#the other day i went to left my CV to a place some friend of my dad rec me and omg i saw that man face and i just knew he wont call me and
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hi love could you maybe write something with jamal musiala x girlfriend reader where she's 2 years older than him and has older male Friends and jamal sees a instagram Story of reader and them at a Club he's so jelous and calls her so many times and comes to take her home with him💃❤
Hello! I wrote the best I could. Hope you enjoy it xx
Cinderella and Prince Charming
Jamal Musiala x fem!reader Warnings: None, I think
He thought that with time he would understand it, accept it and move on, but he did not. You were two years older than him, it was not a lot, to be honest, but he knew that you were more mature and had your ideas ordered in life, not like him. You just finished a degree and planned to study a master on September; You even sent a CV to work in a company specialized on your career, currently waiting for an answer. However, he was a kid in front of the world, even in front of his teammates, but could he blame them? Not really. He played football, yes, and he was living his dream, but football, as F1, or basketball and any sport, the day of tomorrow was uncertain; one day you are at the top of the world, and the next, no one knew about you any more. That was his biggest insecurity, that you were around people similar to you, ordered, mature and responsible, and that if you ever left him for one of your old friends, it could be justified.
He was leaving the locker room, after a tough session with his club, when he heard the notification sound from his phone. The message he didn't want to read appeared before his eyes, “Sorryyy! Tonight I’m going to the club with my uni friends. What about tomorrow evening? Ily x” he asked you to meet after a long time apart from each other; he was travelling and playing the last matches of the Bundesliga, while you were finishing the last exams of the degree, however, you had another plans and he was jealous. Yes, jealous. Not so much about you going to club, that was the least of the matters, he also went to clubs, but jealous of all these college friends, who shared their life ideas with you, hobbies and could actually understand you when you speak about your subjects and exams, something that Jamal could not.
After some hours, he had dinner, played some video games and even started a novel that you left the last time you stayed. He was waiting for a last message from you that could assure him that you were at home, fine and safe. To “kill time”, he entered Instagram, a place where you could spend hours that felt like minutes, just like TikTok or Twitter. He made a mistake; the first user that appeared was yours, he opened the video and there was a video you “re-uploaded”: you were there with your, he would say: "amazing, black dress," and you were smiling next to Robert, one of those uni friends. Robert was tall and had black hair that highlighted his green eyes – he was the one who Jamal hated the most, to be honest. Both of you were laughing out loud about something Mary, at the other said, told you. "That Robert” as he called him sometimes, had his arm around your shoulders, while you drunk from your glass.
It was 2 AM, and he started to assume that he would have to drink three cups of coffee before going to the training session, a heart attack was better than an angry Tuchel. He started to worry as you were never this late from clubbing; you enjoyed it, but you would quickly get out as the environment, the strong smell of alcohol and specially your heels would stress you and send you home in three hours. Jamal started calling you, no answer received.
After 17? 18? or 20? – he lost the counting – calls, he went to his bedroom to get changed. He knew which club you frequented, since he picked you up more than once. On his way, he prayed to God that you would be there, and most importantly, that you would be fine.
He entered the club; the ambient was anxious to him, and he understood why he enjoyed these places only when he was wasted and laughing at any of Müller’s jokes. He quickly localized you and your friends, and he felt relieved when Robert was not here, or that Robert. He called your name and your friends to catch all the group’s attention.
“Jamal!” You shouted as you saw his familiar figure walking towards you, “I am so glad you are here” you hugged him, or rather threw yourself on him
“Oh Lord!” He quickly caught you, “Are you drunk?” A silly question, really, your face said more than enough
“Only a bit” You let out a small laugh
“Alright, now” He held you better, trying to put your arms on his waist and his on your shoulders, but you weren’t helping “y/n please help me, so we can go out, okay?” He pleaded, you nodded, but you didn’t help.
Both of you left that and ambient and you finally smiled when you felt the cool air outside
“You’re my príncipe” You smiled at him
“Príncipe?” He tried to repeat with a Spanish accent
“Maya said it means prince, so you are my prince because you came and saved me from that place”
“Why didn’t you answer? I called you a hundred times” He asked you as you he made your way towards the car
“You did?” You asked confused and took your phone from your purse, “Let me see… oh! It doesn’t work Jamal” You gave him your phone as you pouted
“I think it just doesn’t have battery” He gave you the phone back and smiled as he saw the car closer, but then he heard you sobbing “No y/n! Why are you crying, what happened?”
“My heels are killing me, I might bleed and lose a lot of blood” You let out as he opened the car’s door
“But don’t cry, look we’re here already” He helped you to sit down, “now we remove this heels, and we go home to rest, alright?” He cleaned your tears and left a small kiss in your check, before kneeling in front of you to take off those heels.
“I am Cinderella” You said as he gave you small smile
“I would be your Prince Charming any day”
Once at home, he gave an aspirin and a big glass of water, he changed your clothes to a comfortable big shirt of his that, and a Bayern sweatpants, he may appear murdered in the morning because you were a Borussia Dortmund fan, but he didn’t have anything else.
For Jamal, it was enough that you would spend the night between his arms.
Not Musiala scoring that last minute gol! (imagine the scenario in this context) Not a Bundesliga fan but my heart breaks for Reus.
About F1: Praying for Alonso's 33 and finally!! they are in my city, Sainz and Fernando are home, looking forward for a beautiful race
I hope you guys enjoyed it x. Any comments about my writing are welcome. Thanks for reading! and, btw I couldn't think about a better title.
#football imagine#footballer imagine#football imagines#fem!reader#x reader#football fanfic#jamal musiala#musiala x reader#fc bayer munich#footballer#bvb09#borussia dortmund#football#fanfic#requests#request#reqs open#imagine#oneshot#fluff#football one shot#football x y/n#bundesliga#footballer imagines#football x reader#footballer x reader#golden boy#jamal x reader#f1
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So when I left uni I had a break down. My depression reached a point I couldn't do anything and I finally got the medication I had needed for 15 years but could never convince myself to get.
During this time I did not apply for benefits because I was so scared of the job centre I could not envision a world where they would agree I was sick and wouldn't just put me through the job hunting process. I spent two years living with my parents clawing my way out of a hole, existing on their charity, and thank FUCK I was lucky and privileged enough to have parents who loved me, because I could truly not convince myself I deserved it.
Finally I reached a point where I could do some work.
I then spent three more years job hunting.
I shit you not, I applied to thousands of jobs in those three years. I filled note books writing down the information of every job I applied to, and these were only the jobs I thought I could do. I knew I couldn't sell things, I knew that I couldn't do phone work or factory packing, because I was still so close to that edge.
I was sent to seminars, and classes, where they went over again and again how to write a CV and how to interview, and they'd look at my CV and go "oh... This is good???" Like it was a shock.
After 3 years of this I finally cracked and started doing trial days: free labour for "experience" and it was at one of these jobs where I finally got my first job. It was minimum wage. I was five years out of uni. I stayed there for two years applying to other jobs some times and then finally left that place because I didn't want to be complicit in fraud.
Since then I have been on benefits once again, around the pandemic, and bring on benefits was so fucking bad for my health simply because of the pressure, the having to prove yourself as worthy, that it almost tanked me again.
So when I read about how people who are long term sick aren't "looking hard enough" for work, I envision these people who are getting £80,000+ a year in wages plus bribes gifts from some of the richest men in the world, looking down on people who are worse off than me, going "if they worked as hard as I do then they'd be as rich as I do."
Because I am so so fucking lucky.
I have parents who own the house they live in.
They let me live there rent free while I was almost dying.
They looked after me.
I had friends looking out for me.
I had time to spend making sure that the jobs I was applying for (AND NOT GETTING) weren't going to damage my health.
I had a bed, and four walls, and heating, and medication, and it didn't need to be ideal because it was something.
A lot of people don't get that. All they have is the fucking job centre and barely enough in benefits to live. They have the threat of homelessness hanging over them.
And then politicians I voted for to improve this have the fucking Gaul to stand up 3 months after getting elected and go "actually lol previous government was right. These lay abouts need to do better" IS A FUCKING INSULT!!!
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August will be my starting point. 🌊🌻
Wednesday 14 (D-16 until september)
Weigh in: 65.55kg.
Food eaten: 3 black coffees, lettuce, sesame seeds, a tomatoe, a bit of vinegar, a boiled egg, a banana, 2 and a half small pieces of meet, cooked mushrooms, cooked green beans, cooked pepper, and a bit of an hojaldre and some iced lemomade. A small empanadilla.
To do:
Stretch lightely, go running 10 minites with your doggy, do your stretching routine, do a small strength circuit, stretch lightely.
Shower and do your skincare.
Ice your knee and have a lettuce bowl with vinegar and a boiled egg for breakfast. And a tomatoe and seasem seeds.
~ 10:04 ~ The last few weeks have been very difficult for me. I have had no sttenfth to do anything, but I am back on track. I need to feel I have a direction and I am going to do my very best.
~ 12:31 ~ I finished my tasks!!!!! It's been so long since I last could make myself be productive, that right now I feel like I could do anything. I feel amazing. 🥰
Right now I am eating my salad and I feel more than satisfied.
I love being on track, it feels amazing. August Is. Gonna. Be. My. Month, and I am going to be my dream self. 💙💙💙💪
To do:
Prepare your bag to go to your grandma's house.
Walk your doggy.
Go to your grandma's house.
~15:01 ~ I had lunch with my grandma (cooked veggies with meat and a piece of fruit). And now I am going to take a nap and continue. I've got this! 🩷💙
To do:
Actualize both your cv. Send your cv to all the places near you (includind Em).
Check your opportunities of jobs in the town hall. Every one.
Get pads.
~ 18:52 ~ I am glad I didn't waste anytime scrolling today, so now I can relax.
I asked a girl I talk with at the climbing gym, if she could go out of her way to take me with her in her car. Because I can't drive and I usually go on my electric bike and today it is been raining heavy all day. Which is great since the temperatures have dropped from usually 27°C at this current hour, to 19°C right now.
I am fighting my feelings of being a nuisance. She is so nice to make me this favor, I feel like I owe her one, and I am feeling so bad, for making her make me this favor. I know she's doing it because she wants to, and because she's a good person... But still, it feels bad. Ugh. I hate asking for favors for this exact reason. But this is how you bond with people, being vurnerable...
It will be okay, I will just be grateful. 🩷
I searched for jobs online, and went through the rain to buy myself some pads (my sister left me without), and climbing shoes.
I had to buy my climbing shoes today no matter what because tomorrow, some people from the gym and I will go rock climbing.
I am so excited! The "friend" (i hope we become closer soon!), who invited me is letting me borrow a vest and a helmet, and everything else.
I am very excited because I always wanted to learn. And I couldn't go tomorrow morning to the shop because it is a national holiday and everythinv will be close.
I got as wet as if I had gone swimming. But anyways, it was fun getting cold in the summer. And I gained time to walk my doggy again.
I am now relaxing and waiting for it to be time to go. 💛
To do:
Tidy up.
Go to the climbing class and be grateful to Amparo to take you there.
Go running with Morgana (my doggy). If it's not raining too much.
~ 21:49 ~ I am grateful that I went with Amparo. I had a great time, in the end the class was just us two. And we always talk a lot and encourage each other. We talked a lot in the trips of going to and coming from the gym, she assured me that it was no big deal to help me. And I had fun talking with her.
I am going to eat a small dinner even though I didn't plan on eating anything else today, because I always get very hungry after climbing class.
I had a snack now, a small empanadilla and I am goinv to finish exer isinc for the day before eating a the same salad as before.
~ 23:44 ~ I finished exercising for the day, and just had my salad for dinner. I sttetched a bit, went on my 10 minute run circuit, did my stretching routine, did a short strength corcuit consistent of 30 push-ups, 30 lounges, and 1 minutes headstand.
The strength circuit was very difficult without any energy left from food, but I still managed.
Then I stretched and made myself the salad.
Now I feel like if I touched my bed I could fall asleep instantly.
I am going to sleep now.
#thinspø#tw restriction#tw thinspi#ana talks#thinsperation#th!n$piration#th1gh g@p#th1ghspø#th1nspi#thin$po
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I'm turning some of my most AU fanfics into Original short stories in the hopes of selling them to a publisher. (And thus get some cred to send my CV to Publishers and leave my job)
While I unfic them all, I'll post them here and you can read them with the tag #limited edition. I'll delete them after a few days
<2k words
Lukas was born with more than the fairytale, together-forever soul-mark, because he was a contrary bastard and probably allergic to normal. Normal was relative anyway. The perfect one-mark-soulmate was stuff for films, as far as Lukas was concerned.
Lukas hated people. It was something common in many sixteen-year olds, but the feeling accompanied him through his adult years too. It had started when he was old enough to recognize the disgusted looks that were sent his way. And why? Because he had marks, plural.
His parents were used to it, having seen Lukas since birth, it was the others. Films always said that people were born with one mark; their soulmate. It was a filthy lie. Lukas knew his parents’ marks didn’t match. His friend Jaiden’s and his wife’s did, but Jaiden was the exception; most people never found their loved ones, or the age difference was too big, or one of them was already dead… Soulmates didn’t exist, not in that fairytale way, so why all the films! The books! The songs!
It was ridiculous. So matching marks was true love, but when two guys had marks, suddenly it was platonic friendship, right? Some people didn’t have marks, and doctors all over the world were looking for a ‘cure’. Maddening, disgusting. People fell out of love; there were divorces, and presto! There was a clinic to cover the mark.
Guys with two marks were called lucky; girls with more than one mark were called sluts. Mothers having marks of their beloved children was the norm, fathers having marks of their children was seen as too feminine. Dark-skinned people who went through a skin treatment to reveal their marks were trying too hard, but if they didn’t, they were selfish and not thinking about their mate.
Maybe Lukas would have been less bitter about it if he hadn’t been born with more than twenty marks that went from his neck to his toes. It was unfair, and at age sixteen people started to say that he was faking it, getting marks tattooed because he wanted attention. No, Lukas had more than twenty soulmates and if someone had a problem with that they could fight him.
Well, it turned out that the soulmates the marks referred to where ones who wanted a fight in the first place. Lukas’s first girlfriend never believed that one of his marks was hers because none of them matched the feather-looking one on her collarbone. She didn’t feel any remorse when she left his life. Lukas knew her mark was the one on his ankle, because it had the shape of a strawberry, and she always smelled like strawberries.
Another girlfriend thought her mark had to be The True One and the others were tattoos, or mistakes. Lukas left her after one too many attempts at explaining that he could love deeply many people and not be a mistake. A boyfriend insisted on bleaching the other marks, to prove his love. Another boyfriend thought that the marks meant Lukas was cheating on him. Others had simply used him. Very few of his marks were platonic.
Lukas fell in love easily. That was the stupid truth. Lukas loved all of them, and he had loved them after they were no longer together. Lukas learned that loving people who didn't love him back wasn’t pathetic, but only after many years of people telling him that he was; sometimes the word they said wasn’t ‘pathetic’, but ‘cute’ in a very condescending tone. It still felt like a slap.
So Lukas hated people in general and loved people in particular. He loved less and less frequently with each new disappointment.
And then, his marks were useful for once.
He had been feeling down. Far worse than usual. All kind of ideas had been going through his mind, and not one of them had a happy ending. But he had still six marks that he had never met. There had to be some kind of future for him; a future where he met the one who put the mark there. He chose to believe that, even though he didn’t know, like most of the population in the world, how marks actually worked.
Marks were largely unstudied; it had something to do with electric pulses from the brain during the last months of gestation. Capillary veins broke in patterns and shapes that had to be related to society and education, but nobody understood why a baby was born with a, say, Allen key printed on their skin (not that Lukas had one or anything).
Lukas was glad of not needing to explain marks in his line of work. Engineering was much cleaner, despite Jaiden’s claims and his laundry bill. And marks, in Lukas’s experience, meant someone would be exactly what his soul needed in that moment. Not some key, meet hole kind of deal.
So his marks carried him through his worst patch, at least long enough to see someone about it, at least until he dared to open up to a few select friends.
He ended up moving to a country north of the border where an old friend was looking for an engineer. It was eye-opening for him. He had met a lot of people, and... They didn’t care as much about marks as back home.
One of his coworkers had lightning marks all over his back, and he said one of the branches was probably for his Alex. Probably! He didn’t know! Because people there thought that marks didn’t match people, but showed how much a person was capable of loving in size and quantity. More bullshit for the pile, in Lukas’s opinion. But at least it was new bullshit, and proved that back home it had to be just as stupid.
He had relaxed a fair bit after that thought sunk in. He had gone out with the new people he had met and he had enjoyed himself.
At least until the Police came to his home and took him away.
It had been a mistake, a series of files wrongly filled, he had been lax checking then three times over, the friend who had given him the job had thought that he would have finished the last steps of the process... And he had protested when the Police asked for him. Loudly.
He had been very lucky of just ending up spending the night in the cell. There had only been another guy who looked like he had left a party mid-toast.
He had decided to approach the other guy and strike a conversation: Best. Decision. Ever.
They hadn’t slept at all that night. Lukas had chosen instead to listen to a tipsy Adrian, who had been telling him about the high-standing party he had indeed crashed.
The next morning they had gotten out and Lukas… well, Lukas was the kind of person who knew what he wanted, and he wanted Adrian. Because Adrian was kind-faced and had a mean strike that he knew how to point at people who deserved it, and he was witty, and, most important, he liked Lukas without caring about marks.
Adrian, in turn, told him that he worked with legal issues and offered himself to fix his papers. Both of them knew it was an excuse to see each other again. Lukas often said he would have had to leave the country without Adrian’s help. Not everyone agreed in that last part, but Lukas didn’t care.
After the whole ordeal, Lukas had Adrian.
Lukas had Adrian’s mark and Adrian, who didn’t have a single mark in his body, loved Lukas. It was an amazing feeling: Adrian liked that they were defying destiny, Lukas loved that someone wanted to give the middle finger to biology and expectations with him. Lukas didn’t believe in soulmates anymore, but he believed in Adrian. And that he was good for his soul in any possible way.
They discovered years later, after an accident forced Adrian to cut his hair for a good number of stitches, that Adrian had at least one mark that had looked like Lukas’ favorite constellation. Orion had been hard to see through the hair, and easy to mistake for moles. It had been a few days of insecurities, but Adrian and Lukas kept defying destiny anyway, because Lukas had more marks, several, but was over letting his marks dictate his life, he wasn’t going to change the person he chose with his free will to wait for the next magical-mythical perfect match around the corner.
Adrian never said anything when Lukas said such things aloud when they were out with friends, or Adrian’s family, or when he shouted it at the Christmas diner and almost got himself banned from family gatherings altogether, but the point of his ears turned either red when he was within earshot and Lukas wanted to say it all over again until Adrian believed him.
A few years later, with enough shared stories in their memories to fill a library, they met the twins in the adoption center: Helena, and Olive. Of course Lukas had marks for them, how could he not? He loved the little chaotic kids with his whole being. Adrian’s marks for them never manifested, but were ever present in how he loved them every day. Lukas loved him even more for it, for proving that love was not skin-shallow.
Lukas had one mark left; most of the time he was busy living a busy live with the best partner he could have asked for and their progeny, but sometimes the old worries came back to torment him. There weren’t going to be more kids, unless he lived to see his grand-kids, something unlikely, because Helena and Olive didn’t like the idea of children, so the mark was not for that. In dark days he feared something terrible would happen and take happiness from him; force Lukas to find happiness anew in someone else’s arms.
It still took Lukas until he was combing back white hairs to find the last mark. It was one day, after a visit of their children, when he was recalling his life and wondering if he could be proud of the person he had lived long enough to be. Lukas realized with a shock that the last mark was his own. Lukas told Adrian, and his husband hugged him tightly because he had suspected something like that; it had taken Lukas a lifetime to learn to love himself.
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Getting personal here and not hiding it behind a wall cause I kinda wouldn't mind getting people's opinions over this; you see I've spent like, a decade at least of my life being depressed, and It's only those past couple of years I've felt like I was settling into myself and moving forwards and onwards and is it perfect? no, course not, i'm still too anxious and I get moody and sad too often, but like, larger picture wise, i'm fine, i'm okay, i'm doing well these days.
but see depression is like, this gene was runs deep deep deep into the blood of my family, and you'd think that would make it easier to help each other but I feel it just makes it worse?
And right now my brother is depressed, clearly depressed, might be starting to rely a bit too much on alcohol at times (said so himself, which is why i feel confident saying it); he hasn't had a job since he left his previous one in a field he loves but where places are hard to get and he was disrepected as shit, and I feel he's slowly got isolated from all his old friends, and he still does things, like he still go to the tennis club often, and he goes cycling when the time allows it, but otherwise he just doesn't leave the house, and he's living with my mum, who again, it's a family thing, is also and has always been a very emotive and depressive person who's very good at feeling guilty of everything, and I think maybe the colocation makes things worse for the both of them?
and I want to help, but I just. Don't know what to do. My brother isn't the kind of guy you "get" to do things, if he doesn't want to, he just won't do it is all. I feel like a job would help him lots cause well, for better or worse we've also got the whole "am i really a Good Person If I am Not Working" thing capitalism kindly drilled in our brains since infancy, but i know NOTHING about sports, least of all professional football, so i can't just like, hand CVs for him or whatever.
but i feel i SHOULD know what to do???? Because that was me! That's been exactly me!!!! and i'm just feeling helpless and a little bit scared coz of other stuff that went on in my family and how similar he sounds to my grandma sometimes and. yeah i dunno.
I'm just worried. I feel he would feel better with some friends and a job but i can't help with that and aaaaah.
#sorry for the rant i let myself think for 0.4seconds and now i'm spiralling about this again#i can't talk about it to my parents of course coz my dad is like 'emotions? nope. let's not.'#and my mum will be like 'it's my fauuuult' or whatever#personal#honestly if people have ideas. Or they know exactly the person that could hire him in the offices of professional football teams#im listening#the only thing my brain can come up with rn is buying him expensive tickets for a cool football match in another country#how would i afford that i don't know i've just been watching too many travelling videos ok
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troubled outsiders | intro - jjk
| summary | - how you two end up pining for each other.
warnings: none :)
content: idol!jungkook x student!oc, friends to lovers (because it’s THE superior trope okurrrt), jungkook is quiet and shy but a social butterfly when needed (and when it comes to oc but you’re not supposed to know that yet), oc is both a badass and a socially akward queen, she has TWO friends and only because one is dating the other (like... same), the Lee Charyeong is her bestie, oc works at bighit and feels like everyone either fears her or hates her, author nim is a crackhead and has no plot planned for this series whatsoever (doesn’t know if she’ll keep this up, we’ll see).
words: 1.93 k
His presence was overwhelming, to say the least. Even if he were surrounded by six hundred other equally handsome men, somehow, to you (and the majority of the female population, at that point) he was as captivating and magnetic as they come. Jeon Jungkook didn't pay no mind to no one, but sure as hell everyone became hyper aware of his existence and essence in time. And that didn’t exclude you.
Yet, as nonchalant and indifferent as the man could be perceived, in reality he was more considerate and friendly than the aura he exuded. You knew this because working in the same company had to teach a thing or two about the people who literally carried said company and the whole industry at some point, still you barely knew four or three people, including your assistant and Jungkook, whom you had met once.
The opportunity of working at the company had come to you out of the blue, quite literally, you were attempting to send one of your assignments in when an email appeared in your notifications during your sailor moon study break.
HYBE Entertainment
We’re glad to inform you that you’re being recruited for the position of Logistics Manager in one of our sub companies, BIGHIT Entertainment. We’ve thoroughly looked through the CV you’ve submitted and are very interested in your capabilities and what you can contribute to our organization. One of our other managers will gladly meet you on a day you can both agree on. Make sure to answer this email to get more details about your interview.
“Nani!? THE FUCK?” sure as hell that your eyes and cognitive functions were deceiving you (ADHD) you went over the text a little over three times in a row before the message settled in your mind. This was sus.
Before even considering a reply you made a quick call. “Fucking Lee Chaeryeong” you spat on your end of the line. “You did this, didn’t you?”.
Her silence was more than enough to have you cursing her under your breath. “I don’t know what exactly you’re talking about but it most likely was me. Does it have to do with a sex toy in particular?”
“No” you denied almost monotonously, guessing the pile of boxes in the corner of your room with her names on them was what she referred to. “Does anything come to mind if i mention BIGHIT FUCKING ENTERTAINMENT?”
It was her. All those conversations during the summer about how badly you wanted to work in the entertainment business as marketing staff of some sort had their effect on your friend, who, despite all your excuses and denials, knew you better than you and your mom combined did, and because of this, was sure as hell you were not making a move towards that goal whatsoever. So, being the boss bitch she was, she took matters into her own hands, was what she explained.
You concluded that was the reason you had reached a point in your life where you had more experience than most recently graduated kids in your field, because Chaeryeong had you moving every summer break. You had been the manager of a coffee franchise and convenience store during you junior and senior years, and also figured a way to improve the marketing management strategy of a fucking restaurant while at it. Not to toot your own horn, but you were kind of cool.
Or not. “I hope this job satisfies your workaholic ass for once, I’m running out of ideas”. Chaeryeong spat before hanging up.
Sure as hell it would.
On friday afternoon, you made your way to the HYBE INSIGHT building and introduced yourself to your recruiters who promised to give you a call at some point. “It went fine” you told Chaeryeong once you were in your car. And it was the truth, however you weren’t so sure if they would actually hire you at some point since well, you were a girl in a male dominated industry and, in your opinion, there were always better people than you. “Wanna go grab coffee?”
“I want to. But, I have practice today. I’m actually on my way there. Please avoid driving through Hongdae today, this shit’s packed.” You sighed and thanked her for the heads up. You missed your friend, badly. You hadn’t seen each other in three weeks, and you didn’t even live so far away from each other (you did, but it had been worse before). You two had very agitated lives to say the least. Chaeryeong was a kpop group member, and well, you were jumping from job to job and getting your phD in Business Management at the same time. It was hard to find moments to spare together during some periods of the year, but you guess the anticipation made your encounters better.
“Talk about anticipation” you slammed your forehead against your desk, taking a breather after such an anxiety packed situation. Short story: you got the job (for some fucking reason). And you had gone through a whole week of expectancy and anguish. Not getting that job would have broken your heart, and ego at the same time.
You guessed the law of attraction tactics Chaeryeong had taught you had sorted their effect and were what led you to your current position in life.
“Miss _____, your presentation’s ready” your work assistant gave you a comforting pat in the back as she took a seat somewhere next to you. You were nervous, shitless. It was your fifth week at the job, and being the proactive woman you were, you had collected lots of data in order to come up with a resources management plan.
It was a Thursday afternoon, and more than a hundred people sat in front of you, waiting for your speech. Including him, who you’d once bumped into accidentally during one of your data recollections runs inside the building.
You hated having the need to impress others yet, hence your anxious behaviour. But this was a decisive moment in regards to your validation in your new job and how you’d continue to be perceived during your work stance (no reason to panic at all)… you needed to get it together.
“I think I just pissed off a bunch of old men right now,” you told your assistant right after you got off stage. “I need a bathroom break”. Linh gave you a reassuring smile, one she always had plastered on her face.
“Take as long as you need to. I’ll give you a call once the rest are done”.
The commute to the bathroom was unnecessarily complicated in your opinion. You had spent a little over a month rushing through the hallways of the building and you swore every single day your spatial orientation got a bit more fucked up. There was no way there wasn’t a single bathroom on the floor you were in, that would just be atrocious. “It’s not completed yet” someone said beside you as you stared at the half empty map the company had projected on a wall next to the elevators. “Where do you need to go?”
Kim Taehyung of all people in the world was talking to your ugly and unworthy ass. Your breath caught in your throat and after staring for at least five seconds your body finally reacted to your orders. “Oh, um… the bathroom. I’ve been looking for it for a good ten minutes” you explained with a nervous laugh.
“Trust me, I get it. I still get lost over here” he smiled gently. “It’s in the hallway in the middle of the next hallway”
You laughed at his very ambiguous explanation. “Thank you” you bowed your head and made your way to said destination.
It was in the hallway to your left, not your right, and it took you a while to figure out that new piece of information. Once you were staring at yourself in the mirror, you realized that you looked considerably tired and exhausted from all the social interaction you had undergone throughout the day. You were used to the side stares and whispering you’d get whenever you entered a room at that point, but some days you just wished you could get a break from them. After all, it wasn’t your fault you didn’t look Korean at all, and that you also didn’t fit the stereotype of a foreigner.
You got that from your mom, both the non Korean features and social fatigue. But that wasn’t even the problem most of the time, it was your friendly and smart nature which she had also passed onto you. Some would consider it a blessing, but to you it was a burden, like a clear glass that shielded you from introducing yourself into other people’s realities. You had few friends and people to trust, but in your everyday life you had to deal with the pressure of standing out too much and that came with a lot of negative energy from others. You sigh as you spray your favorite fragrance on yourself. You could be feeling like shit, but no one will ever catch you slipping.
But that excluded him apparently. You hadn’t noticed that on the other side of the hallway was the men’s bathroom and the realization hit you as you were calmly getting some tea from the vending machine. “Good afternoon” the man greeted you as he made his way out the hallway, but stopped in his tracks right after he noticed you. “_____! Hi” he smiled at you and you wanted to die, suddenly forgetting what you were ordering in the first place.
“H-hi Jungkook” You smiled back, poorly attempting to put your wallet back into your backpack.
“Need help there?” he noticed your agitated state and held your bag for you. He smelled just as heavenly as you had expected, somewhat between big dick energy and flowers. Oh, and he also remained as kind and polite as you remembered him.
Seeming as if he wasn’t planning on continuing his path to wherever he was heading to in the first place, he stood quietly by your side, waiting for you to be done with your deal. “How have you been?” you break the ice for him.
Quickly, you grab your tea and start walking back to the auditorium together, unaware of your surroundings or the suspicions that could arise. “Busy, but very good. How have you been? I saw your presentation earlier… I wish I understood half of what you said but you still sounded amazing”.
And you would never admit it out loud, but you were positive you were blushing (and falling in love too - platonically, of course). “Oh god, you think so? I basically told them they’ve been doing things wrong all along so maybe you’re the only one who’s appreciative of my work” you handed him the second can of iced tea you bought without him noticing. You swear his eyes lit up like stars in the night sky. “Payback for the other day” you smile at him.
The first time you two had crossed paths you didn’t look nearly as glamorous as you did now. In fact, you looked incredibly disturbed and in pain, carrying a huge pile of paperwork in your hands. But as soon as sweet Jungkook noticed your state, he offered you a hand and somehow ended up helping through your multiple data collecting trips that afternoon. It was a nice day.
“Anytime” he took the can in his hands with a shy look on his face. “Unless I’m practicing, you know…” you look down at his feet, with huge black boots engulfing them, and you smile due to their contrast with his personality. “Here, i’ll give you my number so you can call me whenever you need to put all those papers back. Hopefully I’ll be around” he added as he pulled his phone from his back pocket.
Way to get a girl’s number, my god.
#jungkook#jungkook fic#jungkook drabble#jungkook smut#jungkook imagine#bts fic#bts imagine#idol au#bts x reader#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#bts series#jungkook series#bts smut#jeon jungkook smut#jjk fic#jjk smut#jeon jungkook fluff#i hope this is likeable#i'll update whenever inspiration hits i guess#welcome to the journey pals#feel free to lemme know if there are any mistakes <3#i don't know how to edit shit#im scared i hope u like this
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clear the area jonmartin, post-MAG200 content warnings in the tags
They earn their ending. A happy-ever-after beyond the gaze of any eyes.
Jon endures his abdication. This world has no Archivists, has need of none, the thankless crown of Knowing finally unburdened from his shoulders. The blood washes off Martin’s hands with soap and scrubbing and scalding water. They live.
The end. In conclusion. Fin.
-
Jon’s new scar, the packaging of his skin split ragged from collarbone to sternum, fades like sun-caught paint. A maw of red pursing to a gummy primrose pink, settling into a rough cartography of white.
The first few months are hard. Brimstone flare-up silences and ice-pick shouting, open-handed forgiveness and closed-fist weeping. They drain themselves to husks with anger and worry and grief until there is enough space for better things to grow there in their stead. Jon’s nightmares were a nightly stormfront to bear, sweated sheets and dawn fanfares of panic and dread, but he is learning now, with the space for his ribs to expand, that it is ok for them to breathe here.
Jon digs up the garden with a rusty trowel until it is a bumpy canvas of mulch and soil, dirt tucked under his fingernails and decorated with smudges up to his elbows. He hums while he irons their shirts in front of the television, thoughtless and senseless with tune.
Martin has tried to, but the sound goes down the wrong way.
-
Martin is happy.
-
It isn’t the sight as such, that might sit as a film over his vision to tinge his waking sepia. The reddest thing they own is a terracotta plant plot brimming with raggedy thyme that lives a precarious cliff-top existence on the kitchen windowsill. He observes Jon’s face in all its variations, even pained – when he snags splinters in his fingers, when he stubs his toe on the stone front step and swears damnation – and his response is sympathy tempered by admonishment.
It’s not the sensation, not really, that might tremble on his skin. Martin’s palms tend to dryness inside their homely bubble of creaky central heating, hemmed in by boisterous coastal winds. He handles bread knives and butter knives and steak knives and carving knives without the muscle memory of other blades, and he thinks he might be getting pretty handy with his oven experimentation.
It’s the sound. It wakes him, the noise lingering like the echo of a slap.
The slick punch of metal into muscle. A tooth-bared, tense-jawed gasp.
Resurfacing to shocked consciousness, he would be seized by a frenzy, to know, to check. His scattering hand scrabbling for the lamp with such force he hit it off the nightstand to roll in a giddy clatter, throwing off the covers to rapidly pollute both of them with the outside air. Jon would be rocked from sleep, groggy, panicked, and Martin’s words would not come, a train of thought trying to race full steam where no one had laid tracks, so it would be just the two of them, exhausted and upset and amping the other up in misery.
Now, upon his rousing, Martin knows not to turn on the light. He does not check. The aftermath of punch-gasp curls in his ear, and he inhale-exhale-inhales with the ferocity of mantra, and clamps the threatened tears in the clench of his teeth.
He does not wake Jon.
-
“How did you sleep?”
“Oh, you know me. Like a log.”
-
He is happy. He is. Why wouldn’t he be?
--
Jon rumbles like a rusty mechanism with snoring whenever he drops off on his back, and he mumbles accusatory when Martin coaxes him to his side. Martin finds black hairs on his pillowcase, in the shower plug. Jon is a vista of experience since the Eye left him, who gets hungry and tired and grumpy and drunk and silly and fed-up and giggly. Jon searches him out with the surety of magnets, and loves him, loves him, loves him. He seals kisses to Martin’s new landscape of extensive scars. Their disagreements, when they surface, are as meaningful and lasting as stones skipped on water.
Martin wanted this. He wants this. The rhythms of domesticity fading to foam on an untroubled shore.
He is out of practise with happiness, that’s all. It doesn’t come to him like breathing. He needs to till the earth of it, shelter its seeds from a thousand circling crows until it bears harvest.
He just has to try harder.
-
Night-time.
An episode or two of something simple, Jon nodding off like a capsizing ship before the credits. Encouraging him up in grousing, unwilling increments, rubbing out the nettle sting of pins and needles up his own arm. Check the locks, the light switches. Brush teeth. Pyjamas. Put his phone to charge, read until Jon succumbs to sleep. Click the light off, pushing Jon onto his side so his mouth doesn’t dry. Jon squirming around like a fastidious octopus until he has at least half his limbs hooked over Martin.
The dark creating shadow play. In the absence, Martin colouring in the gaps with lurid shades of disaster.
A creak – the rattle of a door downstairs, an intruder unfastening the back door, transferring their weight upon the staircase. A unfamiliar scent – the recollection of smoke-stench in his nostrils, the acrid promise of gas, the ferrous pungency of blood. The rain will flood their house to drown them. The wind will blow their roof in. Jon hooks his leg around Martin, the skin void of hair where Daisy’s mouth had almost torn it off, and all he can envision is the ways this could be destroyed as he watches.
Bundle Jon close. Ignore the rain, the itch at the bottom of his stomach, the queasy roil of his fear. Drift into unkind sleep populated with its garden of earthly terrors.
-
Martin is… not happy. Not exactly. And that’s fine. It’s fine.
-
Jon is happy.
-
Jon, rubbing at the compression lines around his hips, the accusatory splay of the top button refusing to budge closed:
“I can’t fit into my jeans.”
Martin enfolds him from behind, planting his palms over the slight paunch of Jon’s stomach, filled out through sensible eating and small indulgences and a hunger that will never be ravenous but has restored its human qualities.
“Hmm. It’s a good look on you. Healthier.”
“Or it’s middle age.”
“Or it’s eating things that aren’t tea and meal-deal sandwiches.”
“Or other people’s terror.”
“Oh yes, you’re right, I completely forgot about your subsistence diet of eldritch and unbidden horrors in a luscious wholegrain wrap, forgive me.”
Jon laughs at that. The sound has not yet lost its novelty for either of them.
He shifts, turns, his arms a buoy around Martin’s stomach.
“You’ve lost weight.”
“Must be all the clean air,” Martin quips. “All that healthy living.”
-
Punch. Gasp. Exhale.
Martin wakes up.
When his heart has wound down from the pace of its gallop, he extricates himself from Jon’s grip. It is a laborious task to find the places where they’ve joined in the night and pull them apart, like separating fabric snagged on rosebushes.
He gets some water from the cold tap in the kitchen. Sits heavily on the sofa, the room cossetted by the gloom.
Punch. Gasp. Exhale.
His hands shake.
He doesn’t go back to bed.
-
He isn’t happy, but he could grow to be. He could. He could. He just isn’t trying hard enough.
-
Some days, he feels like he’s waiting for the ice to give under them.
Check the passers-by as they walk. Anyone familiar, any teeth filed too sharp, anything animal or blood-shot, any eyes that glance too deep.
Check the oven. The gas knobs are angled to off but a leak is not impossible in a house this old, their alarm might malfunction, they might fall asleep and some spark from a plug socket could catch and incite a conflagration.
Check the window latches. The opening wide enough for a body to squirm through, the claws of a Hunter marring the sill. Wriggling infestations that invade through the letter box, the keyhole, the gap under the door where the wind can whistle through.
Check. Check. Check.
-
Jon is happy. Jon has a job, work friends, a hundred small luxuries that he has struggled to earn. Jon is happy, so why can’t he be? He went through so much less, the blood washed off easily with soap, what the fuck does he have to cry over –
-
Martin has always crafted his masks from scrap, tongue out in concentration, piecing things together in low light, a make-do-and-mend of his own devising. His early efforts, the paper mâché and glue easily cracked before he learned to shore up his constructions. He has a small collection garnered over years.
The quiet-voiced, muffled-stepped, muted-smiled creation of a Good Son.
The zipped-mouth, no-refusals-no-complaints-yes-of-course-how-high earnestness of the Good Employee, the desperation sanded off the edges so no one could see.
The I’ll-get-the-first-round friendliness, the open-handed, open-hearted, too-naïve Good Colleague.
This new mask forms in increments, in the same way a rising mound of dirt marks the extent of a grave being dug.
He doesn’t mean to. It’s just he’s better at not talking about things. He always has been. And it is an ugly, easy comfort, to slip back into bad habits.
And Jon is happy.
All the things Martin does not wish to permit the light to touch he compresses inside like shaken soda. The rot in him deepens structural, the places where he papers over moulds and fungal speckles with the distraction of their new life. His smile parades simple, contented, cheeky, teasing, and there is a meticulous artistry in each. He sketches interest, paints joy, manufactures irritation out of the clay of nothingness that he allows himself to feel instead of the overwhelming rush of everything else.
I love you, his mouth murmurs, laughs, sighs, groans, and that at least is always true.
The mask of a Good Partner slips on tailor-made.
-
They find their nine-to-fives. Jon’s job is uneventful, boring, and nowhere near an Archive. He works in a registry office for the council, filing and organising and he’s cheerfully lied on his CV in order to get it. He gets the bus and texts Martin grumpy faces and GIFs summarising his mood when he gets suck in the commute or some idiot parks in a bus lane, he has a couple of colleagues he likes and a greater number that he tolerates, he gets a hot chocolate from this universe’s overpriced multinational chain on his lunch hour. When he gets home, he complains with delight at the mundanity of his dissatisfactions, regales Martin with tales of meagre drama.
Martin gets a cleaning job at a school. It is monotonous, dull and safe. Martin loses track of the time easily, quagmired in his musings. The children are wary of him and his visible scarring but it doesn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. The teachers are friendly enough, as well as the other cleaning staff, but he does not make friends. They’ll have to move anyway, if anything finds them here, if the Fears emerge again.
Martin tries not to feel like he’s waiting.
-
He wants to have a good night’s sleep.
-
“I’ll have breakfast at the school, don’t worry.”
“There were some leftovers from the canteen, so I’m kind of full.”
“It was one of the teacher’s birthdays, you know, Denise? Heh, might have had a bit too much cake. I’ll pop this in the fridge for later though, it’ll keep till tomorrow.”
“I’m just not that hungry tonight, Jon.”
-
He feels sharper when he doesn’t eat. It is uncomfortable, a scratched-out, hollowing sensation, but things focus more. He can control nothing else but this, and it feels good, to have this mastery over himself when so much is beyond him.
He drops down notches on his belt and tells Jon it’s all the walking he’s doing.
-
The world continues to happen to them. He goes to the cinema with Jon and picks at popcorn and encourages Jon’s outraged opinion. He meets Jon’s mildly interesting work friends and plays nice and excels at small talk, and he drinks half a cider that he nurses over the evening because it’s making his head fuggy. His body communicates its sharpness to him and he gains grim satisfaction from ignoring it. He goes to work and goes home and doesn’t sleep and goes to work and goes home and doesn’t sleep.
Martin does his best at living, and his mask doesn’t slip.
-
“You seem tired,” Jon pries his words out carefully, picking them out of his teeth as one would scraps. “Is… is everything ok?”
“Yeah, sure it is. Why?”
“… you seem a bit down today. Recently. Is anything… is there anything you want to talk about?”
“I’ve just been working too hard. Been a while since I had to do double-shifts, heh, I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“If you’re sure?”
Jon shifts to a different position where he’s sat on the sofa, his legs tucking up under him. Martin endures his questioning gaze with practise.
“Yeah, I’m all good.”
Martin delivers a hand-crafted smile that’s gilded heavily with guilelessness and reassurance. He watches as Jon believes him and hates himself.
-
“You know… You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but you can – you know you can talk to me, Martin?”
Martin’s eyes focus on Jon’s chest at the point where a knife once sunk in, and doesn’t reply.
-
Punch. Gasp. Exhale.
Martin wakes up.
Jon has twisted over onto his back again, rattling like a chain-smoker’s cough with his snoring. They were quiet that evening, tangled up in their own thoughts, but there is none of that distance in sleep. During the night, Jon’s wormed himself out of the covers with a single-minded determination, his restless legs squashing the duvet to the bottom of the bed on his side, encouraging Martin’s to follow suit.
He’s shirtless, his top chucked off to pile unceremoniously on the floor. The temperature is ripe with a burgeoning summer heat, and Jon tosses and complains if he’s overwarm, and Martin didn’t think he’d get to feel the drudgery of another lived summer. He’s shirtless, and the room is palled in sweltering dark that softens the vague shapes of the wardrobe, the chest of drawers, the knickknacks of the life they’re building together. He’s shirtless, and Martin cannot see where the scar is, the only scar of Jon’s he has ever thought ugly, but he knows it is there. That he put it there. That he could just as easily be waking up alone.
His body pains him to live in it. His stomach tight and bottomed out empty.
He is so so tired.
Martin’s heartbeat does not slow down. His chest constricting, and he swallows, a sharp sound hiccupping in his throat. He stifles it with a forceful sniff but more come as a painful spasming wave, and he has to sit up if any air is to dribble into his lungs.
He should get up. He has to get up, do this in the bathroom, doubled-over the sink, stifling his weakness where it cannot be witnessed. He cannot do this here.
Punch. Gasp.
His burning face is soaked as he bunches up his sleeves against his reddening eyes. A calming exhale drains out shaky, moulds itself into another loud sob. He plants his hands over his mouth, screwing his eyes closed, and this will pass, he’s fine, this will pass…
“Martin?”
I’m sorry to wake you, he thinks to say. It’s nothing, go back to sleep, stop looking at me Jon, I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s nothing, it’s nothing…
His shoulders start to shake.
“Martin?” Jon repeats slowly. And the ice creaks and cracks and Martin gasps and then it breaks, and the force of his damned-up grief is tidal, catastrophic and he sobs into his hands.
“It’s… it’s alright – it’s… it was a nightmare, that’s all, ‘s alright…”
“It’s not!” Martin bubbles out, the words mashed to a wail in his hands. “It’s not, it’s not, it’ll ruin this…”
“Hey.” Jon brings his arm around Martin and he buries his head in the bony crook of his shoulder because he does not want to meet Jon’s eyes. “What do you mean? Martin?”
Jon rubs at his back. Martin’s body betrays him in a hundred ways as it collapses around him. His weeping wrings him out, dry-mouthed and headachy and trembling when he subsides into shivery breaths.
“Talk to me,” Jon says. “Please.”
“You’re so happy,” Martin sniffs out. “I-I want you to be happy, god, o-of course I do. Things are, they’re good, they’re good and we won, s-s-so why does it feel like I’m still holding my breath? I-I go to bed and I’m frightened of every noise, and I wake up and I’m terrified that someone somehow could take this all away, and I can’t sleep, and I-I’m tired, Jon, I’m tired of holding my breath, and it’s all – it’s all so much a-a-a-and I can’t – ”
“Oh, Martin – ”
His words fail him then. Jon holds him up and his arms do not loosen.
“We-we’re going to fix this,” Jon says after a long while. “I promise you, together, we’ll – we’ll talk to someone. You aren’t alone in this. Together, alright, we’ll do this together. We’ve survived – everything else, we can get through this too.”
“I don’t know if I can believe you,” Martin says, too drained to avoid honesty.
“…Maybe not yet,” Jon says after a pause. “That’s OK. I can wait.”
I’m sorry, Martin attempts to say but Jon presses a kiss to his forehead.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Jon says. He strokes Martin’s sweat-soaked hair.
“… Can we talk? Tomorrow? You don’t have to tell me everything, but… I’d like to be there for you, if you want me. If you’ll let me.”
Martin nods because he doesn’t trust his gummed-up throat. Jon takes that as an answer.
Dawn comes in slowly enough but they see it in together.
#tma#the magnus archives#cw racing thoughts#cw anxiety#tw eating disorder#tw ptsd#ask to tag#cw nightmares#martin blackwood#jonathan sims#jonmartin#tma spoilers
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Happier|Part Two
A/N: Here it is! Thank you to everyone who has read part 1 and has sent back such kind feedback. It really means a lot!
Part 1
Word Count: 2k
Warnings: swearing, angsty as hell
Just open the fucking door.
You hesitated as your right hand hovered over the familiar front door. Over the last five years you’ve always just walked in. This home was like your home. But now, he wasn’t just his.
“Just walk in. It’s not rocket science.” You muttered to yourself. Sighing you tapped your fist against the wood.
Your body relaxed a smile fell on your face as you heard Dodger’s familiar bark ring through the house as he approached the door.
“Alright, bubba. Relax.” The butterflies flurried in your stomach as Chris’s voice carried past the door. You gave a small smile as the door flung open to reveal a shirtless Chris. “Why did you knock, you meatball.”
You just shrugged and quickly gave him a hug.
“What are your plans for tonight?” You asked as you both made your way to the kitchen, his arm slung loosely over your shoulder.
“I was supposed to go watch the game with Scott but he wasn’t feeling too hot, so I’m actually just going to stay in. But don’t worry, I won’t get in the way of your girls night.” He laughed, ruffling your hair as you turned the corner and caught view of Carissa.
“Yeah no boys allowed. Right, Y/N?” Carissa dried off her hands and rushed over to you, pulling you into a full body hug. You bit back the frustration when you realized that she was wearing the shirt that you always wore whenever you would spend the night at Chris’s, the familiar fabric like sandpaper under your fingertips now as you gently hugged her back.
“Yeah. No boys.” You said meekly as you took another good look at her. The shirt looked way better on her than it ever did on you. It fell just below her hips, the way it did on you but she somehow made it look so stylish. She just had on a pair of workout leggings underneath and fluffy socks. Her blonde hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail and you noticed how she managed to not look like a founding father with her hair pulled back.
Subconsciously you twisted the bottom of your oversized college crewneck in your fingers. You were practically wearing the same thing as her but you felt like a middle school girl in gym class while she just screamed model off duty.
Add that to the reasons he noticed her and not me.
You needed to stop comparing yourself to her. But it was hard when the stark contrasts were so evident.
“So,” Carissa clapped her hands together. “Chris told me about your love for tequila so I made some of my famous spicy margaritas! And I just put on some popcorn and I may have gone a little overboard at Ulta today.”
You followed her gaze and it landed on an array of face masks and nail polish.
“Sounds like my que to leave. Have fun, ladies.” Chris pecked you on the cheek before pulling Carissa into a passionate kiss. You turned away, your face reddening.
“Thanks, baby.” You heard Carissa sigh. You heard the sound of them kissing again and you looked for any welcome distraction.
As if he could feel your pain, a wet nose booped your hand and you smiled down at your favorite little pup.
“Hi buddy.” You bent down and pressed a kiss to his nose. “I’ve missed you so much. Yes I have.” You ruffled his fur and smiled a genuine smile as he started licking your face.
“Oh boy, Bubba found his girlfriend.” Chris laughed as he bent down next to you. “I think he missed you more than I did when we were in Canada. Every time we would FaceTime his ears would perk up.”
“That’s cause he’s my best bud.” You kept talking to Dodger.
“Ouch.” Chris gently pushed you. You winked in his direction and for a moment everything felt normal. Chris’s eyes sparkled as if he was appreciating the normalcy too.
“Chris, please.” You were snapped out of it when Carissa let out a playful whine.
Chris blinked and then slapped his hands on his knees and stood up. “Alright, baby. I’m gone.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“He did not!” Carissa burst out laughing as you finished telling the story of when Chris singlehandedly knocked down an entire aisle in CVS.
“I’ve never seen him turn so red in my life. I think he went back to that CVS every day for the next year to apologize. And of course he stayed afterwards to help clean up.” You wiped your eyes, tears falling from laughter.
“Sounds just like him.”
You took another sip of your margarita. You were surprised at how much fun you were actually having. You guys had just finished your second sheet mask of the night and were currently working on demolishing the stuffed crust pizza you ordered. Manis and Pedis to follow.
“Have I walked in on an evil plan being hatched?” You both turned as Chris emerged from the basement, Dodger in tow. Thankfully he had put a shirt on because his tattoos always did something to you.
“Had to share the CVS Incident of ‘17.” You replied as Carissa hid her face as she giggled again.
“Oh god,” Chris groaned, slapping his hand to his forehead. “Please. Let that story die.” You watched as he positioned himself behind Carissa, caging her in with his arms. You always knew Chris was an affectionate person. If it was a year ago, you would have been the one trapped between him. He had a lot of love to give and wasn’t afraid to show it. He placed a kiss on the top of her head before his blue eyes met yours.
You knew that he was silently asking you if you were having a good time. You could see the sense of hope that was behind the question.
“You came up just in time for a manicure.” Carissa turned around on the stool and smiled up at her boyfriend. “I’m thinking hot pink would look amazing on you.”
“I don’t know, I think he’s more of an aquamarine kind of guy.” You lifted up the shade of blue that was in front of you. “Compliments his eyes.”
“Ooh, you are so right, Y/N/N.”
“Wow, would you look at that? Looks like the game is back on.” Chris jokingly started moving away from Carissa.
“Oh come on, baby. One hand.” Carissa pulled at his hand, her lips coming out in a pout.
Chris gave her a look of fake annoyance but you could see the smile forming on his lips before he let out a dramatic sigh.
“One hand.”
“Yay!”
You watched as Chris sat down and Carissa got to work painting his nails.
“Okay, Y/N. Tell me about the men in your life.” Carissa looked away from Chris’s hand and turned to you.
“Well, I guess you’ve already met them. Chris, Scott and Dodger are it.” You shrugged, half kidding and half not. Chris gave you a look of what you could only call pity and you chose to ignore him. You could feel your face become hot at your lack of a love life.
“Oh that can’t be the case. You’re absolutely gorgeous, there’s no way that men aren’t all over you. Right, Chris? Tell her she’s beautiful.”
“She knows I think she’s beautiful.” Chris said, his tone seriously as his eyes never left yours. “It’s more of getting her to know that.”
“We’re not going to talk about it.”
You and Chris stared each other down before Carissa cleared her throat.
“Well one day you are going to find something like what we have. The hopeless romantic in me truly believes that there is someone for everyone; and I know that if we can find happiness like this, so can you. You’re an amazing person, Y/N.”
You looked down and bit your lip. You wanted so badly not to like her, to have her be some terrible person so you could justify the feelings that you had for her boyfriend. And yet, here she was, being the kindest person and caring truly for your feelings and your happiness.
“Thank you, Carissa.”
She smiled a toothy grin before turning her attention back to Chris. Chris kept his eyes on you a moment longer but when you didn’t look back he sighed and focused on his girlfriend.
- - - - - - -
“You don’t have to do that.” Carissa came up behind you as you finished washing the plates from before.
“It’s really no problem.” You shrugged. “You did all of this, the least I can do is clean up.”
“Yeah, but you’re my guest. A host should never have her guest clean up.” You knew she meant it without malice but the words stung. She was right. That’s all you were in this house, a guest. You were their guest. They lived here, together.
You just nodded and finished the plate you were cleaning before stepping away from the sink so Carissa could finish. You mumbled that you were headed to the bathroom and quickly made your departure from the kitchen.
You rounded the familiar corner and bit your lip as you were five steps away from the bathroom, where you could finally take a deep breath.
“Hey sweetheart.” You jumped as Chris stepped out of his bedroom, a grin plastered on his face. “I think you made a good call on the nail polish color.” He waved his fingers in your face, jokingly.
You let out a soft laugh but refused to meet his eyes, instead eying the bathroom door that was so close and yet so far.
“Okay, come on.” Chris’s voice got serious. “Is there something going on at work? Are you sick? Why are you so…” Chris motioned his hands up and down your body.
“So what, Chris?”
“So sad?” His eyebrows creased in concern. “You know you can tell me anything.”
Not everything.
“I told you at the restaurant, I’m fine.”
“Yeah and I barely believed you then.” You bit your lip and once again looked away from him. You should have known that he knew you were lying out of your ass.
“Chris, it doesn’t matter. It’s not your problem.” You huffed.
“Of course it’s my problem.” He said as if it was the most obvious thing.
“But it’s not.” You snapped. Chris took a step back at your sudden change in attitude. “Just back off. You’re not my boyfriend.”
“And?” He snapped back, but he did move closer to you. He reached out and grabbed your forearms, pulling you into him. “I may not be your boyfriend but I am your best friend.”
“Chris, just let it go. It doesn’t even concern you.” You lied as you pushed him away.
“Well clearly this one thing as something to do with me. Since you’ve been acting like a mega bitch since I got home.” He crossed his arms.
You took a step back. Chris had never called you that before. Yes, you two had gotten into some heated discussions in the past and maybe have gone a couple times without talking to each other for maybe a day. But never once has he called you a bitch.
“Chris!” Carissa’s scolding voice came from behind. “Apologize to her right now, there is no reason to call any woman that word.”
Chris’s gaze held yours before it softened.
He sighed and dropped his arms. “Fuck...sweetheart. I’m-”
“Thank you for having me over, Carissa. I really did have a great time.” You turned away from him before he could finish. “I think I’m going to head out though.”
“Of course.” Carissa glared at Chris over your shoulder. “Please let us-or me, know when you get home. We can plan another one soon.”
“Sure.” You smiled weakly at her before casting one last look at Chris. He opened his mouth to say something but you just shook your head and made your way out of the house.
Tags
@stopbeingcurious
@lharrietg
@thesecretlifeofdaydreamss
@username23345
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Your safari au. Please. I need it. Water my crops with tigers and hyenas and witchers. Grabby hands and pleading faces in abundance here.
You are after my heart, Nonnie. And considering I've only talked about the Safari AU on Novigrad, I will happily assume you're lurking on there and I love you for it. Tweaked a little to add in a hyena just for you.
Lions and Tigers and Bears
Taking over a park was no easy feat, especially not when it came with a reputation like Nilfgaard had. Eskel scratched his head as he poured over the various financial reports, wondering just how much of it could be trusted. The problem was Nilfgaard had been a shining beacon in the animal conservation world, exceptional facilities, high enrichment for the animals and a successful rehabilitation rate. If there was ever an animal in need of a place, Nilfgaard had been first choice for years. All that came tumbling down in light of the revelation that Nilfgaard had been trading illegally, their animals sold to private owners as exotic pets or, even worse, hunters who wanted a guaranteed, easy kill. The place had been shut down immediately, a skeleton crew kept on to tend to the animals but nothing more. Management was on trial and Kaer Morhen had won the bid to take over. Though small and mostly unknown, nobody else had wanted to touch the remnants of Nilfgaard so they were quite uncontested in their bid. What had seemed like a good idea at the time, an noble because it was in the interest of the animals, now was an absolute headache.
Between the three of them, Geralt, Eskel and Lambert could split most of the urgent work. They had Jaskier working on rebranding, Yennefer managing the board and Vesemir as the head. It left them free to run the day to day of the park, learning the animals as well as the people who they had kept on. But they were going to need more people to actually help the place flourish and regain its standing in the community. Which meant asking the heads of departments for who should be kept on and what roles to recruit for from scratch. The easy ones were things like hospitality, Zoltan had a firm grip on the needs of the park and its visitors, knew all the catering firms and how to run a tight ship. So it was one less headache for them. Eredin had stepped up as Head of Security readily once it was proven he had no knowledge of the animal smuggling. Again, his familiarity with the park was a boon, as were his connections, putting together a security team that could be trusted. Much more messy was the animal welfare section. Fringilla, much like Eredin, had stepped up to become interim Head Zookeeper and was doing her best. While they were understaffed, Geralt, Eskel and Lambert helped out where they could but much of their time was spent getting to know the routine of the park and its many animals.
"We need to know who we can trust," Lambert grumbled, leaning over the table where they had personnel files open. "It's impossible to know who was in on things and who wasn't."
Though, in all likelihood, none of the lower level workers knew that when they helped usher one of their beloved animals into a crate, they weren't sending them off to another facility or a happily ever after. But it was something they just couldn't risk.
"May I?" Fringilla asked, eyes roving over all the files. At Geralt's gesture, she began pulling some of them out. "You'll want Triss, she was a vet here, promote her to senior or chief or whatever you call it. She's solid. And Sabrina, she's great, works well with Triss. Retain Istredd, Mousesack, Calanthe and Eist too. oh, and Letho for the reptile house." As she spoke, she kept looking with a small frown.
"Missing someone?" Eskel asked. Nodding, Fringilla frowned. Without much care for manners, she walked to the cupboards and began pulling out files until she hit the folder of resignations and terminations. From there, she pulled out one last file.
"You'll want him."
The folder was taken from her and the three peered at it with varying levels of frowns.
"You want us to hire someone who was terminated for gross misconduct? Whose notes suggest he abused animals and has blacklisted from working with animals?"
"No. I want you to meet the whistle-blower. Cahir's the one who found out about the trafficking and reported it. Nilfgaard didn't take kindly to it and retaliated."
Not sold on the idea, Lambert crossed his arms over his chest. "His file doesn't look exceptional. Personally, if he applied for a job, I'm not sure he shines enough to even be called in for an interview."
It was a sentiment echoed by the other two and Fringilla had to fight to hold back a sneer. "Invite him in and judge for yourselves. Just because his record doesn't have a quantifiable or gradable measure of commitment doesn't mean he won't be fantastic. If we ever have a new animal in that doesn't need to stay hospitalised, I wouldn't want anyone but Cahir to help settle it in. Especially the younger ones and babies."
Against their better judgement, the three decided to follow Fringilla's advice and e-mailed Cahir an interview offer. The reply was terse but assured them that he would be there at the agreed time.
First impressions were, to put gently, not great. Cahir looked rumpled, bags under his eyes and his attitude was rather sullen. It didn't bode well as they sat in the office, Cahir an odd mix of defiant and subservient. At least Fringilla had the grace to push the interview forward as much as she could until even she sighed and leaned back.
"Why don't we walk through some of the enclosures? Make sure you still remember what's where."
As they walked, Eskel ended up next to Cahir, who seemed content to not talk. That didn't stop Eskel from trying to initiate conversation.
"So, what have you been doing in the three months since you left here?"
"Tried to survive."
The blunt answer had Eskel blinking, there were many things he expected but not that. "Oh?"
For the first time Cahir actually looked at him, sadness bleeding through his half glare. "I used to live on site, worked for Nilfgaard from the age of 15, took a full time post at 18 and moved into the small cottage in the southern corner of the land. They fired me, I lost everything."
An uncomfortable silence settled between them as Eskel tried to figure out just how much of Cahir's so story was an exaggeration. "Have you been living with friends then?"
"For a few weeks, yeah." Cahir actually scoffed. "I've been trying to get a job and living in a hostel off savings. Turns out, only having in-house qualifications does not bode well for prospects in the world at large."
Fringilla led them into an enclosure where the grass was high. From the looks and smells, Eskel would have guessed it was a tiger's habitat but he wasn't familiar enough with the park yet to know. He would have hesitated going in, especially in a group like they were but Eskel had to trust Fringilla as she came to a stop and they stood in a loose circle.
The house Cahir had mentioned was one Eskel was familiar with. They had often wondered why it was empty yet well kept. It had felt like a life interrupted when they had a look round, nothing personal there yet it didn't have the empty, unlived-in feel of a show home. In a way, Eskel was regretting just how poorly Cahir's interview was going because he could easily see them offering his house back as part of a contract.
"So why are we here?" Lambert's words broke Eskel's reverie. "I thought we wanted to go on a walk."
It was by pure chance that Eskel caught Fringilla's smirk at Cahir and the slightest softening of that stern expression in return. Clicking his tongue, Cahir shot Lambert a look. "Tell me, have you ever been stalked by a tiger before?"
"No."
"You sure about that?" Cahir clicked his tongue twice and the world burst into motion. From the long grass a tiger pounced and Eskel was not ashamed to admit he let out a surprised yell. He wasn't the only one though, Lambert gasping, hand at his mouth and shoulders up as the tiger took Cahir out. They went tumbling and only Geralt looked like he might lurch into action, taking half a step towards the animal and Cahir. It would have been hopeless though, the two were wrestling on the ground until Cahir was on his back, tiger hunched above him.
The first thing Eskel noticed was how Cahir's face was creased into a happy grin. He looked younger, relaxed and happy ever as the tiger licked a large stripe from jaw, up his chin to his hairline. All Cahir did was laugh.
"Yes, yes, I missed you too, Princess," he said. fingers loosened from the fur in the tiger's neck and petted along her nose with the ease of familiarity.
"What the actual fuck?!" Lambert all but screeched. "What the fuckity fucking fuck?"
Eskel had the sense to look to Fringilla for answers, even if he wanted to watch Cahir with the tiger. The change in the man wasn't something he could have predicted. Gone was the sullen, defensive and standoffish air, replaced by an easy smile and a look of serene happiness as Cahir looked at the tiger, checking her over out of habit, muttering about dirty ears and mucky paws as he went.
"That is what you won't ever learn from a CV and qualifications," Fringilla said. She was absolutely looking smug. "Princess came to us at 9 months old, from a circus. Had terrible separation anxiety and a host of other issues too. She wasn't doing well despite our best efforts. At least, not until Cahir took her home and cared for her during the nights rather than leave her in a hospital cage. He introduced her to independence, slept out in the open with her for a few weeks when she was ready to transition to outdoors." Much more quietly, she added, "She's not the only animal he'd done that for. To find out some of his beloved children have been sold hit him hard. I don't think I'd ever seen him cry before then."
Turning back, Eskel watched as Cahir was sat on the ground, tiger with her back to him. The slightly strained "oh no you don't" from Cahir was lost as the tiger pushed up onto her hind legs and flopped backwards. Had she been smaller, Cahir would have probably caught her like a baby. As it was, he grunted as the weight crashed across his legs and he had a happily chuffing tiger's belly to tickle.
"I assume you'd vouch for him?" Geralt asked.
"In a heartbeat." Fringilla grinned at Cahir but it was lost on him, so focused on Princess as he was. The others might as well have stopped existing. That was the moment Eskel knew his heart was in danger. It didn't get easier as time went on. Hiring Cahir was proving to be a good decision. He just got on with the work, never finding anything distasteful or below him to do. If it needed doing, he got it done.
Over time he opened up too, Eskel found himself wandering down to the southern corner of the park to the little house that was now full of life. He got used to Cahir usually having a baby or two in his care. Sometimes he babysat for Letho's hatchlings, content to have baby snakes trying to look around his arms as they learned how to cope with being handled. The friendship between the two was one Eskel couldn't claim to understand but they seemed to make it work.
"Knock knock," he announced himself by the open back door.
"Come on in," Cahir called as he wandered out of the kitchen. "I'm just finishing making dinner, care to join me?"
That was new too, Cahir was inviting Eskel into his life more and more. It made Eskel feel even better about what he was planning to ask at Fringilla's instructions.
"I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow. There's a new arrival that we think will need your assistance."
Cahir cocked an eyebrow and held up an empty plate in question again. At Eskel's nod he began loading. "Anything you can tell me about it?"
"Not much. Private collector got raided, had a few animals in his less than tender care."
"So they'll be part socialised, part traumatised. I can work with that."
Somehow, Eskel had no doubts about that. But he was holding back some information because Fringilla had told him to keep it a surprise. The next morning the transport van rolled in, a small group of them ready to handle the newest arrivals. There were a couple of pythons for Letho to bring into his fold, a parrot for Guxart to train into swearing. Last was a large crate. As interesting as it was, Eskel's eyes were on Cahir, the way his nostrils flared as he caught scent of the hyena. The box opened and the animal cautiously peered out.
"Dave!" Cahir exclaimed, all semblance of quiet professionalism gone as he hopped off the top of the crate he'd helped open.
If his reaction had been exuberant, it was nothing compared to the hyena's. They collided next to the box, all over each other.
"I missed you buddy." There were tears running down Cahir's cheeks as Dave alternated between butting into him and running tight, excited circles around him before settling down and trying to bodily press into him. Glancing up, Cahir gave Fringilla a wobbly smile. "How did you find her?"
Her? Last Eskel checked, Dave was a male name. Still, he wasn't going to interrupt the tender reunion with such a dumb question.
"She was part of a collector's hoard. Didn't have the right permits so he was made to give her up to those who could offer her proper care."
A broken "thank you" was whispered in her direction before Cahir buried his face in the hyena's neck. Eskel watched with so many questions. Thankfully Fringilla didn't miss that fact.
"She was born in captivity, originally assumed to be a boy, needed to be hand reared after mum rejected her. She never understood that she wasn't human and as a result has spent most of her life living with Cahir. We've tried so often to introduce her to a pack but she never took to them, content to stay with them for a day, two at a push before she starts pining. When Nilfgaard sold her, that's when Cahir got suspicious, did some digging and realised she hadn't gone to another park. So Dave is a catalyst for this whole fiasco if you will."
Watching them, Eskel nodded. He had a hyena to befriend if he wanted to keep Cahir in his life it would seem.
#pre-Cahir/Eskel#fringilla vigo#cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach#eskel#lambert#geralt#safari au#tldr: nilfgaard is a disgraced safari the kaer morhen idiots take over
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When Life Gives You Lemons -BONUS🍋
You threw open Chris’ door and went to your car to get his box of shit. You set it right at his feet as he stood in his doorway. You walked off never looking back not once. You drove off crying hysterically in your car.
Chris is constantly calling your phone, but you let it ring. A few minutes later you pull up to your place and just sat in your car. It was beginning to rain…just what you needed stupid ass rain to really put you in the dumps. You finally got out of the car and walked inside. You didn’t even run to get out of the rain.
You walked inside and went and picked up the bottle of tequila from your bar and went and laid in your bed. You received a text message.
“Y/N. I know I have caused so much pain to you today. You are the absolute love of my life, but I am just trying to do the right thing. I want my child to have both parents together under one roof. I am trying to be better than my parents. Please talk to me. I don’t want to lose you again. Call me please. I love you”
“Fuck you Chris.”
You sent to your setting and blocked him. You also blocked him on all social media platforms. You went to bed crying know that you have lost your best friend and the love of your life….forever.
It’s been eight months since you’ve seen Chris. You done your best to stay away from him. If mutual friends are having an event you make sure to ask if Chris is attending, if so, you decline. He is still blocked on your phone and social media. You’ve run into Scott a couple of time around town but never ask about Chris.
One day, you had to run into a CVS close to your place. You were walking down the aisle looking for some stuff when you heard someone call your name. You knew that voice.
It was Chris standing there with arms full of crap. Why didn’t he get a buggy?
“Y/N.”
You turned around. You had to keep it together, because he looked amazing.
“Chris….hey.”
He walked up to you gave you a smile.
“How are you. Long time no see”
You nod.
“It’s been a while. I’m doing well and you”
“I’m ok.”
You could sense in his eyes that he wanted to say more.
“You are grabbing a few items?”, Chris asked.
Yes. You looked to your right and grabbed a pregnancy test. You held it up and gave it a quick shake. There was no reason for you to take a pregnancy test. How did you even end up on this aisle?
“Oh.”, Chris said.
“Yeah. Just want to be sure.”
You both gave fake smiles and looked at each other.
“How is your family?”, you wanted to throw up for asking.
Chris paused for a few seconds.
“Jessica and I aren’t together.”
“Oh no.”
HA! Fuck her you thought!
“The baby wasn’t mine.”
Your mouth dropped open. It was total reflex. Chris giggled.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for my mouth or my face-“
“Don’t apologize. It’s ok.”
Chris literally left you for a woman who was carrying another man’s baby. What in the hell!
“Well, I’ve got to get going. It was good seeing you Chris.”
“Same Y/N.”
You walked past Chris and headed to the checkout. Your mind was all over the place. You checked out and headed back home. Jessica was cheating on Chris too?? Sheesh. That relationship was a mess.
You get home and sink into the couch and wonder what could have been with you and Chris. You was scrolling on Twitter when your doorbell rang.
You went looked through the peephole….and opened the door.
“There was one more thing I wanted to ask but you left out really quickly.”
“Yes….”
“When are you going to unblock me?”
Here we go again!!
Let your imagination to the rest!
@Chris-butt
@Shikshinkwon
@Thesecretlifeofdaydreamss
@Juliadamatin
@Mysafezonejustforme
@Cyborg-unicorn1
#chris evans#chris jamal evans#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans x reader#cevans#andy barber#marvel#captain america#fanfiction
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Out Loud
A Martin character study AO3 Link
“G’night mum, love you.”
“Make sure you put the trash out, don’t want it stinking up the house.”
At 12 it occurs to Martin, he can’t recall the last time his mother said “I love you” to him. She must have. He knows she loves him, so why can’t he remember her saying it? Was it before dad left? It can’t have been that long ago. He knows if he brings it up she’ll just tell him off for being silly so he just decides to not say it unless she says it first. She doesn’t say it.
“Look how nice our neighbor’s garden is,” she says instead. “If only we could have such a nice garden.”
“The neighbors hire a man-” Martin tries to explain. He had just done law maintenance over the weekend; he would have to bring up memory issues next time they saw a doctor.
“Aren’t you happy with how I provide for you?” She snaps. “Ever since your lousy father left us I have done my best even with my health and all you can talk about is getting a bloody gardener.”
“Sorry, mum,” he says. It’s better not to argue when she gets like this.
“Forget it. Just get me my tea.”
He goes and brews her a cup of Oolong tea. It’s far too bitter for his tastes but it’s all he buys when he does the shopping. Perhaps that was it, instead of saying she loved him she just provided for him.
Martin tells himself that until she gets too sick to work and begins needling him to get a job at 14. Suddenly he’s providing for her on top of school and everything else but that didn’t mean she didn’t love him. She was just sick and the medication she was on made her tired most of the time so it wasn’t like he could expect her to be excited to see him; especially not when he’s the one bringing it to her.
“Is soup the only thing you buy?” She asks one evening when he brings her dinner.
“You didn’t have soup last night,” he reminds her patiently after a long day of school and work.
“Oh, so you think I’m ungrateful? I am your mother! I gave birth to you! You should be happy to take care of me!”
“It would be nice if you acted like a mum for once!” Martin snaps back. He regrets it as soon as he says it and doesn’t wait to hear her response. He leaves the house and sits in the park near his house for a long time and cries. Of course she loves him. It must be so hard on her to be stuck at home all day with no one to talk to and there he went snapping at her. She’s asleep by the time he comes home and neither of them mentions it in the morning.
Martin doesn’t know what he expects when he starts to transition. He hadn’t even called it a transition at first, he just likes how he looks with short hair, baggy clothes, and a sports bra. His mother disagrees. There are days she won’t even look at him and when she does it’s usually even worse.
“You cut your hair again,” she mentions one morning over breakfast. “Just when you were starting to look like a girl.”
“Yup,” Martin replies tight-lipped. He had been thinking it over for a while and he’s slowly coming to terms with the fact that he isn’t a girl. The way she says it hits him sharply. If she was never going to say “I love you” to a daughter, why would she say it to a son? He doesn’t bother coming out to her properly because he can already see the disgust on her face when he gets a proper binder.
When she decides to move into a full-time care facility, it’s almost a relief. He feels foolish for expecting her to say it when she leaves. He feels even more foolish when he says it in goodbye. The receptionist gives him a sympathetic look when she doesn’t say it back but the receptionist probably assumes his mother has memory issues and forgot who he was. She doesn’t. Still, he appreciates the gesture.
Dating is nearly impossible for most of his life. It’s easiest to blame his busy schedule; he doesn’t even have time for friends outside of school. The fact that no one even asks him out isn’t something he wants to think about. After he drops out of school and his mother leaves, dating and friendship don’t get any easier. He can’t let anyone he works with get close enough or they’ll find out his real age and utter lack of qualifications. Online dating is also out of the question for similar reasons. If one of his coworkers saw him with the age 19 in his profile they would either know he wasn’t actually 25 or they would think he was a creep and he didn’t exactly feel comfortable lying about his age to potential dates. Meeting people organically isn’t the worst thing in the world but it’s difficult. He makes a few passing friends at a local trans support group but even then, he can’t get close to anyone without risking someone discovering his falsified CV.
He doesn’t have his first real boyfriend until he’s 23 years old. They meet at a Holloween party thrown by a mutual acquaintance and date for almost five months before Martin ruins it.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dominick, I love you,” Martin says as he serves dinner.
“Oh, uh, it’s a little fast to say that, don’t you think?” Dominick had stammered awkwardly. Was it? It didn’t seem like it to Martin and even if it was, it was true. He loved Dominick.
“I-I don’t think so,” Martin replies nervously. Some distant part of himself starts to berate him for being so needy.
“It kind of is. Let’s just pretend you never said it and we’ll see how we feel in a few more months, ok?”
“You mean we’ll see how you feel,” Martin says a little bitterly.
“Why can’t you just relax and enjoy the holiday?”
Martin had sighed in resignation and picked at the rest of his plate. They broke up a week later because Dominick felt like they were “looking for different things.”
Martin doesn’t have another serious boyfriend after that. He goes on a few more dates over the years but nothing that lasts longer than five months. Nothing that lasts long enough to say “I love you.” In some deep dark part of him, he wonders if he was ever meant for love. His father hadn’t loved him enough to stay, his mother hadn’t said she loved him in over a decade, and he’s not even sure he was in love with Dominick. He gets crushes, sure, but he just throws himself into his work at the Magnus Institute instead.
Working in the library isn’t bad. He gets along with his coworkers well enough but he can never get close to them. Not close enough to love them as friends or be loved in return.
Then he gets transferred to the Archives.
Jonathan Sims is not the first asshole boss Martin has ever had. He doesn’t understand why Mr. Bouchard sent him down to work in the Archive in the first place and his first impression with his new boss is less than stellar when a dog follows him into the building. It doesn’t help that Jon is good-looking and every once in a while Martin catches glimpses of a version of the Archivist without a stick up his ass. Like when he spends Martin’s ice cream birthday talking about emulsifiers. If only he would be clearer about what he actually wants from Martin. No report or follow-up seems to be good enough, even with the help of Tim and Sasha.
Martin works hard for Jon’s approval. He doesn’t know why he wants the recognition but it’s either this or quit and he really, really can’t quit. So he spends three full days looking for every woman named Angela over fifty in Bexley only to be berated for actually talking to one of them and then he offers to look into a case about spiders that clearly upsets Jon only to get trapped in his flat by a zombie worm woman.
When he finally escapes, he takes a few worm corpses with him and he dumps them on Jon’s desk while he’s in the middle of a statement. Let Jon try and disprove that When he gives his own statement he makes special emphasis on reminding Jon how hard he worked to meet his exacting standards. He refuses to be yelled at for this.
Except Jon believes him. More than believes him, in fact. He offers Martin a place to stay. Of course that would be enough to ignite a crush in Martin.
As soon as they get to document storage Martin sits on the cot and begins to cry with exhaustion. He expects Jon to leave but again he surprises him.
“I-it’s alright, Martin,” he says awkwardly as he pats Martin’s shoulder. “You’ll be safe here and I’m certain Elias will respond promptly to my request for extra security.”
“Thanks,” Martin sniffs. He can’t remember the last time he cried in front of another person.
“Would...would you like me to stay until you fall asleep? If- if you think it will help.”
“Oh, er...no...I’ll be fine, thank you. You should be getting home, anyway. It’s Saturday, Jon.”
Martin blacks out as soon as Jon shuts the door to document storage. When he wakes up he finds his crush on Jon stubbornly still in place.
He can’t help himself after that. He starts taking special care of Jon in hopes of encouraging the kind man he saw that night into emerging. At the very least Jon doesn’t yell at him as much and he even thanks Martin for the tea he brings. It’s then that he notices other things about Jon, like how rattled he gets by certain statements and how he’ll often go an entire day without eating or drinking anything unless someone brings him something. That someone being Martin. He also notices how late Jon leaves, if he leaves at all.
It’s on one such night of Jon still being in his office at 11 o’clock that Martin knocks on Jon’s office door.
“Jon?” He calls gently.
“Hzzmt! Martin?” Jon responds, having been startled awake from dozing at his desk. “You should be asleep.”
“And you should be home.”
“I see your point,” Jon sighs. “I’ll finish up here and head home. Unless you need something?”
“Actually….I-I was thinking,” Martin beings. “Since I sort of kicked you off your cot...D’you want to come back to document storage with me? You know, get some sleep?”
“What?”
“Er...forget I-”
“The cot would be rather cramped with both of us,” Jon warns as he gets up from his desk. “If...if you’re sure you want me to join you.”
“Yeah...I thought you had work to do?”
“It can wait until morning, no use keeping you up longer than necessary.”
Martin only half regrets offering to share a bed with his crush. Jon was right, the only way to fit both of them on the cot is for both of them to sleep on their sides (or for Jon to sleep on top of Martin but even the thought has his face burning) and it’s difficult for him to fall asleep with Jon’s back pressed against his. It’s good to hear Jon fall asleep, though, and as time wears on it’s easier for Martin to goad Jon away from work to sleep a few hours.
The more of himself Jon reveals the harder Martin falls for him. Especially after Jon accuses him of being a ghost during the Prentiss attack. Even with the guilt Martin feels every time he looks at Jon mummified in bandages. That was Martin’s fault. If he had just paid more attention then he wouldn’t have lost Jon and Tim in the tunnels. He does everything he can to try and make up for it; despite Jon becoming more and more closed off by the day. Intellectually, Martin knows that Jon has gotten like that with everyone, but something deep down makes Martin feel like it’s his fault Jon’s gotten so cold. It doesn’t help that Jon seems to have gotten friendly with the policewoman investigating the murder of the previous Archivist. Tim even seems to think they’re having an affair which does wonders for Martin’s self-esteem. Jon wouldn’t be the first straight man Martin has ever had a crush on but Martin was pretty sure Jon wasn’t straight. Again, he wonders if he’s done something wrong to push Jon away.
After Jon stumbles out of his office covered in blood claiming to have had an accident with a bread knife Martin finds all the excuse he needs to regularly drag Jon to the canteen to make sure he eats something. The silences during those lunches are hard. They had eaten together before but now Jon wasn’t talking to him. The most Martin could get out of him were a few one-word answers. He tries not to think about how it reminds him of his mum.
“So,” he tries for the millionth time while Jon picks at his sandwich. “Did I tell you what happened while you were at physical therapy the other day?”
Jon doesn’t say anything but he looks up with a gaze that bores into Martin.
“Uh...A little girl came in alone with a statement, she must’ve only been eight years old,” Martin says. Jon looks at him with an expression that almost seems afraid. “Don’t worry, it recorded fine on digital. She walked right down into the Archive, walked up to my desk, and said ‘Excuse me. My name is Beatrice Walker and I’d like to make a statement about a supernatural occurrence.’ She sounded so grown up and she refused to leave until I had recorded her statement. Turns out her dad was using the library for research and she had just wandered off.”
“What was her statement about?” Jon asks to Martin’s surprise.
“Oh, a hamster with mysteriously changing spots.”
“Ah,” Jon replies thoughtfully. “Not much need for follow-up there, I suppose.”
“Not unless you really need me to track down the shop where her parents picked up the new hamster.”
He catches the briefest of smirks from Jon before the conversation dies again.
After that Jon’s coldness and paranoia comes out in the form of a screaming accusation over letters Jon found in the trash. Martin barely manages to make it to the bathroom before he bursts into tears after coming clean about his CV. Tim thankfully doesn’t check on him while he silently curses his taste in men. Jon doesn’t meet his eye for the next week in what he bitterly hopes is guilt. He does seem slightly more willing to talk with Martin at lunch, though.
Then Jon goes missing. After trying to get Martin and Tim to go home early because Jon was feeling under the weather; he disappears. Not before apparently bludgeoning someone with a pipe and isn’t that exactly what he and Tim need to see as soon as they get back from a two-week kidnapping by a spooky door monster?
With Sasha gone, Jon missing, and Melanie King being suddenly hired by Elias, whatever’s left of Martin’s relationship with Tim deteriorates. More so when Martin becomes the only one in the world to believe Jon could be innocent. It’s probably that that makes the police detective “investigating” Jon so actively hostile toward him. Apparently, people say he and Jon are “close” and that probably only means the lunch thing but he wants to imagine it’s something more. Like people are somehow picking up that Jon likes him back.
When Jon comes back to confront Elias it’s all Martin can think to do to fall back on his tea-making. He ducks into Jon’s office with a piping cup of the overly sweet tea he spent months perfecting to Jon’s taste and finds him with his face buried in his one non-bandaged hand.
“Jon?” He calls as gently as he can while he closes the door behind him. “I brought you some tea.”
It’s when Jon looks up that Martin notices the bloody mess down the front of his shirt.
“You’re hurt. Let me go get the first aid-”
“No!” Jon interrupts frantically. “Just...Could you just stay with me for a moment?”
Martin acquiesces and they sit side by side on the sofa in Jon’s office in silence until Jon starts sniffling into his tea. He offers Jon a hug and Jon all but dives into his chest to cry. It’s the saddest most broken thing Martin has ever heard and it’s all he can do not to pull Jon into his lap and curl around him protectively.
“Martin...I-I...I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “For everything. For Sasha and Prentiss and...and for the way I treated you. You didn’t….no one deserves that.”
“None of that was your fault and I sort of deserved it. I didn’t actually know what I was doing.”
“You didn’t deserve it,” Jon insists before going back to quietly crying into Martin’s jumper. Martin doesn’t respond. He can’t recall the last time someone’s apologized to him. At least not like that. He’d been told off most of his life for not doing things up to people’s standards. A few people over the years had told him he didn’t deserve it but Jon was the first person to apologize. No wonder Martin was falling in love with him.
Damn it.
Cuddling doesn’t become a regular occurrence for them by any means but Jon begins doing more to seek Martin out after that. They eat lunch together more often and Martin stays up late to talk to Jon while he’s abroad. It drives home how deeply buried into Martin’s heart Jon has become. Especially after he comes back after going missing for a month and has the audacity to joke about being moisturized by a clown mannequin for a month.
He wonders if Jon feels the same way. Sometimes Jon will smile shyly at him, and he can almost believe that Jon would be interested in a relationship if the world wasn’t ending. The last time they speak before the Unknowing they’re in document storage.
“Are you ready?” Jon asks as he shifts nervously.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Martin signs. He heard what happened to Melanie. He knows what’s likely to happen to him. Some small part of him is screaming to just tell Jon his feelings like it’s the climax of an action movie.
“Stay safe,” Jon says.
“Come back,” Martin replies. Jon offers him a hug. It’s no movie kiss but it allows Martin to hold Jon as close as possible. Jon himself is hanging off of Martin’s neck and it feels like a final goodbye.
Then Elias confirms what Martin has always suspected deep down. That his mother never loved him or if there was a time when she did, she stopped when his father left. Even after everything. After he spent years taking care of her. After he had to quit school to care for her. All she ever saw was his father. All his transition did was to remind her further of how much he looked like his father’s son. At least it was worth it. To distract Elias so Melanie could find evidence to arrest him.
Then Peter Lukas shows up and reveals that Elias planned to get arrested. Worse than that, he offers Martin a promotion of sorts.
Then they get the news from Yarmouth. Tim’s body is found in a charred heap, Daisy is missing, and Jon is dead in all but brain activity. At least Basira is physically alive.
Martin spends as much time as he can next to Jon. He’s used to loving someone who can’t love him back. Maybe this is all he’s destined for. Love unrequited. He talks to Jon’s dreaming corpse. Tells him about his day, reads him poetry, even a statement, but nothing draws Jon out of his coma.
Then his mother dies. He barely has the emotional strength to mourn her. Instead, he scatters her ashes and mourns his childhood lost to trying impossibly to earn her love.
After the Flesh attacks, Martin makes a decision. He’ll join Lukas. It’ll probably lead to his death but what did that matter? His mother was gone and didn’t care about him anyway. Tim and Sasha were gone. Jon was basically gone. Basira and Melanie were the only people left that he vaguely cared about and by doing this he could at least protect them.
He visits Jon one last time in the hospital. He’s still covered in wires and his eyes still flit around violently behind his lids as Martin sits down next to him and takes his hand.
“Hey Jon,” he says quietly. “I...This is the last time I’m going to see you...Probably ever. I know, I know old dramatic Martin surely he’s exaggerating. I’m not. The Institute is in danger and...I have a way to keep Melanie and Basira a little safer, so I’m doing it. I just came by one last time to say...Jon, I...I love you. Goodbye.”
He gets up and presses a kiss on a part of Jon’s forehead not covered in wires before leaving. It’s alright that he doesn’t say it back. No one ever says it back to Martin.
When Jon wakes up everything becomes that much harder. Suddenly he had a reason to live and the way Jon pursues him makes him almost believe...No, even completing the thought would be dangerous for all of them. Jon trusts him enough not to be constantly badgering and that makes it worse. When Jon is there the Lonely makes Martin resent his presence and when Jon’s gone Martin resents his absence.
The final, most excruciating pain is when Jon comes after him in the Lonely. He’s excepted his fate in the chilling numbness of the Lonely. Maybe that’s why he says it. The certain, inevitable rejection would be numbed utterly. So he says it.
“I really loved you, you know?”
And Jon looks broken. Even after he rips Peter’s statement from him. Even when he reaches for Martin’s face with hands that seem far too warm and makes him See. Knowing Jon loves him isn’t like “knowing” his mother loves him. Instead of a lie born in Martin’s mind to stamp down the fear of rejection, it’s a reality pouring from Jon’s mind mingled with Jon’s fears of rejection.
Jon’s hands still feel too warm compared to the icy chill of the Lonely as he leads Martin out. Still, he refuses to let go all the way through the tunnels, the Institute, talking to Basira, packing at each other’s flats, and on to the train. The way to Daisy’s safe house feels like a blur and when they finally arrive it’s all Martin can do to remember to take off his binder before collapsing into bed with Jon’s warm arms around him.
He wakes to Jon’s quiet crying. The awful, stifled thing that breaks Martin’s heart.
“Jon,” he whispers.
“Martin? Did I wake you? I’m sorry, I’ll-”
“It’s alright, Jon,” he assures as he swaps their positions so Jon is tucked firmly against him. Jon makes another broken noise and Martin can’t stop himself from crying, too.
“I-I’m here, Martin. You aren’t on your own,” Jon soothes and Martin almost has to laugh. They lay crying and comforting each other until they both fall back asleep.
When they wake up properly they take stock of the safe house’s pantry and make a list of things to pick up in the village after breakfast. Martin gives in to the temptation to buy a new notebook to try and write poetry in. They have enough canned food to survive to the next ice age so they pick up perishable items like milk, bread, butter, and eggs. Jon also picks up fresh peaches and a box of Martin’s preferred tea. It’s easy to pretend like they going on a normal shopping trip as they walk up and down the aisles to check things off their list.
They return to the cabin and settle in. Martin sits on the sofa and tries to write out a poem while Jon tries to read a book from Daisy’s personal collection. After a while, Martin beings to feel Jon’s gaze on him.
“Is there something on my face?” He tries casually as he’s met with an expression he’s never been on the receiving end of.
“I was just thinking about how much I love you,” Jon sighs. Martin can’t stop the noise that comes out of him. All his life trying to earn love and Jon just says it while Martin’s thinking of a synonym for ‘yellow.’
“I-I don’t expect you to reciprocate,” Jon says quickly, his soft expression suddenly turning worried.
“But I do.”
“Oh…Oh!”
“Yeah.”
Jon starts giggling and it’s impossible for Martin not to follow suit until happy tears stream down both of their faces.
#the magnus archives#martin blackwood#jonmartin#jonathan sims#I wrote a fic#this was supposed to be posted on valentines day
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CAN I ORDER A MEDIUM WELL STEAK WITH FRENCH FRIES AND GREEN BEANS? WITH SOY SAUCE(sero)?? (ur sero angst made me tear up)
Hi yes of course I’m so sorry that angst made you cry 😭 but hopefully this will change those sad tears to happy tears!
To others with requests I’ll get to those! I wanted to do something not sex related cause that’s what most of the requests are 😅
Pairing: Sero Hanta x fem!reader there was just no way
Enjoy your meal~
~~~~~~~~~~~
Sero Hanta. Two semesters away from being a college graduate and applying his techniques from all his schooling into his pro hero work: soulmate-less.
He remembers turning ten years old and seeing the magical red string on his pinky show up one day. The excitement he had at knowing he had a soulmate outmatched most of his friends at the time. He knew from his parents that little tugs on his pinky meant he and his soulmate were nearby and the tugs would increase, not to the point of pain, when they would finally meet.
He felt the first tug on his pinky a week or so after he got his string, telling him that there was indeed someone on the other end. But he never felt a tug after that. Sero didn’t let that shake him as he entered high school at UA.
However, it did start to bother him greatly.
One by one, it seemed that almost everyone he met in his three years there found their soulmate in someway or another. Whether it was in class, at a festival, at an internship, or even on the job. Everyone had someone. Except him.
Never him.
So by the time Hanta had turned 18, he had given up on his soulmate; the defeating blow coming after doing some late night pre-graduation research.
Some people don’t even meet their soulmate
Sometimes if there hasn’t been any tugging for awhile, their soulmate could be dead and the string fades away.
Sometimes soulmates aren’t romantic and the person on the other side meets someone who isn’t their soulmate; very rare but it does happen.
He wanted to vomit. There’s no way they’re dead otherwise his string would have faded. But it might as well be that considering the odds of him meeting anyone new. Sero exhales deeply as he shuts off his laptop and goes to bed.
Although, there was a slight spark of hope in him when he decided to pursue his hero studies further before becoming a full fledged hero by applying to a hero university. However with his luck, it seems entirely unlikely.
He slams his pillow over his head and tries to sleep away the sinking feeling at still feeling nothing on his pinky
***********
(Y/f/n). New hero law student at one of the best hero universities in the world and finished her undergrad early at the top of her class: soulmate-less.
She can remember the moment when she turned ten and that mysterious red string appeared on her pinky, feeling an immediate tug. It made her heart soar at the possibility of finding a love like her parents. However, her parents’ story wasn’t usual in the world of soulmates.
Her mother’s original soulmate had died in a strange accident and she thought she would never love again. But then a couple months later a new purple string showed up and she found (Y/n)’s father. An unusual story but a lovely story nonetheless. She feared that her soulmate would die and she would have to suffer the same fate as her mother.
But no such color appeared, and tugs on her pinky were all but non existent.
It was depressing for the budding young hero lawyer, but she knew what her goal in life was and that was to help heroes and civilians alike under the law. It’s not that she didn’t want to become a hero, but being a human lie detector she felt her quirk could be used to better society and help out the good people and put away the bad.
That’s why she knew she had to go to Japan, soulmate be damned!
She knew of All Might, the notorious school U.A. and their students, along with the infamous League of Villains. Nothing like that happened where she was from so everything about that intrigued her. So naturally when applying to finish out her law degree, of course she’d choose a place where all the action was! She couldn’t wait to get her hands dirty.
***********
With his final class of the day ending in the early afternoon, Sero left the lecture hall and went directly to the hero agency he’s been part timing at. Since he was still a college student, he couldn’t commit fully to being a hero so he took whatever patrol hours he could on top of the work he did (and don’t forget those smoke sessions to take off the load from school). He’s met with one of best friends from school, Kirishima, who also works at this agency established by his other best friend, Bakugou.
“You’re late, soy sauce face.”
“Sorry dude,” Sero chuckles, “couldn’t get on the early bus here.”
“Yeah yeah. Just get ready for patrol with Shitty Hair.” The ashy blond scoffs and walks off, returning to a phone call he was having. Sero rolls his eyes as he heads to the locker room to change into his hero uniform, ignoring the twitching of his fingers. It’s still so weird how some people do and don’t recognize him at school as Cellophane. But that’s the way it has to be.
“Hey man, I don’t know if Bakugou told you this but we’re getting someone new.”
Sero pauses in putting on his hero outfit to look at the taller and buffer male. “Oh really? Another sidekick?”
“Actually no,” Kirishima beams, “some kind of lawyer type. It was decided after some hero managers and publicists were talking and the need for a hero lawyer, even one in training, would be good for us.”
“I totally get it,” Sero agrees, “considering Bakugou’s temper? Not surprised at all.” He finishes getting dressed and places his belongings in his locker. “So when are we meeting the unlucky bastard that has to look after us?”
“Either today or tomorrow. Either way, I think it’ll be great. You studied some hero law stuff, yeah?” Sero nods and the two men head out for patrol. “Maybe you two can talk and have something in common! You may never know.”
They turn the corner and begin on their way. “I appreciate you looking out for me, but I’m okay not having to meet my soulmate. I’ll just be single forever. It’s all good.” His fingers start to burn in a weird way but he shrugs it off.
The red head grunts, unconvinced. “Sure man. Whatever you say. Let’s hope patrol is relatively quiet, yeah?”
“Heh, when is it ever?”
*******
After getting settled into the apartment, you had gathered your belongings and hurriedly made your way to the nearest bus stop. You had your first meeting with the new agency you would be working at for hands on experience with hero law. It wasn’t necessary for your degree, but when you saw the opportunity arise, you grabbed it.
Once aboard the bus, you sit down by the window and mentally go through your bag. You have your school credentials, any and all letters of recommendation, your resume and CV, plus a good head shot should they need it. You are on your way to meeting one of the rising heroes of Japan, Dynamight, at his agency. Since it’s a relatively popular agency filled with well known heroes, it makes sense that someone like you would be needed. You had wondered why they didn’t have someone who was already a certified and bar-passed lawyer, but you’re not going to complain.
The bus ride went along pleasantly, not really looking at the people around you and focusing more on how to sell yourself to your upcoming clients. You’ve met with your advisor and she is letting you work with her firm via the hero agency. You’re pretty excited to say the least. However, the whole time you’ve been in Japan, a little over a week, you’ve been feeling that pull on your pinky.
Not wanting that to ruin your mood, or your bus ride, you ignore it and think it’s one of those rare phenomena where it’s moving wildly on its own. You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you hadn’t realized the bus had stopped moving and the passengers were all sitting closer to you.
The poor bus driver shakes in fear and the two villains that have entered the bus, striking fear into the passengers. You spot the supposed leader who’s yelling into someone’s face when you gather your courage and stand up.
“Hey! Leave them alone, they’re not doing anything to you!”
Your loud voice caught the attention of the villains, one whose quirk has some sort of telekinesis as you feel your body being unknowingly brought toward the front of the bus.
The man has his face up close to yours and you can smell the nicotine on his breath, making you cough. “You got something to say to me little girl?” His cohort comes over to inspect you carefully, noting the money and jewelry they’ve already procured and you eye them sharply.
You cough in his face and continue, “yeah I do. What makes you think you can just come up in here and harass us?” You motion your back hand to the scared passengers to leave, remembering the doors in the back. You also didn’t know that the bus driver had already pinged for help from the nearby agency, alerting its patrolling heroes.
******
Both Sero and Kirishima feel their phones buzz with an alert. They look to each other and start heading toward the coordinates provided. There was a bit more sense of urgency to this for some reason that Sero can’t quite place.
The closer they get, they see some fleeing civilians. Kirishima stops one and politely asks her what’s happened.
“These two villains jumped on the bus and hurt the bus driver! They were stealing things until this young woman stood up to them. She told us all to leave but I’m not sure what’s happened to her!”
The two heroes nod and follow the direction of where the lady pointed. They run off toward it and stop a block away to assess the situation. Only a handful of cops are around as it has quickly turned into a hostage situation. The woman earlier was right, and that makes Sero’s heart race in fear.
“I can sneak up to the side of the bus, head toward the back to check for an entrance.”
Kirishima hums and adds, “right, I can attack from the front, provide a distraction and if necessary close combat.” He breathes to collect himself, knowing they’ve done this a thousand times over. “Let’s do it.”
Sero nods and leaps into position. He takes his place on the side of the bus without alerting the villains or the hostage. The cool metal of the bus helps him to clear his mind and think carefully. His nerves must be getting to him because his fingers, more like his pinky, can’t stop twitching. He’s done this before, so why is this time different.
He almost gives up his position when he hears your voice.
“You’re just some low life petty criminals. I’m not too worried about you two.”
There it is. That little tell when you know you’ve got someone in your clutches. The mind based one seemed to falter and you knew he was going to act out in anger. And you were betting on it.
“Shut up stupid woman. You think I won’t do something to hurt you? Take you down a peg, huh? Because you look like you need to be tamed.”
Your time practicing cross-examining is paying off because that last statement terrified you. Villains are shameless and you know they’d have no problem defiling you in front of the police here; plus you were interrogating him. It got the people out and if you die saving some people then it would have all been worth it.
The two young heroes listening for the right moment give each other a look and both move in to do their parts. The loud red head getting the attention of the villains using his charm and personality to distract them while Sero sneaks into the bus, light on his feet to avoid detection.
Something in you sends shivers down your spine because you don’t even have to see him to know that he’s there. You, almost on instinct, duck down in order for Cellophane to apprehend both criminals and for Red Riot to keep them face down on the floor. You feel tape being wrapped around you and pulled toward the back, but the sensation should’ve come from your waist, not your pinky.
“Are you okay? That was extremely brave standing up to those guys and getting everyone out.”
His voice was unexpected but it drew you in, almost like it’s something you’ve been waiting for your whole life. The hero in question looks down at you and you feel him flinch. He takes off his helmet to get a good look at you and the moment seems to go on forever.
It’s not until you look down at your pinky’s is when it finally hits the two of you.
You had met the other end of your soulmate line. And there he is. His eyes go wide and you immediately get lost in their shape and shade. Is this the feeling your mother described when first meeting your soulmate? Magical? Indescribable? Gosh what is he feeling?
“You, you’re....”
“My soulmate...” you finish.
Sero hadn’t realized that he still had you wrapped in his tape from rescuing you but he doesn’t want to let you go. He spots the tears falling from your eyes and gently places his hand against your cheek and wipes them away. It’s like his hand was made for holding your face and he doesn’t want to let go. He wants to keep holding you like this because for so long, he had resided to being single but, you’re here and you’re real.
“Yo Cellophane, put your helmet on we’ve gotta talk to the police and- oh my god no way.”
The two of you are interrupted by Red Riot who had returned to check on his friend after he hadn’t come out with you, the hostage, yet. The two of you look to the buff man and then back at each other, and cute and embarrassed chuckle leaving your lips.
“I guess we should leave, I have to give a statement and all.”
“And get your injuries checked. Sorry if I pulled you too hard.”
“No no it’s fine! Uh, what’s your name?”
“Ah, uh, Cellophane. But my friends, and now you my soulmate mi amor, can call me Sero Hanta.”
He kisses your hand then and if you were in a courtroom you would’ve lost the case at the way your composure is failing you. It takes everything in you to not faint, because everything you had read was true about the first time you meet your soulmate. Out of this world.
You’re brought back to reality, when a police officer comes in asking what the hold up was. You two were forced apart and Hanta reapplied his helmet. Even with it on, he can’t stop looking at you. And now that his soulmate is finally within arms reach he doesn’t plan on letting you go.
The four of you, including Red Riot and the cop, walk out of the bus. The cop directs his attention to you and gruffly asks. “So what were you doing on the bus? Why did you stand up for those civilians when you aren’t a hero?”
You looked at him incredulously. You understand he’s doing his job but what kind of question is that? “I was on my way to a meeting at Dynamight’s agency. I was preparing my reading notes as their knew hero lawyer and representative and I saw this happening! How was I supposed to stay back and do nothing?”
As the cop writes down some of your statement, the other two accompanying you are dumbstruck. “Wait, Kiri starts, “you’re our new lawyer?!”
Your eyes widen when you put two and two together. “No way, you work for him?”
Sero lights up, “work for him? We’ve been best friends since our days at U.A.! Who would’ve thought I would meet you today huh?”
You turn to him again, still shocked at the mere audacity of meeting your soulmate today, or ever. Stuck in a war with yourself, you reach out and tangle your fingers with his, just to have his touch once more. “I had given up on finding my soulmate,” you softly admit, afraid to meet his eyes.
He takes his helmet off again, away from prying eyes and focuses his attention on you. “So did I, corazon.” He had placed a hand onto your cheek like earlier and rubbed comforting circles on your soft skin. You hadn’t realized how close the two of you had gotten until he whispers, “May I?”
You nod, and gently lean into his kiss. If meeting each other was the appetizer, then kissing for the first time was like a meal and dessert. It was so chaste, yet so filled with emotions locked away that are now begging to be overflowed into the light. You two pull away, looks of awe and maybe love adorn you faces as you attempt to lean in again.
“I hate to break up the love fest,” Kirishima interrupts looking bashful. “But we’ve got some paperwork to fill out and all that so, we gotta go. And hey, we can take you to the agency after we’re done at the station, I’m sure Dynamight’s eager to meet you.”
Despite everything that had been happening, you had completely forgotten about your meeting, and hurry to call your new employer. You’re on the phone for only a couple minutes, but it gives Kirishima and Sero time to talk.
“So, who would’ve guessed you finally meet your soulmate today huh?”
“Yeah.”
“And I was right there too!”
“Si.”
“Are you listening to me?”
Hanta was listening, but was too busy looking at you and already thinking that he can’t wait to fall in love with you.
~~~~~~~~~~~
#answered#the diner#sero hanta#sero hanta x reader#sero hanta x you#sero x reader#sero x y/n#soulmate au#this is actually pretty cute
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Little Leather Boots
Pairing: Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey/Reader
Words: 4,442
Warnings: Reader is pregnant and is very worried about it, mentions of abortion but it doesn’t happen, lots of tears, a very worried and loving Dio, mention of c-section, I think that’s it folks.
Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell
After one too many wild nights with your goth boyfriend, you somehow wind up pregnant, which you didn’t even think was possible considering that you and Dio always used protection. But here you are, pregnant and terrified that Dio ‘I hate kids’ Morrissey will be pissed. No matter what happens, it’s going to be a very long nine months.
You woke up to an empty bed, as was the unfortunate usual. Your body ached in all the right places as you slid into Dio’s shirt from last night and your own pyjama bottoms. The apartment was cold, too cold as you headed to the bathroom, yawning widely.
It was only when you opened the bathroom door that the nausea hit you like a truck. You immediately felt your knees go weak, gagging and dry heaving over the sink. When you resurfaced, you rinsed your mouth out and met your own teary eyes in the mirror. Wiping away the evidence, you picked up your phone, trailing slowly to the kitchen. Grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, you called into work, taking the day off.
The next thing you did was text Dio. He was, understandably, worried. You told him you felt better, and that it was probably just a stomach bug or something. Nothing to worry about, nothing to come home early for.
Truthfully, you were feeling better. Too better. Settling on the couch, you googled problems where nausea was a symptom. Not much came up that was possible. A stomach bug, but nausea was your only symptom. Same went for the flu and all the other illnesses. And then, right at the end of the list, was pregnancy.
You scoffed it off, tossing your phone down. As much as Dio complained in the first few weeks, he always used a condom. Always. You’d asked him once if he ever wanted kids, and his response had been a steady fuck no.
But then you began to think about it harder. You’d always had irregular and unpredictable periods, so the fact that you hadn’t had one in a while wasn’t super suspicious, and your weight had fluctuated, but that was because Dio insisted on a cherry pie last week. No, you couldn’t be pregnant.
“But what if,” you whispered out loud, looking at the wall and sinking into thought. “It would explain a lot.”
Deciding to prove to yourself that you were absolutely not pregnant, you stood and put on a decent pair of pants, scooping up your wallet and heading to the CVS.
The closer the drug store got, the more nervous you became. What if you were pregnant? Would you get rid of the baby? Would Dio dump you if you didn’t want to? Who would take care of you and your baby?
Shaking your head, you walked into the CVS and took a breath. This would be very easy because you were definitely not pregnant.
You grabbed a three pack of tests and stood in the self checkout line, hyperaware of the heavily pregnant woman behind you. As you rang up your purchase and dug around in your wallet, you heard her sigh. “I remember when I bought mine.”
“Pardon?”
“Sorry!” The woman said sweetly, smiling at you. “I was just remembering when I bought my test for my baby. It’s a magical day.”
You tried to smile back. “Magical.”
The woman nodded. “Does your husband know?”
“I’m not married,” you breathed, staring down at the CVS bag with watering eyes. “He hasn’t, I don’t know if he’ll,”
“Oh sweetie,” the woman said, coming closer and putting an arm around you. “I'm so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
You shook your head, wiping away tears. “It’s not your fault,” you said softly. “You didn’t know.”
The woman sighed, rubbing your arm. “Darling, go home, drink some water, and take the test. I promise, no harm can come from just knowing.”
Nodding, you took your purchase and waved to the woman. She waved back as you began your short walk to your apartment.
Taking her advice, you drank water, read over the instructions in the pregnancy test box, and immediately moved everything into the bathroom.
As soon as you shut the door, you called one of Dio’s friends. Raven was a close confidant of yours and could probably be trusted with this secret.
“Yo,” Raven said as she picked up.
“Raven I think I might be pregnant.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Raven asked. “Did you take a test yet, are you sure?”
You sat in the bathtub, shaking your head. “Not yet,” you mumbled. “I bought a few.”
Raven made a noise of sympathy. “Dolly, do you want me over there?”
“Yes please,” you said, hating how weak you sounded.
“Be there in five.”
The apartment was deafeningly silent for five minutes before Raven forewent knocking and just opened your front door. “Dolly, where are you?”
“Bathroom!”
Raven’s concerned face appeared in your bathroom door. She took in the likely pitiful sight of you sitting in the bathtub and immediately joined you. “Hon, you’re a hot fucking mess in here.”
“I know,” you said, head in your hands. “The tests are on the counter. I haven’t taken them yet.”
“You should,” Raven said, standing and passing you one of the tests. “Worst case scenario, you are knocked up and Dio gets mad, so I kick his ass and take you to my place.”
You snorted and stood. “Thanks Rav,” you said softly, taking the test. “Now get out of the bathroom.”
Two agonizing minutes later, you’d washed your hands and taken the tests, not necessarily in that order. Raven knocked, and you opened the door for her.
“Can I be the Godmother?” She asked, leading you out of the bathroom and away from the tests that need a few minutes.
“What?”
“If you are pregnant,” she explained. “Can I be the Godmother?”
You sighed. “Raven, I’m not even sure I’m going to keep the baby yet if I’m pregnant.”
Raven dramatically rolled her eyes. “Killjoy,” she groaned, falling into your couch. “Okay, better question. How’re you gonna tell Dio?”
It was something you hadn’t considered yet. “Uh.” You fidgeted with a pillow, trying to think. “I don’t know. Eventually, I guess he’ll find out when I start looking like I swallowed a planet, but, well, I dunno.”
A timer dinged in the background, and Raven shot to her feet. “Do you wanna look first or should I?”
“You do it,” you said, suddenly feeling like your mouth was full of cotton. You watched Raven open the bathroom door, pick up the test, and stare down at it.
“Hey Doll,” she said, leaning her hip against the bathroom door frame and holding up the test. “Positive. All three of them.”
Your breath stopped. “Really?” A horrible euphoria spread through your body as you took the test from Raven. Sure enough, it said positive. “Oh my god.”
Raven left shortly after that, apologizing that she couldn’t stay longer.
“You call me if Dio flips his shit,” she said, hugging you close. “If he won’t take care of it, I promise I’ll be the best damn auntie in New York.”
You smiled, waving to her as she went. Sitting on the couch, finally alone, you picked up your phone and dialed a familiar number.
“Baby?”
“Hey Mama,” you said, twisting a necklace Dio had gotten you last year. “I have something important to tell you.”
Your mother gasped. “Are you engaged? Did he finally ask?”
You sighed, smiling to yourself. Despite her original hang ups with your goth boyfriend, she’d come to love Dio like he was one of her own kids, and had been pestering since your four year anniversary to get married. “No Mama, he hasn’t proposed. But I, well, I might need to come spend some time with you. For a while.”
“Oh darling, what happened?”
You took a breath, trying to force the words out of your mouth. “I’m pregnant.”
There was silence on the other end. “Mama?”
“Baby,” your mother said, voice thick with tears. “Baby are you happy?”
You began to cry too. “Yes Mama, I think I am.”
Your mother let out a breath. “That’s all I care about. If you’re happy, I’m happy. Oh your father is going to be thrilled! Does Dio know?”
“Not yet,” you said, nerves returning. “I don’t know when or how I’m gonna tell him, but I’m just terrified he’ll be mad.”
“Mad that you’re pregnant with his baby?”
“Mama, he hates kids,” you reminded. “That’s why I might have to come stay with you. Raven offered to help me, but if things go south, I want you.”
Your mother was quiet for a second. “Of course. Should I tell your father?”
You smiled. “Please do. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“You call me as soon as you tell him, no matter what. I want to congratulate or yell at him.”
Laughing, you said goodbye to your mother and hung up, leaving you alone to figure out how you’d break the news to Dio.
He came home hours later, finding you on the couch watching bad reality TV. “That bad, hm?”
You groaned. “You have no idea.” You’d cleaned the bathroom and hid the evidence, stashing one pregnancy test in your bedside table and throwing the other two out.
Dio chuckled, falling onto the couch and kissing you. “How’re you feeling?”
“Better,” you lied. “Raven came around and kept me company for a bit, and then my mom called because apparently we hadn’t talked in a while.”
“Did she ask if we were engaged?”
“What do you think?” You laughed, leaning against Dio’s chest. “Oh! Guess what!”
“Hm?”
You pulled out your phone, scrolling through Instagram until you found a specific photo. “My old high school best friend is pregnant!”
Dio squinted at the photo, and you smiled, handing him his glasses from the coffee table. He was technically supposed to wear them all the time, but he said they ruined his vibe so he never actually wore them.
“Which one is this?” He asked, adjusting his glasses and looking at you.
“Bridgit, the cute blonde who accidentally started a fire in the gym.”
Dio nodded. “She’s huge.”
You snorted, taking your phone back. “She’s eight months pregnant, Dio. Of course she’s huge. I dunno how I’d handle being that pregnant.”
“Yeah well,” Dio said, standing. “You’ll never have to.”
That sent a bolt of fear through you. Resting a hand on your stomach, against the nearly invisible baby you were protecting, you spoke with a certain caution. “You really don’t want kids, do you?”
“We’ve had this talk,” Dio reminded, sitting back down with a drink in hand. “No, I don’t. I’d be a shit father.”
“Aw, I think you’d be great at it,” you said, trying to ease your nerves. “Dio Morrissey, holding a tiny little baby, I can see it now.”
Dio chuckled, nudging you. “Where’s all this coming from? We haven’t talked babies in a year.”
You shrugged. “I’m not exactly getting younger,” you mumbled. “And when Mama called, she asked me when I was planning on having kids.”
“Oh,” Dio breathed, putting an arm around you. “What’d you say?”
“I-“ you faltered, meeting Dio’s deep brown eyes. You hoped, very fleetingly, that your baby would have his eyes. “I told her,” you said slowly, realizing it was now or never. “I told her I was already pregnant, Dio.”
It was like time stopped. Dio’s eyes went wide, his entire body stilling. “You’re kidding,” he said, so softly you almost didn’t hear. “I don’t, I mean, baby why are you crying?”
You wiped your eyes, chest heaving. “I love you so much, and I don’t want to leave, and I don’t want to get rid of the baby, and I’m scared Dio!” You stumbled over your words, still sobbing.
Dio shook his head, pulling you close. “I would never make you leave,” he promised. “Not over this.”
You went still, relaxing in the familiar arms. “You- you’re not mad?”
“Mad?” Dio pulled away, cradling your face in his hands. “No! I could never be mad at you! It wasn’t your fault and you had no control over any of this.”
Then, you asked the all important question. “Are we going to keep it?”
Dio took your hands, squeezing them tight. “Do you want to keep it? I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to, okay? Think about yourself, not me. What do you want?”
You thought about it, finally coming to a conclusion after a minute. “I want to keep it.”
“Okay then,” Dio said. “I guess we’re having a baby.”
The rest of the night was a whirlwind. You called your mother, and she and your father congratulated you and made you promise to come visit soon. Raven was also called, swearing violently at Dio until you reassured her that he was okay with the scenario.
After dinner, you made tea for yourself, standing in the kitchen in Dio’s pyjamas. He came up behind you, spanning his hands across your belly. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” you said, leaning into his touch. “Your hands are freezing.”
You two spent the better part of the night like that. You resting and Dio always with a hand on your belly, thumb stroking over the dip of your waist or the divot of your hip bone.
“You sir,” you said when you finally got into bed and Dio put a protective hand over your waist. “Are obsessed.”
“I can’t help it,” Dio purred softly, kissing your forehead. “My darling is going to be a mother, and I’m going to be a father. I’m not obsessed. I’m protecting.”
You smiled. “Same thing.”
The next month was surprisingly hard. You weren’t really showing, but Dio rubbed your belly anyway. He was surprisingly physically affectionate, and did something that shocked you to your core.
He quit smoking.
For almost thirty days, you and him struggled in your own ways, always there to hold the other up as Dio’s hands shook and you dry heaved literally every morning.
Finally, you had a doctor’s appointment. You’d see your baby for the first time and find out how far you were. As you wiggled into a shirt, you turned in the mirror and gasped. “Dio!”
Dio came rushing into the bathroom. “What’s wrong?”
You pressed a hand over your belly. “Look.”
Coming up behind you, Dio grinned when he saw what you were seeing. A baby bump. An unmistakable baby bump.
“She’s real,” Dio breathed, and you grinned.
“What makes you think I’m having a girl?”
Dio smiled, kissing the back of your neck. “I want a girl.”
You laughed. “Dio, the sex of our baby is not dependent on your desires.”
“But it should be,” Dio said. “Because I want a girl.”
“Why?” You asked, tugging on a sweater and covering the bump.
Dio shrugged. “I had to look after four brothers growing up,” he explained. “I kinda want to take care of a baby girl now.”
You smiled. “You’re a sap.”
“I’m your sap,” he corrected, stepping into his boots and zipping them up. “C’mon, we don’t wanna be late.”
The trip to the doctor was odd. Your doctor was a lovely older man who, while he was a bit blunt, was soft spoken and genuinely seemed to care.
“And there’s your baby,” he said, turning the screen so you could see. He adjusted the transducer on your belly and you took a big breath, finally seeing your baby.
“She’s beautiful,” Dio murmured, squeezing your hands.
“They.”
“She.”
“Dio!” You said playfully. “We don’t know the sex yet!”
The doctor chuckled, moving the transducer a bit. “Looks like everything is developing as expected. You’re about twelve weeks, or three months along, although it’s hard to tell because you’re not sure of the date of conception. But, if you’re at three months now, then your due date should be mid-April. However, if the baby is a week or two early or late, we shouldn’t worry.”
“And when can we learn the sex?” Dio asked, still holding your hands.
“We can typically start to see it at about 18 weeks, but we’ll take a look at 22 just to be sure we can see it,” the doctor said, putting the transducer down and wiping your belly off. “We can schedule your next appointment for the sex of the baby now, if you want.”
You and Dio both nodded. “Thank you so much doctor,” you said as you tugged your shirt back over your stomach.
In the next ten weeks, you and Dio began to get ready for a baby. Your old spare room in the apartment that no longer smelled like cigarettes was cleared out and turned into a beautiful nursery. Despite your insistence that it couldn’t be painted black, Dio still managed to put his touch in it. By the time you were getting ready for your second appointment, the nursery was basically done.
“I think we did good,” you decided, looking at the nursery as you went to grab Dio so you wouldn’t be late. The walls were a smooth cream color, with the same hardwood as the rest of the apartment covered in a soft black rug. The furniture was all black, with white detailing on the crib’s blankets. Dio had found a gorgeous Edgar Allen Poe blanket that he’d insisted upon, and that was how the classic gothic literature theme came to be. After the blanket came a mobile that had ravens, and then a few picture frames with Dio’s favorite Poe passages.
“Me too,” Dio said, standing from where he’d been attempting to read a book and coming over to kiss you. “Ready?”
You nodded. “Absolutely. Mama’s still mad we aren’t having a gender reveal party.”
“Gender is a construct,” Dio reminded you with a soft smile. “As long as our bean is healthy, I will be happy.”
Grinning, you made a face as the baby kicked you. “Ow! Tiny motherfucker’s already got your punches,” you grumbled, rubbing a hand over your belly.
Dio chuckled. “Can’t inherit an ability to throw a punch.”
“Yeah, well,” you said lowly. “If this kid keeps this up, I won’t have much by way of internal organs when we’re done here.”
Your second appointment was less stressful than the first. You were out of the danger zone with the risk of miscarriage, and today was all about being happy.
“Alright,” the doctor said, pressing the transducer to your belly and beginning to move it around. “22-ish weeks, how’re we feeling?”
“I’m getting six hours of sleep a night and eating almost double what I was last year,” you said, staring up at the ceiling. “I feel terrible.”
The doctor smiled. “And you, Mr. Morrissey?”
Dio shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to living with the world’s crankiest pregnant person.”
“Bitch,” you said under your breath, smiling while you did it.
“Mhm,” Dio kissed your hand, the warmth of his face a weird contrast to the cold of his lip piercing. “Love you too.”
The doctor turned the screen towards you. “Alright. Are we ready?”
You and Dio both nodded.
“So, there’s the head,” the doctor said, pointing to the screen. “Hands, feet, everything is developing normally, and it looks like you’re having a little girl. Congratulations.”
You and Dio walked out of that appointment and immediately stopped for ice cream, at your request. You eagerly texted everyone, giving them the news, and Dio handed you a cup of bright pink ice cream. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” you said, taking a bite of the ice cream and sitting on a bench, rubbing your belly. “So, you must be over the moon. You’re getting your little girl.”
Dio grinned, leaning against your shoulder. “Baby, I have never been happier.”
Three weeks later, sometime during month 6, you started to feel the euphoria die. You were in pain, and lots of it. Every day, the baby seemed to find new ways to make you suffer. Shifting around and sitting practically on your bladder at one in the morning, giving you hellish cravings that made Dio gag more than once, and for a whole week you had nausea so powerful that you could barely eat. No matter how many times Dio kissed over the now obvious swell of your belly, you felt a creeping horror at the stretch marks you were now sporting.
“Oh my god!” You hissed, crawling out of bed and swearing violently as you began to make slow laps around the apartment, trying to ease your pain. “Fuck!”
As you trailed from the kitchen to the bedroom, you felt something warm trickle down your leg. Looking down, a gripping terror took your heart as you realized exactly what had just happened. Three months early, your water had broke. You felt your breath quicken as you did the only rational thing. You screamed for Dio.
“Shane!” You yelled, the panic forcing his given name out of your mouth. “Fuck! Shane!”
Dio came skidding out of the bedroom in all his half asleep glory, eyes wide. “What’s wrong?” He said, voice urgent. “Babe? Talk to me!”
“Water,” you gasped, reaching out to him. “Shit. Water just broke.”
“What?” Now Dio’s panic met yours, but he was significantly better at keeping a level head. “Okay, not freaking out. We are not freaking out. Look at me. That’s it, there we go.” As he talked, he led you from the puddle of amniotic fluids on the kitchen floor to the bedroom, folding up a towel and guiding you to sit. “I’ll call the doctor, okay? You just relax.”
Dio scooped his phone up, anxiously dialing the number for the office.
“Hello? Yes, my partner’s water just broke. Yes, they’re about twenty five week. Of course. Yes. Definitely. Okay, thank you.”
He hung up, sitting next to you and putting a careful hand on your back. “Babe. C’mon, we’ve got to get to the hospital.”
You nodded, standing and gripping Dio’s hand as he led you to the car, laying the towel down in the passenger seat and helping you sit.
“Baby, listen to me,” Dio said softly, taking your hand as soon as he was in the car. “The doctor said you’re probably going to be okay, and so is the baby. 25 weeks is super early, but there’s a high chance you’ll both be okay.”
“Okay,” you said, placing your hands over your belly. “It seems she’s also inherited your dramatic flair.”
Dio chuckled. “Close your eyes. We’ll be there before you know it.”
Despite the late hour, the hospital was alive with activity. A kind nurse led you to the delivery wing, gave you a hospital gown, and promised to get the doctor.
He was in the room within minutes, checking your dilation and sighing. “So,” he said, standing. “We’ve got options here. Option one, a natural birth. Technically possible, but risky. Option two, c-section. Less risky, but it leaves a scar and you’d need more recovery time.”
It wasn’t a hard choice for you. “Whatever’s safest for the baby.”
The doctor nodded. “Okay. C-section it is. Mr. Morrissey, if I could ask you to leave the room.”
“What?”
“With the baby being this early, we don’t want anything to complicate the procedure,” the doctor explained. “Please, I promise we’ll get you if anything major happens.”
“Wait!” You shouted, gripping Dio’s hand. “He can’t stay?”
“I’m sorry,” the doctor said. “But no.”
Dio’s hands were shaking as you kissed them. “Darling, I’ll be fine,” you promised. “Dio, hon, look at me. Just go wait outside. I’ll yell if I need anything.”
Dio turned to the doctor after kissing you and rasping out a soft farewell. “You come get me if anything goes wrong,” he said softly, so you wouldn’t hear. “And if you have to choose between one or the other,” he glanced at you, knowing you’d actively disagree with what he was about to say. “You save my partner, okay?”
The doctor nodded. “Of course,” he said. “You can wait right there. This won’t take long, I promise.”
Apparently, the doctor was a big fat liar. Almost an hour later, Dio was leaning against your mother’s shoulder, half asleep. It had taken so long that they’d had time to show up, which wasn’t helping Dio’s building anxiety.
Finally, finally, a nurse opened the door. “Morrissey?”
Dio jumped to his feet, despite almost falling asleep mere minutes before. “Yes?”
“The procedure was a success,” the nurse explained. “Both your partner and your daughter are okay. Would you like to see?”
Dio’s heart pounded as he entered the room. You looked completely exhausted, pale and sweaty but alive. You smiled upon seeing him, weakly gripping his hand. “Told you,” you mumbled.
He grinned, but his attention was soon grabbed by the tiny baby in the room. She was connected to more wires and tubes than you were, but Dio didn’t care. He put a hand against the glass of the chamber she was in, tears starting to flow. “She’s perfect.”
“She is,” you agreed, looking at your baby. “Is my mama here?”
Dio nodded, still entranced by the baby. “Welcome to the world,” he said softly. “Athena Morrissey.”
You and Athena were in the hospital for another month, Dio visiting daily to see you and hold you upright as you saw your little girl. She kept getting stronger, defying every odd and surprising you whenever she could.
It was hard, the first few weeks home. Athena would be in the NICU for a bit longer, until she was healthier, but Dio told you that this was just a chance to truly prepare for the little bundle of joy.
The day you took her home was a tear jerker. Dio insisted on carrying her through the door, the tiny little thing swaddled in his arms as he gave the dead asleep Athena an apartment tour.
That night, you smiled, watching Dio away back and forth with Athena in his arms. He’d abandoned his jacket for the comfort of something softer, Athena’s white onesie a contrast against his black shirt.
“Y’know how, almost ten months ago, I joked that I could totally see you holding a baby,” you said softly, standing and moving to Dio’s side.
“Yeah?”
You smiled, stroking a finger down Athena’s cheek. “You look so natural like this,” you said. “You’re gonna be an amazing father.”
“And you will be an amazing mother,” Dio said, kissing you. “Can you grab something out of my pocket?”
Nodding, you reached into Dio’s pocket and stopped when your fingers brushed something small and metal. “Dio.”
“Darling.”
You pulled a beautiful ring out of his pocket, your emotions getting the better of you. “Are you proposing?”
Dio grinned. “Figured it was time. Is that a yes?”
You nodded. “Yes. Dio Morrissey, I cannot wait to marry you.”
#nypd blue#shane 'dio' morrissey#dio morrissey#dio morrissey x reader#dio morrissey x you#Pedro Pascal#My writing
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false alarm // pierre-luc dubois
Summary: you and Pierre have a serious talk about your future after a false alarm
a/n: this is so short and I kind of hate it but I need to get back into writing lmao
You couldn’t stop your hands from shaking as you made your way up to your apartment, gripping the cvs bag tightly as you did so. How could you of let this happen? You were only 21. How was Pierre going to react? Hell you weren’t even dating really, you were just sleeping together. These thoughts clouded your mind, the sound of the elevator doors opening snapping you back to reality. Your period was five days late. You brushed it off the first few days, knowing that your tracking app was sometimes off by a day or two anyway, but when you went out with your friends last night and they all immediately reminded you that a). It was never late and b). You’d been spending most of your nights underneath a certain Canadian hockey player, your mind went into overdrive. The idea of having a baby so young scared the crap out of you, so you stopped by your local cvs on the way home from work to grab some pregnancy tests just to make sure.
A small smile found its way onto your face at the sound of soft barks coming from inside your apartment as you unlocked the door. Your corgi running up to you the second you slipped inside, the bag in your hands was abandoned on the table as you knelt down to greet him, scratching behind his ears and giving him small kisses like you did every time you came home from work.
“Hey” you jumped at the deep voice coming from your couch, your eyes widened slightly at the sight of Pierre who had made himself very much at home. He smiled at the confused look on your face, throwing his phone down as he stood up. “Your roommate let me in before she left, told me to tell you she was staying at Will’s tonight”. You nodded at his explanation, though Pierre’s face contorted with what could only be described as concern when you didn’t give him a verbal response. Usually you would’ve respond with a witty comment about how he couldn’t even wait until you invited him over, but you were just...silent. “Is everything ok?”
You couldn’t help it then, the tears that had been welling up in your eyes since you saw the judgmental look the cashier gave you began to fall down your cheeks. “Woah” Pierre’s hands were cupping your cheeks before you realised he was in front of you, “no, don’t cry” his voice was so soft that it only made you choke out a broken sob. He brought your head to his chest, wrapping his arms around you as you clutched his T-shirt in your shaking hands. You could feel soft kisses being pressed against your hair and his hands gently rubbing along your spine to calm you. Eventually you pulled away, going to wipe your tear stained cheeks but Pierre beat you to it, his thumb swiping them away. “What’s going on, y/n?”
“I’m late” was all that you could get out, a small sniffle following as you looked over to the bag of pregnancy tests on the table.
“Late for what?” You could tell he was confused but once you finally looked him in the eye, his face fell “oh”. The silence that followed was deafening, but eventually he spoke up again. “Are those...?”
“Yeah, I was going to take a few just in case” he nodded slowly, clearly still in shock but then one of his hands was grabbing the bag from the table and the other was held out in front of you, his silent way of communicating he wanted your hand in his. You hesitantly placed your hand in his much larger one whilst giving him a questioning look.
“Come on” he began to lead you to your bedroom, “you’re not doing this alone”.
You grabbed the tests heading into your en-suite to take them whilst Pierre waited patiently on your bed, when you were done you washed your hands and threw away the packaging before laying the tests out on the bathroom counter and setting a timer on your phone. You debated staying in the bathroom until the results came through, but you realised you were just hiding from the inevitable conversation you and Pierre needed to have. What are we going to do if it’s positive? Pierre had his head in his hands when you unlocked the door but he still smiled at you when he looked up, motioning for you to sit in his lap. He rested his head on your shoulder as you did so, head falling against his chest as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. It was moments like this that made you think, maybe he wants more?
“How long?” He brushed the hair out of your face causing to look up at him, you mumbled out something about three more minutes and he nodded softly in response. “It’ll be ok, you know? We’ll be ok and we’ll get through it together, I’m not going anywhere ok?”
You smiled up at him nodding as a few tears returned to your eyes at his sweet words, that was all you needed him to say. “What if it’s negative?” You couldn’t help but wonder out loud.
He chuckled softly, “you still won’t get rid of me, even if we’re not having a baby yet”. You raised your eyebrows at his statement, not being able to miss an opportunity to chirp him.
“Yet? Have you been making plans that I don’t know about Pierre?” His cheeks flushed as he looked anywhere but you, you let out a giggle that any other time you would’ve of cringed over but the moment was too soft for you to care.
“I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t crossed my mind, but I was thinking we could probably start with a proper date first” now it was your turn to feel the heat rising to your cheeks, the two of you had never actually been on a date, up until this point you thought you were just fuck buddies, friends with benefits at most, but you couldn’t deny that you had great chemistry but in and out of the bedroom.
“I would like that, but we should probably see if I’m going to be pushing a baby out of me anytime soon before we make any plans” he snorted at your words, following behind you as you went to turn off the timer that was now screaming at both of you. You let out a shaking breath, staring at the three tests that were facedown on the counter.
“I’m right here remember, whatever they say” Pierre’s arms wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as you flipped the first test over.
Negative
Then the second.
Negative
Then the third.
Negative
“Oh thank God” you couldn’t help but let out, Pierre chuckled from behind you pressing a kiss to your temple as you relaxed into him. You turned in his arms, leaning up to kiss him which he returned. He quickly slipped his tongue into your mouth and you almost moaned but stopped yourself, pulling away and reaching into one of drawers before things could ge too heated. He let out a laugh when you pushed the handful of condoms into his hands, “can’t forget these anymore, I’m not going through this again”.
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you’re in my veins, you fuck | oneshot.
summary: college!bucky barnes.
pairing: bucky barnes x reader.
word count: 2315.
wanings: angst, light smut, cheating, swearing.
author’s note: italics are flashbacks.
masterlist.
They first met when (Y/N) was doing voluntary work in the college’s shelter, she did love animals and it would look good in her CV once she finished college. Being a vet was something she’s dreaming to do since she was a little girl.
He, on the other side, was there just to get something good done to able to continue in the football team. His coach has made him clear, if he did not keep his grades up and did something good, beneficial for the community as he put in words, he could kiss goodbye to the football team and therefore, his scholarship.
She did not like him, he had a reputation around college. Typical football guy, arrogant and a heartbreaker. Yeah, she couldn’t stand that. Mostly everyone on the football team was like that, thinking they were above everybody else. Like football was the most important thing in the world and as they were the players, they were entitled to do whatever the fuck they want whenever they want.
When he stepped in the shelter she couldn’t keep a straight face, disgust was written all over her features. He was handsome, breathtaking even. Muscular, blue-grey eyes that could burn holes in your soul and that brown hair. But he was nothing more, everybody knew he had a way with the ladies and guys. Using them as he pleased. Something easy for him it appeared, but not capable of loving or keep an emotional bond with anyone.
She was his supervisor during the weeks he’ll be working, of course, she would. Just her damn luck. She talked to him just the necessary keeping a cold and distant façade. He did not anything wrong, he seemed interested in the work they were doing for the animals and did not mistreat her in any way, but it didn’t matter to her.
Slowly, she started to warm up to him. He got something the dogs love, always revolving around him and he, well, he seemed excited every day to be around them. Petting them, taking good care of them. And everyone in her social circle knew she was lost when a guy was good with animals.
So she decided to give him a chance and started to know him. She also began to notice the little things about him too, how his eyes would light up when a puppy went running towards him or when she happened to be near him. She learnt that the scholarship was the only way he was able to attend college and he did it only to have a future so he could help his family but he hated studying.
She learnt he was very clever but lazy, so when terms were approaching she helped him study. Long nights studying and he bringing her coffee and her favourite pastries. Sometimes he would even get Chinese or Mexican take-away, her favourites. She understood that when he closed his eyes running his hands through his face, he was lost in the data and needed a break. She would then just closed the books and talk to him about everything and nothing.
They grew closer and closer, spending more time together. And she fell, fell hard. She realized this has happened when one day at the shelter, Bucky arrived running like crazy and took her in his arms spinning her around. Soft giggles escaping her mouth.
“I did it! I passed this stupid econ test. And it is all thanks to you (Y/N)” He said softly cupping her hand while smiling brightly at her.
She looked down blushing and biting her lower lip. He sighed and lift her chin “You’re gonna be the death of me doll, you know?”
The next thing she knew was they were kissing. And she realized she has fallen for the stupid football guy. She loved him.
That was their start and from that moment everything seemed fine. They started dating shortly after their first kiss. The news spread around campus, (Y/N) became the target of many things among jealousy and bitching comments about how Bucky would end up dumping her in a few weeks. He was a player after all.
But Bucky proved everyone wrong, their relationship was only getting stronger as her love for him. Well, if anyone asked she was lost, she did not know how to describe it. And for her, there lied the beauty of it. Love was crazy, love did not make sense and she did not make sense when Bucky was around her.
She had a few boyfriends in the past, but nothing compared to Bucky or the feelings he woke up on her. (Y/N) was sure that he was her other half, it was clear to anyone in their social circles truth be told.
(Y/N) knew Bucky was in her system and even if what the future held for them was nothing, he would always be in her. She was sure about it.
However, sometimes, the spell of love breaks leaving nothing but anger and sadness. And (Y/N) was not able to run away from it when happened.
Bucky’s team had won the championship and of course, there was a party going on to celebrate. She was late to it but needed to be there as soon of possible, she had promised him.
But Nat, one of her dearest friends, being the little shit she was made her go for a few drinks earlier with the excuse she needed to get loose.
So when finally she arrived at where the party was held she was already tipsy. Not tipsy, drunk. So drunk that her head was already hurting.
Her eyes searched the place for Bucky but he was nowhere to be found. Letting a groan she approached his best friend, Steve. He was nervous when he saw her but put a good face, smiling to her and telling her he didn’t have a clue about Bucky’s whereabouts.
She smiled suspiciously at him and turned around in search for him. Nat was long gone, probably doing shots.
Searching the area she almost gave up but something caught her eye when she was heading to the bathroom. In a dark room, there was a girl, one of those bitches that made comments about Bucky cheating on her and dumping her. She was giggling while whispering things to someone.
Suddenly she started moaning, a guy between her legs. She couldn’t tear her eyes from them, a dreading sensation forming in her chest the more she kept looking.
When she reached her orgasm the guy got up kissing all her body slowly until their lips joined together. That was the moment the bitch opened her eyes and find hers, an evil smirk forming in her lips as the guy kissed her neck and then she moaned it, loudly enough so she could hear it “Bucky.”
She couldn’t believe her as she stumbled with something. The noise made Bucky to look up and he wished he would never have to see again what was in front of him, (Y/N).
(Y/N) crying silently and trying to control her breathing, anger and disgust the only emotions in her once, loving eyes.
Bucky let go the girl and walked towards (Y/N), he knew he messed up badly. “(Y/N), doll. It is not…”
“What? It is not what it seems, isn’t it? Really Barnes?” She shouted angrily as her first connected his jaw. “You’re a fucking bastard, you heard me?”
Tears were forming in Bucky’s eyes. “Please doll, it was a mistake. I drank too much and then some guy gave us some pills….”
(Y/N) widened her eyes “Do not make any excuses for your behaviour James. Not only did you fuck that bitch but also doing drugs? Really? This is the death of you, you’re just breaking yourself. Nobody is helping you.” She said in a cold tone, not angry nor other emotion. She was void. “And I hope you can get it in your drunk and high head that you and I are done. Do not ever try gazing at me or speak to me again you fuck.” (Y/N) finished slowly and then walked away.
It’s been months since that night and Bucky was broke. He messed up, he just broke one of the best things to ever happen to him and what for? To get laid with some of the college’s sluts. Nobody knew how to help him and he started to lose it, he was kicked out of the football team. His performance was not what it was expected and his grades dropped as well as the long drunk nights.
And (Y/N)? Well, she became void. Not emotions on her, only darkness around her heart. She was still doing the same, but not emotions. Her friends were worried, but no one could snap her out of it.
Bucky and (Y/N) crossed paths during those months and even though Bucky tried to approached her she would not even look his way or any of his friends. Bucky cried himself most of the nights while (Y/N) just spent a lot of time at the shelter, puppies were the only thing nowadays that could make her feel something.
One night Bucky had enough of this situation, something needed to be done and said. So with an almost empty bottle of Jack he walked towards (Y/N)’s. Probably she would close the door at his face or if Nat was there, his ass would be kicked. But he had to try.
Nat opened the door, she looked exhausted. But she smiled softly.
“I was wondering when you would appear Barnes.” She looked at him from head to toes. “You are a mess, but she is worse.” She sighed making space for him to enter the flat.
“Is she here?”
“Nope, but she is about to arrive from the shelter.” The memory of her playing with the puppies made Bucky smiles as tears rolled down his cheeks.
“Look Barnes, I don’t like you. Not after what you did to (Y/N) but I’m guessing you are the only one who can fix this, her. She… I just want my friend back so, do what you have to do to bring her back or I’ll kick your ass. And I mean it” She spoke as she left the apartment.
Bucky just stood there awkwardly finishing his bottle of Jack. He started to get anxious, what if she did not appear? What would he say? Nat’s words were resonating in his brain when (Y/N) opened the door.
That was it, it was his only chance.
“Hey” He whispered softly attracting (Y/N)’s eyes to him but there was nothing on them.
“What are you doing here?” She calmly said and looking around, likely looking for Nat.
“I just wanted to see you, talk to…”
“I made myself clear that night Barnes, can you not remember?” She cut him.
“I remember but this…” Bucky spoke motioning the both of them. “This needs to stop. I messed up and I’m sorry, you just don’t know how sorry I am. And I need to do something, I need to know that you’re okay.”
(Y/N) scoffed at his words. “Really? Well, this is how I am because of you James, you should be proud of yourself.” Her tone was getting angrier.
It was a start, she mentioned his name and her façade was breaking. He knew her, and he knew he needed to keep pushing.
“How am I supposed to be proud (Y/N)? I can’t look at my own reflection, I broke the purest thing I’ve ever known. You’re not yourself, you don’t even look like that anymore. I want you to smile, to look carefree as you used to do. I don’t care if you don’t speak to me ever again.”
“You can’t have it all Barnes. You tried, remember how it ended?” She said as she stepped closer to him. “With your head between some slut’s leg and not mine.” Venom dripping from her words.
He stood his ground looking at her eyes. “I know that (Y/N). Damnit! Of course, I know that. I only dream about your face when you discovered me. The only thing I seemed to smell is that fucking coconut perfume you always wear. You’re everywhere but you are not yourself.”
“And whose fault is that bastard?” She screamed hitting Bucky in his chest. He made it, her façade was broken. “I trusted you, I loved you. I love you so much that I cannot breathe sometimes, that I cannot sleep. It is like you’re a curse, some type of venom. I cannot move on from you. Don’t you get it? You’re in my veins, you fuck.”
She was sobbing now and that broke Bucky even more if possible. Wrapping his arms around her he said softly. “I know and I hate myself every second of everyday doll. I lost everything that I thought was important but the truth is that they were just a hobby ‘till you came. You made everything brighter as if I was blind before and now I could see all the true colours. I know what I did and I’m not asking for you to come back to me. I am here so you can forgive yourself and move on doll.”
(Y/N) was now crying harder than ever, she still loved him so much. There was no doubt in it. Her fists clenched to Bucky’s t-shirt and her forehead pressed to his neck. Bucky allowed himself to smell her scent once again, maybe this was the last time.
His arms were still around her fragile figure, hugging her tightly. Bucky kissed her head and whispered sweet nothings into her ear trying to calm her.
That was how they remained for minutes or hours, neither of them could tell but it was the most complete they’ve felt in months.
#persephonesinfernoswriting#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes oneshot#au!bucky#au!bucky barnes#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#marvel fic#the winter soldier fanfic#the winter soldier fic#the winter soldier fanfiction#au!college#bucky fic#bucky fanfic#bucky fanfiction#bucky oneshot#the winter soldier oneshot#bucky!college#bucky barnes!college
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Questions
Request: “can I get a jj x reader where y/n is being abused at home and jj finds out when he’s not suppose to. Y/n likes to hide it so when jj asks she denies. She comes up with lies and when jj tries to get the group involved they believe y/n’s lies. Jj tries to convince them but y:n breaks down and is denfensive at jj. But finally admit. Anyway I love ur work sm💜💜”
Warnings: Mentions of abuse. It’s kind of detailed in the beginning and even though it’s mostly just yelling and verbal fighting it can be triggering so please proceed with caution.
Waking up sore was definitely not how you planned your day to go. Every day since last Friday, it seemed, the aches in your body were getting worse and worse. The pain itself you could handle pretty easily, some pain killers in the morning and maybe a couple more throughout the day and you’d be set, what you really couldn’t stand was how you had come to be so sore.
It was an accident, honest to God. You went out with your friends and it had gotten late so you opted to have dinner with your friends. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, your father never cooked and your mother split when you were just a baby, so most nights you were left to fend for yourself. You had texted your father, letting him know that you would be out late but you had neglected to tell him you would be eating dinner with your friends on account of the fact that it just didn’t make sense to tell him, especially since he paid such little attention to you in the first place. So when you got home, stuffed with the free food that Kiara had convinced her parents to give you and the rest of the Pogues, to see your father sitting at the dinner table with what looked like a full meal for himself and half a sandwich for you, you knew that little good would come out of whatever you had just walked into.
“I got you a sandwich.” Was all he said. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. He hadn’t gotten you a sandwich, you knew him better than that. No, what happened was that he had only eaten half of his sandwich for lunch and had given you the other half after he realized he hadn’t thought to buy you something from whatever restaurant he decided stop by on his way home.
“Thanks. I’ll take it for lunch tomorrow.” You responded. You began making your way up to your room when his voice stopped you.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“No, I had dinner with my friends.” You braced yourself for the inevitable. You knew it was coming, the screaming, the insults. You had dealt with that on nearly a daily basis. On cue, your father slammed his fist into the table and began berating you about what an ungrateful child you were. About how he took care of you, clothed you, housed you, fed you. ‘Bullshit’ you wanted to say. None of what he said was true. You bought your own clothes with the money you made from the various odd jobs around town. You were the one who learned to cook so that you could scrape together just enough to get you through the day. And if it weren’t for your people skills and the money you were able to pull together, there wouldn’t even be a roof over your heads.
‘Whatever’ you thought. It didn’t matter, he would be done yelling soon and you could leave. But it didn't stop, not like it usually did. Today was just a bad day for him you guessed because it seemed like every move you made, every twitch and every glance, was somehow you showing him disrespect that he “didn’t deserve,” although you would have argued that he deserved much more than what you were giving him.
The panic really began to settle in when he began to move closer to you. Your father was prone to temper tantrums and you knew on days like this what would come next. You backed away the closer he came but soon found yourself trapped against the wall with nowhere to go. He reached you soon after, his hand enclosing around your throat and putting an uncomfortable amount of pressure on it before releasing you in order to hit you. First it was a slap to the face, then a punch to the gut that had you on the floor, then he began kicking you over and over and over again until you could see black spots in your vision and taste blood in your mouth.
‘Just a few more’ you kept telling yourself. How you wished you hadn’t. If you had stood up to him this time, if you had fought back, maybe you wouldn’t be laying in bed too sore to even sit up. If you had done something, anything, maybe the first thought in your head this morning wouldn’t have been about how to cover the bruises that were left on your skin.
As slowly as possible you sat up, gently moving your feet to the ground in order to stand and staying still for just a moment while your head stopped spinning. You definitely had a concussion, you concluded, but the only way to heal it would be with time. You slowly shuffled to your closet, grabbing a white long sleeved shirt and some capri shorts. Most of the bruises were along your torso, your limbs not bruising as easily with the exception of your bicep up near your shoulder. After you changed you quickly made your way to the mirror to make sure everything was hidden, opening the blinds when you found the light in your room to be too dim, although opening the blinds didn’t do much since your window was facing another building. You used what little light you could get to do your makeup, using a color corrector under your foundation to hide the bruises that were forming along your jaw and neck.
“It’ll have to do.” You said to yourself after assessing your work, then making your way to the bathroom in order to grab some pain killers from the cabinet. You quickly located a bottle of pain killers you had gotten from CVS and popped the cap off only to find it empty.
“Fuck.” You groaned, a vague memory of you waking up in the middle of the night and downing the last two in the bottle hitting you. Sighing, you headed back to your room, grabbing your jacket before creeping downstairs and out your front door, relieved to see that your father’s truck was gone. Down the street you could see JJ already waiting for you. You did your best to adjust your pace so that the slight limp you had developed wouldn’t be so noticeable while also keeping up speed so as not to arouse any kind of suspicion.
“Hey babe, what’s with the shorts?” JJ asked. You didn’t usually where capri shorts, in fact, JJ was pretty sure that you hated them.
“Laundry day.” You answered, grabbing his hand and pulling him in the direction of the Chateau. You were thankful that JJ didn’t question it, instead changing the subject to whatever scheme the boys had cooked up the night before. You tried to listen to what he was saying but in all honestly, you just couldn’t stop thinking about how much pain you were in. For the entirety of your walk you told yourself that you could make it to the end of the day and after JJ dropped you off at your house like he always did, you could go to the store and get some kind of over the counter pain killer. But the pain was beginning to be too much. There was a Walgreens just ahead of you and you couldn’t resist the urge to go in and get anything to ease your pain.
“Hey JJ?” You asked, gently grabbing his attention.
“What’s up?” He answered.
“Can we go in for a second? I have some stuff I need to get.”
“Anything for you, my love.” JJ said, bowing towards you in an attempt to make you laugh, smiling when he pulled a light chuckle out of you. His happiness quickly turned into concern when he saw you wince and hold your stomach.
“You okay?” He asked.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just um... period cramps.” You answered before ducking into the building. JJ almost believed you, key word almost. He knew your cramps got so bad sometimes that you couldn’t even get out of bed, but it was for that exact reason that he knew you were lying. JJ had your cycle memorized just so he could always be prepared for when your period started; the week before he would always stock up on snacks and make sure that the heating pad he kept at his place was always fully charged. JJ’s first thought was that he had forgotten, panic slowly rising in his throat, but he also had a gut feeling that that wasn’t the case. JJ checked his phone to settle his confusion and sure enough, your period wasn’t due to start for at least another couple of weeks. JJ followed you in, upset that you would rather lie to him than tell him something was wrong.
“What exactly is it you’re looking for?” JJ asked.
“Pain killers,” you answered.
“Why?”
“Like I said, cramps.” You had just turned down the first aid isle when you realized JJ was staring at you.
“Something wrong?” You asked.
“You’re not on your period.” You froze, mentally facepalming at how dumb of an excuse you had come up with. Of course JJ would have caught your lie, he had been so amazing whenever your period came around, always being prepared and willing to give you whatever you needed. You were hoping that JJ would have blamed his own carelessness on the matter, but what you didn’t know was that when it came to you, JJ always made a point to be deliberate with his actions.
You didn’t answer, not knowing what to say. Should you keep with the lie? Maybe say your period came early? Or should you come clean? But coming clean would mean telling JJ what really happened and you knew he would blame himself for it, even if he had nothing to do with it. Luckily, or maybe not so, you didn’t get the chance to respond.
“You’re in pain,” JJ took a step towards you. You almost took a step back but resisted the urge to last minute, memories of last Friday suddenly bombarding you. JJ slowly grabbed your hands.
“Where does it hurt?” He asked. You were surprised, having expected him to demand to know why you were hurt.
“My legs.” JJ raised an eyebrow at you, knowing that you were still hiding something.
“A-and my shoulders.” You didn’t dare look at him, afraid that you would break down if you did, instead deciding to fiddle with a piece of paper you had left in the pocket of your shorts.
“There’s more, isn’t there” It was more of a statement than a question but the way JJ said it, in an impossibly soft voice that he just knew you couldn’t say no to, made the thought of telling him all the places you were bruised seem less daunting.
“My torso kind of hurts too, and my jaw. Um, also my neck.” You whispered.
“Why?” Such a simple question, you thought, a simple inquiry that would be sure to break you both. You didn’t answer, eyes trained on the floor while you thought about how stupid it was for you to have believed that being honest with JJ about your pain was a good idea. You had kept it a secret for so long and in one moment of weakness you had jeopardized it. If you hadn’t been so weak, you thought, then maybe you could have avoided all this and just gone to the Chateau instead of being here practically breaking right in front of JJ.
JJ watched you chew your lip, seeing the conflict in your eyes and chastising himself for putting you in such a state of distress, but the pain he felt in that moment couldn’t compare to the pain he felt in the next. JJ saw the purplish bruises on your jaw and neck that were partially being hidden by your hair, the makeup you had used to cover it evidently being inadequate. It was enough to go unnoticed if people weren’t paying any particular attention but it wasn’t blended well in some places, making it easy to see the slight difference in pigment between the bruised and unbruised skin. By now JJ was shaking, gently holding your face so that you would look at him.
“Who did this to you?” His thumbs gently caressing your jaw. “Was it your dad?”
“No,” You slightly jerked away from his touch. “He would never do that JJ. I’m not being abused or anything I’m just clumsy that’s all. You know me, I never pay attention to where I’m going!” You laughed, hoping that it would be enough to make JJ believe you. He didn’t, not even for a second.
“Y/N if he’s hurting you, you have to tell me.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” you said, beginning to get defensive. “My dad isn’t hurting me JJ so stop with all the questions. And stop thinking that just because you’re my boyfriend means that I owe it to you to tell you.”
You were being harsh, you knew that, but you needed JJ to leave the subject alone and the only way you knew how was to get him to be angry at you. You hated it when JJ was mad at you but desperate times call for desperate measures.
JJ did let the subject slide on account of the fact that he knew if he kept talking he would definitely say something he would regret. He wasn’t going to let it go completely, though. If you weren’t going to tell him the truth then surely if he got the Pogues to intervene too, if he could somehow convince you that they were all on your side, then maybe you’d feel safer talking about it. What he didn’t understand is why you would be willing to protect someone who was causing you so much pain. He knew about your strained relationship with your father, that in and of itself already drained you so much, but your father physically hurting you was a whole other problem. Still, given how much you hated your father he didn’t know why you were protecting him, but that wasn’t what you were doing. In all honestly, you were ashamed that this was happening in the first place. You felt like you were a pretty independent and strong willed person and knowing that one man could render you so powerless made you feel weak. On top of that you felt like you were drained enough as it is, adding the fuss that you would have to deal with when your friends found out was just something that you didn’t think you had the energy to handle.
You quickly found some pain killers and paid, making your way towards the Chateau faster than you ever had. The walk with JJ had turned awkward and you felt like if you were with him alone for a second longer you would explode, so when you had crossed paths with Kiara and Pope you were glad to have someone else to break the tension. From then on it was smooth sailing for you, despite the fact that you spent almost the whole time avoiding JJ. You figured you were being subtle enough but the way JJ was practically glaring at you tipped the boys off.
“Hey, is something going on with you and Y/N?” Pope asked.
“Yeah it seems like she’s been avoiding you. Did you guys get into a fight or something?” John B added.
“I think Y/N is being abused.” JJ answered, not even bothering to sugar coat it.
“What?” Both Pope and John B spoke at the same time, eyes wide.
“She has bruises on her neck and jaw and earlier, before we came he, we stopped by Walgreens so she could get some pain meds. She lied and said she was on her period but it isn’t due for another couple of weeks.”
“Well, that could be anything JJ...” John B said, but it seemed like he was trying to convince himself as much as JJ.
“It’s not. I think I would know. We have to do something.”
“No, what we need is proof,” Pope spoke up. “Even if abuse seems like the likely reason for her bruises there's still a chance that it is something else. One of us could ask her.”
“Sure Pope, instead of helping my girlfriend, who just so happens to be one of your best friends, we should definitely just outright ask her if she’s being abused. She’ll be really eager to answer that honestly.”
“I meant that one of us should ask how she got the bruise. And unless you have a better idea I don’t see what else we could do.” JJ fell silent at that. He knew Pope was right, so the boys joined you, Sarah, and Kiara. The boys exchanged looks, trying to decide who would ask. JJ was already out of the question but they didn’t know if the question would sound more innocent coming from John B or Pope.
“Hey Y/N, what happened to your jaw?” Pope finally asked.
“Yeah, I thought your neck looked a little off too. You okay?
“Oh, yeah! You guys remember a couple days ago when I fell off the boat? Turns out I hit my chin pretty hard and it caused this ugly ass bruise to pop up. I tried to cover it but you know how crappy the lighting in my room is.” You laughed. Now that you had calmed down, lying came easy, and having had a couple of hours to prepare your answer made it all the more easier. Your friends seemed pretty convinced by your answer and you were satisfied that you had avoided the subject.
“What about your legs then?” JJ asked, pushing you. “And your torso, hm? What about those?”
“Uh, well we did do a lot of swimming-”
“No more than we usually do. Plus you’re on the swim team, you don’t get sore from swimming.”
“What are you implying JJ?”
“I’m implying that you’re not telling us the truth.” By now both you and JJ were on your feet and breathing heavily. You were angry and panicked that JJ was pushing you so far. JJ was desperate to help you and even if he was going about it the wrong way he didn’t know what else to do.
“Okay guys just calm down,” Sarah said, gently grabbing your arm and pulling you to sit, John B soon doing the same with JJ.
“Y/N is JJ right?” Kiara asked. You picked up the pillow that had fallen to the floor when you stood up, picking at a loose thread at one of the corners and refusing to answer. It had been a tough day already and right now you felt like you would break at any moment, but you were exhausted. Exhausted from fighting with JJ and from having to lie to your friends and completely defeated by the fact that this had become your life.
“Y-Yes,” You admitted, finally letting the tears fall. “He just- he just get’s so mad sometimes and he can’t control it and I get it because there’s no one else to take it b-but I don’t know what to do because I can’t leave, I have no where else to go.”
You were sobbing at this point, holding onto the pillow in your lap like a life line. JJ was the first to react, practically jumping over the coffee table to hold you. The rest of the Pogues soon followed, hugging you while their hearts broke more and more with each sob you emitted.
“You’re wrong,” John B spoke after a few moments. “You'll always have a place here.”
“I can’t just leave.” You responded, taking deep breathes to calm down.
“I know it’s hard,” JJ stated. “But we’ll be here for you okay? We’ll call Child Protective Services and sort this all out so you never have to see him again.”
“B-but what if they take me away? I don’t even know of any other family I have.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” Kiara said, gently squeezing your hand. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Yeah. And anyway we could always bribe the officer.” Sarah agreed, trying to lighten the mood which caused you all to laugh.
“It’s settled then! You’ll stay here with me and JJ and tomorrow morning we’ll all go to your house together to grab your stuff, okay?” John be asked. You thought it over. This, this was your light at the end of the tunnel. An end to the constant fear you felt. You’d thought of a moment like this a million times over but each time you always figured that you’d have to refuse it. But now that you were here, faced with the decision, you knew you’d be an idiot to say no. A smile slowly spread across your face.
“Okay.”
#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank x y/n#jj outer banks#Outer Banks#outer banks one shot#outer banks x reader#outer banks imagine#pogues#obx pogues#outer banks pogues#obx#obx x reader#obx imagine#obx one shot
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