my bedroom and lounged in bed watching some new mystery show on Netflix. I started it thinking it would just be a good way to pass a few hours until a reasonable time to go to bed but as usual with Netflix, I got sucked in and before I knew it, it was almost midnight.

I closed my laptop, knowing I needed to get some sleep as Grayson was an early riser, but I noticed the glass of water I'd taken upstairs with me hours ago was empty and my mouth was dry. With a sigh, I dragged myself out of bed, taking the glass to the kitchen to fill it up.

I crept down the stairs, assuming everyone would be in bed already, but I was surprised when I got to the kitchen to see the light on. I poked my head into the room and saw Scott sitting at the little island in the middle of the room, a drink in his hand and a melancholy look on his face.

"Hey," I greeted him, alerting him to my presence. "You're up late..."

"I was just FaceTiming with my boyfriend. He's in LA so it worked with the time difference."

"Boyfriend?" I questioned as I headed over to the sink to fill up my glass. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend."

"It's pretty new," he sighed. "We've only been together about a month now."

"That's so exciting! You didn't want to stay in LA and quarantine with him?"

"No, we thought it was too fresh for us to, like, fully move in together and if I was in LA and not living with him then we wouldn't see each other anyway, so I decided I may as well come here."

"That's really hard," I frowned as I pulled out the chair next to him and sat down. "I'm sorry that you had to make a decision like that."

"It's alright," he shrugged despite the sad look on his face. "A lot of people have had to make much tougher decisions than that lately."

"That doesn't mean you can't be upset anyway."

"I know, but I'll be alright. I'm just glad we've got so many ways to stay in touch." He flashed me a smile and I was glad to see it. Scott was a good guy and one of those people who was usually so positive and upbeat that it was hard to see him feeling down. "What about you? How are you doing with everything?"

"Oh, I don't know," I sighed. "Do you mean the deadly virus plaguing the world? Or the fact that I'm in lockdown with the father of my child who I have a fairly complicated history with?"

"Both," Scott chuckled as he sipped his drink of what looked to be whiskey. "But I was more referring to being here in lockdown with Chris."

"It's hard, but I'm doing okay. It's just a weird situation."

"It'll definitely take some time to get used to for both of you," he nodded. "He felt really bad this morning. He told me what you said about how offensive it is when he throws money at you all the time and I totally agree, but I hope you know his heart was in the right place. He tells everyone how talented you are, he would never want to belittle your career."

"I know," I winced. "I overreacted a little bit."

"No, not at all!" Scott assured me. "He needed to hear it. I've been on the receiving end of it too so I know how you felt, but he doesn't realize how it comes off some times. He's just trying to be generous and help the people he loves."

I nodded and I knew that I should just end the conversation there. Tell him that I understood what Chris' intent was and leave it at that. But my heart overpowered my brain and I found myself opening up before I could stop myself.

"I just don't exactly deserve to be on that list," I reminded him. "And I shouldn't take advantage of any feelings he might have for me after the decision that I made."

"You really do deserve to be on that list," he told me with a smile. "He's really in love with you."

"Love might be a bit extreme," I scoffed. "He's made his feelings clear, I know he cares about me, but it's not love."

"He's not made his feelings clear enough then," Scott countered. "Because he's been head over heels in love with you since pretty much the moment he met you."

My mouth went dry as my brain fought to comprehend that claim while all my instincts were telling me that it wasn't true. Scott wouldn't lie to me, he wasn't that kind of person, but he could be exaggerating especially since he had been drinking. There was an honesty in his eyes though, a look that told me he was telling the truth, but I couldn't accept it, it just didn't make sense.

"That's not true," I argued. "He only ever saw me as a friend until that one night and that night was a mistake."

But Scott was confident in what he'd shared and he shook his head.

"He never saw you as just a friend. You were his endgame from day one."

Perhaps it was a delaying tactic, perhaps it was a nervous response or I was subconsciously trying to buy myself some time to make sense of what he was trying to tell me, but a giggle slipped out at Scott's choice of words.

"Endgame? Is that an Avengers joke?"

"It wasn't intentional," he assured me with a laugh, but he was quick to get us back on topic. "But I mean it. We had a conversation just a few weeks after you met and he was talking about you like you hung the moon. He's been enamoured from the start."

I couldn't wrap my head around it. He was speaking with such confidence, but the words he was saying might as well have been another language. Knowing what I knew about our situation, how things had unfolded between us, how that first night together went down and the aftermath of it, there was no sign that Chris had been in love with me. He cared about me, that much I knew, but to be in love? That didn't add up.

Especially when I'd had those feelings all along as well. Surely, I would have noticed had they been reciprocated.

I'd fallen silent as my brain buzzed, scrambling for any gesture or obvious evidence that I'd missed that might prove Scott's claim, but when he spoke again, I was pulled from my thoughts.

"Do you not feel the same way about him?" He asked. "And there's no judgment here, I can see both sides. I love Chris and I want him to be happy, but I respect what you're trying to do."

I felt my heart rate spike again as my palms grew sweaty in a way that was becoming annoyingly familiar.

I was aware of the importance of this conversation, but I was also aware that I wasn't having it with the right person. If Scott was being honest then Chris must have had his reasons for not sharing the depth of his feelings with me and it felt sneaky and deceitful that I was finding out from someone else. It also felt wrong that the answer to Scott's question was on the tip of my tongue. Chris deserved to know before his brother, but I was tired. Fighting through this mess all by myself was wearing me down and Scott had always been one of those people that compelled you to pour your heart out to him. He was a better listener than most and I needed someone, anyone, to give me some kind of guidance. So the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

"I do feel the same," I admitted, my eyes firmly locked on the glass of water on the table in front of me as I worried I'd be too anxious to speak if I looked Scott in the eye. "I love him very much."

"Then why are you so scared to give him a chance?" He questioned. "Just because of Grayson?"

I nodded, but even I was starting to doubt my own motivations.

"We work together so well right now, but if we give it a shot and someone ends up getting hurt then we might not be able to put our feelings aside and keep things peaceful."

"But aren't you hurting each other every day that you spend in love with each other, but not together?" He pointed out. "Yet, you manage to put Grayson first through all that pain."

His words hit me like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head.

It was an excellent point.

We were both hurting from being apart, it was clear from how defensive we got over silly little things like we had that morning. I could only imagine how Chris felt, but it was hard for me to be around him all the time and just keep things friendly when in my heart I wanted more. I ached at the sight of him every time I dropped Grayson off or picked him up, but we still managed to be friendly and polite through that.

"How many of those drinks have you had?” I teased earning a laugh from Scott. “They’ve made you too wise.”

"Not enough," he joked. "But it's true, isn't it?"

"It is true, but it's different," I insisted. "If we were together and broke up, that kind of hurt can come with a lot of anger. Right now, we might be sad or disappointed about the situation, but there's no anger."

"Oh, there was anger," Scott informed me, grimacing slightly. "After Christmas, when he came back from dropping Grayson off at your house there was definitely anger. He slammed doors, stormed around the house, got drunk off his ass and ranted about it for hours. I've never seen him that upset over being turned down before."

My heart sank at that news. I knew that he'd been upset, but I didn't think he'd taken it that badly. I thought he was just a bit sulky, but now my guilt intensified.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, my voice thick with emotion. "I feel bad enough as it is..."

"Oh, honey, I'm not trying to make you feel bad," Scott assured me, reaching over to rub my back as I forced back the tears that had sprung to my eyes. "But it proves that even if one of you ends up heartbroken, you can still put Grayson first because you just did it."

"I didn't, Chris did," I pointed out after clearing my throat. "If it wasn't up to me, if Chris came to his senses and ditched me for some beautiful actress, then I'm not sure that I could be so forgiving."

"Why would he ditch you?"

As promised, there was no judgment in Scott's voice, just genuine curiosity and I shrugged as I answered.

"Because he could have any woman in America."

"Maybe not any woman, let's not get carried away," Scott smirked, his teasing tone making me smile. "But for such a relationship loving guy, don't you think it's interesting that he hasn't been in a serious relationship in about five years?"

That wasn't something I'd put much thought into, but it wasn't the 'gotcha' moment that it seemed like Scott had hoped it was.

"Not really. He's been busy with work the last few years," I pointed out. "And having a baby with me must have complicated his personal life a bit."

"You complicated his personal life the moment he met you," Scott insisted. "That's my point."

He sounded so sure of himself, but the words he was saying were still hard for me to comprehend. I'd always been so confident in my understanding of our relationship and if I was to believe him, it would shatter everything I thought I knew.

"I just don't see why he wouldn't have mentioned this by now..."

"You know how he gets with his anxiety. He's not always the over confident hotshot that people assume he is," Scott reminded me. "But you'll have to talk to him if you want more information than that."

I let out a sigh as I knew he was right.

"There's a lot that we need to talk about," I admitted. "Thank you for this though, Scott, you've given me a lot to think about."

"Anytime," he smiled. "And I completely respect that you're willing to put Grayson first despite whatever feelings you have. You're a wonderful mom and I would be proud to call you my sister-in-law."

I laughed at his outrageous leap from even considering a relationship straight to marriage and shook my head.

"You need to go to bed, Scott," I instructed. "You've clearly had too much to drink tonight."

"I probably have," he agreed. "But I meant everything that I've said. Think about it, okay?"

I nodded as I slid off the stool I was sitting on, wrapping my arms around him in a quick hug.

"I'm here for you too, you know that right?" I asked as I stepped back. "If you ever want to talk about your situation or vent and complain about the distance, whatever you need, I'm here."

"Thanks, Whitney," he smiled before dragging himself off his stool as well. "Goodnight."

I returned his smile and mumbled a 'goodnight' of my own before heading back to bed with all the new information that Scott had provided echoing around in my head. While it had been a very informative conversation, I wasn't quite sure whether I came away from it with the clarity I was looking for or just more confusion.

Part Three

Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfic #more hearts than mine

190 notes · View notes

hes-writer · 4 years ago

Text

Trial (4)

Summary: harry and y/n face the truth

Warnings: angst, a tiny bit of fluff

Word Count: 4249 words

A/N: thank you so much for supporting this series !! @devilinbetweenthesheet-s. I will do the taglist later in the day :)

EDIT: idk why the ‘read more’ is not working. I apologize for the scrolling!!

Part 4 of the Tarnish series!

___

Harry was crying.

Admitting his feelings when he was younger was quite a task for him. Now that he was nearly in his thirties, the journey of being vulnerable with himself and with his feelings became easier with each emotion that he permitted himself to submerge in. Harry validated those emotions--he was allowed to experience them because it makes him human. It added texture to the ever-growing mosaic that painted who he was as an individual. Adding to the people that surrounded him, influenced by their kind-nature and the goodness of their heart to become who he was now.

And now, it seemed like his emotions increased tenfold. The clench of his abdomen and the harsh jolt of his chest forced his slouched shoulder to stay deflated. His breathing hitched as sobs threatened to take over, throat sore with the effort to keep it all in because Harry was smart enough to know that these emotions coursing through him right now were ones he wasn’t validated to feel. Paired with the latest information that that little girl being held by another man was his own daughter--and that the woman who was glowing with her caring, motherly-instincts was supposed to be his family; it broke him completely.

Quaking thoughts circled his brain and punctured his muscles as if they were attacking him not only mentally, but physically as well in exchange for his past mistakes that he couldn’t quite place if he deeply regretted or not. Was it a mistake to cheat on Y/N? To leave her alone in the exposure of the public eye while she was carrying his child in her tummy?

Harry should have known the day she fell sick and vomited in their kitchen sink. He was, sadly, too busy throwing a subdued celebration of finally having time alone with Camille. He should have noticed the way her face brightened with radiance. Or the way her cravings for strawberries and pickles either grossed her out or completely compelled her to consume more than she usually would.

But Harry guessed that that was around the time his efforts went out the window because he didn’t have to pretend to care as much anymore. Camille appeared to be his one and only. With their relationship coming so close to being revealed and Y/N having one foot out the door, Harry let fate play out the rest. Don’t get him wrong, Harry still loved Camille; that was why his slashed heart still throbbed at the sight of her watching over her little cousin, yet knowing that the topic of children was still not a card on the table.

The distress that he was feeling right now was core-shredding, heartbreaking grief that left a hole in his heart. The worst part was that Harry didn’t exactly know how to fix it or whether he even could. As he walked to his car with hands jammed into his pockets, he was grateful that the hood of his sweater hid his face and the tears sliding down the slope of his cheeks.

His senses were in overdrive, figuring out how to fix the mess he created. Wanting to run up to Y/N and ask her why she didn’t tell him, needing to feel his little girl in his arms. Pinching his skin to transfer the pain he felt in his heart because of the thought that he missed his baby’s first words, her first steps. Was it ‘dada’ that babbled out of her mouth? Did she reach out for Connor when she stumbled over nothing when she walked on stubby legs? Did Y/N mention his name to her?

“Harry!”

He kept on walking despite the hushed call of his name, assuming that it was a fan that caught sight of him and wanted a picture. Harry adores them, but now is hardly the time to fake a smile or act like his life didn’t just flash right before his eyes--quite literally.

The vehicle beeped as Harry pressed the ‘unlock’ button on his key fob, just about ready to pull the door open and shield himself from prying eyes. He flinched when a hand fell on his shoulder, “Harry,”

He looked up to find Gemma panting, resting her hand on the roof of the car, “Are you. . .alright?” Her drifting eyes inspected his face, tinted a slight pink and moist with the salty liquid dripping from his tear ducts.

Huffing in annoyance, Harry clutched the handle to let himself in. Gemma followed his actions, shutting the door and locking it. The tinted windows of the car provided a semi-private enclosure that was filled with Harry’s sniffling and Gemma’s heavy breathing, trying to catch her breath.

“H-her name is Halo,” Gemma began, gulping when Harry paused his ministrations, straining his ears to listen despite the dull thud occupying his vessels. “She’s almost two years old,”

“You said you didn’t know,” Harry’s gruff tone echoed. Gemma anxiously rubbed the ends of her palms against her jeans. “Why didn’t you tell me? You knew all this time and y’didn’t tell me,”

“I-I was--she didn’t want me--”

“Why would she tell you and not me? I’m the one that dated her,” He raised his voice with every syllable he spoke. The frustration he felt from seeing the woman he once loved living the reality they shared together, except he wasn’t anywhere in the picture and that reality was only a fantasy in his life now. “It doesn’t make sense,” He rested his forearms on the wheel, facing the car’s symbol.

“The baby is yours, Harry,”

His head quipped with speed, grazing his forehead on the rounded leather but that pain didn’t amount to the new wave washing over him. “W-what?”

“It’s really not my place to tell,” Gemma said nervously, making eye contact with Harry’s searing yet teary gaze. “She wanted to tell you but you were so happy with Camille. She was posting these things on her Instagram about your trips and Y/N called me crying because you looked so free and happy without her. Y/N didn’t want to ruin what you guys had by dropping this on you,”

"That's-that's my baby?" Harry stuttered over his words while tugging his head out of his memories. Gemma nodded in confirmation. “Then why in the world was she--Halo?--calling him ‘dada’?

“Look, Harry, you’re not stupid. You know why Halo called Connor her dad,” Gemma spoke slowly, “This is a conversation that you need to have with Y/N if she lets you,”

At the mention of the man’s name, Harry couldn’t help but be filled with anger. He barely knew this man yet he received everything that Harry wanted in life. ‘But she’s my kid. I’m her dad. I’m the one who’s supposed to give her kisses and make her laugh,” He mumbled quietly as if his inner thoughts were far too strong to be kept in his mind

He was staring mindlessly at the numbers on his dashboard, hands gripping the leather steering wheel to try and ground himself. "But if that's my baby, how can she call someone who's not her father, dad?" He whipped his head towards Gemma, searching for validation that would make him feel better but the siblings were aware that he lost that title three years ago.

“I think you know you lost that place in their lives,” She reached a comforting hand to pat his arm, feeling just how tense he was under the fabric.

Harry shrugged her off, pinching his brows and pursing his lips as sadness began to swirl down the drain only to be replaced with resentment, irritation and bitterness. The taste on his tongue was hot with anger and his ears felt warm as he wheezed air instead of opting to yell his dissatisfaction near his sister.

“This isn't fair. She's m’baby too. Connor is not her father,” He spat with venom, “I am,” A pointed finger poked his chest. "She knew she was pregnant when she left me. She’s so fuckin’ selfish. How could she do this to me?

Gemma was quick to remind him of his actions, "You cheated on her, Harry.” Gemma cowered back at Harry’s beady eyes glaring at her with an unreadable emotion, stone-cold. “Maybe you should go home. Calm down a little bit,”

“No!” Harry cut Gemma off, “Need t’a hear her say it myself,”

Harry didn’t know what his plan was when he harshly slammed the car door behind him, practically storming on the patches of grass like a mad man. It wasn’t hard to spot the picture-perfect family sitting on a park bench which brought a scowl to his shielded face. He wanted to give Y/N a piece of his mind and it wasn’t necessarily the nicest thoughts that crossed his brain.

Halo was sitting on Connor’s lap while he was feeding her a peeled cupcake. Red velvet with cream cheese frosting—-Harry felt like he was punched in the gut. The baked good was Y/N’s specialty and it had a lot of sentimental value to both of them. It was what she baked for their first year together. He could vividly see her frosting-dotted nose, aiming to splotch the cream on his cheek while she laughed. Harry wrapped his arms around her, hugging Y/N from behind and proceeding to kiss her sweet cheek, leaving the perfect opportunity to stain his skin with the frosting.

But he didn’t care if he was smashed headfirst into the cake (as long as it wasn’t ice cream cake)—Harry just wanted to see her smile and hear her laugh heartily.

Y/N was snuggled on Connor’s shoulder, fixing Halo’s hair as she made grabby hands at the confection. He cannot lie--Connor was a handsome man. Harry rarely felt intimidated or insecure, but seeing that this man managed to snatch everything Harry could ever want seemingly in a blink of an eye; Harry felt very jealous.

He pouted, eyes rimmed red and lips quivering wishing that Cory or Connor--whatever that little shit’s name was would disappear so that Harry could take his place instead. Actually, it was his spot in the first place. Only if he didn’t mess up, he thought. He missed Y/N so much! Seeing Y/N in her element of niceness and bright-gleaming smiles sent a truck full of sand down his throat as he gulped his emotion below the surface. The closer he got to them, his vision tunnelled towards Halo; brown, flouncy curls and a cute dimple embedded in her cheek as she giggled, accidentally knocking the cupcake on the ground.

If that wasn’t symbolism staring at Harry straight in the face; a sign that their so-called relationship really had no chance of reprieve. Harry chose to ignore it.

Connor clutched Halo tightly against him, crouching down with a napkin to clean up the scattered cake on the ground. Y/N was the first to notice him, her forehead creasing as her eyes bulged at the sight of Harry walking towards them. She subtly poked at Connor’s arm, hurting Harry even more because it meant that Y/N felt uncomfortable with his presence.

He was close enough to read her pink lips, “We should go,” matched with Y/N’s frantic actions of packing the juice boxes and the Tupperware of cupcakes into the tote bag beside her. Connor searched the park until his gaze landed on Harry, protectively shielding Halo from him.

Is he serious? Harry thought. That’s my own daughter.

Speaking of Halo, the two-year-old happily continued munching on her new cupcake, frowning slightly when Connor stood up, “Why we leaving, Daddy? Did I do somethin’ bad?”

Y/N sighed, they promised that Halo could play at the park all day and now it was cut short because of a certain someone.

“No, you didn’t, bub. Let Daddy explain at home, okay baby?” Connor hitched Halo higher on his hip, hoping that she wouldn’t ask any more questions until the trio left.

“Who’s that?” Halo asked, pointing at Harry only metres away from them. Her stubby finger outstretched at the stranger in front of her, eyes bright and sparkling with curiosity. There was no sign of recognition painting her green orbs.

Harry gulped, wanting so badly to scream “I’m your dad!” but he knew that Y/N will add that to the list of his mistakes he had made.

“No one, angel,” Connor planted a kiss on her head, looking over at Y/N who had finished packing everything up. He tilted his chin in an attempt to scare Harry off.

But the thing was, Harry was already scared. He could feel his stomach in his throat but vomiting wasn’t the right word to describe it. His heart drooped deeper than the levels of the Earth. He was scared because his family was right in front of him but he couldn’t touch them or hug them in his arms. He was only allowed to look from the outside because there was a small possibility of being forgiven.

“Y/N. . .” Harry began hesitantly. The surge of confidence he had decreased with each passing second. He kept a close eye.

Y/N shrugged the strap on her shoulder, “Leave us alone, Harry.”

He felt his anger disappearing, a new emotion cascading his tear ducts and the blood in his veins. Harry looked back in retrospect; she really did mean it when Y/N said that she never wanted him around again. “I just want to talk. Please, let’s talk,”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you, Harry,” Connor interrupted, grabbing the bag from Y/N and wrapping an arm over her shoulder, guiding them away from Harry. “She’s happy without you, mate. can’t you see?”

Harry kept his gaze trained on Y/N’s face, actively avoiding eye contact but drifted when Halo’s frown caught his stare. The little girl’s chin was hooked over Connor’s shoulder, squirming in his arms in an attempt to stop him from walking. Halo was smart enough to know that Harry’s expression screamed sadness and her mummy said that “you need to find a way to make them happy” if someone was sad.

“Wait!” Her shrill yell caused both Connor and Y/N to turn around. A piece of Harry’s heart shattered on the floor when Halo pulled Connor down by the nape of his neck, small hand leading his ear next to her lips. Then, she did the same to Y/N, pointing at Harry which caused him to straighten his stance, wanting to impress his daughter even though there was no point.

The couple shared a look before ultimately having Connor walk closer to Harry. Halo gripped her cupcake towards him, “‘ere y’go hawwy,’ She still couldn’t pronounce her ‘r’s’ yet.

Harry began to sob.

It was his daughter and those were the first words she had uttered to him. She didn’t know him yet Halo treated him with kindness and it ripped at his chest because Y/N must’ve taught her that. His palms became wet as tears streamed from his eyes, dampening the sleeves of his hoodie. He didn't care about looking foolish in front of them, not when his daughter saw him as a stranger and called Connor her ‘dada’.

Halo recoiled at the sudden reaction, her lips curving downwards, “Dada, mama, he’s cwyin’,” She tucked her face at the junction of Connor’s shoulder and neck, scared that she made him cry. Halo didn’t mean to make him cry. She felt so guilty that she started spilling tears of her own too, her face contorting into a scrunched expression as her mouth wailed open sobs, matching Harry’s.

Harry’s first instinct was to take a step forward and comfort Halo but he was rendered frozen when Connor shot him a glare, shifting Halo’s body out of reach and he could only see her face over the man’s shoulder. Y/N dimmed her eyes, brows pinching when she couldn’t help but let a smidge of sympathy wash over her. She muttered a few words to Connor, pushing him by the small of his back towards the parking lot.

When they were out of earshot, Y/N faced Harry, “What were you thinking? Are you trying to mess everything up again?” He tried to cut in, “Isn’t it bad enough that we’re talking about this in public? Why must you ruin everything, Harry?” She whisper-shouted, trying her best not to garner them any attention.

“N-no, Gemma told me and I jus’ wanted to see her--and you. Wanted to hear the truth come out of your mouth,” His large hands jammed into his pockets to prevent him from fiddling with them.

“Look, you have no right coming here,”

“I know that b-but I--,”

She held a palm up, “I’m not sadistic like you Harry. If you thought that I wouldn’t let you around her then you’re wrong. As much as I hate to admit it, I do miss you and I wish that you were there for us when we needed you,”

“I had no idea--,”

“Will you let me speak?” Her tone carried irritation. “But we’re alright now and we don’t need you anymore.”

Harry never thought that those statements would ever come out of Y/N’s mouth. “Don’t you think I deserve to get to know her?”

She sighed, “Deserve? Definitely not.” He nodded in agreement. “But I’d live in regret if Halo never got to know her real father. . .”

Harry’s expression lit up, hopeful eyes shooting glances at her, “D-does that mea--? Are you--?”

“You can see her. You can get to know her but only because you’re Halo’s father,” Y/N took a brave step forward, ignoring the way her heart throbbed as if she was being stabbed by a thousand knives. Painful memories drifted in and out of her train of thought until she shook her head to muster them out. It was in the past but she could never forget the feeling of hopelessness taking over her whole body.

With a hand on his shoulder, she continued, “Anyone can be a father and you’re just that. Don’t think that you’re entitled to anything more. You will never be her dad. Connor is. Understood?”

Harry took a deep breath and swallowed a heavy gulp, “I. . .understand. Thank you, Y/N. For letting me back in when I don’t deserve it,” He glanced at the two tiny figures piling in the car. He could just imagine himself plucking little Halo into her booster seat, booping her nose as she asked for the hundredth time why she had to sit at the back and not at the front with them.

“I’m not finished,” She deadpanned, “You are going to be there for her. Not for me, not for us because our relationship is over. You can hurt me as you did before and I can accept it but don’t you dare try to hurt her,”

And it was true. Having endured his painful game once before, Y/N was stronger now. She could take heartbreak as agonizing as that but she wouldn’t dare stand seeing Halo’s teary eyes staring back at her, asking why Harry had left them. She was far too young to experience the feeling when a piece of herself is ripped apart.

“I won’t hurt her. I promise,”

“I heard those words come out from your mouth years ago and look where we are now. Once you hurt her, it’s over.”

“Y/N, t-that’s hardly fair. I am her dad, aren’t I?” Harry cleared his throat at Y/N’s raised brow.

“No, you’re not. We just went through this, Harry.”

“Don’t call me that,” He muttered quietly because she only ever called him ‘baby’ or ��h’.

“Will you stop? I laid out my cards. If you want to even have a speck of presence in her life, then you have to abide by what I said,” She crossed her arms in defence, “You will never be Halo’s dad, Harry. Connor is her dad. I don’t know how many more times I have to repeat this before it gets through you thick head,”

He opened his mouth to talk, “No wiggle room whatsoever?”

“No. Do I have to write a letter for you to understand that?”

In a moment of hurt and despair, Harry spat out, “Might as well, yeah? Waited over two years to tell me anyway,”

“Are you kidding me?”

His throat ran dry, realizing that he just ticked another box to favour against being a part of his daughter’s life, “I-I’m sorry. I didn't mean to,”

“Whatever. Are you willing to make the sacrifice?”

“This isn’t the place to talk about this,” Harry suggested, wanting to have some sort of foot on the ground so he doesn’t feel like he’s topping over with guilt and sadness. “Maybe you can come over to my house,”

Y/N shook her head, glancing briefly at her phone when it buzzed, “No. I will not step foot in that house again. If you really want to discuss it, you can come over at our place,”

“Your place?” Did they all live together? Well, that was another slap to the face. Not only was Connor playing dad to Halo, but he was also part of the household. Harry’s face must have contorted into a grimace because Y/N sighed softly.

“Yes, our place. Meaning all three of us,” She gestured behind her. “I have to go. You can probably get my number from Gemma; you can text me then.”

“Yes, yes! Of course, I want to talk to you. . . about this, I mean,” Harry lowered his enthusiasm. The small voice in his head reverberating that this was not about him and Y/N; this was about Halo.

“And make sure you don’t bring anyone else,” Y/N said sarcastically, subtly pointing in the direction of the paparazzi hiding behind some bushes. Harry was usually good at spotting them but today was just a puddle of hurt and confusion. “I don’t want her having to read nasty things like I did,”

What Y/N said may have been a side comment, but Harry couldn’t help but take it to heart. Was this a good idea? Sure, he wanted to be a present dad in Halo’s life. However, is it worth it to stir unwanted drama? If only he didn’t cheat on Y/N, all of this could have been avoided.

With his mind in a haze, Harry barely noticed Y/N’s figure moving away from him. He jogged to catch up with her, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. Harry felt numb to the way she shrugged her touch off of her immediately, “Were you ever going to tell me about our daughter?’

Y/N stared at him quizzically, tilting her head a little bit sideways, “I thought I did? Wait!” A look of recognition plastered across her features, “I did try to tell you but you blocked me before the message sent through,”

Harry gulped with realization. He blearily remembered bitterly blocking her number just as she texted “I need to tell you something,”

___

Y/N: Since you’re not picking up my calls

I need to tell you something

Y/N took a deep breath as her thumbs tapped on the letters slowly as if to withhold the news from him. She was not at all ready to reveal that she was pregnant and that he was the father but Y/N knew that it was the right thing to do. Despite the fact that he was currently out of the country on vacation somewhere on an island with sandy beaches with Camille. Y/N was aware that this spike of courage was rare and so, she had to do it now.

Y/N: I’m pregnant

And you’re the father

She locked the device as soon as she pressed the arrow to send the message, clutching the phone close to her chest and shutting her eyes so tightly that it hurt. Minutes passed with no response and Y/N was shouldered by curiosity to check if he had sent anything back or simply left her on ‘seen’.

It was neither. The screaming red exclamation mark surrounded by a circle indicated that she had been blocked.

___

The times when she left missed calls on his phone were for a reason much bigger than the two of them. Y/N didn’t call to beg for him back or to ask Harry to want her again. He was ashamed to admit that he had rolled his eyes upwards every time he clicked on a voicemail she had left, stating, “Hey H, it’s me. Call me back when you hear this. I need to talk to you,” which he deleted without a second thought. She didn’t text him endlessly to politely ask for her things packed and settled for her pick-up because Y/N could not bear to spend another second in a room with him.

It wasn’t that at all.

Y/N was physically moving farther and farther away from him, settling herself into the car before driving off to hers and Connor’s shared house. Halo sat in the backseat, singing along to the radio.

Harry was surrounded amidst the joyful squeals of children and reprimanding voices of their parents.

He stood alone with no one but loneliness by his side and the brisk flash of cameras in his peripherals.

_____

Let me know what you thought!

———

Permanent Taglist: @splendidsunsetx @swagmoneymaya @textingharry @arypesanchez @theresthingsthatwellneverknow @mellamolayla @luviewoo

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles fanfic #harry styles series #harry styles angst #harry styles x y/n

672 notes · View notes

fiveisnumber1 · 3 years ago

Text

Blast to the Past - A Timeless Side Piece

Here’s like a somewhat short little piece, my brain just decided to come up with this concept after a conversation with @oceanspray5 so I wrote it down. If you read it, let me know your thoughts, I’d love to hear them! Thanks ❤️

August 6th, 2043

Like most mornings, you sat around the kitchen table having breakfast with your family. Typically all of the Hargreeves siblings would be present but they had gone out for their own breakfast this morning to celebrate Vanya’s promotion as conductor of the local orchestra, leaving you, Five and your children to have breakfast without them. Your darling husband, Five, sat to your right and held your hand as he drank his morning coffee. And across the table sat your two beautiful children. You smiled as you listened to your daughter Lia detail how she and some of her cousins were going to go shopping for first day of school outfits this coming weekend. On the other hand your son, Penn, was quiet. He pushed around the meal on his plate as he looked between his food and his father. You couldn’t tell exactly what was going on in his head but you knew that it had to deal with Five. Giving Five’s hand a squeeze he looked towards you. With a slight tilt of your head you gestured towards your son just at the right time for Five to catch his eye.

“Is something wrong buddy? You’ve barely touched your breakfast.” Five questioned

Penn stayed silent as he looked at his dad. Something was wrong and it had been weighing on his mind for a while. Straightening his posture he put down his fork as he took a deep breath. The rest of the family looked on quietly as Penn turned to Five and asked,

“Hey dad, you think I can try traveling back in time a few minutes?”

Five knew this topic would come up at some point when he started trying to teach him to time travel. He was his son, so of course he’d want to do more than what were in his capabilities. It just wasn’t feasible to move up to minutes given that he barely had control of traveling for seconds. Regretfully, Five looked at his son as he answered,

“Not yet, we’ve only hit going back in time 30 seconds.”

Penn’s face dropped as disappointment spread across his face. Seeing the change in demeanor Five tried to brighten things up by adding,

“Y’know what though, I’ll let us shoot for 45 seconds today. How about that?”

“Dad, I’ve been practicing seconds for the past 6 months, I want to do more.” Penn complained

Five looked at you and saw the concerned look on your face. Five was trying to be reasonable in terms of his son’s feelings. He knew that getting to start learning to time travel was exciting to him given that he was only able to start learning those six months ago, but excitement did not equal experience.

“Penn, I appreciate your enthusiasm but your mom and I have explained on multiple occasions how dangerous time travel can be.” Five elaborates

“It’s taken your dad years to get to the level of control he has now.” You added

Penn could feel frustration build up inside him. He wanted to time travel in the same way his dad could. It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t move up to minutes. He definitely had mastered seconds so what was the hesitation with bringing up the amount of time? Standing up from his seat he gave a pointed look as he exclaimed,

“I’m ready to make that jump! I’m not asking for years just a few minutes!”

Five was shocked at his son’s outburst. He had never seen his son this upset and even in times where it came close he still had never shown this much. He knew it would upset him, but Five was doing this for his own son’s good. Sitting up straighter, Five looked at his son.

“Penn, I’m sorry but the answer is no.” Five firmly replied “We need to start small so there are no large consequences.”

The beginnings of sparks started to fly off of Penn as a blue glow whirred around his hands. You and Lia winced at the minor disturbance Penn was causing due to his anger. Instead of saying anything more though, he jumped away from the kitchen and with a flash of blue he was gone. Wanting to help her obviously distraught brother Lia quickly stated,

“I uh...need to make a phone call...”

“Who do you need to call at 10 am?” You questioned

“Oh y’know...uh...Spiderman?” Lia replied confused before quickly adding “Anyway bye.”

And just like that your daughter had also flashed away to follow her brother. With both your children gone from the table you and Five sat in a silence. Pulling his hand from yours, Five dropped his head into his hands.

“Ugh, I feel like my father right now.” He lamented

Your heart broke at his statement. You knew that Five was nothing like his father and constantly loved and cherished your children. He would give the entire world to them if he could. Having him compare himself to that shitty excuse of a man was so saddening because you knew he was only trying to keep Penn safe. Placing a hand on his back you leaned in closer as you tried to comfort him,

“Hey, you know you’re not your father. You didn’t say no to him, just not yet.”

Five looked up from his hands and over at you, the pain in his eyes was on full display.

“I know but it’s like staring myself in the face. I got mad I couldn’t time travel like I wanted during a meal with my family and here he is doing the same.” Five elaborates

“Darling, he has wanted to time travel just like you ever since he could comprehend the subject. He wants to be just like his dad.” You try to affirm

“I just don’t want him to make the same mistakes as his dad.” Five commented looking away from you

He knew the decision was the right one but nevertheless he felt so awful not being able to make his son happy. Placing a gentle hand on his cheek you bring his gaze back to yours. Giving him a slight smile you reply,

“I know. Maybe if we just give him a few minutes to cool off everything will be okay.”

“I hope so. I hate saying no to our kids.” Five stated

Your smile widened as you brought your face closer to your husband’s. Taking on a less serious tone you commented,

“You hate saying no to anyone in this family,”

You could see a smile start to reappear on his face. Oh how he loved you so dearly. Closing the space between you two, he placed a soft kiss to your lips. Pulling back he smiled as he responded,

“Especially you, ma chérie,”

Quietly, the two of you sat back in your chairs sipping you coffee as you patiently waited for your children to come back to the table. Upstairs though Penn flashed into the living room as he paced back and forth talking to himself,

“Ugh, it’s no fair. I wan’t to time travel more than just seconds. I’m ready for minutes!”

Flashing in a second later, Lia leaned against the living room door frame as she listened to her brothers rant. Crossing her arms over her chest she commented to him,

“You know you’re lucky you even get seconds. I can’t learn time travel for another two years.”

“Thats’s because you’re 13. you’re too young.” Penn retorts “Me on the other hand, I’m 15 which means I’m old enough to learn,”

Flashing away from the door frame Lia reappears closer to her brother floating upside down in the air.

“Just because you’re old enough to learn doesn’t mean you’re smart enough to do it.” Lia remarks before sticking her tongue out

“This is none of your business you car floor french fry.” Penn replies pushing her face back

Walking away from her, Penn makes his way towards the side of the room the piano was one. Transporting herself from her molecules from her position in the air Lia appears sitting criss-cross on top of the piano.

“It totally is my business,” Lia explains catching her brother’s attention, “You had this conversation in front of me dumbass,”

Penn rolled his eyes at his younger sister before using his powers to knock her off the piano top.

“Hey! You can’t just do that!” Lia complains

Standing up from the floor, Lia looks towards her brother who hard turned away from her again. Watching him she had noticed that Penn had taken up a position as if he was about to take off running.

“What are you doing?” She asked

“Just leave me alone, so I can jump back in time a minute.” Penn huffed

“But dad said no.” Lia reminds

“Lia, I can do a minute. It’s just 30 seconds more, I can’t fuck up 30 extra seconds.” Penn states still not looking back

“But dad-” Lia tries to say again

Penn was done with this. Whipping around he narrowed his eyes on her as he exclaimed,

“Forget what dad said alright! I’m doing it!”

Quickly he whipped back around as he took off on a running start, blue energy starting to form around him. Trying to stop her brother, Lia flashed to him attempting to tackle him to the ground. The two of them felt as the whirring of energy stopped. Both children stood up from the ground as they brushed themselves off. Annoyed that Lia had ruined his time travel practice he angrily scolded,

“Why did you do that? Something could’ve gone wrong.”

Lia didn’t reply. All she could manage to do was stare with wide eyes and mouth agape at something behind him.

“What’s with the stupid expression?” Penn questioned

Instead of saying any words she slowly raised her hand as she just pointed to whatever she was looking at behind him. Turning around, he looked in the direction of what his sister was seeing and was met with a sight he never expected to see. A depressing portrait of a younger version of his father staring down at him from over a fireplace. With the sudden realization of what had happened slipping in all Penn could manage to say was,

“Oh fuck.”

#the umbrella academy #tua #umbrella academy #umbrella acedmy #five hargreeves #tua five hargreeves #tua five #five #five hargreeves x you

43 notes · View notes

mrs-hatake · 4 years ago

Text

here comes the bride: prologue

pairings: levi x female!reader + minor zeke x female!reader.

genre: alternate universe, illegal car racing, suggestive themes, arranged marriage, strangers to lovers, slow burn, falling in love, eventual smut, heavy make out sessions, hurt/comfort & fluff.

summary: “Fine.” She breathes out without bothering to hide her unhappiness. “I’ll get married.” She swallows the bile at the back of her throat. Her mother casts a radiant smile her way and weakly reaches out to take her hand in hers.

“Thank you.” She says sincerely, bringing Y/N’s hand to her lips and kissing it with difficulty. “I’m sure you’ll come to love Levi, he will treat you right.”

a/n: helloooooo!I'm back with another aot fic :Dthe plot for this fic came to me randomly and i instantly fell in love that i HAD to write everything down. each chapter will contain trigger warnings if necessary and this chapter is tagged with tw for mentions of death and manipulation. lastly, I would like to thank my soulmate for helping with proof reading and selecting the appropriate characters for y/n. that's all that I have. happy readings! ❤️

this fic can also be found on ao3

The sound of the monitor is deafening. It’s consistent beeping is accompanied by the soft pitter patter of the rain outside as the weather slowly transitions from spring to summer, emitting an ominous atmosphere. The grey clouds and the wind howling outside, the large rectangular windows outside don’t help with the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. People rush to seek shelter and cars zoom by despite the slippery streets, eager to reach their destination without delay.

A small family of three surround a luxurious hospital bed which fully showcased their financial status and class. The bed was covered in the finest linen, a soft cream color and the silkiest pillows that accommodate absolute comfort.

An air purifier with the aroma of lavender and honey is found in almost every room of the hospital, masking away the horrible stench of disinfectant and death. However, it still lingers in the air, like a criminal imprisoned for life.

The woman on the bed is pale, no longer looks like the tanned Goddess that had been dubbed Miss Osaka at the Young Ladies of Japan debutant three years in a row. Her long and healthy locks have lost their sheen and are brittle and dry, split ends can be seen and her grey hair is on display, when she usually dyes them every two months. The healthy fat in her body has dissolved, leaving nothing but skin and bones. Despite all of this, her glimmer of ebullience still lives on.

“How are you feeling, mother?” A young woman in her early twenties is sitting on a wooden chair next to the hospital bed with a look of worry on her face. Her fingers are brushing through the knotted hair of the dying woman on the bed while her other hand tightly holds her mother’s boney and wrinkled hand.

The older woman offers a weak, gentle smile. “I’m fine. Don’t you worry your pretty little head.” She chuckles but is soon coughing heavily, eyes shutting tightly to fight off the pain in her lungs.

“Are you alright? Should I call the nurse?”

The older woman shakes her head, however, and instead motions for the pitcher of water and the empty glass on her bedside table. Understanding dawns on her daughter’s face and she hurriedly pours a glass of warm water and hands it to her mother and helps her sit up straight to drink the entire glass in one go, her mother gasping in relief once the glass is empty.

“Mamiko.” A man in his mid sixties rubs his hand over his face in distress. He had been wearing a mask of bravery for his wife and two daughters, but seeing his usually strong and stubborn wife look so frail and weak frightened him. Memories of them butting heads, teasing each other and fighting over the course of their marriage reminds him of just how fiery his wife was. Seeing her in such a state tears off the mask he’s wearing on his face and tosses it away, exposing his true emotions.

“I’m fine, Masamune.” The woman waves him off and motions for her daughter to press the remote to raise the head of her bed so that she can sit up straight. She gives a pointed look to her husband, as if to prove her point.

All that her husband can do is sigh.

Just then, a timid knock reaches their ears and a smiling nurse enters the room with an apologetic expression on her youthful face. “I’m sorry, but visiting hours are ending soon.” She reminds them gently.

Masamune tiredly nods his head and pushes himself away from the wall to cross the short distance to where his wife is resting on the bed and lovingly kisses the top of her head. “Come back to us soon.” He whispers before heading towards the door, awaiting his two daughters.

“Get well soon, mother.” The younger of Masamune and Mamiko’s daughters, Tsukiko, is a twenty year old woman in her third year of law school and is aiming to achieve her Intellectual Property Law Certificate to assist her family in the future. She bids her mother goodbye with gentle eyes and a strong squeeze to her hand.

Y/N is about to get up from her chair and mimic her father by kissing her mother goodbye, when the older woman interrupts her, “Y/N, stay. I need to discuss something with you.”

Glancing to where her father and sister were lingering by the door, she nods her head and remains in her seat. She has a feeling that her father and younger sister are aware of the topic her mother wishes to discuss with her.

When the door is softly shut behind the two, Mamiko turns to face her eldest daughter and the heir to their company. “Have I ever told you the story of the day you were born?”

Growing up, Y/N had heard the story of her birth countless times from her parents, her grandmother who had been living with them at the time, and the maids living in their mansion all told her about it. They coined it as the funniest situation they’ve ever experienced in their lives. She had heard the story so many times that she has it memorized. Still, she shakes her head no.

“It was my twenty-fifth birthday. Your aunt Chiaki insisted that we have a girls night to celebrate the big day.” Her mother chuckles at the memory of a young Chiaki who had recently gotten a pixie cut after a terrible break up with her boyfriend of three years and how she had practically dragged Mamiko out of their house.

“We did your typical girly traditions; going shopping, getting our nails done, the usual.” Her mother weakly waves her hand. “Little did I know, your father had gathered up everyone who could come to our home on short notice for a surprise birthday party. It was around three or four o’clock in the afternoon that Chiaki and I finally decided to return home. I opened the door and the lights flickered on and a discordant ‘Happy birthday!’ was yelled. I was so elated and touched by their surprise that I couldn’t stop laughing! I laughed and laughed for five minutes straight, literally, when I felt a warm and tingling sensation trickle down my legs. Though I should be embarrassed at the thought of wetting myself in front of our guests, we quickly realized that the speed and the amount of liquid rushing through was actually because my water broke.”

“Everyone screamed and squeaked at the arrival of the baby. Panicking, I was rushed into the car with your father hysterically, frantically gathering all of the necessities we need for your delivery and drove all the way to the hospital like a mad man. Now that I think about it, I’m surprised we didn’t get into some kind of accident.” Mamiko hummed at the thought and then turned to face her daughter with raw affection in those fatigued eyes of hers, and with a shaky hand, cupped her daughter’s cheek. “And two days later, our beautiful baby girl came into our world. Your father had complained that you were as stubborn as I am for taking two days to arrive but I knew that you were taking your time to get comfortable and face the world head on.”

Y/N offered her mother a small smile as she desperately tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill and swallow the thick lump in her throat. “I love you.” She whispers with a hoarse voice.

“I love you too.” Her mother returns the sentiment with a small curl of her lips.

“And you were such a joy to raise, your sister, too? of course but you were our first. Our first child, our first daughter and our first experience as parents. There were difficult times, I can’t deny that, but seeing the woman that you are today, it was worth it.”

Y/N couldn’t stop the tears from filling her eyes and cascading down her cheeks. She licks the single tear that lingered on her tongue and turned her head to kiss her mother’s palm. “I’d trade the whole world for you to return home to us in good health.” Y/N’s voice is broken but her sincerity is firm.

“I know you would.” Her mother says as she retrieves her hand. “Which is why I hate myself for asking you for such a request... but I want you to know that I am doing this out of love and care for you.”

Y/N’s eyebrows draw together in confusion before realization dawns on her and she vehemently shakes her head in denial before her mother could voice her request. “No. No, I won’t do it.”

“Please, Y/N.” Mamiko holds her daughter's hand with hers using all of the strength she could muster. “Think of it as my dying wish.”

Y/N continues to shake her head but this time her shoulders are shaking as sobs rake her body. “Don’t say that!”

Neither of them say anything as Y/N continues to cry at the predicament they are in. Her mother; old, frail, and dying and is begging her to do the one thing that Y/N loathes more than anything. She had fought all her life with her parents to be emancipated from their backwards traditions, live her life how she sees fit and make her own decisions accordingly.

“I know your father and I weren’t the perfect example of a happy couple and that you have witnessed things little girls your age shouldn’t have witnessed but we tried to be decent and put together for your and Tsukiko’s sake.”

Suddenly, the memories of her parents screaming at the top of their lungs, insulting each other with words that Y/N knew she wasn’t meant to hear, and her father harshly grabbing her mother’s upper arm until it bruised, all came flooding in that moment. She had bare witness to their flawed marriage.

“I won’t force you into an arranged marriage, but I won’t die happy knowing that my first and eldest daughter isn’t married.” Mamiko knows that she is guilty of manipulating her daughter into a marriage, especially by using her nearing death as leverage, however, she is certain that her daughter will one day find it in her heart to forgive her. And that’s why she pushes on with her dying wish.

“Your father and I have already found a suitable man-”

“You found someone behind my back?” Y/N unintentionally snorts at her mother as though she does not care. She is hurting and is scared of being blackmailed into marriage.

Mamiko withholds the urge to heavily sigh at her daughter and patiently explains herself. “Your marital status has been haunting us for years, we can’t just ignore the fact that our daughter wishes to remain single for the rest of her life.”

“And you can’t just respect my wishes, can you?”

Mamiko’s eyes seem to glass over and get shiny, she hesitates, yet still won’t back down. She was doing this for her daughter. “Stop being stubborn for once and listen to your mother.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she humorlessly chuckles at her mother. She had done everything for her mother’s sake, sacrificed so much to make her happy. And the one time Y/N asks for the same in return, she is strongly denied of it.

Her mother’s coughing fit snaps Y/N out of her stupor and she hastily refills the glass with water and gives it to her. Perhaps it could be the works of her mother’s illness or the inevitable truth of her mother’s demise that has Y/N letting out a noiseless exhale, her shoulders sagging as she slumps into her seat.

“Fine.” She breathes out without bothering to hide her unhappiness. “I’ll get married.” She swallows the bile at the back of her throat.

Her mother casts a radiant smile her way and weakly reaches out to take her hand in hers. “Thank you.” She says sincerely, bringing Y/N’s hand to her lips and kissing it with difficulty.

“I’m sure you’ll come to love Levi, he will treat you right.”

When she hears that name and recognizes who he is, it feels like cold water is being dumped all over her and she shivers at the thought of a future being married to an expressionless and strict man. In that instance, she felt like she wanted to bolt and run away with a new identity. But for her mother’s sake, she puts on a brave smile and nods her head.

#levi x reader #zeke x reader #levi x y/n #zeke x y/n #aot imagines

60 notes · View notes

agentdouble0 · 4 years ago

Text

I posted something HERE About Bobby going up to Eddie and slapping him and basically calling him an idiot. I had every intention to write a fic with him doing that. But instead, this happened.

Bobby knows something is brewing between Buck and Eddie the day they remove the grenade from Charlie’s leg. At first, he was worried because Buck was not exactly subtle in his distaste with Eddie. Then the grenade happened and all sudden they were inseparable, literally. Half the time on calls, they naturally just paired up. So, he sees the writing on the walls, the subtle looks and in some cases lingering looks. Then there is the lack of personal space and the fact that Buck has been helping Eddie Co-Parent Christopher. So, when Eddie mentions an Ana, he is genuinely confused and perhaps he read everything wrong. Except Buck and Eddie keep doing that thing where they look at each other.

So, when they have a moment, he has a whole speech prepared. Have hope it is okay to move on. Of course, you are always going to miss Shannon and perhaps always will. But that does not mean you should not give up on what’s in front of you. To miss out on something real, that could mean something. He doesn’t outright say Buck, but Eddie should know he’s talking about Buck. They spend an excessive amount of time together; he couldn’t be more straightforward than that. Besides why the hell would Eddie assume he’s talking about Ana, for god sakes he looks at Buck as if he hung the moon.

Except, Eddie goes out to breakfast with Ana and then he finds out about Buck’s failed date. And some of the members of the 118 have lost hope in their place in the bet. But Bobby isn’t deterred, and Hen remains determined. Chimney begs if he can back out and have his money back but then changes his mind, when the boys argue over who gets the net gun when they get a call about a turkey on the loose.

So, when Eddie mentions that he has another date lined up with her and that Buck is babysitting he has half a mind to strangle the man because, he’s got fifty bucks riding on this thing and really Eddie can’t be that obtuse and how can Buck also be missing the signs. Because Buck is now getting all cozy with Taylor and perhaps, they were all wrong, except they don’t stop with the eye contact and the touching. Then he hears about what happened with Christopher and he thinks to himself, “This is it, this is when they are going to realize that they love each other.” But then he hears about Eddie introducing Christopher to Ana and Buck is at his doorstep, shoulders hunched, and Bobby feels like he wants to punch someone. He loves Buck like a son and knows that Athena feels the same way. And seeing his son looking so heartbroken, hurts. “Buck,” he says softly.

“I uhh…I’m sorry,” Buck says, voice hoarse, “I didn’t know if-I’m..oh jeez Bobby I’m in love with Eddie and I am freaking out!”

Well crap. Now he feels a little ashamed about his spot in the 118 Buddie Bet.

He’s glad that May and Harry are with their dad before he embraces Buck in a hug and Athena is pulling Buck into the house and ushering him onto the couch. They both work in tandem, Athena covering Buck in a blanket and Bobby pushing a mug of hot cocoa into Buck’s hand. Buck doesn’t say a word, just stares a hole into the floor. “Buck, baby,” Athena says, “do you want to tell us what happened?”

Buck shakes his head, inhaling deeply before letting out a shaky breath. Then Buck is rambling, voice rising on the verge of sounding hysterical, “Do I have to right now, I don’t want to right now, I just figured this out right now and I think it’s always been there and now I don’t know what to do with information and I really just-”

“Buck, Buck!” Bobby yells alarmed, “It’s okay, it’s okay!” as he takes the mug from the man’s hands it to Athena and gathers Buck into his arms in a tight hug. He doesn’t much else, just lets the younger man let it all out. It doesn’t take long before he feels Buck’s breathing even out indicating that he’s fallen asleep. With some help from Athena, Bobby manages to slip out from under Buck and they lay him down onto the couch. Athena places a gentle kiss on Buck’s temple before covering him with a blanket and they both retire for the night.

Buck is gone before they wake up the next morning, the blanket folded on the couch with a note, laying on top: Sorry for coming in late and thank you for letting me stay the night. Please, please don’t tell anyone. Love, Buck. When Bobby tries to flag Buck down the next morning, he tells him, “I don’t want to talk about it, not right now.” So, Bobby leaves him alone and he watches as Buck pulls away from Eddie. And he watches Eddie’s face turn from confusion to sadness as the day drags on. Great, just great.

Hen and Chimney have noticed the tension and so have the other firefighters. Buck starts sitting next to Hen rather than Eddie when they sit down to eat. During calls Buck requests if he can drive, or even sit in the front seat. The last straw was Buck grabbing Chimney by the arm and dragging him down the stairs saying it was important, after he saw Eddie walking towards him. They all find out later that the very important topic was whether the baby would enjoy a stuffed giraffe or a stuffed elephant as from Uncle Buck. And this question is very important because this stuffed animal could be the baby’s best stuffed animal friend.

So, here they are now in the locker room, just Buck and Eddie. Anytime Buck tries to escape, Eddie anticipates his every move. They seem to be keeping their voices low, but Bobby can tell that Buck is wanting out, by the way his hands keep shaking at his side and opening and closing into a fist. “Come on Buck,” he can hear Eddie says as he jogs closer to the locker room, “just, can you tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it? Please?”

“It’s fine Eddie, it’s not you-”

“Oh, don’t give me that it’s not you it’s me bull shit!” Eddie shouts

“But Eddie, I swear it’s just, I got a lot going on and I just, I need time.”

“I get that, but Buck, you won’t even look at me or even sit next to me? Did I do something wrong?”

Buck shakes his head, “No, um you didn’t”

“Then why are you avoiding me? Is it because of what happened with Chris? I’m not mad about that”

“No, it's not about Chris-”

Bobby chooses that moment to enter, because he can see the panicked look in Buck’s eyes, “Hey, is everything okay?” Buck chooses that moment to escape, bolting out of the room.

“I think I lost my best friend, Cap,” Eddie whispers as he watches Buck go, “I don’t even know what I did wrong, he won’t talk to me.” Bobby stays silent and he watches as Eddie sulks out of the locker room.

Bobby learns that Eddie had broken up with Ana two days later when Eddie shows up at his doorstep, hands in his pocket looking lost. Damn these boys he thinks to himself as he lets Eddie into his home. “Tell me what happened?”

“I did what you said Bobby, I took a chance, and it blew up in my face. Chris was mad, then he liked her and now he doesn’t and Buck, he won’t even look at me or talk to me.”

The Captain sighs as he leads Eddie toward the dining table and orders him to sit down. Athena eyes the younger man suspiciously before turning to her husband. They share a silent conversation with their eyes and Athena knows why he’s here. She begins making some tea before handing Eddie a mug and Bobby one and seats herself down. “I took your advice Bobby, I put myself out there and it got me here. My son mad, Buck won’t even talk to me and Ana well she took the breakup well and I don’t even know how to process that too, in fact she seemed to know something I didn’t.”

“Eddie,” Bobby says, “you keep saying you took my advice, remind me again what did I say?”

“You said that I could miss out on a chance to have something else, something real.”

“Eddie,” Athena cuts in, “think really hard for a moment, perhaps Bobby didn’t mean Ana, perhaps he meant someone else.”

“Someone you already have in your life, someone else you already know,” Bobby adds in

“Buck,” Eddie whispers and suddenly he’s up like a shot out of the chair, “I have to go,” he says hastily as he runs towards the front door before skidding to a stop and backtracking to the table. He gives a hug to Bobby and Athena, “Thanks!” he shouts then he’s out of the house the front door slamming shut.

“These boys,” Athena sighs.

Eddie and Buck arrive together the next morning, shoulders bumping sharing soft smiles. Bobby tries to ignore the red mark that can be seen on peeking out from the collar of Buck’s shirt, but Hen and Chimney don’t. They tease Buck and Eddie looks so smug, but it with the two men finally getting their act together the atmosphere in the station shifts. Everything is back to normal. Eddie corners Bobby later that morning after breakfast a smile on his face as he hugs him tightly, “Thanks Bobby,” he murmurs.

“You're welcome,” Bobby replies, “oh and you owe me fifty bucks.”

“Wait..what?”

Bobby isn’t even mad that he lost the bet, it’s no surprise to anyone that Hen won, he’s starting to think that she is cheating. But he can’t be mad because Buck is back to his normal self, bouncing around the firehouse, smiling and laughing.

“No Hen!” Buck whines, “hey! Give me the controller!”

“Buck!” Hen exclaims, “You can’t keep doing this when we play this game!”

“Eddie! Do something!”

Who cares if he lost, his son is happy and if is also right in his assumption, his future son-in-law is no longer sulking like a toddler. If an intervention needs to happen again, he won’t wait long this time. “Eddie!” Buck laughs out, “hurry! She’s cheating!”

Buck watches Eddie excuse himself from the conversation, he’s having with one of the other fighters to rescue Buck. The man is laughing as he plops himself down next to him. “I don’t understand why you do this all time when you play with her.”

Buck squawks, “Excuse me, I don’t do this all the time!?”

“You do!” Hen and Eddie laugh out

Maybe he won’t need to do an intervention. Eddie is looking at Buck fondly and Buck is grinning back at him. And Bobby knows that grin, Buck is totally going to be the one to propose, he’s calling it.

He called it wrong. Damn, Eddie Diaz.

#buddie #buddie fanfic #911 fox #bobby nash #Eddie Diaz #evan ‘buck’ buckley #firefam #outsider pov

78 notes · View notes

limenysnocket · 3 years ago

Text

Call Me Home

Summary: It's in the bloom of summer and both of you are tired. It's been hopping from film to film for months, set by set, and so it's time to relax. Pick a nice shack out in the quiet and humble native lands for a night or two, and watch the stars and the fireflies flicker around the butt of your cigarette.

Warnings: Really nothing other than swearing and smoking.

Pairing: Taika Waititi x Reader

Words: 1.5k it’s a shorty, I know.

A/N: This is just something I wanted to write. It's blazing outside, and it's right around the time I wish it was night already and down to 70-something degrees. Hope y'all enjoy this random bit of fluff.

This is all based off of a sweet and sappy blues/jazz song so--

@honorarytenenbaum @olyvoyl

•○●•○●•○●•

"I'm so damn tired," Taika moans and plops himself down in a rickety, old rocking chair beside you. You were atop a small glider. It wasn't enough to completely lay down in, but it was enough to kick your feet up and watch the sun start to go down. The grass, wet from a fresh storm, was now engulfed in orange flame. The light licked all the way up the wooden steps of the porch, and to the tips of Taika's work shoes.

Taika slumped in his seat, his long legs extending out and his arms laying lazily over the arms of the chair. His eyes were closed, and he just seemed to be taking in the last of the blazing heat. "I'm glad it's over," you murmured. His head, once angled to look at the horizon, then tilted to face you. He had a goofy, soft grin.

"It's not over quite yet. There's still the editing and putting it all together, then heading right over to Hollywood for the premier and it's just... oh, man," he put his hand on his scruffy cheek and rubbed at it. He had been wearing a smile all day, whether he liked to or not, due to the mass amount of press that was at the studio doors as soon as you both were done shooting. "Yeah. At least that part is done with. Hemsworth was starting to get on my nerves at the end there."

"What? Only at the end?" you guwaffed at him and he rolled his eyes. You knew he had a thing out for Hemsworth since the beginning. The way his muscles would bulge out in his costume turned Taika jealous-- especially when he realized they would have to do editing magic on him to actually make his biceps look normal-- and that's not all. The Aussie, on occasion, would be a flirt with you, and attempt to get your attention while on set. His little advances would briefly be shut down as soon as Taika spotted him.

Ever so slowly, the cicadas crept from their hiding spots, and began to serenade the two of you from trees. It was annoying at first, and you wanted to make a suggestion to go inside, but when you looked at Taika, all you could see was how at peace he was. He had rested his elbow on the arm of the chair and his hand was cradling the side of his face. His eyes were closed again. You were almost totally sure he was asleep.

After being inside of the little shack for some time, you realized why he wanted to come out here.

The place still had tin walls, and the doorknobs were made of copper. The wooden porch was splintered and cracked, and it squealed under even the softest of touches. The rooms still had wallpaper. It was a floral pattern with a white background, but it turned yellow at the tops and bottoms, and the paper curled and wrinkled. It smelled so old. What brought Taika here again?

He was the brand new, fresh out of his own late uprising, blessing to the directing world genius that everyone wanted on set. Hollywood smothered him in love, money, and women. So much so, the paparazzi followed him around like flies to manure. As much as he loved attention, those jackasses were hard to avoid and they got annoying real quick, especially when all he wanted to do was enjoy a party or two. Indulge in a sensory overload and drown in sex for a few hours.

The notoriety had gotten to his head. He changed into someone unrecognizable...

Did he?

You looked at Taika again. His heel was gently rocking his chair back and forth. He looked so happy and content. Happier than you'd seen him in days. His dress shirt was was unbuttoned from the top two buttons, and his belt was missing. His dress shoes were scuffed and his hair was a mess. He still had his tie on, but it hung low and loose on his neck. He looked almost the same as the first day you met him. Tired and hunched over from his latest piece of fine cinema.

“Doing okay?” you break the bug song and make him open his dreary eyes. “Just checking.”

He sat up again, adjusting himself in his seat and grinning wide. “Never better,” he looked back over to you, and the porch slowly grew dim. The crickets added a melody to the tune the locust sang, and little, moving, balls of light started to emerge from the tall grass. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m curious, you know that,” you nearly whispered to him, the new breeze making you want to fall asleep on the dingy little sofa.

“Curious about what?” now he had started to ask questions too, interrupting your doze. It was pay back and concern in a bottle.

“Why did you pick this place?” you approach the topic bluntly, but calmly. “You could be staying in the fanciest hotel there is in New Zealand right now with what Marvel is paying you, but you chose an old shack instead. I want to know why.”

His lips pursed. He’s back to staring at the horizon again. “It’s just something quaint I picked. No story behind it.” He sniffed and wrapped his knuckles against the tin wall of the house. It wasn’t familiar to him.

“Okay, so you don’t know it, but is there something that you like about it?” you asked further questions. The answers you would received would be saved in the back of your mind for later.

“I like the peace,” Taika shrugged and swatted at a little June bug. “It’s nice to get away from the cameras every once in awhile. They bother me when I don’t want them around.”

You laughed to yourself about Taika actually hating attention for once. He had always been a seeker, in your eyes. It was almost weird to see him in such a way. Actually wanting to be away. And, with you, of all people to be with. He probably just needed a little bit of company with him at all times. Just to be safe.

“That all?” you wonder. “Cause this place sure does remind me of where you shot Boy. Little town, full of little people, and one lady who has all the jobs in the whole area, Taik.”

You managed to get him to blow an amused laugh out of his nose with the reference you made to his movie. It felt like he made that thing so long ago. That was back before his hair started to go silver. “I mean, I guess it’s a little like the Boy set, and you know my connections with that place.” His commentary was a bit strained, because he was reaching for the cigarettes he kept in his back pocket. They were probably a little smooshed by now. He settled back into his seat once he was comfortable again, and sighed. “It’s like a little calling, I guess. Something, I don’t know. I like having money and all, and as a kid, nothing about this was comforting. Fuck, all I wanted to do was get out of these shit conditions with teachers that hated me, kids that hated me, and the big fucking imagination I had kept me from seeing things straight. Here, I thought I wouldn’t amount to shit, probably because I was told that, but,” he started to pause his rant, but just to set a cigarette between his lips and nudge out his lighter from his front pocket. “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. I always kind of find myself wanting to come back to the bush.”

You didn’t really have to think of anything to say. You knew he didn’t want to hear much at all, but you had one question on your mind.

“How’s Hollywood been treating you, Taika?”

His head whipped around like an unstoppable force of nature. He pulled the freshly lit cigarette from his lips, eyes a little wider than you expected them to be. “You want me to be frank with you?”

“No, dipshit, I want you to be Taika with me- of course, I want you to be frank with me,” you snort, and his lips pull up just the slightest bit.

He took a moment to collect his words, his eyes flickering around like he was watching a little bug-Satan fly around his face for too long. He came to his conclusion after about a minute.

“It’s been treating me like shit, thanks for asking,” he said it in such a dopey manner, you had to smile. “It feels great to be home.”

#taika waititi x reader #Taika Waititi #taika waititi imagine #taika waititi/you #fanfiction #fanfics #Look mom another dirty fanfiction series #Tumblr is a bitch sometimes

48 notes · View notes

snuggetfish · 4 years ago

Note

I love your thoughts on Majima so much! He’s such a fun and interesting character to analyze and I’d like to ask what your general headcanons of him are? Like, just about any headcanon that comes to mind

Aaah thanks so much anon, it makes me fuzzy inside to know people like reading these sometimes really rambly replies! 💙 Headcanon-wise, ohhh, I’ve got a good few, but below are the first ones that come to mind. I’ve split them up roughly by topic, hopefully they’re easier to read this way!

Outfit

It always seemed to me that Majima’s environmentalism was a bit at odds with his signature look. Leather pants, leather gloves, snakeskin jacket, that’s a hell of an animal cruelty combo right there... so I think they’d actually all be fake. Majima may be flashy, but he’s not a hypocrite and with how many clothes he ruins by getting into fights, I don’t think he’d want to continuously sink cash into the leather industry.

Though, that’s not to say his fashion would look or feel cheap! Whoever his tailor is, I bet they’re being paid well to source high quality, realistic looking leather and snake imitations.

Diet

While we’re on this topic, I’d like to think Majima had a phase where he tried going vegetarian, after reading up on the ecological effects of animal farming. But here, he finds he can’t be as principled as with clothing, because the beef bowl cravings get too strong sometimes and the boys are noticeably crankier without their usual family barbecues... So he’d give up on the idea eventually. He's not a saint, he’s gotta have some indulgences.

Love life

Other things yakuza are known to indulge in: the sex trade (or “water trade” in Japan I suppose). I mean, they run a good amount of these businesses, makes sense that they’d visit them too, right? But I think, for Majima, hostess clubs would hold too many bittersweet memories and, generally, he wouldn’t enjoy being buttered up. Simulated love and empty words for a price... a hostess won’t be nearly as sincere with him—an obviously loaded customer—as the Sunshine girls were with their manager, so why bother? If it’s just gonna be two clowns putting on a show for each other...

Frustration and distracting thoughts might push him to go to a soapland or brothel, but those visits are about as frequent as his one-night stands, which is to say: rare. His body has needs, but they mostly serve to remind him of the needs of his heart, which are so much harder to fill...

Pastimes

So how does Maijma spend his spare moments then? Batting cages, of course, but also watching TV in his apartment, playing zombie shooters or just about any game that can help pass the time. When he’s alone, I think a lot of his habits are carried over from his days in Sotenbori, whether he realizes it or not. Thus...

Smoking

He’s likely got an ashtray in every room, since his addiction manifests all the worse when he’s at home. He usually remembers to open the window first, but on particularly bad nights, he’d be no stranger to smoking in bed or on the bathroom floor.

I think he didn’t use to smoke much as a young adult (19-20), but after his days in the Hole, it’s a way to cope with trauma and mounting stress. The habit only really ramped up when 23-year-old Majima realized that the more cigarettes he burns through, the less hungry he feels and the more money he can save for Sagawa’s monthly payment.... Grooming

His apartment is sparsely furnished and looks barely lived in, probably because it is. You also won’t find him in lounge clothes too often, even the eye patch stays on almost 24/7. It’s so much a part of him now, that he occasionally forgets to take it off in the shower. But let me just say this: he’s no slob. Majima has had more than his fair share of living in squalor, while he was still in the Hole... People joke about him being greasy, but I really don’t think he could stand the feeling of being dirty. Though speaking of, I think he’d prefer showers over baths. Less idle time for the painful thoughts to creep in. The only way he’d start warming up to the idea of a nice soak every night is... if he maybe had a partner who’d gently wash his hair and back, to ease the day’s tension... or if there was a little munchkin all too eager to have him play sea monster to their fleet of rubber duckies. Would at least one of the duckies have a little eye patch scribbled on it in sharpie? Well, who’s to say... 😌

Just like his apartment, I think he would himself smell of cigarettes, but always mixed with something almost... citrus-y. Muted and a little bitter, like bergamot, from the cologne he wears on days where he needs to dress presentably. Though if you also happen to catch a note of vanilla on him... well, that’s likely a hint that Goromi’s been out on the town. (´~ ω •`)

Skills

Last but not least, a slightly unrelated headcanon: Majima’s surprisingly good with numbers and equations. Not because he’s received a great education (though he is definitely the kind of guy who succeeds in almost anything he applies himself to, it’s just that he rarely does) but because being in charge of The Grand’s bookkeeping, night after night for two years, has taught him skills that are not so easily forgotten. However, it’s not something he brags about, so the first few times it’ll definitely come as a shock to his subordinates. He’ll be given a balance sheet or a contract to sign and Nishida assumes his eye will just glaze over and he’ll throw the papers back at his face, but instead Majima spots a calculation error within a minute of looking at it. Then he gives Nishida an earful about paying more attention to these things... then he throws the papers back, yeah.

And because I can’t help myself on the Majidad headcanons: of course this means he’s on duty for helping his kid with their math homework.

Whew, this ended up as a big wall of text, sorry! Guess you can tell Majima occupies my thoughts a lot more than he probably should hah... It’s fun to share these though! Thank you so much for the ask! 💙💙💙

#majima goro #goro maijma #yakuza headcanons #anon asks #answered #you ask for Maji headcanons brain go brrrr

99 notes · View notes

leahseclipse · 3 years ago

Text

The Reichenbach Fall: Aftermath - Chapter Two: So, What Did We Miss?

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x GN!Reader (With some Fem mentions)

Warnings: S2 FINALE SHERLOCK SPOILERS, Major character death; death topic, mourning, suicide mentions, depression mentions., terrorist attack brief mention (lemme know if I missed stuff.)

Summary: Now that Sherlock is back, explanations are due.

Word Count: 4.6K

A/N: Here's chapter two! As always- if you prefer AO3, click here :)

The weather had even gotten better, as if it only rained to have a full dramatic effect, there was only wind, which didn’t seem to announce a storm, for now. The sound of the leaves being crushed by my feet as I walked was to be heard, as no other sounds were around, it was very quiet today.

The silence did feel weird, I never liked it.

Not when it caused me to think of…

“Got time to spare for me?”

...him.

“Sherlock.”

“I’m not quite into this, usually- but in movies, the scene usually goes like; they stare, probably cry a bit, and run down in each other’s arms. But...the ‘stare part’ is a bit long, is it normal?” Sherlock asked.

“I would like to remind you that you were dead for two years. Hell, you’re still supposed to be dead, I just talked to a grave for the past hour, doing as if you could hear me from wherever!”

“I don’t think it works like tha- oh, imagination.” Sherlock acknowledged, raising his index. “Forgot, sorry.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing if ‘imagining’ doesn’t exist?”

“Being crazy?” He asked. “Sorry, first thought. Doesn’t mean you...actually are, you’re not crazy. Quite the clever kind actually, a tad smarter than-”

“I didn’t ask to be...praised. We’re kind of in the middle of an argument, and also in a cemetery. Which I realize now, and I doubt the dead people here would like to hear us yelling.”

“Probably.” He agreed, as he frowned.

He’s thinking.

“Can I just ask a small favor? I know that’s quite rare for me to do that, but I’m doing that because it’s you.”

“If that’s asking to keep the secret about you not-being-dead-anymore, I don’t know.”

“This could be this too, but it’s not.” He tilted his head, briefly looking down. “Promise not to kill me in the car? It’s just that, dying in a car, and ‘dying’ again would be quite an unfortunate way to decease, if you…”

“...fine. But I can’t promise I will keep that...promise, once we’re somewhere not outside.”

“That’s...fair, I guess. Thank you for...half respecting-” He stopped in his sentence as I gave him the start of a death stare. “...respecting my favor. Sorry, stutter.”

“That’s better...I guess.” I repeated, hearing a small hum from him as we started to walk out the sinister place.

I didn’t even get myself at this moment. Even though he was there, as I wished, it still hurt. He was here, right in front of me, so wasn’t it fine?

“Why do you have dried blood and bruises on your face though?”

“...John hit me.”

“John did?”

“He...did.”

Well that’s new.

“Guess you said something bad to upset him, I never thought he’d ever punch you, you guys are like kindergarten buddies’.”

Sherlock chuckled. “He had a good reason, though. I faked being dead, let him mourn, miss me. I’m even surprised you haven't done that...yet.” He said, looking at me.

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Right. Got it, no...tempting.” He nodded, turning his head back in front of him.

Sherlock’s lucky I have an ounce of good in me. I would have given him more than a punch considering what he did. If he wasn’t the famous, amazing detective, and my...friend-crush, he’d be dead and put in the grave he was supposed to be in all that time.

Speaking of that, I wonder if they just left it empty, or if someone was actually there all the time. I hope it’s empty, though. It would creep me out to find out I’ve been threatening an innocent person- considering they didn’t put some random criminal in there.

At least, the positive point of all this is that he won’t have to pay for another grave, which is...a good deal, for a guy like him.

I hope he has a good explanation for this, it’d be a shame to bury him again.

As I opened the front door of the apartment- Sherlock stepping behind me, I walked towards the blinds, pulling them open to let light in. I turned towards him, looking around the room.

“Yeah, by the way, I cleaned the place.” I pointed out. “Everyday. I know you never wanted anyone to touch it, do anything at all, but I did. I guess that was me hoping you’d come back, and I realize that I...kinda hurt myself by coming back here, hoping you’d be in there, or come through the door any second, but you didn’t, for two years. And even if two years seemed enough to realize that you were really dead- I, and probably others, hoped for a miracle. We didn’t stop at all.”

“I do realize I will never be sorry enough, because no amount of apologies would ever make up for two years, or even a month, or a week.” He listed. “I left you, I acknowledge it. But, even if my next words might anger you more...I did it so you wouldn’t be the ones that’d end up dead. Even if I didn’t die, I did make the person after me believe that, I think. And, don’t hit me for that either- but I’d do it again if a great risk was to put you all in danger. Even you. I know that I haven’t been the nicest, which made you believe you were just a girl working with me, but you’re like everyone I’m always with- a friend, that I also consider family, and you still are, you’ll ever be, if building back our relationship happens to take time.” He admitted.

“I don’t even know what I feel about you...about your death, and you...being here, after a whole lot of time. I mean- we all felt your death deep inside us, it wasn’t just ‘wow, we’ve been real sad , but now we can move on and be better, just as no important person if our life didn’t just die!’, you really couldn’t have...let us know without letting anyone know that we knew?”

“You know I would have if I could have!” Sherlock yelled. “I tried to think this through, and this seemed like the only way to solve this without damage. For you guys, mostly.”

“Oh, so, letting John witness his best friend committing suicide, letting him see his body on the bloodied pavement, his head kinda blown out, literally his friend being dead- was ‘without damage’ to you?”

“It seemed like, at the moment.”

“Well guess what, it wasn’t!” I exclaimed loudly.

“Gosh, try to understand, I don’t know, do as if you were a stranger, I don’t know! If a psychopath threatened to kill you, and your friends, or kill your friends to throw the blame on you, what would you do? Because someone would have known if I ever told it. And they would have killed you, all.”

“I could have done it. You know it wouldn’t have been as bad as it was with you, if it had been me.”

“Please don’t say that.” He plastered a saddened look on his face. “You couldn’t have done it instead. No one else could.”

“I could have, if you had let me. You didn’t deserve this.”

“Neither did you.” Sherlock quietly said.

The both of us glanced at the other, not one word coming out of someone’s mouth. Neither of us knew what to do.

He let out a breath, walking to the window, next to me. “...you’re making it feel like you’re not important.”

“That’s because no one is as important as you.”

“That’s not true. You are.”

“You know it wouldn’t have caused this much chaos with me. We needed you more, you weren’t some stupid detective, you were the most qualified, hell, everyone needed you. Lestrade didn’t need us as much as he needed you.”

“He did need you. you know that. You two were qualified enough to function without me. Don’t act as if you��re not smart, please.” He pleaded. “It was mine to deal with, this was between Moriarty...other people...and me, so not even some kind of FBI agent training for 40 years could have done it, or you, or John.” He explained. “I even had to plan how I’d die, how I’d set it up, how I’d hide, not let my presence slip out- I’m not saying you’re imcompetent, but all of this was mine to handle. I wouldn’t have been able to let anyone carry that. And if I had really died, that would have been fine either, because I would have died protecting the ones that mattered.”

“We would have still felt guilty. There’s always heavy consequences in that kind of event. We all searched what went wrong, if we missed anything leading to that, if we let an important detail slip that caused you to do that, or anything else that could have been blamed upon us. We all thought that was our fault.”

“I know. I thought of that. I do regret it, but I had to...jump off that building. If they wouldn’t have seen me die, they would have killed you all. And the same goes for the actual situation now. If they had seen me dead earlier, they would have killed you too.” Sherlock said. “Look, I wish I could have given up being dead and contacted you in some way, but I had to stay hidden until I could come back without risk, without you getting killed.” He specified. “I would have been the one filled with guilt if I risked your lives.”

“You wouldn’t have deserved to die. You still don’t” I quietly said, resting against the wall. “Do you even know how important you are to us? You’re more than a guy we work with.”

“...and I’m grateful for that. But all I’m asking you is to let me explain what happened; see it as a way to show how much you matter to me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Moriarty wanted me to die. He summoned me to the rooftop, and...after I found an ‘arrangement’, he killed himself first, leaving me to be the only choice to save my friends . So, I had to jump as I was being watched, and if I hadn’t jumped, they would have killed Lestrade, John, Mrs.Hudson...and you.” He insisted on the last word, looking at me. “So this was better, what was supposed to happen, and the two years weren’t planned. I came back because there probably was...a literal terrorist attack.”

My eyes widened. “What? Aren’t you supposed to…”

“It’s being handled, forget it. It was probably a false alarm”

“We were on the road, Sherlock.”

“It’s far from here.”

“Why aren’t we there, though?”

“Day-off. I’m technically still dead.”

“Not really if people saw you. Plus, I doubt it’s a false alarm if it’s bad enough for you to come back.”

“Other people are handling it. Look, are you worried about them? I’ll send a text right in front of you.” He took his phone out, typing a few characters before hitting the ‘send’ button. “Just wait.” He looked to his right, as his phone emited a sound. “There…”we’re still alive.”

“Better, yeah.” I nodded. “...two years was really long, though. I started to believe you had really died, so I guess it worked.” I exclaimed with a shaky voice.

“Glad to know my plan turned out to be successful. Thanks for giving your review.”

“Quite rare of you to be polite. I do suppose you say ‘please’, and ‘thanks’, but I think you forget to say them out loud.”

“Sometimes, yeah. But I do think of them.” He confessed.

“Hm. But...what led Moriarty to do all of this? I’m not quite sure I have all the details.”

“Oh, that. It began a while ago, before you fully worked with me. The criminal network he was headed for was vast, he was practically everywhere, like a ‘cancer’, so we came up with a plan. Mycroft had...fed him information about me, and in turn he gave us hints, as to the extent of his web.” He explained. “And as you know, we let him go, so he’d acknowledge having the upper hand, which led him to destroy my reputation. But...I had to let him believe he had ‘won’, so he could reveal himself, in a way.” He informed, as he moved around the room. “Once we were on that roof, there were at least 13 likely scenarios, which were rigorously worked out and given code names. But, even if I said that he destroyed my reputation, it wasn’t what he truly needed. What he needed...was for me to die.”

“And then, what?”

“He...basically told me that whatever I’d do with him, nothing would prevent the assassins he had hired to kill you, unless…”

“You’d die.”

“And complete his story.” He added. “But the thing I wasn’t able to know was how far Moriarty was prepared to go. I guess that was my fault, on this one. Our first meeting at the swimming pool should have been enough.”

“What did he tell you, back then?”

“He told me about his death wish. And, realized it. He killed himself in front of me when we were on the roof as I told you, and I didn’t have long until the assassins would arrive, most likely. I contacted my brother, and the whole scene started. Each person around was part of the plan, even the pedestrians.”

“You hired...pedestrians?”

“I needed the scene to look real.”

“This street is always empty, this couldn’t have worked?”

“Um...not really. This had to look real, plus they kinda contributed.” He detailed. “Oh and if, them getting killed is part of your concerns, they didn’t. The three of you, and me, were the real targets, they would have only killed anyone trying to fail their mission. And also, if that’s also a concern, the whole street was closed off, like a scene from a play. No accidental arrivals.”

“I didn’t even know all of this was staged. Even the paramedics were?”

“Even them. They’re the ones who faked checking on me so John wouldn’t reach me once I hit the ground.”

“How did he not see, though?” I questionned.

“Before I jumped?” He asked, as I nodded. “I made sure he stayed behind the building situated in front of the hospital. That way, he couldn’t see that I hadn’t actually fallen on the ground, but on an airbag. From that moment, the airbag needed to be cleared out of the way as John came, and as he needed to see a body, a fake one was thrown out of the window.”

“And...what refrained him from running to the body?”

“A well-timed cyclist. He ran into him, giving me the time I needed to exchange places with the corpse, and the rest was only ‘makeup’, I couldn’t be white as a sheet, there had to be blood because of how hard I fell. And, before you ask, what refrained him from feeling my pulse once he had reached me was simply a squash ball under the armpit.”

“You made it sound so…”

“Emotionless? Easy? You could say that.”

“I’d say it’s that. But the moment must have been...I don’t know, between you hearing John, and him feeling helpless upon seeing you.” I said. “Be glad I wasn’t there, because you know I wouldn’t have stayed, the plan would have failed because of me.”

“I know you would have listened, anyway. Don’t underestimate yourself, you’re smarter than you think you are, actually.”

“Compared to you, not really close.”

“If Sherlock Holmes himself tells you that you are smart, it’s not a joke, especially if I say it more than once.”

“Promise you’re not lying?”

“Always.” He promised.

“If you’re always going to be this nice, I might even give up on killing you.”

“Oh, please. Killing me. That’s so two years ago.” He stated, looking right at me as a small grin drew across his face.

“Careful, that can always stay an option. I said that I might, not that I will.”

“I’ll sleep with one eye from now on, then.”

“Then be it, I guess.” I defied, letting my eyes fall on the ground after a few seconds. “I missed having you around.” I admitted with a small voice.

“I’m sorry I made you sad, that wasn’t my intention. I swore that it’d never hurt anyone else other than me, and yet- look at us now.”

“We’re kind of broken, isn’t it?”

“You could say that.”

“Do you think we’ll ever fix it?” I asked, with teary eyes.

“Most likely. Even if that takes years.” He walked towards me, taking a breath before fixing his gaze on me. “I hope that’s the case, I don’t want to keep hurting you.” He confessed, gently taking my hand.

“And I hate not having you around.” I responded, getting up from my spot as I enlaced my arms around his waist, holding tight.

“I’ll do my best to not disappear again.” He spoke out, putting one arm across my back, while the other went on the back of my head, slowly, as if he wasn’t totally at ease with it. “This shows how much you count, I’d never do that usually.”

“I appreciate it, but don’t ruin the moment.”

“You’re even taking your behavior from mine, what’s next? My job?”

“Who knows? I’ve been doing a lot these last two years.”

“I’m sure you’re capable of becoming better than me in less time, and before you throw back the compliment, don’t. This is me...trying to be nice.” He explained, lightly tapping my head before we broke off.

“Thank you for...explaining. I’m glad you’re back.”

“Thank you for…not killing me?” He thanked me, slightly unsure.

“You’re welcome, Holmes.”

“Have you been doing well...lately? I figured we haven’t talked much about your feelings.”

“Oh, that.”

I wish he could be more precise, but he doesn't even know of the ‘other’ feelings, which are more of the love kind.

“...I don’t even know if there’s much, to be honest.” I admitted, looking at him. “I mainly wished it could have been me. A world without you seemed impossible, a great loss, almost unfixable. There was no one else like you, and I...even thought about dying, myself. I was in a really bad place. I even started to do as you weren’t dead, I’d go to your apartment and unconsciously wait for you to return, everyday.”

It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

“And if you hadn’t come back for another two or three years, I would have believed it, fully- even if a part of me would think it wasn’t possible. Nothing can kill you, you’ve basically survived everything, and I do know you have moments of weakness like everyone, but you’ve always done your best to stay strong, no matter how difficult it was. And me...I’m not like that. I always have a hard time with some cases, and I always stand behind John and you so by the time you look at me, I’m good as new, as if I didn’t start to cry.” I detailed, fidgeting with my hands. “But...when you died, I didn’t cry, I kept all my feelings in a bottle, most of the time. I attempted to keep my head straight, for you, which was after a bit of time. I mostly wish it had been me...instead of you, and I’m aware of what I could have done, to make the pain go away.”

“I really caused a lot of damage, which seems pretty difficult to chug down for now, I lied about a big thing, and I can’t be sorry enough. I know that we can’t make life go back to normal, because nothing will erase this, or make it get forgotten- considered it’s all over the internet now.”

“You’re trending on Twitter?”

“Pretty much...seems like it- the press must have seen me. This will make things quite unpleasant, they’ll probably harass you guys as well, gosh.” He complained, running his hands through his hair.

“What’s ten more journalists? I’m used to it anyway. Besides, we’ve already got a lot of stuff in our hands, and will probably have more. Lestrade is gonna blow your phone again.”

“We do have a lot, including having a talk with him. There’s no way he’s getting away with that, you two are the best I have ever worked with.”

“I was going to say it’s quite rare from you but, I’ll just take the compliment.”

“I mean it, so it’s a good one.” He quietly chuckled. “Is our fight over...or?”

“I’d say so? I mean, there’s gonna be some ‘getting-used-to-you-again’ moments, of course, and some explainings, but I’d say we’re cool, yeah.”

“Then um...is it a good moment to announce that John and Mary are getting engaged? I didn’t want to announce it in the middle of a...death, well- fake death topic.”

“They are? When did they even-”

“Oh, at the visit I paid them. He was most likely about to do it, but then we talked, I said a ‘joke-y’ thing…”

“And he punched you.”

“Right.” He confirmed.

“Let me guess, you don’t have anyone to go to the wedding with?”

“Exactly.”

“And I guess that the person that’d fill the vacant spot to go with you...is me? “

“Correct? I mean, if you’d be okay with it.”

“Well I’ve never been to a wedding so...that’d be a great experience.” I admitted.

“As we say, ‘there’s a first for everything’. Plus, I can call Mary now.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You see, she had to stay with John, to talk him out of killing me, and other stuff that bores me, and she asked me to talk to you, and ask if you wanted to be her wedding attendant...and you said yes.”

“Did you ask me just because Mary asked you to? I feel like there’s another reason for that.”

“Is this really necessary?” He complained.

“I’m asking so...yeah. I guess.” I assumed.

“Fine, I wanted to have you with me. The thought of being with a friend of hers for a whole day annoys me, and I don’t want to have to pretend to have a good time, only to disappoint her at the end of the day.” He sighed. “And yes, I do have a small amount of compassion for people, even if they are all infuriating to the root.”

“Work on it, because people tend to think you’re embarrassed, or have no interest in having a conversation with them.” I advised. “But...I’m glad you thought of me. I’ll be attending this event with you with immeasurable pleasure, Holmes.”

“You just saved the day, I appreciate it. Call me by my name, though. I know you use Holmes as a nickname, but you have the ‘close associate privilege’, use it.”

“Did you just invent this?”

“Probably. Probably not, who knows. Invent your own words, it’s not forbidden by the law, plus who is going to stop us? The queen? Pff, let her try to catch me.”

“Hm, fair enough.” I agreed. “Although, I don’t get why you dislike ‘Holmes’, I’ll attempt to use it less to please you then, Sherlock.”

“It's very kind of you, Detective.”

“Pff, you’re a child.”

“A grown child then, I’d even say I’m superior, whether I’m speaking of now or when I used to be like them.”

“They’re children, chill.”

“That is quite a complicated task to ask, I do not accept being inferior to a toddler.”

“Come on, it’s a child, don’t be so harsh.”

“Quite complicated, once again.”

“Is there anything that’s not complicated? Something?”

“You.”

“What do you mean...by ‘you’?”

“You know it, you’re nice to be with, easy to talk to, understand, I’ve never had issues when it comes to being with you.”

“Woah, that’s...surprising?”

“I do agree that I’m not that open with everyone, you’re simply part of the few people that I can talk more deeply with. The others just get their whole behavior analysed along with harsh critics, you guys are lucky...even if I used to do that when I met you.”

“I still remember it. You don’t take criticism from a renowned detective in a good way, usually.”

“It’s not really to be taken in a mean way, mainly to be honest so I don’t hurt any feelings later on.”

“People actually tend to see it in a mean way.” I confessed.

“Do they?” He questioned.

“Yes.”

“I wasn’t aware of it.”

“And you’re most likely going to erase that from your memory because you don’t like it.”

“Correct, again. I prefer to be honest, always.”

“I know you do. But you weren’t harsh enough to push us away, we’re still supporting you, years after. You’re gonna have to try harder than this.”

“Is this a challenge?”

“If you’d like to see it that way, it can be.” I offered.

“Then I accept it, dear Detective.”

Even if I would like to ask him to call him by my name as I don’t get to do that with ‘Holmes’, I do like when he calls me detective.

It does give me a special feeling, and I miss smiling at that.

“You do know it’s nearly impossible?”

“Oh, please. Did I ever step down because it was ‘impossible’? I’m not anyone.”

“I do know. It’s just that it’s not going to be easy, you tried doing it when we met, and I’m still here.”

“It was just a small joke, this one is more real.”

“Is it? You’ve been failing for years, are you going to make it now?”

“One-hundred percent sure.” He informed me.

“Well then, I wish you good luck on this task, Sherlock.” I wished.

“I appreciate the kind gesture, Detective.”

“So do I.” I answered. “Anyway...what now?”

“We can either go see John again, hoping he won’t punch me- or we can stay here and talk about anything, even come back on my fake death, you can play the role of a journalist- whatever, I guess.” He said, seeming either embarrassed, or out of ideas.

“I say we let him lose his temper, we’ll see tomorrow.”

“I’d hope you’d not choose to see him, thank god. That’s why I like working with you, you always make the right choices.”

“I told you I was special.”

“And years later, you’re still right.” He agreed. “Can you take some water though? I talked a lot, you see.”

“I knew it. It was so weird that you didn’t ask for something for me to do.” I complained, walking to the kitchen.

“Don’t be mad, you have to drink too.”

I quickly came out of the kitchen, letting my bust stick out. “Yeah but who’s getting the glasses? Not you.” I pointed out, getting back inside.

“Strangely I do not have anything to say. You beat me this time.”

“Told you I’m the best!” I yelled, grabbing the glasses as I exited the room. “Man, I get to tell everyone I beat you, isn’t that great?”

“It’s a pretty good thing to brag about. You can be proud.” He offered a smile, settling into a seat. “Come on, we still have a lot to catch up on.” He said, as I set down the glasses on the low table, sitting down. “So, what did I miss?”

I don’t even know if I ever said it today, but; it’s good to have you back home, Sherlock.

|Chapter Three|

#lexies sherlock #sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes fic #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock fic #sherlock bbc #john watson #mycroft holmes #james moriarty

20 notes · View notes