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starcrossedxwriter · 11 months

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Built for Love Part 9 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

Warnings: If graphic depictions of violence and abuse are triggering for you, PLEASE SKIP THE ENTIRE ITALICIZED SECTION. It is a flashback and it is graphic.

A/N: Please heed the above warning if you need it! It gets worse before it gets better for our girl :(

Shallow pants filled the hallway as Charlotte clutched the side of a concessions stand. Her heart felt as if it was going to beat right out of her chest.

She had no real coherent thoughts, only flashes of his smirk, his menacing eyes. And all she felt was panic and terror, as if he awakened true fear in her body that she thought was long buried.

“Hey!” Charlotte immediately straightened up as she heard Malcolm’s voice. She dusted off her clothes and cleared her throat, desperate hoping her panic and heart rate would decrease. “Chris sent me to find you. You good? You look like you’re having a panic attack.”

She nodded, her hand still pressing into her chest. “Y-yea, y-yea. I j-just f-freaked out… with… t-the audience,” she forced out. “J-just panicked f-for a sec.”

She could not tell if he believed her, that it was just the audience, his eyes were filled with concern but there was a thread of skepticism there too.

“Ok, well take a beat, take a breath. I’ll tell Chris you need a minute.”

She took a few deep breaths, forcing all that fear and panic back to a figurative box. She could not figure this out right now. She had a job to do and she would have to push through.

“I’m o-ok, I’m ok.”

“Ok, you ready to head back in? Chris wants to start.”

She nodded, “Yea, yea. Let’s… let’s do it.”

Charlotte barely remembered her lines, songs, or cues as she moved through the rehearsal like a robot. She was by far the weakest link among the cast, which was surprising to everyone, since she was typically running circles around everyone. She was thankful that none of the investors, including Shaun, stuck around long after rehearsal. He did not have a chance to speak to her or get close to her as she immediately exited the stage once Chris dismissed them. He merely threw her one last grin before he walked out the door.

Charlotte raced to the nearest bathroom, her quick lunch soon staring back at her. By the time she made it back to her dressing room to change and head home, she was barely standing, emotionally and physically drained. For a few moments, she just sat there, unmoving, staring at her reflection in the vanity mirror.

She wanted to scream or cry or rage or break something. But instead, she just stared into space and at her reflection, spiraling into a deep despair she had not experienced in a long time.

This was her own doing, she realized. She underestimated him, however he had managed to weasel his way into her world. She, foolishly, let herself believe time had dulled whatever impulse he had with her. His desire to control her new no bounds, defied the very laws of human nature in her opinion to move on. She had moved on, moved her life forward, and he was still frozen in time. That sort of relentless drive, he’d never stop. And that meant, she did not know if she could stay there.

She knew as soon as Michael learned he was floating around, or worse, her family, they would encourage her to leave. And she did not see a world in which she could convince them it was safe for her to stay. Nor did she even believe herself it was safe. He did not do all of this to get close to her for no reason, and she knew the reason could not be good. She felt as if this was an impossible situation with no outcome that worked in her favor.

However, despite the scenarios running through her head, the likelihoods and odds she knew to be true, the knowledge that her safest bet was to get on a plane and go home, she could not find any of them reason enough to actually do it.

She stared around this dressing room and she saw it, everything she had dreamed and worked for her entire life. When she left the first time, that was a means of survival. What were dreams when your only goal was keeping blood pumping through your veins? Her life quite literally hung on that decision so she never regretted it, not much. But she knew, if she abandoned the dream again after breathing new life into it, she would never forgive herself. Her soul would never be at peace again. That’s why she was even driven to come back, her soul needed this. She had jumped and grasped at this dream and she refused to allow him or the mistakes of her past dictate whether she seized it.

Reason fought her. She was courting fire, playing right into Shaun’s game. He wanted to be in her life, however he managed it. And she would never win against him. Those thoughts were loud, the realities pushed against her dreams, her human instinct to protect her physical body demanded she see reason.

It was a tough decision. And one she knew she had to make alone. Because the moment Michael or any of her family, people she trusted for sage advice, found out, they would make the decision for her. Her brothers would sooner hogtie her and force her on a plane before they allowed her to be in his presence ever again. And she understood that impulse, knew the pain and trauma they all went through when she was with Shaun. But still, was even that reason enough?

She shed her clothes of Ashley as her brain battled for the path forward. She had no idea what to do.

“You got a sec?”

Charlotte turned to find Malcolm waiting for her in the doorway of her dressing room. Internally, her entire body sagged. She knew he was likely there to inquire about her lackluster performance but she had no words or excuses. She was terrible and everyone knew it. However, still she dug as deep as she could to force a smile on her face.

“All the seconds in the world for you. What’s up?” She could hear how labored and tired those few words sounded, how fake the pep she infused into them felt in the space.

“Wanted to see if you were feeling better? You seemed out of it up there?”

“Y-yea. Sorry, I know today wasn’t my best. I’ll be better for tomorrow night. Think I just need some rest.”

“Ok well, before you go, can I show you something?”

She nodded, grabbing her coat and bag to follow him. They weaved through the backstage, which was almost empty save one or two people. She had not realized how long she sat in her dressing room. They finally stopped when they were center stage of the theater, the lights were dimmed but she could still see all the seats and boxes and all of its glory.

“Just thought you deserved a minute of quiet here without everyone. Starting tomorrow, this room is gonna be filled with thousands applauding for you every night.”

She let out a breathless sigh as she stood in the middle of the stage. She closed her eyes and if she thought back hard enough, she could remember what that was like. The thrill, the joy, it was truly intoxicating.

She only opened her eyes when she heard his words.

“Don’t let him take this from you again, Charlotte. You’ll never forgive yourself.”

She stilled before turning on her heels to face him. How could he know? She thought to herself. He couldn’t possibly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yea you do. Look… I won’t claim to know what he put you through. But I do know that you survived. You left and you survived and you came back here to claim what’s yours. That’s a hell a lot more than many women can say. Don’t let him run you outta here like he still has power.”

She shook her head. “H-How’d you…” she did not know what she even wanted to know… how’d he know her secret when she never told anyone and how’d he know she was considering leaving.

He scratched his head. “Let’s just say I’ve seen women in the same situation you were. Took me a while to notice the signs with you, I’ll admit. And one interaction with him to confirm those suspicions. You really are a damn good actress. But it’s always in the eyes… That's the one place the facade could never quite reach. No one else knew or suspected from what I could tell.”

Charlotte cast her eyes down at the weathered stage, her hands picking at the soft fabric of her black leggings. “You never said anything.”

He nodded. “And when you quit and left so abruptly, I wondered if that was the right choice. My aunt’s ex was like him and one time, she told me that the one thing she needed but never had was a friend who just could be there. Wasn’t trying to tell her things she already knew or preach to her or force her out of a situation she wasn’t ready to leave. She just needed someone to create a space for her to be her. The show always seemed like that for you… the one space to be you. I didn’t want to take that away from you.”

She chuckled, wiping the tears that streamed down her face.

“Not much of a safe space anymore. I don’t even know what he’s doing here. H-He hated musicals and shit like this.”

“Yea but he’s obsessed with money and you so this gives him both,” Malcolm mused. “W-when I recognized who he was, I spoke to him after you went back to your dressing room… before he left. He manages Issac Simmons’ investment portfolio. He’s invested in six award winning musicals and plays. But you know rich white folk, they never do the overseeing themselves. He hires an investment firm to manage all of his investments, monitor, and make sure they’re profitable. Shaun’s overseeing his portfolio. Issac attends meetings for the show as a producer and he gets to attend for the financial piece of it. How he managed that, I have no idea.”

Charlotte let out a humorless chuckle. “That was always m-my problem with him. I u-underestimate him the extent of his cruelty every time… at my own peril. Probably planned this the moment I left, knowing I’d be back.” She let out a strangled sigh. “I can’t leave a-and I can’t stay. I don’t know what to do,” she laughed, the laugh filled with exasperation and fear and frustration that she felt in her dressing room, the battles that existed in her head.

“You don’t gotta keep making the same mistakes. And you don’t have to let him win.”

She shook her head. “I’m not letting him win! He just wins… he’s bigger and stronger and smarter and faster. I c-can’t…” she paused. “I can’t fight him and I can’t beat him. I never could. A-and it's not just me I have to think about… Michael and my family… I can’t put them through what happened last time.”

“In all this, I haven’t heard one thing… what it is you want. What do you want, Charlotte?”

“I want this!” She spun around, gesturing at the theater. “I know I talk big shit about awards b-but I-I can live without ever winning a single award for what I do. I d-don’t care about that part of it. I… I can live without all that. But I-I c-can’t live without this. Without knowing that I had what it took to perform on t-the stage as a lead and that I t-took the steps to achieve something I’ve wanted m-most of my life. For as long as I could want to be a-anything, I wanted to be this. A-and if I never get nominated, fine. If I never win, f-fine. That’s ok because, at least, I achieved this.”

“Want my advice?”

“Please.” She settled on the edge of the stage, her feet dangling into the orchestra pit.

“I know it doesn’t feel like it today because seeing him brought up old shit. But you are a totally different woman than the last time he saw you. What’d you do when you were in LA?”

She shrugged, unsure of where his advice was headed. “I j-just tried to find myself again and happiness… I guess. Found hobbies and just tried to live again. I dunno.”

“Did you?”

A small but distinct smile settled on her features as she thought about her friends and family, Michael, and her career.

“Y-yea I did. But…”

“No. No buts. You found you again. The only reason he had power over you back then is because you thought you had nothing without him. You thought you were nothing without him. But then you left and you took it all back. You took the broken pieces he left you with and made something new and stronger. You are stronger than he realizes or you even realize. He’s betting on you cowering, he’s betting on you giving up. What would happen if you actually got in the ring this time and fought for what you wanted?”

“What about Michael a-and my family? They’ll never accept me staying here with him back in the picture. My dreams or not.”

“Look…” he sat down next to her. “Your family wants to keep you alive and healthy. So do I. But I… I’m selfish,” he admitted. “I know it and I’ve always owned that about myself. Because I care more about whether my decisions bring me peace at night, not whether others can accept them. You could call Chris tomorrow and tell him you quit and run back to LA. No one would fault you for choosing safety over this. Your family will breathe easier, the man you love will breathe easier and in some ways you will too. But,” he paused, glancing at her.

“Will your soul breathe easier? Will your heart allow you to rest at night knowing you had a chance to fight for the future you want and you didn’t take it? If the answer is yes, then maybe you don’t want this and what it represents. And that’s ok too. No judgment. But the Charlie Chris told me about… the Charlie he met as an annoying freshman, his words not mine,” he added as a caveat that made Charlie grin. “The Charlie I met on my first day in Chicago who exudes star power from every pore of her very soul, the Charlie Chris staked his reputation to bring back… he told me that that girl would claw her way through mud, glass, and landmines to get what she wanted. He said she was unapologetic in her pursuit of her dreams. So if you got any of that girl left in you and have any doubt about your answer, then have that boyfriend of yours teach you some boxing moves and get in the ring. End this your way. Not his.”

“I really hate that everyone uses boxing metaphors with me now,” she huffed, rolling her eyes. She pulled her legs into her chest. She knew he was right, this was what she wanted. But she did not feel strong enough to do what he was talking about. She was not equipped for this, the fight. She had never done it before. “I don’t know how to fight him and if I lose, there are no redos this time. I got a second chance… doubt I’ll get a third,” she admitted, what she was truly afraid of. That she was about to gamble her life on this dream.

“You want a hard truth? No one knows how to fight until they have to, Charlie. Until one day, you realize something in you will die if you don’t. Whether it be your soul, your heart, your dreams, your purpose, or your physical body. Whatever. So you fight for that, for that thing you know you can’t live without. And you fight like hell because there’s no other option. You’ll get hit, you’ll get knocked down. And it’s gonna hurt like hell. Sometimes you might get knocked out of the ring altogether. But you stay in the fight until you have nothing left. That’s life, that’s the gig. You ain’t the first person to feel ill-equipped for the fight and you won’t be the last. But I don’t know anyone who regrets fighting, just a lot of people who regret running, even with all the odds stacked against them.”

“And if I lose?”

He pushed up his shoulders in a shrug. “You have to decide what’s more important, Charlotte. Do you want survival with a dark cloud over you or do you want to fight for the life you actually want? No one can decide if the risk is worth it for you. Not me, not your family, and not that man of yours. It’s your life… make the choice that gives you peace.” He patted her knee before pushing himself up to stand. He dusted off his pants before helping Charlotte to her feet. “I should head home, kids’ are with my parents so it’s date night. See you tomorrow?”

She could hear the hopefulness in his voice, the silent prayer that curved around every word that her answer would be yes.

Her eyes followed the gold trim on the walls, imagining her family and Michael cheering for her in the front row. She was tired of running away from this, tired of letting him steal good things from her. She wanted a good thing, she deserved and earned this good thing. And she was going to take it.

“Yea.” She smiled as his whole body visibly relaxed and he let out a sigh of relief. “And I’ll be better… stronger than I was today. Thank you.” She hoped those two simple words conveyed her thanks, her appreciation for pulling her back from the edge of a decision she would have regretted her whole life.

He laid his hand on his lapel of his jacket and winked at her before exiting the theater, leaving Charlotte alone.

She sighed and glanced around before nodding. This was her choice and her life. She knew what she had to do and it would not be easy but it would be worth it. It had to be.

When she finally made her way home and up to their apartment, she was not surprised to find Michael already lounging in bed, shirtless, watching anime.

“Wasn’t sure when you’d be back so I just got pizza. You didn’t respond to my texts? You ok? You look beat.”

She watched him for a moment before sitting down on the bench at the end of her bed to take off her shoes. She took a deep breath and lied. She was fighting to have it all… her life and her dream. And the only way she could see to achieve that was to keep the amazing and protective man lounging in their bed at an arm’s length, for as long as she could.

She knew this plan relied heavily on luck and prayer. Prayer that all the chips fell exactly as they should so Michael and her family’s path never crossed with Shaun’s. There were so many ways this could unravel and she knew it. But even if she had to hold it all together with scotch tape and luck, she would do it. She didn’t need luck forever. She needed it for a few months.

“Yea, everything’s good,” she said sweetly as she walked around to kiss him. She perched on the edge of the bed next to him. “Rehearsal was j-just brutal. Day before previews, everyone’s just on edge. Wasn’t anyone’s best I don’t think. How are you?”

“Good, I went to the comic book store and did some research. Think I got every issue featuring Killmonger they had. I remember some of it from when I read it the first time but lots of good info. Why don’t we run you a bath before dinner and then you can tell me all about rehearsals?”

“Sounds heavenly but I’d much rather you join me so I can hear about your day. I don’t even want to think about the show. Tell me everything you learned.” She rubbed his leg before getting up to retreat to their bathroom.

“Want some wine?”

“You know me so well,” she moaned. “You get the goods and I’ll start the bath.”

She watched him for a moment as he rolled off the bed to go to their bar. Charlotte retreated into the bathroom and slumped against the vanity.

“This is a terrible idea,” She whispered to herself before walking to their tub. But it would work. It had to.

***

“Great show everyone! Found some minor things to tweak for tomorrow but it was truly stellar.”

The entire cast cheered, Charlotte hugging everyone she passed as they made their way backstage, their first official night of previews done and dusted.

As soon as the curtains fell and the applause died down, Charlotte finally let out a sigh of relief she did not know she was holding in. She did it and it was amazing. She had thought rehearsals were thrilling but she had forgotten how truly otherworldly performing in front of a sold-out crowd was. And for the house to be so packed on their first night, she had no regrets.

She was not surprised to find a certain actor waiting for her when she returned to her dressing room, a bright bouquet of flowers in his hand. Charlotte immediately threw herself in his arms, Michael lifting her off the ground.

“Els! Baby girl! You were fuckin’ phenomanal. That was amazing. You were perfect.”

“Thank you, baby.” She only had eyes for Michael while she performed. Every time she looked out into the crowd, she zeroed in on him, performing for him. And his reassuring smile gave her all the small boosts of confidence she needed to make it to the end of the show. She pulled back to look at him, her eyes searching his. “Y-You really liked it??”

He laughed. “I loved it. It was a really great story, the songs were perfect. You and Malcolm’s energy was insane. I’m excited to see it again once it opens officially.”

Charlotte’s entire body seemed to light up and glow, his opinion the only one she truly cared about. “Really?”

“Yes.” He captured her lips. “I see why he fought so hard to get you to join, that role was made for you. Congrats. Let’s go out and celebrate. Take you to dinner and then we can continue the celebration at home.”

She leaned into his embrace, her arm lazily wrapped around her shoulder. “Can we just go celebrate at home? My only idea of celebrating right now is being in your arms.”

“Anything you want.” Charlotte quickly changed out of her clothes and headed out the back door, surprised to find a few people waiting back there for a glimpse of them. She stopped and took a picture or two before heading into their car.

Michael continued to show her with praise the entire car ride and as they entered the apartment. She listened to his favorite parts and his one or two small critiques that she found incredibly insightful while getting ready for bed.

When she climbed into bed, she straddled his hips, her favorite spot to have true heart to hearts with him.

“Thank you,” she whispered, kissing him softly.

“For what?” His tone told her that he didn’t know what he was being thanked for.

“For supporting me. I wouldn’t have been able to do what I did tonight without you. Every time I looked at you in the crowd, I felt th-this surge of confidence and reassurance. I-Its just… t-thank you.” She cupped his face. “Thank you for loving me.”

His hands pulled her into his chest to kiss her deeply. “You never have to thank me for that.”

He flipped her onto her back and pulled off her nightgown, his body settling between her legs.

“I think the star of the night deserves a bit of extra attention?” He whispered as he pushed a finger inside her,

Charlotte’s back arching off the bed in pleasure.

And for one night, she didn’t think about all the notes she had for herself on her performance, she didn’t stress over what everyone else thought, and she did not think about Shaun. She just enjoyed the bliss of a good night with her boyfriend. This is what she was fighting for and it was worth it.

***

Charlotte pulled lasagna, Shaun’s favorite out of the oven, his birthday cake she spent all day making sitting perfectly on the glass display on the kitchen island. She had made all of his favorites, put on his favorite dress, all to ensure his birthday was perfect and special. His gift was neatly wrapped on the dining room table, an expensive watch he had dropped a million not-so-subtle hints that he wanted. She glanced at the clock as she continued finishing everything up, expecting him to waltz through the door at any moment.

She did not have to wait long as she heard his key enter the door. She immediately and quickly checked her hair and make-up in the hall mirror to ensure she looked perfect for his special day, just as he would want her, before greeting him at the front door. Her bright smile faltered as she saw his friends in tow behind him.

“H-hey babe. Happy Birthday! I didn’t know we were having company?” She offered, her voice remaining bright and sweet so as to not frustrate him.

“The boys decided they wanted to watch the game tonight.” She glanced at the takeout bags in their hands of burgers and fries.

She glanced toward the kitchen, the meal she had spent all day preparing, unable to stop the way her lips tugged downward.

“I cooked? Just like you wanted.”

He gestured toward the living room, his four friends filing out of the entryway and getting settled. His best friend, Marcus, turned on the tv and basketball game loudly.

“I don’t want that shit.” He threw at her, frustration coursing through her. But still, she could not let it show. She merely smiled and nodded.

“I-It’s your day, love. Whatever you want. I’ll just put the other stuff away for us tomorrow.”

She hesitated before kissing him on the lips, hoping it would ease his anger. She doubted it. She used to be able to soothe him, early on, with physical affection and more intimate activities but not anymore. It was rare when there was anything she could do to make him forget he was angry, forget to rain those blows down on her, forget to hurt her in other ways.

“You look fuckin’ terrible in that dress.” He did not bother to whisper that one, all of his friends pretending they were more engrossed in the game than his rude comment.

She glanced down at her outfit, suddenly she could only focus on her flaws that it accentuated and how it was looser than she remembered. She had lost so much weight in the last couple of months as things between Shaun and her continued to deteriorate. Her weight had always been one of his favorite things to criticize. She was down to a size 2 and he still thought she looked fat… and so did she.

“O-Oh I thought you liked this one,” she offered, her hands running down the front of the dress, which used to hug her soft curves and ass. It was revealing, low cut and shorter than Charlotte’s usual taste. But he had picked it out and often demanded she wear it. So she thought it was her best option for the day.

“It just makes you look like a fuckin’ whore. But maybe that’s good.” The word stung but she kept her face neutral, as neutral as she could. “High time my friends saw what type of woman you really are. They think you’re so perfect and pristine.” She tried to stop it but she couldn’t stop the way she flinched as he brought his hand to her face. However, the sharp bite of a slap never came. Though she could tell he found it amusing that she was expecting it. He did grip her chin though, painfully but not excruciating, forcing her eyes to his. “Maybe we could put on a show for them.” His voice dropped again, ensuring that no one but Charlotte could hear his threats. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby?”

“No,” she asserted defiantly.

He merely looked her up and down and offered a small “hm” and sinister smile before demanding she got them plates and utensils for their food.

She quickly retreated to the kitchen, her hands shaking as she rummaged through their kitchen to find everything they needd.

“That cake looks great, Charlie!” Donovan called from the couch.

Charlotte could not help but beam a bit, the first nice word said to her all day. She knew she would get no such praise or compliments from the man she made it for so she would take it wherever she got it. However, when she glanced up and found Shaun’s eyes piercing into hers, her small glow dimmed to darkness immediately. Her thank you was barely audible over the loud tv.

She wished she could return to their room while the boys hung out, escaping his glare. However, she knew she would not be so lucky when he summoned her into the living room and pulled her onto his lap. His grip around her waist was tight, nearly painful as he kept her there, forcing her to watch the game with them. She did not even understand basketball. He only let her go once to get him another drink before he forced her back on his lap again.

She hated it and he knew it. Knew how uncomfortable it made her and he savored it. It was not just being on display, but feeling the simmering anger beneath the surface that no one else could see or feel. It was like being forced to watch someone build the stake you were to be burned at, knowing every moment it grew taller and taller meant certain pain and death for her. He wanted her to feel it, know punishment was coming. Sometimes she knew why and others she didn’t. But it was the fear he enjoyed, he wanted her to sit in terror every second while they laughed and cracked jokes.

“Shaun told us you’re playing the lead in your show tomorrow night?” His friend, Jason, offered as the game went to commercial. “Chicago right?”

Charlotte did not take her eyes off her lap but she offered him a strained smile and nod.

“That’s what’s up!”

“Congrats!”

All of his friends’ congratulations rang out around her. She just said thank you before turning her attention back to the game, hoping the attention would not cause the rage already simmering to turn to a boil.

“Damn Shaun, you gotta a superstar on your hands there. Ready for that trophy husband life?” Donovon joked, all the boys laughing and joking about how they’d gladly become stay at home husbands’ to a powerful woman.

Shaun’s laughter filled her ears but she was the only one who heard the fakeness of it, the fury that colored the edges and stole any genuine amusement from his tone. She desperately wanted to find something else to do, somewhere else to be. But she knew he could sense that, her fear that made her want to flee, through the tightened grip around her stomach.

“Yea, baby girl is something alright…” he placed a gentle kiss to her spine and Charlotte recognized the secret message in it immediately, that it would be the last stroke of gentleness she felt that night.

She had hoped to make it to tomorrow’s show without a bruise so she could perform at her best. It was her first night as the lead, taking over for an actress who had to have emergency surgery. It was her dream and she wanted it to be perfect. But tonight had been one misstep after another, despite her best efforts. She would not make it to the stage tomorrow unscathed, she could only pray he showed her mercy and exercised some control so she could still perform.

“So what about that cake though?” Donovan asked, glancing at the kitchen as the final quarter winded down.

“Y-Yea, I can cut y-y’all some,” she made a move to go into the kitchen when he held her tighter, halting her movements.

“No baby, let me.”

He stood and Charlotte settled in his seat, her eyes trained on the tv and none of the men seated around her.

“Babe! Can you help me for a second?”

She immediately excused herself, rushing into the kitchen to find him staring down at the cake. She noticed that he had scooted it closer to the edge of the island from its original spot in the dead center. He had a knife wrapped in his hand, waving it around casually as he examined Charlotte’s day’s work.

“It does look great,” he whispered, Charlotte not sure whether to accept the compliment because she could detect the faintest amusement in his voice. “But I’ve seen better.”

However, before she could respond, she understood why he looked amused. She took a step forward just as he moved and pushed the cake and its holder, a glass cake stand Charlotte received from her grandmother, to the floor. She gasped as the holder shattered into a million pieces and the cake splattered across their pristine white floors.

She glanced from the newly made mess on the floor to his eyes, the menacing pair daring her to say a word or cry. She forced the tears that sprang to her eyes to stay where they were as the other men came rushing to the kitchen at the sound.

“Damn. What happened?”

One short glance at Shaun and she knew what lie she was to tell. “O-Oh I… um… just tripped while I was carrying it and d-dropped it. Y-You know h-how clumsy I-I am… Sorry guys… sorry, baby,” she offered, turning to Shaun. And even though she had not done a single thing wrong, she found that her apology to him was genuine. Her eyes repeated that apology as he stared at her, apologizing for not being what he wanted, for not trying hard enough, for ruining his special day. He had a way of making her mind believe she was the guilty party even when she knew in her soul she had done nothing wrong.

“It’s ok, babe. I know you tried your best.” He gently kissed her on the top of the head, Charlotte bowing her head and caving in softly. “You know what fellas, let’s call it a night. Wanna spend some time with my lady,” he kissed her on the cheek this time, Charlotte hoping none of them could see how her whole frame trembled beneath the seemingly sweet gesture and in his embrace.

His friends snickered and immediately gathered their stuff. She knew they merely figured they were being kicked out so they could fuck. Oh how she wished they could see it, see her terror, or that she had the confidence to scream at them to save her. But he had stomped all of that out of her. No voice to ask for someone else to help her and no energy to save herself. Besides, she knew it was useless. With everyone else, he hid the beast so well and so perfectly that they would never see the truth. Sometimes she, even still, fell for the facade that hid the monster so how could she expect anything else from them?

When she heard the door finally click closed, she braced herself. For what? She did not know. Part of her yearned for the days when it was a mere slap across the face every couple of weeks. Now, he avoided her face as it caused too many questions. However, what he could not do to her face, he seems to desire to make up for it everywhere else.

“Get on your knees,” he demanded when he returned to the kitchen, Charlotte still paralyzed in the same spot he left her. Charlotte’s eyes fell on the broken glass and cake, which made her hesitate for a millisecond, a millisecond she would quickly regret.

“You are really stupid, you know that?” He shook his head before he backhanded her, her body falling into their table. He quickly followed it with two punches to her abdomen that forced her to her knees. He kicked her over and over again, even though she was down where he wanted her, Charlotte screaming and begging him to stop as she felt several of her ribs crack.

He grabbed her by her hair, using his fist to create a ponytail to force her upright despite the pain.

“See we gotta have a long lesson tonight. When I tell you to do something, you fuckin’ do it. Got it?”

She nodded fervently, her body unable to determine what pain to focus on first: The pulling in her scalp, the sting on her cheek, the soreness already spreading through her stomach, the agony of every breath, or the shards of glass she could feel breaking her skin on her knees and chins.

“I-I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry” she strained to offer. “I-I’ll m-make it… up t-to you.”

However, he did not release her, Charlotte’s heart sinking as she watched his hands go to unbutton his pants. Her whimpers and pleas for a reprieve went unanswered as he forced himself down her throat.

She just pretended she was elsewhere as he made her to service him, forcing her panic to calm enough to focus on other things. She thought about the director’s notes from rehearsal today, she thought about her schedule for tomorrow and where she could fit in a quick run to an urgent care, she thought about what lie she would tell to explain the bruises that she most certainly could not hide in her character’s revealing costumes. She thought only of actions, tangible actions she could take. Not her fear, not her panic, not her despair. Actions. That seemed to be the only thing that worked when he hurt her. Thinking of the things she needed to do to keep the one thing in her life that brought her any joy was the only way to endure it. After all, no was not a word he accepted in any regard, but particularly not in the bedroom.

When he was done, he released her hair, causing her to collapse into the mess on the floor, her coughing and sobbing filling the kitchen.

“Clean this up, bitch. The floor better be spotless when I get back.”

She sat there for a moment as he retreated, her head buried in her hands as she cried. The agony of every sob was only amplified by the pain radiating through her ribs. Her hands shook violently as she tried to clean, accidentally cutting herself over and over on shards of glass she could not see through her own tears.

She had gotten the floor fairly clean before she noticed a steady drip of crimson staining the floor. She glanced down to see a rather deep cut from the glass on her leg, her blood falling from it. She immediately looked over her legs, both of them and her hands smudged in her own blood. She let in a sharp breath, which quickly turned to pants of panic as she fell forward to the floor.

It was not that she had not seen her own blood before but the sight felt like reality hitting her like a train. This would be her life… for the rest of her life. Day after day of killing herself to be perfect for him, to do every action by the letter of his law, only to end up in the same spot: broken beneath him. He’d never stop, he’d never change, and she’d never be perfect enough. Because he didn’t want her to be. He wanted her to be this broken, bleeding shell of a woman until he grew tired of her.

And that reality, the first time she forced herself to contend with the prospect of such a bleak future, made her insides twist in agony, adding to the pain she already felt. Pain… that was it for her. That was all she had known and would know: pain. She could hold tight to frivolous dreams like being the lead in a show but none of it even mattered. Her life was just one series of blows after another. He had taken everything else, it would not be long before he took that last sliver of light in her life with him.

“Charlotte! Charlotte, baby…”

She moaned into the floor, shaking her head, which she had buried into her arm on the floor. She was in too much pain, everything ached and hurt and she would not survive another thing. She knew it would only make it worse, more painful but she resisted, resisted his touch as he turned her over and straddled her.

“No! NO! Let me go, let me go!” She pushed and fought against him, using her last bit of energy to buck his body off of hers even as he pinned her hands to the ground, which felt softer and like she was sinking into it…

“Charlotte! Els! It’s just me! Babe! Wake up!”

Michael’s calls were frantic as he straddled her out of control limbs to subdue her. His eyes filled with unshed tears and trepidation as he tried to force her out of whatever nightmare had its grips on her mind.

However, he quickly realized grabbing her only amplified the issue, her erratic movements to escape his touch only intensifying as he tried to help her. However, he was terrified to let her go, terrified she would accidentally hurt herself or topple over the side of the bed.

This was not the first night Charlotte had woken him up with nightmares lately. Every night for the last week in fact. Most were soft whimpers and pleas that ended fairly quickly. He would inquire about them the next morning but she never seemed to remember what plagued her. However, tonight, when he woke up to those whimpers, it was far worse. It took mere minutes for them to turn into all out screams and pleas for mercy to an unknown assailant.

Her eyes were open but utterly unseeing, filled with pain and terror he wished he had never seen on her. Her body was active but her mind was still trapped in whatever hellscape her subconscious conjured.

“P-Please,” she whimpered. “D-don’t… I-I c-can’t… t-take a-any… m-more. Please. I-I’ll be b-better, I-I pr-promise.”

Her pleas to a person who was not there sent splinters through his soul, he wished he could do more to help her but he was utterly helpless. Even as she begged, her body continued fighting him, unaware that he was not her enemy.

“Els… love. H-hey, it’s me… it’s Bakari. It’s Bakari… y-you're safe, you're safe. Wake up for me,” he opted to match her tone, soft whispers that conveyed all of the love he held for her, hoping that would infiltrate the terror that whipped her into this frenzy.

He loosened his grip around her wrists and settled next to her as her body relaxed, his words and gentle touch seeping through slowly but surely. He kept one hand on her, loose but gentle as he caressed the inside of her wrist. He just had to wait for her mind to catch up, to realize the threat she felt was fiction, not reality.

“B-Bakari…” she whispered, his name coming out as a sob of relief. She sobbed as she realized where she was, Shaun was gone and her boyfriend sat beside her, his face in utter shock. She threw herself into his arms and cried into the nap of his neck. The visions from her nightmare, no not a nightmare she realized. A memory, one she had buried so deep, she had almost forgotten it. She glanced down at her hand, her normal one replaced with a vision of her dirty bloodied one from that night.

She could not control it as she felt her stomach immediately turn. She pulled herself away from Michael and leaned over the bed and retched. She groaned in pain as she heaved and flinched as Michael went to touch her back to comfort her.

“I-I’m sorry,” she kept repeating in the darkness as she realized what she had done, how she had embarrassed herself in front of him.

“Don’t apologize, love. Can you stand?”

She nodded faintly.

“Ok,” he helped her out of the bed on his side and led her to the bathroom. He sat her on the closed toilet, Charlotte’s eyes still a bit distant and clouded, though he knew she could hear him. He crouched down to be eye-level with her, his fingers whisking away the tears that continued to stream down her face. His tone was gentle as if he were talking to someone made of glass, anything other than a soft word would cause her to shatter into a million pieces.

“You ok for a few minutes? I’ll clean up as best I can out there while you shower and brush your teeth. And I’ll get the housekeepers here tomorrow. We can sleep in the other room for the rest of the night.”

She nodded, squeezing his hand before he left her. She did not move for a few moments, she just sat there, in shock. She had never experienced a nightmare quite like that before. She hated the wreckage he was still able to create in her life, how one glance had shredded through her subconscious.

She knew her house of cards was close to toppling, her web of lies would unravel. Michael was perceptive, noticed every change in her behavior. He would wait until the morning because he knew she was too fragile right them but then he would demand answers. And she did not know if he would accept “I don’t remember” this time.

When she finished, Michael was waiting for her with her favorite tea, a sweatshirt, and underwear. He helped her get dressed and led her to the couch.

“Wanna j-just crash on the couch so you can watch a bit of tv to calm down?”

She nodded quietly. He helped her snuggle up in her favorite thick blanket and rest with her head in his lap. His fingers gently massaged her scalp through her scarf. He could still feel her body tensing beneath him, none of her usual relaxation methods working to ease whatever plagued her.

“What’s wrong, Els? You’ve had a lot of nightmares but that one was… You sure you’re gonna be ok when I go to LA tomorrow? I can reschedule or come back early? Maybe you can ask Chris for a day off.”

“Y-yea, that’s it. I promise,” she whispered, clenching her eyes shut. “And no, you’re staying an extra couple days to see your family. You should do that.” She forced herself up and kissed him softly. “I’m ok, really. I t-think j-just the longer I’m back here, the more old shit it brings up. Besides, we only have two shows before opening night… two more days. Chris would k-kill me if I miss one. It was j-just a dumb flashback. I’m ok. G-get on your flight tomorrow, I'll keep you updated and I'll be fine."

He nodded and she fell back onto his lap. She immediately felt racked with guilt. Of course he believed her, she had never given him a reason to distrust her until now. She closed her eyes and tried to force herself to sleep as Michael’s soothing hands comforted her. But her inability to sleep this time had little to do with fear and a lot to do with her own guilt.

These nightmares were her punishment for lying, she knew that. All of the stress and panic she was hiding just manifested in her dreams, but amplified.

It’s for a good reason, it's for a good reason, she reminded herself. Though, she could not dismiss the nagging concern that when this house of lies finally fell, Michael would certainly not see it that way.

***

“So are you gonna miss having Michael there tomorrow night?” Chris asked as they watched everyone mingle at the cocktail hour one of the producers hosted. Tomorrow was the big day and everyone was excited and on edge, there was no inbetween.

She shrugged. “A bit. But he sent the most gorgeous flowers and got a massage for Sunday morning. He’ll be back mid next week and already bought a ticket to see it again when he’s back. I told him he’s gonna get tired of it.”

“He definitely will. A month in and Jason,” he gestured to his partner who was chatting across the room, “Barely wants to hear a note from one of my shows ever again. Let alone see it for the 100th time. Anyway, cheers,” they clinked their champagne flutes against each other’s. “Tomorrow’s your big night. You're gonna be a star once the reviews hit and this is all said and done."

Charlotte bowed her head. “All thanks to you.”

He shrugged. “I just know talent when I see it. Oh shoot. Isaac and his financial guy just got here. I should go say hi. Be right back.” He squeezed Charlotte’s arm before disappearing into the crowd, her eyes following him until they landed on Shaun and Isaac. Shaun, thankfully, did not notice her yet. But she did not linger long in the spot to give him the opportunity.

She quickly turned and moved through the crowd, making conversation with other investors and actors. It was a decent enough crowd that she could avoid him artfully. She and Shaun did a skillful dance the entire night. Every time he got too close, she spun away or Malcolm or Vanessa swooped in and artfully redirected his attention. It was dizzying but by the time she left to head downstairs to her car, she thought she had made it through another Shaun sighting without incident. And to think, she was going to tuck her tail between her legs and run home.

However, she should have known one cardinal rule: luck always runs out eventually.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Her steps down the hallway halted as she worked to slide on her coat. He was perched against the elevator as if he had been waiting for her.

She glanced around, the hallway was a ghost town as everyone else was still partying and having a good time. She could faintly hear Chris captivating the entire room with a third story of the night. His second one was Charlotte’s cue that it was time to head home. She had tried to sneak out unnoticed but now he blocked her path down to her car.

She studied him for a moment, her eyes trailing over his body from head to toe. He was still as handsome and captivating as she remembered, his brown skin was flawless, his suit reeked of wealth and high-quality tailoring. His appearance had not changed one bit. However, whatever captivated her about him the first time was long gone. She had been the moth to his flame, he drew her in effortlessly back then. But now, she only saw the facade for what it was: a mask to hide who he really was. She could not believe she fell for it the first time.

His stature remained tall and wide, making her feel physically powerless and inferior with her shorter stature. It was David and Goliath reincarnated but she had no rock and slingshot to save her. He could still squash her like a little bug and he knew it. Her confidence wilted like a flower with no water with every passing second underneath his glare. She hated the effect he still had on her, how her soul and bones seemed to recognize him and fall back into those patterns to protect herself. However, she remembered her mantra, she was fighting back. No more cowering, even if her fear wafted off of her like she was prey and he was her predator.

“It's good to have you back, baby. Miss me?”

“I-I…” her voice faltered for a moment before she drew herself to full height. It did little but she felt more assured when she answered him. “No. And I’m not your baby. I left you and I moved on. W-what are you even doing here?”

She hoped her voice sounded more confident to him than it did against her own ears. She sounded like a helpless child to stand up to their bigger and stronger bully.

He smiled, still that menacing smirk that sent chills down her spine. He circled her as he spoke, a hawk surveying its dinner.

“I manage all of Isaac’s investments. He was one of my rivals’ clients but when I found out his big investments were in Broadway… It was the fuckin’ long game, I’ll admit,” he reasoned. “But I figured I could get two things I wanted. I manage his portfolio, make recommendations, and I could keep my eye out for the Charlotte Bennett’s epic return. Worst case scenario, Issac makes a lot of money, so I make a shit ton of money. And best case scenario, I’m in the perfect position to see my favorite girl again. You know when I read that you were gonna be in this show, it wasn’t even a hard sell. As soon as I mentioned it, he said ‘every show Chris writes turns to money in my pocket.” He stopped in front of her, his finger grazing her cheek. His eyes seemed to light up as he watched her flinch beneath it, despite how hard she tried not to.

“How’d you even know I’d be in the show? I don’t remember you having a love for Broadway.”

“Oh I don’t give a fuck about any of this,” he waved his hand. “But I do still care about you. And like any good investor, I like to keep a close eye on my best investments. And you were my greatest one… so much time and energy I put into you. I know you better than you know yourself. Didn’t know what show or when, but this was always your dream. People leave but they always come back home eventually. It just required patience and time. You surprised me though… I’d thought you’d make me wait a lot longer than two & a half years.”

She tried to school her breathing. At this point, she would consider winning this fight to be ensuring he did not see the terror that raged beneath the surface. When she made this choice to say, she had forgotten what this part felt like. To feel his simmering anger up close, to feel primal fear like this. She now remembered why she had considered running in the first place.

With every step he took toward her, Charlotte took one step back until he had her pressed against the wall.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered, one arm wrapping around her waist to pull her close while the other inched up her thigh beneath her dress. She wanted to flinch, disgusted at how his hands felt against her skin. “Did you miss me?”

She shook her head vehemently, one arm pushing all of her weight into his chest to push him off while the other pushed off his wandering hand. She hated that he still felt entitled to her body and her. Her mind drifted back to Michael and one of the boxing moves he showed her when someone had you pressed against the ropes. She did not even give it a second thought as she jabbed her shoulder and entire weight into it and shoved him off of her.

She quickly moved from the wall and faced him. She knew she was only able to do that because she caught him off guard, the surprise in his face told her that much.

They don’t expect you to fight, Malcolm’s words came back to her. She would have to thank him again for that tidbit.

But she was merely happy to get his disgusting hands off of her, that was enough for now. She also made a mental note to thank Michael one day for teaching her that move before she turned her attention back to him. That one maneuver infused her with a new spark of confidence. She was not the same woman, she had grown and moved on and she would not be so easily intimidated ever again.

She squared her shoulders and stared at him as he blocked her way out.

“Move, Shaun. I don’t miss you and I never want to see or speak to you again. Y-You don’t get to waltz in here after years and act like you own me. Whatever game you’re playing, enjoy playing it alone. We’re done. Let me go,” she demanded, her voice sounding as strong as it had been since she spotted him earlier. “Now.”

However, Shaun seemed unperturbed by her change in demeanor and stronger voice. He merely laughed at her show of strength.

“Let you go? After I spent years turning you into the perfect woman? And don’t kid yourself, Charlie. That woman is still in there, underneath this bullshit facade you show to the world. You’re mine, Charlie. My perfect girl. You can move across the country, date other people… and you’ll still always be mine.”

Charlotte shook her head vehemently. “I-I am not yours! I don’t want you, Shaun. I’m in love with someone else. And he…” she sighed. “He doesn’t hurt me like you did, he doesn’t scare me, or talk down to me. He loves me. I didn’t come back for you. I came back to do this show and to start building a life with him. That’s it. There is no us ever again.”

She cowered slightly as she saw anger flash across his eyes.

“Oh you think you’re better than me now?”

“I think… I know I deserve better than you. And that I don’t love you… and that you can never hurt me like you did again.”

She barely had time to get the last word out before she doubled over as he threw a jab at her ribs. She immediately crumpled to the ground in shock, pain radiating through her abdomen. He followed it up with a kick to the same area that made tears spring to her eyes. It took everything to keep from screaming, she knew everything else was drowned out by the loud music of the party down the hall. It was quick, over before she even had the chance to attempt to defend herself. All she could do was whimper as she tried to push herself onto all fours, one hand immediately shielding her side from another kick.

“D-don’t, don’t…” she pleaded, her apologies flowing with each heaving breath. “I-I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry.”

He crouched down low beside her. “There she is,” he beamed. “The real Charlotte. It seems like you forgot who the fuck has power here. Cause it sure as hell ain’t you or that nigga you with. You breathe because I allow it, you’ll get up there and sing that bullshit every night because I let you. You lived carefree in LA because I allowed it. You don’t deserve shit. Still the worthless whore I remember. Don’t let the fans in there fool you, Charlie. You’re still nothing without me. Understand?”

When she didn’t immediately answer, he gripped her face tightly, forcing her eyes to him.

“I said, do you fuckin’ understand?”

“I-I u-understand.”

He immediately let her go, her face falling down as tears stained her cheeks.

“Get up,” his voice was so filled with disgust, she almost flinched again. “You don’t want people to see you like this, do you?”

She did not even watch as he sauntered back to the party, leaving Charlotte alone and broken on the floor. She sat there for a moment before she forced herself to her feet and dusted herself off. She pressed her hands into her eyes and wiped away her tears.

She gingerly tested her range of motion, a sharp exhale escaping her. It hurt when she moved but it wasn’t unbearable. If she could dance through broken ribs, she could certainly get through bruises. But she knew there would be no way to hide the bruise that would form from Michael when he returned from LA. But she decided that was a problem for later. She would just have to spin a larger web.

Charlotte quickly rushed into the elevator to ensure no one saw her. When she slid into her car, she demanded their driver drive around the city for 20 minutes before he took her home. She anxiously looked over her shoulder every 30 seconds as if she could pick Shaun out of the sea of cars behind her while she held back tears.

When she finally made it up to her apartment, she did not even change her clothes. She crawled into a ball on the couch and turned on the tv. She had finally dozed off when her phone rang.

“H-Hey babe,” she whispered as she answered Bakari’s FaceTime.

“Oh, I’m sorry love. I figured you were still out at that event. You ok?”

She smiled and nodded. “Y-Yea, yea. I j-just wasn’t feelin’ great at the party. Long day a-and t-too much to drink I think. Stressing for tomorrow. I didn’t even take off my make up,” she chuckled. “Tell me all about your first couple meetings while I get ready for bed.” She pushed the conversation back to him, hoping she had said enough to ease any concerns he had.

Michael did not keep her on the phone long as he could tell she was exhausted. But he did share highlights from his meetings and screen test with Chadwick, gushing - in the most manly way possible - about how excited he was to work alongside Chadwick and a couple of the other actors who were there. There was another day of reading and screen tests with a couple other cast members the next day but it seemed as if everyone had loved him. Though she was tired, his words were a breath of fresh air, the thing she needed to tip the scales of this day back in the right direction.

“I knew it. I’m so happy for you, love. The last couple will go great. Sounds like they’re just a formality?”

“Basically. Team’s gotta talk numbers but I think it’s a done deal. Ryan said the role is mine and he ain’t auditioning anybody else.”

She mustered up as much energy as she could to let out a couple of enthusiastic cheers.

“Good. Well I’ll call you tomorrow to tell you how opening night goes. Enjoy the time with the fam and we’ll celebrate when you get back?”

“Sounds good. See you on Wednesday, love. Get some rest. You sure you’re alright?”

“Y-Yea,” her voice cracked as the weight of the day and all her lies got to her. She so desperately wanted to fall and break down and sob. But she couldn’t. And she knew if she lingered under his stare, he would push. And one more push and she would crumble. “Love you, bye.” She said quickly before hanging up the phone.

She clenched her phone in her hand angrily and banged it on the counter, a slight sob escaping her.

She slid out of her dress and curled up in one of Michael’s sweatshirts before returning to the couch. Her eyes stayed trained on the tv all night, not falling asleep until the wee hours of the morning.

Thousands of miles away, Michael could not relax either. He was in bed and could not stop thinking about Charlotte.

Something was not right. He searched social media and the news to see if something had gone wrong at the last night of previews but all was quiet and the few posts he saw were extremely positive. He felt like a stalker but he checked all of her co-stars' social media accounts, studying every picture and video they posted , studying the rare glimpses of Charlotte in backgrounds. And still nothing. She looked tired but otherwise happy and joyful like he left her. In every photo he could find, she was smiling and laughing and clearly joking around.

After staring at the wall for an extra hour, he remembered that he had another option to get answers that did not involve Charlotte at all.

He scrolled through his contacts until he found Rob’s number. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel while the phone rang.

“Mr. Jordan, what can I do for you?” The man sounded groggy as if he had been asleep.

“Hey Rob. Sorry for waking you up. But you took Charlotte home tonight from the party right?”

“Yes sir, about 3 hours ago… around 1:30 a.m.”

Michael nodded. “Did she seem ok to you? Was she feeling alright or looked upset or hurt in any way?”

A distinct and pregnant pause filled the phone, a pause that filled him with dread, his protective side immediately kicked into overdrive.

“Rob. What happened?”

The older man sighed. “I don’t know, sir. And I mean that. When I dropped her off at the party around 11:30, she seemed just fine. Tired as she had been all day but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She texted me to meet her downstairs at 12:45, which was a bit earlier than she told me to come back. She came down and she seemed frazzled and upset. She had me drive around the city for 20 minutes before she told me to head home. She kept looking out the back window like someone was following her but she wouldn’t say what the issue was.”

“Was someone following you?”

“No, not that I could tell.”

“Was she hurt?”

“This is purely speculation, sir. But she did sound like she was in pain when she got in and out of the car. I asked if she needed help or was alright and she told me she was fine. I wish I knew more.”

“No, no. That’s plenty. What time does she have to be at the theater tomorrow night?”

“Around 3, sir. Curtains open at 7:30 and then she said the after party is nearby at midnight.”

“Good. I’ll send you the details but plan to pick me up sometime tomorrow afternoon after you drop her off. I’m getting on the first flight I can back to New York.”

“Yes sir.”

“And Rob, don’t mention this to her. If anything happens tomorrow when you pick her up, let me know.”

“Yes sir.”

Michael sighed and thudded his head back onto his headboard. He turned over the last couple weeks in his head and realized that tonight or her nightmare were not the first instance of odd behavior. The recent increase in her nightmares, the lack of sleep, the overall jumpiness she seemed to have. Something was going on, something more than just nervousness about performing. And whatever it was, it ended tomorrow. He would make sure of it.

Tag List: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @hi888888sworld @msniaimani @destinio1 @lynaye1993 @chaoticevilbakugo @blackerthings @pipsqueak-98 @miyuhpapayuh

***

A/N: Now… before everyone gets mad at me lol, I just want to assure everyone that this is a love story! Happy endings are coming lol we just gotta get through some muck first. Also what do you think of Charlie's decision to keep this all secret from Michael? Definitely is weighing on her heavily. How do you think that'll affect their relationship long-term? Michael is on his way back to his girl (I love how he immediately knew something wasn't right) andddd how do y'all think he's gonna react to what he sees?

Thanks for reading! Drop a comment and let me know what you think or if you want to be tagged!

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #michael b jordan x reader #creed 3 #black panther #adonis creed #michael b jordan fanfic #creed iii

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ohthemis · 2 years

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How about an NXX case where the tot boys S/O are the main suspect of the case they’re working on? I’ll give u free creativity about the whole thing, maybe there’s this key thing that makes them even more suspicious so the boys are panicking about what to do next if their S/Os guilty, then finally they’re proven innocent. Can be separate or whole do whatever u want bestie ✨✨

tot boys when you’re a suspect in a case

characters: artem, marius, luke

a/n: the school year has started, time to say bye bye to a decent posting sched </3 btw didn’t write for vyn because i have to review lol

ARTEM WING

it breaks your heart that he cannot give you the benefit of the doubt, but he’s a lawyer, speculation is built into him. you just wished it didn’t apply to you. but who were you to tell him to defy his true nature?

“i was in the wrong place, at the wrong time. artem, you know i would never!”

“don’t you get it? i don’t know anything, mc. i don’t know if i’m holding hands with blood on them, or kissing lips that lie to me. i know nothing.”

“you said you loved me.”

“i do, but i’m not god. i don’t get to read your mind. i love you, but i don’t know if i can believe you.”

and his words struck your heart into tiny little bits. each syllable like tiny acupuncture needles pressed into the most vulnerable portions of your body, pressed hard and harder and hardest until eventually you were nothing but sliced portions of yourself.

“artem, why can’t you just believe me?”

“why aren’t you understanding me? mc, you know how many times i hear that.” his voice is desperate, he’s begging too. begging you, just let him do his job. and then either he fights for the life with you that he deserves, or he fights to keep you away from him. you get what you deserve in the end, someway, somehow. and he hopes you only deserve good things.

after all not even you can defy the law of physics. newton’s third law of motion: every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

LUKE PEARCE

he wants to think you’re a good person, that you’re still the same mc he’d known before. but people change, and he’s never reacted well to change. every second that he’s known you, he’s reminded of that.

but who is he to doubt you? anyways, he’s done far worse, and he’s a free man. hell, he’s rewarded for taking the life of men. grated, those men were killers, corrupteds, dealers, you name it, he’s probably killed it.

“it’s okay, mc.”

“what? luke, i didn’t. you have to believe me, i swear, i didn’t.”

but you, you’re trained to know body language. your professor told you that. that the mouth can deceive, but the body will never. you don’t miss the way he flinches when you take his hand, or the silent stares from the other side of the room.

you don’t miss the suspicious looks and the awkward morning greetings. you don’t miss the way the only thing holding him back from labeling you as a killer was that he’d already labeled you his girlfriend.

MARIUS VON HAGEN

“people lie. it’s a people-human thing,” his brother had told him. it was just a casual comment, but to marius, it was like superglue. that shit stuck.

“mc, i won’t tell anyone, i won’t-, i won’t anything. just, i need to know that i’m dating you. like you you.”

“marius, tell me you don’t believe that shit. how would i even?! where-, how-, hell, why would i?”

“i don’t know, but i need to know the truth. that night, you said you were working overtime, are you-, are you my girlfriend? are you mc?”

“marius, god, what are you even going on about?”

marius doesn’t know either. people come and go, it’s another people-human thing. marius wished you wouldn’t.

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elflock-magician · 10 months

Note

I'd like to request a fanfic of Ace x my oc

This is Azreal, he is infact a boy, and he's also the Ultimate Roller Skater. Azreal is fun to be around and is very empathetic and kind, he also is either super energetic or has no energy at all, there's no in between. Azreal is austic and has adhd, just thought I'd add that in. Azreal gets pretty attached to those who are smaller and weaker than him so he would definitely get attached to Ace, Azreal always feels as if it's his responsibility to protect and care for those weaker than himself, so that means Azreal feels he has to protect and care for Ace. Azreal also is knowledgeable is psychology so he would definitely be more than able to understand and help Ace.

Anyways, enough of Azreal, if I keep going I'll end up writing an essay about him lmao. I'd like for you to write a fluff fanfic but if you want to sprinkle in some angst and trauma stuff then 100% go for it, I'm always ready and willing for some angst. Also take your time, your writing is amazing, incredible even, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to complete it today. Complete it (or don't) whenever you want.

A/N - Thank you for the request!! Azreal and Ace are such a fun duo!! They so cute!!

Summary - Ace and Azreal skip class. But it leads to a more tender moment than either predicted.

A/N - this was written as non-despair AU but can be pre-KG if u want.

Ace and Azreal were almost polar opposites, and yet the two of them had become best friends. The two of them had desks right next to each other and were in a lot of classes together.

“Hey Azreal, didja do the homework?” Ace questioned and leaned over to whisper to Azreal.

“Oh yeah! Course I did.” Azreal replied and took the papers out of his folder. “Gimmie that shit! The teacher is gonna kick my ass if I forget the homework again.” Ace whisper-shouted before grabbing the papers from Azreal and aggressively copied the answers down from Azreal’s page onto his empty page of homework.

“You forgot again?? Your grade is gonna drop harder than the sky if you keep that up!” Azreal commented. “Shut the fuck up, skater boy.” Ace grumbled. “Heh… Skater Boy, that’s kinda got a ring to it.” Azreal murmured in response. Ace continued aggressively scrawling the answers onto his homework, but a mischievous smile slowly made its way onto Azreals face. Azreal looked over at Ace. The thing with Ace and Azreals friendship is that they were the most chaotic duo out there. Azreal was generally a do-gooder, which made him liked by most of everyone, while nearly everyone thought Ace was a dirtbag. Ace got the two of them into problems 24/7 but Azreal always had the ability to talk them out of it. But Azreal wasn’t exactly immune to thinking up mischievous plans on his own.

“Hey, Ace, let’s do Operation Cool Guys–” Azreal was cut off, “I told you not to call it that!” Ace interjected. “Pfft- whatever! Just, the plan where we skip class to the east bathroom. We gotta skip class today, it’s super important! Besides, I’ve already got the lesson plans memorized. I’ll fill you in later, just meet me in the bathroom in like, five minutes. I’m gonna go now so we don’t look sus. Kay?” He explained excitedly. “Alright. Fine. Whatever.” Ace agreed.

“Yippiee!” Azreal called out happily.

And so, a few minutes passed. In that time, Azreal went to the school bathroom, where he was just loitering there until Ace arrived as well. Ace eventually got there too.

“Hey Ace!” Azreal greeted, making sure to not sneak up on Ace. He knew how it bothered him so he avoided doing it.

“Hey. So what the fuck did you call me here for?” Ace questioned and leaned into the wall. “Well! I have a surprise for you.” Azreal began. Azreal smiled brightly before taking off his bag and digging through it. “One sec,” He added as he dug through his bag. Often times, Azreal found ways to defy the laws of physics, as he somehow fit way more than he should be able to in that bag. He had a computer, a bunch of folders, several books, one of those hand-held cameras, a music player, a pencil case, and plenty more in that bag. And Ace wouldn’t be surprised if Azreal casually took a whole bicycle out of there.

“Ah! Here it is!” Azreal called out before taking out a pair of roller skates. “They’re for you!” He exclaimed and held the pair out to Ace. “Roller skates?” Ace repeated. He couldn’t help but smile. “Shit dude! Hell yeah! I’m totally going to ram into someone with these!” Ace said almost evilly. Azreal practically squealed with excitement.

“I knew you would love them! Now we’re twinning” He said and gestured down to the roller skates he was currently wearing. “You know~ there’s a reason why I’m telling you now. I say we go skating through the hallways while everyone else is in class.” Azreal suggested.

“Wait– we’re seriously skipping class to go skating?” Ace repeated.

“You’re always so busy after school because of your parents sending you to tutoring and stuff. So I figured I could bend the rules a little to get some quality time with my Ace-y boy.” Azreal explained before throwing his arm around Ace and smiling brightly. Ace had an almost uneasy expression. It seemed like he definitely wanted to, but was afraid of the consequences. Azreal was always unbelievably good at reading Ace. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m not here to make you do anything like your parents do. We can always just go back to class–” “Fuck no!” Ace called out over Azreal, clearly opposed to the idea of going back to class. “But I’ve never done this before so you’d better help me.” He added. That was his way of saying ‘Azreal, hold my hand please.’ Azreal couldn’t help but chuckle. “Course! Oh gosh, I’m so excited!” Azreal called out and did a little twirl with his roller skates as Ace got on the ground and began putting on the roller skate given to him.

When Ace got the roller skates on, he clearly struggled to stand up straight. “Sh–Shit!” Ace called out as he hobbled and slipped around on the skates. “Don’t worry, I gotcha!” Azreal said and held Ace’s hand, helping to keep him steady.

“You make this look way easier than it is…” Ace muttered as he started getting used to it.

“Eh, you’ll totally get the hang of it! No worries!” Azreal insisted and smiled. “Now c’mon! Class is only an hour long and we gotta get back before then.” He said and held Ace’s hand, gently taking him along with him as the two of them skated out of the bathroom and into the long hallways of the school.

“So I just gotta… push off of this foot, then the other? And this is the break?” Ace asked and gestured to parts of the roller blades as he was pulled along by Azreal. Ace was definitely a little clunky about moving. “Basically, yeah!” Azreal replied and ran his hand along the wall as he rolled past. “Hey you ever hear that song Rolling Girl? That is literally us right now.” He said before pulling Ace closer. “I can’t believe I’m friends with a Hatsune Miku fan.” Ace murmured. Azreal giggled and smiled.

“Hey hey! Let’s do one of those slow dances!” Azreal said before yanking Ace close to him. “WOah!” Ace called out as Azreal did such thing.

“A slow dance? You mean a waltz?” Ace questioned. “Basically!” Azreal replied as they rolled down the hallway and past several doors, that probably led to busy classrooms.

“Let me give it a shot,” Ace said and skated towards Azreal, taking his hand and vaguely twirling Azreal under his arm and then tilting him back. “That good?” Ace asked. Azreal blushed slightly,

“Wow Ace! I didn’t know you had rizz–” “SHUT UP.” Ace shouted and blushed in a flustered manner. Azreal giggled and smiled.

“Mooooving around at the speed of sound!” Azreal sang the lyrics from that Sonic song as he skated ahead of Ace, happily bouncing around the hallway like a ping-pong ball. “Oh hey! That’s Ms.Janette’s room! She’s great.” Azreal commented offhandedly.

“HEY!” A voice suddenly called out.

Ace’s head snapped in the direction of the voice. Azreal had a somewhat shocked face, where his eyes were wide, but his face was frozen in a smile. The voice had come from a teacher that had spotted them from down the hall. “Fuck.” Ace muttered blankly.

“What are you two kids doing out of class?! And are those roller skates?” The teacher questioned angrily as they stormed at Ace and Azreal. “Okay now we gotta go!” Azreal called out before grabbing Ace’s hand and quickly skating as quickly down the hallway and away from the teacher as possible. The two of them turned the corner, as the teacher chased them, only making narrow room for escape. “Azreal! The fuck are we gonna do?!” Ace questioned. Azreal couldn’t find a response for a moment.

“Oh! Right here!” Azreal called out as he spotted a storage closet. He kicked the door open and yanked Ace inside, and quickly shut the door behind them. The two of them saw as the teacher ran past the door through the small window.

The two of them sighed in relief, completely out of breath. “Gosh… that was a close one.” Azreal said, breathing heavily. Ace held onto the wall to make sure he didn’t fall over, but Ace had a look of clear shock on his face. It was right then that a thought crossed his mind. Why was Azreal even helping Ace? He totally could have left Ace for dead back there, but… he didn’t. That confused Ace.

“This closet is pretty nice though.” Azreal murmured.

“I don’t get it.” Ace spat suddenly. “Why do you insist on helping me?” He questioned. Azreal seemed slightly caught-off-guard by that. “What do ya mean?” Azreal replied and tilted his head, a little confused. Ace continued speaking, “Everyone hates me. Our classmates, our teachers, and I don’t blame them. So why– is this just some sort of joke to you?!” He shouted, glaring at Azreal. “Nope.” Azreal replied. His expression slightly soured, though a bittersweet smile was still on his face. “Not at all.” He repeated. He went over to the corner of the small closet, leaning into it. “You know… someone has to look out for the little guy. In your mind, if your classmates hate you, if your teachers hate you, and if you hate you, then you have to know someone is on your side. So I’ll like you for you. And I’ll make you know it.” Azreal explained. Ace couldn’t help but be stunned.

“I don’t get that. That’s stupid.” Ace spat and crossed his arms, evading his eyes from Azreal. “If you keep being like that– tch. This world is full of pieces of shit assholes who will take advantage of your kindness.” He stated. “Well then I guess I’d rather get hurt for trusting people than live being distrustful of potentially good people.” Azreal reasoned with a shrug.

“You’ve made friends with rocks before, Azreal!” Ace called out. “So… Don’t go acting like I’m… important. I don’t want your pity.” Ace continued, his voice lowering slightly. “I don’t pity you. I guess I just… have empathy for you. And it helps me understand you.” Azreal paused before speaking again. “And… Well, your company is… special. I like you, Ace. You’re… nice.” Azreal said. Ace seemed surprised by that. “You… Think that?” Ace murmured.

“One hundred percent!” Azreal agreed and smiled. Ace fell silent for a few moments.

“I’m… sorry for yelling at you.” Ace suddenly murmured.

“ ‘S all right!” Azreal replied happily. Ace had a sad, almost pitiful look on his face. Azreal knew that Ace liked physical affection sometimes, but would get all flustered about asking for cuddles, so Azreal went ahead and took the initiative, pulling Ace into a tight hug. Life was so so bad, but so so good.

“...Thanks.” Ace murmured. “Tch, stupid skater boy…” Ace grumbled and blushed. Azreal smiled brightly and eventually let go of Ace.

“That nickname is seriously catchy.” Azreal muttered under his breath.

“So, you think we still got a chance of a clean escape?” Ace asked. “There’s always a chance.” Azreal replied. “Alright. Well, fuck all, let’s go!” Ace called out.

And so, Ace and Azreal stepped out of the closet. They held each other's hand, escaping or not.

#danganronpa despair time #drdt #oc x canon #ace markey

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acciojaeyun · 3 years

Text

magnetic field | ron weasley smut

pairing: ron weasley x fem!reader warnings: smut, nsfw (18+). i was listening to line without a hook while writing this. does that say something??? THIS IS ALSO A FUN SMUT kinks: mummy kink, sub!ron, dom!reader, oral (male and female receiving), innocence kink of some sort (if you squint), humiliation kink, spitting, getting caught sksksk prompts: "i'm bloody half-naked in my horrific pants, y/n -" "yeah, makes things easier for me."

a/n: IDK FSDUFHSDJKFHDKSJFH i hope i did this justice i WANT TO MAKE THIS FUN and i was running out of product ideas but hey the weasley twins and weasley sister had a cameo here. thank you for this request, anon!

summary: if there was a pair known for mutual pining, it would be ron weasley and y/n y/l/n. the magnetic field was two strong, just like two opposite charges in an electric field - however, they act as if they were the same to repel each other. but just like any law, it was time for fate to finally step in - through a product from the weasley's wizarding wheezes which also defied physics laws.

To say that Ronald Bilius Weasley is shy around Y/N Y/L/N is an understatement. He was at the borderline between intimidated and completely, utterly, head over heels attracted in all plausible ways to her.

Such is the reason he tried everything and almost anything to impress the lady she was absolutely smitten with - which included the aspects of the physical, intellectual, emotional, and well, sexual.

Not that the both of them had reached that level of their relationship. No, Ron was too shy to admit his liking towards her — and still continued to divert topics whenever he was asked about it. However, they were both aware of the feelings they held for each other. Just really a bit too stubborn to seal whatever they have right now.

But just like how fate meddles with things that are meant to be when it decides it is — fate had decided to act upon the withholding pair.

“Y/N’s here!” Ginny announced as she opened the door where Y/N outside at.

Other than Y/N was a potential love interest of one of the Weasley’s, she was loved and accepted as if she was Molly and Arthur’s own child; protected and annoyed by Fred and George; adored and looked up to by Ginny.

One way or another, it had placed an immense amount of pressure to Ron.

He, Ginny, and Y/N were invited by Fred and George to their shop one afternoon for them to try out their new product. And Y/N, being muggleborn and the one who had explained to the twins about gravity and its possibility to be defied after endless queries from the duo, was considered as the key person for the production of the prototypes. It is only required for them to invite her over for her initial thoughts as well as her criticism.

"Ah, there is the woman behind the amazing madness!" Fred grinned as he nudged George who was busy making a run-over at the couple of hats which Y/N assumes as the prototypes.

Y/N rolled her eyes, "You flatter me too much, Fred."

Fred winked at her and smirked knowingly at Ron, making the youngest brother to roll his eyes out of annoyance. He dare not say it, but Ron had always been a tad bit jealous of Fred, knowing how the older twin knew his way around girls - a part of him is convinced that his charm could be effective on Y/N.

"You brought us here for hats?" Ginny narrowed her eyes at the two, her train of thought clearly not following whatever her older brothers had in mind.

"Ah, not just any hats." George smirked as he stood up from where he sat on the stool beside the counter where the hats were stacked upon each other. "You see, Y/N here," Fred starts as he flashes yet another wink at Y/N - which, annoyed Ron to an infinite extent - none that Fred didn't know, though.

"Had explained to us about the existence of gravity and we've decided to defy it."

"Like the muggle scientists ourselves -"

"Who believes in fun rather than science itself."

"Well, what does it do?" Ron asks as he leans forward to reach for the hat before George takes a hold of it to put down. "Might wanna be careful playing with these, ickle Ronniekins."

"You don't want to float away - though, we wanna ruin your day."

The twins exchanged 'hey's' as they shared a high-five over Fred's hint, making the three exchange confused looks at what they're trying to imply.

"I think we would be much more of use if we knew how it works." Ginny rolled her eyes as she takes the then-seat of George, getting a candy from the counter for her to chew on as she starts to think how she had just exchanged Quidditch training just for the sake of visiting her brothers.

"Ah, right!" Fred beams, giving a hat to George. "George will be demonstrating the product."

George placed the hat on his head, and sooner enough, it flew as if someone was pulling the hat way from him. And George, being the 'best demonstrator' as Fred complimented, acted though as if he didn't know about what the hat does; gasping as if he was intensely distressed at his hat floating upwards whenever he tries to reach for it.

"Anti-Gravity Hats," Fred starts.

"A perfect gift for every gentleman."

"Makes them really ungently, if you ask me."

Y/N smirked at the magical item, and as the twins looked over her, they were immensely satisfied by the look of approval which Y/N exuded. "Well, I've got to say, you defied gravity there."

"Are you going to try it out on someone?" Ron asks as he steals the candy which Ginny was opening for him to eat. "I mean, you've gotta try this on at least not you - because who knows if it's faulty on anyone."

The twins and Ginny raised their eyebrows at Ron's comment, as if they did not expect the words coming out of his mouth. The younger brother rolled his eyes at the trio as Ginny slow-clapped at the idea.

"Oh, ickle Ronniekins!" Fred exclaimed, wiping non-existent tears with his finger.

"What a lovely idea coming from a lovely gentleman!" George adds as he gets a hat that sat on the counter.

Almost as immediately, another hat was placed on Ron's head, making Ron exude a look of worry and shock.

"What the bloody hell, Fred?! George?!" he exclaimed as he started feeling his body be stripped of the existence of gravity as he felt his clothes being sucked out of his body.

As the idea that it was not the hat floating through space but rather Ron's clothes being flown upwards along with the hat dawned upon the twins, and quickly coming to their brother's help, Fred and George had raised their wands in attempt to stop the faulty prototype.

"Arresto momentum!" Fred casts.

"Descendo!" George follows suit.

The hat, along with Ron's clothing, had decreased velocity and sooner enough floated downwards. But the items descended, a sheepish look was all Fred and George mustered as they walked towards the two girls and a scarred, confounded, and almost frozen into place Ronald Weasley.

"That was a faulty prototype." Fred starts as he discards of the hat with a shake of his head.

"We're sorry for that, Ronnie." George looks at him, trying to not laugh as Ron stood in nothing but a pair of boxers - but not just any ordinary boxers.

"Now, that, my friend is a prank!" Fred exclaims, snapping Ron out of his shocked state as he realises that he was only in his pants which had multiple, red hearts patterned nicely across the fabric. And while Ron was used to being put into embarrassing situations because of pranks done by his brother - he certainly didn't like the fact that he was almost half-naked, not to mention, in front of Y/N.

"Bloody hell, you two!" Ron scowls at them before hurrying up the stairs to the twins' flat at the floor above the shop. The twins and Ginny had erupted into amused laughter as Y/N blushed over what she had seen.

Though she thinks it might have been traumatising on Ron's part, she couldn't help but feel herself getting turned on at the exposure of Ron's body - which, Y/N notes, had been toned due to excessive Quidditch training in their schooling years - as well as Ron's flustered state when their eyes have met.

Y/N excused herself from the trio and followed where Ron had ran upstairs. Pushing a door which was slightly ajar which had notified her that Ron may be inside, she was met by a frantic ginger trying to scurry in closet after closet in the hopes of trying to clothe himself with.

"Ron?" Y/N asks as she steps inside in with a light knock, and as Ron turns around he lets out a small shriek as he covers his torso with a rather small shirt which he throws away to replace with a much smaller one.

The girl laughs at Ron's attempt to shield himself from her eyes, which makes Ron flustered even more. Much to Ron's objective to free himself from an embarrassing exchange with the girl he is head-over-heels attracted to, he finds himself running towards George's bed to hide his body underneath the thick duvet of his brother's bed.

"I - er, bloody hell, Y/N. That was embarrassing, I'm sorry -" Ron apologises, refusing to look into Y/N's eyes which, had Ron been closer to look at it clearly, had darkened in lust at his incessant humiliation.

"Something I like," Y/N smirks as she walked towards Ron who scurried backwards until he found himself reprimanded as his back hit the headboard of the bed.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" he asks as Y/N never ceased in walking slowly towards him. "Testing out the waters," Y/N replied casually as she takes a seat on the bed, "you're taking an awful lot of time, Ron."

"I'm bloody half-naked in my horrific pants, Y/N -"

"Yeah, makes things easier for me."

Ron lets out a breath as Y/N towers over him to finally taste what they had been withholding themselves from. Her hands tugging firmly on the duvet which reprimands her from being able to take in the sight before her, she pulls it down from Ron's body as the boy reciprocated the action by pushing himself out from the doubling warmth erupting from the kissing as well as the thickness of the duvet.

"Y/N -" Ron objects as he realises Y/N was a virgin.

"Ron, I'm ready," she states as she straddles his waist, hands reaching for Ron's wand that had fallen at the ground to cast a locking spell on the door before ridding herself her upper garments.

Unbuttoning her blouse, she rocked her hips back and forth on Ron's clothed crotch, making his cock harden underneath the feeling of her warm, clothed cunt running over it.

"Oh, mummy, that's it," Ron nods as he takes a hold of her waist, pushing her down on his crotch to increase the pressure on his dick, making the both of them moan in the euphoric feeling.

Something about what Ron had called her clicked inside of Y/N, and though she was nothing but innocent and inexperienced, she clasped the claw clip that held her hair in a bun to let her locks flow from her head, leaning forward to hold on the headboard as she meets Ron's eyes which held the same lust and love as that of her's.

"Yeah, you like what mummy's doing to you, Ronnie?" she bites her lip as she increases the speed of her rutting on Ron's crotch, making moaning as Ron unclasped her bra for him to suck on as she towered over his body.

Ron let out a moan of approval to her question as his nails dug deep on the skin of her waist as he sucked, bit, and licked her perky nipple in his mouth, eliciting a long moan from Y/N.

"Mummy likes her tits being sucked, baby," Y/N whimpers, feeling herself pooling in arousal as she started not just to rut but also to hump on him, "you're being such a good boy for mummy, Ron."

"Oh, fuck," Ron moans as he lets go of her right breast in order to bite on his lips as he feels his climax approaching him faster than expected. "Mummy, don't stop - please, gonna come - n-not gonna last - ah!" he exclaims as his hips meet the thrust of Y/N, chasing his orgasm.

"That's it, fall apart for mummy, darling." Y/N taunts, as she brought Ron's hand on her breast for him to pinch as she watches him fall apart in her hands.

"Y/N, mummy -" Ron gasps as he came inside of his pants, cheeks reddening at the thought, but he couldn't care less. "Merlin, fuck, I - that was -"

"The hottest thing I've ever seen." Y/N commented as she leaned forward again to push her tongue on Ron's mouth. This time, harsher and much more passionate than the first.

Ron's hands tugged on Y/N's trousers, making her chuckle, "Wanna see mummy naked like you, don't you, baby?" she asks breathlessly.

"Mhm," Ron agrees, "don't want to be the only one half-naked, mummy."

Y/N pulls herself away from the kiss as she tugs her trousers down, arousal in her underwear pooling at Ron's hungry stare over her exposed body. "Mummy's so beautiful," Ron murmurs as his hand went to her neck to pull her in a loving kiss, the endless pining finally coming to a resolve.

Sooner enough, all of their clothes had been discarded on the floor as they devoted themselves in kisses and tongue. With the tip of Ron's cock teasing her entrance, and with every rock of her hips had her moaning at the unintentional teasing, she pushes herself up from her leaning over Ron.

"Gonna try something, baby, is that alright?"

"Do whatever you want, mummy,"

Ron watches Y/N swivel her body around as she pushes her underwear down. In about a matter of seconds, Ron was in between of her thighs that held such a small confinement to his head.

"Shit," Ron gasps as he felt her hands holding his erected cock. "Baby's firm. Who did this to you, baby?" she asks as she ghosts her fingers over his member, making Ron shiver in delight.

"You, mummy," he replies as he leans forward, wrapping his arms around her legs to push her farther to lick a bold stripe on her dripping cunt, "you."

Y/N moaned as she finds the strength of her knees failing her when she relishes in Ron eating her out as his hands knead her ass. "Oh, Merlin, Ron - right there - oh, my god," she drawls as her right hand comes to her breast for her to pinch her nipples.

"Doing so bloody good for mummy, aren't you Ron?" she tries to ask as her left hand takes a firm grip on Ron, making him reply in a groan. She opens her mouth to spit on Ron's dick, spreading her saliva around him as she tightly jerked Ron off who soon became a whiny mess as he tried so hard to lap on her pussy.

A gasp from Y/N and a groan from Ron was heard as she takes his length inside her mouth when Ron pushed a finger inside her with his hips snapping up which made Y/N choke on his dick.

Moans and groans, as well as the wet slapping of skin, were heard throughout the room as they desperately tried to chase their high.

"Doing so good for mummy, Ron," Y/N moaned as she felt the third finger being inserted into her after Ron felt like she was being accustomed to the constant addition of fingers, the idea of her being new to all of this (much to Ron's disbelief), "Fuck!" she drawls as she halts from giving him head to dwell in the pleasure, her hand replacing her mouth.

"Mummy, you're so bloody amazing - i'm about to -"

"Yes, baby, I am, too."

As they continued on bringing each other over the edge, they both soon came, the coil at the pits of their stomach snapping as Y/N let out a squeal as she feels Ron lapping on her pussy as she came.

"Fuck," she whispered as Ron decelerated in his movements, his head falling limp on the pillows. She licked Ron's cock in the attempt of having a taste of his cum, making Ron squirm at the sensitivity.

Y/N hoisted her body up as she turned around to lay down on Ron's body as he still recovered from his orgasm. As they laid in silence, Ron leaned down to kiss on her hair as his hand ran through her hair.

They were about to completely doze off and completely forget where they were until they heard George's voice inside the room, making the couple shriek and Ron cover the duvet around their exposed body.

"Cast a silencing charm the next time you decide it to do it in our room," George chuckles as he gets something from the dresser. "Also, I expect my bed to be clean the next time I'm here."

"I've got to say, ickle Ronniekins," Fred suddenly joins as he eyed them whilst leaning on the doorframe, "our Anti-Gravity Hat did so much more than defying gravity, don't you think?"

"Sod off," Ron grumbled, while his heart fluttered at Y/N's laughter.

"About time they did something, though." George nodded at him as he still continued rummaging through his dresser. "Could you please hurry up, George?" Ron groaned, running a hand over his face.

George turned around to throw him a shirt, "Hey, I didn't interrupt you having sex," he turned around as he took a hold of his beanie, "this is the only way you could thank me."

"Oh, Georgie, we're expecting more than words of gratitude." Fred laughed as he pushed himself away from the doorframe, receiving the beanie and scarf which George gave him, "We'll be at the Apothecary, Ginny went to training." George says as he takes a hold of the doorknob.

"Congratulations, also, Ron and Y/N." Fred winks.

"And Y/N," George called out, "take care of our ickle Ronniekins, yeah?"

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pan-fangirl-345 · 2 years

Note

Hiii,

Yo congrats on your 400 followers, you awesome bean!! You really make my day with the fics you write so thank you!!

I'd like to request a tsukishima x fem!reader in a Soulmate Au where tsukishima doesn't really believe in soulmates and being 'forced to' fall in love by fate. The reader feels insecure about this when she finds out they're soulmates. But he eventually falls in love with the reader, or already has.

You can change things up to whatever flows better but I'd like it to be a angst to fluff and it ends with a confession kiss because of love

Hehe happy writing!!

Prompts: Confessing kiss, soulmate AU

A/N: I love the way your brain works Anon. This is great! Also, I have never been called a 'bean' before (I'm not exactly the right size for it) and I have found that I'm not completely opposed to it. Also, this totally got away from me, so I apologize for the length, but I hope you like it! I'm so sorry that this took so long!

TW: cursing, little bit of angst (ends in fluff).

As always, if I missed something, please tell me!

Tsukishima hated the soulmate system. He hated the very idea of soulmates.

If- and inevitably when- one of his classmates asked about it, that was his answer. He was also known for calling it 'cosmic bullshit' and 'life-long mental and emotional manipulation'.

Tsukishima was known for being someone who didn't take kindly to being told what to do, so being told who to care for?

Forget about it.

He wouldn't even consider a platonic relationship with his soulmate.

There were, as there was in everything, skeptics of the soulmate system. But Tsukishima wasn't skeptical of the soulmate system, he hated it with everything he was. He despised and abhorred the mark that was stark against his complexion.

Tsukishima normally considered himself a man of science, so the marks that seemed to defy the basic laws of physics and reality aggravated him beyond belief.

The marks changed depending on who was looking at them.

Tsukishima, when he looked at his mark, saw a pair of headphones and a book with a small cup of something he assumed was tea or coffee.

Tadashi, however, when he looked at the mark, the only things he saw were something that looked like a tear drop, a pen, and something vaguely feline.

His mother saw something completely different as well, and it irritated Tsukishima. He didn't understand why there was such a discrepancy in the shapes! It shouldn't have been possible.

What was even more impossible, was that supposedly, there was someone out there with a mark that was completely different from his, but when they lined their wrists up it was the same picture.

But it also shouldn't have been possible for him to be such good friends with you, someone who believed wholeheartedly that your soulmate was going to be the perfect person for you. It was something that he was so solidified on, that it shouldn't have been possible for him to be such good friends with someone who was on the complete opposite end of the spectrum, but here he was.

But you were also an enigma, a paradox to him.

You believed in the system wholeheartedly, fiercely protective of your belief, and yet you covered your mark up.

Tsukishima had never seen you without the thick leather band that wrapped around your left wrist.

At first he had thought it meant something to you, thought that there was a possibility it was a gift from someone important to you, but whenever he asked, you gave him a vague answer and steered him towards something he was more interested in. It infuriated him that he fell for it every time more than anything else.

For someone who believed in the system as much as you did, it was confusing and contradictory that you would cover your mark up.

There was also some dark emotion in your eyes whenever the topic of soulmates was brought up. You got really quiet and introspective, looking at your mark like it was both a blessing and a curse. You would also wince whenever Tsukishima mentioned his own stance on the system.

"We've been conditioned to think that the system is perfect and it's not," Tsukishima said. "Because of these marks, issues tend to be brushed under the carpet in relationships with the mentality of 'we're soulmates, we're perfect for each other, this isn't anything of consequence'. It's not even something we understand. Where do they come from? How do we know they aren't tattooed on as babies?"

"I know they aren't tattoos," you murmured. "I tried covering my mark up with concealer and it appeared on my wrist again like it was bleeding through paper. Some things just can't be explained by science, Tsukishima. There are a lot of other phenomena in the world, why don't those bother you?"

"Because those don't effect me. I don't like being told that there's a perfect person out there for me. Perfect doesn't exist. It's a social construct."

"That's not what the system is, Tsukishima. It's a common misconception. The system is simply a guide. Marks change as people do. My mark changed when my parents split. Different events in our lives change us. After you find each other, it's a matter of making it work. It's like making friends, but it's more permanent and things get a little more complicated. Like you and I.

"Technically speaking, we shouldn't be able to be friends, but we make it work because we accept that the other person has a different viewpoint. That's the way it should be with soulmates, but the misconception spread so people aren't willing to make compromises anymore."

"I still think it's bullshit," he grumbled, leaning back into his pillows.

You had been studying together, but something had sparked a debate about the system.

Again.

"I know," you whispered, turning your attention back to your literature homework.

There was tone in your voice that had Tsukishima frowning, but he knew that pushing you wouldn't work, and you might end up in tears.

It had happened more than once over the years, him pushing on the subject of soulmates and you ending up in tears out of sheer frustration, frustration and something that had him wrapping his arms around you.

Whatever it was, it had you sobbing so hard that your entire body shuddered and was wracked with shaky breaths.

Tsukishima had never asked why you always reacted that way, he had been meaning to, but he always felt so guilty by pushing you to tears that he never asked. And you never told.

It was frustrating, but it was also something he had to treat delicately.

"You really should talk with her about it," Tadashi had been telling him for years.

"I can't."

"You can, you just don't want to," he argued. "Because you care about her, and you don't like seeing her upset."

Tsukishima had told him to shut up, but his friend had been right. He hated seeing you upset almost as much as he hated the soulmate system, and both were touchy subjects.

Tsukishima being around when you cried was always awkward, for many reasons.

The main being that you hated being seen crying by anyone other than Tadashi, and you hated it even more when it was Tsukishima.

Despite your friendship and the years that had been put into it, you showing your emotions through tears was something neither of you knew how to deal with yet because it happened so rarely. You were a lot like Tsukishima in that respect. You bottled everything up until it exploded, and he tended to be the one to ignite it.

He got under your skin in a way that no one else seemed capable of, and he pushed until he got some kind of reaction. But it was a two way street. When he pushed, you sent something right back at him. It had been the start of your friendship, back and forth banter that somehow shifted into something else.

Luckily, with so much banter under your belts, he knew what to avoid and what was safe to say when things got heated. The opposite was true as well. You had learned about each other's insecurities through trial and error, and Tsukishima had figured out how to apologize to you in the most effective way, and you him.

Sometimes in public though, you and him both forgot that not everyone understood your relationship with each other.

"Dude, you really shouldn't talk to your girlfriend like that. I heard you arguing with her when we came in."

Tsukishima looked up from his fingers to see a spiker from the other team standing near him, looking disapproving.

"She seems like the kind of girl that deserves better than that," the player continued, crossing his arms. "I can't believe she puts up with it."

Tsukishima didn't respond, trying to tap his fingers, and failing.

"Tsukishima, let me do that," you said, appearing from handing the boys their water bottles.

Yachi hadn't been able to make it to the practice game- she was visiting Kiyoko- so she had asked you to take over her managerial duties for a little while.

You tended to be like a manager anyway. The team had gotten you a team jacket and everything, despite the fact that you weren't an official member of the team.

You took his hand in yours, balling up the tape he had mutilated and restarting, wrapping his fingers methodically. Normally he wouldn't have any problems doing it himself, but this training camp had been rough on his hands, and he only had a few fingers that weren't hurt.

"Thanks," he said, watching you work with interest.

You were always gentle with injuries, and you winced whenever the guys winced, but you always seemed to be especially careful with Tsukishima and his hands. It had been odd to him at first, but then he had realized that you just cared more about him than the other guys because you were so close with each other.

He wasn't even sure if you were aware of it.

"You need to get better at asking for help," you chided.

"Hypocrite," Tsukishima teased.

"Jerk," you replied, smiling softly.

"Shorty."

"Overly salted French fry," you retorted.

"That's just rude," he groaned, but he couldn't help the smile that spread out over his face.

Tsukishima realized, rather belatedly, that the player from earlier was still there, watching the interaction with a baffled gaze.

"Oh, you're still here," Tsukishima mused, his tone telling everyone how much he didn't care about the presence of the other player.

"What were the two of you talking about?" you asked as you let go of Tsukishima's hand.

"Nothing of any importance," he assured you.

You gave him an odd look, but shrugged, moving to yell to Hinata about being too close to the cooler before he tripped over it.

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

"Hey, Tsukkipoo!"

Tsukishima groaned as he heard that stupid nickname from his first year of high school.

He turned to see Kuroo and Bokuto striding towards him, hands in the air.

"Hello Bokuto-san, Kuroo-san," he said, stepping away from you to meet them head on.

He had just wanted to go shopping in Tokyo with you. There was a book shop you had been wanted to check out, and he had wanted to get out of the house for the day.

But, of course, despite the number of people who lived in Tokyo, he ran into the two people he hadn't wanted to spot.

"'-san'?" Kuroo mocked. "You can drop the honorific Tsukki."

"Hello morons," he said.

"There he is!" Bokuto yelled, laughing as he dragged Tsukishima down by the neck.

Tsukishima grunted and glared while you giggled softly behind him.

"Oh? Who's the pretty little lady?" Kuroo asked, sly grin appearing as he spotted you.

"I'm (Y/N). I'm his friend from school," you said, moving so they could see you better.

"Tsukki, you didn't tell us you had a girlfriend," Bokuto said, releasing Tsukishima's neck.

"Because I don't," he grumbled. "She's my friend. (Y/L/N), the idiot that looks like an owl is Bokuto, and Kuroo is the smirky bastard with the bedhead."

"Nice to meet you both. I've heard a lot about you," you said, smiling.

"Oh, I'm sure you have," Kuroo said, glancing at Tsukishima.

"Where were you guys headed when we ran into you?" Bokuto asked.

"Bookstore," you replied. "I need new reading material, and Tsukishima had a few things he needed to do in the area, so he was nice enough to keep me company."

"Tsukishima and nice in the same sentence, that's not something I would've imagined happening," Kuroo mused.

Tsukishima glared at him, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

"Aw, don't want to look bad in front of your girlfriend?" Bokuto teased.

"She's not my girlfriend," Tsukishima repeated.

"And I'm fully aware that Tsukishima has a really shitty personality," you chimed in. "I'm not immune to the comments."

Kuroo laughed, and Bokuto was looking back and forth between Tsukishima and you with a curious gaze.

"Well, we'll let you guys get back to your date," Kuroo said, grinning when Tsukishima's gaze sharpened more. "We just wanted to say hi. Maybe we'll drop by the next training camp you guys have so we can catch up or something."

"Maybe," Tsukishima relented, hoping it would get them away faster.

"See you guys later, it was very nice to meet you," Bokuto said.

"You too Bokuto-san," you replied, smiling at him. "Well they seemed nice," you said as they walked away.

"They drain me," Tsukishima muttered. "Come on, the book store is this way."

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

Tsukishima knew that people were curious about your mark. It was a natural response that people wanted to see it since you always covered it up, but he hadn't realized how bad it had gotten until shit started to hit the fan.

He had been late leaving practice because Hinata had somehow managed to get himself caught in a net, something he hadn't done since first year.

You had stayed late to walk home with him, so that's how he found you crowded against a wall, with three girls trying to tear off the leather band that blocked your mark from view.

"Just let it go Meiko," you were saying. "It's absolutely none of your business what my mark is."

"We deserve to know," the other girl said. "What if you're soulmates with a friend of ours? What if you're soulmates with someone on a sports' team?"

"You aren't friends with my soulmate, Meiko, I can assure you of that. And it doesn't matter whether they're on a sports' team or not. This has nothing to do with you and your weird inferiority complex when it comes to me. Just back off."

"Tsukishima is mine," the girl, Meiko, snarled.

Tsukishima felt his eyebrows raise into his hairline at the statement. He had spoken maybe five words to that girl all year, and it was to tell her to go away.

"Kei isn't some limited edition vending machine item, Meiko, he's a human being with feelings and emotions. He doesn't belong to you. His name isn't tattooed on your wrist."

"How do you know my mark doesn't match his, hm? Do you have the matching mark?" Meiko asked.

"I'm not saying that. I'm saying that you're objectifying him. And trust me, even if you were soulmates, it wouldn't change anything. He still wouldn't acknowledge the bond. Kei hates the soulmate system with every atom and molecule of his being. He tolerates you at present moment, but he wouldn't even do that if you were soulmates. Be glad for the attention he does give you."

The use of his first name caught Tsukishima by surprise. He could count on one hand the number of times you had called him his first name, and most of them had been because you were mad at him or introducing him to someone.

And the way you said his name made his chest clench with something he wasn't entirely sure how to explain.

You said it like it was the only thing you wanted to call him.

Tsukishima had never really given much thought to how people had said his name in the past, but now he only wanted to hear you call him Kei. He would have to figure out a way to get you to call him by his first name without it being obvious that he wanted you to say his first name more.

"Got it!" one of the other two girls called, holding up the bracelet.

"What?" you gasped as they retreated, giggling.

You brought your wrist up and your eyes widened at the bare skin. You glanced around frantically, covering your wrist with your hand.

Tsukishima knew that you wouldn't be able to see him from his spot, and he wasn't sure whether you would want him to step in or not.

"I know for a fact that you aren't my soulmate," Tsukishima said, moving before he had even made a concrete decision. "Because one of the things my mark looks like is a book, and I'm 99% sure that you can't read."

"Tsukishima," you breathed, and heard the note of relief in your voice when you saw him. But you also looked panicked by his presence.

Your hand was still clamped firmly over your wrist, but he caught sight of a splotch of black.

"You okay?" he asked.

You nodded, glancing away from him, and he frowned. He turned his attention back to the girls that were looking to their leader to tell them how to react. They clearly hadn't expected him to be there.

"Give her the bracelet back," he ordered. "And don't talk to either of us again."

"But Kei-"

"There are only four people allowed to call me that, and you're not any of them," he interrupted, turning a sharp glare on the girl that had spoken. "Get your crony to give her the bracelet back and go home. You know the school's policy on bullying, right?"

All the girls paled, and you were given your bracelet back.

You turned around to put it back on, and you relaxed at having back on your wrist.

"Tsukishima, come on, they aren't worth it," you murmured, placing your hand on his wrist lightly. "It's not that bad."

"I don't take kindly to people I care about being harassed," he quipped. "Best to keep that in mind."

He turns his attention to you, checking you over, before he takes your hand in his, leading you down the hallway.

"Are you really okay?" he asks when you get far enough away to be out of earshot.

"They saw," you whispered.

"What?"

"They saw," you repeated, a little louder this time. "One of the girls had her phone out. They have a video or something, they're going to see the mark."

"What's so bad about that?" Tsukishima asked. "I've never asked because you seem upset by the question, but why do you always cover it up?"

You paused for a moment, slumping against the wall, sliding down to wrap your arms around yourself.

"I guess you do deserve to know," you whispered. "My soulmate doesn't want me."

"You know who it is?" Tsukishima asked, moving to sit next to you, slightly surprised.

This was news to him. You had never really brought it up, but he had just assumed that you didn't know who it was.

You nodded, burying your head in your arms.

"Yeah, I've known since first year. I still haven't told them though. I was building up the courage, and I heard a conversation they were having with a friend of theirs. They said that they hated their mark and that they never wanted to meet their soulmate. So I started covering it up. Most people think this bracelet is something important to me- and it is- just . . . not for the reason that they think.

"It allows me to know my soulmate, to be close with them without them knowing the completely selfish reason I have for sticking around. It allows me a semblance of what the soulmate system could've granted me. It allows me to play the smallest part in their life possible."

"And you're okay with that?" Tsukishima couldn't help but ask. "You love the soulmate system almost as much as I hate it."

"I get to be in their life, I get to be a small moon that orbits them," you whispered. "It's more than I thought I would get to begin with. I'm not okay with it in the slightest, but I've accepted the fact that I'll have to watch them fall for someone else. I don't really have much of a chance with them anyway, whether they know that I'm their soulmate or not. So, in the end, it was inevitable that it would end up this way. I just didn't think that there would be people that would go this far to get me to reveal what the mark is."

Tsukishima let silence settle over the little pocket of time you had made together, for the moment, digesting the information you had given him.

He had thought he was the only one in the school who hated the system, though there were others that were more quietly skeptical about the system.

"How do you know that they wouldn't want you, if they knew?" Tsukishima asked.

He didn't like the idea that you thought so little of yourself. It left a queasy feeling in his chest that you thought you weren't worth wanting by anyone.

"I know my role in their life, Tsukishima," you murmured, pulling your head out of your arms so you could look him in the eyes. "And I've accepted that I'll never be anything more than that."

"I don't accept that," Tsukishima decided, mirroring your position. "What moron wouldn't want you in their life?"

You let out a wet chuckle, and Tsukishima realized- rather belatedly, everything considered- that you were trying not to cry.

"Tsukishima," you whispered, shaking your head. "Please, just let it go. You won't like the answers you'll find if you dig."

Maybe it was because you were alone, or because he was tired of trying to keep you at arms' length, but Tsukishima reached out and tucked your hair behind your ear, keeping eye contact with you.

"You're my friend, (Y/F/N), and I want you to be happy. If that means I have to do recon on every person that goes to this school, I will."

"Please don't," you pleaded. "I don't want you to do that. It won't end well for anyone. Just . . . please, if you care about me at all, just let it go."

Like hell he was letting go.

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

Shit hit the fan completely the day after the hallway incident.

One of the girls had posted a picture of your mark on every social media platform and sent it out to everyone.

You hadn't shown up to school- you had said something about being sick to Tadashi- so you hadn't had to deal with it, but Tsukishima knew that you would know by the end of the day.

A video was posted an hour after the picture, with no sound, so the only people that knew what happened were the people that had been there.

"Tsukki, have you seen it?" Tadashi asked, shoving his phone in Tsukishima's face.

"Seen what?" Tsukishima asked, taking his friend's phone.

His breath stopped short in his chest when he saw the picture.

There was a series of pictures of you and the situation in the hallway, but then they zoomed in on your wrist.

There, black as anything, was the mark that matched Tsukishima's.

The mark on you looked like a volleyball, a dinosaur, and a pair of headphones, but when Tsukishima moved his wrist to compare, they looked like the same thing.

For once, Tsukishima wasn't infuriated by the laws of physics that were broken by the marks, he wasn't irritated by the mark on his wrist.

He was irritated with himself.

He should have known.

He should've known that you were his soulmate. The book, the raindrop, the cup, he should've known that you were who the universe or fate or whoever the fuck was in charge of these things would've chosen for him.

It also explained the tears and the pleading to just let it go.

"Oh god," he whispered. "She meant me."

Realization was dawning on him as recalled every conversation you had ever had with him about this topic.

"Oh god, I fucked this up," he decided, "I fucked this up so bad and I didn't even know it. Is she at home?"

"I don't know, I've tried calling and texting her but she isn't answering. The others are trying too, her friends have been blowing up my phone and hers."

"Shit, can you get me out of trouble here? I'm going to go find her," Tsukishima said, slightly frantic. "I have to-"

"Just go!" Tadashi hissed, shoving him.

"Yeah, right," he said, running for the doors.

He ran through a list of places you would go.

Library, Tadashi's house, your favorite coffee shop, maybe even his house.

All of them were empty.

There was no sign that you had been to any of them.

So he did the only thing he could think of.

He called Kuroo.

"Tsukki? What's up?"

"Shit's hit the fan," he explained, panicked. In as few words as possible Tsukishima explained what had happened up until that point. "And now I can't find her and I have no idea what else to do. You guys haven't seen her have you?"

You had accompanied the team to a training camp and had befriended most of the people there.

"No, I haven't seen her at least. I'll reach out to some people and see what they have to say. Keep me in the loop, yeah?"

"I will, thank you."

Tsukishima was out of ideas.

You weren't anywhere he had checked, you weren't at school, he highly doubted that you were at your house, so where the hell were you?

"Hey, idiot, I know. Call me, will you? I need to know that you're okay," he pleaded when he got sent to voicemail for the hundredth time in an hour.

And then he remembered that you were friends with most of their rival schools.

"Pick up," Tsukishima pleaded. "Pick up."

"Tsukishima? What's wrong?" Kyoutani asked.

"Has (Y/F/N) come by recently? I don't have Kindaichi's number or Kunimi's and I'm out of options."

"Yeah, she just showed up to the gym in tears. What's going on?"

"I'll explain if she doesn't. I'm on my way, just keep her there no matter what."

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

Tsukishima was pleading with every deity and god he could think of that you were still in the Seijoh gym.

He knew that you were because he could hear the sobbing.

"You fucking idiot," he declared when he stepped through the doors. Your sobbing stopped abruptly as you whipped around to look at him in surprise. "Do you realize how fucking worried we all were? How worried I was? You disappeared off the face of the earth! Why the fuck didn't you answer anyone? Are you hurt?"

"You called him?" you demanded of Kyoutani, who- to his credit- barely flinched under the wrath of your gaze.

"He was really worried about you and I didn't know what was going on. And he called me."

"You fucking moron," Tsukishima repeated, practically tackling you in a hug. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

You pushed him away gently, tears streaming down your face in rivers.

"Because you didn't want me. You didn't want any of it. I wasn't going to push that on you, push . . . well, me on you." You shuddered and suppressed another sob, forcing the words out. "I didn't want to be that person. And you were happy with the way things were."

"Woah, Tsukishima is your soulmate?" someone asked quietly.

"You knew for three fucking years, when were you going to tell me?"

"When we graduated and we had moved away from each other, when the pull wasn't as strong, when you got married to someone. Maybe never."

"You fucking moron," he repeated, taking your face in his hands, despite the way you tried half-heartedly to push away his hands. "So what, you get to know who your soulmate is, but screw me because I was being an idiot? Did you ever think that, despite my denial, I would want to know who you were? Jesus Christ, I can't believe you spent this long thinking that I saw you as a side character to my life. You're one of my best friends, what did you think? That I wasn't going to find out at some point?"

"I knew you would find out, I was just hoping that you wouldn't ask."

"Do you want to be with me?" he asked. He wasn't getting anywhere near the root of the problem and he needed to know the answer to this question before he went any further.

You looked panicked by his question, he could see it in your eyes as you answered. "I won't force that on-"

"Just answer the question, (Y/F/N), do you want to be with me?"

"Yes," you whispered, so quietly that he could barely hear you. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing for that?" Tsukishima asked. "Why are you apologizing for something that you want?"

"Because you don't!" you exclaimed. "Because I can't be what you want. I can't be what you need! Because you hate the entire system, and extension everything I represent."

You tried to form another argument, but the tears took over and started to spill once again, which ended in you blubbering and hiccupping out a mess that Tsukishima couldn't understand.

"Hey. Hey hey hey," he murmured, hating the fact that you were this distraught over something that should have been so simple.

He really was an idiot, Tsukishima decided. He should have known that nothing he would say now was going to change the way you thought about the situation.

"Idiot," he murmured affectionately, cradling your face in his hands, laying his forehead against yours. "I can't believe you can see through everything else, but not this. I love you, why can't you see that? So, will you let me make it up to you?"

"There's nothing to make up, Tsukishima. I get it, you don't want this, and it's fine but-"

Tsukishima couldn't take it anymore, he realized. He wasn't going to let you keep talking like you understood what he was thinking. He wasn't going to let you keep thinking that he was going to just leave you behind when the time came.

He cut you off mid-sentence when he pressed his lips to yours.

"Let me make it up to you," he murmured. "Please. I should have never said any of that shit, I never really believed any of it and you never should have had to think about whether or not I wanted you in any capacity I love you, so please. Let me make it up to you."

You blinked up at him as your brain processed what he had just done.

"What?"

"I want to make it up to you, and I'll keep making it up to you for as long as you let me," he promised.

"But . . . ."

You looked really baffled and Tsukishima couldn't help the small smile that broke through.

"I want to be with you too, alright?" he inquired. "Just trust me."

Tsukishima could see the warring emotions on your face; the hope, the disbelief, the doubt, the wheels of your brain turning.

"Please," he whispered, smoothing his thumb across your cheekbone, forehead pressed against yours. "Just let me make it up to you."

"Okay," you whispered. "I can't say no to that face."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, if you want to, I won't stop you," you told him. "But there really isn't anything you need to make to me for, Tsukishima. I get it that this isn't what you wanted."

"I don't want it if it's not with you," he said. "I was lying to myself and to you when I said I hated the system. I hated the system for not giving me a choice, because I just wanted you. You were the only person I wanted to have as a soulmate. I hated the system for not giving me you. I love you, (Y/F/N). Just let me show you. Please."

"Is that really what you want though?" you asked him quietly, laying your hands over his, not to try and tear them away, just touching them.

"Yes, if you would let me," he murmured.

"Okay, we can try, but if you don't want this, just tell me, it'll be like I never existed."

Tsukishima doubted that this level of self-obliviousness was caused by three years of thinking he didn't want you. There was something else causing this other than him, and he intended to find out what.

"I quite like the fact that you exist, (Y/F/N), so don't ever say something like that, okay?"

He waited until you nodded, and said, "Okay Tsukishima."

"You can call me Kei," he told you.

"Are you sure?"

"I want you to," he murmured. "I heard you call me Kei last night, and I can't get it out of my head. I was trying to figure out a way to tell you."

"Yeah?" you asked, smiling slightly.

He nodded.

"Come on, the others are really worried about you, they need to know that you're alright," he told you.

"Okay."

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

(A Year Later)

You were standing outside a store with some friends from your psychology class when arms wrapped around your waist.

"Sometimes I regret my choice of friends," Kei murmured, burying his face in your neck.

"Oh no, what did they do this time?" you asked, turning in his arms so you could wrap your arms around his neck.

"Hinata and Kageyama stopped by."

"Oh shit," you whispered. "Please tell me that they aren't coming over."

"No, they're hanging out with Bokuto-san and Kuroo-san tonight, thank god," he murmured.

You blew out a breath of relief and sagged against him.

"Thank fuck," you muttered to yourself. "How bad are they?"

"Think first year Hinata and third year Kageyama," Kei informed you.

You felt the blood drain out of your face at the thought.

"Come on, let's get out of here," you said. "We can watch that new drama you've been meaning to see. I have dinner in a crockpot at home."

"I love you," he whispered into your skin as he kissed your shoulder. "So much."

"I love you too Kei," you told him, threading a hand through his hair.

You waved your friends on under Kei's arm, giving them the go-ahead to leave you behind.

"See you tomorrow (Y/FN)!" they called.

"Bye guys! See you tomorrow!" you replied, turning your attention to your boyfriend. "Bad day?"

He shook his head, leaving small kisses against your neck.

"Draining day. Good day, just draining," he corrected. "I just want to go home and spend the rest of the night with you."

"Alrighty Kei, we can do that," you assured him. "But here's the important question; are you going to make it back to the apartment?"

"Yeah, I just need a few minutes with you."

"Okay," you agreed, tightening your hold on him.

He had done that a lot after you had gotten together. Whenever one of you had a particularly draining day, or a bad day, you would just stand or sit someplace where you could hold each other until it seemed to make it less horrible and you were able to recharge.

"Come on you lazy lump," you cooed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "We can do this on the couch at home. I think that middle-aged mom might have something to say about our blatant PDA."

Kei glared at the woman you had pointed out, who had started to make her way over.

You just smiled at him and tugged him on the path towards home.

#pan replies #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#tsukishima #tsukishima kei #fluff

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yanderenightmare · 3 years

Note

I challenge you to write Bakugou with a op-quirked oc! like, last year in ua and this badass transfers. is he intimidated, is he angry, is he hyped? how hard does he fall for her?

BAKUGO KATSUKI

TW: this is d i f f e r e n t but no warnings I don't think

ARMAGEDDON

Third year sports festival, and they were letting the fucking transfer student compete?!

Don't get him wrong.

He wasn’t undermining or underestimating her abilities. Even with the two whole years more practice they had on her, she could still easily hold her own.

There was no denying the fact that she was a goddess on the field.

A warrior.

A valkyrie.

It was much the reason why he watched her like a stalker, slightly intimidated with what he saw, but with good fucking reason.

Though, there are plenty people that threaten his position as number one, and he wasn't exactly walking about dropping to his knees for Todoroki and Deku.

So, it was more the drop-dead fuck-all up-yours attitude accompanying her sheer skill that made him fall so stupidly and hopelessly in love with the little angle-winged hero-to-be.

The first time she hovered into the classroom, coat of pearly white shining wings waving in the air behind her, defying all laws of gravity, all formulas of physics, she looked godsend.

And by that he meant flashy, destined to a public favorite, a mascot, a real nice poster-hero. Not exactly a threat, not exactly worth his time.

Safe to say he wasn't impressed, but then again... he hadn't seen anything yet.

Midoriya, the fucking nerd, was just as excited as the rest of the class at the welcome of a new classmate.

However, they’d all come to realize real soon that the seemingly heavenly creature was as demonic as she looked angelic.

At once as Deku’s bright gleaming freckle-face walked up to her to welcome her and wish her good luck in the Hero-course, droning on about how it couldn’t have been easy getting a scholarship with it already being more than halfway into their second year, she yawed, stretched her wings out behind her, let them blind him with their supersonic skylight, a brow cocked as she narrowed her gaze in something that could only be called disgust.

“Listen here, Snotball, don’t bullshit me. I’m ain’t come here for your public-pleasing fake smile. Go polish your skills instead of sucking my dick...”

Everyone went silent. Deku completely facepalmed, flaking where he stood, it was pitiful, almost made him feel sorry for him.

“Or at the very least, let me get comfortable first.”

The ash-blonde couldn’t help but crack a smile and let a bubble burst inside him, a curt chuckle rising despite how he tried suppressing it.

This girl had spunk, he appreciated not being the only one who could get a bit colorful with his language.

Not only that, but the very same day she even beat Deku. And it pains Bakugo to admit it, but the nerd had gotten really good over the last couple years, with a shit ton of guidance of course, but it was no denying he didn’t have insane powers, and then to watch him be flung into a wall by none other than a newbie… it was inspired, transcendent, fucking phenomenal.

“Thought I was all bark and no bite, huh? Didn’t you, Broccolihead? Better judge me correctly next time and not pussyfoot around with childsplay.”

She wasn’t fucking around, she was here to kill… and Bakugo was fucking thrilled. Finally someone passionate, finally someone vurbal, and vulgar, finally someone who saw through to the rotton core of what Deku really was. Fuck, he swore he could fall in love with her…

And then he did… hard… like an angel from high-heaven all the way down to the very bottom pits of hell. Spending the entire summer pondering the fact, stopping in wonder at the fact, dissecting it, analyzing it, trying to digest whatever swarm of butterflies kept fluttering rabidly inside his gut because of it.

And then their third-year began, the Sports-festival not too long after, an event he was usually so unbelievably livid with glee for...

But now… he couldn’t help but dread it.

Because weighing her skills and his own. He couldn’t help but come to the conclusion that she and him would probably have to face off at some point climbing to the top, and though he wanted to win as badly as every year, he was afraid that his wish to not hurt her outweighed his lust for victory.

And what more, what was even harder to admit… he wasn’t sure if he at all could beat her even if he tried.

And then his speculations came to fruition. They’d clawed their way to the top, killing off the competition one by one.

“Listen up, candy-cane, better not let those daddy-issues get in my way of having a clear victory. Come at me with everything you got!”

She’d just stepped off the field, having defeated Shoto. In the blaze of his flames and frostbite of his ice, she stood victoriously, crowd cheering, chanting, stupid victory-grin stretched on her face as she basked in the glory.

Next up was him and Deku, ending in broccoli-head’s defeat, but Bakugou couldn't really savor the victory much more than feel the treacherous inkling of regret fester inside him.

Because...

If he’d let Deku win, he wouldn't have to fight her now.

“Looks like it’s you against me next, poprocks!” She flashed a shit-eating open-mouthed smirk his way, eyes sparkling dangerously, wings spread out behind her. “Fitting, isn't it? Your hellfire and my angel wings! It’s bound to be a show, we’ll have them at the edge of their seats!”

With the height of her wings she was twice as tall as him. “Look, I don’t wanna hurt you, shortie.”

She scoffed and threw her head back in a laugh, still riding the wave of adrenaline she’d gotten from fighting Todoroki. “Gloating before our match even begins?” She quipped, eyebrows thrown up and eyes so very blindingly daringly bright. “How very Bakugo of you.”

“Listen-” He started, but she cut him off with a battle-glint lighting up her face.

“No, you listen. Your fire may have everyone shitting themselves, but my wings are not easily tamed, and will sweep you and your explosions right off the field.” She pointed at him with the tip of her wing, tickling his chin with the longest feather. “There’s a reason demons fear angels, you know?” She grinned. “So, pick a god and pray to it, Bakugo, ‘cause I’mma bring on Armegeddon before I lose to you-”

“I like you.”

It was kind of like ripping off a band-aid. The brace, the expectations of ripping out hair. Waiting to see if he’d bleed or not.

He’d never liked anyone. Whether it be friends or something more. He’d like when people liked him. Where like meant admire or envy. And he guessed to some extent he might have liked them in return. Where liked meant appreciated. He obviously didn't like being alone. No point in being the best if he has no one to tell him he’s the best, no way to prove he is the best, no one to prove it to, no geeky nerd screaming in his corner and no idol he needs to beat.

Everything felt reversed. Upside-down.

But not necessarily wrong.

Like he was the nerd, the extra, and she the main character.

“What’re you…” She stopped, voice light and fading out into nothing.

Her brows furrowed, eyes hardening as she glared at him, wings ruffling behind her, frayed like static.

“You’re trying to throw me off my game.” Voice devoid of all playfulness, just strictly accusing, serious, cold.

She scoffed, cracking her knuckles, still eyeing him, not letting him rest under her scrutiny.

“I didn’t peg you for one to wage psychological wars.” She judged.

Her accusation had him thrown back. “That’s not-” He protested, large scathed hands finding themselves reaching out towards her to defend himself.

“Keep your sweaty hands to yourself, Baku-bitch.” It was like an attack. A threat like a snarling gnarling growling barking animal, eyes narrowed, slitted, dark tear ducts making her eyes look so sharp, bladed like daggers. “I’m looking forward to crushing you.” A gust of wind hit him like a storm’s breath as she turned, wings acting like a fan, sweeping the dust and leaving him there to himself.

Her expression hadn't changed come battle, it seemed somewhat more sunken now, to the point he couldn't quite remember what her face looked like normally, couldn't shake the eerie hostility her whole being flashed at him, as though she had no other goals but to murder him.

He can't recall ever having seen a girl like this.

It was scary.

The sound of the announcer shouting “Begin!” only barely registered in her head. The crowd was cheering, but she didn't notice, she heard none of it and thought none of it with the blood rushing in her head and the vivid battle-drumming heartbeat pounding in her chest, strumming against her ribcage, telling her to charge.

The only thing she could focus on was the boy in front and how he didn't opt for the first move like he usually did.

She breathed shallowly through her nose, puffing as her teeth would not budge from their clenched state. Eye twitching in her waiting for him to pounce, but he didn't show her the respect.

“Ladies first, is it?” She spoke through grit teeth, her lips set into a hard grim line.

I like you.

I like you?!

Bet he laughed a good long while after coming up with that one.

I’ll give him something to laugh at...

“Come on, all-time-champion...” She mocked, feeling herself grow cold all over, wings frayed, raised up like a cat arching its back in hostility, kept furiously tense behind her. “Give me a good fight.” Knuckles were white in their fixed fists at her sides, her whole self shook up with rage. Nostrils flaring, eyes ablaze and dead-set, brows lowered, narrowed at him, lips formed up into a snarl.

He swallowed thickly. He’d gone quiet, out of character. The hot summer’s day had somehow gone completely cold, a chill settling like broken ice in his stomach, goosebumps springing to the surface of his skin, like an armada wanting to protect him from what eerie malice he was standing in the presence of.

“I want people’s eyeballs popping from their sockets as I dethrone the king.”

His breath quickened, but he hadn't the time to think as she, with a primal snarl, launched herself at him. A feather-dagger raised in her fist as she jabbed it right into the ground where his face would have been if he hadn't ducked away to the side, only barely avoiding the attack within an inches reach.

“Fight me!”

Struggling with pulling her daggered feather from the dirt of the arena as she’d managed to plunge it rather deep into the ground, she aimed to punch him in the face with her other free hand, succeeding a number of times before he caught her fist in his hand, though it didn't help him much as by the time she’d managed to loosen her make-shift knife from the ground, readying it to slice open his neck.

“Come on! Fight me!”

He caught her other wrists with the daggers tip half an inch away from his throat. She glared down at him, growling, face twisted in blinding white-hot rage, snarling, mightily fighting against him, trying to angle her feather or fist or anything to hurt the boy beneath her.

Kill him.

A voice in her mind urged.

He deserves it.

It reasoned.

“Try harder! Don't you dare hold back!”

Managing to point the dagger down to the hand holding up her wrists, she sliced open a large cut across the back.

Trapped, as he needed to keep holding her back, he had to endure the knife cutting into the network of veins in his hand, until he finally managed to push her off him.

She rolled off into a stance, wings kept aloft as she circled him.

“What are you doing?!”

He wasn't that quick in the making of getting to his feet, or at least not as quick as her, and because of it she was quickly on him again, aiming to jab the knife directly into his abdomen, though once again he managed to deflect, but only barely, the knife slicing up the side of his midriff.

“Quit playing!”

None of it was usual. Neither of them practiced their normal fighting routines. Bakugo wasn't using his quirk, he wasn't even fighting back, in fact, he was barely even deflecting. And the angel-winged one, who usually fought from a distance was now instead fighting like a rabid animal in a ring-match.

“Wow! They say don't bring a knife to a gunfight, but our angel-winged Seraph is showing us that a Bazooka-Bakugo is no good when he’s out of ammo!” Present Mic called from the commenters crows nest.

He must've not seen it, how the ashen-haired boy started backing away.

“Stop!” She screamed, but he didn't listened, large mud-caked black military boot raised from the sand of the arena in one second, landing on the pavement outside the ring in the next.

The crowd gasped.

“Dynamight has stepped out of the ring!” Mic’s voice boomed out in surprise. “Has he surrendered?!”

She stood still as a statue, not dropping her stance, wings still kept on edge.

“I would too if anyone gave me that look!” The blonde commenter continued. “Either way, Dynamight’s out!”

She whispered something beneath her breath, face grim.

“Seraph has won!”

“No!” She roared, chest heaving. “The fight isn't over! You’re not giving up!” Her face had somewhat altered, close to what he’d imagine betrayal would look like.

“The rules are clear Seraph, stepping outside the border is equal to withdrawing.” Midnight said calmly, whip at her side.

“That’s bullcrap! I haven’t won yet!” She raged, whipping around to look at the black-haired domenatrix-hero, before turning around once again to stare daggers at the boy who’d just ruined everything. “You!” She seethed, following after him, out of the rink, one quick decided angry step after the other. “You sack of shit, you fucking gremlin filth-”

“If you do not calm down, you’ll leave me no choice.” Midnight warned from behind her, but she couldn't care less.

“Bakugo! You piece of trash! You worm! You bastard! You shitstain asswipe motherfucking scumbag son of a bitch waste of human space!”

A fog of some sorts oozed out onto the field, laid thickly like fairy dust, surrounding the winged-hero who began wobbling in her attacking approach, only barely having caught up with the red-eyed boy, grabbing onto his collar with hands that no longer had the strength, quickly leaning on him instead of yanking him back into the ring like she’d intended.

“You fucking coward extra...” Her voice groggy, not able to uphold the spite it once held. “I fucking hate y-” He caught her before she collapsed completely, her eyes closing softly, the wrathful expression melting away in her heavy slumber.

And it was strange.

How it seemed he’d fallen in love with a person so blindingly similar to himself.

Standing on the second-place podium, he peeked a glance at her standing taller then him. Accepting the medals, though refusing to say thanks to the hero treading them over their heads.

She was too busy trying to contain herself.

He was too busy thinking of ways to apologize.

Thinking of ways to fix things, to give back what he’d just robbed her off. Nostalgia tripping him up, remembering how angry it had made him when Todoroki did the exact same thing to him in their first year.

Only Shoto had an excuse.

He doesn't.

“How dare you back down, you Katsu-fuck?!” She growled, stomping up to him at once she’d spotted him lurking in wait for her in the hallway, her fists grabbing his collar despite the difference in height, pulling him forward before slamming him back against the wall.

“I told you.” He defended, still not fighting back. “I didn’t wanna hurt you, you idiot.”

“Hurt me!?” The tears sprung to the surface much to quick for her to control, hot and stinging, welling up, boiling over, and streaming down her face like wild waterfalls. “Have you any idea how insulting that is?”

Brows crinkled in tremors, bottom lip quivering, caught between her teeth as she sucked in an exasperated breath.

“How embarrassing and humiliating and hurtful it is to know that you-” Her fingers detached from him to have her wrists rub and wipe her eyes. “Don’t value me as an equal!”

She whimpered, dragging her forearm over her eyes, struggling to breathe.

“You selfish prick!” Her eyes shimmered, glossy and guiltily admittedly very pretty. “You egotisctical narcissitic shit-eating asshole!”

She beat his chest, looking on the verge of a breakdown, sniffling, looking so very heartbroken.

“What?! You’re not gonna say anything?! You just gonna stand there?!”

Her chest heaved, breath in shambles before she scoffed.

“Fucking douchebag.” Voice nothing but a defeated little whisper now.

“I’m sorry.” He said, hands priorly held loosely at his sides, now raised a little, tensely kept in the air as he contemplated what he should do. The girl standing so close, clutching to his shirt, wringing it in her fists, wanting more than some measly pointless apology.

“Fuck off...” She bit out, sucking it up. Hands leaving him in favor of ripping loose the medal around her neck. “This means nothing because of you...” Pushing it to his chest were he knew not to refuse it. “None of it means anything.”

And at that she walked away, leaving him once again mute in the hallway. Her wings dragged behind her, sweeping the floors like a mop, like deadweight.

Everyone had gone home for summer-break.

Leaving the rooms empty and the dorm quiet.

Everyone expect Bakugo.

And her.

He didn't usually get butterflies in his stomach. He thought he was sick at first, until understanding the strange bubbly frizzy busy feeling was probably due to the fact that they were both sleeping in the same building, all alone, together.

It had been a couple of weeks since the Sports Festival.

She’d been quiet.

He’d been quiet.

There was one night, at one post midnight he’d blasted music so loudly the floors in his dorm shook, practicing drums, screaming to lyrics, creating as much noise as possible in hopes of her stomping over to his room to yell at him to be quiet. Give him an opportunity.

She hadn't come though.

Kirishima had given him pointers on what to do. The red-head telling him to apologize however many times it takes. But Bakugo knew that an apology is weightless without anything to uphold it.

He thought he might have the summer-break alone to think about it. To train and study and think, rack his brain, wring it for every drop it was worth, perhaps even watch a stupid soppy romantic film, get some inspiration.

But he already knew that there was only one thing that had a chance of making it better. The exact same thing he’d wanted from Todoroki back during the result of the first sports festival. And it wasn't a stupid apology, nor was it validation. In the end it’s not even about the fight, it’s about respect.

He’d disrespected her. He’d done the worst imaginable thing.

And now, he was standing outside her door. Sports-bag in hand, loaded with protein water and energy bars, a couple of other things he needed to go train.

He’d been standing there for a while now. So long his knee had started to jerk, impatiently waiting for him to knock on the door. His face was scrunched in frustration, visibly angry at himself.

Rolling his eyes finally, he took a gamble, fist rising to bang on the door.

She opened up rather quickly for someone knowing that there could only be one other person on the other side.

“Hey...” He said awkwardly, voice strange coming from him, his tongue heavy and way too big in his mouth.

“You still here?” Only one word could describe her tone, and that was uninterested.

“Parents are on holiday.” He answered quickly, like he was being interrogated.

Jaded eyes seemed to look past him, sighing. “Did you need something?” Her voice was so nonchalant, so very dead it irked him. Her expression too, dull, like she was just waiting to slam the door in his face.

He cleared his throat, trying to regain whatever confidence he had before he’d ever met her, yet seemingly having forgot what the feeling at all is supposed to feel like. “I’m gonna go train… You wanna- uhm…” He swallowed thickly, suppressing whatever embarrassing voice-crack he felt the oncoming humiliation of. “You wanna come?”

She seemed to straighten herself at that, eyes showing a smidge of interest. “Rematch?”

“There’s more to training than just fighting, y’know.” He tried, but regretted it at once he saw her falter.

“Not that I cant do on my own-” She began closing the door.

“Fine!” He nearly shouted. “We can fight.”

“Really?” She peeked up at him, not fully won over yet, still suspicious. “And you won’t hold back?”

“Y-yes.” He decided not to think of it. There was no one around to see him fail, and he’d hurt her more by trying not to hurt her.

Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

Sighing and looking off to the side. “It was a shitty thing of me to do.” He grumbled. “Half’n’half pulled the same shit on me in first.” It was strange to compare himself to the aloof jewel-headed boy, but here he was. “Drove me mad.” He remembers training in the garage, punching the concrete wall instead of the worn-out bunching-bag, so hard he broke three fingers before stopping.

“I have more conditions.” She spoke, bringing him out of his trip down memory-lane. “We play outside.”

Play is a strange word for it.

“Fair.” He agreed, feeling himself loosen up along-side her, the deadly hostile aura fading.

“And no boundary rules.” She added, raising a brow at him, obviously hinting to his stunt during the sports festival. “We fight until one of us break.”

“Good. I always hated that rule, makes it too easy for my opponent to give up.” He gave a small smile to which she answered with an equally small flashing smirk of her own.

“You’re one to talk!” She accused. “I’ll never give up, I can promise you that. Can you say the same?” She taunted.

He scoffed. “As if I would ever surrender again after you bawled like a little crybaby. Wouldn't want you to ruin anymore of my shirts with tear-stains.”

She gaped at him. “Until one of us can’t move then.”

“Fine!” He grinned.

“Great!” Her smile spread wide, the life fully reentered her eyes like a match had been struck, ignited inside, flames flickering and casting those terribly playful dark shadows looming about like demons inside her. “Let me just get dressed, you dipshit!”

“Right.” His face grew hot, palms sweaty, his head had been so crowded he hadn't even noticed she was wearing nothing but pajamas.

Cute small pajamas.

His heart was pounding now, the smell of her room different from his as it wafted out into the hallway where he stood.

“Oh, and... I guess... I’m sorry too.” He snapped back to reality upon her uncalled for apology. “I lost control.” She explained.

“We’re even then.” He decided.

“That depends...” She disagreed, eyes round as she looked up at him. “I shouldn't have lost my shit either way, but if you weren't lying to get a rise out of me... I flipped out for no reason at all.”

“I wasn't lying.” He admitted. “I-” Fumbling, back flexing and grating in discomfort, needing him to grab onto the strap to his bag to pull it onto his shoulder again. “I...” His brows furrowed. “I shouldn't have to repeat myself!” He growled. “I’m not a liar.”

“So... you- do... like me?” She’d cocooned herself in her wings, brushing her feathers anxiously. “In that case... I owe you.” With a pout she sighed and huffed. “I don't like being in debt to anyone.” Grumbling. “You better make your wish-”

He made another gamble.

He hadn't ever kissed a girl. There had been lovesick girls who thought of him as a charity case, who’d sneaked a couple of unwanted kisses to his cheek, however they’d all stopped after realizing he wasn't interested.

He’d thought a lot about it the past months. What made this girl different from everyone else. What made him go out of his comfort zone and give away this very first kiss to her. What made him stop in the middle of his day to think about her. Dream about her. Play out all sorts of junk scenarios in his head about her and him and how they’d get to this very moment.

He’d waisted a lot of time thinking about it, he realized, when he could have just gone and made it reality.

He pulled away, feeling as though some fog had been lifted. “There.” His voice was hoarse, gruff. “Debt paid.” She looked stunned, but pleasantly so, her small hands, softly laid atop his own who grabbed her cheeks and mushed her face like a marshmallow.

That’s probably not how you’re supposed to kiss someone, treating their face like a dodgeball, but at least she was blushing equally much as him.

He cleared his throat, let go of her and tore his eyes away from the adorable flustered look she was giving him, if only to hide the fact that he was just as panicked as her, perhaps even more so.

“Now get dressed already.”

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darkacademicfrom2021 · 3 years

Text

Flufftober - Day 27

27 - “I’m cold” - “Here, have my jacket”

Pairing: Loki x reader

Word count: 3K (I wRiTe DrAbBlEs)

Written for @flufftober2021 's event.

A/N: You know, that this is “flufftober” doesn’t mean I’m actually writing fluff. I have no idea what this is, it’s like a… story, at least. I don’t even know where I get these ideas from. Just by looking at the tags your confusion may grow bigger.

Tags: a refrigerator, a tall man hiding like a cat and defying the laws of physics, Sif and the warriors three being in midgard for no reason at all, Loki being uncomfortable all the time, implied choking kink (this is nowhere near smut), a lot of misused sarcasm, a The Nanny reference because why not.

The day you lost your job was both the scariest and best day you've had in your life.

It all began with one man —as all problems do—. A man you thought you'd never see again. He walked into your cafe as if escaping somewhere else, straightened his back and arranged his clothes, and with a deep breath he faked a smile and walked around the place, as if searching for something. You let him look for whatever he was looking for —he didn't seem to harm anyone anyways—, until after some consideration on whether to actually talk to him or not, you asked,

"Good morning, sir. Can I help you with anything?".

He looked taken aback by the question, as if he wasn't used to how coffee shops worked, and he also looked somehow apologetic, as if he was about to bring chaos to you by only being there.

"I… uh…", he looked around again, misplacing his attention in every detail of the place. "You… I'm aware this will sound odd, to say the least", he whispered in a gravel voice, gathering courage. "But is there any chance you could tell me where I am?".

"Of course. You're right here", you took out a map of the neighborhood and pointed at the street you were in. He frowned and took the map, observing it up and down.

"Is this anywhere near New York?".

"This is… wait, what?", you chuckled, thinking this was some sort of a prank. The man pressed his lips in a thin line and asked you for a newspaper. He checked the date, the weather and the country, and furrowed his eyebrows, as if trying to remember basic geography.

After a while, he decided on sitting and asked you for a black coffee, looking nervously through a window. Was he in a run? Was he in danger? Did he need medical attention? He seemed quite lost, but quickly acquainted to whatever situation he had gotten into.

He finished his coffee after two hours of staring at the window anxiously and scribbling down nonsense in a napkin, overpaid it, and left without giving you time to give his money back.

He came back the next day, this time way more relaxed and way less lost, sat on the same table by the window and pulled out a book. He drank his coffee graciously, read the book too fast to even process it, overpaid his visit and left after two or three hours. He did this every day for five weeks.

In these five weeks you managed to know very little of him by his words and his actions. He was elegantly dressed every day, with either a black tight suit or expensive dressing shirts in black tones. Part of his outfit was, of course, a marvelous silhouette that couldn't go unnoticed. He was taller than most, and talked as if he would run out of words at any given moment; he barely exchanged a word or two. Perhaps it could be because he could also express whatever he wanted to say with a limited and calculated facial expression. A small smile, a smirk, a raised eyebrow, a low chuckle.

The man was even sitting with manners. He crossed his long legs elegantly, back straightened and somehow still a little hunched over the table, and all of his attention to a book he held with one hand, between slim fingers —without a ring, you thought. It was a silly thought, but you couldn't figure out who he was. Why did he come to your small cafe every single day; ordered the same thing, read a new book, and smiled at you like that —every single day.

One day after five weeks you thought you could finally get an answer. A man even bigger than him, brute like only a beast could be, beamed into the place with some friends behind him, making a scandal out of an order.

"A beer for every one of us, please!", he chanted at you from his table. You thought it wasn't that strange, possibly they could be going to some bizarre costume party, and he was just very well fed as a kid; but the man in the dark suit soon hid under the table and pulled the tablecloth further down to hide every inch of him.

You served the clients casually and eyed him from time to time. He hid everything he had over the table too, as if leaving no clues that there was a man with a book, black coffee and the jacket of a suit in there. The table looked perfectly arranged, as if he wasn't there to begin with.

You frowned in confusion, and once you knew they wouldn't see you, you walked discreetly towards the man and kneeled to match his height.

"Do you need help, sir?", you whispered, and he smiled politely, as if hiding there was anything wrong at all.

"Thank you, the coffee is perfectly fine. I shall drink it from here and leave, as always".

"I'd normally let you be, but you're under the table".

"Don't your clients do this? Absolutely normal behaviour back home, to me".

"Sir", you chuckled, amazed at his grace and wit even that nervous. "If you need a place to hide I can help you. The kitchen, for example", you pointed at the room behind the counter.

He looked over it, assessed the situation with the group of people, and finally nodded. You walked to the big blond man, trying to create a distraction by asking if they needed something to eat, and as soon as you looked back at the table, he wasn't there anymore.

You hurried your steps towards the kitchen, and closed the door behind you as soon as you got in, finding the man picking at his palm and tapping his foot incessantly on the floor. Apart from that, he seemed extremely calm —if not even having fun at the situation—, and you couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was going on.

“So, are you gonna explain or am I supposed to hide a man on a run just for the kicks of it?”.

“If I’ve learnt anything in my life, it is that we all do things for the kicks of it. And, don’t deny it, this is the most interesting thing to ever happen to you at this dull work of yours”, he said. You thought this might’ve been the longest answer you’ve ever gotten from him.

“No, I’m doing this because I’m a nice person and you need help”.

“Neither I need help, nor you’re so nice. Midgardians think so great of themselves…”, he began saying, and you frowned in confusion, but didn’t have enough time to ask about what midgardians meant, as he grabbed you by the arm quickly and ran up to the huge refrigerator, closing the door behind him. You wanted to scream, but he put his hand over your mouth gently and shushed you, gesturing that one of the friend group was entering the kitchen.

You should’ve screamed for help, but you didn’t. Instead, you waited until the tall and menacing woman stopped searching for you, and walked out by saying something to the group, like “we should keep our quest going, friends. Loki will not be found and brought home by himself”.

The man by your side listened carefully, until they'd gone away, and just then sighed out in relief. You looked at him quizzically, puzzled by all of this, and he moved his head unconvincingly, trying to find the right words.

“That was my brother. I can’t go back… home, with them”, he explained. You frowned and nodded.

“Alright… that might explain about a ten percent of all the weird things happening in here. Listen, how are we supposed to get out now? Are you aware this is a refrigerator?”.

“This is… not a room?”.

“It’s a refrigerator. We will freeze to death if we don’t figure out how to get out… what’s your name, again?”.

“I’ve never told you my name”.

“Well?”.

“Don’t you just have some sort of a key, or something?”.

“That is not how refrigerators work. We’re stuck here until my shift ends, and my co-worker walks in and hopefully hears us, and opens the door from the outside”, you sighed, sitting on the cold floor, already chilling and trembling out of coolness. He hummed and sat by your side, unworriedly.

“It seems like all we have to do is wait, then”.

“How are you not worried? My shift ends in an hour. We will get sick by then. And I’ll lose my job if he thinks too much into the fact that I’m stuck with a handsome client in the refrigerator”, you said without thinking. He smirked.

“Handsome?”.

“And how are you not freezing? Christ, this is terrible. I’m gonna lose my job and I won’t be able to pay rent and…”, you began overthinking. He grabbed your hand confidently and looked at you in the eyes with an assured look.

“Don’t worry. I’ll solve it out if this gets you in any trouble”, he said, and you even believed it for a second. How could he be so sure of that? “I always find my way”.

“Fine”, you sighed, giving up on panicking. It wouldn't help at all, and the first thing you had to think about now was the terrible cold you’d catch the next day. You shivered and tried to do some friction with your hands, but the heat of your own body seemed to have hidden from you. He observed you and took off his jacket, placing it around your shoulders. You were taken a bit aback, and quickly took it off, giving it back. “You’ll freeze yourself”.

“I don’t feel cold”.

“Don’t lie. It’s freezing here. Water turns into ice in less than an hour”.

“I’m really not cold at all. I can even prove it to you. Here, look”, he said, surrounding your neck with his palm and fingers. You almost choked on air at the gesture, blushing from head to toes, and soon realized he was showing you how hot his hands were. Suddenly you weren’t feeling so cold, and you didn’t think it was only because of the heat from his hands… wait.

“How the fuck are you not freezing?”.

“Honestly? I have no idea”.

“How come every time you say honestly I think you’re just taking up time to think of a lie?”.

“Why are you so grumpy?”, he rolled his eyes.

“I’m cold!”.

“Here, have my jacket”, he insisted. You finally huffed out and accepted it.

After a few minutes of silence, you tried to make conversation.

“Why are you hiding from him?”.

“From my brother? I don’t want to go with them”.

“Why?”.

“They’re… not great. Not as fun as they sound to be”.

“Well, they dress funny”.

“They have no idea how to camouflage in different cultures. I, at least, did a little research before falling into this place… I had no clue where I was to begin with, I just asked Heim… er, my friend, to drop me wherever he thought properly, and he just sent me to the most obvious and less hidden place from my brother”.

“Siracusa?”.

“Midgard. You see, he thinks he’s guarding the place, and it’s ridiculous, you clearly don’t need protection”.

“What are we even talking about? I feel like we’re from different worlds, not different cultures”, you laughed, and he swallowed in nervousness.

“Anyway. I have to hide from him because I’ve been too secluded from them lately, and mother has asked them to make me join them in their stupid hunts”.

“Hunts?”.

“Right? Brutal things, I do not enjoy them”.

“And why can’t you just say no?”.

“It’s a hierarchy thing. I can’t deny him if he wants me to participate in a traditional event”.

“Hierarchy? Isn’t he just your brother?”.

“Have I not told you? We’re princes”.

You chuckled, and nodded in understanding.

“Listen, this whole thing is really funny, but pull the camera off wherever it is and help me out of this. I’m gonna get fired for a stupid thing for, what, YouTube?”.

“My tube? No, listen, here’s the thing. I could get us out of here, but it’d be… too weird to explain”, he said, and you frowned.

“Then get us out! I don’t need explanations, I need solutions!”.

He sighed, and reluctantly grabbed both of your shoulders. You didn’t question it much, and let him do whatever he had planned. He closed his eyes, concentrated, and frowned a little bit. He grabbed you tightly and around you an aura of green lights and sparks moved everything that surrounded you, making you dizzy; teleporting you to the other side of the door.

The coolness of the refrigerator wore off instantly. You blinked twice, trying to process the information, yet couldn’t.

“Okay, I might need an explanation too”.

“Listen”, he said, pulling his hands away from you and arranging his clothes. “If there’s any way I could compensate for being so nice with me…”.

But he couldn’t finish what he was saying, because the voice of your boss walking into the kitchen interrupted him.

“There’s a huge line of clients, and nobody’s been there for half an hour… Were you here all of this time?”.

“Oh, I can explain, actually, we were…”.

“With a man hiding in the kitchen? With his jacket? What, were you cold?”, said your boss, and Loki stepped forward.

“Hey, that's not a way to talk to your emplo…”.

“It’s fine, please”, you cut him off, grabbing him by the wrist. You really, really needed the job.

“No, it’s not”, said your boss. “You can’t be having sex with clients in the middle of your shift. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re fired”.

“We were not…”.

“You can’t fire me”, you said, gathering courage and taking your apron off. “Because I quit!”, you said dramatically, walking off the kitchen. The prince followed you with a smirk, but you soon walked back in. “No, you fired me. That way, I’ll be able to collect unemployment”.

Once you were out of the building, the prince found you sitting on the sidewalk with tears in your eyes. He sat by your side and rubbed circles in your back.

“I’m really sorry”, he said with sincerity. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do that in the first place”.

“I’m not worried about it, I actually wanted to leave this hellplace”, you said, sniffing. “But I have to look for another job or else I won’t be able to feed my pets and pay rent”.

“I have a solution”, he said. “Remember how I told you I was a prince?”.

You chuckled.

“What? You’re gonna propose and make me your royal companion?”.

“Well, maybe not yet. We should have a date first, for that”, he chuckled. “Perhaps you would like a job at the Palace. Although, you know, you wouldn’t have to worry about rent because you’d live there too”.

“If this is a running joke you have, I’m not liking it”.

“I swear it’s not. Come with me to Asgard”.

“Asgard”, you repeated. “Asgard the… oh”.

“You know mythology, right?”.

“I… well… I know mythology, but...”, you said, trying to process what he just said. Now everything started to make a little bit of sense —even if only a little.

“What do you say? Yes?”, he raised his eyebrows, expecting the answer like a content puppy expecting for a treat. You sighed, not knowing what the hell you were getting into.

“Yes”.

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ekaterinatepes · 3 years

Text

Nothing but the Best

Author’s Notes: wow guys! Thank you so much for your support and for following this story! I never thought I would get so much acceptance so quickly! You are all incredible! ❤️

VIII.

“…he’s not in Japan, he’s gone to the Americas” Suguru arched his brow to Ijichi’s words about Satoru’s whereabouts “how come?” He asked “mission in New York, special grade curse in a school” Geto stopped on his tracks “New York?” He took off running to go get his phone without another word.

From: Suguru

To: Kitten

He’s in NYC! Get out of there!

You both agreed not to communicate through phone since Satoru for sure had his device monitored but this was an emergency.

It was 1pm in Japan which meant it would be around midnight back in New York.

“Fuck…” he didn’t have any time to lose, knowing Satoru, he had already found you. He had been there for about two days, plenty of time to locate Y/N.

Shit! He didn’t want Y/N to have to face Satoru alone. Well… so much for postponing his trip to New York.

“Shit!” Whispered getting in his car. He wasn’t about to let you handle Satoru on your own. Not that you couldn’t, oh no! Suguru was confident that if needed be you could hold your own just fine. But, you are his friend, someone who he loves. On the other hand, Suguru couldn’t just ignore what his own heart demanded. He didn’t want you to be alone anymore.

The past 6 months he had to stay behind just to keep Satoru from finding you but it was too late for that.

https://youtu.be/44mTGIotkWQ

youtube

|||

Each minute that passes feels like a lifetime… the clock falls off the wall…

|||

Defeated… that’s how Satoru felt now that he was finally able to face you. In his mind he pictured this encounter way different from this painful waltz of heartbreak.

He had been stupid to think you would jump in his arms, kiss him like there was no tomorrow and forgive him. He had been more like… delusional, thinking you would receive him with open arms (and legs) just because he showed up here.

Satoru thought you would see how hard he worked to find you, how much he suffered in your absence. He thought that would be enough to at least get a smidge of compassion from you.

Nothing was further from the truth…

You had always been a tough girl, stubborn, opinionated and bold. And fuck! He loved how you always made his blood boil with your passion! He could never get enough of you which is why he was so smitten.

But there was something different in you this time around… you had never been so… cold.

There was always a warmth that surrounded you at all times even when you were angry (specially then) a metaphorical and also a physical halo (not visible for non sorcerers) of luminescence that clung to your body enticing him and any cursed energy user to come closer. But now… standing here, before you. Watching you through his six eyes he saw that same halo much more opaque and cold. It was as if you had surrounded your heart with ice walls. A shiver ran down his spine.

What had he done to you!?

|||

Hold your breath… And pray for the world to end

Nothing's left… Some broken hearts will never mend.

|||

“Please… listen to me for 5 minutes and then I’ll leave you alone” (more like I’ll stalk you in silence and make you believe I left but I’m not gonna). Holding his hands in front of him as if trying to appease you, showing you he wasn’t hiding anything.

“You and I have nothing to talk about Gojo” your melodic voice was steady. Ouch… It hurt how you didn’t call him by his first name or any of the other cute and overly sweet nicknames you used for him; he haven’t heard you call him by his family name in about six years! No longer after you met you both were on a first name basis. He understood, it was a way of driving a wedge between the two of you, to distance yourself from him.

“There is nothing left for you and me to discuss… it’s over! Leave me alone” you stopped to take a breath trying to calm your heart.

“You know you technically are still a Gojo too… right? So it doesn’t make much sense that you call me by OUR name”. Yes, it was petty but he would be damned if he didn’t try and convince you to call him in a more familiar way.

She looked at him as if he was soft in the head for a moment “Sign the papers and forget I ever existed…” he had to cut you right there “NO! I refuse to forget about you Y/N! You are my wife! By law and by right you cannot just keep me away from you! I am not signing shit!” All those words tumbled from his lips faster than he expected. The rejection he felt for the idea of you never being with him again was making him lose his mind. You could not be serious! Could you? You couldn’t really be considering to move on… without him. (As if you hadn’t already done that).

“Just let me explain! Fuck!” running his hands through his hair in an exasperated gesture. “Please…” came a broken whisper, not a demand, but a request.

You straightened your back and folded your arms over your chest “you have 5 minutes and that’s it. At the end of that time I want you to leave and never come back!” Satoru nodded although he didn’t really agree to those terms but he thought if he continued to defy you it wouldn’t do him any favors to gain your forgiveness.

“I am sorry…” looking straight in your eyes started the handsome sorcerer, crestfallen and bleak “I know… I fucked up so bad… I know I hurt you. “ only words wouldn’t cut through the thick barrier you carefully crafted around yourself. You might as well be shielded by his infinity.

You looked at him with a mix of anger, pain and longing. You hated yourself so much for feeling your traitorous heart hammering away, getting lost in his crystalline eyes and deep voice. It wasn’t fair he held so much power over you.

“But I am fixing it Y/N… Sookie is not in my life anymore… I left her and haven’t been with her in a very long time, I don’t want anyone else but you…” assured the man desperately.

“How can you say that?!” You asked horrified “what kind of man are you that you would abandon your child!?”.

“He was not my son!…. Y/N. She cheated on me with someone else, the baby she carried was not mine. I confirmed that when the child was born…” admitted once more embarrassed about his stupidity.

Your expression was blank for the longest time, trying to process what Gojo had just said.

You blink a couple times, it’s almost as if he expected you to feel bad about his luck.

Fucking asshole! You knew he was trying to play the pity card with you but it wasn’t working.

“Well… I don’t care about your personal life, it’s none of my business” you reminded him. Satoru visibly flinched at the brutal retaliation. “let me finish! God damn! Y/N!” He felt like pulling out his hair.

“I know I fucked up so bad but please… please give me another chance… I will do whatever you say! Give you whatever you want just…. Don’t do this” he waited for an answer from you. He wanted to touch you and hold you in his arms, promise you he would take care of you and prove he was now worthy of your love.

“Goodbye Satoru…” you said turning around and getting ready to leave him standing there in the cold.

On instinct he warped in front of you and stopped you by wrapping his arms around your body, one went to your narrow waist and the other behind your neck pulling you to him.

Fuck it…. You already hated him, might as well give you a good reason.

He crushed his lips against yours in a passionate embrace. Your body froze in his arms and he took that opportunity to deepen the kiss, ever the opportunist he slipped his tongue between your lips and caressed yours, enticing you to taste him as much as he was tasting you.

It only took your brain a couple seconds to work but by then you were trapped. You tried to fight him, placing both your palms against his chest and pushing him away. Might as well have been pushing a fucking wall. Gojo fucking Satoru was the strongest living person for a good reason.

It felt like an anaconda embrace, the more you struggled the tighter he held you until you finally gave in yourself. A tear ran down your cheek by the time you started kissing him back. You both went from practically devouring each other, angrily fighting for dominance to sensually and tenderly exploring each other’s mouth with your tongues, little licks and nips until you separated. His forehead against yours, both of your breathing heavily.

Not a single word was exchanged. Both of you afraid to break the chasm of this frail truce.

—————

———> Chapter 9

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#jjk #jjkgojo #jjk satoru #jjk suguru #jjk anime #jjk fanfic #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujustu kaisen #gojo x you #gojo saturo x reader #jujutsu geto #geto smut #jjk geto #geto x y/n #Youtube

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queensoybean0724 · 3 years

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Succession Chapter 4 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fanfic

Here’s chapter 4!! I hope y'all enjoy it!

Title: Succession Chapter 4

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader

Rating: PG-13 for language (possible kidnapping trigger warning) this is a slow burn; it will get very smutty and spicy later on!

Summary: you discover a long lost relative has died and made you his sole beneficiary. While flying to collect your inheritance, you crash in a village in Romania.

Author’s Note: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village. This is a work of fiction. Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter 4

The factory was not a cozy place. The air was stifling and steam rose sporadically from slits in the walls. It was a dark place with sparse light bulbs overhead guiding the way down the halls. Some of the bulbs hung busted and dark. Red lights sat over doorways to show where the exits were or pointing towards the direction of the nearest exit.

You remembered the various turns and doorways so you could easily escape if and when you were given the chance.

Heisenberg kept his grip on your arm tight as he pulled you down the hallway towards his living quarters. He lifted the cigar in his other hand up to his lips, taking a deep puff. You walked through the smoke as he exhaled, unable to stop yourself from enjoying the smell. He stopped before a door at the end of the hall.

“Here we are,” Heisenberg announced, turning the knob to the door. He pushed it open and took a step back, releasing your arm, and allowing you to be the first to step inside. You stood there and gave him a stoic glare.

“Come on...in you go,” he said, his arm coming around behind you and his firm hand connecting to your ass.

“Ouch!” you yelped as the force of the spank pushed you over the threshold.

His living quarters were surprising. In a massive building where everything seemed cold and hard, this room was quite cozy. It was a large room, twice the size of the room he had you locked away in. It was warm due to the small fireplace against the wall. A tiny kitchen area was directly to the right with a sink, countertop, and a stove with an oven on top. Against the far wall was a queen size metal bed with headboard and footboard. Both ends had vertical metal railings. A small nightstand sat next to the bed with a lamp and two books on top. On the other side of the bed was a large dresser with six drawers. Next to that stood a large bathtub along with a full standing shower with head to toe glass walls. You looked to the left and saw a large table that acted as both a dining room and a desk. Papers lay strewn across it along with a dirty plate, dirty mug, and an ashtray..

“This is where you’ll stay...with me…” Heisenberg said, closing and locking the door behind him. You watched as he locked it with a key that he put in his pants pocket. Damn, you thought, no chance getting out without the key.

“And where will I sleep?” you asked...but you dreaded the answer.

“In the bed,” he answered as if you had asked him the stupidest question he had ever heard. You scoffed.

“And where will you sleep?” you asked, dreading that answer even more.

“In...the...bed…” he said, getting closer behind you. He leaned in and inhaled the scent of your hair.

“I am not sleeping in the bed with you!” you firmly stated, turning around to face him head on.

“Well, it’s either in the bed or on the hard floor,” he shrugged, going to his desk and rummaging around the papers with his cigar hanging from his mouth. You looked down at the floor and grimaced. It did not look like it had been swept or cleaned in a very long time.

“You think I’m going to willingly sleep in that bed with you?” you asked in amazement, “what if I try to escape while you sleep? Or what if I try to kill you in your sleep?”

Heisenberg looked at you and let out a loud laugh before walking to the bed. “You truly are a little spitfire, aren’t you?” He bent over the headboard and picked up a long chain with a vice-like contraption that looked like handcuffs. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Do you do this to all the women you bring back here?” you quipped, finding yourself getting more brazen with your words.

“Haven’t had any complaints before,” Heisenberg joked, letting them fall loudly to the floor.

You rolled your eyes and turned your back to him, going towards the table. A drawing was facing up and it looked like sketches of some kind of person. You walked over, your curiosity spiked. As you reached for the paper and the stack of papers beneath it, the dirty plate and mug slid across the table and fell on top of the picture. You yelped and jumped back, turning around towards Heisenberg. His left hand was extended towards the table, his fingers curved as if reaching for something. You looked between him and the plate and mug.

“How are you doing that???” you asked in disbelief, remembering how he seemingly moved the cot telepathically in the other room to stop you from escaping. Heisenberg chuckled and lowered his arm.

“Y/N, you are in a place that defies any laws of physics, genetics, science, or biology....” he said as he shrugged his trenchcoat off his shoulders. He went to the chair next to the table and draped his coat across the back. “I know you are afraid, you are in shock after the crash, and you think I have brought you here to do God only knows what to you...but trust me when I say that this factory is the safest place for you. You have no idea how dangerous it is in the village…”

“And you’re not dangerous? You literally have a giant wheel and conveyor belt full of bodies rotating out there!”

Heisenberg laughed as he sat down on the chair. He rested his elbow on the table and took another drag off his cigar. “Don’t comment on something you know nothing about,” he murmured, “now, I think you should relax and rest your weary head. I’m sure surviving the crash has left you a bit shaken…”

You shook your head defiantly. “No...no, I need to call for help! I was on my way to Moldova...I need to inform them that I’m still alive! There has to be a rescue crew searching for the wreckage...please let me go! Let me call someone!”

Heisenberg continued to smoke his cigar, studying you as you began to panic. “Calm down, doll face,” he said, putting his cigar out in the ashtray, “look...this place isn’t on any map. We are surrounded by mountains, and the only person who comes through here is the Duke when he sells supplies and his wares.”

“The Duke?” you asked, “well...when will he come around again? Could I get a ride with him to the next town and call for help? Or the castle...that Moreau guy said there was a telephone in the castle…”

“You are not stepping one foot out of this place, Y/N, and that is final!” Heisenberg roared, standing to his feet. He took three steps forward, ripping off his sunglasses, and looked down at you. His sudden burst of anger scared you, but something about his eyes made you go still. Yes, they held menace and were threatening...but...it was like he wanted to protect you from something. A tiny glint showed in his gaze as he looked from your eyes to your mouth and back again. You felt your throat go dry and your heart beat increase. You glanced at his mouth and back to his eyes. A soft stirring formed in the pit of your stomach.

Heisenberg put his sunglasses back on and walked towards the table. He cleared his throat and shuffled his papers. Gathering every piece of paper in a pile, he turned back to you. “Your full name is Y/N, right?” he spoke gruffly.

You took steps backwards and sat down on the bed, still shaken by his gaze and closeness. “Yes,” you murmured softly. Heisenberg picked up a pencil and wrote your name on the top paper in the stack.

“I’ll go to the wreckage and see if I can find whatever is left of yours amongst the cargo...maybe a few other suitcases that you might be able to use. In the meantime,” he said, walking to his dresser, “here is an old shirt of mine. Your clothes are covered in dirt and blood…”

You looked down at your clothes and saw that he was right. With all the hell you went through, you didn’t stop to look at how your clothes were riddled with dirt, snow, and blood (both from you and from when the lycans drooled over you.)

He pulled an oversized beige shirt with three buttons at the neckline. He held the shirt out to you and you took it from his grasp. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Heisenberg walked to the door and retrieved his key from his pocket. “You can get water from the tap. There are some books on the table and on the dresser...they aren’t much, but they’ll pass the time until I get back.”

You watched him as he opened the door, stepped out, and closed the door without another word. You continued to sit on the edge of the bed, his shirt in your hand, and your thighs pressed tightly together.

#resident evil village #resident evil village fanfic #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg fanfic #heisenberg #daddy heisenberg #house heisenberg

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drabbles-mc · 3 years

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Outnumbered

Creeper Vargas x F!Reader

Inspired by Day Nine of the July Prompts: beach

Warnings: language, talk of pregnancy, Creeper being the soft & fun dad that we all know he would be

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: This takes place in my pre-established Dad!Creeper universe. I love this whole family dynamic, which I will refer to as the Wolfpack lmao. If you wanna read more about this lil Vargas Squad check out these fics: X, X

General Mayans Taglist: @garbinge @thesandbeneathmytoes @paintballkid711 @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @queenbeered @sillygoose6969 @sesamepancakes @yourwonkywriter @chibsytelford @gemini0410 @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @bucky-iss-bae @encounterthepast @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @masterlistforimagines @kkim120 @toni9 @shadow-of-wonder @petlaufeyson @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @punkgoddess-98 @black-repunzel99 @lexondeck @mrsstevenbuchananstark @berniesilvas @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo (If you want to be added to the taglist just let me know!)

The kids jumped out of the van and immediately started sprinting towards the water. You laughed, calling after them to be careful and not go up past their knees until you and their father made it town to the shore. All three of them yelled some kind of acknowledgment back to you and all you could do was shake your head with a smile. They’d been waiting so long to come to the beach.

“Need me to carry something, Neron?” you asked, already knowing what his answer was going to be as you rested your hands on your stomach.

He shook his head, “Nah, mama, I got all this shit,” he leaned in, kissing your baby bump and then your lips, “You go ahead and find a spot for us.”

You chuckled, “At least let me take a chair or two. Or the towels. Something, please. You’ve only got two arms, baby.”

He pulled one towel out of one of the beach bags and handed it to you. When he saw the look on your face, he shook his head, adamant about his position, “You’re one over-exertion from having our baby on the beach.”

“Neron, c’mon, don’t be—”

“I’m good,” his smile was so sincere, it still made your whole heart feel full, “Go on. I’ll catch up.”

You smiled, not wanting to push the argument any further. You gave him one more kiss on the lips before thanking him and heading towards the shore. You could hear the laughter of your three children, and your smile grew as you watched the twins chase down their older brother, kicking water at him the entire time.

You laid out your towel to stake a claim on a small stretch of the beach. Looking back over your shoulder, you saw Creeper defying the laws of physics as he somehow managed to get all of the gear down to you in one trip. Cooler, chairs, umbrella and all, nothing got left behind. The laugh that slipped past your lips was involuntary as you watched him drop everything next to the towel you’d laid out.

Stepping over to him, you pulled him into a kiss, “You never cease to impress me.”

Lightly running his hand over your stomach, he smiled, “I should be the one saying that to you.”

Much to your surprise, he let you help him get everything set up. You laid out the towels for the kids and got the chairs set up for yourself and for him. You left him to wrestle with the umbrella—that was always his job whether you were pregnant or not. While he was doing that, you called out to your kids, waving for them to come over to you. They hesitated, not wanting to give up even one minute of being in the water, but when they saw the way you crossed your arms over your chest as you waited, they booked it right over to you.

“Sunscreen first, then you can go back to playing,” you told them as you pulled the bottle out of the bag.

They moaned and groaned, but they let you put it on their backs and faces. They took care of the rest, and you smiled at the little white streaks that were left on their arms and stomachs from their rushed jobs, too eager to get back to the water. The three of them were practically vibrating waiting for you to let them know that it was alright to go. Once you gave them a nod of approval, they were off and running again. You laughed as Brandon scooped up the bucket and shovel as he ran off, the small plastic shovel banging around with every bumpy step that he took across the sand.

“This alright?” Creeper redirected your attention to his umbrella setup.

You smiled, nodding as you saw he made sure your chair was perfectly shaded, “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Whatever you need.”

He peeled off his tank top and a smirk instantly found its way onto your face as you watched him toss it to the side. He turned back to face you and when he saw your expression, he immediately chuckled and shook his head. Without even realizing it you found yourself biting down lightly on your bottom lip.

“Don’t be lookin’ at me like that in public, mama,” his smile was contagious.

“Sorry,” you stepped in closer to him, running your hands over the ink that covered his torso, “I can’t help it.”

Before either of you had a chance to say anything else, a shriek came from the edge of the water. Both of you turned to see your son tossing entire buckets of water at his sisters. You both laughed and Creeper gave you a kiss before taking off towards them to try and calm the situation before it got too out of hand.

You slowly and carefully lowered yourself down into your beach chair, keeping your eyes on your family the entire time. As you felt the restless kicking inside your belly, it sank in that the next time all of you came to the beach together, your family was going to be just a little bit larger. You shrugged off your coverup, and even though it was a thin piece of fabric it felt great to go without it, instantly running your hands over the exposed skin of your stomach.

While you were getting out your book and a drink for yourself, Creeper came trudging back up to your designated space. You flicked your eyes up to him, smiling as you saw the water running down the smooth skin of his head.

“I see you got caught in the crossfire,” you said with a laugh.

“Your girls are brutal,” he shook his head with a smile.

“Oh,” you rested your book on your stomach and gave him your full attention, “so now they’re my girls?”

He laughed, leaning down to kiss your forehead, “They’re your beautiful little savages, mama.”

“Mhm,” you chuckled as he opened a bottle of water and took a long drink from it, “I’ll remember that.”

You looked back down to the water and saw the three of them at least getting along now, no doubt plotting something together against their father for when he returned to the danger zone. It was impossible not to smile as the three of them huddled together. Looking over at your husband, you found him with his eyes fixed on you, a soft smile on his face. He twisted the cap back onto his water bottle before tossing it onto his chair.

As he went to take off again, you reached out and grabbed his hand before he could get too far. He whipped back around to you, concern on his face, “Yea, baby?”

You chuckled, motioning for him to come closer, “You gotta put on some sunscreen.”

He shook his head, “I’ll be fine.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you gave a slight shake of your head, “Remember what happened last time you said that? You got all blistered up. C’mon. If I make the kids do it, I gotta make you do it too.”

He knew better than to argue with you, so he let you put a generous amount in his hands while you got up to rub it into his back and on the top of his head. You chuckled when he flinched at the coldness of the lotion. As you took a couple extra moments to really work it into his shoulders, you felt his body relax under your touch, and it brought a smile to your face. He reached back, placing his hand over yours before turning to face you.

“I love you.”

You smiled, nodding, “I love you too.”

“You gotta promise you won’t get mad at me, alright?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Mad at you for what?”

The edges of his lips curled into a smirk as he took the leftover lotion on his hands and smeared it in a line down your face with a laugh, leaving a bright white streak behind as he took off running, shouting back to you how beautiful you were and how much he loved you.

You laughed, rolling your eyes as you rested your hands on your stomach, “You’re lucky I’m pregnant and can’t run after you, Neron!” you paused, and after a few seconds you thought better of it, “Alex! Ava! Brandon!” you called out to each of your kids, smiling when they all snapped to attention and looked at you, “See if you guys can dunk your father before we go home today!”

They all let out screams of joy and excitement, smiles taking over their faces as they ran towards their dad. Creeper looked at you, the weight of defeat making his shoulders slump slightly as he accepted his fate. You laughed as you slowly lowered yourself back into your beach chair. Within seconds the twins had attached themselves to Creeper’s legs and Brandon was attempting to climb up onto his father’s back. All four of them were laughing and you were honestly impressed by your husband’s ability to stay upright.

Your son was fully attached to Creeper’s back, legs securely wrapped around the man’s torso and arms looped around his neck. You chuckled as Creeper crouched down, trying with all his might to pry his daughters off of his legs, tucking them under his arms as he made the short walk into the water and dunking them instead of the other way around. Their laughter could be heard all down the coast and it was impossible not to laugh from where you were sitting.

“Your turn, B-Dawg,” he laughed as he reached back and lifted his son off of him, lofting him into the water, the young boy cackling the entire time.

Once the three of them had been sufficiently tossed around, they settled into a calmer activity of building a sandcastle just out of reach of the high tide waves. When they seemed fairly calm, Creeper made his way back up to you. You’d managed to get through some of your book as you watched them, and he smiled as he quickly wiped off some of the water and sand, finding his seat next to you.

“Got your workout for the day?” you looked over at him with a smile.

He chuckled, nodding, “Yea. Can’t believe you sicced my own kids on me, mama. That’s cold.”

“Fair is fair when I can’t chase after you,” you laughed, “Just wait until next year when you’re even more outnumbered.”

His laughter quieted as he glanced down at your stomach, and he gave a satisfied nod, “I can’t wait.”

“You’re gonna run out of arms,” you said with a smile as you reached and entwined your fingers with his.

He laughed, “That’s what I’ve got you for. If we stick together we might almost be able to hold our own.”

“That’s a big maybe.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “Nah,” he lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, “We’ve got this down. We’ll be alright.”

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #creeper vargas #creeper vargas x reader #creeper vargas x you #creeper vargas fanfic #neron vargas #neron creeper vargas #july prompts #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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anntoldst0ries · 3 years

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The Signs (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart 3, post Chapter 11 Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count/Rating: 1.6k, T Summary: After moments of passion and confessions, Ethan finds himself unable to fall asleep. Category/Warnings: Fluff, None

A/N: They are riding on Hawaiian waves, I am riding on the wave of fluff.

He witnessed the scene countless times during his career.

People squeezed in hospital corridors on horribly uncomfortable plastic chairs, air filled with hope of receiving the good news on their loved ones’ health, shared by many souls simultaneously. Wives resting their heads on husbands’ shoulders, mothers holding children perseveringly, their arms and legs numb and asleep. Some of them unmoving, save for shallow breaths and occasional blinks. Tired, on the verge of emaciation, haven’t had a wink of sleep in god knows how long.

How were they doing this? Where did they take this superhuman strength from?

Ethan could never fully comprehend this.

It was the sort of power he never really experienced in his life.

Until now.

Because when Noelle’s head found its haven on the sea of his chest, there wasn’t anything he wanted more than to become completely still, to hold his breath and be the pillow of safety she nestles up to.

He’d do whatever it takes to preserve her sleep, which, right now, was the most fragile and precious thing in the world to him.

It was a sign.

They lay in the aftermath of the afterglow, two castaways of the storm called life which, despite hurting them both really badly, also helped them find each other.

Them against the world.

Tropical Hawaiian air, sticky and dense, filled the room already soaked with lust.

It was heavy, failing to provide even the slightest relief amidst pervasive heat.

Because it was the type of heat that didn’t have much to do with the temperature.

It was the ardor of lovers.

Written on their curves were the stories of worship and promises of stories yet to be told.

They claimed each other's bodies a couple of times this night, engulfed in waves of desire bigger and stronger than the ones breaking on the shore outside the hotel windows.

The tidal waves hitting them, every next one with more might then its predecessor, their whole world encapsulated in the sounds of pleasure.

And something else.

In those moments, they were so much more than just a combination of skin, bones, muscles and ligaments succumbing to the march of time.

They were everlasting.

As doctors, they were reminded of their own mortality every second of every working hour.

But now, they were invincible, only if for a night.

When they moved in perfect unison, he saw something in her eyes.

He didn’t know what to call it, but he knew what it felt like.

Unconditional.

Their clothes and belongings were scattered all over the floor, the only witnesses of the wedding night fever.

It was the type of mess that was actually a proof of a perfect order.

The only kind of disarray he could live in permanently.

Signs.

Every cell of Ethan’s body craved sleep. But his eyes were wide open, defying the laws of gravity. And his mind was on overdrive. He couldn’t help but reminisce.

Two years ago he kissed her for the first time.

He could tell you exactly what happened right before and after the kiss. He could describe every second, every detail, every thought. But when their lips touched, he forgot his own name. And everything else he thought he knew.

A year ago he was fighting for her life.

Back then, Ethan didn’t know how strong he really was. Until being strong was the only choice he had.

Today, she was right here beside him and it was almost surreal. She was so close that he would notice the rising and falling of her chest. The rhythm of her breath.

It took him long to believe they could have a happy ending.

Too long, he kept reprimanding himself.

Yet the signs were there, if one only looked.

They were all around.

Ethan thought of all the people who made him the man and the doctor he was today.

Dolores. His first patient turned friend, the tragic and unjust loss. Baby Ethan’s fight. The night when nature played the cruelest eye for an eye game. Life for life. The night he started seeing Noelle Valentine through a brand new lens. He never told anyone, but seeing them so vulnerable awoke something in him. His own sensitivity, buried beneath the layers of grumpiness and indifference. Thick doctor skin.

Naveen. Ethan wished he could wipe the images out of his head. Seeing the man who taught him everything shrink and almost disappear was one of the hardest things he had to face in his whole life. Truth be told, he only made it through because she shared the burden with him. Because she saved Naveen. This delicate, slightly-built woman. The warrior. His Noelle. She made him so proud.

Louise. What his mother did to him was beyond repair. The cross he carried with him, anywhere he went. But in a short period of time Noelle achieved something he couldn’t do for years. Forgive. Never forget. Forgive and finally understand that even broken souls deserve the unbreakable love.

Dad. The man who, despite all the adversities, always had time for his child. But that didn't stop Ethan from resenting Alan for always justifying what Louise did. He couldn't understand, even though it was so simple. Love. In the realms of medicine, Ethan was in his element. But the concept of unconditional love was estranged. Until he met her. Not only did she mend the broken fence between father and son, but also showed him that some things truly are unexplainable and can only be understood with heart, not mind.

Tobias - his former best friend then best rival and now...best not to talk about it too much. Only Noelle had the power of talking Ethan into considering looking at Tobias in a different light. She laughed at the idea of holding the grudge forever. She challenged him and called him out on his bullshit.

Every relationship that meant something to him, had irreversibly been impacted by the force of a once clueless intern.

She signed them all.

Suddenly, she peeled away from his chest and rolled over to the left, so that her back was now facing him. Having covered her with a thin sheet, his fingers brushed her shoulder blades ever so lightly, as if anything more than this could hurt her.

It took all the willpower in the world to stop himself, for he wanted to touch every single millimeter of her being.

He wanted to draw the maps on her back. Maps of all the places they are going to discover together. The highways of their world. The plans of all the cities they will tower over. Write the words of pure adoration. The stories yet to unfold.

At the risk of looking like a creep, he slowly inhaled her smell. He wished there was a way to capture and bottle it, so he could carry it with him everywhere. His favourite perfume in the whole wide world.

Noelle shuddered lightly and the tiny movement startled him. Maybe she was trying to shoo a bad dream away.

“You are just a few inches away… and this is the longest distance between us I’m willing to put. No more running.” He whispered and kissed her hair lovingly. As if on cue, her breath returned to its regular rhythm, the tension leaving her muscles.

Part of him hoped she was asleep. Another wished she’d heard every single word. After all, he wasn’t best at translating feelings into words. Or maybe he was actually afraid that once he started, nothing would stop him.

Not only from telling her how he’s never felt this way about anyone, but also how everything fades whenever she’s around. How all the hospital drama dissipates, because everything is figureoutable as long as he knows she’s safe and sound. How, if he couldn’t run, he’d walk. If he couldn’t walk, he’d crawl. To her.

Today has done something to him.

Celebration of Ines’ love. Zaid’s speech. Being surrounded by people he no longer considered co-workers only. His friends.

Ethan lied. “I've never felt this way about anyone... and I don't know if I ever will again." Because he is certain he never will again. But more importantly, he never wants to.

Words echoed throughout his head.

“What I didn't expect was to meet the kindest, sweetest, most amazing doctor I've ever known... and the best friend I've ever had.” That was exactly what happened to him when one intern crossed the threshold of Edenbrook hospital...and inadvertently his life.

A crazy thought was born in his head. Completely irrational. And not a bad idea.

He hoped Zaid wouldn’t mind if he’d stolen the line and used it for his wedding vows. That is, if she agreed to share the rest of her life with him. There was always a dose of uncertainty.

But the idea certainly didn’t sound so scary anymore. Quite the contrary.

~~~

Noelle woke up in a couple of paradises simultaneously.

The tropical paradise.

The physical paradise of total satisfaction.

The paradisiacal view of Ethan Ramsey’s perfect body.

“Good morning.” She murmured to the man on the balcony, who, despite the heavenly view of Hawaii stretching behind him, had his eyes set firmly on her.

“Good morning indeed.” He replied with an unknown sweetness in his voice, that surprised even him.

And he really meant it.

This was a good sign.

Fantastic even.

Maybe the best one ever.

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@openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

#Ethan x mc #Ethan Ramsey x mc #open heart 3 #open heart fanfiction #dr ethan ramsey #play choices #Ethan x Noelle

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jaywrites101 · 2 years

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Just want to remind everybody (and myself) to not be discouraged by lackluster sales after publication. In my own case, cold calling stores yielded little to no results. Out of twenty places I called, only three of them said yes to the consignment deal... and absolutely no-one agreed to order copies on their own. But a "Yes" is still a yes. And now, fifteen copies of The Wingman are going to be held in physical locations. It's no "front shelve in B&N," But it's still better than if I'd done nothing.

I guess I'm just grumbling away, trying to justify the effort I put in. Because, I did put in a lot of effort; and I've only received $9.90 USD in rewards. And I know a lot of writers REFUSE to talk about it. This is the bottleneck. This is where people's dreams die. But you can't let that kill you! This is the place where we indie creators have to keep swallowing our pride and do whatever it takes to keep plying our craft.

This entire industry is on the verge of collapsing. But writing is so much more important than money. It's the very spirit of humanity's morals. The fact that the industry is dying means that writers who write for the spirit are in more demand than ever before. We need growth, and that doesn't come from sticking to "tried and true" formulas about trope-eh-fy-ing everything and restating that being nice is good for the bajillion-th time.

Hope is in short supply these days. But if being a writer means defying the entire global economy and taking the hits that come with it... well... I've got a tough constitution. Thick skin from all the criticism I've been given over the years. Just keep having hope, kay? I know it hurts when those hopes are dashed... again... and again... ... <.< ... But. Giving up on your dreams is the exact opposite of the advice that all the good stories gave up when we were growing up. You can't make your own way, leave your own mark, or control your own fate if you just roll over and let them take it from you. It's our right to express ourselves. It's our right to create a space where their laws are not ours. And it's my law right now that hurting authors are allowed to be disappointed without ruining their public image or brand.

But they are not allowed to give up. 'Kay? K.

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psychedellic-phase · 4 years

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Fifteen (pt 13)

(gif by me! I use the iphone app momento)

tw: language, angst, mentions of drug use (relapse), mentions of miscarriage

word count: 7.3k (im sorry)

masterlist

series masterlist

Spencer got up from the cold tile floor, fuzzy unicorn in hand, and faced the window above the kitchen sink. He stared out of it, admiring the snow that was still falling lightly, wondering if it was raining in Seattle. His memory flashed to the last time he stood in the rain with you, but he tried to shake the images away. Instead he watched the snowflakes hit his windowpanes and melt. He hoped that maybe you were somewhere staring out of a window, admiring the dreary weather, and thinking of him too.

He found his place against the dishwasher again, sliding down as his mismatched socks gave way so he could stretch his long legs out fully. He pulled the nearly empty box onto his lap and appreciated the light weight of it, as he continued with his twelfth letter and thirteenth item. Thirteen, a number whose history of unluckiness stems all the way back to the thirteen attendees of the Last Supper, and tracks through the number of steps leading up to the gallows, all the way to the number of letters in the names of some of the most infamous criminals.

Thirteen was a haunted number, which rightly accompanied a haunting letter.

“This one’s long. It’s a month of tarnished memories packed into a few pieces of paper. So far I’ve gone through half of a college-ruled one subject notebook and I’ve had to change pens twice. It’s nearing 2:30, and the wine is finally hitting my empty stomach. Sorry in advance for the way my handwriting will be. I’ll try to make this make as much sense as I can.

If you look at your thirteenth item it is the notepad I stole from that resort in Florida. There isn’t much around to signify this letter. You don’t keep mementos from one of the saddest days of your life, but for some reason I took this useless paper and shoved it in my purse on my way out. Good thing I did, or you’d have no item to attach to these memories. Though I suppose that might be better.

The resort was where we were going to be at for our ‘babymoon,’ whatever that is. What a dumb idea, I’m still mad at myself for letting Garcia talk us into one. She just made it sound so appealing.

Once everyone knew I was pregnant, Hotch pretty much sat me in Quantico with Penelope. There were a few local cases where I was lucky enough to go visit the ME’s office, but usually I kicked my feet up in her lair while you were out in the field.

“A what?” I said one day as she ran DNA through CODIS. The two of us were drinking herbal tea, and I was barely 16 weeks. I just looked like I had a big lunch in my stomach, not a baby the size of an avocado.

“A babymoon. It’s like a honeymoon, but you go when you’re pregnant. It’s one last trip for mommy and daddy to go on and spend quality time together. How many trips have you and Dad-Wonder even been on?”

I shrugged. We didn’t travel much for pleasure. We traveled for work, so on our rare days off we liked to be at home.

“I mean we’ve gone to Vegas and Connecticut a few times.”

She rolled her eyes, “Visiting family, my dear, is not a vacation! I was thinking you two would go to the beach. You guys relax and wade in the ocean and Spencer can build sandcastles that defy every law of physics!”

I laughed at that. You and the beach? It just didn’t feel natural to me. Probably because you aren’t capable of actually relaxing.

“That does sound fun,” I said and I spoke to my barely there stomach, “And it would make daddy take a few days off.”

Penelope squealed and started clicking at her computer, “I’ll find a resort online right now! Okay so how about Marco Island? It’s gorgeous and in Florida, so it’ll be like eighty and sunny, even in the beginning of December.”

“I’ll have to talk to Spence about it. I mean I know it would be fun and all but we really should be saving money for a crib, and car seat, and bassinet, and high chair, and a rocking chair, and a baby swing, and a—“

Garcia stopped me from spiraling out of control, “That is why you throw a huge baby shower! People buy those things for you.”

I rubbed my tummy again, “Oh no, Daddy is very particular about what things are bought.”

“That’s why you have a registry, Momma Bear. Now, no more excuses.”

Before I could even call you, she had put in both of our requests for days off and we had a week long reservation at this fancy resort that you see listed at the top of this notepad, the “Crystal Cove”.

I was only slightly mortified that she did all this without me asking you. Mostly, I was happy. I was afraid you wouldn’t say yes, but if PG already booked it, you kind of had to agree. And to my surprise, you did.

When you got back from that case we were at home, you eating something I had poorly made from a random cookbook on a shelf. I had decided to start cooking more, so I could make homemade meals. I wanted to be that mom who cuts sandwiches into flower shapes and always has fresh baked bread and cookies laying around. I wanted us to be those parents; the ones who are so sickeningly in love that their kids roll their eyes every time they kiss. We were those parents, kind of, if we could even be considered ‘parents.’ At that point, I don’t think we were. But we were definitely in tooth-rotting, sickeningly sweet love.

“So, I have a surprise for you,” I said, coming up behind you and rustling your hair.

“Hm?” You said, stuffing your face like you hadn’t eaten in days. You probably hadn’t. You’re the king of forgetting to eat. Maybe that’s how you stay so skinny.

“I booked a trip, well I guess technically Garcia did.”

“A trip?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, a trip, to the beach. Penelope called it a ‘babymoon.’”

You laughed, “A babymoon? I’m not familiar."

I smiled and sat across from you, “It’s like a honeymoon, except it's just me and you relaxing and spending quality time together before this lil dude makes his appearance.”

You smiled, “I’m telling you, it’s a girl.”

I rolled my eyes, “It’s definitely a boy, but stop ignoring my offer.”

“Well, it’s not really an offer so much as it is you telling me that we’re doing this.”

“Okay, yes Garcia helped me book it already, and yes she put in our requests for days off, but you can say no.”

You did your little nose twitch scrunch thing, “I’d never say no to quality time with you, Love.”

You leaned over and kissed me, and I squealed, “I’m so excited! I have to buy maternity bathing suits now! Oh and a sunhat!””

Spencer smiled fondly, recounting that day. He was thrilled to go, minus the part where he’d have to wear shorts, and flip flops. Something about the piece that goes between your toes makes him squeamish. He was looking for the right opportunity to use something special he had bought for you, and you had just given him it. A week on a beautiful beach with the love of his life? That would be the perfect time to ask you what he had been waiting to ask you since JJ’s wedding. He was going to take Hotch’s advice; stop waiting, start doing, and get down on one knee with a blue velvet box.

He never got the chance to. The trip was supposed to be in the beginning of December, around your week twenty-four. You never got that far.

He got up from the ground, immediately digging around in a drawer full of pencils and compasses and rulers, finding the blue box in a corner. It was covered in pencil shavings and dust. He hadn’t looked at it in months. He held it delicately in his hands before opening it.

It was plain, but he remembered you said that was what you wanted.

“Oval, of course and silver,” You had explained to Penelope and JJ at a night out years ago. Derek and Spencer sat on the opposite side of the table, but his ears perked up at the mention of rings.

“I like just the band,” JJ said, admiring her own ring, “And I have Henry’s birthstone, the citrine, so I didn’t need another one.”

“What kind of stone Y/N? I’d love a pink diamond! Or a ruby! Imagine!” Penelope gushed.

You shook your head, “I’d take cubic zirconia, if it was coming from the right guy.”

Both Penelope and JJ stuck their tongues out, “Nuh-uh!” Garcia said, grabbing her phone to scroll through more pinterest photos.

“Spence will be getting you a diamond.”

You rolled your eyes and whispered, “Don’t jinx it JJ! And I don’t want a diamond.”

Her mouth dropped, “No diamond? Really.”

“Diamonds aren’t ethically sourced.”

“Lab grown! Get lab grown!” PG piped it, showing you a picture of a ring, just an oval in a plain silver setting.

“That! That’s the one!” You said and Garcia giggled, going on a rant about her dream wedding.

Spencer had gotten that exact ring. Lab grown, oval, classic, beautiful. It was what you wanted, and you deserved everything you ever wanted.

Spencer looked at the notepad. He could tell you had a hard time picking an item for this letter. He knows this letter is the end, the other two are the epilogue of a story he wishes you kept writing. Crystal Cove is the place where he had planned on asking you to marry him, but it ended up being the place where your love story ended. He tossed the notebook to the side and decided that the souvenir for this letter was now going to be this ring. This ring that sparkled and shined, even in the dull incandescent lights of his kitchen. This ring that belonged on your finger, and not in the back of a drawer. This ring that you didn’t even know existed, but if you had, maybe you’d still be together.

“I did buy three maternity bathing suits, and you bought shorts. Spencer Reid in shorts. It was going to be the best trip ever. We were going to snorkel and look at sea turtles and sunbathe and drink virgin piña coladas by the ocean. We were going to get couples massages and spend every moment loving and appreciating each other.

The actual trip? Much different than the one we had planned on paper, but let’s first discuss that time between the hospital and the trip.

It was four weeks. Four weeks of me sitting at home while you were off at work. Four weeks of the door opening and Derek walking through, not you. And on the odd chance that it was you opening the door, you’d be appearing at odd hours of the night to grab a new suit or a file or a snack and then getting back in your shitty car and going to your apartment. Each time I heard that comforting sound of your satchel hitting the floor, I’d crawl out of the cave of blankets I was in to find you, and you’d act like I wasn’t even there.

For the first few days, you asked me how I was and if I was feeling better, then you’d check your phone and wave goodbye. After that, I was lucky if you’d say hello, then I was lucky if I even got a glimpse of you. You never held me. You never kissed me. You never told me you loved me.

I got all my information about you from Derek. Every day I texted you, “Have a good day at work! Talk soon?” And everyday you didn’t answer, so I’d ask Derek if you were okay. He’d always tell me what you were doing. Usually you would take a stack of files of cases to a dark room and make preliminary profiles to send back to the departments, alone. I’d tell him thank you, and the next day would be the same nonsense.

Those four weeks dragged. It was like every minute was an hour and everyday was a year. I was healing, even without you, everyday I felt better and better. But that’s relative to the day before. I haven’t felt ‘good’ yet. I haven’t felt ‘happiness’ yet. But I will. And I’m counting on that.

My mandatory leave was four weeks, and at the end of that Hotch called me in for a ‘mandatory psychological evaluation.’ I didn’t tell you about it because you weren’t speaking to me, and even when you did you were angry and snappy and rude.

I didn’t pass the evaluation. Even though the BAU wrote those damn questions, I still didn’t pass. When my four weeks were up, you were expecting me at work, and I never showed. You didn’t notice how not okay I was because you were too busy handling your own feelings, which I understand. You have to take care of yourself first, deal with your own trauma before touching anyone else’s. So, your trauma was none of my business, a concept you should've applied to my healing process.

I was supposed to come back on a Monday and when I didn’t show you came to the house. You opened the door and yelled my name. It was a sound I hadn’t heard in weeks, and it felt good. I thought you had finally come home. I thought you were finally ready to heal with me, but you weren’t. You were there to judge me.

I think I ran to where you were, a smile on my face that I didn’t think I was capable of making, “Hey!”

You looked so put together in a neatly pressed suit, but your eyes exposed you. They were bloodshot and the bags were so large they almost reached the end of your nose. I had on one of your shirts; it was comforting at the time. Not so much anymore.

You looked me up and down, a small scowl forming on your face, “Where were you today?”

I took a deep breath, and I lied, because lying to you felt easier than telling you the truth. The truth that I was not deemed stable enough to come back, even though I wanted to. I needed to be distracted. I was ashamed, scared, confused.

“I-I didn’t go.”

“Didn’t go? You’ll get fired Y/N.”

I sighed, “No, my leave got extended.”

I could feel the way your eyes bore into my skull as I dodged eye contact.

“Extended?! It’s been four weeks.”

“I’m not ready!” I desperately wanted you to see through it. I thought I was ready, but the papers disagreed.

“Hotch let you do that?” Your voice was increasing and I found myself inching away from you.

“He encouraged it!” Another lie. He didn’t ‘encourage’ it. He forced me.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag and opening the door again.

“You’re leaving? Spencer c’mon I-”

You cut me off by slamming that door in my face.

That’s when I started closing myself off. I started dreading the sound of your feet against the floor at three am. I started to put my own walls up, but they would dull in comparison to the Great Wall of Spencer you built around yourself to keep me out.”

Spencer was always good at putting walls up. In fact, you were the only person to ever get him to take (almost) all of them down. There’s a side of him he doesn’t show anyone, a side of him that he reserves for himself, and when something happens, that’s where he goes. He goes to the corner of his brain where he feels safe, and the walls come up to protect him.

And in those last four weeks, he did just that. He put the walls up, shut you out, and decided that was better. Except it wasn’t better, it just was easier. It was easier for him to bypass you and find a new outfit for work tomorrow. It was easier for him to disappear in the office until the odd hours of the morning. It was easier for him to hide away from you, because when he’s exposed he always gets hurt. It was easier to act like everything was fine, even though everything was the opposite of fine.

He never needed to go to the house, part of him was drawn there like a moth to a lantern. He was drawn to you. As much as he didn’t want to see those four walls, he still needed to check on you. He just did it in his own damaged way. He’d get a glimpse of you in old sweats and a shirt with a hole in it, hair a mess and mascara from two weeks ago adding to your eye bags and he’d be reminded that he couldn’t be there for you. He would never be enough, and he’d retreat into the comfort of solitude.

He was so preoccupied with being hurt, that he didn’t realize just how much he hurt you too.

“I had forgotten about the stupid trip, and so had you. You were too preoccupied with work and not speaking to me and I was preoccupied with crying and trying to speak to you. I only remembered the trip when I got an email from the airline about the flight, they had to move our seats or something stupid. I decided that was a reason for you to actually need to speak to me like I was a person, so I took advantage of it.

I intercepted you at home one day. I had been sitting in the kitchen waiting for you. You came home at two am.

“Hey,” I said, immediately as you walked through the door. You looked surprised that I was up.

“Hi, I’m just gonna—“

“Spencer, stop. We have to talk.”

You crossed your arms, not leaving the threshold of the door, “No. I told you a million times Y/N, I don’t want to talk.”

“Not about...” I couldn’t find the words and you started up the stairs.

“Are we going on this damn trip or not?” I said, my voice cracking from lack of use.

You stopped, looking over the banister at me, “You didn’t cancel it?”

“I didn’t think of it until now. We’re supposed to leave in two days.”

You groaned, “Why didn’t you cancel it?”

I threw my hands up. As if all of this was my responsibility?

“I was preoccupied! Did you cancel your days off?”

You shook your head, rubbing your face, “No, God. Can we still get a refund?”

I was hurt that you didn’t want to go, but not surprised. As I stared at the front door from my spot at the kitchen table I decided that I was going to go no matter what. It was going to be refreshing to look at the ocean instead of an empty nursery. That would be my distraction.

“I-I’m going. I’ll pay for your half, but I’m going. I’m losing my mind here, Spence.”

You looked at me again, still contemplating your options.

“I get it, okay? You can’t be in this house, but neither can I. Maybe we can talk and stuff on neutral ground. I-I just want you there with me, the way it was supposed to be.”

Then you took me by surprise, you nodded, “Yeah, yeah we’ll go.”

I’m sure I lit up like Rockefeller Center at Christmas, “Really?”

You rubbed your eyes, “Yeah, we can go Y/N.”

I was feeling lucky, so I pushed it, too hard, “Are you staying tonight?”

Your voice went from sleepy to sour, “No.”

And you vanished up the stairs, taking all my hope in us with you.

I knew deep down it wouldn’t end well. I knew it was going to be fighting and yelling and arguing, but any time with you was good time with you at that point. And I favored the little bit of serotonin and dopamine you flood my brain with as opposed to staring at the gray walls of the kitchen alone.”

Spencer only agreed to go because he thought he was getting there. Everyday he felt a little better when he’d walk through the door, but he still wasn’t ready. He thought a week of no work and no one to talk to except you would bring the walls down. This would finally be the catalyst in a reaction that was taking far too long to complete. He also couldn’t stand the thought of you flying and spending a week alone. He felt better about you being alone here because you weren’t really alone. You had Derek visiting, Garcia dropping off baskets, phone calls from Emily, the odd visit from Rossi, and apparently phone calls to Hotch, but on that island you’d really be alone, and he was worried about how you’d handle it.

“So two days later we got on a three hour flight to Miami, and I drove our rental car to this resort. We didn’t talk much the whole time, besides some small talk about the flight and other odd comments. It was painfully awkward, and I regretted even coming.

We didn’t speak until I used the keycard to open the door, and we stared at the one king sized bed in the room.

“Oh,” was all you said when you realized you’d have to share with me.

“What?”

“There’s only one bed.”

I rolled my eyes, “Spencer, we’ve shared a bed for three years.”

You just stood at the door with your hands fidgeting on the handle of the suitcase, “I’ll call down and ask for a cot to be brought up.”

“A cot? Are you serious?” I couldn’t believe you, “Why come if you wouldn’t even share a bed with me? I said I’d be fine alone.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but changed your mind.

“Great communication skills Spence. Really, I’m impressed.” You rolled your eyes and finally started to unpack your bag, “I came because I was worried about what you’d do here all alone.”

Part of me was happy you were worried, but a bigger part was annoyed, “I’ve been handling being alone fine, thanks.”

You scoffed, “Yeah. That’s why you need Derek to bring you food everyday, because you’re doing so well.”

I bit my tongue and tried to speak calmly, “Well at least someone checks on me everyday.”

That shut you right up.

The three days you were there went as follows: we slept as far apart from each other as we could, despite how badly I wanted to cuddle into your arms. We’d get up in silence, eat breakfast in silence, walk to the beach and read in silence, eat lunch and dinner in silence, and each night we’d yell at each other until we fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed.

Remember what I said to trigger the fight on December third, your last day there? How could you forget? It’s the fight that broke us up.

“So, I was thinking of going to a counselor,” I said, staring at the waves lap the sand from the balcony of our room. The air felt cold for eighty degrees. But maybe that was just because the air between me and you had been cold for weeks.

You were sitting next to me, but I could tell you were worlds away.

“Spence,” I nudged, trying to snap you out of your daydream.

“Hm? What?”

“I said I’m going to go to a counselor.”

You twisted your face, “A counselor? What for?”

I shrugged, “I-I think it’d be good for me. It’s a grief counselor.”

You turned to look at me, your brow covered in sweat and your eyes watery. You were incessantly bouncing your left leg, rubbing at your nose, and you seemed disinterested in every single thing I was saying or doing. In fact, you’d been acting that way since the first day you disappeared to your apartment.

“Counselor? Yeah,” You were fidgeting, barely making eye contact.

A feeling I can only describe as pure dread formed in my stomach. I thought I might puke, but I swallowed the feeling and kept talking, “I got a recommendation from Hotch. He said he went to Dr. Stevens after Haley died. He said it really helped.”

You were still not listening.

“I think it’d be good if we went together.”

That finally got your undivided attention. “Together?” You snapped, “No.”

“Why not?” I said it with an air of exhaustion and despair. I was tired of this. So fucking tired of it.

“I’m not going to a damn therapist, Y/N,” You seethed, your metal deck chair scraping against the concrete as you stood in front of me.

The sky looked stormy, palm trees whipping in the wind as you came before me. The bags under your eyes looked like bruises, and you had on sleeves. It was eighty and you had on sleeves.

“Okay, I’ll go alone then. I think he could really help us though.”

I was giving up on fighting. I didn’t understand how when I was at my absolute low you could just keep kicking me while I was down. All I wanted was for you to go to someone and talk about it. That’s it. You were acting like I’d asked you to move a mountain for me, which, might I add, at one point you would have done.

“He? You really think a male therapist is going to help? You lost a baby, Y/N—“

“WE,” I clarified, for what felt like the fiftieth time, “We lost a baby.”

You rolled your eyes and ignored me, “You lost a baby. How does a male therapist help you through that?”

I was angry now. It was bubbling up to the top and I thought I might explode.

“He’s a grief counselor! He’ll help me through my GRIEF! And I think you should go because clearly you have a lot going on. You always have! You should’ve been seeing someone for years.”

“Oh, I have a lot going on?” You sneered, “Of course I have a lot going on! I go to work everyday to bring you home a paycheck so you can sit around all day and do nothing.”

I stood up, got close to your face, “I’m on leave.”

“Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that.”

You bypassed me and went inside, and my hot anger turned into wet anger and fat tears were rolling down my cheeks.

“Do you know how traumatic this was on my body? Do you? Everything hurts and you were supposed to be there! You were supposed to take four weeks off too! You were supposed to be there for me!”

“Yeah and who’s there for me!” You yelled, louder than I think you ever had; at me at least. You had thrown your suitcase on the bed, haphazardly grabbing your clothes from the drawers and shoving them in.

“I would’ve been,” I said softly, coming up behind you to grab your arm lightly, “If you had let me.”

You pulled back, “Don’t touch me!”

I reached up to wipe my eyes and crossed my arms in front of myself defensively, “I want to be there for you, Spencer. I do. Why won’t you let me?”

You didn’t answer, because even you didn’t know why. You just stood over the suitcase, one arm on either side of it, hair matted to your sweaty face, panting and panting.

The facts I had chosen to ignore were staring me in the face again. Or maybe I was just that oblivious.

“I’ve never seen you like this. This isn’t you, Love,” I tried to say in my most soothing voice. The dread had clawed its way back up to the back of my throat.

“Or maybe this is me,” you said softly, and I swear you were crying. Or maybe I hoped you were, that way we were both sobbing. That’s as close to togetherness as we could get.

“Maybe this is who I am now, or who I’ve been all along.”

I reached out for you again, but stopped myself, “No, Spencer. The real you isn’t this angry, and bitter, and mean.”

You slammed your hands against the bed, “Yes it is!”

“Is that what you’ve been doing all this time?” I said sadly, shaky breaths between words, “Is that what you’ve been going to your apartment and doing?”

You turned around, skin sweaty and eyes red, “What? What are you talking about now? God, do you ever stop talking?”

I snapped, ignoring your last jab there, “Are you using?”

Your face contorted into a sour expression, “Am I using?”

“Yeah, Spencer! Are you? Because I can’t see any other reason for why you’re so irritable and sweaty and out of it! So I’ll ask you again, are you going through withdrawal?”

You looked like I had literally punched you in the gut, and I kind of had. It was a low blow, I’ll admit it, but I was seriously worried about you. If an event would trigger you, this would’ve been it.

“What? No!”

I wasn’t sure whether or not I should believe you, but I knew I had to support you either way. I love you, even when you’re angry at me, I still love you. Even when you throw clothes and seethe at me through gritted teeth, I still love you. That’s my fatal flaw. No matter how many reasons you give me to stop loving you, I never will.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, lower lip pinched between his teeth. Was he really that terrible? He didn’t remember being so spiteful. Reading it back, he understood why you thought he was high, and he had thought about it more than he cared to admit. But he hadn’t touched the stuff in seven years, and he wasn’t about to start again now.

‘No matter how many reasons you give me to stop loving you, I never will.’

That line made him want to cry, hands clenching the ring box as if it were a stress ball. That line simultaneously felt like a stab in the gut and a breath of fresh air. He had given you so many reasons to walk away, and the one reason to stay was there in his palm, unused.

““It’s okay if you are. I understand this is a... hard time. I’ll support you through this,” I put my hands out to touch your chest.

“I’m not high and haven’t been in years!” You swatted my hands down.

“Then what the hell is going on!?”

“I’m angry and I’m sad and I’m heartbroken!” You yelled, going back out onto the balcony to stand in the rain that had started pouring down in sheets.

“Spencer! Stop!” I followed you out, tears mixing with rain to the point that I didn’t know which was which.

“I’m just confused! It’s hard to see the point in all this anymore. Maybe it’s just not worth it,” You said, yelling at the ocean not at me. Rain soaked our clothes instantly. Part of me was hoping this scene would end like the ‘notebook’ we’d kiss and you’d spin me around. I guess this is kind of like the notebook, it’s a story to help you remember us. Except you don’t have Alzheimer’s and I wrote 15 letters, not 365.

“Maybe what’s not worth it?” I was yelling too, just so you could hear me over the sound of the wind and the rain.

“This!” You gestured between us. I felt like you knocked the air out of me, my whole body stinging.

“But I love you!”

“All of this has made me realize that love isn’t everything! I love you too but we need more than that!”

That was the first time I’d heard you say ‘I love you’ in a month, but it was a double edged sword. I bit my lip so hard I think I started bleeding, “Love isn’t enough? Are you kidding me, Spencer?”

You swallowed thickly, “No! I’m not kidding. I’ve never been more serious!”

“So what? That’s it?” I said it quietly, but I wanted to scream at you. I wanted to scream that you were being an idiot. You were being ridiculous. You were being unnecessarily cruel. But I didn’t. I was tired and water logged. I had finally given up.

You ran your hands through your hair, “No–it’s–we we aren’t over Y/N. I’m just saying that it’s gonna take more than love to fix us.”

“Well maybe if you were ever home, we could actually try. But you aren’t. You’re always gone! So explain to me how we’re going to fix this. What’s it gonna take Spencer? What do you want from me?”

You took a deep breath, uttering words I was so sick of hearing, “We need space and time.”

“Space? Time? It’s been a month Spencer! I let you go to work. I let you spend every day at your damn apartment. I stopped calling. I stopped checking in. How much more space and time do you want?”

“Thirty-four days,” you mumbled, just so I could barely hear. The thunder rolled, mostly drowning it out.

“What was that?”

“It’s been THIRTY-FOUR days, Y/N. Thirty-four. I don’t know how you expect me to be okay after only thirty-four days.”

“I don’t expect you to be fine! I expect you to speak to me! To look at me! I want to go to bed crying and have you there next to me. I want to be there for you when you’re crying. The only way we get better is if we do this TOGETHER!”

The anger looked like it melted off of you, and I took that as my opportunity to approach. I threw my arms around your soaked body as you shook with sobs into my shoulder. I held you like my life depended on it, because in a way it did. You wrapped your arms around me too, and everything felt okay. We were standing in the pouring rain, holding each other as we cried, and somehow I felt more okay than I had in the thirty-four days prior. It felt like maybe you were coming back to me.

You weren’t.

We stood like that for what felt like hours, and eventually I pulled you inside. I wish I didn’t. I wish we stayed there, holding each other in the rain until the sun came up and dried us off. I foolishly thought the rain washed our sins away.

“It’s going to be okay,” I said, my head on your shoulder as we wrapped ourselves in towels, “I promise.”

You shrugged me off of you, going back to packing your bag.

“Spencer, stop packing, please,” I begged, grabbing the items you were putting in and taking them back out.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” you said plainly, taking a shirt and putting it back in.

“I-I thought—“

“Thought what, Y/N? That because I cried to you and told you I loved you that we were magically okay?”

I stammered, “No. No! But I thought it meant we were in this together now.”

“You just accused me of relapsing an hour ago.”

“And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, but that’s not a reason you should go,” I pleaded, reaching for you again. I thought if you walked away I’d never see you again.

“You don’t trust me,” your voice cracked.

“No, Love, I—“

“Don’t call me that.”

The pain in my chest bloomed, sending a wave of heartache through my entire body. A heartache I still haven’t been able to shake. It’s still there. Some days it's a thunder crack and sometimes it's a low grumble, but it’s always there. The rain hasn't stopped.

I hadn’t even realized that you were completely packed until you zipped the suitcase shut.

“You’re really leaving?”

You stopped at the door, hand on the handle, to turn and face me. I didn’t need to use my profiling skills to see how much pain you were in, and my pain doubled at the sight. I’ve always been an empath when it comes to you, feeling what you feel like it’s my own.

“I am.”

I crossed the room and threw my arms around you, sobbing into your chest. To my surprise, you wrapped your arms around me lightly.

“I understand,” I said, looking into your eyes, “We can’t be there for each other the way we need to.”

You nodded into my shoulder, “Stay. When you get home from this we’ll talk. I just need a few more days.”

I shook my head, finally coming to the realization that we didn’t work anymore. We weren’t healthy anymore.

“Don’t bother. The writing’s on the wall, Spence,” my voice wavered, and I regretted every word as they left my mouth, “I’ve been waiting for that person from the hospital to come home to me. I’ve been waiting for the Spencer who lends me his shirts and fact dumps and eats IHOP and ice cream with me to come home.”

I felt your breath stop under my arms, “But that Spencer, the Spencer I love, isn’t here anymore. We need to be alone.”

I felt you shake with tears under me, and that triggered mine, “We have to break up.”

I wish I never said it. I wish I gave you those few days, but we both know those few days would’ve turned into weeks and months and we would’ve ended up here anyway. I wish you didn’t let me say them. I wish you kissed me to shut me up and told me I was being stupid. I wish I didn’t watch you go down that elevator, tears on your cheeks. I wish I didn’t spend the other four days in an empty king sized bed, crying for you.

I realize now that you changed. I did too. Instead of wishing for the old you, I should’ve learned to love the new you. I think I would’ve, if I had given it a chance. Actually, I know I would’ve. I think I’d fall in love with every version of you that could ever exist or has ever existed. You and I, we’re meant to be together.

I know you probably don’t believe in it, but I like to think that we’re twin flames; we’re two halves of one soul that somehow ended up in two bodies and constantly pull to find each other again. I’ve read a lot about them recently. Twin flames don’t necessarily end up together. They can even just be two people with an intense friendship. They’re people who help each other grow, even if that means they’re only in your life for a short time. I like to think that we are that case, and that in some parallel universe I’m with you and we have our daughter and we’re happy. I just wish that I was in that universe now.

I know it’s for the best that we went to the damn Crystal Cove and broke up. I’m sure someday in the future I’ll be pleased with that decision, but for now, I still regret it.”

Spencer stared at the notepad, eyes flicking between that in his left hand and the ring box in his right. He took the ring out and admired it in the light. It glinted and glimmered, delicately refracting light onto the cabinets. He slid it halfway down his ring finger because that’s as far as it would go. He imagined it was on your slender, perfectly manicured hand instead of his, but an ache formed where his heart was when he realized it’d never end up here.

Spencer grabbed the notebook. It was unlined and the paper felt flimsy and thin. He got up from the floor to find a pencil in the drawer the ring had been hidden in, and took it out to scrawl his own letter to go with his own memento. A sixteenth letter for a sixteenth item you had no idea even existed.

“Y/N,

I’d like to consider this letter sixteen, to go with the engagement ring that’s in my palm. I bought this ring the day after we ate dinner at Rossi’s and showed everyone tiny FBI onesies. I have your perfect ring here in my hand, a plain silver band with a lab-grown diamond in a four-prong setting in the center, just like you told Garcia you wanted. I should’ve given it to you the day I bought it, but I waited until the perfect opportunity presented itself.

What you didn’t know about the trip to the Crystal Cove was that I was going to propose to you there. I was going to get down on one knee in the sand at sunset after dinner. I even had a whole speech planned. I was going to tell you that I never thought I could love anyone as much as I love you, or that anyone would ever love me the way that you do. I was going to say that it amazes me how everyday, I wake up and love you more than I did the night before. And everyday I think it’s be impossible to love you and our daughter more than I do right now. I wanted to tell you that I want to wake up every morning and feel that for the rest of my life. I want the good, the bad, the ugly, I want it all. I want Korean film festivals and IHOP breakfasts and to talk to the moon. I want tubs of ice cream and overly sentimental flowers hanging from the wall. Most of all I wanted to say that I want to spend every day of my life making you happy.

That speech still applies today. I still love you enough to ask you, but I don’t think you love me enough to say yes.

It’s okay. It really is. I haven’t decided what to do yet, but if you do read this, just know that it’s okay. I promise you, it’s okay. I’m not the bitter, angry man I was at the Crystal Cove anymore. I changed again, and I hope you’re right. I hope we are twin flames and your soul will come looking for mine, and I hope it happens in this universe, not the infinite parallels that may or may not exist. I miss you and I want nothing more than for you to come back. Come home, Love, please come home.

-SR”

He stared at the notebook page, before tearing it off and folding it in half, placing it in his pocket for safekeeping. He went on his computer and bought the cheapest one-way ticket to Seattle that he could find. He needed to see you. He needed you to see this letter, see this ring. He needed to make this right.

The flight was a red eye, leaving at midnight, so he’d get to the Seattle field office by eight. He looked at the leather watch and saw that it was nearly nine. He decided had to finish, and he had to finish now, as he grabbed letter #14.

PART 14

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Taglist!

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #spencer x you #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #cm #matthew gray gubler #mgg #dr spencer reid

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katsukisbeatingheart · 4 years

Text

and far away

Where two points meet in the wrong place, and second chances are inevitable.

word count: 3,090

warnings: angst, mentions of death, but it ends fluffy (and dramatic), i promise

ao3

a/n: aright this was the first soulmate au i wrote and look at it not being the first i post, comin atcha live from the wake of deadline after deadline.

Anyway. i don’t even know what kinda soulmate au this is i just sorta threw it up bc i had a dream abt this and i couldn’t get it out of my head and i had to rework it until i got it right.

thank u.

shinso

dabi

sero

You know that weird feeling you get, hearing about a piece of your little big world disappearing—how maybe you took it for granted, because it was inconsequential to your immediate life, yet it was still always just there?

Things you never thought about, but they’re gone and they’ve left behind an incalculable, gaping hollow.

You take notice, and your life changes forever.

That one flower shop you would pass by on your way to work in the morning burned down last week. You’d never considered stepping foot in to it once and yet the lingering aroma of hydrangea, bishop’s lace, and caspia melded with smoke reminds you harrowingly of the crisped possibility of something beautiful growing.

The statue sitting obscurely just at the edges of town—the one you’d see very briefly through the train car windows as it blurred into distance and hapless memory—the lightrail broke down in front of it one time, you could see it had garish red spray paint at the base—toppled over a few nights ago. You must have seen and missed it a hundred times and now it would never stand tall again.

Or, a person.

The hero surging up the ranks, commanding noise and shaking the earth with a violently righteous heart and power of will—had died last night.

He won to save.

For the first and last time, he lost to save.

You'd have expected sadness, of course—after all, he was a hero—and a person.

That empathetic sense of loss was inevitable, no matter who it could be.

But a piece of you had been broken in that moment.

You woke in a cold sweat, heart hammering in your ribcage, cheeks soaked under silent tears a thunderstorm couldn’t feel coming. The grief outweighed the confusion.

Recollections of a smoky scene billowed in and out of your consciousness, the rumbling and rubble in fresh vibrations on your skin. Though when you tried to remember—when you tried vehemently to clutch at the broken pieces—your head throbbed with an unknown ache.

It was like trying to recall memories from a life that wasn’t yours.

You were listless in your haze to the kitchen, pulling down a glass to fill with water. The coolness slipped down your throat to satiate flames you didn’t ignite.

By some spell only the universe and the promise mark branded across your heart of hearts knew, you clicked the television on through cold fingers. You can’t say that you remember fishing around the couch cushions for the remote, and you clutched to it like it was the only physical thing available. A flimsy, breakable anchor and a key to your undoing. The buttons stilled and your expression grew stony upon the red headline glaring through the room at 2:14 a.m.

The glass slipped from your fingers and you fell to your knees in the fractures.

The explosion you knew ended it all echoed in your ears, its knell a salient cackle without a voice, and existence a weightless pressure on your chest and head—places he’d have to wait to kiss for another lifetime.

You’d never focused on soulmates, the mere idea of one a luxury you could not afford.

And now a cruel, implacable taunt you could not bear.

Yours was miles away, apparently, and even before this moment you were more than a little skeptical about the idea of them. You’d heard the stories—promises from and to the universe conquering distance and time.

And love.

Love so overwhelmingly pure it stretches across ages your world just didn’t have.

To you, it seemed merciless—doomed to tie with souls you could miss in more than a few incarnations. Maybe some had multiple soulmates, you’d thought. You couldn’t be sure you were one of those people—if that was at all possible—but then again you weren’t sure how to tell.

All you knew, was right then and there, you at least had one.

It killed you knowing it took losing something you never even knew you had, to want it so, so desperately bad.

The truth curled at your throat venomously, asphyxiating a slow and decadent anguish incomparable to anything you’d ever felt before. Rip a limb, a lung, all limbs, both lungs—pull your heart right through the skin of your chest in a spiked, poisonous vice; nothing could destroy you more than this.

He was gone, and you were certain it was the kind of gone you would feel the next life over.

You barely had any strength in you to curse the stars swimming in your vision; barely any will to pray for a tear in existence—a loophole to bring him back.

Another chance.

Dilapidated and barren, you had spread out over the broken glass, impervious to what can only dream of harming you.

•.•.•.•.•.•.

The crowd swirled around you, passing faces and brushing shoulders with hardly an 'excuse me', or ‘coming through'.

One particularly harsh shoulder check sent you back a step, and you whirled to get a better view at who had crashed into you.

A man in a red turtleneck, donning a tan trench coat and a frustrated growl checked his wristwatch, before looking back up to you with kindling in his eyes. They were sharp, even as he glanced down at you rather indifferently, eyebrows pulled into a harsher expression than expected for someone who had been so kind as to gratingly remind you of your place in the crowd. Just another bit of space to skirt around into the next person, most likely.

Suddenly he relaxes, eyebrows raising up the slightest.

“Hello there, stranger.”

Your heart leaps to your throat and the tears flow—an unknown relief flooding through and you feel grief from another lifetime dissipate. You launch as best as you can into his arms, and he gathers you into palms that smell like caramel and sugar and ink and brass—in a hold that makes you feel safe.

And very warm.

You feel his hands at the top of your head and pressed into your back. They're big and steady, something you hadn’t realized you needed until they were on you.

It was as if all your life you had woven insipidly day to day on a tumultuous mundanity cracking at your feet.

And now with the hand that guided you into every curve and fold of the blazing man at your fingertips were you unshakable.

You blink and the fire flickers behind his eyes. He’s staring at you intensely—as though he’d silently asked you a question only you knew the answer to. Like it would disappear from existence if he were to look away now.

That much was probably true, as his skin paled to cumbersome bewilderment and an uncertainty to make a willow tree quiver. He had frozen, as if he could see the universe unwinding on your face.

Your voice echoed a hollow “I’m sorry”, and the crowd separated you like the tide pulling from the shoreline.

•.•.•.

You didn’t know what the sea did with the waves once they took them from the coast, but you did know that aching familiar feeling of impermanence. How an undercurrent can feel like a lifetime, and yet no amount of splashing can save a riptide. Not from brevity or grief in the same short breath.

It was still that recognizable body of water. The jolt of a new ripple in a single spot designing the whole thing entirely different, even if just for that one spot. That one moment.

A lot of it was in chance, you figured; chance that was so somberly beautiful in it’s immanence and what ifs.

Work swept you by with a complicated ease. You recall people communicating to you—you just don’t remember what they had said. Or needed. Or asked. Or pleaded. Behind calls of a name that sounded nothing like yours, yet you for some reason still answered to. Your attention fixated on the improbable, and you lived your day in a vacuum. You’d been shaken up so bad and filled by so much longing that by the end of it, you couldn’t tell your own headache from the strain of the city around you.

Your step from the platform onto the train car was cement, but you willed yourself forward for the certainty of routine and familiarity in the wake of tomorrow. The presence of other people around you was vague, and you thought to yourself how you would rather be anywhere else in the world than right there.

When the doors sliding closed behind you sounded a little too final—like the angry clank of a set of iron bars—you jerked your chin up, and leapt forward to press your fingertips to the glass.

On the other side, was the man with red eyes. His blonde hair bristled, almost as if he’d felt what you were feeling. Electric. Scared.

The cement in your step earlier felt like a ball and chain now.

You pressed further desperately against the completely solid and completely flat surface, as though you could singlehandedly figure a way to defy all known laws of earthen physics and somehow permeate through the doors. It was like watching a tsunami form, feeling the flood come and go and the wind push against your face. The motions were slow—his gaze using an eternity to find you again for the second time in this life—and you could feel yourself beginning to drown.

His eyes meeting yours became the catalyst to your fifty-second undoing. The undertow touched your face, laced your ankles, and pulled you under with the abruptly unwelcome motion of the train.

You watched each other through the window.

There was a spark of motion—he had dropped whatever was in his hands in a hastened mess—and you both took off in different directions to the same apex.

You skipped and hurdled around people cramped like bricks, strewn about like greenbriers, and stretched about like tripwire. You weren’t sure if you were actually saying anything, but your mouth moved like it was trying to apologise as you zipped down the opposite end of the train, eyes never leaving the man quickly slipping through your fingers ag—

Again.

The word rang in your ear like the piercing peal after an eruption.

Dread filled your chest as you watched the end of the train come into view, and the man in red ran out of platform to chase after you to. He stopped and stared in absolute dismay, as the light catching on your face from behind the window faded into the darkness of the tunnel.

You, in turn, leaned against the back window, throwing your shoulders around to slide to the floor. People stared and murmured, their curious gazes and exchanges doing nothing to penetrate the frenzy lurching you back and forth.

Your breath stung—but not anymore than your eyes.

He might be back. Tomorrow. You never know what'll happen tomorrow, your heart reasoned. Lucky for it, it hadn’t realized the both of you had already broken to pieces. Your skin stung and prickled with a vengeance, as though barrages of glass were sprouting where your nerves would be.

Never seen him there before. This was probably just a one-time thing, the hollow muttered. It was a bitter thing absolutely none of you needed to hear, but you figured it was the truth. After all, what are the chances of finding one man you’d never run into before in your life, among the thousands you see every day?

Way easier to give in than to hope for this ephemeral nonsense.

You hardly recognized the echoed, tin voice bleeding through the intercom, announcing that you had arrived at your destination. You briefly wondered how a trip that had felt so achingly long had gone by so fast—especially now that you realized you weren’t where you were supposed to be.

Collecting yourself as best you could, you rolled up slowly, pulling your coat around you tighter. You cleared the platform and stepped glacially up the steps, taking a moment to fix your eyes on the sunset tearing a beautiful orange, red, and yellow across the usually blue sky. It was an inferno against the usual insipidness.

You fixated on the rolling greens surrounding the scar the city made with it’s cracked sidewalks and taunting buildings and yelling cars and angry people and empty promises and—

“Hey.”

Broken hearts weren’t supposed to beat so loudly but yours did. You spun on your heal to face him.

You choked and felt unbearably like you should leap into his arms, as though something was imploring you to.

“Hey there, stranger,” you whispered, with a meek crack on the end of your breath. You were facing the beginning of the rest of your life and all you could say was hey back.

The man in front of you seemed to get the same idea, because he moved closer, sauntering up the slope to close the small distance like he had all the time in the world. Though, part of that might have been exhaustion, and part fear that the wind would catch you and steal you away. His legs trembled and you wondered what reason dominated the better bit of that.

He stopped in front of you, his hands in his pockets and shoulders slouched in a resolved curve, the smallest of smiles playing at the corners of his lips. You were certain you didn’t know him, and yet you were perfectly ready to believe that little bend in his face wasn’t a usually welcome guest. It looked so foreign on a face you weren’t supposed to have any recollection of.

His voice is like crackling and smoking tinder, deep and rich and roaring. It was getting to you in ways you never expected a sound to find.

“Don’t tell me I ran the better part of an entire city just for some shitty 'hey there'.”

You don’t think you’ll ever get over your shock and awe, but you collect your wits to square yourself against him. Your movements are sinuous as you slide forward, damn near chest to chest when you raise your face again.

“Well,” you sigh, letting a not-unkind smirk slip into your features, “looks like you’ll have to stick around longer if you want more than that.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s a matter of want, but more a matter of deserve,” he grumbles. You snort at that, mindlessly catching a loose strand of his hair between deft fingers.

“Is that so? What makes you so entitled?” you tease.

His expression falls and some kind of grief pulls his brows down.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs. “I just feel like I’ve been missing something.”

For the first time in a while, you breathe evenly. It’s an odd feeling, but not unlike that moment of clarity you imagine tides have just before becoming a whole ocean again. Like the one you’d been dreaming of for so long.

Your raindrop fingertips find the smoothness of his skin, brushing along his cheekbones to roll down and splay across the sturdy planes of his chest. The quiet is cacophonous but you inhale gently and smile the most genuine you feel you could possibly muster.

“Hi,” you begin again, eyes sweeping the fabric of his sweater, to try and find confidence in the material. You raise your gaze to his—burning through your eyelashes—and he’s glaring at you with a quirked brow that doesn’t feel at all the threat you imagine it would be in different circumstances.

“I don’t know how to describe this, but I think… there’s this something that’s telling me I’m supposed to be with you— someway.” You glide your fingers down the curve of his arms, linking very lightly around his wrist.

“I feel like you’re someone I’ve lost a long time ago—” your fingers tangle into the cracking skin along his hands,

“—and I’m being offered this one chance to find you again.”

You measure up your hands, placing them palm to palm and he stares like they’re all he can see.

“If I don’t take it you’ll be gone for good,” you whisper in a voice so frangible.

A cheekier smirk cracks his mask from ear to ear.

“In that case, I’m definitely entitled to something, then.”

“Like what?”

Tender wouldn’t have been the first choice of words the moment you crashed into the scowling man on the street—but here he was now, cantankerousness replaced with a compassion you shouldn’t be surprised he could hold—considering you’d never met, after all.

“Your name.”

You tell him with a resounding crest in his chest and when the lightning strikes, his smile actually shows teeth that aren’t grit into a grimace. The first drop of rain spills down your face, and the man in front of you catches it with his thumb.

“Katsuki.”

It was loud, hearing that name in your ears. Like being trapped inside a clock tower—the reverb of each cog shifting and clicking into place with a harsh clang, succeeding rolling tones in succinct phrases you’d been hearing all your life.

Or rather—lives.

Your places in existence swirling in and out of mosaic focus of one another, to finally comix as clandestine breaths and fluttering of skin on skin.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Katsuki,” you smile.

#bnha #bnha x reader #bnha soulmate au #my hero academia imagines #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero imagines #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha reader insert #bnha x you #why am i so dramatic with bakugou????#this is ridiculous somebody please come stop me #im rlly out here i guess

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