#this was supposed to be for the rerun but it took longer than expected | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tteokggukk · 3 years ago

Text

waiting game → jjk | ✏️ eighteen: back to square one

masterlist | prev | next

It’s been over a year since you last visited his place.

The last time you were here, Jungkook was just minutes away from turning of age. Both of you were equally nervous at the time—him being tense about the hint for the soulmate mark that was supposed to appear, and you feeling frantic over finally confessing your feelings for him. By the end of the night though, neither ended well: Jungkook found no mark and you were later on rejected by him, and since that incident you swore you’d never come back to this place, that you wanted nothing to do with him, and that you’d stop all contact and cut him out of your life.

And yet here you were, back at Jungkook’s apartment.

It’s funny, you thought for sure being back here would bring back that miserable and embarrassing night, but instead you were hit with a wave of nostalgia and a certain warmth in your chest that you haven’t felt in a while. Before anything else, this place has always been your safe space, and the stronger memories of you being happy here definitely outweighed that one horrible night.

Looking around, you found yourself amused with how little has changed— the collection of speakers he had were still kept on the same shelves, his collection of blank canvases that were stacked up on one side of the room, and the old frames of your pictures together were still hung up on his wall. A smile crept up on your lips as you walked slowly, staring at each frame carefully and recalling each event preserved in those shots.

Somehow, although he was only footsteps away in his kitchen cooking up ramen for you two to share, you missed him.

Even though you and Jungkook were slowly patching things up and going back to the way things used to be, it still doesn’t change the fact that a long time has passed since you two had been left alone together in close quarters. Sure, you two were talking a lot more now and you both have gone out together, but conversations held through texts and hangouts held in public were far more different than spending time indoors with just the two of you.

Minutes later, Jungkook came back holding a tray with two bowls and a potful of ramen. As he sets the tray down in front of you for you two to share, you felt your phone buzzing endlessly in your pocket. Not even seconds later, Jungkook’s own phone starts buzzing continuously.

For the vast majority of the time, you both spent the hours talking about your plans for the showcase with only minor attempts at small talk and jokes. As expected, your conversations were filled with nervous laughter and a few awkward silences, but at least you two had more progress with your plans. You tried practicing a few songs together, but eventually you both agreed that none of the songs you had done so far made enough impact. When you ran out of ideas, Jungkook proceeded to make more lists of song suggestions for your performance, and when he ran out of ideas, you went ahead and made your own lists.

Two hours later, you had about twenty lists—all of which were made to avoid more small talk.

Jungkook stared at the lists scattered all over his coffee table without blinking. You were sprawled out on his couch while he was slumping on the floor, his back against the couch. You were both clearly burnt out with twenty lists but still zero choices. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head, catching your attention.

“Are you hungry?” Jungkook shifts his gaze from the papers to you, his bright, doe-eyes meeting your tired ones.

“Kind of,” You sat up straight and hugged your knees, “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook stands up from the floor, dusting off the back of his pants as he got up, a joking smile on his face, “Do you wanna eat some ramen?”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. You just had ramen with him two hours ago, and he had six cups of ramen while he stayed up with you last night. How much ramen could this boy actually eat? “I’m sorry, Hoseok told me to say no when a guy asks me that,” You joked, faking a sad expression on your face.

Jungkook raises a brow and flops himself on the couch to sit across from you, crossing his arms, “You didn’t say no to me last night.”

“Well now I am.”

“That’s not fair,” Jungkook’s let’s out a laugh, causing his body to lean forward as before turning himself to face you, “Ramen’s all I have.”

“Why am I not surprised?” You shook your head, your eyes crinkling as you laughed. You couldn’t see it, but the sight of your laughter brought out Jungkook’s adoring stare. Feeling proud of himself, it felt like a big achievement getting you to laugh like that for the first time tonight, as if he had just broken an invisible barrier between you two. He missed all of it—he missed the sound of your laugh, being able to get close to you, hanging out with you like this. Just like the old times.

Jungkook smiles and looks away, afraid you’d catch him staring at you before getting off the couch, “I’m kidding. Of course I’ve got other food.”

“You do?” You asked tauntingly.

“Of course I do, I’m friends with Jin. Come on, let’s go have dinner.”

Without a moment’s thought, Jungkook holds his hand out to take yours. The moment your hands meet, a heavy beat begins drumming in your ears, taking you a second to realize that it was the sound of your own heart that you could hear as it did several leaps in your chest. While Jungkook led you to his kitchen where you two decided to cook something up together, you tried your best not to seem at all fazed as you kept a neutral face. When he eventually had to let go of your hand, a part of you wanted to hold onto that warmth, but you tried to push the thought away.

Although you initially came over to talk about what your plans were for the showcase, it now seems as if you two had no further plans to discuss anything. It was already eleven at night, but neither of you appeared to be aware of it as you were cuddled up underneath the sheets while watching old reruns of a TV show you and Jungkook both loved. You had no idea how you ended up lying this close next to him—there must’ve been something in the food he had cooked up that somehow made you two lose any form of awkwardness between each other. Jungkook had to thank Jin later for the recipe.

“Look, it’s the part where they’re trying to pivot the couch,” Jungkook laughs as he points to the screen, his hand squeezing on your shoulder to get your attention while your head rested on his arm.

You didn’t bother to look. It was a scene you’d already watched countless times to cheer you up months ago. Instead, you looked up to see Jungkook, his face illuminated by the light coming from the television and a table lamp. You could feel his chest vibrating while he laughed, your temple resting on him made it easy for his deep chuckle to send vibrations through you. From where you were, his lashes looked much longer. His eyes were all crinkled from laughing and his mouth was curled up, showcasing the mole underneath his lips. The proximity between you two was so close, the scent of his freshly laundered clothes was enough to embrace you.

He’s so pretty.

He was all you wanted to stare at, but your eyes were beginning to betray you as you felt your own lids getting heavier and heavier. Staying up last night was a terrible idea after all, and though you wanted to stay up longer to be here with him, your body couldn’t help but melt into the soft mattress. Jungkook’s arm around you wasn’t helping you to fight the urge to stay up, either.

It took a while for Jungkook to hear it, but later on he began to notice the sound of soft snores next to him, only for him to find you all dozed off on his arm. Nervously, he debated whether or not he should get his arm off and wake you up to bring you home. But, as he mentally went back and forth trying to decide on what he should do, he instead found himself studying your features and smiling to himself at the sight of how peaceful you looked.

It would be a crime to disrupt your sleep, he thought.

Tucking strands of your hair behind your ear, he let himself have a few moments to cherish the little details on your face before turning the television off and slowly covering you two with a blanket.

You were having such a good night’s rest, until you tried shifting your position as you slept—on your waist was a slight weight that held you close and left you unable to move.

As your eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room, all you could see was Jungkook sleeping soundly in front of you. Trying to ignore the dangerously erratic beating in your chest, you attempted to level your breathing so as to not wake him up. All the tiredness you had felt earlier were all gone now, you were fully aware of Jungkook’s face just being several inches from yours while his arms kept you close in front of him.

You couldn’t lie, there was a small urge to caress his cheek until you heard the sound of your phone buzzing from behind you. Carefully, you reached out for your phone which thankfully was only inches away from your head.

Was it actually 3am?

“Who is it?”

The sound of Jungkook’s sleep-filled voice causes you to freeze, making you drop your phone on your face.

“Oh shoot, sorry,” He apologizes, bringing his palm to your cheek in an attempt to soothe the minor pain caused by the drop of your phone screen, “Didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“I’m okay, did I wake you?” You asked softly, noticing how his eyes were still squinted as he tried to open them fully.

“No, don’t worry,” Jungkook grins sleepily, “What time is it?”

“It’s 3am,” You told him.

“Oh.”

Reality began sinking in as you realized you were still here and it was this late. You knew he was too nice to wake you up, which is probably why you were still at his place. You began to mentally prepare yourself saying goodbye to him at this hour. Expecting Jungkook to get up, he moves the arm resting on top of you, setting you free from his being held into his arms. You tried to shift to the other side of the bed to get off, but Jungkook reaches for the lamp instead of getting up.

“Want me to turn this lamp off?” He asks, “I didn’t turn it off earlier in case you woke up and needed it.”

“What?” Your eyes narrow as you look back at him over your shoulder.

“What are you doing? Come back,” He almost pouts. His voice was too raspy for your own good, you knew you would do about anything he asked you to right now. He could even ask you to clean his bathroom at this hour and you’d probably do it.

Jungkook, probably half-awake, places his hand on your waist. This prompts you to move closer to him and back to your old position where you were facing him. He hums to himself when he’s got his arms wrapped around you again, but you tried to knock some sense into him.

“Jungkook, it’s late,” You whispered.

“I know,” he hums, his eyes almost shut.

“I should leave.”

Now his eyes were wide open. He lets out a small sigh as he finally meets your gaze, “Do you actually think I’m going to let you leave at this hour?”

“I don’t wanna inconvenience you or anything—“

“You never do. what would inconvenience me is you losing sleep when you could be resting right now,” He tells you softly as he closes his eyes. You don’t say anything, only staring at him as you were at a loss for words. When he doesn’t hear anything from you or feel your body relax so you could go back to rest, he extends his arms towards you to bring you closer to him.

“Just go to sleep. I’ll drive you home first thing in the morning if you really wanna go home,” he says, finally shutting his eyes. It takes you a second before you finally give in and bring your arms around him. Smiling to yourself, you snuggle your face into his chest and silently pray he doesn’t feel the heat building up on your cheeks. Once he was sure you’ve relaxed, Jungkook turns off the lamp and brings his hand to gently stroke your hair, only going back to sleep once he hears your soft and peaceful snores again.

masterlist | prev | next

– fic type: social media au, soulmates au

– pairing: jungkook x reader

– genre: ex-friends to lovers, humor, crack, fluff, angst, slow burn

– warnings: explicit language

SYNOPSIS: in a world where everyone finds a unique connection to their soulmate once they turn of age, y/n can’t seem to figure out her clue. after desperately staying up all night to find one, y/n decides to rest and write down her list of groceries on her arm, ultimately giving up on finding a clue along with the whole idea of soulmates. that is, until jungkook wakes up to a whole list of poorly written ingredients scribbled all over his own arm.

taglist: @boraength @rageyoudamnednerd @gaeguuliii @justbangtanthingz @maknaechu @lochness-butmakeitsexy @thealmightyzah @cholychi @curedblues @zxlummxxd @buzzyybee @miriamxsworld @bringitseijoh @j00nifi3d @cuteipat @lilacdreams-00 @missmadwoman @ggukkieland @c0ld-as-russia @notvantaes @yoontaethings @madaboutjeon @littletinyhobi @duchesskaren @vantxx95 @rosesandluna @rainy-cobbled-streets @taegijns @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dopedreamfireparty @music-makes-me-shine @imluckybitches @betysotelo18 @viscoolreal @cha-raena @starlitemotions @jaerisdiction @michellejonesbitch @ellesalazar @babyrosieareroses @staaardustt @secretlycrazyhummingbird @rikilvr @calumsfringe @moon1uvrs @pvt-only @todoroki-slut @definitelynotcesia @magicsweetener @moonibub @lovelytaes-blog @thequeen-kat @youreverydayzebra @wrmnssoul @tanumiki @itsalyssa15 @halesandy @rdiamondbts2727 @luvrsofbts @shreyuuu @windex-princess-ami @excelseor @stfu-xeena @writieryn @girlwiththeglittereyeliner @tazzi-baby @657mg @liquidnovocaine @lyra0cassiopeia @di0rgguk @thelilbutifulthings @renhold-nightspear @detective-daikon @taeshuworld @hobizi

387 notes · View notes

alpacaparkaseok · 4 years ago

Text

The Pact - Date #4

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 5.6k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: none, just some of the fluffiest fluff that ever did fluff

a/n: *heavy breathing into a paper bag* EVERYTHING IS FINE, JUST PLEASE LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS M’KAY

Date #4

series masterlist ∆∆∆ join the taglist

You’ve made it to Friday night without hearing a single thing about your upcoming date. Snuggled up on your couch, watching a rerun of NCIS and wishing that you could invite Hobi over to watch it with you, you hardly notice the sound of your phone pinging. It isn’t until your eyes are flying open at the sudden recollection of falling asleep on this very couch while Namjoon snacked on his McDonalds that you notice your phone pinging for the second time.

“Finally,” you sigh, scrambling to grab it from off the coffee table. As expected, it’s a text from Jungkook. However, the more you reread it, the more confused you grow.

“Check the mailbox?” You wonder aloud, shuffling off the couch and slipping your shoes on. Heading outside to investigate, you notice a suspicious car slowly driving by.

You know that car. And you’re pretty sure you recognize the people inside of it who are desperately trying to hide. You wave at them, laughing when Jungkook raises his hand to wave back only to have it slapped away by Jin, who laughs at the boy who obviously forgot that they were supposed to be hiding.

Stepping up to your mailbox, you eye the hastily sealed envelope before taking it back inside. The boys speed off into the night, leaving you alone with your thoughts as you rip into the letter.

Not letter, you realize as you slide the slip of paper out.

Boarding pass, with the final destination covered by a slip of dark tape and a firm note begging you not to remove it. And a teasing sentence that has you barking out a laugh.

You like surprises, don’t you?

When there’s a knock on your door, you’re only aware of two things.

1. Your shirt is on backwards.

2. Only one eye is completely open. The other is still half-closed, trying to cling to sleep. You can’t really blame it. You were up until three trying to not freak out, and it’s barely six in the morning now.

“Coming,” you groan out as you attempt to throw your shirt on the correct way. Padding over to the door, you realize that there may be some perks to beginning your date this early in the morning. One obvious point being the fact that you’re too groggy to go through your usual freakout before opening up the door.

When you do open the door, it takes a moment to discern who’s actually on the other side.

Hidden beneath a long coat and black ball cap, Jimin looks at you with a look that rivals your own exhaustion. In fact, the way his puffy eyelids seem to be competing with his bread cheeks has you turning into a giggling mess right there in the doorway.

Jimin winces. “What’s so funny?” He croaks out. You shake your head, impossibly endeared by the boy before you. One of your best friends, the one whose words of encouragement have helped you throughout this entire dating process.

Today, you really feel his words in full force. You deserve to go on some fun dates with your friends. Just enjoy it.

“Are you regretting this yet?” You shoot back. Now Jimin does crack a smile, opening his eyes fully to regard you.

“Ask me again in a few hours.” He sways on your porch, stretching and yawning. “Got everything?”

You hurry back inside, a bit of adrenaline pumping through your system now that you’re actually about to go on this date.

While you’re pretty sure you passed over into ‘wildest dream’ territory approximately three dates ago, you still can’t quite wrap your head around everything.

While you’re running around like a mad-woman trying to gather up your things, you don’t notice Jimin easing inside and quietly closing the door behind him. He watches you with a forgotten smile on his lips, tilting his head back against the door so he doesn’t have to open his eyes all the way.

You’re just double checking that you have your passport and boarding pass when a familiar hand wraps around your arm. Gently turning you around to face him, Jimin still wears his smile as he pulls into his embrace.

Once you’re nestled into him, you let go of all the tension in your shoulders with a great big sigh. Jimin speaks against your hair, the vibrations of his voice running up and down your spine.

“I miss you,” he mumbles.

You can’t help but chuckle, thinking that he’s still too tired to think straight. “But I’m right here…?”

He shakes his head, taking the opportunity to nuzzle in a little closer. “I miss you all the time, though. Even when you’re right in front of me.”

You pull away just enough to see his face. He smiles down at you, almost as though completely unaware of the sad statement he just made. “That’s a sad feeling,” you whisper. There’s nothing for your to do but acknowledge it.

He nods slowly, stepping back and gesturing for you to hand him your bag. “Sometimes, yeah. It’s just the truth.”

And with that, he whisks you away.

It’s been ages since you last traveled so far, but you take advantage of the chartered plane Jimin somehow convinced Bang Sihyuk to let him borrow, and stretch out.

Jimin does the same, bringing the blanket up to his chin while giving you a mock salute mere minutes after the plane took off.

“See you in ten hours,” he says before closing his eyes. You grin, absolutely positive that you won’t be able to sleep at all.

However, when you hear your name being called ages later, you crack an eye open to see none other than Park Jimin grinning like a fiend above you. It takes you a long moment to remember even getting on a plane, let alone what’s actually happening.

“We’re about an hour away,” Jimin chimes, giving you space to sit up and hopefully wipe the drool off of your face without him noticing. “So, would you like to know what our plans are for the day?”

“Yes,” you croak out, stretching. A glance at Jimin shows you that he must have changed clothes and gotten ready while you were sleeping. He now sports a black bucket hat paired with a dark t-shirt and mismatched denim jacket. He taps his boots on the floor, a sign of his excitement.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks. “You were out for nearly nine hours.”

You blink. How that happened is beyond you. Perhaps it had something to do with all of the overthinking you’ve been up to over the past week, leaving you utterly drained. “I slept great,” you admit. “Will you tell me where we’re going now?”

You peek out the window to see if that’ll give you a hint, but all you see it blue skies and unmarked land below.

“I will when we land,” he says. “First thing’s first, I’m sure you’re hungry. I was thinking we grab some food first thing. Now, take your pick: inside or outside?”

You glare at him for not revealing the location yet. For all you know, he could have paid someone to just fly the plane around in circles for hours and land you in Busan.

“Uh…outside.”

Jimin smiles, clearly pleased with your choice. “Good. Ok, next choice. Basilica or shopping?”

“B-basilica?!” You spit out, looking at Jimin as though he just announced he was taking you to the moon. “Where are we-“ You stop mid-sentence, holding your breath as is your habit whenever you get excited. “Wait…”

Jimin’s smile only grows. “Yes?” He asks with perfect piety.

Leave it to Park Jimin to look at a 24-hour window and decide to take you to Russia.

The second you’re off the plane and jumping into a taxi, you’re squealing like a school-girl.

“Park Jimin, I swear if this is all some dream and I’m about to wake up soon-” you hardly finish your sentence, mouth dropping open as you pass by a huge cathedral.

Jimin, on the other hand, looks quite content. He’s been here several times before; a fact that you’ve always brought up when talking about travelling with the boys. Russia has been on the top of your bucket-list for years now. Every time Jimin went he’d make sure to bring you back something special.

For years you’ve been half-planning to go on a trip with him the next time he went. Of course, you never actually believed that you’d go. But still, it was worth dreaming about.

“It’s not Moscow,” Jimin laments from your side. “But I’ve always favored St. Petersburg.”

For good reason.

It’s a clear day, the sun shining off of the city streets as though they were made of gold and not the same concrete found all over the world. People appear to be in high spirits as well; many couple wandering about hand in hand.

And you’re here. With Jimin.

Just like you always dreamed about.

So when you make it to your destination where the two of you would be eating brunch, you can’t help but chew on your lip as tears spring to your eyes.

“Jimin-ah,” you begin as you’re led to your table. It’s outside, which you’d chosen. Facing a river which is filled with ferries and tourists chattering freely.

“Yeah?” He asks, taking in your expression and instantly reaching across the table to grab your hand. “Everything alright? Maybe you slept too much. Or is your stomach upset from the flight? I know that happens to me sometimes on longer flights-”

You shake your head. “No, it’s just…” you sigh, trying to figure out how to best voice what you’re feeling. “You brought me to Russia.”

Jimin squints at you as though reading a book that’s in a foreign language. “…yes.” When you don’t make eye-contact with him, he raises his eyebrows. “Is this making you uncomfortable? I knew we should’ve talked about it first, but everyone was so excited so I automatically thought that you would be too, you know? It’s just, we’ve talked about this for forever, so I thought it’d be fun to actually bring you. Since I couldn’t, before.”

You blink. “Everyone was excited about it?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jimin nods, sitting back in his seat. “Is that what you’re worried about? That I’m not being fair?”

Despite the hat sitting low on his head, you can see the worried glimmer in Jimin’s eyes. “I guess…” you squirm in your seat. “I really want to be here. I do. But don’t you think it’s a bit…well, it’s a bit much? For a first date? I mean, I would’ve been happy going through a drive-thru and chatting for a while.”

Now it’s Jimin’s turn to look a little lost. “Oh.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I never thought of it that way.”

A waiter comes by to check on you, and Jimin kindly explains that you’ll need more time to decide. Once they’ve disappeared from sight, Jimin sets his menu down and leans over the table.

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course.”

Nodding to himself, Jimin looks out over the river before turning back to face you. “This is possibly the most rash, stupid, bizarre thing I’ve ever done.”

You choke on a laugh at his sudden declaration. “What?”

“It is. Seriously. I mean, I’ve traveled a lot and done plenty of stupid things, as you well know-”

“Oh, like the swimming pool incident-”

“Yah,” he waves you off frantically, “I wasn’t asking for examples!”

“Ah, right.” You gesture for him to continue, a grin growing on your face. Once he can tell you’re not about to go recounting every embarrassing moment you’ve witnessed, Jimin goes on.

“It really is stupid. I mean, who does this?” He points around the restaurant. “You’re right, we could’ve totally done something like we usually do; grab some takeout and chill. Maybe play a card game and lose miserably.”

“Wait, you lose or I lose?”

“Both. You know Jin would be there and he’d win.”

“Touché.”

Jimin sighs, throwing his chin onto the palm of his hand and looking at you with unveiled tenderness. “It’s not very often that we get free reign like this. So I thought it’d be nice, you know. To get to go do something a little crazy with you.”

You’re reminded of Taehyung’s route through Seoul, where he had a similar motive. If given the chance, wouldn’t you also like to take a day to just live a little? Even if it is a little unconventional?

Leaning back in your chair, you let out a breath of relief before bringing the menu up to your eyes and wiggling your brows at Jimin. “Well, then. I guess that makes sense. Although, I hope you know that you’re ruining my expectations for all other men I ever date.”

Mirroring your position, Jimin winks at you from over his menu. “Isn’t that the point?”

Brunch is delicious. Would would’ve thought that Russians have nailed French-style breakfast foods?

You’re just scooping up the last of your crêpe when Jimin leans back with a satisfied groan. “So, what do you wanna do next?”

“Wait, I’m supposed to choose?” You ask. Jimin nods, languidly looking you over and smiling crookedly when he spots a bit of chocolate on your face. You quickly wipe it off. “I don’t know…” you look around for inspiration, eyes landing on the ferry closest to you. “Oh, that. Can we do that?”

“Sounds perfect. That’ll take us to the basilica, I think.”

You chuckle darkly. “You think? Wow, how wild. Lost in Russia.”

Jimin smiles warmly at the waiter that swoops in to hand him the check. If he recognizes Jimin, you have no idea. He simply waits patiently as Jimin hands him his card and waits for him to return.

“Lost in Russia?” Jimin claps his hands together, nearly slipping off his seat as he giggles. “Take that, Shawn Mendes!”

You groan even as you laugh, burying your face in your hands.

The ferry is bustling with tourists, making you buzz with excitement as you finally board. Jimin makes sure to keep his hand in yours so you don’t get separated, keeping his head down when a couple of people look his way with curious expressions.

Once the ferry begins its slow journey, you find yourself standing before a railing overlooking the calm waters. Jimin comes to stand behind you, resting his hands on either side of your own which cling to the railing. He rests his chin on your shoulder, humming a tune you don’t recognize.

“Aren’t you the one that loves Anastasia?” Jimin asks, the question a mere hum in your ear.

“Mmhm. That’s me.”

“You know that it’s-“

“Aish, Park Jimin if you’re about to go off about how historically inaccurate it is, I’ll personally shove you off this ferry.”

Jimin’s laugh has him resting against you completely, hiding his face in your back and making your cheeks turn a little red as people look your way.

“It’s a great movie,” Jimin concedes. “Really, it is.”

You nod. “Yes. It is. And don’t you forget it.”

“I’m guessing that you love Dmitri, then?” He’s returned to his spot at your shoulder, arms sliding in a little tighter until his pinkies are linked through yours. You can’t help but smile at the sweet gesture, glancing down to take a mental picture.

“…yes.” You respond, a little wary that he’s about to start bashing on what is perhaps the most attractive animated character you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Instead, Jimin releases you from his grip and comes to stand by your side. Looking out over the river as though greeting an old friend, he rests his forearms against the railing. “What do you like about him?”

Well, isn’t today just chalk full of surprises.

“Well, for starters, he admits when he’s wrong. Despite the fame and money that he’s after, he’s actually pretty humble.” Your eyes drift over to the boy by your side. “He’s handsome,” Jimin snorts, nodding along reverently when you shoot him a glare. “And he just so clearly cares about Anastasia. Like, he’s willing to step out of the picture if that means she can be happy.”

A basilica comes into view, but you suspect that’s not the only thing taking your breath away.

No, it’s partly due to the fact that somehow, you’ve found yourself describing Jimin. If he realizes it, he doesn’t let on. Instead, he just winks at you, shooting you a smirk.

“Gotcha. Humble and hot.”

As the ferry docks at the opposite shore, you wonder if it’s too late to throw him overboard.

The basilica is open for tourists, and you find that you’ve got a kink in your neck from staring up at the ceiling the entirety of the tour.

Neither one of you understand a single word that’s being said, not wanting to wait around for a Korean translator. Instead, you opt for nodding along and laughing when everyone else does.

You have your arm linked through Jimin’s, trying to get a good look at a painted mural when he whispers something to you.

“You know, I heard that you and Namjoon had a fun time last week.”

Quick enough to give yourself whiplash, you turn to stare at Jimin with wide, guilty eyes. “W-what are you…I mean, yeah. Yeah, it was nice.”

Jimin bursts out laughing, immediately drawing the attention of the tour group. The tour guide gives the two of you a disapproving glare, which Jimin takes as an invitation to hang back as everyone else continues walking.

“Nice? Really? I thought the man would be a better kisser than just nice.”

Absolutely horrified, you bury your head in your hands. “Ergh…didn’t think…can’t believe he’d…”

“What was that? Can’t hear you,” Jimin teases with a knowing smirk. You smack his arm instinctively, only making him laugh harder.

“Why would you bring that up now?” You whine, running a hand through your hair.

“Why wouldn’t I? In my defense, I at least kept quiet about it for hours.”

You squint at him, “How did you find out?”

“Told me the second he got in the car,” Jimin replies, smile growing at your expression. You’d thought that was Jimin who’d been on the phone with Namjoon when he’d called to be picked up. “If it makes you feel any better, it was absolutely hilarious.”

“How would that make me feel better?!”

Only cackling in response, Jimin takes off after the group. You glare after him, pressing your hands to your cheeks and closing your eyes.

Wrong decision. The second you close your eyes you’re presented with an onslaught of memories; primarily one of Namjoon towering over you in a wardrobe.

You chase after Jimin, determined to bring up one of his embarrassing moments that will surely make him turn into a blushing mess.

“Ok, but at least I know not to eat a whole bag of sugar-free gummy bears-”

“I’ve gotta say, I’ve never been kicked out of a basilica before.”

The afternoon sun has quickly turned to the tell-tale golden hue of the evening. Jimin walks hand in hand with you down the street, the two of you the picture of calm and content.

“Me neither,” you sigh.

The tour guide didn’t take kindly to your bickering, quickly pointing to the exit once you’d resorted to attempting to stomp on Jimin’s feet like a child. He’d deserved it, though. Especially once he’d made a comment under his breath about the statue of lovers wrapped up in each other’s arms to be a spitting image of you and Namjoon.

“A wardrobe? Really?” Jimin shakes his head, tsking your behavior.

“Oh, shut up,” you hiss.

Wow. Jimin really is the Dmitri to your Anastasia. It would appear like he’s completely embodied the role he has throughout the first half of the movie, in which he’s endlessly annoying.

“Alright, alright. I’ll drop it.” He hold up a hand in innocence. “Should we get some skewers before the next thing?”

“I’d like to skewer you-”

“What was that, jagiya?” Jimin asks with a smirk.

“Oh, I just said that that sounds delicious.”

“Mhmm.”

Together you locate some delicious street-food, entering some sort of food heaven when the first bite touches your lips. “This is amazing,” you say around the food.

Jimin groans, closing his eyes as he eats up. “Here, try this.” He extends the skewer to you, leaning into your side as you sit together on the bench. Cupping your chin, he feeds you the next slice of meat, watching your reaction carefully.

You hum as the flavor makes your tastebuds dance, eyes growing wide as Jimin swipes a thumb over your bottom lip, gathering up the excess sheen from the juicy meat. You watch, completely enraptured as he pops the digit in his mouth without a second thought, taking another bite of the food as though nothing happened.

All you know is that you wouldn’t mind that happening again.

“S-so what’s on the agenda for the rest of the day?” You ask, voice a little higher than usual as you attempt to calm your beating heart.

“Mm, lemme check,” Jimin mumbles, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Oh! How is today going by so fast?”

“What?”

“We’ve got just enough time to pick out a souveneir before the show starts.” Rising from the bench, he takes another bite of his food. “Shall well?” You take his hand, allowing him to pull you up.

“What show?”

He looks you over. “You’ve heard of the Russian Ballet, right?”

You’re severely underdressed for a night out at the ballet, but Jimin reassures you that no one will notice. Together, the two of you roam about the Meriinsky theater’s souvenir shop.

“Oooh, Jimin, look!” You hold up a shirt with a burly man in a tutu. “You should totally get this.”

Jimin turns to face you, dissolving into a fit of laughter that has him falling to his knees. “No way, that’s horrible!”

You shrug, looking back and forth from the shirt and back to him. “I don’t know, I think it’d look kinda hot.”

Smile wiped from his face, Jimin snatches the shirt from you. “I’m getting it. Don’t try to stop me.”

You end up finding a similar shirt – this one has a ballerina balancing huge logs on her shoulders – to get with Jimin. Just as you head up to the cashier, you see Jimin sliding a small box across the table for the cashier to ring up.

“What’s that?” You ask, placing your shirt on top of his in the bag he holds open. Jimin shrugs.

“Just something.”

You frown. “That was vague.”

Tapping your nose, Jimin grins and nods at the cashier before taking the box and placing it inside the bag before you can get a good look at it. “So observant.”

The ballet begins their show at 6 o’clock. You sit near the front, in a spot that appears to be fairly inconspicuous. Jimin sits with the bag of your souvenirs placed under his chair, out of sight from your prying eyes.

You can’t help but feel like royalty as you look around the historic theater. It’s filled to the brim with natives and foreigners alike, most of which are dressed to the nines. The golden, old lighting casts shadows on everyone, thick fabric draping itself around the box seats.

Suddenly you remember what Jimin said to you so early this morning. I miss you even when you’re right in front of me.

It makes sense, now. There’s ache in your chest as you look around the theater, trying to memorize every last detail, knowing that this may very well be the last time you ever see it in such grandeur. The thought nearly rips your heart out of your chest. Knowing that this feeling is only temporary. You’re only royal for a day.

You turn to mention it to Jimin, only to find him looking at you in the same way you’ve looked at the theater.

Like you’re as timeless as the music that drifts up from the orchestra, and he’s just found out that he’s on a mortal timeline.

You will remain like this forever in his memory. Eyes bright and your right knee nervously bouncing up at down, only to be soothed by the sound of a lone violin that stands out amongst the other flurry of instruments.

He smiles, the action so at odds with the heavy look in his eyes. Reaching out, you take his hand from his lap, and without a single thought other than the way the golden lights are dimming and so is the look of pain in Jimin’s eyes, you press your lips to the tip of his knuckles. Once.

Twice.

And one more time, making it to his pinky knuckle and smiling against it before planting a kiss that feels more like a breath against it.

It’s nearly pitch black now, the curtains pulled open to reveal the breathtaking ballerina, but you find that you can’t quite look away. Not as Jimin continues to look at you with that indescribable expression that has somehow shifted into something more. He brings his hand back to his lap, enveloping your hand in both of his.

“It’s starting,” he breathes out.

You know that he means the production is beginning. Indeed, in your peripheral you see the ballerina who doubles as Sleeping Beauty tonight takes to the stage amidst the sound of awed clapping. But you can’t help but find a different meaning in those two words.

It’s starting to get harder.

Because anytime you close your eyes, you see Namjoon before you in the wardrobe, tentative hope in his eyes.

Because your wrist burns with Hobi’s bracelet linked around it, a constant reminder of the ghost of his lips on your palm.

Because you wake up in the middle of the night every night, looking to your doorway in hopes of finding Taehyung leaning against it with a smirk that does nothing to fool you.

And now there’s Jimin, filling your mind with his confession this morning. I miss you.

You’ve unknowingly boarded a runaway train.

Who cut the brakes on this thing?

The ballet is beautiful.

Like, beautiful in the way that you don’t want it to ever end. The music coming from the pit weaves the story, the ballerinas working in tandem with every note to bring it to life.

Once you enter into the final act, you find yourself squeezes Jimin’s hand as though watching a horror movie. He traces soothing patterns against your skin even as he quietly laughs.

“How’re you holding up over there?” He drawls in your ear.

“I don’t want it to end,” you reply, nibbling on your bottom lip.

Like all good things, it does. Jimin allows you to linger for a while longer, even after most of the people of exited the building. You remain in your seat, staring up at the stage now covered by thick curtains, almost as though waiting for the production to start up again.

Finally, you notice the ache in your legs from sitting in a confined space for so long, and get up.

“How was it?” Jimin asks, leading you out of the marvelous theater.

You blink. “How was it? I…I think my soul left my body for a minute back there.”

You walk out to find that night has fallen, Jimin laughing up at the stars. “Wow. That’s a pretty intense experience.”

“Yeah, well.”

Skipping ahead of you, Jimin turns around to face you with a silly grin. “We’ll come back someday,” he promises. “Maybe we’ll go to Moscow. They perform ‘Black Swan’ there.”

You blink. “And they don’t in St. Petersburg?”

Jimin shrugs, reaching out for your hands, which you extend to him. He continues walking backward, unwilling to let go of either hand. “They haven’t, yet.”

“Why not?”

“It has something to do with the political climate here versus in Moscow.”

“Huh.” You take a moment to take in the view before you, Jimin looking like he belongs here among the stars and streetlamps. “You seem to know a lot about the Russian Ballet.”

Again, he shrugs, this time accompanied by a crooked smile. “I read about it on the flight over.” He pauses, waiting for you to catch up to him before walking side by side. “Which, speaking of flights…”

“Don’t we have one to catch?”

“Exactly.”

It’s painful, leaving St. Petersburg behind. You watch through the window of the airplane as you take off, the lights winking at you in a silent goodbye.

Jimin watches from the opposite side of the plane, an absent-minded smile yet again on his face. He quietly orders a bit of food for the two of you, knowing that you’ll be hungry soon.

Once St. Petersburg vanishes from your view, you glance over at Jimin who fiddles with the safety pamphlet.

“That was amazing.”

He furrows his brows, not looking up yet. “What? The plane taking off?”

“No, you know what I mean.” He continues to look at you, feigning ignorance. “All of it. That…date. That was seriously a dream.”

Jimin openly stares at you for a moment as though not expecting such a reaction before averting his eyes. You watch with amusement as his cheeks flood with pink, a silent testament to how flustered you can make him.

“Yeah,” he coughs awkwardly. “I guess you could say…it was nice.” He looks at you expectantly.

You frown, not quite understanding what he means until – “Jimin!”

He sinks low in his seat, body shaking with laughter. “First thing I do when we get back is tell Namjoon you said that about your kiss. I’m not even kidding,” he says as he wipes fake tears from his eyes.

“Just- yah!” Absolutely embarrassed, you turn to stare out the window again, ignoring the laughing boy.

Your mind is dazed once you return to Seoul, clambering inside a car that Jimin is somehow able to drive despite being clearly exhausted from the long flight. You share a comfortable silence as you replay that events of the past 24 hours in your mind.

The sound of the orchestra is still ringing in your ears by the time Jimin pulls up in front of your apartment. You’re about to tell him that he doesn’t need to get out of the car when he’s hurry around to open your door.

“You look exhausted,” you remark sleepily.

He doesn’t have the energy to pretend to be offended. “So do you.”

Indeed you do, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the car window before setting off toward your door. The few steps up to your apartment appear to be the same as Mount Everest, Jimin’s hand on the small of your back proving to be the only thing keeping you moving forward.

You watched four movies on the flight back. Jimin had urged you to try to at least nap, but you couldn’t. You were too wired, mind running nonstop with different ideas and memories. And now you’re paying the price as you stumble up the stairs.

Once Jimin has ascertained that you’re not about to fall over, he takes his hand off your back. “Made it,” he mumbles out.

“Mmm.”

He chuckles softly, reaching out to pull you in for a soft hug. It’s warm in his arms, making you close your eyes and rest against his shoulder. You could stay here for hours-

“Don’t go falling asleep on me,” Jimin quietly warns, looking at you fondly as he pulls away. He notes your still-closed eyes and leans in to peck your cheek.

He grins when he pulls away, seeing that your eyes are now wide open. You’re a little flushed from the unexpected peck, but it’s still dark enough in the early morning light that you hope he doesn’t notice.

“Here, your souvenir,” he hands you the bag from the Meriinsky theater, which you take. “Go in and sleep.”

Once you manage to get the door unlocked, you’re slipping inside and waving goodbye as Jimin hurries back down to his car. Just before he gets in, you call out to him.

“Jimin-ah!”

He holds the drivers-side door open. “What?”

Giving him another little wave, you shout, “Thank you!”

“Anytime.”

With that, he hops in and drives away.

You don’t remember walking to your bedroom, but you’re grateful that you’ve found your bed. Still holding the bag, it swings down to hit your legs.

“Ow!” Something solid hits your shin from inside the bag, leading you to investigate its contents.

Hiding beneath your shirt you got, sits the small box you’d spied Jimin buying. On top of it sits a crinkled post-it note, one he must have found while you were immersed in your movies on the flight.

To my Anastasia – hopefully this will be enough to say ‘thank you’.

Brows furrowed in curiosity, you slide the box open and pull out a small object wrapped in bubble wrap. Carefully unwrapping it, your mouth falls open in a silent gasp when you uncover your little present.

It’s a music box.

Opening it, you ignore the little tears springing to your eyes as it reveals a ballerina, spinning in perfect circles to the music that dives out.

Setting it on your nightstand, you close your eyes and let the music ease you into your dreams. You’re left with a distinct feeling that lingers even when you wake up hours later.

You still feel like royalty.

main masterlist

please let me know what your thoughts are! You don’t necessarily have to be rooting for one of the boys specifically, but let me know who you think has the best shot/who you really swooned over! ;)

taglist is open, click on the link at the top of the post or let me know if you’d like to join!

taglist: @secretlycrazyhummingbird @marianeamine @hqtetsurou @protontippens @baepsaetay @dreamcatcherjiah @kookie-vuitton @thecaffeinatedscribbles @moon-write @fangirl125reader @heishichoulevi @knjkitten @sacha-cff @vik7797 @eusticenatalie @hesmyphenominiall @miriamxsworld @luvtaeha @fanfictionreader05 @mininimmy @dreadity @starlight-night0 @luzaroon @seaoffangirling @prachi05 @fangirl125reader @bluehairedotakugem @hunnibxbe @kayahay @seokjinmoonfics @littletinyhobi @honeyhalcyon @yoontaethings @herrmionejgranger @delacyrose224

307 notes · View notes

theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 4 years ago

Note

You wrote your opinions on the Order of the Phoenix, what about the Death Eaters? That's another way of saying Lucius, Bellatrix, and anybody else. I honestly feel that we're running out of HP characters for you to write your opinion and reasoning about, so yeah~

We honestly are. When people start asking me questions about Harry’s nameless and faceless classmates I feel like we’re scraping the bottom of my barrel of Harry Potter opinions.

Though, that said, this is still a very large ask if you want me to analyze very Death Eater ever or even the Death Eaters as a whole (which is worthy of its own post).

So, we’ll compromise, and I’ll just look at the two you name dropped.

Lucius Malfoy

To me, Lucius is by far one of the more intelligent Death Eaters. He’s the guy who makes them almost look classy. I say almost, because Lucius is still a racist domestic terrorist and as the series goes on Tom gleefully drags him into being less classy by the minute (his house becomes a POW camp and housing for the dregs of society, Lucius just sobs, trying to be thankful he’s somehow still alive).

Lucius is rich, sophisticated, and is probably the most politically powerful man in the country. He has a beautiful wife he has... a son (sorry Draco, but you do not live up to your father) the guy has it all.

Which makes it very surprising that he got dragged into this mess. But you see, Lucius is paying for that tragedy we call youth.

Also, as a caveat, I’m about to headcanon hard and will not bother to get into the details of why I think x, y, or z in this post.

Ten years prior to the start of canon, Lucius is a very young man, probably very charismatic, certainly believes he’s intelligent and probably gets decent grades, but nonetheless the kind of stupid you see in men ages 15-25.

He’s likely chafing under his aging father’s strict guidance, knows he’s not going to be Lord Malfoy for years yet, wants to get out there, prove himself, and make a difference for his country. More importantly for Lucius, there’s this hip, exciting, new thing that all his cousins and friends are getting into called “The Death Eaters” (yes, I don’t believe the Knights of Walpurgis/Death Eaters 1.0 ever happened, I think it’s ridiculous that fandom and JKR does, I could go into why but not in this post).

The Death Eaters are led by the single handedly most beautiful, charismatic, man in Britain. (Yes, I headcanon Tom’s still blindingly attractive at this stage, because it makes much more sense to me but we’re not getting into that here.) A mysterious man by the name of Voldemort, Salazar Slytherin’s long lost heir, who has come to resurrect the wizarding world’s true heritage and purge the land of the muggle stain. (Yes, I do believe that no one, not even Lucius who is later given the diary, knew who Tom really was. I believe Regulus’ had only the vaguest idea, informed mostly by Tom’s use of Kreacher to place the locket.) This is the most exciting thing to have ever happened, the rallies probably consist of rich kids drunk out of their minds and maybe even high on a little wizard cocaine, and Lucius is down for it precisely because his father says “Lucius, this is stupid, please don’t embarrass the family.” WELL LUCIUS IS GOING TO EMBARRASS THE FAMILY, DAD! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?!

And for a while, it looks like Lucius made the right choice. Things are happening, they’re actually going out and killing the mudbloods! Unlike Regulus, Lucius never has that “wait a minute” moment as he realizes that Voldemort’s actually far more efficiently eliminating pureblood families and sowing dissention in what was once a unanimous force among the Wizengamot (the other pureblood lords aren’t necessarily pro muggleborn, per se, but they get a bit queasy at the thought of blowing them up or Merlin forbid actually blowing up their own public venues wizards use).

And then October 31st, 1981 happens, and it all comes crashing down. Lucius has to desperately lie his ass off, having only the flimsiest lie to rely on, has to hand out a shit ton of bribes, and manages to squeeze his way out of being imprisoned in Azkaban.

I’m sure Abraxas looked at his son, with his tattoo on his arm that makes him another man’s slave, at the utter destruction of the Black family, and just shook his head going, “Clean up your mess, Dumbass Son”

And Lucius does to the best of his ability. While some will always suspect him of being a Death Eater, while some know it, he’s able to climb very high in influence in their ridiculously tiny community. Granted, I do think he messed up, and could never for example run for minister given everything (if Crouch can’t rerun then Lucius certainly can’t). He also shows us that in some ways he is not above the law, he’s very afraid his house will be searched without warrant in The Chamber of Secrets, and this is in part why he dumps Tom Riddle’s diary off onto Ginny.

However, he wields total control of the Prophet, has a seat on the Wizengamot, has the ear of the current Minister, is on the Hogwarts’ Board of Governors, and has his hands in pretty much every pie he can.

I imagine during this period Lucius grows up. He brushes the indiscretions of his youth under the carpet, gleefully leaving it all behind him, and the only real friend he maintains contact with from that period is Severus, the least zealot like of all of them. (Crabbe and Goyle Sr aren’t friends, they’re minions).

Don’t get me wrong, he’s still a racist slime bag, and I don’t think he really regrets the domestic terrorism. He just regrets nearly getting caught and putting his entire family’s security on the line. He witnessed first hand what happened to the Blacks.

And then the worst thing happens: Tom Riddle rises from the dead. He rises, impossibly, from the dead when Lucius has his own hand caught in the cookie jar.

Lucius has been living a life of luxury and influence while his great master, the man he had pledged everything to, was dead. Worse, Lucius took what was described as a treasured item to be protected at all costs, and not only threw it away but sent it to Hogwarts where it caused massive havoc and was ultimately destroyed.

And Lucius, I imagine, no longer wants to serve a master.

But he has no choice. And so begins Lucius’ descent into misery and hell as he’s given an increasing set of impossible, horrific, tasks in punishment that involve him watching as his wife and son are put through hell.

I believe Tom holds a special place in his cold, black, passive aggressive heart for Lucius Malfoy.

First, Tom makes Lucius’ house his headquarters. Oh, Lucius, you have a very nice, very large, estate? Why don’t you host your beloved, mad, cousin, her equally mad husband and brother-in-law? Oh, Bellatrix threatened to cut off your ear? Well, she’s just so passionate!

Second, Lucius is told to go get the prophecy. Well, this is easier said than done. He nearly succeeds but then it all turns into the world’s largest clusterfuck that ends in two notable things. First, the prophecy is lost forever, shattered. Second, the government admits that Voldemort is truly resurrected. Both of these things are very bad in Tom’s book. And the blame can easily be put on Lucius’ head.

In response to this, Draco is now given an impossible task that Draco is too stupid to realize is designed to cause him (and his family) as much misery as possible. Draco is to assassinate Dumbledore.

Likely, Tom was already informed by Snape that Dumbledore was dying. The blackened hand was too obvious a tell coming from too obvious a source for the pair to have hid it. I think trying to hide such information would have immediately blown Snape’s cover. So, Tom knows the man is dying, and doesn’t see fit to tell Draco this.

Instead, he tells Draco, “Kill Dumbledore as soon as possible or I deliver you to Fenrir Grayback.” Draco, however, is young and stupid, so he honestly thinks he is doing this to restore the family honor, earn glory for himself and for the cause, and is expected to do this entirely by himself. As a result, when Narcissa begs Snape to aid Draco, Draco blows them both off and only accepts help from Bellatrix because HE CAN DO THIS ON HIS OWN! DRACO IS A MAN.

This, of course, doesn’t work out either. Draco doesn’t deliver the killing blow, Snape does, but Tom decides to give him a pass.

Instead he moves on to his next plan which is making the Malfoy manor his torture chamber and POW camp. Even Draco, at this point, realizes this all kind of sucks.

And then Voldemort finally dies a second time, and I’m sure Lucius just stares numbly at his malformed corpse, wondering if it will really take this time.

So that’s Lucius for you, paying always for his mistakes, and pretending he’s just as much of a nutcase as Bellatrix to fit in.

Bellatrix LeStrange

God, compared to the novel that is Lucius’ ridiculous life, I really don’t have much to say about her because I feel like there’s not much too her.

Bellatrix reminds me a lot of the Manson family, she gives off those same vibes. Point being, I think even before Azkaban (while Azkaban certainly didn’t help), she was insane and a little too worshipful of Voldemort.

I guess I can start there, I don’t think Bellamort is a thing, at all.

Tom may have, probably did, have sex with her before he died but afterwards? In that body? Forget about it.

That said, I’m sure Bellatrix both wanted to have sex and is convinced she did have sex to produce whatever the hell Delphi even is. It just wasn’t with Tom, and probably was Rodolphous with a Halloween mask on his face as they got a little too into role play.

And there we go, I suppose, I can’t take Bellatrix seriously. You often see her portrayed as sexy femme fatale Death Eater, the most competent of all of them, if a bit of a sadist.

Oh she might be a very good duelist but she’s... Bellatrix.

She prances around in corsets, shrieking madly, and just what part of that is supposed to be femme fatale? I literally cannot take her seriously on any level. When I even try to write her seriously, in very serious stories, I end up with lines like the following:

"My lord, if there's anything you need… Anything from me, specifically, as a woman…"

- Bright Eyes

That was my best attempt. That was the best I could come up with. It’s still something that belongs in a comedy.

So, I don’t think Tom really corrupted her. I think without Voldemort she still probably would have been blowing up Diagon Alley, just in a much less organized manner.

Even in canon she does ridiculous things. For example, Bellatrix, frankly, could have easily avoided prison.

For weeks after the dark lord fell neither she, her husband, Barty, nor her brother-in-law were arrested. Bellatrix in grief and utter disbelief that the dark lord could ever do something so mortal as die, said “remember that other house our lord mentioned, THEY MIGHT HAVE INFORMATION, LET’S GO MURDER THE LONGBOTTOMS!” They torture and kidnap Frank, demanding he tell them where their master is, THEY KNOW HE KNOWS. He doesn’t know. They go too far and torture the man into being a vegetable. “Shit, GET THE WIFE!” They go get the wife, do the same thing, with the same results.

They now have no information on the dark lord, two well regarded aurors tortured into brain damage, and are quickly caught and brought before the court with absolutely no “I was imperiused” excuse they can give out.

How am I supposed to take her in any way seriously?

I mean, to end your life killed in a duel with Molly Weasley. That just says it all.

#ask #anon

279 notes · View notes

introvert--weeb · 3 years ago

Note

hey angel!! first of all: congrats on reaching 100 followers!! i bet you‘ll reach your next milestone in no time <3. anyways i‘m here to request a tokyo revengers matchup if thats alright!!

im a bi scorpio intp and i go by she/they pronouns! okay buckle in now bc this is gonna be a looong one-

although i‘m super introverted people always tell me they think i‘m an extrovert bc of how loud and upbeat i am LMAO i guess you could say i‘m just super energetic and bubbly? but don‘t let that fool you, i still don‘t do well with huge crowds of people (HAHAHA)!! i‘m overall pretty laidback and just go with the flow i‘d say! anything honestly works for me, though i‘m also fine on my own most of the time. as for being loud, i‘d say my personal talent is not being able to shut up (though some people may disagree about it being a talent LOL). like honestly, i could ramble all day!! no joke!! and i also have no filter, i just say anything that comes to my mind,,, uhh anything other noteworthy about me is that i get into the dumbest accidents ever, but am always strangely calm about them (the other day i fell down the stairs and got a minor concussion and got yelled at by my friends for not going to the doctor bc i forgot you‘re supposed to do that LOL)

i love love love spending quality time with people i like!! also a huge sucker for affection <33 and i‘m a huge sucker for romance too, shoujo mangas especially……. other than that i also really like horror media?? i‘m the biggest scaredy cat ever yet i‘m so obsessed with horror….. i also love doing handicrafts like knitting and crocheting!!

i‘d say my aesthetic is super girly and pink!! anything cute i adore <33 appearance wise i‘m pretty short and really petite lol,, my hair is currently kinda dyed like teen kazutoras hair LMAO got that bee look going on

anyways!! tysm for your time and have a wonderful day angel 💘💘

Ooo, you sound lovely! 💕 And thank you so much! ❤️

I will be pairing you up with...

Haruchiyo Sanzu ❤️

Same energy type of couple. Both you and Haruchiyo are introverted but can come across as extroverted. However, while you are bubbly and energetic, Haru is toned down yet he can be manic in his behaviours.

Meeting Sanzu happened because you had gone to watch a rerun of a horror movie in cinema. Sanzu had also gone to watch the same movie since he really had nothing better to do. Mikey wasn't holding any Toman business so there really was nothing else to do to pass time.

Since the rerun was quite popular, the only seat the boy could take was next to you. Not that it bothered him since he'd rather sit next to a pretty girl than next to someone who would annoy him throughout the experience. And so, he took his seat as the film started.

You were scared. Why had you decided to come and watch this movie again? Oh. Right. It's because you actually really enjoyed horror movies. As the first few jumpscares happened, Sanzu noticed how you would cover your eyes and flinch. He found it cute but you were a complete stranger so he would never say it out loud.

By the time the movie was halfway through, you had unconsciously clung to Haruchiyo's arm for protection. It's a good thing this boy wears a mask because it hid the majority of his blush that dusted his cheeks and nose. It stayed like this for the rest of the movie.

When the movie ended and the lights came on, you were surprised and flustered to find that you were clinging to a cute guy's arm. With a harsh blush, you apologised profusely to Haru who was simply waving it off. In fact, he took advantage of how sorry you seemed and used that to ask you on a date/hang out of sorts. And that is how you ended up spending the day with Haruchiyo Sanzu, as well as giving him your number.

Skipping the cliche that I constantly write, you and Sanzu ended up in a relationship after 3 months of talking and hanging out. You had yet to learn that he was part of a gang and I don't think he'd ever want you to know. After all, you were someone he wanted to keep safe so you finding out he was in a gang would just put you in danger.

Haruchiyo really enjoys the fact that you will speak whatever is on your mind, no matter how random it may be. It was better than trying to guess what you were thinking and he felt a lot more comfortable in this dynamic. It meant he could also tell you all his 3am type thoughts that he usually kept to himself.

Dates with Haru are usually quite laid-back in their own ways. I don't see him really taking you to fancy restaurants unless it's a special occasion. So the main dates are usually watching movies either at the cinema (his treat) or at one of your houses. Snacks are a must and so are cuddles.

This boy is affectionate and can come across a little clingy sometimes. He isn't clingy in a relationship but he is in need of cuddles and reassurance that you won't leave him for someone else. Especially when he had shown you his scars under his mask. Please make him feel loved and tell him how the scars don't bother you in any way. His heart will flutter from your words.

Sanzu would probably be the one to mentally facepalm every time you get another injury. At the beginning of the relationship, he would worry over every scrape and bruise but as he started dating you for longer and got to know you, it had become a normal occurrence. Don't get me wrong, he will help bandage you up or take you to the hospital if it required it. He just wouldn't outwardly worry as much as he used to unless the injury was really bad.

Haruchiyo ADORES your aesthetic! Pink is such a pretty colour in his eyes and it looked even prettier when you were wearing it. Will buy you accessories to match with your outfits and expects you to wear them. After all, you were his girl and you should want to show that off, right?

Other gifts will include shoujo mangas that he has heard you talking about, plushies that he found cute and reminded him of you, and snacks when you would hang out. This boy will try his best to spoil you the best he can.

Requests for match-ups are closed.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers match up #match up requests #match up event #100 followers event #requested #sanzu haruchiyo #haruchiyo sanzu #tokyo revengers sanzu

35 notes · View notes

johnkrrasinski · 5 years ago

Text

ℑ𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔚𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔰

Chapter 1: The Archer & The Prey

full masterlist // series masterlist

Pairings: dark!Steve Rogers x female!reader

Word count: 4,517

Warnings: sexual themes, kidnapping, stalking. (MUST BE 18+)

Summary: after the death of your mother, you decided that you were going to do something new to honor her. You chose a perfect camping spot somewhere down South. You thought it was going to be the life-changing vacation that you never had in your life, until Steve Rogers, a man existed in roughness and control all his life, found you.

a/n: this is the dark!steve rogers series that i have promised. this one is going to be much darker than the last one shot fic i posted, so please leave, if you are under 18+. please leave a like and comment. enjoy!

It had been a long time since you last went on a vacation. You had been taking care of your then sick mother, every day and barely got enough time for yourself between working your humdrum job as an accountant at Stark's Industries and rushing to the hospital every night to your mother to keep her company.

However, it's not your concern anymore now. You had just gone home from attending her funeral. It was bleak and wearisome. You had to deal with your family and friends who put on these fake, mournful faces and pretended that they were heartbroken when they never gave a shit when she was still alive and healthy. They barely took their time to visit her during her hospitalization.

Your mother was your best friend, the only person in your life who truly cared for you and took care of you during your childhood and teenager years, even after you were an adult, your mother still saw you as this little girl who needed some tending after she scrapped her knees.

You were a shy, delicate, and reticent person who kept to herself and didn't keep a lot of companion in your life. You had some classmates from high school and college that you still kept in touch with, you also had some colleagues that you would text with once in a while regarding professional matters.

However, you wouldn't consider them as friends, it wasn't about trust issues or anything severe, it was simply just who you are. You were an introvert who felt much more at ease when you are not surrounded by anyone. But your mother was the only exception, growing up as the only child of a single mother, it wasn't easy to simply let your guard down to anyone. You had learned that when you are alone, you felt less anxious and you'd like to keep it that way. Working at the Stark Industries rewarded you well but it was stressful enough as it is, you wouldn't want to add that pile of stress.

Now that your mother is gone, you've never felt more alone in your life. You walked into your apartment with hands buried in the pocket of your black coat, with your head down, you tried to hold yourself steady as you fumble for your key. You unlocked the door and you stepped into your home. You took a moment to take a deep breath and took a look at your surrounding. You felt helpless. So you took off your coat, went into a shower, and broke down into tears.

You dried yourself off later that night and put on your favorite oversized sweater, you call it your "pity sweater", you've had it in your closet since you were fifteen and every time you hit rock bottom, like the time when you first received the news that your mom was terribly ill and she only had a few more months to live, you decide that to drown yourself in your own self-pity party and of course you'd wear the right outfit to celebrate it.

You laid on your bed later that night, under the opacity of your room, trying to numb the pain by ingesting some sleeping pills, but it didn't help, your eyes are still wide open and you can still hear the resonance of your muffled sobs. Slowly but surely, the seconds turned into minutes, and before you knew it, you were fast asleep, drifting away into the land of dreams.

You are running in the middle of a dark forest, being chased by the wolves with their cuspidate teeth glistening in the murk threatening to devour you. They were running faster than the wind, you were having trouble of trying to outrun them, you felt your energy started to dwindle down, your feet got weaker and cold sweats started to break out of your skin. You were so fixated on running that you didn't realize one of the wolfpacks had caught onto your dress, it was torn away from you and you tripped and your back hit the ground. The last thing you saw was a blue-eyed wolf, gritting its fangs, staring deep into your eyes, with its face closer and closer to yours then everything went black.

The next day, you went back to your work, as usual, your boss, Tony Stark had been generous enough to offer you to take a day off, you refused it at first because if you were left alone one more second doing nothing productive, your mind would start to wander to your mother and you would end up having another breakdown on your kitchen floor. So you had to distract yourself, get your gloomy mind off the tragedy that had befallen on you. Your only escape was work.

It's not like you would hit the bar and order some drinks, it wasn't your thing. It would trigger your anxiety the minute you step foot on the door. To be at peace, all it needed was the companion of your romance novels and some hot chocolate. The concept of dressing up and going home shit faced is a foreign idea to you. It would absolutely be madness if you risked your own comfort zone just to end up in a stranger's car and not remembering a single event that happened last night. Your mother always warned you about being reckless and talking to strange men.

She would always say; "you have to be careful, y/n, there are men who are steadily seeking their next prey. They would lure you into their charm and capitalize on you in their bed. And the next thing you know, you are 4 weeks pregnant and you are going to have to carry that tiny life inside you and raise it on your own."

That's how you were born into this world, actually. You never knew who your father was, and nor did your mother. She was only 23 when she decided to live her life and savor her youth. She was a brilliant young woman who was supposed to have a long, bright future ahead of her. She had graduated from college with a psychology degree and one night, she decided to break out of her shell and accepted her roommate's invitation to go to a party. Little did she know, that party was going to turn her life upside down, forever.

She still walked away with a degree, but there wasn't an ounce of bright future left for her. She had this frail life in her belly depending on her to keep it alive. She had gone to her parents and asked for their help, but they abandoned her. They were filled with rage when your mother told them the jaw-dropping news. They were disappointed in her for being so stupid and negligent. They had high expectations for her. So when your mother begged for their forgiveness, they told her to leave their home and never show her face ever again instead.

Hence, you never knew your grandparents too well either, your mother had shown you some pictures of them, the ones that she still had despite never talking to them again, but she spoke wonderfully about how they raised her right despite their strictness and their unwavering push on her to do better. Your mother was anything but. She took care of you with gentleness and she decided that she didn't want you to live in fear of your own mother.

You loved her more than anything in life. Your mother was your whole world, the one who cured all the rainy days and gave you a secure home when the hurricane in your life was too mighty. Your world was crushed, burned, and taken away when she died. You had to be your own person now.

So you decided to take on Tony's offer of letting a week off. He told you that you need to take your time to mourn and that he didn't need you to be operating his finance when your head was clearly not in the right place. You went home early that day and make yourself some lunch.

You sat on your couch with a bowl filled with cereal in your hands, watching the rerun of Friends. It was the episode where they were going on a ski trip but Phoebe's car broke down. You loved this series and each episode always gave you a good laugh even when you don't feel like it.

It struck an idea in you, what if... You decided to go on a vacation instead of limping around in your apartment, wallowing in self-pity? Maybe it's time for you to get out of your comfort zone and do what might be best for you. It's going to be new and different and scary for sure, but you might never know if you never try. This might help you find yourself and your own inner peace. Your mom would want that for you. She used to always talk about wanting to go camping, especially when she was sick.

She said, "you know when all of this is over and I'm finally free out of this condition, I wanna go camping in the middle of the woods."

You looked up from the book you were reading, with a chuckle you amused her. "Camping, mom? Really? Never knew you were a nature person."

"Oh, I am sweetheart, I used to go hiking and climbing and skiing when I was young. I never really had that chance anymore now that I am older." She lied, she would never say it was because she had to have you that she couldn't go on all these adventures anymore. "The only problem now is that I have to endure this pain a little longer then we can explore the world as long as we want, dear." She chuckled, but her cough interrupted it.

You put down your book on your thighs and immediately reached out her hand.

"Mom, you are gonna get better, I promise. You have to."

You decided to google some camping spots that might intrigue you, you weren't looking for anything opulent or temerarious, just enough to clear your mind off the gloom and to invigorate the spirit in you to go back to work. Maybe, you'd try to meditate in the middle of the woods, yeah, you've always wondered about that, would it really be effective? This might be the time to discover the answer. You can picture it, the fresh air encompassing you, the sound of the birds chirping as if they were welcoming you, and there wouldn't be a single soul that could intrude your solitude.

After doing some research, you decided that you have found the perfect spot. A green-covered land somewhere down South, you did a little deeper digging into its whereabouts, and you took a screenshot of it and bookmarked the page.

That night, you started to feel like the match inside you was lit. After days of being engulfed in grief, you started to feel hope, just a sheer of it. But it was enough to make you feel like you weren't so lost and hopeless. You decided to have an early night after you finished watching Friends and get yourself some rest. You are going to wake up early to pack and prepare yourself to leave this godforsaken town for a few days. You were excited to see what tomorrow holds.

The next morning, you took a shower and got yourself ready. You had packed just enough to last a few days in the woods. You brought your camping tent with you, the one your mother had bought but never actually got to use it. You put your travel bag in the trunk of your car and you sat on the driver's seat to heat up the engine.

You put on some relaxing Jazz music to console your ears and to prevent your thoughts from drifting to your mother. You were going to focus on the roads and what was waiting ahead of you. The soft hum of the engine soothed you. You were savoring the crisp air of Autumn. Fall was your favorite season, the way everything seems chill and slow, it wasn't loud and harsh like summer, but it does feel like a faint new beginning in a way, like the transition of the 5 am sky, from dark hue midnight sky to a luminous royal blue.

You had the windows rolled down as the wind wafted your skin. You were dressed in your cotton knit cream sweater and a knee-length denim shorts. You had taken a quick stop at the nearest Starbucks outlet to get a cup of hot chocolate. You weren't exactly a coffee type of person. You didn't exactly get what makes people so addicted to it. You didn't like the still remaining taste despite pouring three packets of sugar on it. You loved the hot chocolate because sweetness always enlightened your mood. Your mother used to make you a glass of hot chocolate when you were groggy or when you were anxious. You guess it sticks with you no matter how old you are.

A few hours down the road, the temperature started to rise, you can feel the sticky sweat clinging on your skin cloaked under the thickness of your sweater. You stopped by the gas station to fill in your tank, you were back on the road after you bought some snacks. Not only your car that needed to be loaded, but your stomach also did.

You finally arrived at your destination. You had to drive down some uneven roads that bounced all your items inside and you were feeling a bit nauseated after hours of sitting on the driver's seat and the coarse path. But when you finally reached the spot that you found on the internet, it was worth it. You forgot all the hindrances that you had to endure to get yourself here. The pictures that you saved on your phone didn't do justice to the real scenery.

The land was surrounded by nothing but pine green circling around you. The trees were tall, venerable, and benignant. You could hear the sound of the waterfall coursing through the river and it was a picturesque sight. You took a deep breath to inhale the fresh air. For a second, you forgot what you were here in the first place, you relished the stunning mother nature before you.

But then a picture of your mother, smiling emerged into view. You remembered the look on her face when she talked about all the travel plans she had when she recovers. She never had that chance, and it tore you to pieces, again. The thing about losing someone you love the most is that no matter how many good things you have throwing themselves on your way, the pain doesn't just vanish into thin air. It leaves and comes back every once in a while. It gives you space to breathe and to collect yourself and then when it knows you've walked long enough in the light, it comes back to haunt you, reminding you that it never really left.

But you tried to focus on the present, you can't make your mother come back or travel back in time to keep her alive, so you were going to cherish this moment for her. You were going to feast on this fleeting tranquility that you have.

You stood there until you felt like you were jaded for being on your feet for too long. You went back to your car to take your tent and try to set it up. You had to look that up on the internet too, to get it standing perfectly. After what feels like your thousandth attempts, you were glad that it finally relented and let you use it as a makeshift home.

By the time you were done, it was already afternoon. You decided that you were going to take a look around the woods, you weren't going to just stay in one spot, you still had a few hours until it goes dark and of course you weren't going to be stupid enough to wander around the forest that you had never been to after dusk.

You decided you were going to just walk in nearby areas. You were terrified of getting too far, you might end up lost and couldn't find your way back. You only brought your cellphone that was practically useless because you couldn't find any signal there, but you still needed it to take pictures. You also decided to take a bottle of water with you. Quenching your thirst is essential in a journey through the woods.

You kept on walking while stopping once in a while to capture what you find stunning. You were so lost in looking for your next shot to snap, you didn't see the edged branch that was tapered pointedly until your skin grazed against it, causing a deep, painful cut on your left thigh. It was so piked that it left a horizontal shred on your knee-high shorts too.

You dropped your phone to the soil and yielded a high pitched squeal. It reminded you of the traumatic incident in kindergarten, where you were playing chase and run with a classmate, and you stumbled on a hard rock that left a permanent scar on your right knee.

You fell on the ground because you couldn't withhold the agony any longer. You try to stop the bleeding by ripping a piece of your torn jeans, even though it required some struggle. You did not want to let it get infected. You bandaged the crimson wound and you sat there for a few minutes to calm yourself down. You held yourself back on your hands pressed to the soil, you didn't care that it was going to get dirty, you just needed to find a comfortable position until you decide that you were strong enough to return to your tent.

Little did you know, your shriek had invited an unwanted presence. No, no, not the spooky kind. More like a starving wolf that you saw in your dreams a couple of nights ago, with spiked tusks ready to hunt its prey.

So much for thinking that this would be the best vacation of your life...

Steve Rogers had been living in this enormous cabin in the woods all his life. He was raised by his parents whom his grandparents trusted to take care of the cabin. When his grandfather died, he left it to his parents as his inheritance. His father used to teach him hunting and his mother used to teach him how to cook. They taught him a lot of things to survive living in the woods. It wasn't an easy life, they had to get things done all by themselves.

They had to work hard to get their basic needs. They had to habituate themselves in being isolated. It wasn't a difficult thing for Steve because he was always a lone wolf who was vigilant towards his privacy, but a part of he couldn't help but wish that he had someone to take care of. Someone he could keep to himself. Someone who he could call his and his only. Someone who he could... possess. He didn't feel lonely, no, he loved being alone. He loved his autonomy. But he was only a man after all and man has needs. When he was feeling needy and jerking himself off wasn't just doing it anymore for him, he would often go to the city, an hour drive was all it took to get to the nearest brothel house.

Whenever he walked into the door of that ranch, his steps were heard loud and clear and his presence was witnessed effortlessly. It wasn't difficult for a man like him to spend hours in the bordello, his stamina was ceaseless and, let's just say that he was an... ingenious man. He understood a woman's body and what it desires. He wasn't afraid to use his skill and his expertise to fulfill his appetite and his subject. Oh, and how he could take his time to satisfy each one of these ladies.

But whenever he was finished, he would return home with this feeling of void, yes his physical thirst was quenched and his cock wasn't painfully hard anymore that it hurt, at least he got to release the tension that would've left him high and dry if he hadn't fucked some pussy, but there was still something missing. He still hadn't found that one thing he could domineer within the privacy of the woods. The brothel provided private rooms for their customers for sure, but nothing was more pleasant to him than being in his own private quarters, and the thought that these women he had a good time with weren't exactly his, bored him.

He was fatigued by the fact that they have slept with other people too. It's not like he had some sort of attachment to any of them, but that just reminded him of something he still couldn't find. He needed to make a quick move. He was a determined man, once he set his mind on something, he will do whatever it takes to obtain it. And once he found that one girl that he knew would be his favorite possession, he would take her without a second thought and he would make her his.

He drove his beatdown truck back into the woods, the deserted road had become too familiar to him to turn on the beam headlights. He cleaned himself off under the boiling hot water, wipe away the droplets of water that were clinging to his slightly tanned skin, after years of hunting in the middle of the day where the sun was scorching hot and he never bothered of covering every inch of himself up, nobody was going to see him after all.

Later that night, he dropped himself on to the mattress without being bothered to put on any coverups. He always slept nude. It started drizzling outside when he decided that he was going to call it a night. He was going to go hunting tomorrow, so he needed to gather all his energy to make sure he wouldn't miss his target on the day. So he shut his eyes away and drifted into unconsciousness.

The next morning, he woke up precisely at 7.30 am and gathered all his hunting tools. He had his rifle and his bullets with him. Although he didn't really need much because he had been doing this his whole life, he almost never missed a shot. He was patient enough to observe his target, and he calculated his next move meticulously. He put the rifle near his nose then he waited until he knew his shot would be hit exactly between the target's eyes. Then bam! Within a matter of seconds, it ceased to breathe. Then he put the lifeless creature into his sack.

The day was still young and he decided to repose and chugged down half of the water container. When he felt energized enough, he decided to hike a little farther into the outer parts of the woods. He packed up his rifle and his water container along with his deceased prey.

That's when he heard it. An earsplitting squeal. His senses were alert enough to measure the direction of where it came from. His pace was accelerated towards it. He didn't halt until he saw a tiny, cotton-knit wrapped figure, reclining on the muddy ground, bandaging what seemed to be her wounded thigh with a piece of ripped jeans.

He stood there behind a giant tree, leaning on his arm against it, and observed the sight before him. A young, beautiful girl who didn't look any older than 25, she looked in distress. Her hands were dirty of mud. She seemed unaware of her environs.

She kept mewling in pain, he didn't know how she got the wound, although he could put it in his head that with the phone that was lying next to her, the screen still on display, and next to her head was a very twinged branch, he could put the math together and theorized that she was too starstruck by the sceneries in this woods, just like any other local tourist would, that she didn't notice the poked out, nature-made shank.

But he was entranced by the sight before him. She was really pretty, the kind of beauty that makes you want to keep your eyes on nothing else but her. Like the constellation had aligned, burst into flames, landed on the Earth, and gave birth to a woman. It was divine and striking, in the most heartwarming way.

He wasn't standing too far away but it was enough to not alarm her. The benefit was that he could keep ogling as long as he wanted. About twenty minutes had passed and she finally decided to get on her feet. She picked up her phone and pat her hands together to brush off the remnants of the dirt that were still clinging to her palms. Her sweater was slightly tarnished but she didn't seem to bother stroking it off. She walked to the other direction. She was limping but she held herself straight.

She finally halted at the place where there was a tent, illuminated from the inside, and there was a car. He learned immediately that, that's where she was staying. The usual tourist spot. He didn't see anyone else with her. She seemed to be camping alone.

That was odd, usually, couples, a group of high school kids, or families camp together. He was always irked by those intruders who occupied the land. They luxuriated from nature, but how did they pay her in return? By littering the surface and leaving junk all over the site. They didn't even bother gathering them in one place so that it would be easier for the Foresters to pick them up.

Poor girl, he thought. She must be really lonely to go out here alone. People don't choose these woods to have 'alone' time. They usually choose the libraries or the Bahamas, if they want to go a little extravagant. This girl mustn't know a lot about camping too, from the way she set up her tent, it looks slightly rumpled, it could still keep her safe though, well not too safe, now that he's here. But at least she wouldn't be soaked if it rains.

Her car was parked right behind the tent, it was a simple pearl white Chevy Spark. She seemed to travel light. He couldn't see much through the tinted windows, but he had seen giant truck cars and jeeps that were overweight with travel bags more than necessary. He memorized all the details of the setting and made a fixed resolution on his mind.

He is doing some hunting tonight...

578 notes · View notes

hitsuackerman · 4 years ago

Text

Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt.20

a/n: i... smell... drama...

warnings: this cannot be read solo

Links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19, part 21

Masterlist to my other fics: here :)

Overhaul’s waiting list: @jjk-biased @infinite-universe-love @dirtypride @blackymomo03 @azzie @purple-rabanito @meximorrita @awesomeee19 @celestial-kanzakii @laure-lo @team-wang-puppy @aydience-world @choros-main-hoe @colorseeingchick @but-kairis-not-that-smart(i cant seem to tag again :( hope this lands in your timelines!)

Keeping both your palms rested on your thighs, it took a lot of energy to regulate your steadily increasing blood pressure. Not seeing Overhaul for almost a week made you realize just how gorgeous his face was, despite it being partially covered by the beak. From time to time, you would send a death glare to Tsukauchi.

It also took a considerable amount of dedication not to look at him. Thankful that peripheral views exist, you were sure how his golden eyes would linger on your silently panicking figure. Tapping your foot was definitely not helping.

“So that’s the rerun for later.” Tsukauchi ended the presentation and closed the projector. He, too, could feel the increasing tension in the room. Yet, this had been a part of his plan. Seeing how you were down made him move and decide that it was time for him to intervene. He also took note on how Overhaul made zero effort in concealing his stares. “Any questions?”

“The back route seems a bit faulty.” One of the officers commenced making Tsukauchi reach for the printed copy. “Is there an alternate route?”

“We can opt to use the fire exit but it would be too obvious on our part. I specifically chose this route since there are less hindrances along the way and it would be easy to be lost in the crowd.”

“I’m pretty sure the Fukuo Kai will be heavily guarding the back route.”

“On the contrary,” Overhaul spoke up. Each person jumping at the sudden intrusion of his muffled voice. “The back route will make things easier. If your lot wants to narrowly escape then being cornered will be a good thing. Those bastards aren’t the best when they get separated from their mother hen.”

Hearing him speak sent shivers down your spine. Gritting your teeth, you pushed your quirk a bit more to relax yourself. Personal emotions aside, he had a point.

“He just sided with Tsuka-kun.” Shinezu leaned in and whispered. “Is this a fever dream?”

“No. Take the sociopath away, he’s relatively stable.” You praised him. “One of the best villains to work with, in all honesty.”

“Oh right, you were paired up with him before the… holy smokes this guy’s got balls. Entering a precinct despite having the heroes planning to capture him? What I’d give to have his confidence.”

“You’ll get there, Shinez. Just get out of the office more.” You squeezed his shoulders and earned an enthusiastic huff.

With the briefing now finished, Overhaul excused himself and left the room. The way he turned around without a care in the world, or at least the people in the room, made the butterflies in your stomach tingle with a certain longing that only he could fill. Chewing on your inner cheek, it was getting difficult to stop yourself from standing up and drag him to that one secluded area to pour your pent up emotions.

Shaking your head, you shifted your attention back to the meeting. It had not registered that there were still a few small talks happening. Luckily, no one took it to themselves to converse with you. Listening to their conversations, one of them addressed his concerns about having to work with a villain.

“It goes beyond our belief.” He commented. Forehead wrinkling at the thought of having Overhaul as a team mate.

“He does the job rather well.” Tsukauchi defended him. His words bore no ill-will. “His quirk will be of help later. Also take into consideration that your group will not be in the same area as him. (l/n) and I will be with him guarding the premises.”

“Still. I bet right now, he’s listening in on our conversation. Doesn’t that bother you?” His eyes slid to your silent mouth. Almost as if asking for validation. One that he would not be getting anytime sooner.

“I digress. I’ve worked with him a bit longer than Nao.” You caught his stare and shrugged. “As long as you don’t question his motives, he’ll cooperate. He does what he wants and what we want as long as boundaries are present.”

“Suit yourselves.” Standing up, the 4th division officer commanded the others to follow him into the garage.

Once it was only Tsukauchi, Shinezu, and you inside the room, one more small conversation ensued.

“Do you want him to ride in your car or mine?” Tsukauchi asked.

“Am I missing something?” Shinezu asked with eyes wide open. Head going back and forth from his coworkers.

“You’re the head of the case.” Smiling at your partner, you would respect whatever decision he would make. “Surprise me. I’ll wait by the lobby.”

Leaving the room, you immediately proceeded to your desk and grabbed the necessities. Knowing you would gear up at the site, the trip was short and you were now seated in the driver’s seat. Key inside the ignition hole, the engine warming up to be put to good use. Getting a message that you were to wait by the entrance, you followed suit and squinted when sunlight hit your eyes.

Turning your hazard lights on, you stared at the entrance of the building. Who would be seated beside you in the minutes to come? Hearing your ringtone, you tore your gaze away and grabbed your phone.

“Gei?” This was the last person you’d expect to call you at this time. Gripping your phone a little harder, you waited for him to speak up.

“Yes yes yes, I know! And relax, I’m fine!” He assured you. “I just called to inform you that next week, my schedule will be cleared due to some conference that got rescheduled. I was thinkin we could head out and have some quality time together?”

“What do you have in mind?” Reaching for your planner, you checked your own schedule next week and found you could squeeze in a few hours for him. Looking into your rearview mirror, your eyes widened at the sight of the reflection. “Holy smokes. I gotta go. I’ll call you later, Gei.”

“Is your mission starting? Oh shit! I’m so sorry for disturbing you! Take care and stay safe, (n/n).” He managed to spit out some words before he could hear the door opening through the line.

“I apologize for making you wait.” Overhaul said as he seated himself in the backseat. Closing the seat, his sight remained glued to the outside world. His fingers now playing with the hems of his white gloves.

“GIRL?! IS THA-” Before you would let Overhaul hear what your friend had to say, you ended the call and closed your planner.

Half expecting that Tsukauchi would let him ride your car, you felt your chest tighten at the fact he was in the backseat and not beside you. Perhaps things were really different after that Ackerman name drop. Remembering he had apologized for making you wait, you placed the planner back into your bag and thanked the seat for covering your flushed face.

“It really wasn’t that long.” Seated properly again, you caught his intense golden eyes staring at your mirror. Not one to back out from a staring game, it shocked yourself when you tore your gaze first. A mission was at hand and personal feelings should now be set aside. “You ready?”

With no response, you began the trip to the rendezvous point.

What usually was filled with small talks and easy flowing conversations, the car ride proved to be longer than you wanted. Whatever comfortable silence shared before was now replaced with thick tension. All it takes would be one word to break the ice and perhaps mend the splitting relationship, but intuition told you otherwise. Giving him what he wants would only make things worse.

If it wasn’t for Tsukauchi’s car appearing into view, you would have caved and threw your pride. Parking the car, you watched as he opened the door and immediately closed it. Memories of 6 nights ago flooding your brain. Shaking the thoughts away, you grabbed your phone and made sure to hide the burner phone in the glove compartment.

Once you were met with Tsukauchi and Shinezu, you were bombarded with questions.

“How was the car ride? You’re alive! Did he share any of his ideas and ways of life?” Shinezu asked away.

“It was a silent ride.” You gave your partner a shrug. “He sat in the backseat so I was his chauffeur for the entire duration.”

“Oi, you three! Get in here!” One of the officers from the 4th division called your attention. Gesturing you three to approach the small tent, Tsukauchi nodded and led the group. Inside the small tent were a bunch of monitors displaying the camera footage of the targeted building. “Birdman has entered the building and is heading to his position. So far, the targets are where they’re supposed to be.”

“Keep us updated. It won’t be long before their meeting will start.” Tsukauchi reached for an earpiece and handed each one of you as well. Giving Shinezu final instructions, both of you watched as the shy man exited the tent and appeared on one of the monitors. “He may be shy but he does undercover well.”

“Couldn’t agree more~” You smirked at how Shinez rolled his shoulders and took much more confident strides.

“Ah, (y/n), a word…” Tsukauchi opened the tent doors and led you to his car. “First off, I’m sorry for the sudden intrusion of Overhaul. I just hate seeing you so down these days. I thought that if he were to see you, whatever you see in him might come out and things might turn out for the better.”

“Don’t mind, don’t mind~” Scratching your neck, it was honestly the thought that counted. “I got to see him so I guess it ain’t all that bad. Plus, spoiling him wouldn’t do us any good so…”

“Just talk to him later. Truth be told, he didn’t want to come.” Staring at the building, Tsukauchi couldn’t help but wonder, what would happen once the earpiece would finally establish connection. “When I told him you’d be there, he changed his mind before ending the call.”

The rest of the hours flew by and the meeting finally began. Tsukauchi was listening carefully through the earpiece while you monitored Shinezu. Every now and then, you would glance at the monitor which focused on Overhaul. If things were still the way before, you would bet your money that Overhaul would be texting you on how the meeting was a waste of his time.

Feeling your chest tightening and your shoulders getting heavier by the minute, you focused back on Shinezu’s camera. It was only for a second but you caught how the man flinched. Furrowing your brows, you asked the person in charge to zoom in on Shinezu. Pointing towards the communication device, the officer quickly grabbed it and handed it over. With your thumb grazing the small button, you waited till you were sure the man was in distress. Seeing how he put his hand in his pocket, you clicked on the button.

“Calm down.” Heartbeat slowly picking up its pace. “Scratch your cheek if you’re in need of back up, touch your chin if it’s urgent.”

Hearing what you stated, the officer stood up and ordered the back up team to prepare..

The moment Shinezu touched his chin, you put the device down and gave them the go signal. Jogging to Tsukauchi’s station, you updated him of the current events to which he relayed to Overhaul. Continuing the task, you went back to your seat and pushed the button.

“Backup is on it’s way, Shinez. Leave now.” You watched as the conversation between him and the other man continued. With your finger tapping on the jagged edge of the device, your focus was now on another monitor. Letting out your held breath, relief flooded you when the other man turned his back and made his way back to whatever business he had. Once Shinezu was in a clear spot, the button was pushed once more. “What the heck happened?”

“I heard a gunshot. Presumably on the floor above.” He was now running towards the elevator while loosening his tie.

Looking at the other monitors, the mentioned floors looked fine.

“Shit. Nao!”

“On it.”

Leaving your posts to the other officers, Tsukauchi and you geared up before jogging towards the entrance. Careful of your surroundings.

“How long did you think they rigged the footage?” You asked as you entered the building. It was oddly and unsettling. Focusing on whatever noise would suffice, all you could hear were each of your footsteps on the floors. Clicking your earpiece, you tried to communicate with whoever could be reached. “Anyone from 4. Do you copy?”

“One injured. 5th floor.” One officer managed to reply.

Giving you a signal, Tsukauchi went towards the stairs while you were left to further inspect the ground floor for any possible civilians or members in hiding. Sighing at the turn of events, you took out your handgun and cocked it. Cautiously taking one step after another, you began to check each room and corner till you were sure the vicinity was clear.

Heading to the fire exit, you made your way to the 4th floor. Just as you were about to open the door, the ground shook. Staring at the ceiling, you took note of the looming cracks. Not wanting to remain in the cramped area, you entered the hallway. Not expecting the floor to be somewhat of a wreck, you covered your nose and squint at all the dust.

It took a while to adjust, but the floor was now clearer to your eyes. Coughing a bit, you took more steps forward. Before turning the corner, you stopped in your tracks when you heard a familiar voice.

“Where is he?” The way it was muffled only gave him away. “Tsk. You made such a mess.”

Peaking, you saw his tall figure. Hands void of any gloves.

Hearing a crunching sound behind you, your eyes searched the premises only to be met with emptiness. With your finger resting on the trigger, you were more than ready to defend yourself. Even if it meant shooting a person, the only thing you hated about the job.

“Answer me, you rat. The meeting was going well till that little gesture you did with your hands.” Bending his body down, the tip of his mask touched the trembling person’s cheek. “Don’t make me ask again.”

“H-he went to the rooftop.” The man answered.

“Did you get that?” Overhaul touched his earpiece. It was quiet again. “Hmm? No one’s on the rooftop? Well then, that’s not my problem anymore now is it?”

Taking the small device from his ear, he stared at it before overhauling. Adjusting his jacket, you watched as he knelt and stretched out a hand towards the other person’s neck. Not wanting a mess of things, it was time you intervene.

“I wouldn’t kill him if I were you…” Stepping out of your little corner, you felt your throat parching when he peered at you over his shoulder. Putting the handgun away, you showed him your palms and walked closer to the two men. “We can bring him in and question him in the precinct.”

“This has nothing to do with the Fukuo Kai case.” His gaze now back at the man. “Stay out of it.”

“As much as I want to stay out of it, this man is still a part of the Fukuo Kai. We need him in one piece.”

“I thought you swore not to, I quote, snoop around.” His hand now wrapped around the other person’s neck. Standing to his feet, you watched as the helpless man struggled for oxygen. “Leave.”

“I’d rather not.” You stood your ground. “The others already think negatively of you, despite you lending a helping hand. Just give him to us and I’ll even give you the privilege of asking a few questions.”

“Do you think I actually care about what you people think? All of you are mere pawns in my game.” Tightening his grip, his golden eyes bore holes into the choking man. Not for long though, a second after, the deafening scream was replaced with the sounds of blood splattering on the walls. Turning around to face you, Overhaul wiped the blood off his hands onto his jacket. “Listen, I may have agreed to work with your lot, but there was no agreement regarding my actions and its consequences.”

“I’m well aware.” Lifting your chin up, you continued. “But this doesn’t revolve around you. You’re my pawn in this case. Remember, if you want out, go ahead. I can pull a few strings and solve this case without you.”

“Then so be it.”

- - - - -

a/n: oops. did yall like this chapter? this was pretty difficult to write since ive never really written this kind of scene (save for BLEACH because i may or may not have a Hitsugaya x Reader couchcough) but i hope yall like the increasing drama! :*

#overhaul x reader #overhaul #bnha overhaul #mha overhaul #chisaki #chisaki kai x reader #chisaki kai #bnha chisaki kai #mha chisaki kai

70 notes · View notes

sleepyfaceandsnark · 4 years ago

Text

Distant Lover, One Day I'll Hold You Like the Sun Holds the Moon

Summary:

When Steve leaves a letter for the new resident at the lake house he stayed at during the summer he doesn't expect to get a letter back, or such puzzling exchange that'll make him ask is this fate? Or is this just an expertly crafted practical joke?

AO3

January 4th 2012

Dear New Resident,

I hope you enjoy this quaint house as much as I did. May it feel you with many times of peace. Please if you receive any mail addressed to me to forward it to my current address listed at the bottom of this letter. The paw prints on the dock and the box in the attic were here when I got here. Not sure who the box belongs to.

Enjoy your stay,

Steve R

Steve leaves the letter in the mailbox and takes his last bag of luggage. He didn't so much lie in the letter it really was a nice, quaint place and it was very peaceful but regardless of those facts he couldn't wait to leave the lake house behind him. It wasn't the lake house's fault he had a bad break up and had to go back to shifts at the emergency room after his private practice lost their funding and he certainly didn't believe it was cursed so it was okay to omit his personal drama from the note. He takes one last look at the house, placed in the middle of a lake 5 miles wide with large windows being the only source of outside exterior walls. It gives the illusion just anyone could look in but there was no one around to do so, and even then by some technological advances of some kind Steve couldn't bother to remember, the glass reflects in a way that disables anyone from seeing in. The walkway from land to house is around 10 yards and narrow, leaving enough room for one person and maybe a dog Steve thinks as he rolls his eyes looking at the pawprints again. He finally jumps in his car and pulls away from the house with promise he'll be back to check on it soon.

February 3rd

Bucky Barnes drives his truck down the gravel road towards the secluded lake house he decided, on a whim, to rent. A stupid decision possibly, especially for a bartender, but a great place for him to get peace to write. He checks the mailbox and sees a letter written by the previous inhabitant. He slings his only bag back over his shoulder and slides his fingers though the flap of the envelope to open it as he walks up the walkway. He unfolds it as he puts the keys he was given in the lock, flicks the lights on by the door, and drops his bag down. He walks to the couch and starts reading.

Quaint? Definitely. He got that memo when he checked out the place. He glances quickly at the bottom to see the address he's supposed to forward the mail to and goes back up to reading.

Paw prints on the dock? Not sure he remembers seeing those unless he wasn't paying attention when he was shown the place, or even just now. He'll check in the morning.

Box? That could be interesting. Soon as he's settled and orders some food he'll find his way up to the attic.

He puts the letter down. Okay so no notion of anything be haunted. That's good. Except maybe the mysterious box.

His food comes and he puts on the tv, setting it up when he was waiting for the delivery. Of course setting up the tv took longer than the thought so he didn't have time to look in the attic for the mysterious box. He finishes his dinner, discarding the remnants in the trash. He sits back down to finish the episode of whatever mindless tv program he settled on to rid himself of scrolling through all of the channels. He already forgot the name of it but it was a rerun of some show about people jumping through impossible obstacles. Bucky sits back and wonder if he could do that, maybe even win there prize...if there even was a prize. Note to self look up how to apply to American obstacle course show or something...

He turns it off after the episode ends resisting the urge to let it go to the next one and decides now is a good time as any to look up at the attic.

He pulls the covering down, revealing a small latter, and climbs up. He peaks his head through the hole and notices how empty the room is. He climbs through regardless and walks around the room seeing a few pieces of furniture, some with sheets covering it some covered in dust. That's odd. Almost as if no one has been up here in years. He looks around some more but doesn't see anything resembling a box. Maybe the letter was old and not only did the other inhabitants paint over the paw prints but also got rid of the box (and never dusted). Shame he was curious.

He checks the letter again and there was no date besides the day and month. Maybe it was January 4th of another year?

Bucky sighs and goes back to the television, scrolling through again until he falls on some movie that was halfway done. He falls asleep on the couch. Next day he looks around the house, in daylight this time, and sees what could possibly be fixed. He doesn't notice much in the house besides some rusty hinges which wont be a huge project so he goes outside to look. He walks on the walkway still not seeing the paw prints that were supposedly there however he does notice the paint chipping, pieces of it coming of in his hand as he slides it down. Looks like he'll need a trip to the nearest hardware store for some paint. It'll probably be easiest to just match the black that's already on it as much as he'd like to try his hand at a bold color change.

Luckily the hardware store was nearby so about a half an hour later he has the paint, brushes, a roller (in case that's easier), and a tray to dump the paint in.

About an hour in, and not even halfway done, he hears something near the bushes on the other side of the road of the house. He hears something jump out of it and the light scratching of nails on the pavement. He's about to turn around and face whatever beast decided to intrude on his peaceful Lake House when he hears a playful bark. The best, or otherwise known as a Golden Retriever, gallops towards him tongue flopping in the wind. Bucky manages to dodge out of the dog's way but unfortunately the paint pan didn't make it. The dog's feet run through it, knocking the paint can over as well in the process, and continues to run down the walkway and towards the house. Bucky stops the dog as it's feet touch the front porch of the house, and thanks himself for closing the door.

"Hey, buddy. What're you doing?" Bucky asks the dog as if the dog will answer him back 'Oh nothing much just going for my mid day jog'.

Bucky laughs to himself . “Alright let me see if I can get you cleaned up,” he says to the dog. He put his hand on the door knob but stops himself. Oh right. House that’s technically not his, dog that’s definitely not his with paint on his paws. Probably wouldn’t make a good mixture.

“Umm…” Bucky turns back to the dog who is sitting patiently. “Stay,” he apprehensively orders, pointing to the ground. “Stay,” He repeats as he opens the door. “Stay.” He says again as he moves his body backwards into the door, not leaving room for the dog to come in. Besides extending his head to the door the dog stays still.

Bucky rushes to the kitchen and looks in the drawers for a dish towel of some kind. Nothing. God the previous people really didn’t leave shit. He sighs and takes the roll of paper towels he had got on his way back from the hardware store. He ripped some off and folded it as he wet it under the sink quickly. He walks back to the front door mostly expecting the dog to run off, which he actually did think it did until he opens the door fully and sees it laying down on the porch near the door.

“Well at least you’re a good listener,” Bucky says, lowering himself to the ground. He grabs a paw, darkened with paint. The dog lets him, wagging its tail as Bucky uses the cloth to wipe off some of the paint. “Even if you did ruin my walkway…” He looks past the dog to long cement connecting the house to land. “Wait a minute…” He gets up and sees the paw prints all the way from towards the road to his house. The walkway, the painted paw prints. He walks over and brushes his shoe over one. It’s already dry. Paw prints on the walkway just like the letter described.

He walks back over to the dog and finishes cleaning its paws. He wears a puzzled look on his face as he thinks, much to the dog’s displeasure. Bucky feels a light kick on his face as he notices the dog roll on his back, asking for a belly rub. This shakes Bucky out of his trance as he laughs again at his new friend and obliges. The dog’s paws are clean and Bucky packs up the remaining paint, he’ll finish tomorrow. He heads inside, this time not giving the dog any orders so he follows him inside. Bucky doesn’t mind. He grabs the letter from the table by the couch and rereads it. He shakes his head again, maybe this dog has done this before? Or any dog for that matter? He sighs, looks through one of his bags for a piece of paper and decides to write a letter back. Tomorrow, after getting the dog checked at the vet, he’ll pick up some envelopes and stamps.

#Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #Stevebucky #Steve x Bucky #Steve and Bucky #fanfiction #fics #my fics #fluff #light angst #slow burn #letters #pen pals #dogs #captain america #marvel #mystery #they're both lonely idiots that eventually fall in love #stucky

13 notes · View notes

nimmy22 · 3 years ago

Text

A Mistake: Chapter 4

Cara missed her first two classes, having been knocked out into the late morning hours, courtesy of her dad. No parents were rushing to wake her up, no breakfast waiting for her, no offer for a ride to school. She woke up with a gash on her head, an abdomen that was an artwork of black and blue. The cause of it all was a dealer who had no stock to sell. His suppliers suddenly cut all contact leaving her parents without their fix.

Last night her dad came home seconds from exploding. He almost broke down the door as he struggled to open it in his drunken stupor, nose flaring and teeth grinding into dust even before his eyes locked on her. While these beatings were nothing new to Cara, she will admit that his hand was extra heavy yesterday, evidenced by the deeper shades on her skin. Her mother didn't even have to add anything into the mix, satisfied by her husband's handiwork.

Cara just couldn't wait to leave, but money was a dilemma. She tried her best to get the odd job here and there, whatever she could find, really. Things were even more difficult since her parent recently took to stealing her hard-earned money, ransacking her bedroom for anything worth selling. Not even the mattress stuffing or the soles of her shoes were a safe place.

Adding to her troubles was the potential loss of a job. She could no longer babysit Sherry and hasn't been contacted by the Birkins. Still, perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing. After all, these people were beyond dangerous, and she would do just about anything to never meet that man again. It still broke her heart to be cut away from such a sweet little girl, the separation was sudden, and god knows how hard that must've hit Sherry, losing one of the few people she trusted.

As expected, both her parents were gone. They were likely fishing for another dealer, and if they did not find what they were looking for, she knew what will be waiting for her tonight. It was better to stay away from home for now, and it didn't matter where.

While the other bruises were easier to hide, the limp in her walk was too obvious. She had just finished formulating a story by the time she made it to her third class, auto-mechanics. Usually, people ate up her stories without a problem, curbing their questions as their concern lacked genuinely. The real issue was Claire. She'll spit the story right out without even tasting it.

Claire was already waiting in their usual spot. Despite the pain, Cara tried her best to be as subtle as possible but attempting the once flawless movement of her legs took a considerable amount of control.

"Hey, you," Claire cracked a smile as soon as she spotted her friend. "Missed you at lunch. Actually, missed you for like half the day. Where've you been off to? Could've invited me too."

" Stayed up too long watching reruns and then ended up sleeping in. I scared my mom this morning when I came out of my room. She thought I was a burglar." Cara giggled over her lies, struggling to fight the grimace as she took a seat. Thankfully, Claire didn't seem to notice, leaning back in her chair to put up her red hair into a high ponytail. Care relaxed inwardly, feeling safe from the questions.... for now.

Half an hour later, Claire slid beneath the car donated to the school while Cara sat next to her on the floor leaning against the door. Cara was glad. This way, she could finally slouch over and breathe, gladly keeping the weight off her bad leg. The radio played a series of pointless advertisements adding nothing valuable to the background noise. Mr. Crawford liked the radio host, but Cara thought he simply lived to promote Michael Warren or was paid handsomely to do so. Sure, the mayor had done much for the city. Still, she found all this prosperity odd, especially under such a short period of time. Something smelled fishy.

"This shit can't be fixed," Claire grumbled, sliding out from below the hunk of metal, tossing the greasy gloves next to her on the floor. The car was so weathered the paint came off in large chips as she peeled whatever was left of it on the door.

"Something Claire Redfield can't fix? Well, that's a surprise." Cara giggled, raising an eyebrow.

"I can't fix what's not there. Half the parts are missing. The idiot who donated the car must've stolen it, took whatever was worth shit, and donated the rest to get rid of the evidence."

"Looks like you've been hanging around the station too long. What, are you going to start an investigation now?"

"If I wanted that bike upgrade, then I obviously need money, and you know I don't like asking my brother for money. But what I don't mind asking for is a job around the station. Pretty much everyone knows me by now. It's like a foot in the door. I'll just annoy them until it's official."

"Once they hire you as a janitor, don't forget about me. Then we can break into the records room where they keep all those juicy storybooks."

"Okay, that's a fun idea. But here's another idea! How about we not get my brother fired along with us. Plus, you forget where we live. Nothing major happens around here."

"That's where you're wrong," Cara whispered before mentally slapping herself. She tensed, begging higher entities that Claire heard nothing.

"What do you mean?" Claire perked up, reminding her of a puppy who heard the sound of the treat bag opening.

"Oh, nothing," Cara tried to play it off, not want her friend to dig deeper. If there was one thing she learned last Friday, it was to keep her mouth effectively shut. She was already screwing herself over and placing a friend in danger. Her pulse began racing with the prospect that she already said too much.

"Cara," Claire crawled towards her friend, a threat in he voice. "You heard something or...saw something? You can tell me, I'm your friend. Chris and I will always be there for you."

"I know. You remind me of that every day. It's not a big deal. I'm just worried about the level of stupidity in this town. I've heard about the three seniors who got caught breaking into Kendo's gun shop last night. He had them lined up on their knees with their hands behind their head by the time the cops came. The whole street watched them."

"Ugh, I've never seen someone do something as stupid in my life. Had to hear all about it from Chris. In fact, that's all he talked about last night and this morning. Don't get in the wrong crowds, bluh bluh. Guns are bad bluh bluh." As claire grumbled through her rant, Cara knew she had successfully steered the boat to safety.

"Well, it's nice to have a brother. I wouldn't mind a lecture or two."

"Oh honey, I can help with that," Claire cocked her head to the side with a gleam in her eyes.

"No, yours are excluded."

"Oh, ha ha, you'll be begging for it one day. Now be a good girl and be on the watch out. I'm taking a nap." Claire said, sliding back below the car before getting into a comfortable position. "Oh, and give me a foot massage while you're at it,"

"It'll cost you."

"Wait till I hear back about a job, and then we'll talk,"

They stayed like that, Claire breathing softly while Cara listened absentmindedly at the radio. Her thoughts were yet again plagued by the events of last Friday. It was suffocating having to mentally recover from something so scarring and no one around her knowing a thing. She had no one to talk to. The words of the host were starting to become much more appealing than her thoughts.

"Michael Warren did so much for Raccoon decades before he was mayor, but with him in power, we're doing so much better, growing faster than ever before. We all gotta thank him for that, you know? Everyone was skeptical about big pharma moving in, but he made a good partnership with them, and the jobs came raining down. Have you seen the homeless folk on the streets? No, cause they all got help, been offered good jobs, their lives are turned for the better. Y'all look at the jails. They are pretty much empty. Nobody needs to turn to stealing for a living when good-paying work is right in front of them." The host trailed on, with Cara barely listening to the shameless paid promotion. The supposed decrease in crime seems a bit far-fetched to Cara. Maybe the robbers, murders, fraudsters, and rapists just moved their activity to the next town over for whatever reason, much like her dad and his dealings? But if there were so many work opportunities, why couldn't someone come 'help' her parents? Uproot them out of the dark pit they dug?

"Hey, you coming?"

"What?" Cara snapped back to reality, realizing Claire was already on her feet, stretching her back.

"The assembly?"

"Oh...?" Cara frowned, forcing a straight face as she pulled her aching body up.

"I guess I can't blame you. You did miss half the day. Come on, I want to get a seat in the very back, makes for a speedy getaway." Claire was already out the door, staring back at her friend with her hands on her hips, impatiently tapping her foot.

"You go ahead and reserve me a seat. I just need to go to the washroom." Cara said, hoping to walk to the gym at a slower, less painful pace.

"Fine, but don't be too long," Claire said before jogging away.

Taking her sweet time, Cara turned a 5-minute walk to the gym into 10 minutes, but even then, that was still an exhausting mission. Soon she was seated next to Claire with the rest of the students as they waited for the presenter.

The gym was in a state of chaos. Everyone talked over the other. But this was not a surprising thing considering it was the last period of the day and the events of last night.

When Cara looked over the stage, she was surprised, seeing a banner with the Racoon police department STARS name on it. Great, it was another talk with the cops, most likely about drugs and whatnot.

"Hey, maybe your brother is here,"

"Chris? He would've told me,"

A throat clearing next to the speaker's podium failed to get the attention of the kids. It was followed by a very authoritative "Attention,"

Cara never experienced so much power put into a single word, but it was loaded, and it succeeded in forcing everyone to smack their lips shut.

For a few seconds, she was staring but unable to focus, her muscles tensed, ready to make a break for it. She held her breath, slid down her seat, covered her face with a curtain of hair, and for added measure, she put her head down. She hoped to stay hidden in the crowds of students.

It was Albert Wesker at the podium, hands resting on the edges. His eyes didn't have to scan the crowds for long, finding her easily. Her attempt to hid was adorable but in vain. He could track down men in another country given extraordinarily little info, and the foolish little thing thought she could hide in a measly crowd of 1200 hormone-riddled teens.

"I am Captain Albert Wesker of STARS, and five days ago, there had been an unfortunate, unfortunate accident. Maxwell Robford was barely five years older than many of you. Driving while drunk, he ended up wrapped around a tree and was incinerated along with his car. That road wasn't popular, and it would take days for someone to stumble across the wreck and give us a call. We could only recover a pile of ashes and bones to return to his family. Our hearts go to them. I'm here on behalf of STARS to urge you to stop drinking and driving because the next incident may not only result in us digging out your corpses but those of others. The morgue is no place for people so...young. That's all from me, and now my partner will add a few more words." Wesker stepped away from the podium, nodding as the other uniformed officer took over. The next speaker struggled to calm the students, who all at once started talking about the accident.

"That’s so terrible. I feel so bad for his family," Claire said, leaning her head back.

"Yeah..." Cara answered absentmindedly, unable to take away her eyes from the crooked officer. She was angry that he could come to her school and pretend to be an officer of the law concerned for the futures of the kids in the room. If anything, she could bet all the money she had that the kid died because of a foul. Maybe, Wesker himself arranged the scene before it was supposedly...discovered. Perhaps that poor kid saw something he shouldn't have and paid the price. And maybe she'll also end up in an unfortunate accident sooner or later. The thought of that sent the bile straight up. She rocked herself, mind reeling with the possibility.

"I'm going to the washroom," Cara said quietly, her voice unusually thick as she could not push the lump down. Raising from her seat, she rushed out of the gym, feeling the world closing in on her. She was barely aware of Claire calling out to her and the man on the stage who followed her with his eyes.

Completely bypassing the washroom, Cara burst through the school's back doors before throwing her back against the garbage bins, sliding to the floor. The stench didn't register as her brain tricked her into thinking she could smell burning flesh. Thinking about what the kid must have felt while burning up, she shut her eyes tightly, unable to handle such imagery. She didn't try to control her sobs, letting them overpower her without caring about who was watching.

Someone was watching, and they were amused.

"You know, it's rude to walk out while a speaker is presenting. We take the time out of our boorish days to speak to a bunch of idiots who won't hang onto a single word we say. A complete and utter waste of time." Wesker spoke, walking around the garbage can to look down at Cara. The silence came sharply as she noticed his presence. It was hard to believe the girl cowering in the corner was the same person who risked her life to protect his little Sherry.

"Did you kill him?" Cara whispered, her puffy eyes finding his.

"Who?" standing in front of her, Wesker squatted down to her level.

"You know who I am talking about."

"Still in the mood for asking questions? Do you think he will be more alive having that knowledge?" Wesker reached over with a gloved hand to push the hair away from her face, enjoying the complete mess she was. The girl was like this because of him, and he loved having that power. He didn't have to do a thing to get to her. Merely show up.

" I didn't say anything to anyone, I swear. Please just leave me alone." Her voice was octaves higher, uncaring when it fragmented at the end. Even if someone heard her, she doubted they would help. The decorated officer can make up a story more likely believable than a word out of her mouth. She was alone and wholly regretted leaving the gym. Cornering herself, she practically led him to her.

"Our encounters will only end once I say so. Now, answer this. Why were you limping?" Wesker watched as she flinched when his hand came to rest on her injured leg. He found this development displeasing. Someone trespassed on his right to be the only one to hurt her, to use her, to kill her. And correction was in order.

#resident evil #albert wesker #Albert Wesker X OC #albert wesker x oc

3 notes · View notes

the-american-witch · 4 years ago

Text

Strength in Numbers Part 2

Part two of Strength in Numbers and inspire by @supernaturalimagine prompt of Imagine losing your hair to chemotherapy and the boys shaving their heads to make you feel better.

Word Count: 2214

Warnings: Cancer, angst

You had no idea it would be like this, this time. Everything hurt. Your body, your mind, your soul...even your dreams hurt at this point. Plagued by nightmares with both memories long forgotten, and memories you wanted to forget. Not even Cas could help you with those, try as he might.

You were right, you wound up in the hospital more often than not; and yet you were wrong. Each time you had to be admitted the boys were there for you. They didn’t get caught. Weren’t even questioned; they were just known as “your boys.” Some of the staff asked how you managed to get all three of them on a leash like that you would always simply say they were a gift from God. If only they knew.

They were truly your rocks throughout this thing. You felt guilty of course: taking them away from hunting all the time, and if either Sam or Dean stayed with you they made sure Cas went with the other along for a hunt. (Turns out Cas, angel of the Lord, was quite the hunter when he put his mind to it.) This meant there could always be someone with you when you went for treatment. Try as you might to be okay, to hide exactly how much pain you were in they were there anyway. Just like they promised they would be.

That didn’t mean you were happy about being stuck in the hospital all the live long fucking day though. You sighed for the thousandth time in about an hour, flipping through the channels again and again trying to find something interesting to watch.

“You know we could always--”

“No, Dean...we’re not watching Doctor Sexy again. Besides it’s just a rerun where Kelsey turns down Trevor because she still thinks he’s not serious about them.” you turned to look at him, smirking, “And that’s just some bullshit I don’t have time for right now.”

He raised his hands in surrender, “Sorrrrry my bad. Just trying to help.”

“Uh huh. I’m sure.” flopping back on your pillow with a groan you shut off the tv. “There’s nothing on.”

“There never is this time of day.”

You stuck out your tongue before you tossed him the remote. He turned the tv back on and immediately switched it to Doctor Sexy M.D. You nearly screamed and only stopped yourself because your nurse came in with another bag.

When she made an offhand comment about how trashy it was you started laughing at Dean’s face. He looked so offended and tried to explain the nuances of said “medical” drama.

“Listen all I’m saying is that it’s hard to watch something like this when all you’re looking at is how they still have earrings when they do open surgery. Or they way they treat the newbies.”

“Yeah but the stories!”

They went back and forth the entire time she was in there, between her doing her duties and taking your vitals and such. You may as well had been a lawn ornament and while it was irritating to be literally spoken over, it was also a relief that his sole focus wasn’t on you for a few minutes. After your round of treatment you were feeling less and less like yourself and you knew it was only a matter of time before you got really bad. Again.

After she left Dean settled back into his chair and grumbled about Nurse-No-Nonsense. You threw your pillow at him and then pouted for him to give it back.

“No way you gave it to me!”

“You would deny a dying woman her own pillow?? What kinda monster are you?” You knew you made a mistake the moment you said it; but seeing Dean sober up in an instant was what really killed you. You hated when he got that look in his eye. The one that screamed how much he was hurting that he couldn’t help you through this. That it wasn’t a monster to kill or a curse to break, it simply...was.

He gave it back, even fluffed it for you and put it behind your head. “You know you can’t play that card all the time...it’s just plain dirty.”

“I know but you love me anyway.”

XXX

You groaned and covered your mirror. You didn’t need it anyway. You no longer wore makeup in any way, shape, or form; and well...you finally went bald again. You were actually surprised it hung on as long as it did this time around. Last time it was only a matter of weeks before it completely fell out and left you with an impressive hat collection. It took longer this time and you didn’t know whether that meant your body was stronger than last time...or if the treatment wasn’t working as planned. Either way, you hated it. You hated knowing that you look as sick as you felt. That anyone who looked at you would see your bald head and instantly know that you had this disease for which there was no cure. You put on a hat and left your room without a glance in the mirror’s direction.

As you approached the library you heard voices, not unusual considering the boys were staying home more and more but the fact they were hushed made you suspicious and self-conscious.

You heard Sam’s voice first “Come on, Dean...I know she hasn’t exactly been herself lately but don’t you think this is taking it a bit far?” Okay...so whatever it was that’s going on it definitely had to do with you. Great.

“Dude, if you saw how she’s really been,” you winced, wondering how much he had seen without you meaning to and how bad it really was in his eyes, “you wouldn’t be asking this.”

“Okay but this? Man, I know she’s bad but this is extreme.”

“It’s really not. Okay so just sit down and shut up about it.”

You walked in, trying to make it seem like you were totally just strolling in without any knowledge of what they were just talking about. Considering the glances they kept throwing your way you doubted your success. But you went along your business anyway and didn’t comment on it and neither did they.

“Nice hat, yn/n.” Sam gave you a smile and you felt your face flush not knowing if he were sincere or trying to make you feel better.

“Thanks...it’s been hanging in the back of the closet but I figured it was time to break it out, you know?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah I know it is. Sometimes changing it up means beginning back the old.”

You glanced at Dean to see if he were going to add anything to this, maybe a hint of what the fuck they were discussing earlier. His gaze however was glued to the book in front of him. You smiled at Sam, “Exactly.”

Once you were done in there you went to the kitchen, their whispers continuing almost as soon as you were out of their line of sight.

XXX

You were so...anxious. All the time. You knew the brothers were planning something you just didn’t know what. You didn’t know if it were good or bad and honestly your mind kept going back to the start of all this. You told them you wanted to keep your distance during all this and now that they’ve seen you during treatment you were worried that they would take you up on that offer. That they thought you were a burden. Too hard to take care of, too much effort, too much patience, and way too many rules about how to help care for you. You were sure it was only a matter of time until they realized it would be better for everyone for you to go live somewhere for people like you.

You hadn’t seen them all day and you wanted to make sure they knew your appointment had been changed. That you knew it was yet another thing they had to deal with and that you were sorry and could find another way to get there if needed. It’d been a while since you’d seen Cas anyway so maybe he could take you if they couldn’t.

You wandered the halls, calling out their names, “Come on, guys, this isn’t funny!”

“Alright!” Dean shouted and you followed his voice. “Alright, eager beaver. Can’t give us two more minutes can ya?”

“Two minutes for what--” you gasped at the sight in front of you.

Sam turned to you, wiping off his newly shaved head. “Well? What do you think? Think we actually pull it off.”

He...was bald. So was Dean. They were both bald… not a hair on their heads. And, yeah sure they looked good but that was not the point the point was that they were bald!

Dean smirked, “Aw look at that she’s speechless. Okay hon, tell us how you really think we look. Lay it on us.”

You just continued to stare. Lips parted, eyes more than likely bugging out of your also bald head...you legitimately couldn’t think of anything to say. You did however, burst into tears.

The reaction was clearly not one that they were expecting because the brothers were frozen in place while you cried. Sam finally reacted first by backhanding Dean in the shoulder.

“I so fucking told you.” he walked over to you while Dean remained in his place. Sam hugged you and in his embrace you cried harder.

“Shit,,,shit y/n it was not supposed to be like this. We just wanted..well...we uh…Shit sweetheart I’m sorry.” hearing Dean stumble over his words like that, hearing the wobble in his voice, the uncertainty...it was too much. This whole thing was too much.

You shook your head, “Don’t...please don’t be sorry. Don’t take this back…” you sniffled and tried to pull away from Sam before he ended up as your snot rag but just like the other times you’ve broken down in his arms he didn’t let you go. You turned your head to look at Dean. You saw how confused he looked and you nearly started crying again.

“Dude, you need to stop whatever it is you’re doing because she’s about to hyperventilate over here.” you didn’t really know what the point of Sam’s stage whisper was, you were being held by him so it wasn’t like you were not going to hear him.

“I’m not doing anything!”

“Then maybe stop doing that!”

You shook your head, “Oh my god, you both need to stop!” They looked to you and you wiped your eyes, sniffling but able to string more than a few coherent noises. “Don’t be sorry...this, I can’t even begin to say how much this means to me. This is so...so utterly ridiculous and amazing and I just...I can’t believe it.”

Sam chuckled, and it was a better feeling that you’ve had in a long while. “So...you don’t hate it?”

You looked between them and actually laughed. You laughed like you hadn’t since the diagnosis. Reaching up to pet Sam’s newly shaved head you grinned and shook your own. “Sam, you finally let Dean use the clippers on you...how can I hate it?”

He snorted and finally released you from his grip, “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You know once you start growing your hair back I am too.”

You smiled, “I know and I can’t wait for that day.” you kissed his cheek “Thank you...this really means a lot.”

“You know we’d do just about anything for you. The fact this made you smile? Worth it.” he nodded to Dean, who then nodded back as Sam headed out. “I’m totally stealing your hats though!”

“You wouldn’t dare!” chuckling softly, you turned your attention to Dean. “So...about the, you know, five minutes ago.”

“You mean where you looked like you had a mental breakdown and I was the biggest douche on the planet?”

“Yeah that.” you went over to him. “I’m sorry I just, like I said this was so unexpected. No one’s ever done something like this for me before. No one cared enough to do something like this.”

“Like Sammy said, we’d do anything for you, Y/n/n.”

“Maybe but it wasn’t Sam convincing you to do it now was it? In the library the other day, that’s what you were talking about, right? Yeah, I heard. A little bit. I just...I can’t--”

“--believe it yeah I’ve heard. Is it that hard to think your family cares about you?”

You lightly scoffed. “Wow that is so, we’re not going to go there since I could very much ask you the same question.” you hugged him, tightly, like it would be the last one you give. “I’m trying to say thank you, you dope.”

When he hugged you back, for a moment you thought he was going to knock the wind out of you. However tightly you were embracing him had nothing on how tight he was, you. You didn’t even think about complaining. You relaxed in his embrace.

“We’d do anything for you.”

“I know, Dean...I know.”

#spn fanfic #self insert fanfic #second pov #reader insert #sick!reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfiction #cancer #angst #supernatural imagine #my writing

11 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 4 years ago

Text

Level Up, Chapter Ten (Branjie) - Holtzmanns

read on ao3 | word count: 4722

“It’s a great thing. Hey, can I be your momager? Kris Jenner style? Build a Mateo empire and all that?” Alexis’ face lights up, and Vanessa has to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Her sister never changes.

“You’re not even my mom. Besides, if you were a Kardashian, you’d be Khloe at best.”

Alexis pouts. “That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

AN: So…it’s been another month…oops. Sorry everyone! Real life is busy busy, but I’ve had time here and there to work on this fic so while it’s slow going, it’s still trucking along. Thank you guys so much for all the love you’ve given this fic so far, I appreciate it so much. Let me know what you think of this chapter as well! As usual, writ is amazing for betaing <3

Beep beep beep-

“Fuck.” Vanessa grumbles underneath her breath as she hits snooze on her alarm clock for the fifth time in a row, but looking at the 7:15 that flashes on the display, she can’t ignore her wake up time for much longer.

She’s back at work today, a shoot up in midtown. First day back after the tournament.

Not that Vanessa wants to think about it.

The evening after her last match had been a blur, the events mixing together and forming a grey cloud hovering above her brain. Maybe it’s good, though, because the last thing Vanessa wants to do is relive the way her opponent broke down the structures of her boxing skills as if doing so brick by brick. Now, she feels no better than a beginner walking into their very first class. Hell, maybe Vanessa never had been.

Brooke must be so disappointed with her, now that yesterday’s events have had a chance to settle and allow for some reflection on their surfaces. She hadn’t wanted to show it much last night, being more concerned around whether Vanessa was okay. But now, the fact that her coaching skills are being wasted on Vanessa is probably sinking in, considering Vanessa wasn’t able to stand up to a little bit of a challenge in the ring.

The fact that Vanessa has the day off from training today feels like a blessing. She can push away the events of yesterday and hide them behind a wall in her brain, one strong enough to conceal all the humiliation and disappointment running through her veins, the types that feel like they will never clear out of her system again. She doesn’t have to peek behind the wall until tomorrow, until she’s back in the gym for another morning practice to relive how terribly she’d burned under pressure.

Vanessa reaches out towards her bedside table, fumbling around until she snags her phone by the popsocket in between her fingers just as it’s about to drop. The battery that flashes on the screen is low, nineteen percent, something that makes her frown. She’d definitely plugged it in last night when she’d gotten home, in between sulking on the couch and watching reruns of Malcolm in the Middle to try and wipe her brain. By the time she’d climbed under her covers and unplugged her phone, it had been fully charged.

The dropping battery, now at seventeen percent, is a far cry from being the most alarming thing on her screen. Not with notifications upon notifications on her lock screen from both Twitter and Instagram and, wait - one that says that Bad Bunny of all people has just followed her?

What?

Maybe Vanessa’s still in dreamland, one where she’s become a famous boxer or a rapper with connections in high places. Maybe her alarm clock is about to go off one more time to properly wake her up, because nothing about her screen makes any sense at all.

But then Vanessa’s phone starts to buzz and it’s Monet who’s trying to Facetime her, and she swipes and is about to grumble how it’s early in the morning, damnit-

“Finally! The legend herself is awake!”

“What are you on about?” Vanessa holds back a yawn as she pushes the blankets away from her legs, swings them over the side of her bed.

“You’re a meme, bitch!”

“Huh?” Vanessa’s brows push together as she heads to the bathroom to brush her teeth, phone held in one hand. “Was that Monique’s voice?”

“Not relevant.” Monet waves her hand, when a figure in the background shoots a smile to the camera. “What’s more relevant is the fact that your dumbass has gone viral. You’re trending on Twitter.”

“I’m what now? What the hell would I go viral for? I don’t do anything.” Vanessa mumbles, the toothbrush still in her mouth. “Except lose matches.”

“That’s sort of what you’re viral for.” Monique pops into the frame, a gleeful smile on her face. “Well, more like your little performance after you lost.”

Wait, what?

“What do you mean, performance? I don’t remember doing anything.”

Vanessa tries to ignore the way her heart is beating faster and faster as she spits out her toothpaste, trying to rack what’s left in her brain after actively pushing down the events of last night, because shit, did she do something stupid like have a tantrum? Throw a fit? She can’t even remember after trying to forget it all and the night feels like a blur to her, and fuck, if she’s gone and done something stupid…shit.

She’s real screwed now.

“Wait. You don’t remember?” Monet’s mouth drops open almost in sync with Monique’s and Jesus Christ, this would be funny if Vanessa wasn’t currently filled with a sense of impending doom. “You serious?”

“What did I do?” Maybe Vanessa’s voice gets a little bit squeaky but it’s a miracle that it even comes out at all, from the way that she’s about to implode on the inside.

Monet fiddles with her screen on the other end as a link pops up in Vanessa’s notifications. “Better you watch it yourself.”

Jesus Christ.

The link takes Vanessa to Twitter and fuck, it’s a video of her and her opponent after the match has ended, one that’s surprisingly good quality - probably all the professional cameras that were filming the final matches for some obscure sports network. On screen, Vanessa’s drenched in sweat and looking a little woozy but somehow her braids are still intact, and it’s nice to see that at least her opponent is looking equally as knackered. Though the referee raises the hand of her opponent to indicate the win and watching the events back, it does sting a little bit. They’re still in the ring as the tournament’s master of ceremonies makes his way over, a bedazzled microphone in his hand that sparkles under the bright overhead lights.

“That was quite the match, ladies! I gotta hand it to both of you because that was entertaining boxing. Let’s talk to you first, Vanessa, after that loss. What’s going through your head?”

Vanessa watches as her on screen self leans in towards the mic, a little bit unsteady on her feet. “Coulda done better. On that note…Miss Vanjie out.”

On screen, she sways a little bit, her eyes rolling back and-

Wait. She’d gone and fainted yesterday during the interview?

The camera pans to the floor for a second before focusing on the interviewer again, who looks only slightly alarmed as a medical crew surrounds Vanessa. “Well. That’s one way to make a statement.”

“What the hell?” Vanessa mumbles to herself, because…that’s what she’s viral for? Fainting?

What?

She goes back to the Facetime app where the call with Monique and Monet is still open, twin expectant expressions on their faces. “What’s so exciting about fainting? That’s embarrassing as hell.”

Monique looks delighted by the question. “You see, it’s memeable.”

“Very memeable.” Monet finishes, and Vanessa wants to bonk both of their heads together, really.

Text after text pops up from Monique on the top of the screen, all Twitter links and oh god, Vanessa’s almost afraid to see what they hold.

But she has to know.

She clicks the first, the caption making her pause.

Interviewer: so why would we hire you?

Me :

There’s a cropped version of the video right underneath, and Vanessa’s not sure why she presses play, really, to hear herself say ‘ Miss Vanjie out’ and faint again.

Doesn’t get any less embarrassing than the first time she’d watched it. She clicks on another that Monique’s sent to her.

My mom: are you gay?

Me:

Vanessa can’t help but giggle because, well, the video does fit. She can’t deny that. She goes through the rest, and the way the captions get better and better is a little infuriating.

Me seeing a person from high school in public:

Me when my mom asks if I took the chicken out of the freezer two hours ago like I was supposed to:

When your professor calls on you in class as you’re about to enter REM sleep:

Good lord. Vanessa really is a meme.

She lets out a groan as she goes back to Facetime, Monique and Monet’s twin cackles an unfortunate soundtrack. “I’m really a meme. I’m a whole ass meme.”

Monet looks almost proud. “Yeah you are. ‘Miss Vanjie’ is trending on Twitter.”

“Okay, but what am I gonna do?” Vanessa almost doesn’t even notice the way that she starts pacing in front of her closet, in line with the way that her thoughts are beginning to race because fuck, this is going to be embarrassing.

Hell, it’s already embarrassing. She’s a meme, in a viral video and she’s trending on Twitter of all things for fainting at an opportune time and her mom’s probably seen it and her coworkers and the entire fucking world, for that matter. Jeez.

What does Brooke even think about all of this?

“You can’t faint your way out of this one, Vanj.” Monique snickers, growing into a full laugh when Vanessa groans, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Just a little too soon for that.”

Monet is oblivious to her internal turmoil, though, her face close to the camera on screen. “You have like, a hundred thousand followers on Instagram now. Pretty damn cool if you ask me.”

“I do? What?” Vanessa goes to the app, which opens for a split second before crashing. Damn. “Who the hell is following me?”

She tries to open it a second time and her notifications page refreshes every few seconds, with likes and comments pouring in on her recent posts. Most of them say ‘Miss Vanjie out ’, a fact that Vanessa does her very best to ignore. But hey, at least Monet is right. She does have a shit ton of followers now.

Woah.

“They want to follow the meme, the myth, the legend, that’s why. I bet you can get sponsorships and shit.” Monet’s looking excited, sharing a gleeful smile with Monique. “Damn. I shoulda fainted on television.”

“I didn’t faint on purpose.” Vanessa groans, flopping back onto her bed and trying to ignore the way her heart is pounding out of her chest. “It just sorta happened.”

It did. Not that Vanessa can remember it in the least, because the evening still feels like a blur in her brain, one that she had tried to bury in the initial embarrassment of losing the match but now, she’s not sure if she can.

It’s going to be a little bit harder to push the events of yesterday behind a wall when the whole world now knows about it. She’s going to need some Men in Black style memory wiping to even think about living in blissful ignorance now.

“Brooke said it was ‘cause you had low blood sugar. She was damn relieved it wasn’t from a concussion.”

Shit. Vanessa didn’t even think of Brooke’s reaction to her fainting, after seeing her dad go through what he did all those years ago-

“I should call her.” Vanessa rushes out, biting her lip. “Talk to you later?”

Monique waves. “See you, meme legend.”

Vanessa rolls her eyes as she hangs up, trying to wipe her clammy hands on her pants before calling Brooke. She answers on the first ring, her eyebrows creased and a worried look on her face.

“Thank god you’re okay. You feel okay?”

“I’m a meme.”

Brooke’s anxious expression melts away, her eyes beginning to crinkle as she holds back a laugh. “That you are. How did you even manage that?”

“I dunno! I forget most of it!” Vanessa runs a hand through her hair, because hell, that’s a question she wishes she had the answer to. “Did that actually happen?”

“You bet it did. Next time, I’m giving you an extra protein bar before your third match of the day. Your energy was just drained.”

“Speaking of the match…” Vanessa trails off, busying her eyes with her closet to pull out some clothes because what is she supposed to even say, really? “I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” The confusion on Brooke’s face is genuine when Vanessa looks back at the screen, her eyebrows creasing together and it’s almost worse, really, to have to actually explain. Pick it apart.

“For losing. For not really taking in the coaching that you were trying to give me between rounds. For being overconfident during the match, I don’t know.” Vanessa lets out a breath. “I just…I feel like I let you down.”

The words really begin to settle in as they leave Vanessa’s lips, crystalizing in the air. This tournament had been the first one of hers that Brooke came to, and she just had to go and lose the last match in a blisteringly pathetic way. Does Brooke regret coaching her? Having her name attached to someone like Vanessa?

Vanessa lets out a breath as the thoughts build upon one another, filling up more and more space in her abdomen, but Brooke shakes her head. “You think I’m disappointed because you lost a match? Unless you’re the Hulk and have something to tell me, it’s impossible to win every single fight that you enter. You’re not invincible, and guess what? Boxing is hard. Really hard. Even making it to the finals on your first try is something that you should be proud of.”

“Yeah?” Vanessa doesn’t mean for her voice to come out so shaky, she really doesn’t.

Brooke for her part smiles, though it doesn’t do much to calm the beating of Vanessa’s heart in her chest. “I, for one, am proud of you. Not only for the matches that you won, but for that last one. Even when it was tough, you kept pushing until the very end. You gave it everything you had.”

Vanessa makes a face. “Quite literally.”

“Had a feeling you were going to make a splash somehow. Didn’t think it would be by becoming a meme.” Brooke keeps a straight face for approximately three seconds before bursting into laughter, and Vanessa groans, flopping back onto her bed.

She’s never, ever, going to live this down. Ever.

“At least it’s a funny meme. Could’ve been worse.” Vanessa sighs.

She supposes she’s lucky it wasn’t as humiliating as it could have been. Though as she’s trying to think about it, Vanessa’s not sure how to make it even more embarrassing. A nip slip? A crowd reaction shot?

“Speaking of which, the gym is getting tweets from news outlets trying to write about it. They want a first hand scoop.” Brooke snorts.

Vanessa raises an eyebrow. “Seriously? Are you kidding? What sort of wack news outlets want to write about a meme?”

“Think of places that start with ‘b’ and rhyme with ‘uzzfeed’.”

“Ah.” Vanessa nods, because that makes more sense. She pauses, looking at the way Brooke’s face is smiling and kind, when she doesn’t necessarily feel like she deserves it. But maybe, Brooke’s just that nice. “Also…thanks. For what you said.”

“I am proud. Real proud.” Brooke’s smile is soft, reaching her eyes, and it makes Vanessa want to reach into the screen, give her a hug. “As far as students go, I got lucky.”

“Even though I turned into a meme?”

“Especially because you turned into a meme. Don’t let the fame get into your head, though. We have practice again bright and early tomorrow.” Brooke clicks her tongue as she winks, and it’s nice, because for a minute, everything just feels normal.

“Looking forward to it.”

Vanessa hangs up the call and maybe she’s feeling a little bit better after talking to Brooke, her heart not quite threatening to break her chest open anymore. Sure, the threads of disbelief are still hanging over her head in webs because this doesn’t feel real, not really, all the notifications on her phone and the way that Monet and Monique had gleefully told her the news, giddiness mixed in with a little bit of jealousy. Vanessa’s not at the point of wanting it, not just yet. She’s not sure if she’s going to get there, just not the way that her friends would.

But hey, maybe it’ll be fun. And she has no other choice but to roll with it, does she?

“What the fuck?”

Alexis’ exclamation of surprise echoes from her bedroom and it’s enough to make Vanessa amble over, see what she’s up to. “What?”

“How the hell did you get verified on Instagram? Totally not jealous or anything, nope.” Alexis huffs and Vanessa scrambles onto Alexis’ mattress beside her, peering over at her screen.

And there it is. A fancy blue check beside Vanessa’s 245k followers, which, when she refreshes her page, grows to 250k. Holy shit.

“But that means at least two hundred and fifty thousand people have seen that stupid video. Lord almighty.” Vanessa groans, walking over to Alexis’ bed so that she can hide her face in the blankets, as if it will hide her from everything else, too.

Two hundred and fifty thousand people now know what Vanessa looks like, and know about the idiotic things that she tends to say under pressured situations. That many people have decided to follow her on Instagram, which up until now has really only featured makeup looks and silly pictures with her friends.

Alexis pats her shoulder, looking a little too calm for Vanessa’s taste. “Technically the video on Twitter has millions of views, so I’d say the number is a bit higher.”

Vanessa’s stomach turns. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Who said I was trying to do that?” Alexis waves a hand. “Listen, mom and I are the ones you should be thanking. We made you go take boxing classes, right? Now you can be an influencer.”

“You say that as if it’s a good thing.” Vanessa makes a face. A nice gift from them, truly. All Vanessa’s wanted in life. To be a meme of all things, a fucking meme.

One that Bad Bunny follows.

“It’s a great thing. Hey, can I be your momager? Kris Jenner style? Build a Mateo empire and all that?” Alexis’ face lights up and Vanessa has to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Her sister never changes.

“You’re not even my mom. Besides, if you were a Kardashian, you’d be Khloe at best.”

Alexis pouts. “That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Whatever Khloe, this Kim has to head out to work.” Vanessa stretches, lifting herself off the bed to grab her bag as she hears Alexis huff from her position on the mattress.

“Who says you get to be Kim?”

The thing about owning a business is that there is always work to be done.

There are bills to pay. Parents to call. Equipment to order. It never ends, not when Brooke is the sole one responsible for making sure everything gets done the way that it should.

Not that Brooke minds it too much. She likes being at the gym, even if she’s getting work done - the place is always comfortably busy, with classes taking place, athletes training on their own, parents cheering on their kids. The hum of activity in the gym is easy to tune out and becomes white noise that is comforting, a reminder of what she’s used to. The gym is a second home at this point, the banners on the wall and the constant stream of the classes as familiar to her as breathing.

It’s a home that she likes to be in.

So that’s why Brooke is there at 8 p.m. on a weeknight, despite the fact that today is Vanessa’s day off before training starts again tomorrow. She still has things to do in her office, always does and sometimes, it feels better than just sitting at home.

“Three kids fell over dramatically and yelled ‘Miss Vanjie out’ as I walked into the gym just now. Their instructor did not look amused.” Vanessa’s head peeks past the doorway and Brooke ignores the way her chest feels a little bit lighter from hearing her voice, seeing her face. Confirming the fact that she’s still in one piece.

“What are you doing here? It’s your day off.”

Vanessa shrugs, leaning against the doorframe. “I got bored. What are you doing here? Do you live here? Serious question, is there a bunk tucked away somewhere in this office?”

“As convenient as that would be, I haven’t fully lost it yet, so no.” Brooke snorts.

Vanessa plops herself down on the edge of her desk, her matching lilac sweatshirt and sweatpants dwarfing her frame while making her look cozy. “I was going stir crazy after work.”

“Hmm?”

“At home.” Vanessa shrugs, her legs swinging a little as they dangle. “Don’t wanna do any chores, can’t talk to Alexis ‘cause she won’t shut up about the fact that I’m a whole ass meme. Can’t go on social media ‘cause it keeps crashing. Also, some reporters found my number and won’t stop calling me. That’s weird, right? Where’d they find that?”

Vanessa bites her lip as she fiddles with her hands on her lap, and the sight makes Brooke’s chest tighten. Sure, Vanessa is smiles and bravado personified, someone with an uncanny ability to charm the pants off of anyone who interacts with her, but her current situation is…exposing. It’s as if she’s put on display under a lens for the whole world to see and react to and share their thoughts on, and worst of all, it’s not in Vanessa’s control, or anyone’s control for that matter.

And despite Vanessa’s charisma and extroverted personality, Brooke understands how it can be unsettling. She’s been there, after all.

If only Brooke had a way to protect her. She’s her coach, isn’t she? Shouldn’t she know what to do? Except no rulebooks that Brooke has thumbed through have ever come with instructions on what to do when an athlete becomes an internet sensation. Especially when most of the time, athletes are trying to make it big on purpose.

Brooke lifts herself up, ambling around the desk to sit down beside Vanessa. There’s a vulnerability in Vanessa’s eyes that’s not often visible when others are around, like her teammates. No, it’s an expressiveness that Vanessa has allowed Brooke to begin to witness over time - the softer sides of her, the ones that are less polished and ready for an audience, and Brooke doesn’t want to ever take it for granted.

She holds out her hand and Vanessa intertwines their fingers without a second thought, their hands fitting together like pieces of a puzzle despite their difference in size. Vanessa’s palm is warm and there’s no way that Brooke can actually feel her pulse through their grip but from the way that Vanessa’s looking up at her, she wonders if their heartbeats are in sync.

Brooke looks at Vanessa, really looks at her. She’s someone that Brooke has trained for a while now, someone who is trying to convince her to marathon Bad Girls Club, someone who Brooke considers a friend - Vanessa’s her friend, right? Is that what they are? Vanessa texts her memes while she’s at work and makes Brooke laugh more than she ever thought she could during training sessions and that’s what friends are supposed to do, aren’t they? At least, Brooke thinks so. Sure, Vanessa is her athlete and someone that Brooke trains and there’s a certain level of professionalism that goes into a coaching scenario but…it’s different. This is different.

Vanessa is more than just her athlete. She’s someone that Brooke cares about, someone who deserves everything and Brooke just wishes that she could give it to her, make her happy because her smile is the cutest thing and always lights up a room. So it makes sense, then, the way that Brooke’s heart tugs, seeing Vanessa like this, her shoulders slightly slumped and her leg bouncing from anxious energy.

“I wish I could control it, y’know? I feel like it’s a beast that’s definitely outta my skill set ‘cause last I checked, ‘Miss Vanjie’ was still trending on Twitter. How is a dumb meme spreading so fast?” Vanessa pulls out her phone, her eyebrows scrunching together when the screen is already lit up with notifications. “Christ on a bike.”

If only there was a way that Brooke could shield Vanessa from all of this - no, not shield her, but rather help her wield the spotlight that’s been cast on her. Somehow give her a chance to sit in the driver’s seat with control over what her new audience can see. Brooke wracks her brain, trying to think back to her professional boxing days and how she’d managed her career. Well, not that she’d done the managing, Detox had done that for her-

Oh.

“I don’t know if control would be the right word, but managing, maybe? I know someone who might be able to help with that.” Brooke ventures, because hey, it’s been years since she’s talked to Detox, much less been a client of hers but maybe she’ll have some suggestions.

Maybe she’ll even take Vanessa on as a client of her own.

Vanessa raises an eyebrow. “Who? The lord himself so that he can control all of social media?”

“What? No,” Brooke snorts, “though I like that suggestion. I was thinking more in the direction of my old manager.”

Hell, Brooke doesn’t even know if Detox is still in sports management anymore because it’s been years, after all. Though Brooke supposes it’s never a bad idea to at least look into her - having someone that she already knows and trusts is better than a random sleazeball who could be trying to fleece Vanessa for a fat check.

Brooke’s definitely not going to let Vanessa be taken advantage of, that’s for sure.

Vanessa looks unconvinced. “A manager? Slow down, ‘cause I’m not even a pro yet. I’m apparently the most amateur boxer to box this side of the equator, from that tournament. Wouldn’t a whole ass manager be a little fast?”

“First of all, continue that negative self talk, and that’ll translate to more reps during tomorrow’s morning workout.” Brooke gives Vanessa a look and her sheepish smile is enough to make her own expression soften almost immediately.

“Aye aye, captain.”

“Second,” Brooke continues, “you may not be a pro boxer just yet, but you seem to have splashed into the mainstream in a more memorable way than any pro boxer will ever be able to achieve. You have a platform now, and that’s not something that’s easy to get.”

“A platform built on a meme.” Vanessa mumbles, and Brooke nudges her shoulder.

“It’s your platform. Your microphone. Sure, it’s not exactly what you expected, but what big break ever is? It’s your turn to figure out what you want to do with it.”

Vanessa bites her lip. “You make it sound easy.”

“Sure as hell won’t be easy. Fame never really is, honestly. But I’ll be here with you to navigate through it and figure it out. If you’ll have me. Help you discover what kind of stage you want to have.” It’s presumptuous, Brooke knows, because she’s only Vanessa’s coach after all and it’s not like they’ve been working together for years and years, and maybe Vanessa doesn’t even care that much.

But then Vanessa’s throwing her arms around Brooke’s neck, and Brooke’s face is pressed against the soft cotton of her hoodie and it’s funny, really, how well Vanessa fits in her embrace, from the way she almost curls up against her. “You better be. You’re my coach, which means we’re automatically ride or dies, right? Isn’t that how it goes?”

“Is that how you want it to go?”

“Is that how you want it to go?“ Vanessa pulls back and the sudden uncertainty in her eyes makes Brooke want to reach out and smooth over her furrowed brow.

But she doesn’t. Instead, she pulls Vanessa back into a hug. “It’s definitely how I want it to go.”

“Good.” Vanessa’s voice is muffled as she shuffles closer in their hug. “Now call up your friend Detroit or whatever her name is, ‘cause we need her advice.”

“Detox?”

“Close enough.”

Find me at @plastiquetiaras ! Let me know your thoughts if you feel like it

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #lesbian au #boxer au #holtzmanns #level up

6 notes · View notes

sin-oh · 5 years ago

Text

Five More Minutes. | PEDRO PASCAL X READER

A/N; yeah I know, but here we are. None of this was intentional but I’ve had so much feedback from the last one and messages for more. What can I say? I’m a giver. An unedited 5am idea that I’ll come back to proof read. Eventually.

Warning(s); uh, maybe the odd naughty word.

“You really suck at bowling. It’s a good thing you’re an actor, huh?”

“Ouch, I let you win because I’m a gentlemen.”

“Of course you did.”

It’s been 3 weeks since Pedro had met you at the movie theater and he still couldn’t get enough of your laugh. He managed to make himself wait 24 hours before calling you up and asking you out on a date.

Can’t seem too desperate.

Now you’re 4 dates in and Pedro knows all he wants to do is make you smile for the rest of your life.

And he wants to tell you, he really does. He wants to just spill everything he’s thought about doing with you and to you, but how could he do that without scaring you away? Did you even feel the same? Christ he hasn’t even kissed you yet.

And then there was work. How was he supposed to tell you all of that and then explain he had to leave town for a while? How could he expect you to wait for him? You were beautiful— inside and out and anyone would be lucky to spend time with you in the ways he had.

Without realising, Pedro had began to frown at his own thoughts. Ideas of someone else occupying your time with the intentions of stealing you away—

“Pedro?”

Your voice, soft as silk calls him back to reality. You’d already arrived at the door to your apartment he had walked you too, not liking the idea of you walking home alone.

“Sorry I was just..” He couldn’t finish it and the concern on your face only grew.

“What’s wrong?”

“I have to go away for a while.” The words cut him as he spoke them, his eyes searching your face for signs of sadness. He found it to; in your eyes.

“Something for work?” He nods.

“Disney called about a Star Wars project, I fly out tomorrow for some meetings.”

But you still smiled even if your eyes held sadness. “Star Wars? That’s amazing!” He couldn’t reply. He knew this was a huge opportunity for him and deep down he was truly excited for any chance to work with such a renowned company.. but..

“Am I crazy for thinking there’s something here? Between us?” He motioned between you both with his hands before adding, “I need to know.” His voice almost sounded desperate and it took you a moment to catch up with the conversation switch but when you did, you gently shook your head and grinned softly.

“You’re not crazy.”

Oh thank god

“I was hoping you’d say that but now I don’t think it’ll help make this any easier.” He ran a hand through his hair as he looked away.

“The truth is I don’t want to go if it means I— we lose this.”

“I’m not going anywhere, this—“ you motion between you both, “is worth waiting for. I’ll be here when you get back, so don’t think about me and show Disney why they need you.” Pedro watched your eyes for any hint of a lie but all he found was warmth, something he was getting so use to feeling when around you.

“I always think about you sweetheart.” Although his voice held a teasing tone, his words were completely genuine and you couldn’t stop the roll of your eyes and the grin on your face.

“Oh shut up Pascal.” You both laugh and Pedro was thankful he no longer felt the suffocation of not knowing how you felt.

“I’ll call you when I’m back, I promise.”

“I know you will.” You finally turn and unlock the door to your apartment and step inside before turning to face the man who was stealing your heart.

“Try not to miss me too much,” He winked before turning and walking away. You laugh and shake your head before closing the door.

You stood there for a moment in silence while letting everything that just happened sink in. The thought of him leaving actually hurt more than you thought it would— more than it probably should after only knowing him for a month now. But you couldn’t help the ache in your chest and the emptiness you felt without his presence.

You sigh and attempt to push the feelings away for now, deciding to deal with them later over a bottle of wine and catching reruns of F.R.I.E.N.D.S on TV—

Knock knock knock knock knock

“What the..?”

You turn back and open the door at the sound of urgent knocking to see Pedro again, a look of determination on his face.

“What—“

His hands reached for your face as he stepped forward towards you and into your apartment and before you could ask him anything, his lips met yours in such an urgency it was as though you were the air he needed to breathe.

This isn’t how Pedro had planned your first kiss but he also didn’t plan to be so smitten with you in a matter of weeks. He tried to walk away and leave your apartment complex but when it actually hit him you had returned his feelings, it was like his feet moved all on their own.

Your hands had now made their way to his chest to steady yourself, unconsciously gripping it as you kissed him back with the same passion he had poured upon you. His one hand now moved to your lower back to pull you closer, the other still remaining on your cheek as he continued to kiss you.

He didn’t want to stop; lips so soft and tasting like honey, he was addicted in a matter of seconds. Only when he needed to breathe did he finally pull away to rest his forehead against your own.

“Now I really don’t want to go,” he breathed, his thumb gently caressing the side of your face.

“I might not let you at this rate.” You tease back and tug your bottom lip between your teeth, keeping your face close to his.

He watches intently and moves his thumb from your cheek to pull your lip back into place before gently grazing it.

“5 more minutes.”

@takemepedropascal 💖

#oops #i did it again #my britney spears is showing #pedro pascal #reader #what do i even tag here #pedro pascal x reader #CHOKE ME PLS

175 notes · View notes

subtlereferencetomyinterests · 5 years ago

Text

Complexities Unknowable Chapter 3

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23274334/chapters/57175900

Chapter Two link: https://tha-best-url-evar.tumblr.com/post/614327945408987136/complexities-unknowable-chapter-two

MasterPost

Relationships: Established Relationship Dukeceit, eventual intrualiceit, background analogince.

Warnings: Remus says some things (mentions of biblically accurate angels, gore art description), food mention, mild sleep deprivation, cursing. As always everyone is sympathetic. Roast me if I forgot something.

Word Count: 1,851

Remus was, once again, sitting on the counter in the light side kitchen. It was an ungodly early hour of morning, so the Commons were deserted. He was supposed to be waiting for Morality, according to the spiteful little plot Dee had offered him that he hadn’t listened to all that well, but he surmised it meant he was supposed to fuck with a light side, so… Duh. Of course he was in.

Truth be told, three out of four of the self-proclaimed ‘light sides’ hardly bothered him! They were stuffy prudes, sure, but their insults slid off his back like blood off of steel. As long as he was doing his own thing with Deceit alongside him, everything was fine (he was still pointedly ignoring the existence of another Creativity). But looks like what Deceit wanted to do was torment Patton into, like, repenting? Or something? Like he said, he wasn’t listening.

Anyway! Waiting and watching was what he was doing! And doodling, because sitting still was literally impossible in Remus’ experience. Thankfully, he soon saw the paternal trait springing down the stairs. Straightening his back, The Duke put on his best intimidating face (which he thought looked rather silly, but Deceit assured him was very unsettling). He set down his sketchbook and blurred his edges. It didn’t work very well up here, but it was a little trick that they’d all- Virgil included- learned years ago. Honestly, he just used it to get cheap scares every now and then.

Patton strolled into the kitchen, whistling some jaunty tune and holy shit , Remus had figured it was some shtick, but was he just a cartoon character all of the time ? That was- sure, very adorable- but mostly all the more entertaining to scare!

“What’s up, Dilf!?”

Patton shrieked, nearly dropping a mug. With wide, startled eyes, he found the source of the noise. Said source watched the emotional trait force his expression into something amicable, laughing loudly.

“Um- good morning, Remus! I, uh, didn’t see you there.”

“That was the point, MoMo,” Remus replied, dragging his claws screechingly down the side of a cabinet; Patton winced at the sound.

“Can I help you with anything?” Read: Why are you still here? Sometimes Remus wondered if he was too good at his job!

“Nope! Just enjoying the atmosphere, sketching, terrorizing…” He flipped onto his back, throwing his arm out and presenting his open notebook.

“You draw?” Patton seemed weirdly happy about that fact, managing a more natural smile. Seemed he thought he’d found something to work with, but that was likely to change.

“Of course I do, I am Creativity, after all! Here .” He handed over the sketchbook with a Cheshire smile. The creative trait had ensured it was flipped open to a detailed depiction of a being composed of several flaming rings, all of which absolutely covered with bloodshot eyes. It had an indiscernible amount of wings that could only be counted as ‘too many’. In the center of the rings was a swirling black void (a type of ink that took Remus weeks to conjure properly, thank you very much).

He watched carefully as Patton studied the image, looking bemused.

“It’s an angel!”

That seemed to only confuse the moral side more, making him tilt his head to a few different angles to look at the drawing. But he still didn’t seem upset by it, oddly enough.

“It certainly is an interesting interpretation,” He responded at last, “and all of these little lines must have taken you forever, that’s so impressive!”

Truth be told, they had taken a while, and Remus was very happy that the effort had been noticed- but that wasn’t the point!

“That’s nothing,” he took the sketchbook back from Patton and flipped through more pages. Aha! This would fuck him up, for sure! A full-color illustration of someone hung up on a meat hook, rib cage pried open like a spike trap to reveal very painstakingly rendered organs. He was actually quite proud of this one.

The only response that Patton gave, however, was a slight wrinkling of his nose when he first saw it, followed by more quiet observation.

“What do you think?” Remus prompted, watching as Patton set the drawing back down on the counter and began to assemble things for breakfast, seemingly unaffected.

“I wish I could draw that well, but I’m still not super good at it,” he said admiringly.

“I had to crack open my own ribs to make sure it was accurate, you know!”

Morality yelped at that one- score one for Remus! Finally!

“You wanna see my re-imaginings of my favorite Final Destination deaths? I’ve painted some with real- well, conjured- but real enough blood!”

But Patton didn’t even flinch this time; he looked more determined even!

“Art is a healthy outlet for expressing yourself,” he was almost certainly parroting Logan there, and he even seemed to believe the statement. Perhaps Remus would have to be a little more creative to get more reactions.

. “I agree! I didn’t expect you to have such an open-minded point of view. I’ll be sure you’re the first side to know when I make my next amateur taxidermy sculpture! Emphasis on the amateur!”

“Great!” Patton practically shouted, very stubbornly staring at the stove.

Before Remus had the chance to continue, the distinct sounds of Logan and Roman arguing their way downstairs met his ears, and he cut himself off. That was enough for one day, he decided. And anyhow, he looked forward to trying new ways to bother Patton next morning.

Deceit rose into the shadows of the Light Side commons with a smirk. It was an awful hour of the night, which was part of the plan. Not only was Patton the first awake in the morning, he was also often the last to sleep. Deceit supposed that Logan was looking after Roman and Virgil’s sleep schedules nowadays, which made it much easier to catch the artificial patriarch alone. That isn’t to imply that Dee had been tracking their schedules or anything, but the overwhelming lie that Morality surrounded himself with made him easy to track- especially in the night, when he had to pretend even harder that he was fine without the presence of his little family. Deceit entertained the idea that he should feel bad for the side, and maybe he did somewhere deep down. Deep, deep down. No, further than that.

Regardless of any such feelings, he was here to mess with Patton. Still unnoticed, he watched quietly as his target scrolled through Netflix, illuminated only by the dim glow of the television. The side looked so tired that he could’ve passed as a corpse, but gave a tiny smile after finally selecting whatever it was he was going to watch.

Wait. Wait. He was watching that ?

Deceit stared at the unmistakable green text that was the intro to The Good Place playing across the screen. If there was one thing he was expecting Patton to watch (Cartoons? Friends reruns? Slime videos?), it wasn't his own favorite show.

“Hm.” Deceit hummed.

In response, Patton shrieked and fell halfway off the couch. His head darted around until he finally spotted Deceit, who had slid down to sit on the sofa as well.

“Oh- um- good evening, Deceit! Wow, today is just full of surprises!”

“ Surely you won’t mind if I join you? This is one of my favorite shows, after all.”

Patton fixed his position so that he was no longer partially on the floor and looked the snake up and down. He paused the episode.

“ Really ?”

“Really,” and then, after some trepidation, “Honestly.”

Suddenly, Patton lit up dramatically, a happy smile stretching across his face. Fuck, wrong direction, Deceit wasn’t supposed to be cheering him up!

“I’m surprised that someone like you would like it,” Deceit continued hastily. Patton’s smile fell a little and he tipped his head in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean ,” He lounged back against the couch, “I didn’t think you’d approve of a show where all of the characters are such bad people .”

“What?! The whole point is that they aren’t bad!” Good, Back on track .

“Oh? Then what are they? Last I checked, the main character was very selfish .”

“I- okay, I see what you’re trying to do,” Patton turned to face Deceit entirely, “But they’re- they also-”

“Also what ?” Deceit was also sitting sideways on the couch now, his eyes glinting. He was certain that he’d talked the trait into a corner, which was why he was so utterly unprepared for Patton’s response.

“It’s, like, they all start off not great, but that’s because they were all set up for failure before the afterlife! They had it hard before dying, but when they were finally given the chance to actually get better, then they got better! They aren’t perfect , but they care about each other! And I think it really shows that sometimes, somebody can be wrong over and over and over again, but that doesn’t mean that they’re hopeless, or that they’re a bad friend, or…” He trailed off, looking down at his lap and blinking very quickly. “Or that they’re a bad person.”

Suddenly, Deceit wasn’t that sure that he wanted to see Patton upset anymore.

After a very uncomfortable silence that lasted far too long for his liking, the scaled side realized that he should probably be the one to say something.

“That’s… a very in depth analysis, Morality. I’m inclined to agree with you.”

“Thanks,” Patton replied. When he looked up, his eyes held an odd recognition. It was a look that no Light Side had ever given Deceit, but they gave it to each other plenty of times. The side in question wasn’t sure if he liked it, but he sure knew that he was uncomfortable.

“So… The show…” He prompted.

“Oh, right!”

Patton pressed play.

Deceit had planned on doing some more provoking of Patton as they watched, but he found himself rather caught up in the program. The conversation he did end up making with the other incidentally slipped into chatting about their shared views on the show. It was almost nice. Maybe. Whatever.

After a few episodes, Deceit elected to return home for the night. As he was sinking out, he heard a sleepy voice bidding him farewell.

“G’night, Kiddo.”

He popped up in his bedroom after that, eyes quickly landing on a half-asleep Remus half-watching Saw 4 . The lights were dimmed to a glow, and the TV’s volume was so low that it might have been inaudible to anyone other than the more animalistic sides.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” Deceit murmured warmly, sitting beside his fellow Dark side. The trait yawned and rubbed his eyes, instinctively leaning into him.

“Wanted to,” he responded, voice groggy, “How’d it go?”

Deceit snapped his fingers to change into sleep clothes, reaching across Remus to flick off the lamp. As he settled in to semi-watch the movie, fingers automatically moving to card through his partner’s hair, he carefully considered the question.

“Fucking. Weird.”

Chapter 4

Tags: @deceits-left-glove @princemesscharming

60 notes · View notes

silveraccent · 4 years ago

Text

Repercussions || Grace & Cece

TIMING: Current, after this incident LOCATION: The hospital PARTIES: @thebickedwitchoftherest SUMMARY: After the incident at the morgue, Grace and Cece are forced to acknowledge what it all means.

The hospital bed was stiff. Grace was stiff. Her body felt like a lead weight. The longer she laid in her bed, the more she felt as though the mattress were enveloping her body, dragging her down to a special kind of Hell. All things considered, Grace had gotten off lucky. She wasn’t sure what lucky was, or how she classified as such. Things could’ve gone worse. Either her or Cece could’ve been killed. She wanted to incorporate Janus into her mourning, but she didn’t have the energy. Her throat was sore, her head was throbbing. It had taken several hours for Grace not to feel the urge to throw up, and even then, bile still sat in her throat. She wanted so badly to close her eyes, to drift off to sleep, but had been advised she needed to stay awake due to the minor concussion from the amount of pressure applied to her ear drum from the explosion. No matter how badly she wanted to explain, it wasn’t an explosion, it was Regan, it was Regan! The words never left her. Despite her anger, Grace couldn’t bring herself to turn her boss in. Grace now stared at the wall in front of her, the television playing a rerun of a sitcom she wasn’t familiar with. Their words were muffled and she could barely hear them through not only the gauze, but through the injury she had sustained. There was a sound closer this time, and somebody’s hand on her leg. She didn’t look at them, she kept her gaze trained on the wall. If she counted the amount of tiles, this wouldn’t be real, she would wake up once she was done. Everything would be fine.

Cece had not been completely convinced to go to the hospital. She knew that she probably needed it. That technically speaking there was no inherent problem with walking into a hospital. She supposed it was probably leftover feelings from her time with the coven. Due partly to the annoying insistence from the paramedics and partly due to Grace and the janitor being rushed to it, Cece begrudgingly decided to tag along. She played their games. She let them get her a room and hook her up to monitors and run tests. She answered their questions regarding the incident without revealing any information. What happened was met with the a shrug. Was someone responsible was met with a shrug. Can I go now? Was a question that Cece asked that was met with a head shake by one nurse and a shrug from the more sarcastic nurse aiding. They had patched her hands which had been stabbed and shredded with broken glass. They checked her ears and cleaned the dried blood that had dripped down them. Eventually, they conceded that Cece wasn’t in any immediate danger of death and once Cece had the freedom to leave the bed, she searched for Grace’s room first. She walked in right as the nurse was in there working on her. “You mind giving us a minute?” Cece crossed her arms and stood in the doorway, propping it open and leaving plenty of room for the nurse to slip past and leave them alone. “Grace? You one of those creeps that sleep with their eyes open? Are you focused? How you doing?”

The sound of somebody’s voice, however, made her take a peek out of the corner of her eye. Grace couldn’t tell who it was, the sounds filtering into her ears still muffled and distorted. The ringing in her ears was still evident. The sight of Cece made her stomach churn. She looked at the nurse as she simply nodded, fixing something on her arm before she left the room. At first, Grace refused to look at Cece. If she did, that meant this was real. It meant that she had gauze wrapped around her ears, it meant that both she and Cece shared new scars down their arms and faces. It meant that they now shared something that she would’ve never wanted to have shared with anyone. Grace hesitantly turned her attention to the blonde. “No.” Her voice was hoarse, from what she could tell. Her throat ached with her own screams. “They won’t let me sleep.” She said after a moment. She wasn’t sure what to say. She wanted to be worried, wanted to pour over Cece, but she couldn’t bring herself to. She was so tired. Grace was, however, relieved at the sight of Cece standing. It meant she wasn’t badly injured. “What about you?” She asked as she looked away, back to the tiles. Fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five, Grace counted silently.

Cece hated being serious. Time spent stressing over things was time wasted. And although she was young, Cece had spent too large a chunk of her life being serious. But she was willing to compromise every now and again. Right now, Grace didn’t seem to be in much of a joking mood. Even if Cece couldn’t bring herself to completely lay off the jokes she cared enough about Grace to show more concern. “I’m more concerned about you.” Cece spoke loudly. She worried about what the gauze around Grace’s ears meant. At least she was still able to hear what Cece had said. Still, Cece was speaking up just in case. “My balance is still shit, there’s a ringing in my ears still, but other than that I’m okay. You got pretty fucked up back there. How are you holding up?”

It took Grace a while to process Cece’s words. The silence was interrupted by the low hum in the back of her throat, the constant ringing. Grace dropped her shoulders into a half-shrug, too sore for anything else. She had slammed into the ground pretty hard. “I’m alive, right?” Grace asked after a moment, her own voice sounding foreign to her. It was scratchy, raw. It hurt to talk, to open her mouth. Cece’s voice rose slightly, and Grace was thankful. She wouldn’t express such, but she gave her a swift look out of the corner of her eye. “It’s like when you put socks on a cat or whatever, I guess. Or a bag on their head.” Grace wound her blanket in her hands, knuckles going white. “I’m alive, right?” She repeated. She didn’t have anything to complain about. She was alive, despite what had happened in the morgue. She wasn’t ready to tell Cece what the doctors had told her, not yet. Grace thought back to moments before Regan screamed. She saw the worry, the way that Cece seemed to know. Grace mulled over her question in her head for a few seconds before she finally asked it, “did you know?”

“Yeah, this isn’t exactly paradise.” Cece chuckled, humored by Grace’s repeated questioning on whether or not she was actually alive. “For your sake, when you actually go I hope it’s in a place more peaceful than the White Crest hospital.” Cece didn’t really believe in an afterlife, but she hoped that regardless of what it was, she didn’t end up in some bland ass depressing location like a hospital. Cece might actually prefer hell to purgatory. “Yeah, that was… intense.” Cece didn’t know how else to describe it. Grace had been freaked out enough by Regan afterwards, Cece wasn’t trying to make matters even worse. Regan was already undoubtedly pouting at her apartment about the whole incident and convinced that she was never going to show her face to her coworkers again. “I knew about it. Someone told me about it. But I’d never heard it for myself. Can’t say that’s what I was expecting.” Cece shrugged, as if this were completely normal. Cece needed to realize that just because this weird shit was normal for her, it wasn’t for Grace. “Have you eaten anything? The food here sucks, but I can order us something for delivery. The nurses will get over it.”

Grace wanted to laugh, she did. She couldn’t find it in herself to do so. Could only feel the ache in her bones, in her head-- how everything felt muddled and weak, how she felt if she moved quickly, her body would disintegrate into the baby blue sheets. “Right.” Grace couldn’t be angry with Cece, could she? For not disclosing what Regan was? Whatever she was, Grace wasn’t sure, but she sure as hell was not human. Grace unfurled the blanket from her fists and began to smooth it out for something to do with her hands, the bandages on her hands caught the pieces of unpicked wool of the small blanket. Shouldn’t she have been warned, though? That if she had been, something like this could’ve been avoided? Cece seemed to know what to do, but for Grace… for Janus, it was too late. Anger surged in the pit of her stomach and she finally looked back to Cece, “I’m not hungry.” On the contrary, she was starving, but the thought of eating made her sick. “Why didn’t you warn me?” Grace asked in a cracked voice. “If you would’ve told me, maybe this--” Grace curled the blanket in her fists again. “She could’ve--” Grace stared at Cece. She wasn’t sure what knowing could’ve done for her, or for Janus, but it could’ve done something, could’ve made them run faster, could’ve done something. Grace felt hot tears roll down her cheeks. At least this time, she could tell it was tears and not blood.

“I want to believe that…” Grace cut her gaze, “I want to believe that she didn’t mean to hurt us, but…” She wanted to believe that her boss, Regan Kavanagh, wouldn't have knowingly put them in danger. How would that be possible, though? It was clear Cece knew about what Regan was, so obviously Regan knew what she was capable, clearly there were warning signs everywhere. “I don’t--” Grace’s voice caught in her throat again. She hated the idea that somebody she idolized, that she had worked so hard to get to like her, even if it hadn’t seemed like it-- that somebody whose feelings towards her, Grace had become so preoccupied with it, and now? “I hope she never shows her face again,” Grace said after a moment, “she put us all at risk, she could’ve--” Grace reached up tentatively to touch her bandaged ear. Still, the ringing was there, the way that voices, noises, it all felt so far away. “You knew and you didn’t say anything. We could’ve died.” Grace finally said. She didn’t know the extent to what Regan was capable of, or what it was she was, or what she had been doing, but Grace believed it to be true-- the idea that they could’ve died from that, because when Grace had been writhing on the morgue floor, she felt as though she wanted death more than she ever had before.

Apparently, Grace was more than just injured. She was pissed. Pissed at Regan for screaming and pissed at Cece for not giving her a heads up. Cece leaned back against the wall, studying Grace as she tried to gauge her anger level. Cece couldn’t blame the girl for being upset, not after what had happened to her. Anger in something that couldn’t be controlled didn’t help anything, but sometimes it was the only option that people had. Grace had to feel something following the event. Betrayal and hurt weren’t invalid feelings to have. “It’s not my business to tell other people’s secrets.” Cece shrugged, as if this was a good enough answer. Maybe it was, before that secret had almost killed them. Was secrecy worth the price if things had gotten any worse in there? “Besides, like I said I’ve never actually seen her do that before. I didn’t think it was going to happen. I didn’t know it would be that loud.” Banshee’s were known for their screams, but until someone actually heard it for themselves there was no way to fathom just how loud it was going to be. “Whether we knew or not, nothing would have changed what happened.”

More important than the pain they had suffered and the anger that Grace was feeling though, Cece needed to make sure that Grace wasn’t going to throw Regan under the bus. For what it was worth, Cece actually liked her boss. More than that, she wasn’t sure if she could handle Dr. Rickers actually being in charge. “You can be pissed at her. At me for all I care. You’ve been through enough to earn that right.” Cece wasn’t going to try to fight her on it. She knew well enough that these things had to run its course. With Grace’s condition, Cece wasn’t going to waste either of their time begging for forgiveness that Grace may not be in the headspace to give out. “But I need you to keep it a secret. Which- I know- fucking sucks. But hurting Regan isn’t going to take back what happened.” The hand resting on Cece’s purse twitched, anticipation of what might be necessary if Grace refused. The last thing Cece wanted was to actually consider erasing the memories of a person she considered a friend, but Regan’s entire career could be in jeopardy. Assuming people even believed her, since it seemed a little out there. “I’m not asking you to forgive her. Just to give her a break.”

If she were to look at the situation through rose colored glasses, Grace wouldn’t be able to properly understand what had happened. She would go on thinking that Regan was this great magnificent being. That wasn’t the way it was, though. There were multiple people hurt, with the risk of there being more if something else had happened like this. Cece was right, it wasn’t her place to go around telling other people’s secrets, but when a secret could’ve resulted in something as detrimental as this? Grace wasn’t buying it. There could have been measures put into place. From the moment Grace emerged from surgery, she had begun to think about the way that they could’ve prevented it-- running, a sound proof box. Who the fuck knew. Grace wanted to believe that there could’ve been something to prevent it, but neither Regan or Cece had thought to look into it, and why not? Did they not care? Grace swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. She didn’t have a reason to be angry with Cece, she knew that, but the anger came easily, colored her cheeks rouge with exasperation. “You don’t know that,” Grace finally said after a moment. She felt like she was going to choke on her own words. She wanted to believe that they could’ve done something, but Grace didn’t even know what had happened, or what Regan was.

It’d be easier to run, to run back to Portland, to pick up her old life, to work at the same coffee shop she had. To fill her head with anger, elation, and disgust. It’d be easy to do just that, but something tethered her to White Crest. Despite all of this, Grace couldn’t find the mobility to run. She never wanted to see Regan again, that much was true, but what was she supposed to do? Cece’s words were warranted, the way that she was acting, obviously the blonde would think that Grace was going to rat Regan out as soon as an officer stepped into her room. “I’m not going to tell anybody,” Grace barked back. She winced at her own anger, the way it made her head spin. “I don’t care, because as long as--” Grace choked on her words, the tears burned in her eyes, “as long as I don’t have to see her, as long as--” She didn’t want to feel this way, didn’t want to be so angry, but Regan had taken something from her, something she didn’t believe she’d ever get back. Grace looked down at her hands, watched as her fingertips began to tremble. “I’m not going to tell anybody.” She wasn’t going to. What if people went after Regan and it happened again? What if they became like her, or worse? Grace couldn’t imagine putting other lives in jeopardy. No. It’d be easier to let Regan run, or hide, or disappear altogether. Grace knew that much. The pain in her head had her stomach running rancid, she felt as if she were going to spill over the side of her bed. Grace reached up to tentatively tuck her hand against her ear. “I want to be alone. Can you leave.” It wasn’t a question.

There wasn’t much more to say on Cece’s account. Grace didn’t know enough about the supernatural to know that sometimes normal methods of preventing things didn’t work when in this life. That scream wasn’t going to be stopped by any normal means. The only chance there was at filtering it was some sort of magic that Cece hadn’t figured out yet. Until then, they just had to hope that the scream didn’t happen again. Not that it had mattered much anyways. After today, there was no way Regan was showing up to work. Grace would get her wish. This would only work to push Regan farther away from the two. So much for the easy work relationship the three had shared earlier that day. “Fair. And thanks.” As long as Regan wasn’t going to be ratted out, Cece had accomplished half of what she had come in to do. The other half, checking on Grace, hadn’t wielded much of a satisfying answer. “I’m out, then. Get some rest.” Cece pushed off of the wall and headed towards the door. Cece had been dragged into the middle of this shit storm and she hadn’t been too thrilled with its conclusion. For now, the only option was to be patient.

#para: cece #para: repercussions #chatzy #vomit tw #a mention of #but

12 notes · View notes

13-reasons-ideas · 5 years ago

Text

Can’t Go Back Part 5

A few hours later, Dr. Marcus came out and let us know the surgery was successful. “Depending on how his body reacts to coming off the anaesthesia, you may be able to go home tonight. I’ll send him home with a prescription for pain medication. He will be in recovery for a while, but you can see him after he is back in his room.”

“That sounds great. Thank you, doctor.”

Scott and I sat and talked while we waited. He had refused to go to school or leave my side while Monty was in surgery or recovery. I sent him home when Monty was out of recovery and we knew everything was okay. Dr. Marcus called me into his room again to discuss things.

“Everything went well and I am confident you will make a full recovery if you stick to our recovery plan.”

“That’s great news. What is the plan exactly?” Monty asked.

“You will need to take it easy for the next little while. It's important to keep your leg elevated, apply ice to your knee and rest as much as possible. I would like you to be on crutches for anywhere from one to two weeks, if you have discomfort after two weeks, continue with crutches on and off for about two more weeks. Or until your discomfort has lessened. Around two to four weeks you can try to begin bearing weight on your leg but do not go too hard too fast. It’s about baby steps. You will also begin physical therapy around this time. Your therapist will recommend multiple times a week in the beginning to try and get as much range of motion back as possible. With continued therapy and care, I see no reason as to why you would be unable to return to playing sports in the time you would like. But that is only if you are careful and not ignoring what you are supposed to be doing.” “So in other words, my life will be PT and maybe walking at some point, for the next four to nine months?”

“Essentially, yes. I recommend ibuprofen or an anti-inflammatory for the pain, in addition to the icing schedule we discussed last night. Additionally, I understand you are newlyweds, but physical intimacy is going to have to take a backseat to healing.”

I squeezed Monty’s hand. I think that is the part he is going to take the most issue with. He looked at the doctor with sad eyes. It’s not like you’ll die of no sex dearest husband.

“I understand that may not be the best news, I was a newlywed once too. But once you have range of motion and can bear weight on your leg, we can discuss clearing you for that as well. I see no reason that it would be a four to six months before clearance item. Plus, do you really want to be the guy who re-tore his ACL having sex?”

Monty smirked. “No. You do not. It sounds cool, but it’s really not. Your friends will laugh at you.”

“Coach Kerba would kill you. Besides, we have the rest of our lives for that.” I added.

“I guess that’s fair.” He grumbled.

After some practice with the crutches, he was cleared to go home. I wasn’t really in the mood to cook anything, so I ordered us pizza when we got home, and Monty was situated on the couch with his leg elevated on a few pillows on the coffee table. I had a feeling he was going to make good on his vow to “annoy me for the rest of my life” in the coming weeks. I went to our room to change into pyjamas and put my wedding set on while we waited for the pizza to arrive.

It arrived shortly after and he made a face at my vegetable pizza, “don’t worry. I got you pepperoni. You don’t have to eat vegetables today.”

“Good.” He smiled and I plopped myself down on the couch. After arguing about what to watch for a while, we settled on a rerun of Law & Order: SVU. This one seemed less intense as some of the other episodes.

“So, everyone knows now.” I said, placing my fork down after finishing a slice of pizza.

“Yeah, they do. I still don’t understand why you eat pizza with a fork by the way.”

“You said you would stop giving me crap about it you jerk. And it’s only certain kinds when they’re hot. This one just happens to be one of them.” I laughed, poking his arm.

“Hey, I’m injured.” He protested; feigning being affronted.

“Your leg is injured. Your arm is fine.”

“Whatever.”

“Does this mean I can wear my set to school now?” I asked, pondering the idea as I twisted my engagement ring around.

“I was going to wear my ring, so I don’t see why you couldn’t wear yours.”

“Okay.” I kissed his cheek and cleared the dishes into the dishwasher. We spent the rest of the evening cuddled on the couch, arguing playfully about what to watch when one show ended.

I woke up the following morning wrapped in Monty’s arms. I don’t think I will ever get tired of this. I watched him sleep, snoring softly for a few minutes before our alarm went off. “hhuummggg.” Monty groaned.

“Babe, it’s time to wake up.”

“Nooo. Sleep.”

“I know but we need to go to school.”

“No.”

I sighed, “fine, I’ll tell you what. I’m going to go brush my teeth and make coffee. By the time I’m back in here, I would like you to at least be sitting up. Preferably, you would have pants on.”

“Mhmm. Yes dear.”

Shaking my head and throwing back the covers, I got up and went about my business. I decided to give him a couple more minutes to get himself up so I got dressed and grabbed a slice of pizza for each of us for lunch. When I got back in our room to check his progress, he was still snuggled up under the covers. “Montgomery. You need to get up.”

He let out a long sigh, “fine. If I have to.”

“You do. I’m not facing the music on my own. Leftover pizza okay for lunch?”

“Yeah that’s fine.” He grumbled, sleepily. I’m not entirely sure he knows what I asked him.

“Do you want an Advil?”

“No, I think I’m good for now. Thanks, though babe.” I watched him sit up and begin to get himself ready. I knew it was going to take him longer than usual, which is why I insisted he get up now. Once he had some coffee and toast in his system, he was a lot more personable. Before we left for school, I made sure to put on my wedding set. It felt odd to wear it in public, but also incredibly satisfying.

I drove us to school early to meet Scott and Justin for some moral support. “He let you drive the Jeep?” Scott asked as soon as I had parked, and we were out of the car.

“Well considering he physically can’t drive right now and the fact that if it gets in an accident, it’s also my problem, yes. He let me drive.”

“Even still. I’m surprised. How’re you feeling, man?”

“Eh, it hurts but it’s not like I can’t manage it.”

“Do you want an Advil?” I asked quickly.

“No Addy. I’m fine. And I can administer my own medication, I am an adult after all.”

“I know. I just don’t know how else to help is all.”

“I know. You make good coffee though. That helps.”

“Right, right. Coffee. That’s why you married her.” Justin laughed.

“Well if you really want to know why I married her….” Monty teased.

“La la la la la. I’m not listening.” Justin exclaimed, covering his ears.

It was still early, but we decided to make our way inside to our lockers anyway. The few people in the halls stopped to watch us with curious eyes. I was nervous to make eye contact with any of them, so I kept my head down. We were almost at my locker when a student got up the nerve to stop us and say something. I think his name was David or something. I recognized him from my ninth grade French class. “Hey. I was at the game and saw that hit. I’m sorry you got hurt.” He said to Monty. He blinked in surprise, none of our group expecting that kind of response. The kid turned his attention to me, and Monty moved in front of me slightly. “Use your wifely influence to make sure he’s on the sidelines at every game. Maybe then he can talk some sense into the team.” He looked down at my left hand, briefly examining my ring. “Good choice. See you guys around.” He nodded and waved as he walked away. The students around us stood silently. We were all stunned. After we broke out of our shock and shared amazed looks, the four of us made our ways to our lockers. Chatter had resumed once again but grew eerily silent as I gathered my books. They’re here.

Justin spoke up when he noticed my friends approaching, “she’s had a long couple of days guys.” Monty sucked in a breath, likely preparing to tell them to fuck off.

“We just want to talk to her.” Clay told Justin. They still hadn’t acknowledged me or Monty.

“I think you said enough the other night Clay.”

“Addison?” Alex prompted.

“Hmm?” I responded.

“Can we talk? Alone?”

“Depends. I’m pretty sure whatever you want to say to me can be said in front of them.”

“We’d really rather not….”

“I’m not sure if you realize this, but I’m injured. I can’t even stand up on my own. It’s not like I can hurt you or anything.”

“Still.”

“Fine. But just know that I’m going to tell him what you say anyway.”

“That’s fine.” Jessica said.

The boys took that as their cue to leave, but not before Monty leaned down to kiss me softly. “I’ll see you at lunch.” He muttered against my lips. I nodded. My friends looked uncomfortable and I heard Scott talking to Monty as they walked away.

“You smug bastard.”

I hadn’t noticed that Justin stayed behind until I felt his hand on my shoulder, causing me to jump. I was too focused on the impending explosions from my friends. Before they began, Tyler came up to our tense little group. Great. “Hey guys. Hey Addison.”

“Hi Tyler.” I greeted. “How are you?”

“I’m alright. How are you doing?”

“I’m alright.” My friends watched our exchange with their breath held. This is so awkward. Will somebody please mention the elephant in the hallway?

“You guys really did it?”

“Got married?” He nodded. Thank you. “Yeah. It’s all legal. New last name and everything. Publicly at least. Still waiting on all of the changes to be processed everywhere. Some places take longer than others.”

“Huh. Explains why he’s been so mellow lately.”

“You haven’t experienced getting him out of bed in the morning. But yes, for the most part he is pretty mellowed out.”

“Interesting. I have to go meet Mack in the dark room. Bye guys.”

“Bye Tyler.” We all said. There was an awkward pause.

“Did… that really just happen?” Clay asked.

“I think so?” Jessica replied.

“Maybe he realizes he doesn’t have a say in who I spend the rest of my life with.” I muttered.

“Well he’s not exactly your best friend in the world Addy.” Alex said. I shrugged and saw Zach coming towards us. Hopefully he takes this okay.

“You got freaking married and didn’t tell anyone?” He asked, immediately after arriving at my locker.

“She told me.” Justin offered. I shot him a glare. Thanks for the help dipwad.

“Yeah.” I said, lamely. It’s not like I could deny it at this point.

“Why? I mean, he’s Monty.”

“Thanks Zach. I hadn’t noticed the identity of my husband.” I replied.

“That’s not what I meant. I mean, you married Monty Addison.”

“And your point is, what exactly?”

“He’s nothing like you.” Clay said.

“Which brings me back to, your point is…?”

“He isn’t the relationship and marriage type.”

“Well, evidently, he is. I have the diamond and the paperwork to prove it,” showing them my ring to prove my point. I was slowly growing tired of their loosely veiled distaste for my choice.

“He’s an asshole to like everyone. He doesn’t like any- did he pick that?” Jess stated.

“Yeah, he did. I was there. He saw it and knew it was the one.” Justin replied.

“It’s so… nice. And big.”

“Thank you? And it’s not that big. Its only point seven five carats. He said she said something about the setting making it look bigger than it actually is.”

“Wow. I didn’t have him pegged as a guy who knew diamonds.”

“I don’t think he did. But he knows how to pick ‘em.”

“I’ll say. Anyway, as I was saying. He’s an ass. To everybody. All the time.”

“Not to me.”

“Well you’re apparently married to him.” Clay grumbled, haughtily.

“Even before we got together, he wasn’t an ass to me. We weren’t friends by any means, but he wasn’t really that much of an ass.”

“Lucky you.”

“Clay, lay-” Justin started.

“Okay. If you’re just going to be a dick about this, then we don’t need to have this conversation Clay.” My friends blinked at me in shock. Clay looked at me harshly for a second before coming to his senses and looking at me like a dog with his tail between his legs.

“I’m sorry Addison. This is just kind of a big shock. You got married and didn’t tell any of us. Yes Justin, we know you knew.”

“I told you not to be an ass to her about this the other night. I told you she wouldn’t take any of your crap.”

“How did this all happen?”

“It’s a long story.”

“When did this all happen?”

“One of Bryce’s parties in tenth grade….” I trailed off.

“You’ve been together for almost two years and never said anything to us?

“Yes?”

“Don’t ever let us tell you you cant keep a secret again.” Zach said.

“I still don’t understand why Addison?” Alex asked, trying to be civil but I could hear the undercurrent of anger in his tone.

“I can’t really explain why I chose him Alex. Sometimes there is no explanation. I didn’t start dating him at sixteen like ‘I’m going to marry this guy.’ It was just fun in the beginning. The forbidden-ness of it all was thrilling. And then the longer it went on, I started to think that maybe this was right for me. For us.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I mean, I wanted to. Until we told Justin I had every intention of telling you. But then I was hit with a reality check. Realistically, Justin only took it as well as he did because I’m his best friend. I knew you guys would be mad and freak out, just like you are now. Don’t even try to deny it. You would have.”

“Even still. We would have been mad, but we would have come around Addy.” Clay said.

“Really? It took like eight years for you to like Justin and he literally had to live with you for that to happen. You expect me to believe that you would have been okay with me dating Monty?”

“Maybe…?” He squeaked.

“Exactly. So it was just easier not telling you guys. Or anyone aside from our parents and select people.”

“You told his parents?”

“Yup.” I said, checking my watch. “But that is a story for another day, I’m afraid. I have to get to class.”

“It better be a story for another day. I want to hear how that went.” Alex said, excited by the prospect of that story. That wasn’t the exciting one yet, bud.

“So does this mean things are okay for now?” My friends nodded.

“Yeah. I take it you’re sitting with him at lunch?”

“Yeah.”

“We will see you around Mrs. de la Cruz.” Zach smirked. I rolled my eyes at him.

“Not my mother-in-law. Addy is fine.” With that, Justin and I walked away. It wasn’t the best conversation and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but it was better than I think any of us were anticipating.

People stared at me in class and I heard a couple of comments that weren’t worth repeating about various aspects of our relationship, but it could have been a much worse few hours. When I arrived in the cafeteria and made my way over to where Monty and the rest of the team had congregated, I could tell something was up. Monty was sitting, his leg elevated on the seat across from him, wearing a very displeased look on his face. The group looked up at me and back to him.

“What?” I asked.

“I think he grabbed your lunch by mistake.” Charlie chuckled.

“What are you talking about?” I asked again as I sat down and pulled out what I thought was my lunch. When I opened it and saw a slice of pepperoni, I understood what the problem was. “Oh, I see. I’ll trade you if I can have your fruit snacks.”

“You don’t like fruit snacks. And technically they’re our fruit snacks.”

“Exactly why I said your fruit snacks. You hide them in the cart and think I don’t notice until I make lunch. Here.” I said as we traded lunches. I smiled as a pulled out my leftovers.

“What is that?” Garrison asked, staring at the slice.

“Vegetable pizza.”

“And he looked like you tried to feed him wet dog food because, why exactly?”

I turned to Monty, “would you like to explain why you don’t like it? Or shall I?”

“No. It’s fine. I just don’t like it.”

I laughed out loud at his response, “it’s because it has vegetables on it. He doesn’t like vegetables.”

“I like vegetables. Sometimes.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to eat them once in a while, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He sighed and chucked a fruit snack at me. I turned to his friends.

“I married a nineteen-year-old child.”

“Yes. Yes you did.”

His teammates and I chatted for a while pleasantly until Bryce showed up. They seemed to take a very quick liking to me. “Hey guys. Addison.”

“Walker.” I replied as the kids around table chimed in heys of varying tone.

“So, it really wasn’t Justin. Didn’t think you would let Monty here get within ten feet of you by yourself, let alone be close enough to have-.”

I squeezed Monty’s hand tightly to keep him in check and he winced. Michael opened his mouth to step in, but I beat him to it, “wasn’t your business then. Not your business now. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re only so interested in my sex life because you wish it was you.”

Garrison choked on his water and coughed while the other boys around him watched our interaction with various looks of shock and amusement on their faces. “Interested in sex… with you?”

“You heard me.”

“I’d think long and hard about your next comment Bryce.” Monty told him, darkly.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m your brother.”

“And she’s my wife.”

“Dude what about bros before-.”

Once again, he was cut off, this time by Charlie. “Are you that fucking dumb? Are you trying to get your ass kicked?” Bryce simply looked at him, his head tilted slightly.

“He can’t do anything to me. His leg is screwed. Sorry you got hurt by the way.”

“Awe Scotty. He thought I meant Monty. Isn’t that sweet?”

“The sweetest.” Scott replied, holding his hand to his heart.

“No. I don’t mean him. I meant her.”

Bryce looked at me, sitting sweetly slowly eating my granola bar. “Uh huh. Her. Right.” My gaze turned dark and my brow arched, threateningly.

“Try me. I may be small, but that just makes it easier for me to hit you where it hurts.”

He gulped. “O-okay. Sorry. Comments will be kept to myself.”

Monty turned his attention to me and smiled lovingly. I smiled brightly back at him and watched as he picked up one of Michael’s grapes and chucked it at me. I barely had time to move to catch it in my mouth to avoid being hit in the eye. “Why you little….”

“You love me.”

“I do.” I sighed, dreamily. While I had him caught off guard, I threw his fruit snack back at him. I hit his head and landed in his lap. He turned and looked at me, a look of fake shock and anger on his face.

“And she calls him a child.” Garrison muttered.

“You should see them when they try to decide on a movie or tv show to watch. It’s literally like watching five-year-old kids argue over their favourite toy.” Scott muttered back.

“Or when she tries to get him out of bed in the mornings. She has to literally bribe him sometimes. Calls me other times to physically remove him from the bed.” Charlie added.

“Almost called you this morning actually.” I said.

“I wasn’t that bad. And you were asking a lot of me Addy.”

“Montgomery. I asked you to sit up and put pants on.”

“I had surgery on my leg Addison.”

“And yet, you had no issue putting pants on when we left the hospital darling.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“It wasn’t the morning then.”

I looked at his friends, a dumbstruck look on my face. “Everyday. The only time he didn’t object to getting up was the one day on our honeymoon I wanted to sleep in.”

“I was promised Curio Coffee waffles. The way you and your parents raved about them, I assumed they were something special. They were by the way.”

“I said nothing about waffles at five in the morning on a Saturday.” Monty grumbled unintelligibly in response as the bell rang.

“Fuck. If I knew lunch with you two was going to be this entertaining, I would have made you tell people a long time ago.” Scott laughed.

“You’ve been keeping a gem from us Monty. You’re welcome to sit and share stories anytime Addy.” Garrison told me.

#cant go back #montgomery de la cruz #montgomery de la cruz x oc #monty x reader #monty imagine #monty de la cruz #monty x oc #justin foley jensen #clay jensen #jessica davis #alex standall #bryce walker #charlie st. george #scott reed

33 notes · View notes